From The Inside

22

Ylva looked to the doors behind her, she couldn't help but think and hope that Bilbo would prove an escape plan for the dwarves. She had not seen the smaller male with the others which meant that he had somehow managed to escape their clutches. Either he'd escaped capture or had been captured by the spiders which lurked in the shadows.

She was free, free from the possibility of a cage which no doubt was what now confronted the dwarves. She could return to Beorn, return to a life of peaceful happiness. In truth the thought was causing her to feel content and wistful. She could return to that life, have nothing to concern her, no dwarves, no visiting wizards with talks of adventures, nothing but peace and quiet.

She groaned and hung her head, pinching the bridge of her nose, she squeezed her eyes shut. It was such a dilemma which she currently found herself in. She was caught between the life she wanted, and had wanted for so long, and the right thing. She disliked the fact that the right thing was out ruling her want to return to Beorn. With hesitant steps, she moved away from the path which led to home. Instead she moved into the trees and commenced her journey around the kingdom which was slowly fading behind the trees behind her.

It took her a day of travelling, both with climbing and tentative steps that she managed to reach the river which flowed out of the kingdom. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of the gushing waters. But it wasn't the water which caught her eyes, more the barrels which surged and bobbed in the rapids. At any other time, she was sure she'd laugh at the sight of the dwarves in the barrels. In fact it was on a whole a very humorous thing to see. She couldn't help but let her mouth twitch into a smile. With a shake of her head, she charged forwards shifting forms.

Her smile dwindled when she heard the guttural sounds of orcs. The filthy vermin clambered over the kingdom walls. Those walls which looked so strong and sturdy and kept everything out, was now being proved ineffective. A nearby orc however hard it tried to get to the dwarves soon found itself being barrelled into and on the ground. Just as it let out a shriek of surprise, Ylva's jaws clamped down over its throat and commenced throttling it.

Spitting the black blood from her mouth, she managed to manoeuvre herself past other forms before shifting and grabbing a hold of a forgotten blade which had clearly been dropped by its owner. She looked over the crudity of it, the jagged blade and the rough handle. It didn't feel right in her hands, she wasn't a weapon handler, she relied more on her animal form for fighting than actually having to use her mortal form. But even still, she managed to dodge and duck and slash at any hunched grey skinned figure in black armour which was as crude looking as the blade in her hands, and the weapons they themselves were using.

"Woah," leaning back she shifted and leaped forwards pouncing on the orc which had tried so desperately to cut her head from her shoulders. The last thing the orc saw was her jaws clamping down over its face.

Retching slightly, she shook her head, she had tasted many foul things in her life, but nothing compared to the rancid taste of orc blood and flesh. Coughing and heaving herself forwards, she continued to run forwards. She had to shift forms to climb over the wall, balancing awkwardly she looked over her shoulders. The elves seemed to have this chaos handled and under control. Though some were darting in the boughs of the trees shooting arrows from their bows at any orc which was darting about beneath them.

Tearing her eyes away, Ylva's head tilted slightly as she ran along the wall and shifted forms to pounce on an orc. She had only just spied it trying to aim its sword at Thorin. Whether to throw it or just take a blind leap of faith into the rushing water and hoping for the best, she did not know. One thing she did know or become acutely aware of was that this water was freezing. She took the orc down with her by sinking her teeth into the badly armoured shoulder. It squealed and soon drowned as soon as she let go of it, yelping when her scruff was pulled, she looked up.