"It will be some time before we reunite with the dwarves of Erebor. For now, we four are on our own. Let us continue our quest, and hope that we will remain out of sight."
As the day slowly turned to dusk, Gandalf and the heralds steadily made their way towards the Misty Mountains in order to try and catch up with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. With Rivendell now behind them, the last vestibule of civilization between them and Erebor, the four had now reentered the untamed lands of Middle Earth, back on their collective journey to the Lonely Mountain. Gandalf's other journey, the one to uncover how the morgul blade came to Radagast's hands, would have to wait until the opportunity arose.
On their travels over the lands, they eventually wandered onto a forest trail which Gandalf knew would lead them directly through the mountain chain straight to Mirkwood. The gray wizard had taken the lead with Theodore right behind him, followed by Ryuma and then Augusta.
The warm forest air brought a sense of rejuvenation for the conqueror. After leaving the majesty of Rivendell on a rather forlorn note, Augusta felt like she needed some perking up, and what better way than by enjoying the tranquility of nature. She closed her eyes and graciously soaked in the environment around her, the scent of the pine trees and the sounds of singing songbirds giving their last hymns before night came. It was, like many things she'd experienced in Middle Earth so far, a gentle reminder of the time of her childhood.
"Well, it seems someone's in a better mood." The conqueror was brought out of her daydream by the humored voice of Ryuma, who had briefly stopped to gaze at the gray clouds forming from the west. He couldn't help but notice that there was a slight step to Augusta's walk.
"Just taking in the majesty of the woods, Ryuma. It brings me back." She replied.
"That's funny, and here I thought you were wondering more about your newfound ladyfriend, that cute little elf in Rivendell."
"Oh please, Ryuma," the conqueror playfully rolled her eyes, "Tolthiel's just a friend, not my future wife. Even if I wanted to court her, I'd never take advantage of her like that. It'd be rude."
Talking about having Tolthiel be her lover brought some other thoughts from the deeper recesses of Augusta's mind. Relationships were deeply complicated, that she knew, and she didn't want to tarnish her friendship with the benevolent she-elf for any reason. Tolthiel didn't deserve to have that happen to her.
"Hey, I'm not going to judge you if you were. My eldest daughter happens to have a girlfriend of her own. Lovely girl, a bit of an airhead, but a sweetheart nonetheless." Ryuma shrugged, remembering the slightly awkward interactions he had with his children and their mutual partners, but also the love and joy that he saw whenever they were together, and for him being a parent that accepted his kin's preferences. It was a source of his pride to love his children, no matter what.
"Mayumi's got a girlfriend? Good for her." Augusta said. She was slightly surprised to hear about same-sex couples occurring in the Myre of all places, and from Ryuma's oldest kid no less. She also recalled during her visits to Ryuma's fortress that Mayumi was a skilled kensei, amaster of the Bushidō, the samurai warrior code. Augusta had faced off against several in her lifetime, and they were frightening foes.
The conqueror abruptly turned her eyes to the west, where she could hear the rumbling thunder of a growing tempest. Ryuma caught ear of this as well, along with the smell of rainfall lingering in his nose. Once the two of them saw the flashes of lightning, they knew that the storm was going to be a heavy one.
"That doesn't look good." Augusta quipped.
"Gandalf! Theodore!" The shugoki shouted, catching the attention of the two up in front, who immediately stopped to see Ryuma pointing towards the thunderstorm forming in the sky. "There's a storm coming in, we should find some shelter."
"Yeah, I kinda don't want to get caught in the rain again!" Augusta added on.
"I suppose we can find somewhere to hunker down for the night. Don't want anyone to catch a cold on this leg of the journey." Gandalf said, using his staff to ease himself down the slight slope of the trail. The wizard knew that risking the mountains in any sort of inclement weather was asking for trouble. The cliffside paths of the Misty Mountains were better traversed when it was dry and visible.
"Um, I don't want to be that person, but aren't we on a race against time? It's only a league or so before we reach the peaks." Theodore wondered out loud to the rest of the party. The warlord gestured to the path in front of them, where they could see the tree-covered tips of the Misty Mountains poking up above the canopy.
"Would you rather we risk the mountains in the wet darkness? These are not the same ranges that you may have conquered in your lands, Mister Ulfarson." Gandalf said to Theodore, who couldn't think of a good response to Gandalf. If they had been in Valkenheim, where he knew the peaks of the icy continent by hand, he would have argued against taking a rest stop. But this was different territory, of which he had no clue of what was ahead of them.
"I say we make camp and head out the moment it stops." Augusta said. "That way we can avoid drenching ourselves, get some rest and then catch up with the dwarves when the skies clear up."
"Aye." Ryuma nodded. Gandalf also seemed to agree with Augusta's idea, and they all turned their heads to the warlord.
