[Arry]

‘You’re right, Bror,’ Skald replied as they watched the elves battle the two remaining Trolls. ‘It looks as if the Elves have got this situation under control. ‘Let’s gather up the rest of our fellows and go patrol the perimeter so any other murderous beasts don’t get in.’

The two set off at a run and soon had gathered up the rest of the Dwarves’ contingent. They walked along the perimeter, fanning out a little, their eyes and ears alert for any new Trolls who may have crossed the line.

There were none, it seemed. Rori Ironfoot stationed them in groups of twos and threes along a small section of the camp’s edge where the first Trolls had gotten in. They were within sight and hailing distance of one another, weapons at hand.

From within the camp, hidden in a clump of low growing trees, two beady black eyes stared out at the gathered Dwarves. It was the fifth Troll, he had been occupied with killing a few of the picketed horses and dragging their bodies out of the camp. He had re-entered just a short while prior to the Dwarves’ arrival, intent on taking out a few more carcasses. His eyes narrowed at his good fortune. He hated the Dwarves and their cave and tunnel grabbing ways. They were no more than stink-bugs to his mind; they deserved to be crushed beneath their betters’ heels. The horses could wait, he decided, until he’d smashed as many of the Foul little creatures as he could.

His hand clenched more tightly about his giant stone hammer and he took a deep breath as he sprang from his hiding place at the nearest group of three. For once, he held back the Hill Troll battle cry, coming upon the unfortunate Dwarves with a savage vengeance. His hammer blow was hard and swift, killing one and smashing the shield arm of another. The third Dwarf raised a loud cry and wielding his pole-axe, took a mighty blow at the Troll’s knees.

Bror heard the call, first, and motioned for his brother to hurry with him. When they’d got there, five other Dwarves nearby had also rushed in and were trying to ring in the Troll. As several Dwarves engaged the creature from the front, others came at him from behind, battering at the less scaley areas behind his knees.

Skald grabbed a coil of rope left near where the horses had been picketed and threw one end to Bror. Other Dwarves had come into the fray by now, and several of them grabbed on to either end.

The Dwarves who were harrying the Troll from the front, now pushed him even harder in an all out assault, driving him backwards. As the back of his knees neared the rope, the Dwarves that held it pulled it taut, setting their boots hard against the ground as they did so.

Unbalanced as the rope struck hard against his legs, the Troll stumbled. And hit relentlessly by the Dwarves axes, he fell backwards, sprawling on the ground. The Dwarves holding the rope ends quickly entangled his lower legs in the rope coil. Rori, bearing an iron-headed stave, pushed it hard into the Troll’s ear. Bror and Skald lent their weight behind him. Soon the downed creature lay twitching on the ground. As a last blow, one of the Dwarves brought the end of his poleaxe down in a forceful swing toward the Troll’s face. The sharp-pointed end of it, crushed through the fallen brute’s eye, pulverizing the weaker boned socket and penetrating the Troll’s brain with a final deadly result.

Skald sat down with an oomph! trying to regain his composure as well as his breath from the exertion. He turned his head to his brother, who’d come to sit beside him. ‘I’m tired of this, too, Bror. I’m glad you’ve had your fill of it now. And I agree with what you said – the sooner we’re home beneath the mountains, the better it will be.’