Bilba wrenched her blade out from where she'd buried it in its ex-owner's chest with a scowl of disgust.
She'd forgotten just how much she hated orc weaponry. It was flimsy, poorly crafted, and never as sharp as she'd like it, assuming it was sharpened at all. She may have grown softer than she'd been in Moria, but one area she didn't mind having changed in was weaponry. She was happy to fight without armor, but damn it all did she miss her sword.
Ice cold water streamed into her eyes, adding to what was already drenching her from head to foot and she bit back a curse as she tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe it away. Her body was shaking violently from the cold despite the fighting, only serving to increase her agitation. Already, six orcs had taken one look at her and run.
The ones who'd stayed were clearly lacking in basic common sense. Granted, they were orcs, but even so...
She started to move forward, trying to make progress through the horde for the eighth or ninth time, only to snarl in frustration as yet another orc was suddenly in her face. She twisted away, moving to get her sword up, only to feel a jolt of panic as her foot slid in the slippery mud now coating the mountain's slope. She fell back into it with a thud, cold muck soaking through her tunic. The mud was slippery and her body slid in it, her legs ending up between the orc's feet and putting her in perfect striking distance. The force of the blow had also jarred her and knocked the sword from her hand, sending it tumbling down into the sea of orc filth just a few meters below.
The orc sneered at her as it raised its sword, hands wrapped around the hilt as it prepared to drive it into her chest.
Bilba spared a split second to roll her eyes.
As if she'd be killed that easily, and by a rank and file orc of all things.
Please.
It was insulting.
The orc was still gloating, which gave her plenty of time to brace her elbows in the mud and drive a foot straight up between the stupid thing's legs. The orc shrieked, melodramatically, and promptly lost its grip on the hilt of its sword. Bilba rolled to the side, missing the blade as it hit the earth with a wet thunk,
She lashed out with a leg, cutting one of the orc's legs out from under it and sent it tripping to the ground next to her. She rolled and sat up, grabbing the orc's sword from where the blade had sunk in the mud, and wrenched it free.
She then calmly drove the sword straight into the orc's throat. Black ichor spurted into her face and she gagged before dragging the sword free. She twisted back around, planning to get up, only to grunt as her shoulders hit the ground again when still another orc showed up to promptly tackle her back and straddle her.
Much like its predecessor it was far too dumb to think about disarming her or pinning her arms first.
Bilba barely managed to get the sword up, hand on the hilt and other hand bracing the flat of the blade as she blocked the creature's blow. It sneered at her and leaned forward, using the advantage of its bodyweight to try and force its weapon down, mere inches from her face.
"Get off her, asshole." A boot collided with the orc's head, knocking it to one side and jerking its sword wildly off course. Before it could even try to recover, the head of a bright green and yellow dragon came down, a cavern of teeth yawning wide, before it snapped up the orc in one bite, wrenching the creature off her.
"Come on." Frerin knelt beside her, grabbing her arm with one hand while gripping his own stolen sword with the other. "Time for a break."
Bilba scowled at him. I hate these stupid swords, she signed in annoyance as he dragged her upright.
"Consider it a challenge," he said happily, pushing her back as the dragon took up position where they'd been standing. Bilba tugged against Frerin's arm but his grip was like iron and she gave up, lifting her hands to sign in agitation at him.
I thought we were going after Azog.
He shot a look at the teeming mass of orcs Azog had vanished into and shrugged. "I don't know. I think after this is all over, you and I deserve a break. What do you think?"
Bilba raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and lifted her hands. Moria?
His grin, if possible, got wider. "I hear it's nice this time of year."
Bilba nodded. I heard the Arena was recently remodeled.
"You know, I heard that too" Frerin asked with mock surprise. "Put in a skylight. I always said it'd look better with some more natural lighting."
Bilba fought a smile, and didn't resist as he pulled her behind the front lines. The armies of Middle Earth had landed on the mountain in a tiered formation, with the first two rows fighting while those behind rested. After a set amount of time they would switch, those in front dropping back while fresher fighters moved forward to take their place.
It wasn't going to work forever but, so far, it was holding.
A clash drew her attention and she used her hand to shield her eyes from the rain as she looked toward the outcropping on which the most important battle raged. The elven woman, who Frerin had identified as Galadriel, and Gothmog seemed evenly matched, driving one another across the outcrop as each tried to gain the upper hand.
Behind them, Morgoth fended off the wizards, using only one hand to lazily hold them back each time they tried to close in on him.
Bilba frowned. Should he be that nonchalant?
Frerin shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand the intricacies of crazy." He studied the field around them and Bilba felt a small burst of pride at the fact he was breathing harder than she was. Had they been able to catch up to Azog, she would have won that bet. She was sure of it.
