The Hunt for Gollum

Naith of Lorien
You stand riverside, in Dwimordene, amidst the grey bowls of the mallyrn and the conceiling underbrush on the eastern banks of the river Celebrant. It is here in these golden woods where the rolling foothills of the Misties come to an end and in the Elven realm of Lothlorien, often called Dwimordene or Dreamland by men, begins. It's Winter, and the mallyrn's golden leaves fill thier boughs as they sleep the winter away. Presently, the light in the wood fails rapidly as the sun sets beyond the peak of the Misty Mountains. Dusk sets in.

Terridan chuckles softly, then shakes his head, "What happened to your ringmail, mellon? That is much lighter."

Mirelas listens quietly to the conversation

Kathalis frowns and leans forward to stare at a strap, "Well... mountains... orcs... I decided to try chainmail. Maybe I won't have to go to the hospital this time." Grinning widely towards everyone around him, he asks, "What again are we going chasing now? A dwarf? A stunted orc? What? I just heard its little."

Mirelas says, "it's little but it's nasty. ."

Terridan chuckles for a moment, then sighs heavily, "I got an excellent look at it mellon... I saw it completely..." he rests against the side of a tree."

Kathalis nods and grumbles at another strap, "Well... its small, so it shouldn't be too hard to catch. But don't go underestimating it I say." Gazing up towards Terridan, "If its nasty enough for us to pull us out of these woods, its dangerous enough to be a threat in someway."

Terridan shrugs slightly, "I still don't know what it is... but it ran from me... though I still am not going to let my guard down around it."

Mirelas hrms softly and listens intently.

As day waxes t'wards night, shedding it's last light 'pon the Egladil of Dwimordene. So the western sky is lit, blazing gold by the sun, which sinks ever lower down, past the endless, serried ranks of the mallyrn. So too, down from the north there comes a figure, stealthily, silently. And hid beneath the twilit eaves of the trees that line the spearhead of the naith, down to the union of the two rivers.

Terridan sighs softly, then stands, "I must go check on some things, mellyn... I will be back in time for the chase..."

Kathalis nods and grumbles about another fixture. "I'll cya then, Terridan."

Mirelas says, "Are you leaving then?"

Terridan nods, "I will return though, have no fear."

Kathalis shifts and mumbles under his breath, "Oh no... this is going to chaffe. But its worth it."

Mirelas smiles a bit, "I think the more of our people here , the better it will be"

Only with eyes both bright and piercing might want to hope to espy this figure, creeping through 'twixt the trees. With all the skill of a thief, it steals through the twilight; with naery a sound to betray it's passing, nor a mark left 'pon the ground. From time to time it stops, then kneeling; momentarily, it looks to the ground, then about. Regarding the marks upon the trees, there upon the forest floor; then onwards, the figure is bound for the river.

Kathalis pulls a powerful longbow out and fits a string to the notched ends.

Kathalis finally gets his gear in place and glances over to the approaching elven huntress, giving her a slight nod in greeting. "Are you coming as well?"

Mirelas peers toward the other bank curiously.

Beldaran enters from the east, bent slightly, very quiet as she approaches.

"Hmm?" With brow raised, Gillhach looks up at the captain, from that place where she squats; "Oh," She mouths the word, standing. And her bosom heaves with a sigh, "I suppose I should, at that... doubtless you'll have need of me. You guard-types are somewhat oafish when it comes to the hunt, if I may say..." She smirks at the last, before looking to her gear.

Terridan walks out from the treeline as well, next to Beldaran. At Gillhach's words, he frowns slightly, "Perhaps... but we are still better than most..."

Kathalis smirks and nods faintly, "Oafish, you say. Perhaps we can see today who takes down the prey."

Beldaran sighs. "I am here for diplomatic relations...am I of purpose?"

Mirelas glances at Beldaran and smiles, "Observer, perhaps"

Terridan looks over towards Beldaran, then smiles, "Of course, mellon... you are to make sure we can understand whatever the humans say as well."

Beldaran nods to Mirelas. "I guess we serve a purpose."

Mirelas nods to Beldaran, "the other evening was very strange . .quite a collection on the other side of the river"

Gillhach lends Kathalis a pained glance, "Shall we go, or stay? Already the trail is more than a day cold from here;"

Kathalis turns his head towards Gillhach and nods, "Aye mellon."

Beldaran says, "I wasn't here...but I'm here for a little bit now."

Mirelas smiles a bit and glances toward the other bank again.

Terridan checks over his bow slowly, then turns his eyes towards the far banks, "Let us be off then... Beldaran, Mirelas, stay behind Kathalis and myself... Gillhach, guard our rear if you wish to come..." with that, he moves towards the far banks.

Mirelas nods to Terridan, "I will do that . ."

Seemingly amused, as it were; by the Banneret's words. Gillhach holds back her rebuke, instead, taking her bow to hand, she moves to make the crossing, and following that trail she saw layed by the skulking beast.

Kathalis nods his head solomnly to Terridan, "Lead the way across, Banneret." Shaking his head, he now turns to the huntress now to the Huntress, "Once across, you take point, Gillhach. You are, afterall, the specialist."

The hunting party travels north and west, towards Caradhras and the foothills of the Hithaeglir

Foothills of the Misties - South of Cloudyhead
The height of these mountains foreshadows the world about your feet in a blanket of ominous shadow, while frozen sprawling bushes gather what nourishment they can from the edging cliffs and rocky terrain which mark the foothills. By night the landscape takes an enigmatic shift, the light of stars and moon barely able to provide the light needed by which to see. Paths seem to run in different directions and the vegetation lies ice cold, in the grips of winter - frozen thorny brambles desperatly seeking shelter from the cold and dull. Clouds blanket the land with a stinging fog of icy needles. Little starlight is able to penetrate the foggy gloom. The nighttime winter air is icy and dry. The moon is above the horizon and in its waxing crescent phase.

Skames sniffs the air and scratches himself. He keeps moving with Halbeorn, his legs not so sore after the morning rest. Wrapping his cloak closer around him, he fights off the pangs of the cold night air. Air, like the moist cloud around them, blows from his nostrils as he strides forward.

Terridan walks forward silently, his longbow held in front of him. His eyes are narrowed slightly, scanning the forest before him with a penetrating glance.  He keeps Mirelas shielded behind him, and keeps his cloak covering his form.

Flanking the edge of the small human party, Kathalis motions to the various elves that move along quickly and silently. "We are close, my kin".

Beregel moves behind Skames, trying to be as quiet as possible, though he is still making some noise. The large man has his knife is drawn.

