Part 1: Chapter 27: They Fled Their Hall to Dying Fall
Her hand, cool, gripping, guiding, living, hers––! Sona took Thorin by the hand and they ran. A few moments later he'd exchanged the hold, taking her hand into his, to keep her with him, give her strength in turn, and they ran harder. They all ran, the Company and the Wizard, parallel to the slope of the Mountain, to the North. They ran, and they ran, with Sona so tired, but still she managed to move with him, as if running were breathing, the only way to live.
Dwalin was beside them, keeping her safe in their flanks.
The Orcs and Wargs cried after them, their claws bearing down, drawing nearer. Indeed, running was life.
For the whole of them.
Sona stumbled, gripping his hand, and he squeezed hers in turn as she flagged. He squeezed again, catching her gaze, beseeching: please don't stop… make this run… we can make it––Though he did not know where… He held tighter and pulled her on. And they ran. And ran.
And cries of Wargs –– close, very close––
––Breathed down their path. He could almost feel the hot stank of their breath on his neck. Looking left, right, ahead–– no high ground where they could stand and defend.
Defend?
He could hear their numbers from the cries. Far too many…
She lagged, her breathing uneven, and he squeezed her hand once more, catching her eyes––are you well to run? Should I carry you––? By her determined shake no, he tugged harder. And they ran––We can make this run––! He wanted to believe it, encouraged by her belief–– run with me Biriz Akmâth'ule––! And she did not stop, for running was life.
But suddenly the cries died low. They'd been spotted.
Up ahead Thorin saw a Warg converging upon them. He released Sona's hand, trusting Dwalin had their backs, and he drew Orcrist as he leapt upon a boulder on the downward slope of the mountain. Springing from there, he aimed the blade tip into the Warg's throat and slayed it in their path.
Dwalin took up Sona in his arms, jumped behind him, and put her between him and Thorin, with a rock to their backs.
Bofur and Nori and Bombur and Dori took out three more of the Warg Scouts
The others of the Company were at work dispatching at least a dozen more. Thorin grabbed Sona's arm again just as another Warg lunged, to be caught by Dwalin's Cleaver.
Black blood spattering over his Thief's face, he could see her quake with nausea… she verged on tears, tearing his heart…
Yet she schooled her features, grabbed his hand and pressed on for a bit longer before exhaustion and her injuries took her and she fainted. Thorin caught her and they were running again as he held her and she clung to him, and they hit a speed, running hard, following Tharkûn's hollers, "Up the trees, quick!"
The land had run out––beyond was sky, turned burnt orange to the west.
They'd run into an alcove of a massive cliff fall–– A half dozen tall grown Pines lined up at the edge of it.
The sun had fully set.
And they were trapped. All that stood between the Orcs and the abyss–– were Pines.
The Company did as Tharkûn ordered and fled up.
––the trees were life now.
Dwalin took up behind Thorin, and helped him get Sona up to higher branches, where she clung to him and woke, looking about them, at him, holding him tighter: Ē'ze, I am sorry… it should not be like this.
She passed out again, and he shook her, Oh Mahal, stay with me, "Thief."
She focused clearer as she tried to gain her bearings, head turned back and to the side, registering the others. She tilted slightly as though she were checking her balance, and her eyes shut and opened slowly as she searched about, until they settled on her Dog–– Fíli had her clutched in his arms in the next tree, together with Kíli.
The other Dwarves were also in trees, the Company spread out over three.
Fíli had managed to get Sasha up with him, and he held her. She snarled and howled but kept still upon him as he clung to a branch. Kíli helped him keep the Dog safe up in the tree.
And the Dog growled her murderous rage at the gathering Wargs approaching on the ridge behind them back up the hill. More kept coming.
Sona grasped herself to Thorin tighter, and he saw her eyes clear for a moment and recognize their danger, and he pulled her close to his side, looking out at the evil multitude approaching.
"Stay high!" he ordered his Company. "Keep HOLD!"
––the trees were life.
She looked over at him, eyes focused and unfocused, frowning, glancing over to Dwalin. "Why are we in a tree?" His Thief was spent, delirious. No.
Dwalin stared at her shocked, shook his head and glanced at Thorin, his face creased with worry.
Thorin clutched her closer. We flee the Wargs and Orcs, Gold Song, for our lives––
She craned her neck around, checking where everyone held tight, her moves unsteady as they balanced on a tree limb. He clenched his teeth––as if that would hold them––Stay put please––!
