Red (The Hobbit Fan Fiction)

18. A Little Slice of Hell

18. A Little Slice of Hell

            If that didn’t catch the company’s attention, I didn’t know what would. My alarm had also alerted Azog and his minions to my presence. In his booming voice, he bellowed some command. It was a charge; Wargs descended down the slope like mad hounds.

Without hesitation, I headed towards Gandalf, Bilbo, and the Dwarves, hoping to be back within the safety of numbers. Animals huffing behind me told me that I was soon going to have to fight for my life.

            A loud growl made me instinctively dive for the ground. That didn’t turn out to be the best idea. Instead of sliding along the grassy floor, I tumbled, my vision spun. Colors blurred together, up ahead I swore I heard my group call out to each other. I noticed there was less brightness, the sun was setting rapidly. Soon, darkness would envelop us, making our situation much more dangerous.

            The breath was knocked out of me as something heavy crashed into me. I was squished between it—a Warg judging by its wiry fur touching my bare skin—and the ground temporarily before I flopped around only to land on my stomach. I glanced ahead to see the boys heading for the safety of the trees, some of the Dwarves were beginning the climb upwards.

            I cringed as Wargs passed me within striking distance, heading for my companions. I jumped to my feet only to duck low as a Warg sailed over my head. My brown eyes bugged as I faced the beast one-on-one. It exposed its razor canines. My heart wanted no part of this fight, it was beating so fast—like it wanted to burst from my chest.

            Instead of using my long-distance weaponry, I pulled out my knife. I headed for the group, who was still tree climbing. The Warg leapt at me from the side, I swung the curved blade at it. I think I struck its nose; it gave a howl of pain and danced back.

            The sun was sleeping for the night, darkness settled over our chase. I ran as fast as my legs would allow me to. I felt a light throbbing in my forehead thanks to the knock I gave it when falling in those caves.

I was suddenly airborne, my stomach churning uneasily.

            I screamed, praying that I didn’t meet harsh tree bark when falling. I flailed in the air; my eyes never left the Warg who was ready to play with me as though I was his new toy. I just barely skimmed his head with my knife as I landed…on his back.

            My fingers immediately sunk into thin fur. The Warg barked, his head snapped around to try and bite me. He started bucking, my fingers dug deeper. With my jaw locked, I thrust my knife into the Warg’s shoulder. The creature reared, standing almost as tall as Gandalf on its hind legs. He toppled backwards, crushing me between his back and the ground.

            I held my gut as I inhaled deeply. The Warg rolled off me, shaking its body. I got to my knees, panting lightly. The Warg tossed his head, snapping at me. A challenge. I steadied myself on my feet, slowly going backwards. From afar, I could hear more Wargs coming.

            It was like I was leading a dog; my knife was the Warg’s leash. He watched me with beady, hungry eyes. I yelped when I bumped into something.

            What happened next made my life flash before my eyes.

            The Warg took advantage of my spook, he lunged. In that split second, as I was trying to prepare for him, Bilbo shoved me behind him. The Warg didn’t stop, and Bilbo’s sword plunged right into its skull. My mouth dropped. Bilbo was as stunned as me, he released his sword. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t vomit.