The goblins watched on in astonishment as a mere man fought off the ferocious drake their clan had failed to oust from the pass for years. After he had ran off, the mists covered him up again, it is well known that the grey pass is a mystical region, perhaps it was rewarding him for fighting so valiantly. The drake, still reeling from it's suppers violent retaliation, crawled towards Baldr and began feasting. Kraq and his guard began making their descent down the mountain to the beast, who had become an uneasy ally to the goblins, defending their borders for them but also devouring their patrols every now and then. The wyrm was also very strict about numbers, it did not allow the goblin clan to reach over a certain number, fearing it would be slain through strength of numbers should the clan grow too big. Either way, there was an evidently skilled warrior somewhere in their pass, who would no doubt spread word of both the goblins and the drake should he escape; should this happen the goblins believed that a great elven warrior would come and slay them, as is the prophecy imposed upon them by Kraq.

"Great drake, Comarathis, are you injured" enquired Kraq with an unfortunate hint of sarcasm slipping through.
"No" Whispered Comarathis as he lashed out and dragged a goblin into his jaws "I see you brought your thugs to watch the battle, yet why have none of them scattered to catch our escapee?"
"We wished to see to our lord first!" Cried Kraq
"Ha, i know what you call yourself: 'Kraq the conqueror', 'Kraq the tamer of beasts'. You conquered nothing and you tamed nothing, I am the lord of the pass, now do as i command and find the rohirrm, by any means necessary! But first..." Camarthis held up his injured claw. He and Kraq headed over to one side, took a 'volunteer', a scrawny looking goblin at the back of the pack, and proceeded to perform some sort of dark magic on it, sacrificing the goblin to heal the drake of all it's injuries.

"Kraq is a mighty shaman and a great power to the dark lord" Grunted the fierce blackshield to Sulvan. "You, southener, you are not, are you? I suspect you to be little more than a bug, no great messenger like my lord claims you to be!" He bagan to unsheath his sword and pointed the crude, harsh, oversized cleaver at Sulvan. "We find the rohan man, once we done, i sort you out. Anything happen to my men, your head on the block, same as your 'friends'." The rest of the goblins scattered, and began hurrying all around the pass looking madly for the rohirrim. The drake soon regained his strength and too joined in the hunt.

Meanwhile, Kaldor and Dwalvyn had been left unguarded, however Kaldor could not break from his shackles, he simply lacked the tools or strength. After a few hours of wrestiling with them he gave up, resigned himself to wait for aid. 'Im sure Albaron will return sooner or later.' he thought, unknowing why his friend had been taken in the first place. He began whistling an old tune he was taught a long time ago by a fellow merchant guard, one, if he remembered correctly, hailed from the land of the horse lords. He claimed to be of some importance there, a marshall of the riddermark or something. Either way the tune was stuck in his head and he continued to whistle and hum the various tunes his friend had taught him.

Elsewhere in the valley a sound reached Aethelwulf, one that reminded him of home. It was the tune of edoras, although it was majorly incorrect and performed very poorly. Nonetheless it was that tune. Without knowing it, Kaldor's whistling had travelled out their prison window into the valley, where Aethelwulf stood. Only a few guards would stand inbetween Aethelwulf and the dwarves, all of whom were stationed within the rocks fortress carved into one of the mountainsides, as most of the goblins were out hunting for him.

A rather unexpected series of event had just occurred to Sulvan, so much so, that he did not immediatly revel in the excitement. Though he had been released from the chains that still bound the Dwarves, Sulvan was relieved that Kraq had sense enough not to immediately announce his presence to Kaldor or Dwalvyn.