Soon she located the Wizard, "Gandalf…" she tried to reach him with her weak voice; now it could not carry to the far tree where Tharkûn sat high, chatting with a large Moth flying above his staff––
Mahal Strike the Orc Hordes, why was Tharkûn talking to a Moth?
"Moth," Sona muttered, she'd seen it too.
Wizards.
On another tree, Dori and Nori were sifting through their pick bags as they held on with their legs, bracing. Bofur and Bifur meddled with their ropes. Why, Thorin had no idea. There was nowhere to climb.
"Important," she mumbled, but Thorin could not tell what she meant.
There is … no time … to waste … yet all they can do is wait.
He looked desperately at Tharkûn, still engaged with a Moth…
"Remember," she added, and Thorin wished he knew.
Why the MOTH, Tharkûn?
Was there nothing practical a Wizard could do?
Tharkûn ignored them all.
Thorin turned to what came. Wargs. More Wargs. Beyond them mounted Orcs on Wargs gathered on the ridge past where they'd ran. Thorin counted. Dozens on dozens of fully mounted Orcs on Wargs. This is not good. At least one hundred mounts. Many more free-roaming…
They were trapped. In Pines. No way out.
Wargs barked and howled, more of them swarming over the ridge, gathering about the one in front. Pale and incredibly large––
Thorin knew–– that face. His body clenched, heart ripped in fear, fear for all of them, seeing what he now had to accept––
'Pale's Bounty', the Goblin had said.
Not possible. No––
Nooooo. A Khuzdûl Bane chant filled the back of his mind…
Lu lu lu–– Urkhas tanaki––
––Thorin tried to find a way, looking everywhere at once, thinking everything at once, and breathing–– he could barely catch air; it felt like he would drown in the horror he saw coming. Orcs. Wargs. Thronging their Pale Leader. They lined the crest but did not approach, not yet. They waited, as more kept coming. Kept and kept––
And there, amidst them all–– Ugrûd tashniki kurd'ē––
There, at the ridge––the head of the snake––
Lu lu lu–– Urkas tanaki––
"AzOG." Thorin gasped it, unwanted.
No way out. There had to be some way out… But not the way they came, swarmed with Azog and his filth.
The Pale Orc on a White Warg had come to life.
Before him. There. On the ridge.
The Orc's eyes met Thorin's. And the Orc smiled.
How is he there? Disbelief and seeing red and there is no way out.
nO way out.
cOld.
hOt.
––lu lu lu––
We are here because of me.
––Urkhas tanaki––
He is here because of me. My fault. I brought this on.
Azog's smile deepened, like a crack of one of his adorning scars, and he took a grimacing, foul-faced breath. And then his eyes caressed over Thorin, and his Company, lingering slower over Fíli, and Kíli–– his 'brood shoots'. Thorin felt nausea.
Bolg's Brood Sire–– This was Azog. He wanted them––His Sister's Sons–– for 'games'.
Who commanded him? Were they his reward––?
For my head––?
––and then those hollow eyes were back on him.
On him.
Challenging.
What? What challenge––?
They were stuck in trees.
"Do you smell it?" Azog asked his Warg in black speech, leaning in as if he would whisper, though he was loud enough for all to hear, as he pet the white head of his mount with more affection than Thorin thought possible from an Orc. Smell it? Thorin understood the dark speech: it had been among his studies as a young prince, taught by none other than Balin, who had also taught Fíli and Kíli–– These among his Company understood the words. No doubt Tharkûn also, when not conversing with Moths. The others only felt their understanding as it gripped their guts, without context. He held Sona tighter. What Smell?
"The scent of fear?"
––Ugrûd tashniki kurdumâ––
The other Orcs started pulling in air, hissing like water splashed over fire, greedy for the taste of them. His Dwarves. His People. His.
Azog locked eyes with Thorin once again, the Pale Orc's widened with mock sincerity. "I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thráin."
Lu lu lu lu, 'Adad'ē––
How? Thorin's heart pounded in his head. This foulness yet lives. And taunts. Thorin's blood rushed. They were trapped in trees. No where to run, no way to fight. He couldn't just stay here. Fear. Anger––Red––hOt––
––cOld.
ThrÓr.
And–– Thorin's eyes were on Azog, unable to look anywhere else.
His 'Adad? Azog saw his 'Adad last?
He yet lived, tortured by––
––hOt anger coursed higher, mixed with bitter loss, and Thorin couldn't clear his head from any of it –– nO.
Only him.
Urus––
"It cannot be."