From the the foothills a dark shadow crawls up into the mountain pass clinging to the mountain darkness like a smaller piece of night. It sometimes pauses, hesitates as confusing scents greet the emaciated nostrals of the creature's drawn face. Pale eyes wink out into the darkness looking up the mountain and then back from whence it came down the trail. Gollum shivers, huddled closely to the rocky cliffside, and mutters to himself petting his ropey arms, "Precious, precious, we are in a hard place.now, my precious. Oh, we would be safe.safe.with you, my precious. But you.are lost, my preciousss. Losssst!" He looks back down the trail and shudders, his eyes filling with a frightened pallour, "Mens, they chassse uss! Ss.ss.sss... Elvess too, my precious." Suddenly there is green now at the edges of his eyes and he looks up into the mountains that loom above him, "But we are tricksssey.we are, my precious. They.will sssee how trickssey, my precious. Yes, follow, my precious, they follow usss." Suddenly, he turns back to his clinging journey and is swallowed by night-veiled rocks.

Not yet without hope they can gain and capture the skulking foul creature they now name as 'Gollum' from its constant jibbering, Halbeorn and his folk of mountain guides now seem more at ease in this terrain and move with practiced precision up the rocky outcroppings and broken trails, "Come, look yonder!." Calls the skinchanger as his keen gaze holds its best upon the shadow ahead, "It flees!, but tis not gone yet...come!" He bellows, his mighty grip drawing him higher as they go.

You walk close to the mountain pass.

Mountain path
This is a narrow mountain path along the edge of the Dimrill Dale at the base of Caradhras. It is very windy here, and there are large ugly clouds over head. The path continues its narrow descent into the dale on the southeast, and climbs up towards the pass in the northwest. The mountain forms an almost vertical cliff wall on one side of the path, but on the other side there is nothing but a long fall into the dale. An alternative trail runs along the top of the dale and out into Rhovanion.

Winds whistle and coalesce at the craggy mountainous passes. Rivulets flourish in and out of the jutting outlets and make shrill whistling noises, shrill noises that hurt the elder ears of one particular orc. Making its way through a ravine near the others, Targuk holds close his short bow, one that matches his small perceptions. Six more follow behind him in suit, bows held closely and their grunts and perspirations are almost tangible as they struggle to keep ahead of the others as an advance group. Targuk stops a moment and stands still, trying to listen to the secrets and smell the scents the shrill winds carry and he holds up a clawed hand to the others behind him who stop and begin to shuffle position awkwardly.

While some perch atop the rocks as lookouts, other dark figures lurk behind the piles of debris and brush, staking out the mountain paths for any poor traveler that might make the mistake of crossing this deadly territory at night. Others still wait within the mouth of a shallow cave, listening for the call or thier scouts and lookouts.

Drawn by the mighty leader before him, Skames hefts his axe and drives onward. The foothills growing before him as his familiarity grows with the area. Deep eyes, like pools on the dark light reflect little inthe night air. Heavy breaths as he mounts the next rise and peers forward not yet seeing what Halbeorn does. The youthful guide grimaces as he knows cold awaits him above.

Beyond the thundering Halbeorn, silent shadows of elvish shades move briskly through the craggy and desolate terrain in search of their prey. In the night, few would see the flash of their grey cowls as they speed down darkness beyond.

Berzgat crouches lightly to the right of the cave opening, a short spear in his right hand which he leans on like a stave with his right claw, the left with a strapped shield, claws splayed on the rocky ground. Baleful glowing eyes scan this way and that, though with no particular intensity, as if perhaps the old orc would rather be sleeping. Indeed, he yawns and mutters to himself inaudably, champing his jaws with a flap of his lower lip and cheeks and rocks back a bit on the balls of his iron-shod boots...

Trying his best to keep up with the rest of his kin, Beregel struggles up the mountians, huffign and puffing he is and using all of his musle with every step onward, he is not used to this. He is grumbling to himself the whole time on why he had to coem on this adventure. He sighs, and continues onward.

Gillhach steals westwards, upwards through the brush and briar. Stealthily she moves, with such skill as might a thief. Nimble and fleetfooted, e'en on the rocky, debris-strewn ground. But, following the changer' gesture upwards, and espying the quarry, she hisses a curse. "<Sindarin> It is too far ahead... lost I fear." She heaves a sigh, as quiet as may be; looking to her own kin, "<Sindarin> But heark... there are others."

Quartering Targuk's company, just a little further up the slope, Boaz and three smaller uruks carefully choose their path along the rocky terrain. Suddenly the shaman's footsteps come to a halt and he raises his hand. Sniffing the air he motions for the others around him to halt. Air passes through his yellow teeth to make a hissing sound which slowly fades away. He waits, beady eyes seeing through the surrounding mirk.

Walking forward with a light gait, and having his cloak wrapped around him fully, Terridan is all but invisible as he moves quietly forward. His eyes scan the forest before him, and pulls back even more into his cloak as Gillhach speaks. He scans the forest once more, searching for any signs of the creature, or anything else.

From the rocks in the hills a dark voice cries out, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The voice echoes so that its source is unclear, and the language spoken is dark enough to bring pause even elven hearts.

Mirelas follows Terridan and Kathalis, but stays by the end of the path down the mountain, watching from afar.

One large form within the cave keeps well back from the opening; the darkness outside is not close to being thick enough to hide his flame-shaded form in the shadows. Pathak, leader of this group, grips his axe tightly as the shouted words of the darker shamans penetrate the cavern. Smiling tightly, he stomps his foot on the cave floor and rattles off a few quick words to those bunkered within. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Stopping suddenly in the shadows, Kathalis catches as the squeaky barks of Black Speach reaches his ears. Lifting his hand, he clentches his fist and rapidly spreads the fingers twice. Fan out. Orcs!

Bringing up the rear of the small party of unlikely allies is a tall elf, wrapped closely in a dusky-grey cloak. His white hood, laid back against his shoulders for the moment, is somehow muted by the tension upon the rock-strewn path. He moves with the fleetness and agility of all his folk, but at the uttering of the foul tongue of death, the Captain of Lothlorien is given pause, his capable hand tightening further upon the great hilts of his elven-blade.

Like a slap in the face Halbeorns senses are assailed by the reek of Goblinkind, and soon after his ears hear some garbled unfamiliar speech, yet it is definately of Goblin nature and he frowns deeply now, his bushy eyebrows set firmly as he glances about the rocky terrain, "Skames! Beregel!, get up here!" He stands tall and looks to his fellows not far off and utters loudly for any to hear nearby, "Goblins!" Then tuning back in the direction he last spied Gollum, he starts moving agin, this time more slowly and much more carefully.

