[Saraphim]

Narin sat restlessly at the gate, itching to join the fighting that was taking place below along the river. Only an order prevented him, a half-thought from Ori to remain and gaurd the entrance.

Out of boredom more than anything else, Narin walked the short way to Mirrormere to retrieve Balin's body, which had been left by the others in thier thirst for revenge. He trusted to his ears to hear any orc that would be foolish enough to approach the gate, and to the hope that they would alll have joined the fighting anyway.

Balin lay as Nali had found him, with an wound to the heart and a hand dangling into the water. Narin self-consciously closed his dead commander's eyes before attempting to maneuver the corpse on to his shoulder. It was difficult, as Balin had been a heavy-set dwarf, and his body was already beggining to stiffen.

As Narin slowly stood, he saw blood drip from the arrow-wound in Balin's chest, and fall into Mirrormere.

Narin froze. He watched helplessly as the droplets hung suspended on the surface for a moment, then dissolved into the water. He couldn't say whether it was balsphemy or a tribute to Balin, but he resolved not to mention it to anyone.

Hefting Balin onto his shoulder, Narin's thoughts wandered elsewhere. As he reached the gate again and set Balin's corpse carefully down, Narin remembered a sword that he had hoped to finish. It was missing something, perhaps a gem.

He could ask Lin to set it for him, but he had rarely spoken to her since thier last fight, the one in which had knocked her beard off. He shifted nervously when he thought of her, and of the fact that he still owed her his life. Narin blushed and took of his helm to scratch his head.

Come on now, Narin, He thought to himself, You've never been interested much in them before, why should now be any different? Besides, she's a proffesional, and definitly hasn't shown any interest in you...

Narin stood up suddenly, the noise of returning (and by the sounds of it, victorious) dwarves reaching his ears.