Gromfelt rushed forward, axe in hand. The dwarves had been awakened by the shouts of the others, and he, at least, was extremly iritated at his loss of sleep despite the fact they were under attack. There were inumberal orcs in the darkness. He swung his axe high, then a thrust, then an upward swing. Three orcs fell dead. "Stupid vile beasts." he spat, beheading a partitulary fowl smelling one.
He rushed passed Yanithë, and found himself in space devoid of enemies. A little destirbed, he turned his right, seeking new foes. "Gromfelt, your left!" cried someone, and Grom turned in time to see five orcs in a line, heading strait for him. One fell to a hand axe, another to unseen dagger from somewhere. The three that were left fell easily to his axe. He turned and gave a quick nod to the Roherim girl, then continued to his left toward some others.
How many are there? he thought as he came to where Dain and Bali were fighting. As he fell into place near them, he gave a half- groan, half-growl, thinking, I'd better get plenty of sleep after this.
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I have no idea what you just said, but I'm inspired!
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