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 easily 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, 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 leaped 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 were 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 volley 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 its 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.
As he ran his boots missed the forms of many, be those forms of the enemy, or elves, or men, or even his own kin. So many had died so far that it wasn't a total surprise when the attackers were slowly becoming the attacked. Those who were still on the slopes were having a hard time trying to stop anything getting into the Mountain and were unable to help. They were on their own down here, with too few numbers and what numbers did remain were slowly being hemmed in.
Standing in a defensive circle they stared at the great dark armoured force which now surrounded them. Hearing the wild piercing howls of a warg those nearby could only watch helplessly as one bounded into their ranks. It opened its mouth widely as it leaped and grasped onto anything in its way. Great paws dug into the shoulders of its victim as its jaws clamped down and tore away at the armour and skin beneath.
A piercing light suddenly shone in the sky, it was the sun, the red of it shone brightly from the west. The colours turned the clouds in the sky a pale pink and orange. It was these same clouds which were suddenly split by great swift forms. It was Náriel who perked up and looked around. She heard a simple exclamation over all the noise; "The eagles! The eagles!"
She stepped forwards only to get tugged back by someone. She knew that voice, it was Bilbo's but she couldn't see him. Just knowing he was out there was enough for her to want to find him. He had disappeared earlier, and she had worried for him since. But hearing his voice...she felt relieved to know he was alive. "The Eagles are coming!" Was the last exclamation before silence.
Náriel's eyes widened as she looked to the sky. His little voice wasn't wrong. She wasn't alone with looking up, the rest of the elves did too. The dwarves and men were a little late on the uptake, but once they did, their eyes looked to the fine feathered forms of the eagles. There was such a host of them that surely they must have all come from the eyries of the Misty Mountains.
It was the eagles who managed to achieve removing the force which threatened to invade the Mountain. They grasped with sharp talons at the figures fighting below them. Plucking them from the slopes they soared upwards into the darkening sunset and with ease opened their claws. The figures they carried fell with screams to the sharp rocks below. If an eagle failed to clutch onto something they in turn flew dangerously close chasing the army back with wild shrieks and advancing snaps of their beaks.
It wasn't long before the eagles had managed to free the Lonely Mountain and allow the men and elves to move at last to the valley below. They were finally able to give aid to those who were in such need for it down below. Even with the eagles though, they had all found themselves rather outnumbered. The warg numbers were still high, and the orc and goblins just kept coming. With renewed determination, the allies moved through the force which was still surrounding the slopes. Those who dared to come close were either whisked away by an eagle or cut aside by an elvish blade.
Fighting out against the force which still surrounded them, Dwalin and Bombur together managed to knock aside a warg which seemed to have full intention of leaping and trying to take them down. Though they knocked it down, it was about to get back up when it suddenly faltered. It wasn't just this lone warg. All the others seemed stuck to the spot, none would move. They bowed their heads and barred their teeth. Either growling or whining their eyes flicked around as their ears pricked back.
They could sense something which no one else could until the last minute. It just so happened that that something came in the form of a low rumbled growl. Though low it didn't stop it from sounding any less deadly. It echoed off of the cliff faces and it seemed to resonate. Casting a look at each other the company knew that roar. Though it was something they didn't really think they'd come across again any time soon.
Shuffling backwards those who had shields lifted them up as forms were suddenly thrashed and thrown aside. Shielding both himself and Náriel, Thorin pulled her backwards as the rest of the group seemed to retreat too. Peeking up and over the shield, they looked to the large bear. Black and great with struggling goblins beneath its vast paws, the sharp claws dug into the blood flecked skin as its jaws tightened on the bestial form in its mouth. There was a sickening crunch before it was carelessly dropped.
Turning its head on a heavy muscular neck, amber eyes looked somewhat simply to the dwarves which stood a little ways in front of him. Letting out a snort, a plume came from the large nose which didn't seem to stop sniffing at the air. If anything, the black bear had grown in size, or was it always this big but none of them had realised the first time? With one swift motion, Beorn pushed himself up off of four legs onto two, this if anything made his form look even larger. Towering over almost everything he lifted his head in the air and let out an almost deafening roar.
—
After spying the eagles on the horizon, Bilbo had thrown his hands in the air and looked with dumbfounded surprise that they were here. He had taken his position with the elves on Ravenhill, Gandalf was here too seemingly deep in thought. Bilbo mainly stood close to these two forces because he'd rather take, if it were to come to that, his last stand with the Elvenking and Gandalf.