The strange Rohirrim man who had entered and attacked Kraq's Cave Drake, had dissapeared, and Sulvan sensed that he, just like the Goblins may play a part in his plan. From what he understood of Goblin culture, it seemed to him that Kraq and his Blackshield respected him, which almost surprised him,, as did the confirmed existence of 'Comarathis' as Kraq had called it. On the one hand, Sulvan admired the Goblins, they were much like him, they were stealthy, skilled veterans, and they craved power and gold. On the other, he did not entirely trust them, and that Drake was far too unpredictable, he did not want either of the Dwarves to be killed just yet, as although his mission wasreaching its climax, much earlier than the Dwarves' own mission, he still needed to know enough to earn his own gold, and to discover what it is that made their mission so important. He could not tell all of this to the Goblin, but nonetheless, decided to fill him in on some information.

"Mighty Kraq, and Mighty Comarathis," bowed Sulvan, disguising his insincerety perfectly, "I knew so little of your existence, and yet, here you are. You are right to note that I am from the South. My real name is Sulvan, though the Dwarves call me Albaron. I have not seen that 'other human' before. He is more disposable, but my mission requires that the Dwarves live, and that their suspicions are unaroused. If the man is killed or not, I care not, but those Dwarves must live."

"From what I know, the mission is to deliver an item to a halfling of some kind. I ask of you to assist me in discovering more of their final plans, tortue if you will. The rewards will be great. I ask you to return me to them for now, in a most unceremonious way, I will tell them I have told you nothing, and so, as a token of faith, will allow you injure me, thugh not severely." He bowed again. "Oh, and that Rohirrim man won't have gone far, I will see of the dwarves no where he is hiding also."

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

Dwalvyn had simply stared grimly and aggressively at the captors, his chains taught as he leant toward them. He heard Kaldor talk, but his cold-fury was pinioned in his cold, grey stare and prevented him from knowing (or even caring) what he'd said. After Kaldor had nearly tired himself and had begun whistling, the elder dwarf was about to start shouting obscenities in the hope he could draw a goblin to them, but he soon registered the tune. His head snapped up, his ancient lore coming to the fore of his mind and recognised it as a song of the horse lords. He hoped that it would reach the horn he had heard without hearing as his mind clicked the cogs into realising it was a horn of the Riddermark. The Rohan man was nearby and calling for aid! Instead of yelling and bawling, Dwalvyn began to hum the tune as well, progressively getting louder (and correcting Kaldor along the way), then began to sing it before he opened his throat fully, piercing the canyon's dankness with a veteran throat to many dwarf drinking nights and songs, so loud only drunken dwaf ears could hear it without hurting, but he pushed through the audio-pain anyway.

Kraq had agreed, reluctantly, to Sulvans terms; although both he and the blackshield both took joy in the beating component of his plan, which was orchestrated by the champion and a few other goblins, all of whom struggled to find any blunt part of their weapons to beat him with, everything was too pointy! They only beat him for a few moments before a loud, tuneful roar began to fill the pass. Every crook and cranny had been filled with the joyful song of Rohan.

The goblins did not react well to this; the noise being produced by the two dwarves had cleared the sense-nulling mist from the valley, meaning the goblins could now hear all the sounds surrounding their tiny dot on the map. The rustle of the mirkwood trees on this windy day sounded to them like the pounding footsteps of an army, the wind they now felt rushing through their pass was alien enough were it not for the sound which was carried upon it, the simple Rohan song to them sounded like a war cry. The goblins truly believed their prophecy was fulfilled, a great elven army had arrived to destroy them. They were now in disarray, they abandoned their post and rushed to their fort, only to find that the music was getting louder the closer they were to the fort. 'They've taken the cassle' screamed one of them as they retreated again.

Inbetween keeping his men under control and still attempting to find the rider, Kraq had enough time to free Sulvan and send him back into the fort. Kraq and his champion solely believed that the pass was not under attack, they continued the hunt themselves, hoping Sulvan would shut his 'friends' up soon and thus end the frenzy inflicted upon the goblins. Not before long, the champion stumbled upon the Rohan man. He reached into his pouch and took out a bloodied hoof and threw it at the rider.
"She/He tastes good horsey man, I wonder if you will too?" cried the champion as he leaped at the rider, cleaver in the air.