Lu lu lu lu––
His heart burned fire.
––Arrâs talbabi kurd'ē––
He'd believed his own lie for years upon years––
That was no corpse the Orcs dragged back through the gates of Moria after Thorin sliced him deeply, severing his sword arm––that was this demon, screaming his agony––
––Urkhas tanaki––
lu lu lu lu––
Thorin would finish this. He moved to climb down just when Sona caught his arm. She caught him! Ever so briefly he looked in her eyes, warm and overfull of care. 'Are you hale?' he asked her silently with naught but a look. With the slightest nod she affirmed, begging with her eyes for him to look at her… did he see that right?
He glanced back at Balin and Tharkûn, who each looked from Sona, to him and then Azog… as if the monster called.
Asti. Where have I brought you?
Azog saw it all. All of them.
"Here!" Azog raised his stump, the one Thorin made, long ago healed with jagged gray edges, a trident bursting from the remains of where his arm once extended. He pointed the trident at Thorin, face spread with a lewd and greasy grin. "That one is mine."
I am my own, Mahal's Made, Durinul.
"Kill the others."
Lu lu lu lu––
Kill the others. His Company. His Friends. His Kin. His One. He brought them here. He brought her here.
––Ugrûd tashniki kurdumâ––
He pulled her closer, pulled himself in, also, as if he could draw up a bridge, but he couldn't. Couldn't. No where to go.
Mahal what could he do?
A dozen Wargs bounded down upon them, and they howled and thrashed and leapt and clawed through the lower limbs of the trees, knocking off the limbs they reached, bashing their huge bodies against the trunks, shaking the Dwarves lodged in the higher branches, to knock them down, to maul them–– But the Wargs could not reach.
One hit a branch just below them, and Sona startled, and Thorin hugged her all the closer, lest she fall. "Move higher!" He ordered them all as the Wargs went berserk, ripping off the lower branches.
Azog gloated.
Thorin shifted Sona upward, assisted by Dwalin. As he crawled up next to her now higher in the tree. The scent of lavender washed over him, released from her soft hair as she leaned in close. He breathed deeply, unable to help himself, trying his utmost not to move, not to give any indication. But he was watched. It was foul. He felt the eyes on him, seeing to his private places, clear to his dreams; it felt like sandpaper scraped over his soul.
One after another the branches below were sheered off by the teeth of the beasts, and the trees began to lean… Thorin's heart pounded all the more ––their foothold wavered–– shallow roots, no doubt, blocked by the hard rock beneath the soil of the cliff. He pulled the Thief closer, as close as he was able, ready to leap––
As the trees began to topple––
––The Wargs bashed and thrashed the Pines until they collapsed, one into the other, thus driving the trees down, one after another, and the Dwarves scurried back and leaped into the next falling tree as each one they clung to fell, hollering and hanging for their lives. Everyone made it, and Thorin passed Sona up to Dwalin as he clambered up the last tree standing, where Tharkûn sat near the top.
Once they were a few branches out of reach of Wargs, she stopped near the trunk, with Dwalin just the other side.
Mahal, no more falling, please do not let her fall again.
Suddenly Tharkûn was calling Fíli and Kíli, "oi, take these!"
And there were Pine cones on fire–– The Wizard was lighting the cones on fire, and throwing them at the Wargs below. The fires caught on the brush, and spread. The Wargs howled louder and backed away in the smoke.
Azog cried out in frustrated anger, a gut curdling sound, though better than his laugh.
There was space below them, where the fire chased away the beasts.
Dare they hope?
But the tree… It… moved badly beneath them all… badly off the center of its line… slipping back and out… NOOOOO…
The last Pine toppled, sshwwhoooowhwooop, and it was falling. With all of them on it, aiming its tip toward the deep wide chasm beyond the cliff. Hold her. hold. hold all. Hold her––
And he did.
They all did, though Dori and Ori barely, as they hung from Tharkûn's staff as he struggled to pull them back up to the tree, and the others held on, legs flailing, as they angled to clamber up topside. The tree had been stopped by its roots, hanging flush to the ground, the trunk over the abyss––Sona screamed as her arms weakened too fast, but Thorin was there––
––He pulled her up to the top side of the downed tree, staring deep into her eyes, assessing if she were unhurt.
Sona nodded as she righted herself; where did she get this strength? "Go." She turned to help Dwalin on her other side. "Help the others." They hung for their lives––
"I take all." Azog growled, laughing.
