"Come, Gimli, we must fly!"
His anguished keening doesn't abate as I drag him from his prostration beside Balin's tomb and out of the dread-full carnage-chamber. Can it be that this squat, sturdy stranger feels grief as keenly as we Elves?
I begin to comprehend -- the dead were not merely his people, the sons of Aulë, but his kinsfolk and friends, and his bereavement stabs my very heart. His axe is as black-drenched in orc blood as my long-knife, but his rock-solid heart bleeds blood as red as mine.
I pray the Valar spare my fellow warrior any more loss...
***
"The others followed; but Gimli had to be dragged away by Legolas: in spite of the peril he lingered by Balin's tomb with his head bowed."
The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 5, The Bridge of Khazad-dûm