[Himaran]

Dwali's vision eventually changed from exploding, cascading lights into a blurred image; which slowly cleared and revealed the hunched form of Brór. "Are ye alright, lad? That was quite a blow you took there." The dwarf did not respond immediately, embarrased by his failure to kill the Uruk. Lying facedown on the edge of the stairwell, he felt defeated and alone. Had not the others been there, Dwali most certainly would have been slain. His adrenaline, stimulated by pure rage, had worn off; and the young one felt not like warrior. A child meddling with foes to great for him to overcome, perhaps, but not the dwarven soldier he had always wished to become.

Sitting up, and rubbing the sizeable lump on his forehead, Dwali tried not to show his discomfort in conversing with a fighter more experienced than he. "What happened to him," the dwarf asked bluntly. Brór seemed preoccupied, looking down the curving, downward path into the tower. Dorim was nowhere in sight, which could only mean he was pursuing their quarry. If only I could have finished it there, sent the slavemaster to the dark pits of hell.

"He fled, but Dorim went after him. A cunning orc, indeed. It would be a bad stroke of luck if he alerted the army of our escape."

"Aye," replied Dwali. "If that were to happen, we would have more to worry about than an old spider." He stood, and quickly collected his two discarded weapons. I should have fought him, but acted like a coward. No true warrior drops his arms in combat. Then his thoughts turned to Dorim, somewhere in the tower; searching for the Uruk who should have already been slain. We must go after him, Dwali thought, but he decided to wait for Brór to suggest it. After all, it was probably a thoroughly useless idea, and one which would only bring ridicule the dwarf so wanted to avoid.

Presently, his older companion said "Come, we must follow. I tried to carry you, but decided to wait for you to revive." The pair hurried down the stairs, into the waiting darkess below.