Author's Note: Hi all! Thank you again for all the reviews/comments I've had on this; it means so much to me. Just a note again to say that I'm sorry if the dialogue and version of events in this piece differ slightly from the film, but I do not remember it entirely word for word, so just did the scenes roughly. Also, this is the last chapter of the first part, but if I get enough reviews and requests, etc, or if I just can't contain myself, I will be continuing the second part, of which I already have many ideas for. Though obviously it gets harder now as I don't have the second part of the film to work with, and so a lot of it would end up being a bit of AU and bookverse mixed. Also, I had some ideas I would sort of like to go back and put in, as scenes in Rivendell, so if that is something that anyone would be interested in reading, please let me know and I shall write accordingly. Thanks again everyone; I love you all!

The world around me was rushing past at an alarming speed. I was slipping and sliding down what seemed to be a steep, stone chute; down further and further into blackness. I was dimly aware of the bodies of the other dwarves brushing against me as we toppled to our doom. Wind was roaring past, and I closed my eyes against the irritation. And then, just when I thought we couldn't possibly slide any deeper, we came to an abrupt halt, toppling out of the end of the chute and landing in a heap on a very solid, very hard ground. It was pitch black; I couldn't see a thing. I was aware of the dwarves pressed in beside me, but we were so tightly compacted together, I couldn't move.

"What's going on?"demanded someone.

"Where are we?"

"Help! Something's got hold of me!"

"Shh! It's only me-

"Ouch! That was my foot!"

"Silence!" This last came from Thorin. His voice was slightly muffled, as though he was pressed against something, but the order came as authoritative as always. The dwarves fell silent at once. I tried to shift; to move just slightly, but someone was pushed right up against me; their fur coat tickling my face.

"This must be a trap," came Thorin's voice again, slightly less muffled this time.

"A trap?" Ori's high-pitched, scared, voice piped up.

"Don't worry Ori, I'll bust us out of here!"

"Kili, stop wriggling, you keep kicking me-

"Well it's not my fault you're taking up so much room-

"Enough!" Thorin roared. "Be quiet, all of you, and we'll try to figure out how to-

Thorin stopped speaking. We had suddenly been flooded in light, revealing one of the most revolting scenes I had ever seen.

Goblins. Lots and lots of goblins. They had been hiding in the darkness, but came out now into the light; hundreds of them. Their bodies were glistening in slime, and they squawked and jeered at us.

"Get up now!" ordered one of the goblins in a cackling voice. "The King will be most pleased to see you."

His face contorted into some hideous expression that was probably supposed to resemble a smile, and I caught a glimpse of a mouth of pointy, grey teeth. With some effort, I got to my feet. Something heavy had evidently collided with my head on the journey down the chute, and I could feel warm blood trickling down over the side of my face. All around the dwarves were getting to their feet and scowling. Goblins began herding us along, prodding and poking with the ends of spears in a menacing manner.

The fear I had felt in the cave in the aftermath of our encounter with the storm giants had, bizarrely, evaporated, and I was frustrated with myself for feeling the beginnings of what felt like excitement building inside me. Not ten minutes ago, I had been shaking in terror at the thought of danger and now, just an adrenaline rushing stone slide ride and a horde of ugly goblins later, I was back to living in my fantasies. I stole a look at Ori, who walked beside me, wondering if he shared my change of heart. But the dwarf looked merely terrified. Though he was very young, I supposed. It was understandable if he was scared. But I looked to Dwalin, and the great warrior dwarf, too, looked uneasy. Perhaps this was the time to feel cautious and frightened.

The goblins had led us swiftly over to where easily the ugliest creature I had ever seen was sat upon a great throne. The creature was evidently a goblin of some description, but he was at least twenty foot fall, and his features were grossly exaggerated.

"Well what have we here!" he boomed, leering over us. "What have we here?"

"Dwarves, your malevolence," answered the goblin who had ordered us up, in his high-pitched cackle.

"Yeah," said another, gruffer goblin. "Caught them having a kip on the front porch."

The massive goblin, who I now took to be the Goblin King, surveyed is all with interest.

"Strip them of their weapons," he decided. "Now!"