Boaz whips his head towards the hiddeous cry and readies his followers. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" His voice is menacing, a pick driving through sheets of ice. The shaman awaits further orders.

A low growl can be heard from Terridan as the Black Speech is uttered, and he tightens his grip on his bow, an arrow suddenly nocked in the string. As the Quendi backs away slightly, his form disappates through the brush and hedges, and a shadow is all that is left as he moves silently through the trees.

The wind continues to whip and roar across the tiny cavern and ravines provided here in the upper reaches of the rocklike environs. Targuk points once to his bow and notices the other orcs with him not paying much attention and he slaps the nearest one's armor with a dull thud. The six orcsturn to look at Targuk pointing at the bow and nod, each one removing black feathered arrows from their quarry.He glances up and can see several figures moving together in the pass. He liftshis bow into the air and prepares to take final aim based on the distance his arrow must traverse. Mirelas stays by the end of the path and watches the others advancing on the orcs.

With the hefted axe now raising and readied, Skames races to step aside Halbeorn before the terrible change comes over the skin changer he follows. The guide's youthful eyes pick out the dark shaven form of the shaman. He picks the path that promises to practically take him to that foe. Bzjokze too stands near the entrance of the cave, his battle axe pressed into the ground and his elbow placed upon the blade. Peering out into the night with a fairly alert expression upon his face, he echoes the yawn of another warrior near him as his foot drags across the gravel at his feet in slight boredom. Though yelling breaks out, and instantly his posture straightens up, but nowhere near a perfect one, atleast hes no longer hunched over the weapon. His hand drops down to grab the shaft of the Battle Axe, and with a bit of a grin he looks over the area more carefully, trying to identify everything he can before foolishly running into anything.

Gillhach cringes at the profane utterances of the goblins up aloft. Spitting a word with profound distaste. "<Sindarin> Yrch!" And, taking bow to hand with that, she dives into the bush, dissapearing from sight; with naery a sound to mark her passage.

At the harsh commands of the great ursine figure at the van of the hunting party, Arehir lowers himself to the path, blending seemlessly into the ever-grey of tumbled and broken granite. His bright eyes seek forward, however, for little doubt is there of what will befall in moments now upon the wind-filled mountain pathway.

Squinting with his bad eye, Targuk turns the wince into an aim and draws back the orc-sized bow as far back as the strings will take it. After another second of assuring himself a target, the orc lets loose and the sharp *whizz* of six other arrows let fly and are drowned out by the winds..

Berzgat's notched ears perk up at the sound of approaching whiteskins and he raises expectantly from his crouch, hefting the black shafted javelin and straining to peer over the rock in front of him. Slowly he licks his dry lips and spits off to one side, shifting weight from one leg back to the other nervously, waiting yet..

Beregel covers his ears for a moment, at the sound of the goblin like talk. He looks up and nods, still huffign and puffing, he begins to move faster to catch up to his leader Halbeorn, his strides becoem quicker and goes as fast as he can to catch up to Halberon, he stumbles several tiems in the process makign his hands bloddy and scratched but eventualyl he arrives at Halbeorn's side, huffing all the more.

Gollum smelt the orcs before they stirred. He huddles down in a dark little hole made by a crack in the mountain and he smiles. Nimble little fingers rub together happily as the hoarse orc voices ring nicely in his ears. Shining merrily in the darkness, Gollum mutters, "Soon, preciousss, the orcs will squeeze the mens and the elvess and we will be ssafem my precious. Heeheehee." He giggles softly to himself in his hole smelling the smells of dangerous still and the tangy scent of evil orcs. He rubs his hands and waits, longing for the heady smell of blood upon the air.

Boaz adjusts his warg-skin cloak so as not to impede the free reign of his spear. Still crouching, the top of his legs begin to burn, begin to fill with hatred, a lust for blood... The priests snakelike tongue darts back and forth, salivating across his yellowed tusks...

Tugging on his cloak, Kathalis slips to the side behind a grouping of rocks as an arrow rocochet's near his cowl. Moving quickly, below the rockline, Kathalis stops several meters from a copse of trees. Glaring over the now lower cover, he scans quickly for a target amongst the rocks ahead.

High in the mountain passes, brush and trees are scarce; most cover comes from half-fallen rockslides perched precariously along the trail's cliff face. Amid these rocky jumbles sits in perfect stillness a shaman of the uruk, forward scout of the war band stationed here. Red eyes watch the elf-things scramble as the first warning is called, yet still the creature remains still. After a time, the mountainside grows quiet once more.

'An ambush!' Is all that comes to mind as Halbeorn looks to the suddenly appearing Goblin faces that spring into view, but no fear comes to the visage of the skinchanger, just a wide and mirthful looking grin. And then he opens his mouth to reveal a maw filled with long animal like teeth as some great beast and not of men and then he rises a fell challenge, long and loud that echoes of the very top of the Misties, like some huge mountain creature and about him begins a shimmering, a blur, the beast within comes, the bear spirit seeks to rend and kill its hated foes.

Arehir presses closely against the bulk of a nearby boulder, now, shielding himself from the inevitable first salvo of black-fletched arrows. As the snapping and thudding of shafts slows, though, he peers outward again, looking for some sign of an approach.

Quiet indeed; and yet, as silence descends. So can arrows be heard nocked to bows, and long hair-strings tensed afore drawing, whilst sharp elven eyes search for targets hidden: cowering up amongst the rocks.

The orcs in the craggy pass above glare down for a moment to see if their arrows have struck a target and as if in a practiced motion they reach back to pull another arrow from the quarries and aim up a bit. They let fly with another volley at almost the same time and the arrows arch out in a rainbow path from the short bows to rain down upon the closing group. Targuk peers down the rock after letting loose to note if the positions have changed and he holds his hand up and the orcs load the next arrow, ready to fire when the signal is given..

Pathak's yellowed teeth bare in a broad grin as the shouts fly up into the mountain air, orcish scouts yelling to the lurking warriors, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Pathak gives his shield a solid thump with the flat of his axe, and then points the instrument out the mouth of the cavern. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Terridan dives down behind a tree as arrows begin to fly past where he was, and a low curse can be heard from him as he lifts his bow up, he gazes out slightly, looking around for some sign of the attackers besides the sounds they make.

Wincing only at the great roar of the skin-changer, Skames readies himself to the blood of battle. His unkempt hair shakes at the cry. He knows there will be no quarter for those torn by the great claws of the bear spirit next to him. It is his own hide he weighs. Ond foot forward and caution to the wind, the young scout screams as well and moves forward.

Another cries breaks through the hills, this time in the more common of the orcish tongues. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" A figure rises from a rockpile, and leaps away from it quickly, vanishing amid the cracks and shadows of the mountain cliff's rough side.

