Elrohir saw Anga fall from the tree where he was shooting. The elf's body felt as if it had been coated in ice, but that was all he felt. No fear seeped from Elrohir's soul as he drew his sword and leapt from the tree, landing on the shoulders of a lumbering troll and thrusting his blade down into the beast's head.
The elven-made sword did not break, but Elrohir felt the strain as it passed through the thick bone. As the troll slowly realized what had happened, and began to die, Elrohir pulled the sword from the head and jumped down, face to face with another of the monsters.
Elrohir's movements, coming from years of practice and inginuity, were more than a match for the troll, who whirled around confusedly as Elrohir rebounded from a tree trunk and sliced a great gash across its back.
The troll howled in pain, but dropped, its spinal column severed.
Anga lay in what seemed to have become the epicenter of the fight, with huge feet rumbling the ground around the fallen warrior.
A single look told Elrohir that Anga was dead, but that was not the only problem.
One of the trolls was reaching down towards Anga's body, presumably to eat his heart, as was the custom among the more stupid of trolls.
A still cool Elrohir twirled his long-handled sword expertly, and in a flash of metal, the troll's reaching arm was on the ground.
"Really," said Elrohir, as the troll turned angrily to face him, "I would have thought that a troll so smart as to actually speak would have the intellegence not to eat in the middle of a battle."
The troll growled something unintelligable, and raised his remaing arm, which held a knobbly club.
Elrohir raised his eyebrows, "Well, perhaps you have an excuse, then,"
He threw his sword, peircing the troll's chest, and as the troll merely brought his club down, not noticing the sword, Elrohir jumped aside and drew his bow, sending arrow after arrow into the troll, before it came crashing down on its back.
Climbing the heap, Elrohir drew the sword out of the troll and wiped it on the troll's pants.
Elrohir looked at Anga's body again, and walked over to it. He knelt down and sighed, looking at the elf who had been killed in his prime.
"Angakemion, may you go swiftly into the halls of the heroes, for that is where you have indeed earned your place." Elrohir whispered, pulling Anga's sword over and setting it into his lifeless hand.
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