Below her, under the twisted branches and sparse leaves a small band of three orcs passed by. The larger of the three led, head hunched forward eyes focused on the ground. It's grey skin shone with sweat and grease in the moonlight.

Carefully, she balanced on the thin branches, unmoving. Her sword held firmly in her right hand. Her hair hung like a black veil around her face. If anyone were to see her, she would appear like a dark wraith in the night, like those of legend.

She waited until the last one passed beneath her, slightly scrawnier than the rest, before she dropped from the tree. Effortlessly, she passed through the branches not touching a single leaf. Her hair followed behind her as she landed silent behind her prey. With a single swift, silent movement she ended the smallest orc. The muted thud of its body hitting the ground caused the orc in front of her to mutter.

"Ugbi, be quiet."

Frin smirked to herself at the creature's comment while she closed the gap in between her and the orc. Leaning in toward its ear she whispered. "Ugbi will be very quiet from now on." The startled orc spun around only to find her blade in its belly. She held it as it choked, watching as the group's leader turned at the noise.

Its look of confusion almost made her laugh as it watched the body of its compatriot slump onto the ground after sliding from the tip of her blade.

"What are you?" It spat, readying the rusted blade in its hand.

"To you," she leaned forward like a predator ready to pounce, "death."

Lunging forward, she saw the creature lift it's sword. With a quick parry and a turn to the right she dodged the lumbering attack. Her sword lashed out in the creature's direction, immediately catching skin. With only the slightest friction she felt the metal penetrate. A splash of warm liquid hit her in the face. When she turned to face her quarry all she saw was a fallen body, motionless in the mud.

She didn't know why but she felt a strange hatred for these creatures. She had never met one, spoken with one, yet they were the enemy. It was reasonable to view them as evil, after all they usually attacked first.

Looking down with blood on her face, she wondered if that was how Thorin would feel when he would look upon her lifeless body. Would there be hatred? The thought wasn't terrifying but curious. Over her journey she had found a sense of contentment in her impending death. Even as she waited for the dwarves to arrive, her execution accompanying them, she was content.

Gingerly she stepped over the bodies and headed back up the trail from which they came. Not a few steps away was the barren open landscape, filled with rock, small drops and hidden crevices, the East Gate of Moria.

It had been the better part of a week since she set eyes on the looming entrance to the ancient dwarven keep. She kept a watchful eye on the entrance waiting for an orc to leave. After the first few days she discovered a pattern. Almost daily, a group would leave, of three or four. They seemed to be hunting parties or scouts. Everytime one of those small groups of orcs wandered into the forest she took it upon herself to lessen their numbers for the coming battle.

She wasn't sure when the dwarves would arrive but she knew the fight would start the moment they did. If she was lucky she would spot a scout or two first but she suspected the dwarves wouldn't bother with scouts. They were always a little too brash and a little too direct.

At the edge of the forest Frin approached an old tree and climbed. High in the branches was a small platform, above it hung a few skinned rabbits. With a small satisfied sigh she slumped against the thick truck of the tree. Reaching forward she grabbed a small scrap of torn cloth, then used it to clean her face and sword. Once she was happy with the cleanliness of her weapon she placed it beside her, then pulled a light blanket over her legs.

The late spring air was still crisp in the darkness but the looming summer heat was coming. She knew that soon the blanket would be useless but was glad she had lugged it with her all the same.

The following morning after an easy night's sleep, Frin found herself awoken by a new noise. The sun was in the sky but hidden behind dark clouds. She guessed it was mid-morning. The dew on her blanket had already begun to dry and the air around her was warmer than it had been the night before.

To the East there was a steady hum, a constant sound growing ever closer. As the minutes passed by turning into an hour, the once strange noise had transformed into a steady cadence. She suspected the dwarves were approaching. Soon she was able to discern the sounds of armour, shield and heavy boots moving together.

From the safety of her tree, she peered out into the vast open landscape. Eventually, the sound of marching caused the ground to rumble. She could feel the faint vibrations through the branches, the leaves shook slightly. Before her, coming up the ridge towards the gate came a line of dwarves.

She'd only ever seen dwarves in armour when she served as a guard. It was a marvelous sight to see so many, armoured, united, all in one place. At the centre of the first line, stood Thror flanked by Thrain and Thorin. The King's golden armour gimmered the light, making him easy to see. Behind them, line upon line of dwarves moved forward.

Glancing back to the mountain she saw them, like a swarm of insects against the rough terrain, pouring out of the mountain's gate. Numerous orcs raced forward, blackened swords in front of them leading the way. Suddenly, the steady forward motion of the dwarven shields met the orcish assault.

From where she sat, she saw the orcs scatter against the shields. Some managed to vault over the barrier but were met by a swift death from the multitude of soldiers behind the wall. She could see the dwarves start to move steadily forward over the fallen orcs.

