“I’m not short, I’m fun-sized!”
“You need a stool to get up onto the counter, and the counter to reach my cupboards. Are you having fun?”
oncethereweremany:
“A battleaxe is my choice as a man. Sharp and cold and strong.” He explained. While it was true that he preferred to fight with a bear’s weapons (being his teeth and his strenth and his claws), he sometimes preferred being a man. Or he had no choice. He had not learnt to use an axe until after the Mountains. Not properly, anyway. His instructor, when he’d been alive, had always laughed at him, called him a petal-child, which sounded worse in the Morko tongue and was a harsh insult to give to a youngling at the time. Beorn had mastered the skill after the death of his family.
“I do enjoy a good weapon myself,” he nodded, pulling his legs up under him to get more comfortable. He quite enjoyed talking to this skinchanger, even if he disliked dwarves. The fact that he still let them stay were mighty big of him.
“I have never met a skinchanger before. Would it be bold of me to ask you something about it?” he wondered. He was curious by nature, but unlike Kili he had a little better manners in regard of asking for permission of asking curious questions rather than just jump right into them.
When the question registered with him, Beorn only froze for mere moments, a barely noticeable hesitation that he quickly recovered from and blinked to remove any muddled thoughts that had decided to enter his mind. He appreciated the dwarf asking for permission, a luxury he had not always been granted, and he relaxed.
“It would not. What would you like to know?”
