There was no time to rest. Aeotha was pushed backwards past the line of bowman as Eibhear and Pol reached for Ilúvatar. Fenrir was yelling for more arrows as he pulled back arrow after arrow. Aeotha stood there watching, but all she could think of now was how they'd get ahead of the Drow again. The noise was insufferable, everything made noise now and all of it bothered her. Screams, mad yells, and blood falling below. She could hear all of those things and none of them at the same time. She was searching for something on a skyline that was as black as it'd been when they first arrived.
A sign. She wanted a sign. What was she suppose to do to help? One elf stumbled back and held his head blood gushing from it as drow lobbed rocks up at them. How they could reach so high?
Aeotha unstrapped the staff from her back, and from her place behind them she began to pray. For guidance, For something besides this. This mad dash they would need to take in seconds. Something that would help them. Aeotha swung her staff over her head in one long sweeping motion before opening her eyes again. "Move!" Four of the men jolted away from the rock face just as a blast of white light tore over the side of the rock face and blasted downwards at the Drow. It crashed down like a wave of water and poured over those closest to the bottom of the rock face.
"Run!" She yelled afterwards. There was little else to be done.
She did not turn away just yet, the first of the elves began to run, she caught the man with the bleeding head and took his arm as she too began to run. While they were moving she was praying. He needed to be healed. The blood would be much too obvious. They were as safe as they could be. Which was little comfort, but she still ran. They all had to, they had to.