Disclaimer: I own nothing save for my own characters. J.R.R. Tolkien owns all. ALSO: this chapter contains violence, blood, death, and all that fun stuff, you have been WARNED.
"And I saw that all my life I had known that this was going to happen, and that I'd been afraid for a long time, I'd been afraid for a long time. There's fear, of course, with everybody. But now it had grown, it had grown gigantic; it filled me and it filled the whole world."
~Jean Rhys
CHAPTER TWELVE
T.A. 2799
The Battle of Azanulbizar- East Gate of Moria
The day began cloudless, but soon the sky was covered in dark rolling clouds. The sun shone brightly until a little after dawn, when the first cloud floated in front of the sun. A shadow was cast over the dale, the gray stones darkening as shrieking filled the air.
In the dark gate of Moria, they could hear the clamor of metal and feet hitting the earth. The orcs were coming and it was now up to the dwarves to wait.
Nuil shifted silently, glancing at Frerin who stood beside her. The dwarf was glaring fiercely at the gate, his battle ax ready in his hands. Nuil held her own sword tightly, heart pounding in her chest. This would be her first battle, her first fight with more than one foe. It frightened her. She was frightened that she would lose those she cared about.
She knew that there would be deaths.
But whose?
Looking past Frerin she nodded to her brother as he gazed back at her. He could see the fear in her eyes, and shook his head. Nedoheen wanted to spare his sister such an experience, but her mind was made and he understood why she wanted to fight. There was honor in battle, and also in fighting alongside those whom you cared for. He just wasn't sure how he could watch her if anyone she cared for died here.
Nuil turned her head, gazing out across the plateau to the other column of dwarrow that was led by Frerin's brother, Thorin. He stood tall and strong beside another dwarf that she recognized, Dwalin, his mohawk standing out against the other dwarrow wearing helms. The two also stood watching the gate, tensely holding their weapons. As if sensing her, Thorin turned his head and looked to her. He nodded to her, brows drawing together and looked away. Nuil sighed, shifting once again. She readjusted her breastplate, grimacing at how it moved so loosely.
The armor she wore was not made for her. It was simple armor that they had found and given to her. Good armor was hard to come by now, for the dwarrow. Most had sold theirs as their children had begun to starve. Nuil knew she was not the only one with poor armor. But having armor was better than having no armor.
She froze however, when movement from the gate drew her attention. From out of the black gloom emerged an orc. Nuil sucked in a sharp breath as she gazed at him. This orc had pale skin, almost white, and was massive, compared to the two that followed him. While they were not very small, this orc made them seem small. He was a giant, and they were ants.
The pale orc. Azog the Defiler.
Azog's gaze swept over the ranks of dwarrow, a smirk growing on his face as his eyes landed on Thrain. He raised his left arm, a deadly looking mace in his hand. His eyes never left the new king as he spoke: "Lat Thrain, baur ob Thror, vrasubatlat! Vrasubatuk baur!"
Nuil did not know what Azog had said, but sensed that it was nothing good. She had never bothered learning the black tongue. Nuil knew she was right when the pale orc began to laugh, spreading his arms wide. Beside her Frerin tensed.
"Do you know what he said?" she asked worriedly. For a moment Frerin did not seem like he had heard her, but then his low voice rose.
"He said he would kill my father and brother," Frerin said. He glared at the orc. "It is a vow to kill the line of Durin. Vows are seldom broken."
Nuil breathed in sharply, looking back to the orc. Frerin's words settled heavy within her, an ill feeling clinging her her heart. With a roar, Azog raised his mace and swung it forward. From within the shadows of the mountain, cries filled the air clamoring with the metallic thrum of weapons being readied. Nuil gave her brother a look, giving him a weak smile. The noise grew until out from the gate emerged Azog's army.
The battle had begun.
Nuil swung her sword up to meet the massive club heading for her skull. Metal and wood met, jarring her arms as she was pressed under the incredible weight of the orc. She grunted, arms shaking as she tried to push back, sweat dripping from her brow. It snapped its jaws at her face, jagged green teeth sticking out of its mouth at odd angles. It was trying to eat her, bite something on her, but she refused to let it near. All around her others were fighting, orcs ganging up on dwarves, swarming them like flies.
Mahal, she was tired.
Several feet away in the mass of fighting bodies was Nedoheen; he was slowly trying to make his way to her, seeing her distress. His breastplate was red and black with blood, the left side of his head matted down. The orc before her lunged in to snap its teeth near her nose. Quickly Nuil dropped to her stomach, the orc lost its footing and tumbled forward over her. Rolling to her feet Nuil sliced the orc across its back, earning an enraged scream. The orc rolled, only to find her blade cutting its neck.
Nuil turned then, eyes searching for Frerin. They had been separated not long ago when two large orcs had advanced, and she was worried. The moment he had spoken of Azog's vow to kill his family, something in him had . . . changed. Without any hesitation he had charged right into the fray, making his way to the pale orc. Nuil had followed, trying her best to keep her promise to him and protect him from himself.
