Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn had remained sedate for the party, quite content to sit and watch others enjoying themselves. He had drunk a reasnable amount of ale, and his vision was starting to swim slightly. He reclined on his chair and looked at the party going on around him. Smiling, he permitted his eyes to droop, and close.

He was running across Pelennor, closing on Minas Tirith. He was smiling, and he could see his wife holding his child up on the battlements. He ran harder, straining to see if it were a boy or a girl. He got ever closer, and he could nearly pick out the face of his child, but he tripped, falling, the floor opened up to swallow him and he was falling, crying out.

He woke with a jolt, receiving concerned glances from all over the table. He breathed heavily before muttering "I'm alright...just a dream".

[bilbo_baggins]

Silently brooding, Anga watched the other elves and rangers partying, drinking, and carousing until several couldn't take it anymore, and dropped off into sleep. Why had they held a party? It seemed slightly foreboding to party and celebrate when they needed to be at their best for the immediate future. They were going to battle, and Elrond decides to party? Strange, yet not that strange. Elrond Peredhil had been claimed to be foresighted. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a purpose to this party, one that did not quite meet the eye.

His fellows, companions they were. One and all, good men; or elves, for that matter. Anga smiled at the little twist of language humor. In his own tongue of course, they were Eldar. The same word, (or nearly) in the westron meant that they were older. How humorous. They were always older than most humans.

Still smiling and shaking his head slightly, Anga was met by one of his companions. One of the rangers. He did not quite remember his name, but time would bind them all to a fellowship of orc-hunters. He could feel it.

"Are you having fun? Aye, it's a good party. The drink is amazing. How do you make it?" he asked.

"That I cannot tell you, Ranger. 'Tis Rivendell's secret, or one of them for that matter." Anga replied.

Having some of it himself, Anga slowly walked through the party, taking it all in. He was getting extremely anxious, and hoped to go to battle soon.

[The Perky Ent]

As Arathorn finished his dancing, Elrond came up to him. The other men and elves were all dancing and having a great time. Arathorn had single-handedly turned the dinner into a full party. As Elrond finally reached Arathorn, he was speechless. Finally, his brow tightened as he said, "A hótule asinye i meneltannar tirien. Come outside and look at the stars with me! I need to speak to you alone! ” Arathorn’s jolly face froze as he slowly walked out from his party. Far away from the party, where it could barely be heard, Elrond began to sigh.


“It was all my fault. I should have expected this.” Elrond said as he closed his eyes to meditate. “Yes. It is obvious. I, of course, don’t blame you or your men. No one is to blame.” Elrond said. “Is there a problem Lord Elrond? I was not aware of a problem at the party.” Arathorn said, trying to comprehend what he did wrong. “Well, truth be told, I didn’t expect any dancing!” Elrond said, giving a small chuckle. “Oh! So that’s it! Well, I’m terrible sorry! Should I stop the party?” Arathorn said, feeling very bad about himself. “No! Please don’t! Let the men have their fun!” Elrond said. The night sky shined brightly as Arathorn took a seat on a bench. In looking at the stars, Arathorn felt like the world was on his side. He gave a great sigh as he spent many hours wondering the mysteries of space. After a while, Arathorn realized the party was over. Giving a great yawn, Arathorn left for his room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Arathorn found trouble waking up. Although the fresh air from the night before helped, he was finding trouble curing his mild hangover. As he got dressed, ready for departure, he found trouble putting on his cloths. He was rather fond of Imladris, and hated leaving it. It felt like the cold chill of winter. As he walked into the courtyard before the gate of Rivendell, he could feel the chill glide through his body. As the men and elves gathered around, Elrond walked up to then in fine green clothing. “Tenn’ enomentielva! Namárie! Until we meet again. Goodbye.” Elrond said, giving a small wave. Arathorn, with Elladan and Elrohir at his side, began to take the first steps of their quest. It had begun.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn was already awake hours before...truth be told he had barely slept. He was sitting high in the trees around Rivendell. He saw Arathorn riding up to the gates and dropped from the trees, mounting up himself, he got there to hear Elrond's farewell and smiled. At least Elrond hadn't seen anything bad in this venture...He rode up beside Arathorn and looked over at him, Arathorn smiled, "Already pessemistic, Owacyn?". Owacyn muttered "Not yet, but I'm sure I will be soon.", "It would be strange if you were optimistic." Arathorn shot back. "Mmm..."

Owacyn was still shaken by the dream, although it didn't mean much on the surface he was certain that it meant something...he sighed and looked back at the band and dropped back to talk to the twins.
"Elladan...I really think this could go wrong..."
"Already, Owacyn? By the stars, you're speeding up with age." Owacyn sighed deeply. "I know, but there's something that just doesn't feel right...we have no clue how many orcs there are or anything..."
"Elladan's right, Owacyn," chuckled Elrohir, "You really are getting faster to see the bad in situations."
...

[Saraphim]

The morning light made Imladris look as though it was bathed in a blue light, giving it an unearthly appearance.

Elrohir stood against the wall in the main courtyard, sharpening a knife and waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.

Elladan came down the steps with a freshly replenshed quiver.

"Good morning, dear brother," said Elrohir. Did you sleep well after getting the beating of your dancing life last night?"

Elladan smiled. "I slept very well, considering that I was the one doing the beating."

Thier bickering lasted until nearly the entire group had assembled.

Then, one of the other elves, Owacyn, approached them.

"Elladan...I really think this could go wrong..." he said nervously.

Both the twins smiled, and Elladan said, "Already, Owacyn? By the stars, you're speeding up with age."

Owacyn sighed, and said: "I know, but there's something that just doesn't feel right...we have no clue how many orcs there are or anything..."

"Elladan's right, Owacyn," Elrohir interrupted, laughing consolingly, "You really are getting faster to see the bad in situations." he continued: "We may not have our father's foresight, but we can see when we have a strong company."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

They were on the road now. Hanindur took one last glance back at Rivendell, before hurrying to catch up to the others, the morning light giving the hidden valley a fair appearance, glistening in the sunlight. A magic look, one would almost say, for the golden glisten was almost mystical. He always did find morning a wonderful time, the newly awoke light bathing the area in a golden glow, and the trees with orange and red highlights, and, even earlier, a blue gow like that of the moon. It seemed nearly unearthly, and quite fair to behold, and he wanted to take one last look before they were on their way again.

He was quick to catch up, as that last look had taken only a few moments, to capture the beauty of the valley in his mind. And they were walking again. The road was familiar to him, as Hanindur was known to frequent Rivendell, though wandering was his call. So oft had he taken that road, and he knew it well.

After the party the night before, Hanindur found that his head was spinning slightly, and he didn't feel as steady as he should've been, but, other then that, he was fine, and able to enjoy being on the road once more. It had been a long enough stay in Imladris, it was high time for him to be back to the forests, and hidden pathes of Middle-earth. He was not sure where he would go after they were back. Maybe to Bree, he thought. I have not been there in a while.

