Chapter Text
A/N: Hello everyone! So this fic has come about due to a prompt given to me by the amazing xLilarosa:
Instead of Azog stabbing Fili and dropping him over the precipice, he makes a show of torturing him in front of the company before tossing him back to his army to finish him off. Fili survives, though, as do Thorin and Kili. It isn't until after the battle that Fili is found, and then begins a whole new battle to try to save his life
And of course being me I just couldn't leave well enough alone :D The chapters for this one will come along slowly as I've got this plus two others on the go at the moment and many more to do. Hopefully In Our Time Apart will get completed within the next few weeks as well as updates for this and The Fire In My Blood.
Please be warned that the first few chapters (not so much this one) will have graphic descriptions of torture, however that won't be the whole story and I'll add a torture warning at the beginning of the relevant chapters for you all so you can skip them or prepare yourself before reading.
xLilarosa, hope you enjoy my dear ;)
Hanging out on Tumblr and let me know what you think! :)
As much as it breaks my heart I do not own the writings or the characters of The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings, they are the wonderful and exclusive workings of J.R.R Tolkien
The sun peaked out from behind the clouds as Thorin stood on the precipice of the icecap, gazing up at the tower ahead of him that hid his target, the one he needed to kill to throw the orcs into disarray and end this bloodshed for good. He prayed that Fíli and Kíli would be gone no longer than a few minutes, their sharp eyes and sharper ears gaining what he needed to finish this once and for all.
“Thorin!”
The dwarf king spun around with astonishment as the hobbit appeared out of nowhere and came stumbling to a stop, panting as he desperately tried to catch his breath.
“Bilbo!”
“You have to leave here, now!” Bilbo pleaded, moving towards the edge of the ice so that he could point to the hill beside the outpost. “Azog has another army, attacking from the north. This watchtower will be completely surrounded, there will be no way out.”
Dwalin and Thorin looked at one another in alarm. Their troops could barely handle the army they were already fighting, much less another. If those Orcs reached the battle Thorin knew without a doubt that they would lose this fight, and everyone would be slaughtered - starting with them.
It was as though his shield brother could see the decision forming on his face for Dwalin stepped forward and spoke urgently. “We are so close, that orc scum is in there. I say we -”
“No!” He cut him off quickly. He wanted nothing more than to charge in there and finish it, but he knew that if they lingered any longer they would have no chance to lead a counter attack against both forces and possibly survive. “That’s what he wants; he wants to draw us in.”
It was then as he glanced at the watchtower, standing there desolate and shrouded in shadow that a sudden and horrible realisation hit him.
“This is a trap.”
He wanted to scream, for how could he have been so blind? The moment they had arrived Azog was nowhere to be seen, and after slaughtering the few Orcs that crossed their path they had come across no others. It was as though they were waiting, watching, and it had taken him this long to realise it.
He had sent his nephews straight to them.
“Find Fíli and Kíli, call them back!” Thorin urged, already moving to look for the battle rams that had carried them there. The sooner they got off the icecap and away from the one Orc he wanted to kill more than anything, the better.
Dwalin however didn’t look as convinced as he knew if they left any chance of killing the pale Orc was gone. “Thorin, are you sure about this?”
“Do it. We’ll live to fight another day.”
Dwalin nodded, and just as they were about to split up running footsteps thundered towards them. Thorin, Dwalin and Bilbo looked at each other before turning and drawing their swords, readying themselves for another attack believing they had just run out of time.
Kíli hurtled around the corner and Thorin quickly lowered his sword, his two companions mimicking his movement so the brunet didn’t impale himself on their blades if he lost his balance. The young dwarf slid to a stop, shooting a grin at Bilbo before he focused on his uncle.
“The lower levels of the tower are clear Thorin,” he reported, panting slightly from the exertion. “It looks like they may have left in a hurry as it’s completely abandoned.”
Thorin nodded, growing uneasy at the news that reconfirmed his suspicions that it was indeed a trap. Just as he went to tell his nephew they were withdrawing Bilbo stepped forward, worry on his face as he peered behind the young dwarf.
