An Even Fifteen (Fili x reader)

(20) Death to Defiler

Blood. Death.

It was everywhere.

You had found the people of Laketown, and you did all you could to herd the women and children to the safety of the great hall. Bard's children joined you in your efforts, and you were relived to see familiar faces alive and well in the midst of the battle, even if they were pale with fear.

The battle did not go well. The orcs had swarmed the city, and even now were at your heels as you hurried a little girl and her injured mother away from the monstrous creatures.

"Faster!" You shouted between panting breaths. You could almost feel the orcs' hot breath on the back of your neck, almost smell the foul stench of rot and decay as one bore down on you. "Keep going!"

You were nearly to the safety of the hall when the little girl tripped, and you stopped as quickly as you could, shielding her with your body as she struggled to find her feet again. The orc's blade caught up with you first, slicing deep into your shoulder. You could not even find the breath to cry out in pain as the blade left the wound, and you crouched lower over the girl in preparation for your death blow, but instead of giving you your end, the orc gurgled and you heard the distant clattering of steel on the cobblestones.

Bain helped you to your feet and you pushed him toward the little girl, more worried about getting her to safety than you were about standing on your own two feet. The girl rushed away to her mother without a backwards glance at you or Bard's son. You patted Bain's shoulder in thanks, unable to form words through the shock of your wound. The pain was staggering, but you had to keep going. There were still people in need of safety. You had to help them.

Before you could move away, Bain pulled you aside and called out to Sigrid. "Y/N is hurt!"

Sigrid rushed over and held you still, though you protested that you must continue to help. "You cannot help them if you bleed out, Y/N," she told you firmly as she bound your wound with the cleaner section of your tunic's hem, torn free with one jerk of her decisive hands. She was finishing her ministrations when a raucous caw met your ear.

Roäc landed on the ground in front of you, inspecting you with a beady black eye. His feathers were a little worse for wear, and his bald spots were bigger than when you last saw them, but you had never been so happy to see the tattered bird in your life.

"Roäc brings the rabbits to wizard-friend!" He flapped his wings in punctuation. You heard the familiar patter of rabbit feet and nearly sobbed as they came into view, pulling the new sled. Not one of them was hurt, not one of them looked afraid as they pulled to a stop in front of you.

"You wonderful, wonderful creature!" You cried in Ravenstongue.  "How did you get them out?"

"The barricade has fallen! The king leads them to battle! He fights, free of dragonsickness at last!"

Tears of joy streamed down your face as you stepped onto the sled. "Take me to them, Roäc!"

The bird launched into the air with a flap of his wings, and you whistled high and loud in two short blasts. The Rhosgobels were off like a shot, following Roäc's shadow closely as he led you out of Dale, across the outskirts of the valley toward the tower where the orc horn had blasted. Up the hillside you went until you caught up with four giant rams, each carrying a dwarf.

You did not call out, not wanting to distract them, but you kept pace with the rams. Dwalin noticed you first. He spat something in Khuzdul that could have been a curse, then shouted, "Y/N, go back! Don't be a fool!"