[Amanaduial the archer]

Flori heard a sudden resounding crack and the commotion that had been growing behind him ceased so suddenly and unnervingly that it was in fact more noticeable and worrying than the fighting itself had been. The dwarf turned irritably...and froze as he saw Balin standing among the other dwarves, his hands clamped over his nose - evidently what had made the crack. In front of him, a look of dismayed horror on his face, stood Lin, one fist still frozen in mid-air. Around them, the other fighters had paused in various stages of fighting, realising something was wrong, in a way that was almost comical. But Balin's reaction was not exactly comical as he recovered to stand, one hand still on his nose as he suddenly exploded.

"Foolish dwarf, what in merry Mordor do you think you're doing, thumpin' me on the face like that, hmm?!" he bawled furiously, glaring at Lin as he approached. He didn't give Lin a chance to reply as he paused only for a momentary breath before his tirade continued - he hadn't even begun yet, and he was evidently warming to his fury. "Honest to stone, were you behind the anvil when the brains were handed out? Hmm? Do you think you can hit Balin son of Fundin on the nose and get away with it, you son of-"

Flori decided this fight had gone far enough - Balin's anger was famous, and Lin didn't seem too happy to take a shouting at either; abashed though he was, his cheeks were starting to colour with anger again rather than horror and humiliation, and his fist was beginning to rise. As the warrior knew, although a good fight was often what was needed to relieve any bad feeling and ease thinsg up, he also suspected that a good grudge would do nothing of the sort, especially a grudge held by Balin if Lin landed that fist on his face again. Stepping forward as Balin bawled the last sentence, he came between them hastily. "Woah, Balin - I am sure Lin had no intention to impugne your good graces, but-"

"Impugne my flamin' good graces?!" came the incredulous, explosive reply. "I'll give you flamin' good graces, both of you, young hi-hoes..."

"Balin, would it be-"
"Lord Balin, I am sure that-"
"What in stone is-"
"Balin, I think I can see the edges of the Forest!"

Several people had started talking at once, but it was the last that all heeded to, and all eyes swivelled from the conflict involving Balin, Lin and Flori to the speaker - Ori, standing on a high rock, his eyes shaded against the sun as he peered with keen eyes down the path. Feeling intensely grateful towards his brother for finding a way out of the situation, Flori leapt from his awkward position, drawing Balin with him as he came to stand by his brother, looking up at him. "How far, Ori?"

The minstrel peered against the sun once more, screwing up his eyes as he estimated it. "The path is quite straight, and I should say..."

Flori joined him on his perch, scrambling up beside him. "An hour and a half walk, maybe?"

Ori turned his head from side to side, then nodded, smiling at his brother. Only Flori noted the relief in that smile along with the agreement - the seperation between the brothers when Flori had stormed off had evidently worried Ori as much as it had Flori, the older brother realised suddenly. He hesitated, remembering the grudge he had felt towards his brother and it seemed suddenly utterly futile and pointless - he smiled back warmly, then jumped down carefully and, in a typically dwarfish fashion, rather gracelessly, and held out a hand to his brother to get down. Ori took it, although he didn't need it, and came to rest beside his brother. Flori turned to Balin, darting into the conversation gap before Balin's anger at Lin could resurface. "We shall still go through the forest rather than around it, Balin?"

Realising this wasn't the best way to appease his friend, Flori winced inwardly. Balin set his jaw again in his familiar way and jutted his chin. "Indeed we shall!"

Flori quickly covered up the sigh that was coming with a quick clearing of his throat, and a flapping of wings also helped to hide i- realising, Flori looked up, and beside him so did his brother. Ori beamed suddenly and Flori covered his face as the dark shape swept towards his eyes, taken off his guard. But the bird simply landed on his brother's arm, and when Flori lowered his arms, and when Flori looked up again he saw Ori fiddling with the roll of parchment attached with a small, thin length of twine to the bird's leg before, with a triumphant grin, he released it and unrolled it. Both sets of eyes (Flori's and Ori's, of course - the raven was waiting patiently for the crumbs Ori owed it) immediately began to devour the words of Dain:

Ori (and all the company, of course),

I was glad to hear from you indeed - it heartens me to hear that you have set out well and that none among you had last minute doubts. You will all need to fortitude that the others can give to you - the strength of both body and mind that may not yet seem apparent will become evident in time, especially on such a mission as this. Accord is vital-

(here Flori couldn't help snorting and glancing at his brother who returned it with a slight grin)

-, something that MUST be remembered by all, although I risk being called a nagging old nursemaid for that! My advice is to take the pass around Mirkwood, my young friend, but if you must take the path through the forest, do take the outside paths - there is no current and recent emnity between myself and elven King and his people, and that is quite the way I intend to keep it! Please, do not aggravate him, and keep also from the spider-roads, although you will know that better than any, Ori.

I wish you ever more luck in your quest, my friends, I tell you that most earnestly and heartily. You seek to bring more honour to our splendorous race, and what can be more noble than that?

Signed,
King Dain of Erebor

ps. Ori, for your eyes only, and your brothers: whatever Balin may say, be mindful of that temper which has e'er run in his family. No matter what he may say about the elven king, he is as stubborn as he is proud, and would take a grudge to the grave. I will not suffer the complaints of Thranduil upon our people, and do not let yourselves get drawn in and hurt by Balin's pridefullness.

-Dain.