Chapter Five

Part Two: Impenetrable

We sighted Calsandar shortly after sunrise on a chilly late-winter morning. A short rectangular fortress, built of grey granite, was perched on a hilltop directly against the edge of a cliff. Below the fort, the cliffside was blasted and scoured, leading us to conclude that it contained a concealed dwarf-door that the goblins were trying to breach.

Scattered in front of the cliffside was a small collection of scorched and blackened shelters. As we watched, a small object was hurled out of the fort. It left a thin trail of smoke as it fell. When it smashed on top of one the shelters, there was a bright flash and a loud roaring sound, and the structure's roof caught fire. Goblins poured out to throw buckets of sand on the burning roof. A volley of arrows sped down from the fort, killing two goblins before the others could extinguish the fire and take cover again. The fort's defenders jeered derisively, but a short while later, large openings appeared in the roofs of two other buildings, and faster than the eye could follow two giant arrows leaped up to smash against the fort. Now it was the goblins' turn to cheer as small bits of stone flew in all directions.

The siege went on in this inconclusive fashion for the rest of the day. Other goblins were trying to pry stones out of the side of the fortress, but if my readers have never tried to disassemble a dwarven fortress using hand tools, I shall save them the trouble by telling them that it is impossible. A collection of nasty-looking spikes and other devices had so far deterred the goblins from climbing on top of the fort; even if they had, I suspect that they would have been no closer to getting in.

We held a council of war shortly before dinner time. Edrahil spoke first. "If that is the worst the goblins can do, the dwarves can most likely hold out for months without our assistance."

Karl shook his head. "All the banging and shooting and cheering - I think that's just the goblins' idea of fun. See that pile of dirt there?" He pointed at a small mound on the hilltop, behind and to the left of the fortress. "I've spotted at least three others like it. Seems to me that they're trying to dig their way in."

Celegion turned to me. "Well? Have you improvised anything yet?"

"I think that I have an idea," I explained, "but I will need to inspect the other side of that fortress before I know whether or not it will work."

Celegion eyed me suspiciously. "Does this idea involve the use of catapults at any point?"

"No. I considered that possibility, but the windows are too small."

Once it was dark, we slipped through the goblins sentry line and reached the back of the fortress without very much difficulty. The goblins were not keeping a very close watch on the building's sides and rear because there were no visible doors or windows on those three sides. Since it was a dwarven fortress, there probably were hidden entrances, but they would be useless for our purposes.

Calengolf climbed up to the roof, since he was from Mirkwood and knew the most about climbing, and then he passed a rope back down to us. We went up one at a time, as quietly as possible. Getting Karl up proved rather difficult, as he was not a gifted climber, but he finally succeeded after taking off his armor to be hauled up separately. The entire operation took more than half an hour, but we were able to complete it without attracting the attention of the besiegers or the defenders.

Now came the tricky part. (Ed. No, the tricky part was climbing up to the roof.) The front edge of the roof overhung the windows by at least eight feet, and it had a short rampart on it. Thandor tied a hangman's noose in a long piece of rope, and then Edrahil and I dangled him over the edge by his ankles, while he attempted to throw his noose over a sharp spur of masonry next to a window where the wall had been fractured by bombardment. (Ed. Aldrid wanted to do it himself, but we staved him off by telling him that it was elven rope and Men just couldn't get the same results with it. That did the job, because Aldrid pretends to be afraid of magic.) He tried without success for around five minutes, so we pulled him up to let the blood drain from his head.

"It is not easy throwing something accurately when one is upside-down," he said. "But I think I can do it with a bit more practice." So he went over the edge again, and soon reported his success.

Celegion frowned. "I like this plan less and less every minute."

"Then let's hurry up," Karl said drily.

"No, I'm serious. The dwarves have no idea that we are coming, and if they see me trying to climb through their windows in the middle of the night, they will certainly shoot me. And if we all get through without being detected, then they will awake to find seven strangers in the middle of their fortress. Dwarves are not usually very happy when this happens!"

"When you climb through their windows?" I said. "I thought I was doing that part."

"No. As the leader, if anything incredibly dangerous has to be done, it's my job to do it."

Calengolf intervened. "Celegion, there's something you don't understand. If this were a merely a dangerous feat of heroics, you would indeed be the right elf for the job, but this is actually a dangerous and stupid feat of heroics. Saelon has an absolutely unparalleled ability to survive such experiences because Manwe and Elbereth think he's fun to watch." The others readily agreed with him. We stretched the rope tight and tied it securely to the battlements on the other side of the roof.

Holding tightly to the rope, I eased over the parapet and worked my way down. Then came the other tricky part (Ed. The other tricky part, with the first tricky part being climbing up to the roof). Slowly, I progressed hand over hand underneath the overhang, with nothing below me but a long dark drop and several hundred unsuspecting goblins. When I came close enough to the window, I put my feet through - and stubbed my toes on something very solid.