As soon as the pathway was clear, Thranduil had led his army, or what numbers remained of them, down the slopes as quickly as possible. Any fleeing goblin or orc which crossed his path was easily cut aside. Behind him, Legolas managed to run with speed while shooting arrow after arrow. Bilbo had no clue how he managed to not lose his footing or how he kept such a steady aim. It truly was beyond him. Yet he showed skills which he had seen Náriel present. Yet, he still found himself in awe.
He had followed, still with the ring on. It didn't give him protection, it couldn't shield him from an attack, spear, sword or arrow, but it kept him invisible and under the radar of the enemy. When stepping off of the slopes it was like a black wave crashed into them. Those who were still daring to stand so close to the Mountain had turned and started on the offensive. It was something which was easily batted aside by the elves and the men. On the other slope Bard too was seemingly running into difficulties.
What few of his forces remained were trying their hardest to fight back at the enemies which still stood close. Bard was about to attack a goblin only for talons to grip onto it and for it to sail into the air wailing and waving its arms. Lowering his sword slightly he watched as it disappeared before rushing down into the valley. With combined effort from both the men and the elves they managed to cleave and carve their way through the forces which stood in their way within the valley.
Beyond the forces the dwarves, men and elves which remained hemmed in had taken to making what seemed to be a last stand. Though they were hugely outnumbered the eagles did keep appearing to lessen the numbers, each eagle managed to carry a good few numbers of orcs, goblins or even wargs off and away never to be seen again.
Beorn seemed to make moving through the ranks an easy thing to do. Though in truth, he thrashed and swung his head from side to side, whatever got in his way was clamped onto and crushed in his great jaws. Every so often he stood on his hind legs and swiped with his paws to knock something aside. One slash from his paw was enough to tear a goblin apart. In all honesty, it was enough tear anything apart. So far nothing seemed to be able to withstand his claws.
"A pathway!" It was Kíli who noticed that Beorn had managed to create a pathway through the forces. Whether he intended to do this or not was not a known thing, but it was something which they all took advantage of and rushed forwards. Regrouping would be the best advantage then being scattered within different parts of the valley.
Hearing a high pitched scream, as they were running, the company were only just conscious of the sounds of padding feet behind them. When a white furred form cut across their escape route they all skidded to a halt and dealt with whatever enemy was close at hand before backing away. The white warg looked at them with indifference while barring its teeth and snapping its jaws, oddly enough, at its own kinsmen. Whatever goblin got too close was bitten and thrown aside. Though the wargs had seemingly managed to get back within control. This one was on a whole different wavelength to the rest.
Thorin was the first to note that though the white warg was here, there was no rider. Azog was missing from his seat on the beasts back. He sharply turned and was pushed with a great force. He let out a pained noise as he was sent flying backwards. He skidded through the mud and the fallen forms of the dead. When he came to a stop, he straightened up before pushing himself heavily up and readjusting his grip on his weapon he looked towards the Pale Orc who, like usual, stood with a malice filled grin on his face.
It was more achieved, smug, and condescending than usual. And it wasn't until Thorin looked down to see what he was gripping in his hand that he realised why. His friends and his family had been sectioned off. The forces which Beorn had managed to move aside now moved back in and cut off their regrouping effort. There was just the smallest gap before Azog and Thorin.
Azog's mouth moved and he tightened the grip he had on the being in his hand. Náriel in the confusion earlier had turned just in time to see Thorin get flung aside and to suddenly be hit across the face. In her dazed moment she couldn't react to the hand which suddenly gripped onto her neck. She couldn't breathe. That much was obvious because her chest was barely moving. Her eyes were staring blankly about. She was close to losing consciousness.
She was on her knees. Clearly Azog had kicked her legs out from underneath her. He thought though, clearly, that this would be enough to keep her down. As Thorin quickly moved forwards with his weapon raised, he saw the twitch her hands gave. Moving slowly, Náriel reached up and unclipped a knife, Azog's attention was all on Thorin, he paid no mind to her moving. He paid attention though when a sharp pain suddenly appeared within his forearm. His blue eyes looked to the elven blade and then to the owner. His grip didn't falter on her neck though, she gritted her teeth as her airway was blocked even more.
Reaching for the blade, Azog pulled it out and in one motion lifted Náriel up. From the sudden motion her feet momentarily left the floor. Gasping for breath, she screamed when a hand clamped onto her shoulder and she was bought closer to Azog. It wasn't something she wished to ever do. Her eyes widened as she looked into his eyes. Her hands gave a twitch as she slowly looked down. As he had flung her up, Azog had changed her weapon to his clawed hand, it was this hand which now pierced her own weapon into her side. She could feel the pain, though it felt numb, she could feel the damp clothes which warmed from her blood.
