[Arry]

The blows of the enraged Elves proved too much for the leaderless band of Orcs. From where Gromwakh stood he could see two of his fellows cut down by a return of fire from the Elvish scouts. Then, blades in hands, the Elves who had been held captive and their deliverers fell upon the remaining Orcs. Four more of the group had been killed almost immediately.

Snikdul’s eyes had gone wide at the deaths of two of those who had come with them from the North. Before Gromwakh could catch hold of him, Snikdul raced forward, his club and blade beating a wild tattoo in the air before him. The jagged blade caught one of the rescuer Elves hard in the arm, causing the Elf’s blade to drop. Snikdul pushed forward, seeking to take advantage of the injury. Gromwakh yelled at him to beware . . . too late!

The male Elf they had captured, the injured one, cut him down with little effort, his rage pouring through his blade. Snikdul crashed to the ground, death already glazing his eyes. Gromwakh came to the aid of his friend, intent on dragging him from harm’s way. A blow to the back from a well-aimed arrow drove the Orc to his knees, and he fell forward just inches from his companion. Gromwakh heard another approach him, saw the long shadow of yet another Elf slice across the two of them as they lay there. There was not long to wait for the inevitable blow that seared through his neck, bringing darkness and the final release.