That's Another Story For Later

Imagination? Or Memory?

"Orcs?" Bilbo echoed.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them." Fili elaborated.

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood." Kili added. Bilbo looked around in fright, as though an Orc would show up momentarily. I hid my head in Kili's shoulder as the image of Orcs and them slitting the throats of their victims silently.

"Kili..." I whimpered lightly. The brothers looked at each other and sniggered under their breaths at the scared Bilbo.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" Their smiles dropped.

"We didn't mean anything by it." Kili stammered.

"No you didn't. You know nothing of the world. Remember, Iridian's parents were killed in a night raid." Thorin walked to the edge of the cliff, staring into the distance, deep in thought once again. Kili stiffened slightly, remembering that I had no family because of Orcs.

"Iridian. I'm sorry. I was just trying to scare Mr. Baggins." I nodded, letting my head up. I wrapped my cloak tighter around me, and nodded.

"I know. It's alright." The corners of his mouth turned up, his eyes soft and glowing in the firelight.

"I'm sorry as well." Fili added. I forgave him, as Balin walked up to us.

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Dwalin fought with us as well." I tried to imagine the army of dwarves fighting off the army of Orcs. Dwalin, Balin and Thorin fighting against the ugly creatures. It was surprisingly easy.

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the king." Balin continued More images of a large Orc with no face and little color swiped into my vision, beheading king Thror. The Pale Orc's features swirled, as though his appearance was somewhere forgotten in my mind.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us." He said solemnly. I listened to the story with rapt attention. The hand covering mine tightened in anticipation. I looked out of the corner of my eye to see Fili and Kili with their eyes trained on Balin, as I was.

"That is when I saw him; a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc." The large Orc meant as Azog in my mind turned white, but I left the face unimagined. "He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." My mind continued to imagine a great battle with a white Orc and a young Thorin, wielding an oaken branch like an expert. An image of Thorin cutting off the arm of the Pale Orc surfaced. "Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken." Balin said, looking at each of us.

Pictures of Thorin crying out to troops rushed into my head. It was like the battle was replaying in my head. It was in such detail, except for the Pale Orc himself. "Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived." Balin kept telling the story.

A scene flickered behind my eyes. An entire battlefield, covered in blood and bodies, both Orc and dwarf. Little ground could be seen and what was, was drenched in blood. I saw dwarves weeping, including Balin. Him and Dwalin embraced and put their foreheads to one another as tears streamed down their cheeks. It was all real. To real to be imagination. Then it panned over to see Thorin, drenched in blood, both his own and not his, with his oaken branch.