Clutching his battered sword to his chest, his knuckles white, his breathing rapid, his heart pounding, he wills himself to get to his feet and run - and yet his training holds him still.
The words of his master bring calm to his (tiny) brain:
It is movement that the eyes seek, especially in the darkness. Hold still in the darkness and all those filthy Men will walk past you. Except Dwarves - kill them before they kill you.