There are few things that can be learned while trapped in an orc camp. Being trapped in said orc camp can be so mind-numbing in between their acts of torture that many who were captured went insane. To be in a constant state of either brain dead or suffering is one of the worst experiences Sveilrun could remember. The only way to try and stay sane was to try and learn. To question anything and everything that she could grasp onto; how many rocks surrounded her cage? How long would it take to convince a bird to fly to her? What are the orcs saying? How difficult is it to snap an orc's neck? Sveilrun eventually found answers to all of her questions. Slowly but surely, as time passed in her dreaded captivity, she began to understand what the orcs were saying. As time passed she became fluent in Black Speech.
The great wolf of the skinchanger stood in surprised silence when a swarm of orcs emerged from the woods around her and the elven guards she was attacking only moments before. The dwarves were stuck in their barrels, trapped by the river current pushing them against the metal gate, against the only way of their escape. But her mind couldn't comprehend their situation fast enough as she briefly broke back to that state of mind-numbing insanity. She could faintly hear the shouts of the dwarves, but it took her a moment to register their danger.
"Gorid! Zib! Goridug!" One of the orcs, the leader of them, snarled. It only took Sveilrun a second to translate what he had said, "Slay them all," and that was all it took for her to snap herself from her sudden state.
With a deafening roar and a newfound anger, the giant wolf leapt to protect the dwarves. Orcs were climbing over the giant wall that made the guard post and threw themselves towards the dwarves. Sveilrun attacked any orc that stood between her and the dwarves; clawing and slashing them with her talons, and sinking her teeth into their disgusting flesh. It did not take long for her to reach the dwarves. One of the orcs jumped down to land on one of the barrels, its weapon held at the ready, but Sveilrun leapt and smashed into the orc before it could land- pinning it down on the ground on the other side of the river before tearing out its throat.
"Kili!" Dwalin's voice shouted, drawing Sveilrun's attention back to the dwarves. The young dwarf prince stood on the bank of the river, caught in a fight with an orc, but he managed to kill it with a sword thrown to him by Dwalin. Another orc ran towards Kili and Sveilrun tried to run to his aid, but she was quickly stopped by another wave of orcs pushing her further away. She snapped and growled at the orcs that began to surround her, pushing them further back, but they keep persisting forward and occasionally tried to jab her with their swords. Sveilrun quickly tired of their game of chicken and leapt at the closest orc, latching her teeth onto its arm and tossing the orc at the rest of them. Before they could retaliate she quickly skirted out of the circle of orcs and ran back towards the dwarves, who were being attacked by another hoard of orcs, but it was Kili she was most worried about.
Kili ran up the steps of the guard post, hastily slaying the orcs trying to stop him, and reached for the lever to free the dwarves. Sveilrun could hear the silent 'twang' of a bowstring before a long black arrow sunk into Kili's leg. Kili's eyes widened and he staggered slightly, and crumpled onto the ground with a pain filled groan, his hands clutching his leg.
"Kili!" Fili cried out for his brother.
The dwarves only saw a blur of dark brown fur soar over them as their giant wolf guard leapt over the river and up the stairs to Kili's aid. An orc was charging towards the injured dwarf prince, but Sveilrun rushed at the orc, slamming her head into its gut and pushing him down onto the ground. It only took seconds for her to rip apart the orc, killing it within moments. When she turned back to Kili, he had pulled down on the lever, freeing the dwarves.
"Drepa iav! drepa avhe hundur!" The leader orc roared. 'Kill it! Kill the dog!'
The wolf's lips pulled back in a snarl directed at the orcs that were now storming towards her and Kili. One by one all of the dwarves still stuck in the barrels are whooshed down a short waterfall and into the harsh current of the river. Kili, who after pulling the lever landed on his back in a pained heap, rolled off the guard post and back into his empty barrel below, snapping the end of the arrow as he fell in. Sveilrun looked over the wall of the guard post to find all of the dwarves being pushed down the river.
