View Single Post
Old 06-09-2009, 10:15 AM   #174
Groin Redbeard
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
Groin Redbeard's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Facing the world's troubles with Christ's hope!
Posts: 1,735
Groin Redbeard is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Groin Redbeard is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Trór

Crash! came the first surge of goblins. An even louder crash befell the goblins: down came the mattocks and axes of the dwarves upon the initial attackers. Then, followed by Frar, Trór plunged his spear forward into his first goblin and the dwarves sprang forward.

Trór soon stood the bulwarks, slashing his huge spear back and forth. The goblins, as tired as they were from their long march all day and night, fought ferociously to gain the defenses. Their scimitars glinted with a cruel light and they shrieked so terribly that they drowned the sounds of the battle. Again Trór slashed with his spear onto the shield of an oncoming hobgoblin. Twice Trór stabbed with his spear and twice he repelled the hobgoblin with the brunt of his shield. Trór raised his spear in a majestic pose and snapped his whole body forward releasing the spear through the hobgoblin and into another so closely were they pressing at the breastworks.

Suddenly, as Trór straightened himself (slinging his shield on his back and retrieving his axe from there with one smooth motion), a spasm of paralyzing pain brought Trór reeling forward off the breastworks. He felt the hard resistance of iron and guessed that he had fallen on several goblins. His shield was still fixed to his arm and offered protection from several hard blows that he was quick to block. Many strong hands clasped the shield and ripped it from his hands. Instinctively, Trór rolled to miss the strikes; some dented on the rock surface some found their mark in Trór’s side, but slid of his chainmail (if the orcs had thrust instead of struck it might have been a different story for Trór).

“My lord!” Trór’s ears faintly heard someone yell, but he couldn’t tell who it was; he didn’t care. His side was throbbing with burning pain from his initial wound and bruised by the many blows he was receiving; he could not deflect them fast enough. Another blow and another, each one pushing him further back until Trór was almost flat on his face; Trór’s mind was screaming at him: “get up! Don’t lie there—fight!” With great effort, Trór grabbed his axe and with a great heave swung it upright. His pain was now swimming upstream against his anger. To think that he virtually graveled before the enemy he swore to destroy.

Despite the immense pain in his side Trór stood his ground best he could. The bulwarks were to his back and for a long time he cleft, stabbed, smashed, and crunched anything that came near him. His beard was stiff with sweat his arms were bruised and it is said that his axe turned black and never again from that day shone its true metallic color.
Groin Redbeard is offline