Chapter 36: Blood on the Snow
Bialver sniffs the air and frowns
Trumodir glances at Esk, wondering if he might be timid seeing the sight of goblin blood after his close call in the Lone Lands. He has a troubled look in his eye, but he catches her look and says "I ain't afeerd of no goblins! Not surrounded by you all anyways."
No one seems to be stirring within the palisade, and there does not seem to be a guard on the gate. Looking down into the main camp, however, there are several goblin watchers looking out at the edges of the cliffs. Judging from the number of fires and tents, there is perhaps three score goblins in camp. Maybe more, maybe less.
Trumodir is strongly affected by the strong smell of goblins—there must be a lot of them! – and asks Gilglir, "what is your plan, sir, now that we are so near and outnumbered?"
Taylarin frowns at the sight of the black blood, studying it for a moment before looking around the rest of the goblin camp with a thoughtful look.
Gilglir scowls at the stench of orc-filth in the air as he says to Trumodir, 'The same as before: find their chief and kill him or drive him off. If we kill him, we bring his head, both as proof to Glóin of the deed and to strike fear into the hearts of his followers. I imagine he is in there.' He points to the palisade.
Trumodir responds, "Do we all rush the opening at once, or gain entrance by some other means? And once we're inside, we'll need to stay close or we'll be overwhelmed."
Bialver says to the youth from Trestlebridge ''we will pile of their skulls at the gate of their own fortress''
Taylarin frowns as she glances to the palisade before looking around the camp again. "It is not killing him that will be so difficult, it will be getting out of here after that will be more difficult."
Greenstand looks more excited than he should, bouncing a little on his heels as he comments. "Think of the story this will make!"
Gilglir smiles grimly. 'I'd not worry overmuch, friends. I have come through worse odds than this and still survived.'
Minabel looks around and wishes yet again that she can be at home in her warm bed. Too many goblins. She prepares herself mentally to face the goblin leader.
Taylarin looks over to the others, then to Gilglir. "I suppose we should make our way toward the palisade then. Do we have an approach in mind, perhaps some of us could slip around the back to prevent any means of escape?"
Bialver loosens his ax and makes sure he can reach his arrows, then goes to stand behind Eskild
Minabel pipes in. Perhaps I can climb that cliff and shoot any goblins that run that way.
Esk squares his shoulders, feeling much more confident with Bialver's great bulk next to him
Gilglir loosens Anglaer in its sheath and hefts Narbor in his right hand. The spear's bitter head gleams with a cold blue light as the Elf walks stealthily towards the gate. He pauses at the edge of the gate and carefully looks around it inside the palisade. After a moment, he looks back to Taylarin.
Taylarin strings her bow with elven grace and speed, putting arrow to string as she looks to Gilglir, giving him a faint nod at some silent instruction. She turns and looks to the others, bringing a finger to her lips in a shushing motion, beckoning the others to follow her. "Silent steps, the orcs are asleep." She begins to make her way up towards the gate.
Taylarin whispers to the others. "We can get into position while they slumber, strike fast, and remove Gurzmat's support."
Minabel silently trails the others in the group and looks around to ensure that no goblins sneak up on them.
Trumodir holds back, trying to separate out the individual stench of each goblin so she can attack accurately.
Bialver whispers to Esk "let them die by the dozens"
Greenstand crept up quietly with the others, his excitement turning to nerves as they reached the gate. "I sure could use a pipe right about now…"
As the others come up to the entrance of the palisade, any of them who glance around the corner would see several goblins asleep on the ground, clustered to the left around a fire, which has burned down to embers. To the right, there is a large tent (almost a pavilion) flanked by two other tents of good size. Another fire-pit has mostly burnt down to embers.
Trumodir is standing behind the others since she isn't relying on her sight to orient herself. She runs her fingers down the blade of her axe, almost unconsciously, as her thirst for goblin blood builds
Taylarin reaches the gate, looking around inside at the low fires and sleeping goblins. Whispers so lowly she is hardly audible. "What we could do with a little black powder right now..."
Bialver moves Esk over until they stand shoulder to shoulder with Tru
Trumodir turns to the two, her eyes glittering with a fierce fire."Ready?" she asks.
