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Mending the Broken Pieces	By : LadyLaran Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 13613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "the Hobbit" nor do I make money from this story. Tolkien and Jackson are the ones who own the characters and world.

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Author’s Note – I am both anticipating and dreading the response to this chapter. Hopefully, everyone will enjoy it. Action scenes are not my favorite to write so I hope this turns out well. Enjoy!

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Chapter Twenty-Two – Into the Fire

The company scrambled, running in hopes of finding a safe place to hide or at least a way to evade their pursuers. Unfortunately for them, they ran into a clearing that held no exit. They were trapped between the mountain and a dangerous drop, and the king-in-exile growled a moment, trying to come up with a plan. There was no path to follow, and no place to hide either.

Before anyone could make a suggestion or move, a harsh sounding laugh filled the air. It was too familiar and sent shudders through the spines of the dwarrow who had heard it before because it had terrorized their dreams for far too long. Thorin’s eyes met those of Balin and Dwalin, who nodded. There was no other choice but to stand their ground.

“Stay as close to the young ones as much as you can,” the dwarf lord instructed Dori and Nori, knowing his sister-sons, Ori, and Hawthorn would be watched over by the two older sons of Ri.

Dori nodded, bowing slightly to acknowledge the command. There would be no way to keep them out of the fight, but he and Nori could at least ensure the four younger members of the company were kept as far away from Azog as possible. If they were fortunate, the damned orc would not be aware of who Fili and Kili were and would not try to single them out as he would Thorin.

The first wave of orcs riding on wargs rushed towards them, and the company moved to engage the group. Battle fever pushed aside exhaustion, all of them determined to protect their loved ones and do whatever it took to end the hunt that had been going on for so long now.

Beneath Orcrist’s blade, goblins, orcs, and wargs dropped easily and the king-in-exile was glad to have such a well-crafted weapon now. He sensed the change in tactics when fewer vermin attacked him, realizing the bulk of the group with Azog was now focused on the rest of the company, and he knew what it meant. Sapphire eyes locked onto the approaching white warg that bore the figure of the orc who had haunted his dreams for decades.

The beast lunged at him, and Thorin ducked out of the way. As he did so, he swung his weapon up and felt the sword make contact with the exposed throat. It bit deeply into the soft skin and tissue, dropping the warg swiftly as it began to bleed out. This situation made the battle both easier and more difficult for Thorin. Easier in that the warg was no longer a player in the fight, but it meant Azog was now on the ground and could maneuver a bit more easily.

The orc headed straight towards him, lashing out with the large mace he carried, and the dwarf managed to block it. His arms, strengthened by years of fighting and smithing, shook under the impact but did not weaken. It was that strength Thorin used to swing at him. Orcrist bit deeply along the side where the shoddy armor didn’t cover, and the orc growled with rage.

The two fought for a while, focused on each other and not seeing what was going on around them, and so Thorin didn’t realize that most of the orcs had been slain due to the hard work of the company. He ducked out of the way of a warg that had gotten past Dwalin’s twin axes; he’d heard the growl and managed to move out of the range of the fangs. However, it had left him open for the mace to impact hard against his stomach. The brigandine prevented a lot of injuries from the sharp ridges of the weapon, but the dwarf lord knew he’d be dealing with the impact damage later if they survived this.

A second blow managed to break through his defenses, Orcrist hitting the ground along with himself, and the warg tried to drag him after grabbing a hold of him by biting down on his midsection. It was stopped by a familiar looking dagger embedding itself between the animal’s eyes, and Thorin hit the ground when the dead creature released him.

Azog roared at the interference, swinging his mace to try and end the life of the dwarf in front of him, and found his strike blocked by a small creature wielding a staff and blade. She managed to stay upright despite the force of the blow, and her weapons deflected the strike from the larger mace.

“You will not hurt him,” Hawthorn warned, assuming the proper stance to go against the orc.

“He is mine,” the orc snarled, giving the young woman a look of rage as she continued to stand between him and his prey.

“No, he is not,” she growled back at the creature, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “He is mine, and I am his. You will not touch him because his life is protected.”

“Then you will die before him,” Azog snarled, swinging at the hobbit.

Hawthorn stayed focused, blocking each swing and returning with strikes from either her blade or staff. She knew she wasn’t experienced enough in fighting to stand against this monster for long, but she had to do something to keep her cariad safe. Her hope was to distract Azog long enough to give Thorin time to recover from the bite and two hits he had taken. If she could do that, then hopefully he would be able to kill the orc and keep the line of Durin free from his obsession. In her mind, she focused herself on giving the king enough time to get to his feet.

The dwarf lord struggled to his feet, reaching for Orcrist at the same time. He couldn’t let Hawthorn face Azog alone. He raised his sword, leaping back into the fray despite the pain from his chest and abdomen. The need to protect his One and sister-sons was driving him, keeping his aching body moving as he worked to end the life of the being that had terrorized his family for such a very long time.

