AN: Heyo! Nearly a double-length chapter today! Yeah, I made some really interesting story changes in this one, I hope you like them. And if you don't, shove it, this is my story, my fantasy of how I want things to end up.

Secondary note, the only phobia I allow here is arachnophobia cause spiders are nasty. I've gotten a little hate because of how I wrote both Eru and the god of "our world" so not cool, but what is especially not cool is transphobia, so if you've got something nasty to say, you can sod off. Please. If you don't like it, you can write your own story, or read a different one.

Tertiary note (6/12/2020): This chapter does have sensitive bits in it, so if you are sensitive to such concepts as rape or even unwanted touching, the relevant sections will be marked to be skipped over. Thanks.

Languages:

Sindarin

Khuzdul

Black Speech

Chapter 15

Revan couldn't sleep. Part of it was Balin's words the night before, part of it was the fact that there were likely Goblins underneath them at this very moment (a thought that kept her glancing at her swords and the yet-to-be-named Sting in their scabbards) but mostly it was the ungodly snoring of dwarves.

During her days in Rivendell, she had spent most of her time in her room away from the company. During that time, she had gotten re-accustomed to sleeping in silence, and hadn't even realized it.

Then, sometime in the night, not long after midnight, she heard the rustle of fabric, and through lidded eyes she saw Bilbo roll up his blankets and pack everything. Once he was packed, the slight Hobbit stood, tiptoed his way around the sleeping forms of Dwarves, and made for the cave entrance.

"Where do you think you're going?" Fili hissed"

"Back to Rivendell," Bilbo replied, regret and homesickness clear in his voice.

"No no, you can't turn back now ,you're part of the company! You're one of us," Fili argued, brows knit in concern.

"But I'm not though, am I? Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Bagggins. I don't know what I was thinking, I should have never ran out my door. Plus, it's not really me you need, you've got Revan already. I wasn't even supposed to come on this quest."

"You're homesick; I understand," Fili said.

"No, you don't! You don't understand, none of you do - you're dwarves! You're used to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere." Immediately, Bilbo realized his mistake, matching Fili's slightly offended look with an apologetic one of his own. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" he began.

Fili cut him off with "No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere. I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

Giving him a sad smile, Fili placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave him one last look out the door. Immediately, though Revan leapt to her feet, blades out and glowing. She knew that for the events of seventy years in the future to come to pass, Bilbo had to get the One Ring from Gollum, but she really really didn't want to have to deal with Azog so soon.

The glow and Revan's sudden movement woke Thorin, who saw the sand falling between the cracks. "Wake up! Wake up!" he shouted, but a little too late, as the entire cave floor collapsed underneath them.

Mentally, Revan cursed herself for a fool as she tried to keep her blades from cutting herself as they all fell down the chute. She crossed her arms and held her blades to her sides to prevent them from cutting the other members of the company as well. Eventually, though, they fell into the wooden cage, and she hacked at every boil-ridden goblin hand she could see. Afterwards, though her swords were taken from her, many of the goblins were 'armless, she thought, before being dragged to her knees. A snappish retort was on the tip of her tongue as she looked up at whoever had yanked her to her knees, but was immediately silenced as she saw the terrified expressions on Fili and Kili's faces.

She realized then, that the two brothers had saved her life. Because, indeed, it was one thing to die an ignoble death at the hands of Goblins, but it would be much much worse if she were to not die in the capture of Goblins. That thought alone made her more than a little queasy. Soon, she heard the screeching of the pseudo-accordion the Goblins had made, and the throaty voice of the Goblin King bellow out, "I hear a song, coming on!"

She tried not to listen as the disgusting refrains echoed throughout the halls, but could not help hearing the bone-chilling ending, "Down down down, in Goblin Town,"he sang, pumping his fist, causing his… everything, to jiggle disgustingly.

"Catchy, isn't it?" he said. "It's one of my own compositions," he exulted.

"That's not a song," Balin objected, "That's an abomination!" he hollered, as he made his way to the forefront of the group.

"Abomination! Mutation! Deviation! That's all you'll find down here,"

Revan felt herself jerked around, only seeing different pairs of legs, and she realized - the company was hiding her! They had realized just as well as she what would happen if she were to be singled out, and were trying to protect her.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" he asked, leaning forward grotesquely upon his throne. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" he near-shrieked as the Dwarves were searched.

"Dwarves, your malevolence!" a random Goblin answered.

'Dwarves?" the Goblin King asked, growing more interested.

"We found them on the Front Porch," the same Goblin answered.

"Well, don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack, every crevice!" the King bellowed, causing another flurry of hands and arms, jerking Revan around. She was just close enough to hear a particular goblin's snort of laughter as he crushed Oin's hearing trumpet underfoot.

The same goblin, she thought, grabbed a bag from one of the dwarves and emptied it out onto the rather rickety wooden floor, displaying all of the things that the Dwarves had "picked up" from Rivendell.

"It is my belief, your Protuberance, that these Dwarves are in league with Elves," the Goblin hollered, and suddenly Revan was quite sure that this particular goblin was the Great Goblin's second.

The Goblin King picked up an ornate, double-candle candlestick from his second's hand, and examined the base.

"Made in… Rivendell! Second age, couldn't give it away!" he said, flinging it into the abyss.

The entire company looked at Nori, who said, "Just a couple o' keepsakes," he defended.

Before the questioning and searching could go further, she felt a strong hand betray her and shove her to the front. She staggered forward, stumbling over the pile of candlesticks, silverware, and assorted keepsakes that Nori had lifted from her home.

"Ooh!" the Great Goblin squealed, sounding for all intents and purposes, like a rather large child on Christmas, "What have we here!"

Not having time to curse out whoever had betrayed her, she tried to regain her composure in the face of… well, quite bluntly the most grotesque face she'd ever seen.

She thought she'd been prepared for the Goblin King from watching the movie, but to have the entire dimension of smell added was nearly enough to make her lose her lembas bread.

She dusted herself off, took a moment to look into his mud-brown eyes, and said, "Someone who you really don't want to cross, your Vileness."

WARNING: SENSITIVE CONTENT BEGINS

"Oh! She's got spirit, does she? Search her!" he screamed, and his second grabbed one of her arms as a weighty looking Goblin grabbed her other. She found herself squeezed, groped, and quite violated as the Goblins tore at her under the pretense of searching her. Not long after, she nearly cried in relief when she heard the King say, "That's enough, lads, we've got to save some for later," leering at her.

Her cloak had been removed and torn, her blades glowing, added to the pile at her feet, trousers torn in places, and her jacket ripped open, baring one shoulder and most of her midriff. Her knives had been pulled out of her boots and used to cut at her leather, some missing, now adding to the plethora of scars she would have to stitch up later, and her earrings, gifts from her brothers, had been ripped out of the top of her ear painfully, blood now streaming down the left side of her face.

The king picked up one of her blades, the purple one, and examined it. "I've heard of a young warrior, not far from here bearing red and purple blades. Tell me, slip of a thing, how did you take these from him?" he said with another leer, shaking his pustule-infested wattle at her.

"I made them, in fact, with the help of my Father, your Offensiveness," she snapped, trying to shake her blood-matted hair out of her face, glaring up at him. The two goblins had her arms pinned to her sides, one hand on her wrists, the other on her shoulders, pushing her into an uncomfortable bow. She glanced behind herself at the company, quickly, and saw Fili and Kili being barely restrained by the brothers 'Ri, and a look of anger, disgust, and… horror? On Thorin's face. She narrowed her eyes, knowing immediately who had shoved her forward, and resolved to give him a hiding he'd never forget once Gandalf came and got them out of this mess.

"Oh?" the king said, his halitocious breath wafting in her face and making her gag. "And who would that be, alleged warrior-maiden?"

"Oh, just a nobody, you've probably never heard of him," she said, forcing herself to grin at him, eyes alight with defiance.

Intrigued, he stepped off of his throne onto the unfortunate pile of Goblins he used as a step stool and footrest. "Tell me," he breathed.

"Elrond," she said simply, and watched his face flick between amusement, shock, disgust and into a cruel, malevolent grin. "You're the Half-Elf's daughter, then?"

She chuckled dryly, matching his hatred for her own. "It would seem so, your Odious Highness,"

"Well, you'll be a treat to have in the dungeon," he said, putting aside his skull-headed staff to cup her face, nearly crushing her jaw.

"Wait!" she heard a bellow behind her.

The King lurched back, closer to his throne, the two goblins throwing her to the ground.

"Well, well, well, look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under The Mountain," he said, bowing mockingly. "Oh, but I'm forgetting! You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you... nobody, really. But I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak. A vengeful enemy of yours," he said, stepping back to his throne. "A pale orc, astride a white warg,"

Making a point not to look at Revan, Thorin stepped forward, "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago!"

Voice dropping to a menacing pitch, the King answered, "So you think his defiling days are done?" He turned to a puny, malformed Goblin on a small chair lift. "Send word to the Pale orc. Tell him, 'I have found his prize!"

Cackling, the small goblin raced off on his chair-zipline, and Revan saw her moment. She lunged forward, rolling, ignoring the screaming complaints of cuts and bruises, grabbed Kili's bow, a few arrows, and did her best to shoot the small messenger down. Alas, it was too late, as all of her arrows but one fell short. The two goblins lunged for her, just as one arrow struck just beside the runt, and she forgot how to breathe as it was nearly unseated from its perch. It turned back to her, hissing and screeching, disappearing out of sight, well on its way.

"Naughty naughty, can't have that," the King said. "I would have been very displeased if you'd cost me my reward," he leered. Revan closed her eyes, trying not to breathe in the foul stench of death and decay.

For years, she tried to forget what happened next. All she could think about, was at this moment, Bilbo was waking up, down in some dark cavern, while a poor, twisted Hobbit beat to death a goblin on an island in the middle of an underground lake. She wondered how her dear friend was faring as Goblins tried to rip her shirt from her back, collapsing in on herself and hugging her knees to her chest, trying to protect her vulnerable front. As they grew angrier, they grew more and more careless, until her back was a mess of blood and lacerated flesh.

SENSITIVE CONTENT ENDS

Eventually, the King started singing his demented, twisted song again, dancing around his throne, and his second started examining the swords. Once he got to Orcrist, he unsheathed it just enough to recognize it, and flung it away in horror.

"I know that sword! It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!" he shrieked, stumbling back to his throne. In fury, he screamed, "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!" Singling Thorin out from the Company, he bellowed, "Cut off his head!"

Just as Thorin was thrown down right beside her, his face trying to convey an unknowable amount of apology, a magnificent, beautiful explosion of light sent the Goblins and torture machines flying, and knocking the company to the ground.

Gandalf stood, framed by carnage and destruction. "Take up arms. Fight. Fight!"

The dwarves jumped to their feet, Thorin helping Revan up. Not saying a word, they picked up their weapons, and gritting her teeth through the pain, began hacking at the Goblins. The king, also knocked back by the blast, hollered, "He wields the Foe-Hammer! The Beater, Bright as Daylight!"

The rest of the Dwarves reached their weapons, charging into battle to Thorin and Revan's defense. Kili tripped over a goblin corpse, then, and the Great Goblin charged forward, bringing his cruel mace down. Thorin and Revan grunted with the effort, but they managed to deflect his blow. The Great Goblin staggered back, screaming his defiance, and tripped, falling into the abyss.

"Follow me! Quickly, Run!" the Wizard hollered, leading them down and down, on collapsing platforms, slicing through Goblins like butter. Thorin guided Revan to the centre of the company, where she would be protected (much to her annoyance) and then began his dance of death. They rolled stones to crush the oncoming hordes, and she lost sight of some of the company, but they were always rejoined.

Eventually, they came to a long, rickety bridge spanning the chasm, and the Goblin King burst through the planks. Enraged, he bellowed, "You thought you could escape from me?" and took several swipes at Gandalf with his mace. "What're you gonna do now, Wizard," he sneered, leaning in.

Unsurprisingly, Gandalf stabbed the Goblin King in the eye with his staff, causing the Great Goblin to stagger back. Screaming, the goblin lunged forward, only for Gandalf to slice cleanly, neatly through the Great Goblin's grotesque belly.

Nodding almost thoughtfully, the Goblin King conceded, "That'll do it," before having his neck cleanly sliced by Gandalf.

He fell forward then, and his weight caused the bridge and its wooden foundations to crack, creak and fall entirely down into the abyss, sliding down the rocky face. Each jolt caused Revan to scream in agony as she held on for dear life, the wooden structure eventually getting wedged between the narrowing cliffs, coming to a complete, slow stop at the bottom.

"Come on, quickly, there's only one thing that'll save us: Daylight" she heard the Wizard say, trying to come to her feet.

Fili and Kili grabbed her by the shoulders, one of them muttering "Sorry, miss," as they yanked her out of the wreckage and towards blinding daylight. She regained her feet, but the Dwarf Princes were stubborn and insisted they carry her down the hill.

"Three, four five, Gloin, that's six. And dwalin, that makes seven," Gandalf counted, looking around for Bilbo. That was the last Revan remembered.

Until she heard the howls, and felt the princes lug her around like so much dead meat.

"Out of the frying pan -" Thorin began,

"And into the fire. Run Run!" Gandalf bellowed, wheeling around.

Revan tried to pry open her eyes, but pain and dried blood had glued them shut. She was just barely on the edge of awareness, but she realized she must have missed a lot, as seconds seemed to have passed, but night had also fallen.

She was just aware enough to see the edge of the cliff, and help Fili and Kili hoist her into the tree. She clung for dear life onto a branch, the howling and bellowing of Orcs and Wargs not too far behind. She blinked again, and the forest floor was filled with Orc-ridden Wargs jabbing and snapping up at them through the branches.

"Gandalf," she tried to shout, voice hoarse from screaming. She tried again, louder. "Gandalf!" she hollered, finally getting the Wizard's attention. Seemingly nonsensical, she hollered "Call the Eagles! The Eagles!" Seeing confusion on Gandalf's face, she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs, trying to remember the past few hours and why there was an orc pack underneath them.

Oh, yeah. Right.

She summoned her magic and ignited one of the pinecones, dropping it onto the orcs below. Gandalf grinned, followed her lead, and soon Wargs were yelping and orcs were cursing at them in Black Speech. She nearly slipped, and felt a firm hand grab her close.

She looked up into the cool gaze of Thorin Oakenshield, who said, "Don't die on me yet."

"I'm not going to die you bloody idiot, I have to ikhshimitî mê or naikhlî first!" she bellowed back," launching another flaming pinecone down at the Orcs.

She saw Gandalf talking to a moth and nearly collapsed against Thorin with relief. He was calling the Eagles; they were saved! Then she felt Thorin stiffen, and saw a pale orc, astride a white warg bound onto an outcropping of rock.

"Do you smell it?" he asked his mount, in Black Speech. "The smell of fear?"

"Azog!" Thorin hissed, not believing.

"I remember your father reeked of it," Azog said. "Thorin, son of Thrain"

"It cannot be!" Thorin said, clutching Revan's arm.

Looking between the Pale Orc and the Dwarvish King-to-Be, Revan decided that she had thrown enough of a wrench into Sauron's plans for a moment to not go the full nine yards.