Minabel moves further back and watches the others to see what are their plans for attack.
Bialver nudges Esk and murmurs "dozens..."
Esk nods back, his face a mixture of excitement and terror.
Gilglir glances to the others, and whispers, 'Ready your bows. Trumodir, Greenstand, prepare to charge once the goblins wake.'
Taylarin nods, finding a place with a good vantage point from where she could shoot. She hoists her bow and takes aim, ready.
Trumodir is completely still, trying not to breathe too loudly.
Greenstand pales a little at the thought of charging in, though when he looks to Tru, is bolstered by her courage.
Minabel tries to steady her shooting arm as her gaze moves from the others in the group to the goblins ahead.
Bialver grips his ax, and checks to make sure he won't hit any of the fellowship when he swings
Gilglir hefts Narbor in his hand, draws back his arm, and launches the spear at one of the sleeping goblins.
Minabel suddenly Minabel feels a burst of courage and she takes aim at a particularly hideous looking goblin sleeping on the ground. She pulls back her bow and lets her arrow fly directly at his head.
Trumodir murmurs something to an arrow and nocks it in her bow. Taking aim directly at the goblin with the greatest stench she lets out an awful yell and lets the bow fly.
Taylarin let out a focused breath, taking aim at one of the larger goblins nearby. She loosed her own arrow, reaching for another as soon as the first left the string.
Bialver lets 3 arrows fly in quick succession
In the space of a breath, a flurry of missiles drive through the heads and chests of five of the sleeping goblins. However, the twang of bow-strings and Trumodir's yell rouse the others. The surviving goblins spring to their feet, blearily grabbing at their weapons, while two larger goblins burst out of one of the tents and a final goblin, almost man-high lunges out of the pavilion. The largest goblin catches sight of the slaughter and the intruders and gives a shrill yell in Orkish, followed by another shout. 'Stupid nargs not watch! Why keep around?! Get out and kill! Got tarks and... ILIDS!' The goblin's cry ends in a shriek, half of terror and half of anger.
Taylarin nocked another arrow with elven speed, lifting her bow to take aim at the large goblin that came out of the pavilion, releasing her shot in the hopes of silencing their foe before more goblins came pouring in.
Gilglir rushes forward as the spear leaves his hand, Anglaer flashing blue and cold from the sheath. As he rushes towards the two larger orcs, he shouts 'Gurth an Glamhoth!' as he swings the elven steel at the nearest foe.
The orc-chieftain quickly lifts his shield and catches the arrow, while his lieutenant rolls aside into the snow, snarling something in Orkish as Gilglir's stroke goes wide.
As the fight begins, a hue and cry breaks out in the camp below them, and four more goblins rush up the path towards the company. At the same time, two squat and broad shapes burst out of the other tent: black-haired Dwarves in close-fitting mail, wielding hammers! They give a shout in Dwarvish as they leap into the fray.
Greenstand runs over to the nearest fire pit, thrusts in his staff, and aims to fling one of the larger embers at the nearest dwarf.
As the burning ember flies at the dwarf, he knocks it away with his mallet, patting out some stray embers that land in his beard. He says something plainly mocking in Dwarvish, and spits towards Greenstand. He advances towards the man while his fellow aims a blow at the Elf. Meanwhile, the goblin lieutenants charge as well, one at the Elf and the other towards the main group.
As two of their foes strike out at Gilglir, the Elf parries the slash from the orc's scimitar while he takes the strike from the dwarf's hammer on his shield. The Elf takes a step back as he falls into a defensive posture. Meanwhile, the Dwarf Greenstand attacked rushes towards him, swinging his hammer. Though the blow strikes home, it only knocks the wind out of the Man. The blow almost knocks Greenstand's pipe right out of his mouth, but he manages to bite down on the stem just in time.
The goblin attacking the Beorning, however, gets a lucky stroke which cuts through the leather armour and bites into the man's side. Bialver roars in pain and staggers backward, almost losing his balance. But his great bulk works in his favor and he catches his balance and lunges forward at the goblin, who is much smaller than he. He lifts his axe to strike although his wound prevents him from being well-focused.