Aethelwulf parried the cleaver, and jumped nimbly aside. As he identified the hoof as Baldr's, he shouted out his rage. The goblin's next blow fell on his shield, and he stabbed Guthwyn in the warrior's stomach. As he turned it round to increase the size of the wound, he said softly: "There is one thing you should know about the Eorlingas: never, ever touch their horses." The goblin collapsed in agony from the fatal wound, as Aethelwulf ran on. Kraq had fled as soon as Aethelwulf had appeared, trusting his blackguard to keep him out of harms way.He had to find the men or women who were singing.

The sound guided him to a dirty cove in the mountain, littered with bones. As he turned the corner, he saw that the singers were not men, nor women, but two rather miserable dwarves. In front of them stood a single, rather scared, goblin, evidently the only one of the guard who had not run at the rumour of the elves' approach. Aethelwulf swiftly killed him, took the keys and and opened the rusty chains that bound the dwarves. In the guard-hut, he found a rough chest holding their cloaks and weapons, along with lots of other stuff, probably plundered from earlier victims. As he handed them out, he said: "What the hell are you two doing here, and does anyone know the way out?"

_________________
"... Telchar wrought it in the deeps of time."
-On Andùril, The Lord of the Rings

Aethelwulf parried the cleaver, and jumped nimbly aside. As he identified the hoof as Baldr's, he shouted out his rage. The goblin's next blow fell on his shield, and he stabbed Guthwyn in the warrior's stomach. As he turned it round to increase the size of the wound, he said softly: "There is one thing you should know about the Eorlingas: never, ever touch their horses." The goblin collapsed in agony from the fatal wound, as Aethelwulf ran on. Kraq had fled as soon as Aethelwulf had appeared, trusting his blackguard to keep him out of harms way.He had to find the men or women who were singing.

The sound guided him to a dirty cove in the mountain, littered with bones. As he turned the corner, he saw that the singers were not men, nor women, but two rather miserable dwarves. In front of them stood a single, rather scared, goblin, evidently the only one of the guard who had not run at the rumour of the elves' approach. Aethelwulf swiftly killed him, took the keys and and opened the rusty chains that bound the dwarves. In the guard-hut, he found a rough chest holding their cloaks and weapons, along with lots of other stuff, probably plundered from earlier victims. As he handed them out, he said: "What the hell are you two doing here, and does anyone know the way out?"

_________________
"... Telchar wrought it in the deeps of time."
-On Andùril, The Lord of the Rings

Sulvan gritted his teeth together as he accepted the Goblin's beating. Moments later he was stumbling towards the Dwarves, who appeared to be singing to attract attention from the Rohirrim interloper. He wondered if the Dwarves would've thought of this if he hadn't suggested singing earlier to 'keep up the spirits'. He half cursed himself but stopped, as he realised that hope was still not lost, an he could still prevail here with a little cunning.

Sulvan stumbled towards the lyrical dwarves, with a pained look upon his barely visable face. "I... said... nothing... they.. have... a Cave... Drake... it's... attracted... to the... noise," he stuttered, before appearing to faint right in front of them, barely noticing that the Rohirrim man was right there.

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

Kraq returned soon after the rohirrm had fled. Goblins were nasty creatures who had scarcely shared bonds of friendship, but Kraq's champion had served him with unswavering loyalty and had long kept him safe for a good many years. He dragged his friend off into a little hole and, after careful deliberation, crudely bandaged the champions wounds, laid his shield upon his chest and scurried off to wreak vengeance.

Kaldor looked up in shock at his rescuer, at first he mistook the man for his earlier companions Bran and Grimric but soon realized it was a new face completely. By now Kaldor had long abandoned all the dwarvish mistrust so deeply associated with his race and kindly took to his new friend, greeting him with a hearty hug: "thank you, horse lord!" he cried "But i know off know way out of the fort" he called over his shoulder as he headed down the way the man came in. "I'm Kaldor by the way; dwarf of erebor, and this is my good friend Dwalvyn, although he is of much greater standing than a mere iron guard such as myself!" It was at this point Albaron stumbled in.

