A few days later they found themselves on a road leading to the southmost village of the mountains. The sun was low on the sky and the outlines of houses were beginning to appear further down the road. Dori, Nori and Ori had made their way down the mountains without so much as an incident, spending their days walking and talking and singing, their nights at inns or simply peacefully asleep under the stars. ”This is most likely the end of our comfortable traveling,” Ori said. ”You are right,” Dori said, ”we’ll get a good night’s sleep and pack ourselves a big supply of food for the road.” When they reached the inn, the sun had set completely and they were met by a welcoming fire in a crowded common room. They found a table in the far corner of the room, near a window, and ordered themselves some food. A few minutes later their conversation was interrupted by their food arriving. Not by the pretty tavern girl who had taken their order, but by a tall, big nosed man in a grey cloak, a pointy hat and long, grey beard. He set the tray of food and wine down in front of them and gestured to Nori that he should make room. ”Good evening gentlemen! My name is Gandalf.”