Gurzmat takes a quick look around the battlefield before rushing towards the main group, plainly scared by the tall Elf with shining eyes and bright sword. The other Elf, though, she'd tried to get him. He raises his swords and swipes at her, screaming something in Orkish.
Bialver's axe strikes down, but it glances off the dark steel mail the goblin is clad in. Gurzmat, however, slips inside Taylarin's guard and strikes a blow on her.
Taylarin slung her bow over her shoulder in one swift and graceful movement, drawing her sword and dagger as Gurzmat charged. The Orc reached her faster than anticipated and while she tried to dodge, his dagger sliced through her coat and into her flesh, eliciting a short gasp. She responds with a swipe of her dagger towards Gurzmat's ugly face.
Minabel finds a tall mound to climb up. She takes aim at Gurzmat, takes a deep breath and lets her arrow fly.
Eskild bellows a young man's version of a war cry and swipes his sword towards the dwarf that is charging toward them.
Once again, the orc-chieftain catches an arrow in his shield. As Gurzmat turns from Taylarin and leaps toward Minabel, the dwarf parries Eskild's blow with the haft of his axe.
As Gurzmat leaps up after Minabel, he swipes towards her. Luckily, her foot slips and she tumbles down the far side of her perch, away from his sword-blow.
Trumodir becomes enraged as she sees what Gurzmat has done to her kinsman and to Esk, and letting out a huge roar she lunges with all her force at him
The other goblins leap into action, giving shrill cries in their own ugly tongue. Several of them loose arrows while others charge forward brandishing spears. However, all their blows go wild in the chaos of the melee.
Gurzmat leaps away from the Beorning's axe, seemingly almost as scared of them as of the Elves.
Taylarin slips her dagger back into its sheath, pressing her palm over the wound in her side, responding with a step forward, swiping her elven sword at Gurzmat, the steel practically singing as it cut through the air towards the goblin.
Gilglir strikes back towards the orc nearest him while keeping his shield facing the Dwarf. As he attacks, he says something in Dwarvish which makes both Dwarves laugh in derision.
For once, the orc-chieftain is not able to avoid a strike, as Gwaelind cleaves easily through his mail and bites into his side, blood staining the snow black. His lieutenant, though, is able to avoid the blow from Gilglir, who seems somewhat preoccupied with fighting on two fronts.
Gurzmat shrieks in pain as the cut burns with cold fire, and he aims a wild stroke at the elf-woman.
The Orc's stroke goes wide as he clutches his side in pain.
Greenstand, incensed both at being unable to understand the Dwarf's curse and at almost losing his pipe, swings his staff back and aims to jab it right in the Dwarf's face. "How DARE you hurl insults we don't know the meanings of!"
The Dwarf scoffs at him and easily avoids the blow from the staff.
Gilglir's enemies strike back at him again, but he once again parries or avoids the blows. Meanwhile, Greenstand kicks some snow in the face of the dwarf attacking him, whose stroke goes wide as he curses again. The other goblin lieutenant swings at Eskild, but the young man parries the blow.
Enraged, Gurzmat swings again at the elf-woman, eager to bring her down.
Bialver staggers forward, hardly looking where he is going, clutching his side. The pain of his wound is filling his whole mind and he's barely aware of his surroundings. He aims vaguely at a nearby goblin—a small one—and lifts his axe.
Gurzmat's sword bites again, this time scoring a gash along Taylarin's leg. Meanwhile, Bialver's strike goes wide, missing his target completely.
Eskild, nearly stumbles back as his strike was blocked, but swings his blade around with growing anger, seeing blood on the armour of his friends. He swipes at the dwarf, trying to land a blow.
Minabel sighs as she notches another arrow in her bow. She says a little prayer to whomever out there who is listening and lets an arrow fly to the arrogant dwarf taunting the group.
Mina's arrow skips off the head of the dwarf's mallet, which makes him start back, avoiding Eskild's blow.
The goblins once again attack wildly, their strikes going wide.
Trumodir grows cold with fury in the intensity of the battle. She pulls all her focus inward and considers what might be an unexpected move that would reverse the tide of battle. She sees that the goblins are losing concentration (if they ever had any) and decides to run behind them while their attention is focused on the others, and see if she can attack from behind. Seeing an opening to get behind their enemies, she hurries around, and taking out her bow, fits an arrow into place and takes careful aim.
