The night glowed bright with colorful lanterns. The prosperous city of Dale was alive, with countless dwarves, men, and even elves. High pitched whistles from flutes and chirping fiddles flowed out far over the vast land and reached Esgaroth's ears. More men poured out of the city, driving wagons full of ale and wine over to the lively city at the base of the great mountain, Erebor.
Erebor was rich in precious stones and glittered with gold ores down its vast caverns. This was the homeland to many dwarf kind. The mighty dwarf lord Thror, ruled this magnificent mountain. He had a kingly beard, grey, braided with a fine jeweled metal crossing through. Aye, he was a mighty King indeed, and tonight was a celebration over his newly formed alliance with the wood elves.
Although, for their union, neither race's King had attended the celebration. Thror was not at his throne this night. Erebor had been completely emptied in light of the celebration. But for Thror, he was settled at the terrace of his kingdom. His eyes flickering past the celebration below, onward to the forest. The night was dark and the distance was too great to make out fine detail, but still he looked on for the threat that had passed their borders, not few days passed.
His soldiers had spotted a pack of warg riders traveling their lands. The elven King, Thranduil, was on watch in his own kingdom. The orcs had been spotted entering the vast Mirkwood forest. Had it not been for the partying folk in the neighboring kingdom, King Thranduil would have no issue letting his guards take care of the pack on their own. But a small amount of his people had stayed in their homes this night and there was a lack of defence with so few people.
However, the union of the two kingdoms had brought light to his forest. King Thror sent a company of dwarves to aid his new ally. His own grandson, Thorin, led the group through the dark woods.
There were three groups of burly dwarves that entered the woods. Two were led by Thorin's appointed captains, Dwalin and his brother Balin. They were his most trusted companions, the dwarves among dwarves they were. Great beards trailed down their broad chests'. They had all the traits of the true dwarf.
Balin had long been Thorin's companion and friend since they were lads. Though Thorin was just a young prince, his friend wanted to aid him at all costs. And so Balin offered his assistance to the mighty Thror. At first King Thror mocked him for being such a wee thing at the time, but Balin's heart was strong and his virtue was true. King Thror appointed him as the young prince's personal guard, young as he was.
Thorin's father, Thrain, laughed heartily as the young lad trailed after Thorin everywhere he went. They were still mere children, constantly playing their games and tricks. It would appear as though Balin's oath to his prince was mere play, but when a time of danger arose, Balin stood firm infront of his prince.
The problem between the two was, in truth, they were dwarves, and they were stubborn as dwarves are. Neither would submit to hiding behind the other. They fought to protect each other, getting clobbered by whatever force or creature they were defending against. King Thror would say nothing, but his halls were filled with laughter as the lads returned, bruised up, re-telling their glamored tale of victorious bravery.
Thrain waved them aside and smacked the one lad he had to thank for bringing his son back safe. Dwalin, taller than his brother with a wild Mohawk, stood proud at the praise from Thrain. He was as mischievous as his brother, but much younger. Strong muscles strained his cloth as he stood behind the beaten pair. It was that alone that had saved them. Dwalin was a wild fighter, bearing no logic or reason to his movements in battle.
He would appear the responsible one of the brothers, but in truth he only sought after valor in the midst of a heated battle. King Thror chuckled and appointed him as Thorin's second guard. Clearly the three of them together would ensure a safe heir, or at least a mildly beaten one.
Aye, they had been together for ages. Surviving through the troubles they indeed caused themselves, but always returning safe to the mountain. As the years passed, Thorin began to lead his own company, aiding King Thror's army when they needed extra supplies. In time, Thorin's company grew large and strong enough to defend a small town. He appointed his best guards to take separate divisions. Rarely were there any true losses.
The skillful group crept through the hazardous forest, searching for the rampant orcs, quickly slipping behind trees. Their dark cloaks blending into the woods around them. Thorin glanced around the thick oak and eyed a light in the distance. One...no two or three. There must have been more than one pack to take residence in the woods. The ones that had caught they're sight must have been returning to their camp.
How long had these orcs been residing in this forest he thought.
Thorin signaled his hand to Dwalin off to his right, kneeling behind a bush. Dwalin nodded and crept over to his troop, leading them off. Balin received his princes' next command and did the same, sneaking off in the direction opposite to Dwalin. Thorin eyed them circling the orcs at a great distance. They would strike in different directions with hopes to scatter and confuse the orcs.
