꧁ Final Battle ꧂

"Gandalf!"

A voice behind them called their attention back to the street behind them.

"Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf!"

The sorcerer exclaimed, seeing the elf riding fast towards them. Tauriel mounted behind him.

"There is a second army."

The prince told them with apprehension, getting off his white steed with the guard.

"What? What do you mean?"

Arya immediately asked.

"Bolg leads a force of Gundabad Orcs. They are almost upon us."

He hurried to explain.

"Gundabad? Ahh. This was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the north."

The sorcerer stated.

"What? Th...the north? Where is the north exactly?"

Bilbo exclaimed from behind their backs, drawing upon himself their worried looks.

"Ravenhill."

Gandalf replied in a bitter tone.

"Ravenhill? Thorin is up there. And Fili and Kili! They're all up there!"

The hobbit continued, now clearly alarmed.

"We must warn them, Gandalf, and we must do it now. They are about to be overrun."

Arya intervened with a firm voice, able to hide the fear and panic that were slowly making their way into her heart.

"Yes, they will need help..."

The sorcerer murmured, while looking around.

"If it's Thranduil you're looking for, Gandalf, then you're wasting your time! It's already a miracle that he fought before, he will waste no more elvish blood, not for Thorin."

The woman called back his attention and threw him a strict glance.

"Arya is right. I have respect for my king, but he would rather run than help the dwarves, he considers himself too superior to them."

Upheld Tauriel, whit a gloom look on her face. Legolas remained quiet, but his eyes were the eyes of those who are aware of an uncomfortable truth.

"I'll go. I'll go to Ravenhill."

Bilbo then affirmed, straightening his back.

"No way. No way."

The wizard cut him short.

"Gandalf, someone needs to warn them."

The hobbit immediately protested.

"It's out of the question, they'll kill you."

Argued the sorcerer.

"No, they won't."

Arya asserted firmly, earning questioning glances from both.

"He's not going alone."

She then added. Her words were followed by a loud roar and Viseryon landed on the walls just behind them.

"Anyone need a ride?"

The dragon asked ironically in the woman's mind, who smiled as she approached it. The halfling followed her, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, Bilbo, we don't have time for this."

The woman stated as she climbed on the animal's back and then helped the fearful hobbit do the same. The dragon bowed on its legs and detached itself from the ground, heading for Ravenhill.

The journey was short, but to Arya it seemed to last an eternity. Her mind was full of doubts and fears: even if they had arrived in time to warn the dwarves, which in itself was not certain, they would still have to face the legions of Bolg.

"Drogon, a second army of orcs is coming from the north."

She thought. Her dragons were their only hope to get out of it alive.

"Yes, I see it."

The animal heard her and promptly responded.

"Do you need help?"

"I wouldn't mind. Thank you, Saphira."

The two dragons hurried between the clouds over the hills, beyond the two towers of Ravenhill, disappearing from view.

Viseryon landed in a clearing in the middle of the ruins, letting the woman and the halfling down from its back. In front of them stood the towers from which, shortly before, Azog was leading his army, but which now seemed to be abandoned. A little further down, instead, a vast expanse of thick ice covered the hill.

"Viseryon, you go back to Dale, they still need you there."

The animal nodded and took flight again, turning towards the city.

"Arya! Bilbo!"

A voice exclaimed happily from behind them.

"You have to leave here. Now! Azog has another army, attacking from the north. This watchtower will be completely surrounded, there'll be no way out!"

The hobbit told them, his anxiety clear in his voice.

"What?"

Beside the king, a nervous Dwalin asked them.

"Where are Fili and Kili?"

Arya questioned, almost in a whisper, a terrified look on her face. The two young dwarfs, in fact, were nowhere to be seen.

"They're searching the towers."

Thorin explained, becoming gloomy. Arya's eyes widened eve more: they were in trouble.

"Dwalin, call them back."

"But we are so close! That Orc scum is in there. I say..."

"No! That's what he wants. He wants to draw us in. This is a trap. Find Fili and Kili and get them back."

"Thorin, are you sure about this?"

"Do it. We live to fight another day"

The King asserted. But it was already too late.

The sound of the drums struck the air. The two towers lit up. The Pale Orc appeared on the highest ledge, holding Fili's blond strands with one hand.

"This one dies first. Then the brother. Then you, Oakenshield. You will die last."

He announced proudly in the black tongue, dragging the dwarf in front of him.

"Go. Run!"

The prince shouted despairingly, turning a last pitiful look at his uncle and Arya, at his side, who watched him in shock.
Azog pierced his chest with the blade, and then pushed his body down from the tower.

"Here ends your filthy bloodline!"

He then proclaimed with pride.

"No!"