"Khozdayin obguryash! Argurid!" The lead orc shouted angrily. Sveilrun translated his command, 'After them!', and decided it best if she followed his demand as well. Bounding over the wall and landing on the river bank below with a loud 'thump', she took off after the dwarves. It was difficult to catch up to them; she has to climb over rocks and down cliffs, killing any orc in her way, while trying to run faster than the river current. She was aware of the orc pack and elf guards following close behind, but tried not to bother with them and instead kept running. The elves were much more concerned with the orcs then with her and the dwarves, and the orcs would have to deal with the elves attacks.
Eventually the wolf managed to draw nearer to the dwarves so she was running parallel to Thorin. There were far too many orcs for her to kill, so she ended up running or jumping around most of them, pushing them in the river when she can or slashing at them with her talons mid-stride. None of the orcs could hope to keep up with the wolf's long strides. Luckily the dwarves managed to defend themselves in the rapids; arrows were deflected by the thick wood of the barrels, and they managed to steal some orc weapons and were using them to kill any who came too close. Sveilrun almost found it comical when the dwarves tried to paddle in certain directions but were overpowered by the currents, it would be funnier if they weren't in danger of possible drowning.
On the other side of the river, Bombur's barrel ended up being propelled out of the water and he began to roll down the bank. He managed to take out a surprising amount of orcs before jumping back into the river and into a spare barrel. Sveilrun was so distracted by Bombur's performance that she didn't spot an orc hiding just inside the treeline before it was too late. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the glint of light against metal and quickly swerved, but not fast enough. A sharp pain slashed across her shoulder and a high yelp left the wolf's lips. Turning to her assailant, she quickly backed away before the orc could attack again. Blood dripped from the orc's blade, but she didn't have time to ponder on how severe her wound was. She could already hear the dwarves disappearing down the river without her and feared losing them to the current. Deciding that a single orc was not worth the hassle, she turned and ran. Normally her pride would stop her from leaving a fight, but her concern for the dwarves took over and forced her to trail after them. The skin-changer could faintly feel the blood burning across her skin and the sharp sting her movements caused, but adrenalin fueled her movements, forcing her to forget her current state. Even with her movement momentarily slowed, she managed to catch up to the dwarves once again. A burning began in her lungs as her breaths came out in heavy pants; it'd been too long since she'd had to run for so long with no breaks and her body was starting to feel its affects. Sveilrun's bright yellow eyes scanned ahead to find a long wary stretch of river that they have yet to travel, and the heavy weight of dread pushed down on her.
She was most definitely not being paid enough for this.
.
Eventually, after what seemed like hours upon hours of running, the company managed to lose the pack of orcs. The river began to calm and the dwarves lost the hard push of the current, making them slow to a crawling speed, and the dwarves were forced to push themselves along by paddling with their hands. Luckily because of the hindered pace of the dwarves, Sveilrun was allowed to slow down as well. Unfortunately it was once that she slowed down that she was able to comprehend the pain burning in her shoulder. The pain forced her to walk with the slightest of limps, her injured shoulder demanding to be favoured, but her limbs were already sore and shaking from prolonged use.
"Anything behind us?" Thorin called to Sveilrun, too far away from the wolf to notice her predicament.
"No, not for a ways at least," Sveilrun called back, her lungs burning in her chest making her words come out slow and panted.
"I think we've outrun the orcs," Bofur called hopefully. Making Sveilrun huff angrily to herself, as if they actually did any running.
"Not for long; we've lost the current," Thorin responded, "Make for the shore! Come on, let's go!"
The half drowned dwarves and Bilbo begin to paddle towards the riverbank, and Sveilrun stopped at the edge to wait for them. The drenched group climbed out onto the rock slabs on the side of the river. As they all climb out, Sveilrun took a closer step towards the river before plunging in. Her dark fur was matted down with sweat, but the cold water of the river brought instant gratification and she let herself sink down further until only her snout and eyes came out of the water and rested on the stone. Her great yellow eyes closed as her head began to swim on the verge of unconsciousness.
