4

"Mahal, Thorin. I didn't realize I bit you this hard." After the four friends had feasted, the brothers had bid Thorin and Talia goodnight, promising to meet for an early breakfast before they were to head after the Orc pack. Talia, upon noticing her friend's hand bound by his own ripped sleeve, had practically begged Thorin to take a look, and she wasn't one to beg. They sat in the two chairs Talia's kitchen had to offer, a small fire from her living room keeping them warm.

"It's not as bad as it looks, really." He told her, wishing she would stop worrying herself over him. She had other things to focus on, after all. "How's Theresa?"

"She's better. Asleep when I got home, so I assume well." She looked up at him after tossing the bind away, realizing what he was doing. "Don't change the subject!"

Bringing her chair closer to him, she examined the wound fully, now that they had adequate light and exposure. A cut, slightly deeper than the skin, sat on Thorin's left hand, going from the bottom of his thumb to the top of the skin between the thumb and forefinger.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Be honest, please."

Thorin looked at her, surprised at her tone. His eyes only found hers staring right back. "Only when you first bit it. That's all, I swear."

"Well, I guess I have to believe you, don't I?"

He snorted, looking down at his hand in hers. "You haven't another choice, I'm afraid."

"Wise ass." She muttered, rummaging through the various wraps and ointments that she had salvaged from her mother's supply. Being the daughter of a healer had its perks; she was quite capable of the most basic procedures. "You obviously don't need stitches, but this is your fighting hand. I want to be careful. Let me clean and treat it with some rue, and then I'll bind it again."

Thorin watched as she washed his hand, dipping it in the basin and rubbing gentle circles to clean dried blood. Sure enough, the blood started flowing from the wound again, but he didn't mind. He wasn't lying when he said it didn't hurt. Talia held his hand over the basin and crumbled up the rue in her other palm, again rubbing his hand with small circles as she felt the rue working against the wound.

"I know it's your namesake, but I still don't know what it does."

"Many things. It helps treat cramping of the stomach and other organs, especially those that work digestively. It acts as a sedative and helps you sleep when you are restless, and it also strengthens blood flow, which is why I opt for it now. The more you bleed, the faster you'll heal, believe it or not." She placed the rest of the rue down, beginning to bind his hand tightly.

"Now it makes sense."

Talia looked at him momentarily, returning back to the bind. "What does?"

"Your namesake. It heals, you heal."

She laughed gently, so as not to wake her mother. They were both speaking in voices barely above whispers. "Come, now. I do not heal."

"Yes, you do. You calm Dis when her stomach cramps with worry, reminding her of her capability as a princess. You help your mother sleep when she cannot even remember your name, singing or reading to her. You help me bleed," Talia chuckled at this, "and you remind me of why I fight and what I love, which quickens my pulse. You heal just like rue."

Talia softened at this, fastening the bind. She returned her gaze to his. "No one's ever said such a beautiful thing to me before."

Thorin stared at her.

"What? Does that shock you?"

"You've always deserved such sentiment. At least, in my eyes."

Talia stood, taking both of his hands in hers and pulling him up, too. Walking closer to him, she released his hands and leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her left hand brushed his hip, and her right arm gripped his shoulder. Thorin returned the embrace, resting his head atop hers as he held her close to him, rubbing small circles into her back. They weren't sure how long they stayed there, but after a while, they released each other, realizing that Thorin had to get home before Thror and Thrain noticed his absence.

The walk to Erebor was pleasant. The fall winds whipped a slight chill into their bones, but not an uncomfortable one. Thorin intertwined his fingers with Talia's, guiding her through the stone streets, almost abandoned in the dark. The pair took in the city of Dale as they walked, daring even to look past Erebor and at the stars above.

Once they reached the gate, Talia smiled, embracing her dear friend one last time before pulling away. Her hair looked as though it was made of silk in the moonlight. "See you tomorrow."

Thorin returned her gaze with a soft grin. "See you tomorrow." He waited until the lass was out of sight before entering the mountain, watching her make her way back home. He knew she could defend herself, but he rested easier when he knew she was safe.

He failed to notice that his grin never left his face.

...

"Mahal, why do these raids always have to be in the morning?"

"If only I knew, brother." Balin grumbled alongside Dwalin, snatching two pieces of bread for their breakfast before they marched. Thorin joined them in the dining hall soon after, following suit as he gave them a brief nod, continuing his walk. "Where are you off to?"