Something tugged at the back of his mind, as he heard Owacyn comment that they didn't know how many orcs there were, and that something could go wrong. And Hanindur realized with a start that he was right. He had been on many journeys of the like, and they never had known what to expect, but nothing had ever really gone too wrong. Maybe this time something would. Suddenly, he had a bad feeling about the entire thing.

"Agh." Hanindur scoffed. "What could go wrong?"

[astarielle]

Elladan was quietly contemplating to himself, watching the birds fly overhead that were blissfully unaware of what was going on down on the ground. The group was solemn, unlike what they were last night. Then, there was not one person where, at least once during the evening, a smile did not appear on their face. He heard a ranger talking behind him, "Argh. What could go wrong"

He truned and smiled, "Everything that is possible could go wrong yet in the same way nothing. For not all that is bad is disasterous, quite the contrary -for somtimes what may seem wrong may in its time come out for the better. We may not see it, or chose not to but it is there and will always be." Said Elladan matter of factly.

Hanindur shrugged and said, "I suppose you're right, you are blessed with much wisdom."

"Even so we all posses the ability to see the good in the bad, the right in the wrong and the love in hate." As he said this Elladan caught his brothers eye and laughed breaking the near silence that the group had been marching in so far.

A number of members of the party turned and looked disdainfully at him, at which Elladan coughed and walked on with his head bowed.

[Potatothan]

Nuwethion listened to the words of Elrond's son and he knew them also. Like his brother they twins never spoke of doom or distress, just truth. It was nice to know that the two could be serious when needed, for they always were a bit of rascals. Nuwethion walked up to Hanindur and laughed with Elladan. He was caught up in thought for a second that he didn't notice the silence that was creeping upon the group. He patted the ranger on his shoulder and gave him a smile.

"Everything wrong has a right indeed. But don't you worry about that. How many there are nobody knows. It is not important to me anyway. We are large enough to defeat them. Else Lord Elrond would have send a bigger party. As for me, I only count the orc bodies afterwards. That is much more important." He said with a wink.

"So you count your friends afterwards too?"Hanindur said.

"I don't count my friends. Everybody is responcible for their own actions. Not that I don't care about them, nor that I don't assist when needed." Nuwethion answered.

Nuwethion walked on trough the terrain surounding the hidden valley. The silence was still around them and it was getting on his mind. As a responce to it, Nuwetion broke out in chanting for he was always eager to sing and an audience. And so he chanted on as he went.

[Mad Baggins]

As Beroth walked, his last sight of Rivendell resonated through his head. The early sun had bathed everything in a soft, warm light. Thinking of the beautiful sanctuary that now lay behind him made him slightly dread the long march ahead, not to mention the unavoidable battles with Orcs.

His head was throbbing slightly from the night before, and he only remembered a few scraps of what had happened. There had been dancing, and ale, lots of ale. He also remembered an elf-maiden that he had danced with, but that was about it. He could think of nothing more.

He grimaced shortly when he heard someone, it sounded like Owacyn, say that they did not know how many Orcs there would be. Others behind him started talking, but he could not make out their words. He heard Nuwethion say, "...don't assist when needed." Soon after, he broke out into song. Beroth smiled as the melody lifted his heart and spirits. He looked up into the sky and noticed a flock of birds wheeling up into the endless blue.

Beroth closed his eyes, breathing deep the sweet scent of morning dew, and continued on.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

So do you count your friends afterwards too? The words still rang in Hanindur's mind, and he knew them all too well to be true. Indeed, he tried to act like nothing could go wrong, but still, there was everything that could go wrong. It was true, as well, Elladan was wise in such matters. Hanindur agreed quite well with what the elf had said. But still, there was always the chance that something would go very wrong... very wrong. And they were long overdue for something to go wrong.

He tried to keep up the pretense that nothing would go wrong, but in his hearth, he knew all too well that something could, and would go wrong. And there we have it, he thought with a slight laugh. I'm back to thinking the worst in everything. If there were many orcs, they would've sent a larger party, right?

Hanindur shook the sudden dread from his mind. They still had no way of knowing how many orcs there were, and what would happen. And that feeling was not pleasant in the least. Not to mention the lightheaded feeling from too much ale the night before, but that would wear off soon. In the meantime though, all Hanindur's thoughts were dark, and full of shadows. And Nuwethion's words did not help the darkness within him, though the sing was indeed lightening to the mood that covered many of them now.

But to leave Rivendell to face inevitable battles, and possible loss to friends was not a fair thing to think of.

The trees whispered softly, and the wind was gentle, as they had no fear of what could happen, trees could be cut down, and mountains would stand in the way of the wind, but still, the trees could not count the loss of friends, and the wind would continue to blow, no matter what stood in their way.

Everything was bathed in warm sunlight, and the plesant scent of the morning dew, but Hanindur walked in a silence, and a shadow, oblivious to the peace of the area, as his thoughts dwelled in foreboding and darkness... who knew what was to come?

[Saraphim]

Despite the revelry of the night before, the spirits of the elves and men had dropped well below Elrohir's tolerance level. All were talking in hushed voices of certain doom.

"This simply will not do," said Elrohir loudly, causeing everyone to look aroound at the disturbance. he stepped to the front of the group.

"Listen to me, my comrades. This talk cannot go on. It will bring us down to cowardace and shame, two things that do not belong in a battle party," the elvesa and rangers looked around at each other, surprised at Elrohir's speech.

He continued, "My lords, If it is woven into our fates to perish this day, then so it shall be. No words or actions will prevent it. But shall we march into battle singing the praises of doom? Or will we fight to the tune of life, and love of those we would protect and serve?"

Those gathered were now utterly silent, listening to the elf's words.

"If it one thing I cannot abide, it is sadness without a cause," said Elrohir quietly. Then, louder, "If at the end of this mission, our friends lie dead, we may feel anguish and pain. But not until! No, my comrades. Do not let the fear of death hinder your courage. Without that, we are certainly doomed."
Elrohir finshed, eyes aflame, and waited to hear what they would say.

[bilbo_baggins]

Hearing Elrohir's speech lifted Anga's spirits beyond the glum that had settled on all, a premonition not easily rid of. But, as he had said, it was not the time nor place for such behavior. He felt a little ashamed of himself and hoped he would be worthy of forgiveness.

Continueing to walk, Anga thought things through. He had to make some connection with another of the party, or he would be rather lonely. Of course, he had always been a loner, hadn't he? No, Anga thought viciously, don't think those things! But the evil personification of his doubts did not relent. You are nothing, it continued, nothing but a worthless lump of flesh. Even the gift of immortality is wasted on such as you. Why do you not cease to exist? It would be so much simpler. The voice droned on, and for once in his life, Angakemion had no-one to turn to.

With sweat breaking on his brow, he tried to plod ahead. Gazing at the passing scenery stilled his thoughts. The wind in the trees, blowing gently. The same cool zephyr passing through their company, sweetly refreshing them.

The promise of a fight also helped him. He mentally went through a half-dozen exercises he would practise tonight. Sharpening his skills, every movement at a time. He hoped that by the time they reached orcs, he would be more than ready to face them.

