The Middle Earth Wonderers (The Hobbit/LOTR)

Chapter 12.

Thorin's face was grim as he gave a curt nod. "Aye, we need to keep moving. We're sitting ducks here, and Azog's hounds won't give up so easily. Stay sharp." His voice carried the weight of the situation.

As soon as we started running, the howls of Wargs echoed behind us, the pounding footsteps of Orcs close behind. Azog was on our trail, and there was no outrunning him. My heart raced in my chest as we reached a cliffside, our only chance being to climb the trees. Mike hoisted me up, his hands steady, but he didn't follow. He stayed at the base, scanning the area.

He looked up at me, his eyes locked with mine. The concern was clear on his face, but there was also that unbreakable determination. "Hold on tight, kid. We'll make it through this." His voice was low, but it did little to ease the dread tightening in my chest.

Then, Azog and his pack came into view—Wargs snarling, Orcs armed to the teeth. And there he was. That bastard. Azog's scarred face twisted into a sneer as he spotted Mike standing tall. His voice cut through the air, dripping with venom. "Well, look who we have here. The disgraced warrior, now reduced to protecting children... how fitting."

Mike squared his shoulders, lifting his chin as he called back, "Don't fucking underestimate me, orc. I've faced worse than you."

Azog's sneer deepened, his Warg inching closer as his cold eyes fixed on Mike. The tension was unbearable. Mike's grip on his weapon tightened, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to snap if Azog made a wrong move.

A tense silence fell over the cliff. The air was thick with it, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the first strike. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat, my hands gripping the tree so hard my knuckles ached. Please don't move. My silent plea reached out to him, begging him to stay still, to not do something reckless.

Mike didn't move. His eyes stayed locked on Azog, but he held back, sensing my plea. His restraint spoke volumes—he knew that if he made the first move, we'd be doomed.

Then, Azog's laughter ripped through the air, cold and mocking. It sent a chill down my spine. He leaned forward on his Warg, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Ah, so you've learned. Holding back for the sake of the child in the tree. How touching."

Mike's jaw clenched, the anger was there, simmering just beneath the surface. But he didn't let it control him. His voice was steady, firm, and full of conviction. "You won't lay a fucking finger on her. I'll die before I let that happen." His words sent a wave of relief and fear through me all at once.

Azog's smirk widened, clearly relishing the power he thought he held. He took a step closer, his voice dripping with condescension. "Oh, I have no doubt you would. But what makes you think you'll survive this encounter, broken warrior? You're outnumbered, and trapped on the edge of a cliff."

I could see Mike's fists tighten, the tension rolling off him. But still, he didn't budge. He wasn't just fighting for himself now—he was fighting for me.