Deftly pulling at his quiver, Kathalis sights the origin point of the rain of arrows. Swinging his bow to sight in upon their apparant direction, he lets fly with two deadly grey fletchings before ducking and moving to another position. But not before, a black arrow glances away from a link in his vest.

Beregel stops right as Halbeorn yells, he stops and sees the Goblin faces he frowns and draws up his dagger incase on of them should attack he keeps some distance between him and bear. Though he is letting the bear be between him and the goblins, so that he might not get hurt.

Bzjokze slowly raises his axe into the air, still standing near the edge of the cavern and cries out, "The enemy is upon us! For the flame.. We still owe the blood of our enemies to the master!" The axe still held in air, though of course it is held more tightly now as he begins to run forward, a charge of sorts and a few more Dush follow behind him. Closer and closer he moves, the axe finally being lowered as his other hand grabs ahold of it and brings it into more of a battle situation so to speak.

Having spied the source of the volley of arrows, Arehir too pulls a long shaft from the quiver at his hip, and whirling momentarily from the cover of the great rock, looses the bolt - arcing it gently toward the yrchish archers. Immediatly after, he ducks back behind the boulder.

Boaz rushes down the rocky slope, a small avalanche of debris following him. From between clenched teeth he addresses his apprentices, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The small company flows down the mountainside, finally melding with the axe wielding warriors led by Bzjokze, a wave ready to crash upon the shore in a shower of sparks and screams...

Terridan raises up for a moment, the string on his bow already taut from the draw. He looses the arrow just towards the archers as he ducks back down underneath cover, just before two arrows fly past where he just emerged.

Berzgat grunts and lets go of his shield strap long enough to scratch his chin where the helmet strap irritates and then clasps the shield once more. The knarled orc takes a moment to sight on the approaching bear and those near it and then takes a few short running steps forward, heaving the javelin from over his shoulder, the arc high and long, for it has not the range of the arrows. An estimation and a random target he aims for, hoping he'll be lucky and as it flies, he stoops to retrieve his heavy axe that leans against the rock he stood behind..

Where once stood the proud man of the Anduin, Halbeorn, now instead rears a great Black Bear, huge by any means in his place. The end of his cry trails into silence and then he snorts, the hunt has begun, stooping back down to all fours he presses ahead. One great leap lifts the bear to the top of one large rock, then it bounds down the other side, moving with both strength and speed and stopping for none.

With ample quarry to hand; all squat, cumbersome and oafish in manner; these yrch who reveal themselves. So Gillhach draws her bow, and the huntress rises from her hide to loose a grey-fletched dart 'pon the berserkers. shoot at bzjokze

Berzgat throws a spear... Berzgat's spear throw hits Skames, moderately wounding him! The spear lies now upon the ground now at his feet.

Mirelas nods to Talia as she nears on the path.

Berzgat stoops and grabs up a wickedly curved axe.

Berzgat bumps the bottem of the axe haft at his belt, knocking it up through the loop and catchin git in his right hand, the curved blade of Shield Breaker gleaming malignantly.

Pathak's warriors, perhaps a dozen in number, empty from the cave and surge down the trail toward the unfortunate enemies of their Demon master. Not far from the front, the strangely-colored warlord runs to meet the trespassers, axe held high and shield tucked close. His voice raises as to mingle with those of the other orcs, but his words are in the common tongue, understandable to the ears of men and elves. "Moria!" The single word elicits a loud roar from the surrounding orcs, and they press forth with increasing speed.

While ruddy of skin and youthful in shape, Skames fierce eyes seek out the moving form of Boaz in the croud of beastly forms. Suddenly, from the scattered and shapeless ranks of the orcs, a spear flies and strikes him, bloodying his side in a stream of crimson before clattering to the ground. Maddened and in some pain, the youth runs forward and swoops his axe at the tatooed form of the shaman. His eyes seeking to revenge his own blood with that of some creature. The blade arcs carrying itsef with his force towards the side of the beast.

Bzjokze leans back off towards his right as an arrow slaws into his chest and slides right through the chain mail and into his flesh. A bit of blood begins to gather around the wound already, but there is no time to deal with an injury now! Still the charge continues, though some pain is now added to each step.. Some, who is this creature of Darkness kidding.. Much pain is with every step, blast the spears of the light.. The arrows of the elves! Crying out in his raspy Uruk-hai voice, "Forward! The enmy shall fall... You maggots are not like the rest, a few," gasping quickly at a bit of more pain, alas.. no more motivational speaches.

Arehir moves out from his protective outcropping now as the deafening sound of onrushing yrch rends the path. Slowly he drops to a knee, still some distance from the first orcs, and laying a grey shaft upon his string, focuses on an axe-wielding beast, and with a short breath, lets loose.

Terridan turns out as well, aiming towards the lead berserker, and aims down the shaft for but a moment, before releasing the arrow towards Bzjorke, and turns back to his cover, not bothering to watch the missile as it streaks towards its target.

As Boaz closes ever more upon his foes, their murky silouettes come into focus. He sees lean figures darting out from between the crags, seeming to loose an endless stream of arrows. One passes over the shaman's shoulder only to catch one of his followers in the eye. The young uruk collapses in a heap of wailing agony...

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" A threat often keeps the orcish ranks steady if nothing else does. He parries an attack and is suddenly engulfed in battle. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He snarls then stabs at his attacker.

Rising from another position amongst the crags, Kathalis sights in upon the mass of orcish warriors spilling from the caves before him. Sighting in, he lets fly with his arrow into their mobbish midsts. Shouts of Moria and rage meet him as he peers to see if he hit.

The ethereal lights of the night sky wind their way down through the clouds and skip through the crags and rocks of the mountain path before reaching the bloody scene on the ground. Briefly, a silhoette appears several feet above the scene, then flits away, though the unmistakable shine of steel is visible for a moment.

Mirelas stays far out of the way, watching quietly, but not without emotion.

Some orc's bandy legs rumble past the crack where Gollum huddles. He is frightened deeper into his hole but soon returns. His pale eyes gleam out over the pass as the orcs engage men and red blood fills the air with it's pleasing taste. Gollum's ghastly grin, all twisted rotting teeth in a skeletal mouth, lights up his face in delight at the happy sounds of battle. His long fingers grip the stone in anticipation of more death to his hunters and he giggles, "Yes. *GOLLUM* We are tricksey, my precious. And the mens and elfses, we hates them, yes, the mens and elfsses will be squeezed and we are sssafe. Heeheehee!" Gollum's long flat feet smack the gritty stone in a little dance.

