(( Here's the full log! 
Please note that I did tidy things up a bit, just making a few grammatical changes as well as moved a few emotes around to keep the flow a bit more clear. ))
Neldi hangs up his cloak and makes his way into the main room of the hall.
Zeldi stokes the fires within the furnace.
Neldi makes his way into the main room and looks about. He sees several of his kinsmen throughout it and gets himself a mug of ale before making his way over to them.
Grotnir strokes his beard, having been there some time already.
Neldi makes his way up to Zeldi, who's still stoking the fire. He gives him a good push on the back, certainly not enough to push him in, especially given his size, but a healthy shove never-the-less. "Good evening, brother. How fares the fire?"
Zeldi grunts and he heaves a bit forward, he smacks out at his brother. "It'd fare better with some ginger-dwarf-sized-fuel." He stands up. "Amazed you're not off somewhere else."
Neldi asks, "Haven't I been off somewhere else long enough?"
Grotnir polishes his brass pocket watch on the coarse lines of his sleeve. He pops it open and winces at the time. "Do you know how busy I am? Are we getting on with this meeting or not?"
Alberchael waves to Dagdalin as he enters the crowd of dwarves gathered.
Dagdalin fills his tankard, turning to join his kinsmen. "Aye, let's get this started."
Zeldi smirks a bit and steps down, patting Neldi's shoulder. "Fair point..." He looks to see Alberchael. "Graug jambags... Look who it is."
Grotnir tugs on his beard. "Longbeards, always applauding themselves." He goes back to watching his clock.
Neldi motions to the crowd forming. "We'd best start joining and shutting our traps, or we may yet be tossed into the fire!" He then makes his way down to the floor, to have a seat and to listen more properly.
Zeldi speaks up, his deep voice filling the hall. "We're not growing any greyer… Let's start this before we do."
Grotnir looks up from his watch to the podium
Neldi sips at his ale as he looks attentively to Dagdalin as he prepares to speak.
Zeldi crosses his thick arms and motions to Dagdalin. "Aye. What's this about?" He glances to the doorway as a few more assorted dwarves of the Order enter, among them is Urd.
Tornstenn quietly eases down into a chair near the back of the room and puffs on his pipe, keenly watching the scene.
Grotnir looks about the room, gauging the other attendees’ emotions.
Dagdalin clears his throat. "Gentlemen, given our discussions last evening and the reports I've gotten, I thought prudent that we meet plan how we might respond if the reports prove true."
Dagdalin looks at Tornstenn, paling a bit. "And there is another matter I must share with you, brothers."
Grotnir puts his pocket watch back in his vest. "About time we made some sense of this summons. Why are we here, Master Dagdalin?"
Zeldi seems to be impatient over the matter at hand, yet he listens all the same.
Tornstenn catches Dagdalin's look and leans in a bit, his expression tensing a bit.
Neldi sips at his ale, listening to Dagdalin's words.
Grotnir looks to the other dwarves for a moment and grows even more impatient. "Let me guess, yet another matter we Broadbeams are last to know?”
Dagdalin goes on to explain the summons, "There are reports, which I believe to be true, that the wars in Gondor have not been among factions of men, but against the Dark Lord himself, and that that war has now been won. By all accounts, the One Ring is destroyed and the Dark Tower thrown down.”
Tornstenn coughs on his pipesmoke and sputters.
The crowd of dwarves have a mixed reaction to this news. Shock, confusion, and celebration amongst some of the older dwarves.
Grotnir scratches his beard. "Will it affect iron prices?"
Dagdalin answers, “It's something that we are all a bit late in hearing. From what I can tell, this happened suddenly, several weeks ago."
Zeldi blinks his lone eye a few times and steps forward. "What," he asks, flabbergasted.
Dagdalin smiles. "I think it may improve them, in fact. Folk will have need of it to repair things, Master Grotnir."
Neldi asks, "I forgot to ask yesterday, but has there been any word from Erebor on the matter, as they are closer to the events than we are?"
Grotnir shakes his head doubtfully. "If there is no more fighting, then iron will be less sought after. I'd best advice Gondamon.”
Dagdalin looks to Zeldi, hardly missing a beat. "The Dark Lord is at last no more, Uzbad." He then gives Neldi a look of near panic. "I just got word in a few moments ago about that, among other things…"
Neldi notices the look on Dagdalin's face as he addresses his question and goes silent.
