Bilbo had been hardly aware during their run through the goblin tunnels. Only aware of the pain and muttered apologies that the dwarrows said to him before he was thrown from the safety of their arms into anothers. He knew he finally came to rest in Bifur's arms as the sound of the Khuzdul filled his ears and the light of the dying sun warmed his face. Bilbo wanted to cry in relief to see the sun's rays shining down on him. He had thought he would die down in the tunnels and never see the sky again; he wanted to weep at the sight of it.
He had been aware that they were running but he suddenly found himself unable to keep his eyes open, his strength all about spent. He hovered between conscious and unconsciousness, the pain was keeping him in this world but also trying to send him into darkness. He didn't feel ashamed when whimpers escaped his lips when he was jostled. Let the dwarrows think what they wanted, he was beyond caring if he showed weakness or not.
The bouncing stopped quiet suddenly and he was aware that Gandalf was speaking, asking about him. He opened his eyes when he felt the air moved and he looked into the concerned and sad eyes of Gandalf, tears were gathered in the wizards eyes and he looked older then Bilbo had ever seen.
"Oh my boy" he murmured. Bilbo tried to smile at him, wanting to ask the wizard if this is what he meant when he said that he wouldn't be the same when he returned. But the movement aggravated the brand on his cheek. He whimpered again, and he felt Bifur's hands pull him tighter into the dwarfs chest.
His heart almost stopped when the first call of the wargs echoed in the air around him. His world lurched again as Bifur began to run again, the howls sounding closer by each second. His fear of the wargs snapped him into full awareness. Night was falling fast and the calls of the wargs were getting ever closer, until the monsters were running amongst them. Bifur's chest rumbled against his back and suddenly he was being tossed into the air, he choked back a cry as an arm snaked out and wrapped itself under his armpits hauling him up into the trees.
"I gottcha Bilbo" yelled Dwalin, bringing the hobbit back to his chest. The rest of the Company managed to get into the trees, in the confusion Bilbo's sword was dropped to the ground. The next few minutes was a scramble from tree to tree until they were on the last one on the cliff. Bilbo was still situated in Dwalin's hold. The air seemed to tremble with rage as Thorin whispered a name too low for Bilbo to hear, but that didn't stop him from hearing the answering reply in a language that sent shivers down his spine.
Gazing out from Dwalin's protected hold he saw a huge white warg and on top of it a pale white orc, dread filled his stomach as he realized who it was. Azog the Defiler, the orc that killed Thror, the one who swore to wipe out the line of Durin. Wargs attacked the tree, Bilbo could hear branches breaking along with bark being ripped off, but the wargs couldn't get them. A call from Gandalf in the tree had the dwarrows looking up to see him dropping pinecones set on fire on the heads of the wargs below them. The dry bush caught fire easily and soon a wall of flames separated them from the orcs. Many dwarrows gave a small sigh of relief, glad to have caught some time to plan on how they were going to get off the tree without dying from the fire and/or wargs. What they didn't count on was the tree giving a mighty tremble and begin to fall over the side of the cliff. Bilbo gripped Dwalins shirt tightly as the world tilted, until Dwalin and he was suspended over the abyss, with Dwalin hanging on with one hand. Bilbo looked frantically at the other members of the Company glad to see that they were all still clinging to the tree and as he watched he saw Thorin push himself until he was standing on top of the tree.
Bilbo watched in horror through his one good eye as Thorin ran down the tree, his shield abreast as he raised his sword over his head charging at the giant albino orc. Dwalin's body vibrated against Bilbo's back as he roared Thorin's name. His arm tightened painfully around him before Bilbo found himself thrown on top of the falling pine as Dwalin tried to scramble up beside him, howling in anger as the branch beneath him broke forcing him to focus on staying on the branch and not falling to the abyss below them. Bilbo gazed at the Company, all were looking at horror as Thorin engaged in battle with Azog. They were all trying to get up but all were in precarious positions and weren't able to come to their kings aid, all expect for himself as he was perched on top of the tree.
His eyes traveled to his sword that had been dropped at the base of the tree in the chaos, and lay forgotten. His legs were shaky as he stood up, but thankfully he didn't feel anything. Not his broken arm, the cuts, the bruises, not even the brand that the Goblin King had carved into his check. Everything was numb to Bilbo. With his vision swimming and the dull roar in the back of his head he managed to get to the bottom of the tree. Black spots danced in his vision as he bent down to pick up his sword. He blinked and took deep breaths; he didn't have time to waste in fainting.
Drawling his sword from the sheath Bilbo glanced at where the fight was taking place. Thorin had managed to hold his own while Bilbo had made his way down the tree, but fighting the warg and Azog at the same time had taken its toll on the King. As he watched the warg managed to sneak past Orcrist and sink its teeth into the Kings side.
His feet moved him as quickly as they could, Thorin couldn't die. Who would lead the Company, who else had the heart, the courage to retake Erebor? Whose shoulders were broad enough to take on the burdens this exiled king carried? Fili and Kili were still boys and neither had enough experience to take on their Uncle's mantle. Only Thorin could lead this Company, only Thorin could give them hope.
His eyes zeroed in on the orc that was preparing to behead Thorin, as Azog sat on his warg to observe. Insulting Thorin further by having an underling behead him, as if the Dwarf king wasn't worth the effort from the albino orc. Gripping the handle of his sword as tight as he could in his one hand he launched himself at the orc, driving his blade through the armor like hot butter. Pulling it out he stabbed the orc a few more times until he was certain it was dead. He pulled himself to his feet to stand in front of Thorin, struggling to stay on his feet as his body trembled.
Azog stared at the hobbit with his wide blue eyes, not believing that this tiny thing had just killed one of his generals. He growled jumping from his warg, stalking towards the creature with the mace in his hand. He could smell the fear rolling off the thing as it stood its ground. As he got closer the short dwarf creature swung its sword as best he could with one hand as the other hung limp at its side, but one block with his mace had it falling to the ground. Azog laughed and thrust his hand out snagging the creature by the neck. Wide frightened eyes stared into his blue ones, the hand scrambled at Azog's trying to get lose. Azog just smiled showing off his pointed teeth as he took in the things face. It had been beaten badly half its face swollen with a brand cut into the check proclaiming it a slave.
A slave killing an orc, this thing wasn't even worthy of dying by his hand, he turned to his warg. "Feed on his flesh", throwing the thing over his shoulder for his white warg. Before continuing towards his prize as he ignored the pained cry as his warg planted a foot on the thing, preparing to take a bite. He barely made it a step before a war cry came calling out and Azog was forced to turn away from his prize to fight the dwarrows that came running at him.
Bilbo never thought he would end up as warg food, he thought for a moment that Azog would just crush his windpipe, but as the monster had caught sight of the brand he had been thrown away like garbage. The white warg's claws pierced his sides as she held him down preparing to take a bite when a mattock slammed into her sides, the dwarrow descended on the remaining orcs and Bilbo found himself looking up into the concerned eyes of Bifur. He could see his mouth moving but Bilbo couldn't focus on anything being said, a dull roar filled his ears and the pain returning with a vengeance as his body was overwhelmed with new injuries on top of the ones given to him in goblin town. Bilbo didn't even try to fight the darkness that rushed to claim him; instead he surrendered and sank into oblivion.