Rámalóce Súle

Chapter 7 ~ Out of the frying pan and into the fire

*Authors note*
Bold and italisized is Black speech
Italisized is what Delilah is thinking
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The world is burning, the smell of wood and leaves fills my senses, the sword in my hands, glowing white. 

“Fire Storm” I frown at the words a large pale orc on a white Warg says to me in his black speech.

“You must be Azog! I’ve heard lots of stories about you” I respond, remembering the tales of the battle between my brother and the Orc.

“I thought you died in the battle.” I say and I eye the wire prongs protruding from a grotesquely scared stump that used to be his arm.
"Did you go into battle unarmed?"

Azog growls menacingly, and I laugh, “Was that supposed to scare me?" I pause a moment and Azog seaths in anger from atop his white warg.
"I have an inquiry for you, were you the one that took my grandfathers head?”

The pale orc’s eyes widen in recognition.

“Oakenshield.”

I laugh condescendingly. The fire that surrounds me burns hotter, brighter.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I give him a sarcastic wave. “name’s Delilah, younger sister to Thorin Oakenshield, and i’ve come for revenge.” I call out a battle cry and throw a ball of fire at the pale orc, who dodges it swiftly.

Lucky bastard.

I cry out as I swing at a Warg that leaps at me, the sword sliding through it’s neck like butter. Killing it before it can make a whimper of pain.

I breathe heavily, “you know this would be a lot easier if you would stand still.” I slash out at the white warg, and it dodges the blade by inches, and I yell in frustration.

“Come on, man, i’ve had a long day already,” I raise my voice to almost a scream “And it’d be nice to have some help!”  I yelp in pain as a foot connects with my jaw, my hand losing it’s grip on my sword, and the world goes dark as all flames die down.

“Bring me the she-elf” I stumble to my feet and conjure a ball of flame to both my hands.

“Touch me, and you’ll burn,” I say to one of the orcs that drop from their warg.

The Orc chuckles, and I smirk as I open my hand flat and a stream of fire engulfs it.

The screaches of the orc angered the group, and suddenly i’m being grabbed by two of them.

“Fire whore” And as if it was a trigger, one of the orcs is cut down by a long sword and i look up astonished to meet my brothers gaze.

“About time you joined in on the fun, brother.” For some reason my brother flinches but i ignore it.

“Couldn’t have you stealing the show.” 

I pick up my sword and both Thorin and I face down the pale orc, my brothers posture ridged, his gaze far away as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Can you smell it?The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it.” I basically snarl at the orc, my eyes glossing over with anger and sadness, my father was dead.

The pale orc smiles, when he sees my anguish.

“Do not weep my beautiful fire bird,” I cringe at his sweet words.

“Save your tears for someone who cares.” I snap, the words triggering my anger, having heared them before. I lift my hand to throw a fireball, only to have it snatched in the air and I gasp loudly at the painful grasp.