Rescuing the captives

Most of the tunnels in the Misty Mountains were cold, dark, and damp. Even the hardy Dwarves were unwilling to live in such surroundings for long, but the Half-orcs favored these tunnels. Disliking daylight, they used them to travel through the Misty Mountains without exposing themselves to the sun.

Today, a force of four or five hundred Half-orcs was making its way through the tunnels. They intended to visit Orc Town to show off their newly captured prisoners and see whether they could trade some slaves. Once their dealings were done, they would pass through Orc Town on their way to Moria. Leading them was Azog's son, Bolg.

As Azog's finest son, Bolg had been in a very good mood lately. They had just discovered another Skin-changer village and, after considerable trouble, captured several of its inhabitants. They planned to take them to Orc Town and show them off to its fat lord. Rumor had it that the fat lord had recently suffered a defeat at human hands. Of his force of over two thousand, only a few hundred Half-orcs had escaped home. The story had spread from Orc Town all the way to Mount Gundabad, becoming a joke passed from mouth to mouth among the Half-orcs. Nothing like it had happened in this part of the Wilderland for a long time.

But a few days ago, Bolg's good mood had vanished. A Skin-changer had actually escaped during a moment of carelessness.

During the pursuit, Bolg and his Warg Riders had inflicted severe wounds on him and finally watched him fall into the river below a cliff. But Bolg had not personally killed the Skin-changer who had dared to escape, and his mood had remained foul ever since.

Most Half-orcs were both ignorant and stupid. They were cruel and vicious when confronting the weak, yet utterly cowardly before powerful enemies. There were always exceptions, however, such as Bolg-or rather, Azog's bloodline. Their cunning and intelligence were no less than those of ordinary humans. They were also naturally tall and formidable, with pale skin unlike that of other Half-orcs. The reason could no longer be traced, or perhaps those who kept the records simply had no wish to describe the filthy, horrifying process.

Bolg could easily imagine how quickly news of his lost prisoner would spread once his stupid underlings reached Orc Town. It might travel even faster than the joke about the fat lord's defeat. He had originally intended to use that defeat to mock the great Half-orc who nominally held the same rank as his father, a leader of a tribe. But now Bolg had an embarrassment of his own. They were even, leaving him no room to ridicule the other lord.

As Bolg recalled these irritating matters and grew sour again, the Warg beneath him stopped. It raised its head, sniffed carefully back and forth, then stretched out its crimson tongue to lick its lips and spoke. Its voice was exceedingly strange and unpleasant, but Bolg understood it.

"Bolg, there's a fresh human scent here. It doesn't belong to our prisoners. It's coming from the dry riverbed ahead."

The Wargs of the Misty Mountains were usually willing to travel with Half-orcs. According to legend, Morgoth had bred them during the First Age. After Morgoth was captured, they had gathered once more beneath the banner of his lackey, the Dark Lord Sauron.

They differed from ordinary wolves. They could communicate through speech rather than merely howl, leading some to speculate that evil spirits dwelled within them. Their most remarkable trait, however, was their exceptionally keen sense of smell. Bolg's Warg companion had picked out the fresh scent of humans from the tangle of odors in the tunnel.

"Ha!"

At this news, a cruel smile spread across Bolg's hideous face, and a mocking laugh escaped his mouth.

He had traveled this route countless times, yet had never imagined that humans would be bold enough to ambush him in the tunnels. How did they dare? This place was already very close to Orc Town. Were they not afraid of being overwhelmed by countless Half-orcs?

Bolg almost laughed in anger at these humans who clearly had a death wish. He felt they were looking down on him.

Even so, Bolg did not act rashly. Instead, he casually ordered several Half-orcs to scout ahead. He wanted to see just what these humans were planning.

The Half-orcs who received the order found it strange as well. They had traveled this route before, so why did they suddenly need to scout it today? Still, they gave it little thought. Sticking out their small bellies, they swaggered into the riverbed. But midway along it, they too noticed something amiss. Their noses twitched repeatedly as they slowly came into Allen's view.

The moment Allen saw those scouting scum, he knew his plan had been exposed. Bolg must have discovered something unusual by some means, or he would never have sent these Half-orcs out to investigate.

Faced with this unexpected development, Allen decided he could not simply keep waiting. Even if he let these Half-orcs pass, Bolg would probably send more to investigate. Finding the dozen or so of them would be manageable, but what if they discovered the people hidden on the ledge? Whatever happened, he could not let Bolg slip away with the prisoners right under his nose.

With that thought, Allen leaped straight out of hiding and charged into the Half-orcs, swinging the greatsword in his hands. A few casual blows finished off the scum. Then he tore a scrap of cloth from one of the bodies, wiped his greatsword clean, and put it away.

Next, Allen lit the torch he had prepared earlier and picked up a Half-orc's head in his other hand, signaling for Beorn to follow him.

Allen decided to confront Bolg. He strode out of the riverbed and, by the light of his torch, barely made out the pale-skinned Bolg sitting astride his Warg. Allen drew a deep breath and shouted, "Bolg, I know you're there! You discolored bastard, you can't even keep hold of your prisoners!"

As he spoke, he hurled the Half-orc's head hard toward Bolg, pointed at Beorn beside him, and continued shouting, "See him? I rescued him! Let me tell you, you and your father are both useless! Thorin Oakenshield cut off your father's hand while lying on the ground and left him a cripple. And you can't even hold on to a prisoner covered in wounds!"

Allen took a few more steps forward, getting a clear look at Bolg, who was already baring his teeth in fury, and continued his taunts. "What? Can't take it? Why are you staring at me with that ugly face all scrunched up? If you don't like it, come kill me!"

