Narin
"Oi! Balin!" said Narin loudly, causing the entire company to turn to him. "I don't see that there's anything to discuss. Aughtn't we simply retrace our steps and look for the path again? We gave those pointy-eared elven girlies something to think about, and I don't think the'll be back without reinforcements, which I don't see happening before we get out of this accursed forest."
Some of the dwarves murmered in agreement, especially at the phrase accursed forest, and bgan to argue once more among themselves and with Balin, but not all.
One whispered something to his friend that sounded slightly like unenlightened warmonger. Narin elbowed his way over to him, lifted him up by the collar, and said:
"Do you like the look of my face, laddie?"
The young dwarf looked at the scarred and bruised face of Narin and shooked his head violently.
"That is simply too bad. Because if I ever catch you talking about me, or any one of your elders like that again, I will make your nose even more off center than mine."
He dropped the unfortunate dwarf in a clang of chain mail, and turned around. Narin knew, beneath his blazing temper, that he would have to pay for his actions, but his anger was assauged a bit to know that the uppity dwarf was still quivering.
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