[center][h2][color=999999]Thurin Stoutarm[/color][/h2][/center] 

As much as Thurin hated to admit it, the Elf could play a tune. If there was one thing his hardy folk enjoyed more than good beer or fine craftsmanship, it was song and music. Thurin himself began to hum with the tune, taking a seat next to the Elf as he did so, giving a surprisingly apt addition to the music (for those who heard) with his low voice thrumming along. He found he had gained a small amount of respect for the Elf. One could tell a lot about someone by what they played. 

The Dwarf hopped up, and stepped back as the crowd applauded Aelin for his endearing melody. The Dwarf nodded solemnly, knowing that if anyone deserved cheers it would be that one. Suddenly he thought he saw his cousin Fwalin in the crowd, but no. For the man stood up, half again as tall as a Dwarf. Must have been the great red beard he had hanging down to his chest. 

The call for drinks was a welcome one, and despite his impatience at speaking to this wizard waiting on them, he couldn't refuse hospitality. He knew his kindred would expect the same courtesy as accepting it. Thurin took a stout pint of Ale for himself, and began to walk over to join the rest. He stopped once he saw the Elven lass standing there alone to the side, and he called her over with a wave of his hand. "[color=999999]Come lass. There is cheer and song here. There will time for woe soon enough. For now let us be merry![/color]"