"What do you say we try to find someone we recognize?" Frerin asked.
Bilba nodded and turned to survey the field with him. They'd taken refuge several tiers up, almost halfway up the slope of the mountain, behind a dragon so covered in mud and grime it was impossible to tell what color she was supposed to be.
Xalanth was further down the sloped, crouched near Quinlan who appeared to be injured and favoring a leg. Far from putting him out of the battle, however, it had simply angered him. Even then, there was a wide swathe of cleared land around him as orcs made the surprisingly wise choice to attack other foes.
No one had ridden Xalanth, which meant her father and Fili had come in on other dragons. As it was easier to spot a dragon, and she assumed her father and Fili would have stayed close to the for shielding, all she needed to do was figure out who they rode and find that dragon.
Sardin? she signed to Frerin after a moment. He was the only one she could think of, with Lyth and Syrath both injured and presumably left behind in Mirkwood.
Syrath better damn well have stayed behind. If she found out he'd come when he wasn't fully recovered, or that Fili had let him come, she'd kick both their asses.
"Sardin?" Frerin craned his neck, looking for the telltale flash of silver. "Always liked him. Figured he'd make a good match with Vili if the two ever stopped long enough to speak to one another."
Bilba nodded in agreement. The landscape, and those fighting on it, were all liberally coated in mud. Added to that the pounding rain and dark skies and the scene was one of darkness and dim, shadowy figures clashing together, broken only by the sputtering flames of dragons. Over it all rang the clash of steel upon steel, the thunk of sword against shields and the roar of battle, so loud it turned into almost a single tone regulated to the back of her mind. It was giving her a headache but, in light of the way her stomach was gnawing at her spine, and her body was shaking so violently she thought she might break apart, it was the least of her worries. The only bright spot in the misery was that the rain was so hard all she'd had to do was raise her head and open her mouth to quench her thirst, and wash off the orc filth at the same time.
A burst of light from the outcropping drew her attention again, and she watched as the battle between Gothmog and Galadriel seemed to grow more frenzied. Unlike everyone else, those two did not have the option of resting and one, or both, seemed to be tiring.
Morgoth seemed in no such distress, still almost causally blocking the blows from the two wizards. He was in no apparent rush and acted almost amused by their efforts. They, in turn, she noted with surprise, weren't really attacking. They left alone clear openings that Morgoth offered on a proverbial silver platter and didn't press the advantage of the odds being two against one.
They were keeping him occupied. Not fighting him so much as just keeping him busy while Galadriel fought Gothmog.
The fact Morgoth seemed perfectly content with it was unsettling.
She tore her eyes away, and spotted a familiar face a few meters away, crouched next to, and just under, the wing of a resting dragon. Nodding to Frerin, Bilba slogged through the mud until she reached the dragon and dropped next to the young woman's side.
Opal, she signed. I thought you'd be fighting with Vanguard.
"I was," the woman said darkly. Her eyes took on a faraway look and she gave Bilba a tired smile. "Now it's just me. Well, and you and the Captain, assuming he's still around." She let her head fall against the dragon's side for a second with a sigh, and then laboriously got up, reaching for a sword lying next to her. "Looks like we'll need to do some recruiting after this is all over, if there's anyone left to recruit." She gave a short nod to Bilba and then, with a look of resignation, headed back down the mountain toward the battle.
"There," Frerin said suddenly, pointing past her. He'd been standing behind her during the short exchange and Opal hadn't seemed to notice him. Bilba followed his eyes down the slope almost directly under the outcropping, past rows of dragons, and people, of all races until her eyes caught on a slender dragon. He was just as covered in mud as everyone else but the constant deluge periodically revealed flashes of bright silver scales. He was in the fourth tier, moving downward slowly back toward the front lines. There were people near him but, from that distance, it was impossible to identify them.
Bilba moved, Frerin next to her, and started down the slope. The mud and water was slick and she slipped several times, landing hard before Frerin helped her up. At least twice he went down himself, once instinctively grabbing her and taking her down with him, to profuse apologies once he got himself righted again.
They were nearly there when Bilba finally caught sight of yet another familiar figure and felt a surge of relief and happiness. Pulling away from Frerin, she scrambled forward, shoved the hilt of her sword in the ground to retrieve later, and grabbed Fili's shoulder from behind. She'd already considered the fact he'd be understandably on edge and might not react well to being surprised. She easily ducked the sword blow he aimed at her as he swung around, came up inside his guard, and threw both arms around his neck.
From nearby a young woman she didn't recognize snorted and said, "See, I said your guard was too wide."