A dark spear sweeps his axe away, and like the strike of a spider, bites at him. His flesh tears again and he is forced back a step. But, Skames, forcefully sweeps his axe back trying to cut the monster before him. A hope that he can estinguish the dark before his own life is out. The edge of his axe sweeps higher this time driven by youthful anger. Skames attacks Boaz with his Axe, but he misses by an arm's length.

Above the battle creeps a dark shape, that of the forward scout who scrabbles now amongst the rocks of the cliff. The shouts of the battlefield, clash of weapons and twang of bows silence the scrabbles, and the chaos of the charge most likely prevent any of the elder race from looking up to the rocks.

Watching the battle go on, Beregel becomes frightened and confused and decides the best thing to do is to get out of the way. So he does and jumps behind a large boulder, so that he might conceal' himself.

Black_Bear lights his lantern.

The night sky offering its starlight to light the way, though not as potent as the moon, to these experienced folk it provides enough.

Ow! Off! Yeowch! More arrows slam into the Uruk-hai warrior, the more noticible, and thus more painful ones in his left arm and his right leg! Stumbling slightly, Bzjokze continues his charge towards the forces of good! Unfortunatly for another member of his little squad, one of the elven arrows hits him directly in the neck, and silently falls to the ground as a puddle of his own blood begins to form around him. Glancing back the Uruk-hai commander is disgusted with the stupidity of his own soldiers, and gripping his axe more tightly he returns his attention to directly infront of him.. And to the charge! "Forward for the Flame!" He cries, trying to dull the pain with thoughts of other things, like.. More pain.

Forsaking the great longbow, now, Arehir grasps with one hand for the sturdy shield he had rested upon the bounder, and with the other to his hip, and looses bright Gaileg with a metallic voice like a song of old. He strides forward then, grim resolution etched upon his fair brow.

Arehir flips his cloak aside and draws bright Gaileg from his scabbard with a metallic hiss.

Charging headlong the Black Bear flails into the first rank of Orcs he encounters, saliva flies from the open maw as it swings back and forth, snapping at Goblin faces. His two large forepaws are lifted in turn, swatting at the much smaller foes as it calls out once more, "BEORRRRRRRRRRRNNNRGHHH!" It's pair of black eyes open wide, hatred filing his mind.

Pathak's progress toward his victims is interrupted by an arrow that finds its way into his color-streaked armor, poking a small hole in the links and stabbing him in the sternum. Shrieking in rage at the minor wound, Pathak picks up the pace and sets his course for the largest target he sees: the bear. Without precaution or thought for his fellow orcs, the maddened warlord bellows out an orcish obscenity, and drives his dark axe toward the bear's shoulder while it is occupied with the less fortunate claw-fodder.

Removing to her hide once more, hidden 'neath the brush and briar that pock-marks the broken, rocky landscape; and with another barbed dart nocked to the string; Gillhach moves for a shot. Starlight alone proving ample for sight, by virtue of sharp, bright elven eyes. The huntress espies new prey, then standing, looses the shaft. shoot at pathak

Gritting his teeth, Boaz says a word or two meant for his wiry foe. "You are weak, fool...the Flame consume you!" He swings his blade in a wide arc, making a silver streak through the gloom. Just as it is about to find it's mark, however, the shaman is caught in the ribs by a stray uruk arrow.

Terridan stands from his cover, and moves quickly for another tree, aiming again to the same orc that took his arrow before. He looks down the shaft quickly as he runs, and releases the gray shaft towards Bzjokze again.

A flash of steel and the Bear reacts instinctively, one great paw swatting the axe head aside and then turning his huge bulk to face his aggressor he lashes out with his other paw. Long and sharp claws extended, he looks to the Goblin with distaste, a sweeping arc that comes from right to left, his aim just at middle hieght, no need for being to direct when trying to rend he thinks.

Berzgat watches the first rank of orcs slam into the enemies..or more like, the bear slams into them. The flight of his javelin passes beyond his sight in the milling press and with a grunt and a hitching of his belt, the ugly beast moves forward at a faster pace, shouldering his way to the front, allowing the press to shunt him to the left of the giant bear, digging in his boots and dropping to a knee-bent stance, halting suddenely, crossing his axe over to his own left and swiping it low and fast in a horiztonal arc that climbs slightly as the weight of hte weapon snaps it around, aiming to catch the bear in the leg and crack the bone from the front to distend ligament and rip muscle..

Suddenly, from the rocks above, drops a handful of orcs, having clambered over the cliff face to drop among the elven archers! A particularly large brute, armed with axe and scared with flame-tattoos around his face, lands near the archer Terridan, his axe already chopping down towards the poor elf.

Skames screams as he is pierced by the shaft of the spear. He wavers but stays for now, his blood being but a cheap brice to pay to rend the flesh of his foe. Skames sweeps again, trying this time to sweep the legs out from the beast before him. His eyes seeking the weakness that comes from living in evil and away from the true light of the sun.

Moving quickly along the stoney terrain, Kathalis drops down closer to the oncoming yrch horde. With a bright flash his bow is quickly replaced by his gleaming long sword and the elf stone upon his brow glowing fiercily, he moves with delirious speed towards the combat between Skames and his personal nemesis.

An arrow wasted, Gillhach offers up a curse to the wind as she seeks out another shelter; ducking 'neath a scraggly bush, that might leave her open to sight, but for the twilight, and the grey-hued cloak in which the huntress is swathed. With an arrow to her bow once more, she is late to warn her cousin of his peril, 'ere he's struck by the goblin's stroke. And yet, turning from the fray, she lends a dart towards Terridan's assailant. shoot at garom

Pathak hits the dirt as the bear claw comes toward him, and miraculously the evasion tactic works; not questioning his luck, he snaps his axe out again, aiming for the paw that tried to rend his flesh. Hopping up as he strikes, the attack is in the form of an awkward uppercut, speeding toward the hot blood of the bear.

And as soon as the arrow flies, another of the yrch that dropped from above charges towards the archer's position. The uruk of Moria are not fools enough to allow archers to go unharried, and there beasts, scouts all, intend to see that they do not.

A blow unseen!, the Bear growls deep and menacingly as a strike finds flesh, but the unnatural hide holds well against the Goblins blows, as arrow and spear also strike and break asunder. Turning his head to look upon another foul and foolish foe, his eyes glowing with demonlike red centres as they reflect in the starlight. He snorts and lashes out, his attack this time with his open maw, wanting to bite the head right from the skulking Goblin.