Gnarled fingers began grasping and pulling at the dwarves belts and swords, knives, bows, arrows, axes and even Ori's little sling shot were thrown into a pile. Any baggage that had been grasped at in the moment of panic up in the cave were similarly thrown on the pile, and I found greedy goblin hands pulling at the sack of utensils that was pathetically hanging off one of my arms.

"And now," roared the Goblin King when he was quite satisfied that the dwarves were unarmed. "You will tell us, what business brings a group of dwarves this far North?"

I looked to Thorin, but the dwarf king remained silent, his mouth set firmly shut in a line.

"Not in the mood to talk, are we not?" mocked the Goblin King. Many of the goblins laughed and jeered. "Well if we can't make you talk, well make you squawk! Fetch a knife! And start with the youngest."

The Goblin King loomed menacingly over the group, and several of the dwarves moved instinctively closer around the younger ones; Kili, Fili and Ori. I felt myself get pushed roughly aside, and saw that Thorin was now making his way out to face the Goblin King.

"Well look who it is!" the Goblin King boomed when he'd scrutinised Thorin's face "Just look who it is! Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror; King under the Mountain!"

Despite the circumstances, I could still not help but feel slightly envious of Thorin's impressive name and title.

"Except," continued the Goblin King. "I'm forgetting; you haven't got a mountain, have you? And you're not a King! Which makes you...nobody really."

I felt Dwalin clench his fists in anger beside me, and I could tell the Goblin King's words had hit a raw nerve. The goblins were cackling with laughter again; its sound resonating in the great, cavernous pit that was obviously set under the mountain.

"But I know someone who would pay a fine price for your head," the Goblin King loomed over Thorin. "Nothing attached, though. Just the head."

He started to laugh; a great, booming laugh that echoed horribly, mixing with the cackling of the other goblins to create a truly dreadful sound.

"You may know of whom I speak," he said, when his laughter had subsided. "An old enemy of yours."

I saw Thorin stiffen. Who could the Goblin King be talking about? Thorin Oakenshield may not have been best friends with many of the elves, but they were surely not enemies of his? Thorin was a hero! A legend! Famous for his bravery in battling down-

"The pale orc!" shouted the Goblin King triumphantly when Thorin had said nothing. "Azog the Defiler!"

"He's dead," said Thorin at once. "He was injured in battle and died of his injuries long ago."

"Quite sure of that, are you?" jeered the Goblin King.

Thorin made to go for his sword, before evidently remembering that it had been taken.

"Send word to the pale orc," the Goblin King was saying to a small, strange sort of goblin that was perched on a wire and scribbling on a piece of parchment. "Tell him we have his prize."

The pale orc was alive? He was still at large? But that meant he would be no doubt be seeking revenge on Thorin! And the Goblin King was going to keep us there until that happened, I just knew it. The dwarves were defenceless, unarmed. I ought to do something courageous and heroic! Something epic and worthy of a hero. But I could see no way out of this terrible nightmare, and the thrill of being captured by goblins was fast evaporating. I looked about wildly, suddenly craving some comfort from Bilbo Baggins's kind eyes. But I couldn't see the hobbit anywhere. Had he managed to slip away back to Rivendell after all? No- I had definitely seen him as we tumbled into the stone shaft. So then, where was he?

I did not have time to contemplate the hobbit's mysterious absence any longer, however, for at that moment there was a deafening crash from above, and a bright white light suddenly illuminated the entire cavernous pit. Was this the pale orc, making a speedy appearance on the scene? I held up a hand, shielding my eyes from the bright light. The goblins were shrieking; throwing themselves at the ground. And then, there was another crash and I found myself thrown sideways as what seemed like a small explosion took place nearby.

As I raised my head slowly from the ground, smoke was rising from every surface, and goblins were stirring in the shadows from where they, too, had been thrown in all directions. And then, out of the darkness, part by part, a figure was rising up from the debris, silhouetted against the white smoke. I craned my neck, trying to see more, but my legs were trapped under the enormous weight of Bombur, and my movement was somewhat limited.

The figure continued to rise until their face was illuminated by the flaming torches- and I gasped.

