Orcish/Black Speech: Nuzdigid? Nusdi gast. = Do you smell it? The scent of fear.
Orcish/Black Speech: Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob. = I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain.
Orcish/Black Speech: Kod, toragid biriz = That one, bring him to me.
Orcish/Black Speech: Worori-da! = Kill the others!
Orcish/Black Speech: Sho gad idol! = Drink their blood!
Orcish/Black Speech: Gurigdol. = Kill him.
Emery loves to climb, always has. Her dad used to call her Monkey because whenever she was outside, she could usually be found in the branches of either of the two trees in the yard. She was the only ten-year-old who made it to the top of the rock-climbing wall at the Rec Center. Her feet and hands were so callused from the climbing, she could run without shoes on gravel roads and sand wood with her bare hands. When she was little and still capable of dreaming, she wanted to be a professional rock climber. Many times when she would meet Dwalin in the woods to train, he'd find her napping or swinging in the trees. He would grumble about it being unnatural for a dwarf to enjoy being up in the trees, and she would laugh and quip that there's little about her existence that is natural. Once, she turned into an elf just to prove her point, and his expression could've fooled someone into thinking he'd swallowed a lime.
She didn't think the moment she'd be most grateful for the climbing experience would be after throwing Bilbo into a tree and scrambling up after him just in time for a warg to miss her foot.
Kili reaches down to help her up to a higher branch, and though she doesn't really need it, she accepts the help. They grip each others' forearms, and he hoists her up onto the branch beside his. It's a bit unsteady under her feet, and it creaks. He hears it as well as she does, but there aren't any more stable branches they can reach without going down, so he wraps his free arm around the trunk and lets go of her arm to grab her waist so she can hold on with both hands. Under normal circumstances, she might've chided him. As it is, she goes pale with pain when his hand finds purchase in the same location as the burn, and she bites her tongue so her face doesn't show how much pain she's in. He always feels guilty for an absurdly long amount of time when he accidentally hurts people, and their relationship being on unsteady ground doesn't change that. So she pushes it into the background as best as she can and focuses on what's happening below. Namely, the sudden hush that falls over the wargs.
"Nuzdigid?" The voice makes her breath hitch in her throat. "Nusdi gast." She was underwhelmed by the wonder and divinity exuded by Galadriel. Unfortunately, the opposite is true about the darkness and evil and the overall wrongness that leaks from the giant form of Azog the Defiler. She was expecting fearsome and ugly. What she observes now is the personification of a nightmare. Not because of his appearance, but because of the invisible but very much present tendrils of inky black fear that bleed from him. Death. Aulë's voice hisses in her mind. Not at her, but in explanation. This is the consequence of Mandos's interference. Azog should have died at Moria. He touched the gates of death, and because he is walking and breathing and alive, he carries that with him wherever he goes. He gained his title long before the Azanulbizar, but the title is apt, because he defiles the very air he touches. Emery could probably track him if the need arose simply by following the literal trail of fear. "Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob." She can't hear Thorin's whisper from her perch, but she knows he's expressing horrified denial. She also knows he understands exactly what was said. After all, it was Thorin himself who taught Fili and Kili the cursed language of Black Speech, just as his father taught him. "Understanding your enemy," he'd quoted Thrain, "is half the battle of defeating them."
"Kod," the pale orc calls to his soldiers, raising his mace toward Thorin, "toragid biriz." He then raises his voice and swings his weapon over his head. "Worori-da!" The hush that had previously fallen over the wargs comes to an end, and howls and snarls once again fill the air as they attack the trees. They're aiming for the company, of course, but they only manage to harm the trees, snapping and tearing the lower branches. The trees creak and groan under the pressure, and begin to lean as their roots weaken against the strain of the onslaught. "Sho gad idol!" The trees finally give out, and the dwarves start jumping. One tree crashes into the next, causing that one to fall onto another one like dominoes. Emery removes Kili's arm from her waist and grips his hand firmly with her own, and they both prepare to jump. As their tree crashes into the one nearby, they leap. He slips upon landing, and she pulls him back until he regains his balance. They have barely a moment to stand there before they're forced to jump again.
When the wizard, the hobbit, and all the dwarves are dangling in the last tree, Azog's laugh carries over the snarls of the wargs. She suppresses a shiver, and instead focuses on making sure Kili's not about to fall (he isn't). A bright light soars over their heads and lands on the ground, causing the wargs to whimper and skitter away. She almost wants to laugh at how something as simple as a pinecone on fire is enough to terrify such dangerous beasts, but given that the company is still very much in a great deal of danger, she's really not in the mood. Gandalf passes flaming pinecones down, allowing others to light more. Fili and Dori play hot-potato while lighting others' pinecones, and soon a volley of organic fireballs is sailing toward the assailants on the ground. When one flies past her head and nearly singes her hair, she laments her earlier decision to restrain her hair in a simple three-strand braid instead of getting Dwalin to put it back in her usual style. The wargs retreat, Azog roars in anger, and the dwarves cheer. She can't bring herself to join them, though. She's very aware that the tree is about to...crrreeeeeeaaakk...yep, there it is. The tree groans as it falls, the previously cheering dwarves now shouting and yelping.