Knowing that he was outvoted on the matter, Theodore sucked in his pride and relented. As much as he'd want to keep traversing through the inclement weather and find the dwarves sooner rather than later, he knew that it was a risky move to climb mountains in a storm.
"Fine," the Viking huffed, "So where should we set up camp?"
Thunder loudly crashed overhead, and the wizard clicked his tongue.
"Anywhere is good, I suppose."
"Y'know, I'm starting to agree with you, wizard. Oi, samurai. Come with me. Let's find some firewood before we get soaked."
…
Camp was set up swiftly, and good thing too. Not long after Ryuma and Theodore returned with dry kindling, the shugoki had strung up a sizeable tent right as the thunderstorm struck with a vengeance. The tent itself was a large woolen tarp strung to some low-hanging branches that was gifted to the shugoki before they left Rivendell. Theodore had quickly understood why Augusta and Ryuma were adamant about finding shelter before the storm hit them; the rain came first, heavy droplets pouring down and drenching the forest around them. Following the rain came the thunder, which was deafening when it flashed.
While the warlord stood at the front of the tent, eyeing the storm while it raged on outside, the others were huddled around the small fire burning in the center of the tent. The three of them had stripped themselves of their armor, leaving it out of the rain and dry. Gandalf was lying down on his back, keeping himself busy with his smoking pipe while Augusta was munching on some sort of ration that the elves gave her. Ryuma was tending to the small fire with a dry stick before he turned his attention to Augusta's eating.
"What is that?"
"Hm?" The conqueror hummed; her cheeks filled with food.
"That," Ryuma pointed at the bread in her hands with his stick, "what is that you're eating."
Augusta swallowed before she gave her answer.
"Tolthiel called it lembas bread, I think. Elven-made recipe and what not. Supposedly a couple bites can keep you full for an entire day." Augusta said, revealing the name of the thin piece of golden bread in her hands. She leaned forward from the log she was sitting on and tossed a piece of the elf ration over to Ryuma, who caught it in his right hand. "Have some. It's really good."
Ryuma gingerly put the wafer-like slice into his mouth and chewed. The texture was similar to that of a fresh loaf, but the taste was quite delicious.
"Not bad. Tastes like sweetbread my wife prepares for parties." Ryuma gave his honest opinion, shrugging as he did. Augusta gave a slight chuckle before shoveling the rest of the lembas bread into her mouth, finishing off with a hiccup after swallowing it down. Ryuma, who was watching her gorge herself like a starving animal, felt his eyelid twitch. If there was one thing that he wished he could fix about the conqueror, it would be her bottomless appetite.
"You eat too much."
"Hah! So says the big bad shugoki." Theodore laughed as he entered the conversation, easing himself down on the log right next to Ryuma. The warlord briefly looked at the rain outside and whistled at the heavy, dark-gray torrent around them. "Looks like your idea of keeping out of the rain was a smart one, knight."
"I told you." Augusta said, and turned back to Ryuma. "And don't you look at me like that. Can't a girl enjoy herself once in a while?"
"Like how you enjoyed talking to your elf friend?" Theodore said with a smirk on his face. "Don't think I don't know what you two were doing, Fili and Kili told me everything."
"And you believe those two knuckleheads?"
"Hey, I like gossip. I get it from my daughter."
"A daughter? You have family in Heathmoor, Ulfarson?" Ryuma asked. The samurai was suddenly curious, mostly thanks to his and Augusta's earlier talk about his own. Ryuma also wanted to learn a little bit more about the warlord among them. He already knew plenty about Augusta, since they had worked together in the past, but there was much about their Viking ally that he didn't.
Theodore silently reached into the sleeve of his armor and pulled out a small, tattered piece of paper with a finely sketched face drawn on it. Augusta stood up from her spot and Ryuma leaned over to get a better look with the glow of the flame giving them some illumination. The drawn face was obviously a girl, with short braided hair and bright, youthful smile. They could see a little bit of Theodore in her.
"This is my daughter, Johanna Theosdóttir. A spitfire she is, always trying to find adventures or go off exploring the islands with her friends. She wants to become a full-fledged Valkyrie when she's older, like her mother." Theodore longingly said, his eyes and voice becoming softer as he talked about his child. A smile graced his lips, for talking about his beloved Johanna always brought a sense of joy to the Viking.
"And her mother?" Augusta wondered. "What about her?"
Theodore's smile fell, and he let out a heartbroken sigh while he put the picture back where he left it in his leather sleeve.
"She's gone. Has been for some time now." He said, his tone barely stronger than a whisper. Both the shugoki and conqueror recoiled once those words left his mouth, and Augusta felt like she'd just opened up some forgotten wounds.
