[Groin Redbeard]

He had arrived at the scene, breathless, a few minutes before Trór started to speak. Kenan was behind him: stern and magnificent in his armor. Nali thought of what Kenan might have told his grandchildren before he left—Kenan would fight for those children despite his feeling for Trór. Nali moved into the ranks of soldiers with Kenan; eventually they both clasped hands and said what might be their final farewell.

Nali did his best to encourage the soldiers as he walked to and fro. His lips were curled up in a wide grin, depicting a carefree expression. “Take heart my friends! See how yonder force swaggers so, after their long and hasty march. Morning will scatter their ranks. Hold fast until then!”

The attention of Nali’s listeners was suddenly stolen as Trór emerged from the hall. His voice was like the thunder which precedes the piercing lightning of his gaze. Nali was swept up in the excitement of the moment: this speech would have great affect on the warriors that night. If he could remember it all he would write it down after the battle to be recorded in the book of Marzubul—if fate would allow Nali to do so.

Suddenly, as Trór ceased his speech, cruel shrieks arose from the Goblins. Nali could catch the movement of dark swarms. A thumping of bow strings and the whining of arrows was presently heard; Nali could hear the metallic clink of incoming arrows bouncing off the hauberks of the dwarves—their craft was too skillful to be cheated by an arrow. Nali ran as fast as his legs allowed him through the lanes between the divided columns of the dwarves. Nothing but the noise of bowstrings and arrows could be heard for a long time. Then he heard it: the thud of armor colliding with armor; the shouts and shrieks of the warriors; the sound that had sounded so good to him in younger days: the screeching of an axe penetrating a helm or perhaps a shield. Nali was composed, but it felt as if a cold knife had been twisted in his gut.

“Brother,” Nali called as he saw Loni from afar. Loni commanded one of the columns in the second line to back up the vanguard shortly after the battle ensued. “I am on my way to the utter most right of the battle. How goes the battle here?”

“That I cannot tell. All seems to be overrun by the goblins for the moment. I am going in now.”

“Take care of thy other eye—I would feign have thee see me when victory is won.”

“For Balin then! Farewell.”

Nali set off again as fast as he could go. He slipped his mace into his right hand as the right hand of the mountain grow larger. “Blast! Where is Onli? If I find that he hath shirked from battle I will…” The threat was cut short by an arrow cutting dangerously close to him; more followed in rapid succession. A large shield was thrust between him and the arrows.

“You have come! I thought the worst.” Nali was welcomed by a middle aged dwarf. He was shorter than Nali and very scruffy looking. Not the sort of face that was pleasant to look upon. “A miner,” Nali thought.

“My liege, can you fight?”

“Aye, that I can and more. How goes the battle here.”

“Time will tell. The goblins haven’t been putting up much of a fight yet, but it has just begun.”

“Quick, to it then!”

The fray was desperate when Nali arrived. Not many dwarves had, as of yet, been killed, but the growing number of the goblins was evidently proving the better. Nali descended with a heavy deliverance of blows.

“Hold fast, warriors of Durin’s Halls! Balin, for Balin!”

Again the battle cry of Balin was taken up and for a while the goblins were hurled back over the defenses. Nali fought in the thick of the battle and came dangerously close to getting crushed several times, but always the axe of some dwarf would save him in time. Nali’s mace hard hard and swift until the last orc was hurled back across the bulwarks. However, the goblins regrouped and returned with double the original vigor.