Calm The Fire: 117

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It had to be admitted that this experience was by far Bilbo's most hated experience - though later on he'd find it the most interesting to explain - he wasn't particularly contributing in it, in truth he may have slipped on his ring and disappeared after it became apparent that the Goblins were going to keep appearing on the slope he was on. He stuck close to Thranduil and the Elves. Náriel at one point had turned to speak to him only to see he was not there. He was, but she couldn't see him. She looked scared, worried and looked around with wide eyes. Only, this caused her guard to be down. She screamed when she was pounced on and hurtled downwards from the slope beside her uncle. Thranduil had naturally looked sharply to the space where she was just standing. Looking around both him and his son looked down. They could see the attacker but not Náriel. After a few seconds the Goblin was kicked aside and Náriel jumped up and looked around with wide eyes. She had fallen from a great height, but she had purposely made sure that the Goblin impacted against the cliff face whenever they neared it in their descent. Just when it came to landing, she landed on it and the momentum continued to carry her and she unwillingly rolled and its lifeless corpse landed on her.
Unsheathing her sword she quickly glanced up. She was surrounded by fellow Elves, so she was surrounded by comrades and friends. Though being down below on the ground was also perhaps the more dangerous place to be. She flinched and ducked to the side when someone shuttled through the air and landed in a crumpled heap behind her.
She didn't know what to do. For the first time she was lost on what to do. Fight, yes, but she admittedly was scared and it was something which her uncle and cousin could clearly see. It was also something Bilbo saw, and he felt awful guilt for making her find herself in this situation. If she was up here Thranduil and Legolas would do anything to keep her out of harms way. Down there, she was more or less trapped.
Regardless she gave them both a wry smile before moving quickly off. She disappeared then. Bilbo could no longer see her, and though both strained their eyes it was clear Thranduil and Legolas couldn't see her either.
Though all three worried for her, Náriel in truth was fine. She used her smaller form to squeeze and duck and manoeuvre her way through the great bodies of people which surrounded her. She briefly looked upwards, the sky was darkening again. Not through some force beyond nature, but because the day had dragged on and the earlier storms were reappearing. She looked back to see a wayward Goblin fumbling with an arrow which pierced its chest, it looked up upon sensing her only to have her blade whip across its neck. Falling to the ground Náriel jumped over its form and skidded backwards harshly when she came face to face with a Warg. It barred its teeth at her and dropped the form which it was shaking vigorously in its jaws. For the most part, it looked like it had either abandoned its rider ages ago, or its rider had been disposed of.
Náriel shifted her weight and held her sword tightly in her hands. The Warg went down on its haunches with full intention of pouncing when its ears suddenly flicked backwards. There was shouting. Only this shouting was coming from Erebor.
Thorin. Through all the fighting, everyone had seemingly forgotten about Thorin and his group of Dwarves who had been within the Mountain this whole time. Part of the wall slowly moved and out charged the King Under the Mountain. He had seemingly changed to a more suitable suit of armour since previously seeing him. Shining though it was, it looked more intricate, more impressive, Náriel raised an eyebrow, it was definitely more status defining that was for sure. Much like him, his companions were wearing similar - though perhaps not as impressive - suits of armour. Regardless of their appearance the armour had one job to do and that was to protect the wearer.
Náriel was distracted by their appearance that she was only just conscious of being knocked aside. Screaming she managed to wriggle underneath the large creature. When she had fallen she had dropped her sword. Looking to the side she could see it just within reach. Yet she couldn't get it. Her hands were busy pushing the large jaws which kept opening and closing away from herself. Squeezing her eyes shut she looked around with tearing eyes. Letting out a defeated sound she wheezed suddenly when the weight was shifted and gone. It was only then that she realized that her breathing was slowly being cut off by the large paws of her attacker. Rolling onto her side she coughed and breathed in large lungfuls of air.
Being suddenly pulled again she grasped onto her sword and aimed it backwards. The Goblin screeched painfully and went sailing backwards. Standing dizzily up she was suddenly attacked again and knocked downwards. She couldn't catch herself and she winced when her head smacked against the harsh ground. She could already feel blood dripping down her forehead. Much like earlier with the Warg she suddenly found the force of her attacker disappear.
With the disappearance also came sudden peace. Shielded piece. Quite literally, she cracked open an eye and caught the sight of the rounded shield. Yet she still didn't move, she was trying to catch her breath back. This turn of events had literally knocked her off of her feet and made her unable to recover quickly.
Letting out a slow sigh she pushed herself off of her chest and looked up. "Achrâchi gabilul, sanzeuh." Were the first words which Thorin spoke as he kept one arm threaded through the shield brace. His other hand reached up, and with the sleeve of the tunic which he wore underneath his armour, he wiped the blood away from her face. There was already other flecks of blood and dirt on her face, but the cut across her forehead seemed to be the worse injury she had sustained so far.
Náriel's eyes widened, reaching up she placed her hands against his face. Thorin just looked at her simply. "...You are here...or have I died and this is some sort of torment?"