The Half-orcs were a race created by the great evil lord Morgoth, who had used darkness to twist the children of Ilúvatar. Their purpose was to destroy everything beautiful in the world. Under normal circumstances, whenever Half-orcs encountered humans or Elves, a fight to the death was inevitable.

Even though Bolg was one of the rare Half-orcs with a brain, he could not possibly endure such provocation, much less a human pointing at him and insulting him before so many Half-orcs. He was already young, hotheaded, and reckless. In the film, he had dared to lead a small band of Half-orcs straight through the Wood-elves' back entrance to intercept and kill Thorin Oakenshield, who had just escaped from the Elves' dungeon.

Bolg knew what would happen if he backed down now. What would those stupid, lowly Half-orcs behind him say about him? His reputation for cowardice might spread all the way from Mount Gundabad to Moria and reach his father Azog's ears. Bolg could not allow that to happen, no matter what.

"Kill them!"

Bolg raised his weapon with an enraged roar and urged his Warg toward the riverbed. At his command, the Half-orcs behind him followed, waving scimitars, wooden clubs, and other weapons as they charged at Allen in the riverbed.

Seeing that his taunts had worked, Allen hurriedly tugged Beorn, who stood beside him in a slight daze, and retreated to join his own people, who had already moved to the middle of the riverbed.

What no one noticed was that, just as Bolg led the Half-orcs charging toward the riverbed and Allen rejoined his companions, a furtive figure slowly slipped out from behind a boulder a dozen or so meters away from the riverbed.

It was Klethi again. She had begun doing dirty work for her family's lord when she was very young, and her vision in darkness was somewhat better than most people's. She had hidden behind the boulder early, intending to surprise any enemies who tried to flee with her Heavy Javelins once the ambush began. She had waited and waited until the enemy finally arrived, only for them to stop several dozen meters away and send a few scum ahead to scout. She had quickly hidden herself, then witnessed her leader coming over to curse the enemy. In all her time following Allen, she had never seen him berate an opponent like a shrew. For a moment, she had been stunned.

In fact, the first scent the Warg had detected was Klethi's. Otherwise, Bolg's force would have advanced another few dozen meters and discovered the Woodland Dwellers hidden on the cliff. With Allen's cooperation, Klethi's decision to act on her own had accidentally produced a good result.

Once the Wargs charged into the mouth of the riverbed, their noses were filled with all sorts of human scents. Allen and his men had also emerged from hiding and engaged the Half-orcs. All attention was focused on Allen's side, so the main Half-orc force failed to notice her.

By the time Klethi came to her senses, Bolg had already led his main force past her position. She quietly crept toward where the enemy had been standing and gradually made out the situation. A dozen or so Half-orcs remained there, guarding several large iron cages on the ground. Klethi knew Allen had come to rescue people, and she guessed those people must be inside the cages. Keeping to cover along the way, she quietly crept closer to the prisoners.

There were indeed thirteen or fourteen Half-orcs who had not charged off with Bolg. Their previous duty had been to guard these cages, but while they slept, one of their companions had shifted around so much that he rolled beside Beorn's cage. Beorn, who still had a little strength left, had grabbed him and strangled him, then searched his body for the key and escaped. Bolg had led a large number of Warg Riders in pursuit. When that pursuit failed, he not only gave the guards a savage whipping but killed several of their fellow jailers outright and fed them to the Wargs. Originally, more than twenty of them had been guarding the cages.

They had learned their lesson. Even when Bolg led most of the Half-orcs into the charge, they stayed behind. Their slow minds could still grasp that, if anything happened to the prisoners, Bolg would not spare them even if he won the battle. So the dozen or so guards remained beside the cages, watching the riverbed. Even when it filled with torchlight and the din of a large battle, they did not move.

As they watched the fighting in the riverbed, muttering something under their breath, several javelins suddenly struck and killed the four Half-orcs sitting on one side of the cages. The force behind the javelins even drove their still-living bodies back against the cages with loud clangs.

The other Half-orcs reacted to the noise and all ran toward the direction the javelins had come from. Several throwing knives immediately flew from the darkness, bringing down another four Half-orcs as they charged. The survivors grew frightened at the sight. They looked at one another, afraid to advance. After a moment's hesitation, they actually began backing away. By then, Klethi had drawn her Elite Scimitar and slipped behind them without their noticing. Two wet slashes killed the two enemies closest to her. Then she chased down the three fleeing Half-orcs with long strides and finished off the remaining scum, one stroke at a time.

Having killed all the enemies, Klethi let out a heavy breath and began searching their bodies. Before long, she found a large ring of keys. She hefted it in her hand, then walked toward the cages holding the prisoners.

The Half-orc force had been escorting five large iron cages in total. The first three held Skin-changers like Beorn: three adults and two children. The adults were one man and two women, while the children were a boy and a girl. They grew excited at the sight of Klethi approaching, and the iron chains binding them rattled. As she opened the cages, Klethi whispered, "I came with Beorn to rescue you. Quiet, stay quiet." Hearing Beorn's name, they all settled down and obediently let Klethi unlock their shackles.

Of the two cages behind them, one held three Dwarves, while the other actually held two Elves. They were in far worse condition than the Skin-changers. The Dwarves were a little better off. Seeing someone come to rescue them, they could still manage a weak struggle and make hoarse sounds. The Elves did not even have the strength to call for help. Klethi could only tell they were alive by the faint rise and fall of their chests.

Looking at the five people before her, Klethi found herself in a quandary. She could hardly drag all five away by herself. At that moment, the five Skin-changers came over, lifted the prisoners out of the cages, and signaled for Klethi to lead the way. It was time to flee. Klethi quietly led them back behind the boulder where she had hidden and settled everyone there. She also took out the food and water she carried and gave it to them.

By now, the battle in the riverbed had reached a fever pitch.