[The Perky Ent]

As the men and elves left Rivendell, Arathorn kept a steady pace in front of everyone. As he walked, Arathorn realized just how green Imladris was. Everywhere he looked, trees, flowers, and shrubs. It truly was, in Arathorn’s opinion, a blessed land. It was a pearl in a dead clam, Arathorn thought. “Arnor is in ruins, the Angle isn’t exactly a palace, and Bree is a insult to my fathers great work. Lindon is empty and The Shire is a secluded mystery. The West is in a decline.” Arathorn said, although everyone was either too far behind or arguing to hear him. Giving a sigh, Arathorn continued his walk.

After a considerable time of walking, Elrohir ran up to Arathorn with great energy. “So Arathorn, we are to walk the East Road until we see orcs? It doesn’t seem promising! Thought we haven’t done this in a while, my bow, along with my brother’s, haven’t be gathering dust all this time.” Elrohir said, as he loaded his bow and fired it into the air. All the men and elves noticed at once, but didn’t see that Elrohir fired it.

At once, Elladan ran up with his bow drawn. “Where are they? I wish to use my bow before the day is out!” Elladan said, eyes darting around. Angakemion, along with Hanidur, came right after Elladan, swords clasped. “Put away your swords men. There is no orcs. Elrohir was just…uh…demonstrating his skill. Yes…um…I bet that he couldn’t land an arrow in that tree over there,” Arathorn said, pointing to a tree far away. “And he did, so…now he’s won the bet!” Arathorn said, giving Elrohir a piece of gold. Elrohir was blushing. Arathorn was a great man, he thought. “He just saved your hide Elrohir, pay him back!” Elrohir thought, trying to quickly improvise. “Yes, I won. However…uh…my arrow bounced off in the wind. So, Arathorn deserves his money back!” Elrohir said, giving the gold back.

After Elrohir’s embarrassing incident, the party was quite for a while. Slowly, the bright red sun became level with the horizon. Then, as the sun began to set, and the moon began to rise, Eldín started making uproar. “What is it Eldín?” Elladan said, wondering why he was making a commotion. At once, Eldín pointed a pale finger out into the horizon. “I see nothing!” Arathorn said, tightening his eyes. “Nor can I! Elf, what is it you see” Hanindur said. Suddenly, Elladan and Elrohir gave a great laugh. “The Trollshaws! Our first landmark!” Elladan said, running off. The others quickly followed.

As the last light of the sun slowly dimmed, Arathorn reached the Trollshaws. Finally, they would get to the hunt. Before the trees, Arathorn stopped the men and elves for a speech. “Now listen!” Arathorn said with a stern face. “We are here to hunt orcs! Let us not be tormented with trolls. They aren’t exactly flowers in the meadow. Let us be cautious!” And as soon as Arathorn had said those words, and arrow flew past his head. And in the darkness behind the trees, he could see illuminated eyes. Orcs. At once, Arathorn ran into the forest, sword drawn. Almost instantly, the others followed. As they ran through the forest, over mud and branches, Arathorn suddenly realized he couldn’t find the orcs. “Where are you?” Arathorn said, sword waiting to strike. To the right of him, he could hear a stomping sound. Then a crunching sound, and silence. As Arathorn followed the sounds, he came into a clearing. He had found the orcs. They were dead. “We are too late! They have been taken!” Owacyn shouted. “What was their cause of death?” Paladir asked, as he and the rest moved into the center of the clearing where the orcs lay. “It seems,” Elrohir said, “that they were beat to death.” Arathorn gave a curious look over his shoulder. “But that means…” And as Arathorn turned around, he saw a ring of trolls surround the men.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir was surprisingly unruffled, given his situation. Underneath his tactical, battle-ready mind, he knew that after the battle had ended, he would replay it in his mind, and remember how many times he came to within a breath of dying.

But it was with eerie calm that Elrohir loaded his bow and shot, the arrow hitting its mark in the eye of one of the trolls.

Another arrow went through the other eye, felling the beast, and creating a opening point to escape from the ring of approaching trolls. That one came from Elladan, who nodded to Elrohir.

He knew what to do. Swift as he could manage, Elrohir had used the fallen troll to give him a boost up to a tree, where he used his vantage point to shoot arrow after arrow, aiding the elves and rangers. In a matter of moments, more of his comrades were with him shooting from the canopy.

Then, the moment came. Elrohir reached into the quiver at his waist, only to find it empty.

A wave of fear washed over him, but was abated when he saw Elladan below him, battling for his life with a great brute of a troll. Drawing his sword from his back sheath, he leapt down from the tree, and used the momentum to aid in his swing, slicing the great head from its putrid neck.

Elrohir landed kneeling on the troll's back, sword still in the follow-through position. Elladan helped him from his knees, thanking him.

"But there is no time for words, brother," said Elladan quickly, "Our friends are still deep in the fray!"

[Mad Baggins]

"Trolls!" shouted Beroth, feeling his heart leap into his throat. He drew an arrow from his quiver, fitting it to his bowstring, and let it fly. The arrow found its target, the soft neck-flesh of one of the trolls. Beroth smiled grimly and shot another arrow, this one lodging itself in the eye of a troll. He shot arrow after arrow, nearly all of them hitting their mark. When he found his quiver empty, he smoothly put away his bow, not letting his fear show to the others. He unsheathed his great sword and charged at a troll, dodging the others' arrows and swords.

"You have met your doom at last, foul creature!" he cried, leaping and swinging his sword. He thrusted upward quickly and stabbed through the creature's neck, felling it. As it dropped, Beroth narrowly missed being crushed by its massive weight. Sprinting away, he picked out another troll and descended upon it, piercing its foot with his sword.

The beast bellowed in anger and pain, swiping at him with its great arms. Beroth leapt back, holding up his weapon, and charged again. He stabbed at the troll's neck again but missed, stumbling forward. He was nearly trampled to death when the beast stepped forward, but at the last moment he leapt back again and stabbed, this time piercing through the lower chin. It gave a gurgling cry, then collapsed before Beroth. He exhaled in relief and turned back to the battle.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A good deal of time it had taken to walk to the Troll Shaws. And when they had gotten there, all the orcs they had ran into had been dead. And not just dead, but pounded to death. By something large and heavy. Hanindur was aware of someone saying: "But that means..." But he was too busy nocking an arrow to the string to notice anything else that was said as the realization came to grounds-- they were surrounded by trolls! He faintly heard the wizz of a well shot arrow against the air, and one troll fell over. Hanindur assumed that was one of the elf's shots, but this was no time to be worrying about who got the most kills, when their lives were in danger.

He pulled back, and let fly the arrow towards the nearest troll, silently praying that it would catch the creature between the eyes.

It didn't.

Silently cursing, and hoping that he wasn't too foolish to continue on against the maddened monster, he dropped his hands to his side, and pulled out his dagger, throwing it with as much strength as he could muster, without having another arrow on the string. The metal blade hit, and pierced, destracting the troll long enough for Hanindur to get another arrow on his bow, and fire. He was aware of another arrow, this time from above, also striking the troll, and, with the combined fire, the troll dropped with a strange howl in it's throat, as it fell over, dead.

