To be honest, Gandalf has had quite enough with these dwarves. They were always complaining, and always fighting.
The only person who seemed to be even the slightest bit positive was Bilbo, their small hobbit burglar.
Now Gandalf could understand why certain members--*cough* Thorin *cough*--could be agitated. They were on their way from Boern's and would soon be heading into Mirkwood; elven territory.
But this bickering was getting to be too much!
The small journey from the Skin-Changer's home into the dreaded woods of the elven forest was supposed to take a week at most.
But because a certain raven haired king couldn't seem to get his head out of his arse, they were at least two days behind.
The company was moving aggravatingly slow, and at this rate they'd never reach Erobeor by Durin's Day.
"I'm telling you, Thorin! Mirkwood is that way!"
"Well according to the map that I'm holding, it's this way!"
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