'Woooooohooo!' Shouted Kili from his barrel. I watched the dwarf heads bobbing down the fast flowing river, each head popping out the top of a round beer barrel bound with a metal belt. If you took away the fact that we are currently being ambushed, the situation could be very humorous; but the Orc corpse's falling against the side of my barrel, take away the majority of the fun. Fat bastards. Thorin had to be in front of me. So I get all his leftovers. Unable to actually kill anything, at least let me cut off one head.
A thundering clatter and roar of water drowns out my senses as we plunge downwards, hurtling in a mass of jutting rocks and water spray.
Colliding with the foamy water of the fall, resulting in almost total submersion, slows the chaos. I instantly look around for my brother and see him fist punching the air a little further in front of me, his barrel spinning round violently from the fall. Nothing can dampen Kili's spirits, his sheer delight is evident; even as a boy he was always the one to enjoy dangerous things, always throwing his life into ridiculous situations, then battling – quite literally – his way out of them.
I twist in my wooden cage to count eleven other barrels of beards before realizing that we are no longer under attack, the drop was too steep for even their stupid minds to consider following. Cheers rise up, arms held above heads bearing weapons: swords, axes and cross bows alike.
'Listen up!' Thorin's voice booms over the surrounding noises, the shouts come to halt – in that instant an axe wedges itself into the side of Gloin's barrel, he roars with rage and launches his sword in the direction of the reunited ambuscade. His sword lodging itself in the middle of the Orc's left eye, protruding grotesquely; I pull out my cross bow, loosing it instantly in a gush of water, watching Gloin sweep it up further downstream and firing it at another orc. Snapping back into action, I pull my sword from its sheath, I use it to paddle closer the bank and swing it upwards, slicing open the throat of a pursuing orc, he chokes leaning forward, black ichor spurting from the gash, he falls face first against the rocky river banks. There is nothing more thrilling than being covered in the blood of an orc. Turning fiercely in my barrel, trying to locate the rest of the dwarves, but only Ori and Bofur where in view. Panicking, I bellowed 'KILI!' My brother. His dark head nowhere to be seen. Stabbing my sword into the rocky river bank I lurched myself forward. Again. Again. Again. The speed of my barrel rapidly increasing, the current threatening to steal my sword. I did not care. 'KILI!' Shaking my wet hair from my eyes, I searched for him. Orc's where descending into the slowing river. The currents less ferocious, enabling them to wade out and attack us head on. Absent mindedly lifting my sword and swinging it towards oncoming obstacles.
An orcs arm, handling a spiked mace, sliced off in one blow. A low rumbling, inhumane scream filled the air as he staggered backwards clutching the open wound that would take him to the grave.
That was when I saw him. Kili. His barrel smashed and abandoned, floating gently downstream. His limp body gliding with the slowing current. 'KILI! HOLD ON!' Instinct kicking in, I threw my weight forward towards my brother. My view was obscured by a black wall. It shifted, turning to face me. An orc. Its ugly blood covered teeth all a show. He let out a menacing laugh, his eyes cruel, he turned away from me lifting a black wielded sword above his head.
A gut wrenching scream echoed, bouncing off the rocks, as I watched helplessly, my brother facing death.