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Harry tried to stand. He shoved himself up on one arm and rolled up onto his good leg. He chanced a glance behind him; the puny man who’d stuck him in his knee lay on the ground. Breathing still, unfortunately, he noted, but looking quite the worse for wear. Grunting, Harry pushed himself up on his unaffected limb. ‘Ten steps,’ he thought to himself, ‘and I’ll pound that Tark into worm food. He lurched forward three steps, dragging his wounded leg behind him. The battle swarmed around him . . . and unfortunately in front of him. A group of Orcs, all armed with metal tipped lances, swarmed across his path as he took another step forward. He growled at them, swatting at them with his mighty arm. In a rage, they shook their staves at him, swirling round him closer and closer.
Those behind the Troll prodded him with the sharp tips of their lances, enraging him further. He brought his arm round with a roar, intending to drive them away. But with only one leg to balance on, he toppled over, falling face forward onto the Orcs. Five were caught beneath his massive bulk. Two of them managed to squirm out from under the fallen Troll, but three were crushed. One unseen outcome from this unfortunate encounter between Troll and Orcs was that several of the Orc lances had been plunged deeply into Harry’s innards as he fell on them.
Grimm and Broga were on the other side of the clearing. The Orcs, it seemed, had incapacitated a number of the men and Elves. Let them finish, thought Grimm. ‘Hey brother, what say we let them Orcs have their fun. Was some stew left, weren’t there? Down by the creek.’ He glanced around, looking for Harry. ‘You seen Harry,’ he asked Broga.
An outraged squeak escaped from Broga. He raised his hand, pointing with a stubby finger toward where Harry lay; the Orc lances sticking out from beneath him, along with a hairy Orc foot or two or three. ‘Them Orcs has gone and done him in!’
The two brothers went lumbering toward their downed relative, knocking Orcs from their path as they went. Two especially pugnacious Orcs rattled their swords, bellowing at the Trolls to move out of their way. Broga knocked them both down with his club. Grimm finished them off as he planted his big foot squarely in each of the Orc backs and stepped down hard, crushing them.
‘Come on, Harry,’ urged Grimm when they reached him. ‘These little toothpicks can’t have done you all that bad.’ The two brothers bent down and pulled Harry up, placing his arm across their shoulders.
‘Boys,’ he wheezed, limping along on his one good leg between his two rescuers, ‘I feel just about done for.’
Grimm, getting a firmer grip on Harry as he hoisted him up just a bit more, shushed the wounded Troll. ‘Save your breath. We’ll have you fixed up in no time. Why a cuppa your stew and them holes in your innards’ll be plugged good as new.’
Harry gazed at Grimm, a spark of hope in his glazed eyes. Broga, seeing the streams of blood oozing from Harry’s wounds, pressed his lips together and said nothing.
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