Noticing the orc mere seconds before the axe lands, Terridan spins his body quickly, trying desperately to evade the falling blade. He is not fully successful though, as the axe tears along his mail, not penetrating, but winding the elf slightly. The quendi drops his bow, and his hands move for the hilt of his sword, bringing the blade up in an ackward attack towards his assailant.

Skanes' blood spatters across Boaz's chest and he yells then yells again, a chilling sound that seems to rattle the brain. In a frenzy he spins to his left, bloodshot eyes searching for more flesh to render.

The carcass of a dead orc falls atop the shaman from a boulder overhead but the priest maintains his balance, catching the fallen dush with his spearpoint. The deceased uruk's ribs crack like kindling and dark blood runs down the haft of the spear. He prepares himself for any new attackers.

A quick motion by the oddly-formed uruk stops the elven blade from biting into his body, but the arrow, carelessly ignored by the brute, bites through the vest covering his chest to draw blood from beneath. With a howl, the flame-faced shaman slashes his axe out towards Terridan once more, hoping his companions will keep the archers from him long enough to fell this foe.

Garom attacks Terridan with his Axe and moderately wounds him! Berzgat yelps almost in panic as the jaws of the beast snap down at his head, but though aged, he is still nimble, and with just enough room in the mele, the orc plants his left foot, digging out a foothold and springing to his right, the bear jaws snapping down shoulder-height to the orc.

Pressing this as advantage, Berzgat gives a great warcry and slams his shield straight to his left and up, aiming to club the jaws of the bear ere it can move its head away, his axe whirling over from right to left in front of his own face and cleaving down in a vertical chop aimed to take the great beast in the back of the head, the blow lent enough force to shatter vertebrae and cleave flesh alike should it land..

To the side of the Bear, as he half turns to attack his second opponent, the first gets in an unsought blow and it strikes deeper then the first wound, the Bear letting some yelp come from his maw though trying as best to keep his sights on both now.

Mirelas observes the distant battle in anxious silence.

Terridan cries out in pain as the axe bites down into his left arm, and he turns his eyes, blazing with fury and hate at the orc as he lifts his sword in a quick, but powerful strike to the beast's chest, screaming out in heavily accented westron, "In the name of Elbreth die!"

Bloody now, but at least starting to hold his own, Skames sweeps low, trying to pass his blade jst over the top of the stone. Though his grip is slick with the ever flowing seepage of his own red blood, he tries once again to hit the vulgar shaman. Skames attacks Boaz with his Axe, but he misses by an arm's length.

Morale bolstered by his lack of bear-induced death, Pathak presses on his attack with a vigor unmatched in any training pit. Feet shuffling on the gravley ground, the warlord moves in closer and lets his axe come around in a great arc, intended to terminate in the breaking of the bear's head. The axe, already shining with a mixture of blood and oil, seeks yet again to drink from the large vessel of life before it.

The battle joined pell-mell before his eyes to his delight, Gollum steps further out of his hiding place. Croutched low, walking on all fours, the black little creature crawls along the base of the cliff dodging the hob-nail boots of orcs and the light soled shoes of elves. He cowers back as some headless snaga nearly falls on him knocked asunder by the black bear, "*GOLLUM* Little sneaker dead, my preciousss." His fingers stretch out to touch the bloody corpse and he shivers, the bear's frightening roars making his shoulders seize up. Gollum shudders as he looks back at the hulking beast that now battles with the bigger orcs down the path, "Now, they cannot see us, my precious. We can go, my precious. Yess. Go, my precious. Sneak into the mountains, my precious. Find the dark, the dark, my precious, where the Bagginses... yess... The dark, the dark, my precious..." Quickly, he scuttles on the path.

Slipping his shield onto his arm as he swiftly moves in on Boaz and Skames, Kathalis lets a shrill battlecry as he leaps towards the fray. In his cry, is the power of elbereth. See me and flee creature of the dark!

But nimble is the shaman, and his almost quadrapedal build gives him manueverability enough to leap aside. "Skai! 'Tis you who shall die, light-born, for the glory of the Flame." The beast hops to find cover among the rocks from other archers, while still chopping with his axe towards Terridan's chest, seeking to drop this elf and allow him to pursue the next.

Blood is drawn again on the Great Bear, this time from the bback of it's ear, only the thick skull of the Bear keeping it alive. Shaking its head quickly he regains his senses in time to swat aside one of the axes, and then roaring aloud he goes onto the offense, trying to keep this melee two sided. A sweeping claw stroke and the right paw of the bear lashes out.

With spead befitting her skill, and nimble hands to boot; Gillhach draws another arrow from the quiver depending from her belt. With dart nocked, and string drawn, the huntress raises her bow to the onslaught of Garom's fellow, who grows ever nearer. Once loosed, the grey-fletched shaft flies true over the few yards that separate archer from target. Leaving the orc to spin about, flying limply to the ground as it enters drives through the creature's unarmoured throat; black blood spraying all about. So Gillhach is away again, and hid.

Bzjokze continues his approach, now fairly close.. But one last arrow dives through his armor and slams into his abdomen. Now looking much like a running pin cushion with a Battle Axe he charges one of the elves near the front. His red eyes glare at at Arehir and his axe seems to cry out for blood, just as the Dush does. Retribution runs foremost in this thoughts, death to the elves.. The muscles flex beneath his closing, and the hands grip the shaft even more tightly before he finally sends his blade towards the enemy.

And then, with a thump, another of the black-skinned yrch lands atop the bush, crushing it beneath its weight. The beast swings its darkbladed scimitar towards light elven flesh, seeking a feast in elven blood.

Nimble is Terridan as well, and with speed unmatched he ducks past the swinging axe, and brings his sword across in a shining arc, the blade glowing a bright white as it nears its intended target, and Terridan presses the attack forward as the beast retreats.

Boaz feels a breeze near his neck and spins only to find Skames pestering him again. The shaman looks at the tattered youth and sneers, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He growls and grips the shaft of his spear with both hands, ready to drive it into Skames still beating heart.

With a loud clash of metal upon metal, dark-forged axe meets day-forged steel. The yrch is the victor, pushing the elven blade away from his body and, with a dark grin, pressing the advantage. "The Light has made you weak, elf. Tonight we shall feast on your flesh, and send your bones to the Flame!" The shaman's axe lashes out visciously at Terridan's chest, seeking to drive balance and life from the slim elven frame.

Stepping deftly to the side as the battle-mad yrch hurls himself forward, Arehir now brings glittering Gaileg into the frey, and with a cry as feral and piercing as any orc on the mountain, pivots his body toward the orc, sword whistling in a deathly arc.