Putting one hand over his, she reached up with her other one to claw at his face. If this was to be the end of her she was going down fighting. Her fingers stuck into his eyes, it was something which caused him to growl, though it also caused him to drop her. Náriel crumpled to the dirt ground and turned to crawl away, anywhere, she didn't know where just anywhere. She let out a scream as a boot was slammed down on her leg. She pushed herself painfully off of her chest only to find herself yanked back to her knees by her braided hair. She reached up to try and remove Azog's hands, only to scream again when something pierced her hand.
Her hand fell downwards and through the bleary blurring vision she could see the crude blade which was stuck through her palm. Gritting her teeth, she looked up as Thorin battled through the forms which had intercepted his path, Azog smiled cruelly. He couldn't get to his grandfather in time in battle either, he couldn't get to the she-elf either. It was ironic, to a point, Azog noted as he placed the elvish blade against her throat. Beheading with such a thin blade would take time. It'd be painful. But if it caused great hurt for Thorin, then it was something Azog was willing to do. Though just as the blade nicked the side of her throat Azog let out a sound of pain. He looked to his shoulder. A glimmering blade was jutting through, he looked over his shoulder.
"Gurth anin yrch." Thranduil said while gripping onto the hilt of his sword while his eyes narrowed even more than they were already. From a distance he had seen what had played out and he had tried everything in his power to stop the collision which was about to happen. Only he was too late, it had happened, and now Náriel knelt half conscious and covered in her own blood. "It is not for me to kill you, orch, though it would give me great pleasure to do so." Thranduil said while shifting the blade upwards, Azog let out another pained noise but Thranduil managed to achieve what he wanted from this action. Azog's grip lessened and Náriel fell to the ground again, she didn't move this time, though Thranduil could tell she was still alive. He could hear her struggled breathing, despite all the noise that surrounded them. "He is all yours, dwarf-King." Thranduil said with distaste as he pulled his sword free from Azog's shoulder. He whipped the black blood from it and stepped aside as Thorin barged into the Pale Orc.
Kneeling down, Thranduil turned Náriel over onto her back. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I'm sorry...so sorry...uncle, truly I am..." Náriel struggled to say, she lifted her head up. Thranduil tucked a hand under her matted hair and kept her leaning upwards slightly, she looked to the wound on her side which her hands were now clutching onto. Her eyes drifted past her own form to watch the fight before her.
Thranduil looked too and then down at his niece. Her mouth moved, she whispered something which he couldn't catch. Looking over his shoulder, he narrowed his eyes to the goblin which was sneaking up on him. Laying her gently down, Thranduil begrudgingly turned and fought with the form before him. He didn't wish to leave her side, far from it, he'd stay as long as he was able to, but he couldn't.
Náriel let out a struggled breath and swallowed heavily, that hurt. Everything hurt, she couldn't feel one of her legs from where Azog had crunched his boot down on it. Lifting her head up, she looked to the fight again. Where Thranduil's blade had pierced his shoulder, it caused Azog to naturally have a weak spot. It was something which Thorin was taking full advantage off as he ducked and dodged out of the way of the heavy blows which Azog was sending his way. In an even fight, they were both rather fairly matched. Though yes, Azog had height over Thorin, with the anger which was surging through the dwarf he out powered the orc.
Catching his blade against Azog's, Thorin narrowed his eyes upwards and shoved him backwards. Azog went stumbling backwards and shoved whoever was in his path out of the way. Not wasting a second, Thorin charged forwards yelling with his weapon raised. With a downwards motion he cut across Azog's torso, he was still recovering his footing and found himself momentarily unable to block the attack which was sent his way. 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 wherever 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.
"I'm not going to sit here and watch you die!" Bilbo exclaimed while fisting his hands on his knees. He was currently kneeling beside her, not that she could see him or anyone else for that matter. Náriel's eyes opened quickly and she seemed frantic. Her breathing hitched and she tried hauling herself up. "No! No, Náriel, don't move you'll make it worse!"
"Sword!" Náriel exclaimed suddenly.
Bilbo didn't understand until he looked up and saw what she meant. Unsheathing Sting, he aimed it upwards and blocked the blow which was aimed for her stricken form. She collapsed back in the mud and watched as even Bilbo was suddenly pulled into the fighting. Any other time it may have been amusing to see an orc try and fight against an invisible enemy. It was turning this way and that, suddenly gripping at a cut or jumping on one foot. It was clear Bilbo was trying to find a weak spot in its armour and while doing so had stomped on its foot.
Letting out a painful sigh, she tentatively turned her head and blinked. She could see Azog, correction she could see Azog just as he was kicked roughly in the stomach and he rolled to the ground. Blinking slowly, she watched as the sword cleaved down on his neck and his head fell from his still twitching body. Wincing when she was suddenly lifted up, she looked around confused, she had zoned out. She was distracted by Azog's fallen form that she hadn't realised Thorin had picked her up.
