Chapter 11 – The Battle of the Five Armies
The red Sun rose over the valley, but its shine fell upon the blackened land. Valley was filled with dead orcs who fell that day, slain by swords and axes of the Sons of Durin, their black blood staining the already desolated earth like poison.
Thorin's voice echoed throughout the valley.
"Du Bekar!"
His own voice sent fear to his enemies, freezing their blood as the King of Durin's Folk led an army of dwarves towards them. The dwarves rallied to their King, their hearts filled with joy and honour for their King he was, and what a King! None could escape the wrath of his sword, none could step a foot closer to his Kingdom, none could even hope to harm his beloved sister-sons, fighting on each side of him.
The true Line of Durin, the royal sons of all dwarves, led the charge as one. The King and his heirs, three bodies led by one mind, by one soul.
Countless foes fell that day upon their swords and the very wrath of Durin the Deathless himself could be felt in the air, for the sons of his Line marched against the enemy ascended from darkness.
In the midst of the battle, Fili and Kili found themselves surrounded by their kin from the Iron Hills, their kin who would stop at nothing to protect their royal heirs, their bellowed sons. Yet still their swords drew blood of countless of orcs, sending fear deep into the enemy's lines.
Even in the city of Dale, where a battle was still fierce, the wrath of the Durins could be felt. And even after all that had happened between Thorin and the men of Lake-town, the presence of the dwarven King on the battlefield filled the hearts of men with hope and aimed their swords towards the legions of orcs.
Fili and Kili, so often called the Lion and the Wolf of Durin's Line, now fought with bravery and honour rarely seen even amongst the mightiest of warriors. Their youth and strength led their kin forward, towards the enemy. Tales would be told and songs would be sung in the years and ages to come of the great Sons of the Durin's Line.
But the number of orcs was great and when one fell, another soon took his place. Kili wielded his sword with efficiency, as if it was a part of his arm. Orc after orc fell, but naught would stop him in his defence of his kin and King.
Fili was on his side, a true Lion, merciless and brave, wielding his swords and slayings all who dared to face him.
The two brothers stood around their King and uncle, for they would defend him with shield and body. He was their mother's older brother, their beloved uncle and the only father they had. He had raised them and loved them as his own sons, so they would gladly give their lives for him.
When they ventured into the unknown, at the very beginning of the quest of Erebor, Kili wished nothing more but to prove his worth in battle, to make a name for himself. To finally become who he was born to be. A Prince of the Line of Durin.
Yet now, slaying orcs and orcs, foes beyond count, he felt as if he had always been the same. As if he had spent his entire life trying to prove what already was known.
He was a fighter. A warrior. A Wolf.
And the honour Thorin placed upon him, the honour of standing on the side of his King and his brother in the battle, the honour of leading the charge of all dwarves... was so overwhelming.
His heart leapt with unimaginable joy. His sword danced in a dance of death and wrath.
The Kingdom finally had a King. The dwarves finally had a home. The Home. And there was nothing Kili would not do to ensure its security and prosperity.
Long had he doubted himself. Long had he questioned his worth.
Tall, beardless dwarf. Archer. Prince without a Kingdom or a Throne. A boy without a father.
Yet now, he felt it. The strong bond to his kin. The deep love for the Mountain. The Durin's blood in his veins.
And indeed, far beyond the battlefield, beyond death, pain and sorrow, Durin the Deathless cried with joy and pride in the Halls of Mahal. And Aule, the Forger himself, he whom they called Mahal, stood beside him and shared his joy, praising Iluvatar's word. For in his word, all the light was born, even the light of the children he alone had made and claimed as his own.
Great Mahal forged his children from fire and stone to endure all the evil that was yet to come. And in the hour of battle, in the hour of judgement, his children stood as one, led by the greatest of his Sons.
Iluvatar's own heart filled with joy. For the evil had returned, and once more it was seen that the unlikeliest of creatures could control the force of goodness beyond measure and beyond doubt. The little Halfling, his child, alongside the Firstborns, Men and Dwarves, his chosen children and his adopted ones, would once again win against the powers of evil.
Yet, his sight reached further than those of others... And he knew each victory came with a price...
Thorin and Dain, two cousins, met on the first line of battle. Surrounded they were by their kinsmen and allowed a moment of rest. Their foreheads met in no time, followed by smiles and unspoken gratitude from one to another. From one, gratitude for the much needed air in the hour of need. From the other, gratitude for the honour of being called to his King after he had once forsaken him.
The battle raged. Men, elves and dwarves tirelessly stood against countless of foes, defending the little they had left.
After centuries of hatred, Thorin's chest swelled with pride when the word reached him of elves and dwarves fighting together. He was still a young dwarfling, a mere child, when the two peoples lived in friendship.
He vowed to himself and to the great Forger, he would see those days again. He would give Thranduil those blasted gems if he wanted them so much. He would help Bard and the people of Lake-town, for shame and disgust towards his own self filled his heart, for he had given his word and he had broken it.
Now he stood amongst his companions. His friends and his kin. Free of the darkness that had clouded his mind for long, for too long...
Honour. Courage. A willing heart. That was all he could have ever hoped for in his companions, and yet he was given even more.
He looked upon his sister-sons, his beloved sons and best warriors, and he made another vow. A last vow.
He would end this.
He would end this now.
No more would Azog the Defiler endanger his people. His Line. His family.
