**WARNING: Violence, gore and feels **

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Chapter Nine

'The Light fades'

'Alesia' by Eluvietie

They stood at the ready jutting their scimitars into the air in anticipation fueled by the proximity of the enemy. The sharpened steel armored, mace swinging trolls broke through the frontlines positioning themselves at the head of the horde. The skill and the sheer force of the Orc army was unmatched.

"Not yet." His stare was directed forth into the Sun bathed valley. "Wait...Wait..." Azog's arm extended rightwards to halt the Snaga in charge of the gonfalon. The soldier shuffled nervously shifting his body weight from one foot to another. His armor emitted a sharp creaking noise as he twitched. He stared to the King then glanced nervously behind him.

"Attack... now!" Azog bellowed the unerring command. His limb flew forth as if solely the gesture would bring movement to his massive army. The nervous underling mimicked the movement and the right wing flew forth signaling the commencement of the brutal attack. The effect was immediate. The war has begun.

x x x

Down in the boundless valley, delineated solely by the soldier flanks Gandalf squinted against the blinding rays. His stare was directed far ahead at the rocky side of the hill. A small grunt came from his throat the his lips pressed together firmly. The sickness overcome oldest of Durins had finally awoken from the all consuming madness. Thorin had joined the unfolding battle and so did the rest of the Dwarven company. He ran forth with a battle cry meant to redeem his honor.

"Where... is he going? Bilbo sniffled wiping his nose, his brows drew in the profound worry.

"The Raven Hill. He is taking his best warriors." Istari's features were tainted by the hate he felt. "To cut off the head of the snake." The words were meant to mock. The Hobbit gazed up the snow covered mount as tiny figures of the Dwarves faded against the fresh snow. A lump had wedged in his throat. He had to do something.

x x x

Their breaths formed a tiny floating cloud, Fili and Kili were the first to sprint up. They stood catching their breaths as they stared up the Orcish contraption. The mists have moved in shrouding the command post in their embrace. And yet it was visible clearly that the Pale Orc was absent.

"You think Azog... has fled?" The baffled Kili turned towards his brother. The frown on his sibling's face has deepened. Their uncle approached taking in the lone platform, his swift gaze darted in both directions.

"Fili, Kili. Go scout the hill." His arm jerked towards the abandoned structure. As his nephews sprinted forward in excited determination, proud to be bestowed with such an important task, Thorin's gruff voice bore the last words of advice.

"Be careful, stay low. Do not engage in a fight."

The fortress of the Raven Hill was much larger inside than it appeared outwardly, many constricted passages snaked several different ways and the young Dwarves agreed to part. Kili sprinted Northward, the tapping sounds of his hefty boots echoed the corridor. To his dismay it was not the only thing reiterating against the massive boulders that comprised the walls. The oncoming gust of the bone chilling wind seemed to carry in a mix of sonorous, resounding howls. They were rapidly approaching and the youngest of Durins found the claws of panic arrive to encase his throat. Taking off one way he spun on his heels abruptly to head in the opposite direction...

x x x

The fingers of his remaining arm clutched the coat of the straw-haired Dwarf. Azog's face appeared nearly repulsed for having to touch 'the thing.' The gloating grin spread across his face as he witnessed Thorin and the others stare up in sheer shock and terror. The Orc leader did not await a supplication. Fili's head had already dripped scarlet red. Azog's sword arm retreated in preparation to jab forth into the midst of the torso. Another strong gust blew and unexpectedly the Dwarf twitched out of his stupor. He thrashed violently having no clue his death was mere inches away. Exerting himself he tore his coat reaching freedom. Yet still, that freedom lay at the bottom of the fortress as Fili plummeted into the snowdrifts.

"Fili No!" Thorin's eyes distended, he bellowed desperately a stabbing pain pervading his chest. Bilbo's lids fluttered, he swiveled very close to being faint.

Kili watched his brother's body from the protection of the lower level with tears in his bloodshot eyes. Squaring his shoulders in blind determination he darted back into the crumbling structure.

Azog the Defiler rolled his eyes at all the commotion. His towering frame spun curtly, he strode out in brisk, broad steps followed by his retinue.

Kili felt so close to crying he bit his lips almost to puncture the skin. His knuckles turned pallid from clutching his sword. He was the oldest now, he had to be strong... The now next in line sprinted through the fortress hacking left and right at the oncoming foot soldiers. He will avenge his brother he will kill the...

What unfolded before him brought his guts to scramble.

Tauriel...