Fili blinked, startled, and then his eyes went wide, arms coming around Bilba almost automatically "Bilba?"
Bilba grinned at him and then shoved up on her toes to kiss him, tightening her arms around his neck to drag herself closer. He responded in kind, arms wrapping more securely around her waist.
Bilba sighed and relaxed, sagging against him. In that instance, nothing else mattered. The rain, cold, mud, creatures doing their best to destroy the world because they were bastards, all of it simply faded away.
It was all perfect.
For a moment.
Fili pulled away first, and promptly frowned at her. "Please tell me you haven't been fighting without armor or weapons."
Bilba gave him a derisive look and nodded toward her sword. Fili's lip curled in disgust.
"That barely qualifies and, even then, I'm not sure I haven't just insulted weapons in general."
Bilba agreed but she wasn't about to tell him that. A low rumble sounded and Sardin lowered his head to nuzzle her, hard enough to knock her off balance. Fili steadied her while she hooked an arm around the dragon's jaw to return the affection.
"He's been feeling a lot of guilt," Fili explained, voice loud to try and reach over the din, "for you getting captured."
Bilba gave him a confused look and raised her hands. Why? It wasn't his fault.
"So he's been told," Fili said with a shrug.
Someone cleared their throat and Bilba turned to see Frerin stepping forward with a faint smile. "Nephew, it's been a while."
Fili froze, staring at the other dwarf. Then, dropping his hands to Bilba's upper arms, he squeezed and then released her to throw his arms around his uncle. Frerin laughed and returned the embrace. His face over Fili's shoulder took on a decidedly moist appearance and Bilba raised an eyebrow, earning a glare in return.
"Shut up, it's raining."
Someone snorted before Bilba could and she saw the young woman from before still standing there, slightly off to one side. Realizing Bilba was watching her, the woman flushed and then stammered, "Orcrist! Hi. I'm Kaia." Her eyes went wide and she suddenly blurted, "I think you're just amazing! Really, just-"
She waved her hands helplessly, mouth opening as if she wanted to say more but didn't know what.
Bilba gave a slow nod in confusion. The other girl reminded her a bit of how Ori acted around her. Fili said it was because he was a fan but she still wasn't entirely sure what that even meant.
Without warning, something like a thunderclap rang out over the battlefield. A second later a wave of wind and energy slammed into them. Bilba was thrown to the side, and into Sardin. She felt his muscles bunching as he set himself, bracing against the force buffeting them. A harsh wind stole her breath and Bilba turned in toward Sardin to try and catch it
The wind, and the strange force stopped as quickly as it started and she carefully raised her head.
A strange lull had fallen, the noise of battle giving way to a low murmur and shifting. Overhead the deluge lessened and then slowly tapered off.
On the outcropping, she caught sight of Gothmog down on one knee, hand braced against the rock. He was swaying, and struggling to stay upright. Bilba had to search for Galadriel and finally found her only a few meters away, struggling to pick herself up. A deep gouge in the mud suggested she'd been thrown from the ledge and skidded more than halfway down the mountain slope.
A boom reverberated from the outcrop and Gandalf was suddenly flung to the very edge. The other wizard, who Frerin had called Radagast, ran forward to stand in front of him as Morgoth advanced on the pair. In contrast to how he'd appeared earlier, the creature wearing Thranduil's face was smirking, and held a look of intense concentration.
A rush of air on her face and then Kaia was bolting past Bilba, a look of dark anger on her face and her sword clutched in her hand. At almost the same time, came a shout and Bilba saw Legolas appear, also running full tilt toward the outcrop. He leapt forward in long strides as if the ground wasn't inclined and covered in wet, sliding mud.
Galadriel had pulled herself to a sitting position, her husband appearing from nowhere to kneel at her side. She had an arm wrapped around her stomach and was focused on the ground, face twisted in pain and exhaustion. At the shout, she raised her head shakily, and her eyes widened in horror.
"No! Someone stop them!"
It was a cry of fear, and command, and Bilba reacted as anyone who'd spent a lifetime in bondage might.
She ran.
She didn't waste the time to retrieve her sword, or see if anyone else would come after her. She simply obeyed, eyes fixed on Kaia as the other girl fled up the mountain. Dragons, elves, humans and dwarves simply watched her go, too exhausted to stop her or simply not caring too. Perhaps they hadn't heard the shout, or had and saw no reason to obey it.
Bilba wasn't entirely sure why she was obeying. Kaia and Legolas had clear intent and, truly, what did it matter who struck the final blow? One less monster couldn't hurt. Perhaps Galadriel was simply proud, and wanted the accomplishment all to herself.
