The Dwarf was humming happily to himself, walking along the left flank of the caravan, spear of his shoulder. He did not pay attention to the words of the elf, for elves never had anything good to say. They were such an interesting thing however; tall, yet somehow they managed to still be runts.
He kept an eye out on the road in case something came up. He plodded along happily, his ornate Dwarven boots crunching through any obstacle. He looked at the assembled company, at the trouble the elf was getting in. He hoped the man would give him a good battering. Pansies need a good battering, that is a fact known to any Dwarf. It seemed that the centre of attention was a lad of some sort. Well that was fine by him, if there was any great attention to him, then it would be because he gave someone an axing; something to avoid for now.
As he felt something, and a voice squeak nervously near him. "Hmmm?" he started, puffing some smoke through his nose. After thinking back to what the hobbit said he cleared his throat, smiled a little and nodded. "Aye, I'm Oid, son of Ori."
After naming himself he paused for a little, taking a few more puffs of his pipe. "Dinnae worry, I doubt anyone here will stop ya from moving if you just ask. As for the man?" He thought about what to say, weighing his words carefully. "Oh just some tall-git. Maybe a soldier, I don't know. You know what they say though, the taller they are, the harder they fall!"
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