Ayden Glodorn was the son of one of the dwarven kingdoms. His family was related to Thorin and his kin, his father being Náin, but he was a less well known son. He was a half-blood; his father had been with a peasant woman before going to battle and she bore him. After proving himself an accomplished fighter and a strong heir, Náin announced him as the heir to the throne of the Iron Hills. But shortly after, a war broke out between the elves of Rivendell and the dwarves of the iron hills after a dance went wrong. To settle it it, an arrangement was made; their princess would marry Ayden, prince of the dwarves from the Iron Hills. Ayden personally didn't want to get caught marrying an elf...how would it work out?! He would be half her size! But he guessed that it wouldn't really matter. He would be travelling within a fortnight towards Rivendell; he wondered what his bride looked like. He had long black hair that was tied back in a pony tail, his bangs covering his forehead. He held a short circle beard, nothing like the beards his forefathers had. But it was growing; he unlike most dwarves didn't fancy large beards. he thought that they were rather unattractive, and to be honest itchy. He felt like he couldn't sleep; he was too anxious. Maybe he should start along the way now; he would be travelling only with his adviser Khîm, his cousin. Getting up, he realized that it was almost dawn; he'd been laying in bed for the entire night! 'Damn I don't want to do this,' he thought. He didn't like the idea of being forced to marry anyone; he'd had no desire to even marry at all. And now he was promised to an elven woman in Rivendell...a princess. Pulling his clothes on, he headed outside for the barn. He would get Roven, his brindle marked pony saddled and ready so all he had to do was wait for Khîm, who had the food rations already packed on an extra mount. Walking into the barn, he gazed at his horse. He'd had the older pony since he was just a boy; Roven was getting old. Perhaps he should take Flint, Roven's stallion son. "Sorry Roven, but you've gotten too old," he whispered as he moved to a black and white pony. He disliked Flint; the pony was as stubborn as an ass. Pulling the knot apart from Flint's halter and led him out. He took the black leather saddle and set it on Flint's back. Tightening it, he could tell the pony was getting annoyed. "Shut up," he mumbled as Flint whinnied at him. Finally, he had Flint saddled and ready to go. Turning around he only just noticed that Khîm's mount had been presaddled. 'He always thinks ahead,' he thought as he led the pony out of the stables. Outside, his adviser was making his way to the stables. Leaving Flint outside, he walked back inside the stables and took the pack pony's reins and Khîm's pony Dizzy out. Mounting up, he waited for Khîm.