The Sacrifice: The Story of Dis   Part 6  ~Míriel

Disclaimer: All people and places are taken from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings

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Within minutes, Thráin and his company burst forth from the trees.  They were weary with battle, yet their spirits could not be quenched.

            They ran down into the vale, weapons ready and shields held upright.  They were met by a multitude of Orcs.  Cries of “Barak Khazad!  Khazad ai-mênu!” echoed throughout the vale and off the sides of the Dimrill Dale. 

            They joined the others in the valley and there they fought for some time.  Dis was soon near exhaustion.  Looking around, it was clear to her that all the Dwarves were weary.  She was beginning to come to the sick realization that the Orcs would prevail.

            Just then, when all hope was lost, the sound of many marching feet came clearly to the ears of those fighting.  All fighting ceased for a moment; both Dwarves and Orcs waited to see whether the new arrival was friend or foe.

            Dis found herself squinting as she stared intently ay the top of the highland above the valley.  The sun had broken through the clouds; and now shone brightly as if to make up for the time of darkness.  Its rays of light reflected off the snow in the valley; snow that was now colored by dirt and blood.

            The first line of soldiers appeared; their Dwarven-mail glinting in the sunlight.  Coming late and fresh to the field were the warriors of Náin, Grór’s son; the people of the Iron Hills.  A great cheer went up from the Dwarves on the battlefield.

            The people of the Iron Hills sent up a great shout in reply.  It seemed as if the ground was trembling from the roar of their voices, or perhaps it was the many footfalls of the newcomers.  They had now broken into a run and were charging down into the vale.

            The weary Dwarves in the vale slipped off to the side as Náin’s people drove through the Orcs to the very threshold of Moria, crying “Azog!  Azog!” as they hewed down with their mattocks all who stood in their way.[1]

            It must have been eight thousand soldiers from the Iron Hills that stormed past the soldiers of Thráin.  The thousands of Orcs that were not driven forward closed in behind Náin’s people, however, the rest of Thráin’s people then closed in behind the Orcs.  The unthinkable had happened, and the Orcs were trapped.  Most of the people of Náin turned around to face the oncoming Orcs.  The remaining people of Náin (Numbering somewhere around a thousand) continued to surge forward towards the Gate.

            Dis had found herself at the Gate with Náin’s own guard. She had been running along with her people to help trap the Orcs, yet here she was at threshold of Moria, with a select few of Náin’s people.  Somehow she had been swept along with them.

            They halted outside the Gate.  Náin walked toward it and stopped several yards away.  Dis marveled at the courage on his face. She looked down at her own hands.  They were trembling.

            “Azog!”  Náin cried with a loud voice.  “If you are in come out!  Or is play in the valley too rough?”

All was still at the Gate for a moment.  Behind her, Dis could hear the sounds of a great fight, but she could not tell whether the sounds were of victory or defeat.  A sound came from the Gate and she snapped her attention there.

Azog came forth.  He was a great Orc with a huge iron-clad head, yet Dis noticed he was agile and strong.  With him also came many like him, the fighters of his guard.  In that moment, Dis truly knew what fear was at the sight of them.  She quaked with terror she had only felt once before.  The Orcs were now coming towards them with full speed.  Dis barely noticed Náin locked in deadly battle with Azog before they were upon her.

Dis held her shield up in front of her face as a humongous Orcs swung down at her.  The force of the blow jarred her arm and she cried out.  It was like she was in a living nightmare: no matter how hard she tried, she could not move, and she could not wake up.  The Orc pulled back his sword and raised it high for another blow.  Dis did the only thing that she could.  She ran.

She ran forward several steps.  The Orc was running after her with hate in his eyes that shook her to the core.  Dis stopped.  Her back was to the mountain; she was trapped.  There was nowhere to run.

The Orc was now only a few yards away from her.  He pulled back his sword and began to swing; aiming for her neck.

The Orc’s sword flew through the air.  Dis ducked her head.  The sword connected with her helm.  It pulled it off, exposing her head as she fell to the ground, but otherwise she was unscathed.

The Orc raised his sword for another blow.  Dis saw someone running towards her out of the corner of her eye.  It was Thorin.  He must have come up out of the valley with Náin’s people as Dis had, and in seeing her distress had decided to help.

To Dis’ utter shock, the Orc turned away from her and swung at Thorin.  He raised his oaken shield in defense.  The Orc’s sword stuck in the wood for a moment before he managed to pull it free.  He began to swing again.

Thorin was only several feet away.  Dis knew that his shield would not withstand many more blows like the one that it had just received.  Thorin’s axe was useless; his back was against the mountain and he had no room to swing.  Soon the Orc would win.

No.  Not again.

Something in Dis’ mind clicked.  She ran forward and leapt in front of Thorin just in time.  The Orc’s blade caught her in her side.  White hot pain seared through her and she cried out as she fell.  She was barely aware of Thorin moving behind the Orc and hewing off its head.

Thorin knelt beside her.  “Dis!  How come you here?  And whatever were you thinking?”

 “That was for Frerin.  And Mother,” she whispered.  Dis then turned her head away.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Thorin shouted at her although she was no longer looking at him.

Her gaze drifted over to the Gate, and landed on the body of Náin.  His armor had protected him from the blade, but it was not strong enough to withstand the heavy blow of Azog’s weapon.  Náin had fallen from a broken neck.

Azog lifted his head to let forth a great yell of triumph, but the cry died in his throat.[2]  Dis realized that the Dwarves seemed to have won the day.  The Orcs in the valley of Azanulbizar where flying south; shrieking as they ran.

Azog turned and fled back towards the Gate.  Just then, up the steps leaped a Dwarf with a red axe.  It was Dáin Ironfoot, Náin’s son.  Right before the doors of Moria he caught Azog, and he slew him, and hewed off his head.

Dis was shocked.  This was a great feat for one so young (She could tell just by looking that he was no older than she), Dáin being only a stripling in the reckoning of the Dwarves.

He came down from the Gate towards them.  His face was grey, as one who has felt great fear. 

Dis heard Thorin get up behind her.  “I am going to go get some help for you,” he said.  “Stay right here.”

“And where would I go, dear brother?” she thought to herself.

Brothers are such silly creatures.

Brothers.

Frerin.

A spasm of pain shook her body, and the tears that she had so long held at bay were set loose.  She laid there, in the midst of the battlefield, with soldiers and Orcs about her, the survivors still chasing the remaining Orcs out of the valley, and cried.   

It had done little good for her to be here.  It had not saved Frerin, or Korin, nor had it brought back Mother.  It had done no good whatsoever.  She knew that she should be the one dead, not Frerin, not Mother.  The burden of the guilt was heavy on her heart, and tears did little to ease it.

A horn sounded in the valley. The Orcs had all fled, and the day was won by the Dwarves. 

“I have fought in this war for vengeance, and vengeance I have taken.”  Dis thought.  “But it is not sweet.  If this is victory, then my hands are too small to hold it.”[3]

What imaginary purpose had she fulfilled?  Dis laid there with tears streaming down her face until Thorin arrived with several other Dwarves to take her back to the camp.