Bróin and Mogdred spoke at length on a great many things, from matters of commerce and logistics to the politics of the Woodmen clans. The Lord of Tyrant Hill was not a gregarious man, that much was clear, but like as not the Dwarf could see only suspicion and a lack of understanding at the root of Mogdred and his clan's ostracism. Black Tarn, Mountain Hall, Woodmen-Town... they see the darkness that assails Tyrant Hill and misattributed it to these hard-working folk. Their words are seen in the worst possible light, which serves only to drive them further and further away from their fellows in the Vales. By the Dwarf's reckoning it would take an outsider's perspective to sway the other clans in their attitude towards Tyrant's Hill; who better than him? It would not be an easy task - especially as he notes the wayward glances from some in the company - but nevertheless it was one that needed to be done.
At the very least his work would not be done alone, for a familiar cawing could be heard growing louder and louder as the Company made to depart for the fens. Soon enough Vara has retaken her place on Bróin's shoulder, regaling the Company with a tale of her daring escape from the slings and arrows of Tyrant's Hill. Such talk follows the Company as the begin to brave the tangled woods of Southern Mirkwood...