Hey everyone. I will be honest I don't have much of an excuse on this one. Still hurting from my grandmother's death and quite frankly I'm in a small depression pit. My friend tried to soothe me by getting me hooked on Supernatural (yes, I watched all 11 complete seasons). While it was a nice distraction I'm afraid I still have unresolved issues. Oh well it makes a great opportunity to write angst and hopefully my creative bunnies will hop around again.
Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you for your reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.
angel897, Princess of Mirkwood2, Hannah Bowers, FireDancerNix, KiwiRoses, and IfYouRememberMe – Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!
(Guest) Lauthica Green Clinkenbeard– Oh wow! Thank you so much! I'm blushing! I had hoped to try and stay in world. I know it can be hard! Sometimes I have to stop and think about words. Like I can't use 'nanosecond'; they don't have that division of measurement in Middle Earth. I really over analyze, but it can rip a reader right out of the moment if done incorrectly. I also wanted readers to be able to picture Tahna in this world, as if she had always been a part of it. And yes…the fountain scene will remain one of my favorites for life. Thank you again and I hope you like this part!
xTwistedChaosx – This series will most definitely continue I just needed some time off after my grandmother passed away. I'm working back into the mood. The biggest thing about characters is that you need to see them grow – Bilbo being the perfect example. As for your step-father I hope that he has transitioned into the deaf/hearing impaired community well. While I started the story a while ago I took and ASL for my last semester of university and I loved it! Love and blessings to you and your family.
SilverGhostKitsune – Yes! That is the truth for any story that's in progress I'm afraid, but I'm glad you like this story! As to Gandalf he knows too many people and too many people like him and his busibodiness to really like him. But as with most characters he will learn to grow on you.
Jhendoe – I know. I didn't mean to wait so long, but work kept me busy and after my grandmother died in August I didn't really feel like writing for a while. I'm glad you're happy with the chapter – I did work hard on it! See you for the next one soon :)
I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh…I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey. And one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)
VirgCoup: Hearts of Stone. *Complete*
Leona2016: A Willing Heart. *Incomplete: Updated: 04/02/17
kkolmakov: Fairytales from Under the Mountain. *Incomplete: Updated: 04/18/17
I can see the shadows fade as the sun finally disappears over the horizon. Dwalin does his best not to jostle me as we continue to run down the hillside, but the wargs are on us before we know it. I see one leap at Dwalin's back, narrowly missing us. It only makes one more step towards us before Thorin came up and slit its throat with his elvish blade. Beside us, Ori slays another warg with a strike to the head from his war hammer. Further back I see Bilbo being cornered by another warg. Fear sweeps through me from seeing him all alone.
"Bilbo!" I scream.
Bifur, near the back of the group, heard my cry. He starts back tracking to collect our hobbit. However, it appears that the warg in front of Bilbo is no longer moving. I keep my eyes focused on both of them and when Bifur reaches him I see him remove Bilbo's small elvish blade from the beast. He then took hold of Bilbo's hand and scrambled after our company. Bilbo had managed to kill it – he is safe for now. I lost sight of them when Dwalin turns around, providing me with a view of the cliff side we have cornered ourselves onto. It takes a moment to realize that we have stopped moving completely with wargs bearing down on us. What do we do now?
"Up into the trees! All of you!" shouts Gandalf as he ushers us up the nearest tree. "Come on, climb!"
I am looking up at the trees, wondering how I would make it up, when Nori uses Dwalin's head to leap into the tree I observed. Dwalin tenses on the impact and then looks up as well to see Nori stabilizing himself on the lower hanging branches. Dwalin looks like he wants to say something, but once Nori is situated he turns back to me and Dwalin.
"Give 'er here," he calls down.
Without hesitation Dwalin lifts me up to the other dwarf easily. My arms extend out to Nori who gets a good grip on my shoulders and pulls me up. The branch trembles dangerously so Nori pushes me up further into the tree. I manage to move up a few more branches on my own and I settle on a sturdy limb to watch the other dwarves around me. Below me Dori lifts Ori into the tree and a couple trees over I see Dwalin following Thorin into another tree. Bifur and Bofur help Bombur into another tree with Bilbo right behind them, shifting nervously.
"They're coming," yells Thorin.
Once everyone is off the ground they kept climbing their respective trees and I breathe a sigh of relief. Soon enough my relief turns to both anxiety and fear. Wargs swarm the ground like maggots on a corpse. They circle the bottoms of the trees, occasionally leaping in an attempt to reach the dwarves on lower branches. Their eyes shine in the moonlight as it does with every nighttime predator. The yellow teeth protrude from black gums, but they too shine like a sickening light in the darkness. The noises they make are a frightening mixture; containing howls, screeches, and cackles. These are more, if not the same, Gundabad wargs. I couldn't forget the creatures that made these particular noises day-in and day-out in the year that Gundabad was home…
Father was sorting through the orc rations, trying to find something that we could take without being noticed. Both of us still wore our clothes from the day Imelkane fell, but they had started decaying from time and wear. Here we bathed rarely, only when we knew the stink of living human would become too noticeable. We also covered ourselves in warg skins to mask our scent. On the fresher ones we left a little meat on them and cutting it off once it began to rot, but at some point we had to destroy them.
