Drums in the Deep

Doom. Doom, doom.

The dwarves huddled around Balin's tomb did not stir. By now the baneful drumming was a constant background to their restless, nightmarish sleep.

"It's louder," Ori said suddenly. "The orcs must have reached the Great Hall."

Bor silently inspected the barred door to the Chamber of Mazarbul. "It will hold for perhaps ten minutes against a ram," he said. "Less if they have a cave troll."

The drumbeat began to accelerate. Orcish shrieks reverberated in the hall.

Laying his axe aside for a moment, Ori took up the Book of Records to write its final entry.

[A dwarf drabble for Marta's birthday.]