AN: A great big, heartfelt thank you to all who reviewed, faved & followed! I'm loving the loves! Some of you seemed to be going through Fili withdrawal on the last chapter, so here's a whoooooole bunch o'Fili for you folks! I'm upping the rating just a bit for some mild violence, btw.

The sound of distant crashing in the underbrush immediately drew Fili's attention. The stag had turned exactly as Kili had predicted; It seemed they would have a chance at supper after all. Pluck perked up his ears and tensed in response, and Fili tapped him lightly with his heels.

The stag had slowed, finally feeling that he had lost his frenzied pursuers. He paused, snuffing small bursts of steam with his hide twitching as drops of perspiration rolled over him. Fili watched and waited from behind a cover of spindly shrubs. When the deer seemed to be completely at his ease, he let out a great bellow and burst with Pluck from behind the trees. The deer started in alarm, turning neatly in midair to dart away from this new demonic apparition. Whooping and hollering, Fili and Pluck drove the terrified creature around, it's eyes rolling in panic and desperation as it vaulted a fallen log and careened back the way it had come.

Fili did not give chase; Pluck was tired and there was no reason for them to race to their point of rendezvous to see the outcome of their hunt. Fili had every confidence that as long as the deer ran as expected, Kili would get his shot. Aside from his handsome, revered older brother, unfailing accuracy with his beloved bow was Kili's one and only constancy in life, he reflected fondly.

Fili allowed Pluck to amble along at his own pace and amused himself by mimicking the various songbirds that flitted curiously overhead. He found he could pull off quite a good warbler imitation, almost as good as Kili's eerily real owl calls. The brothers used their uncanny talents for mimicry during the night watch, their ability to communicate becoming more and more advanced with every new call that they learned. It was evolving into their own private language, like twin-speak.

The afternoon was on the wane, and the light that slanted sharply through the branches of the towering oaks was golden and warm on Fili's face. It would soon drop behind the western cliffs, which meant that his fellow dwarves back at camp would be grumbling for their evening meal about now. He hoped they would not be disappointed.

Fili paused. A change had come over the woods and it took him a moment to place what was different. All of the voices in the trees had gone quiet, and Fili realized uncomfortably that the only birdsong to be heard was his own.

An unexpected shout came from ahead, and Fili froze, hauling Pluck back by the reigns as he did. The shout was followed by voices that bantered back and forth in a harsh, sibilant tongue. With a flare of adrenaline he recognized the sound, although he could not understand the words being spoken.

"Goblins," he hissed, one hand shooting to the blade he wore at his hip and pulling it smoothly from its sheath. Pluck tossed his head and fidgeted; The sharp little pony could likely smell the stench of Goblin in the air. Fili hastened to calm him lest the Goblins hear and investigate the sound. His own heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was half afraid they might hear that as well.

Pluck pranced uncertainly, waiting for Fili to give him some direction, but Fili was undecided on how to proceed. The rasping whine of the goblins seemed to be growing louder and heading in his direction, and all he wanted was to get around them to find Kili. Aule forbid the filthy orcs find his brother first!

Fili was just preparing to push silently on to the east in an effort to outflank the goblin band and cut around to find Kili when another shout came from behind him. He turned to look and cursed savagely as he spied a lone goblin clearly yelling and gesturing in his direction. He had been seen.

Pluck dashed forward, heedless of his direction and Fili let him go where he would. The spongy forest floor dampened all sound of the valiant little pony's hoof beats, but his breath crashed out in loud, short bursts. Fili clung uselessly to his flying mane and tried not to clutch too tightly at the reigns.

A cadaverous form sprung from behind a tree and startled the small horse. Fili gaped in horror as five more goblins materialized behind the first. Glancing behind him, he saw that his retreat was cut off by a string of the lurid creatures, all brandishing a variety of ill-kept scimitars, spears and rusted blades. They leered at him wordlessly as they advanced.

Fili kicked his heels into Pluck's sides and they bound forward, dodging a copse of beech in their path. Familiar landmarks whizzed past and Fili realized that they were almost back to the small stream that they had crossed earlier.

They were headed straight for camp.

Fili pulled Pluck's head sharply to the right, turning him east. The terrain was unfamiliar to them both but their options were slim. The goblins were slow, pursuing on foot, but Pluck was spent and hurting from his earlier exertions.

A familiar, high-pitched whistling sound caught Fili's attention and he instinctively ducked. An arrow passed by so close that it whisked through a braid at the side of his head. He swore and risked a sideways look toward the arrow's source and was not rewarded for his curiosity. A second band of orcs was joining the first, pouring in from the left. This had to be the first group that he had heard shouting ahead in the woods.

They rounded the trunk of an ancient oak and found themselves in a cleared area surrounding a larger branch of the little brook. The stream was wider here, and the bank appeared boggy and unsure. Fili had no choice but to take Pluck through it and prayed that the bottom would not be as swampy as it looked. He kicked his mount into flight and they jumped as far as they could across the peaty shore. Fili's heart sank as they entered the water; Pluck's hooves sliced straight through the soggy bottom, and before they knew it he had sunk down clear up to his withers. They continued to struggle, making it more than halfway across the deceptively deep murk before becoming completely stuck.

