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The sight of the orcs made Hanindur furious. He was already stuck hard enough by Paladir's death-- the death he had died in order to save him, and now just the idea of the creatures of the enemies who had caused all of those deaths caused a flame within him to light up. He was yet tired-- exhaustion showed on all of thier faces, though perhaps more distant with the elves that remained, but the thought of those orcs drew all feeling of tiredness away.
The light that signified some level of hope for them glistened on his blade as he drew it-- the small amount of orcs that had attacked them at the bridge noticed him there. Hanindur dashed at them, a blind attack from his anger, and frusteration at the seeming lack of things they could do. Only five of them now remained-- himself, Arathorn, Owacyn, and the two sons of Elrond. Whether that would be all that would remain after this, Hanindur did not know. All he knew was that if he was going to die then, he would die in battle.
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