Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Everything is property of the great JRR Tolkien!

A/N: Mahal, but this chapter was fun to write. I hope it's just as fun to read! Thanks once more to everyone who reviews—they're so incredibly encouraging, and I absolutely love hearing your perspectives on the story. :D

Warg howls split the night air, sounding terrifyingly triumphant as the Company ran, speeding down the hill at breakneck speed. Kíli kept both Fíli and Ryn in his line of sight; after the last two days, he never wanted either of them further away than spitting distance again.

Ever.

The beasts were faster, though, and it was only minutes before they were overtaken. Twilight had descended rapidly, and the glowing eyes of the mutant wolves only made them look more sinister.

Kíli ran faster. Suddenly, Deorynn skidded to a halt with a shout of "Bilbo!"

Kíli turned to see the hobbit being run down by a warg, and Ryn running back toward the pursuing creatures—the wrong direction!—to help him. "Ryn!" he shouted at her, cursing when she ignored him completely.

As it turned out, Bilbo took care of the situation himself, stabbing his sword almost accidentally into the warg's skull, right between the eyes. Kíli nearly smiled; it was a desperate, beginner's move, but it had saved the hobbit's life and it was good to see him developing at least a warrior's instinct, if not a high level of skill…yet.

Thorin appeared at the Bilbo's side a moment later, destroying another warg with Orcrist. Ryn, seeing Bilbo was safe, had shouted to him to hurry up, then turned around and began to run again. Kíli rolled his eyes and followed, catching up to Fíli quickly.

It soon became obvious that running was not going to be the answer for them this time, though, as they suddenly found themselves at the top of a rise that was a sheer drop in all directions but one—the direction from which all the wargs were coming.

Gandalf had an answer, though, as he usually did. "Up! Into the trees, now, all of you climb! Bilbo! Climb!"

Kíli jumped up, catching a low branch and swinging onto his belly. He reached down for Fíli, pulling him up to hook his knees across another branch and begin to climb. Seeing his brother safe, Kíli reached down again to help Ryn up.

His hand met nothing but air.

He bit back a groan. Was he going to be constantly wondering where this girl was all the time? Why couldn't she just stay in one place? Preferably near him.

But he knew the answer to that before the question fully formed—she'd hardly be Ryn if she wasn't so fiercely independent and frightfully capable. Still, looking around, he almost panicked when he couldn't see her in any of the other occupied trees, nor on the ground…

"Kíli!" came a voice above his head. "What's the delay? You need to get higher than that if you wish to avoid full grown wargs!" A hand appeared, reaching for him.

He grabbed it and pulled himself up, giving the girl a dirty look as he passed her. "Honestly, Ryn, you have got to quit disappearing."

She looked genuinely nonplussed. "I climbed a tree, Kíli, not fell off the cliff. That hardly qualifies…." She trailed off, staring past him, at the ground.

Kíli turned and saw the source of her distress. Bilbo was still on the ground, turning in circles as if confused.

"Bilbo!" Deorynn shouted. "You climb better than anyone here! Get in the tree, for Mahal's sake!"

Kíli's gaze was drawn by movement just past the hobbit. The wargs were approaching fast, growling and snarling their intentions. Now they were less than fifty feet away, now thirty, there was no way Bilbo would make it…

The wargs reached the spot where Bilbo had been standing. Much to Kíli's relief, the hobbit's muscles had remembered their skill and he was safely up, nestled in the branches next to Balin. The nasty creatures were now nosing around the roots of the trees, snarling their displeasure and speaking in odd little barks to each other.

They fell silent simultaneously.

Kíli looked where they did, and his heart thumped into his stomach. Fíli murmured, "Mahal" from beside him, and Ryn's sharp intake of breath told him she was as horrified as he.

A giant orc with one arm sat upon an enormous white warg, surveying the scene with something akin to satisfaction. Scars crisscrossed his chest, face, and biceps; his missing arm had been "replaced" with a cruel forked shaft of metal that made Kíli's blood run cold just from looking at it. He wielded a massive mace and wore a smile that boded ill for their entire company.

Kíli's eyes sought his uncle. He knew who this was, though he'd never seen him before, his suspicions confirmed as Thorin's lips formed the name, his face a mask of shock:

"Azog."

The orc took a deep breath from his nose and smiled at his companions. "Nuzh di gir? Nuzh di gal…" he sniffed again, and Kíli shuddered. The orc went on in Black Speech, the very language harsh and cruel and unknown to him, but Kíli did understand one thing he said:

"….Thorin unda Thrain."

