I do not own anything written by J.R.R. Tolkien, and anything Araceil came up with in her excellent Fate be Changed belongs to her.
Bilbo gasped for breath as he ran, legs pumping furiously, sweat runnelling down his face and soaking his shirt, the effort making him lightheaded to the point that the pack bouncing on his back was throwing off his balance. He fought to keep his focus on Eradon in front and the bare earth path unwinding ahead of them, ignoring the Rangers loping along on each side. Even through his growing fatigue he felt a distant resentment at how easy they made it look, and he'd lost count of the number of strides he'd run so far (twice as many as his Ranger teachers) so he had no idea how much longer the torture would continue... Then his foot caught on an upthrust bush root and he stumbled, arms flailing for balance, before Ohtar caught one shoulder and stopped him from face planting into the path.
"Lost count, didn't you?" Ohtar said as the others stopped and turned back. "We reached the walk break over fifty strides back." As the others approached, he glanced up at the sun then said to Eradon, "I think Bilbo's done for the day, and we're going to have to jog the rest of the way if we're going to make Bree by nightfall. I'll carry him." At Eradon's nod he knelt so Bilbo could climb onto his back with his arms around the Ranger's neck, tucked his arms under Bilbo's quivering legs, and rose to his feet. The Rangers resumed their league-eating, remarkably smooth trot, and Bilbo allowed awareness of everything except the woolen cloak his cheek was pressed against to fade as his breathing slowed.
/\
Hunger had finally driven Bilbo out of the long soak in the continually refreshed hot bath that Eradon had paid for and ordered him into as soon as they'd arrived at the Prancing Pony. Now he looked around the inn's tap room, taking in everything as he walked around looking for his teachers. No luck so far, but that was because of the 'trees that walk' otherwise known as Men, mostly male with a few serving women ... and the boisterous laughter and raucous singing ... and the room smoky and dimly lit by poorly trimmed oil lamps.
The Green Dragon back in Hobbiton wasn't the only inn that Bilbo had ever visited, but the others had all been inside the Shire. Those inns along the Great East Road that passed through the center of the Shire had a few tables and rooms sized for the Dwarves that passed through on the way to their mines in the Blue Mountains to the east but nothing sized for Men, and even the Dwarf-sized accommodations were sparse — the number of Dwarves passing through was constant, but not high. Here he'd seen a few empty tables sized for Dwarves and more for Hobbits that even had occupants, but the vast majority of the inn's customer's were Men of Bree — and while outwardly they seemed much like any gathering of Hobbits relaxing after a day's hard labor, there was a harsh, hard feel to the sights and sounds of the room that was putting Bilbo on edge. Even beginning to frighten him a little.
Then he caught a familiar voice: "— toughening him up first while waiting for his bow and knife, but he's determined, working hard. There he is ... Bilbo, over here!"
He looked over at the shout, and sighed in relief at the sight of the three Men that had been running him ragged since practically the day he'd asked for training sitting at a table. And with them was another Man, a leather-clad female ... in fact, it was Ivorwen, the female Ranger that had been with them when he'd delivered Sakura's letter, the one that had left to tell the Elves of Rivendell that the Company was coming! He dodged around a couple of Men to reach the table and didn't even mind when Arahad grabbed him under the armpits to lift him up onto a box on a chair like a child. "Did you see Sakura? Is she all right?" he eagerly asked the newcomer.
"I saw her," she replied as she passed him a plate with an apple, slab of meat and chunk of bread, along with a small mug of ale. "But I'm afraid it was on the way out when I caught up with them on the Great East Road, and I went off the road to pass without being seen; from what I could see at a distance she's fine. On my way back I swung wide to avoid a meeting, so I never saw her. But that was weeks ago; by now they ought to be over the Misty Mountains, across the Anduin, and on the Old Forest Road through Mirkwood. I'm sorry I can't tell you more."
Bilbo's face fell for a moment, then he forced a smile. "At least she was doing all right when you saw her." He turned his attention to his plate, ignoring the Rangers' shop talk in his eagerness to fill the void in his gut before falling into whatever bed the inn had to offer. It had been a long, hard day, and now that Ivorwen had rejoined them it would be a longer day tomorrow — Eradon was eager to head back to their usual patrolling area along the Shire's south border. Bilbo was not looking forward to the run.
