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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 93
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 22:08:58 +0000 UTC"Haah!"
Thorin swung his sword with all his might, severing the head of the orc before him.
The dwarves formed a protective circle around their king, constantly fending off the wave of orc pursuers swarming toward them.
"Head downward, the chariot squad is holding the line below! We'll link up with them and break through together!"
"I fear we won't make it, Thorin. The orcs are flanking us from another direction."
Dwalin looked around anxiously.
At this moment, the path both ahead and behind was choked with orcs, completely blocking their route to safety.
Above them, in a position no one was watching, Bolg silently nocked an arrow, taking careful aim at Thorin below.
Whoosh.
A faint whistle split the air as Thorin suddenly looked up.
Clang!
A throwing knife flew through the air, deflecting the poisoned arrow.
"Who?"
Bolg looked up and spotted an elf drawing his bow atop a ruined tower, suddenly loosing a shaft at him.
Crack!
He swung his cleaver and shattered the arrow mid-flight. He gave the elf a long, calculating look before choosing to withdraw for the moment.
Two arrows from two different archers, neither had found their mark.
"Your life is spared, dwarf."
Legolas called down haughtily to Thorin, who retrieved the elven blade from the ground and looked up at the tower.
Suddenly, he hurled the dagger fiercely at Legolas.
Thud.
The blade whistled past Legolas's ear and struck down an orc creeping up behind him.
"Consider it returned."
In more ways than one.
Legolas pulled the knife from the orc's throat, took a deep breath, and descended from the tower.
The orcs' assault grew fiercer. Even with the most battle-hardened warriors of Durin's line present, and their rightful king among them, they were still vastly outnumbered.
Their strength was failing, while the orcs seemed to multiply endlessly.
"Kíli!"
The first to tire was the youngest dwarf. In a moment of distraction, his sword was knocked from his grasp by an orc's mace.
The creature raised its weapon for a killing blow.
"Get down!"
A familiar voice rang out.
Thunk.
An elven longsword flew through the air, piercing the orc's chest.
Kíli quickly pulled the blade free and glanced upward.
"Tauriel!"
New strength surged through his limbs.
Tauriel leaped down, drawing her twin daggers from her waist and joining the fight.
Her swift, deadly combat style not only relieved pressure on the others but also inspired them to fight harder.
Dwalin hefted his axe with new vigor. "I'll not be shown up by an elf!"
"Where is their commander?"
Thorin suddenly realized something, the enemy's leader had vanished right after that ambush attempt.
On the second level of the tower, Legolas had just seen Tauriel enter the battle and was preparing to leap down to assist, when a cleaver suddenly swept toward him, forcing him to dodge backward.
It was Bolg.
The orc lieutenant calmly advanced, trapping Legolas on that floor of the ruined tower.
This one... was formidable.
Legolas assessed instantly.
At close range for the first time, he could see that Bolg stood nearly as tall as himself, and was significantly more muscular.
For an orc, he was practically a giant among his kind.
But as a Silvan Elf with mastery of virtually every weapon and combat technique, he wasn't about to be intimidated. If anything, this only stoked his warrior's pride.
After several exchanges, Legolas found an opening and drove his dagger through Bolg's palm.
Any other orc would have screamed in agony and staggered back, only to be finished off.
But this time, the expected outcome failed. Bolg seemed utterly indifferent to the pain. Instead, he clenched his fist around the blade, wrenched it free, and seized Legolas, slamming him to the stone floor. Then, using his brute strength, he lifted the elf and hurled him from the tower.
But if anyone thought such a fall could slay one of the Firstborn, they were gravely mistaken.
Legolas caught hold of a protruding stone ledge, stopping his fall.
Hauling himself back up, he gasped for air.
He touched the unfamiliar crimson liquid trickling from the corner of his mouth and was stunned.
A surge of uncontrollable rage welled up from deep within.
He climbed toward the upper level of the tower again, but Bolg was nowhere to be found.
The orc had moved on to other prey.
"Hold on!"
Thorin was still struggling to repel the orc horde.
The path was only so wide, as long as they held the line, they could keep going.
Just as the dwarves mustered their remaining strength to press forward, the orcs at the road's end suddenly parted, revealing a cave troll charging through, massive club raised to strike.
Thorin gritted his teeth and rolled aside, barely avoiding the crushing blow.
