"What? Dwarves actually attacked your fleet on the Running River? Allen, I'm very glad to see you safe and sound."
After hearing Allen recount the ambush, Thorin's smile swiftly vanished, and he could not hide the astonishment in his eyes.
After a moment's thought, the King of Durin continued with a grave expression, "Allen, my friend, you may deal with your prisoners as you see fit. You need not consider my feelings. In fact, I curse those dwarves who have fallen into darkness. May their souls wander the wilderness forever, never to return to the Halls of Mandos."
In their faith, the dwarves had always loved and revered their creator, the Vala Aulë. They firmly believed that after their bodies died, their souls would be summoned to a chamber in the Halls of Mandos by "Mahal," who was Aulë himself. At the end of the world, they would be sanctified by Ilúvatar and continue serving their creator.
This was a doctrine passed down by word of mouth among the dwarves, which showed just how fiercely Thorin hated those fallen dwarves. Perhaps, though, that hatred was directed chiefly at Sauron, who ruled in Mordor.
"All right, then I'll keep them in my workshops. Hopefully, one day they can break free of the darkness and return to our side."
With Thorin's assurance, Allen could finally put his mind at ease over the matter. If Thorin wanted them, he could certainly go to Heidelberg and take the dwarves away. Allen did not really mind, though keeping them was even better.
In Middle-earth, no power would ever complain of having too many smiths, especially not Allen, who was preparing to smelt metal and refit armor on a large scale.
Still, Allen had not come to the Lonely Mountain solely for those few dozen dwarves.