"Are you the wandering Wizard Thorin mentioned? Why do you look so frail?" A thick voice came from behind. An Yang turned and saw Dáin standing there, looking him up and down appraisingly. He added, "I heard you personally chopped off Azog's head?"
"Good morning," An Yang said indifferently.
"Oh, good morning." Dáin gave him a proper bow before continuing, "Were those plans of Thorin's yours as well? They were quite useful."
"Yes, Mr. Dáin."
"Still, I don't much like schemers with a belly full of tricks. Dwarves prefer warriors who wield iron hammers and fight their battles head-on!" As he spoke, Dáin swung the warhammer in his hand, striking an exaggerated pose and pulling an exaggerated expression.
"I see." An Yang gave him a perfunctory reply, then turned back to look at the guests below the city.
"Is this how you receive your guests, wandering Wizard?" Thranduil still held his head slightly raised, his indifferent voice carrying easily to the corridor above the city gate.
Hearing him, Dáin immediately went over to the railing and looked down at Thranduil. He grinned and said, "I wondered who it was. So it's you, the pointy-eared, long-haired little girl. What, aside from the wandering Wizard, can't you see anyone else worth your attention? Someone like me, Lord Dáin of the Ironfoot Legion!"
The king of the Woodland Realm had been mocked as a pointy-eared, long-haired little girl. Thranduil was naturally furious. No matter how angry he was, however, he could never insult people with the filthy language dwarves used. He merely raised his head and gave Dáin a cold look before saying, "Dáin, I knew you had arrived."
That airy tone struck Dáin right in the ribs, nearly making the hot-tempered dwarf leap into the air.
His attitude clearly said: *I knew