So Far Away ✔

001

. . .

THORIN

. . .

Thorin felt as if someone had grabbed his heart and slowly but firmly squeezed it. Blood spattered on his face when the giant orc swung the head of his grandfather. Frozen in pain, he watched the head bounce towards him. His eyes followed every turn of it, until it bumped against his foot. He felt so desolated that he could only open his mouth and scream like a dying man.

Despite the warning cries around him, he could not take his eyes off his grandfather's face. His eyes looked straight at him, as if he wanted to give him a final order. "Save our people."

Thorin swallowed and managed to turn his attention to the massive orc. He raised his sword and ran up the slope, straight to his enemy, who was twice his size. It felt like his grandfather urged him to destroy this creature, that had brought his family so much misery.

When their swords met, the tendons in Thorin's shoulder tore, causing him to yell out. His chest swelled by the hatred that filled him. He would kill that orc, even if it was the last thing he would do. He did not care if he would die with him.

Azog drew his weapon and rammed a dwarf who was in his way a few meters aside. Thorin's heart pounded in his chest as he was hit again, but this time his sword was beaten out of his hands. His thumb bent double and went out of joint, but there was no time to think about that. He crawled back in vain searching for something with which he could defend himself. He raised his shield when the huge orc struck again, but it splintered under the violence of his opponent.

Thorin's brain stopped working when Azog waved his weapon in the air again. He touched around and his fingers found a piece of oak. Just when his death blow hurtled towards him, he pushed the thick piece of wood between them. The pale orc was not prepared for this and Thorin got on his feet again. He snatched his sword from the ground and cut off the arm of his enemy.

Dark drops of blood fell on him while Azog's screams filled the air. His eardrums trembled. He pushed his finger back into the joint, picked up the piece of oak and watched the orc flee back to his fortress.

Scattered, he looked around. They were obviously a minority. They would all be killed, even now that the captain had fled like a beaten dog.

"Back off!" He shouted to the men who'd served his grandfather. He tried to discover his father between the dwarves and orcs, but he didn't see the man and he couldn't wait for his command.

The men listened to him and began to withdraw. The orcs snarled and spat on them and some chased them, but many were covered with wounds, done with the fight now their leader had fled as well.

"Back!" he shouted again.

This was a battle they couldn't win. Moria was lost.

Thorin drove his sword into the chest of an orc that blocked his way and moved on, urging his comrades to leave the vicinity. Blood stained his forearms red while he severed all that crossed his path. No matter how much blood flew, nothing could compensate for the losses of that day.

It would always remain a dark chapter in his life.

. . .

Dís

. . .

With a beating heart Dís lifted Kíli and put him on her side while she took Fíli by the hand and descended the stairs, that brought them outside.