But that dodge broke his rhythm, and orcs quickly swarmed in, cutting off his movement and trapping him in place.
Another heavy club came crashing down, suddenly, a stone flew through the air and struck the troll on the skull, drawing its attention.
"Hey there, big fellow!"
"Bilbo?"
Thorin's eyes widened in disbelief. "What in Durin's name are you doing here?"
Bilbo gave him a quick nod and a reassuring smile, then hurled another stone at the troll, calling out:
"You lumbering brute, I'm over here!"
The troll roared in fury and, ignoring Thorin entirely, started climbing up the rock wall, charging ferociously after the hobbit.
Bilbo quickly darted behind a boulder.
The troll smashed the stone to pieces, only to find nothing behind it. Just as it began to turn back, Whack, another stone struck its thick hide.
The hobbit had somehow popped up again from a completely different direction.
Almost simultaneously, as the troll was being led away, Bolg descended from the tower. Striding forward, he drew a dagger from his belt and, with a flick of his wrist, sent it spinning toward Thorin.
"Argh!"
The blade stabbed clean through Thorin's sword hand. Grimacing through the pain, he yanked it out, and even while bleeding, he cut down two more orcs. Then he fixed his gaze upon Bolg, the one who had thrown it.
"So this is the famed King under the Mountain? Even weaker than I expected."
"If you think I'm that weak, come and test that theory yourself."
Though most of his strength had been drained by the orc horde, and he was now wounded from the ambush, Thorin still raised his sword when faced with the enemy commander's taunt.
It wasn't time for despair yet. Strength, if one dug deep enough, could always be found.
Whoosh.
An arrow came flying but was dodged by Bolg, who stomped it to splinters as it clattered to the ground. He looked up with a sneer.
"Hah! Elf, you two may come at me together if you wish!"
That did it. Legolas snapped.
With a thud, he jumped down from the high ground, catching the dagger Thorin had pulled free with his foot and snatching it from the air.
Once again, dwarf and elf stood shoulder to shoulder in battle.
Rumble rumble.
Just as the three warriors were about to clash, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from behind.
A group of cave trolls shoved aside the blocking orcs and charged forward.
Bolg smirked. "Perfect timing. Deal with them for—"
Whoosh!
The trolls ran straight past Bolg in a rush, completely ignoring his command.
"You worthless—"
He turned around, furious. What in the fires of Mount Doom was wrong with them?
But then more orcs followed, running by in panic, as if they were fleeing from something terrifying.
"What's happening to them?"
The dwarves quickly regrouped. Legolas and Tauriel finally stood united.
"It's fear," Tauriel observed quietly.
"They're afraid... of something behind them."
While the orcs were distracted by their panic, Thorin tore a strip from his own clothing and wrapped it around his injured hand.
Gripping his sword tightly, he looked in the direction the orcs had been fleeing from and said, "Whatever approaches, let it come. I doubt it could worsen our situation."
Bolg grabbed a passing orc by the throat and snarled, "What are you running from, maggot? What happened back there?!"
The terrified orc struggled to rasp out a few words, "Great... great enemy... our bane..."
"What great enemy? What bane?!"
"Aaaah!"
A chorus of screams rang out as several orcs fell from above, landing in flames and lying motionless.
Bolg's eyes widened in alarm.
Then a figure clad in dark armor emerged from the carnage. Something deep in his chest clenched instinctively, his heart hammered against his ribs, flooding his body with chemicals to boost reaction time.
"There you are," the figure spoke calmly.
Bolg suppressed the overwhelming urge to turn and flee. Instead, he roared and charged with his blood-stained cleaver raised high.
In a flash, blade met sword. Neither side gave ground.
But Garrett had no intention of engaging in a drawn-out clash. He deflected the cleaver, stepped back twice, and began channeling power.
"RAAAAH!!"
Bolg roared, swinging the cleaver down with all his might once more.
CRACK.
A blinding flash of steel erupted, shattering Bolg's weapon, along with his armor, and carving deep into the flesh beneath.
[Armor Break - Critical Hit!]
FWOOOM!
Flames engulfed his massive form as he howled and collapsed.
His greatest asset, his brute strength, had failed him utterly. Even his resistance to pain couldn't protect him from fire.
Before long, the orc lieutenant fell silent forever.
Bolg, son of Azog, slain.
