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As Elladan emerged from the tunnel he felt the heavy grim darkness fly from him that had been weighing him down for so long. He felt a great sense of relief as they entered a dimly lit room. But as soon as it had left was the feeling renewed as orcs guarded the heavy doors.
Instinct took over as he drew his bow, his arrows had now become few as their company had done. But arrows, no matter how few can still accomplish great things. That was what he thought as he fired an arrow at an orc charging their way. Hanindur had drawn his sword and was charging with fury at the orcs, the death of their companions weighing heavily on his mind. Without being told the rest of the company followed suit, they had accomplished greater deeds than killing these few orcs.
The pain in his shoulder was immense as Elladan parried with and orc for what seemed like an age before finally over coming it and slicing of its head in one swing. Every time an orc fell it grew harder to continue to fight, for every man and elf that had been through so much yet knew there was more to come. After dispatching another orc to join the ranks of the dead, Elladan whirled around to check all were still alive when a light coming from his stairs caught and held his eye. "Orcs!" he shouted, "from the stair, we must get out of here...quickly!"
With new found strength they faught on, faught on for their lives.
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