Kili tilted his head to the side at the name, as he nodded. It was a beautiful name. His eyes would follow her as she backed away and stood to full height. 
	“You spend a lot of your time in those, don’t you Saeril?” Kili asked, after she told him where she’d come out of. “You’re moving like you’re already going to leave. If you’re really Delva, then I trust you. I could get the other dwarves to trust you as well. There is room for you on our quest.” Kili said, his thoughts seemed to be fractured some. “Or even if you’re not leaving, you could help us.” Kili went on. To have an old family-like member leave the same day she came would definitely be something he would frown upon…though meeting her, for the first time was an experience he already had deemed to be amazing.  

--
Tajjus watched from afar, still from his perch in the shadows. He had not moved, not shifted focus off of the arriving Orc army, nor the house with the she-efl in it. He watched, seeing the small bits and pieces of what they were doing through the window in the side of the house. From his vantage point, the window was a much smaller thing to look through, but he peered past it nonetheless, watching and waiting. 

He never got the conversation, not the voices, but the gestures and faces he could make out somewhat. He would now see that how peculiar his target was: an elf liking a dwarf. Most often, he noticed those species didn’t co-exist well. So she has a heart. Tajjus mused. He would take a glimpse at the advancing Orc forces. They were a numerous force, and if something was not said or done soon, these Orcs would surely ravage the house. They were gaining, planting more archers, and their inhumanly giant wolves were joining in the joining in on the progressive stalk. More and more Orc archers were surrounding the perimeter of the house. They were all just meters away from the house, within all the forest growth, hiding, assembling, and awaiting the command from their leader. 

Tajjus would sit, his bowstring idle, as he decided what to do. Anyone who exited the hous would be walking into a death trap. He was outside, and behind and above their lines. Tajjus gave a muffled grunt to himself. His conscience was tugging at him, but he had his own job.