Thorin glanced back, Azog licked his teeth, eyeing over the Dwarves in the trees, lingering on Fíli and Kíli. The Orc smirked, smiling once more at Thorin. "I see your ilk, faces shaped like yours, soon to clothe my bits."
Bits?
Thorin could not breathe.
Azog gripped the leather at his groin and squeezed it, pulling, smiling most foul as he shifted on the Warg.
Indeed, that was someone's face, once.
Thorin's stomach turned.
Azog's eyes were back on Thorin, then to Sona. His smile grew deeper, more lecherous. His eyes going over their bodies, narrowing, assessing, cutting like a rake through mud.
He had his mace aimed at––
––Sona.
"Ahhhhgh, ayech, all of you, Oakenshield." the Pale Orc groaned, pleased. "Here, your Heirs, your Dam, and your Head." His eyes were on Sona.
She looked back at him… into those cold voids.
"I will drink her blood." Azog's face opened into a voluptuous grin. "Bring her," he motioned to the Orcs at his side. And then he began to laugh, the obscene roll of it echoing against the rocks, shaking Thorin's insides as the White Orc pointed his mace at Sona.
Sona spoke to Thorin, but he could not hear her through Azog. Not past those eyes.
No.
No you won't.
Fire and smoke wisped about them.
I will kill you first.
He could hear nothing but blood rushing. See nothing but the eyes that should long ago have ceased to gloat. Blue. Void of spirit. Full of hate. Full of the death of my family, seeking more. Seeking my heart. My head.
No.
I must shut the light out of the dead eyes. I will do it. I should have done it before.
I will do it now.
Step up… to arms. To Arms…!
Thorin glared at the Orc, affixing his shield. Flames wrapped between them but there was an opening…
Thorin rose from the fallen tree and took a step.
Someone shouted NO!
Thorin couldn't tell who.
It did no good.
Idhîth––!
––Fortify! Defend!
Thorin walked.
A Bazgel––!
––against the Bane of all Banes––
The Defiler. Lord of Orcs. You wake me to kill.
'Id-ubram––!
––the Severer!
––the Lesser Cleft…
The arm was greater… This remains––
I will remove it. The sundering…
"Thorin, NO!"
Was that Gold Song?
Azog's eyes danced before him––
Rake'ê––!
––My arms––!
Azog growled, aroused to the call. I will hack you, sunder you from life.
"Sho hoooo, sho hoooo, sho hu hu hu," the Orcs chanted all about him, eager, luring.
Thorin heard nothing but rushing. One step. Another. There he is. Cruel joke. Make an end to it.
Thorin picked up momentum, walking headfast toward his Hate through the fire.
Azog's pores opened, and a stench blew off as his arms widened and his scars glowed red.
Du'ra––!
––In the naked silent places––!
Ti'kata!
I will strip you! Death I bring you!
"He's trying to bait you!"
It was her! Ē'ze. Thorin's heart pulled but he could not stop.
This foulness?! I am the bait, Biriz Amâth'amê…
Lu lu lu lu…
The Pale Orc's smile taunted. Thorin would reach it, remove it.
"Don't you see?" She cried, her voice soft on the wind, through ash and fire––
––I see him who should not live!
"This is exactly what he wants!"
Aye, Orcs love death––
––This one especially. Thorin glared into the void.
Da're––!
Îshî––!
––I strip my wounds––!
Embrace my edge!
Thorin began to run. Run run run.
––running is death.
Beat a path to your death.
Re Maka––
––And my Cheating Joke––
––still rewarded––!
Kiss Death! Azog exhaled.
Thorin ran full out.
Tarad––!
For all you gloat––!
Azog groaned with pleasure…
His arms opened all the wider, as if he awaited his lover…
Ga'na'nan'ar––!
So it has Been from the Start––!
Our Maker's Gift! You Stole!
Azog awaited, eager and open, his heart Thorin's target––
Thorin raised Orcrist.
Êz! Fâr––! Zafrân!
My Late! Ancestors––! Lead men!
You Stole!
Thorin groaned, there, running full––
––growling, stretching, reaching his blade––
Nahanthâ––!
You yield to me––!
Strike––Strike––
Lu lu lu lu! From the breeze, late and low, as his Company watched, late and low, late and low, deep in the depths of heart––
––Ugrûd tashniki kurdumâ––
Thorin's blade did not connect.
Azog smashed him, his mace to his chest.
Sound stopped. Pain reeled. Thorin was down.
PAIN
Hold the weapon. Hold, turn. Rise… He's there.