And yet...
Her foot slid in the mud and she grimaced as her knee collided sharply with the rock. She'd barely landed, however, when hands grabbed her under her arms and then Fili and Frerin were dragging her back up to her feet again. Past them, she caught sight of others also heading up, one of whom could have been Thorin, while another had the shadowy form of her father and brought a jolt of hope and longing to her chest.
She wasn't the only one to hear, and respond, to the call then.
She surged forward, just as a dragon stretched out its neck, tripping Kaia as she tried to rush past. She hit the ground, hard, and Bilba darted under the dragon's neck as it lifted its head, leaving the girl to the other two as she charged forward.
She didn't have to look to know that Legolas would not be stopped so easily. She reached the edge of the outcropping and dragged herself up on it, just as Morgoth casually waved a hand and threw both wizards away from the edge, and from where Gothmog knelt. They slammed into the rock of the mountainside and fell in a crumpled heap, leaving the stone temporarily clear of everyone but him, Bilba, and Gothmog.
Bilba started forward, only to find herself frozen in place as Morgoth lifted a hand.
"Tsk," he said, shaking his head at her in a patronizing manner. "We wouldn't want to destroy all the fun, would we?"
Rock scraped under a boot heel, and then Legolas was pulling himself up, staring wide eyed at Morgoth.
"By the resemblance I'd say you're here to save your father," Morgoth nearly purred. "Afraid I can't help you." He gave a short nod to Gothmog, who was still struggling to rise. He had one hand pressed to his chest and Bilba could see a veritable flood of black oozing from between his fingers to splash down into what was already a thick puddle on the stone. The ring flashed from the finger of his other hand, pressed against the rock to brace himself. "He's quite locked me in."
Legolas hesitated, chest rising and falling in harsh pants.
Movement came from the edge of the outcropping again and Morgoth frowned in annoyance. He motioned with a hand and a solid wave of darkness was suddenly surrounding them like a dome, rising from the outcropping and passing over them until it met the wall of the mountain to their sides and overhead.
Silence fell, save for the labored breathing from Gothmog.
Bilba could see nothing past the darkness, could hear nothing either. The world had shrunk down to the four of them. Or the two, for Legolas seemed entirely fixated on Morgoth.
A strange shudder seemed to pass over Morgoth and he staggered, one arm going toward his head. Legolas shifted and made as if to move forward, only to stop in indecision.
Morgoth straightened, and his face was contorted with suffering, eyes clear and focused on Legolas.
"Quickly," he commanded. "Kill him! It's the only way to free me!"
Bilba felt her breath catch in her throat, and horror settled in her bones. She still couldn't move, and the force holding her in place was as unshakable as it'd been since it'd first taken hold.
No! she mentally screamed as loudly as she could, cursing her inability to speak, or raise her hands to sign. Don't listen! It isn't him!
Morgoth gave a sudden cry as if in intense pain, eyes squeezing shut and partly doubling over. "Legolas! Hurry! Kill him now!"
The sight seemed to snap Legolas out of whatever horrified stupor he'd been in. He pulled a sword from a sheath strapped to his back and ran toward where Gothmog had pulled himself fully to his knees.
Gothmog gave Morgoth an amused look, still unaffected, even at the point of death. "Well done, my Lord," he said, tilting his head in the barest nod of respect. "Well done."
Then the bright steel of an elven sword was slicing into his neck and the time for words was past. Gothmog's head tilted back, eyes going blank, and then his head was removed entirely from his shoulders. A geyser of black erupted from his neck, and his body swayed for a brief second before slowly slumping over to land with a thud on the bare rock.
No one spoke.
Legolas stood over Gothmog's corpse, staring down with a stunned look as if he wasn't quite sure what had happened.
The force around Bilba vanished and she staggered before straightening again.
A few feet away, Morgoth began to slowly clap.
"Well done," he mocked, repeating Gothmog's final words, eyes fixed on Legolas. "Well done, indeed."
And then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed in an ungraceful sprawl. Legolas' sword clattered from nerveless fingers and he scrambled forward to drop to his knees next to his father's body, gathering the elven king in his arms. Bilba saw Thranduil's eyes flicker open, and one hand come up to weakly clutch at his son's arm.
The darkness blocking them in began to recede, fading away to reveal the battle had resumed in their short absence, a loud cacophony of noise and chaos as the orcs pressed their advantage and the forces of Middle Earth refused them passage.
Frerin and Fili scrambled over top of the outcrop, with Galadriel close behind, aided by her husband. The two wizards followed, dazed but conscious and, on the far side of the outcrop, Bilba caught sight of her father and Thorin also climbing over the edge of the stone ledge.
