Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 3)

Chapter 17: Inside the Mountain

By the time the company had met at the foot of the mountain and Edhael had explained the predicament of Glorfindel's group, the sun had set and the mountain loomed dark over them, blocking out the eerie light of a full moon. Gerithor had sent Halbarad with several watchmen to keep an eye out along the path, and so far there had been no sign of either dragon nor orc.

"How long do you think they'll be held up in Mithlond?" Gerithor asked, leaning forward and warming his cold hands at the crackling fire.

"I couldn't say," Edhael replied. "I left before they reached the city, so I do not know how strong the enemy there is. All I know is that the messenger that rode from there was frightened."

Gloin frowned. "Ach, then we shouldn't expect any help from there. Sauron's made his move, and he's made it well."

"Aye, he's preventing his enemies from uniting in defense against him," Gerithor agreed. "He has the advantage in numbers. He's smart to keep us divided."

Gloin let out an annoyed snort as he stood and began to pace. "Well he's met us at every turn so far. How can he manage so many fronts so well??"

This time Edhael replied. "I do not know. There are other players at work here, ones that have not yet revealed themselves. We must be wary."

At that moment one of the watchmen called out in the distance. "Dwarves coming down the mountain path! Several dozen of them!"

"My kin!" Gloin cried, taking off at a jog up the path. Gerithor and Edhael followed, the ranger picking up his sword first.

When they arrived they saw a column of heavily armored dwarves standing in the path, their armor glinting in the slight moonlight that crept around the mountain. They were armed for battle and it seemed that their leader had gotten into an argument with the ranger who stopped them.

"Move outta the way or we shall move ye!" The leader of the dwarves replied, his expression hidden by a steel helmet.

"We have men surrounding you," Halbarad, who had recalled his men to lend support to the ranger on watch, replied. The dwarf remained silent, his head swiveling to look around him. Tension was thick in the air, and the dwarves stood with their shields in front of them protectively.

"Arrows can't pierce dwarf-forged steel, brigand! Remove yourselves from our mountain!"

He shouted something in dwarvish, and his soldiers began to inch forward with shields held outward.

"Ready arrows!" Halbarad shouted. A fight was inevitable, that much was clear. Fortunately, Gerithor and Gloin arrived just in time.

"Hold!" Gerithor cried, raising a hand up at the rangers. Gloin yelled something loudly in dwarvish, causing the dwarves to lower their weapons as well. Upon seeing them, the leader of the dwarves pulled his helmet off and stepped forward.

"Gerithor?" He asked. As soon as he stepped into the light Gerithor recognized him.

"Kalan!" He cried joyfully, running to embrace his friend. They hadn't seen each other in many years, ever since they had parted after the defeat of the Black Numenorean Arnakhor. 

"Ye've grown a wee bit since last we met!" The dwarf replied, wearing a large grin. Gerithor knew that he looked much different now. The years had been cruel to the ranger, from the scar he bore to the world weary look to his eyes. 

"You've aged a bit yourself!" Gerithor said, noting the sprinkling of grey in Kalan's beard.

"Well, it's been nearly twenty years, what do ye expect?" He retorted. "Tell me, what brings ye to the mountain? I almost killed yer men up there!" He pointed up at Halbarad and laughed.