Thank you all who left me reviews lately. There are some worries about the ending nearing, but let me tell you that you don't have to worry. The story is long but finished. Enjoy this rather epic episode. Sorry if you're disappointed; fights are not my strong suit.
Soon, elves and dwarves have joined forces in fighting orc and even trolls. I defend Bilbo whenever an enemy draws close as he does his best to defend himself as well. The humans within the battle are not faring well though. They are not warriors, but exist of fishermen, hunters and crafters. It turns for the worst when the orc go to cut us off as the march for Dale. Worried for the helpless people there, Bard sends his people back to the city to defend it.
Gandalf, Bilbo and I follow them, knowing they can use every bit of help. It is chaotic within the already ruined city as people flee to find safety from the enemy. I am parted from my company within the mess as I slash and hack my way through, clearing the path for the humans. There is one upside among the chaos as I received news that Thorin finally decided to partake in the fight.
As I stop a troll in its tracks before it nearly kills a group of fleeing woman and children, I whip around, pulling my sword from its stomach, only to stop in my own tracks confused. "You came back." I exclaim relieved, watching as Legolas and Tauriel dismount their horse.
They smile slightly, but I can tell there is something wrong. "I thought you had a hard time with swords?" Legolas teases, making me shake my head. "You heard what you wanted to hear. Accidents happen." I defend myself as he smirks.
"We have no time for jokes right now.", Tauriel scolds, making us turn to her. "Right." Legolas agrees, turning to me. "The large orc from before...Bolg, he is marching here with a hoard of Gundabad orcs." he clarifies. I look towards the direction of where Gundabad lies, Ravenhill meeting my eyes. "Thorin went there." I say alarmed. "I should warn them." "How?" Tauriel questions as a look of determination crosses my face. "My wings will just have to carry me." I tell her.
Suddenly, the whistle of an arrow pierces the air and I gasp as my head whips to the side. "Therith!" Legolas calls out worried, grabbing onto my arms. I turn my head slowly to him before looking in the direction to where the arrow came from. I feel a sticky wetness drip from my cheek. My eyes narrow as my heart starts to thud loudly against my chest, seeing the culprit. "Who's that?" Legolas asks, knocking an arrow. "Why is one of your kin attacking you?"
I put my hand on his, making him lower the arrow. "Therith?" he questions. "Go find Gandalf and tell him what you told me. This is my fight." I say making the two elves realize that this is the person who I fought before. "You don't have to fight alone!", Tauriel shouts, making me smile, though not taking my eyes of the daring smirk on Orun's face. "I know, but I will. This is personal." I say before rushing forward and jumping off the tall defence wall, spreading my wings.
I was almost afraid to fall, but feel relieved as my wings are able to carry me, though not with ease. I pull my sword just in time to block a hit, the clang of metal on metal ringing through the air. "Not running this time?" his smug voice asks. "Not this time." I growl.
I quickly claw at his face; leaving marks next to the ones I left there before. Before I am able to retreat my arm, he clasps his hand around mine, pulling me closer. I grunt as his head meets mine with force and I feel my skin breaking. He then follows up with slamming the butt of his sword to my jaw. I back off, the taste of blood in my mouth.
I glare at him as he just wait for me to move, a confident smile on his face. I can feel thick warm liquid slowly running down my face and dripping from my nose.
I ignore the annoying sensation and rush forward, clenching onto my sword tightly as it once again meets his. For a long time each of us tries to break through the defence of the other, our swords clashing again and again. There seems to come no end to it; that is until werebats fly amidst us as they are on their way to the battlefield below.
I focus so as not to loose sight of Orun among these flying rats. I sense one of them coming at me from the side and without breaking eye contact, I thrust my sword out, impaling the bat. Using the momentum I sling it away from me and towards Orun, making it crash through the hoard of bats and leaving a clear path towards my enemy.
Orun grunts at the weight of the bat as it crashes right into him. He is to late to react as I slice through the bat fluidly, my sword reaching as far as his abdomen, leaving a large gash. He gasps in pain faltering for a moment and I take this chance to grab him and throw him into another bat that was about to grab for me.
The bat does not seem to be aware that it took hold of the wrong pray as it flies of a distance. Taking my bow, I knock an arrow, pulling back the string hard before releasing it. It flits towards the bat, hitting it straight in the back of its head and I watch on pleased as it tumbles down towards the chaos of the battlefield, Orun still in its grasp. I however make no mistake in believing that this will kill the man. Such evil will not be defeated this easily.
Looking around for a moment, I notice that we have come very close to Ravenhill during our fighting and I take the moment to land on the side of the rocky hill to let my weary wings rest for a short moment. I find that I'm already breathing hard and tired, not to mention the splitting headache that pulses with my heartbeat.
I glare down at where Orun disappeared in the battle, keeping an arrow strung tightly for the moment he appears. It is then that screams from above me distract me and my heart clenched as I look up to see Tauriel struggling with a familiar orc. It is the large orc I encountered before in Lake-town, the one called Bolg.
Switching my aim, I fire at the orc, letting an arrow lodge itself in his leg. It distracts the orc enough for a moment so Tauriel can free herself from his grasp and is able to continue the fight.
Before I can do any more, I scream out in pain as an arrow runs through my upper arm. Gasping in pain still, I whirl around to find Orun on his way up the hill. He looks beaten up, but angry, so angry, he looks maddened by it. He releases another arrow, but I block its path towards my chest with my arm guard.
" You are quite clever." he acknowledges in a hiss. "But you will not catch me off guard for a second time." he tells me as rushes forward faster than I have seen him fly before. I am unable to fire quickly enough or reach for my sword before he crashes into me full force, discarding his bow.
My body is pressed hard into the jagged rocks behind me and I grunt in discomfort. Hands gripping tightly onto my neck suddenly block my airways and I grip for his arms, clawing at them, leaving bloody streaks. Orun hardly seems to notice as he chuckles in pleasure. Nothing seems to bring more pleasure to him than having someone heave their last breath by his hands.
After a minute of not being able to wring his hands from my neck, though it feels like hours, I see my vision start to swim and my legs tremble in weakness. I can feel my body slowly giving up on me and my mind seems to drift away, imagining things on how the afterlife would be. Will I be welcomed by my ancestors and enclosed in the safety of their arms? Will the eagles cry out loudly in sorrow when I pass away? I can hear them now already….Wait! Eagles? I open my eyes wider to see distant shadows in the air, swiftly closing in. A feeling of tranquillity overcomes me.
With a burst of power I had not known to be there, I swing my right arm around until a loud gasp on pain meet my ears. Air rushes back into my welcoming lungs so hard that I almost choke in it, couching loudly.
My vision grows sharper and my body reacts to movement in front of me. Ducking down, I pull out my sword and stab in forward and up and for just a moment, everything seems silent.
As my wits return to me, I look up to see my sword piercing Orun's chest, coming out on the other side with blood dripping from it and onto the dark rocky hillside. Above my head, embedded in the rock is the rusty ragged sword that will never be encrusted with my blood.
Slowly standing up, my eyes locked with the dimming ones of Orun, I watch as he slowly slides off my sword. As there is nothing behind him, he falls down the hillside, his body crashing into rock after rock on his way down. Eventually it comes to a stop near the bottom and does not move again. It will stay there until the crows picked it clean, leaving only cloth and bone.