Gimli son of Gloin was terrifying in his wrath. Well...as terrifying as a beardless dwarf adolescent can be. The fiery-haired youth yelled, swore, begged and pleaded, but Gloin would not be moved. The company of Thorin Oakenshield had been decided for the quest to retake Erebor, and young Gimli would most definitely not be among them. As the chief-bankroller, Gloin had known for a while now that he would be going, as had his brother Oin whose investments were financing most of the trip. Many of the other dwarves had volunteered due to blood-ties with Thorin Oakenshield, or some like Nori were mostly in search of a profitable venture. They were all grown dwarves, the lot of them, with full beards and notched weapons. That is, perhaps with the exceptions of young Fili, Kili and Ori. Being the nephews of Thorin Oakenshield and of the age of majority, it had never been a question of their coming. As for Ori, his skill as a scribe was already noted despite the shortness of his sandy beard, and so it made sense to have him along to record the quest. When it came to Gimli though, it was Gloin who had the final say, and his say was no. He would not bring an un-blooded youth halfway across Middle-Earth with a dragon waiting on the other end of the road. Gimli would get his turn one day, but not today.

Fed up with his son's protests, Gloin had finally roared back with a fine display of his famous temper. The two dwarves stared one another down...and then naturally Gimli had had no choice but to beat a retreat. Muttering about the 'folly of grey-beards', the younger dwarf made for the forge to take out his anger on unshaped metal. The thought of being left behind while his friends went off on a grand quest burned his youthful pride like a hot iron. Granted he was the youngest of the four, but he, Fili, Kili and Ori had more or less grown up side by side. It was almost too much to bear when the three of them came knocking on the door to the forge. They had come to say goodbye.

Fili shouldered off his pack and straightened his new fur mantle, sewn by Lady Dis to keep her eldest warm on the road. "Well Gimli, it seems we must part for a time then." He spoke gently, well aware of the youngest dwarf's misery.

"Don't worry dwarflet, once we've reclaimed the Lonely Mountain, we'll send for you and your mother straight away!" Showing predictable optimism, Kili tossed his bag on top of his brother's with a 'thud'.

Gimli was nettled at being called a dwarflet by one who had even less beard than he did. "Hmmpff!" He growled, hammering away even harder at the helmet he was making.

"O come now, think of it this way;" Fili ambled over and slapped Gimli on the back. "We'll be sleeping in cold ditches and eating on the run for months, while you get to enjoy your mother's fine cooking three times a day. At that rate, you'll become a strong fat dwarf...and Kili here will get so skinny he'll start to look like a stunted elf!"

Kili snorted and tossed a ball of twine at Fili, which bounced off his back without the elder even blinking.

Gimli slammed his hammer down hard one more time, then turned away to hide his bitter expression. "But you'll have so many great adventures out in the world, you lot will become tired of spending time with a dwarf who knows nothing but the inside of his family's halls."

With a laugh, Fili and Kili grabbed either side of the red-haired dwarf and spun him around to face them. "Who could ever be tired of you Gimli? Besides, Ori will write everything down, so the next time you see us you can read his notes. He writes so well, it will be like you were there yourself!" Hearing his skills praised, the cardigan-clad Ori bobbed his head vigorously with a grin. It was only by a slim margin that Dori had permitted him to join the company, so he was both excited and exceedingly grateful to be going to Erebor.

Later, after mugs of ale and many jovial words, Fili, Kili and Ori took their leave of Gimli. Ori was not yet packed, and so needed to go home to finish preparing. Fili and Kili planned to set out at once for the Shire where Gandalf had told them all to meet. Standing outside the forge on the top of the windy foothills of the Blue Mountains, Gimli shaded his eyes to watch as his friends waved and called back to him;

"We'll see you in Erebor!"