The arrow flies true and sinks into the eye of the goblin lieutenant facing Eskild. He falls with a thud to the ground, black blood staining the snow.
Gilglir turns his shield to the Dwarf and lunges out with his sword at the goblin, a cold light glinting from Anglaer's edge as it carves through the air.
Trumodir takes a deep breath and looks around for her companions to see who might be in distress
Bialver bleeds heroically, demonstrating for Eskild how it's done
Taylarin, in order to avoid gaining a third injury, leaps up into the air to avoid Gurzmat's blow, landing some distance behind their foe with a soft grunt, now seeing Gilglir in the midst of battle. Swiftly nocking an arrow, she lifts her bow and takes aim at the goblin he is in the midst of fighting, releasing with a twang of the bowstring.
The goblin lieutenant gives a harsh laugh as he raises his sword to parry Gilglir's strike. However, the Elf strikes too quickly for the orc, and the sword-arm is suddenly lying on the ground, black blood pouring from the stump. As the orc opens his mouth to cry in pain and surprise, Gilglir almost casually steps aside. Taylarin's arrow speeds past his face, the wind of its passage stirring his hair before it buries itself in the goblin's eye. The lieutenant falls to the ground in a heap.
Bialver murmurs to Tru "Elves. Good with Pointy Things"
Trumodir nods in agreement.
Greenstand swings his staff low at the dwarf, hoping to knock him off balance. "I'll give you an insult I'm sure you'll understand!"
The dwarf laughs and takes a step back, easily avoiding the blow. He spits towards Greenstand and advances again.
As the dwarf advances on Greenstand, he swings his hammer, but the Man jumps out of the way, using his staff to keep from slipping in the snow. At the same time, the other Dwarf swings his hammer at Gilglir's legs. The blow connects, knocking the distracted Elf to the ground.
Gurzmat see both of his underlings go down in the space of a few moments, and curses loudly in Orkish, yelling at his forces. He rushes at Trumodir, clearly still a little hesitant to face the Elves while there are other foes.
Bialver swings Apaldrsklubba with a silent prayer to the spirit of the tree that gave one of its broadest branches, aiming at the foul Chieftan's knee
As Gurzmat rushes screaming towards Trumodir, Bialver's club connects with a wet crack, knocking the goblin chieftain to the ground and sending him rolling a few feet into a snowdrift. He staggers back to his feet, clearly favouring one leg.
Minabel takes aim at the closest goblin holding a sword to her. She squints her eyes to focus on his big ugly head and lets loose one of her lucky arrows- the ones made with Dunland crebain feathers.
Eskild lifted his sword and swung it at a goblin that was approaching quickly, his own club raised as he moved into attack the lad.
Eskild's sword is blocked by the goblin's own blade, while Mina's arrow skips off of the armour of her target. That goblin seems a little shaken, however, especially now that the bosses have started to fall.
Trumodir sees her chance to exploit the opening she has to fell the goblin that Mina had aimed for. Lifting her axe high, she rushes toward him with a blood-curdling yell on her lips.
The goblin archers shoot wide, but the swordsmen rush in and strike blows: one on Bialver, one on Minabel, and two on Trumodir.
Trumodir crumples to the ground, breathing heavily. ‘I knew I should have used my bow,’ she murmurs
Gilglir rolls out of the way of a blow from the Dwarf's hammer and leaps to his feet. He advances on his foe, shield at the ready as he strikes out, shouting something in Dwarvish.
Taylarin frowns worriedly as she sees Gilglir go down and nocks another swift arrow, taking aim at the dwarf, firing.
The Dwarf seems shocked to hear words in his secret tongue come from his enemy. His surprise is short-lived, however, as an arrow pierces through his armour and buries itself in his back. At almost the same time, Anglaer comes down on his helm, cleaving it apart with a flash of white light. The Dwarf falls with sundered head.
At the shout in Dwarvish and the flash of light, the goblins glance over at Gilglir and the Dwarf. As the Dwarf falls, the Elves turn towards the goblins, a cold light starting from their eyes. At that sight, the goblin archers and swordsmen shriek and flee down into the main camp as Gurzmat yells after them.