Blast. There was some sort of metal shutter completely blocking the window. This had not entered into my calculations, but I was not about to go back, so I began banging gently on the shutter with my foot. After a few eternities, the shutter eased open a few inches, and someone thrust a spear out and prodded my liver with it (of course, I had left my armor on the roof).

A gruff voice spoke up. "Who are you, and what in the unspeakable name of Angband's cesspit are you doing out there?"

"We are from Imladris," I replied, "and we are here to help."

The shutter squeaked open a few more inches. It was completely dark inside, so that the defenders would not be silhouetted against the windows, but as far as I could tell the dwarf's countenance seemed to bear the marks of complete bewilderment. I doubt that he could see the slender elven-rope from which I hung, and so he thought that I had simply floated there. "I've got to go talk to the Chief," he said.

"Are you at least going to let me in first?"

"No."

"Do you seriously intend to leave me dangling here until your Chief gives his approval?"

"Yes." With that he closed the shutter again. My arms were beginning to tire, so I pulled my legs up and wrapped them around the rope as well, and hung there like a piece of washing. I heard shouting from below. When I turned my head to look, I saw goblins lighting fire-arrows. Double blast.

So for the next few minutes, I hung there while the goblins shot fire-arrows at me and my comrades on the roof shot ordinary arrows down at the goblins. "Ordinary arrows" should be interpreted as "ordinary elvish arrows", which glow slightly in the dark and can actually inflict burns on goblins, so they are not in fact very different from fire-arrows. The goblins soon found that conducting an archery duel with elves around one hundred feet above them was not a very healthy form of exercise, and they retreated back into their shelters.

The shutter opened again. "Chief says you can come in, but if you show any treachery you will be thrown out the same way you came."

"Thank you," I replied. "You shall not have cause to regret your hospitality." I climbed in, followed by Thandor, Aldrid, Calengolf, and Karl. Celegion and Edrahil stayed up on the roof to lower our supplies and armor over the edge where we could snag the ropes with a borrowed halberd and pull them in. This exercise became rather more exciting when the goblins began to fire their catapults again. I do not think that they could see us very well, but their machines of war were still aimed at the windows after the day's bombardment. While we were working, a number of sleepy-eyed dwarves trudged up the stairs from below, in order to stare at us as if we were some sort of traveling entertainment.

"They're on the roof!" Celegion shouted suddenly (Ed. Which shows that goblins are excellent climbers). The last bundle came over the edge as metal rattled on stone and a goblin screamed in pain. As soon as we had pulled it in, Celegion shouted, "Now!" and Edrahil came down the rope, going much faster than was safe. After a blast of Serious Magic that shook the building, Celegion came over the edge so fast that he was held up behind Edrahil, who was having trouble getting inside without losing his grip. Without needing to speak a word, we acted; Karl held the back of my shirt while I leaned out and pulled Edrahil in.

Just as we had him the goblins cut the rope up on the rooftop. Celegion fell about five feet and smashed into the rock, but somehow he held onto the rope, and Calengolf held the other end to keep it anchored on the spur. Celegion climbed in, and the dwarves slammed the window shut.

The dwarves were gathering around to congratulate us or stare at us or covet our luggage, but Celegion shoved through the crowd. "Where are my healing supplies?" he shouted. "Edrahil's hurt!" Aldrid handed them to him.

Edrahil was wounded in his back, so Karl and I laid him out on his stomach and cleared a space around him. His face was locked in a pained grimace, but he seemed to cheer up slightly when he saw his brother. "Don't panic," he gasped. "It will take a lot more than this to kill me - though it hurts like anything."

Since he was not bleeding very much, we carried him down the stairs. None of us, I think, had ever been in a dwarven mine before, and we were all surprised to find out how truly dark it was inside. Naturally one would suspect that it would be dark underground, especially at night, but this was about as dark as a cloudy night with no moon or stars.

We entered what appeared to be a large central chamber, lit only with a few very dim red lights. Small groups of dwarves sat amid piles of bedding, furniture, and other possessions. After we set Edrahil down under one of the lights, Celegion delegated Calengolf to "explain things" to the dwarves (Ed. This made climbing up to the roof look easy), while he treated Edrahil and the rest of us hauled things down the stairs.

The last thing I remember of that night is collapsing on a pile of dirty clothing which looked marginally softer than the stone floor. Celegion was still awake, trying to extract a javelin-head from Edrahil's back without damaging him any more in the process. Thandor had battled against sleep and lost decisively. I was reluctant to go to sleep while Edrahil was still in danger, but my excuse was that I was fated to fall asleep, and it is not given to the Eldar to overcome fate. At least not when they are exhausted, anyway.