Rolf readied himself during the encounter, but made no actions. His companions had it well in hand. He might have arrived first had he not already unsaddled Forge; he would have mounted and been on the newcomer in moments. 

As events transpired, however, he stood in the background, one hand holding his sword and the other supporting his pipe, which he was loath to give up. 

When everything was over, he sheathed his sword and went back to his patch of the camp, unusually quietly. He had to hold Forge back from frolicking with the other dragons, but he made himself clear by giving his partner a taste of his suspicion and dislike for the newcomers. They had soured his mood, but he tried to salvage it by rekindling his pipe and resting, his back leaning on Forge's warm belly. 

When the time came to discuss their followers, he would voice his opinion of them. But until then he'd keep his own council. Let the kid think for a night that he might get to join them.