Dain's attention constantly drifted from the approaching enemy back to the ledge his injured cousin was perched on.

Be safe you fool... I don't have time to be concerned with you right now...

The sun's dimming blaze wrapped around the silhouettes of the murderous creatures running towards the defending dwarves. Blackened figures surrounded by an orange crimson sky, waving in the distance. The powerful star burned the image of the orc's charge into Dain's mind. Every battle branded his mind with memories of loss and pain. A gargled shriek tingled his ear as one of the silhouettes fell from sight. The lord turned to the cliff as the orange haze in his vision dissipated. Thorin drew back a second arrow and the drawstring snapped it off into the invading pack. Another cry rattled against the ground. Dain returned his mind to the field before him.

"Muhudel Mahal murkh mâ udu amrad..." (May the blessings of mahal shield us from death)

Dain breathed deeply, gripping his weighted axe, and prepared for battle.

********************************

What trickery is this?!

Dain snarled as another foe slipped away from their death as his roaring axe clamoured against the ground. He hitched his axe from the cracked earth and readied for the counter he was expecting. It never came as the orc stood with a taunting smirk across his hideous face. The orc snarled gleefully trying to get Dain to attack again. Dain starred past the orc to his surrounding troops who were experiencing the same level of frustration. The orcs were dodging their blows and never going in for the kill.

Dain held up his axe defensively as he searched his battle plagued mind for answers. His Father, Nain, had devised many strategies for dealing with the Easterlings to the south. The wicked men were tricky and devious when it came to fighting. However Nain was clever as he was appointed the strategist for Lord Gror's army. When Dain was old enough to join the ranks he took to his fathers side and watched his father change tactics in the midst of battle to counter the wicked men. Though his father was great, he was not invincible...

Dain brushed the sorrowful thought form his mind as he analyzed the orcs. Seldom has an merge orc pack posed any difficulty to the Iron Hills. The dwarves may be worn from battle but they were strong nonetheless. It was this pack that acted differently, cowering from any swing to their manipulated bodies. These orcs did not act the same as those who prayed on weary travellers. Easy to cut down with even the smallest number of warriors.

No... They are organized... They aren't cowering out of fear...

A horror filled moment gripped Dain's heart in a twisting vice. He lunged at his opponent who dodged again, leaving a gap between them. Dain's sight flooded with images as he whipped his head back to his kingdom he feared was being attacked while they were distracted. His breath held itself and eased when there were no orcs in sight near his kingdom.

Mahal... I am wrong...

As Dain turned back towards the orc, a glimmer of white caught his attention as it vanished from the cliff he entrusted his cousins safety to. The tainted steel of an orc's blade clashed against his axe and cut in front of his sight. The orc snarled and forced his weight against the dwarf lord. Dain could feel it through the leather wrapped handle, the orcs have been holding back in order to delay them. Dain roared as he smashed his helmet into the orc's bare skull. It staggered back and the lord drew his weapon and cleaved through the fowl creature.

"Thorin!"

*********************************

The branches groaned with the brisk wind that crept over the silent cliff. A ravaged prince stood alone, gaping at the emptied space. The prince's captor removed himself not long ago. Torn fabric, dyed with a dark red hue, exposed a small portion of his shoulder. His hair was a mangled mess that accompanied the dried fluid on his cheeks. Deep disturbed breathes pushed out of his body as his knees quivered before falling to the hardened rock below.

What is this...

What is it I do not understand...

I have no earned your forgiveness Aule...

Please tell me what this means...

Thorin's hand gripped his forehead, rubbing his finger tips in circles, then sliding down to grasp a hold over his mouth. The distraught prince anguished over nonsensical event.

Why am I still here...

Why did he bring me back...

Thorin's fingers curled into his cheeks, scrapping the bit of dried cum beneath his fingertips. His stomach churned at the lingering taste in his mouth and the stench of the orc's saliva that coated his neck to his ear. The prince reeked of his sinful act with the orc. Thorin held the back of his hand to his nose to block the repulsive smell that threatened his body to hurl. His body twitched as he forced his reflexes not to gag from his sins.

Aule... I did not mean to betray you... My body is a disgusting heathen... Forgive me...

Thorin growled at his body. He brought his hands to his arms and dug his stubbed nails into his skin and dragged deep lines down his flesh.

I did not ask for this body...

Dain is right...

This thin and weak body is of no dwarfs...

Am I not of dwarven heritage?...

Am I merely the spawn of some perverted exile that mated our females...

