Price of Battle ➝ The Hobbit ✓

Part Seventeen

PART SEVENTEEEN ~

Arien and Thoros made swift progress through the forest, keeping up an honest pace that kept them going through the whole morning with only a quick stop, merely to take a sip from their flasks. Their water supply was dwindling fast, but they soon arrived at a small, trickling stream. Arien took this as a chance to clean herself up after several days of basking in dirt and grime. She splashed her face and other exposed parts of her body as quickly as she could, noticing Thoros was doing the same, before drinking deeply, filling their flasks up once more and continuing on their way.

"I'm hoping we reach the plains by at least tomorrow," Thoros muttered, rubbing his eyes. Arien nodded but kept silent.

The rest of the day was devoid of any conversation, as the two compantions continued in silence. The rest of the world around them was full of life, and the clamour of noise filled their ears as they trudged along; the quiet, but constant, chirping and buzzing of unseen creatures, the rustle of the leaves as they skittered along the dusty path, the wind that hummed reluctantly through the drooping leaves, the steady thump of weapons and packs slamming against their legs and back and the slow patter of light footfalls upon the ground.

But other than that, there was not a single drop of mindless chatter, or a quick whisper escaping someone's partially opened mouth.

Throughout the whole day, a nagging feeling of doubt and caution dragged at Arien's stomach, and it didn't cease when they finally setted down for the evening, too exhausted to strike up conversation even when they were resting. Arien munched throughtfully on their evening meal, no different to the night before that, or the night before that, or the night before.

She was suddenly itching for a chance to battle, to let her blade loose in the heat of a fight and allow it to do what it did best; kill.

"I'll keep watch. You rest," Arien said, her voice cracking from the lack of spoken language. She took a sip of her flask to cool her dry throat.

Thoros nodded. "Wake me up when you get too tired," He mumbled, already falling into the clutches of sleep.

Arien sighed quietly, propping herself up against a tree, and letting her head droop on her shoulders as her gaze flickered from tree to tree in the gathering gloom. She was almost drifting off herself, when a flash of mottled green against the murky shadows snapped her back to reality and she became more alert. Her head snapped away from the tree and she stood up in alarm. Another flicker of movement caught her gaze and she quickly stumbled over to Thoros.

"Is it my turn already?"He mumbled groggily, rolling over and falling back asleep.

"Thoros!" She cried as the outline of several figures became visible amongst the shadows. She shook his shoulder vigorously, until he heaved a sigh and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"There's something out there," She whispered urgently, pointing to the motionless figures.

Thoros suddenly became aware that she was right and quickly got up. But they weren't moving.

"Hello?" Thoros called, his voice riddled with confusion.

They received a strange grunt in reply, and then, all at once, the strangers gave an abrupt shudder, as though a surge of energy had spiked through them, and turned on their heel.

Thoros realised they were about to flee and leapt forward, catching on by the roughly worn clothing just as they disappeared into the darkness. The dwarf yanked the creature out of the trees and into the clearing, where shafts of moonlight were pooling on the ground.

The beast fell to the floor with a yelp of surprise and Arien let out a gasp of confusion. An Orc? She had never know an Orc behave as they had before.

Thoros and Arien sent each other a strange glance and shrugged. The Orc gurgled and spat up at the human and she kicked it roughly in the side.

"What are you doing here?" Thoros demanded, anger boiling up inside him. He swiftly drew his dagger and crouched next to the Orc, holding it threateningly to it's neck.

"Answer me!" He said quietly, his hand trembling as he pushed the knife deeper into it's leathery skin, drawing a trickle of blood.

The Orc let out a ragged gasp and curved it's mouth into a sickly snarl. "We're going to put an end to your wretched race! Erebor... will go down in ruins," The beast spat, it's eyes glinting with laughter. Thoros' face boiling with anger, his eyes flaring as he glared at the Orc with such hatred, even the snarling beast passed a look of terror.

The dwarf abruptly drew the dagger from it's throat, allowing the beast to breathe freely for a couple of seconds before suddenly stabbing it in the stomach. The beast's body writhed in pain, arching it's back as it chocked on it's own blood.

Thoros suddenly spat at it, his face contorted in rage. "No. It's your mangled race that's going to go down," He shrieked, clutching his weapon and raising it above the Orc's chest.

Before he could strike, the creature let out a strangled laugh, spurting blood through the air. "Our army's on the way to your beloved city right this moment. They'll never survive the surprise we've got in store for them."

The Orc took his last breath as Thoros let the dagger slip from his hand and bury itself deep into the Orc's twitching body. Thoros' chest heaved as he watched in grim satisfaction as it fell motionless, a look of remorse painted on it's grotesque features.

He suddenly slumped down onto the ground, breathing heavily; Arien stood stock-still, watching the whole ordeal with a look of utter horror. But then she quickly recovered and went to comfort her friend.

"Don't worry, Thoros," she whispered into his ear. Her heart lurched with sadness to see his face so hopeless, his eyes lifeless and dim. "We're going to get to Erebor and defend our home. Nothing is going to happen!" Thoros merely sighed quietly, his hands trembling as he clutched the bloodied dagger and drew it out of the Orc's body.

"It's going to be okay."