If that had been the only troll, Hanindur would've relaxed, but there were too many to waste time now. He drew his sword, not even taking the time to reclaim his dagger, still imbeded in the head of the fallen troll, and slashed hard at a partly wounded troll, injured by the arrows shot by those with bows, and very angered.

He had fallen into the heart of the battle now, a battle not only to kill the trolls, but to hopefully keep his companions alive as well.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn fired an arrow at the first troll, it took it in the eye. It howled in pain, and swiped at Owacyn, who ducked, rolled and came to a kneeling position. Firing another arrow Owacyn ran forwards, jumping up and swinging the sword down in a huge arc, it took the creature in the forehead, and stuck there. The troll moaned and collapsed, Owacyn was thrown by the fall, but recovered his footing just in time for a second troll to catch him in the chest with a huge punch.

Arathorn looked to the side, momentarily pausing in combat as Owacyn hurtled off the ground, he crashed into a tree trunk and fell to the ground, not trying to stop himself with his arms...

[Phervasaion]

Paladir looked back at Rivendell for one last time as the group made their way out of the gates. He sighed and said “Fair Imladris… Will I ever see you again?” He then turned and caught up with the others who were already making good pace down the bank. They journeyed on and Paladir was looking into the sky at the gathering clouds around them. Suddenly, he heard a whizzing noise and looked to see an arrow soaring through the air, though he did not know who fired it.

Probably one of the elves, he thought to himself as he ran to Arathorn drawing his sword from his battered sheath. “Put away your swords men. There is no Orcs. Elrohir was just…uh…demonstrating his skill. Yes…um…I bet that he couldn’t land an arrow in that tree over there,” Arathorn said, pointing to a tree far away. “And he did so…now he’s won the bet!” Arathorn said, giving Elrohir a piece of gold. Elrohir was blushing. Arathorn was a great man, he thought. “He just saved your hide Elrohir, pay him back!” Elrohir thought, trying to quickly improvise. “Yes, I won. However…uh…my arrow bounced off in the wind. So, Arathorn deserves his money back!” Elrohir said, giving the gold back.

Paladir sheathed his sword and remained quiet until they reached the trollshaws in the evening, when the sun was disappearing behind the hills. Arathorn halted the group in the trees began to speak to the Rangers and Elves about the danger of trolls when, out of the darkness an arrow came and narrowly missed the chieftains head. “Orcs!!” He shouted, as everyone drew their swords and followed him into what may have been their first glorious victory in the growing darkness of middle-Earth. But, when they ran into the darkness the Orcs were already dead… Something else had killed them.

“We are too late! They have been taken!” Owacyn shouted as he looked upon the vile dead Orcs. “What was the cause of their death?” Paladir suddenly asked as he turned towards Elrohir. “It seems,” Elrohir said, “that they were beat to death.” As soon as he said this Paladir heard thumping sounds behind him, and he knew what it was straight away. The company turned around to see numerous trolls walking towards, and surrounding them.

Immediately The Elves and Ranger’s began to fire arrows at the surrounding troll’s. Paladir fixed an arrow and shot at the nearest enemy, but it narrowly missed his head and seemed to make the troll slightly angry. He charged towards Paladir while he was fumbling with another arrow when he suddenly stopped and fell to the ground with a thud in front of Paladir. There was an arrow in the back of his head, and Arathorn was standing behind him with a bow in his hand.

Paladir nodded to him as he unsheathed his two handed broadsword and charged into the fray of battle. He ran to a troll and hewed off its right leg, and as the great monster fell, he finished it by driving his blade into the creature’s neck. The Ranger then shifted himself, narrowly dodging another trolls swing, and with an upward swipe, sliced the neck of the fiend. Paladir knew that his skill lay in hand-to-hand combat, rather than in bow use. He was now side by side with Hanindur, Owacyn and Arathorn as they continued to battle, and win, against any troll that challenged them. The first fight was nearing an end.

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian, fumbling in confusion, forgot about his bow and gropeled for his sword. Finally grabbing it, he charged headlong into the already-dwindling fray. "Die, hideous and foul beasts!" He found the nearest troll, dazed but angry from the sudden fighting, and sliced madly at his midsection. He cut clear a hand and slashed deeply into his side, but not before the inscenced troll could swing his man-sized club and knock Eirian forcefully to the ground.

Falling with a loud thud in the deep mud and briars, Eirian howled in pain but refused to go down without a longer and more damaging fight. His left wrist was almost certainly broken- he could barely move it and it was already swelling to twice the normal size. The troll, blood pouring from his bodily injuries, roared loudly and crashed about, nearly knocking Arathorn in the side of the face. Eirian wiped his now-bloody forehead and delved his sword into the neck of the monster, twisting and turning it in all ways possible. It fell with a low grumble.

The battle was nearing an end, the trolls being murdered heedlessly by the adventurers. The pain of his wrist was almost unbareable, but Eirian couldn't quit now; fighting was his life, his protection, his sport. Trolls were now bumping and pushing and chopping at each other and the group, but they were now brutally outnumbered.

[astarielle]

"But there is no time for words, brother," said Elladan quickly, "Our friends are still deep in the fray!" Elladan took a deep breath before running full pelt into the heart of battle once more. Trolls surrouded them, no-one knew which way to turn.

"Do you remember that game we used to play when we were yet young?" Elladan smiled as he said this. Elrohir nodden and smirked as he knew what his brother meant.

"You forget little brother."

At which, Elldan handed his brother an arrow as his quiver was spent. They each fired an arrow at a troll, not intending to kill it. As expected the trolls roared loudly and came crashing towards the elves who where now standing back to back, swords poised. They seemed to be moving in slow motion as they charged towards the twins, clubs held high ready to beat down their foes.

The elves remained stationary as the trolls loomed over them. They could now smell the foul odour emminating from the beasts now see the muscles quivering with rage. At the very last moment ,as the spiked clubs were about to come crashing down on the pair, each elf dived between the opposite trolls legs out of harms way. An almightly roar, resounded around and could have been heard from many leagues away. The trolls staggered around then toppled to the ground sending a vibration through the earth.

"It seems you have forgotten little as well Elrohir" said Elldan as he drove his sword into the neck of one of the fallen trolls.

Elrohir nodded, then both ran back into the foray.

[Will Witfoot]

Eldín's face didn't change even when he noticed the pack of trolls surrounding them. It remained in it's default passive and withdrawn expression, for all the world like he was still walking along the sunny path that lead away from Rivendell instead of preparing to face the charge of a vicious monsters thirsty for blood. His eyes only took on an even sharper quality than usual. They were his only guidance in this world.

Calmly yet swiftly he drew his long, elegant blade. Aside from dancing, Eldín took joy from swordplay, which he excelled at. He fixed his eyes on one of the beasts and began to bound towards it, taking wild joy from this possibility to test his mettle.