Zeldi chuckles and claps his tattooed hands. "That'll show them! Orcish bastards are no doubt finished! Du bekar," he shouts, as he shoots a fist into the air and claps some more.
Dagdalin turns back to Grotnir. “That may be, Grotnir, but folk will want it for farming tools. The halflings and Bree-landers are especially fond of our steel farm tools."
Grotnir shakes his head. "Farm tools," he says with irony
Zeldi glances to Grotnir. "As long as men fight, they'll buy weapons..."
Dagdalin chuckles a bit. "Very much so, Zeldi... Yet, that means we're coming to a new age. What will Men and the elves do? There is much we could capitalize on."
Zeldi waggles an inked finger toward Dagdalin in agreement.
Olmandis nods. “In addition, more open trading contracts are expected to occur among former allies as new negotiations have been hammered out.”
Dagdalin nods. “Precisely so, Father... I'd wager there is more peace now than there was, but men are fickle and will war with one another on occasion.”
Grotnir scratches his chin again. "Then all is peaceful among the men folk?"
Zeldi scoffs. "Doubtful."
Neldi turns and says, "As I thought before, I doubt even with the fall of the Dark Lord there will be total peace. There will be new dark powers rising to fill the voids, to gain more influence." He then takes another sip of his ale.
Olmandis adds, “There is a more well defined avenue for diplomacy.”
Dagdalin nods. “Agreed, Master Neldi...” The then addresses Olmandis as he says, “There is room for both steel and quill.”
Grotnir nod. “Good, good. Then the forges need not cool!”
Zeldi mutters, "We just keep business with the winning side of course... Gondor and whatnot." He also glances to Neldi and grins.
Dagdalin turns to Zeldi and nods in agreement. “Aye.” He then turns back to Olmandis and says, “Speak on if you would, Father.”
Olmandis obliges. “The new colony within the Glittering Caves holds a particularly interesting prospect. We would be within the bounds of the Kingdom of Rohan, but of course, we would keep our autonomy.”
Grotnir turns from his spot to look at Olmandis.
Zeldi scoffs. "Glittering Caves? The blue blazes is that? First I've heard of that."
Olmandis continues, “Gimli, son of Glóin, found a fantastic network of caves behind Helm's Deep’s Deepening Wall. Some of the people of Rohan took refuge within them. I'm told they're stunning to behold, and Gimli wishes to start his own settlement there.”
Neldi strokes his beard. "That would be... in the White Mountains then, yes?"
Zeldi smirks. "The son of Glóin has made something of himself... Always have liked him." He nods a few times and glances to Neldi as he speaks.
Grotnir raises an eyebrow to Olmandis. "Did he explore them?"
Dagdalin nods. "Aye, that's correct, Neldi... From our reports, he did, Grotnir. Olmandis has more information on that than I do, since Rohan and Gondor are under his purview."
Olmandis answers, “He fought in them when the enemy attacked, and their history is interesting, but rather complex. They are, however, extremely ore rich.”
Grotnir thinks for a moment.
Zeldi chuckles with excitement and glances to the dwarves present. "That's fine news!"
Neldi asks, "But were they not also said to be haunted by the spirits of old? I know many here scoff at such superstitions, but I've read many accounts of such apparitions in those caves."
Zeldi mutters under his breath, "I'd believe it..."
Grotnir asks, “What kind of an investment would it require to explore this opportunity, as it is under king Théoden's domain?”
Dagdalin shakes his head. "That's another series of caverns, if I have my geography aright, Neldi." He turns to Olmandis. "I'm sure that Erebor will authorize the expense, particularly since it would be you and Glóin's son asking."
Zeldi mutters, "And Lord Glóin has more than a pretty penny at his disposal..."
Olmandis nods. “Ah, that is within the White Mountains above, and I too have heard sordid tales. This cave system has a rich history, actually dating back to being the purview of the Númenóreans and was held jointly by Gondor and Rohan for some time.”
Grotnir shakes his head. "They've stolen our wealth since Skatha! They owe us those mountains! But we cannot press that claim, not with our numbers against their backing from Gondor, so we must negotiate…”
Dagdalin gestures toward Zeldi. "That it true enough, Zeldi." He gives Grotnir a look. "Very much so, Grotnir."