It was Gandalf the Grey! Gandalf-Gandalf the wizard was here; rising out of the shadows like a sort of saviour, here to rescue us.

There was a sort of dreamlike moment that almost occurred in slow motion, as Gandalf loomed over us, and then he spoke;

"Take up arms," he said, slowly and clearly into the silence that had descended upon his arrival. "Fight!" he called. "Fight!"

Everybody sprung into action at once. The heavy weight of Bombur was lifted as the large dwarf rolled off me and got up. All around, the other dwarves were leaping to their feet, snatching up their weapons from the now unguarded pile of dwarven belongings. Adrenaline now pumping through my veins again, I followed their example, grabbing at the first item I lay my hands on from the pile, and whipping around, so ready to fight and slay goblins in vast quantities. But I had barely laid eyes upon the epic battle scene that was taking place in front of me, before someone, or something, collided into my side, tackling me to the floor.

"Arrrg!" I cried, as I rolled over and over, getting dizzy as I gained speed.

Eventually, I came to a halt, and guessed I must have fallen further down into the mountain, for the sounds of battle could now only be distantly heard above me. Panting, I staggered to my feet, still feeling dizzy. Wherever it was that I had ended up was dimly lit by torches, but their light revealed little for me to see. But then, I perceived that I had not fallen down here alone. Something was stirring in the shadows. I swallowed, raising my weapon and feeling ready to fight. However, it was then that I saw properly what exactly I had managed to grab from the pile of weapons.

It was a wooden spoon.

Out of everything I could have picked up; axes, knives, a sword or two, I had managed to pick up the wooden spoon that Oin used in his cooking.

But I didn't have time to think on my useless weapon any longer, for the creature in the shadows had obviously recovered from its fall, and was now advancing towards me into the light. It no doubt was a sort of goblin, but it walked on both its hands and legs, and was weirdly small and twisted. One eye was much larger than the other, and it was baring its pointy teeth at me.

When it opened its mouth, it did not speak as such, but made strange growling sounds in its throat. It was very, very ugly.

And then it pounced; leaping towards me with what looked like claws outstretched.

Panicking entirely, I closed my eyes against the danger, and swung the wooden spoon with all my strength in the direction of the mutant goblin. A dull thud and cry of anguish told me that the spoon had found its target. I opened my eyes. The goblin was cowered on the floor, it's clawed hands over its face.

"Ha!" I cried, beaming down at the wooden spoon triumphantly. "This fighting lark is easy, why do people make out like it's such a big-aaah!"

The goblin had recovered from my blow, and had pounced onto me again, sending me flying to the floor and trapping me beneath its claws. The pointy, ugly face loomed over me, snarling and drooling everywhere. Reacting quickly, I swung the spoon up, smacking it over the face and, in this moment of distraction, scrambling to my feet. I looked wildly about for some sort of way out. Even if, by some mad miracle, I was able to kill this goblin with nothing more than a spoon, it would be no good if I was trapped down here!

To my left, there was a pale sort of light glimmering at the end of what seemed to be a tunnel. I had no idea where it led, but anywhere was better than here so, making sure I had my trusty spoon grasped tight in my hand, I ran for it.

The goblin, of course, was right on my tail. It moved with great speed using both its hands and legs in a weird sort of bounding motion, and I had never been very athletic. In fact, I was out of breath by the time I reached the first bend. I swung round at the goblin with the spoon, not stopping to see the damage, and legging it down the next tunnel.

A strange rush of adrenaline was pumping through me as I sprinted, and it seemed to give me a new lease of life and a new rush of speed, though I could hear the goblin snarling and growling just behind me. But I was also starting to feel a sort of light-headedness and fuzziness, not dissimilar to when I had taken some of Gloin's mead. The whole situation was feeling almost laughable.

"I will lead you on a merry chase!" I called to the goblin, laughing. "And I will use my spoon to great effect, ha!"

I continued on, twisting up and down the tunnels. I wondered where this was leading me, and hoped very much that it wasn't back to the Goblin King. I couldn't hear the battle taking place above anymore; all I could hear was the wind rushing past me, and the goblin making chase behind. But the light seemed to be getting brighter; the air was getting clearer and less dank. I was nearly free! I was nearly out of the cave! I was nearly-

Crash!

