[Imladris]

Ori and the remaining survivors dashed into the Chamber of Records. Maron and Alrik barred the doors while Ori leaned Flori against Balin's tomb. "We are wasting time," Flori shouted, struggling.

"And you are wasting blood, brother," said Ori with a smile, ripping some cloth from a nearby jacket. "I am going to bind the stump, cutting off the flow of blood so that you won'tl faint by the time the orcs finish breaking through. That way you won't die when we flee towards the West Gate."

Flori rolled his eyes, but ceased his struggling. Ori looked at Flori: his cheeks were pallid, and his eyes were glazed. Sweat streamed down his brow and he trembled a little. Ori smiled at him and said, "We'll get out of this one yet." Would they? He doubted it.

If the path to Hollin was clear, they might have a chance. Ori glanced around, seeing who had fallen. Loni, Nali, and Frar were gone. Dead, he presumed. There was small chance they had outrun the tide of orcs..

He shook his head, and concentrated on tying the strip of cloth tightly around Flori's stump. Blood streamed from the wound. His brother might not die at the hand of an orc's, Ori thought dully. He pushed the thought away.

He heard a rush of footsteps and he saw Narin and Linsie. They told him of Oin's death. He could feel the blood drain from his face. Oin...gone. He drew a shuddering breath as the orcs broke through again.