There was no escape.
She clutched her knife against a beard damp with the tears of the little ones. The children huddled now, back in the shadows, comforted by the graybeards who sang them songs to drown out their doom.
There was no escape.
Beyond these stone walls of Khazad-dûm, she heard the brave battle cries of their menfolk, now fading away beneath the harsh screams of their foe.
There was no escape.
A pounding on the door. She shared a knowing look with the others. They would not take them alive. She clutched her knife.
There was no escape.
