"They're coming from the south!" Bofur shouted.
"Those crafty, filthy beasts!" Dwalin cursed angrily, then charged toward the south. There lay an immensely steep slope where scattered plateau plants resembling stonecrop grew, which happened to obstruct their view.
They had all assumed Orcs could never climb up from this spot because Worgs were not adept at scaling such steep inclines, yet they never expected these Orcs to abandon their Worgs and sneak up from right here!
Judging by this setup, could scouts have arrived by daytime, only surveying the terrain without acting rashly, and waited until the middle of the night to launch a surprise attack?
Dwalin wielded a long-handled four-sided axe, a weapon that could be used for both cleaving and swinging as a warhammer which suited him dearly; even a Worg could not withstand an axe-blow straight to the head. He quickly rushed into the midst of the Orcs, grasped the end of the axe handle with both hands without a word, and swung it in a circle. Suddenly, a succession of booming cracks rang out as several Orcs roared and crashed to the ground one after another.
Watching more Orcs endlessly scrambling up the hillside below without knowing their numbers, he grew even more alarmed and furious. He fiercely forged a path straight through the middle of the Orcs, rushed to the edge of the slope, and effortlessly shoved several Orcs who had just climbed up back down.
The other dwarves followed closely behind, either engaging the climbing Orcs in fierce combat or rushing to the edge of the slope to prevent the remaining Orcs from continuing upward!
At that moment, another loud roar sounded from afar.
The dwarves standing by the slope's edge looked down to see pack after pack of Worgs on the wasteland receiving