The Halls of Erebor

Blood, Steel & Oak

The boy Druin was light on his feet, darting in between the duelling bodies and towards the place where he remembered Balin to be. Frin effortlessly kept pace even taking the opportunity to attack an orc or two along the way.

Despite the shield wall reforming around them, orcs were everywhere. The enemy had pushed their advantage and were still fighting behind the dwarven line. The sound of metal on metal and pained screams were everywhere but Frin ignored them. She was too focused on her friends.

Her fears flooded her mind. Images of Balin dead on the ground. His kind eyes staring at nothing, vacant. She saw Dwalin being cut by multiple attackers. His body mangled. When her mind came to Thorin, she saw his face contorted in anger as he choked on his own blood.

She forced the nightmarish thoughts down to focus on the boy leading her. Silently she reminded herself that they were all alive, and she would protect them. She would die before they did.

For the better part of an hour, even two, they pushed through the exhausted bodies. The dwarven line had slowly started to move backward. Druin was panting but continued to lead them forward. To their right the remainder of the shield wall tried to keep the orcs at bay, but it was useless. There was fighting everywhere with no victory in sight.

Finally, Druin's voice called out to her. "He was there." He pointed towards the centre of the line but all she could see were dwarves and orcs all entangled in battle. In the moment of stillness, Frin felt a presence approach her from behind.

With her blade in hand still dripping with the blood of orcs, she spun around. Her legs folded beneath her as she moved so her knees barely scraped the ground. As her eyes registered the gruesome legs of the figure behind her, she brought her sword around, slicing through its knees. There was a deep guttural cry as the creature fell. Its face coming in line with hers. The ugly head was tilted to the sky in pain, leaving the neck unprotected.

Without hesitation, Frin pulled a small knife from her boot and stuck it in the exposed windpipe. The once loud cry was now muffled into a gargling as the creature choked on blood. With hatred in her heart, she retrieved the knife from the struggling orc and turned back towards Druin. "Lead on." She commanded, venom dripping from her mouth. The boy was clearly startled but continued forwards without question.

As they maneuvered their way through the battlefield, the fighting became more dense. Dwarves were fighting shoulder to shoulder. Some were having trouble maneuvering their weapons to strike. The air smelled of sweat, death and blood.

Knowing her sword wouldn't be of help she sheathed the blade and grasped two dwarven daggers in her hands, which she had kept hidden in her belt. Druin pushed through the crowd. Somehow they managed to push their way out of the tight fighting into more open air. Both of them took an involuntary breath before realizing they were surrounded. Dozens of orcs occupied the space only challenged by a few dwarves.

The dwarves were fighting desperately but they were losing ground. The orcs pushed them steadily backward with heavy blows against their shields. Ahead of them, up towards the mountain on a small ridge was the pale orc. With each swing of his mace a dwarf was sent flying. He was terrifying.

"There!" Druin's voice called to her, pulling her attention aways from the intimidating figure. He was pointing at a dwarf only a few paces from them. The familiar greying hair and beard was taking on three orcs at once and he was losing.

Without a moment's thought she ran as fast as she could toward them. Twisting a dagger in her hand she threw it. With the skill of an elven warrior the blade sunk into an orc's back causing it to crumble before the old dwarf.