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Beroth
Beroth stood behind a tree. He had been crouching upon a branch, but then Arathorn had called them down to hide behind the trees and wait for the Elves to draw in the trolls. Beroth shifted and drew in a sharp breath as an arrow whistled down to strike a troll. He steeled himself and ran towards the fray, shouting.
He felt his stomach tighten as he saw the maces in the trolls' great paws, but it was too late to turn back. His sword flashed as he swiftly cut the soft belly-flesh of one troll, leaving it to hold its stomach in an attempt to keep its innards from spilling out. Beroth turned to battle another troll and saw Anga hurled into the air and crash to the ground with a sickening thud. His heart wrenched as he watched Owacyn run to Anga and scream, lifting up his lifeless head. Frozen, he stared at Anga's cloudy eyes staring into the sky and seeing nothing.
"Beroth! Move!"
He heard a voice scream at him and he whirled around, seeing a troll barge towards him, brandishing its mace and shouting wildly. A red haze of anger and remorse filled his mind and he charged at the beast, plunging his sword into its stomach and twisting it. The creature bellowed and swung its mace at him. Beroth barely dodged it and yanked his sword out. He stepped out of the path of the troll as it collapsed in a heap.
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