The second dwarven caravan arrived to find a cluttered Great Hall and immigrants wandering around carrying quarried stone everywhere. Olin was waiting for them with a few bales of Elvish clothing.
"Take these to the Mountainhome and tell them to send a blacksmith instead of fishermen. We have decided to put the brook here to better use."
The human caravan, neutral in such matters, had also come to trade. Olin sold nothing but dwarf-made goods to them, but at the last moment decided to slip in a finely-decorated larch bow. Let them make of it what they would, so long as they brought beer, meat, leather and gold.
The four dwarves of the Tiredness of Mirroring fire elf-bone bolts at four alunite targets day in and day out, listening for the approach of more elvish raiders. Dipane Iroromimi -- formerly of the 3rd Elvish Reconnaissance Regiment -- stoops in a copper cage that stinks of musk oxen, weeping at the thought of what they have planned for him.
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