Branack didn't seem wholly unwelcoming, but he did seem to be less than impressed at the array of men who sat at the table. He seemed far more interested in the ale and cake that he recieved from the fleshy lass that served it. "My thanks." he told her in both greeting and farewell, and he began to help himself to his tasty snack as the men and girl about the table began to discuss their hellos and the journey at hand. 

"So, a smith are you?" Branack asked, giving off a light (for him) burp and wiping his mouth with a bit of cloth. It was a rhetorical question, and he saw fit to let them say their pieces as he ate and supped at his leisure. Judging from their words, they seemed to view this quest with trepidation, and well they should! Men were young and impulsive, and this was a quest of the gravest circumstances. For this was no ordinary anvil they sought. He could still scarcely believe they were after the maker's anvil. 

To Cole's acknowledgement, he spake "My thanks." with a bow of his head. "But my experience with the forge was only a short time. I know the workings of caves, minerals, and mining far more. Though I dare say I could forge a fine blade or pot if need be. Unfortunately, it seems that this journey requires far more." he declared to the table. 

"Not least of which is a strong arm and a fearless heart, for we could very well face the foulest of beasts and peoples. Mark my words however. Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens, and if you lot are intent upon this quest, let it be said so now, for there might be no turning back later. And if indeed the anvil of Aule is in danger, I shall allow no one to hinder in its reclamation."