Dragon Changer (a Hobbit fanfic)

Nighttime Stories

I fluffed up my jacket and used it to cover my ears. Nope, the snoring is still there. If ever I have hated dwarves, now would be the time. Sighing, I got up and stretched. No sleep tonight I suppose. Apparently theHobbit had the same thought as I saw him get up beside me and walk over to the ponies.

We had decided to camp on a ledge that stuck out on the hill we were half done climbing. A small rocky overhang provided some shelter though it wasn't needed on a clear night like this. The dwarves had built a fire and, exhausted from a days riding, had settled down to sleep fairly early. Well, except for those who were chosen to keep watch.

I walked over and sat down beside Gandalf to enjoy the silent night (punctuated by the dwarves snoring of course). My ears twitched slightly as a heard a crunching sound coming from the direction of the horses. I smirked, for as much as that Hobbit  claimed to hate riding, he certainly had grown attached to his pony.

Suddenly, another noise broke through the silent atmosphere. Orc shrieks. I growled slightly. I didn't fear orcs, but they certainly were annoying.

Wearing an alarmed face, Bilbo came sprinting back to the camp. "What was that?" He asked.

"Orcs." Said Kili knowingly.

"Orcs?" Bilbo asked looking petrified. I opened my eyes just in time to see Thorin, who I had taken to be asleep, sit up suddenly.

"Throat-cutters." Fili said. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them." I saw Gandalf turn beside me, keeping a watchful eye on where this conversation was going.

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep." Kili continued for his brother. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood." It was obvious they thought his fear was funny. When Bilbo turned to scan the area, the brothers chuckled to themselves, their joke successful.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin's voice spoke up suddenly. "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"

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

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." He said spitefully before walking away.

Confused as to why he would react like that, I furrowed my brow until I remembered the battle for Moria. I had heard the stories of how many dwarves died during that battle, I guess the rest of their race must have taken their sacrifice to heart.

"Don't mind him laddie." Balin pipped up from right beside me. I clutched my heart. Was nobody asleep tonight? "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs." My curiosity peaked, I sat up, sensing a story.

"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." I raised my eyebrow, our? Does that mean both Balin and Thorin had been there?

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler." I shivered. The Pale Orc, the amount of stories about him made him infamous. "The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began," Balin breathed in, seeming to have trouble telling this part of the story, "by beheading the king."

My eyes softened as I glanced over at Thorin. Right in front of him? To a young prince, that must have been traumatizing.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed we did not know." Balin shook his head as he thought of the tragedy. "We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him." He glanced at Thorin, who had been looking over the ledge into the distance ever since the story began.

"A young Dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." I smirked. I guess that's where his name came from, Oakenshield.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. And 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." My eyes widened. Almost all of these dwarves, excluding the youngest of course, had been at that battle? Had survived? "And I thought to myself then there is one I could follow. There is one I could call king."

Thorin turned back only to find that slowly, during the story, all of the dwarves had woken up and we're now staring at him. Mine and Bilbos eyes added to that number. I was astonished that he had managed to survive such a terrible battle.

"And the pale Orc?" Bilbo asked, curious as ever. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." Thorin practically growled out as he thought of that monster. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

I frowned. Had he not heard the rumours? They had just recently spread but they had spread like wildfire. A large pale Orc had been gathering followers. From the sound of that story, it sure sounded like Azog. From the worried glance Gandalf and Balin shared, apparently they thought the same.