The Elleth lay splayed on the ground, her bright blood snaking a trail from the deep cut on her beautiful, unmarred face... For a moment Kili transfixed, stunned, in shock... He wondered if his grieving mind was playing tricks on him...

Unfortunately it wasn't. Tauriel's eyes brimmed with tears of agony and disgust she stared disdainfully at her attacker. The large black-skinned Orc revealed his yellowing fangs leering at her prone body. The massive, serrated weapon rose, the male paused as if enjoying the moment or perhaps taking the best aim.

With a battle cry to match that of his uncle Kili launched himself onto the assailant stealing a few knuckle jabs at the Orc's jaw. Attempting to reach his weapon, he was flipped and pinned, bones cracked at the brutality of the grasp. The young Dwarf was simply too small and not strong enough to oppose such an attacker.

"Kili! No!" Tauriel's voice was raspy with horror as the curved blade penetrated her beloved's torso. A tiny river of blood snaked his lip as his eyes met hers for the very last time. The youngest Durin's body crumpled to the rocky ground...

The soldier grinned at the limp frame as if knowing the identity of his victim, the importance of the kill... Ignoring the Elleth this time, he pitched his nose for a moment retreating beyond the crag.

x x x

Rimkaur halted at the foothill. She had managed to reach her target without many problems. She was small and quick avoiding the danger instead of opposing it head on. The young woman craned her head to direct her stare at the platform that held the command post. Gut twisting worry constricted her being... He had many enemies... The entire valley was flooded with them. And now he wasn't even here... Rim removed her helmet rubbing her face with both of her palms. Her stomach began to knot, nausea assaulted her in violent waves. Blood pumping through her veins rapidly her mating bite throbbed as if serving as a reminder to press on. Swallowing hard she proceeded, if there was anything, any small thing she could do, she will do it. Anything it takes...

The next sharp corner brought the young woman to a complete halt. Her panicky gaze fell onto the female cradling a small body to her heart. With a tweak in her chest the human recognized the victim. The lengthy, bright-red tresses fell onto the lifeless face as the Elleth caressed it lovingly. Rimkaur's thoughts had suddenly fumbled over the distant secret her father revealed. This Elven female could have been her mother... Red hair... Green eyes...

Those eyes left the one they mourned fixing onto the newcomer. Tauriel's brow furrowed, she inspected the small figure. Orc garb or not, a woman knows a woman when she sees one. Their gazes locked. That moment ushered in the mutual understanding. The golden eyes told her that the stranger will not attack. The captain's paled lips quivered slightly as her attention returned to her beloved.

x x x

Thorin ran like mad, his iron-toe boots slid over the icy terrain. His chest heaved, black, sweat drenched locks stuck to the back of his neck. How could it be, the reality of it all, his decision, it all appeared to be a perverted illusion... His sister's oldest was dead... Slain by the hands of the one he loathed the most. The heir of Durin came to an abrupt stop reaching a frozen stream. It formed an oval, cliff-rimmed courtyard before ending in a sheer drop of a waterfall. It was so serene here... So still. As if the massacre bellow hasn't transpired... The Dwarf's head fell onto his chest. A sonorous sound of a horn bounced of the mountainside jolting him alert once more. It grew louder, more threatening,- the sound of an attack. A several stooped figures leaped over the nearby crag, sprinting over in his direction. The tremble of the Earth carried to his feet, the flanks weren't far off...

The Gundabadian army has arrived, and it arrived ready.

Spreading his feet apart and steadying himself on the ice the Dwarf leader readied for the onset. He hacked left and right, his small stature aiding him greatly. The unexpected help also came from the jack of all trades and ever present Elven Prince. Whilst pinned under yet another assailant, the Durin was freed of the burden by the swift throw of Legolas' blade. Thorin managed a nod in return. Thanking the Elf wasn't an easy task. He loathed his fair-haired father and the offspring of one only reminded him of the sire.

The danger had passed seemingly. The male rose brushing off the snow... Ahead at the river's neck the massive figure shielded the Sun. He had one more enemy to oppose. The Pale Orc's eyes scintillated gut wrenching, nearly palpable hatred, his sneer was mocking, the curt nod of his head,- a sure challenge. The thick chain of his massive flail snaked to wrap tight around Azog's wrist.

