[piosenniel]

Aman’s Post - Flori

“I cannot leave Balin alone to his fate.”

Flori heard his brother’s determined voice from his room, the room next to Flori’s own, and replied from where he stood, leaning against the door. “Aye, brother, and neither will I.” Ori turned at the sound of his voice, and returned Flori’s smile, but both smiles held more than a hint of worry. Flori walked forward further into the room, lowering his voice. “But would it not be better if there was no need for him to have to meet such a fate as you no doubt imagine?”

Ori sighed, but did not answer, and Flori understood. The pair were close, and their deep friendship was as strong as the bond of blood they shared, but they both also treasured Balin as a friend. Neither would abandon him, but Flori knew his little brother feared the same as he himself; that he felt the same doubt about this excursion to the lost mines of Moria.

Moria was lost – wasn’t that what the elders always said? Or, as they preferred to put it, Moria was no longer a place for the dwarves. But Balin paid no heed to them, and to the rumours of the shadows that had grown so long in Moria, tales of old that were suddenly going to be brought up close by this quest; all he listened to were the tales of the treasures down there. True silver; plentiful mines; rich, vast halls. And, most of all one of the seven dwarven rings, worn by the kings of old, a prize greater than any other.

Flori sighed, crossing the room slowly to sit in a chair by the window, and closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them, his bright, azure gaze took in the plentiful land of the Dale for as far as he could see. A rich land, now they had reclaimed it for their own in the Battle of Five Armies, and a content people as well. What more could they wish for? But Flori understood Balin’s desire, and knew also that the dwarf wished to travel, as the younger warrior did himself. And after all, who would not wish for such a treasure as was held by Moria, no matter what the cost?