[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn hurriedly strapped the mail across his shoulders and forced the helm onto his head. "Go now, back to the Void!" he yelled at the beast, shaking the pike and shouting a few very unhappy curses.

Flames shot out around all of the fighters. Arinn avoided the fire as much as possible, hurling stones he found in his pocket at the beast that hovered just out of reach. "Come on now! Afraid of us puny Men? That can not be!" Tightening the grip on his sword, Arinn foolishly threw the pike at the hideous wyrm. "Get down here and face the consequences!" The weapon bounced off of the thick dragon scales, leaving no signs that it had ever made contact.

Smaug roared and blew fire at the surrounding area, and it seemed as if he purposely missed the men. Arinn backed up a few feet, expecting the dragon to close in on the group. He could hear the very roofs of buildings crumbling and burning, doomed to face the monster's wrath. If only the blasted beast would lower so we could strike, Arinn said to himself, shaking his head and lowering it to shield his face from the heat.

The next thing Arinn knew he was lying on the ground and was in a tremendous amount of pain. Across his back was a beam not unlike the one crushing poor Layla's foot, and a large boulder across his left arm. Trying to struggle up, Arinn managed to wiggle from the beam, but could not seem to move his arm. He could see the dragon, now only a few feet from the ground, torturing the other fighters, but Girion was urging them on. "I have got to do this..." he muttered, closing his eyes to keep blood out of them.

Using the tip of his sword, he pushed the stone from his arm and scrambled up. His left arm laid lip at his side, twisted in an extremely unnatural angle. The pain was almost unbearable, but Arinn struggled through. Letting out a blood curdling war cry, he rushed forward toward Smaug.

Girion's glance flashed over to him for a second, and his eyes immediately fell upon his broken and bleeding arm. "You can nay fight with that injury!" he called over the howling wind and flames, tilting his head toward the arm but still swinging his sword.

Arinn looked to Girion and the burning city around him. He wanted to fight, but the pain was continuously draining his fighting power. "What should I do sir?"

"Find a horse… somewhere! Flee to Long Lake, with thy family. Thy duties will not go disregarded once this brute is slain. Now go!" Girion didn't give a second to interrupt before he charged toward the serpent.

It took Arinn several frantic minutes before he could find a horse. It was running wildly through the streets, and it was quite a struggle for the man to calm her with only one hand. "Now girl..." he whispered softly, struggling to mount the horse and not hurt his already throbbing back and hand.

Kneeing the mare on, Arinn pointed her into the direction of Long Lake. Fatigue was setting in, and pain was taking control. He fought the best he could, but passed out on the back of the horse when they reached the edge of his destination.