Mine eyes had never before observed a beast like the one that held my young friend in its clutches.
At first glance, it appeared to be a dark sort of lion, but with dragon-like plates upon its form, though it more resembled a grotesquely large ant or a beetle than it did a dragon.
No eyes. Steaming saliva dripped from its gaping maw, causing Nob to scream as it burned his face.
Wasting no time, I pointed the strange crossbow at the creature's head and fired.
The beast shrieked as gore exploded from its head, and its poor victim, caught in a shower of caustic blood, responded with screams of his own.
"Turn your head, Hobbit! And rub your burns in snow!" Not the most elegant or effective method, but one had to stay the damage somehow.
I fired another shot, and the creature quit its victim, turning its attentions fully upon me.
"A Elbereth!" I intoned, summoning the powers of that old god. "Githoniel o mendel palan-diriel le nallon si di'nguruthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos!"
In response, the trees rattled, the icicles shook, and I thought for sure Elbereth Starkindler would descend from the heavens to deliver me.
This did not occur, possibly due to the fact this solemn hymn had been invoked numerous times during the War of the Ring, and the gods needed rest. Else, they had lost patience with the cries of man and other creatures, devoting their energies solely to the elves. Either way, it seemed I had the Fates against me.
I aimed the crossbow again and pulled the trigger, but it refused to bark.
The creature was nigh on my chest before I discovered the magical crossbow had to be coaxed into operation by the movement of the rectangular attachment on the rod piece.
I wounded the monster thrice more before it had me pinned to the snow and soil, whence I lay chanting what I hoped to be my most powerful spell.
I turned my head as I did this, careful to avoid the burning gobs of sputum, and as I chanted, the gods appeared to answer me, my hands glowing, unnatural strength being imbued upon them.
Miraculously, I found myself able to shove the beast aside, despite it weighing as much as a small horse, and heretofore too great a burden for me to lift .
As I arose and searched the ground for my missing portable cannon, I witnessed a rain of arrows penetrating the shiny hide of this great beast, a pair of Aragorn's aides standing ready with nocked bowstrings, the angular faced woman from a distant land, and the pale skinned man with oddly short cropped hair.
The creature anticipated them firing, and lashed out first.
The white man took the brunt of the creature's fury, for he stood nearest. Black claws tore into him like an infuriated mountain lion.
The flat nosed woman with the narrow eyes fired upon the thing, but when she saw that it did little to deter it from slaying her companion, she drew a slender, curved blade, slicing into the beast's body with a quick but stylized motion.
By this time her fallen ally succumbed to his wounds and died, but this did not deter her from seeking revenge.
Alas, upon cutting into it, her non-elvish blade crumbled beneath the beast's caustic fluids, reducing the weapon to a flimsy corroded stick.
I fired more projectiles from the mobile cannon, but the creature, infuriated, made short work of the woman, then redoubled its hostilities upon my person.
As mentioned previously, the weapon had created a small mound of golden arrowheads, which I had pocketed, rather than placing them back in the device from the start. Such an action would require careful examination, of which I hadn't the luxury in this particular circumstance.
It seemed the device required the arrowheads, for, after I had fired a tetrad of bolts, two of which traveling astray, I found the device empty, and no amount of pumping the rectangular box yielded another burst.
The creature roared and leapt, tearing my robes to ribbons as it knocked me painfully to the stony ground.