A desperate cry left the woman's lips. Arya fell to her knees, as bitter tears began to descend copiously on her cheeks, without her being able to stop them.

"Fili..."

She murmured in a strangled voice. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't. Azog had taken away her mother, her father, her home and, in the end, had also taken the life of the dwarf she loved, without her being able to do anything to prevent it. Her prince had died before her eyes because she had not arrived in time. She, the Mother of Dragons, the Heir of Isildur, had not been able to save the most important person of her life. Fili was dead. He was really dead. And part of her soul had died with him.

"Kili!"

Thorin suddenly screamed, recovering from the shock, and now terribly worried about his sister's second son. The dwarf ran to the towers into which the grandchildren had entered shortly before, immediately followed by Dwalin.

Bilbo put a hand on the shoulder of the woman who, kneeling on the ground, cried in silence, without having the strength to rise.

"Arya... Arya!"

He called her, worried, as a horde of orcs had suddenly come up behind them and was now getting close. But the young woman did not have enough energy to react, the pain was so intense that not even the anger and the desire for revenge could overcome it.

"Arya! Arya get up! Get up, come on!"

Saphira called her, in a desperate attempt to bring her back. The dragon felt her pain, she knew that the woman, at that moment, was not lucid enough to fight. She would've had surrender to the orcs. The animal needed to do something.

"Go to her, Saphira."

Drogon told her, coming to the same conclusion.

Saphira then glided on Ravenhill, landing at the side of the woman and hobbit. The dragon opened its wings to protect them, while its flames struck the beasts which were still trying to get close. Once each and every orc was incinerated, the animal turned around.

"The time will come to cry Fili, but that's not it! Now you have to fight, Arya, get up!"

Saphira's words were for the young woman as the spark that starts the fire. Arya rediscovered her strength and stood up: she had to fight, she had to do it for Fili. She would have found Azog and kill him.

"Get Bilbo away from here, get him to safety."

She murmured with a feeble voice to the animal.

"What?! No! I'm staying with you!"

The hobbit immediately protested.

"It's too dangerous, Bilbo. I can't fight Azog and protect you. Go with Saphira, please."

"But Arya, I..."

"I've already lost Fili today! I won't lose you too! Now go with Saphira."

The halfling said nothing more, he just nodded and climbed on the dragon. Given a last glance of comfort to the woman, the animal broke off from the ground, flying towards Dale.

Arya closed her eyes for a moment, giving in to a sigh. When she reopened them, they were filled with decision, anger and a desperate desire for revenge.
The woman carefully studied the landscape that surrounded her, in search of her enemy. It didn't take long to find him: in the middle of the vast expanse of ice, the Pale Orc faced Thorin fiercely and energetically. Azog repeatedly hurled his weapon, a heavy boulder attached to a chain, in the direction of the dwarf, who kept throwing himself to one side or the other to dodge it, slipping on the ice. The continuous blows of the stone had broken the thick slab below their feet, so that the two fighters soon found themselves on a single fragment. It was a matter of a moment. An enlightenment. Thorin took the boulder, which was stuck at his feet, and threw it to its owner, then he stepped back and moved on to another lump. The Orc, taking the stone, slipped backwards and fell into the water.

It was done. Thorin had succeeded in getting rid of the Defiler once and for all, or at least that was what he believed, as he proudly watched him slip away, dragged by the current, under the icy surface. Suddenly, however, a piercing pain crossed his foot: Azog had stabbed it with his blade, and then used it as a lever to get out to the surface. The Pale Orc overpowered the young King who, caught unawares, slipped under him. His sword, stretched out between his hands, was his only defense against the blade of the Defiler who, a few centimeters from his chest, pushed down to stab him.

Azog had the victory in hand, flames of proud glory flashed from his eyes, while a cruel grin was stamped on his lips. A moment before he could finally take the life of his enemy, however, Gundabad's Great Orc let out a heartbreaking cry, abandoning his grip on the dwarf and moving a few steps backwards. The Defiler looked at the arm that held the blade, seeing that it had been cut off. He opened his eyes and looked up. The young Heir of Isildur stood before him with the drawn sword stained with blood, his blood, and stared at him with a look of defiance.
The woman lost no more time and, taking advantage of the momentary state of shock of her opponent, drove her weapon into his chest. A final sigh left his lips, before his body fell lifeless on the slab of ice. Azog the Defiler was dead.

Author Space

Hello everyone, here I am with the new chapter. I confess that writing this part was the hardest and most heartbreaking thing I've ever done. So I hope that, despite the tears, you enjoyed it.
This story is almost over, although I may have a few more surprises in store for you. Anyway, I want to start thanking you for following Arya in this incredible adventure, you have been fantastic travelling companions and I really hope I have managed, through my words, to make you dream at least a little.

Until next time, a kiss
Lis💗