Calm The Fire: 120

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Thorin slashed and cut at the Goblins which were shoved in his way. Azog was bleeding heavily from the cut he had earlier dealt to him. All the while he had been moving backwards, whether he was retreating or just hadn't been able to recover, Thorin was uncertain. Not that it mattered because he had full intention of following him where ever he was going and finish what he couldn't finish all that time ago.

Azog should have died years before this battle. Yet the vermin managed to find a way to survive. Such is the way of vermin, Thorin noted, they crawl and hide and then reappear with new strength. And this was true. Azog was strong. One strike from him caused Thorin to dig his feet into the ground. The ground by now was sludgy and boggy from all the feet which had trampled on it.

Regardless as the mud seeped over his boots he dug into the ground and gritted his teeth and pushed upwards. Azog's deflected attack left an opening for him to return an attack. Pulling free from the mud Thorin charged forwards again and exchanged many sword blows with his enemy.

Azog managed to block and try and counter the strikes which were being sent his way. At one point he aimed his sword upwards with full intention of piercing Thorin's eye, only for him to move and dodge effortlessly and for his sword to cut him across the cheek.

Soon a thin trail of red appeared and from this cut blood slowly trailed down. Not that it effected Thorin at all. Regardless of this new injury - it was one cut of many which he had found himself adorning since this battle started - he smacked Azog's sword arm away and cleaved down with his sword. He watched with satisfaction as his sword made contact with the metal which made up Azog's wrist. With a grinding sound the metal buckled and with another forceful strike Thorin's sword managed to detach the clawed hand from the metal wrist.

Azog let out an anger filled growl and with new determined strength sent a number of strikes in Thorin's direction. He dodged where he could. Though when his back hit against another he looked over and ducked and side stepped. The Orc he had bumped against had gone to attack him only to find itself being cleaved down by its leader.

With a snarl, Azog looked to one of his soldiers which he'd easily dispatched and looked to where Thorin was now standing.

Space was between them and the Dwarf looked at him with unblinking eyes as his hands readjusted themselves on the hilt of his sword. Azog half smiled, showing off gleaming sharp teeth. Clicking his neck he turned and walked forwards.

Their fight picked up again and resulted in much the same way. They were also gradually moving further and further away from Náriel's stricken form. She let out heaved breaths and strained her eyes to see them.

"Don't move," a voice said from above. Náriel looked sharply up. There was nothing there.

Shutting her eyes she let out a sigh and coughed. She could taste blood in her mouth. Tilting her head to the side she spat it out and looked back up. "Bilbo, my friend...you are all right, I am most glad...I worried for you..."

"Don't speak," Bilbo said while looking around. He had managed to follow Thranduil for the most part through the battlefield. He had watched as Náriel was cut down and as Thranduil was pulled back into battle. More so he had watched as Thorin had turned to fight Azog. No one paid mind to Náriel's form. She was just another one of the fallen.

"I'm going to get you out of here." He said, she laughed hollowly. "I am! I am...just...I need..."

"Don't." Náriel opened her eyes and looked around. Her hearing was becoming distant. It seemed like the battle was so far away and they were both in their own little bubble of content peace.

"But-"

"Bilbo...just...it's fine, really..." Náriel's voice said breaking slightly and straining. The cut which Azog dealt to her throat was perhaps a little deeper than she first imagined.

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