Orcs were ferocious fighters indeed. They often did not have a single leader and would charge a battle without care of their surrounding party. Often at times, killing each other by mistake. Though still, the slightest surprise did aid the attacker, no matter how little.
The orcs were gathered around a fire cooking some foul meat. A random scuffle between two grew to include the others. Typical orc behavior in the dwarf's eyes.
Thorin inched quietly closer to the camp, still a great distance away. He did not want to give out their position until the last moment, when they were a foot away from stabbing an orc through the chest. Thorin paused and notioned his company to hold still in their ditch. They were close now, close enough if they were to charge they would still be victorious, but the wargs would be able to smell them before hand and warn the orcs.
Thorin waited and waited, peering his eyes over the dirt wall in Dwalin's direction. Dwalin's troop went upwind. They were to be the wargs distraction. Often they fought and handled themselves well against the ferocious beasts, with massive claws and jaws that could have cracked their spines.
Thorin jolted when he heard the beasts growl. He charged his company forward, with Balin following his lead in the distance. Thundering steps of the beasts shook the ground as they charged in Dwalin's direction without their riders. The dwarves invaded the camp with a valiant war-cry as the orcs yelled out to their beasts. Swords and axes pierced through a few surprised orcs , rendering them lifeless. They moved quickly over the bodies and lunged onward.
The orcs growled and cursed at the waning cries of the dieing orcs behind them. They turned and clashed their stained metal blades against the mighty strength of the dwarves. Small they were but fierce nonetheless.
Dwalin's troop gutted through the vile beasts continually advancing on them. Their gargled cries only enraged the other wargs to strike harder. The dwarves fought together, one hammering the beast's head, another slicing the ankles, while the last pierced the beast's heart. One after another fell hard in the forest ground. But there were too many to fight in the tactical formation they had. Wargs, like their masters, cared not about trampling over one another to kill their prey.
A group of wargs jumped and flattened a trio of dwarves to their backs. They held strong against their attackers with sharp teeth gripping the edges of their shields. Dwalin finished his kill, eying his companions in need. The dwarf made a mad dash, hurling his twin axes through the air without any tactic at all. His crazed movements startled the wargs to step back and avoid having their eyes swiped out.
Dwalin threw his whole body into the pack of wargs on his troops, flailing his axes wildly. The beasts howled and growled at the large insect lashing about on them, striking their hides hard, but not inflicting heavy injury. Dwalin swung his axe down on one of the heads, skull spitting out blackened blood. Another bit down on the dwarf's axe, catching his hand, and flung him against the ground and again and again.
Dwalin's body flew through the air, smacking hard on the ground and was dragged over the dirt before returning back to the air. Dwalin cursed the beast and stuffed his injuries deep beneath his pride. He would not cry out like some inexperienced child. The dwarf swung his free arm back the moment he hit the ground and struck the beast's muzzle, cracking through bone.
The warg cried and flailed against both ground and tree, the pain driving its movements insane. Dwalin gripped through his bloodied hand and chucked his last axe towards the writhing beast. The ground trembled as death claimed the creature, an axe buried deep within its skull, nearest the other.
Dwalin quickly removed his axes and returned to his troops.
Thorin sliced through the orc infront of him, his trusting guard right behind him. They fought back to back as the hoard of orcs surrounded them. Both their troops had separated, culling off the weaker orcs. Their movements were proof alone of their long friendship. Without word or notice they would predict each others movement and counter against their foes.
Thorin turned to slash an orc to his left. Balin flipped to his right to cover Thorin's exposed side. They quickly stepped and turned, switching places, constantly shifting and keeping the orcs off their tactics. The pack of orcs slowly dwindled but still there was many left.
There was a harsh roar, rattling the leaves above them. The wargs at Dwalin's troops stopped their attack to look back, passed the camp to the tree infested hill in the distance. They could not see what they were looking for but did not need to.
The wargs barreled towards camp to aid their masters. Thorin's heart pounded as he heard growls and roars nearing the camp. He glanced in the middle of a switch with Balin to look at the danger approaching.
"Balin!"
Balin quickly glanced and saw the wargs heading back. His vision cut off as Thorin pushed him aside to stab an orc attempting to kill his companion. Thorin quickly howled in Khuzdul to his troops. They glanced at the wargs and struggled to finish off an orc or two that stood in their way.