She launched herself at Azog, blades glowing, fully intending to cut off his head. She screamed in rage and defiance as she fell short. She rolled, and nearly wept as bits of dirt and twigs stuck to her bloody back, now ripped open again by her movement, and tried to run forward towards the Orc.

Wargs leapt in front of her and she sliced them, stabbing jaws and slitting throats in a red-hazed frenzy, her sole goal to eliminate this abomination whose sole goal was to destroy her new family.

She screamed her defiance in Elvish, but was cruelly yanked back by two different races- the Dwarvish princes saving her from her death, and an orc that had grabbed her trying to rescue his leader.

She felt power suffuse her being, and her tattered and torn clothes caught in a heatless purple and red fire, Fili, Kili, and the Orc letting go in shock. Her blades flickered red and purple, glowing malevolently with their own flames, reflected in Azog and his warg's eyes.

She herself spoke then, in Black speech, the words cruel and uncomfortable on her tongue. "Azog, the Cruel, in the name of Eru Illuvatar I sentence you to Death!" and lunged toward her enemy. Her movements were not her own, something guiding her glowing blades, cutting through Orcs and Wargs alike, dodging blades and arrows she didn't know were there, as Azog stared impassively down at the fray.

In one glimpse, she saw that her wounds had healed, leaving thin, ropy scars where the Goblins' claws and her own blades had cut, and felt her mouth tug down awkwardly where one had sliced her face. In a free moment, she glanced to her side, and saw Thorin Oakenshield in all his glory fighting by her side. She felt her mouth tug into a lopsided grin, and with a mental command, Orcrist glowed with its own vengeful flame.

Fear had entered Azog's expression, then, as the duo carved their way through the Orcish ranks, nearly mirroring each other as they set Orcs and Wargs alight with flame. Soon, before they even reached some foes, arrows sprouted from faces, chests, as the rest of the company joined the fray in their own way. Revan stood back as the last of the pack was decimated, leaving only a trembling Azog cornered on his little outcrop. Thorin strode forward, and with a snarl, cleanly sliced off the White Warg's head, throwing Azog to the ground.

"Who smells of fear now?" Thorin quipped in Khuzdul as he smote off Azog's other arm and laid his shimmering, flaming blade to Azog's neck. "Any last words, filth?"

"Death. That is what will come for you. My master is the One! He will destroy you!" he screamed, as Thorin swung back to take off his head.

Revan scarcely remembered the next few minutes as the burning corpse of Azog fell to the ground. She collapsed to the ground as well, completely exhausted. Thorin strode over, an insufferable, prideful look on his face. "It is done," he said. "Azog the Defiler is no more!"

The cheering of the company was cut off as howling, more fervent and numerous than the entirety of the pack they had just slain echoed through the hills.

Realizing there was no way they, even in their God-infused battle rage, could never defeat such a numerous foe, Revan turned back to the trees.

That was her mistake. Revan had been healed by an unknown magic, but Thorin still bore his wounds. He was weak, tired, and overconfident. He bellowed his defiance at the Orc Pack following them, and refused to be silenced by her. He bellowed and bellowed, until an arrow caught him in the shoulder. He staggered back, clutching at the shaft sprouting from his shoulder, and looked at Revan in shock. He collapsed, finally succumbing to blood loss and exhaustion, the princes screaming out his name. She shielded him as best as she could as dozens, hundreds of orcs streamed down to the narrow outcrop, at their head, Bolg.

She parried and blasted with her magic, still exhausted. Though healed, she soon picked up more cuts as even the best defense was not perfect against such a horde

She only began to have hope when she heard the screech of an eagle, and saw a blur of golden feathers as the orc and warg in front of her was thrown off the cliff by an eagle. The downed Dwarvish Heir was picked up, limp in an Eagle's talons, and another grabbed her in its own claws just as she herself succumbed to the exhaustion and blood loss.

Translations:

ikhshimitî mê- Make you worry/frightened

naikhlî - Make you apologize