"My father and grandfather. I'll meet you out there."

"Come, Thorin." Once he met his kin, the prince was ushered into a small room leading off of the hall, most likely serving as a broom closest.

"Why the secrecy, Father?" He asked, concerned. Maybe this attack was more dire and grave than he thought.

"I know you are instructed to march at eight, but we needed this conference." Thror answered, shutting the door behind them. "Right now, your class numbers thirty to one hundred fifty Orcs. Typically, I would not send such a small number of dwarves against this many Orcs, but the duty of your heritage requires you to prove your worth."

"I know this." Thorin said, trying to hide the unease he felt from his voice. "What has changed?" If their tone was so serious, he knew there had to be a new threat posed against them.

"They have Wargs."

Thorin sighed, wishing he could be more outright and groan. This would make their job ten times harder. "How many?"

"Our scouts reported a number akin to your own forces." Thrain replied. "We can offer reinforcements, but we also want to keep the mountain safely fortified and avoid drawing attention to the matter."

"The choice is yours, Thorin. If you feel confidence in your people, then it is your decision to go on as planned. But, if you fear that you will not be enough to take care of this, we wait for your word."

Thorin looked at his King. He knew they were testing him. If he took no forces, it showed he was not ready for the responsibility of looking after other lives. But if he took too many, it showed a lack of faith in his people and in himself as a leader.

"I only need ten more, but they must be archers in order to take care of the Wargs. They leave first, and the rest will follow. We will take the pass down from the king's statue in order to avoid detection."

Thrain and Thror smiled, the former clapping Thorin on the back. "Well done, son."

"Come back in one piece." The King winked, sending the prince back to the others.

...

Thorin lead his fellow warriors through the woods carefully, Talia following close behind. The prince had separated the brothers to lead their own small groups of ten through the forest; they were still within sight of each other, but he did not want a group of thirty to march through the forest so close together and cause detection. Their leader had informed them all of the risks, but each dwarf among them was a fighter. They were eager for a challenge.

Once they had reached the forest line, Thorin held up a fist, signaling them to stop. They had reached the archers overhead, who nodded at the prince's arrival. The group of ten sat in the trees above, notching arrows and fixating their eyes on the enemy.

The Orc pack had set up camp just where the plains began, fires roaring and Black Speech echoing. Most of them sat, sharpening weapons or arguing amongst themselves. The Wargs were surprisingly docile, most sleeping next to their owners or in their own small litters. A few deer were revolving on spits for their sustenance. Like Thror had said, they numbered roughly one hundred fifty.

"They should not be this close to our borders." Talia whispered in Thorin's ear, noting how short the journey was to reach them.

"Aye." He agreed. "But we have caught them at their most vulnerable. Tell the troops to ready for charge." Talia turned behind her, signaling to Balin and Dwalin as the prince scaled the tree next to him. He accepted a hand from Bylnar, the leader of the archers, as he reached the dwarf. "Ready your men. Tell them they aim for Wargs, nothing else."

"Aye, my prince." Bylnar nodded as he dropped back down.

"On my count." Thorin began, gripping the hilt of his sword as the blood pulsed through his veins. "Three, two, one..."

"CHARGE!"

The dwarves broke the tree line as they screamed, drawing their weapons and rushing forward. The archers above released their onslaught of arrows, killing a few Wargs instantly. The Orcs leapt up in surprise, readying their weapons as the dwarves approached. Finally, the groups clashed, beginning the first battle for these dwarves and the last for these Orcs.

Talia fought alongside Thorin as she swung her sword around her head, following a figure eight pattern that beheaded the few Orcs that surrounded her. She whipped her head around to slice the throat of another, followed by the gut of his friend. Organs spilled out all over her feet, which made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

Thorin spared a glance in her direction, seeing the innards on her boots and laughing. He proceeded to stab a few Orcs in front of him, whirling to and fro, but not before setting his eyes on his new problem. The Warg across the way growled at him as it set eyes on Thorin, charging forward. But before the Warg could make it far, Thorin pulled a sizeable dagger from his boot and threw it forward with as much force as he could muster. His aim was true as the Warg howled in pain, collapsing to the ground with one eye closed tight and the other bleeding from where Thorin's dagger had embedded itself.

"What's so funny, hot shot?" Talia kicked an Orc away, knocking him and his friend to the ground as she chopped off the limbs of another.

