[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.