Go hon bedithon na meth. Was the lone thought and incentive which flitted across Náriel's mind as she opened her eyes and looked up at the darkened sky above her. She was dazed. One minute she was charging forwards and the next she crashed against the wall of Bolg's company and got easy knocked aside. She had skidded backwards at this point and hurtled along the ground to a stop. Tilting her head to the side her eyes slowly focused, once they did she flinched. She was staring into the eyes of a lifeless form. Looking to the other side she was confronted with a similar sight. In fact all around her were bodies of the fallen.
Curling her fingers she slowly grasped back onto her sword. With an effort she pushed herself from the corpses around her and stood. With shaky steps she moved forwards and ducked to the side as a Goblin went to cut her down. Stomping a foot on its crude sword as it struck the ground. She pierced her sword through its eye. Screaming and wailing it went shuffling backwards, hands instantly reaching up to its injured eye before falling backwards, never to move again.
Her earlier thought entered her mind again as she quickly sheathed her sword and reached to her quiver of arrows. Running forwards while pulling one out she stabbed at whatever and whoever was in her way before pulling her bow over her shoulder. Loading the arrow she pulled the string and let the arrow fly.
Naturally when the foe in front of him suddenly dropped to the ground, Thorin looked over his shoulder and watched as she skidded to a halt by his side. "Together," she said breathlessly while pulling her sword out again.
He inclined his head, she had no intention of leaving his side, though previously it wasn't through any fault of her own. One minute they were running together and the next she leapt and got flung aside. Thorin couldn't aid her with this, he couldn't even see where she had landed on the battlefield.
"Seventeen!" Kíli's voice suddenly exclaimed from by their sides.
Náriel unclipped one of her knives and threw it over Kíli's shoulder while aiming her sword backwards. In one motion she kept hold of the hilt and switched to hold it in her other hand. Keeping the sword in constant movement she side stepped and weaved through a small cluster of Goblins - these were a much easier target for her than the more heavily built Orcs - whatever got in the way of her blade was suddenly cut down.
Holding up her hand she waved at Kíli, who for the moment looked at a loss. "I've lost count. You're late to the battle, remember?" Náriel said while jumping out of the way as a Warg went widely running past. It didn't seem to have a destination in mind but it didn't get far before a folly of arrows were launched into the air and embedded themselves in the dark brown fur. With one last agonised whine the animal fell downwards.
Through all the fighting on the ground, it seemed that the Goblins were yet again stricken in the valley. If they retreated they ran the risk of crossing paths with Bolg, who didn't take kindly to possible deserters, and even if they got past him they had to contend with Azog, who still sat with indifference.
More and more lifeless black armoured forms were falling to the ground and coating it with their black blood. What was stubby brown grass which was trying to grow was now blackened with blood, and corpses. Of course with the Goblins panicking again with the onslaught which was being driven against them, they had scattered.
Because a few of the Goblin numbers were riding Wargs this meant that they too scattered. With an opening now becoming present Thorin had charged forwards and easily tackled what seemed to be an Orc acting as Bolg's bodyguard. The shield which he had earlier on used to beat a Warg to the side also did the same for the form below him. Turning his sword in his hand he kept the Orc pinned to the ground while he easily cut across the greying dirty skin of the neck. Jumping back up and running Thorin looked to see that they had all barely pierced the ranks which Bolg had seemingly control over. He himself was still further up the valley, with seeing Thorin coming close he had seemingly retreated. He could see the taller form shouting orders, though he could not hear his words, he could see his mouth moving endlessly.
YOU ARE READING
Calm The Fire (UNDER EDITING)Fanfiction
It is a little known fact that Thorin had come to dislike the race of elves; but perhaps it hasn't always been this way, maybe, just maybe, once upon a time there wasn't such high disdain held towards them. The dwarf-Prince's heart isn't as nearly a...