In my absolute ecstasy at the thought of freedom being nigh, I had slowed up, and the goblin had used this lull in my speed and concentration, and pounced, crashing right into my back.

My scream as its claws sunk deep into my shoulders echoed hideously in the tunnels. With difficulty, I used all my strength to throw the goblin off, but the pain thudding through my back and shoulders was immense. I could feel blood trickling down my sleeves, but there was no time to stop and examine the extent of my injuries. I whipped around. The goblin was on the floor, grinning nastily up at me and licking its lips. I recoiled in disgust, backing up against the stone wall. The goblin made its move, pouncing once more at me, but this time I was struck by a sudden inspiration. At the last moment, I jumped away and out of the goblin's line of attack and the creature crashed heavily into the stone wall. It may have been a small creature, but the sound resonated all round the tunnel. The very walls seemed to shake with the force.

Except, the shaking of the walls was getting worse, the very tunnel seemed to be vibrating as though about to collapse at any moment. That was surely not to do with the goblin. But I didn't wait to find out exactly what was going on, I left the goblin, still stunned on the floor, and sprinted down the tunnel, breaking out at the end into the fresh air and outdoors, where the sun was just setting. It was a beautiful sight. Crashing sounds were heard behind me, and I turned back just in time to see the mouth of the tunnel collapse in on itself.

I turned back to look out over a valley, and spotted a peculiar sight. Many figures were moving with a swiftness a little way off. At first I feared they were goblins, but when I noticed that one was considerably taller than the other, I realised that it must be Gandalf the Grey and the dwarves!

Forgetting the pain in my shoulders, and the pain in my chest from running so much already, I began to make chase.

"Hey!" I called out. "Hey wait for me! Wait! Wait!"

I skipped and tripped down over the uneven ground calling out to the others. I was chasing them right into a forest, and I wanted to catch up before the trees would swallow them up and I would never find them. I put on an extra burst of speed.

Just on the edge of the forest, I caught up to the dwarves who were all, thankfully, taking a pause. Bilbo Baggins, wherever on earth he had got to earlier on, was stood there, and all the dwarves were looking at him with a strange admiration and confusion. What had I missed?

I caused a commotion clattering on to the scene. "Hello!" I roared, never having been so glad to see dwarves in all my life.

All the dwarves now turned their confused expressions onto me.

"We thought you were dead," said Ori, who looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Dead?" I said, waving away Ori's words as though they were the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. "No I'm not dead!"

"But how did you get past the goblins?" asked Kili, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Just...you know..." I said, making a jabbing motion with the wooden spoon that was still clasped in my hand. "I was cornered, but I just, you know..." I made the jabbing motion again.

"Cornered by how many?" shot back Kili.

"Oh, at least fifty," I lied.

"And you killed them all?" asked Thorin Oakenshield, looking at me doubtfully.

"Yes."

"With a wooden spoon?"

"Yes."

"Well!" said Gandalf, clapping his hands together and quickly dissolving the web of lies that this conversation was fast turning in to. "It seems both our guests have more in them than you would give them credit for, Thorin," he turned a twinkling blue eye on the dwarf king, who scowled.

"Where did you get to?" I asked Bilbo, when the dwarves had turned away and started busying themselves with attaching their weapons back to their belts.

"It seems I could ask you the same question," said the hobbit, fiddling with his waistcoat pocket in an agitated manner.

"I told you," I said. "I was off slaying goblins. You know, being adventurous."

"Well so was I-

Bilbo's voice was cut off by a great roar and the sounds of heavy movement from nearby.

"Out of the frying pan," said Gandalf.

"And into the fire!" finished Thorin.

The dwarves and Gandalf began running again, moving swiftly down through the trees and, after an infinitesimal pause, myself and Bilbo followed suit.

"What's going on?" I called out to Bilbo who was in front of me. "Is it the goblins?"

