The Hobbit/Lord Of The Rings One Shots

Thorin

Warg Attack

Fires burned, surrounding Lúthien and the company, keeping them in the tree. Trapped. She was scared. Not of the fires or the orcs, but for the others. She didn't care about herself, she could forget about her own life as she gripped tightly onto one of the branches of the final tree. Her breathing quickened as she looked down,realizing that it was a long drop from the trees to the ground. If she fell, she would implode as soon as she hit the ground. That's what she estimated at least. The wood elf, Natasha, gripped tightly onto the tree. She was only ninety. It might sound old, but it is very young for an elf who can live eternal life. No matter how much Lúthien told the elf she was going to be fine and that Gandalf would think of something, she had her doubts, and soon, the tree was toppling over.

As the tree began to topple, her grip on the branch she was clinging onto tightened and she told Natasha to hold on tight. And then she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and when she opened her eyes to see what was going she noticed a familiar hand holding onto the same branch. She thought for a while, and ended up looking down once more. The ground seemed to be moving slowly closer to her, then it got quicker and quicker until the tree suddenly came to a halt. She thought her stomach had gone to her throat, but it was only her imagination. The arm had wrapped tighter around her small frame and she was pulled in closer to the owner's body. Her head was up against his chest, a hand on his shoulder.

Lúthien tried to focus on something that wasn't the height. The first thing was the wind numbing her face as it flowed past her, her long, golden locks billowing behind her. But then it subsided and she mentally cursed the wind, she could hear her heart beating fast. But then she thought again. And she realized that it wasn't t her own heart at all. But she focused on the rhythm. It was fluent, but not relaxed. It was more like someone who was trapped in a room and was frantically pulling on the door as horrors escalated towards them. The tree jolted again. And both her grip and his grip became tighter on each other. 

She find herself gripping his shoulder. She could feel the fur on his coat and the soft fabric it was made from. Lúthien buried her head into his chest, the smell of pines and the smell of Christmas travelled up her nose. How a dwarf could smell so nice was the only thing she did not know. It could always be the tree. She thought But my nose isn't on the pine tree. It's on a dwarf's chest. Now that her mind had mentioned the chest, she realized that he was muscular. He had muscular arms, which would explain his strong hold on her, but then she came out of her stupor. The smell of fire and the sound of crackling flames engulfing her. When she turned her head, pine cones that were on fire were being thrown about on the floor. She looked at Natasha, who was obviously having fun with Kili. She almost fell at least once, and Kili saved her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Then she saw him, Azog the Defiler, The Pale Orc. She hated him, but Thorin hated him more. The tight grip loosened ever so slightly, and she felt a tender kiss on her hair line. Her eyes widened more so when there was no grip on her at all. She looked around, the smell of pines still lingered in the air, and that was when she saw him. Thorin Oakenshield, the person she least expected to hold onto her as a tree toppled over, wielding Orcrist and a wooden branch charging at the Pale Orc.

The Pale Orc charged back. The white warg he rode upon leaped and knocked the dwarf prince over.

"NOOOOOOO!" Balin cried out as he hit the floor. The whole company of dwarves were trying to get to Thorin, Tash held Kili back and Lúthien hauled herself up onto her feet.

Thorin was up once again, and the Pale Orc came charging once more. He hit the dwarven prince with his mace, knocking Thorin down once more. Dwalin in made to stand, but he almost off, breaking a few twigs. This time, however, the warg did not venture off. It stayed, hovering over Thorin with teeth clenched together.