They sank down in collapse, feeling an icy coldness in their loins, and an overwhelming weight upon their eyelids.
They rose, and bounded against the rocks.

But the lowest were weighted by the pressure of the others, and were immovable.

They tried to cling to them so as to reach the top, but the bellying shape of the great masses rendered all hold impossible.

They sought to cleave the ground on both sides of the gorge, but their instruments broke.

They made a large fire with the tent poles, but the fire could not burn the mountain.
They returned to the portcullis; it was garnished with long nails as thick as stakes, as sharp as the spines of a porcupine, and closer than the hairs of a brush.