One arrow pierces him.
And he lifts the horn to his lips with a trembling hand and blows a lonely, desperate note. HELP. Feet must be running towards him, but he knows this attempt is in vain.
His boot-clad feet falter as he beholds the monstrous Orc weapon now embedded in him.
Two more arrows fly from the bows of their evil masters with a twing.
He stumbles, now. Three arrows, but he refuses to fall. No, no. He must save Merry and Pippen; the little Halflings won't survive without-
Four more arrows stick out of him in the blink of an eye.
And now he is down against a tree, his eyes darkening and his breath slowing. He beholds the faces of his friends, his companions.
His fellowship.
And he smiles.