"Nothing!" Thorin called over his shoulder. "You know, if your kills were less messy," He said, slicing the head of an Orc clean off, "You wouldn't be so behind!"

"OI! I am not behind!" Talia roared, stabbing her blade through three Orcs. "How many?"

"Fifteen!"

Talia groaned, slicing through another two beasts. The damned prince was right. "Fucking shit."

"What was that?!"

"Five hundred sixty-six, you ass!"

"I take it I'm winning, then?"

"We'll see at the end of it!"

Talia whizzed around after killing another few Orcs, grinning at the blood staining her sword. But when she looked up, she yelped as she jumped back from the snapping jaws of a Warg, one of it's teeth snagging her sleeve and ripping it wide open.

To put the situation frankly, this one was enormous. It was twice the size of every other Warg in present company, and was clearly their leader in the pack. Talia locked her jaw as it paused, growling at her, teeth to teeth.

It was so close to her that she couldn't get around or above it, so she sighed, knowing she only had one option. As it lunged, she ducked, flattening her back on the grassy plains below as she stabbed her sword into the bottom of it's jaw, causing it to squeal and moan with the pain. Forcing herself to stand, she grunted at the weight of it's jaw against her sword. Now, she had wedged herself between the dead Warg's jaw and the ground. But before she could think of how to escape the situation, her foot slipped and cut the hole in the Warg's jaw deeper, causing it to fall to the ground.

Talia opened her eyes in surprise. She had not been crushed by the weight of the Warg's head; what happened? But as she took in her surroundings, she realized that her sword still held up part of the Warg's jaw, except that this time, it was only the top half. Talia was standing inside the Warg's mouth, feeling the stickiness of its heat and saliva on her body. Pulling her sword out, she caught the jaw before it could crush her, holding it up with one hand as she pulled herself and her blade to the mouth's opening.

But as she stood there, a foot atop the sharp teeth of the beast and her hand fighting against its jaw and gravity, she realized that the battle had ceased. The dwarves stared at her in shock, surrounded by dead Wargs and Orcs. Giving one final push, she forced the mouth a little further open as she jumped from its jaws, rolling to the ground and pulling herself to a stand.

She greeted Balin with a smile, wiping some sweat from her brow. "What?"

"Lass, how on earth did you get inside that Warg's mouth?"

Talia winked at him, feeling the many eyes of her onlookers. "I'm just that good, my friend."

And with that, the dwarves began to cheer, signaling their victory against the sizeable Orc pack. They raised their weapons, hugged their friends, and rejoiced. The young warriors laughed as they collected stray weapons and cleaned their messes.

Thorin was at Talia's side in seconds, pulling her into a fierce hug. "If I ever have to find you in the jaws of a Warg again, I'll kill you myself."

"It could've been worse, Thorin." She laughed into his ear, pulling away.

"Ah, the Butcher of Beasts!" Dwalin boomed, pulling Talia in a bone-crushing embrace. "You've got to teach me that trick, Talia. But for now, help us burn the dead. We'll revel in our collective successes later."

"Sounds like a plan."

Much to the delight of the dwarves, they hadn't lost any men in their battle. Yes, there had been some nasty injuries, but this band of Orcs hadn't been particularly skilled in their warfare; Talia could barely recount an attack that called for a block. Although Thorin's group hadn't had much experience in the wild with an enemy like this, they had expected a little bit more of a fight. The Wargs had caused the most ruckus, Dwalin agreed. As they watched the flame of the dead burn, the dwarves smiled to themselves. No matter the trial, they had now proven their worth to Erebor.

Once the Orcs were disposed of, they began their trudge back to the mountain. Talia grinned as people congratulated her as 'The Butcher'; Dwalin's name had clearly caught on. Thorin grinned at his people as they reveled in their own victory, for he felt the same validation and invigoration that they did. Though not many would know of this small battle, it would be remembered amongst them as their first taste of the world, their first kills, their first victory against it.

"So, Butcher of Beasts, will you be attending the feast?" Thorin asked her as they walked through the gates, causing her to chuckle slightly.

"When have I ever missed an excuse to drink, Thorin?" Talia retaliated, causing him to chuckle as they approached Thrain and Thror, who awaited them inside the halls of Erebor.

He laughed in agreement, wiping some of the blood from his brow. "I don't know why I asked."