She was being carried, a feeling she didn't like but she could understand. Her vision had blackened and she'd let her temper do her fighting.
"Quickly!"
"Gandalf?" she asked.
She bit her tongue, having opened her mouth as the dwarf carrying her was running.
"Back then?" he asked.
"Put me down!" Amarth commanded.
"Beginning to sound like Uncle," the dwarf quipped, setting her down midstride.
She faltered but fell in step as she followed the pointy tip of Gandalf's hat. Atiana was much further up ahead, proving why she was the best archer in Thranduil's court. Goblins growled behind them, the little twits surrounding them with ease.
"Posts!" Dwalin yelled.
"Posts?" Amarth repeated.
As one, the dwarves and Gandalf lifted a put together post, using it as a battering ram of sorts and sweeping the path ahead clear of goblins. The path split and she followed those who went the upper route, glancing around. She was still somewhat disoriented. Not so much that she couldn't enjoy slicing the goblins as they shrieked at her and attacked. She only wished she'd gotten to slice open the goblin's king for revealing the past that few knew of her. But there would be time for that later. She adjusted her grip on her blood soaked hilt, slicing a goblin's head off with ease, only to realize the blood on her hilt was mostly hers, a red river sliding down her arm and pooling on her hand and, likewise, on her sword. Amarth paused, giving the sword and arm a few practice swings. She hadn't lost use of it yet. With a roll of her shoulders, she continued after the others, stopping again when an arrow pierced by rather closely to her cheek, landing in the throat of a goblin behind her. She followed the arrows assumed path, meeting Atiana's smug eyes before her friend went back to her firing. Amarth let out a laugh that she hoped would unnerve the goblins. Because she wasn't scared. She may have been running but she wasn't. In fact, she was pissed.

An arrow nicked her leg, not enough of a wound to do much but hurt and Atiana hissed, returning fire. She felt the bridge underneath swing. Honestly, she wasn't paying attention to what was going on. They were outnumbered and trapped and she just reigned arrows down upon the goblins, giving everyone as much cover as possible. She was aware that Amarth was back to herself and still with them, thanks to Fili and, she suspected, Thorin.
"Jump!" he bellowed and she did, running forward with her bow ready.
If her count was corrected, she only had one left. Best to save it for later. Now her focus was on running, on keeping ahea- The goblin king burst through the path ahead, sending boards flying as she skidded to a halt, not wanting to admit that her elevated heart beat was not just from the running.
"Watch your backs!" Gloin warned.
Atiana turned to find goblins flooding in.
"You thought you could escape me," the goblin king asked.
She heard and felt his staff hit the bridge, struggling to shove back goblins.
"What are you going to do now, Wizard?"
Good question. Atiana glanced back at Gandalf, hoping he had a plan. Gandalf stepped forward, slamming his staff into the goblin's eye, his sword slicing through that fat mess and sending the scum to his knees. The goblin king seemed stunned briefly.
"That'll do it," he admitted.
Another slice and his throat was history, his heavy body flopping onto the bridge, the first sign of weakness choosing then to rear its ugly head. Atiana froze, as if not moving would stop the boards from breaking. No such luck. The structure broke, their part falling and taking others with it. Atiana allowed herself to scream, as she was almost ripped from the very path by pure force alone. A strong grip, Kili, grounded her and she looked to Amarth who was on her knees, clinging to a sturdy board, a grin on her face as they fell. It was nice to know she was still insane. The crash, or imminence of it, wiped her grin off but not in time to think of a way out. In one second, they were crushed by boards and dwarves alike, the two of them harmonizing a groan. Gandalf, meanwhile, separated himself from the pile, shaking off dust. Everyone seemed to be fine.
"Well, that could have been worse," Bofur decided to say.
No sooner had the words left his mouth when the goblin king's body dropped onto them.
"Haver!" Dwalin groaned. "You've got to be joking!"
Fighting against boards and thick dwarf bodies alike, Atiana could not agree more.
"Gandalf!" Kili cried from beside her, his stare focused on a hoard of goblins still charging towards them.
"Great" Atiana mumbled, scrambling free.
"There's too many," Dwalin declared. "We can't fight them."
"Only one thing will save us," Gandalf said. "Daylight."
Atiana glanced at the dwarves then the goblins.
"Come on! Here! On your feet!" the Wizard commanded.
There was panic as they all ran, weaving through the narrow passage, mountain cutting into their skin.
"Quick, quick," Gandalf urged.
He let them all pass into the sunlight before following himself. As day hit them, blinded them though they kept running, Atiana fell back to the Wizard's side.
"I think," she panted. "A head count is in order."

"Five, six, seven, eight," Gandalf counted, mostly to himself. "Bifur, Bofur, that's 10."
The wizard drew to a stop, watching the company regather itself. Atiana was already at a standstill, sinking on the ground, partially because her legs and feet hurt but more because they were weak with relief.
"Fili, Kili. That's 12," Gandalf went on. "And Bombur, that makes 13."
He sounded relieved that the official company was together.
"Bilbo," Amarth said.
She was leaning against a tree, blood tripping from the hilt of her sword to the ground, her arm holding tight to her right shoulder. Blood gushed from it. Concern welled up in Atiana but wounds were for later. They had to make sure their party was together. And in this case, it was not.
"Where's Bilbo?" Gandalf asked. "Where is our hobbit?"
No one answered, the twins looking around their general area as if Bilbo was playing a game.
"Where is our hobbit?" Gandalf demanded.
"Cure that Halfling! Now he's lost?" Dwalin snapped.
"I thought he was with Dori!" Gloin piped up.
"Don't blame me!" Dori snapped.
"Well where did you last see him?" Gandalf pressed.
