Wayfarer of dawn

X. In which Azog lives

Upon running out of the caves and into the sunlight Rána noticed something was wrong. Terribly wrong even. Her eyes focused behind the company, and where the others ran forward she climbed back. After a while she could hear the foul language of Mordor, and she knew enough. Orcs, Gundabad Orcs.

Swiftly she started running after the company, but by the time she reached them she could barely say a word before Thorin ordered them to start climbing the trees.

But before Rána could reach a tree she felt the air shift behind her, and just like she had done at the plain, she dropped down and narrowly avoided getting her head chopped off by an Orc astride a Warg. Then she got up, and drew her daggers. "Come and get me," she muttered as the Orc urged his Warg closer. And when it launched Rána dodged, slashing her daggers across the animal's side, making it howl in agony. And then it fell still, Bilbo had been backed up against the tree the Warg had ended up infront of, and he had sunk his blade into the animals skull. A terrified look covered his face, both upon realising he killed something, and on realising he'd have to do it again - because the Orc astride the now dead Warg still lived. But that was soon taken care of when Rána sunk her blades into his back, killing him instantly. "Bilbo, hurry now!" She urged him on as the Hobbit pulled his sword free of the Warg's skull. She swiftly helped him up a tree and followed up.

After they clambered up the tree Rána wanted to ask if the Hobbit was alright, but her voice was stolen from her when she saw who led the group of Orcs and Wargs. It was Azog. Azog the Defiler lived. Her eyes widened and a soft gasp escaped her lips. She knew of what Azog had done, and for once she wished she could turn back time. To get the Dwarves out of there before he appeared.

Time had not been kind on the once scarless, white Gundabad Orc. He had scars plaguing his pale skin; and his eyes shone a vibrant, hars blue. He only had one arm. The other, from the elbow up, was a weapon that had been shoved through an old wound. Which Rána had heard to be caused by Thorin himself. The Warg he was seated on was a pale white colour, and even though it was a vicious animal, Rána couldn't help but see the beauty in it as well.

And then her eyes flitted across the trees and locked on Thorin.

Thorin looked pale, his eyes wide with shock, anger, sadness and repulsion. His hands were clamping down on the branch he was holding, so hard that Rána wondered how he was not bleeding yet. His entire stance was tight, and his muscles were taut. His face was grim, his mouth drawn in a straight line of displeasure. And, Rána noticed, there was a slight twitch to his left leg, as if he planned to jump down and take on the Orc himself. To end it once and for all. She almost told Thorin to stay put, but before she could the tree started to tilt, and ultimately, fall.

Rána swiftly jumped onto the next tree. Her eyes searching for the Hobbit, and once she realised he'd made it to the next tree safely she relaxed. Well, that was, until this tree started to topple too.

And this continued, until the last tree only had its roots left in the earth, and the rest suspended in the air.

Rána, by the time she had climbed back onto the branch, watched helplessly as Thorin faced down Azog and his white Warg. And that, how embarrassing it was to admit, was all she did. Because her grip on the branch was not as tight as she thought it to be, and all her attention was focused on clinging onto the branch.