“Kíli, where is your brother?”
It was then that Thorin realised Kíli had arrived on his own, and the alarmed expression on his nephews face as he looked between the three of them set his heart racing in fear in his chest.
“Kíli,” he asked slowly, “where is Fíli?”
Kíli looked at the three of them in horror, knowing that if the tower had been empty in the upper levels as well Fíli should have been back at the same time as him. Rather than answering, Kíli turned on his heel determined to find the one dwarf who meant more than anything to him when he was stopped by a tight grip on his wrist.
“Don’t even think about it,” Thorin growled at his nephew, his gaze scanning the tower for any signs of movement, yet it stood as still and silent as it had since they arrived. He looked back to his sister-son, the fear radiating off him practically visible and he let go of the wrist as it was yanked away.
“I will not leave him there,” Kíli snarled as he backed away, only to collide with Dwalin who had moved behind him.
“Your brother knows how to look after himself!”
The two dwarves glared at each other, neither backing down until shrieks echoed around them and they all drew their swords, watching in horror as orc mercenaries spilled into the clearing and stood in front of the tower, cutting them off completely from their companion. Kíli felt panic flood through him as he counted the large number of orcs that separated him from his One and his heart plummeted at the sight of Bolg striding through the group, the mutilated face snarling as they stood poised ready to strike but not yet moving, as though something was holding them back.
“What are they waiting for?” Dwalin breathed, his hands tightening around his axes as he assessed their enemy. Before any of them had the chance to answer a light flickered from the watch tower, drawing their eyes upwards and they watched as Azog emerged from the shadows.
And he wasn’t alone.
Kíli thought he might be sick as he watched his brother being dragged by the collar to the edge of the tower before Azog lifted him into the air, looking on in horror as the blond struggled desperately.
“GO!” Fíli cried to his family when he spotted them standing there rooted to the spot in shock, silently pleading that they would leave him to his fate so that they could get away and have a chance at surviving.
Azog’s deep guttural laugh rang out as he shook the dwarf in his grasp, watching with satisfaction as the youngest dwarf in the group had to be stopped from racing towards them.
“Thank you for the gift you have given me Oakenshield,” he rasped, hoisting the dwarf higher and laughing as his prisoner shouted out to his family once more.
“RUN!”
“I shall thoroughly enjoy it.”
“FÍLI!” Kíli screamed as Azog dragged his One back into the heart of the tower, surging forward in desperation - ready to kill as many orcs as possible so he could free his brother from the pale Orc's grasp. He let out a war cry as he charged, his roar echoed by his Uncle, Dwalin and even Bilbo before they found themselves tangled with the orcs and fighting for their lives with only one destination in mind.
Fíli barely had time to bring his arms in front of him to stop his head from hitting the stone as Azog tossed him to the floor. The moment he had his hands on the ground he flipped himself over, refusing to keep his back vulnerable to the Orc and he watched warily as Azog prowled towards him. He held his head high, refusing to look away from him for even a moment as he was of Durin’s line, and they never backed down from a fight. But his defiance seemed to entertain Azog even more as the orc picked up his blade and trailed the tip along his cheek, flicking his wrist to cut it shallowly and laughing as the first bead of blood escaped the wound.
“You are brave to defy me, little prince,” Azog growled, letting his blade fall away. “I remember you from the cliff tops and I will finish what I started then. I will destroy the line of Durin one by one, beginning with you.
You will be begging for mercy before I kill you.”
“That will never happen.”
Fíli glared at the Orc as he moved closer and wished more than anything he still had one of his blades so that he could sink it through this monsters eye. He used a different kind of weapon though, and the moment Azog was in front of him he spat at the Orc, his satisfaction for hitting the defilers face was short lived when Azog swung his clawed arm at him, the steel connecting with his face and he grunted as his head snapped to the side, a warmth on his brow telling him the Orc had split the skin.
Azog towered over him, fury on his face as he pointed his sword at the dwarf at his feet.
“We shall see about that.”