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

Thurin rode upon his horse, gazing around the forest with a practiced eye as he did so. He grumbled every now and then, making sure he was speaking in the mannish tongue and not his native (and ever secretive) Khuzdul. He wasn't entirely certain if this newcomer was some apparition from the wilds, but he dismissed that thought process. Sorcery did not work that way, he was certain. He'd seen enough of Ofnir's and Gandalf's tricks to know that much. 

Then again...he had to agree with Lyanna's statement when they found the steaming pool of water amidst the lush green of the Oasis in the middle of the frozen north. "[color=999999]It seems far too convenient.[/color]" he said aloud. "[color=999999]But then again, I am not one to pass up good fortune, as long as it is trustworthy.[/color]" He dismounted Leonard the Horse (he always had difficulty with that) and set his waterskin in the pool to refill it, taking a chug before refilling it once more.