[Himaran]

Bali could sense the distrust; it was as thick as the pollen floating throughout the breeze in the warm summer night. The dwarves were plainly scared of strangers, at least those in the wild. This cannot go on. We will not survive if we cannot pull together. The words struck the dwarf as strange. What did they have to fear? There was nothing out there, waiting to grab them in the dark of night and tear them to bloody shreads. But he continued to feel an unusual sense of urgency, the need to unite the group. With the new travelers, the job would be difficult.

With his natural leadership skills snapping into play, Bali turned to the members of the company. "Dwalin, Kain, empty the packs. We can use a good meal around here. Haenir, Nerin, gather some dry wood. The rest of you, gather some provisions. Then rest up. Erulon and I shall prepare a meal." The dwarf's keen ears picked up a dispariging comment from Haenir. [/I]Perhaps the travelers are the least of my problems.[/I]

Bali watched as Haenir stomped off into the woods with Nerin, axe resting on one shoulder, a haughty and rebelious air about him. Ever since the incident with the orcs, he had been tough to handle. Not in a disrespectful sense, but a competitive one. It was obvious that Haenir did not see his slightly older companion as the group's leader. Bali knew that he would have to deal with the rift soon enough, but decided to ignore the issue for the night; and instead duel Eruantalon in a cooking match.