Olmandis addresses Grotnir, “A gift for Gondor is already being commissioned, but Gimli himself has been afforded the cave system by Rohan. Of course, he will answer to Thorin, but the caves have been gifted to us, as it were.”
Zeldi furrows his brow. "Thorin? Why would they answer to Stonehelm?"
Grotnir looks to Olmandis with surprise. "Is that so?
Neldi looks to Olmandis, with a look of surprise as well. He then looks back to Dagdalin. "That's the other news you received from Erebor..."
Dagdalin looks to Zeldi. "Stonehelm is Dáin's son and heir. He'd have some responsibility, I'd wager."
Olmandis says, “Gimli is a Longbeard, and while this would deem him a lord, he is not a king.”
Zeldi motions to Olmandis. "Neither is Thorin! He's but a prince... Dáin is king."
Grotnir shakes his head. "The Longbeards valued the craft of Linnar's folk, even in their greatest days. Let me take 10 smiths and 10 miners from Gondamon, all Broadbeams, and we shall make it profitable for our folk."
Olmandis raises a brow.
Grotnir looks to Olmandis. "Do you doubt the skill of the Broadbeams?"
Olmandis turns to Zeldi. “My apologies, I had thought you were aware. The king has passed. He died defending the body of King Brand before Erebor.”
Neldi was taking a sip of ale and chokes on it as he hears Olmandis' news.
Zeldi looks about wildly. "Died?! Brand is dead too?! Did the Easterlings strike?!"
Dagdalin nods. "That was the other news I was to relay today…” Almost under his breath, he adds, “Part of it, anyway…”
A ruckus arises from the crowd.
Tornstenn is dead silent in the back, his head hung at news of his old friend's death.
Grotnir looks towards the door.
Neldi dips his head.
Zeldi puts a hand to his chest and looks down. "Maker..."
Grotnir spits on the marble. "Enough! Will you back my expedition to these caves or not? It is time to look forward.”
Dagdalin raps the lectern sharply. "Order! Order! We have new king, and there is more yet to tell you." He then gives Grotnir a look. "Maker help me, we will."
Grotnir looks to the lectern impatiently
Zeldi points toward Grotnir. "Our king is dead! Show some respect!" He then puts his hand back to his chest, his breath still a bit short at the news. Sorrow begins to etch itself onto his face.
Dagdalin places a hand on Zeldi's shoulder. "We all grieve, Zeldi, and Grotnir will grieve with us soon enough."
Zeldi glances to Dagdalin.
Grotnir nods to Zeldi, obviously not concerned about a king.
Neldi looks to Grotnir. "Forward... You dare to look forward when our king has died? Have you no respect for your greaters? Has your ambition no end?"
Grotnir nods. "I respect our late king. But I represent Linnar’s folk, and our late king had little to do with the Vale.”
Zeldi growls. "He had a damn lot to do with what our people are today. Your own included."
Grotnir squints at Zeldi. "For his own gain."
Neldi rises from his seat and glares at Grotnir.
Zeldi takes a step forward. "Choose your next words carefully, Grotnir..."
Olmandis interjects, “There is a time to settle new business and it is not now. In response, Grotnir, the skill I doubt of the Broadbeams at the moment is the skill of diplomacy and knowing when to be respectful. That... remains in doubt. You continue to compound that doubt.” He then looks to Neldi and Zeldi. “Now, this is trying time and tempers will flare, but Dagdalin has asked for order, and we owe him that much, agreed?”
Dagdalin bangs on the lectern again. "Gentlemen! This is no time for arguments! We must be more united than ever."
Grotnir looks from Zeldi to Olmandis, and then back again. "You expect me to back your own as though we were kin!"
Zeldi slowly glares to Grotnir. "I thought we were... Seems you think different..."
Dagdalin points at Grotnir. "When you became a member of this Order, you became our kin, a brother to us."
Grotnir nods to Dagdalin.
Neldi shouts, "You are of a different house, aye, but we are all dwarves! We must stand together! Only the heartless turn away when the road turns most grim, or in this case, more profitable!"
Zeldi looks to his brother, he'd smile with pride if not for the sorrow of loss.
Grotnir looks to Neldi. "Aye, would you have me look for things less profitable?"