It was clear to her that Frerin wanted revenge. Revenge for his grandfather, and for the lives being lost today. Revenge for the desecration of Khazad-dum. And it did not sit well with her.
She was attacked by another orc, meeting the same force as she did before. Arms shaking she shoved it off, stabbing it in the gut and running by it. She didn't have time to make sure it was dead, she had to find Frerin. Someone else would have to finish it off, and she hoped that it wouldn't get up and do more killing.
There he was! She spotted his gleaming armor, not the finest she knew there was, but the best for an heir of Durin. He was working his way up the rocky slope towards the pale orc. Dread filled her as Azog spotted Frerin, a savage grin lighting his face. Nuil knew the Frerin could not see it, he was fighting off one of Azog's massive body guards. Azog began down the slope towards him.
Frerin didn't see it.
He didn't see Azog turn.
Or Azog move towards him.
No.
No.
No, no, no ,no, no.
Nuil picked up her pace, running as fast as she could over the dead and through the fighting mass. Pushing her way towards the oblivious dwarf. No please, Mahal, don't do this. Azog was advancing. Wide eyed she screamed to him.
"Frerin!"
But her voice was lost in the chaos of battle, the clanging of metal and screams of the dying. Frerin was on his knees, pressed down by the orc before him. His back was to Azog. Frerin didn't know, couldn't see. And it was happening right before her eyes. Nuil swung her fist at the orc that drew near to her, sending it stumbling to the ground, pain blossoming in her knuckles.
Azog raised his mace, bringing it down-
Nuil gasped as she was slammed into the ground, head smacking into the stone with a loud crack. Her vision swam as Azog stared down at her, one moment in bewilderment and then in fury. Frerin had dispatched the orc and turned, seeing Azog standing over her. With a snarl, Azog raised his mace again, this time at her.
"Mat grukurv," he snarled.
Nuil rolled to the side, grimacing in pain as her head pounded. Looking up she found that Frerin had advanced on Azog. Stop, Frerin. That wasn't what she wanted, he needed to get away . . . Nuil pushed herself up, unsteadily to her feet. But she didn't have time to help, another orc was in her way.
She pushed back as her feet slid against the stone, slick with blood. There was warmth on her face, her arms felt numb. Out of the corner of her eye, Frerin stumbled.
No.
Azog swung.
No.
Frerin's head snapped backwards, his body flying to the ground.
Nuil screamed, shoving the orc away from her, running to his side. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to protect him, keep him alive. Keep them alive. That was why she wanted to fight. Nuil didn't worry about Azog, his attention had been captured by something else. Nuil barely heard the roar of the pale orc as two figures slammed into him. She did not know that it was Thorin. She did not know that his cousin, Dain, fought alongside him.
Frerin lay on his back, swallowing thickly as blood oozed from his wounds. His face was horribly mangled. His nose was shredded, the skin around his mouth torn all the way to the bone. Blood pooled in his mouth, spilling over the sides of his cheeks and down into his beard. Nuil felt her eyes begin to water. Frerin saw her, his wild eyes widening. She took his hand in one of her own. He could hardly keep a firm grip, he was shaking so bad.
"Frerin-" a sob caught in her throat. He wasn't meant to go like this. He wasn't meant to die like this. This was her fault, all her fault. It should be her, not him.
Frerin choked, gagging on his own blood before swallowing. Another sob tore from her.
"I ne- never thou- ght," he swallowed again, struggling to speak. Nuil shook her head.
"Save your strength," she pleaded. Part of her hoped that he would make it. He just had to, he had to live. She squeezed his shaking hand. Frerin shook his head, gagging again.
"I wan- I want t-to say t-this," he took a ragged breath, chest heaving rapidly. She could see him struggling to breath, and it tore at her. "Nuil . . ." his free hand reached up to touch her face, "how f-air you are to me. I only wi- wish, that I tol- told you sooner. I w-wo-ould have l-l-loved you lik-ke no other."
He swallowed again, gray eyes filling with tears.
"Tell- tell my broth- brother that I- I-" Frerin's face contorted in pain. Nuil leaned over him, gripping his hand tightly willing herself to listen. "Tell Thorin- tell that I di-died avenging my grandfather."
"I will."
"F-farewell, my l-lovely Nuil," he breathed thickly. His eyes began to flutter. Nuil grabbed his other hand, holding it tightly. Hot tears poured down out of her eyes. No, please!
"Stay with me, Frerin!" she cried. "Don't-" she couldn't finish, tears pouring from her eyes as he heaved one last breath, and then lay still. His hands lost their grip on hers, hanging limply within her own, the color faded from his skin. Nuil gripped his armor, sobbing as his body grew cool.
Why?! She wept bitterly. Mahal, why must you be so cruel?! Have you no love for your children?!
She had failed to protect him. Failed to keep him safe. Just like she had failed to save her mother and keep her promise to her father. Failed.
Suddenly she was torn from Frerin's side, a yell pulling from her throat. Her collar was pulled taut around her neck, as she hung from the grip of an orc. Nuil choked, grasping her tunic with frantic fingers. It sneered at her, lifting its jagged and rusted blade. Struggling she reached into her boot and withdrew her long knife, and shoved it right into its face..