Greenstand tenses and swings his staff with both hands at the side of the dwarf's head.
The staff smacks against the dwarf's head with a resounding CRACK, but the helmet seems to take most of the blow. The Dwarf staggers back, shaking his head. Greenstand says, "Talk about ringing the bells of Dale…"
As the dwarf catches his bearings again, he sees the corpse of his comrade bleeding on the ground with the Elf standing over it. He gives a hoarse shout in his own tongue and charges towards Gilglir, swinging his hammer wildly.
Gilglir sees the charge and braces himself, taking the blow squarely on his shield.
Bialver staggers, and falls to his knees, his expression half dazed and half determined
Bialver pulls his dagger Býstokkr out of his belt, trying to hamstring the foul Chieftain as he lunges
Gurzmat screams again after the retreating goblins before lunging towards Bialver
As Gurzmat lunges towards Bialver, screaming what is obviously bloody murder in Orkish, Bialver drops to one knee and slashes at the orc's hip. The dagger bites deep, and a gout of black blood rushes out, staining the snow. Gurzmat gasps in pain and surprise as his face goes white and his leg flops uselessly out from under him. He drops the sword and falls to the ground. As he lies there, he says weakly, 'You think you win, but Nargs and big boss....' He trails off as the breath leaves his body.
Trumodir looks up at Bialver from where she's lying and gives him a big smile. {V} A heroic deed, my cousin" she gasps.
Eskild might have missed his last swing, but he was not daunted! He swung again, this time with a war cry of substance. He was too busy with the last remaining dwarf to realize Gurzmat had fallen.
Minabel frowns as she beholds the pompous dwarf taunting the group in Dwarvish. She yells "fool, take this" as she lets another lucky arrow fly at his mocking mouth.
Bialver can't quite stand, but he walks on his knees to where his cousin lies in the snow, takes the last few berries from his pouch
Bialver grins through the black blood that lies thick on his face, before using a handful of snow to scrub it halfway off
Eskild's sword cuts deep into the Dwarf's side, but he does not fall yet. He grunts in pain and looks over at the young Man.
Bialver packs three great wads of snow, and hands two to his kinswoman to press to her wounds.
Gilglir smiles as Eskild's blow strikes home. He says something to his foe in Khuzdul before swiping at him with his sword.
Taylarin smiles slightly as Eskild's sword strikes true and nocks an arrow, drawing back and releasing, though careful not to hit her companions also battling the last dwarf.
Bialver nudges Tru, and cheers Esk on, then does a full face-plant into the snow and laughs somewhat deliriously
The Dwarf has no chance to make a reply, however, as an Elven arrow punches through his armour and Valinorean steel removes his head from his shoulders. The body collapses to the ground, and all is silent, except for shouts and the sound of running feet in the lower camp.
Gilglir looks around at the camp as the dwarf's head rolls to a halt in a snowbank. He wipes his sword off on the dwarf's jerkin before ducking into the tents. The sounds of rummaging come to the others.
Trumodir calls out, "Let's get out of here before the rest of the camp gets their nerve back and comes after us!"
Greenstand mutters about incomprehensible dwarven curses and looks around, noticing his comrades have offed all the remaining enemies. "Is everyone ok?"
Minabel staggers to her feet and looks over her dress to see the blotches of red where the goblins' weapons found their mark. All of the sudden, a feeling of faintness comes upon her and she grips the branch of a tree near her to steady herself.
Taylarin let out a long breath as their foe's head rolled over the snow, looking around to the others. "Is anyone hurt? I am a healer." She didn't seem to pay her own injuries much mind, more concerned about the others.
Bialver buries his head in the snow one more time, then rolls over and somehow gets to his knees, then eventually, to his feet
Gilglir comes out of the dwarves' tent, tucking some pieces of paper into his pouch. 'Indeed, we should haste away,' he says. 'But I am worried about the rest of the camp. Though they are routed now, there is naught to stop them coming after us once we leave.'
Eskild crouches by Tru and Bial, wondering what he can do for them. He waves Taylarin over
Greenstand looks at the snow surrounding them. "It'll be tough not to leave tracks, unless we go so slow that they could just follow us by sight, anyway."
