❝haven’t been there m'self, t'was
          abandoned - y'know, balrog an’ all.❞

Bofur hums softly to himself, shoulders 
rising and falling in a very brief shrug as
the pipe sits between his lips, and he inhales.
Smoke tendrils slither from his mouth as
he begins to speak once again.

      ❝if ya weren’t quiet, aye. like i said, balrog.
         nasty, devilish things those. pro'lly a lot o’
         others too. i’d ask Balin, Oin or Ori if ya
         wanna know anymore, though. 
         but for the record?❞

He leans a little closer, gaze shifting to the
side before his voice lowers to a whisper.

       ❝i’d ask Balin. don’ go mentionin’ that place
          t’ Thorin.❞