|
Not much had been heard from Malí, to be sure. Balin's deat hhad put her into a stupor that she could not release her mind from. Since his death she had resigned herself to the shadows of empty halls or even just in the Chamber of Marzarbul, only to be alone. She did not fit in with the warriors, not even with the only other female, Lin. No, Malí hated herself for not being more brave or fierce like the other warriors. She knew now that the adventure was not for her, even if she had realized it far, far too late.
The sentiment that discouraged her the most was the deaths of all the wonderfully brave dwarves that did belong in the warrior's world. Malí wondered every day why she was not the first dwarf to die, as she was not useful to the group in a way that mattered.
So it did not surprise her when the tremors began to rip through the Chamber that all she did was whimper silently. Malí listened as Ori and Flori argued and yelled at each other, and Malí wished she could help.
When the hinges of the Chamber door flew open, the first black-shafted arrow belonged to Malí's heart. Her only regrets as she died were that she did not die first, and that she could not have been more of a help.
|