I sat quietly in the room near the stores behind some barrels. From time to time the orcs of Gundabad would get lucky and attack a caravan of some sort that had journeyed too far north. This was one such time and an opportunity for us to take more than our usual scraps. I was on watch and should the orcs return I was to chitter loudly like the bats that made homes in some of the deeper tunnels. My father and I would hide up in the rafters that acted as supports in various rooms throughout the mountain until the orcs left.
The soles of my boot were worn and I could feel the cold as it seeped into the un-insulated leather. Thankfully the winter was ending, but in the mountains of the north spring was always late. My boots were also beginning to feel tight as well and it was not uncommon for me to lose feeling in them often. My fingers were thin and when I touched under my eyes I could feel how they had sunken in. My insides clung to the clothes and warg hide I wore for warmth. My hair had accumulated dirt and grease from lack of care – it even clumped in some places from orc and warg fluids that land there. The small knife was gripped tightly in my hand in case I was spotted. I have a feeling I could have passed for a ghoul amongst the orcs if it weren't for the fact that they never ventured this far north.
I shivered as I remain crouched, waiting for Kalar to return. I could feel the fatigue begin to overcome me, wanting to sleep where I stood. It felt strange to know my mother was only a few halls over. We had found her a few days ago, a prisoner in Azog's personal chambers. It had taken us a few months to find her due to the sheer size of the dwelling and because we had to move timidly and cautiously as we learned how the northern orcs worked. She was heavily guarded, but after a night where grog was plentiful we got inside.
Nirassi was shackled to the wall with just enough slack to lie down comfortably on the small pallet beneath her; I remember that for some reason it made me hate them more that they had given her that bed like it gave her some sort of comfort. She saw us come in with shocked wonder. I had been ecstatic, thinking we could save her and escape, but she told us she had been impregnated. She had asked us to…those words wouldn't leave my mind…
That was when I heard it, the scrapping of talons along the floor and the rapid inhalation of air, consistent with sniffing the air. A warg was in the room. I took a small peak around a barrel at the end of the row. I saw a large beast with brown fur and a few dark spots on its pelt. It was poking its nose into another sack across the room, looking for something to eat. Usually wargs could find their own prey out in the wilds around the mountain; snow rabbits, an unlucky bear, and sometimes orc made up their diet. However, as I looked at the warg more carefully I saw the silver hairs on its ears, chest, and toes. As my eyes moved down its leg I could also see a large gash, the flesh looked inflamed and possibly infected. The wound was no longer bleeding which told me it had been at least a little while since it happened.
When its pointed head started to turn back in my direction I pulled back behind the barrels. I could hear the foul creature's breath as it neared ever closer. I put myself at the other end of the line of barrels, thinking I may perhaps go around until the monster had passed. However, just as I made it I heard deafening bark at the other entrance; only a few feet from my face was Azog's large, white warg. It didn't notice me, but one look at those yellow eyes and I would have sworn it could hear my heartbeat. I look back to the other warg, only its paw was visible from my vantage point. Just as the limb disappeared and I realized it must have left to face the newcomer. The snarls increased their volume and before I could form a plan of escape, two of the barrels near the other end crashed to the ground.
The surprise almost caused me to shout out. I could feel and hear them fighting behind me. My fear increased tenfold; if they didn't stop soon, orcs would appear to investigate. There was no way I could slip past them when they came to clean up the mess. I heard another crash across the room and I looked up and down the space where I had hidden in hopes of predetermining where they would appear next. Without warning, the barrel behind me threw me forward into the wall. I turned back in time to see white fur leap back into the fight.
The fallen barrel was the only thing protecting me from their sight. However, I righted myself behind another barrel, this time with a table between the barrels and them. Without any chance to catch my breath, the darker warg's head knocked over the barrel directly to my right. Its head turned to me and its focused shifted to me. A panic overwhelmed me; it wouldn't leave me alone if it knew I was here. The white warg began to drag the other warg away and in a need for self-preservation, I act. I struck the downed warg in the eyes with my knife. The shriek it emitted sounded like death cry to the pale warg so it pulled it closer. There was no hesitation before it closed its jaws around the blinded warg's throat and with a loud yelp, the downed warg stopped moving.
As the white warg took hold of its kill I used the opportunity to slip away into the empty antechamber that led to the supplies. I used a chest full of furs to lift myself upward into the ceiling supports. I was well hidden in the shadow with the lack torches, but I still feel myself shaking. I still saw the other entryway in case orcs appeared, but it also supplied me with the perfect amount of light to watch as Azog's warg began playing with its kill. I watched as it ripped the jaw from the head and tossed it across the room. It examined the cut I made, sniffing thoroughly, but ignored it and made to remove the tail. I observed as it takes the prey apart delicately before devouring it; the juicy shredding noise made me sick to my stomach.
