[piosenniel]

Aylwen's post

Malí Silverfist remained cooped up in her workroom, sitting calmly at her desk, which was filled with neat piles of parchment. The dwarf was barely visible above the stacks, but over the tops of the ‘Input’ pile Malí’s frizzy auburn hair could almost be seen. She was frantically scribbling down calculations, adding this to that and placing any finished papers in the ‘Output’ stack with a satisfied glint in her dark hazel eyes. This was how Malí Silverfist spent most of her days – sitting in the cluttered (but neat) room approving or disapproving transactions or admitting revenues into the King’s treasury. It was how Malí preferred to spend her days, for Malí loved the preciseness of a good equation, so unlike the rest of the world.

A knock came at the door, and Malí looked up from her papers for the first time in hours, it seemed. The dwarf stood from her table (but was hardly any taller standing up) and looked at the door, a question in her eyes as the knocking returned. She stalked over and opened the door, revealing one of the messengers in the service of King Dain. Malí sighed, looking at the messenger coldly as she asked him of his business.

“I’ve come with a message for Malí Silverfist, from Balin son of Fundin,” the messenger replied curtly, ignoring Malí’s cold stare and unkind eyes. Malí accepted the folded piece of parchment from the messenger and shooed him away, not bothering a word of gratitude as she let him go off on his business. Then Malí returned to her seat and impatiently opened the message. Her hastiness was due mostly for her hatred for falling behind schedule, or having anything distract her from her figures and calculations and work. But when she opened her message, the contents proved to be quite intriguing.

Dear Malí Silverfist,

I, Balin invite you to partake in an expedition of honor, glory, and riches. I only ask you to visit me with a band of other Dwarves near King Dain's hall. There is some travel involved, and quite a bit of fighting, and...possibly injuries on one level or another...but the reward fully compensates the trials you face. And then some! If you would please visit me at mid-day, I would be much obliged.

Cordially yours, Balin son of Fundin.

Malí stared at the letter, reading it several times before raising a bushy auburn eyebrow in surprise and distaste for the idea. Yet, somewhere in her eyes there was a hint of pride in the headstrong fearlessness of her folk, and pride in herself for being so invited to help in some way. In any other case, Malí had no idea why Balin would be inviting her upon such a journey, when all Malí could do was strategize, enforce practicality and, well…add. But Malí was not one to give up an opportunity to show off her greatness, and thus Malí was not about to let Balin down (even if the other Dwarf was not the reason for Malí’s motivation).

And so, Malí Silverfist pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began to scribble down a reply in her strong, angular handwriting. When she was finished, she scrambled (or as close as Dwarves come to doing so) to the door and looked out and down the hall, where the messenger was still trotting slowly to wherever his next destination was.

"Oy, Messenger!" Malí shouted down the hall with a strong, firm tone floating out in her voice. The Dwarf turned around, and seemed exasperated and slightly frustrated that Malí had been the one to call his title out. Despite, the messenger jogged slowly down the hall back toward Malí, and when he reached her, Malí handed him the folded parchment that contained her reply. "Take these directly to Balin son of Fundin; place them in the hands of none but Balin. If I find out you have done otherwise, your family will pay, literally." Malí threatened. The Messenger nodded and went off on the task given him, and Malí grinned in a satisfied manner as she watched him go.