In the Shadow of Mountain Kings

On the Burning Field

At Gandalf's command, the company sped off down the hills once more, the howls of wargs nipping at their heels as night began to fall. Firiel kept close to Bilbo, her sword drawn as they ran. As they began to reach a cliff, the wargs were upon them.

The first one came after her and Bilbo. They stopped short as the others continued, and Bilbo pushed Firiel behind him, his sword poised before them. Firiel knew instantly from how he held it that Bilbo had no idea what he was doing. They were backed up against a tree, and the warg charged them, jaws open for the kill. Bilbo's sword, just long enough, skewered the warg right through its great skull, nearly buried to the hilt. The beast's body reared away, and Bilbo dropped his sword, the creature falling to the ground dead. More wargs came after them, but the dwarves were quick to rush to their rescue.

Fíli and Kíli were on either side of her and Bilbo, but Firiel soon found the only person she could even see was Fíli. He looked like a true warrior, swinging his twin swords expertly and panting slowly in the heat of battle. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his eyes were dark in a way she had never seen before. His gaze was clouded, focused, chaotic. It was like a storm lived within his eyes, creating the perfect picture to accompany the battle cries he gave as he took on his enemies.

When his warg opponent was defeated, he turned those eyes on her, and she thought her insides were on fire. Oh gods, what a gorgeous man he was. Not everyone would think so, but she did. He was so powerful, so strong. The darkness in his eyes changed somewhat was he watched her. Less clouded. More hungry.

"Into the trees!" she registered Gandalf yelling.

Fíli's eyes softened and he reached for her hand. Firiel reached back and allowed him to pull her off towards the nearest tree. Kíli was already up in the tree, and Fíli scooped Firiel up, passing her to Kíli. She grabbed Kíli's hand and pulled herself upwards, the combined force nearly sending her flying up over the branch. Fíli jumped and grabbed the branch, swinging himself up as Kíli and Firiel grabbed him to help. Once he was in the tree, Fíli ordered them to climb higher. Firiel looked around for Bilbo and spotted him on the ground, staring paralyzed at a pack of wargs that ran towards him.

"Bilbo!" she shouted.

Her uncle started and took off towards their tree, leaping up and pulling himself onto the branches, just in time to avoid the angry jaws of a lunging warg. He scrambled up the tree towards them, looking down with wide, panicked eyes. The wargs circled their tree, leaping up towards them with teeth and claws aimed for the kill. Firiel nearly screamed as a warg ripped on the branch just beneath her. She scrambled upwards more, allowing Fíli to pull her in closer to the centre of the tree.

Suddenly, from between the trees emerged an orc pack, and the wargs returned to their masters. At the head of the group was a rather interesting looking pair. A sparsely armoured orc, with pink scars trailing across his white skin, rode a white, partially blind warg. His lower left arm was missing, and in its place was a metal claw that ran through the orc's stump, and protruded out the other side of his arm. The sight of it turned Firiel's joints to jelly. He sniffed the air dramatically, and smiled a smile so ghastly it made her want to vomit. He said something in Black Speech, looking up at Thorin with malicious contempt.

Was this Azog The Defiler? It had to be, for the look in Thorin's eyes was unmistakable. He looked as though he was seeing a ghost. A terrifying, deadly ghost. When the orc nearly whispered Thorin's name out into the night air, Firiel knew for certain. It could be no other.

"It cannot be," Thorin nearly sobbed.

The pale orc reared back then, and pointed his four-bladed club at Thorin, seemingly giving some sort of command as he raised it high above his head. At his command, the wargs were upon them once more, ripping at the branches below them. This time Firiel did scream, and she was not the only one. The dwarves panicked, climbing higher and higher, until there was almost no more tree to climb. The orcs laughed as their pets ripped branch after branch from the trees, launching themselves higher and higher with every leap. Firiel gripped tight to the tree and she felt it swaying from the sheer chaotic impact of the wargs.