[Arry]

The sound of the Dwarves’ horns brought hope to the beleaguered troops as they fought the losing battle against Sauron’s troops. The Elves wondered at who had come to their aid, or if it were some new foe bound to slay any who stood in their way. It was the Dwarves who fought alongside Elrond’s men who let them now it was their kinsmen who had come to harry the Orcs and Easterlings.

‘Can you not hear that sweet high sound, the one singing above all the rest?’ cried Skald. ‘Tis the horn of the Stonecut Hall.’ He looked up at the Elf near him, an expectant look on his face. ‘Well, are you giving me a hand up, man? Or I must run behind these great beasts to a safe retreat? My kinsmen cannot hold the Orcs and Men forever.’

-----

To his left, Skald could see Bror clinging onto the Elf who bore him on his horse. He was jostling up and down, his axe slapping against his back with each stride. Skald pushed his helm up from his eyebrows, where it had slipped, and gave his brother a resigned look, followed by a nod of sympathy. The Elf he rode with urged his mount on at a faster rate and Skald’s attention was narrowly focused on not falling off.

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Less than half a day brought Lord Elrond and his remaining troops to the western outskirts of the jewel-smiths’ city. The pace of the ride slowed as the Elves fanned out, looking among the rolling hills and low-lying forested areas for any of their kindred who might have escaped. In the more thickly wooded sections, the Dwarves dismounted and went in twos and threes looking for any in hiding.