Walking slowly with the others, Melcildir's thoughts turned once more to his earlier thoughts of death. The battle was close, he felt it inside him. He checked his daggers. Both were loose in their sheaths and his hands were ready to grab them, if necessary.
He strained his eyes ahead. A bit of motion in a cave... He focused on that spot until he was absolutely sure. Suddenly realizing what it meant, he shouted to the others, "There's fighting in that cave! It's the army that has Anuion!"
Bordarigorn saw also that on another hill an Orc and an Easterling were engaged in combat. The man led them to the hill where they assembled to kill the two. Melcildir grabbed his bow and fitted an arrow to the string, waiting. When he heard Bordarigorn's arrow stick in the Easterling's chest, he let his own loose. The arrow was sticking out of the Orc's back along with five others. But, amazingly, the Orc got up and prepared to charge Bordarigorn. Melcildir shot another arrow at the Orc, but still it continued. "That thing just won't die!" he said under his breath followed by a stream of curses. Finally, the man knocked the creature to the ground with a punch to the face and finished it quickly.
The company then approached the cave and Bordarigorn brought out the Orc arrow and a horn. Seeing the perfect moment for the arrow, the man shot down an Easterling.
Melcildir prepared for a few shots before the battle was too intense and he could no longer shoot. When he heard the horn(or felt it really the blast was so powerful), he sent a shower of arrows into the cave and heard the screams of the foes that stopped them. Then, he flung his bow to the ground.
This won't be much use in the cave, or if I die I won't need it anymore... But no! The battle is upon me now! If it is my turn to die, I will die surrounded by the bodies of my foes...
His thoughts were inturupted by Durelin's cry. A wave of fury and madness overtook him. Recklessly, he drew his daggers and ran into the heat of the battle, slashing and stabbing at any foe who approached him.
A large Orc stopped his advance, though, and for a moment the two were in a deadlock; the Elf's dagger against the sword of the Orc. With a twist of his hand, however, the Orc disarmed Melcildir, and his daggers fell to the cave floor. Quickly dodging the Orc's blow, Melcildir drew his sword and sliced the Orc's arm off before stabbing it in the heart with a his other dagger.
As he stooped to retrieve his other dagger, an easterling stood behind him ready to stab him in the back. But, one of Melcildir's companions killed the Easterling before he could execute the blow. "Thanks!" he called out, although he knew not who saved him. The battle was getting thick, and he was in the midst of it, slashing with his sword and stabbing with his dagger.
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