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Annű was standing with his brother near the blocked cavern exit. He thought that if they could not get out before the water rose, they could at least cling onto the edges of the rocks as the tide came up. And perhaps as the water moved against the obstructing rocks, it might knock a few loose – at least enough for the Elves and Lossoth to push against them and move a few out of the way.
It was a slim chance at best . . . but he could think of no other.
He gasped and stepped back quickly in the now ankle high water in the cavern as something large plopped at his feet. Thinking at first that it might be some part of the cavern ceiling falling down, he yelled for others to watch out, move away from the cavern’s exit. He gasped again as whatever had fallen began to speak. Coming nearer, he recognized the weak voice of the skinchanger. Reaching down a hand, he hauled the man up and called for his brother to help keep him standing. One of Rôg’s arms seemed to have a large, long gash in it and was bleeding profusely.
‘Someone get the Captain and Freyn,’ shouted Carandű, as Galhardir stepped closer with his sputtering torch to give some light.
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