It happened so quickly she didn't have time to brace herself. Hitting the stone beneath her, everything blossomed with pain. Nuil's body turned numb, and then the orc came down with her. Unable to move, it landed on her and everything went black.
Nedoheen gazed at the scene before him dully. So many dead. It was terrible, and while they had won, they had also lost. Lost so many. There was no cheer of victory, no feast. There was nothing. Nothing but the dead lying at his feet. The many- too many- dwarrow laying with their eyes unseeing, in pools of their blood, their fellow warriors blood and the blood of the enemy. Beside him stood Thorin, and the dwarf Dwalin, who his sister had told him of.
But his sister was not there. Worry crept into his heart. He knew her to be a fair swords woman. Yet he could not help but feel the guilt of letting her fight, and not trying to hinder her. If she died . . . what then? What would they do? What would he tell his brothers?
They had already lost her once.
"Search the dead," Thorin said quietly, gripping the oaken branch in his left hand tightly. "We must find the living. Find my brother." Thorin had seen his brother fall, he knew that Frerin had- died. He clenched his fists, willing the pain out of his heart.
Dwalin placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him."
"And Nuil?" Nedoheen asked, not bothering to hide his worry. She had to be found, she just had to. "My sister?"
Thorin looked at him, pain filling his eyes. He had seen her with his brother, in what were most likely his dying moments. It was some solace to him that he had not been alone. "We will find her as well."
They did not find Nuil the first day. Nor Frerin. On the second, panic began to settle in Nedoheen. When he was not forced to stay in the healing tents, he was searching. His little sister was out there, and he had to find her. The thought that she was dead only made his breath catch, heart pound and hands shake.
Surely, someone like his sister could be spared from death?
They found Frerin, on the second day. Thrain, the King, had howled in anguish at the state of his youngest son, sinking to his knees beside his pale and still form. The face of the younger having been torn savagely. Were it not for his garb, none would have recognized him. Thorin had watched in silence, jaw clenched, glaring. He would weep like his father, if only he could, for his people needed someone strong to look to at this moment. Now was Thrain's time to mourn.
Nedoheen began to face the fact that his sister was dead, by the third day. Either carried off into Moria to torture and torment, or disfigured far too greatly to be recognized. He searched the bodies then, not really wanting to see his dead little sister. Not wanting to face what King Thrain and Thorin had faced. Not wanting to see her still and lifeless body, rent beyond imagining. Torn so savagely from the life she could have had. He was not blind to the looks they had shared, Frerin and his little sister. It would be a mercy to have her not see Frerin, not know, to have died with him.
She had been near Frerin during the battle, that much he knew. Then he looked up, a new thought dawning to him. Nuil could not be far from where they had found Frerin. Thorin had mentioned her being with him in his last moments. Turning he bounded across the dead, the stinking of the rotting flesh passing him.
"What's the hurry, lad?" called a graying dwarf, as he passed.
"My sister!"
Nedoheen was joined by the dwarf as they went back to where they had found Frerin. The rise of a hill of stone, overlooking the dale. Both searched the dead, carefully turning bodies, and lifting the dead from one another. Nedoheen worked fervently, convinced she was here. Dead or not, he still had to take her home.
After an hour their searching was proving fruitless. Nedoheen began to despair once more until movement caught his eye, where a pile of orcs lay. He neared, frowning. Had the carrion began to feast on the flesh of the dead? He jumped back in alarm when a small hand, bloodied and dirty clawed outwards from the pile. It reached toward the light, followed by another and what looked to be a head of matted brown hair. He heard the sob of a woman, the slick wet noise of liquid moving against bodies. Nedoheen lunged forward, taking the hand in his own and pulling.
"I found her! Help me!" he cried to the dwarf. The graying dwarf came to his side, eyes widening as he saw the hand and the person attached to it. He muttered a curse and began lifting the dead orcs. Digging Nuil out from the pile of dead bodies, and then pulling her free he gathered her into his arms.
"Nuil!"
"By Mahal," breathed the dwarf staring at them with wide eyes.
Nuil lay in her brothers arms, shaking. The only thing that her eyes saw was the first thing she had woken to, the dead orc face above her own. Yellow eyes staring into her own, burning themselves into her memory.
My last chapter to you all before Saturday! :'( I haven't even started packing yet. I was listening to more of Ludovico Einaudi while I edited and reread this, I teared up. I hated that Frerin had to die, he was such a beautiful character and I really loved him and Nuil together. I really didn't want to write this chapter.
Translations: (not sure if its correct, used a black speech dictionary)
Lat Thrain, baur ob Thror, vrasubatlat! Vrasubatuk baur!- You Thrain, son of Thror, I will kill you! I will kill your sons!(orcish)
Mat grukurv- die woman-whore
A special thank you to my reviewers!: uno mega, The Penned Tekrid, Comics4theFeels, IceheartsChill, KingofTruands, and Cristen! Also a special thanks to those who are following this story!
Read and Review!
~filimeala