"Ooh aye Albaron!" Cried Kaldor "You ok laddy, what's this about a cave drake?" Kaldor checked to see his friend was alive and, upon being satisfied he was ok, Kaldor lifted him upon his shoulders. He looked out the window to see there was a large force of goblins heading their way, but no sign of a cave drake. "I see no wyrm, maybe his head is just hurt?" Kaldor took further look around and noticed this neck of the pass as one he visited with Balin! "Were not long from the end of greyrock now, we can make it in under a day friends! But many goblins will lie in the way, what shall we do, run or stand!?"

Kraq's goblins were still in a frenzy, but they hungered for the flesh of the escapee's and Kraq rallied them under that cause, he tried to force them into demanding vengeance for their fallen champion but alas goblins will be goblins and they had no honour. The goblins soon began heading to assault their fort from all sides, making sure not to stay in the sunlight too long. Kraq however, stalked the battleground from afar. Their guard was up and his magics would not be so effective with the sun so prominent, so he went off to seek Comarathis; he had known of great 'heroes' to swathe through goblins like butter but a gundabad shaman atop a cave drake would surely decimate them! Or so he thought...

Dwalvyn had remained silent. He wasn't aware of how they had been captured or made unconcious and it worried him. But not as much as a cave drake. He bedecked himself with his equipment and nodded his thanks to the new man and looked to Albaron when he arrived. Wordlessly, he allowed Kaldor to carry him, knowing his old knees would slow them down massively if he took the fainted human. It took him a little time to realise that the iron guard had spoken.
"With the ranger out cold, we'll struggle to do either. Our best bet is to make a move and be prepared to stand." He said is as much as a command as he did asking if the plan was suitable to the others.

Whilst pretending to be unconscious, Sulvan carefully peeked around, and saw he was being hoisted to a point right behind them, as they prepared for the Goblins. Exceelent, he thought to himself, he could watch the battle without taking part in it at all if he wished, or 'waking up' to intervene if it looked like Kaldor would be killed. He was also in the perfect place for a litle backstabbing, should he feel the need to...

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

Kaldor, leaving Albaron in the corner of the room, headed over the window again, the horde had now reached the walls of the fort and were scaling it. Kaldor headed over to the entrances, of which there were three, and surveyed them, one was the stair way that Kraq and his men frequently used, the other was a wide archway which the party which Kaldor doubted the party would be able to hold; the final entrance was the pit below the cell, but the control to that was located within their cell: "an escape route!" thought Kaldor! Kaldor headed back to Albaron and left a filled quiver, a shield, and a spare bow by his side, so he could help out should he awake.

Kaldor and the companions took their positions, Kaldor choosing to stand in the relatively large space between the staircase and the archway, as it would allow him to use his throwing knives more so than if he were bottlenecking a passage.
"I need another to hold this space with me, can someone else take the stairs?" He asked before unsheathing his knives. A few moments passed before a flurry of arrows hit the wall of the cell, only one getting through the window, which went on to miss all of the party. The arrows continued to shower the fort as a group of large goblins entered through the arch, towering as tall as the rohirrim but were thickened out by a dense layer of muscle. Kaldor took a few steps back and threw an axe into one, but the warrior stood frim, barely flinching, before charging at Kaldor and knocking him down. The melee began and Kaldor managed to place a knife in teh creature's neck before getting back up, only to be thrown aside by another, all of whom were heading for Aethewulf; these men, being the tallest and fiercest goblins Kaldor had ever encountered, must have been the champions men and were seeking revenge for their dead master. Enraged, the iron guard leapt into one of them and engraved an axe sorely into it's skull while he clambered down the orcs hulking form. He turned to spot a rabble of normal goblins emerging from the arch as a fireball found it's way down the stairs and struck Kaldor off of his feet. By now his armour was severely dented from the endless combats the dwarf had been in, yet somehow it was still holding up better than ever, he briefly thanked Druin for the steel he was granted and rose again, slaying another three goblins before growing tired and backing up towards Albaron, where he reached for the chest full of scavenged weaponry and began throwing them into the fray, making sure not to hit his friends.