White light and searing met Thorin's eyes and face, as the mace he barely saw brought him down once more.
And then the Warg was upon him, pawing, stinking; it rolled its nose in his gut, pushing, clasping teeth. "OhhhHH," the force down upon him! Hot jaws gripped over his chest and stomach, clenching and lifting and pressing! "Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh––"
Cries of no from somewhere far away, upside down, head swimming––
No
Lu lu lu
Clamping, lifting, in an instant the Warg was SwiNGING him in its maws as its teeth, large as climber's spikes, pressed holes through the armor into his flesh, pressed, rent, twisted.
PAIN. "Phhh…. Aaaaaaahhhaaaaah––"
The cursed Warg––
"––Aaahhhhhh––"
––did "…hooOhh…" hold fast.
It shook him, whipping back and forth as it dug its teeth deeper, until Thorin remembered his sword hand, still holding Orcrist, and he slammed it down upon the snout of the thrashing Warg.
Yowling, it flung him away.
Thorin flew until his back slammed on a far rock, breath gone, and his body went limp as more pain radiated in all directions. Stars. The night is clear and full of stars.
Azog snarled, and laughed.
Breathe. Move. GET. UP. His blade––he'd lost hold–– can't reach. "Hhhnnnnhh" Breathe. Pain. "Hhhhhhng…" Nothing ––"…hhhhhshhsh…" ––worked. Breathe. Pain. Keep awake––
"Bring me the Dwarf's head." Azog.
Move… can't.
A shadow blocks the stars. A black blade strikes the sky.
Screams. Someone's screaming? Company? Sona–– wh–– watching?
Ē'ze Birigashimi, Biriz Akmâth'ulê.
Darkness took him.
Waking to a screaming and a crashing upon him, Sona––!
––She was over him, holding him, and over her the Orc loomed, blade descending with a howl, crashing into her back–––!
NOOOO Asti! what are you doing here––!?
He heard a snap–– he felt cracking… bones sundered? Sona––?!
He could have sworn it to both; yet she breathed. With all force of will and determination, he pulled his arms around her, she's moving, her eyes on him!
How are we both still alive? Just. Hold. He could feel her heart against his own. Oh how that felt, through the pain… such tender pulsing–– She lived!
What was it? What–– snapped?
He won't let go. No. Hold. Hold. Hold.
His eyes widened as what stood beyond grew clear; the Orc readied for another blow, the jagged blade poised, looming over the both of them.
Asti––no. Thorin could barely breathe it out. His arms tightened around Sona, pulling her to his chest as he tried to roll as the Orc above them snarled.
Thorin used every ounce of will to turn, grumbling low and deep through pain, to muster strength to shield, but he had no strength to summon; there was nothing between her and the killing blow that would claim them both. His breath went out of him. He can't… Blade is rising… 'no' can't. Roll.
But then a brown furry mass hurled howling between them, and the Thief's Dog ripped out the throat of the Orc.
"Sasha," praised the Thief with a sigh. "Good girl."
Mahal Sent, Dog. Your teeth are…worthy… Âkmînruk zu.
Sona's head fell to rest on Thorin's neck, her forehead against his cheek, a scent of lavender reviving his spirit. She lives… we live. Her cool breath caressed his skin, the skin of the neck she saved––
And her Dog––
Gold Song: You should not have––
––How could you risk yourself so?
Shhhhh…. Hold. Hold. Feel your heart, beating time to mine. Feel your breath brush skin, an echo to my soul. He shut his eyes and swallowed. They lived.
Sasha stood over them, defending with her teeth as a clash of metal sounded, his Company had made it from the Pine and battled off the Orcs, to save them further––
Sona passed out, and he held her, trying to stay––
––darkness came anyway––
––He woke to whooping cries and the heaving beating of large feathered wings–– Sona was in his arms and they flew, grasped gently and secure, soaring through the air in the claws of an Eagle.
An Eagle?
When had Eagles come, and why?
Perhaps it was a dream, or they had died. But no, he still felt the biting aches and pain––
"Thanks Moth," she muttered.
Tharkûn's Moth?
He didn't care that she made no sense, as he focused on her lips moving on his neck, the heat of her breath on his collarbone.
He only dreamed of Eagles, sky and stars, and Sona in his arms. Her heart beat steady against his, a promise of life. Sona… Gold Song.
Biriz akmâth'amê.
Stay with me.
"Always," she murmured, or had he imagined that?
End of Part One.
To be continued here with Part Two
/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\