Sundown had come. The company had stopped on a mountainside and built a fire. Not being able to sleep, you sit next to the fire and stare into the flames. Watch as they flicker and throw small embers up into the night sky.
Your attention turns to Bilbo who lifts his head in frustration at Bomber's loud snoring. Only then did you realize that with every snore, Bomber would inhale small moths. Your eyes shift back to the fire as Bilbo stands and walks over to the ponies. Yet again, moments later, your attention was caught by distant shrieking. It was nothing like you had ever heard before.
"What was that?" Bilbo asks Fili and Kili who are sitting on the other side of the fire
"Orcs," Kili answers with a dramatic tone
"Orcs?" Bilbo questions, rushing to be by the fire
At the sound of this Thorin wakes with a jolt and looks around silently.
"Throat-cutters," Fili comes in "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lone-lands are crawling with them."
"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili says "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."
The two chuckle at Bilbo's feared expression. Before you can say anything, Thorin comes in.
"You think that's funny?" He questions with a stern tone "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"
"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili says with a solemn look
"No, you didn't," Thorin says with the stern tone still noticeable "You know nothing of the world."
"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin says, walking into sight "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."
Everyone's eyes then turn to where Thorin is standing. Listening as Balin continues to speak.
"After the Dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began, by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince, facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day, that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. And our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one, I could call King." Balin says
As Thorin turns around, he faces all the dwarves who have stood up to face him. All showing respect.
"And the pale Orc?" Bilbo asks, looking at Balin "What happened to him?"
"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin says, walking back over to the fire "That filth died of his wounds long ago."
You watch as Thorin walks back to where he was sleeping. Then your eyes drift back to the fire once again. Had this Orc really died all that time ago? Or could he still be out there? Waiting for the right time to proceed in ending the line of Durin.