Price of Battle ➝ The Hobbit ✓

Part Twenty-Three

PART TWENTY-THREE ~

The ambush took place just as Arien and Thoros dusted off their breakfast plates; the impervious soldiers were just finishing off their meal when the orcs came, waves upon waves of them, all brandishing swords of crude steel, glinting red in the sunlight.

They charged out of the trees enclosing the camp, taking the whole regiment of troops by surprise. They struck down the first few dwarves who were loitering around the edge of the clearing, slicing through their numbers with no mercy or hesitation. Arien hastily got to grips with what was occuring and loosened her sword from the scabbard around her waist. The other dwarves mirrored her actions and charged towards the pitiless beasts, dropping everything they were previously clutching.

Arien met the first wave of troops with a barage of attacks, not holding back as she let out a relentless assault on the hefty beasts. Her sword sliced through the air in a blur, hacking and slashing and impaling every grotesque creature in her line of sight. 

After skewering another orc onto her sword, and dragging it back out of its motionless corpse, she scoured through the determined soldiers until she spotted her two friends fightnig side-by-side. She ran over to join them, allowing her blade to perform its deadly dance on the way. She greeted them with an impassive nod, before parrying a tenacious assault depicted by a bulky orc; its lips drew back into a sickly snarl, introducing her to a mouth bristling with rows of jagged teeth. She grinned back before decapitating it and dispatching it into the darkness.

The battle waged on all morning; the clearing was a disarray of bloodied corpses, deserted weapons and decapitated heads, bearing expressions or stark terror; both dwarves and orcs alike. 

Arien fought on with determination, though her strength was dwindling fast, as was the other soldiers'. It was apparant in their faces as they fought; their eyes were dim and lethargic, completely devoid of any hope, and their movements were growing clumsy and slow.

After decapitating another orc and sending its head skidding across the ground with a fountain of thick blood, she quickly rushed to Fili's aid as he became encirled by half a dozen snarling beasts. She wedged her blade into one of the heedled orcs, before tugging it back out and meeting another sword against her own with a clang! that rang loud through the clearing. She ducked and swerved, parried and deflected, slashed and bit, despatching of every beast who threatened to hurt the Dwarven Prince.

Fili nodded solemnly as the last orc fell dead, his eyes lifeless, yet thankful. Arien gingerly reached out a hand and clasped his shoulder encouragingly, before spinning away and joining the other soldiers.

It was reaching mid-day when the orcs finally retreated. A deep-throated horn cut through the air, and the few remaining orcs dispersed amongst the trees. Fili commanded several soldiers to hunt them down and wipe them out completely, but not many had survived the ordeal, and the task was completed within the hour.

All through the camp, the dwarves chattered idly to one another as they dragged and heaved the imbrued corpses into untidy heaps. Their bedrolls and equipment were stained crimson, but they had no choice but to keep them in use. As the last body was dragged to the side, and a light meal had been prepared to replenish their strength, Fili called a gathering. The soldiers crowded closer together, all peering expectatnly at their faithful leader. 

"Fellow warriors! Do not yet rejoice, for there is a larger battle approaching; a battle in which our loss with be much bigger." His resonant voice rang clear through the clearing, drawing the dwarves from their daze. Their numbers had not been reduced much from the ambush; only two dozen or so of their soldiers had died by the hands of the horiffic beasts, and only a few had sustained major injuried, but the war was steadily growing as more orcs approached Erebor.

A sombre mood settled over the silent warriors as they agreed with Fili's statement. "But we have been victorious through this morning! And for that, I grant you rest and food, and we shall set off for our home when our spirits have recovered!"

Fili recieved a silence in return, but it was nothing more than he expected. He nodded respectively at the impassive warriors, before turning to retire to his own bedroll and clean his blade from the mess of blood. The dwarves began to stir, and the camp became alive once more as people set about feasting upon a slight meal.

Arien remained where she was; leaning silently against a withering tree, stained green with old age, and caked with the blood of ages past. Her eyes fluttered close as her heart prayed for the departed. Why did war have to take so many lives?

...So many lives?

...So many lives?

...So many lives?

The words bounced back and forth in her mind, the echo becoming shallower, until it was suddenly broken by an intact voice.

"Arien?"

"Hmm?" Her eyes remained closed, as she felt a heavy weight flop down beside her. Thoros. 

"Are you okay?"

She nodded.

Thoros sighed.

"Fili wants to see you." With another sigh, she felt his weight lift up from the ground and his thumping footsteps receeded as he trudged away.

With her heart still heavy and grief clutching at her stomach, she plodded over to her friend. She felt guilty for not making an effort with Thoros, but her mind was too preoccupied to take interest in the matter. Instead, she appraoched Fili hesitantly, wondering what he needed to see her about.