[Arry]

‘What’s that noise?’ cried Skald climbing up on a low, rocky rise near where he and Bror were patrolling. A little ways to the south, he could see the horses picketed there beginning to panic. They whinnied loudly and stamped their hooves at the first bellowing sounds of the nearing Trolls, and then began to rear on their hind legs and paw the air with their hooves.

He could see one of the attacking creatures making for the picketed animals. The Troll lumbered in among the horses, their striking hooves glancing off his thick scaled hide. With a blow of his great hammer to the head, brought one down, and began dragging it away from the camp.

Elves rushed up at the cries from the horses and were attempting to bring down the Troll as he made off with the horse. But several of them were knocked down by yet another Troll who swung his hammer with great savagery.

‘Trolls!’ yelled Skald, clambering down from his viewpoint. He motioned for Bror and others of the Dwarves who were nearby to come with him. Axes raised, the little band of five Dwarves, gave a mighty yell, as they ran at one of the Trolls near the horses.

Their blows were fierce ones, but barely dented the tough scales of the Troll. It was Rori Ironfoot, standing near the Troll’s arm as he raised his stone hammer who noted the brute’s armpit was unscaled. He swung his spiked axe hard at the creature’s exposed skin, sinking it deep into the flesh. Blood gushed out in a great torrent.

The Troll staggered and blows from both of the Stonecut brothers to the backs of its legs brought the now ungainly adversary to its knees. A single shot from one of the Elven archers pierced the Troll’s eye, bringing death to it.

‘We’re needed there!’ one of the Dwarves shouted, pointing to where another of the fiendish creatures was raining blows on several Elves with swords who were trying to keep it from penetrating deeper into the camp . . .