[Saraphim]

Elrohir wrung the dirty water out of his tunic, trying to keep from thinking too much about Eldin, whose death marked the end of all the elves in the group, save Elrohir and his brother.

He checked the quiver at his side, grateful for the waterproof cover he kept over them. His bow, however, was waterlogged. Sighing, he undid the bowstring and dried it as best he could on his wet clothes.

Elladan sat silently next to him, sword drawn to dry it before rust overcame it. That made Elrohir think of his own sword, which he drew.

"Well," said Elrohir, "We now number six. We are trapped in an enemy stronghold with no visible escape, " he smiled grimly, "I always thought it would end this way,"

"What?" questioned Elladan mockingly,"You never expected to follow Ada over the sea when he goes? Live a life of luxury in Elvenhome?"

"When there are deaths to be died here?" exclaimed Elrohir.

"Not likely!" said the twins together, chuckling as Arathorn came over.

"I wish the rest of us could be as good-natured about our oncoming doom as you two," said the Dunedain, "But perhaps it is simply an elven thing"

"No," said Elrohir, "It is our thing. I'd prefer to die in battle..."

"...Than to live a boring and safe life," finished Elladan.