Kraq, who stood on the tower atop the fort, continued to bombard the stairs with fireballs. After a short while, a heavily armoured goblin weraing layers of scavenged dwarf armour approached Kraq, who ordered him down the stairs. The tank goblin, headed down the stairs into the room very slowly, but was followed by a possy of goblins, all of whom were safe behind their armoured counterpart. Kraw then positioned himself behind some heavily armoured goblins in the archway, and began trying to target one of the party, as the horseman dueled his foes, Kraq raised his staff into the air and spoke some words int eh blackes of tongues. The rohirrms shield then turned to dust, he attpemted the same spell on his blade but clearly Guthwyn was forged of some foul magical substance, resistant to his charms.

Aethelwulf cursed his luck as his shield suddenly faded into little splinters. That was by far the best goblin Shaman he'd seen in his life. Another goblin jumped at him, but got impaled on Guthwyn by it's own jump. He was getting tired, and could see Kaldor and Dwalvyn wouldn't hold much longer either. "We have to get out of here!" he shouted. But how, he didn't know.

The fighting lulled a bit, and he could see a huge goblin, clad in armour that was clearly far better then average, climbing the stairs. A dozen other came on behind it, some holding short spears to help the tank-goblin, some carrying shortbows, firing their arrows, with the accuracy of a drunk hobbit trying to fire a longbow, but still dangerous. He kicked as stone in anger as he saw this new foe, and to his amazement, it sounded hollow. There had to be a passage there. He motioned to Dwalvyn, as the Dwarf undoubtedly had far more skill in finding such a thing, as he picked up the shield by Albaron's still unconcious body, and readied himself to try and tackle the tank-goblin together with Kaldor.

_________________
"... Telchar wrought it in the deeps of time."
-On Andùril, The Lord of the Rings

Dwalvyn hefted his blade at the merest hint of battle and listened to kaldor's experienced tactical words. Silently, he took strong strides to the stairs and readied for the foul cretin that he knew were headed for him. As the first came upon him, he didn't even swing, just put a hefty metal-clad foot into the diminutive creature's chest, splintering the bones inside and sending it flying into several others. He adjusted his grip on the axe he held, gritted his teeth and stepped forwards, starting with fierce, hefty swings that would crush his foes even if the blade weren't sharp. The attacks were almost leisurely and a bloodbath ensued before the goblin numbers gathered enough to cause him any pressure and the bigger denizens of the dark started to approach. He was so full of mountain-hard and boulder-cold hatred that in his combat-lust, Dwalvyn hadn't realised that he was a few steps into the stairs and some of the goblins had scampered past him, forcing the manling to aid him by attacking those at his back. He gave in to trust this man and found he had no choice but to fight for survival instead of vengeance when fireballs flew at him: he used the narrow space to the best of his abilities, allowing the walls and ceiling to block many of the pyrospheres, dodging those that got past and throwing the corrupted beasts into the paths of others. His beard and hair were blackening, singed at the edges, his skin and armour scorched in some places and his clothes embering around him, threatening to burst into flames at any moment. He noticed the motion of the man out the corner of his eye, picking up a shield with wooden parts around him. He started to fight a tactical retreat to allow the others to push forwrd and had an idea spark into the front of his mind - as a metal-clad hulk approached him, he saw another fireball heading his way and launched himself at it, a wild swing striking out at a goblin to give the impression of an attack, its head coming clean off, but he threw some of his lose cloth at the fireball, catching it square on and alighting it instantly. In a fluid motion of his axe, he made another attack whilst ripping his cloak from him and launching it at the group covering several of the smaller ones and forcing the larger to step back briefly. In that time, he took a quick scan and noticed some of the rock was different - he threw himself at the wall and felt its pressure beneath him. He took another swing at a blackened cavedweller and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck before punding him into the wall, snapping it's neck and producing a small hollow. He backed away enough for his companions to make the charge they'd set up before he tried to best the hidden panel.

