The shock of seeing Turthol alive barely registered with Calimir. The shock of seeing him die was still too new, and the fighting began in earnest so quickly.
Bregand was rushing about like a madman, his sword flailing the air. A few lucky blows brought one of the Haradrim down, but the boy was in trouble. One of his long knives was in hand before Calimir even realized it, and he'd thrown it. The man was down and the elf was beside him, pulling his knife from where it had lodged in the man's neck. Bregand nodded his thanks before dashing off in the direction of Carmalita.
Watching him go, Calimir thought to follow him, but nearly trod on a still figure on the ground. Dropping to his knees, he pushed the girl's hair away from her face. It was Rave. Her lips were still and bloodless. Rising angrily to his feet again, Calimir flung both his knives into the nearest of their attackers. He understood Enien's rage at seeing their companions fall and die. Another friend lost, for what? He wrenched his knives free of the body, wiping them on the dead man's shirt.
Raising his eyes, Calimir looked about to see if any more of them had been lost. Enien he saw, Bregand and Carmalita, Wren and Tareth. He heaved a long sigh. They were all safe then, all but Rangar. Calimir spun on his heel searching for the man's figure in the turmoil. Calimir's eyes caught sight of him on the other side of the group, just as he headed in Rangar's direction the man tripped. Calimir's eyes widened and he cried out as he watched Rangar fall straight through the ground and disappear from sight.
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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