The deaf and mute elf fought with the same grace that was present in his dancing. He leapt, twirled and stepped around his foes, confounding them and attacking them when they were at their most vulnerable.

Gracefully, he somersaulted over the swipe of a troll's crude club and leapt forward to slice a wound into the monsters soft knee joint. Swiftly he jumped back as the troll, driven to rage by the pain, dropped it's club and lashed out with one of it's huge paws.

As he prepared to attack again, Eldín allowed a smile to creep onto his face.

[The Perky Ent]

As the battle raged, Arathorn began gaining more confidence as he used his sword. Arathorn began slicing troll after troll, without the slightest concern. “Now I remember why I’m here!” Arathorn said, decapitating a large troll. Although the men were winning, the night was getting darker. The men and elves were all moving around the ring as the trolls began to fall to the ground. The battle was nearing an end.

Suddenly, while Arathorn thrusted his sword through the neck of a troll, there was a sudden crash. Arathorn only had to look to his side to see Owacyn, who lay by a tree. “Owacyn! Owacyn!” Arathorn said, trying to wake him. Owacyn only let out a small groan. “I will look after you!” Arathorn said, as he quickly fired an arrow at a troll in the process of being killed by Elladan. “I’m fine Arathorn. It was just the impact.” Owacyn said, slowly getting to his feet. When Arathorn looked around again, he saw only two trolls left. None of the men or elves attacked. They just circled around the shocked and frozen trolls.

“Well,” Elrohir said. “Well who gets first strike?” the men were silent. Then, Arathorn ripped a bloody arrow out of the head of a troll, and handed it to Owacyn. “Will you do the honors?” Arathorn said, giving a smirk. “With pleasure”

After the trolls died, the men just sat, either retrieving their arrows or cleaning their swords. “Well, I suppose this will be a good place to camp. We’ve got quality padding.” Owacyn said, giving a laugh. “But what if more trolls come?” Paladir said. “Yes, if they see the bodies, we will surely be dead!” Elrohir said. “Well we can’t get back on the road! We’re in too deep to find it.” Arathorn said, trying to remember which way he came, which was hard considering how many times he walked around the circle. “Pardon me, but it’s very easy to find the road!” Elladan said, climbing to the top of a tree. At the top, he could see a small, long brown line. “He’s right!” Elladan shouted. “It’s too far to find!”

As the men slowly began to adjust to their camp, the elves began taking turns keeping watch. As was quite, and the pale moon had just started to descend. Suddenly, Eldín, who was keeping watch, witnessed a line to crashing trees. Something was moving out there. Something large. Eldín climbed down the tree and alerted Elladan, who also took a look. “More trolls!” he shouted, waking up the men. “The trolls will soon be upon us.” Another said. “Everyone, up the trees! I think we’ll have a little surprise for them!

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur breathed out sharply, as night fell, and the battle ended. It hadn't been near to the worst he had suffered, but it had been bad enough, anyhow. He knew that they had strayed far enough from the road that they probably wouldn't find it that night again, and would have to stay there, where they were, all the night long.

He knelt, and cleaned his sword off in the weeds, a black, and stickty coating just beginning to grow hard coating much of the blade, to the handle. Hanindur wiped it off, not wanting his blade to grow rusty, and resheathed it, standing up to relocate the dagger he had thrown earlier. Out of shape, Hanindur, he thought wryly, for normally he wouldn't've been foolish enough to leave the blade where an enemy could pick it up. He wiped off the shorter blade, and tucked it back into it's sheath, hanging off his belt.

The night was cooler, and it was not a pleasant thought to be spending the night near the bodies of fallen trolls, though there was really no other option. He was rather uncomfortable with the idea though, as normally, after a battle, they had been able to get safely to the road, and far enough from the site. He would manage nonetheless.

Hearing the cry of "More trolls!" and "The trolls will soon be upon us!" Hanindur stood up, checking to make sure his bow was at easy reach, and his sword belt was clipped safely at his side. The order was given to climb up the trees, and he was happy to oblong, grapping the upper branches, and swinging up into the trees scattered around the area. He reached the top with little problem, as the branches were strong enough to hold him easily, and he was not afraid of a little climbing.

Looking out, he couldn't see anything, but trusted the elf's eyesight to know there were trolls nearby. He sat back, and settled in to await the next wave.

[astarielle]

Elladan stood motionless high up in the branches of a tree on the eastern edge of the clearing. He could hear the trolls crashing their way towards them, branches breaking and trees left in a devastated path behind them. That rank smell lingered in the air from the dead bodies but was made ever worse from the foul air that eminated from the advancing trolls.

"These Trolls are just like flies, you think you've got rid of them then a whole host appears at once!" Elladan said to no-one in particular. Some of the nearby rangers gave him an odd look but Elldan readied his bow with an arrow retrieved from the head of a fallen troll.

[ArwenBaggins]

It was unnaturally hard for Eirian to climb the tree with his injured wrist. Reaching a branch with some help from Elrohir, Eirian lay against the trunk of the tree and ripped the end of his blue shirt. Wrapping it around his wrist tightly, he tucked the end into the top and held it as straight as possible. "Bloody trolls!" he muttered barely audibly, getting a slight smile from Arathorn.

He looked up, his right hand on his left wrist, scanning the horizon. It was dark, and although he hated the stench already rising from the dead trolls, Eirian thought it was wise to stay here for the night and not risk another attack when trying to find the Road. I wish the stupid things would hurry up and come... I need some rest... he thought to himself, trying to keep sleep and pain from overcoming him.

Wiping the blackened sword on his tunic, it left a long smear. He watched the others cleaning their weapons as well- swords, bows, and Hanindur even had a knife. He could tell everyone was restless, waiting for the second wave of trolls to come; waiting was hard, for a fighter most off all. That was all that they could do, however, was wait.

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth wiped the sweat off his brow and stood, panting. The trolls were all dead, and he was glad. I hate trolls! he thought, cleaning his sword. The foul blood that dripped from his sword emitted a nauseating stench and disgusted him. Filthy creatures. "My sword should not be defiled by such filth," he mused, wiping the blade with some leaves.

He felt something wet dripping down the side of his head. He felt his head and looked at his fingers. Sure enough, they were crimson with blood. "Oh dear," he said aloud, wiping the wound with his sleeve. He had somehow acquired a cut upon his forehead, which was now bleeding rather freely. Pressing his sleeve against his forehead, he looked for something to bind it with. Unfortunately, he did not have enough time to find a suitable dressing.

"More trolls!" came a cry. Beroth groaned and sheathed his sword quickly. Running about, he picked up as many of his arrows as he could find, putting them quickly in his quiver. He hoisted himself up into a tree and crouched upon a thick branch. Poised to attack, he nocked an arrow in his bow.

"Come, foul creatures. Come and join your comrades," he muttered, waiting for the trolls to crash into his line of sight.

