Intentions

"So Farim, about dwarf women..."

"Oh, not you TOO." Farim, dwarven champion of Erebor, threw his ranger friend Eradan a long-suffering glare. "Why is it that everyone always wants to know about dwarf women?"

"You can't blame a fellow for being curious," answered Eradan, his face full of earnestness. He glanced off to the side at their companion, Andriel the elven lore-master of Rivendell, but she was crafting a potion and appeared uninterested. "What're they like? How come we never see them? What lusty beauties do you longbeards have locked up beneath your mountain halls, eh?"

"Mahal below..." Farim moaned, drawing a hand across his face. "Firstly, we don't lock our women up. They're just... even less fond of outsiders than we are. And secondly, you probably have seen them, you just never realized it because your man's eyes are too dull to realize what you were seeing."

"You amaze me!" Eradan's face took on a look of befuddlement. "Are your women chameleons, able to change shape at will? What form do they assume in their native land? Or in your chambers?"

"Look here, you thick-skulled, stone-brained, horned son-of-a..."

"Eradan knows fully well the form of a dwarf woman," interrupted Andriel, her eyes fixed on her work "One does not get to be a ranger of three-and-sixty years without learning such things."

"He... you..." Farim glanced from the impassive elf to the now-grinning ranger. He shook his head. "Of all the..."

"Dwarves pass through the Shire all the time." Eradan grinned. "If the Rangers ever end up entertaining a party, we always ask them about their women, just to see them get all hot and bothered."

"Men, it seems, are the same across Middle-Earth," noted Andriel drily.

Eradan glanced at her. "Really? You elves play pranks like that too? I would have thought..."

"No. Not pranks." Andriel shook her head, still gazing very decidedly at her potion. "But the... lack of understanding between our races has... rather magnified the... nature of the speculation regarding dwarven ladies." It was hard to tell, since her head was purposely obscured, but the tips of her long ears were turning a reddish tint to match her hair.

A slow smile spread across Eradan's face. "By Numenor, Andriel, I think YOU'RE starting to get a little bothered yourself!"

"The stories are... very... fanciful." Andriel answered stiffly.

"You have piqued my interest, lady."

"Mine too, I fear." Farim had a look of faint wonder and suspicion on his face. "What, dare I ask, are the elven stories regarding our womenfolk?"

"Such as are not to be repeated," replied Andriel, even more stiffly. "And all the more ridiculous when the truth is so simply and readily available. Accordingly, to ensure their swifter death, I shall speak no more of them."

Eradan grinned but dropped the matter and turned back to Farim. "But is it true that all dwarf women have beards?"

Though he rolled his eyes, Farim shook his head. "Not all."

Clearly Eradan was not satisfied. "So... among dwarves, what is considered more lovely? A lass with a fine thick beard? Or a smooth-cheeked maiden?"

Farim put down his axe and looked straight at Eradan. "Let me return your question onto you in kind: among men, what is more lovely, a woman with hair of gold or hair of night?"

A chuckle burst loose from Andriel. Eradan had the grace to look vaguely bemused. "I take your meaning, friend." He nodded. Still unsatisfied, though, he asked, "Then which do you prefer, friend Farim?"

"Oh, without a beard, to be sure," nodded Farim, returning to polishing his axe. "It just makes kissing so much simpler." He cocked an eye at Eradan. "What think you, Ranger?"

"I think I am glad I am not a dwarf," grinned Eradan. "For assuredly I should not kiss a woman with any hint of a beard upon her chin."

"No?"

"No." Eradan leant back and stared at the cave ceiling. "No, my intended shall be a small woman, with dark hair and alabaster skin, and eyes of flashing blue."

"She does not sound like the type to share a life in the wild with." Farim pointed out.

"No, she shall be a lady of the town." Eradan shook his head. "For all fates are now one, and when Lord Aragorn comes into his own, he shall want his kinsmen about him in the White City. My wife shall be a noble lady of that city, who can manage the house and teach refined manners to my roughened state."

"There is great need of that."

Eradan glanced over. "What of you, master Dwarf?"

"Oh, I cannot say much," laughed Farim, still polishing his axe. "I cannot say I ever took much interest in the subject." He missed the disbelieving look Eradan shot at him. "There is too much work to spend on such frivolities." For a moment he paused in thought. "Red hair." He mused, after a moment, stroking his thick black beard. "But not too much of it, and straight, not tangled. A tall, slim lass of fire and beauty, who can match me blow for blow in the ring, whose eyes are full of life and magic."

"What color?"

Farim blinked. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Eradan repeated. "What color are her eyes?"

"Oh... I care not. Green, I suppose." Farim shrugged and went back to polishing. "It is a matter of no consequence. I cannot say I ever thought any of the womenfolk of my acquaintance particularly attractive." Holding up his axe critically, he nodded in satisfaction. "I have little time for such matters."