The fight seemed to go on for far too long, and Thorin was doing the best he could to keep Azog’s attention on him and not Hawthorn. His brave One was showing so much courage, and his very being was filled with admiration for her actions today and hoped she would not be injured.

Another blow from the mace came down hard, and he managed to deflect it with his sword but stumbled. He was tiring, torso hurting from the strikes he had taken earlier as well as the bite from the warg, and he was aware his opponent knew it. Azog’s mace came hurling at him, catching him once more in the midsection and knocking him to the ground.

Hawthorn once again put herself between the downed dwarf and the orc, eyes gleaming with determination as she sought to buy him more time. Her actions served to enrage the creature, and Thorin’s heart jumped into his throat when the foul being turned his attention onto the hobbit.

“Out of my way,” the orc growled, swinging the mace at the small lass once again.

The staff blocked it, and Thorin was grateful for the mithril core the elf had put inside of it because he wasn’t sure the wood would have held up under a blow that hard. He cried out when Azog followed through by stabbing the odd metal device he had driven in place of his lower arm deep inside Hawthorn’s midsection.

The blade and staff fell to the ground as her hands went limp for a moment before scrabbling at the metal embedded in her body, crying out in agony when the orc lifted her off the ground to stare her in the face.

“And now the little protector will die knowing I will take the head of my prey,” he growled at her.

“No,” she told him, giving him a mocking look as one hand loosened itself from the metal impaled in her. “You won’t; I told you he is mine, and I won’t let you hurt him.”

“You can do nothing, runt,” Azog laughed, amused by her words. “You will die, and I will still take Thorin Oakenshield’s life.”

Thorin squinted, watching as his One reached behind her and pulled something free from a sheath she wore at the small of her back. She kept the orc distracted with her words, moving carefully so as not to draw his attention to what she was doing.

“Once again, you stupid piece of dung, he is mine and I am his,” she told him, sounding fierce. “Yavanna and Mahal crafted us for each other, and I will not let you take his life. He is too precious to be touched by filth like you.”

Not a second later, a familiar dagger embedded itself into the pale forehead of the foul creature who had haunted the line of Durin for so long, ending his life once and for all. The sapphires in the blade Frerin had crafted sparkled in the dying light for a moment before the tall orc fell, taking the impaled hobbit with him.

“Hawthorn!”

The name of his One burst from his lips when the small body hit the ground, still impaled on the metal device. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain as he hurried to reach her side. Shaking fingers gently touched her neck, and he sighed with relief when he felt the pulse of her heart beneath the pale skin.

“She’s alive,” he breathed out, hearing the sighs of relief from the company.

“Don’t move her,” Gandalf instructed, hurrying towards them. “She’ll bleed out faster if we pull her off of the implement. Dori, I need you to hold that metal still while Thorin, you and Dwalin make sure she doesn’t move.”

Everyone scrambled to obey, watching as the wizard swung down with his blade. Glamdring cut through flesh, muscle, and bone easily, cutting the arm off right above where the stump began.

“We can’t leave this in her for long, Tharkûn,” Oin objected as he began to use what bandages he had to help stop the flow of blood from the areas where the metal entered her body.

“I know,” he said, kneeling to put a hand on the hobbit’s head. “Fortunately, this didn’t penetrate all the way through so I’ll have an easier time keeping her alive until we reach help.”

“There’s no help to be found here,” Dwalin growled, feeling helpless.

“Help is coming, master dwarf,” Gandalf snapped back at him. “Now, get everything together. We need to be ready to move when help arrives.”

The company hastened to obey, finding the daggers Hawthorn and Nori had thrown as well as salvaging what arrows they could for Kili. Fili pulled the knife out of Azog’s skull, tucking it safely way for now since he knew she would want it back.

The help that Gandalf had referred to were the eagles of Manwë, which was a sight Thorin had never thought to see in his life. The wizard climbed up onto the back of one, accepting the still form of Hawthorn as she was passed up to him by Dwalin. Every movement with her had been made carefully so as not to jar the metal that was still lodged inside of her.

Fili and Kili aided the dwarf lord onto another eagle, helping Oin up to sit with him since they knew their uncle had taken several hard hits. They wanted to ensure that Thorin would not run into any complications while they traveled to whatever place the Istar had in mind for rest and recovery.

Thorin gave no complaint; his heart and mind were too busy begging Mahal to spare his One. The sight of Azog holding her suspended above the ground kept replaying itself, and he was terrified that she would be taken from him.

“Hawthorn, fight this,” he whispered as the eagles took off. “Don’t go where I cannot follow. Stay with me. Mahal, please, help her survive this.”

If Oin heard his prayer, he said nothing and simply kept an eye on his king while offering up prayers of his own to their Maker.

Author’s End Note - Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I’m going to hide in my bunker now. See you next time. ~ Laran
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Mending the Broken Pieces