[Saraphim]

In the cold morning air, Narin carefully organized his important belongings into a worn leather pack. He strapped his green cloak on and fixed his axes firmly onto his belt, and paused in remembrance of his brother, who had used one of the axes to fend a goblin away from King Dain during the Battle of Five Armies, only to get a spear in his chest for his pains.

Narin sighed, and hoped that battle had been his last. Nevertheless, he wore his old armor under the cloak. He plaited his beard and noted with pleasure that it stuck a few inches below his belt.

His forge equipment was too heavy to take; he had packed only a small hammer and tongs. The rest of it would go to the keeping of his aunt, his only living relative in the Lonely Mountain. Narin never really saw eye to eye with her, so he had not had a long, tearful goodbye the previous night.
"Just sell it all, and make sure it's at a decent price too." He had said, then gave her the key to his forge and shook her hand.

Narin did not have many friends, so his farewells really consisted of no more than that: a handshake and occasionally a ‘good luck’.

In fact, Narin did not expect to get any closer to anyone at Moria, either. He was very opinionated and took a secret joy at proving people wrong. This did not make him very popular, and the friends he did have respected him more than liked him.

Narin looked around his room one last time, checking for any missing trinket he might need. There was none, he had everything important in his pack.

Then without another backward glance, he left.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:19 PM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Saraphim ]