Am I... A descendent of the nûlukhkhazâd... Those vile creatures that are still connected to our race's history... (petty dwarves)

To leave me to creep into the royal family to steal their riches like some common thief..

Thorin grit his teeth as he continued to claw his skin. His god cared not for the nûlukhkhazâd and allowed them to be hunted into extinction. Even if there was a feint line that strived throughout the ages and allowed Thorin to be born, he would receive no mercy from his deity. Thorin squeezed his arms tightly embracing himself as he felt Aule's hatred gnaw at his flesh.

Thorin was alone, he could no longer speak with Dain as a equal. No longer walk proudly in his grandfather's hall, nor ask for blessings from Aule. There was no one who could help him, nor understand his struggles. He had been abandoned on that cliff, left to dwell to his miserable existence. An emptiness spread throughout his body as his hold on his arms barely brought him comfort.

I don't...

I don't want to be alone...

Thorin shut his eyes trying to remember the welcoming warmth of friends and family that awaited his return to Erebor. They knew not of his betrayal but Thorin needed comfort. A heat wrapped around him as his mind calmed under the imaginary presence. It did not judge him or hate him, it sought only to comfort him as he needed. Something soft pressed against his lips, gently sliding his lip in between. Thorin opened his eyes to the vacant cliff, his fingers drifting over his lips. He starred at the direction the orc ran off too, longing for him to return.

There was a clash of metal and harsh cries that lept over the edge and stormed Thorin's ears. Thorin scrambled to his feet and ran to look at the ongoing battle below. Shock and horror filled his eyes as truth washed away the grim fairytales he sheltered himself with. This wasn't Aule divine wrath. He was no descendant of the Nûlukhkhazâd. He was a Durin still, one that sought out lecherous acts with an orc in the midst of battle. As his kin fought for their lives through their exhausted state, he was off bedding their very enemy.

Thorin bellowed a pained roar as he delved a bone-crushing punch into the nearby tree's bark. He grit his teeth against the pain of the bones in his hand cracking. He fed off it, wanting more pain as payment for his treachery.

How dare you abandon them for your sick pleasure!

The sound of a warg barely reached his ear and the orcs below began to retreat. Thorin drew his attention to the dwarves, scanning for casualties. He sighed heavily when he found they were spared, no life was lost as a result of the foolish prince. Not this time...

Thorin watched the orc's disappear into the dark of night. They left without leaving a single victim from their attack. Thorin growled through his teeth.

He planned this...

He knew you would abandon the battle for that thing to be inside you...

Repulsive whore...

Thorin snarled and glanced for his weapon. The bow he brought lay broken in half near the jagged wall. He hissed knowing he should have killed the orc the moment he woke to the orc raping his body. A real warrior would have seized such an opportune moment to kill their enemy, but not Thorin.

No not you...

You were too busy fucking that creature...

Thorin looked to the troops that were checking each other for injury. A horrifying relief washed over him as he was thankful the battle had drawn their attention away from him. Thankful they had not come to his aid to find the Erebor prince willingly riding an orc, moaning for more. Thorin fell to his knees as his stomach hurled its contents onto the ground. Thorin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

How dare you thank the orc...

This was his plan all along and you keep falling for it...

He...

Thorin inhaled sharply as he realized his breeches would be stained by the blood from his marking. He quickly contorted his body to look for any indications of his rape that might attract curious enquiries from the physicians he would have to face. He pulled his cloth from his skin and didn't see any stains, at least not from his angle. He prayed that there wasn't a single drop on his cloth. Thorin glanced to his shoulder where it was obvious he was attacked. Large puncture wounds sunk into his skin, surrounded by the bloodied cloth.

Thorin's attention shifted back to his cousin who he guessed was the dwarf frantically running from warrior to warrior checking for injury. Dain stopped for a moment and glanced toward the cliff. Thorin quickly hid behind the bare tree and slunk down in his shame. Thorin could not bare to face Dain now after the lord had been through terrible hardships. After returning from war and losing his father and grandfather, to be put back into battle so his pathetic excuse of a relative can go fornicate with a lecherous orc. One that easily fondled the prince into submission.

I can not let Dain find out...

He had warned me not to come...

King Thranduil warned me not to go...

Why do I not learn from my mistakes...

Thorin gripped the roots of his hair, cursing his disgusting body, wishing to pry his tainted body from his mind and throw it into a mountains fiery pit, then send his mind along with it. He let out an agonizing scream and turned his body to thrust his broken fist into the tree's splintered bark. Thorin tried not to wince from the pain that spiked through his nerves. He refused to console his broken hand for he did not deserve to place a simple luxury upon his traitorous self.