But no one answered me. The group merely continued to chase through the trees, as I tripped and stumbled after them. The pain in my shoulders, while was not terrible, was starting to make my arms feel stiff and heavy, and my limbs were weary from my chase through the tunnels with the goblin. I did not fancy my chances if we were ambushed again. But the dwarves and Gandalf had come to a standstill; they had stopped running and were looking wildly about.

"Hey why have we stop-

I started to ask, but then I realised why exactly we were running no more. It was because there was nowhere to run to. The forest reached right on to the edge of a cliff face; the cliff looking out over a great, darkening valley. There was no way down. There was no escape.

"Into the trees!" called Gandalf, who was already making his way spritely up a large tree, climbing up over its branches.

I turned to look back in the direction we had come from, expecting to see a raging pack of goblins, but was shocked to see instead a large, wolf-like creature; snapping and snarling its teeth, advancing towards us. I stared at the beast, transfixed.

Suddenly, I felt strong arms pulling on my torn shoulders, lifting me high up into the branches of the trees. Thorin Oakenshield had pulled me up away from the beast, throwing me on to a branch where Fili and Kili, I noted, were already crouched.

"What is it?" I asked, breathing heavily through the pain in my shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Wargs," said Fili, his eyes darting about in the increasing darkness below. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

Fili's words were barely out of his mouth when several more wargs made an appearance on the scene, great, ugly orcs seated upon their backs. I had looked on illustrations in books of orcs before, but nothing could have prepared me for seeing the real thing. Grey, slimy skin covered gnarled, knobbly flesh. Distorted, bulging eyes were set into a pointed face. The effect was more hideous than I could have ever imagined.

"Fili!" Gandalf, swinging from the highest branch in the tree, threw down a pinecone that was somehow on fire. Looking up at the wizard, I saw him already using his staff to set light to several other pine cones. I was mesmerised for a moment by my first witnessing of the wizard's magic, but I quickly snapped out of this trance when Fili thrust a burning pinecone in my face.

"Throw it!" he said, already throwing his own pinecone, which joined several that had already been thrown by Gandalf, in the direction of the wargs and orcs. Following suit, I threw the pinecone with all the strength I could muster. I watched it zoom through the air, and collide satisfactorily with an orc's head.

"Ha!" I cried, and my jubilant cries joined those of the dwarves as fire leapt up all over the ground, sending the wargs cowering backwards.

But our joy was short lived. For, at that moment, the trees in which we were seeking refuge, gave an almighty lurch, and I found myself gripping the branch tightly as the tree fell backwards, clattering into the tree behind us. I heard cries from the dwarves, and whipped my head around in time to see Ori and Dori hanging perilously over the edge of the cliff, clinging on to Gandalf's staff as the tree was bent at an almost horizontal angle.

What were we supposed to do now? Gandalf's fire was fast evaporating as the wargs stamped and kicked the ground in frustration.

And then, the fire parted, and out of the shadows came a sight I thought I would never behold, and a sight that made my heart stop dead.

It was the pale orc.

Azog the Defiler was sat upon a great warg, every ounce as horrible as the descriptions in the books. One arm, I saw, had been cut away, no doubt by Thorin Oakenshield in his great battle with Azog, but a lethal-looking, clawed weapon had been put in its place. The fire was reflecting dangerously in his eyes.

I looked to Fili and Kili, both of whom were staring at the pale orc in horror. I craned my neck to try and look at Thorin, but his face was hidden from my view in the strange angle in which the tree now sat. I could feel the trunk creaking, and I thought it wouldn't be long before the tree gave way entirely, and we would topple to our death over the cliff.

But we had other problems too.

Azog the Defiler was snarling and spitting in some distorted orc language of his own. I understood none of it, but decided it was unlikely that the pale orc was exchanging pleasantries with Thorin. The dwarf king rose suddenly from the tree, drawing his sword from his belt and advancing towards the pale orc almost in slow motion.

"No!" Fili cried next to me, making as if to snatch at Thorin as he went by, keep him back away from harm.

But the dwarf king was quite determined to face his enemy.

"We have to do something!" said Kili. "We have to fight, come on!"

Thorin had made his first move on the pale orc, but it had earned him a heavy blow in return, sending the dwarf king flying until he hit the ground with a heavy thud.