Dispatching the next from her hide; an arrow stuck through the goblin's eye and into it's empty skull; Gillhach looks to aid her cousin as best she may, for lack of a blade. Hastily, she draws another from her quiver, loosing it. With a hope that it might hit upon it's targets shoulder, rending sinew and bone. Leaving the arm inoperable mayhap.

Berzgat's lips peel back in a sneer of bloodlust, his axe rebounding up and away from the blasted thick skull of the Bear, pulling his arm away and half turning him from the loathed, furry giant. As the thing momentarily switches focus to the Warlord, Berzgat again seeks opportunity, pressing to the left side of the bear, angling towards its back and then again smashing out with the embossed round sheild, hoping to pinion the bear's left claw against it's own hip as the orc pushes off that contact and whips his axe around, aimed to contact the joint in Black_Bear's "arm" at the full extent of his own shield arm, meaning to chop a goodly way into the limb..

Terridan's face grimaces in anger and rage, and he spits at the orc's words. He speaks quietly, and moves forward with a thrust from his sword at the same time, "Die..." he presses forward again, not giving an inch to the creature before him.

A great holler peals forth from Pathak as he swings his axe around to meet the oncoming paw. If it were any normal weapon trying to take his life, this would be a simple matter of a parry; but with this claw-bearing instrument coming toward him, the defensive quickly turns into an attack, with Pathak's axe seeking to meet the beast's bristling paw. The warlord leans back with his attack, ready to fall out of the way if he can't stop the speeding attack of the bear...

With a roar that bespeaks of being ignored, Kathalis barrels down upon Boaz driving his sword to knock away the spearhead that speeds towards Skames breast. A flash of sparks cascades, as the darkened iron of the spear meets the silver alloy of the blade. Turning now, the Elvish warrior gazes into the eyes of the orc. Fight me now.

Quick again is the yrch shaman, but not quick enough. The elven-forged blade cuts this time through an un-ringed area of the shaman's armor, drawing a scrape along his tough skin. With a broad-tusked grin, the beast chuckles softly. "That the best you've got, light-born? Taste black steel!" With a roar, the beast leaps towards Terridan, his axe screaming down at the frail elf's shoulder.

Skames looks pathetic, his best efforts fended off by a single Orc. As if ashamed, he raises his blade again, as if trying, hoping, even pleeding to recover and gain some advantage, he sweeps his axe up high exposed, as Kathalis roars in and saves him. He mutters some thanks and turns to run.

Mirelas cries out as the battle rages on and the elven injuries increase in number, but remains where she is.

Terridan spins away from the weapon, the axe tearing at the armor once more, but not penetrating this time. Terridan continues the spin, and drives his blade down into an arc, hoping to drive the blessed blade through the armor that the beast before him wears. Terridan attacks Garom with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

Some quick reflexes save the Bear from another pair of well placed strikes and rearing suddenly onto his hind legs he lunges at one of the twain of Goblins that harray him. His fury building into a deadly pair of dealt claws that lash forth.

Light-forged steel renders dark-forged iron, and a gash appears in the vest of the yrchish shaman. The beast roars his fury, taking little heed of the wound that even now wells forth blood. His dark, sturdy axe is brought to bear from the downward swing delivered before, and swung upwards with a mightly arm towards the elf's chin. Immediately after sending the blow, the beast turns his body, protecting itself more behind his shield.

Dank sweat streams into Boaz's eyes as he turns to face Kathalis. His face is a picture of rage and he literally spits out words in the common tounge. "Helping the weak are we?" he snarls, "Yes... and you will pay for your mistakes, light dweller." As the shaman crouches and shifts his weight towards the elf, he mutters something about innards.

Once more, Berzgat plies speed against sheer brute force, and as the enraged bear lunges full, again he drops to the side, this time lower still and pivots so that he faces the orcish ranks now, side by side with the bear, his right shoulder to the bear's left side. His right arms swings back, a look of pure malice blazing in his crimson eyes as the axe whips forward, low and horizontal, aiming to catch the bear in the small of his large back, the tempered edge with the hammer-weight driving the steel forward with a hideous whistling sound...

Terridan slaps the axe away before it can reach his skin, and the Quendi continues the motions of his blade, bringing his sword in an upward arc, almost as if in a parady of the shaman's own strike but a moment before as the blade streaks upwards.

At least whilst her kinsman fares better, Gillhach allows the beast some respite; and back to the fray she turns, seeking out targets of opportunity. (Which, of course are plentiful) And to her quiver she looks, where rest arrows quite numerable; one of which she selects at a glance, removing it to the yew shaft of her bow. Once drawn, she looses it upon friend Kathalis' foe.

But the shaman is not where the elf though he would be. The yrch has dodged aside, and even as the elven blade swings through the air where once stood a beastly uruk, the shaman's axe rushes towards the inside of Terridan's knee. The spin taken by the orc is not a controlled one, but it leaves him in a defensive pose.

Skames backs away from the struggle of the elven warrior and dark tatooed shaman now grasping his sides and trying to recover. The blood seeps between his fingers as he packs it down. A few steps and he is turned towards the elven archers moving as swiftly as he can.

Skames dodges aside Boaz, and manages to escape! Skames heads directly east, down an alternative path along the top of the Dimrill Dale and out into Rhovanion.

Ignoring the whizzing arrows about his shoulders, his eyes narrow in a burning rage. Deftly, Kathalis slips passed the stabbing spear, his blade swinging about in deadly strike towards the mumbling orc. In his eyes, this orcs blood will splash his blade.

The eyes of the Morian warlord are stretched wide open with the exhileration of the fight, making him look even more maddened than before. His lips start to move rapidly, but they form no coherent words in any language. He simple babbles, spreading the sound of his excited voice through the battle in small, broken syllables that increase in volume and speed as he lunges in for another attack, this time going for the bear's ribcage as Pathak works his way toward the hind-end of the beast, putting himself in a more advantageous position.

Pathak furiously attacks Black_Bear with his Axe and lightly wounds him!

Terridan sees the attack coming for his leg, and attempts to bring his sword down in time to parry the axe. For all his speed, terridan is not quick enough, and only manages to deflect the blow into a glancing cut along his upper thigh, a trail of red blood following. He frowns deeply, and speaks no more as he cuts along the beasts stomach, driving the sword towards the cursed orc.

The sound of metal slashing against chain is heard, and a few of the links break under the pressure of the elven warriors sword. Bzjokze leaps back, screaming from the pain as the sword. His clear miss frustrating to say the least, and re-evaluating his foe he quickly sets a new target.. Perhaps chopping off the elves head. Slowly now, trying to get his muscles to respond, the axe is swung.

