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Madoc pulled Ivy and Melody down behind the cover of the rock. ‘’Stay low,’ Tom said to them nodding at Madoc. ‘We’ve got to get back to the others . . . and quickly.’ He crouched down and scurried quickly back the way they came, ducking behind trees and rocky outcroppings as they went.
No sound of footsteps hurrying after them came to Madoc’s ears as they neared the little encampment and stood up sprinting toward their little group. ‘Orcs!’ he yelled out. ‘Grab your weapons!’ Get out the pitchy brands from the wagon and light them from the fire,’ he yelled to Gorby and Hob. ‘We can keep some of them at bay with the flames.’
The doughty Hobbits readied their weapons, gathering behind the big wagon for protection. It stood between them and the direction of the Orc camp; at their back was a small rocky outcropping that would also afford them some protection.
Gorby was the first to see the approaching Orcs, coming straight at them. There were six of them, their great leering faces hideous in the late afternoon light. He raised his knife and ran toward the Orcs, hoping to draw them off from the others as he feinted to his left. One of the uglier fellows came rushing after him, and Gorby threw his knife, hitting the Orc in the chest.
With a gurgle, the beastly creature keeled over. Gorby rushed to the fallen Orc and knelt down, preparing to take back his knife. A look of quick surprise followed by dismay fell over his features as an arrow shot by one of the craven creatures found its mark. Gorby crumpled to the ground, his life’s blood spilling into the brown grass.
With a cry, Madoc and the others began firing their arrows at the bloodthirsty Orcs, along with stony missiles flung with deadly accuracy from their slings. Surprise turned to anger from the Orcs, and the remaining five charged after the Hobbits, seemingly heedless of the knives, clubs, and sharpened staves that now came out to meet them . . .
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