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As Arathorn looked up at the troll, saw it raise its club, he was motionless...unable to move he knelt there as it roared and started to bring the mace down. Arathorn heard a shout, and recognised it as Owacyn's voice. He came from behind, leaping over Arathorn and landing on the belly of the dead troll. From there he jumped headfirst into the chest of the huge beast. Arathorn heard a gurgle, and saw black blood ooze from the mouth of the troll. Owacyn was hanging onto his sword, which he had rammed into the monster right up to the hilt. The troll thrashed violently, jolting the sword. Owacyn hung on for grim death as it started to swipe at him with its club. He cursed, it wasn't fatally wounded. Summoning all his strength he pulled his body up onto the sword, letting go as he reached the highest point and grabbing onto its head. IT jerked back violently, throwing Owacyn onto its back, though he still clung on.
Arathorn looked on, powerless, his sword still wasn't extricated from the troll's belly, and he had to watch as Owacyn was picked up with a single, huge, hand. Thrown into the air like a rag doll, and then hit with the club as he came down. He flew into a tree, and Arathorn heard a disgusting cracking noise. Screaming in anger, he wrenched the sword from the belly, and swung it up as the troll descended on him...
Black blood squirted onto his armour, and the troll fell forward, its throat cleanly cut. He wanted to run to Owacyn, but he couldn't. Another troll was bearing down on him...
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