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The night was cold and dark, when the battle against the first wave of trolls had ended. Luckily, no one had lost their lives against the foul beings, but some were injured or hurt. Paladir himself only had a few cuts and bruises here and there, but he was, as all the other men were, worn out and was in need of some well earned rest and sleep.
The company began to adjust the surroundings to suit their needs and pleasures, dead trolls were moved except no fire was set up, in case it drew any more enemies to them. Paladir sat down and looked at his sword, while inspecting it he noticed no real damage, barely a scratch, only dirt and blood from the battle. He cleaned it up using the edge of his cloak and then grabbed a nearby stone and started to run it down the edge of the blade, sharpening it, ready for anything else they may come up against that night.
Paladir began to feel even more tired, everyone else had already gone to sleep, apart from the Elves, who were looking into the distance with their keen eyes, and they were looking so intently that they almost made themselves look like statues, not moving a muscle. The Ranger than fell into a deep sleep, but shortly after was awakened again, by the distressed cries of the Elves and men.
“There are more, more trolls!!” One shouted as Paladir came out of his slumber and to the realization of what was happening. “Quick! Prepare yourselves. The trolls are in greater numbers this time and the battle may well be more strenuous and difficult than the last,” another said
“Then it was a good job I sharpened by blade earlier then, was it not?” Paladir answered as he walked to Arathorn unsheathing his sword and readying himself for the second wave of trolls.
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