Taylarin nods to Eskild and heads towards him and the others, looking each other to assess the most injured.
Minabel looks down at her feet and even though her toes are frozen, is suddenly thankful that as a hunter, she made a point to wear silent slippers on her feet rather than the usual boots.
Gilglir walks over to Gurzmat and looks down at the body for a moment. Suddenly, he draws his sword and cuts the head off of the body with a quick strike. He cleans the blade and put it back up, saying, 'We should bring it with us when we go.' He looks at the wounded members of the company thoughtfully.
Trumodir points to Bialver and gasps "tend to him first—he deserves it"
Having began to regain her senses, Minabel cautiously fills her water bag with clean snow, with the plan to start a fire as soon as it is safe to do so and make herbal healing tea.
Taylarin looks from Tru to Bialver, kneeling between them. She places her gloved hands on them both, one hand on each as her eyes nearly shut, a whispered song passing her lips. They would feel warmth flowing through them, their pain ebbing as their skin slowly begins to knit back together.
Gilglir shakes his head at Mina's actions. 'We have no time for that,' he says urgently. As he does so, the shouts down below get louder, and there comes the noise of howling wolves.
Greenstand lights his pipe and offers his pouch to any others who need it as he studies the camp below. "Do we have any way of getting a message to the dwarves?"
Bialver closes his eyes briefly, concentrating on the healing warmth as it flows through him
Gilglir walks over to Mina and looks down at her. He holds out his hand towards her. 'If I may?' he asks.
Minabel takes Gilglir's hand. "Thank you," she says. "What now? There are more of those monsters down below and we are so few up here.”
Eskild watches in awe as his friends' color goes from a disturbing pallor to (almost) their usual flush of health. He turns to Tay ''Is that… is that something I could learn?'' he whispers
As Mina lays her hand in his, Gilglir begins to sing, softly but full of power. At his touch, Mina would feel a rush of warmth shoot through her like fire as the edges of her wound begin to close. It is not a gentle feeling, and the wound burns like ice as it closes.
Taylarin her eyes open a little at the clamour and wolves below, though her healing doesn't cease just yet. Her song continues, their bodies healing just enough to carry them through to safety. "Can you manage until we are someplace safer?" She asks gently, looking wearily between Tru and Bialver.
Although the pain of her healing almost brings on another attack of faintness, Minabel gratefully thanks Gilglir for his kindness and begins to see how reliance on each other may get the group through this quest.
Taylarin glances at Eskild and shakes her head. "I have shared my fëa with them… my own spirit. That is not something you can do, I'm afraid."
Bialver opens his eyes at Taylarin's words. He meets her gaze and nods, albeit without any enthusiasm
Greenstand looks around for some way to further scatter the troops below. "If we run, we will be overtaken. If we stay, we will be overwhelmed. There must be some way to put off pursuit for a while."
Eskild sighs, thinking that of the races he's meeting, Men seem to have gotten the short end of the stick.
Gilglir sways a little as he falls silent, but he walks over and places a hand on Taylarin's shoulder. He glances at the others as he does so before nodding in agreement with Greenstand. 'There may be something we can do,' he says softly, 'though I am loathe to do it, for it will reveal us to those who have eyes to see. Or it will reveal some of us, at least.'
Taylarin seems to draw some measure of strength from Gilglir's touch, turning to look up at him with a slight frown.
Greenstand asks, "Could we pile some of the tent remains in front of the entrance, and set the whole thing on fire? It could keep them busy long enough for us to escape without them noticing."
Trumodir looks up gratefully at Esk as she swallows it carefully. She has been significantly weakened in the fight and all her focus is on trying to keep from passing out
Bialver raps Esk's arm and gestures at his own pouch "Honeycomb" he whispers "green cloth"
Gilglir ignores Greenstand's question for a moment as he holds Taylarin's gaze. He sighs and nods before looking at the others. 'We have not the time to gather them and light them,' he says in response to the man. 'Come, back down the rope and away. Taylarin and I will stop the pursuit, but we must move quickly and be away from here ere the orcs gather their courage.'
Taylarin nods and climbs to her feet.
Bialver asks the elves "Who should go first, to catch any after who might fall?"
