Thranduil

Thranduil should have known this would turn into a worst-case scenario. Dwarves were involved after all. The orcs, wargs, and myriad of other foul things only made it worse. How did his people always get drawn into these battles? Granted, he was partially at fault for this one. It wasn't like he didn't know that expeditionary trips often led to battle, especially those that set out partially for threat assessment. The battle wasn't completely unexpected, but it was certainly bigger than he could have imagined. Annoying.

He ground his teeth as his gaze flickered over the battlefield. Elves were engaged with orcs and wargs all over the plains. With no chance to do any real planning, Thranduil knew there would be little to no way to control the remainder this battle or direct his troops. His people were going to have to rely on their own skill. Catching nearby movement out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil slashed his sword to his right, parrying an attack aimed for his gut. He forced the blade aside and quickly decapitated the orc that had foolishly come after him. Turning his attention away from the whole of the battlefield, Thranduil once again focused on what was taking place nearest to him. A quick glance around revealed that most of his guards and the unit that had remained with him were still on their feet. He didn't get the chance to think much beyond that before he had to jerk his head back to prevent an arrow from finding its mark in his skull. It had been so close that he'd felt the air whistling by his face as the arrow had passed. Eyes blazing with fury, Thranduil whipped his elk around toward the direction the arrow had come, hoping to find its source. Whichever orc had attempted to kill him had been smart enough not to stick around. He found no sign of an archer. What he did find was unsettling.

A contingent of orcs seemed to be streaming away from the battle. Had they been fleeing, Thranduil would have been forced to let them go despite his disgust at the thought. He would prefer to hunt each and every one of them down until he could purge their vile existence from the area. The fact that these orcs didn't appear to be attempting to escape the battle sent a thrill of unease down his spine. They were heading into Dale, toward the camps his people and the men of Laketown had set up. Some of his people remained in the camps, but every one of those left behind knew how to fight. Most, if not all of them, would survive even if they were outnumbered. Thranduil didn't need to go to their rescue. As for the men, they weren't truly his concern. He could ignore what was happening with a clear conscience and focus on the battle currently surrounding him if he wished.

Still…

He glared at the orcs as they poured into Dale. Taking the battle into the confines of the ruined city ran the risk of costing more elven lives; however, it would also provide the opportunity to force their enemies to attack from a limited number of sides, unlike the current battle out in the open. Thranduil debated for a moment longer before his face set in firm decision and he turned toward Dale. He'd seen enough innocent blood spilled in battle. This bloodshed he could stop, even if it was only the blood of men.

Thranduil released a piercing whistle to signal the unit that would remain with him that they were changing course. He didn't bother to check if they were following before he urged his elk after the orcs invading Dale. His guards and the other soldiers would follow without question. Keeping his mount to a slow canter so there wouldn't be too large a gap between him and his soldiers, Thranduil picked off every orc within reach. He had barely entered the city when the distinct sound of twanging bows and arrows whistling through the air reached him. Even with the warning, there was no time to react. Thranduil heard the thud of multiple arrows hitting their target as the impacts reverberated up to him. Miraculously, none had struck him, though one had come far too close for comfort. His elk had not been as lucky. Moments after Thranduil had felt the impacts the animal began to fall. His roll forward was automatic, and he came back to his feet without hesitation, ready to battle. The orcs would pay for this death. He whirled to engage them even as the other elves began to join the fight.

They made quick work of the orcs, and Thranduil motioned his elves toward the streets and further into the city. Without question there were more orcs throughout the city, and he had every intention of hunting them down. As they threaded their way through the streets, remaining alert to their surroundings, the sounds of battle reached their ears once again. More than the sounds of crashing metal, screams of terror rang out. It wasn't hard to follow the noise.

The group of elves swept into the courtyard prepared to fight. The space was filled with men and women and, of course, the attacking orcs. Already Thranduil could spot a few dead within the masses. Given the number of orcs pouring in from other entrances, the courtyard would soon be the site of a bloodbath. Not a word needed to be spoken for the elves to set upon the nearest orcs with a vengeance. Slaughtered bodies fell behind them as they spread through the courtyard. Or market, Thranduil supposed. That appeared to be what the place had been prior to the attack.

Thranduil was aware of little else happening beyond that in his direct surroundings until the high pitched, tinny scream of a terrified child pierced the air. His head snapped up, immediately recognizing the sound even over the din of battle. He spun toward it, eyes searching for the source. There! About halfway down the courtyard wall were three children. The eldest was holding a young one pressed against her leg while the third – their brother he assumed – was wielding a far too large sword – likely poached from one of the fallen men – and keeping himself between the orcs and his sisters. It was a brave attempt but would likely amount to nothing given the number of enemies. No one would be able to spare time or energy to help the boy during the chaos. No one except, perhaps, Thranduil. He remembered when his own son was that age. Legolas had been spared the horrors of battle, of war. Thranduil had made sure of it. As much of a presence as it had had within his realm, he had made sure that his son had been shielded from the worst of it when he'd been an elfling. These children didn't have that luxury. As much as their father might have wished to protect them, they'd been thrown right into the middle of it. There would be no sparing them from the brutality of battle now. The only thing they could be spared from was death, and that was something Thranduil could do.

