[h2][center]Thurin Stonewrought III, of Durin's Folk[/center][/h2] The Mûmakil and it's host, as well as the various Elves and Halfling on their great steeds were easily seen from far off, loping along the fields of Pelennor. Their numbers and beasts of burden stood out for the guards posted at Minas Tirith to see for many miles off. It was quite a different story with Thurin and his folk. Though broad of shoulder and body, the Dwarfs were short enough to nearly have their knees covered by the tall grass. No steeds to bear them, nor servants to haul their supplies, they carried their packs without complaint. Their legs sturdy and moving inexorably forward as they hummed a Dwarvish tune to keep their spirits strong, and to celebrate their arrival after a long journey. [center][i]"The world world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone, When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in Mirrormere, And saw a crown of stars appear, As gems upon a silver thread, Above the shadow of his head-"[/i][/center] Thurin in particular enjoyed this tune. It gave the Dwarf warrior great pride. To know that Durin, the father of his people, was a pathfinder; an adventurer like himself. Oh, he no longer sang it with glee as he did a wee lad. But it gave some extra vigor to his muscles on this last walk toward their destination. The music halted when they found themselves upon the footsteps of Rammas Echor, having been newly forged by the Dwarves themselves after the battle of Pelennor centuries past. Newly forged by Dwarf reckoning, that is. "Look upon the work, lads." Grungi said, one of the older Dwarf Guards. He felt his hands along the exquisitely carved and laid stonework. "The world of men is kept strong by our craft." Thurin placed his hand on his hips, letting his walking Axe lean upon the wall, and he nodded in solemn agreement. "Aye, and now it shall stand by the strength of our arm and the skill of our axes before this is through, mark me." "Baruk Khazâd," the others muttered in agreement, before they hefted their packs again and took the long, winding journey up to where the group of Men, Elves, and Halflings had gathered. "So many Elves," one Dwarf said. "Here I thought there weren't that many left."