The Orc leader's formidable frame stood as if hewn of granite. He watched the fight hoping to witness Oakenshield choking blood at the end of it. Yet at the same time he thirsted to draw that blood on his own. His eyes came to light, he will get his chance. Everything, all of it, every corner of his mind was overcome with the desire for vengeance, there was nothing else left, not a speck. The voice of the Dark Lord had become stifled, yet it still fueled his rage, his limitless blood thirst. The flail swung sharply to aim at the approaching Dwarf's chest. He missed, recoiled and swung again. But the runt was as quick as a scampering mouse avoiding all lethal blows skillfully. His rage escalating, the Orc shortened the chain rotating his wrist he wrapped it tighter round his forearm. His next blow reached the target knocking the wind out the enemy. Thorin plopped onto the ice, splayed flat he struggled to inhale. He had not a moment to spare however, every second drew death closer. He struggled but rose, pierced by a stabbing ache in his gut. The flail resumed its' swinging, though missing its' mark. Azog began to grow irate, a roar building in his chest let itself out resounding the empty landscape. The hefty chain flew once more slamming into the ice instead. The Orc commander shifted forth, his prey was wounded he had to act quick. Cracking beneath his iron-shod boots threw his stance off. A hulking sheet of ice tore itself off tilting slowly, painfully so, it jut into the air eventually. The Pale Orc's large frame couldn't retain the balance, the leader slid off vanishing into the frigid waters.

A wave of astonished relief had suddenly flooded Thorin's chest. Was it over... Indeed, was the Orc filth finally dead? Ridding the free world off his vile presence..? His lip contorted in disgust. Staring at the ice with worry still gnawing at the back of his heart the heir of Durin found his blood chilled watching the Pale Orc's body float right under the surface of the lucid ice. His eyes were blank pools of blue as cold and as hostile as the river itself. The current carried him towards the frozen falls. Transfixed by the sight the Dwarf kept watching, as if to make sure... Those hate and disdain filled eyes shut. Before a heavy sigh could escape Oakenshield's chest a new terror had emerged inside. Those eyes had opened so abruptly he staggered sliding over the slippery surface. What kept him up was the incisive tip protruding out of his boot.

The Pale Orc yanked his weapon rearward leaping from beneath the ice as if propelled by the force of nature itself. The chilling river splatters slammed into Thorin's face as the steel of the scimitar arm met his sword. The fight dragged out, another stab of the crenellated blade brought Thorin to block swiftly. Reeling, he faltered and slammed into the ice once again holding out with the dregs of his strength. His broadsword lodged in one of the notches of the arm-blade of his enemy. His face grew red with strain, a pained grunt lodged in his throat. Time has come for a decision, for he couldn't hold the brutal force off much longer. Oakenshield freed his blade letting Azog's weapon sink into his right shoulder. His weapon thrust forth simultaneously using his own injury as the distraction he brought his blade upwards finding the gap between the armor segments.

Azog's face went lax momentarily, his lips parted as if he struggled to comprehend the occurred. The Dwarf used the momentum to his advantage thwarting the leader on his back he pushed with force driving the blade deeper. The sword exited Azog's body at his back cleaving into the ice. Thorin freed his weapon, resting his boot on the Orc's chest in triumph. He straightened swiftly swell with pride as the Elven blade dripped with black. His own wound was throbbing, yet he was strong... He will persevere, he will not meet his death this day. The shoulders pulled back in gained accomplishment he strode out to find his kin. Thorin's thoughts fluttered back to the colossal pile of gold his mount held in its' womb... The Dwarf was almost off the treacherous, cracking ice, until a faint sound, akin to a sob of a child drew his attention back to the lake.

x x x

'Heavy in your arms' by Florence and the Machine

Was the impetuous drive she felt, somehow determined by the fate itself..? Yet then again the question still remained... Why? Why she felt compelled to follow..? Was it to witness it all for herself..?

Rimkaur did not recall how she clambered over the crag, crossed the lake... Her lungs were singed, head spun, yet she saw everything clearly. They simply gave in, her limbs... Her bare knees left faint trails of her dark-red blood as she ran and collapsed sliding over the hard icy surface to reach him. Shivering violently in consternation her small hands fumbled to remove his cuirass. A ragged sob caught in her throat had finally freed itself in shuddering gasps. A pool of black mired his chest, letting rivulets of all sizes stain his skin. The sight fueled her fury, ignited something within... There was a fiery current coursing through her limbs, she compressed as hard as she could, but the blood seeped through her slender fingers persistently spurting still despite the effort. Rim gasped hopelessly, hands slipping over his ribcage letting the inextricability sink in. The Northern winds teased her strands, they flapped at her back like a black flag, she cried out desperately forcing Azog to blink hard, he opened his eyes.

He looked at her, stare full with astonished gratitude. As if he hoped, secretly, for her to find her way back... To see her one last time.

