Where Ori sat in the library, he had a perfect view out a large window, of the world outside the lonely mountain. Perfectly puffy white clouds rolled through the brilliantly blue sky, and the lush green leaves of the Greenwood gently waved in soft breezes that swept along the valley below the mountain. He could also vaguely hear the far off voices of men and children in the town of Dale, far below, calling out about their wares, or laughing in amusement.

The young scribe could bring himself to do little more than simply sit and watch as the rest of the world moved along around him. Lived, and breathed, and existed, and thrived, while he simply sat. And watched. And Listened. And wept.

Ori shuddered when he felt the soft touch of his eldest brother on his shoulder, turning red rimmed eyes away from the window. He blinked, allowing the fresh tears that had gathered in his eyes to join their brothers on his cheeks.

"Ori," Dori murmured, brushing his fingers gently through the scribe's hair, easily seeing how Ori's eyes never truly focused on him, too busy looking far away at a world that would never come to fruition. "Come down to eat, please? The others have been asking after you."

The red-head simply nodded at Dori's words, allowing the eldest Ri brother to tug him out of his chair, and usher him out of the library. If Dori noticed the broken fletch of an arrow clutched tightly in his youngest brother's hand, he said nothing.