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[Himaran]

"Erulon, give me a hand with this door! Quickly now!" The man hurried over, and the pair heaved the stone block back up into its place. Durin picked up a large rock and shoved it into the crack. The others helped, handing them blocks lying around the room. After Bali shoved the last into place, he stepped back.

"Back up! Weapons at ready! Battle positions. Steel yourselves! No matter comes through that door, you will stand your ground. We will live to fight another day." It was then that he got a good look at their new companion. He was young, but was built like a warrior, and appeared well-trained. The man was squinting, adapting his eyes to the light. Bali presumed that he had not seen daylight for weeks.

Slowly, the man stood. He glanced around at his rescuers, as if gathering himself before speaking. "I need a weapon."

Bali could not help chuckling. What was his name? Who cared! He was a fighter, and swords would do more than words in this situation. "Here you are, sir," said Eruantalon, who handed him a longsword. Erulon then pulled out his axe, a shining and beautiful instrument of death. He had not fought with it for some time.

Just then, a scratching sound was heard near the far side of the room. The dwarves began to turn, but Bali stayed them. "It may be a trick. Keep your eyes on the door; Durin, see where that noise is coming from." Durin investigated, and reported that nothing was there.

Then the door shook violently under a sudden impact.

[Arestevana]

Maulká hurried along the dark halls with Nephil and the others. They headed for the cave exit, hoping to intercept the intruders. If the outsiders made tgheir way to the deep reaches of the caves, it would be many days before they were found. Not even the elders knew all the secrets of the lower tunnels.

As they drew near the exit, Maulká heard a faint noise echoing from one of the nearby corridors. She slowed, and at that moment a guard came running from the hallway. "They have broken into the hushed room!" He gasped. "We can no longer wait."

The company quickly overcame their surprise and dashed down the hallway. The noise, now identifiable as voices grew louder. Reaching the door, they found it blocked, the door enforced by some means from the other side. After some confusion, several of the warriors found a supply trunk in a nearby room and began to use it as a battering ram against the obstruction. For several moments the barricade held, until it was splintered by a well-placed blow. The trunk was thrown aside and warriors charged into the room, weapons drawn.

[Novnarwen]

Dwalin stood, trembling, behind Bali. Preparing himself; firmly holding his axe, he waited for the door to crack open. From behind, he could hear the others breathe. Other than that, it was silent. He felt awkward, but didn’t know whether it was the feeling of being scared or the excitement which rose inside of him. His hands were wet and slippery and he felt insecure about the whole situation. The company had certainly managed to get themselves into trouble now. It was not very fortunate how it had all happened, so quickly, so unexpected.

What if this was the last thing he did? He looked seriously at the others. If it hadn't been for Kain's death, the loss of their food and the stupid door, they would never have been here! Angry by his own lack of judgment, he frowned. He should have known that something was wrong long before Kain's death. He had heard rumours of people lingering here, but he never really considered that the rumours were true. He reproached himself for not thinking through this enough. Going on this quest had been a huge mistake, and for this he blamed himself. Then suddenly, he remembered when Bali and Hænir had come out of the woods the night when Kain died. What had the two of them been talking about? Dwalin remembered clearly that they looked worried, but even so they hadn't said anything to the others of what they had been talking about. Why not? Why hadn’t they shared their thoughts if it was something that worried them? Surely, if their worries involved the quest, and therefore the group, they couldn’t keep this to themselves. And why did they have that conversation in the woods? Yes, for Dawlin believed they had talked in the woods. About what, he didn't know. Did his brother know anything he didn't?

Hearing the voices outside, speaking in a tongue Dwalin didn't recognise, he started to shiver. He knew that the door would break up any second now, and he might even die before he could give Bali and Hænir another thought. It frightened him, but he hid his fear.

* * * BOOM * * *

With a big “boom”, which made Dwalin's ears explode, the door was forced open. He was only able to get a quick glimpse of the attackers before Bali made at least one of them fall into shadow. Surprised by the battle's sudden start, Dwalin found himself hesitating about what to do. Looking as the others as they strode forwards to fight the attackers; Dwalin held his axe low and waited. Eyes filled with wonder, he came to Nerin's side who was eagerly trying to kill his opponent. The attacker's skill with weapons was outstanding. He carried a long sword and a knife. He made several attempts to thrust the deadly weapons into Nerin, but the Dwarf escaped by an inch every time. As Dwalin raised his axe, he was cut off by another man, who had appeared from what seemed like thin air. The confused dwarf had to turn around, leaving Nerin, and darted towards the grim-faced attacker.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Narvi was quiet. With bowstring drawn to his ear, his mind raced back to the end of the Third Age, during their battle in Dale. He smiled, knowing his advantage. He had done very well then, and this situation exactly matched that one before the gates of Erebor. Except...

Except this time they were the intruders. If the laws apply here, their death would only be right.

Snap out of it, soldier! That kind of thinking would get you killed.

Just then, the door burst open, and he fired. His arrow hit someone on the arm, forcing that man to drop his weapon. The attackers were too quick. Using a bow at this close range would surely bring the risk of friendly fire. He dropped the bow and drew his axe. All thought dropped out of his mind, save survival. He stood his ground, waiting for someone to approach him.

He was too fast. The man he wounded suddenly appeared in front of him, clutching a spear in his left hand. Narvi eluded the thrust, but not the punch. The man's blood stained his corslet as his hand connected with the Dwarf's stomach. Narvi dropped his axe, and fell to his knees. The man cried in his native tongue. A harsh tongue, a strange tongue, but the thought conveyed was not so strange. He felt the thought himself once. Die, stranger!