[Phervasaion]

The night was cold and dark, when the battle against the first wave of trolls had ended. Luckily, no one had lost their lives against the foul beings, but some were injured or hurt. Paladir himself only had a few cuts and bruises here and there, but he was, as all the other men were, worn out and was in need of some well earned rest and sleep.

The company began to adjust the surroundings to suit their needs and pleasures, dead trolls were moved except no fire was set up, in case it drew any more enemies to them. Paladir sat down and looked at his sword, while inspecting it he noticed no real damage, barely a scratch, only dirt and blood from the battle. He cleaned it up using the edge of his cloak and then grabbed a nearby stone and started to run it down the edge of the blade, sharpening it, ready for anything else they may come up against that night.

Paladir began to feel even more tired, everyone else had already gone to sleep, apart from the Elves, who were looking into the distance with their keen eyes, and they were looking so intently that they almost made themselves look like statues, not moving a muscle. The Ranger than fell into a deep sleep, but shortly after was awakened again, by the distressed cries of the Elves and men.

“There are more, more trolls!!” One shouted as Paladir came out of his slumber and to the realization of what was happening. “Quick! Prepare yourselves. The trolls are in greater numbers this time and the battle may well be more strenuous and difficult than the last,” another said

“Then it was a good job I sharpened by blade earlier then, was it not?” Paladir answered as he walked to Arathorn unsheathing his sword and readying himself for the second wave of trolls.

[The Perky Ent]

The men and elves, after hearing of a second wave, began to relax and equipt their weapons. The morale was suprisingly good. The men, including Arathorn, thought they were just little ants. But of all the men, Anga doubted them the most. He began swinging his sword around, as if already battling. "Save the stunts for the actual fighting, Anga. You must rest for the fight. If you keep on using your energy for something like that, you might as well kill air, because that's all you'll hit!" Arathorn said in a grumpy mood , as he pulled out a pipe and began to smoke.

Arathorn never took well to boredom, and smoking no longer comforted him. Then, he remebered an old song Gilraen taught him. In a low mutter, Arathorn began to sing:

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!

Elladan, with his great hearing, heard Arathorn's song. "Here here!" he said, as he went back to watch the trolls. Arathorn wasn't that good of a poet, but felt like adding a verse. Consentrating hard, he began to sing:

I do not know where I may go
but it will not fill my heart with woe
for my spirit cannot be broken by foe
for it fills me from head to toe

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the sky grew darker (which was hard considering it was already night), Elrohir drew out his bow and shouted, "They're here! We must assemble now!" Arathorn quickly got to his feet and assembled the party. "Well, here's our plan: Elves, cock your arrows and fire from the trees. Wait for my order to fire. Elladan, when the trolls get close, fire an arrow at the center of the ring. That will be our signal to get ready. Men, get behind the trees. The elves will fire, forcing them into the circle. Once in the circle, we will surround them! Any questions?" Arathorn said, hoping for silence. His wish came true.

As the trolls approached, the twins positioned the elves atop the trees. Arathorn had the men spaced out behind the ring. Arathorn was not afraid of the larger force. In fact, he welcomed the challenge. Suddenly, he heard a weird sound. It was a large sound. Only, it...was audible. "Smash! Crush! Smash! Crush!" The trolls were speaking. Suddenly, a golden arrow landed in the center of the ring, and Arathorn could hear the elves fire.

"Ahhh!" the trolls said, running into the center of the ring. The trolls weren't like the last batch. These trolls had hammers, axes, and maces. "Now men! Forth!" Arathorn shouted, charging into the ring. The other men followed. "Now elves! Cast them into the void" Elladan said, firing at a troll, striking it in the head. As Arathorn charged at a troll, it swiftly crashed his hammer in what would have been Arathorn's death site had he not jumped out of the way. Arathorn quickly slashed his sword across the trolls hand, climbed up the hammer, jumped off it, and cut the trolls neck. It fell to the ground. The other men were having a harder time. The elves continued to fire, except for Anga. He was out of arrows. Thinking quickly, he jumped off his tree, with a sword in his hand, and landed on a troll, his sword impaling the troll.

In the middle of the fight, Owacyn was hit with a mace. He fell down on the ground and couldn't get up. A very large troll was standing over him. "Silly human. Trolls win!" the troll said, grunting. Arathorn began rushing over to Owacyn, trying to save him, but didn't get there fast enough. Anga had jumped out of nowhere and killed the troll. "Nice work Anga!" Arathorn shouted, while dodging a giant ax. "Thank you!" Anga said, pulling Owacyn up to his feet. "Thank you" Owacyn muttered, drawing out his sword. In the process of helping Owacyn, Anga never saw it coming. "Anga! Watch out!" Arathorn said, running twords him. But it was too late. A troll had hit Anga 20 feet in the air. Anga landed on the ground in a loud thud. "Anga?" Arathorn said. Anga didn't move. "Why you!" Owacyn said, running twords the troll. Arathorn and Owacyn both jumped and cut down the troll at the same time. But it made no difference. Anga was dead.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur closed his eyes for a bare moment as he stood behind the trees, and drew his sword. He heard Arathorn's last orders, and on, until he heard the sound of an arrow cutting through the air, and to the center of the ring. The second wave had began.

He opened his eyes, holding his sword in both hands, and, along with all the others, appeared into the midst of the trolls. But this time the trolls had a greater advantage, and it was the one advantage that he feared. They had maces.

Hanindur grimaced, it wasn't funny to be up against an enemy with a mace, he knew, he had been there once before, though only once, and he didn't favor doing so again. But there was no choice in the matter, they had to fight the trolls, and win, or they would all die. And he wasn't too fond of that idea, many of the other Rangers and Elves had families in Rivendell, or other places. He was not one to let his companions die beside him.

He took his sword, and plunged into battle.

It was a dangerous path, weaving in and around the troll's hammers, and maces, and other weapons. Hanindur made himself concentrate on only finishing their battle here, and it would not be easy, he knew that as a fact. Go under... he thought in his mind, diving underneath a hammer strike, and thrusting upwards with his sword at the troll. He continued to thrust, and dodge all blows, until the troll crumpled to the ground. Pulling himself to his feet sharply, Hanindur realized with a start that he was wounded. Blood stained his left arm, and it was not just the black blood of the trolls, it was his own.

He didn't feel the pain there, and tried to put it as far from his mind as he continued to fight, for his life, and for that of his companions.

It was as he noticed from the corner of his eye one of the others go down that Hanindur realized that this could very well be his last battle, and that of his companions. There were more trolls, and there was a chance that they would die. If they had been nearing the end of the battle, he would've wept the loss of Anga, but the battle had just started, and there was no time for that now. There was nothing to do put fight, and that he did, for himself, for the death of Anga, and for the lives of his companions.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

"NO!" Owacyn screamed as he saw Anga hurled by the troll. He ran up to the troll that had ht hm and leapt on its back, plunging his sword into it again and again, the trolls tough skin made every thrust an effort, but he kept stabbing and stabbing. The troll moaned as it fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from the many wounds.