Thorin's angry returned to grief as he hunched back against the tree, holding his head in shame.

A curse be damned...

I could have longed to hoard jewel, rule countries, even become a gluttonous beast, but I am this! I chose lust above all else! Lusting for a murderous creature that's killed my kin...

Killed children...

Fili...

Thorin's mind wandered to his nephew he left in Gundis' care, praying he was safe. Judging by the battle it seemed the Kingdom was safe. Fili was safe.

No, I cannot bend over for this murderer whose hands are tainted with the blood of its victims...

Scampering sounds neared the base of the cliff and Thorin saw the troops were heading to the path leading to his camp site. Dain must have noticed Thorin's lack of involvement in the battle, or even seen him get kidnapped.

I cannot hide this for long...

Thorin took a deep breath before standing and made his way down the path. From below he could hear his cousin heaving as he ran in his wearied state. The full weight of his armor slowing his movements with every stride. Dain was an admirable leader to still stand until every one of his dwarves was safe.

As Dain neared, Thorin slowed to a halt and lowered his gaze, remembering the orc's residue on his skin. He hung his head low and didn't see the oncoming fist of his come surging towards his jaw. Thorin flew back, colliding to the ground, gagging breathlessly as his rib pinched his lung. He grasped his unseen wound and squinted his gaze towards his cousin.

If Dain felt a shred of remorse for his action it was buried beneath the bitter hatred he held for his cousin. Thorin turned his head away, hiding his face beneath his mangled hair, praying Dain had not seen the white residue that flaked off his chin. He didn't know if Dain had seen Azog, but felt his cousins hate was justified without doubt. He had abandoned the battle, there was no reason beyond that.

Dain snarled when Thorin turned away, accepting his anger. Thorin knew damn well what he'd done and Dain could sense it. Throughout the battle his worried mind panicked over the disappearance of his cousin. He felt a wave of relief when he saw his cousin alive and moving towards them, but a grim cloud haunted Thorin's steps and enraged Dain. He may have forgiven Thorin just slightly, clobbered less forcefully if he'd known Thorin was oblivious to the orc packs' plan. But the sickening look on Thorin's face spoke words the prince had not meant to say. He knew he was the target of their attack and put himself and others at risk for the sake of his puny pride. Dain couldn't forgive such a selfish act that placed his men at risk. One of his dwarve's may have been killed while his attention was drawn to the cliff.

Dain watched Thorin topple back and grip his chest. The sight of his cousin cowering away from his face sent a pulsing rage through his body. He clenched his fist tighter, desiring to beat Thorin senseless for endangering his people.

There was an unsettling tension in the air as the wind quietly blew through the feuding cousins. Dain's men stood bewildered at the sight. They had always known the two Durin's to be chummy lads together. They had not seen what could have separated the bond between them as they were focused on the battle. No matter the reason for it, something about Thorin's actions spoke to their dwarven heritage. Dwarves were upfront with their emotions and easy to anger at times, often leading into a hysterical brawl. But when Dain punched the prince to the ground, Thorin did not counter or take to a defensive position. He cowered quietly beneath their lord's fury. There may have been another underlying meaning, family matters perhaps, whatever the reason they brushed it from their minds and waited for their lord's commands.

Dain snarled and turned his back to his pathetic cousin, marching passed his troops without a word. They turned to follow their lord as a few went to Thorin's aid. Thorin waved them aside and painfully staggered to his feet, following quietly as the Lord of the Iron Hills lead his dwarves back home.

The walk back was devoid of conversation, clattering bits of metal travelled with the troops as they came upon the kingdom's gate. The Iron croaked as it separated and a hoard of dwarves rushed out to greet them. They were the ones that had been left behind due to exhaustion and injury. The surrounded the oncoming troops, dismantling the weapons they were to weary to lift.

"Uncle!"

From the distant corner of the entrance hall, Fili looked through the bright passage to distinguish his uncle from the mass of dwarves. His voice dissolved into the relieved voices ahead that were tending to the injured soldiers. The lad took a step but his wrist was held back by the large female beside him. Gundis tugged the lad back into his spot.

"Stay Fili, it is not your time yet."

"But why not? They are going, I should go too."

Gundis didn't respond to the lad staring at her. She looked onwards over the crowd, searching for her husband. Her expression hardened as her husband tried to push his way through the crowd. Tension loomed over his shoulders she did not recognize. She could sense Dain's anger crawling up her skin. Her eyes flicked over the troops, counting each armored dwarf she could see.

