c. 4 ORCS!
Gilrean had been asleep; the rain always had that effect on her. But with this new noise, she sat bolt upright and instantly rose to her feet.
What they all heard was the unmistakable sound of Orcs.
Reneal appeared next to Gilrean, thrusting the hilt of an extra sword into her hand. "Arm yourselves, we will need all the help we can receive."
Gilrean raised the weapon. She was trained in the use of the sword, as were all the women of the Dùnedain, but it had been long years since she had held one. The blade had the unmistakable characteristics of the Ranger's swords; it could be used as a one-handed or two-handed sword and the blade was short and sharp. She ran to the place where her son stood. He had managed to arm himself with a long knife that one of the men had been using to whet a coney with; it made a good sword for him.
The cave was dark, as they had put out the fire. The lightning was growing less, but in its illuminations, Gilrean could see the swords of men and orcs gleam in delight of the bloodshed. The vast size of the cavern made the shrill cries of the Orcs innumerable.
The rangers stood in a sharp line near the entrance of the cave, swords drawn. The orcs were small, gnarled-looking creatures but they slavered and howled, like mad wolves for fresh meat. Their numbers were twice that of the Rangers.
But there were none that fought more valiantly than the men of the West. They let the orcs come in their ragged line to smash against their wedge, cutting themselves on the sharp steel barrier. Two rangers fell, arrows sprouting from their bodies, but the intermittent light foiled the archers. Other missiles bounced harmlessly against the walls of the cave, and Gilrean tightened her grip on the sword.
She heard a soft sound behind her, one that she would hear even with the shrieks of orcs and thunder in her ears. Estel had moved; he stood beside her with a determined and somewhat fearful expression on his face. Although, he felt his heart and knees would give way, he would not cower behind. He would have to learn to fight eventually, even fighting his worst fears.
Almost as suddenly as the attack had come, it ended. Although, time was not measured in a battle, it had seemed to Gilrean that she had stood rooted to the spot for hours.
Soon, the orcs were making their retreat; the strength of the small party had taken them by surprise. Reneal sent what rangers could be spared to follow them and make sure they would not return.
Estel walked slowly forward, to the side of a fallen ranger. The man's face was smooth and wet from the rain. An arrow protruded from his chest and he did not move. The little hunter placed one hand on the breast of the man, feeling no more life within. He turned his face toward Gilrean, fresh tears on his cheeks.
"His name was Camlost; I remember him."
Reneal came to Estel and looked at the young man. "It is a ranger's duty to die for his chieftain. You will see many men die Estel Dùnedain; they will die beside you and because of you. Your survival is most important. So remember them but do not mourn them. There is time enough for grief after the battles are fought."
Reneal's hand on Estel's shoulder was firm, very reassuring. "Thank you little one for your brave stand today, we are truly in your debt."
Estel then went and crawled into his mother's lap. It began to rain again, gently, as the rangers built cairns for their dead.