Are you all right?
Bilba jumped in surprise at her father's voice in her head, and then felt an explosion of happiness at the realization she could feel her soul bonds again, as well as her mental links. She started to respond, only to cut off as Galadriel stepped forward, eyes fixed first on Gothmog's remains and then on Legolas.
"Oh, Legolas," she breathed. "What have you done?"
He never got a chance to answer as, beneath their feet, the mountain began to rumble. From the top a river of mud, and rock began to tumble down in thick streams as the shaking grew worse. Near her, Bilba could see loose rock and grit near her feet visibly bouncing up and down like water in a boiling pot.
"Watch out!" a voice shouted. A heavy body slammed into her and she fell forward onto the ground, just as it cracked and vanished under her feet. She hit the rock with a thud, and felt her entire body jerk with fear as her lower body was suddenly suspended over nothing. She scrabbled, lunging forward and struggling to gain purchase. Her fingers found cracks and crevices in the stone and she dragged her body forward, ignoring the way the edges of the rock sliced into her waist and tore at her fingers as she pulled herself back up.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she got to her knees. She looked over her shoulder, and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of nothing where a majority of the rock ledge had stood just a few minutes before.
Fili? she thought frantically, Frerin? A look to the other side of the outcropping showed Thorin and her father in the process of pulling themselves up. Gandalf had managed to stay up as well, already standing, supported by his staff. Of Gothmog's corpse, or Legolas and Thranduil, there was no sign.
We're fine, Frerin's voice came back. Just annoyed.
Bilba started to rise, only to be thrown back to the ground again as the entire mountain shook with a violence unlike anything she'd ever seen before.
The top of the mountain exploded.
Bilba gasped, and felt her eyes widen in horror as a river of the red liquid she'd seen from within burst from the top in a geyser. More spurted from cracks in the stone and bubbled out from the entrance to the mountain. Blistering heat washed over her and Bilba tensed as the stream started to flow straight toward her. She scrambled to her feet, only to realize there was nowhere at all for her to go.
Gandalf stepped next to her, staff raised and a pure, white light shone from the tip. The river split around them while, overhead, the stuff raining down shifted away and back toward the mountain. A look over her shoulder showed the armies running from the molten whatever it was, many being ferried by dragons. They carried fire within them and, as such, were invulnerable to it.
An earth shattering roar rang out and Bilba crouched instinctively, as if she could somehow make herself appear smaller the way a mouse might in the face of a cat.
Gandalf raised his head upward and she saw a slack jawed look of horror on his face. The sight of him scared terrified her in turn and it was with trepidation that Bilba forced herself to raise her head. She could ignore something as much as she wanted, but that wouldn't make it go away.
As soon as she'd lifted her eyes to the top she wished with everything she had that, for just once in her life, that saying could be wrong and she could make something away by simply ignoring it.
Just once.
A shadow was emerging from the ruined top of the mountain, black and so enormous it filled her vision and seemed to block out the whole world behind it. Through the entrance into the mountain she could see more of it, rising upward as the thing crawled out to wind its body around the rock. Talons, each the size a tree trunk if not larger, dug into the rock, shattering it into dust under the pressure.
The stench of rot and decay hit her like a physical wave and she gagged, clamping a hand over her mouth as nausea rose in her throat. The form shifted, dragging more of its body out and she saw dull, black scales scattered in uneven patches. In the areas without scales, gaping rents in the skin presented direct views of cracked bone and unmoving, decaying organs.
With a burst of movement, leathery wings unfurled, one clearly snapped in half while the other sported torn membranes and was held to the body with a stringy, putrefied mass of what had probably once been muscle.
The neck twisted and Bilba was looking straight into eyes she could have sat in with room to spare. They were occluded and white, the color of a corpse's eyes, but she had no doubt they could see her perfectly well.
"Sauron," Gandalf whispered next to her and, with a start, words she'd heard what felt like an age ago ran through her mind.
Morgoth, the dark enemy; could not be killed. As the Valar exist in spirit form it was decided he would be imprisoned in the corpse of his most corrupted creation and sealed away for eternity."
Sealed away.
Within Sauron.
"The greatest and deadliest drake the world has ever known. It's said his fire burned stronger than the hottest forges of Moria."
"His teeth and talons were more unbreakable than mithril and his roar was so loud it vibrated the very earth when he unleashed it."
"He was so large that when he flew he blotted out the sun and when he landed on a mountain he left it a pile of rubble when he left."
Above, the great jaw gaped to reveal teeth larger than the columns used to hold the treasury's roof.
And then, Morgoth, the great enemy of Middle Earth...
Began to laugh.