There was a metallic whizz next to his ear, and Azog roared in pain. Kíli's eyes widened when he saw why: one of Ryn's throwing knives had landed quivering in his shoulder. The orc seemed shocked anyone would dare attack him, and eyed the girl dressed in elvish armor. She growled at him—Kíli reached for her, but her attention was completely on Azog—and snarled:

"You don't get to say his name. You don't deserve to even speak it."

Azog wrenched the blade from his shoulder, gasping when he seemed to recognize it, and Kíli remembered that he was hunting her, too. He closed the distance between them (and noticed Fíli did the same, both of them coming close to either side of her), even as the orc turned his evil smile her way.

"Mangath."

She gave him an exaggerated nod, a mockery of a mark of respect, her voice dripping with derision, "At your service."

Kíli was simultaneously impressed and terrified at her bravado; perhaps she didn't know the stories as well as he did, but this was no orc to cross. He grabbed her arm and squeezed painfully. She didn't pull away, but she also didn't back down as Azog roared his fury and screamed something else in Black Speech. Whatever it was, it sent the wargs into a frenzy, as they began jumping and clawing at the trees—never quite reaching their prey, but nearly unseating them multiple times, shaking the branches and cracking the wood.

Deorynn didn't know what had come over her, but standing here helpless, hiding in a tree—the same method she'd used for protection countless times on the road alone—with the lives of her friends, her King on the line…suddenly, she was a tiny girl again, watching her family be murdered by orcs just like these.

It lit something inside her; something rash and angry and unstoppable.

When last she'd been in this position, she'd been too small to do anything. She had cowered in a corner while everything she loved was taken from her.

That was not a mistake she would be repeating.

Before she quite knew what she'd done, she had basically issued a challenge to the Orc responsible for the death of the great King Thror.

Her own boldness astounded her—and Kíli, too, if his grip on her arm was any indication.

But now the wargs were aiming to knock them out of the trees, or reach their feet by hopping and climbing as well as a warg could—which wasn't very well, thank Mahal. One snarling face got too close, and she stomped it with her foot. It gave her great satisfaction, though Fíli just stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

"What?"

Suddenly, cries of alarm came from Bilbo's tree. Deorynn's heart stopped when she saw the tree beginning to topple, Bilbo's frightened face cast in sharp relief among the branches. The tree fell toward theirs—hers and Fíli and Kíli's—and Deorynn reached for Bilbo instinctively. He saw her and jumped, landing in her arms and knocking her back into the trunk of the pine. They yelped and held tight as they struggled to regain their balance, then Bilbo looked up at her and gave her a weak smile. She returned it, but it was short-lived as she heard an ominous crack! and felt the wood at her back shudder.

Well that was terrifying.

She felt the tree shift, begin to lean dangerously to one side, heard the snap of roots giving at the base of it…

"Hold onto me!" she ordered Bilbo, and began to climb. "Fíli! Kíli! Higher!"

They didn't hesitate, just followed, and when the tree crashed into the one next to it half a moment later, they all jumped safely to the next one—which in turn began to fall, so they jumped to the next one—until finally, they were all huddled together on the branches of one spindly pine on the very edge of the cliff.

Azog laughed, and Deorynn despaired. It was happening again; she couldn't stop it.

Only this time, she was extremely likely to die, along with her friends. She hoped so. She could not handle losing everything again.

The wargs were still assaulting the base of their tree, and it shook horribly. A moment later, Deorynn felt a wave of heat pass her face as a flaming pinecone flew toward the animals. It landed, leaving a trail of flame as it rolled and bounced among the wargs. They yelped and backed away from it.

Deorynn smiled. Gandalf always had an answer.

A few moments later, the entire ground surrounding their tree was aflame, the wargs pushed back to a safer distance. They turned tail and ran, unable to get past the enchanted fire, and Azog roared his frustration. The dwarves began to cheer, celebrating their small victory a little prematurely, in Deorynn's opinion. That is, until that tree swayed, and with the ominous root-popping noise again, beginning to lean out over the cliff dangerously.

The inherent problem with this situation was that as the tree fell, so did more than half the Company, anyone stuck on the wrong side of the tree holding tight to branches or the trunk. Deorynn, thankfully, was not one of those, but she made a grab for Ori as he slipped, yelping when she missed. He cried out in terror as he managed to grab his brother's boot, and they hung there, Dori barely holding on.

Deorynn's eyes widened as she took in the scene. There were too many potentially lethal situations here; she couldn't help them all—

She made a dive for Kíli without thinking as he struggled to hang on. He grabbed her and gasped, his feet dangling in the air, scrabbling for a hold on something. Deorynn held his eyes.

"Kíli, calm!"

He stopped kicking. She squeezed his arm, still not looking away. "I won't let go. Understand?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now swing side to side, like a pendulum."

So busy was she with Kíli, that Deorynn didn't see Thorin rise to face Azog. She didn't see him stride toward the monster; Orcrist in one hand, oaken shield in another, looking every bit the king she already knew he was. She didn't see the massive warg jump over his head, knocking him down in the process.

Her first clue something more was wrong was Balin's shout of "NO!"

She jerked her head up to see Bilbo standing on the trunk, staring at something in the distance…Thorin was…

What was he doing?

He was struggling upright, though Azog's mace remedied that a moment later…

Kíli gave a little sound of alarm from beneath the tree trunk, and finally got his leg hooked on a branch, pulling himself up with her help. Fíli, a few feet away, had managed to get his body maneuvered onto the trunk as well, and hurried over to assist with Kíli if necessary.

Thorin's cry of agony as the white warg closed its jaws round his middle cut through her elation that Kíli and Fíli were safe, and Dwalin shouted his name and tried to go to his aid—too quickly, causing the branch beneath him to split. Deorynn, Fíli, and Kíli all sprang to his aid.

That's why she didn't see the warg toss her king like a rag doll. She DID see Azog's second-in-command approach him with a cruel-looking sword, Thorin's struggle to reach Orcrist, and did see Bilbo take off running toward him.

Mahal, no….

With a mighty heave, they got Dwalin up. Another few precious moments of maneuvering got them off the tree completely—during which time Bilbo had surprised and killed the orc threatening Thorin. Now he stood over the dwarf king's too-still body, waving his sword around and making quite the fierce picture. Deorynn's heart swelled with pride for the hobbit, even as her feet began to run toward him. Brave or not, he could not face Azog alone, and the Orc was smiling predatorily at him.

He would not take Bilbo. Or Thorin. Not so long as she drew breath.

She was done hiding in the shadows.

Beside her, Kíli began a war cry; one Fíli picked up, then Dwalin, and then Deorynn as well. She zeroed in on the warg closest to Bilbo and aimed for its eyes. The orc atop it was thrown when her daggers stabbed true, and she yanked them free in enough time to slice open the rider before he could rise.

She turned to see another warg pouncing. She ducked, raising her blades as the creature passed straight over her—the steel slicing it from chest to tail. It was dead before it landed, and its rider didn't have time to recover before she leapt on his back with a snarl and sliced his throat open.

A huge orc grabbed her from behind, and she let out a strangled scream as it roared in triumph, driving its fist into her ribs and throwing her to the ground. It brought its massive mace down toward her head, but she rolled aside, stunned though she was. She tried to call for Kíli, but she couldn't summon the breath, everything in her chest was constricted and in immense pain, and the orc had lined up for another shot at her head, but placed his massive foot on her chest to hold her in place and oh Mahal, she was done for now…

A cry like that of a bird of prey split the air, and suddenly, the orc was lifted completely off the ground by…

A giant Eagle?

Deorynn blinked, certain she was dreaming. She'd hit her head, she must be dreaming. But no, there were several of them, crying out in their beautiful voices, dropping orcs and wargs from the cliff top, fanning their wings to blow fire their way, tearing at them with beaks and talons…

One had Thorin gently in its grip and was flying away.

Must get up. Have to sit UP.

Then Kíli was there, helping her up gently and holding her close to his side as they stumbled toward Fíli. Having caught her breath a little bit, Deorynn muttered to him, "Sorry, that was a close call."

He simply harrumphed and squeezed her shoulder.

A moment later, she saw an Eagle coming in awfully close, and felt talons close round her hips and shoulders. Yelping in fear and surprise, she found herself falling a short distance to the back of another Eagle. Breathless from awe as well as the fall, she held tight and looked back to see Kíli, Fíli, and Bilbo all receiving the same treatment.

A glance at the tree that was now falling completely over the edge, with the figure of a wizard leaping from its branches onto the back of an Eagle, told her they were all accounted for. She did a quick head count, just to be sure:

Thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, and a half-dwarf lass.

The girl breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes to block the magnificent view around her as the bird turned and her stomach lurched.

Flying, she decided, did not suit her at all.