A/N: Warning: this version has some gory bits to it. If you're uncomfortable with very violent scenes, then I would suggest not reading this. Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own J. R. R. Tolkien's characters and even my added character is just someone from my brother's made up stories we had as children. I'm simply introducing them to each other.
Fear is something I don't think you experience unless you have a choice. IF you have a choice, then you're liable to be afraid. But without a choice, what is there to be afraid of? You just go along, doing what has to be done.
-Margaret Hastings, World War II plane crash survivor
From Lost in Shangri-La, by Mitchell Zuckoff
"You seemed to have caught me on an off night." She trailed her blood stained fingers down the side of the orc's face. "Now, why don't you tell me how you and your little friends happen to stumble across my ever so concealed refuge?"
The orc snapped its teeth at her fingers.
Her hand seized its throat, digging her nails in until blood trickled down its neck. She slowly brought her lips to its ear.
"You look like you know how to make someone feel unspeakable pain," she tightened her grip on the orc's throat slightly. "You can just tell which spot to scratch in order to make them sing." She inhaled deeply, grazing the side of its face. " You wanna know what I think?" She studied the orc's profile, "you only know where to hit because it would scare you. When you carve into a certain spot you know that it would make you howl. It would make you scream."
The orc flinched its head away from her as she looked the orc dead in the eyes. "I can promise you, that whatever scares you, is nowhere near as terrifying as what scares me."
Thorin pulled his mount to a stop, "Make camp, and be certain that the ponies are fed."
It had been a tiring day of riding. Everyone seemed soar and ready for a break to their long day, the halfling more so than others. That didn't stop Thorin from pushing them though. They were only a couple of weeks away from the hobbit's home. There were much more strenuous times ahead than simple riding.
He glanced over his company, seeing them gravitate towards their various evening tasks. Bombur was already calling for firewood to be collected for cooking the fleshy rabbit that Kili had managed to shoot earlier into a stew.
He lead his mount over to a more grass filled patch. Thorin turned and headed back towards the others, but froze for a fraction of a second. Someone was watching him. He couldn't say whether it was decades of warrior instinct, or just a sixth sense, but he was certain that someone was watching him. Remembering himself, Thorin continued on, careful not to give anything away and keeping his posture neutral.
"We're being watched," he murmured to Dwalin as he stooped to assist his comrade in untying some packs.
"Aye, you feel it too," Dwalin casually cast a glance around their surroundings. All seem calm. The animals weren't any more quiet than they would be after a bunch of dwarves came through their habitat. there were no twigs snapping or leaves rustling. An unnatural silence settled over the company, however. Each dwarf seemed a bit on edge, even if they couldn't place exactly why.
"She's in the trees," the hobbit, who he just now noticed was next to them, murmured. "The one with the dead branch."
Dwalin's axe was flying out of Thorin's hand before the burglar could blink.
She knew that they had spotted her. The leader had sensed her almost immediately; the bald warrior being the second to notice something off. The entire camp atmosphere had changed as soon as she had been there for less than ten minutes. They were no fools. Although, what she had not guessed was the dwarves spotting her exact position so quickly.
A flash of steel was all the warning she had before hurling herself to the ground.
The dwarves were quick to pounce, dropping the pretense of not being aware of her and charging at her weapons drawn.
"Fuck," she cursed, flinging herself to her feet. Motherfucking dwarves, I'm trying to freakin' help-
The first dwarf, who had a hatchet imbedded in its skull, whipped its spear-staff object at her midsection. She snapped her hands on either side of the blade and flicked her wrists, wrenching the weapon from the dwarf's grasp. She used the blunt end to nock an arrow headed straight for her throat and trip the first dwarf with a swift swing behind his knees.
Another dwarf came barreling toward her with an iron spoon in its grasp. She jumped clear over the rotund red-head and landed between two dwarves, who simultaneously swung their metal staffs at her. She grabbed both, but could not avoid the blunt end of the bald warrior dwarf's other axe slamming into her abdomen.
She dropped to her knees like a sack and screwed her eyes shut. A surge of energy washed over her, so intense that she couldn't even feel the blows to her sides and back. NOOO! She grabbed the sides of her head. She would not last much longer; someone was about to get hurt.
"I fucking hate doing this," she panted, before slamming her head into the hard ground under her.
