The Middle Earth Wonderers (The Hobbit/LOTR)

Chapter 13.

Hunter, who had been watching the whole exchange quietly, suddenly stepped forward, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. "Numbers don't always guarantee victory," he said, his tone cold and calculating. "Especially when courage and determination are on our side."

Azog's sneer didn't waver as his gaze shifted to Hunter. There was a flicker of curiosity, though mostly disdain. "Ah, another voice. A quiet one... but not quiet enough. You're right, numbers don't guarantee victory." His voice dropped, menacing. "But they sure as hell give us the advantage. And my horde—" he paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, "—craves your blood."

The tension snapped like a taut string as Azog barked a guttural command, his Wargs lunging forward with a terrifying snarl. The Orcs followed close behind, ready to tear us apart.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, heart racing. Mike planted himself at the foot of the tree, ready to defend, every muscle in his body bracing for impact. His eyes were sharp, but there was no way he could see everything at once. My breath caught when I spotted one of the Wargs flanking him, creeping up from behind.

"HEY!" I yelled, but the warning came too late. Mike spun around just as the Warg lunged at him.

Without thinking, I jumped from the tree, hitting the ground hard and throwing myself between the Warg and my father. I barely had time to react before its jaws clamped down on my shoulder. Pain shot through me, burning like fire as its teeth sank deep into my flesh.

Mike's eyes went wide with horror, his voice raw with fury and fear. "NO!"

The Warg growled, its jaws locked onto my shoulder as it dragged me away from the tree, away from Mike. I kicked and screamed, trying to break free, but the damn thing was too strong. My heart pounded in terror as I was thrown at Azog's feet like a ragdoll. The Pale Orc loomed over me, his cold, calculating gaze making my skin crawl.

Azog crouched down, his twisted smile gleaming in the dim light. "Well, well," he said, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "What have we here? A little princess with bite. This should be... entertaining."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me closer. I winced at the sharp pain in my scalp, my eyes meeting his. That twisted, malevolent glint in his eyes made my stomach churn. He studied me like I was some kind of toy, something to break.

I tried to look back at Mike, desperation clawing at my chest, but before I could call out, Azog's filthy hand slammed over my mouth, cutting off my cry. My voice died in my throat, muffled by his rough palm.

Mike's face was a mask of pure rage. His fists clenched, every muscle straining as he stared at me helplessly. The fury in his eyes was almost unbearable, but the helplessness... that was worse. He couldn't reach me, couldn't protect me, and that realization tore him apart.

Azog chuckled darkly, relishing in Mike's pain. He tightened his grip on my hair, pulling me even closer, his voice a sickening whisper in my ear. "You see that? That's what defeat looks like. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."