"I can't!" I cried, no sense of thrill or excitement whatsoever. I felt weary and tired, and just about ready to give up on everything.

"But you just defeated fifty goblins!" said Fili. "I know you've got it in you!"

Thorin was thrown sideways once more with a deafening groan.

"I didn't," I confessed, miserably. "I didn't defeat fifty goblins. I didn't defeat any goblins. I'm useless. I'm no good at this heroic business. I should never have left my life in Rivendell. I should never have-

"Bilbo!" My miserable confessions were cut short by Kili's cries.

I turned to see none other than Bilbo Baggins throwing himself wildly at the pale orc, madly swinging about his sword. Thorin was on the floor, horribly still and unmoving.

There were shouts and cries from the trees, as the dwarves followed Bilbo's lead, and went tearing across the trees and into the battle.

"Yes!" Kili cried, pulling out his sword and leaping forward. Fili wrenched out his pair of knives and followed his brother. Gandalf was still stuck at the end of the tree, clutching on to Dori and Ori, and I thought that heading into battle as I was; unskilled and unarmed, would have little point. But then my eyes were drawn to Thorin once more. The great dwarf king, my childhood hero, reduced to lying, defeated, on the floor. Something was suddenly burning inside me; an anger, a rage, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I wanted revenge for Thorin. Revenge against the pale orc.

With this in mind, I scrambled down of the branches, and pressed on into the battle. However, I had not laid eyes for ten seconds upon the fighting taking place in front of me, when I was grabbed by gnarled hands, and pulled away.

"Help!" I cried, kicking out at the orc that had hold of me. "Help! Get off me! Get off!"

The orc had pulled me behind a rock, and was scrutinising my face through horrid, bulging eyes.

"Hmm. A woman, is it?" the orc snarled in a language I could just understand, gripping my arms tightly as it peered into my face. "The dwarf scum's queen?"

"What?" I said, frantically. "No! No, not me! Not at all. Not one bit. No, no, you've utterly got the wrong person there, so if you could just let me,-ah!"

The orc had hoisted me up over his shoulders, and was carrying me through the trees.

"No!" I cried. "Put me down! Help! Help!"

But as I squinted back through the trees, I saw the dwarves falling back. Huge eagles were swooping around, scooping up the wargs and throwing them over the cliff, and hoisting the dwarves up on to their backs.

I breathed a sigh of relief. We were saved.

Except. I was currently being carried further away from where the eagles were collecting the dwarves. They may have been being saved, but I could not be in any more danger!

"No, come back!" I called, kicking wildly out at the orc, but the beast had a firm grip. "Let go!"

"What's all this?" snarled another orc as we pushed through some trees and came face to face with several of the other orcs and their wargs.

"The dwarf scum's queen," said the orc that was carrying me.

"Hmph," snorted the other orc, disbelievingly. He wrenched me out of the grip of the orc, and twisted me round to face him. "She doesn't look much like a queen," he said.

Being insulted about looks by an orc was surely an all-time low for anybody.

Just then, there came a great pounding of paws on the ground, and a huge warg came bounding over, Azog the Defiler perched on the top.

He garbled in some spitting language at several of the orcs, before speaking in a tongue I could just understand.

"The dwarf scum are gone," he said. "The king lives."

So Thorin was not quite dead after all! I felt jubilation rising inside me, before I remembered that I was currently in possession of several orcs, not to mention Azog.

The pale orc growled in frustration, throwing his great, ugly head up.

"Master," grovelled the orc who had captured me. "We have brought you something." He snatched me back, narrowing his eyes at the other orc. He obviously wanted it made known that it was he who had done the capturing.

Azog turned his horrible pale eyes on me, and I saw the pure malevolence behind them.

"A pretty little thing," said the orc. "The dwarf scum's queen."

The pale orc continued to stare down at me. "His queen?" he growled.

The orc nodded frantically.

"Well then," said the pale orc, his face contorting horribly as he grinned. "The king will not leave it long before coming to reclaim his queen, will he?" He grinned wider, baring all his pointy teeth at me. "And when he comes, We. Will. Be. Ready. For. Him!"

End of Part I.