Owacyn ran over to Anga, and lifted up his head, the lifeless eyes stared back at him, "Why you!" he shouted into his face angrilly. He gritted his teeth and turned around, a vicious rage in his eyes. He spritined over to a troll that had just caught Elrohir and knocked him off balance, and leapt up, thrusting his sword into its thick neck, severing the windpipe and the artery. The precision attack dropped Arathorn's jaw, and Owacyn twisted in mid air and yanked the sword out, ripping a huge chunk out of the troll's neck...

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth stood behind a tree. He had been crouching upon a branch, but then Arathorn had called them down to hide behind the trees and wait for the Elves to draw in the trolls. Beroth shifted and drew in a sharp breath as an arrow whistled down to strike a troll. He steeled himself and ran towards the fray, shouting.

He felt his stomach tighten as he saw the maces in the trolls' great paws, but it was too late to turn back. His sword flashed as he swiftly cut the soft belly-flesh of one troll, leaving it to hold its stomach in an attempt to keep its innards from spilling out. Beroth turned to battle another troll and saw Anga hurled into the air and crash to the ground with a sickening thud. His heart wrenched as he watched Owacyn run to Anga and scream, lifting up his lifeless head. Frozen, he stared at Anga's cloudy eyes staring into the sky and seeing nothing.

"Beroth! Move!"

He heard a voice scream at him and he whirled around, seeing a troll barge towards him, brandishing its mace and shouting wildly. A red haze of anger and remorse filled his mind and he charged at the beast, plunging his sword into its stomach and twisting it. The creature bellowed and swung its mace at him. Beroth barely dodged it and yanked his sword out. He stepped out of the path of the troll as it collapsed in a heap.

[ArwenBaggins]

Eirian caterwauled and held his sword in a fighting stance, jumping from behind the tree and toward the trolls. "Kill nasty men!" The large lumbering beast yelled, swinging his ax accurately; Eirian ducked out of the way and saw it as the oppertune moment to lodge his blade in the troll's chest cavity. The troll groaned and fell.

Another troll was there waiting. While battling it, cries of 'Anga' seemed to float over the battlefield. He sliced off a finger, a hand, and then an arm, the new troll swinging his mace and striking with amazing accuracy. Eirian had no time to dodge; it struck him with terrible force in the side and flung him through the air, landing on his swollen wrist and howling with pain.

Eirian found himself lying not far from a motionless Anga. It didn't take a second glance- his body was crumpled and his chest was eerily still. Eirian didn't have time to think about others, however; he was in enough pain to pass out if he didn't keep his mind away from it. Wiping some blood from his lip, Eirian used his sword to get up and ran back into the battle with the one-armed troll.

This battle wasn't as 'fun' as the others.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir saw Anga fall from the tree where he was shooting. The elf's body felt as if it had been coated in ice, but that was all he felt. No fear seeped from Elrohir's soul as he drew his sword and leapt from the tree, landing on the shoulders of a lumbering troll and thrusting his blade down into the beast's head.

The elven-made sword did not break, but Elrohir felt the strain as it passed through the thick bone. As the troll slowly realized what had happened, and began to die, Elrohir pulled the sword from the head and jumped down, face to face with another of the monsters.

Elrohir's movements, coming from years of practice and inginuity, were more than a match for the troll, who whirled around confusedly as Elrohir rebounded from a tree trunk and sliced a great gash across its back.

The troll howled in pain, but dropped, its spinal column severed.

Anga lay in what seemed to have become the epicenter of the fight, with huge feet rumbling the ground around the fallen warrior.

A single look told Elrohir that Anga was dead, but that was not the only problem.

One of the trolls was reaching down towards Anga's body, presumably to eat his heart, as was the custom among the more stupid of trolls.

A still cool Elrohir twirled his long-handled sword expertly, and in a flash of metal, the troll's reaching arm was on the ground.

"Really," said Elrohir, as the troll turned angrily to face him, "I would have thought that a troll so smart as to actually speak would have the intellegence not to eat in the middle of a battle."

The troll growled something unintelligable, and raised his remaing arm, which held a knobbly club.

Elrohir raised his eyebrows, "Well, perhaps you have an excuse, then,"

He threw his sword, peircing the troll's chest, and as the troll merely brought his club down, not noticing the sword, Elrohir jumped aside and drew his bow, sending arrow after arrow into the troll, before it came crashing down on its back.

Climbing the heap, Elrohir drew the sword out of the troll and wiped it on the troll's pants.

Elrohir looked at Anga's body again, and walked over to it. He knelt down and sighed, looking at the elf who had been killed in his prime.

"Angakemion, may you go swiftly into the halls of the heroes, for that is where you have indeed earned your place." Elrohir whispered, pulling Anga's sword over and setting it into his lifeless hand.

[The Perky Ent]

After Owacyn's amazing performance, Arathorn could do nothing but fight harder. He wanted to; although he didn't think himself better, top Owacyn. He quickly looked around for a suitable troll as he dodged a swing from a mace. There were so many trolls, although many were dead. But the scariest thing about it was, more were coming. There were many in the ring, but there were too many trolls to fit. They had attacked the elves in the trees. The battle was far from over.

After killing his 22nd troll, Arathorn found his perfect opportunity. Three trolls were standing in a strait line, unaware of it. Arathorn quickly climbed up a tree, and reached the top in seconds. On the tree, he looked down on the other side of the battle, to see the trolls that weren't in the ring. There were about a hundred. Quickly, Arathorn pulled out his bow, and began to fire. In a few minutes, Arathorn shouted "50!" before he looked back to seize his opportunity. It was open; the trolls were still standing in a line. It was perfect. Arathorn took up his sword and jumped. He landed on the shoulders of a troll, his sword deep in its head. As he troll began to fall backwards, Arathorn pulled his sword out, and jumped. He landed on the second troll, his sword in its back. He had pierced its spinal cord. As Arathorn held on to his sword, to keep from falling, the troll fell forward. Right before it hit the ground, Arathorn pulled out his sword, and jumped off the troll, and over the head of the third one. Falling right in front of the troll, he jammed his sword in the troll's heart. The troll fell backwards, and Arathorn pulled out his sword.

This time is was Owacyn whose jaw dropped. In those five seconds, Arathorn had taken out three trolls. "That's for my father!" Arathorn said, as he stopped fighting to take a breath. This was his mistake. As he rested for a second, a troll saw the incident. "My brothers! Nooooo!" the troll said, as it filled with anger. "You...DIE!!!" the troll said, as he ran at Arathorn with his mace. While running to Arathorn, the troll was hit with two arrows, but that didn't stop him. Right before he died, he swung the mace at Arathorn, and it made contact. The troll had hit a line drive, and if there wasn't an abnormally fat troll dead on the ground, Arathorn might have died. Arathorn bounced on the blubber of the troll and slowly got to his feet. The troll that had hit him was now dead. "Arathorn! Are you hurt?" Elladan shouted. "I'm fine. It's a good thing this troll eats!" Arathorn said with a laugh, as he went back into the fray.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn grinned broadly. A contest, that was what he was up for! He leapt up to nearly head height of a toll advancing on him, and swung his sword brutaly accurately, it severed the troll's neck and it fell. Owacyn leapt onto its back and dived headfirst at another, spearing it side on in the ribs, it fell, wrenching the sword from his graps and flinging it over to the other side of the battlefield. Owacyn cursed bitterly as he ran over to get it, rolling at the last moment to pick it up, wich meant me also avoided another troll's huge warhammer.

