Wood and iron (Barduil)

Waking the Green Lady

Like every year, Beltain is coming; a holiday that has been almost forgotten by the people of Esgaroth and Dale. But this time, with a little help from the elves and dwarves, they can remember their old customs and hope for the blessing of the beautiful Green Lady, ruler over all that grows.

"... but we'll have to agree on the rest after the harvest," he finished as he and Dain walked out of the underground back into the fresh air.

While Bard was pleased to be able to finally get a good breath, the Dwarven King walked reluctantly out the door and squinted into the spring sun. True, it was harsh and hit the ground at an uncomfortable angle, but as a human he preferred it to the dank, torchlight-only corridors beneath the city, where water leaked in and plaster splashed from the ceiling.

"All right," Dain boomed, stepping forward from the small shadow cast by the canopy over the entrance to the catacombs. "Surely it would be best to talk after the harvest. Especially if your payment is going to be less than we agreed," he added, peeling an eye at the Bard.

He kept his face stony. It was nothing unexpected. The fact that they had to give them less grain and other crops than they had agreed upon beforehand was something the dwarven king had wondered about last year. And he had the same answer for him then as he did today.

"We can't help the fact that the dragon wasteland is poor and nothing grows on it," he replied, especially emphasizing the dragon because he knew the dwarves could hear it. They were well aware that it was their treasure that had attracted the dragon, and even if they wouldn't admit it out loud, they felt a little guilty about its arrival. "And we must keep enough for ourselves to get through the winter in good health. You'll have to put up with it in the future, just like we did. Besides," he looked down significantly at the dwarf, "we never asked for more work from you than we paid for."

The dwarf returned his gaze for a long moment from beneath his massive furrowed brows, his nose wrinkled and his lips pursed so that he looked very much like his war boar. An expression Bard already knew very well. It was an intimidation tactic. That was why he didn't flinch and returned the same until the boar's fury faded from Dain's expression and he chuckled.

"And that's just as well for you, my friend!" He exclaimed loudly, hitting Bard in the back with such force as to nearly knock the breath out of him. "Now come drink to a job well done by my dwarves. I've brought a keg of ale... I've still got nearly half of it left from my trip."

Bard grinned in amusement.

The journey from Erebor to the Dale took four hours at most in the saddle, it was no wonder the dwarf needed half a barrel of ale right away. Not that he was complaining about being driven here at all. The dwarf's beer was strong and heavy, but it warmed him up. It was something he quite needed after seeing the dwarf work in the cold tunnels under the city.

"I'd be happy to drink with you, my friend," he agreed, genuinely pleased.

They made their way to Bard's house, in front of which the rest of Dain's men were resting in the small square, save for the four who had followed them all the way. They struck up a conversation on the subject of Dain's wife, who was apparently just in expectation, and the dwarven king proudly declared that his first son would be named after the greatest uncrowned king of Durin's people, Thorin. He congratulated him warmly, and, not wishing to spoil the dwarf's joy, refrained from mentioning that this famous name might not bring his child the happiness he had hoped for.

"And what about you, dragon slayer? Have you considered a pretty lady for your bed? What?" Dain arched his massive eyebrows significantly, showing his slightly yellowed teeth in a smile, and gave Bard a friendly elbow to the side to boot.