He moved forward with renewed purpose, cutting down any orc between him and the children. While he was aware three of his guard were following him and further reducing the orcish numbers, they were only a side thought. His full focus was on reaching the little ones before it was too late. Surprisingly the boy was holding his own quite well. He'd managed to dodge a careless swing of an orc and ducked back out of the way, herding his sisters with him. They hadn't received direct attention yet, but that wouldn't last. It was one of the things Thranduil hated most about orcs. They drew more pleasure from killing innocents than they did trained warriors. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he spotted an orc target in on the children. It began stalking directly toward them.

As the orc approached the boy raised his sword, a look of both defiance and fear on his face. Thranduil saw the youngest's eyes go wide in stark terror before she screamed and dropped into a crouch with her arms wrapped over her head. A child's form of protection that would do her absolutely no good.

"Bain!" the elder girl cried as the orc drew within closing distance of their brother.

Thranduil nearly flew the last few yards to them. Before the orc could draw any closer to the young ones Thranduil's blade found its mark in the orc's neck, and he beheaded it with a fierce snarl. Blood splattered outward, some of it staining Bain's face. Stunned eyes met blazing blue and for a moment Bain appeared just as terrified of Thranduil as he had been of the orc, if not more so. It quickly passed once he realized the elf wasn't going to harm him or his siblings. In fact, he had just saved their lives.

Taking his eyes off the children for a moment, Thanduil paused to take in their surroundings. The number of orcs was growing despite how many had already been taken down. Soon enough the space would become too confining to move freely. If he had any chance of getting the children to safety they would have to go now. There wasn't any time to waste. He carelessly dispatched another orc as he glanced over his shoulder at his three new charges.

"We need to move. Now. Follow me and stay close."

Thranduil was confident he could forge a path to one of the exits. His guards would easily be able to keep any enemies off their backs as long as they stayed together and near the wall.

"O-okay," Bain stammered before stumbling after Thranduil.

They had both figured that the girls would follow suit. It took a few steps before they realized that wasn't the case.

"Tilda, come on!"

Bain looked back at the sound of his sister's voice and found Sigrid pulling at Tilda's arm and trying to get the girl to move. It didn't seem to be doing any good.

"Sigrid?"

"She won't move!" Sigrid cried as she pulled at Tilda's arm again.

She couldn't even manage to peel one arm off from her sister's head. Tilda was absolutely frozen in fear. Nothing Sigrid said or did budged her an inch. Realizing the littlest one wouldn't be moving under her own power, Thranduil strode over to them. Right before he reached them the eldest's eyes widened and she shifted as if to stand in his way. Did she truly believe that he would strike a child? While that was a trait found far too often in men, it was rare or non-existent in elves. Sigrid had nothing to fear, though the slight tightening of his lips when he'd realized the cause of her fear likely hadn't reassured her. She could be afraid of him, if she wished, but it wasn't going to stop him. He stepped around her and headed for the youngest. Tilda hadn't even seen him coming. When Thranduil scooped her up into his arms she squeaked in fright, unaware that orcish hands would have been far less gentle.

"Shh, penneth," he murmured into her ear as he settled her on his hip.

The whisper of breath against Tilda's ear was enough, even though she didn't fully understand the words. She latched her arms around Thranduil's neck and hid her face against his armor.

With the children all secured, Thranduil set off again, the eldest two following close behind. Thankfully the closest way out kept the wall to their left. It would keep Tilda safely shielded and Thranduil's right arm open to easily use his blade to dispatch any orcs coming toward them. He soon had to make use of the available room by removing an orc's sword arm from its shoulder before stabbing it through the side. Even with his guards covering him and the children, there were simply too many orcs to prevent all of them from breaking through. Given the children were completely defenseless – none of the elves truly trusted the boy to make good use of his appropriated sword – the guards were focusing most of their attention on the area surrounding the children and their lord's back. The Elvenking, they knew, could well take care of himself as long as he wasn't facing an overwhelming number of opponents at once, even when he was limited by a child in his arms.

There were more and more orcs pouring into the market space even as they attempted to get out. The screams of men grew in pitch and volume as more people were targeted and overrun. Tiny arms tightened around Thranduil's neck, making it clear he wasn't the only one who'd picked up on the increased noise. A few steps later there was another tightening at his neck, though this one came from a tug on his cloak. Thranduil glanced back and found a white faced, wide eyed Sigrid clutching at his cloak as if terrified of being separated from him. A potential impediment, but not one that would cause major problems as long as she was smart enough not to strangle him.

It turned out to be a good thing that Sigrid was so close to him. Thranduil's instincts alerted him to the danger just in time. It was only his quick reaction and proximity that saved Sigrid's life once again. He whirled fully toward her. Without a free hand available he threw his arm over her shoulder to press his fist and the butt of his sword against her back to drive her forward. She crashed into his chest an instant before an arrow shattered on the stone wall where she'd been standing not a moment before. One of Thranduil's guards took out the orc archer with his own arrow while Thranduil steadied Sigrid. She was trembling but appeared functional. More functional than her brother, at least, who looked to be in shock after the close call. He was still staring at the broken pieces of arrow on the ground when the rest of the group was ready to continue onward.

