Target: Different language features, and use more of the different sentence types
The Perspective of Olórin
The tomb of my fallen friend grieves me dearly. I begin to recall the adventure of the company of 13 dwarves. I recall the finding of Ocrist and Glamdring, the two blades forged in Gondolin, in the second age. “He’s dead then” said Frodo. Gimli covers his face with his hood. I recall the slaying of the Goblin King, and the escape from goblin town. I then remembered my old friend, Bilbo Baggins. I then come to look at my hobbit companions. There is Frodo, who very much reminds me of Bilbo. Then, there is the Took and the Brandybuck, they both can be rather annoying in my opinion. Finally, there is Sam, who is quite loyal and has as much bravery as 10 dwarves.
Throughout the book of Mazarbul, which I picked up off of my fallen friend’s tomb, I read “We cannot get out, We cannot get out.” I hear a faint banging in the deep, then a crash, bash, and then silence. I spin around to see Peregrin Took. “Fool of a Took!” I yell. A stone had been thrown down a hole in the tomb.
I heard a banging in the deep. I say to our fellowship “We have company.” Boom, Boom, Doom, the drums sound. “ORCS!” yells Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. Boromir looked out the door, there are arrows flying by his head, and a loud banging on stone is heard to all. The banging sounds as loud as the signal horn that was blown in the Battle of the Five Armies, before the city of Erebor. “They have a cave troll, perfect” says Boromir.
After a long and tiring fight, the battle is won. All of the uruks have been slain. Sam received a cut to the forehead, possibly poisoned, Frodo received a bruise from the spear of the chieftain, slain by Aragorn, and I appear to have an arrow through the top of my hat.
We now are making for the bridge of Khazad-Dûm, and the exit of Dimrill Dale. We are heading down the stairs, and I block the way to prevent further enemies from passing the gate.
The fellowship continues on towards the exit. I hear a large cracking in the tomb, a roar like deepened flames. Along with the roar I hear the sound of the feet of Gollum, pursuing the ring. This can only mean one thing… a servant of Melkor, or Morgoth as more commonly known. A demon of flame that is equal to me, another Maiar.
I am blasted down the stairs into the company. “Well, well! That’s over!” We head down to the lower levels.
“We ought to be at the level of the gates” I say. The orcs have given up chase with us. “It’s getting hot” exclaims Frodo. The demon would be the one responsible for this.
We are now running through another section of Dwarrowdelf. I keep hearing the repetition of drums in the deep, doom, doom, doom. Orcs start to pursue us again.
We finally make it to the bridge, Legolas is shooting arrows at the orcs that are firing at us from afar. I speak to Aragorn alone, “You must lead the fellowship on, for I fear that I may not return.”
The large grumbling returns, Legolas screams “Ai! Ai! A Balrog!” It approaches the bridges and the orcs flee. I yell “You cannot pass! For I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor.” The Balrog does not flee. I continue to try, “Go back to the Shadow!” I ponder my choices, and finally come to my conclusion. If I must sacrifice myself for Middle-Earth, I will. “You shall not pass!” I yell. I smite the bridge with all of my remaining energy, and the Balrog falls along with me, into the long deep of the Misty Mountains. I hear the cry of my comrades now. “Gandalf!” Frodo yells. I will miss him dearly.
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