Eodras écoutait le Haradrim parler alors qu'il posa contre l'arbre, elle ne semblait pas trop impressionnée par la réponse qu'Eodras lui avait donnée. Il ne savait pas ce qu'elle allait attendre d'un Gondonien qui, toute sa vie, avait été élevé et appris à haïr sa race. Il faudrait beaucoup pour que ses opinions changent.
Après qu'elle ait parlé et commencé à marcher, Eodras a dit tranquillement "Bonne réponse." Ne sachant pas si elle l'a entendu ou non, mais ne se souciant pas vraiment d'une manière ou d'une autre. Il s'est endormi plus loin dans l'arbre, essayant de trouver un endroit qui serait assez confortable pour dormir, sachant qu'il aurait besoin de toute l'énergie qu'il pourrait avoir.
En quelques minutes, Eodras avait trouvé une position supportable, il était enroulé et le feu le gardait au chaud pendant que sa tente de fortune le gardait au sec. Ses yeux ont commencé à devenir plus lourds et il pouvait se sentir dériver. Comme il s'est endormi, la femme de la forêt est venue dans ses rêves aussi clair que s'il était debout devant elle à nouveau, répétant tout ce qu'elle avait dit.
Oid, son of Ori.

Age: 67
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Appearance: 4'4, and possessing brown hair and eyes, of a colour so similar people often remark about it. He has soft features except for a jaw so large it makes his beard look just a little odd on him. His hair is in a long unkempt mess though his beard is expertly braided. Unlike most Dwarves his body is devoid of any major scars or tattoos except for some near his mouth from when he once shattered a glass of wine whilst trying to drink it.
Equipment: no professional soldiering armour though his leather armour is thick enough to usually get arrows stuck in it and greatly soften the blows of blunt attacks, although his boots are a thick ornate Dwarven steel. He is armed with a heavy round shield as large as him if not for his clothes, and an ornate poleaxe. He also carries three throwing axes, and a (approx. one and a half handed) pickaxe from his mining days. A single bar of gold from which he takes pieces. Two loaves of bread, a massive flask of wine, and a dried fish.
Personality: He has the gold-lust of most Dwarves though significantly less of it. He is quite oblivious to the world around him, making him a little naive, and too friendly. He can even deal with Elves, only giving them the necessary "up your's git," before engaging in conversation.
Story: to be a "gentle giant," (I know that sounds odd considering his race) generally following others, having his happy views on the world shattered, yet to desperately cling to the happiness and wonder he sees in it and make others do the same.
Bio:
A son of one of Dain's soldiers arriving to the Lonely Mountain, he is the direct descendant of one of it's re-colonizers. He grew up to take a quite normal profession for Dwarves, a miner. He did it well, singing and laughing with the other miners. It all went well until the other Dwarves started accusing him of stealing, of a gold-lust horrid. In truth, he was innocent and perplexed, yet such was the flurry of accusations even his family started hiding their possessions from him.
Soon the subtle suggestions to leave began, and he took the hint. He used what little money he in truth had to get some gear, took a family shield and his pick-axe and set off to wander. Having discovered a Caravan by word of one of his few friends, he instantly joined looking for adventure and to see the world.
His clothes are a treated and extremely thick variant of something like this