Greenstand frowns around his pipe, but agrees to the plan. "Eskild and I are unwounded, and can best watch for any dangers at the bottom."
Gilglir looks at Taylarin in response to Bialver's question. 'Should you go first, or should I?' He nods at Greenstand and Eskild. 'Indeed, the two of you should go first, but one of us should join you.'
Taylarin knits her brows beneath her hood and murmurs. "Perhaps you are better suited to hand any foes, though I am willing to go if you think it wiser."
Gilglir nods at Taylarin and turns to go. He picks up the head of Gurzmat and carries it in his left hand as he walks to the edge of the cliff. Throwing the head down, he looks back at the others. 'Come as quick as you may,' he says. 'Loop the rope about your waist and use your weight to slow your fall, if you have not used such ladders before.' With that, he leaps off the cliff, grabbing at the rope with his free hand to slow his fall.
Anyone who looks down from the cliff would see the Elf standing calmly at the foot of the cliff, shifting his gaze between the top of the cliff and the path down the hill.
Eskild swallows, and follows Gil's instructions about the rope
Taylarin looks at the others and ushers them towards the rope. "Who is next?" She asks softly.
Bialver stands up slowly
Greenstand waits for Eskild to lower himself and follows suit. He's not as nimble as the elf, but he manages to make it down without incident.
Trumodir is eager to put as much distance as she can between her and the remaining goblins, and she almost eagerly takes hold of the rope and swings over the side. All fear of hanging from a rope has left her.
Minabel hesitates, then adjusts her black gloves and grips the rope firmly. She eases her way down and sighs in relief as she finally feels the bottom.
Bialver grins at the sight of his kinswoman's nimbleness, and lets himself down next, wincing all the way
Taylarin waits for everyone else to descend, keeping watch at the top before sliding easily down the rope to join the others at the bottom.
When Trumodir reaches the bottom, Esk retrieves the even more squashed-looking package from inside his shirt, and offers it uncertainly to Tru. "I was supposed to...um..." he says
Trumodir smiles at Esk, so young yet so valiant, and takes the package from him, glancing at Bialver as she does.
Gilglir reaches over to take the rope as Taylarin reaches ground. He speaks a few soft words which the others cannot hear before giving the rope a tug. The silver line comes loose and falls down into a pile on the snow, which the Elf quickly gathers up and hands back to Taylarin.
Greenstand pulls out his tinderbox and turns toward the rope just in time to see it fall. He puts his tinderbox away, disappointed.
Bialver grins at his cousin, opens his mouth, points approximately to his uvula, and makes chewing motions
Taylarin takes her elvish rope, smiling gently up to Gilgir as she tucks the coil back into her pack.
Gilglir looks at the others and nods. 'Now, come. We must away, and quickly. One of you bring the head. I will not be able to carry it for a time.' He leads the others away at a quick pace back the way they came. As they come out of the trees and near the edge of the pond, he pauses, looking back at the company and over at the camp of the orcs.
Taylarin motioned for the others to follow Gilglir before setting an even pace with him. As Gilglir pauses and turns she does the same, though her eyes are focused on the frozen pond that lay beneath the camp.
Trumodir trudges along happily behind Gil and Green, grateful that they didn't have to fight their way out of the camp.
Bialver is finding the head both unwieldy and odoriferous, but carries it resolutely
Greenstand follows Gilglir quickly while drawing silently on his pipe.
Minabel silently follows behind the others- thankful to still be alive and healed of her wounds.
Bialver mutters to Tru "I suppose we must give it to some elf or dwarf-lord. But think how well it would adorn Grimeborn's lodge back in The Vales!"
As the company reaches the edge of the stand of pines, they can see the orc-camp spread out on the slopes above the pond. Squat shapes of goblins are running back and forth, and some are beginning to cautiously climb the slope towards the site of the battle. Closer at hand, the wargs have ceased their prowling and have gathered together into a group on the ice near the camp's entrance, snarling and growling at each other in their foul tongue. Occasionally, a shout in Orkish or a howl from a wolf-throat echoes across the mountain-side. It seems plain that the orcs and wolves are preparing pursuit and vengeance.
Gilglir pauses at the edge of the woods and looks at Taylarin. He catches her gaze and nods.
