Legolas and Gimli advanced on the orcs, raising their weapons with a harrowing war cry.
The orcs stood in battle formation, their spears slashing toward the front of the line with such ferocity that the spears looked like flint.
In the midst of the attack, a sudden burst of magic came from the north, sending forth sparks of light. It was not just bolts of blue light, it was flames.
The orcs fell down in the midst of the battle in a panic. They had no time to run or even shout or charge toward them. They were in a desperate situation, their weapons had cut through their flesh and bones – the spears.
Gimli saw them and ran his hand through his beard to hide his face. "Agh…! Is the Lord in the north?"
"Do you think I am the only man who knows the truth?" Thoros asked. No one else answered.
A voice said, "I wish to speak with Thoros. I will make your oath a reality, and I will make your death a death to be remembered."
Gimli turned to look