"On your feet, we need to keep moving," Thorin's voice sounded above her, but she didn't look up. Even having to move her eyes seemed far too difficult in that moment.
"The lass's been running for hours, Thorin," Bofur's hesitant voice sounded a few feet away from the two, "Maybe we should let her rest a moment."
Whether Thorin would have agreed or not is unknown as Fili interrupted by calling, "Kili's wounded. His leg needs binding."
"There's an orc pack on our tail; we keep moving," Thorin retaliated.
"To where?" the wolf's growling voice rumbled, irritation clinging to every syllable, "There's a lake lying in our way and we will have no way to cross it."
"Then we go around," Bilbo suggested.
"Don't be idiotic, none of you can travel faster than an orc pack," Sveilrun snarled, "and currently I'm the only one who has a means to kill them, so I suggest we take a moment to rest and think of a real plan."
Thorin hesitated before ordering, "Bind his leg, quickly. You have two minutes."
Sveilrun's eyes shut once again as she let herself rest. Everything hurt; the pads of her paws were cut and bruised from the harsh rocks she had to run across, her legs throbbed from overuse, her lungs and throat burned, and the injury on her shoulder stung. All of this added up to make her rather angry and frustrated. She could hear the dwarves shuffling around as they sorted themselves out and binded Kili's leg. Sveilrun could hear shuffled footsteps come towards her and cracked open one eye to find Ori sitting on the bank of the river next to her. He took off his boots and emptied the water from them back into the river, but his eyes caught on something strange.
"Hey, Nori, there's something wrong with the water," Ori's hesitant voice spoke to his brother, who moved towards the river to take a look. Sveilrun heard the shuffling of a few other sets of feet coming towards her, but she couldn't seem to care less. A certain lightheadedness seemed to suddenly overtake her as her breath started coming out in quick short pants. She could make out the dwarves talking above her;
"Is that-" Nori's voice cut off.
"That's blood!" Dwalin exclaimed.
"Who's blood is it?" Ori asked with the same tone of hesitance.
"Wolf, were you injured?" Dwalin growled out.
This seemed to catch the rest of the dwarves attention, and more footsteps surrounded towards Sveilrun.
"I thought I heard her yelp earlier, but I couldn't see her," Thorin's voice muttered, making her jolt back to consciousness, "Did one of the orcs get you? Let Oin look at it."
"I'm fine," the wolf's rough voice growled, "It's just a scratch."
Sveilrun stood, but her legs that weren't injured were sore, and the one that was injured seared with every movement, making her limbs shake with the very effort. She tried to shove her way past the dwarves, but she only made it a few steps before nearly crumpling onto the ground. With her out of the water the dwarves could see a long gash cut across her shoulder, the fur surrounding the injury matted in blood. Sveilrun's pride begins to take over as she forced herself to keep walking despite the shivers that begin to wrack down her form.
"That is much more than 'just a scratch'," Thorin argued, "Now let Oin look at it."
Oin stepped forward and held out his hand to touch the wolf, but noticing his movement she curled back her lips in a snarl, forcing him to retract his hand. She kept her teeth bared even once the dwarf had backed away, "I can fix it myself if I shift back - where's my bag?"
Thorin hesitated before walking to where he had left her bag and harness on the bank of the river before taking it to Sveilrun. He walked slowly towards her, seeing as she snarled at Oin for even stepping too close, he'd rather not face the wolf's wrath. But the wolf didn't show any sign of aggression and watched him with wide yellow eyes. He held out the harness in one hand and she carefully took it into her jaws before limping off towards the treeline. The dwarves watched her leave, but once she slipped between the trees she quickly fell from view. All of the dwarves returned to what they had been doing before the ordeal, except for Thorin.