His gaze met the Ravenhill where the accursed filth stood, leading his armies from the distance, for long ago had he learned that facing an enemy in person could bring one onto his knees. A coward. A filthy worm that needed to be slain and returned to the dirt he had ascended from.
Dwalin was at his side, end when their eyes met, they nodded to each other in wordless understanding. It had to end. It had to end now.
In no time, they were joined by Fili and Kili. Rams were soon provided and they mounted them. With last words, Thorin parted from his cousin, entrusting him entirely with the defence of his Kingdom. His fierce gaze froze Dain in spot and his words nearly brought him to his knees, for that who spoke was a true leader and a true King.
"I am going to end this. I am going to kill that filth."
They charged forward, slaying all that stood near, but even the orcs backed away from the four dwarves.
Dwalin's shout further scared them, but brought encouragement to his kin.
"Lead us!"
They ascended the Ravenhill, slaying all that dared to stand against them, and once at the top, the victory was near. Fili and Kili worked in unison, synchronized like only those of the same blood could be. Their sword danced and when their eyes met, for they were mostly guarding each other's back, they smiled warmly.
Truly. Kili thought. There is no place I would rather be. I belong with my brother.
Thorin and Dwalin worked in unison practiced throughout their long lives. The very sight of them brought fear to the enemies' eyes, and Kili could swear, at least one orc simply dropped dead when Dwalin glared at it.
Soon, the Ravenhill was cleared. Its black stone covered in dead orc bodies. Fresh piles of snow now laid there tainted with black poison of orcish blood.
Yet Azog the Defiler was nowhere to be seen. Not amongst the living. Not amongst the dead.
The battle was raging beneath them, yet they were surrounded by silence. Naught could be heard, except for the song of cold winter wind.
When the fire in his blood cooled, Kili took in what was around him. A strange, yet so familiar sensation tingled over his skin, starting at the tips of his fingers and eventually reaching his heart.
His breath laboured. This was it. The Ravenhill. The same black stone that had been calling his name.
The same air that had sung to him from afar.
Kili...
He heard his name, yet this time he knew it had not come from his brother. It was a sound so faint, so alluring, just like the shadows in his mind from where it was coming.
The air was cold and heavy with fog, but something else was there. Dread filled him once more, for something was moving in shadows, unseen.
He could feel his brother tense near him, for dread filled him too. Their uncle's eyes confirmed their thoughts, for the same ones were on his mind.
Azog would not flee from a battle. He had sworn to end the Line of Durin. To kill them all, to the very last of them.
And here they were. Three direct descendants of Durin the Deathless, offered to him like a treat on a feast.
Thorin's heart halted. His mind raced back. Years back. He remembered his father's words before the Walls of Moria. The great Battle of Azanulbizar was nearly lost and heavy defeat was upon them when Thrain, son of Thror, led the charge. But before it, he had placed a hand on his son's chest.
He did not let him follow. He did not lead him at death's door. He had ensured his son and heir would stay behind, safe to carry on the Line if the worst was to come.
And there stood Thorin, son of Thrain, before the same enemy of old, with both his sister-sons and heirs on each of his sides. His blood froze for he could not believe his own stupidity.
In the hour of decision, he had sought for his best warriors. And his sister-sons were the best of them, for he had trained them. Yet, little had he thought of the possibility of death of all of them.
The thought of losing either one of them... The thought of Fili or Kili...
No.
Azog was his.
He would kill the filth alone and end this once and for all.
He grasped Fili's shoulder.
"Take your brother." His eyes met Kili's and he nodded. "Search the lower levels. Report back and do NOT engage."
His grip on his nephew's shoulder tightened and he could only hope his sister-sons could see the strong plea his eyes were sending them.
Stay safe. Stay safe, my boys...
Fili, the Lion he was, rose to his full height and nodded. Thorin gripped his shoulder once more and then grasped Kili's arm as well.
They would go away and be safe.
He would spare their lives and kill the filth alone.
If he survived, they would have certainly killed him themselves, but it did not matter. All that mattered were their lives and their safety.
Azog would soon come. He would not cast away an opportunity offered so freely. The filth would come and he would kill him. Or die trying.
And whence he came, his nephews would be away. No harm would come to them.
His thoughts returned to the one cold night in Ered Luin. The night his sister forced him to swear on Durin's Hammer that he would keep her sons safe. That he would look out for them.
A small smile tugged the corners of his lips.
Yes, Dis. My dearest sister. They will come back to you.
AN: Hi, my dear readers and followers! I wrote this chapter a few days ago, but I've kept rewriting some bits and pieces because I just wasn't satisfied. Honestly, I'm still not and I do believe I could've done a better job, but my medicine's making me drowsy so there's really no point in trying.
Anywaaay...I wanted to show Thorin a bit closer here and I hope you like how I've handled their parting. The scene with Thrain kept coming to my mind so I had to include it.
What's important-these scenes are very hard for me to write. I still can't quite deal with their deaths, so I get all emotional and ughh... That's why I've started my other fic and I simply focus on it when this death, pain and sorrow becomes too great to deal with. (Check it out! A bit of self-promo :P)
Please please please leave reviews! I'm very interested in your thoughts on all of this? Love it? Hate it? Hate me? :0
I hope I'll be able to write again soon. Like, very soon!
Thanks for reading and share your thoughts with me!
Cheers!