Not a one missing but what angers you my lord...

Gundis continued to gather any bit of details the troops could relay to her over the distance. They bore the familiar signs of battle that should not have enraged her husband. Something was missing.

Where is that ikhuzud... (lesser dwarf)

"ENOUGH!"

Dain's ferocious voice bellowed throughout the hall. His men trembled and froze in place, staring in awe at their lord. Dain's glare ran across the dwarves starring at him, the ones that blocked his path stumbled away. Their lord marched off as the soundless hall watched him vacate the area. Gundis watched her husband cautiously, bewildered by this foreign fit of rage. Dain had not been the kind of dwarf that allowed foolish emotions to take hold of him. He was a a lord, raised to rule his kingdom fairly and unbiased towards his people. Anger was a useless emotion that would never aid anyone.

Gundis stayed in the hall as her husband left. She did not know what had caused her husbands outburst but their people still required guidance even though the battle was over. Now that the dwarves had cleared the entrance, and the gate had closed, she could see the ill-bred cowered hiding behind the other soldiers. Gundis' gaze narrowed at the sight of her in-law trying to slip out of sight as their doctors moved in to aid the returning dwarves. His face covered by his hair as his head held low in an unfitting manner.

She was there when Dain commanded Thorin to stay, though she was far out of the way she could still read her husbands lips. The way the prince cowered, spoke of his failure in battle. Gundis knew well of the casualties that battle claimed as a result of one valour driven weakling. Thorin was just a brat wanting to become a hero. Gundis hissed when Thorin recoiled from a doctors approaching hand.

"Aye master Thorin wait right there."

Thorin had managed to sneak half way around the edges of the room before a nosey doctor spotted him. They would strip him bare to examine every inch of his body. He could not risk any one of them finding out, no matter if they swore him secrecy. But that was not the first thing that plagued his mind. It would not matter if they stripped him, the excess filth of the Orc on his cheek would be easily recognized by the trained physicians. They would draw the surrounding dwarves attention to it with a simple question. There would be no secrecy in that.

The doctor reached out to grabbed Thorin's wrist and the prince lept back.

Damn these dwarves...

Thorin's royal image was already tainted by his reclusive actions. It would only draw more suspicious stares if he did not meet the doctors gaze face-to-face. Thorin gulped and inched further from the hanging lanterns in hopes they would not reveal the residue on his skin. He tilted his head back as if looking down on the dwarf nearing him. A member of royalty was expected not to show weakness in front of other dwarves. Thorin eyed the doctor with a firm expression.

"I need no attention, attend to the others."

"Ye can't hide a wound from us now."

Damn doctor...

Thorin turned to leave but the elder dwarf bolted in front of him. He was familiar with stubborn patients like this one. Be he royal or of common class, it was the doctors who held the futures of kingdoms in their grasp. Whether a prince or King would accept aid was beyond them, the doctors made sure no matter the patients lineage that they would be treated until they were healthy again.

Thorin new the nature of dwarven doctors would not let him escape so easily. The doctor might back away if he were as mighty as Dain but Thorin had gained no such respect from the dwarves of the Iron Hills. He was no more than a commoner in their eyes.

"I told you I need no attention."

The doctor glared at his defiant patient, stepping forward with arms raised ready to capture his prey. Thorin snarled as his body trembled nervously. He stepped back as the dwarf in front of him tried to close the distance. Slowly his head lowered into his shoulders with every step as his hopes for escape crumbled beneath him.

"Don't waste valuable time on dwarves who do not require aid, doctor."

The room turned as Gundis' voice resounded through the hall. Fili was in her arms as she glared passed the doctor onto Thorin. Thorin gulped and turned his head away from her sight. The doctor gave her a questioning look, almost challenging her right over his duties. But Gundis never drew her hateful gaze off of the prince before her and the doctor soon picked up on that hatred and bowed his retreat.

Thorin could feel the dwarves watching his repulsive display. The room grew quiet again as the dwarves slowly understood their lord's reaction. It was with silent loyalty that they accepted their lords hate toward the prince, though they did not understand nor need to question why. They turned their backs to the prince, scorning Thorin's presence.

Thorin clenched his fist, he failed to keep his stature. Fili could feel Gundis' body tense from anger and tried not to make a peep in her arms. He wanted to run to his uncle, away from the burning hatred that held him, back into welcoming arms. But his uncle did not spare the lad a single glance as he finally began to walk passed them, out of the halls. Fili looked over Gundis' unturned shoulder to his uncle vanishing down a corridor.