He rolled to left, the spearhead barely missing his neck, but hitting his right thigh. With his axe out of reach, his only weapon now was the arrows. He grabbed one and stabbed the man in the heart.

He had no time to pity the fallen. He staggered to his knees, and limped towards his axe.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The savages came at them like beasts of the forest, limber and agile as snakes with the reflexes to match. A large man thrust a long dagger at Hænir’s belly, but the Dwarf was able to deflect the blow easily with one hand. He brought his axe to bear, but he was not fast enough with his heavy weapon and the man was able so skipper away into the shadows. Hænir heard the sound of steel cutting air behind him, and he whirled in time to see another savage coming at him with a look of feral hatred contorting his features. The long dagger swooped at his head like an attacking raptor, but Hænir was becoming used to these tactics and he easily blocked the attack with the shaft of his axe. He then thrust the axe head forward like a battering ram, shattering his attacker’s chin and sending him into the corner a howling bloody mess.

Once more he turned just in time as his original attacker came at him once more. This time Hænir swung first, being sure to keep his blade high for he had seen the agility with which these demons were able to leap. To his astonishment, the man fell onto the floor and then sprang to his feet the instant the danger had passed. Hænir was in an impossible position: he had swung his blade with all his might and there was no time to bring it back to bear upon his assailant before the man renewed his attack. The Dwarf attempted to move backward, but the press of bodies was so tight in the room that there was nowhere for him to go. Desperate, Hænir tried to duck the blow, but the Rhunian was far too swift for him – the blade practically sang in the man`s hand as it plunged toward Hænir’s unprotected neck.

He had given up all hope of living to see the end of this battle when he saw Bali fly in front of his face, knocking the Rhunian’s arm to one side and deflecting the blade he wielded just enough that it clanged harmlessly off Hænir’s armour. Without a moment to think, Hænir dove at the savage’s legs and brought him to the floor of the room with a crash. Like lightning, the man was on his feet again, but this time, Hænir was the faster, and the man soon fell again, this time, never to rise.

Hænir turned to Bali and nodded to him quickly. “Thank you,” he said. But then their enemy was upon them once more, and there was no more time for talk.

[Will Witfoot]

The door burst open, rubble and pieces of the stone from which it had been made falling clattering to the floor. Through the oppening a group of shadowy creatures charged in, moving with unnatural swiftness and agility. In a blur of motion they were upon the party.

From a belt crossing his torso Gortek produced a cruel-looking throwing knife. It's edges were barbed, making it very difficult to withdraw from where it had wounded. He hurled it at the closest of the beasts, grinning nastily when the man howled in agony and began to paw at the hilt producing from his thigh. He wouldn't be up to causing any trouble very soon.

He met the savage's comrade in arms blade to blade. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, and the man withdrew his sword and resumed his attack, raining a series of swift and powerful blows at Gortek which the dwarf was hard pressed to parry. The savage sidestepped and lashed out, his blade biting into Gortek's flesh and staining his shirt red. Gortek gritted his teeth and ducked under a swipe which would have split his skull had it connected, and thrust out with his sword, aiming for the belly. Curiously, his target was no longer where it should have been and his blow met only air as his opponent dodged aside gracefully and aimed a kick at Gortek's outstretched arm. It connected with the wrist and sent the dwarf's sword clattering to the floor.

Before the man could administer the killing blow Gortek shoulder charged him, sending his assailant sprawling to the floor. Before he could rise, Gortek reached down and withdrew a dagger from his boot. In a heartbeat it was through the man's eye and lodged in his brain. The Rhûnian went limp instantly.

Sweeping the floor with his gaze Gortek's eye happened upon his fallen sword. Scooping it up, he made ready to face the fray once more.

[Saraphim]

Nephil entered every battle the same way. Silently, with a cold and calculating air that only appeared when he was faced with possible death.

He watched from the doorway as several of his people, who aught to have known better, rushed into the room, and got only metal in thier body for thier pains.

Nephil sensed that it was time for him to enter. Crossing his arms, he pulled two poisoned daggers from the sheaths on his upper arms.

The room was chaotic, with intruders fighting for thier lives and sanity in a foriegn battle. The native Rhunians were not faring well; Nephil could see many bodies of his people lying still, while none of the enemy had fallen.

In a flash, an axe appeared from nowhere. But Nephil was ready, and leaped over the weapon, slashing with his knives at the arm holding it.

Something howled in pain, but Nephil barely heard it, as an arrow slid into his arm like a snake. he followed the arrow's trajectory until his eyes came to rest on one of the larger intruders. The one that was like a man, but not.

Thier gaze met for an instant, Nephil sensing wisdom and age unimaginable deep within the eyes of the stranger. For a moment, the battle was forgotten, the arrow in his arm put aside, as Nephil struggled to grasp what, and who, the archer was.

Then, in an instant, he was gone, leaping out of Nephil's vision faster than he had seen anyone move in his life. Only the wildcats of the forest could have compared.

But nephil shook off his reverie and noticed that many more of his peopl were dead, and those left were not faring well. The intruders were hearty folk.

Nephil took the initiative, as no one else would have, "Retreat! Back to the caves! Retreat!"

Nearly having to drag Maulka away by the hair, Nephil and the others ran from the room. They were loathe to leave, but with so many dead and wounded, they had little choice.