[Saurreg]

Loudewater shoved aside two little orcs and got behind their leader who was about to slay Thoronmir with a skull-crushing blow to the head. Almost without thinking, the farmer drove the tip of his dagger into the base of the orc’s head and twisted it. The orc gave a cry of pain and collapsed dead. But as it fell, the dagger broke and left Loudewater weaponless.

Discarding the useless hilt, Loudewater reached out and grabbed the still body of the ranger and feared the worst, but Thoronmir was still warm and Loudewater could see that he was still breathing weakly. Smiling to himself, Loudewater gently laid the head of the gallant ranger on the ground and borrowed his sword. Drawing the heavy blade out of its scabbard, the farmer turned around and faced the inevitable.

The orcs have regrouped and were encroaching slowly, pointing their sharp weapons menacingly at the odd-looking farmer whilst baring sharp fangs and growling. There was no escape this time– not unless he abandoned Thoronmir, and that was something Andas Loudewater was adamantly set against. He would try and deliver Thoronmir from danger, or die trying.

Just then a silhouette appeared to the left of loudewater’s peripheral, the farmer looked and saw that it was Silrûth, the other female elf. She was also badly injured but still holding her ground defiantly. At least now Loudewater knew he wasn’t alone and he felt his spirits rise a little.

Loudewater shifted his weight and readied himself. Who could have thought that hen-pecked Andas Loudewater from Bree would die fighting orcs, hundread of miles away from home, along side the best fighters of the land.

“If only Helga and Prand could see me now…” He whispered to himself softly.

The enemies drew closer and closer.