New horizons;
"There is more where this came from, I can definitely promise you that, but first let’s hear about Middle-Earth!" His eyes grew wide, shining again with curiosity and amusement as Rún told him about her age. "Are you now? So you would marry at 90? Amazing! So when do dwarves count as ‘old’?"
He clicked his finger slightly when he remembered the question after his immediate surprise, as something he very much wished to know. “What is the name of the country we are residing right now? Also, who is the king or ruler of this land? Are they righteous and treat their subject right? Though I must say most people here seem cheerful. I mean… I know at a tavern most people would be but… I’m sure you have experienced the atmosphere of fear yourself and I feel none of that here.”
Leaning back in her chair, Rún sipped some more ale as she thought about the answers to give Anders. She was no scholar, nor any kind of expert but if anything she still knew more than the magician did. Surely he must have come from far if the Middle-Earth was stranger to him; perhaps from across the sea, but dwarves didn’t like water and she would rather not think too much about it.
“Aye, ninety’s a general rule, though my clan’s always been a bit out th’ norm. We’ve shorter lives than th’ others, too, but A’ think it’s safe t’ assume a dwarf’s old when they’re two hundred,” she replied, starting by what she was most familiar with. Then, on the topic of kings… Good thing she had been curious enough to make enquiries about it when she came in the West.
“This village’s name’s Bree, an’ it’s been independent since old Arnor fell. Other human lords are on th’ other side of th’ mountains, in th’ lands of Rohan an’ Gondor. A’ hear th’ people aren’t malcontent with their rulers – even th’ dwarven an’ elven lords seem t’ do alright. Problems come rather from th’ orcs, gob’lins or even dragons som’times. In any case, ye’re good here; Bree-land’s a peaceful place, th’ presence of little Hobbit’s proves it.” A pause, so she could drink and clear her throat – it had been a while she hadn’t uttered so many words in a row. “Why th’ concern, though? Is th’ king of yer land some kind of tyrant?”
