"And ye know it!" Nikwillig said flatly.
Tred went quiet and stared at his friend for a long moment, then gradually admitted as much with a hesitating nod.
"Ye be careful."
"Are ye forgetting?" Nikwillig replied with a wink. "I'm knowing how to ran away!"
A shout from down the slope caught their attention then. The orcs had breached the dwarven line right between the two defensive squares—not seriously, but enough to put a few of the bearded folk in apparent and immediate danger.
"Moradin, put yer strength in me arms!" Tred howled, and he charged headlong down the slope.
Nikwillig smiled as he watched his friend go, then he turned back to the east and the dark silhouettes of the imposing mountains. He glanced back one more time to take his bearings and to better mark the critical area of the mountain spur, then, without another word, he tucked the mirror safely into his pack and trudged off on what he figured would be the last journey of his life.
* * *
Several hours later, the sky still dark but the eastern rim holding the lighter glow of the approaching dawn, word filtered up to Banak that an orc force had been spotted in the southwest, fast approaching the dwarf positions on the western edge of Keeper's Dale. The dwarf quickly assembled his leaders, along with Nanfoodle, Pikel, and Shoudra Stargleam, who had been the bearer of the information, having scouted the western reaches personally with her magical abilities.
"It is a sizable force," Shoudra warned them. "A great and powerful army. Our friends will be hard-pressed to hold out for very long."
The dispiriting news had all the dwarves glancing around to one another.
"Are ye saying that we should ran down the cliff now and be done with it?" Banak asked.
Shoudra had no answer to that, and Banak turned to Nanfoodle.
"I'm hoping to steal a victory here," he explained. "But we're not to do that if them giants start throwing their boulders across our flank. It comes down to yer plan, gnome."
Nanfoodle tried to look confident—futilely.
"If we gotta leave, then we gotta leave," Banak said to them all. "But I'm thinkin' we need to hurt these pig orcs, and bad."
Thibbledorf Pwent growled.
"They're coming soon," Ivan Bouldershoulder put in. "They're stirring in the north, getting ready for another charge."
"Because they know the giants will soon begin their barrage," Wulfgar reasoned.
"But if them giants ain't throwing. …" Banak said slyly.
Again he turned to Nanfoodle, guiding the eyes of all the others to the gnome as well.
"Oo oi!" Pikel cheered in support of the hunched little alchemist.
"Is it gonna work?" Banak asked.
"Oo oi!" Pikel said again, punching his one fist into the air.
"The smell was not supposed to.. " Nanfoodle started to reply, but then he stopped and took a deep breath. "I do not know," he admitted. "I think…"
"Ye think?" Banak berated. "Ye got more than a thousand dwarves up here, little one. Ye think? Do we hold the fight or get down now?"
Poor Nanfoodle had no idea how to answer and couldn't begin to take that heavy responsibility upon his tiny shoulders.
"Oooi!" cried Pikel.
"It's gonna work," Ivan added.
"So we should stay?" Banak asked.
"That's yer own choice to make," Ivan replied. "But I'm thinking them giants're gonna be wishing we'd turned tail and run!"
He stepped over and patted Nanfoodle on the shoulder.
"Oo oi!" cried Pikel.
"Orcs're coming again," said another dwarf, Rockbottom the cleric. "Big charge this time."
"Good enough. I was gettin' bored!" said Thibbledorf Pwent, who was already covered in blood and gore from the evening's fighting—some of it his own, but most of it that of his unfortunate enemies.
"Dawn's another hour away," Ivan remarked.
"Less than that from Nikwillig's perch, if he got there," said Catti-brie.
"We got to hold then," Banak decided.
He turned to Nanfoodle and nodded, as much a show of support for the gnome's outrageous scheme as he could muster at that grim time. Banak was gambling a lot, and he knew it, and so did everyone else around him. With the giants throwing their boulders and the press of the orcs, the dwarves would have a difficult time getting over that cliff face and down to Keeper's Dale. If Shoudra's reports and assessment were correct, getting down to Keeper's Dale might prove to be the least of their problems and the worst of their decisions.
"Drive them back, Thibbledorf Pwent," Banak instructed. "Ye hold them pigs off us."
In response, Pwent held up a bulging wineskin, tapped it to his forehead in salute, and ran along to join his bloody and battered Gutbusters.
All eyes again went to Nanfoodle, who seemed to shrink under the press of those concerned gazes. His plan had to work, but the signs were not promising.
Soon enough, the sounds of battle again echoed up the slope as Pwent led the dwarves' counterassault.
Soon after that, the sounds of another battle echoed up from below, from the western reaches of Keeper's Dale.
And soon after that, the first of the giant catapults let fly. A huge boulder smashed and bounced across the back edge of the dwarven line, right along the cliff face.
* * *
"Ye got yer skins?" Thibbledorf Pwent asked his gathered Gutbusters as they circled back up and regrouped. To a dwarf, they produced the bulging bladders. "Some o' ye won't be needing them," he added solemnly. "And might be that some won't be able to get to them, but ye know yer place!"
As one, the Gutbusters cheered and roared.
"Get in and break their lines," the fierce dwarf instructed. "Drive them back and take yer dead place!"
Down went the force, another furious charge that slashed through the orc ranks. No defensive measure there, Pwent led his forces down the slope farmer than any dwarves had previously gone, shattering the orc line and their supporting allies. Their goal was to cause more confusion than actual damage—no easy mind set for the carnage-hungry Gutbuster Brigade—and that's what they did.
The orc assault fell apart, with many forced to turn back and retreat before regrouping.
Thibbledorf Pwent kept his formation tight, not allowing the customary Gut-buster pursuit. He raised his waterskin in salute and reminder to the others. Then he found a broken weapon he could later use, offering a wink to those nearby so they would understand his intent.
* * *
Like an ocean tide, the orcs rolled back and gathered strength for the next wave. And during that brief lull, more of the giant catapults began heaving huge boulders through the predawn sky. Few had the range at first, and so the initial volleys were not so effective, but all the dwarves understood how quickly that might all change.
"We got to hold the east!" Tred cried at the others, mostly to Wulfgar, who had pretty much been anchoring that end of the line from the very beginning.
Wulfgar looked at him grimly, and that response alone quieted the Felbarr dwarf, reminding him of what he had known all along: that Nikwillig would have a hard time getting back to them.
* * *
Banak paced nervously around the cliff ledge, looking down to the southwest as often as he was looking at the raging battle down the slope to the north.
This is it, he thought.
It was the culmination of all his efforts and of all of his enemies' efforts. The orcs were closing their vice, north and west, as the giants were softening up the rear of Banak's position.
A boulder slammed down not so far away and bounced right past Banak, nearly clipping him off the cliff.