Trever

“At times Amelia found herself struggling to keep up. Which, she reflected, was the difference between a woman who had spent her life out in the open, climbing over rocks and hiking through deserts and jungles, and one who curled up by the fire with a nice cup of tea and a good book. There was no question that she would rather be the latter, had been designed by nature to be the latter, and couldn't wait to get back to it, but Amelia made a mental note that if she got out of this she would take better care of herself in the future.”
― Robin Bailes, The Mummy's Quest

“Approaching the door, heavy tool bag hanging off her shoulder, she took up the brass knocker and rapped four times. Loudly. Hulda preferred not to repeat herself. For a moment, all was silent. Then she heard the sound of something thick crashing onto the floor—several somethings—followed by a brief shriek.”
― Charlie N. Holmberg, Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

“The light of the drawing of the swords of the Noldor was like a fire in a field of reeds; and so fell and swift was their onset that almost the designs of Morgoth went astray.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

“But when Glaurung felt his death-pang, he screamed, and in his dreadful throe he heaved up his bulk and hurled himself across the chasm, and there lay lashing and coiling in his agony. And he set all in a blaze about him, and beat all to ruin, until at last his fires died, and he lay still. Now Gurthang had been wrested from Turambar’s hand in the throe of Glaurung, and it clave to the belly of the dragon. Turambar therefore crossed the water once more, desiring to recover his sword and to look upon his foe; and he found him stretched at his length, and rolled upon one side, and the hilts of Gurthang stood in his belly. Then Turambar seized the hilts and set his foot upon the belly, and cried in mockery of the dragon and his words at Nargothrond: ‘Hail, Worm of Morgoth! Well met again! Die now and the darkness have thee! Thus is Túrin son of Húrin avenged.’ Then he wrenched out the sword, but a spout of black blood followed it, and fell on his hand, and the venom burned it. And thereupon Glaurung opened his eyes and looked upon Turambar with such malice that it smote him as a blow; and by that stroke and the anguish of the venom he fell into a dark swoon, and lay as one dead, and his sword was beneath him.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion