Hey there! Here's a little more! :)


"I thought I told you to bring them back with you." Azog growled to his human prisoner as he paced restlessly from one corner of their little alcove to the other, clenching and un-clenching his sharp claws several times so as to try and not lash out at the wimpy little thing trembling in the corner. Not that he would try it anyway, Bolg had strategically placed himself between the pair of them as a way to ensure that his father would not act out rashly and off their only link to the human-scum's possible strategic positions. Damn him.

"He-He's coming, I s-swear, b-but your son wanted me to come back with him, to only stay down there for a few hours only. I swear that Oakenshield outright said that he would be coming up here as soon as he was sold on the idea that the little brat was still breathing."

"And how do I know for certain? How do I know you didn't just rat the whole thing out to them and that you didn't ditch us in the process, all the while you're preparing some sort of exit plan and that you're just waiting for me to turn my back so you can scamper off?"

For all that he recognized their strength, orcs could turn out to be surprisingly thick when it came to their reasoning at times, as Alfrid discovered, or at the very least, the question made it evident to him that the beast lacked a certain amount of logic to how he was seeing the whole situation: what advantage would Alfrid possibly have by returning to Dale and not seeing the task he'd been appointed to through to the end when he'd been in on it for nigh three weeks nearly and had shown near a month of nothing short but loyalty to him and his father?

"Why would I be lying?" The question just seemed natural to blurt out in the face of such preposterous accusations. "Listen, I apologize for having the dwarf king back with me right this second, but were he to be here now and see you not laying a claw on a single one of the hairs on my head, he would undoubtedly grow instantly suspicious, and if anything, the possibility of that horrid warmongerer running me through with a pointed blade when I'm that close to my freedom is less than appealing."

"Who's to say that I won't kill you? Let me remind you that our deal is only complete once the dwarf king make sit up here and I get to run my blade through his flesh and watch him bleed to death as he suffocates at my feet. Until that happens, you're still very much fair game as far as I'm concerned." The scarred beast hissed, Alfrid wiping the spit he sent on his cheek away in disgust, and now very much frustrated with the forced extension of the deal he was now obligated to take.

But we had an agreement! An (immature) part of him wanted to cry out, a part of him that had somehow naively believed that even the vilest of creatures might uphold their word if they offered him a way out. However, when looking back on it, Alfrid guessed he should have known: it was just an extension of a few weeks that he'd gained by agreeing to mentally destroy Oakenbshield's little brat, nothing more, and while it had certainly opened his eyes to a certain newfound pleasure he had gained in having the upmost control over the child, it certainly wasn't amounting to how much he valued his actual life, which, once again, was looking like it was coming to a very abrupt end if he didn't manage to talk himself out of it.

Arguing with the orc now, of all times, was shaping up to be a very unwise move, since Alfrid had no doubt that it would only anger it, and once prone to anger, he had very little interest in being around it in case it decided to vent out it's frustrations on him (which probably included a swift and painful death). At this point, he could only cross his fingers and pray that he had been convincing enough when he'd pleaded his case to Oakenshield, rather ironic how the one dwarf he'd come to hate beyond all others was shaping out to be his only saviour. And it was now as he realized that his fate largely rested in the hands of the would-be dwarf king that Alfrid begun to second guess his act, doubt creeping up on him and whispering things along the line of him not having been convincing enough or not having chosen the right words to reel the smaller being in. Thorin, for his part, had seemed quite determined to come up here and rescue his brat as soon as possible (would probably have left on the spot were it not a reckless move) –and if he wanted to kill himself climbing up a frozen mountainside on a suicide mission to rescue a kid hat was now terrified of him and face the very nasty looking weapons Azog's orc pack seemed to possess, Alfrid wasn't one to talking him down of it. By all means, he would probably encourage it- but the little seed of doubt that Azog had planted just then and the fact that Thorin still hadn't turned up (and, judging by the sky outside the alcove, it was probably well beyond midday, surely if Thorin were as desperate as Alfrid had judged him to be last night, he wouldn't be waiting for so long) was steadily growing nonetheless, so much that he could now see the approaching execution block right in front of him, something that definitely hadn't been a part of the plan.

Damn it all.

"T-The kid," Alfrid stuttered, looking down so as to avoid having to make eye-contact and hoping it would possibly draw the attention away from himself, and instead asked in what he hoped to be a optimistic tone, "Has he shown any signs of still being alive?" (Not that he particularly cared for the brat himself, but Aflrid was nonetheless aware that if their bait was still breathing, then it meant that he hadn't screwed everything up, that there might be a way out for him still).

"Aye, think I caught him twisting and coughing up something during the night. You're damn lucky, or it would have been your head on a spike."

Alfrid felt his shoulders involuntarily sag at the news, but it meant that for now at least, there was no reason for the beast to kill him prematurely (especially if Alfrid could offer something else to him, some argument that he was still of use to him alive), especially not when he'd filled his end of the bargain. Which in turn, was raising another problem: if the dwarf scum was to be expected up here like Thorin had made it clear last night, Alfrid was certain that he would much rather not have an unfortunate run in with him, very aware of the conclusions that might draw and knowing that Thorin would probably not be inclined to be very merciful should he ever catch wind of just how involved he'd been in breaking down his little boy. Having witnessed the angry dwarf's wrath firsthand (and the consequential war he blamed on the king) Alfrid didn't particularly want to have to face it again anytime soon, especially not alone. Hell, were Thorin to know what he'd put his kid through, any sliver of mercy was then officially out the window.

"I-I," Alfrid cursed himself as the words refused form on his tongue, which probably made him look like a bumbling fool and it certainly wasn't going to make the orc any more inclined to listen to him. "Speaking of luck, I-I think may need to ask for a favor." When crossing his fingers seemed to miraculously work and the scarred beast motioned for him to continue instead of biting his head off, Alfrid took a deep breath, and pushed his good fortune a little bit further. "I need to leave. If Oakenshield happens to find me up here and pieces the whole thing together, I'm done for, he won't hesitate for a moment to kill me for what I've done to his kid. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret what I did to stay alive –because that's what it all comes down to- but somehow, I doubt that he'll see it that way, he'll just see me as some unscrupulous psychopath who hurt and traumatized his little brat, not quite what I'd ideal circumstances to hope for mercy."

To his credit, at least the beast seemed to take a moment to ponder on it -to take his words seriously and mull over the possible implications and consequences- but Alfrid's tiny shred of hope soon vanished when his heart leapt in his throat, the orc unexpectedly swerving on him and, before a poor man like him could even get a second to do anything, had him pinned against the wall of the cave by his throat, the hard rocky surface digging into his back and a large and very menacing looking claw now at the base of his delicate neck. Alfrid gulped.

"I think it's a chance I'm more than willing to take. Like I already said, why should I trust you once I let you go? What is stopping you from going back to your pathetic little brethren and telling them everything before vanishing into the distance, safe and sound, while I have to deal with them all?" Just because you didn't do it the first time I let you go by no means equates to me not thinking you capable of doing it at all. You're desperate, and the desperate ones are always the people one must keep an eye on, since they're willing to go to insane lengths to save their own skin, and-" Alfrid felt the sharp tip of a claw extremely close to drawing blood from the pulsing vein in his neck, his heart now pounding wildly behind his ribcage-"betray those they swear allegiance to."

"But I-"

"I'm not letting you go. At least, not until the dwarf scum gets his scrawny skin up here, that is when your part in all of this ends, until then though, you better not think of going anywhere. Do the slightest hint of a stupid thing and I can promise you that my son will retaliate with something infinitely worse than you've put the little whelp through. So," He asked, emphasizing his threat by nearly cutting off Alfrid's air supply and, for a moment, reducing him to a squirming mess, "Have you changed your mind at all?"

Not being in a position to do anything else, Alfrid just vehemently nodded, just desperate to get the weight off his throat. His enthusiasm backfired though, as he was roughly grabbed by the shoulders and shaken before even drawing breath, his back slamming into the cold hard wall behind him several times as his captor slammed his little body into the wall. "Say it!"

"I-I won't go! I promise I won't leave!" A lifetime of perfecting the art of pleasing others while only half heartedly believing the words he poured out made it easy for Alfrid to convince the brute to let him go and give him a satisfied sneer. The disgruntled human leaned back against the wall for support once the muscled arm holding him up let go, however, Azog's close proximity now made him seem to loom over him, the massive beast looking even more threatening as he towered over him, reinforcing Alfrid's conclusion that it was certainly not a good idea to anger him any further.

"Good. Now do what you can to bring the brat back. If Oakenshield decided not to come up here after all, I might as well go down there and finish this off myself. To hell with the whole breaking his family part."

Not needing to be told anything to understand that he was dismissed, Alfrid gave his benefactor a slight bow as a mark of respect before quickly backing off, knowing all too well that now was probably his only opportunity to try and escape by himself. He simply needed to pick up his small bag of provisions and the knife without anyone noticing him and he was decided to make a run for it. To hell with the orc's wants, his life always came first.


The nagging voice in his head repeatedly reminding him that they were possibly doing all of this for nothing and that Alfrid (who seemed to have made a run for it during the night since he had been nowhere to be found that morning) had effectively lied to him about the whole thing was what Thorin was predominantly worried about as the battle rams Dain had managed to spare for him continued their ascension of the gravely mountainside. Thorin certainly wasn't ecstatic at having to return to the place where everything had started to fall apart the first time, especially since there was a high probability that the orc scum either knew that they would be coming or had possibly already seen them from where they were hiding, and the complete disadvantage he and the rest of the small party he had brought along with him were now at certainly wasn't putting the odds in their favour.

Still, if Fili was still alive like Alfrid had strongly suggested he was last night, Thorin owed it to him to at least try and rescue him (if he was still even up there, that was). Since learning of his sister-son's dire state from the less-than-trustworthy human, he had pointedly tried to not imagine the possible state the blond was in, but now, with little else to occupy his mind as they kept going on up in their ascention, there were little distractions to be found other than to anticipate what was to come, how they would go about getting in there, finding Fili and assessing the extent of damage that had been done to him, and then getting back out. It was needless to say that Thorin definitely didn't like the picture he was painting. It was gruesome, a morbid tableau of violence and near sadism, and projecting it all onto his nephew (the eldest of his sister-sons, on whom such brutality was not warranted, in his mind, since he was the one the Defiler was after), made his empty stomach churn. Were he to be a hopeless idealist, he might have been able to at least entertain the thought that his and Dwalin's minimal and rudimentary patching-up skills would have been enough to ensure that the wounds Fili had sustained would not worsen as they awkwardly navigated their way down, however, having been in battle before, having already a firsthand experience in being forced to accept reality for what it was and remembering all too well just what the orc-scum was capable of doing left him with little positive outlook, and Thorin quickly came to the conclusion that if Fili could stand by himself and –without any extra help- hobble around with whatever injuries he currently had, that that was probably the best outcome they could hope for.

He really hated even entertaining the idea, but perhaps if Fili had well and truly died that day, it possibly would have been for the best, for what kind of a life was one where he would be forever crippled by wounds, trauma and fear?

No. No, he couldn't think like that. Alfrid had said that he was alive, and while Thorin had to admit that under normal circumstances, he probably would not have believed the human's words for a second, especially with no real tangible proof on his part, believing him was much more preferable than the alternative. And it also gave him a valid reason to go back up to Ravenhill in the first place. He'd come to the conclusion that Azog absolutely needed to be dealt with it they hoped to end the siege on Dale, for as long as the monster still drew breath, he could still organize his armies and plan massacre after massacre until there were nothing left, ending him for good was necessary if they hoped to destabilize his army and strike amidst the confusion. Thorin had initially shut down any talk of heading back up the mountainside out of fear that it would end in the same disaster as last time –and he was not losing anybody else- and a month ago, having another member of the Company dying so soon after his nephew just hadn't been an option in his books. However, now that he knew that Fili was alive (or at the very least, it was what he chose to believe until proven otherwise), Thorin most certainly had a motive to head up to the Pale Orc's lair without any delay, for the faster he wiped the beast out, the faster he could bring his sister-son home (and the less damage Azog could do to him –in addition to what he had probably already put him through, Thorin thought grimly).

However, the fact that they were rescuing him did little to assuage the guilt gnawing at Thorin's insides because of leaving Fili up there in the first place. He knew he'd let that thought in the way he'd asked the question to Kili and whether he had been certain that his brother had no longer been breathing when he'd run off, but Thorin had to admit that he hadn't done anything either. Injured though he might have been at the time, Thorin could now see so many ways he could have just checked for himself before deciding to turn his back on their mission and head down back to Dale (damn it, he could have shouted, could have fought his way over despite Dwalin's admonishments that he needed to see Oin as soon as possible, could have let his concern for his nephew override his decision made on his royal stature –that king Thorin was more needed down there than Uncle Thorin was up here, that he could have fought for his family until he'd made it to the younger dwarf's side) and he simply… Hadn't. It hadn't even remotely crossed his mind to do so, and it was so incredibly frustrating to now know that it had caused his sister-son weeks of suffering he could have prevented has he simply just pushed on a little more.

"We'll get him back Thorin, I swear it."

Dwalin's voice from beside him was gruff, tense, and while it tried to be sympathetic, Thorin still read the unspoken worry behind it. Thankfully, with Kili having taken the lead, he was grateful that his other nephew was not around to hear their (justified) worries about this plan. Thorin could only swallow hardly though, especially considering that they weren't going back down now when they had told the rest of the Company that Azog's death would be the only point after which they would come back, not before having achieved that.

While it was comforting to hear someone have a little faith in their venture, Thorin didn't want to sink in to blind optimism only to be bitterly disappointed if this turned south (optimism had gotten the best of him once, he wasn't going to give in to it again), so he simply nodded, afraid that voicing an answer would doom them before they'd even set out.

"How many of those beasts do you think are still up there?" He asked instead, preferring to come back to something he was certain they would indeed be facing.

"If it's anything like last time, I'd say a good dozen, if not more. It's very possible that the scum decided to regroup and keep more members of his army close by in case we eventually did come for him. While I certainly don't see anything for now, I wouldn't be inclined to let our guard down once we reach the summit."

Aye, grim prospect indeed. At least Thorin's wound had healed up surprisingly well thanks' to Oin's expert hands and (repeated) warning for him not to go out. While it had certainly irritated him to no end at first, in hindsight it was probably for the best, and the future king of Erebor was sure to let the old apothecary know once they made it back. (Because they would).

"Well, I guess we'll simply have to take them on one by one then." And at the half mischievous look Dwalin gave him, Thorin smiled back, basking in the familiarity of their younger days, where proud banter and joking among themselves was somewhat of a norm, something he had sorely missed over the past while. "I'm pretty sure that the two of us can take care of that at least, we wouldn't really be fit to call ourselves heirs of the great Durin if not."

"Says the would-be king who managed to get lost in the Shire."

"That was one time." Thorin shot back, the embarrassing miscalculation on his part having become a joke at his expense in the Company at this point.

"Twice. You got lost twice." The bald dwarf pointed out, chuckling slightly at his friend's damaged pride. "You certain you're not about to get lost in those tunnels up there? Want me to go with you and hold your hand just in case?"

"No thank you, I think I'll manage fine by myself. As a matter of fact, I'd rather you stay with Kili, just to keep an eye on him. I know he's aware of the danger, but… He's young, still prone to recklessness, and I'd rather avoid losing him if I can. Can I count on you to look out for him?"

"Aye, I'll take care of him." Having caught on to the sudden seriousness, Dwalin let the joke drop, knowing that Kili's safety was going to be primordial once they entered the mountainside. He understood the younger dwarf's eagerness to take action and retrieve if injured brother, but where Kili often let emotions dictate his decisions, Dwalin knew he would have to be there to temper it down and keep an eye out where the archer might not. As far as they were concerned, Kili was still the heir to the throne of Erebor until they got Fili back, and finding him was probably going to be another mess all to itself.

"Thank you," Thorin replied quietly, but with a gravity that didn't go unnoticed to Dwalin, "I-"

"I know."

And that was all that was needed for a silent understanding to pass between them.

The summit of the peak was a bleak and desolate as the first time Thorin had come up here, only this time, he did not let himself be lulled into security by the lack of a threatening environment. This time, he knew the Pale orc was hiding away in the dilapidated ruin just across from them, this time he knew not to go in there alone, this time, he knew not to underestimate a seemingly placid looking tableau. Ringing his battle ram to a halt and dismounting, he waved towards Bilbo and Kili to follow him behind one of the taller stone walls, where he hoped they might have a minimum of privacy and in an attempt to stop his younger nephew from heading straight in without a plan. The lack of a clear method as to how to go about bringing the Pale Orc down had cost him dearly last time, and vowing to learn from his mistake, Thorin would rather lose time in order to make sure everyone would be careful, know what to do and remain safe than head in without thinking it through.

Obviously, Kili disagreed though.

"What are we waiting for? We need to go in there, now!" And without waiting another second, he tried to pull away from his uncle's grip. "Let me go!"

"Kili!" Thorin had to put both hands on his nephew's shoulders to get him to stay put, and looked him in the eyes in order to get him to understand that this was serious. "Kili we need to think this thorough first. We can't go charging in there head first, it's what we did last time and look where that landed us. We need a different approach, one where I'm not going to lose you, Bilbo or anybody else."

"Then perhaps we should go in together." Bilbo suggested to his right. "If we stick together, we're more likely to fend off any attacking orc than alone."

"Aye, but that means we cover less ground and spend more time than we should trying to find him." Dwalin countered, hand already itching for the axe hanging at his side. Thorin understood his anticipation, was guilty of it himself, but knew that acting on impulse again would not be in any of their interests.

"Then we should split up. Bilbo and I will take the top level, you and Kili take the bottom one. We'll cover more ground if we split up in pairs, but don't lose each other from sight."

"But Uncle-" Kili began protesting, estimating that he ought to be by Thorin's side for something of this magnitude. As Prince of Erebor, was it not his duty to protect and defend his liege lord? End the beast that had unleashed chaos on his bloodline for nigh a century?

"Kili, I understand where you're coming from, believe me, I do. But don't you think that it's best that at least either you or me be the one to find Fili? That whichever group gets his hands on him, at least someone from the family will be in it?"

He has a point, Kili conceded. Not that it made him any happier about the plan, but guessed he might as well go with it, especially since the sooner they were off, the sooner they'd get his brother back.

"All right, you two stick together, and in case you run into any trouble, yell. It might draw the orcs to you, but it's the only way Bilbo and I will know you're in danger. We should meet back here in a few hours at the most, but if the sun starts to set, you should head down. Making it back to the others safe and sound is more important than waiting on Bilbo and I and risking being caught unprepared."

"Kili," Thorin turned to his nephew, features harboring something grave, and Kili swallowed, pretty certain that he would not like what was to come. "In the events that I should not make it back, you are the one designated to lead our dwarven brethren and take up the crown of Erebor. You have to remember that. I know you want your brother back, so do we all, but unfortunately, Fili cannot come at the expense of the crown, and if it is in jeopardy and leaving is the safest option to preserve it, you have to do it, do you understand?"

Kili swallowed the ball in his throat, suppressing his will to scream out No!, that he wasn't going to do that, but the past month had taught him much of the duties he was expected to perhaps one day fulfill, had taught him that the matters of the heart often had little say in the matters of the crown, and if this was Thorin's will, well he would damn well see it through, no matter how much he disliked it.

And with a tense nod, feeling the crushing weight of his new position on his shoulders, he gave his consent, that no matter what happened to his Uncle, Kili would make it back alive for their people and the future his family was destined to provide for them.

"All right, well, now that that's settled, think we ought to get moving?" Dwalin prompted, axe now pointed to the ominous looking opening right ahead of them.

Thorin swallowed in anticipation, knowing very well that once they stepped in, there was no backing out until they achieved what they'd come up here to do.

"Aye, let's finish this."