The wargs broke through camp and spread apart, attacking each group of dwarves. The dwarves made sure not to break from their groups unless they wanted to meet their death quickly. They took the same strategy as Dwalin's troop. A back up plan just in-case the unexpected happened. It required at least three dwarves to keep the beasts at bay, but Thorin and Balin had been separated by the group of orcs surrounding them.
"Thorin!" Balin cried out as a white warg leaped over the orcs and bit through the guards' shoulder. Thorin whipped his head back to his friend, who threw his body infront of the prince. The white warg threw Balin out of the circle and charged for the young prince. Thorin threw up his blade but his body was sent back with a great force. The beast had him on his back, ignoring the blade that pierced through its cheek.
The warg bit down on Thorin's grip. As the dwarf's grip loosened, the beast flung its head wildly, the blade eventually sliding out and piercing a random orc. The warg's jaw wrapped around Thorin's torso and pierced his flesh. Thorin gagged through his pain as his teeth clenched tight. He winced from the beast picking him up and running towards the hill. The warg's teeth sending a jolt of pain through the dwarf's body with every stride.
Balin spat out his blood as he attempted to chase after his prince. Another warg stepped in to block his path.
"THORIN!"
-
Teeth clamped down tighter, pushing the remaining air from his lungs. Thorin's body screamed with every contact the beasts body made with the ground as it ran. His mind struggled for a breath air. A throbbing pain quaked at the back of his head as his vision began to blur. Unable to scream or yell out in pain, the dwarf prince twitched silently in the beasts mouth. His mind slowly blanking out.
The beast reached the top of the hill and spat the dwarf prince from his mouth. The dwarf's body thudded against the ground but made no sound from inside. A faint quivering attempt to breath in air trailed into the warg's ear, twitching at the sound.
Thorin new he would not survive. His body was broken and unable to breath. The blurred silhouette of the beast danced over his quaking eyes. It came closer to his head, heated breath pouring onto his skin. Thorin made one last attempt to move but his lungs clenched tight and choked him further. The dwarf closed his eyes waiting for his death.
A strange sound swam into his ears. He could not tell what it was or if there were words, but it was a deep hollowed sound, almost warming to his ear. Was this deaths' call for his spirit? Aiding him to the other side he thought.
The heat of the beast above left him. The prince dared to open his eyes and glanced weakly around. His focus completely thrown off from his bodies pain and lack of oxygen. But there, where the moon parted through the trees, a glowing white figure stood watching him. Tall, he could tell, basking in the white radiant of the moon. There was no details, only the soft glow and silhouette of the giant being.
An elf? He questioned through he fading thoughts. Elven men and women stood tall over the other races. Their beauty was often enhanced under the moonlight. Many a times they would walk through the woods and forests and night during their travels. A river of glowing figures walking behind each other, baring little lanterns to guide their way. It could have been an elf. There mystic presence leaving all in awe at their beauty.
No it could not have been an elf. The being peering at his broken body had no outline of hair. In-fact it looked there was none at all. Elves were proud of keeping their illustrious hair of course, just as the dwarves kept their beards long and proud.
If not an elf, it must be a man, it was no dwarf for sure. What man would be out in these woods at night? Men did not travel into elven territory alone. At least not all. A ranger perhaps or a banished criminal.
Thorin could not figure it out and as he continued to stare in awe he felt his body lighten. The wondrous glow warmed his heart and calmed as he felt his death approaching.
"aule..." His voice was quiet and raspy, barely strong enough to utter the vowels.
His god had come for him. No other creature could have such a holy presence and ease his suffering.
His supposed god let out a roaring laugh then started walking towards the injured dwarf. Thorin's pupils swayed trying to keep the visual of the silhouette walking towards him. The image filled his sight as the creature knelt down to the princes' head.
Thorin felt his hair part as fingers slipped over his scalp.
They felt...sharp...
The fingers continued to shift in the dwarf's hair, slowly trailing over the multiple braids. Thorin's body twitched again, short breaths slightly entering his lungs. It caused him great pain to breath, but the heavenly being above him calmed him his body greatly.
Slowly his eyes closed and the night wrapped its thick blanket around his mind, pulling him to darkness...