Bifur puts down the book, being careful not to damage the crumbling pages any further.
“It is a sad tale,” he says.
His fingers trace the runes carved into the dusty tomb. “Balin, son of Fundin. Lord of Moria,” he reads.
Gimli is by the door to the chamber.
“The orc patrols were below us but I can no longer hear them,” he says, “It does not seem likely that we have lost them.”
Dain joins him at the doorway. A flicker of fire gleams far down in the atrium. It grows brighter as they watch.
“There is nothing more for us here,” says Dain. He turns to Bifur who still stands by Balin’s tomb.
“Come, Bifur,” Dain says gently, “We must leave this place.”
Bifur sighs.
“We had many adventures together over the years, Balin and I,” he says.
Dain puts his hand on Bifur’s shoulder.
“Indeed. He fought valiantly alongside me at the Battle of the Five Armies,” he says, “but I sense a great peril approaches and we must away.”
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