Last Satyr of Middle Earth (Thorin Oakenshield)

Part 7

Eyes turn to the Satyr glaring with strong hate it scared even Thorin.

"You will do well to remember to never touch me like that again." Her voice holds a deep rumble resembling almost animalistic. Furious fire in her eyes keep the goblins away.

"It is my belief, your great protuberance, that they are in league with elves." One goblin speaks after the clear threat of the creature among them.

"That much is already obvious. What remains to be seen is why they have come?" the king tosses away a golden candlestick.

"Perhaps it is maybe we were just passing through. We certainly wouldn't want to be in this pit of hell ever in our lives. Accident as always." Iris speaks and give a pointed look to her companions to keep Thorin hidden from the goblin.

"Very well, if you will not talk, we'll make you squawk! Start with this goat." Goblins rush to her and she grunts hitting her antlers on a few but cry when they drop their full weight on her head almost snapping her neck back bending her backward. Their grimy hands touching places she does not like being touched.

"Wait!" The voice rang out, clear and strong over the noise of the goblins attacking and raping the satyr. Iris watch in horror as Thorin step out from the crowd of his kin.

"Fucking idiot." She growls under her breath.

"Well," the gobbling king smile from ear to ear. "Look who it is. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king under the mountain." He bows in a mocking gesture. "Oh," he straightens with a joyful smile. "But I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you...nobody really."

"Fucking ugly shit head. Thorin Oakenshield will be thirty times a king then you will ever be." Eyes turn to the satyr smacking her skull against a few goblins knocking them over the edge and have them fall to their demise. Iris still with fire in her eyes glare at the king. "Even if he does not have a crown or a mountain, he still is a king no matter where he is or who he is in presence with. He is and always will be a king."

Thorin eyes widen in disbelief at the words the satyr speaks. She really believes that. The king look between the two before shrugging and going back to speak with the dwarf.

"I know someone, who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, and nothing attached. Perhaps, you know of whom I speak; an old enemy of yours." Iris punches a few goblins to stand beside Thorin. "A pale orc, with a white warg."

"Azog the defiler was destroyed," Thorin says angrily, his voice carrying some disbelief. "He was slain in battle long ago."

"So, you think his defiling days are done, do you?" the king tittered before turning to a small goblin on a swing. "Send word to the pale orc. Tell him I have found his prize. Oh, and don't forget to mention the Satyr. A young female to breed with the pale orc. I'm sure he'll be pleased." Iris ferocious growl echoes out and Thorin shoulder jump. He never heard her make that sound before. "Go."

"Doesn't he already have an heir?" Iris asks eyeing the goblin slide down the rope.

"And how would you know that?"

"I hear things and I have mistakenly fell into that realm of great evil. Nearly died by escaping and trust me, I hear things far more than an elf can filth." Iris growls not liking smelling the odor from the goblin, but she will never show it.

"You seem to make it common to enter kingdoms on accident."

"Yeah, and when I do enter." She pulls Thorin sword out making the goblins cry out. "I fight."

"I know that sword. It's the goblin cleaver. Kill her! Kill them all." A bright light fill the air and she closes her eyes but she does not lower her guard.