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Alrik stood next to the grave of one of their comrades, Flói, his helmet in hand out of respect to the young one. It was sad to see one of their number fall this early in the expedition, but the thought of avenging him, if turned to the right direction, could be a powerfull ally indeed.
"Our path to glory has allways been opened with the blood and sweat of our kind, and paved with the bones of our enemies."
The words he had heard spoken, and spoken himself on several occasions, brought back to his mind the deaths of many a comrade he had witnessed during his career as a warrior. It was credit to the experience gained in a hundred battles that he had survived. And to that Malí girl, ofcourse. The thought almost made him feel embarassed, but he was thankfull for the young dwarf. He had survived to see the Truesilver, unlike poor Flói burried next to the Mirrormere.
He turned from the young dwarfs grave and walked away to the rest of the group.
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