Thorin stared into the forest even after Sveilrun disappeared from sight, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. Minutes ticked by with no sign of her and his concern only grew. He knew she would be angry if he tried to follow after her, but the urge to check on her was growing. Eventually he gave in and stalked towards the treeline, none of the dwarves noticing or paying any mind as he left. Once he stepped into the forest, it only took a few moments to find the woman, and when he did he froze in his tracks. The woman sat with her back to the dwarf king in only a pair of loose fitting trousers. The tan skin of her back was completely bare to the chill air, the only thing obstructing his view of her being the large gash that ran across her shoulder blade. In comparison to the shaded darkness of the forest, she stood out like a beacon that was drawing him in. He couldn't help but let his eyes trail over the taut muscles that made her shoulders and back as they shifted with her movements, his eyes drawn in by the faint scars that littered across her back.
Black ink that had been carved into the woman's skin covered her back and hid some of the worse scars. The tattoo that covered her back was a form of script Thorin couldn't read from where he stood, but he could see enough script to fill three or four pages of a book. The large tattoo was obviously done overtop of her scars, and helped to hide the worst of them. In that moment she looked far more fragile than he had ever seen her before, hunched over with her head down and slight shivers crawling over her skin, despite knowing that she was far stronger than most. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but Sveilrun was too preoccupied to notice him.
In her hands was a long needle she had pulled from her bag with a thick string she had ripped from an article of clothing threaded through it. A gash like the one she was facing is much more difficult to heal than a broken bone; the skin-changer's body was used to breaking and reforming bones with every shift and was accustomed to healing such injuries, but the shift between states wouldn't fix this. No, unlike a broken hand, shifting could only make a gash worse, and the wound which had almost stopped bleeding as a wolf, began to cry rivers of crimson down the woman's back. Her hands shook as she tied a thick knot on the end of the string and raised it the the top of her shoulder where the wound began. She managed to stab the needle through her skin, muffling her whimper from the pain, and thread it through part way, but her hands shook terribly and the needle fell from her grip. She hissed under her breath in frustration.
"Do you want help?" a murmured voice asked.
Sveilrun's hands flew to cover herself, embarrassment flooding her cheeks as she looked over her shoulder and found Thorin's hooded gaze watching her.
Sveilrun forced a scoff from her lips, "This is nothing, I don't need your help."
"I never said you did," Thorin replied, already familiar with the woman's sense of pride, and walked closer to her, "But it would go much faster if you let me do it."
Sveilrun sputtered slightly as she searched for a response; she knew he was correct, it would be much easier and faster if she let him sew her wound shut. Her hands shook too much for her to do it properly, and she was far too lightheaded from blood loss to concentrate on the wound. Turning away from the dwarf and fixing her gaze on the ground in front of her, she hissed back, "Fine, just do it quickly."
Thorin walked the rest of the distance between them and sat on the ground behind her, making her jump slightly. Now that Thorin was closer to the woman, he could make out what the tattooed script wrote out on her back. She was covered in names. Tiny written names covered most of her back; the first four were Ylva, Caesar, Favian, and Ronan, and the stood on the top of the rest - showing to be more important in some way. Thorin tried to ignore the tattoos, feeling as if he were intruding on something private, and instead leaned forward to begin his work.
"Just," Sveilrun stuttered, "Just don't look, or you'll regret it."
"What would you do, bleed on me?" Thorin muttered sarcastically as he gently lifted the needle that hung on the string from her wound, but at her sharp glare of warning said, "Don't worry, your modesty is safe with me. Now sit still unless you want it to scar crooked."
