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

Thurin the Dwarf snorted, then spat out a bit of phlegm onto the ground, minding his own business and looking at the group's flank. Other than the occasional odd moment such as that one, he stood as still and vigilant as a statue, his sturdy hands resting upon the head of his Axe. He wasn't one to take orders, and often times he did not even take suggestions. But he was going to make sure someone watched their backs anyway. Why not he? 

It was when Ofnir spoke and pleasantries were made that he began to glance back, before he decided to head over to the bunch and group up. They seemed to be about to move, and were in no immediate danger. He didn't say anything to the new companion at first, merely patting Ellaryn's horse, as well as his own. "[color=999999]Aye, food sounds good[/color]." he told the Halfling Bracegirdle, before approaching Lyanna and giving her a bow. "[color=999999]Thurin Stoutarm, at your service[/color]." he said, his beard sweeping over the snow.