"Oh...well done," she said heavily, looking around, she turned away from him and spat more blood out of her mouth. Groaning, she looked back at him, "This is my first taste of battle...I don't think I like it much, Thorin...I honestly don't...can we live in peace after this all, please?"
Thorin smiled, though it was forced, he smoothed out the muddy tangled hair from her face and nodded. "Anything you want."
"Anything...?" She grinned painfully, blood stained her teeth and was trailing from the corner of her mouth.
"Anything," Thorin nodded surely while taking for granted this peaceful moment which enveloped them and made the current fighting seem so far away.
"Anything...I want...I want to live in Erebor...with you, for starters. I want peace. I want...I want, a family," she winced and gave a painful fidget in his arms. "I want you and my uncle to get along," she laughed through strained breaths. "Anything..." Náriel whispered while blinking slowly and looking up at him. "I want you to be happy. I think that's what I really want." She said with the most certainty she had had for a while. "It's all I've ever wanted."
"Well, if we are to live within Erebor together I am sure that is going to make me happy." Thorin said while looking around. Náriel smiled and shut her eyes, she opened them again though when something warm and damp flicked across her face. She opened her eyes and screamed, Thorin dropped her from his arms, not through wanting to but because a black arrow head had pierced through his armour and had come out the other side.
He reached up and touched it tentatively, wincing he looked over his shoulder. Gripping his sword in his other hand, he charged forwards and dealt with the archer which had shot him, not before having several more arrows impact against him. Not all of them had managed to pierce through. Turning he looked to Náriel, her eyes widened at the shafts which stuck out of his form. Breaking the shafts with his sword he moved forwards only to stop when something bounded into him and careered him to the side.
Looking up at the warg which snarled and opened its jaws it let out a whine and fell to the side when Thorin had managed to keep its head away while using his other to aim his sword through its mouth. Rolling onto his side, he moved to push himself up. Standing, he struggled to move forwards, he had injured his leg from the fall. It was something which someone had picked up on because they sent something hurtling through the air.
Thorin fell to his knees and looked to the spear which was embedded within his leg. Looking up as the owner stepped into view he wasn't too surprised to see Bolg. Of course, the avenging son. It was something Thorin understood all too well. Only, the last thing which Bolg seemed to expect was for Dain to appear and intercept his path. While Dain took to dealing with Bolg, Thorin stood back up. Pulling the spear from himself, he threw it at a nearby goblin and moved off.
Náriel lifted up her hand, Thorin looked to the knife which was stuck into it. "It doesn't hurt...honestly." Thorin wrapped his fingers around the blade hilt and pulled it quickly free. Náriel screamed from the sudden action and writhed on the spot while removing her other hand from her side to grip onto her hand.
"I'm sorry," Thorin said breathless from everything that just happened.
Blinking slowly, Náriel let out a quiet cry and looked up at him, with a strained smile she nodded. "Thank you...really though." She sounded conflicted and shut her eyes.
"Open your eyes, Náriel. You can't go to sleep. You can't."
"A dwarf ordering an elf around...who'd have ever thought the day would come...?" Náriel questioned while her eyes remained shut.
"I am a dwarf-King, remember?" Thorin said while earning a chuckle from her. She opened her eyes, he smiled and found himself slowly falling to the ground too. It seemed that the arrows from earlier on did do more damage than he thought. Finding himself being suddenly struck from behind by both sword and spear didn't help either. Numb. That was it. Though what remained of his armour, he still didn't feel any pain as such.
Thorin looked over his shoulder just conscious enough to see Beorn charge into Bolg. So it was him which tried to do the finishing blow? With one attack Bolg didn't move again. Having the smouldering amber eyes of the bear turn on him, Thorin sighed. Looking back to Náriel, he found himself slowly being lifted upwards.
"Beorn..." Náriel whispered, the bear let out a short snort and looked at her. She lifted her hand up slowly, leaning forwards she found her hand over top of the bears nose. Inhaling her scent and making sure she was who he suspected.
Turning, he lowered his form to the ground, with gritted teeth Náriel pulled herself up onto his back and buried herself in his dark fur. With an echoing roar, Beorn charged off with Náriel laying on his back and Thorin carefully being carried in one of his paws. Both Thranduil and Bilbo, who were both fighting separate fights, looked up to see the great form of the bear charging off with the two of them in his care.
—
Reedited: 3/Nov/2023
Inventory:
I will go with him to the end - Go hon bedithon na meth.
Death to the orcs - Gurth anin yrch
Orc – Orch