"You..." A shuddering exhale shook his chest, the viscous, ink-black fluid spurted from the laceration. Black coated lips parted to release the powerful voice that now was nothing but a whisper.

"Expecting someone else..?" Her eyes brimmed releasing the scorching tears free. Azog's lips twitched stretching into a feeble smile.

"I've dreamt that we..." Rimkaur's voice faltered, she sobbed freely leaning forth to cup his face with both of her trembling palms. "I've dreamt we had a child... A boy..." Her fingers caressed his cheek, she was overwhelmed with love that constrained her thumping heart. "He had your eyes..."

His face contorted in strain Azog's eyes scintillated as his hand struggled to reach her face. His mate met him half way leaning into his large palm, the teardrops snaked around his numbened fingers running over onto the back of his wrist. Rimkaur nuzzled his neck pressing close. His blood stained her chest as their hearts began to thump in unison.

"Please don't go..." She plead ruefully. "Please..."

A violent yank put a halt to their embrace. A wide, mired blade came to rest at her neck, all he could do was to fumble weakly at her chest, the cold fingers traced the smooth skin as she was hauled off his body.

Thorin held the woman with renewed vigor. Overhearing the faint sound from the riverbank he spun to recognize the same maiden that accompanied them for so long... He trusted her, let her in... And here she is, mourning the filth!

"I thought better of you." He seethed as the blade began to etch into her neck. "But you're just an Orc whore." Thorin flipped the sword to compress the blunt side against her throat forcing a muffled choking sound. He spat at the body at her feet.

The last thing Azog saw was her, bleeding in the enemy's grasp.

It was as if her soul went out with the cry that tore her chest as she witnessed the light fading his eyes. Once expressive, beautiful, icy-blue morphed into the lifeless glass. The only one she had ever loved just drew in his last breath... Rimkaur stilled suddenly, frozen with the horror of transpired. She felt so drained now, exhausted... Should she even fight now... Should she resist the death by the Dwarven hand...

"Thorin!" A hoarse voice echoed the river basin. Balin and Dwalin scampered across the iced surface warily. "It's Fili..." The silver-haired Dwarf's eyes glimmered with tears. "He lives!" Their faces looked puzzled when they first laid eyes onto the woman in their leader's grasp. Hair askew, blood coated limbs...

"Is that..?" Balin's brow furrowed, his mouth fell open.

Thorin's darkened eyes caught the light. Alas the transformation was only momentary, his lips contorted in disdain when he shoved the woman towards his comrades.

"Throw this filth off the cliff." He hissed as Dwalin's powerful arms tightened around the female's torso following their leader's order without question.

"Thorin..." Balin attempted to reason. "How can we..."

"How can you what?" The heir of Durin snapped. The veins on his temples rippled as he spat out. "I found her slithering at this filth's side... Orc slattern!"

Having had enough Oakenshield had relieved himself off the company. His nephew needed him.

Something wasn't right inside her. Something had fractured while her clouded eyes starred at the motionless body of her mate. Dwalin received a fist to the groin. She spun to face them directing both of her palms at their startled faces.

"What the..." The tall Dwarf twitched his finger, attempting to lift him arm persistently, yet it wasn't complying.

Rimkaur exhaled deliberately, Morhûn's lesson's were remembered. She had to hurry, without her constant pressure they'll set free within minutes.

x x x

Tauriel's moss-green eyes were now swollen red with the countless tears she'd shed and yet it seemed they'd never stop coming. Kili's lifeless head cradled in her loving arms she simply stared into nowhere.

The sky-blue eyes of the Elven prince attempted to ignore the grief of his beloved for another. His jaw squared and fists balled tightly at his sides he watched the ravine intently motionless for quite some time.

The silence of the snowy landscape was pierced by a shriek and a scuffle, yet the Elleth still rocked back and forth succumbing to heartache. The last sound she'd heard caught her attention more than anything, her frozen limbs twitched as a faint creak of a bow being drawn carried to her ears. Legolas trained his arrow with the ever present unmistakable precision.

Tauriel blinked rapidly, a realization came over faster than an Elven arrow could reach its' destination. She wasn't the only one...

"M-my Lord... Legolas... wait!" Her attempt, her understanding, her warning came too late... It would have been vain regardless. The Elf regarded the captain of the guard with an unreadable passing glance before striding out the tiny plateau.