Mired down in the torpid, muddy brook they were wide open targets. Pluck whinnied with alarm and floundered frantically as he tried to regain his footing. Fili dismounted into the water and managed to stumble to the animal's side, losing one of his boots to the viscous ooze. He threw his shoulder against the struggling pony's rump and heaved with all his might. Pluck splashed down chest first as their combined efforts suddenly freed his hind legs from the mud with a great slurping, sucking sound. He lurched forward and thrashed wildly in the shallows until he struck upon a ridge of firmer silt beneath the water and his hooves were able to find greater purchase. The terror-stricken pony leapt nimbly up the bank, leaving Fili awkwardly balanced in mid-push, and he fell face first into the mud.

Sputtering, he pushed himself up and realized with alarm that he had lost his sword to the gluey bottom. Wiping sand and muck from his eyes, Fili heard a barrage of snarling laughter coming from uncomfortably close by. Whirling, he pulled his remaining blade from its sheath at his back and blinked furiously to regain his sight. His heart leaped into his throat as his vision cleared; Goblins lined the bank on both sides, at least twenty or more. Blood pounded through his head hard enough to make him briefly dizzy as the realization set in that he would not be able to fight his way out of this alone. There were simply too many. He spared a brief thought for Kili and determined that if he were to go down now, then he would at least leave his brother the comfort of knowing that he had fought bravely to the very end.

With a roar, Fili launched himself at the nearest goblin, its yellowed fangs flashing as it crowed at the sight of the furious, mud-covered dwarf. Its laughter died quickly as Fili brought his blade down in a sharp arc towards its head. The goblin hissed and countered his attack, but the force behind the blow sent it stumbling to its knees in the boggy peat lining the creek bed. Fili took its head clean off with a second back-handed swipe.

There was a second of shocked silence and then the world exploded around him. Fili ducked and whirled, parrying blows from fists and scimitars in a cacophony of shrieking wails.

"It's killed Og!" one of the fiends cried. "Kill the yellow dwarf!"

A glancing blow from an armored fist caught Fili in the temple. He swung his blade blindly in the direction of the attack and grunted with satisfaction when he met a meaty resistance. There was an answering howl of rage and then he was struck again and again. His head throbbed wildly and he tried to lash out once more, but there were too many of the stinking bodies pressed around him now. Filthy hands grasped at his arms and forced them behind his back. He cried out as his wrist was viciously twisted and his sword pried savagely from his grip. He threw his head back hard and connected with the face of one of the goblins that had pinned his arms. There was a satisfying crunch followed by a less satisfying spray of black ichor across the back of his neck as the goblin's nose shattered, driving a wedge of splintered bone into its diminutive brain and killing it instantly. Fili wrenched his arm free as the body fell.

A second wave of outrage rolled over the goblin horde at the sight of their fallen comrade. Fili took heart from his success and struck out again, using his free elbow to shatter the unprotected ribs of a nearby foe.

"Enough!" roared a voice deeper than the rest, and Fili looked up to see a goblin taller and broader than the rest, holding a thick, wooden club at the ready. Fili's newly freed arm was recaptured during the distraction and Fili struggled hopelessly in their grip once more.

"We take it alive," said this new speaker as it approached. The giant had the same lean, sickly build as the others but towered over them, taller by two feet at the least. From around him came an awed hiss; "Goliath! Goliath!" the goblins whispered, and reverentially cleared a path to their captive. Fili stopped his struggle abruptly and hung his head, the very image of defeat. "Where there's one, there's more. We take it to Nettor to... question." Goliath lisped, lingering almost lovingly on his final word. Fili easily read the colossal goblin's intended meaning.

Interrogation. Torture.

Fili swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. Goliath leered down at him, hovering close to his face. The stench of foul breath assaulted his nose as he drew in a sharp breath before making his one last, desperate bid for freedom. With a ferocious yell, Fili threw his full weight back on his captors, using them as his supports as he drew his legs back and up, then pistoned them forward with all of his might. He caught the giant orc off guard and his one remaining heavy boot slammed into its chest. His naked heel caught it neatly in the socket of one eye and the great goblin let out a bellow of rage. Goliath stumbled back, clutching at his face.

An awed hush settled over the glen. Fili panted, his eyes wide. A sound broke the silence, terrible in its insincerity; Goliath was laughing. Still holding a grimy hand over his injured eye, he advanced on the prisoner. "We take it alive," he mocked almost gently. At odds to his tone, Goliath's baleful, one-eyed glare promised Fili eons of horrors. "For now."

The last thing Fili saw through the screen of his mud-streaked hair was the massive club as it whistled down through the air before connecting solidly with the back of his head. "Kili," he managed to whisper once before the woods closed in around him and he was dragged back into blackness.