Olmandis eyes flit to Dagdalin, he remains eerily calm, but lets Dagdalin speak.
Dagdalin tries to regain the peace again, “We all come from different houses, different backgrounds, but we are under one banner... the banner that Weldulf himself raised in the name of the king and all our folk.”
Neldi growls. "You look to where your kin needs you... I've struggled long and hard to learn that, and I will not have it undone now by the likes of a dwarf I was once like. Look forward indeed!"
Zeldi looks to Dagdalin as his father is mentioned.
Grotnir ignores Neldi’s statements entirely.
Olmandis looks to Neldi. “Neldi, enough, please.”
Zeldi takes a deep breath in. If he was a few years younger, he would've lashed out physically already, but the dwarves of this Order tempered him finer.
Dagdalin nods to Zeldi faintly. "Gentlemen, I know this is a time of chaos and grief, but we must work together, both for the benefit of our folk and to honor those that have gone before us."
Neldi turns to Olmandis and Dagdalin. He bows respectfully to them, then sits back in his seat with a clearly audible thud.
Olmandis bows a beard a might in return.
Grotnir takes his watch from his pocket again and looks up to the podium. "You were talking about new opportunities for our folk? Please continue."
Zeldi gives the most nasty side eye in dwarven history toward Grotnir before slowly looking back to Dagdalin.
Grotnir ignores Zeldi’s stare completely.
Dagdalin nods. "We have the opportunity to expand into Rohan and Gondor, especially now that there is peace in the south, but we must also seek to pay our respects to the dead." He turns to Zeldi, taking a small medal that was hidden in his beard. Zeldi would recognize it immediately as something belonging to Weldulf.
Zeldi takes hold of the medal and looks to it. "Why... This is my father's." He looks up to Dagdalin with a faint smile. "How'd you come by…" His eye freezes as he abruptly stops speaking.
Neldi looks up to Zeldi, hearing mention of their father. Without looking to him, he asks, "Dagdalin, what other news had you from Erebor?"
Dagdalin nods. "It is, aye. Noah flew in this morning. It was in the package that had the letter in it. Noah said you'd know what it means."
Zeldi looks to Neldi, growing pale. His shaggy head turns at a snail's pace back to Dagdalin.
Neldi rises from his seat and ascends onto the stage to inspect the trinket his brother is holding.
Dagdalin pales as he tries to answer Neldi’s question, "We've lost more than our king…"
Grotnir yawns and looks at his watch again.
Zeldi loses his balance and grips onto the podium. "This... This was our grandfather's." He looks to Neldi, dumbstruck.
Dagdalin flicks his eyes to Grotnir, staring daggers at him briefly before turning back to the brothers.
Neldi drops his head. "He... never went anywhere without that..."
Dagdalin tries to catch Zeldi, but nearly falls himself.
Zeldi leans against the podium, nearly all the blood drained from his features. The medal is held still in the palm of his hand.
Grotnir eyes the medal, assessing the craftsmanship, and his eyes go wide at the beauty of it.
Neldi kneels on the floor and cries.
Zeldi hangs his head and stumbles forward, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. Tears well up in his exposed eye.
Olmandis bows his beard solemnly.
Dagdalin allows his tears to flow freely. "I am so sorry to have to be the one to bear this news to you both. I never knew Weldulf in life, but I've felt his influence since the day I joined the Order and have sought to honor all that he worked for."
Grotnir looks to Dagdalin. "A fine thing you've retrieved, but is this a time for mourning or a time for business?" After waiting some time, he sighs and walks away from the gathering.
Zeldi is seemingly cut off from the world save his brother. He simply stands their still, slumped.
Dagdalin turns on Grotnir, nearly slapping him. "Grief and business together, lad. Show some respect for your lord!"
Neldi shakes as he hears Grotnir's comment, but he does not say or do anything at the moment, seemingly unable to.
Grotnir waits for everyone to collect themselves.
Zeldi exhales roughly and turns his head slightly, his lone eye looking to Dagdalin. "How did he fall?"
Neldi regains himself a bit more and is able to stand up, looking to Dagdalin for the answer to Zeldi's question.
Grotnir shakes his head sadly. "I do not know the business of your folk, but it is a great grief to lose a father. I know, as I've lost mine." Grotnir salutes the two brothers.
