“Wrath and vengeance, grudge and strife, we march into the afterlife! Rhump-rhump-rhump...”
“Could you stop that, Gurnisson?”
“Stop that? Baah, nonsense, Azul-Kang! The Speech of Borri Stonehand is a fine tale to kill foulskins to!” Dalbran shook his head, his beard swaying on long, gentle strokes.
“Yes, but we are not killing yrch. Not yet. Thusly, I suggest we tak-”
“Oooooo! Baruk-Khazad! Du bekar, sakrelgi!” The Dwarf was already thudding towards the group of Orcs that had just appeared on the far end of the doorway. Cardanith sighed deeply. “Or... that.” Soon enough, he joined in on the bloodshed.
“Eat steel, wretch!” Dalbran reared up, and split the nearest Orc head in twain. Bone gave in under the blade of the axe, releasing a stream of crimson a moment later. Both the Dwarf and the Noldo bloodied their way through the winding tower, and emerged into one of the higher courtyards. Bodies of slain Orcs were already strewn about it when they arrived. They were on the right trail, after all. As luck would have it, the two ran into one of the patrols of the Enemy that were tasked with keeping the towers secure following the Reaver’s death, and were now slowly, but surely, falling beneath the axe and the spear. “Baah! Come on, skarelgi! Aren’t ye supposed to be a great warrior or somethin’?” Dalbran roared, laughing, then buried the curved end of Barak-Midhal into another unfortunate Orc. “Focus, Master Dwarf! Perhaps if you spent less time talking and more time killing...” Cardanith blocked a blow with his shield, then lunged forward, ramming the end of his spear through an Orcish throat. “... then we would not be making such slow progress!” There was a glimmer of jest in his tone. “But y’see, sakrelgi! What is a good fight without a wee bit of competition? Umgak, that’s what it is!” The Dwarf laughed once more, kicking at the knees of his opponent. The beast faltered, bone cracking beneath the dwarf’s hefty boot, sending the Orc down to one knee. “Oi!” Dalbran turned, and called out to the nearest Orc. “I think ye’ve got somethin’ on yer...” He laughed merrily, then promptly buried the end of Barak-Drengi into the thing’s skull. “Oh, no, I got it for ye! Hahaha!” He leapt upwards, dislodging the weapon from the bone, flicking a thin trail of blood through the air. “Come! Come on, then! The more the merrier! Doom, I tell ye, bastards! Doom has come for ye!” Dalbran flared, then ran head long the remaining five Orcs that had just poured out of the doorway. On the other end of the courtyard, the Noldo war-captain wrenched his spear free from another corpse. He dodged aside, letting the heavy cleaver clang just inches from his shoulder. He had switched to fighting with just his spear now, his shield strapped tightly across his back. Cardanith snaked around another incoming blow, allowed the Orc weapon to skid along the shaft of his spear. With a snapping riposte, he placed the point of the weapon just underneath this foe’s throat, letting the momentum of the beast’s charge propel it forward to its doom. Before it could react, the keen point punched through under the jaw, and stuck out the other end of the Orc’s cranium. The Autarch reeled back, allowing the spear to exit along the side of the slain foe’s head. It escaped with ease, splitting flesh and bone in its flight, then set about finding its next victim. Cardanith turned on his heel, spear gripped in both hands, looking for the dwarf. Surely enough, he found him, entangled with the newly arrived yrch.
***
The two eventually fought their way away from the courtyard, and into the low depts of the fortress. Through the winding maze of rusted hallways, charred rooms, and maddening staircases, the duo finally reached the smoke-filled bowels of Carn Dum.
“A smithy.” Cardanith said, taking a moment to peek from around the corner. “That’s no smithy, laddie. Look at it, umgak! Umgak!” The Dwarf offered his gripes, then he too peeked to look once more at the chamber before them. ‘That one, the big one. Methinks he’d know somethin’.”
