Dwalín was miserable, trudging through the rain. He had a weird knot in his stomach when he left the mountain with the Caravan. Something told him, he should have stayed but he signed the contract. They needed guards and he was one of the best on this side of the Misty Mountains.
After a week of making trades and sells through the Shire, mostly in Buckland where most of the farmers were, and selling to the Shire's Bounders... Dwalín was still amazed at how those little creatures could scramble around practically unseen. Why if the Shire was ever in trouble, he had no doubt those Halfings could do some damage. Their quickness made him have a painful reminder of his one.
Mahal, did he miss her.
Seeing the fathers with their daughters also made him miss his wee Soldís. He should bring them both here to the Shire, they would probably like it. Take a small holiday outside, maybe even Orí would join them and Kíli.
He was cut from his musings when one of the Bunnän lads lost control of his ponies and sent their cart to go toppling down a hill into the FrogMarshes.
"OH, THAT'S JUST WONDERFUL, HILDAR!" His father roared. "Break our shite some more, ya lazy pokey rotund bastard!"
"Don't speak to him that way, Oflän!"
"Shut ya trap, ya mangy whore!"
Dwalín sighed. He missed his family. He was so sick of listening to the Bunnän family fight all the time. He wondered if Oflän had an accident and never came back out of the water again if his wife and his wife's son would even bat an eye over his loss. He was a ghastly bloke who treated his family like property.
Sharing a look with Mólun and his father Tólun, all three of them rolled their eyes at the scene. In silent agreement, they trudged down into the frogmarshes, battin' away the cat-size frogs with horns on their heads. Some monstrous creatures if there ever were. Honestly, Dwalín would rather go head to head with a warg than get bit by one of those buggers.
As if on cue, one of the smaller beastly frogs lept and bit his arm making him grunt and pry the thing off as if it were some bloodthirsty leech. "Nâmrul!" He growled. (fuck!)
"Ahaha!" Tólun laughed. "I think it liked ya, Fundínul!" (Son of Fundín)
"Sod off," Dwalín grumbled and grabbed the young Hildar lad out of the swampy pools. "Up ye get, lad! Grab yer stuff!"
It went on like that for weeks, him and the other guards helping out with broken carts, dragging wares for those who like Hildar had the misfortune of not being able to control their ponies at all.
When the Caravan passed the grey flood river through the South Downs and onto the North-South road, they finally went into the Dunland territory, where their real meaning of hire came into play.
They made for the Gap of Rohan, to the major cities to sell the jewelry and weapons and trade for fabrics and whatnot. Sleeping was harsh through here. It was cold and wet and the land roamed with Orcs. He didn't like being out in the open, like free pickin's. Dwalín was just thankful he was not meant to travel all the way south at all, meaning he did not need to get anywhere near that accursed forest. He remembered how its trees groaned and creaked and swatted at them as if they were alive. He'd rather eat his beard than step foot near that place.
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Natural || Dwalin x OC - A Hobbit Fanfiction
FanfictionAll Rurìn has of her fathers is a rune engraved in a pendant. She knows nothing of him except he was a Dwarven warrior who was running from his grief. When the time came to seek her answers, she finds herself in Rivendell where the gracious Lord El...