Other wargs must have heard the final cries of the darker warg because more had appeared to partake in the fresh kill. They were far more interested in devouring the beast than the larger orc mount. However, they were extremely cautious about approaching the pale monster. It snapped at the new arrivals in warning, but slowly let the others have at the body. I watched numbly as the muscles, tendons, and organs were pulled away from it. Only a short while later, I saw my father slowly leaving the larder. I waved my arms and feet in the rafters, unable to make our usual call; orcs may not pay heed to bat chatter, but to wargs they were fun to chase.
He saw me immediately and made his way up into the wooden beams with me. Once he was next to me he could see why we had to wait. Physically, my father didn't look any better than me, but the change in him was palpable. I found myself afraid to look him in the eyes; they almost never closed and after finding Nirassi there had some kind of sick light. I could feel my father's soul underneath his withdrawn demeanor breaking slowly. I couldn't tell if I was helping hold him together or if I was just one of the cracks.
An orc appeared for his rounds, finding the wargs gathered amongst the supplies. He entered, shouting at the beasts in their guttural language to "get out". The smaller wargs left without any hesitation, but Azog's warg decided it was not done and drags its kill outside. It took the cadaver by the injured leg and I could just make out the face before it disappeared behind the corner; one of the wargs had luckily chewed and clawed at its head, effectively hiding my blinding wound. With only the orc left we let it straighten the messy store room and take a piece of jerk before he disappeared as well.
Another few seconds of silence passed before my father moved down to the doorway. Once he was certain that the orc is far enough away he moved to the next doorway. From there I could see him when he signaled me to come to him. I made my way down to join him, my movements slightly clumsy. I hid with my father in the same corner I had been in when the wargs had fought. My father looked down at me with a sad, but hard look; I could only look him in the eye for one moment.
"Don't worry, Tahna. Just a few more months; just a little while longer and we will be free. All of us," he whispered. I knew then that we wouldn't make it. My father didn't even believe his own words, but the lie was easier. I was sick of liars, for however long I had left to live I would never be one. The shaking in my body that had continued since my initial fright now came from the pain of having to acknowledge the truth.
These wargs are well-fed and well trained; this makes them all the more dangerous. They pace restlessly, waiting for the command to attack once more. These are the same vicious wargs of the North; I can tell from the light coloring in their pelts which is absent in the wargs of Minas Morgul. Then I hear their master. I hear his voice…
"Nuzdigid? Nuzi gast. Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob."
Black speech. I remove my eyes from the wargs on the ground below us and towards the voice. There he is in all his horrific glory. For a moment I am frozen in shock. He looks no different than he did that day he slaughtered my kin. His eyes have the same sharp and sinister glee in their icy blue depths. There are no new scars and no lines on his face that indicated aging. The white warg beneath him also has no scars and appears just as eager as his master for our blood. The only change is the piece of metal embedded in his arm; it no longer appeared as a sword, but more like a metal claw.
Azog is looking at another tree. I cannot see clearly, but I know it to be Thorin's. Having hidden in Azog's hall for so long I managed to pick up on the language of black speech. It is not an accomplishment I hold in high regard, but it has proved itself useful when questioning the enemy. The mention of his father is either a very clever ruse or it means that Thrain had suffered terribly at the hands of Azog. I can only hope that he has found peace in the Halls of his Fathers. While I cannot see or hear Thorin, I can practically feel his emotions spinning across his mind as they are much in time with my own; the fear, the anger, and the sorrow in equal measures.
Pushing Thorin's feelings aside I return my eyes to the enemy. Having now recognized my own emotions they begin to boil under my skin. The anger that he had taken from me: my home, my father, and my mother are the most prominent. My last memories of them haunt me now in my waking moments. There is sorrow and emptiness that was left in Hadrien's wake. My fear now is that he would take from me now my friends, my brothers. It is clearly he who hunted them, if the Great Goblin's words had not been indication enough. He would take them all…
"Kod toragid biriz. Worori-da!" yells Azog. With this command the wargs on the ground began an attack us. It is with renewed vigor that they try to reach the dwarves hanging on the lower branches of the trees.
Each attack made begins to sound like a chorus. The clinking of talons is followed by a grunt as they leapt upward and finishes with a snarl or snap. They miss their targets, but I can hear Dori shout out beneath me as they come dangerously close. Ori and Nori make an effort to bring him higher, but Dori is shaking enough to slow their progress. A loud yelp from Gloin in another tree makes me grit my teeth in frustration.
I have to do this! My heart is pounding painfully in my chest, reminding me that I am here and I can finish what he started all those years ago. This is the moment – I can strike him now! I have wasted years of my life searching for him and now he is before me. But, this meeting seems as fortunate as well as an inopportune moment. Azog is right there and mine to fight, but at the same time…
I take another glance around the trees; seeing the fear on their faces and my hand stays by my side. I am frozen with a new fear that my hateful emotions may cause me to hurt them. The Dragonfire Blade doesn't discriminate between friend and foe, and with their only escape being the trees, they would surely be consumed. I could not use the flaming blade without the risk of killing my friends; this means that there is only one other option left. However, this option leaves much to be desired. The Ice Fang Blade relies on the user to be completely focused on instinct and survival. I could break the concentration momentarily, but if one of the others were to be in danger I could not help them.
