Five long hours dragged by as Wēlanandaz and his human companion awaited both their workspace and their accomodation, the Dwarf puffing away on his pipe as he dangled his legs over the end of the horse-drawn cart, his eyes seeming to be staring off into some other place or perhaps some other time; from time-to-time he would mutter something to himself, seemingly unaware of things going on about him but safe in the knowledge that, if they had any sense at all, the so-called 'lords' of this place would put he and his companion where they were supposed to be and make use of them.

Once the five hours had abated they were taken to their most recent place of work, even the grumbling Daurgrim inwardly surprised but equally happy that they had been given rooms to go with the [i]acceptable[/i] (by the lacklustre standards of men anyway...) smithy.

"I've seen better workshops made by Dwarf children," he grunted at Emilio as he made a whirlwind tour of the abode, running a hand over almost everything, opening his nostrils to take in the scent of the place, "but it will serve, it will have to."

Nonetheless there was undoubtedly a superiority over their last location - the buildings around them built neatly from well-carved and quarried stone, sturdy and stable looking, and even Wēlanandaz could appreciate that the courtyard had a certain charm to it, if you liked that sort of thing and were lazy enough to use it.

Having given the bloomery a once-over, satisfied it was not simply going to crumble as soon as he began using it, Wēlanandaz was about to head to the wagon and begin unloading the tools of his trade when both he and Emilio were intercepted by the bespectacled - and very stiff - woman and her paperwork. For his part the Dwarf had never really gotten onwell with contracts and the like, both the prescence of such documents, as well as the way this women flourished them about and presumed already to tell them what they would be doing, getting a little on his nerves.

He listened patiently and stone-faced as she made her feelings known, the look she gave them only making his blood boil further, Wēlanandaz holding out the papers toward the general direction of his human compatriot as he put on his best imitation of a smile.

"Sinä olet töykeä," came Drimgoth words from his mouth, proclaiming in his own language that she was rude, "flytt deg, kvinna."

Not wishing to be impolite, he gave one last nod of his head and, assuming Emilio had taken the papers from him, nudged his way past the 'important' lady and off in the direction of the cart, turning back only to tell the Dre Costan that he was welcome to help shift the anvil if he had the strength to do so.

[@POOHEAD189][@Tony Pajamas]