[Mithadan]

The arrows whistled through the air and the first volley found their marks as if they had been guided by the eyes of Manwë. The troop of Orcs turned and charged, leaving behind five of their brethren dead or dying on the cold stone floor. Four more fell with the second volley, before the Elves were forced to abandon their bows in favor of swords and knives.

Torfithien pulled Celebrian farther back into the tunnel as the skirmish began, shielding the fatigued prisoner with her body. Elladan and Elrohir stood shoulder to shoulder, their bright blades gleaming with an internal incandescence, while Fingil stepped forward to meet the charge of their foes. Vanimorén wielded a long knife in one hand and a Noldorin lamp in the other, the light of which burned the eyes of the Orcs with a searing light.

Two Fingil slew quickly before losing his blade and grappling with a third. One each fell by the swords of the twins in the first moments of battle, but others took the places of the slain Uruks and aimed slashing blows at the brothers. Vanimorén stood his ground and the Orcs were loath to approach the bright light which he held. Leaping forward, Vanimorén took one through the throat before closing with a second.

But by now the remainder of the troop had caught up and more Uruks joined the fray, some assailing Elladan and Elrohir while another confronted Vanimorén. The twins retreated until their backs touched the wall behind them. Vanimorén gave way and stepped back toward the tunnel before tripped over a fallen Orc and tumbled over backwards. With a scream of triumph, his foes leapt forward, then fell, one pierced by an arrow in his throat and the other with an arrow in his back.

Vanimorén stumbled to his feet with a gasp. To his left, Torfithien stood with her bow at ready. Beside her, propping up Celebrian, was Fingil, who had recovered his blade. And standing in the middle of the great hall, drawing back the string of his bow again was Angóre. He let his dart fly and one of the Uruks assailing Elladan and Elrohir fell. He smiled grimly as he drew back his string again and nocked another arrow.

With a cry, Elladan threw one of his foes to the ground and dispatched him with a thrust of his blade. The two remaining Uruks fell back in fear and turned to flee. One toppled as Elrohir's blade split the Orc's helm. The second drew a horn from his belt and blew a quick blast even as arrows from the bows of Angóre and Torfithien found him and ended his unhappy life.

"Quickly!" cried Elladan. "To the bridge!" Even as the group stepped forward and raced to the chasm's verge, cries arose and echoed through the hall warning of approaching foes. Yet for the moment the Elves stood alone in the hall.

Elrohir shoved Fingil toward the span, spitting out a single word of instruction, "Lead!" Then Torfithien followed, assisting Celebrian on the narrow span, and still no Orcs had appeared to harry them. Vanimorén stepped onto the bridge, striding gracefully along the rail-less way without even a glance at the abyss on either side. Angóre next, then Elrohir and, at last, Elladan, and as they reached the center of the span arrows skittered and whined around them.

"Do not look back," cried Elladan. "Quickly! To the gates!"

Fingil and Torfithien lifted Celebrian as they raced for the steps. A stiff wind met them as they stepped out of Moria into a dark, moonless night. Vanimorén and Angóre raced by them with weapons raised, ready to to confront any foes. Elladan and Elrohir paused at the gates, hoping to find a way to bar the way, but the great doors were askew and the hinges torn. Their faces grim masks of determination, they followed the others, seeking a place to make a last stand.

In front of the group, shadowy shapes stepped silently out from behind rocks, trees and shattered pillars. Ten, twenty, more...many more. Behind the Elves, dozens of shrieking Orcs loped out of the Gates of Moria. The Elves halted and formed a ring, facing outward, with weapons ready to strike the first foe to step near. In their midst stood Celebrian with her head bowed, weeping at the cruelty of the world.

The silent host that barred their way raised bows and a cloud of arrows spewed forth, arcing over the heads of the Elves, to land among the Orcs streaming out of the Black Pit. Again and again the bows sang, spilling a deadly rain of darts among their foes. Then, with a great cry, the host charged, flowing by Celebrian and her rescuers like a river around an island. Swords glittered in the starlight and the Goblins who had pursued their quarry from Moria wavered, then fled screaming back into the mines.

A familiar figure appeared and came to stand beside Elladan. "Bring help, you said," cried Tintallë. "Is this enough?" Even as he spoke, the Elves of the host of Lorien surrounded them and ushered them forward toward the Dimrill Vale, where stood Celeborn and Galadriel...