/oOo\
Sakura was getting worried. Between the Veil and Orcs' preference to avoid sunlight, getting past the pair pretending to guard the entrance to their tunnels that Gollum had led her to had been easy enough. But her head was pounding; her entire body seemed to be one massive, throbbing bruise; thanks to the rip in her thigh by now she was only able to make her way downhill through the pine forest that covered the Misty Mountain's eastern flank by hobbling along, and even that much only because of a makeshift crutch; she hadn't seen so much as a rivulet to provide the water she needed to properly cleanse her wounds (at least, as well as possible without a pot to boil water in) and refill the leather water sack she'd emptied to cleanse her wounds as best she could; night was falling and she had to reek of blood — she might as well send up a signal flare for any predators around — and she dreaded the thought of trying to climb a tree. And worst of all, she hadn't seen or heard any sign of Dwarves or a particular Wizard anywhere. She was really hoping that they hadn't been forced to return to Rivendell, because if that was the case she was almost certainly a dead woman walking.
At least you still have your backpack, and the lembas with it, she thought as she reluctantly started to look around for a likely tree. If you can clean out your thigh enough to prevent gangrene and can find a safe place to hole up, you might have enough to keep from starving while you heal.
And she had been doing her best to keep her Veil drawn about her, though by now she suspected it was more like her Gauze — she had never tried to go unnoticed this long before.
Then the first howl rang out, and her focus shattered. She spun in place as more howls sounded and barely managed to keep from collapsing as her weight came down on her bad leg. Those howls were much too deep to be wolves, but not for the Wargs that had attacked them at the destroyed farmhouse. She'd been found. What a perfect end to a perfect day.
Closing her eyes, she again set aside and walled away her pain before tossing aside her crutch and looking around for somewhere to make a last stand — she wasn't going to allow herself to be taken alive, so doing further damage to herself was the least of her worries.
She had just found a fallen giant of a tree whose now-vertical circle of roots would guard her back admirably when the first baying Wargs came into sight through the trees ... and passed right by at an angle without even noticing she was there. She gaped for a moment, then dropped down completely behind her unintentional hiding place as more baying Wargs flowed down the mountain slope after the first rush, these ones with Orcs on their backs.
Then they were gone, and she cautiously slipped out from behind the roots to stare downhill after them. Where had they come from!? Not from the tunnels she had just left, not as much as Wargs must eat. And they hadn't been after her at all! But if they weren't after her ...
"You are being hunted." She remembered Gandalf's words to Thorin, back when the Company had first encountered Orcs, and broke into a run in the wake of the Orc pack.
/\
Sakura tasted blood from her bitten lip as Thorin slammed down hard on the pine needle-covered rock, the huge Warg with its equally huge white Orc that had knocked him flat soaring over him to land between two of the fires scattered around flat outcropping.
It wasn't hard to guess where all those fires had come from — when she had arrived on the slope above and behind the Orc pack, flaming pine cones had still been arcing out from a tree right on the edge of the outcropping to land among the riderless Wargs. Several were fleeing with their fur aflame — fast-racing torches spreading the flames far and wide, she could already see several trees going up like torches and they would be far from the first.
As she silently shifted around the Orc pack bellowing what she assumed were cheers for the Orc trouncing Thorin and insults hurled at the Dwarves, trying to find a path through the patches of fire, she equally silently cursed Gandalf's pyromaniac ways. Not that she was being fair, it had been easy enough to see what his plan was — from the unnatural way the fire had been behaving, the Wizard had intended to magically control the flames, both cutting off the tree the Company was occupying and protecting that tree as the spreading forest fire drove away their pursuers.
Unfortunately, that had only lasted until the roots of that tree had given way under the imbalanced weight of the Dwarves, slowly tearing out of the thin soil of the outcropping as the tree tilted, and now the fires were burning out of control as the Dwarves and one Wizard hung out over a lethal drop, trying desperately to scramble through the branches to come to Thorin's rescue.
Then her attention was yanked away from the Dwarves back to Thorin as the Warg that had knocked him down lunged back to snatch him up in its jaws and shake him like a rag doll before tossing him aside. Sakura barely heard the frantic shouts of the other Dwarves as she searched ... there, a break in the fires on this side of the pack! She could feel her hold on her Veil once again shredding (not that it had been much to begin with, what with the mental effort of holding back her pain) and was moving too fast, anyway, but she didn't care. It wasn't like any of the Wargs or their riders were paying attention to anything but the massive white form of their leader ...
... Who was pulling his Warg away from Thorin with a harsh, derisive laugh. He shouted something in Black Speech as he rejoined the rest of his pack, and another Orc dismounted to stride toward the fallen Dwarf, drew his curved sword and placed its edge against Thorin's neck as the king-in-exile scrabbled desperately for Orcrist just out of reach, lifted the blade — and Sakura slammed into his side, sending him staggering.
The Orc recovered his footing and turned, his eyes widening at the sight of her. He bellowed laughter and strode forward.
Sakura charged to meet him and dodged his downward slash, dropped to one knee, and her blue-glowing sword pierced deep into the brute's groin. He doubled up, his laughter transformed into a high shriek, and the Bowie knife she'd been gifted by Arwen sliced across his throat. She ignored the fresh blood that splashed across her face as she dodged the collapsing corpse. Yanking her sword free, she turned to face the abruptly silent Orcs and growled, "You will not touch him."