"Sho gad adol!" shouts Azog. This is the only command the wargs need before they purposefully begin attacking at the tree roots. The trees' bases begin topple, seeing as how they are already unsteady from the thin layer of Earth beneath them. I can feel the shudder through the tree as it begins to loosen its hold on the Earth.
Ignoring the danger around us, I close my eyes to concentrate. All of the hate and anger I have allowed to simmer under my skin is forced out of my mind. It's not how I wanted this to happen, but the company is too precious for me to risk. The promise I made to Hadrien sits firmly like a stone in my chest. I slip one hand back behind me to cover the stone hilt. My body begins to cool on contact, causing a shiver to run through me as the vestiges of heat from my anger fade.
I can see the pale orc's face gleaming in the darkness. Then there is a light, illuminating his face as one of the orcs brought forth a large torch. I can hear them chanting amongst the riders present:
Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em!
till beards blaze and eyes glaze;
till hair smells and skins crack,
fat melts, and bones black,
in cinders lie beneath the sky!
So dwarves shall die,
and light the night for our delight!
My heart nearly seizes with the imagery their song provides my mind with. The fall of Imelkane flashes behind my eyes – the loss of my friends, my comrades, and my home. Another more sinister day comes to mind. My mother's body after the birth of Azog's hellions She had cursed our father and I for our false hope that had allowed her to suffer. After cursing me she had begged me for death to save her from being devoured by Azog and his minions…and I gave it to her. Then to save her from any other defilement I had thrown her body onto the fire of the orc lodgings. It was the only version burial I could offer her. A funeral pyre…
I push those thoughts away further and feel my body cooling with the air surrounding me. Then I feel the tree give away from underneath me. It falls forward towards Gandalf's tree. The others make it down the line of trees as they fall, all towards the tree at the edge of the cliff, but I remain attached to my tree. I feel the thunder of the fall through my legs, which weakens them further. I can hear the dwarrow calling my name once more; some of them are cries for me to run. I block out their voices and concentrate solely on the cold settling in my veins. This will offset the fire magic I used earlier, but I cannot waste time on this fight. Soon enough the magic will return to wreck havoc upon my mortal body.
Everything is still and for the first time since this encounter, Azog sees me. From the look on his face he sees something familiar about me, but before anything can be said three wargs still lingering at the base of the fallen trees charge. At this point I feel nothing and hear nothing, except for the cool voice in my head instructing me. She speaks sharply as the beasts begin to converge on me.
Act now.
I dive beneath one warg, the ice blade forming as I move. A quick dodge of the snapping jaws gains me access to the soft underbelly. Once I get there the blade guts the foul creature.
Beside you! Aim for its head.
The next warg leaves me little time to react, but I roll out from under the corpse and thrust the blade up through its open maw. It got close, too close. The blade recedes into its nonexistent state and the body falls to the ground, unmoving. Looking behind it, I see the last of the three wargs pacing back and forth, assessing the threat I posed and how it could bring me down.
Don't allow that thing to get closer to you. Kill it now.
I raise the hilt, the blade reforming, and like breathing the ice ejects itself from the hilt and through the foul thing's throat. There are no more shouts and no more howls. The air fills with silence and the wind. I cannot feel the coolness of the breeze for my body has become numb to such things. The air around the hilt recreates the blade using the moisture of the air as a base. As this happens the condensing of the blade causes the air to appear in thin streams of white.
I look back up at Azog and I can see in his face that his surprised, but unyielding in his mission to collect Thorin's head. He looks at the carcasses around my feet and up at the dwarves in tree before decisively settling on me.
He is dangerous. He is feral and vicious. He is a general of darkness. Keep up your guard.
I never take my eyes off Azog and his party. I bring my free hand to the blue stone on the pommel of the sword and slowly begin dragging it up my arm. As my hands move more vapors form and creates ice along my arm. With my mail completely gone I need something to shield me. I end the ice shield at my shoulder and bend my elbow to crack the ice there and allow for mobility. I don't have time to do the same to my other arm before Azog speaks to me.
"Mirzlat?"
"Gathroku mat," is my only response. I can see the white mist that escapes my mouth with each breath. I am in the thick of it now. With the combination of my injuries and the use of both my magic swords it would only be a matter of time before I collapse.
You need to end this quickly and leave. You must kill them!
I run at them suddenly in hopes of forcing them into the fight. More wargs come out from behind their orc masters. Throwing my shielded arm backwards behind me and swinging it forward, large chunks of ice release themselves. The beasts are momentarily blinded and I use those seconds to run the ice blade through their throats. With each fallen creature blood freezes and accumulates on my blade, making it easier to kill one after the other. When the last one falls my blade is a black and at least the length of my own body. I look up at Azog again, but this time there is an expression I have never seen on him before – surprise.
"Iinizg lat," he hisses. Considering that he only saw me twice I'm surprised that he even had the where withal to remember my existence.
