Chapter 2: The Dagger
Kili froze. A growling voice boomed from above him. He did not understand the orcish tongue, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. Azog.
Kili slowly looked up and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach; on a ledge high above, the thick, gray outstretched arm of Azog the Defiler held a struggling Fili by the scruff of the neck. Fili's legs kicked. His arms jerked.
For a moment, Kili didn't understand. Where were Fili's swords? Why wasn't he fighting back? Fili always had something, usually a dagger, up his sleeve. He can't fight back, Kili realized with horror. He's been cornered and bested. Fili, brother, I am coming!
"Go!" Kili heard his brother shout before he could do anything, voice ringing over the mountaintop. Then a strangled cry, "Run!"
Fili's voice died in his throat. The Pale Orc's blade pierced his back. Azog twisted the blade with a triumphant growl.
No.
Azog released Fili's limp form, which pirouetted gracefully through the air before landing hard on the rock at Kili's feet. Kili jumped back only just in time. The fall would have killed even the hardiest of dwarves, but Fili was dead before Azog even dropped him. His body lay splayed, unseeing eyes wide open.
It was too late to do anything.
Kili's world fell away. A loud buzzing filled his ears, getting louder and louder. Kili could no longer hear the distant clanging of the battle below or the growling of Azog above him. Kili could neither move nor breathe. He could only stare at Fili, willing his brother to blink his eyes, to groan, to stand up and brush himself off as he'd done so often on their journey.
Kili, said a voice in his head, not his own. Kili, brother, you need to leave. Now. Azog is coming. He wants you dead, he wants all of us dead.
"Fili..."
I am fallen, Kili. Don't you do the same. You are going to live.
"We are sons of Durin, and you shall be avenged," said Kili, aloud or to himself, he did not know, he gripped his sword, gritted his teeth, ready to charge.
Kili...
He paused, glancing again at Fili's still body.
If you're going to to this the stupid way, you had better be armed to the teeth. Like I taught you.
Kili drew in a shaky breath. Then, quickly, he crouched next to Fili, reaching his fingers into his brother's left boot where Kili knew a spare dagger could always been found. It had been no help to Fili in Azog's clutches, but it was still there. Kili took it, scabbard and all. He shoved it inside of his sleeve.
With one final look at his brother's still form, he charged across the ledge and up the stairs.
The first orc bore down on him. Kili easily dodged its blow plunged his sword into its flesh. As he pressed on up the tower, more orcs came, more than he had ever face on his own, yet Kili moved effortlessly without thinking, dodging, stabbing, and slashing his way up the staircases and bridges. He had never fought this way before.
He had never fought alone before.
Yet these orcs, try as they might to bludgeon him, could not seem to touch him. He dodged and rolled out of their way, coming back only more fierce for the kill. Not until he had claimed the head of Azog could they touch him, for he carried in him a rage to be reckoned with. The rage filled him with a tireless power and instinct he had never before known.
He did not know how much time passed, and he did not know how many heads rolled beneath his blade. Only that they kept rolling and that this gruesome dance never seemed to end. While Fili's last strangled cry lingered on his ears, Kili felt no weariness.
"Kili!" came a voice, faint through the howling wind. The voice was high and panicked, as Fili's was when Kili was in peril. I've got this, Fili.
"Kili!" the voice came again, this time more clear. It was not Fili. It was...
"Tauriel?"
She was calling for help! He shouted her name again, slashing at the two orcs surrounding him. He stabbed one in the gut. The other could wait. He dodged the second orc and tore off, searching for the fastest way down the tower.
The old fortress of Ravenhill was a winding mess of stone, stairs and passages. Kili fought for his bearings and his life at the same time. Orcs lunged out from around every corner. Those he could not kill, he managed to slide under or around, or simply shove out of the way.
His heart pounded. Kili suddenly felt small and frightened again, as he had in the passageway far below. Where was Tauriel? What was she doing up here? She had sounded distressed, and no more of her cries reached his years. It might already be too late.
"Tauriel!" he shouted. But she did not answer. His stomach tightened. He raced along a narrow hall, emerging on an open ledge. He caught a glimpse of her gleaming red hair. A menacing orc with metal laced into his flesh loomed over the elf's limp form, raising a fierce and heavy mace. Bolg, it was, the very orc who had shot him at the gate in Mirkwood. Tauriel struggled to lift herself. She was injured, and her face was pale, but still she lived.
Kili leapt from the ledge, his sword pointing down, aiming for Bolg's white scalp. He missed, and the great orc tossed him aside like a rag doll. He hit the stone wall hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he scrambled to his feet quickly, closing his hand tightly around the hilt of his sword.
Again, he lunged at the great orc, but Bolg caught him in the chest and punched him square in the forehead. Stars burst into his vision. He lost his footing. The great orc caught him around the chest and gripped him between hand and thigh. The thick gray fingers closed around his neck.
His head foggy and aching, Kili struggled, but the orc held him so tightly that he could not move. He made to swing his sword but discovered that it had been knocked from his grip and lay several feet away. It might as well have been a mile. As the world finally came into focus. Kili looked up and saw a mad, silvery gleam in the orc's eye, and the tip of the iron mace raising high over his chest. Bolg was the anvil and the hammer, and he, Kili, was metal for the pounding.
So this was it.
You've got this, Kili. Don't think I'm letting you die today, brother.
It took Kili a moment to remember.
His arms were still free at his sides so he swung them together, reaching his right hand into his left sleeve. He pulled out Fili's dagger, pointed it down, and plunged it straight into the orc's un-armored thigh.
The orc howled and released its grip. Kili, breathless, rolled away across the cold stone floor. He scrambled for his sword, knowing it was only a matter of time before the orc regrouped and took another swing at him.
His hands closed on the hilt and he rose to his feet. His head throbbed. He stumbled over to Tauriel and stood before her prone figure. He could hear her breathing raggedly.
For a moment, the orc looked utterly stupid and bewildered, spinning around in search of the dwarf. Then, Bolg turned his pale eyes, one gleaming bright and dangerous, the other frosted and milky, once more to Kili.
"That was a warning, orc scum!" shouted Kili. "You will not touch her."
The orc roared. He swung the great mace. Kili ducked and felt it just brush the hairs on top of his head. He stood up straight again, searching for the next blow to dodge, the next opening where he could plant his sword, but the mace was already on its way back.
It hit him square in the chest.
Kili heard a sickening crunch that was the sound of his body breaking. The mace continued to press into him, tearing through mail, leather and flesh, pushing him backwards. He fell on the stone, gasping painfully, and found he could not even lift his arms. A searing pain tore through his chest.
He fought the blackness that swarmed his eyes. The white orc leered above him. Then, there was a flurry of red and green in his fading eyes as Tauriel leaped over him with a strangled cry.
The orc swung his mace at her, but she ducked, sliding along the stone under him, between his legs. On her way, she grabbed Fili's dagger, still stuck in the orc's thigh. The orc roared as she pulled it from his flesh, and he stumbled, for she cut deeply into his thigh as she removed the blade. In one swift move, Tauriel rolled to her feet, leaped onto Bolg's hulking shoulders and slashed his gray throat open, her face a fierce grimace. A curtain of black blood flowed over his armored chest.
The orc's face fell slack, and the light faded from his one clear eye.
Bolg fell forward and landed heavily. Tauriel toppled from his shoulders and fell to the floor. She crawled limply towards Kili, calling his name, but the world fell into blackness, and Kili saw no more.