The unmistakable sound of an arrow reached Narin's ears. He had been stuffing his face with sausages. (A major staple of food on the entire journey, thanks to the foresight of Loni. )
The offending arrow bounced off of Balin's helm, and Narin's first wild thought was that elves were out to destroy all of Balin's respective headgear. Then logic took over and he realized that elves would not come near Moria if thier scented hair oils depended on it.
"Orcs," he said needlessly, and unhooked his axes. Everyone else was on alert, eyes scanning the pockmarked walls of the old city frantically, attempting to find the bowman.
Narin found Loni behind a rock with a few others, some of whom had bows of thier own drawn.
"Well, Loni, it looks like we might actually see some fighting after all," He sighed, "I had been hoping the bloody goblins would leave us be, but as it stands..." He did not have to finsh the sentence. Loni nodded grimly.
"Look at it this way," Narin said, "If we win this, Moria and all its spoils are ours,"
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