My Heart, My Mountain, My King {Thorin Oakenshield Fanfic}

Prolouge

In the center of a great battle I stood. The grotesque images flashing before my eyes, traumatizing me. This was more than I could handle.

Orcs and Dwarves. They were everywhere. Dropping like flies. It was hard to tell exactly who had the advantage. This was not a place where a woman should be, some may think. But I am no ordinary woman. I am Jaedda Thorn. I am a nymph, and the last of my kind. And I don't cower from a fight. But this was more than a fight.

Stepping on top of a massive amount of bodies, was a large, pale Orc. He held something in his hand. Was it...? No. It was too horrid. But it was. The head of Thror, king under the mountain.

The Orc held the head up in victory and screamed. In the distance, I heard a young man's voice scream, "NOOO!"

I looked toward the direction of the voice but found no one. I looked back at the pale Orc, but he was gone. Little did I know, he was approaching me.

"Not fighting now, are we?" a sinister voice asked from behind. I turned around, only to see the Orc's icy blue eyes and to have a hammer swung at me. I quickly ducked it and ran for my life. But the Orc followed me. How was I supposed to fight this one?

I held up my sword and stood my ground, but he swung his hammer, knocking it from my grasp, and causing me to stubble backwards. I laid on the ground, struggling to catch my breath. He held the hammer so that it pointed to my face, then swung his arm back.

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, but nothing happened. I opened my eyes to see that above me, a Dwarf stood, blocking the hammer with the branch of an oak tree. He leaned his head down to me.

"Run!" he screamed. I quickly got up and ran for my life. I watched as I battled more Orcs as this Dwarf fought with the large one. He cut off the Orc's left arm. The Orc screamed out in pain as the others quickly carried him off.

The Dwarf sunk to his knees and caught his breath. The other Dwarves looked to him. I heard whispers of the word, "Thorin..." and others were saying, "Thorin Oakenshield..." simply because he used an oak tree branch to shield himself.

So this was Thorin of Erebor. Prince Thorin. He was much more handsome than I had pictured him. But if he really was the prince, then that meant that that pale Orc had just killed his grandfather.

As I recovered from battle that day, I couldn't get the Dwarf off of my mind. Would I ever see him again? Likely not. I wanted to thank him for saving my life, but I didn't want him, or anyone for that case, to know that I am, in fact, a woman.

But he saved my life, nonetheless. Perhaps he deserves to know the truth, I thought. I sought out to find him, but never came across him. I thought that I may never see him again. That was, before I met a certain Wizard.