27. Warg's On Fire

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He grinned, leaning forward, lifting his missing arm. A spike was jammed through his missing arm all the way to his elbow, sticking out the other side. A creepy sharp three clawed fake metal hand ran along the fur of his warg as he looked up with too much evil enjoyment in his pale eyes.

My breath sped, something about this orc, about seeing him with my own eyes, filled me with horrible pain and rage as strong as any fire, my fiery temper racing through my blood like acid as I glared down at the orc, all pains and fear forgotten, my hand reaching and clenching tightly on my sword hilt as my blood burned. I was very, very tempted to jump off this tree and kill that orc and his warg.

Suddenly, fairfin rubbed up against my cheek and brought me back down to earth. I blinked and looked at Fairfin, realising I must have project my emotions some, as Fairfin's emotions stated that he is worried. I took a breath, calming myself before I opened my eyes and nodded to the bird.

"Azog?!" Thorin says in horror and pain next to me as he pushed the tree's limbs out of his vision, his voice nothing more than a whisper that spoke of his hatred at what the orc took from him. I could see clearly the emotions in Thorin's eyes, suppressed behind rage. Pain, confusion, shock, and very strong hatred. I do not think I have yet seen the dwarf king this open. But, he has just encountered his age old enemy that he thought was dead so I did not hold it against him.

I looked down as I suddenly heard Azog begin speaking in Black Speech. THis is one point, right here, that I am so glad Lord Elrond insisted I learn Black Speech before going on the road. At the time I questioned why but, after leaving Rivendell, I saw the plus side of knowing the vile language. And, trust me, it was not an easy language to learn, or maybe it was because I didn't want to know the language.

"Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast?" Azog said, grinning as he looked straight at Thorin, his pale eyes telling of the thrill he is having at cornering the last blood of Durin, "Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob."

In my head, I translated the words, scowling and gritting my teeth as I realised the meaning. 'Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain.' I growled lowly under my breath at that one, realising Azog was taunting Thorin, trying to rile him up.

I looked worriedly to Thorin, wishing I could help him in some way, the pain shining in Thorin's eyes pulled at me in a painful way. I did not like seeing Thorin mad, but I definitely did not like see the proud and brave dwarf in pain. Grief for his father shined in his eyes and I wished I could comfort him, but I wouldn't know how even if I tried. Family is a concept I have only just grasped with Fairfin and I don't think that entirely counts as normal.

If it would have helped, I would have jumped out of this tree, fight through the orcs and pummel the hideous white orc into the next day if I could. While I refused to let my mind think of Thorin that way, I did consider him a friend now. Under that annoying grumpy stoic king there is a nice person, and that person I do consider my friend.

And I won't consider people as friends often.

"It cannot be." Thorin whispered so quietly, you almost didn't hear his voice crack with his pain. I gripped tighter onto the tree, gritting my teeth as the white orc leaned back on his warg, gazing up at all of us in the trees like he knew we would be easy to kill.

"Kod, Toragid biriz." Azog said, pointing up at Thorin with his creepy metal claw, "Worori-da!" Azog yelled, the warg thrown into a frenzy.

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