Middle Earth Gamer

The Legend Of Thorin Oakenshield

Chapter Six: The Legend of Thorin Oakenshield

The journey out of Hobbiton was slow and filled with quiet anticipation. The Company moved in a tight-knit group, each member adjusting to the road ahead. After the first day, the group began to settle into the rhythm of travel, with Thorin often taking the lead while the dwarves shared stories and jokes to lighten the mood.

One evening, as they camped under the open sky, Gandalf began to recount the history of the dwarves. The dwarves' laughter faded, replaced by a solemn silence as Gandalf told of the fall of Erebor and the dragon Smaug's reign over the mountain. Thorin sat slightly apart, his expression distant as he listened to Gandalf's words.

Then the wizard mentioned a name that caught Taranis's attention: Azog the Defiler.

"Azog?" Taranis murmured, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. He knew the story from the movies but had never truly heard it in Thorin's own world. Seeing these characters in person, watching their faces shift with grief and anger—it made the tale real in a way he'd never experienced before.

Thorin, overhearing him, turned his gaze toward Taranis, his eyes dark with memories of battle. "Aye, Azog. A pale orc, a demon of the North who slaughtered my people without mercy."

The other dwarves grew somber, their eyes reflecting a deep, shared pain. Taranis listened quietly, knowing this was a rare moment of vulnerability from Thorin and his kin.

"He killed my grandfather, Thror," Thorin continued, his voice tight. "It was at the gates of Moria. Azog beheaded him and held his severed head high as a warning to us all. He thought we would scatter and flee."

"But we didn't," added Balin, looking at Thorin with admiration. "We fought back. And in that battle, Thorin held the line."

Balin's voice softened as he spoke. "The orcs closed in around us, and it seemed we were finished. But Thorin—Thorin picked up an oak branch as a shield. He stood his ground, and he drove Azog back. That day, he became Thorin Oakenshield."

The dwarves nodded, many of them gazing at Thorin with pride and respect. Even Taranis found himself captivated by the tale, feeling the gravity of the legend standing before him.

"And Azog?" Taranis asked, sensing there was more to the story. "Did he fall that day?"

Thorin's eyes darkened. "We thought he did. I struck him down, left him bleeding in the dust. But rumors have persisted that he survived, though he has not shown his face in the years since. If he still lives... I will finish what I started."

Taranis nodded, his respect for Thorin deepening. "Then let's hope for his sake that he stays hidden."

Thorin met Taranis's gaze, a faint flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "It's rare to find one willing to face such a foe. Are you certain this journey is worth it to you, Taranis?"

Taranis gave a slight smile, feeling the weight of his purpose settle within him. "I am. I came here to fight for something that matters. And it doesn't get much bigger than reclaiming a kingdom."

Thorin inclined his head, seemingly satisfied with the answer. The dwarves settled back into silence, each one lost in their own thoughts, the weight of their quest more present than ever.