With hiss of pleasure at having escaped unnoticed, ignored by battle engaged about him, Gollum scampers up the slope to reach the lip of the cave at its head. The torch flames that glimmer within hurt his sensitive eyes. He cries out sharply and puts his hand over his face and huddles back against the cold, rough stone. Suddenly, he leaps up and rushes past the mouth of the mountain opening, caring little for whatever stragglers from the Morian host lie within. Soon on the further side, higher up the pass, the dark little creature pause to look back on the battle behind him and grins in his horrid fashion once again, his big, round eyes shining happily as he does his strange dance again, "Happy, happy, kill the mens, kill the elvesesss, happy goblinssesesss, hurt them, kill them, happy, happy, hee hee hee! *GOLLUM* *GOLLUM*" Then he turns and travels further up the mountain humming to himself.

Black_Bears momentum only drives him deeper onto the wicked Axe sent before him, driving into his back and drawing a great cry of pain from the beasts maw. Then a second scathing blow also finds its mark and sensing now it is drawing itself into a dangerous task, one to great for even a kin of Beorn, it turns. Looking now to the rocky trail that he originally came from, the Bblack Bear concedes defeat and tries to force its way through Goblin aggressors and make its way to freedom.

The beastly shaman leaps aside once again, his past injuries forgotten. The flame-framed eyes squint in thirst for elven blood, and the beast leaps around like a monkey, searching for an opening. Spotting a likely one after a feint to the left, the beast-shaman swings his axe underhanded towards Terridan's left side, the dark-forged blade seeking to drink of the blood of elvish kidneys.

Raising the golden-tree-emblazoned shield easily to deflect the high circle of the cursed axe, the elven warrior now takes advantage of his foe's extension, and thrusts ferociously toward the orc's midsection.

Terridan brings the sword up quickly, despite the injuries he has. The peal of metal against metal rings out, but the axe's path is halted from it's intended target in Terridan's side. Bringing the blade back around, he thrusts forward, sending the tip of the steel towards the orc's chest.

Boaz is taken aback by two blows in a row. First he catches an unexpected arrow in his thigh -- for that he barely gives a grimace. But, lo! Off balance, the shaman is unable to defend himself and a wide gash opens up across his breast. He eyes the elven blade with disgust, still mumbling. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He prepares to bury his spear in Kathalis' flesh.

That multitude of arrows she once possesed now lost to stragglers, or else to pitiful, hobbling goblins despatched upon her place; Gillhach wants for darts, and, taking one of the last two in her posession from her quiver; she lends it to the defence of the bloodied, beaten bear. shoot at pathak

But the monkey-orc is, once again, elsewhere. Never stopping now, the beast-shaman seems to have found a strategy that works. With a dark grin, the creature leaps up upon a nearby rock, and then pounces at Terridan. While eyes would see the yrch's path as a straight leap, the path carries him actually past and beyond the elf, out of weapon's reach, while the orcish blade has already swung out a blode towards the archer's neck.

As the elven blade slides across Bzjokze's midsection his intestines begin to pour out through the wound! The pain, of many arrows.. and now a mortal wound, is almost too much to bear.. But somewhere, from deep within he gains the strength for another swing.. a desperate swing.

A small smile spreads across Kathalis' face as his blade creases a red line across his opponant's breast. Unpreturbed by the unintelligable gibberish, his blade arcs quickly up again with the intent on adding a vertical line to this orc's collection. Silver lightning, the blade speeds in.

Berzgat sneers and bellows triumphantly as the bear turns and attempts to escape, the sight of the hulking enemy turning tail firing the cruelty that drives orc-kind. Again, the orc presses attack, this time trying to stop the escape of the bear, he dips his axe swing low, in a backhanded strike from low left to right, bending and straightening with the swing, the blade aimed for the back of the bear's ankle, the swing meant to sever the tendon there and drop the beast to the earth where he can be hewn like so much firewood...

Terridan blinks in surprise, then ducks underneath the axe, watching the blade fly past where his neck once was. As the strike passes by, he wastes no time, and sets off towards the orc as he flies through the air, swinging at the beast as the creatures feet begin to touch earth.

But swift still is the yrch-shaman, and the blade meets only shield as the creature turns. This offers the shaman a target he cannot pass up, and the turning of his body turns into a wicked stroke as the axe blade speeds towards Terridan's sword-arm.

Pathak's attention is easily taken away from the bear; when fighting is so close, why bother chasing one foe? Looking over the field, his eyes quickly locate one of his Dush, being abused by Arehir. Letting a roar escape his lips, Pathak charges forth toward Bzjokze, screaming at the elven swordsman, trying to be a distraction.

Mirelas glances down the path to the east then back toward the battle.

Gollum almost disappears around the turn in the pass before looking back to see how the battle progresses. He giggles once again, "Goblinses, goblinsess beat the elfses and the mens!" Then he passes on up the mountain, his long hands and flat feet carrying him silently from the watch of any left upon the pass above him.

Boaz rounds on Kathalis, hoping to get at his flank and make room for his comrades to crowd in, numbers being Moria's greates ally. For his time he receives a gash of broken rings in his armor, again across his breast. The foul priest snarls, spins his spear 360 degrees, then attempts to hamstring his foe... once on the ground he would be as good as in the kettle.

At the last, with but one arrow to her name; Gillhach whistles a signal of her retreat, jumping up, out of her hide at a run; with but a brief stop midstep, the huntress nocks an arrow, loosing it as passing service to her battling cousin; and, with no regard for the hit, is off along the way; as stealthily as she came.

Terridan meets the axe again with his sword, knocking the wicked weapon away from his body. Terridan quickly follows through with the opening this leaves him, and strikes for the weapon arm of the beast, the sword flashing in an downwards arc.

Still making his way, the wounded Bear stumbling as it goes, he turns his head to look behind and offer one last deafening roar to the Goblins he leaves behind, a show of defiance in his defeat. Bounding along, in the way of the beast, the bulking form begins to dissapear from view as the distance between foe and Bear increases.

Realizing that his immediate foe is little threat now, and noticing in his periphery that some of his folk are fairing less well than himself, the elven Captain decides to flee this encounter. Gritting his teeth with battle-rage nonetheless, Arehir sidesteps the last gasping hack by the orc, and then drives the pommel of his sword into the back of the foul beast's neck. He spares little time savoring the victory though, as one of the foremost assailants of the yrchish host comes into view.

The light-forged blade meets only dark skin, and the angle of the blow is poor; the blade bounces aside from the shaman's thick skin, leaving nothing but a bruise beneath. With a roar, the yrch-shaman leaps forward towards his foe, his axe swinging towards the elf's neck, while crying in the purest of black tongues, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Mirelas waits anxiously for the other elves to begin retreating as well.