to plunge a spear down atop his head. The halfling froze in place, and held there for a long while.
A finger flicked against the bottom of his foot, and Regis managed to look down into Bruenor's eyes - shining whiter, it seemed, for the dwarf's face was completely blackened by soot. Bruenor motioned emphatically for Regis to continue up.
Regis gathered his nerve, his eyes slowly moving up to the starlight. Then, with a burst of speed, he scrambled hand over hand, not letting himself slow until he was within reach of the iron grate, one bar missing from Bruenor's climb those years ago. With a determined grunt, his courage mounting as he considered the feat of his dwarf friend in escaping the duergar, Regis moved swiftly, not pausing until his upper half was right out of the chimney. He paused there, half in and half out, and closed his eyes, waiting for the killing blow to fall.
The only sound was the moan of the wind on the high mountain, and the occasional scraping from Bruenor down below.
Regis pulled himself out and climbed to his knees, glancing all around.
An amazing view greeted him from up on the mountain called Fourth-peak. The wind was freezing cold and snow clung to the ground all around him, except in the immediate area around the chimney, where warm air continued to pour forth from the heat of the great dwarven Undercity.
Regis rose to his feet, his eyes transfixed on the panoramic view around him. He looked to the west, to Keeper's Dale, and the thousands of campfires of Obould's great army. He turned around and considered the eastern stretches below him, the dark snaking line of the great River Surbrin and the line of fires on its western bank.
"By Moradin, Rumblebelly," Bruenor muttered when he finally got out of the hole and stood up to survey the magnitude of the scene, of the campfires of the forces arrayed against the goodly folk of the Silver Marches. "Not in all me days have I seen such a mob of foes."
"Is there any hope?" Regis asked.
"Bah!" snorted the toughened old king. "Orcs're all! Ten to one, me dwarves'll kill 'em."
"Might need more than that," the halfling said, but wisely under his breath so that his friend could not hear.
"Well, if they come, they're coming from the west," Bruenor observed, for that was obviously the region of the most densely packed opposition.
Regis moved up beside him, and stayed silent. They had an hour to go before the first light of dawn. They couldn't really go far, for they needed the warmth of the chimney air to help ward the brutal cold - they hadn't worn too many layers of clothes for their tight climb, after all.
So they waited, side by side and patiently. They each knew the stakes, and the bite of the wind was a small price to pay.
But the howls began soon after, a lone wolf, at first, but then answered again and again all around the pair.
"We have to go," Regis said after a long while, a chorus of howls growing closer by the second.
Bruenor seemed as if made of stone. He did move enough to glance back to the east.
"Come on, then," the dwarf prodded, speaking to the sky, calling for the dawn's light.
"Bruenor, they're getting close."
"Get yerself in the hole," the dwarf ordered.
Regis tugged his arm, but he did not move.
"You don't even have your axe."
"I'll get in behind ye, don't ye doubt, but I'm wanting a look at Obould's army in the daylight."
A howl split the air, so close that Regis imagined the wolf's hot breath on his neck. His arm ached from memory alone, and he had no desire to face the gleaming white fangs of a wolf ever again. He tugged more insistently on Bruenor's arm, and when the dwarf half-turned, as if moving toward the chimney, the halfling scrambled belly down to the ground and over the lip.
"Go on, then," Bruenor prompted, and he turned and squinted again to the west.
The air had grown a bit lighter, but Bruenor could still make out very little in the dark vale. He strained his eyes and prayed to Moradin, and eventually made out what looked like two great obelisks.
The dwarf scratched his head. Were the orcs building statues? Watch towers?
Bruenor heard the padded footsteps of a canine creature not far away, and still staring down into the dale, he bent low, scooped up a loose stone, and pegged it in the