"I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us."
Gandalf turned toward the dwarf who spoke.
"And what happened exactly?" he demanded. "Tell me!"
"I'll tell you what happened."
This from Thorin.
"Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door."
Atiana could not imagine that all who were in the company had not thought of the same thing, wanting desperately to be home with all the comforts. She would gladly admit to it, enjoying their short time at Rivendell among food prepared to suit her dietary preferences.
"We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone."
"Is that a bet," Atiana almost said, biting her lip last second.
A low chuckle alerted them all to Amarth who was bent over in amusement. Dark amusement.
"You fool," she laughed. "So little you think of a hobbit. Mere days ago, Atiana would think along the lines you do, about you or Bilbo. Now, she has faith in our hobbit. Yet, you remain blind."
Thorin grew enraged, glaring at her.
"Our hobbit is long gone," Thorin repeated.
"No. He isn't."
All heads swiveled to Bilbo as he stepped from the forest.
"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf laughed. "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life."
"Bilbo," Kili said. "We'd given you up."
"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" Fili asked.
"How indeed."
"Well what does it matter?" Gandalf asked. "He's back."
"It matters," Thorin declared. "I want to know."
Atiana almost let out a groan, resting her head against the tree.
"Why did you come back?"
Bilbo studied the dwarf king for a moment.
"Look, I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you're right. I often think of Bag-end. I miss my books. And my armchair and my garden," Bilbo admitted. "See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back. Because ... you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."
Atiana lifted her head, her eyes on Amarth who was clearly impressed by the hobbit's words. Meanwhile, Thorin didn't seem to know what to make of them, falling silent which was probably for the best. Silence fell in the wake of those words which made the howling of the Wargs that much worse. Amarth's slowly closing eyes had flown open as everyone else became alert as well. At first, Atiana hoped it was merely Durin but there was more than one howl.
"Out of the frying pan," Thorin grumbled.
"And into the fire. Run," Gandalf finished. "Run!"
The group did not have to be told twice, bolting through the forest even as the howls got closer. Amarth was at her side, her eyes determined as they fell into step with each other.
"I will not die here," Amarth declared. "Promise me the same."
Atiana grinned.
"I did not survive orc packs, storm giants, goblins and dwarf food to die today," she declared.
"I was thinking the same," Amarth replied. "Though childbirth was on my list as well."
Despite the danger, Atiana found herself laughing just as a Warg sailed over their heads, skidding to a stop and whirling on them. Atiana copied it, skidding across the ground. Amarth kept going, leaping over its snapping jaws and stabbing her sword between its shoulder blades. It cried out, pathetically, before she drew her sword back and kept running. Atiana also leapt over the whimpering creature, rejoining the company in time to see them climbing into trees. Both elves had enough time to find perches before Wargs swarmed the area.
"Like being back home," Atiana said dryly to Amarth.
"Back home, nothing chased us into trees," Amarth returned.
Atiana couldn't argue, drawing her last arrow.
"Still have that dagger," she asked.
Amarth went for it, having tucked it in her boot at some point but she suddenly froze, eyes locked on something. Atiana followed her gaze as a white Warg padded into view, his rider a pale orc. Fear had done many things to Atiana. It had frozen her, filled her and left her. But never had it choked her, left her mouth gaping, her body almost bloodless as she stared at the horror of Amarth's nightmares. Thorin's face looked very much like the Elven Queen's.
"Azog," he gasped.
The white Warg growled, his master leaning forward, breathing deep and speaking in Black Speech.
"It cannot be," Thorin whispered.
The orc surveyed his prey, caught in trees, smelling of fear and that's when he saw Amarth. She didn't shake or shiver or tremble. She didn't whimper or cry out. She was soundless, motionless, her fear turning her into a statue. Those blue eyes widened a bit but it was clear his main focus was Thorin. Still, he pointed his mace at Amarth, speaking in Black Speech once more. Atiana quickly made a mental note to learn it as soon as she had the time. Amarth took a shivering and weak breath, breathing out.
"I will not... die here," she whispered to herself, sounding like she wanted to cry.
The Wargs charged forward, leaping into the trees, snarling, their jaws snapping. Atiana's screams mixed with the dwarves as she almost lost her grip on the branch she was on. No worry that Amarth would, her grip made her hands a very pale white, especially against the red dripping from her shoulder wound. Droplets of blood dripped onto the Wargs below, the creatures driven wild by the preview of dinner as they ripped away branches. Their weight knocked the trees from their roots each time they slammed into the trunks.
"Amarth!" Atiana cried, the tree falling victim to the Wargs' bulk. "We have to move!"
Amarth was frozen in place, lips moving, no sound coming out.
"Amarth!" Atiana nearly screamed.
She was a survivor. It made her a good fighter. But she was a good friend too.
"Amarth, please, move."
Even without the threat of Thranduil, of the fear he'd behead her with no remorse if his wife did not return, she could not have left Amarth in that tree. But it was clear Amarth would not be leaving either. Reaching out, Atiana seized Amarth's hand, holding those cold fingers like she'd done that first time she'd met Amarth, the haunted eyes worse then when she'd been brought to Thranduil's court by force. There'd been no time to introduce her slowly.
"That time has passed," she urged, soothingly, trying to keep the panic from her own voice.
It had been hard enough talking Amarth down. How much harder would it be with Azog only feet away? But what could she possibly say? What could she possibly use to save Amarth from that dark place?
"Think of your son!" Atiana urged, the answer coming to her. "Think of Legolas! He needs you or else he'll become just like his father. Do you want that?"
"Legolas?" Amarth repeated.
"Yes!" Atiana said, almost bursting into tears.
Just as their tree fell.