"Move, boy!" Thranduil growled.

Bain visibly jumped and scrambled forward, closing the distance to Thranduil and Sigrid.

Satisfied the boy was going to follow, Thranduil started off for the exit once more. Though they had to fight their way out it wasn't the worst they had seen in the courtyard. They slipped through the opening and moved down the street, picking up their pace as they went. The more distance they put between themselves and the slaughter at the market the safer they would be. The sooner they got off the street directly connecting to the courtyard the safer they would be as well. Eventually the orcs would run out of prey and venture into the ruins. Thranduil was not going to allow them a straight line of sight to the children for long. If they weren't in sight, there was no chance of being spotted by a bored orc looking for its next target.

As the din of battle receded behind them, the heavy, almost frantic breathing of the older children became more apparent. Their adrenaline would wear off soon, if it hadn't already. Despite the exhaustion they were bound to feel, they would need to keep going until they reached somewhere safe. Thranduil was aiming for the camp at the edge of the city where they would be far from the main battle and near other protectors. He could trust the elves remaining at the camp to look after the children while he returned to battle. A glance back at the children revealed his concerns were correct. They were starting to flag.

"Where are we going?" Bain asked when he spotted Thranduil looking at them.

"Camp."

"But we have to find Da!"

Thranduil merely looked at Bain. The child could not truly believe it would be possible to find his father while a battle was going on.

"Then you'll sit tight until it's safe."

"But…"

Bain was immediately cut off when Thranduil's gaze returned to him. The look wasn't cold, exactly, but it would give Bain the distinct feeling that he should shut his mouth. Clearly they weren't going to find Bain's father on the boy's timeline. Thranduil could see the boy's thought process as it danced across Bain's face. A flicker of unease appeared there, and he took a nervous step closer to Thranduil. Apparently it had just occurred to him that there were still orcs around, and as he'd already discovered, he was no match for them. The fight won for the moment, Thranduil once again began leading them toward the camp.

They reached the camp after only a few more run-ins with stray pockets of orcs. The children hadn't said a word in a while, though they were likely too exhausted to bother. Sigrid had been tripping over the loose and uneven stones more and more often. Bain was struggling to keep up with Thranduil's fast pace, though he was forcing himself to manage it for the simple fact that he felt much safer when he was within reach. Chances were Thranduil wouldn't have any problem leaving the children to return to the battle. They would be too tired to argue about him not immediately finding their father. When they reached the center of the camp, he motioned the guards to cover the perimeter before ushering the children into his tent.

"You may rest here. We will find your adar once the situation calms."

Bain nodded. As Thranduil had expected, he was too tired to argue the point. His eyes immediately drifted to the cot on the far side of the tent, but he made no move toward it. Thranduil read his hesitation and offered a slight tilt of his head in reassurance. It was all Bain needed. He stumbled his way over to the cot and flopped down onto it, falling asleep almost instantly. Sigrid settled herself into a chair and drew her legs up to her chest. She too looked like she could fall asleep at any moment. The fear and physical exertion of running for their lives had drained them.

Thranduil turned his attention to the little one he was still holding. Her head was nestled on his shoulder. While he couldn't see her face, her quiet, rhythmic breaths said she was also asleep. He should be able to settle her down beside her brother without waking her. When he slid his hands under her arms to lift her, he discovered the task would be much more difficult than it had seemed. Tilda had somehow twined her fingers into the collar of his tunic. Even in sleep they wouldn't release their grip. After resettling an arm under her, Thranduil tried to free the fabric from her hand. He had absolutely no success. Her grip hadn't even loosened. He sighed. Clearly he was not going to be able to pry her off. How such a tiny human could be so strong he couldn't fathom.

His defeat obvious, Thranduil had to accept the fact that she would be remaining with him. As such, he would not be able to return to battle. At least not to the action itself. He should be able to find a location that allowed him to see and direct some portion of his troops. That had the potential to save quite a few lives.

He unclipped one side of his cloak and pulled it around so he could settle it over the sleeping child. It would keep her warm and shield her from direct view. Thranduil didn't want her to be terribly noticeable. That would lead to more questions and suspicion than he wanted to deal with. Besides, he had a reputation that did not fit with caring for children. He would prefer to keep it that way since there was no reason to change that opinion with the masses. Intimidation had kept his people and forest safe in the past decades.

Leaving the older children to rest, Thranduil stepped out of his tent and was immediately met by his guards. Words weren't needed. They simply followed their king up to the highest ridge at the edge of the camp. From there Thranduil could see the battle raging on the plain and within the city below. He would dispatch his guards as runners to carry orders to various cohorts or use them as a specialized unit to turn the tide of battle in nearby areas. No matter what, they were going to put an end to these orcs, and Thranduil would work to keep as many elven lives intact as he could. They had all seen enough death.