“Hmm, very well. Seven of them.” The Noldo, thought for a moment. “Go for the large one, Dwarf. As you would say...” He paused, with a wry smile. “Baruk Khazad.” And then he was off, the Noldo, descending towards the forge-workers like a bolt of lightning. Dalbran’s face curled into a wide, gleeful grin. “Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!” He thumped after the elf, using the opening he was given to strike right into the chiefest of the Orcs, his twin axes joined above his head. The Dwarf lunged up one of the work-tables, using it to fuel his leap, and a moment later, he was a flying whirlwind of steel and Khuzdul, barreling into the beast. It parried aside, yet Dalbran’s blood was boiling. Twisting his axes as they entered clinch with the Orc’s cleaver, he threw his weight back, pulling the Orc back with him. “Ha! Watch yer legs!” He roared in murderous laughter, then bent, Barak-Midhal's hooked back end biting into the knee. The blade was hungry, and it buried deeper and deeper, before Dalbran pulled it back, and half of the Orc’s muscles, joints and ligaments with it. The Forge-Master howled in pain, collapsing now that his knee had been ripped apart. “Oi! The Wutelgi! Where is he!” Dalbran demanded, grabbing the huge cleaver from the beast’s weakened grip. “What?” It responded, baring jagged teeth. “Where are the Elves? The manlings? Tell me, and I might not cave yer skull in like a melon, ye poor sod.” Grabbing the Orc by the hair, Dalbran dragged him to one of the nearby forges, and pressed the thing’s face closer to the fire. “Now, sing, wretch.” The Orc tried to loosen out of the dwarrow grip, and in vain, it tried to reel back, to bite into Dalbran’s wrist. Placing both hands onto the yrch’s head, Dalbran pushed, pressing the foul flesh against the heated metal bars of the forge. The rotten skin peel back, smoking, soon followed by a blood curling shriek. “Where! Are! They!” The Orc huffed through now blistered lips, trying to mutter out. “The...The Pit! They took them to the Pit! All except the she-elf!”
“Which one?” Dalbran asked, and pulled the thing’s head from the bars. “Which one? Speak!”
“The... The yellow-haired one! They took her to the deep cells!”
On the far end of the smithy, Cardanith wiped his bloodied dagger, and turned to the capture Orc with a furrowed brow. “You took her where?” He thundered towards them, tightening the hold on his spear. “Where, damn you!”
“The deep cells, beneath the chasm and the earth!” It responded with shaking breath. “That is all I know! All I know, I swear!”
“Good!” Dalbran gripped one of the rounded mallets, judging its weight for a moment. “Ye sure that’s all ye know, wretch?”
“Yes! Yes, it is!”
“Wel... that’s unfortunate. For ye.” With a swift stroke, he brought the malled down.
***
“If she is in the dark, then I must find her.”
“And the others?”
“I leave them to you, Gurnisson.”
Dalbran tilted back and forth, watching as the Noldo bowed curtly, and then descended down the hallway.
“Cardanith.” The Dwarf called out. The Autarch turned. “Ye both come out, Understood?”
A simple nod was all that was needed.
“Stars guide ye, Azul-Kang.”
“And Durin watch your step, Dalbran, Son of The Ironhelm.”
***
Dalbran was alone now, sulking down the long, narrow corridor. Shrieks and gleeful roars trembled from blackened mouths at the end of the hallway. The Pit was alit with life, with Orcs and Men alike, all chanting for the death of his companions. It was deafening. The Dwarf continued through the corridor. Slowly, he began tapping his axe along the walls in a well know rhythm. And then, he began to sing.
“When the hammer falls, back our enemy crawls! When the hammer quakes, orcish cowards’ bones will break! When the hammer cracks and it beats their armies back! When the hammer’s boom sends the monsters to their doom! When the hammer falls, when the hammer falls!”
His voice boomed across the walls, roaring like thunder underground. In that moment, he quickened his step, axes drawn, heading towards the light at the end. And then, as his blood began to boil, as he felt the promise of strife on his tongue, as his muscles began stinging and burning, the Dwarf emerged into the light, issuing a thunderous call.
“Baruk Khazad! Khazad Ai-Menu!”
