The war with the dwarves has been difficult, to say the least, and with resources running low on all fronts, an end must surely be near.  From within the fort of Drì Anem, the thousands of the dwarven army seem more formidable than the walls of the humans’ defense.  Klevtrìth clings to a hope brought by fairies: that the elves would come.
 

    “The gate has been breeched!”  Sweat dripped from the man’s helmet, trickling down his beard.  His breath was stale, which seemed a fitting match for his failing voice.

    I called out to the five men on the wall with me.  “Take to your swords, and follow me!  Drì Anem will not be lost today.”

    Stone steps led us to within thirty yards of what was left of the gate.  The massive wood had been battered apart, leaving arm-sized splinters in the destruction.  One of the doors hung on but a single iron hinge, leaning precariously inward and threatening to collapse onto those who stood nearby.

    A hefty ram with a fist-shaped metal head lay dormant outside, its operators slain in the entryway.  As I watched the large fist sway from the chains supporting it, I heard the nearby cheers at its accomplishment.  We could not keep them out any longer.

    Beyond the ram, in the plains before the foothills of the Undain Mountains, the dwarf army charged into a barrage of arrows.  Our supply would not last more than a few rounds, but without the gate, it didn’t matter.  “Jodithan,” I said to the man who had brought me the news of the breech, “sound your trumpet after the next volley.  We need those men here with us.”

    “Yes, sir!”

    Quietly, I prayed for guidance through the battle.  I heard others whispering Onarre’s name while we stood still.  He was with me, I knew, even if my fate was to die that day.  In my heart, I felt he was telling me, “Take courage, and fight well.”

    Jodithan’s trumpet shrilly called out behind me.  Twice it beckoned, and those who answered jogged along the stone wall from the left and the right.  Some had so far to move that they seemed only to run in place.  

    Our numbers swelled into a thick cluster of armored men.  “You have fought well throughout this war,” I said, hoping all could hear my loud remarks.  “I could not have mustered a better army in all the lands of men, for no others have your character.  Let us make an end of this army today by such a sound victory that minstrels will sing of our deeds centuries from now.  Falalith tàgâss!”  They echoed my final words, an expression in ìloâ that means, “Let battle come!”