Owacyn jumped onto the warhammer as the troll lifted it up, landing on the back of the troll's neck, and ramming his sword home in the back of its neck. "48!" he yelled at Arathorn who merely grinned back and felled another troll. "54!" Arathorn shouted back. Owacyn chuckled grimly, turning around to slice the throat of one sneaking up on him, then twirling on the spot to take another in the head with a thrown knife. "50!" he shouted at Arathorn...

[astarielle]

Elladan, who was still up in the trees raining arrows on the trolls, lept from branch to branch avoiding swings from the trolls below. He had killed around 34 trolls since the beginnning of the foray but spent his last 2 arrows on the troll that tried to kill Arathorn. As his quiver was spent he decided what to do.

He eyed a troll standing with his back to the trees howling with rage. Elladan gracefully made his way unseen to the tree directly behind it. He climbed up until he was directly above the trolls head and drew his sword. With a cry of "Elbereth" Elladan lept from the tree and drove the sword deep into the head of the troll. For a few moments the troll remiained standing giving the elf time to return to the trees before it crahed to the floor.

Almost at once a couple more trolls came crashing through the trees behind him overcome with rage for their fallen comrades. They paused at the edge of the circle searching for the attacker of the troll whom Elladan had killed. "Where is he? I'll eat him whole for breakfast!" The elf heard one say. Elladan remained close in to the trunk of the tree. In one swift movement Elldaan jumped from the tree once more to land on the back of the left-hand troll. He cut the troll's jugular. As the other swung his mace at Elladan, the elf clung on to it and made his way up the arm towards the chest. The troll thrashed about trying to rid himself of the elf but to no avail, he fell dead to the ground in a matter of moments.

[The Perky Ent]

"Glad you could join us Elladan!" Arathorn said, plunging his sword in the back of the leg of a troll. "And let you have all the fun?" Elladan said, thrusting his sword in the trolls other leg. The troll swifly fell to the ground. Owacyn was rapidly killing trolls, much to Arathorn's dismay. Arathorn quickly jumped on the back of a half dead troll and began stabbing rapidly. In a moment, the troll was dead. Once the troll hit the ground, Arathorn ran up to two parallel trolls. He jammed his sword into the stomach of the first troll. He then jumped on a rock, and from the rock , jumped on the sword. On the sword, he pulled out a dagger, jumped, and cut the throat of the second troll. The both fell. Elladan's was shocked, and if it was in his nature to drop his jaw, it would have dropped.

Arathorn only had one flaw in the plan. His sword was in too deep in the troll. He pulled very hard, but the sword wouldn't come from the gut of the troll. Arathorn, finding no alternative, took out his dagger and began cutting a hole in the troll's stomach. It was a long process, due to the thickness of the troll skin. "I'll keep watch!" Elladan said, circling around Arathorn. After a short period of time, Elladan began shouting and ran off. Someone was in need. Arathorn was defensless now. He only hoped no troll would come. But he didn't have very good luck. As the sword became loose, yet not loose enough to pull out, a large troll, armed with a mace, stood right in front of Arathorn.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

As Arathorn looked up at the troll, saw it raise its club, he was motionless...unable to move he knelt there as it roared and started to bring the mace down. Arathorn heard a shout, and recognised it as Owacyn's voice. He came from behind, leaping over Arathorn and landing on the belly of the dead troll. From there he jumped headfirst into the chest of the huge beast. Arathorn heard a gurgle, and saw black blood ooze from the mouth of the troll. Owacyn was hanging onto his sword, which he had rammed into the monster right up to the hilt. The troll thrashed violently, jolting the sword. Owacyn hung on for grim death as it started to swipe at him with its club. He cursed, it wasn't fatally wounded. Summoning all his strength he pulled his body up onto the sword, letting go as he reached the highest point and grabbing onto its head. IT jerked back violently, throwing Owacyn onto its back, though he still clung on.

Arathorn looked on, powerless, his sword still wasn't extricated from the troll's belly, and he had to watch as Owacyn was picked up with a single, huge, hand. Thrown into the air like a rag doll, and then hit with the club as he came down. He flew into a tree, and Arathorn heard a disgusting cracking noise. Screaming in anger, he wrenched the sword from the belly, and swung it up as the troll descended on him...

Black blood squirted onto his armour, and the troll fell forward, its throat cleanly cut. He wanted to run to Owacyn, but he couldn't. Another troll was bearing down on him...

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth wiped the sweat out of his eyes and charged at yet another troll. Swinging his sword, he slashed off an arm and cut the creature's throat before it knew what had hit it. He moved on to another troll and killed it swiftly. Stepping around the body, he moved to the next creature. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a body flying through the air. Killing the troll, he turned and gave the still body his full attention. It was Owacyn. A gargantuan troll loomed over him, waving its club. Blood trickled from a wound.

Beroth heard a rage-filled scream and began to sprint towards Owacyn. The troll that threatened to crush him was beginning to wobble, but it was still a large threat. He leapt in front of Owacyn's form and thrust his sword into the troll's neck. Pulling it out, he watched it wheeze and slowly topple over. Beroth turned to Owacyn and touched his shoulder gingerly. Getting no response, he picked him up as gentle as he possibly could and carried him swiftly out of immediate danger. As he ran, one thought resounded through his head: Owacyn, hold on.

[Phervasaion]

Paladir stood behind a tree waiting for the order of Arathorn to attack the trolls, the trolls of which were making a loud noise, crashing smashing so loudly that you could hear it from miles away. Suddenly, Paladir heard the commanding voice of Arathorn not far from him.

“Now men! Forth!” He said while running from behind his cover and into the flank of the trolls. Paladir obeyed and dived out from behind the tree, drew his sword, and charged the enemy down at the front.

“For Arnor, The lost kingdom!!” Shouted the tall Ranger as he ran towards the nearest troll and beheaded it in one swipe. The battle had only really just begun when the cries of Anga echoed across the field. Paladir did not know the fallen Elf very well, but it made him mourn for the loss of their first companion, and who knew who could go down next. Owacyn was grieved for the loss of Anga but it only made him mad, and now he was killing the trolls as if they were no match.

Men, and Elves stood in awe admiring his wrath against the enemy, it seemed that nothing would get in the way of his revenge. Arathorn, Paladir and the other men began to work harder fighting and killing the trolls with surprising ease, and their movements were so fast and smooth that the trolls had no time to dodge or block them.

“This is for Anga you foul beasts!!” Paladir shouted as he chopped the arm of a nearby enemy and then drove his sword through his scaly stomach. “And this is for Imladris!!” He shouted again as he struck yet another troll.