I break the blade off with my opposing hand where the blood begins and jab the ice into the ground. The magic flows through the moisture in the earth and creates a layer of ice on the surface of the dirt. To most opponents this gives me and advantage after having trained in the ice caves of the north, but not with Gundabad wargs or orcs. They have fought in the same conditions I have – in that we are equals.
"Kranklab zogtarkuzizish zark amukhizg tramuzto," he growls out with a sneer, "Tonphrakhizg pashlat zash." My heart tightens, but I don't lose my concentration. Let him speak, he won't be talking much longer.
As the corpses around me accumulate the orcs seem to realize I'm more of a threat than they originally thought. They now stand around their leader defensively. They are no longer attacking me out right, but they snarl and hiss at me from the distance. There are only a couple of yards between us now. They think that they can keep me from reaching Azog so long as there is distance between us, but that is hardly a problem.
Use the lance!
I slide the hilt up to my shoulder as a long spindle begins to form. It's as though I am holding a large crossbow on my shoulder. The spindle twists and enlarges with each turn. My aim is Azog, right in the middle, like trying to hit dead center. I can practically feel my victory at hand…when I hear a loud scream from behind me.
The large ice shard on my shoulder stops and the weight sits heavily on my shoulder. Looking behind me I can see that the tree holding the company is beginning to fall over the edge of the cliff. Ori actually falls off and has to grab hold of Dori to prevent from falling to his death. My breath hitches and fear begins to settle uneasily in my gut.
"No," I whisper. A loud crack beside me draws my attention away. Suddenly the large icicle on my shoulder cracks in two, with the tip falling right in front of me.
You are losing focus! Forget them! If you don't focus you are going to die!
I turn back to face my foes my teeth grinding in my mouth. My friends are going to die if I do nothing, but if I turn away now Azog will get away. I can see the hideous grin on Azog's face as he too watches the tree begin to give under the weight of the company. This is my chance to end this once and for all, but if they fall then he will win. If they can hold on for just-
"Kalar!"
I hear Fili cry out. When I turn back again I can see that he and several others are holding on to the tree for dear life, while their legs dangle over the edge dangerously. The tree is now resting at an almost completely horizontal angle. I drag my eyes back to the orcs and wargs; they have begun to see my hesitation and have begun to edge forward towards me.
You can't!
I can't lose anyone else. Looking at the smug bastard begins to make me lose my concentration. The frustration is building, but I can't let it affect me or it will cause what little magic I still have to dissipate. With a cry of anger I jab the ice into the ground. The ice flares and shoots upward to create a flimsy wall of ice. I break the ice blade away from the rest of the structure. Lifting the hilt, the remains of the blade fall apart along with the icy armor I had created. The wall wouldn't hold, but perhaps it could buy me some time. I reattach the hilt to my belt and start running towards my friends. Once I'm at the tree I wrack my brain for an idea of how to save them; it only takes a couple seconds.
"Dwalin, the mithril thread," I call up. The dwarven warrior tries to adjust himself, his hand reaching inside his tunic to reveal the shinning metal. I remembered that the goblins didn't find that in their search, it must have been too light. He throws it down to me and I pick up a rock to wrap one end of the mithril around it. With a fancy rope maneuver, the thread is tied to the base of their tree. The only thing nearby that might be able to hold it is another fallen tree. I head to the nearest one and jump to the side of the tree facing the cliff. I slip the thread through the loose soil, all I need to do is roll the tree a little more and it would work to tie it off. I jump back over and use my legs to try and roll the log a little. Maybe I could push the tree over the edge with my sword and pull the falling tree back onto the ground.
However, just as the tree starts to roll I am grabbed by my hair. I scream in surprise and the sharp pain in my scalp, but it stops when I'm thrown into the air. My back collides with a large rock, it hurts, but thankfully nothing breaks. I look up to see what threw me and what I see stops me dead.
A large shadow, larger than that of a man stands where I had been seconds before. It fades in and out in the light of the moon, switching between being solid and shade. A cold fear settles in me far worse than anything else. I know it is something dark, something far worse than Azog or his compatriots. His eyes fall on me and I can feel it pierce me as if it were a blade. They are like fire in the night, full of rage. I can hear the shouts of the company in the distance, but there is a whisper coming from the shadow that manages to override them. The sound fills my ears and before long it becomes deafening. I cover my ears with my hands as I try to block the sounds. It doesn't help though as they become louder and his black tongue continues it begins to burn inside me; as if he manages to burrow inside my head to set it on fire and create the painful drumming there.
Before I can comprehend what is happening the shadow picks me up again. This time his hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my air. My body screams from being unable to breathe. I try to grab at its hand, but it I can't seem to get a grip on it. As it holds me above the ground I can see behind the creature; Azog has made it passed my ice wall and is currently fighting Thorin. Panic, much like those terrifying seconds in the Goblin tunnels, begins to rise once more. I watch uselessly as mace hit his face. I cringe, but I cannot do anything else against this nameless opponent. My vision darkens as his hold only tightens and I can no longer even try to draw breath. Thorin is trying to get up once more, but the white warg locks his jaws on the dwarf lord. I try to scream, but all I can feel is my body failing me and my body begins to go limp. I struggle to stay conscious when all of a sudden the shadow bursts into flame.