She was suddenly hopeful. The orcs didn't stand a chance against the dwarven armour and weapons. The shield wall protected them well against their enemy and appeared to be impenetrable by foolish creatures.

Scanning the battlefield, back towards the mountain gate, a figure caught her eye. A large orc emerged from the darkness of the mountain. It wasn't his size that caught her eye but the pale colour of his skin, which stood out among the sea of inky browns and dark greys. Unlike the others, he stood up straight towering over the rest of the orcs who perpetually seemed to be hunched forward.

The sinking feeling was instant. Just as Frin was able to register the presence of this intimidating presence, the pale orc gestured towards the dwarves. The strong intentional movement caused the orcs to stop their reckless attack. They started to lean against the dwarven shields, preventing their progress forward. Orcs were still falling to the dwarven blades which glimmered briefly when they shot through the gap in the sheids, but another orc would replace the fallen one quickly.

Glancing back to Moria, Frin made a horrible realization. The orcs were still coming out. The dwarves had a large army but the orcs were a swarm, which seemed to keep coming.

Beside her the light caught her sword, bringing her attention down to her weapon. With nimble hands she sheathed it and climbed to her feet, then peered back into the battle.

To her horror, a single dwarf fell causing a large gap to form in the dwarven defenses. Through it, the orcs gathered, pushing forwards.

Realizing her friends were in trouble she grasped her bow and leaped down from the tree. Landing nimbly on her feet, she took off at a run towards the battle. As she crested a rocky ridge, she let off two arrows each piercing an orc causing the lifeless bodies to instantly crumple.

Before she could hesitate she slung the bow across her chest and pulled out the elvish blade. The perfect metal gleamed. Feeling the weight of the sword in her hand, she flexed her fingers around the hilt, ready. As she slowed to a steady walk, the orcs began to take notice of her presence. Her black hair still hung freely, flowing slightly behind her as she strode forward.

In between her and the dwarves were easily twenty orcs now all turning their attention to her. She had to decide quickly, get to the dwarves or kill as many orcs as she could. The orcs were the main problem but she knew she couldn't win the battle alone.

Before she could make a decision, the vile creatures were charging towards her. She could see their bared teeth, yellow and foul. With a quick inhale she let her instincts take over.

She kept her eyes focused, trying to take in every enemy at the same time. As the swords and gnarled weapons came towards her, she elegantly deflected them out of the way. With each deflection she took the opportunity to strike. One orc received her blade in it's gut, while another received a deep gash across it's thigh but she didn't care.

Despite having the opportunity to end the orcs in her path she didn't. Her focus was the dwarves. Steadily she moved forward, occasionally cutting down an enemy as she went. It was a grueling effort, to push that far into two battling armies. Eventually, she saw the dwarves fighting in front of her.

One dwarf, armoured from head to toe was sparing with a small orc. From the shadow underneath the helmet she guessed that he was only a boy barely old enough to be a warrior.. From behind him she could see another larger orc getting ready to strike down the unsuspecting soldier.

Frin darted forward, straight at the dwarf, her eyes focused on his hidden attacker. The dwarf saw her coming. She saw the sudden flash of fear come over his eyes. Her sword quickly sliced the orc, who had kept the boy's attention. The boy's eyes still watched her, while his body remained frozen in fear. Leading with her sword, she lunged forward seeing the menacing shine of an orcish weapon from behind the unsuspecting dwarf.

There was a strange moment of stillness as she grappled the body before she felt the weight of the strike make contact with her weapon. As soon as she could, she shifted her feet. She had the orcs' attention. It's inky black eyes, scowled at her.

It lunged forward, the rusted blade barely skimming by her side. She attempted to knock the blade down to the ground but the orc kept it's grip. While she found herself frustrated by the orc's resilience, she failed to notice the large fist coming for her face. Suddenly all she felt was pain as the orc made contact with her nose. Instantly, she felt a torrent of blood leave her nostrils. Her vision went momentarily dark then there was a growl, a deep, predatory sound rumbling in the air over the sounds of metal hitting metal.

Even in her surprised, pained state she could hear the triumph in the primal snarl. Just when she expected to feel the cold bite of steel on her skin, there was nothing. Slowly, she opened her eyes with a wince. Somehow she'd fallen to her knees and was looking up at the orc who had struck her. The face wasn't scowling at her but stared at it's own chest. There she saw the point of a dwarven sword peaking out though the rough armour. The sword withdrew causing the creature to slump to the side.

Standing behind where the orc once stood was the boy, the helmet off revealing a head of blonde hair and a short scraggly beard. His sword was being held tightly, dark blood dripping from it's point.

"I realized," he panted, holding out his free hand towards her, "I need someone to watch my back."

"Thank you," she smiled, grasping his hand and pulling herself to her feet. Glancing around she could see that the dwarven line had reformed just in front of them. "My name's Frin."

"Druin."

With a serious look in her eyes, she stared straight into the boy's brown eyes. "Where is Balin?"