The Orc leader stared down at her for a long moment, then grinned with a deep, rumbling chuckle. "So the exile that would be king has a protector. You are a tiny little thing for one so fierce."
She returned his grin, lifting her sword, fighting to hide how heavy it had become. "I may be tiny, but I have a sting, forged by the Elves of Gondolin so that even their children could learn to cleanse the land of your filth."
The Orc's chuckle turned into roaring laughter, then he waved his followers forward with a harsh, shouted command.
Sakura braced herself, fighting to stay focused on that massive white form even as her vision went hazy — if she was going to fail Thorin and die in the attempt, she was at least going to teach that Orc a brief but permanent lesson in respect for small things. She took a deep breath and two tottering steps forward on ground that had begun to pitch and yaw like a ship in a storm.
Suddenly the clearing was full of Dwarves bellowing war cries. Dwalin charged past her on one side and Balin on the other to hammer into the approaching Orcs, her knees gave way, and she was unconscious before her face plowed into the ground's pine needle carpet.
/\
Thorin forced himself to his feet with a shout. He was battered, bruised, exhausted from the long running fight through the Goblin tunnels (he would never know how, even with Gandalf blinding the Goblins that found them and collapsing side tunnels, everyone had made it out alive), his eyes kept trying to lose focus and the world was tilting under his feet thanks to the humiliating beating he'd taken just now in his attempt to buy the Company time at the hands of an Orc claiming to be the son of the Orc Chieftain he'd slain at Moria, but little Sakura needed him!
He ignored the shouts and screams of combat all around him to look around, then dropped to one knee to pick up Orcrist and use that ancient blade to force himself back to his feet. Stumbling over to the tiny too-still form sprawled a few paces away, he again dropped to one knee and gently turned her over onto her backpack and almost collapsed himself as he went lightheaded with relief. She was filthy with dirt and grime and both dried and fresh blood, but at that moment her chest rising with each breath made her the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
A shadow wavering with the dancing light of the burning trees behind it fell across him, and he looked up to find Gandalf with staff in hand and Glamdring drawn, his eyes watching the fighting around them with the occasional glance at the sky. The Wizard asked, "How is she?"
Thorin tried to speak and had to swallow the lump in his throat. "She's alive," he replied hoarsely, wiping at wet eyes. "I don't know more than that, but she's alive!"
Gandalf's shoulders slumped in relief, then stiffened. "Oh thank all the Valar, my message reached them," he murmured, then shouted, "We're being rescued, let them take you!" He sheathed Glamdring and spread his arms wide, and Thorin gaped as the biggest eagle he had ever seen soared down out of the night sky and snatched Gandalf off the ground, its wings scattering burning embers as they fought to lift both bird and burden up between two trees.
Thorin looked around wildly as more Giant Eagles, their red feathering shimmering in the firelight, dropped out of the sky to snatch up and carry away Dwarves while others grabbed up Orc or Warg to carry high and drop, or beat their wings to blow the fire into enemy faces.
Sakura! She was so small, would the Eagles even notice ... ?
Hastily sheathing Orcrist, Thorin snatched up the Hobbit's bloody sword and knife to shove into scabbard and sheath. (Cleaning those out later would be a difficult chore, but needs must.) He adjusted the piece of oak tree on his arm that had given him his battle name before the gates of Moria that he had hollowed out and reinforced to make it into more than an ad hoc emergency lifesaver, then gathered Sakura's limp form up in his arms and staggered to his feet, and looked to the sky for his own ride out of the fiery hell that surrounded him.
Azog/Bolg: One of the differences between the movies and the book. In the book, Azog was the Chief of the Orcs in Moria, and killed Nain before being killed by Dain at the battle at Moria with the Dwarves. (Yes, that's the Dain that led the Dwarven army at the Battle of Five Armies.) Bolg was his son, and the commander of the Orc army at the BoFA. Jackson ditched Bolg and switched the fight with Azog to Thorin. I've decided to keep Bolg but also keep Jackson's switch to Thorin, so Thorin killed Azog at the battle at Moria and is now being hunted by Bolg.
Feeding Wargs: Tolkien was a great scholar, but he wasn't apparently much of an ecologist. The warm-blooded prey/predator ratio is around 20:1, rather than the cold-blooded 5:1. That means that to feed enough Wargs to replicate the charge of the Rohirrim at the Battle of Pelennor Fields would require herds numbering 100,000 — not happening, not for Orcs. And where would they stash them? So in this universe, Warg-mounted Orcs are small units used for scouting and as shock troops while the vast majority of Orc troops are foot soldiers, just like the movies and unlike The Hobbit.