The Dwarves of Othrikar swiftly gathered to meet the approaching threat. An elven huntress stood beside their archers on the walls, and Thordralin, Frimsi, and the Halfling Passerose joined the defense of the gate. All of them rallied in uncommon unity against the threat. They gathered, secure within the walls, and awaited for a command to attack.
The archers bravely defended the gate, which, however, finally gave way under the pressure of the enemies. Thordralin took a long, steadying breath and turned his eyes to the enemy he could see. The Dwarf lifted his axe high. "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" he shouted as he led the charge toward the onrushing throng. The other Dwarves followed him.
Then the invaders were upon them, and there was no more time for thought. Thordralin and Frimsi slashed and darted, their weapons turning aside the axes and pikes of their foes. Many of the inhabitants of Othrikar took a stand near them, for the invaders all but fell over each other in their efforts to get at their most powerful foe. Linglorel fought at the side of her friends with a silvery knife and with chilling ferocity, but she was soon swept away by the battle. They lost sight of her in the crush and turmoil. Thordralin spun and ducked, then thrust up under the swing of the Orc's iron sword. He yanked the weapon free of the monster belly and on the backswing parried the jab of a spear with his shield. And so it went, on and on, long into the morning.
The snarling Warg crashed into Frimsi from behind, smashing atop him, driving the breath from him. "Unhh!". All he could hear was a wild wrauling and footsteps thudding past. And the creature bearing him down sought to savage him. Struggling, Frimsi attempted to roll, but he could not escape the mauling weight crushing him. He jerked the steel blade from the scabbard at his waist and slashed at the creature's leg, gashing it. With a howl it leapt aside, and Frimsi managed to scramble to his knees even as it plunged at him again, savage mouth agape. Without thinking, the Dwarf jammed the blade past its teeth and straight down its throat, steel slamming home even as slashing fangs tore into his flesh. Yawling, it jerked away, wrenching the blade from his grasp. And of a sudden it collapsed.
Passerose fought bravely. A piercing, nasal wail that could only be Orc caught Hobbit's attention. She glanced toward the shriek to see the monster pluck a shining aspen arrow from his backside. Passerose noted the odd, almost vertical angle of the arrow and glanced up-instinctively parrying a dagger's thrust as she did so. Linglorel had found a good spot on the roof, and she had another arrow already nocked and ready. She sent her friend a grin that managed to be both impish and fierce, then she sent her next arrow hurtling down into the thickest part of battle. Passerose chuckled, but all thoughts of mirth vanished as a rust-pitted sword thrust toward her-through the back of the Dwarf who fought at her left side. The Orcs rushed towards her, certain they could handle such a small creature easily. But Passerose was not nearly so delicate as she looked and her spear turned out to be very sharp!
Beset on all sides, they fought on, as did all who defended the dwarf mining outpost. There were losses on both sides, and for many long hours it was not clear who would prevail. But a time came at last when Frimsi swung around, looking for the next attacker, and found that there was none to hand. A few stray clangs resonated through the walls, speaking of hand-to-hand skirmishes. The battle was nearly over; Othrikar was secure. Frimsi nodded in satisfaction and thrust his knife back into its scabbard.
At last he will be able to focus on business!