Kili tightens his grip on her hand while his other hand reaches for Dori and his eyes focus on his brother. Fili is gripping Bombur's arm to keep him from falling backwards off his branch. She catches sight of Oin nearby, his branch bending. Knowing there's no time to be nice, she yanks her hand out of Kili's and drops ("Emery!"), hooking her knees around an empty branch and reaching down to grab the front of Oin's tunic just as his perch fails. He grabs her arms, taking some of the strain off her hands, but she grits her teeth and groans all the same. Partly from the strain, partly because the skin of her torso is being stretched, including the burn, which is only slightly numbed by the adrenaline. She hears Gloin shout for his brother. She doesn't blame him, they're dangling over a cliffside hundreds of feet in the air. It's a terrifying sight. Off to the side, Ori falls and catches himself on Dori's foot. Kili calls her name again and tries to reach for her and Oin. Dori's grip slips and he and Ori fall for a split second before Gandalf reaches for them with his staff and Dori catches the end of it. A small part of her brain spares a fleeting thought to recall being impressed at the old man's grip strength when she watched the movie. The tree jerks, and so does everyone on it. It's not a terribly jarring jerk this time, but it pulls at her skin and she can't stop the cry of pain that forces its way out. Oin's eyes flash in concern before remembering they're trying not to plummet to their deaths, and she really hopes Kili doesn't notice her cry wasn't one of exertion.
A footstep lands on the trunk near her, and she looks up. Of all the views she thought she'd have when Thorin charged Azog, the one going up his tunic never crossed her mind, and she actually does let out a breathless chuckle. Kili reaches for them again, and this time she yells at Oin to reach for his hand. He does, and together they manage to get him back onto a stable branch. From there, Kili pulls her up. She sighs in relief at the lack of blood pooling in her head, but the relief doesn't last long. While they were pulling themselves up, Thorin had already charged, been struck, and been chomped on by the white warg. Dwalin and Balin shout for him. He strikes the beast's muzzle with Orcrist, causing it to throw him. He lands, and doesn't get up. She knows Bilbo will get to him in time, but he won't have much time after that before he himself will need protecting. So she hauls herself up onto the trunk with a grunt, pulling Kili up after her. By the time they're both able to stand, Bilbo is removing his little sword from the orc he just killed, and is moving back to stand protectively in front of Thorin. She walks a few paces and reaches down for Dwalin, who quickly takes her hand and hauls himself up. Together they draw their weapons and charge away from the tree, Kili, Fili, and several others close behind.
"Gurigdol," she hears Azog say, but the orcs don't have time to carry out the order before the dwarves descend on them with war cries. She joins them in the vocalizations this time, roaring alongside them as she brings her sword down on a muzzle. The warg yowls and turns to bite her, but she sidesteps and slices upward, cutting deep into its neck. The orc on top screeches in fury, and she parries the blade aimed for her head and sinks her own into his chest. A snarl is her only warning before another orc-mounted warg leaps at her, jaws wide and headed for her throat. She ducks and stabs the warg in the chest as it sails over her. When it collapses, its rider jumps off and draws his sword and knife. This one moves faster than the other one did, meeting her blade blow-for-blow. She manages to get in a hit when she swipes for his legs, and he falls. He swipes at her calf with his knife and manages to hit, but only enough to scratch. She brings her sword down and beheads him in one swift motion. She groans inwardly at the prospect of Oin's stinging salve. Orc blades are filthy and it's far too easy to catch an infection from them.
She's about to run for the next opponent, when a screech fills her ears. Not the kind of screeching the orcs have been doing, but the kind that comes from birds. A specific type of bird she's been expecting, to be exact. She looks up, and sure enough, an eagle of Manwë swoops down and picks up the warg she was headed for, and chucks it off the cliff. She takes a breath, allowing herself to rest in the relief for a moment, then sheathes her sword. She doesn't necessarily have to help the eagles carry people, but everyone's going to be reeling from this fight, and she wants to be close to her boys for at least a little while. So she runs to them and grabs them by the shoulders. They turn and raise their swords, expecting another orc, but relax when they realize it's her.
"Climb on," she tells them. They furrow their brows in confusion. She lets go and steps back a few paces, then focuses on the feeling of feathers sprouting from her pores and her toes becoming talons. A moment later (a longer moment than usual), Fili and Kili are staring wide-eyed at the giant eagle that is Emery. She squawks at them and turns her side to them. "Get on!" she urges, gesturing with her head for them to climb onto her back. They share a brief look, then climb on. Huh...I thought they'd feel heavier. She dodges the warg heading for them, then runs to the cliffside and jumps, spreading her wings and letting the wind catch them. The boys yell in fear, never having flown before. She tries not to grunt when Fili's foot grazes her side, but fails. The feathers dig around in her skin when his foot moves them, and that hurts more than Kili's hand did.
"You alright?" Fili yells in her ear against the wind. She almost rolls her eyes. When has she ever been one to volunteer information about wounds that weren't life-threatening?
"I'm fine," she calls back to him.
"That didn't sound like an 'I'm fine' noise," he retorts. She chuckles.
"You boys are heavy," she laughs. It's a lie, but he doesn't need to know that.
"How can you talk?" Kili shouts. "I thought you couldn't talk in animal form."
"This form is one of the exceptions," she answers. "The eagles of Manwë are a highly intelligent race, and you'd be wise to treat them with respect."
"How many forms can you take, anyway?" he wonders.
"If there's a limit, I've yet to find it," she responds. They talk for a bit longer, until the eagle carrying Thorin makes its way forward from behind her. The sight of their uncle injured and unconscious in the bird's talons very quickly brings back the seriousness from before.