Price of Battle ➝ The Hobbit ✓

Part Seven

PART SEVEN ~

Arien could hear the bellowing gasps of the beasts that raced behind her. Their weapons rattled and clanged noisily as they rambled jerkily and somewhat clumsily through the underbrush. Arien kept up her pace, her footfalls thundering through the forest as everything amplified.

Finally, she leaped into the trees to her left, but her foot caught on an obscured root and she shrieked, tumbling to the ground. She seemed to have fallen down somewhat of a slope, for she continued rolling down a grass-clad hill, her pack thwacking against her head painfully. A dull throb was beginning to escalate through her head and her vision was fuzzy as it spun about her.

She eventually came to an abrupt halt, and her body was thrown forward as she landed heavily amongst the dense foliage. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, her face stinging from minor cuts and scratches. Her body was motionless, and she lay with her chest heaving as the vivid leaves drifted in and out amongst the outstretched branches.

Her arm suddenly twitched and habitually reached for the hilt of her sword. Unnatural gurgling sounds were erupting from the shadows, and her eyes caught sight of vague movements through the trees. 

She pulled herself up from the ground, still struggling to regain the normal control over her breathing. Arien drew her weapon with shaky hands, her vision still slightly fuzzy as she blinked rapidly several times. The figures stepped out from the gloom, and Arien's heart screamed with hatred.

The orcs snarled at her, their sturdy chests rumbling deeply, as they moved forward jerkily. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the hilt of her delicately crafted blade as she regained some confidence and control over her body. She shook off the weariness and fatigue. The fiery spirit of battle returned and without warning, she swung her blade and leaped forward to the nearest orc. But the beast saw it coming and arced his sword forward, parrying the blow.

Arien growled in annoyance, and the orc began to laugh deeply. She smiled grimly in return and hastily brought her blade down on it's shoulder, slicing deep into it's flesh. The grotesque laughter came to an abrupt halt as it cried out in agony, clutching at the wound. She drew the sword out and sliced it through the orc's neck, swinging her sword back in a playful manner as she beckoned another of the beasts to step forward. 

One of the orcs obeyed and leaped towards her, brandished a two-headed axe, which it threw skillfully at Arien. The girl hopped away from the blade's hissing edge and let out a chuckle as she shook her head in disgust. She rolled her eyes and charged forward, sending the orc to it's death with a mere back handed blow. 

She fended and fought off eleven more of the hideous beasts, sidestepping and ducking, and meeting their rusty blades with her own, before she felt an agonizing pain erupt in her leg. A blade skimmed by her thigh, slicing deeply into the soft flesh. Her face contorted in pain as she grasped at the wound which was steadily pooling with blood. She spluttered a curse as she stumbled backwards, her blade loosening from her grip as she clashed with a blood-spattered tree. She pressed her back against the peeling bark as she hastily ripped a strip of cloth from her shirt, clenching her jaw as she fastened it around the wound. She bit back a cry of agony and switched her attention back to the orcs. They were steadily drawing closer to her; at least thirty of them. Her sword lay a few paces to her right, resting silently amid the crisp, fallen leaves. 

Somewhat gracefully, Arien dropped to the ground, rolled over the foliage toward the sword and gathered it in her hand before bounding back onto her feet, clutching her beloved blade as she tried to ignore the igniting pain. Her tongue flickered out, licking her dry lips, as she eyed the beasts warily. There were too many for her to fight on her own; perhaps it was a mistake coming out after all; perhaps she should have accepted Thoros' help. 

She was pulled from her thoughts as one of the orc's took the first shot at her. She dodged the sword somewhat clumsily, before an idea struck her and she suddenly leaped back into the trees behind her. She jumped into the shadows, her feet moving subtly amongst the fallen twigs as she glanced with amusement at the confused orcs and circled round the trees. 

Then, without warning, she leaped out behind them and thrust her sword forward to dispatch of one of the creatures. The beast turned in bewilderment before landing with a soft thump on the ground. The others in it's pack turned to face the young woman as they felt the resounding vibrations of the orc landing amongst the grass travel through the leaf-clad ground. 

They gurgled in protest and anger flared in their eyes, but Arien still fought with all the strength she had, slowly depleting their pack. More than a dozen still remained in the clearing, when Arien felt her strength dwindling quickly. Weariness flooded over her, her whole body aching from the effort of battle, and the grip on her sword was slowly loosening. Her chest heaved, her legs shaking as she struggled to keep herself standing.

Perspiration clouded her eyes, her forehead sheen with sweat as strands of hair clung loosely to the side of her face. She staggered backwards, doubling over and shaking her head. Soon, her sword fell from her hand and she dropped to the ground, raising her hands in surrender. 

The orcs erupted with laughter as they stared at the helpless woman before them. The largest of the pack pushed it's way forward, it's lips drawn back in a mangled grin. It drew it's rusty blade from it's sheath and swung it jestingly before her. She clamped her eyes shut as she felt the warm gust of air coat her face as the blade swung closer.

"Halt!" A deep-throated voice rumbled through the clearing. Arien's eyes flickered open in confusion, her hands still trembling. A vast orc, clad in mottled armour forced his way through the cowering pack of orcs. The beast stared intently at the human, it's sickly yellow eyes narrowed. "Don't kill her yet. Bring her to the camp."

With the orders issued, the orc disappeared amongst the trees and the others broke out of their cowering trance as they growled in disappointment. A short, stubby looking orc staggered towards Arien and roughly gripped it's gnarled hands around her arm, forcing her up from the ground. She had no strength left to retaliate and let herself be dragged along, the charred nails of the beast cutting into her flesh like a whip.