[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Narvi was barely alive. He would not have been, save for the natives' retreat. He dropped his axe, and collapsed on the spot, weakened by the strenuous effort and the loss of blood.

Why had they retreated? he asked. Soon he knew.

Dwalin seems to be in an agitated mood. "Bali is depending on us. Only we have the power to save his life. We can either go after him and find him..." Bali was taken? As a warrior, he feared capture more than death, and cared for a lost comrade more than his life. He wanted to follow Dwalin, to rescue Bali from those Men.

But look at you now! You barely lasted against three of them, and now you intend to assault their very stronghold? How badly do you want to die? As always, his body rebelled at thoughts of action only the mind knew was possible. Or necessary.

But he couldn't have lived with himself, knowing that he left their leader to some cruel fate. Despite his battered condition, he had to go after Bali.

"We cannot, nay we will not let him be taken!" Hænir's voice resounded in the cavern. And with that, ignoring the pain, he stood to his feet, and trudged after the two Dwarves.