The creature throws me away from him, lashing out in his pain. I tumble across the ground with such force I roll several times before the ground suddenly gives out beneath me. I can see the deep crevasse beneath me when I fall over the edge of the cliff. In a blind panic, I grab at the stone wall and find purchase, but my body is so weak and tired; my wounds are screaming in agony as I try to hold up my own weight. I look directly above to see both Ori and Dori hanging onto a tree branch for dear life. Dori's face is contorted, straining as he tries to hold on for his little brother's life.
The crushing fear and sorrow well up within me for a few devastating seconds. I hadn't anticipated the shadow. I don't know if Thorin is alive. My friends are dangling over the cliff where they would inevitably fall to their death. It feels as though the very world around me is falling down. I had promised – I swore to Hadrien that no more would die for me. For all my powers I am completely useless to save those I love the most. My eyes fill with tears as my grip on the stone tightens so severely that the pads of my fingers tear and bleed.
"Kalar!" Now when I look up to the edge I can see Kili dropping his sword and throwing his arm down to me. "Take hold," he cries. I steel myself before finding the smallest amount of footing on the rock wall. Using that advantage I push up, releasing one of my hands to take hold of Kili's arm. Once his hand wraps around mine he puts all of his weight into pulling me up. It is a rush as he places me back on the ground.
As I regain my bearings I see Bilbo facing down orcs, defending what appears to be Thorin's body. I see Thorin's eyes close and his head lulls to one side; I suck in a small breath of air between my teeth and hold it in my lungs. He can't be dead; I can't lose him too. Beside him I can see Dwalin, Fili, and Bifur fighting back the orcs and wargs. Kili stands back up and pulls me up with him. He takes hold of his sword once more and with a small smile returns to the fray without me. Another snap of the tree has me turning in time to see Dori and Ori disappear from the tree branches.
"NO!" I scream. The mithril thread is sliding passed me as the tree falls. In a moment of desperation I grab a hold of the thread and try to pull the tree up myself. "Climb off!" I scream to my friends. The mithril cuts my hands further, but I refuse to let go. I can feel myself being drug forward, towards the edge. I see more of the dwarves fall and my heart breaks. "Please don't," I whimper. This cannot be happening. Then without warning the mithril snaps, the damage from the troll's impact finally causing the thread the break. The sudden drop of weight makes me fall backwards and the tree falls over the cliff completely.
Despite the pain in my back from hitting the ground, I'm back on my feet quickly. Before I can fully understand what had just happened, a shrill cry fills the air. Then up from where the tree had fallen, large eagles appear with my friends astride their backs. The relief of seeing them is enough to make me feel dizzy. While the others take to the sky, I turn around to see more eagles descending on the orcs. They are grabbing wargs and their riders only to throw them over the edge. I see one large eagle hover over Thorin and lifting him into the sky, his oak shield falling from his limp form.
Azog shouts out at the eagle for stealing his target, but there is nothing intelligible in his cry; it is all anger. From the corner of my eye I can see the others being picked up by our feathered allies. Finally realizing what this meant, I wrap the remaining thread around my hand and start running forward. I pass the pale orc and his warg, surprising them. I grab the shield and Bilbo, the latter making a disgruntled noise as I did so. Then without another thought I keep running until the earth is no longer beneath us. We only fell a few feet before a large bird caught us on its back.
I make sure Bilbo has a good grip on the eagle's feathers before I turn to look back at the cliff side. I can see the remaining wargs circling the area once more, but they seem confused and unsure of what to do now. I can't help the frustration I feel surging through my mind as Azog escapes from me; after a few decades of searching and losing those I care about only to lose my chance. As they disappear into the distance I can feel myself becoming more lightheaded. I reach around Bilbo and try to get my own grip on the feathers. I wedge the shield just under his body so it would sit nicely; even that in itself is exhausting. I don't want to collapse on Bilbo, but every minute that passes feels like stones are being set on my shoulders.
"Kalar? Are you alright?" asks Bilbo as he looks up at me. He still looks terrified, but I don't know what to say to him. "Your hands are bleeding," he whispers. Sure enough the feathers in my hands are turning a darker color than they should be. I just shake my head at him and keep looking forward. I can just make out the other eagles ahead of us and tears form in my eyes.
"I don't know, Bilbo," I answer. The night has taken its toll on me and the emotional weight of these events have settled over me like and iron cloak. The last time I had been this afraid was when I had fallen into Morinehtar's cave. When I thought that everything was over, that I had nothing left. I can feel the hot tears falling down my face as holding it back becomes harder than I can bear. My breathing is ragged and short as I try to hold myself together. Looking down, I see Bilbo's hand wrap around my wrist.
"We are still here," he promises. "All of us." I nod my head in acknowledgement, but I settle my head on his shoulder. There I cry into his jacket as the wind whips passed us. Between Bilbo and the eagle beneath us my world fades into shades of blue as I allow myself to break.