After he had picked up the sounds of battle, Cyllamdir had been running back as fast as he could. He had been scouting ahead to see if their road was safe. He had encountered a few goblins here and there, which didn’t make him want to guess what more could be hidden in the mountains. And now, hearing his friends almost certainly being in trouble, he was getting really worried, and he made haste. He sprinted back, crossing a small river jumping from stone to stone.

And then, at last, Cyllamdir saw the fort. It was being assaulted by many goblins, and there were also enemies which seemed much larger and stronger than the average goblin Cyllamdir had seen while scouting ahead. He was able to make out a few moving warriors defending the fort. They had to be his companions, as he saw that two of them were dwarves. And at that moment, Cyllamdir stood still, not doing anything, and not knowing what to do as well. He looked around. Did the goblins notice him as they were marching up the entranceways? It seemed not. He hid behind a rock, still looking at the fort and its besiegers. He took his bow from his back, but that was all. There was no way he could practically help his friends from here, besides it being foolish to try to…

_________________
The love of Arda was set in your hearts by Ilúvatar, and he does not plant to no purpose.

Sulvan watched the Goblins attack the Dwarves and Man of Rohan, out of the corner of his eye. Despite the fact that they were struggling, the alliance appeared to be shrugging off the worst of it, something which disapointed Sulvan greatly, so much so that he decided to try something that could be very risky for his poosition, just to punish them.

He gingerly got to his feet, and moved as silently as he had learned to do so, and stood directly behind Dwalvyn. Signalling wildly, he began to direct the movements of thhe Goblins in front of the Dwarf, having learned his way of fighting, so as to give the Goblins the upper hand. He moved accross to Aethelwulf, and started the same process, directing the large brutish Goblin he fought, but before he reached his climax, for he had decided he would let the man killed, he sensed something behind him, and though he was not entirely sure what it was, he could not be sure that one of the other companions had returned or not, and decided not to tempt fate.

He slowly and quietly moved back to the place in which he had been laying, before jumping to his feet loudly to announce his return to battle, and he knocked an arrow into the bow he found at his side and shot one of the stunned Goblins in the face. The Goblin was a necessary loss, and he knew that the Shaman and the Drake cared not for the Warrior's life, and neither did he.

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

_________________
Ours is the fury!

Cyllamdir had been sitting as a useless spectator for a while, thinking about a plan to somehow help his companions. He thought of endless things which he immediately fired again. Then he saw two small creatures approach in the distance. Cyllamdir knew it were Dwarves because of their posture. Not knowing what to do, he stood still and waited for the two to come closer. One of them was wearing two hammers in both hands, the other seemed less equipped for battle. Finally the Dwarves had seen Cyllamdir too, and he didn’t know whether he should be happy about that or not. He quickly stood up.
Cyllamdir looked down when the Dwarves stood before him. He frowned when the Dwarf asked him for his name. Cyllamdir decided he did not care about who they were.

“I am Cyllamdir of the house of Thranduil. The warriors out there are the companions with whom I started our journey.” He sighed. “I have to get them out of there, somehow…”

Maybe they could have a chance, he thought then. In the end, they were with three now, instead of one on their own. Of course Cyllamdir wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust the two little fellows in front of him, but at that moment he seemed to have no other choice. In a head to head fight they would stand no chance, of that Cyllamdir was sure. But they could distract the enemy, and make use of the disarrangement of the goblins.

