The ogres were streaming towards the front line. Rumpelstiltskin, better known as Rumpel by his friends and family, could see their long arms wielding swords, spears and maces. He wasn't afraid. he stood up in his stirrups, bracing himself for the oncoming attack. When an ogre was close enough that Rumpel could see sweat dripping down it's face he swirled his sword in an arc, shearing the ogre in two. Before Rumpel could even catch his breath another ogre had taken the place of it's fallen comrade. Rumpel swung at the right side of the creatures neck and when it raised it's shield to defend itself, Rumpel changed direction mid-swing and chopped off the ogre's head. Rumpel swung his blade in beautiful arcs and devastating blows. He had killed ten ogres and barely had he himself been touched, when it happened.
It felt like his foot was on fire. Rumpel screamed in agony and fell off his horse. He sat on the battlefield clutching his foot and moaning. A comrade, and friend, of Rumpe's ran over and picked him up, carrying him out of harms way before setting him down.
"Can you walk?"
Rumpel gingerly put weight on his foot and pain flooded his body. He picked his foot off the ground and shook his head. " I can't put weight on my foot, and I doubt I'll ever be able to walk without assistance," Rumpel replied. His comrade nodded empathetically, picked Rumpel up and carried him to the camp "hospital" where he lie Rumpel down on a cot and got him some water. Rumpel thanked his comrade before passing out from the pain he was suffering.