Several hours later I have ceased my tears and I can feel the painful magic beginning to seep into my hands and arms. Bilbo and I are both silent as we let the wind overtake all of opportunities for conversation. The view is beautiful and might have been more so if I weren't in pain. We caught up with the rest of the dwarves, but they seem either too stunned to say much or haven't noticed our arrival. Fili did call out his uncle's name in hopes that he would awaken during the flight, but as Bilbo and I near him we could see that he hasn't. The sun is beginning to rise when we reach the opening of a large valley. One tall rock towers over everything else.
That is where I see the eagle lay Thorin down gently. Gandalf is the next to land, rushing to Thorin's side. Bilbo and I land next and he is careful to make sure I have my balance before he lets me stand on my own. The other dwarves land one after another opposite us on the rock. They stand nearby waiting for Gandalf to help their king. Gandalf is murmuring his spells under his breath, but as Thorin begins to shift and his eyes open I feel more relief settle on me heavily.
"The halfling?" asks Thorin. With those words the dwarves start stumbling over one another to help their king to his feet. Bilbo's face is a mirror to the relief I felt a few seconds earlier. I pat his shoulder and move over to the side. There are stairs along the side of the rock, which concerns me. They had to have been made by someone, but for the moment it serves as my resting place. I take one large step down onto the second stair and listen.
"It's alright. Bilbo is here. He's quite safe," answers Gandalf benevolently.
I take a seat just in time to see Dwalin and Kili helping Thorin up. When he makes eye contact with Bilbo he turns angry, "You!" He shoves Dwalin and Kili's arms off of him. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed." I'm not sure where this sudden animosity is coming from, especially since the hobbit had saved his life, but I am getting tired of it. These are grown men; they need to get this sorted. "Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us? I have never been so wrong in all my life."
When the dwarves start cheering I look up to see that he is hugging Bilbo. I can't look for too long though. The soreness in my neck prevents me from twisting my head like that. As I gently press my fingers to my neck I can feel the bruises stinging. It's where the thing that had grabbed me; I can feel that it runs down my neck to the slash the goblins left. I can feel the upper part of the cut is also where the shadow grabbed me has left charred remains along the ridges of skin.
"I am sorry that I doubted you," I hear Thorin say.
"No, that's alright. I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior; not even a burglar," I can hear the slight laugh in Bilbo's voice as he says that. Gandalf even gives off a light chuckle. "Here, this is yours," the hobbit adds. I can only imagine that he's talking about the shield; he must have grabbed it when we got off the eagle because I had forgotten it. I am examining my hands when the eagles fly away with a final shrill cry. The palms have been split wide open and they would be infected soon. I unwrap the mithril thread from my arm, now only half its length. It is a sudden reminder of my failure, of how I had almost failed my friends.
There are several moments of silence before Bilbo says, "Is that what I think it is?" I look up, ignoring the twinge of pain. The dwarves are all crowding to one side of the stone structure, looking ahead. I lean a little ways to the edge of the stairs to see that at the entrance of the valley, in the far off distance, there is a distinct mountain peak that is visible.
"Erebor. The Lonely Mountain. The Last of the Great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle Earth," says Gandalf. It didn't need an introduction or all those names; that is just Gandalf showing off. However, it doesn't take away from the beautiful sight it makes or the hope it brings.
"Our home," says Thorin longingly. I wish I could see his face; I'm sure that it is something to behold. The same hope rings in his voice more loudly than any bell. This is probably the closest he has been to the mountain since it was taken. I pray that it is everything he has been hoping for. A slight breeze picks up and the pain in my body starts to mount, but by being still for so long it has made the exhaustion impossible to resist.
I lean back onto the stair behind me as I hear Oin call out, "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain." As the cool stone touches my back I close my eyes, the pain is dangerously ignored while my consciousness slips away from me entirely.
"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush," comments Gandalf. It seems a little silly that Oin wouldn't be able to recognize the difference between a thrush and a raven, but no one saw fit to comment this morn.
"Well we'll take that as a sign," says Thorin. "A good omen." The first sight of the mountain after escaping overwhelming odds leaves Thorin optimistic and a little giddy. The company has survived and eagles have taken them through the rest of the Misty Mountains. While the situation is not its best, it could have been far worse. Now with the sight of their homeland and no longer half a world away; it brings a smile to the would-be king's face.
"You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us," says Bilbo, adding to the uplifting sentiment of the moment.
Thorin raises the shield and joyfully tests the weight, the feeling of familiarity and gratefulness overcome him. He turns and picks up the elvish sword and returns it to the sheath on his back. "What made you think to bring this with you?" Thorin asks as he hoists his shield once more.
Bilbo blinks before realizing what it is the dwarrow is asking, "I didn't. Kalar did." He goes a little pale as he hurries to one side of the rock looking down. For a moment all are confused until his eyes widen. "Kalar!" he shouts as he tries climbing down. Thorin's heart seizes. He along with the rest of the dwarves rush to the edge to see what had become of their ranger.
