better than nothing

Jorrik turned to Luna.

"I can't imagine any price worth more than death, and from my experience survival rests on the a blade's edge." He sheathed the shadow blade, surprised it fit perfectly in his scabbard. Perhaps he could barter it in exchange for a favour in the future...

He heard cries of surprise and looked up. Dwarves? Dwarves! Ale! He raised a hand in greeting to them as he approached.

"Worry not, friends of the mountain." Jorrik affected the tone of a man addressinf a jarl. "We are but humble travellers, and all we request is but a drop of ale."