[Eowyn Skywalker]

He gasped hard, and forced himself to stand up-- Hanindur was sure that he had been out of commission long enough to reenter the battle-- he wasn't going to let more friends die that easily, not again. They had already lost one, he wasn't about to lose himself either.

Hanindur picked up his sword from where it sat on the ground, where he had threw it at the troll. Surprisingly, the blade wasn't broken from the force of the troll's dead weight falling upon it. He wiped the black blood off of the blade, and took it into both hands, as the Ranger ran back into the battle, in the hopes that his friends were still alive. Where are all those trolls coming from? he wondered, as he went back to his old style, of dodging, and thrusting, not easy with the sharp pain that had built up in his side.

If there had not been so many more trolls, and so few of them, Hanindur would've left the battle, on the grounds that he could do nothing put hinder. But, as it was, there was no choice for him, but to fight, for, with the lack of one man, the battle might fall to their enemies, and he would die anyhow. If he was to die that day, Hanindur vowed to go out worthy of rememberance, and not as a coward.

Breathing in dully, he dashed under the first troll, slicing at it's legs, while it turned, and hurled it's mace at him. This time, he was ready for the attack, and dodged into the troll, and not jumping back, to avoid the injury that he had suffered the last time. He was still slightly limping, and wasn't as fast moving as before-- now Hanindur had to stay attuned to the battle, and all his senses, or he knew that he would be killed.

Continuing to dodge, and to disable different trolls, Hanindur slowly worked his way back to the heart of the battle, where he could work to protect his friends. The trolls were finally slowing down in their attack, but there was still so many of them, he didn't know how much longer they would be able to hold up if anyone else was injured.