As the floor fell through, Fingil cried out before being dragged into the darkness below. As he hit the floor, the air was pushed from him and he lay stunned, but as those above cried down to him he replied.
"Aye! Perhaps thirty feet below where you stand, but by some blessing of the Valar we are intact! Throw down a rope!"
Time and time again rock crumbled from the edge, but Fingil did not loose hope until the cries of Orcs were heard. His blood froze as at first, he thought they were on his level but soon he realised that they came from above. The Sons of Elrond gave him warning and he cried a farewell.
"Well friends, we must be off," he said urgently and he set off into the darkness, Angore and Vanimoren behind him.
It was an ill luck that had befallen them, just when hope had returned but, sword ready he was resigned to whatever fate may hold for him.
[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: the real findorfin ]
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