Different Sense

Different Sense: 45

“This still feels wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it,” a voice said from behind her. Lothiriel turned and looked over her shoulder. A middle aged nymph looked at her with emerald eyes. She had left to stand with her kind several minutes ago. She thought it was only the proper thing to do.

“We followed your father into battle about three hours after he became Lord.” The nymph explained, Dwalin and Bombur who were standing nearest to them looked over listening interestedly. “Only difference is; he had the decency to wait after dinner before leading us.” He laughed, Dwalin and Bombur couldn’t help but laugh at the slight irony.

Lothiriel slapped a hand to her forehead. “I apologise for this, but it seems that you are accustomed to going into battle soon after having a new leader.” She smiled. “When this is over with, I promise you all a great feast.” Bombur, who was still eavesdropping nodded agreeing. Lothiriel caught him listening and smiled lightly at him.

“Oh, aye.” Said the nymph. He pushed away from leaning against his spear and set his eyes to the horizon. “Your father led in the Battle of Veleroh.” He explained, Lothiriel nodded. Her father had told her that his first real test of strength as a leader, and of battle, was that of the fight he had in Veleroh. Veleroh was the nymph’s main residence, before man decided to invade it.

There was no more talking then. Silence fell upon them all, everyone waiting for the anticipation of battle. The moments of dread were soon pushed aside when there were calls from the sky. Gandalf smiled slyly as a butterfly had flittered past his vision. Moments later the eagles appeared soaring through the sky. They bought with them the dwarves who had picked up residence in neighbouring establishments, each exiled dwarf chose a quiet life, unlike Thorin and his comrades.

Thorin stepped forwards slowly, he was walking out to meet his exiled kin. As they drew closer each dwarf knelt down before Thorin and gave him an acknowledging nod. Slowly Thorin turned, his eyes looked over the numbers before him, which had vastly doubled a great deal.

His travelling companions all looked as ready as they ever could. With the eagles soaring and gliding above, and his kin standing beside the elves; now in a state of peace. All that was missing was Bard and his brave men. But that didn’t matter now, what was before him was much more important, and by far a much more moving sight for him to see.

Gandalf gave a knowing wink, Bilbo looked around in a sense of confusion, and Lothiriel stood with her kind. It was still shocking at how quickly they banded together for this moment, Thorin would dearly like to know what she had said to them to get them all to participate. Regardless, she suddenly looked very much like the leader that what – he could imagine – her father had prepared her to be.

Lothiriel had caught him looking at her, so she smiled widely at him. He could see she was scared, but she still found the confidence from somewhere to smile at him. Looking away from her, he gazed over everyone. He was standing before them, and he had the distinct feeling that this is where he belonged. He was a leader, their leader right now.

Looking over his shoulder he turned slowly and looked up at the thousands of goblins, orcs and wargs which seemed to have migrated over all of Middle-Earth just for this. They halted and formed a rough line, they were awaiting the start of the battle.

Everyone was dreading a possible end, or the concept on what the end could possibly be. But for there to be an end, there had to be a beginning.

Turning back, Thorin drew his blade from its sheath. The echoing sounds of many other weapons being unsheathed reached his ears. Each member of the army had now pulled out their primary weapons from their rightful places.

Raising his arm, the sword caught the light and it gave off a gleam. He said no words for there wasn’t really words which could be said for the moment. Lowering his sword he started forward. He ran and called into battle, behind him there were the thundering footsteps of the vast numbers of the troops. All of them raced towards their enemy, the army before them all grinned with the hopes of dealing great damage to another living being. There was a pause before they charged forwards too. The two opposing forces met halfway and bodies and weapons clashed together.

Thorin’s anger had been held in place for too long, he had firmly had enough of everyone trying to keep him from his home. Still screaming into battle, it was no surprise that from all his anger now being able to run rampart, the first swing of his blade had destructive effects on his opponent.

When he came to clash against an orc, he’d sometimes have to barge against it with his shoulders. He’d use all his bodyweight to throw it off balance before swinging his sword for an attack.

---- 

Bilbo had ran right behind Thorin, but it didn’t take long for people to overtake him for his strides weren’t that long when compared to an elf running alongside him. He was aware to the eagles still being present. It was strange, the presence of the birds was causing courage to spread throughout him. He needed all the courage he could get right now, it took a lot to charge into battle for a home which was not his. He really didn’t know if he had the courage to meet an orc head on, so he would keep glancing over at his friends. Lothiriel was the only friend he could see at the moment. She had both swords drawn, but when it came to attacking, it seemed the nymphs had their own tactic.

The orcs were obviously a lot bigger and taller than them, but the tactic they adopted was to attack it in twos. It was an odd time to remember; Bilbo recalled that nymphs usually stuck together. Were the main reasons for this for fighting purposes? He didn’t know the answer to that, his eyes briefly watched as Lothiriel and Eruheran moved with perfect in synch movements to deal with an orc.

Bilbo decided his best tactic was a shoulder tackle. So when he clashed against his first opponent, which happened to be a goblin, he full on rammed against it with all of his might. The goblin was caught in surprise and swung its cleaver to attack a much larger person, Bilbo was just under the path of the weapon, while the goblin was to slow to register him, he pointed his little sword up and drove it through the creature’s stomach.

Although the blade didn’t have much resistance going in, it didn’t seem to want to come out again. After a tremendous tug, Bilbo turned weapon raised ready for his next target. It took a lot of self-control to not drop his weapon and wipe the sickly goblin blood off of his hands.

For someone who carried the air of not dealing in fighting anymore, Gandalf was doing brilliantly. He twisted and turned avoiding attacks which were sent at him, in return he’d blind, burn and hit whoever was before him.

The eagles which were still present swooped low in the air. They dropped from the sky at such speed and flew off again carrying wriggling and writhing objects in their beaks. To try and defend their comrades, arrows were shot up at the mighty birds.

Fili and Kili were a force to be reckoned with. Side by side they fought together and they never left Thorin’s side. The rest of the company, including the elves and the nymphs, were in the full thick of it.

Only having a moment to look around, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He was proud in knowing that he was fighting alongside such a strong force of friends, and some strangers, but his mind couldn’t help but divert to the morbid. If this was to be the end of them all, and their quest; then so be it. All of them had taken such a stand, and made such a fight, that surely no other force could compare to them.

Bilbo could admit; he was no warrior. But he slashed, stabbed and fought with the best of them. Even if each new opponent was like facing death itself, he didn’t back down.