Taylarin nods in return to Gilglir before looking back at the frozen pond, staring intently at the group of wargs now gathered. A hand extends as she whispers a series of elven words.
Gilglir lifts his left hand towards the camp as he watches the orcs scurry like ants. His eyes shine as he speaks words under his breath. Suddenly, a light flashes from his upraised hand as he cries, 'Ered o Hithaeglir, lasto beth nîn! Danno, nelig en Ennor, ah dolo in Glamhoth!'
As the Elves speak, there comes a sound like thunder, throughout the valley. For a long moment after, it seems that nothing has happened. As the company watches, however, a series of cracks begins to spiderweb across the surface of the ice on the pond, while at the same time, the face of the cliffs above the camp begins to splinter. Suddenly, with a pair of resounding cracks, the ice on the pond and the rock of the mountainside shatter. A wave suddenly comes up out of the pond, crashing over the wargs and pulling them under while boulders and shards of rock begin to rain down upon the camp. Then, with a final deafening roar, the face of the mountain slips and tumbles down upon the camp, burying it in a scree of rock and snow and ice. The final stones come to a halt on the shore of the pond as the echoes die away. Silence falls over the mountains.
Gilglir lowers his hand and the light fades from his eyes. His legs suddenly give out under him and he collapses to a sitting position, leaning against a tree-trunk. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, breathing heavily.
Greenstand stares at the ruin in wonder, even forgetting to draw on his pipe for a moment. "Well, that's one mission accomplished, then."
Esk whispers something rather long to Trumodir
Trumodir stands dumbstruck for a moment, then asks, "Gil, why didn't you do that in the first place rather than making us climb up the mountain on a thin rope?
Taylarin pants for air as silence fills the valley again, sinking to her own knees, exhausted.
Bialver watches Tay, and decides that lying down in the snow would be a great idea
Gilglir replies in a soft voice without opening his eyes. 'For several reasons. First, I wished to search the camp and find any reason for their actions. Second, to spend my spirit so is wearying. Finally, and most worrying, to do such a thing means revealing myself to those with eyes to see. I have shouted my name in a voice that all can hear from Mithlond to Dol Guldur.'
Trumodir turns to Bialver and mutters, <V> "elves! I doubt I'll ever ken their ways!"
Greenstand turns away from the wreckage and eyes Gilglir with concern. "Is there an immediate danger, do you think, or should we make camp here? You don't look like you could travel far at the moment, and all of us could use the rest, I think."
Bialver lifts his palms and shrugs, as if to say "Who can understand an elf?"
Taylarin turns her hooded head towards Eskild, offering a weary, but gentle smile. "I will be alright." She whispers in her usual soft voice. "Gilglir is correct, though. Any hope of secrecy we had is now gone. We cannot stay here, we must move on, though… just a moment, if we may. I need to recover some strength, as does Gilglir."
Gilglir opens his eyes and looks at Greenstand. He shakes his head and moves to stand. 'No. We cannot linger. We must away, and quickly.' As he climbs to his feet, he sways and leans against the tree. Fishing in his belt pouch, he pulls out a small leathern flask. He works the cork out and take a mouthful before holding it out to Taylarin. After the draught, he seems steadier on his feet, though he still has something of a haggard look in his eyes.
Taylarin takes the flask with a grateful look, taking a long pull from it before handing it back. She looked as exhausted as Gilglir. She took a deep breath before slowly pushing herself to her feet.
Bialver looks at the elves in concern, and peers into his pouch, but the last of the honeycomb is gone
Gilglir looks at the others and nods. 'Come now. Let us go back to Larus and Vighar. We can spend the night there ere we return to Glóin.' With that, he sets off along the shore of the pond and back down the slopes of the mountain.
Taylarin looks around the group, gesturing for them to follow Gilglir before she would take up the rear.
Bialver picks himself up off the snow, packs as much snow as he can into and around the goblin head, and follows along
Greenstand watches Gilglir head out, and shakes his head as he follows.
Trumodir also feels deeply weary. Although she has the strength to walk the several miles back to the dwarves, she keeps her eyes on the ground as she trudges forward, not wanting to stumble in her exhaustion.
