Price of Battle ➝ The Hobbit ✓

Part Thirteen

PART THIRTEEN ~

Arien gripped the steady branch and heaved herself onto it, wincing as it creaked alarmingly under her weight.

"Everything okay?" She heard Thoros call from somewhere beneath her. His figure was now obscured by the vivid foliage, but she managed to catch a glimpse of the worry etched into his expression; just like Fili.

"Aye! I'm nearly at the top," She concluded, twisting her body back so her gaze fell upon the wavering branches that layered almost like a stairway above her.

She outstretched her hand and slowly made her way up the tree, beads of sweat forming on her forehead from the strain of effort she put into dragging herself up. Her eyes became clouded with perspiration, and she risked wiping her eyes with her hand as she clutched at the bark with the other.

An abrupt vibration shuddered through the tree, and she lost her footing suddenly, feeling her body jolt backwards, and then abruptly forwards.

Arien heard Thoros swear loudly as her body lurched into the trunk and she found herself gripping on for life as she struggled to obtain footing on a secure branch. Another tremor ran through the tree as she finally found a surface. She wrapped her arms around the trunk, stretching out her head and peering over the leaves to see the cause of the convulsions.

"Don't worry, Arien! I've got this! Just keep climbing!" Thoros shouted, his voice edged with desperation.

Arien frowned, but then her eyes widened as she caught sight of a huge beast ramming it's grotesque head into the trunk of the tree. The rider, seated awkwardly upon it, was nothing more than an orc; it's repulsive, distorted face grinning in sickly pleasure as it threw back it's head and let out a demented squeal that was considered as laughter.

The beast, a Warg, let out a low-pitched growl and turned it's attention from the tree to the figure that was approaching it, Thoros, with his arms outstretched as he wielded his skillfully crafted sword. The fierce flame of battle ignited in Thoros' eyes as a playful grin tugged at his lips and he swung his blade toward the beast in a threatening manor.

Arien hastily returned her attention back to the task before her, thankful of her friend's distraction, and began hauling herself up the remaining branches, paying no heed to the battle taking place below.

A sudden cry echoed through trees and Arien's head snapped back, her eyes scanning frantically at the ground below her, peeking in between the tangled foliage as she searched for the source of the sound.

"Don't worry, Arien! Keep climbing. They're dead!"

Relief flooded through her and she resumed her steady climb, almost at the top.

A few minutes later she broke through the roof of branches and her head emerged from the leaves. She was hit by the sudden glare of the Sun and was forced to clamp her eyes shut. After a few seconds she gently eased her eyelids open and squinted in the blinding gleam.

She relished the warmth of the Sun, but then she was suddenly overcome with panic as she took note of her surroundings.

The forest stretched on for miles and miles around her, millions of leaves rustling vigorously in the afternoon breeze. She may have considered the sight beautiful had it not been her worst fear. They were far from the open plain which they had hoped to reach; it was a mere glimmer in the distance; a solitary line of light green against the dark, wavering foliage and the pale blue sky, now darkening as the Sun began to slip behind drifting clouds.

There was no hope at all of them reaching the battle in time!

"What'd you see?" She caught Thoros' voice amongst the gentle whispers of the wind and sighed before calling back.

"Trees!"