"Then it seems at least that tale is true." Both men looked up at Andriel's sudden comment. There was a light smile on her lips. "That dwarves are only truly married to their work."

Eradan roared with laughter, and Farim gave a hearty chuckle. "What think you, Lore-Master?" He challenged. "What fair-haired elven princeling would you fancy?"

"Why does everyone assume the elven race is made of nothing but princes and ladies?" Andriel rolled her eyes.

"So not a prince, then."

"A shame." Farim shook his head. "I have to say, lass, I rather thought that Elrohir fellow fancied you."

"I-" Andriel rounded on her two grinning companions. "This entire question is ridiculous."

"Perhaps she is enamored of smiths," suggested Eradan, looking to the dwarf. "I have heard that some women are drawn to the musky scent and the hardened skin of a man who works with metal. And she seemed particularly insistent we help that elven smith Angmir with his little gems."

Farim shook his head. "No, I think not." he answered, stroking his beard contemplatively. "No, I believe the fair loremaster has her eye on one of the wizards. Gandalf, I wager."

Eradan, who was in the middle of drinking from his canteen, choked on his water and broke into a coughing fit. The face of Andriel was a study in astounded fury. "Mithrandir... the Istari cannot... I would never... for the love of Earendil, you two, will you cease this infantile little game!" fumed she. "Our quest is of the most dire and immediate importance, and you are..." Words failed her entirely.

"...perhaps... Radagast..." Eradan managed, in between coughs.

"Oh, Valar..." Andriel hid her head in her hands. Finally she looked up. "A warrior." She said at last. "Not a prince, or a smith, or a wizard, Eru forbid."

The two others subsided a little, disappointed at the end of their fun. "What kind of warrior?" Eradan asked at length.

"Oh, I know not..." Andriel brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. "A strong, doughty warrior, I suppose. One with courage, bravery, and skill." She seemed to consider. "Brown eyes. And... dark hair." She finally admitted. "Of a texture such that I can run my fingers through it. But one who is practical, and used to fighting with his hands."

The blonde Eradan seemed a little saddened by Andriel's interest in dark hair, but he nodded nonetheless. "Anything else?" He asked.

"Well, I..." A peculiar look crossed Andriel's face. She started to say something, stopped, started again, looked down, looked away. "I've always been curious about beards." She confessed at length.

"Beards?"questioned both men, in faint disbelief.

"Can elvish men even grow beards?" Farim looked to Eradan.

Andriel gave a mysterious little smile. "Whoever said I was speaking of elves?"

"Oho!" The men looked at each other significantly.

"Then I have it!" Farim snapped his thick fingers. "What was the name of that Ranger captain of yours, Eradan..."

"Halbarad?"

"Yes! Halbarad! He had a beard, did he not? And dark hair?"

"Pah, Andriel has never paid my kinsman any heed." Eradan waved the idea away. Leaning closer, he whispered in a clearly audible whisper. "I think our fair loremaster is fascinated with your own beard, comrade."

"It is a fine specimen." Farim shrugged modestly, gesturing grandiosely at his chin.

Andriel shook her head. "You two are impossible." She muttered, rising. "I will keep watch outside the cave until you are ready to make sense." Seizing her staff, she strode out the rock entrance, red hair waving in her hurry.

Farim nudged Eradan significantly. "Marked you her face? Methinks you ought to let your gallant captain know of the lore-master's intentions toward him."

"Perhaps..." Eradan was staring after Andriel with a curious expression. "...Farim, you said a red-headed, tall woman, correct?"

"Without a beard," nodded Farim sagely, leaning back. "I cannot say I share the lore-master's fascination with them. Why? What of it?"

After a moments hesitation, Eradan shook his head. "It is of no importance." He smiled. " Who can truly guess the intentions of the lore-master? Although..." He pretended to think. "...perhaps you should look more to your dwarven women."

Farim's dark head roared with laughter.

A/N: So, I got LotR: War in the North on Humble Bundle recently... and it's a pretty terrible game. Glitchy system, poor gameplay, unbalanced boss fights... the fighting mechanic is pretty decent, but a lot of the dialogue is lifted from other parts of Tolkien, and it can get pretty annoying. It aims for a sort of gory realism, and its interesting in its own way, but as a video game it's really rather clunky.

Anyway. The story, which is actually fairly decent, follows three heroes-Farim the dwarven champion of Erebor, Andriel the elven lore-master (wizard), and Eradan the Ranger-as they fight a separate war in the northern regions of Middle Earth. But it doesn't really do much with the different characters-they're all pretty flat. So I started imagining more complete characters for them, and how this odd bunch got together and their motivations involved... and then I started writing this little drabble of the three of them on the trail, all cracking jokes in a cave at each other.

So this is really just for fun, but I hope you enjoy it too, and will drop me a line to tell me so if that's the case.