Title: Famous Last Words
Warning: violence, deathWord Count: 1048
Disclaimer: If I owned the Hobbit I probably wouldn't be writing fanfiction
Summary: the Defiler has plans for his prey, but Thorin has plans of his own
Every day is a beautiful day for dwarves to die and Azog loves to hunt them down. He loves to listen to their anguished screams as they crumble beneath his hand and today he has finally caught Thorin Oakenshield, the most elusive prize of all.
The pale orc had vowed to take his revenge for the arm the dwarf had stolen and sworn to pay back his defeat in Moria with the death of Durin's blood. No other prey has ever dared to challenge him and Azog relishes the pain within his phantom flesh for it drives him to be stronger and reminds him of the vengeance that he owes.
So now the moment when his decades of searching finally come to an end is here, and with Thorin back in Azog's sights, the dwarf will not escape again. As the Defiler watches him flee in abject terror, running from the wargs as though Sauron himself were on his heels, he wants to laugh at how far his enemy has fallen. Thorin is old now, old and weak, while Azog has grown only stronger and this time it will be the orc who triumphs.
He knees his white warg forward once his prey is treed and the shocked horror on the dwarf's face is a sight that Azog will remember fondly in his dreams. The scent of fear is thick on the ground as it was so many years ago but this time there will be no mercy and tonight his wargs will feast on dwarf flesh while the Defiler gorges on Thorin's bloody heart.
Slow and painful torture is what the pale orc has planned, an hour paid for every decade that the dwarf fled from his fate. But first he wants to anger him, to shatter Thorin's arrogance and so Azog sets his wargs upon the trees.
Once his companions have been torn to shreds, once all his allies lay in bleeding chunks upon the ground, maybe then the dwarf will recognize his fate and only then will the Defiler deign to bring him down. Azog will stake Thorin out upon the ground and carve vengeance into his skin until the dwarf king begs for death and when he finally begs for mercy, then the orc will let him die.
Thoughts of the joy to come run through Azog's mind as the trapped dwarves scramble from tree to tree like the vermin he has always known they are. So the orc shakes with fury when the scrawny old man turns out to be a wizard and his prey dares to drive back his wargs with fire and with flame.
He bares his teeth in a snarl, but he will have his prize if he has to drag Thorin down himself, and he is about to do just that when Melkor proves his favor. What his wargs failed to do, it seems that gravity will manage instead and his joy returns as the dwarves' perch teeters out over the cliff and the line of Durin faces such ignoble death .
But it seems that the dwarf king would rather die by sword then by luck and Azog grins ferally as Thorin races to his reckoning.
What madness must have taken the dwarf for him to think he has a chance, and the Defiler waits until he can see the hope in Thorin's eyes before his warg leaps down and shatters it. All it takes is one charge before his prize is at his mercy, that flimsy oaken branch finally knocked aide and the dwarf crumples beneath Azog's mace as it slams into his head.
However, the pale orc is glad to see his prey stir weakly for he does not wish the fun to end so soon and the desperate screams of Thorin's companions are music in his ears. He wants to feel the dwarf's flesh break beneath his hands and so Azog chooses to dismount his warg and walk over there himself, instead of letting one of his minions take the killing blow. Kicking the sword away from the dwarf's weakly grasping hands, the Defiler snarls gleefully and picks the other up by the neck to see the fear grow in his eyes.
“Do you have any last words, oh mighty king? Any last words before you meet your doom?” Azog asks as he squeezes his fist tighter and his prey struggles weakly. When Thorin loses consciousness, the orc will begin his torture and it will last even longer in consolation for the dwarves whose deaths will come too soon.
However, there is anger as well as fear burning the dwarf's eyes and he pulls the Defiler's claws away enough to gasp. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield. You killed my grandfather. Prepare to die!”
At these words the pale orc throws back his head and laughs, defiant to the end, but I'll break you soon enough. He laughs until he feels a sharp pain in his chest and looks down to see a small knife embedded there. What? He thinks in confusion as Thorin kicks out and drives the blade in deeper, making Azog stagger back. There is a numbness growing in his limbs and his fingers will no longer hold onto the dwarf when the Defiler falls to his knees.
He can hear the cries and snarls of his pack behind him but they are kept from aiding him when several of the other dwarves run into the fray. So there is no one to stop Thorin as he leans down and picks up his blade from the rock, no one to stop him from laying the sword against the pale orc's neck. Azog tries to move but his body will not answer him and when he snarls, the dwarf king just looks down at him and grins.
“Poison on the blade, Defiler. I learned many new tricks over the years and who would have thought that a boot knife would bring the pale orc down? So old enemy, any last words before you meet your doom?”
The dwarf does not give Azog time to answer and as Thorin swings his sword for the final killing blow, all the orc can think is, but your head was mine! and then world goes dark.