When she first dropped down into the chaos of the orc party, all he felt was rage and frustration; to think that she would risk herself just after they had rescued her. Then there was panic that she truly was in danger once more. He almost tried to follow her then, but Dwalin kept him back. When the first wargs attacked his heart had stopped beating, but then she attacked with more of her strange magic. Unlike the rage filled strikes she had made in the goblin cave, each move she made there had been cold and calculated; as though she thought through each motion before she did it. Her magic amazed him, just as it did in Goblin Town, but after seeing her recede into herself he found himself all the more afraid; Thorin couldn't afford to lose her. She had mentioned the destructive power that came with such abilities and worried him.
However, the ranger had ceased her attack in an attempt to save them, but as she struggled with a counterweight a shadow had appeared through the ice. It was a dark and malicious thing; they could feel it even from several yards away. Tahna had been so focused on trying to save the company that she had not heard them when they tried to warn her. Thorin's voice still feels sore from the yelling he had done. It came from behind and grabbed her. At that point he had scrambled to make his way out of the tree and to Tahna's aid, but at the same instant the wall she had created shattered.
He then came face to face with his greatest enemy and more than likely Tahna's. He had felt the burning desire for revenge, but there was only one need; to save the woman who has shown nothing, but love and dedication to his company. He thought he would save her from the darkness; both from within and from without. Unfortunately, he lost the fight against Azog in the end, but he still would have done it to save her. Where he failed to protect his family and his people he would succeed with her; she is strong enough and in some ways stronger than him. However, the last thing he had seen was Bilbo defending him. The hobbit, being so much smaller and vulnerable, had worried him. It was the last thing he thought and therefore the first thing he remembered. It hurt him to know that he had almost forgotten Tahna.
When Thorin reaches the edge he looks down to see his ranger unconscious against the stone. Her face is contorted in pain, but she doesn't move. The only movement that is visible is her breathing and even that is shallow. The stairway is cut in stone and each step is steep; so steep that Bilbo's arm cannot reach her slumped over form at all.
"Dwalin!" Thorin calls out. The son of Fundin is the tallest of them all and if any could reach her it would be him. He comes forward and upon seeing her, he jumps down. He lifts her up to others who carefully support her up to the flat stone. They lie her down with equal caution. She doesn't stir during the whole thing and it makes them nervous.
"What's wrong with her?" asks Fili. Kili is beside him panicking quietly and watching her with unusual focus. When no immediate answer is given, Thorin asks:
"Gandalf?"
The wizard takes up a position beside her, running his hand over her unconscious form. He searches for a moment before the ailment became obvious. Steam starts rising from one of her hand wounds and in her other hand it begins to accumulate frost.
"It's that foul magic!" says Gloin in condemnation. "You must stop it, Gandalf."
"I cannot stop it, only she can do that. However, I can slow it down and buy her some time," he says. He brings his staff to her chest where her heart rests. He mutters yet another spell and the effects seem to stop. As the wizard draws away he says, "She said she needs running water to perform her purification spell. We must get down this infernal rock and get her to the river. Quickly now."
All the dwarves jump into action as they begin scaling down the towering stairs. They pass their dormant comrade down from dwarf to dwarf with absolute delicacy. At one point Thorin is the one holding her as the others work their way down the stairs. He can clearly see the damage that the shadow and goblins caused. It makes him uneasy and if he could see his own hands he would see them shake. He cared for her – he would have died for her that night if it made a difference. He could see it now that her value had expanded beyond that of a ranger, a protector, or a comrade; she has become something much more treasured. Thorin has come to rely on this woman more than he thought he could anyone else. He has never needed someone to lean on, friends he trusted with more than anything else certainly, but this is something new…
Tahna is proud, loyal, and strong; the best trademarks of all dwarves. Then there are other things about her that are unique. She's knowledgeable, kind, and passionate. They are traits that Thorin looks for in any worthy companion. Then there are the characteristics that remind the dwarrow of himself. It is a familiarity and a comfort that he has only found in the closest of kin. This connection with the ranger of the west is more intimate than the would-be king could have predicted. It is because of this reason that Thorin sends up a silent prayer to any god that would listen; he prays that she would live so he may see her bright, golden eyes once more.
My Horrible Black Speech Translations:
Nuzdigid? - Do you smell it?
Nuzdi gast. - The scent of fear.
Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob - I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain
Kod toragid biriz. Worori-da! - That one, bring him to me. Kill the others!
Sho gad adol! -Drink their blood!
Mirzlat? – Who are you?
Gathroku mat. - Prepare to die.
Iinizg lat. - I remember you.
Kranklab zogtarkuzizish zark amukhizg tramuzto. - Your mother bore me well when I raped her.
Tonphrakhizg pashlat zash. - I suppose you will be the same.
Okay so I cried making this part if I'm totally honest. It's gonna happen again over the next couple of chapters, but then we will be back on track with less angsty things. For those of you who feed off angst – you're welcome.
Next Time: Healing, Feelings, and more freaking tears man…