[Saraphim]

Elrohir was begining to run low on energy, but the enemy had not. The remaining trolls had gone battle mad and were hitting anything that moved, weather friend or foe.

A slice to the back of the knees brought down another troll, followed by an arrow to the head. Elrohir stood up from the dead hulk, wiping grime and sweat from his face.

He noticed Arathorn and Owacyn lying off to the side, and a jolt of fear shot through him. Another troll was standing over them, trying to get unstuck from a tree root that had mercifully caught on his foot.

Elrohir took advantage of the troll's predicament and threw his sword, imbedding it into the back of its neck. It roared in pain and anger, ripping it's foot free and turning to face Elrohir. The elf calmly loaded an arrow onto his bow, waiting for the troll to get close enough.

Then, too fast to follow, the shaft drove itself into the troll's throat, followed by another in the forehead. It dropped the arm it had been holding up, ready to rid Elrohir of his life, and crashed to the ground.

Elrohir ran over to Arathorn and Owacyn. He heard Elladan come up behind him.

"Check Owacyn," he said simply, checking Arathorn's pulse, only to find the Dunadan's hand grip his wrist.

A weak smile crossed his face, and Elrohir reflected it. Relief flooded him, and doubled when he heard Elladan confirm Owacyn was alive as well.

"You two rest," said Elrohir. As if they had any choice in the matter. "The rest of these filthy spawns of evil will not take too long to dispatch."

A grim smile crossed his face as he pulled his sword from the dead troll and entered back into the battle.