Sveilrun hunched forward slightly, partly to give him a better view of the gash on her shoulder, and partly to ensure her breasts were covered from his sight. She couldn't help but jump when he rested his palm against her back, but stilled when she felt the tip of the needle pierce her skin. His hand was extremely warm against her skin, and proved to be a distraction for the woman. It was a rare moment when she felt anything akin to physical contact; she had not felt the most simplest of sensations of someone laying a gentle hand upon her in many moons. The feeling of warmth and comfort that it brought her made her forgetful of the needle stitching her wound together, and she closed her eyes as she began to relax against his touch. She allowed her mind to wander as a heavy, delightful scent surrounded her, and she let out a shuddered sigh of relief. The distinct scent warmed her almost as much as his hand against her back, and she breathed it in greedily. A stream of words repeated over and over again in her head, only this time she didn't feel the same desire to deny them. 'Soulmate, companion, intended one.' The three different words repeated like a mantra, but they all held the same meaning. The skin-changer felt the dwarf king's fingers brush against the back of her neck as he swept her long hair over her shoulder and shivered slightly at the sensation. A sudden sick feeling fell in her stomach as she felt his fingers pause on her neck, tracing over another tattoo that covered her neck in surprise, traced over the tattoo she had not gotten voluntarily. The dwarf king was surprised because this tattoo was written in Black Speech, but he couldn't read whatever it said, but he knew better than to ask and Sveilrun was glad for it.
"Are you cold?" Thorin's voice snapped Sveilrun from her trance.
Sveilrun's face heated once again. She kept her gaze fixed on a blade of grass in front of her and replied with an uneven voice, "Just a bit."
"I'm almost done," Thorin reassured, "Just a few more minutes."
The rise of disappointment that filled her chest surprised the skin-changer, because she knew once he lifted away his hands she would deny herself such a sensation from happening again. Sveilrun already knew what happened to intended ones who were not both of skin-changer blood. She had watched it happen to her mother and father, and refused to go through the same pain and suffering. She also knew of the loneliness that would await her, but it seemed preferable at the time. The skin-changer had been living with such loneliness for more years than she could count, surely she could continue in such a way.
Once thorin finished and removed his hands from the woman, the warmth that had filled her before vanished, and in its place a cold emptiness was left behind. The dwarf king used a scrap of rag to wipe of the blood that had flowed down the woman's back, watching as the wound already stopped bleeding because of the skin-changers ability to self-heal. He paused for a moment before standing to his feet and backing away a few feet. Sveilrun leaned forward and opened her bag, pulling out a worn tunic that was still damp from the river. She had a difficult time raising her arm without wincing at the movement, but she managed to get the piece of clothing on. Standing to her feet with her bag in hand she let her sights flicker to Thorin and found him watching her with an intense, hooded stare.
Clearing her throat, Sveilrun lifted her head to try and regain whatever pride she had left and muttered, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Thorin replied, his gaze not leaving the woman, as he continued almost apologetically, "The wound might scar."
"That's fine," averting her eyes once again, the skin-changer remarked, "You were right, we need to keep moving before the orcs have a chance to catch up. Lets return to the dwarves and think of a plan."
The dwarf king looked as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind and simply nodded. The two made their way back to the dwarves and hobbit in silence, neither of them knowing or wanting to say anything. When they exited the tree line they found the company as they were before; getting water out of various articles of clothing or tending to Kili, but their entrance caught the attention of the dwarves who all looked up from what they were doing. The reactions of the dwarves varied; Ori, Nori, Dori, Oin, Bifur, and Gloin didn't seem to care and went back to what they were doing, Balin, Bombur, and Bofur chuckled to themselves but tried to cover it, Fili and Kili both blatantly stared not knowing what to think, and Dwalin just glared at Sveilrun.
Muttering underneath her breath about dwarves jumping to conclusions, Sveilrun stalked off to sit on the rocky shore away from the dwarves. She combed her hands through her damp dark hair in hopes of taming it, her head tilted slightly to listen for any approaching orcs, but also to eavesdrop on Dwalin who was hissing furiously to Thorin underneath his breath. Picking up everything Dwalin said was difficult with the other dwarves shuffling around and speaking to one another, but she got a basic idea. The grumpy bald dwarf was 'reminding' Thorin that he can't get distracted by some conniving she-wolf. Suffice to say, Sveilrun had to stop herself from throwing a rock at the tattooed dwarf.
