[Arry]

It was only a few miles from the cave where they had stored their supplies to the southern tip of Kheled-zaram. As they made their silent way down the narrow track that led along the side of the mountain, the Dwarves could see in the distance the banner and glittering shields of the Elves. Skald paused and shielding his eyes from the bright sun looked hard toward the advancing troops.

A volley of arrows followed by harsh Orcish cries disturbed his sighting. The Elven troops closed ranks and advanced at a faster pace as they defended themselves from the foul missiles.

The Dwarves flattened themselves down behind the rocky outcroppings that edged their path. Inching forward their gaze scoured the mountain slope, looking to see the source of the attack on the Lorien Elves. The source was soon found. Orcs had hidden on the lower parts of the slope seeking to ambush the Elven contingent. Some of the Orc arrows had found a mark, Skald could see. And in return, there were Orcs falling from the accuracy of the Elvish bowmen.

The Dwarves with bows were just beginning to nock arrows and take aim at the Orcs when suddenly there were hoarse cries from one of the creatures who appeared to be in command. The Orcs were up in an instant and running pell-mell toward the Elves. From what he could see, the Orc troops were nearly double the size of the Elvish warriors.

From their position behind the Orcs, the Dwarves made haste to scramble down the mountain side after them. As they closed the distance, the creatures who lagged behind the others were at first cut down by the Dwarves’ arrows. Those Orcs who stopped to see what was happening as their comrades fell, found themselves faced with the sharp blades of mattock and pole ax and battleaxe.

The Dwarves roared a fierce and mighty battle cry as they closed with the Orcs.

Skald swung his poleaxe in a deadly arc as he reached the raged back line of the Orcs. As a scythe through wheatstalks the Orcs fell as he advanced. At his side, the Brassbeard cousins swung their poleaxes as well. The Hardhammer brothers, Manni, Vetr, and Taf, were deadly in the skill with which their throwing axes thunked decisively and deep into Orc flesh. Bildr and Bisi plunged into the fray with a grim sort of glee, their shields raised on their left arms as their mighty right fists wielded large oaken clubs studded with sharp metal points. Orcs fell, their heads caved in, crushed as easily as hollow gourds.