[Hookbill the Goomba]

The purple riders were at the head of the great army, Pallando the Blue and Alatar the brown were stood somewhere in the midst of things, grinning like mad-men. A horn sounded, then another, and another until the whole land was filled with the ringing noise. The army began to move; rank upon rank, battalion upon battalion, an endless sea of foes. Drums boomed and fell voices cried out. Banners were unfurled and swords were drawn. The Were creatures howled.

The Dwarf and his little band of odd folk stood atop the central hill in the graveyard. The leader of the Mordorian army that were alone here to defend them shivered in his armour. Alli gulped deeply and Aime took hold of a sword. Tollin finished putting The Barrow Wight back together and then drew his Morning Star.

"So," he sighed, "here at last is the end." Tollin breathed deep and looked out over the grave yard.

This was the fashion of the graveyard before the beginning of the battle: it was about a half mile in diameter, circular (almost) and containing many tombs. Grave stones were dotted all about the hillside and atop the great hill was a flattened slab, under which was buried some significant person who probably appeared in ATM 1. There were four gates; North, South, East and West. A fence of iron surrounded the place and spikes of steel had been forced into them.

The army of the Istari was surrounding the Graveyard; the noise of their trampling shook the bones of all who heard it. One of the Farsegul stood at each of the entrances, their purple robes looking like they had been preserved for years just for this moment. But so vast was that force that it was unlikely that they would be finished soon.

All of a sudden, there was a commotion below the hill. Smilog looked down and saw a strange figure forcing his way through the army of Mordor. It was a man who looked battle worn and swamp ridden. He fell at the feet of the Dwarf and panted like a dog who has swum the Anduin lengthwise... against the current.

"Andvari!" cried Smilog, "I thought you were dead."

"Nay, not so," he replied, raising to his knees, "but come, I have found the final clue. The greatest Gold hoard is in our grasp! Come away from this place and have gold a plenty!" The man's eyes seemed to be full of tears and desperation. He panted more and laid a hand on Smilog's shoulder, "We can escape through the tunnels and come to the hoard in a day or two. Shall we leave now?"

The Barrow Wight pointed out over the graveyard and said, "Sorry, Old bean, but can't you see we're a bit busy?"

"And can't you see that I am trying to save your friend from death?" Andvari shook his fists. But then, as if catching himself, he turned back to Smilog and smiled hopefully. "The gold is beyond count, sir."

Smilog stroked his beard and then turned his gaze all about. He looked at the forces of Mordor, gathered against all hope to fight to the death. Tollin, who, until recently, had spent his life in a labyrinth, now ready to die for the same lord who made him live there. The Barrow Wight who... Actually, he wasn't sure why he was here, but it was probably for some knobel and interesting cause.

"I'm sorry," said Smilog, "I have a thing to do here. It may be that I shall die here, this day. But this doom I take. Keep your gold, I do not want it." The eyes of Andvari widened in horror. He turned his head right and left, whimpering.

"You must come!" he cried, "they'll kill me it you-" he stopped and looked away, biting his lip.

"Who?" asked Alli, "who will kill you?"

Andavri made no answer, but stared at the ground. Eventually, he looked up and laughed a deep and haunting laugh. "My masters ordered it!" he cried, "Allatar told me, 'Take the Dwarf far away! He will get in our way. Tempt him with visions of gold and take him away and kill him.' So it was that I have followed you since the beginning. Oh, yes! But if you will not come away..." he sprang forward and landed upon Smilog. There was a yelp of pain and then Tollin tore the man away from the Dwarf. In his hand, Andvari held a knife, now stained with blood.

Smilog cried out in pain and Aime picked him up. The man laughed as the Mordorians pointed their spears at him. "Fools!" cried Andvari, "Fools! You cannot see it can you? Now there is no hope. The Dwarven army will not come for one of their kin shall not be in the battle."

"Yes they shall," cried the leader of the Mordorians, "We saw them mustering not one night ago. They will march with war against the Were creatures. They will be here before dawn."

Andvari twitched in Tollin's grasp. His plans were failing. But then, it seemed, that he laughed, or a voice from within him laughed. He raised his face and they saw that it was white and that his eyes were gone. Then, slowly, he began to chant:

The Great Hound Barked and the world turned white,
The Great Hound Sighed and the forest died,
The Wizard Blew His Horn. The Wizard Blew His Horn.
The snow snake hissed and the world turned round,
The snow snake grinned in his fine cold sin,
When The Wizard Blew His Horn. The Wizard Blew His Horn.
The horse wept blood and the earth did groan,
The tall horse reared from a lake of tears,
To seek a Champion. To seek a Champion.
The world was bleak and the Earth did fear,
The Wizard's Horn, the magic Horn.
So it screamed for a champion! It screamed for a champion!
The eagle laughed and the world grew black,
It stretched giant claws and it snatched the Law!
And the Champion stirred in his sleep! The Champion stirred in his sleep!

Andvari laughed and it seemed that a shadow grew about him.

"Look!" cried Alli, pointing to the North Gate. There stood Pallando with a great horn in his hand. He placed it to his lips and blew. The sound was like a thousand war drums and a thousand screams of terror. Andavri seemed to grow in stature, his face becoming like a hound. He was a Were wolf!

Thus began the Great Battle of the Grave Yard, of which many songs are sung. Few, correctly.
Will our heroes survive until dawn?