“Listen, Dwarves, I hope you are willing to help us. If we all take one of the entrances”, Cyllamdir said while pointing all the entrance ways out, “we can surprise and distract the enemy. It will be dangerous however, and we will have to fall back. The goblins will then be spread out much more between us and my friends, and they may have a chance of escaping then.”

He gazed at the Dwarves, silently cursing fate that had given him two Dwarves instead of something he could trust more.

_________________
The love of Arda was set in your hearts by Ilúvatar, and he does not plant to no purpose.

Kaldor had felled another three goblins in the meantime, not nearly enough considering the time he had spent battling, Dwalvyn clearly had goblin slaying in his blood and the rohirrim was a fantastic fighter. Kaldor had no preference to goblinswhen it came to combat, he was a caravan guard and felt equally comfortable fighting all sorts of foes. Kaldor looked to the horse lord and understood that it was their job to handle the tank goblin. Kaldor remembered of how he had bested the warg chief back in dale; 'perhaps a similar tactic would work here?' thought the dwarf. Luckily for him the tank goblin had hurried it's advance, so much so that a brief portion of it's legs were showing. Kaldor ran full force towards the tank, the goblin took up the gauntlet and charged too, gaining even more momentum.

With a momentous crash the tank goblin came falling down after Kaldor had barreled himself into it's feet at the last moment, as he suspected, it's back was less protected, he left it for one of the others to kill while he continued to back away from the horde he now faced. Killing a further 3 in quick succession (to which Kaldor was very proud) he fell back to the hole everyone was investigating. Dwalvyn's strike had now caused the panel to reveal, the companions hurried through, Kaldor pulled Sulvan in before he could get up to much mischief, subconciously preventing further harrassment from the goblins. He stood in the hole for something, anything, to block the hole with, to his luck there was an iron shield used by the vault wardens of old propped up in the corner. He pressed it firmly into place and backed away, hoping it would hold without his constant assistance. To his dismay the shield, while it fitted the hole perfectly, did not hold.

A brief recollection of his life so far lead Kaldor to believe he had lived long and well, he decided to stay back and hold the shield in place so his companions may escape. He hoped that the passageway they entered had no other entrances but he had little time to think about that now, he had a job to do! He threw his favourite dagger to Dwalvyn before saying a few words to his friends:
"Do not try to stop me friends, this is my choice. It has been a great journey, one that i would gladly live all again! Now run, i'll hold the filth back!"

Dwalvyn looke grimly, then flickered his eyes down. he knew there was no point in arguing - Kaldor was a dwarf, one that had pride and had near enough vowed to sacrifice himself. "Kaldor... You have not been known to me long, but you shall be known to us always." He nodded grimly and tucked the prize dagger in his belt before turning, leaving his new kinsman to his doom. He grunted over his shoulder to the man, "Do not let him die in vain!" and ran.

'Well, Balin told me you could thrust pointears, but I never beleaved that. I'm Ragnar, Champion of Balin, and this is Bazor, Loremaster of Balin. We lost Balin and his companions when we were scouting ahead. But no time to talk now, Bazor, take your sword and your shield and guard the right entrance, I'll take the one on the left, and you, elf, take the one in the middle'. They all ran to their places. When Ragnar walked into the entrance, goblins came down to stop him. he walked back out of the entrance so he had the time to swing his hammers, waited for the goblins and crushed his hammers into the first three goblins. The fourth on e tried to stab him in his back, but ended up with a broken skull. Another ten charged Balin. Balin jumped on a gpblin in the middle, crushing him beneath his feet, and slaughtered the goblins one by one. But this time a goblin stabbed his in his back. Everything before Ragnar's eyes turned red as he frenzied and crushed the little goblin head between his hammers. the wound had not been fatal, but hit him just left of his heart. He took his throwing axes, looking around for more goblins, and saw that Cyllamdir was overwhelmed by goblins. he threw all his axes on the goblins, before he saw that a great goblin came out of the entrance near him.

_________________
Ours is the fury!