"We're alive." Thorin said with a frown. "For the moment, we are alive."
"You came," Náriel whispered and couldn't help but let a few tears fall. They trailed through the dirt and grime which coated her cheeks. "You came!" She managed to exclaim though her voice broke. She pulled him close and nudged her forehead against his. The Dwarven crown which rested against his forehead was suddenly extremely cool underneath her touch.
"Náriel," Thorin's voice was low and serious, she opened her eyes and looked to him. "Can you stand?"
"Yes." She whispered with a nod.
"Can you fight?" He continued while his gaze stayed on her.
Looking to the side she clutched onto her sword, she felt the weight of it in her hand and nodded. Looking at him with a new determined expression she gave another nod. "I can."
"Will you stand by my side, like you wanted to do with Smaug, and fight?"
"For as long as I am able to. I will." Náriel replied in an equally quiet tone to the one he used.
Thorin gave a smile, despite of the situation they found themselves in. "Come," he linked his arm with one of hers and hauled her up to stand. She looked around with wide eyes. The others from the Mountain had set up a shield wall around them. Any foe which tried to get close was promptly cut down.
Thorin looked to the shield in his hands, reaching down he swiped his sword over the arrow shafts which were embedded within it. The Elves, Men and Dwarves were not the only ones which had archers. This shield Thorin had picked up from a fallen Dwarf as he and his friends carved their way through the ranks of black armoured Goblins and Orcs. Through fate, or intervention, as he ran he spotted Náriel's stricken state underneath the Warg. He had held the shield tightly and barged into the beast. The shield took all of the force and as the Warg fell, he quickly took to attacking it. Soon his friends joined in and together they slew it. Thorin had turned at this point to help Náriel up, only to see that in her disorientated state she had been attacked again. Dealing with the gnarled creature which was on top of her he knelt down and sheltered them both from any on coming attacks which may have got past their friends.
Náriel looked to the battered form of the Warg and looked to Thorin. He just smirked and gave a shrug as if it was the most normal occasion ever. Looking around he caught the gaze of Thranduil, who for the most part looked shocked at either the sight of him, or the sight of Náriel, or the sight of both of them. Thorin merely lifted the shield up and gave a slow nod, Thranduil in return inclined his head before being pulled back into battle.
Náriel readjusted the hold she had on her sword and looked to Thorin. He looked at her seriously before looking past his friends and to the heaving mass of fighting forms. "To me! To me Elves of Mirkwood, Men of Lake Town, my kin! To me!" Thorin shouted and raised his arm and pointed his sword to the oncoming figure of Bolg, with Bolg came an even greater group of Wargs, Goblins and Orcs.
His calls were heard by many for his voice echoed around the rock walls surrounding them. The nearby Elven host dealt with whatever enemy they were fighting before falling in line with the Dwarves from the Mountain. They in return lowered their shield wall and looked up at the silver plated Elves. The Dwarves of Dain wasted no time rushing quickly forward to join their kin. Any Men from Lake Town who were close by fell into line too, some even charged forwards to join the ranks. Bard couldn't dissuade them or stop them but he did cast a look to the great numbers which were now standing in rank beside and behind Thorin.
"Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr! Mahmazar!" He shouted again as more yet appeared to join them.
"Ve thorthol." An Elven man appeared beside Náriel he looked down at her through a dirt stained helmet. Thorin looked to the two confused. He could hear her reply even above all the shouting.
"Metho i vagol gîn. Metho na lû n'i methorath danchen." Náriel said firmly yet quietly to the man in front of her, she looked up at him and then at the Elves behind him. "Metho i vagol gîn! Metho na lû n'i methorath danchen! Dago i goth!" She shouted keeping her words simple while rising her arm in the air. With one motion and conjoined noises, the Elves discarded their main weaponry - mostly all being spears which were stained with black blood, and were chipped and breaking from all the strain - and unsheathed their swords and stood firmly. Thorin looked at them and then at her. Náriel smiled, "You're not the only one who has to give orders to an army. With my uncle busy, and my cousin by his side...I am next in line." She said while looking over her shoulder. She smiled faintly and looked to Thorin when a rather familiar and well known saying was being exclaimed from the Dwarves behind them.
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" The Dwarves of the Iron Hills shouted in unison, their calls didn't falter as they all charged forwards and made their way to the ranks which Bolg had command over.
I'm sorry - Achrâchi gabilul
My one - Sanzeuh
To arms! -Du Bekâr!
To fight - Mahmazar
We are yours to command - Ve thorthol
Draw your sword - Metho i vagol gîn
Fight to the last man - Metho na lû n'i methorath danchen
Slay the enemy - Dago i goth
Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you! - Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!
(A/N: Keep calm and du bekâr....let's go kick some Bolg butt xD I have to admit, I actually well liked writing this chapter, it was quite fun. Also! My parents are both on holiday from work for the week, which usually means I'm dragged out of the house to socialise and do stuff - other than go to work myself xD - so for this I'm giving a heads up. If updating doesn't's cos I'm off out, I've not disappeared.)

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