Running from battle at Nori's order is probably the hardest thing that Kíli has ever had to do. He does not want to, but not for the same reason that his brother wants to stay. Fíli still has not seen past the childhood idolisation of their uncle that they once both clung to so fiercely and they both know that Thorin would never willingly run from battle. Kíli has learnt, however, that sometimes it is better to walk away and it was Nori who taught him that. So as galling as it is to hear her tell the two of them to take Hela and run, it is somehow worse that she feels she has to tell him not just as his… friend? He does not actually know how to classify Nori in his mind, which is not the matter at hand. That Nori so openly gives him the order to take Fíli and go as the Wolf to her Shadow is enough for Kíli to know that she is really serious.
And so it is enough for him to grab his brother's arm and tug him away from the bulk of the fighting to Sela's tent where he knows that they will find Hela.
Sela is already down when they find father and daughter, Hela stood over his body and deftly using her axe to keep two orcs at bay. Fíli and Kíli dispatch them quickly and then turn to the problem of convincing the young 'dam that it is time to leave. They know that were they in her place they would not want to leave their mother's body.
"Nori and Dwalin said to leave," Fíli tells her softly while Kíli watches for any more enemies coming their way. They cannot afford to linger long. "I dislike it, but they are cutting through us and I know Dwalin well enough to know that he would not tell us to flee if it were a fight we could win."
"Fee," Kíli hisses, seeing three more orcs have noticed them near the tent.
"I know," he grates out. "Hela, please."
There is a beat where Kíli thinks that his brother's chosen will refuse to follow them, then he hears movement and feels the reassuring warmth of Fíli at his back and he carefully lets out a small sigh of relief. He does not like that they have to run either, but he understands that Nori and Dwalin would never normally ask it and he quickly helps Fíli and Hela kill the approaching enemy before they make their way to the terrified ponies.
No caravan can afford to lose any ponies and so they are in the habit of camping at the same stops where long rails that the ponies can be tethered to have been put up. This is one such stop and so the ponies are still present, which does not mean there have not been any casualties. At least ten of the thirty-six ponies are already dead and the remaining ones are not in good condition from the stress of the fighting orcs and their wargs. Several have broken legs and more still are too spooked to risk riding, but there are a couple that calm under gentle hands and the three clamber onto their backs, not bothering with saddles, and begin to make their way past the fighting and into the night.
The ponies do not take kindly to their sudden burden, and the three waste precious moments trying to keep their mounts under control before they manage to start riding in the direction Nori pointed them in. Hela's pony shys at something, Kíli is too busy trying to keep his own pony under control to have seen what it was, but the animal goes down and takes Hela with it. Fíli shouts and the two of them roll from their own mounts, gripping the reins tightly to stop their own ponies from running as Hela's gets to its feet and bolts.
"Take her!" Kíli tells his brother, his sharp gaze noting the presence of a creature that he knows his mentor will not be able to resist approaching. "We only have two ponies and they can't take all three of us. Take Hela and do as Nori told us. I'll follow on foot."
"Kee…" Fíli gives him a long look.
"Go," the dark haired prince insists. "You have to take her and go. I'll be fine, I know what I'm doing."
"No you don't," his brother snaps.
"Yes, I do," he breathes. "Trust me and go."
Later Kíli will reflect on the similarity of this interaction with his brother to the one he had with Nori, but for the moment he is more focused on the fact that the orc he has heard so many battle stories about, the orc that killed his great-grandfather and who has been tormenting his uncle for years to try and draw Thorin from his safe place in Ered Luin and into the mountains where he will be an easy target, is among them. For the moment Azog is simply watching on the edges, mounted on the back of his warg and he lashes out and kills a dwarf who runs at him with all the casual cruelty that the stories have taught Kíli to expect. He crouches low, though he knows that orcs see as well in the dark as dwarves, his bow in hand as he reaches for one of the dozen arrows in the quiver on his back. He does not have many with him, although he left a good supply in the Shire after a full two seasons with little to do other than train with Briar, learn with Briar, do… other things with Briar.
The first thing Kíli targets is the warg. Azog has the advantage when riding it and Kíli knows that they will need to take as much as they can from the orc before facing him. Azog is supposed to be difficult enough to survive against alone, leaving his advantages in place is foolish. Still, it takes three arrows to get a fatal hit on the warg but taking it out is the better option than not and Kíli shrinks against the ground with his dark cloak pulled over him as Azog drags himself from underneath the body of his mount.
This is a terrible idea. Nori taught him these skills to use as an assassin and spy, not to use in the hope of avoiding being killed during a skirmish on a caravan route. Moments pass, the shouting continues and Kíli looks up cautiously. Azog is still on the fringes of the fight, but his attention is held by Dwalin, who has obviously decided to do the same thing that Kíli had hoped to.