While Dwalin is muttering and grumbling to the dwarves' leader, unbeknownst to them a man snuck over the rocks of the river bank with a bow in hand. Sveilrun spotted him as he notched an arrow and pointed it at Ori, who sat unaware of the assailant. Jumping to her feet, Sveilrun grabbed a thick branch from the ground and stood between the man and the young dwarf. The man hesitated at the sight of the woman, but didn't lower his drawn bow. The rest of the dwarves spotted the man as well and immediately moved to attack, and momentarily distract the bowman. Sveilrun stepped forward, lifting the branch to strike the man, but he's not as distracted as she thought and his arrow lodges into the branch in her hands. Her eyes widen in surprise as she drops the destroyed branch, and takes a quick step back. Kili raised his arm to throw a large rock, but the man is quicker and has an arrow hitting the rock from the dwarf's hand.
"Do it again, and you're dead," the man threatens, another arrow nocked and aimed at Fili and Kili.
Sveilrun's hand slipped into her bag, which was wrapped securely around her waist, and her fingers quickly found the handle of her dagger. Balin noticed and held out a cautious hand to stop the woman before turning to the man, "Excuse me, but, uh, you're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?"
The man aimed at Balin when he stepped forward, but the dwarf kept his hands raised as a show of docility and continued, "That barge over there, it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"
The man lowers his bow, watching the older dwarf closely before turning and walking back to his barge, "What makes you think I will help you?"
The company follows after the bargeman, but Balin is at the front and observes outloud, "Those boots have seen better days. As has that coat."
The man ignores the dwarfs statement and instead began loading the empty barrels the dwarves had onto this barge. Sveilrun observed the man as he loaded the barrels; he had dark hair that was partially tied back and looked as if it had not been properly washed in a while, and wore rough clothing that looked to have been repaired many times.
"No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed," Balin continued with a friendly demeanor that differed from the many grumpy dwarves behind him, "How many bairns?"
The man paused for a moment before answering, "A boy and two girls."
"And your wife, I'd imagine she's a beauty."
"Aye. She was," the man answered with his back turned to the group.
Balin's smile quickly falls as he began stuttering apologies, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Oh, come on, come on, enough with the niceties," Dwalin grumbled angrily to Thorin, interrupting Balin and catching the man's attention.
"What's your hurry?" the man asks.
"What's it to you?" Dwalin replied.
"I would like to know who you are, and what you are doing in these lands," the man responded, his eyes travelling over each individual in the company.
"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills," Balin lied easily, his friendly smile quickly returning.
"Simple merchants, you say?" the man asks disbelievingly.
"We'll need food, supplies, weapons," Thorin explains, stepping next to Balin, "Can you help us?"
The man studied Thorin for a moment before looking down at one of the barrels, his fingers brushing against one of the many nicks missing from the wood from when an orc shot it with an arrow, "I know where these barrels came from."
"What of it?" Thorin responded defiantly.
"I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well," The man observed before explaining, "No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He will see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."
Boarding his barge, the man unties the ropes holding his barge before tossing them at Balin. Thorin looks to Balin and mouths, 'Offer him more.'
"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen," Balin coaxes.
"Aye. But for that, you will need a smuggler," The man replies.
"For which we will pay - double," Balin quickly negotiates.
The man's eyes narrow suspiciously on the eager dwarf, but eventually he accepts, and the company has a way to cross the lake.
.
A/N: If I made any mistakes with the Orcish then my apologies, I had three or four different sources I was using and all of them were slightly different so I just went with what seemed most appropriate. Leave me reviews to know what you're thinking so far and any constructive criticism is beyond helpful. I'm open to suggestions for anything in the future, but I can't promise it will happen as I already have much of it planned out.