The slender, elegant arrow cut through her shoulder muscle, it protruded below her clavicle at an angle, missing her tracheas by a quarter of an inch. The world went black for a moment as her throat flooded with the fresh blood from the punctured lung. Rim's knees slammed against the ice. They won't leave her be, they won't be satisfied until she's hacked to pieces... Yet her only transgression was to love him... Her teeth ground together, she won't leave easily.

The tip snapped by the pressure of her hand released the spurt of red. The mix-blood blinked hard sensing the numbness spread across her chest, it took over deliberately; a humorless smile flashed her blood-mired teeth. Brimming with hatred her blackened eyes watched the Elf vanish from view. That's when she stood, summoning all the strength left she followed the black spatters dripping from the Elven blade.

A roar to match the Orcish quarter of her blood shuddered her lungs spreading the agonizing pain further. She caught his stocky frame having an advantage of surprise, having no desire to hear pleas or excuses, not that he was going to give her any regardless. Rim's slender limbs bore strength unheard for a female, she pinned the Dwarf to the frozen ground. A notched, curved Orcish blade, captured the reflection of the setting Sun. It flew to dig into his flesh, expanding the wound Azog had inflicted earlier. When it passed his ribs the dagger slid through his flesh like butter leaving the wide anfractuous laceration in its' wake. Steam rising from her victim's torso she pitched her nose and cocked her head, almost as a predator about to break the neck of her gutted prey. Overwhelmed with the utter shock and mind numbing pain of the lethal injury all the Dwarf could do was gasp wildly staring into the inky eyes, as black as the death herself. Freeing her knife Rimkaur clutched his face with the renewed fury. Her weapon rose once more, the droplets of the Dwarf's own blood slid off it spattering across his face.

"This is for him." The woman scowled parting his skin once more. She worked quickly nearly flaying the skin on his forehead, ignoring his gut wrenching cries. The bloody runes stood out greatly against his lurid skin.

'Azog'

The same blade came to press against his tracheas, her bloody fingers encircled the hilt at the ready.

"Rua, No!" A soft, yet terror filled voice came from above and Rimkaur's stare flicked up. Bilbo recoiled, fumbling a step back he shivered, his bare feet slipped across the packed snow startled by her feral appearance.

"But Bilbo..." Her lips quivered as if in confusion of a child that was caught doing something not allowed. "He killed him." The bitter tears broke onto the surface once again as her eyes morphed back to gold. Her trembling palms compressed her cheeks leaving bloody handprints. "He killed him." Rimkaur's frame shook in agony chanting the same ominous phrase.

"He killed him..."

The brutal, stabbing pain spread across her scull down into the top of her neck, the warm rivulets of red melted the snow beneath when she collapsed rolling onto her back. Eyes half shut stared into the blurred yet very blue sky, her lips parted as a tiny shuddering breath wafted away.

Dwalin and Balin rushed to Thorin's side. The old Dwarf dissolved in tears at the bloody sight, the taller one let his face be overcome with an agonizing scowl thumping a small body at his feet with the tip of his hefty boot. Bilbo's limb shook violently as he rose his arm attempting to interject. When the Dwarves left in a great hurry carrying their leader to help in a last ditch of hope the Hobbit's palm covered his lips. Nausea, torment and confusion washed over the tiny burglar in great waves. Was it the same Rua he befriended, the same sweet, innocent girl that attacked Thorin so viciously... At the thought of his lifeless friend carried away Bilbo's eyes pricked and he let the scorching drops free. But her death weighed on him... An exhale that was more of a sob escaped his throat as he stared at her bloody frame. She seemed so small now... Rua's last words came back to him at that moment. Down the slope of a snow covered rock lay the body of their most vicious enemy, Azog the Defiler. Mr Baggins trembled briefly recalling meeting the terrifying Orc face to face. Why would she care about... He connected the dots quickly, yet it still appeared impossible. Lovely, kind versus... The Hobbit shook his head barely, it wasn't his place. Yet to him it seemed as if... Bilbo fidgeted on one spot eager to run after his comrades, yet he couldn't...

Her body jerked across the snow leaving the wide trail of blood so prominent against the white terrain as he dragged her exerting himself. Bilbo wiped his forehead finally coming to a stop. The Hobbit knelt cautiously positioning her frame carefully as if still afraid. Finally satisfied, Mr Baggins straightened his limbs staring down onto Rua tucked closely against the massive Orc's side. The winds carried over scattering her bright strands across the black coated chest. Bilbo bit the inside of his lip. Before anyone saw him he hurried back yet halted a few steps away. Returning briefly he fumbled in the inside pocket then stuffed a crochet-trimmed handkerchief into her bloody hand carefully.

"I am sorry Rua." He murmured.

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