The guard's back is to him, the young prince gets to his feet and raises his bow carefully, slowly enough that there is little chance the orc will notice any sudden movement. There is no shot. The pair move too rapidly and Kíli curses, then changes his focus to keeping any additional orcs from sneaking up on Dwalin. This is a large group, though only perhaps double the number on the caravan; half of those who signed on were young and inexperienced in the world outside Labamgarel Zarrakh. He is down to his last arrow when Azog grabs Dwalin by the neck and lifts him, desperate to find a shot but all too aware that most of the orc's body is blocked.
Seeing Nori as she attacks the great creature herself is both a relief and utterly terrifying. Kíli has never seen such rage on her face before and he hesitates that moment too long at the sight of it. He misses his shot at the white orc and then misses seeing a straggler come up behind his mentor, friend, Aunt… whatever, until she shrieks in pain. It is the fact that Nori is constantly moving that saves her life, the blow from the orc behind her not instantly fatal and Kíli swears under his breath, the words half formed and guttural, as he looses his final arrow at the thing which tried to kill the only person other than his brother who had ever seen and understood. It goes down and that moment of distraction is all that Dwalin seems to need to get to his feet and slam his axe into Azog's back. The strike is off, but it is enough and even though Dwalin is knocked aside a moment later it has given Nori a chance.
His arrows gone, Kíli slings his bow crossways over his body, bows are expensive to make and replace and he has no desire to lose this one, then draws his sword and wades in to help take care of the last few orcs while Nori is dealing with Azog. The prince does not see the final blow, or blows, distracted with killing the last orc but he hears Dwalin shout as Nori collapses. There is a yell, though it takes him a moment to realise that he is the one shouting, and then Kíli is racing to Nori's side, survivors from the caravan forgotten entirely as he skids to his knees beside a frantic Dwalin.
"She's breathing," he gasps after a moment of waiting and watching.
"She won't be for long if we don't get this sorted," Dwalin raises his hand, showing the crimson that coats it. "Help me get her on the back of the supply wagon," he orders, "It's the only one with any space, doubt there's a healer among this lot, but we might be able to patch her up enough to get to the last village we passed through."
He is obviously struggling to remain calm, his voice trembling though his hands are steady as they reach for Nori.
"She said to go to Rivendell," Kíli points out as he helps to lift the too still thief.
"Nothing in Rivendell but elves," the guard snarls, "and they won't help us."
"Fíli and Hela are already on their way there," Kíli reminds him, gently placing his mentor into the back of the wagon, "and the last village is three days away. She stands a better chance of making it to Rivendell regardless."
"I would agree," a light voice comments from a few feet away and Kíli reaches for his sword.
An elf in dark armour stands there, his helmet obscuring much of his face though a few strands of blond hair dance from beneath it, but his hands are raised and empty.
"What business have you here?" Dwalin demands, axe in hand as he moves to stand protectively in front of Nori's still form.
"Your young companions stumbled upon my patrol's camp," the elf replies, his hands continuing to rise so that he can remove his helmet. At least, Kíli thinks this one is male. He has never met any elves before, but looking at this one he wonders if they are all so disgustingly tall. "I sent two of my people to escort them to the home of Lord Elrond and brought the rest with me to see if we could be of aid to you."
"We handled it," Dwalin growls.
"So I see," the elf agrees. "And far more thoroughly than I think you know, given they were led by the Defiler."
"Azog and I have seen battle together before," Dwalin shrugs the hint off.
"Be that as it may," the elf seems unphased by the gruff dwarf's belligerent manner, "you have many injured and we possess healing skill enough to make sure that they reach Rivendell where they will receive the best of care."
"We would be grateful for any aid," Kíli pipes up before Dwalin can snarl something that makes the elf rescind the offer. "My aunt…" he pauses, suddenly realising that he perhaps should not have revealed Nori's gender to one not of their kind before continuing regardless, "she was injured while fighting Azog, could you…?"
"Lad," Dwalin hisses.
"I won't let her die," Kíli insists. "And she will if she doesn't get help."
There is a tense pause, then Dwalin lowers his axe and with that capitulation all the energy that has thrummed around him since Nori collapsed seems to drain out of him and he slumps against the cart.
"Nor can I," he breathes. "Help her."
Kíli has never seen Dwalin look more broken than in that moment.
"I suppose it would be worth making introductions," the elf says as he bends to take a closer look at Nori's side. "I am Glorfindel, of the House of the Golden Flower."
A.N: Did we really think I would leave you with that cliffie all weekend? Do we think I'm really that mean? Well... actually history states I might be. But at least it's not the one in Wild Magic that actually had some reviewers needing a stiff drink after it was resolved. Regular readers should know that I have priors and like to keep you on your toes sometimes.