Dagdalin nods to Grotnir. "Well spoken, lad. Not only have we lost their father, but we've lost the Father of our Order."
Grotnir scratches his beard, those words clearly meaning little to him in context.
Zeldi speaks up, a demand almost, "How did he fall?" He looks on, desperate to know.
Neldi reaches up and pats Zeldi on the shoulder. "P... Patience, brother... He... has other things... to speak of too..." He looks again to Dagdalin.
Dagdalin looks at Zeldi, tears soaking into his beard. "According to the letter, he fought in the battle against the Easterlings, at Dáin's side. He died the valiant warrior's death, Zeldi, and lies in honor near Thorin himself."
Grotnir takes a table of charts from his pocket and begins erasing them, although the contents of the book on indistinguishable to those around. They resemble charts of finance.
Zeldi nods proudly and closes his eye, recollecting himself. He looks up and nods. "I am proud to be his son..."
Neldi looks to Zeldi. "N... near Thorin!" He tries to smile, despite the tears, "A... as honorable place as any for him!"
Dagdalin removes his hat, tossing it gently to the table below him. "Aye, near Thorin, as befits him."
Grotnir returns the book to his pocket and winces a moment. "The Broadbeams of Gondamon would like to commission a statue of your father in thanks for your aid in our fortresses defense."
Zeldi places a hand on Neldi's shoulder and then looks to Grotnir, he slowly nods, his gaze upon the Broadbeam softening.
Grotnir nods to the bereaved sons and turns away, taking his pipe from a pouch at his side, a bit of pipe-weed, and begins to smoke.
Dagdalin turns to Grotnir. "Thank you, brother. We'll see that it is done. If need be, I will pay the commission fees myself."
Grotnir shakes his head. "No, Mathi and I will see it done, and carved by Broadbeam masons from Eruid Luin stone. Where will we place it?”
Dagdalin answers, “It will be placed near Gourgini's Tower, Grotnir, as would be fitting.” He then turns back to Zeldi and Neldi. "I will personally see to preparations for a memorial service to be held here at the Halls, should you wish such. There are many here that will share in our grief."
Tornstenn has yet to move from his chair, his face in his hand and Urd offering comfort to the elder dwarf.
Zeldi nods to Dagdalin's words somberly, the mighty dwarf looking perhaps the weakest he ever has. "Aye... Thank you, lad..."
Grotnir looks up to the bereaved. "Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have shipments of iron and coal to oversee up the Lune. I mourn for your losses. You'll get used to them."
Zeldi shakes his head some before speaking up again, "I must go to Erebor... I must pay my respects in person..." he looks to Neldi as he continues, "I must for mother's sake..." He then looks to Grotnir slowly as he speaks. What shoddy comfort the bite of the latter words gave.
Grotnir pulls his good up, a silver bell jingling on the end of it. "I wish you safe travels," he says as he departs.
Olmandis looks to Grotnir. “And safe travels to you as well.”
Neldi looks to Grotnir, but at his last words, the look becomes more bitter. He lowers his head, and says nothing, turning back to Zeldi. "Yes... I... I will go with you."
Zeldi pats Neldi firmly. "Aye... She'll like that..." He glances to Neldi and sputters a laugh, forced, brought about by the emotion. "You're her favorite after all!" He wipes his eye and clenches the medal even tighter.
Neldi laughs as well, though just as forced as Zeldi's was. "Just as you were his!"
Zeldi nods some, his lips tight beneath his mustache. He looks up and clears his throat. The pain was burning, yet his father's death, noble and suiting. He pats his brother firmly and mutters, "I must tell my own family..." He looks to Dagdalin and asks, "Does Lord Dwalin know?"
Olmandis nods. “The lord is aware, but no official proclamation has been made.”
Neldi nods. "Right..." He wipes the tears from his eyes. "Come stop by my house when you can, yeah?" He smiles. "I... I did have some onions for you, after all!"
Zeldi punches Neldi lightly on the shoulder and chuckles. He wipes his nose and nods. "Good night, my kin..." He then slowly turns and makes off.
Neldi bows his head to Dagdalin and Olmandis. "Good night, master Dagdalin, master Olmandis. And I apologize for the interruptions and letting my temper fly." He then heads out of the hall as well.