"O-Oh, oh God Theodore I'm sorry, I didn't know." Augusta apologized with a hand over her mouth in horror, but the warlord waved it off.
"It's okay, Connolly. Don't worry."
"If I may be so bold to ask," Ryuma inquired, "How did she pass away?"
Theodore sighed again; this time far heavier than the previous one. The matter of his wife's death was always a sore subject for the warlord, even after all the years passed it was still as fresh as ever in his mind. Yet Theodore felt more inclined to tell them for some reason, no matter if it hurt him. Perhaps it was because they were all alone out here in Middle Earth, and he had nobody else to talk to other than the wizard, who was also keeping an ear open on the chat between the three Heathmoor natives.
"She was slain by pirates years ago," Theodore went on to say, "During that time, the western shores of the White Islands were a perfect hideout for raiding scum to attack passing ships, thanks to all the sea spires that littered the shores. Not many people would dare to venture there. One day, my wife decided to take a cadre of our best warriors to try and clear out them out. It was a cloudless day, and the seas were as calm as ever. A perfect opportunity to strike. I was not there that day, away on a council, and I only wished that I could have gone with her."
"Only one of our soldiers returned home that night, the one they spared. My wife's forces were outnumbered three-to-one, and by the time they realized they were in trouble, it was already too late." Theodore recalled what happened well. He doubted that he would ever forget the night he came home and received the news that he had lost his wife, leaving him and his daughter to themselves. "I went back and recovered what remained of our warriors, to honor them in full, but I found nothing of my beloved wife."
"Johanna is all I have left of her. I swore that I would never let anything befall my daughter as long as I live, so I scoured the shores of the White Islands and hunted down what remained of those pirate bastards 'till the last man." Theodore growled, clenching his fist as he distinctly recalled beheading the pirate captain and putting his head on a pike for the world to see. Even after he had found his revenge, it did not serve to quell the pain that clouded him that day, and many days afterwards.
As the years passed and his daughter grew up and turned into a fine young girl, Theodore did eventually overcome his grief thanks to Johanna, his friends and his duty to protect the White Islands, but he would never forget the days of when his wife was by his side.
Both Augusta and Ryuma were struck with what Theodore had told them. Neither could have imagined what burden the Viking had been carrying with him all this time. Even if it was commonplace to hear the loss of a loved one back in Heathmoor, the pain that came with it was always as strong as ever. Augusta felt like she'd somewhat lucked out in that degree when it came to her own family, since it was just her and her little sister.
"My sincerities, Ulfarson. I dare not imagine what you have gone through. If anything had happened to my own wife, I don't know what I would have done." The shugoki softly said, putting a gently hand on the Viking's shoulder as a sign of comfort. "It takes great bravery to openly share such a story with two strangers."
"Strangers? You're selling yourself short there, samurai. We're all strangers in these lands."
"Perhaps not so much as you'd like to believe, master Ulfarson." Gandalf quipped, catching their attention. It had caught the three of them by surprise, since it had also been the first words coming out of his mouth after they had strung up the tent. "Why, you are already sharing stories with one-another! I believe that counts for something, does it not?"
"Time will only tell, Gandalf."
The Viking let out a yawn and stretched his arms out wide, taking a glance out to see how the weather was faring. The rain outside hadn't subsided, but the sun had set for some time now, leaving most of the forest in darkness. "C'mon, let's get some shuteye. We're gonna need our rest for the road tomorrow."
As Theodore stood up to his bedsheet, and Ryuma followed him towards his own, Augusta and Gandalf shared a quick look with each other before the conqueror doused the fire down with a splash of water, sending the tent into a deep, rainy dark.
…
Meanwhile, some distance away under the moonlit storm, a large pack of wargs had picked up a fresh scent. Their orc masters could sense it as well, with Azog himself leaning down from his white warg to get a smell himself. It was clean, even with the rain around them, the clear aroma of his dwarfish prey tickling his nostrils.
"(The scent is fresh!)" Azog hissed to his fellow warg riders. It didn't take long for him to find out where the company had ventured towards.
"(They have taken the mountain pass.)"
With a swift buck, Azog and his orcs resumed their quest to hunt down Oakenshield and his ilk across Middle Earth. Among them was their guest, whose heart began to beat like a rhythmic drum at the sensation of getting closer to the conqueror.
"I'm coming, Augusta..."
…
The company of Thorin Oakenshield, however, would be hard to reach, even for the orcs. Their travel across the Misty Mountains had been one of treacherous peril. After barely surviving a treacherous thunder-battle between a trio of raging storm giants, colossal beings made of mountain rock that rumbled the valley around them to pieces, the thirteen members of the group had found a cave nearby to get some rest.
Or at least that was their plan. Bilbo had a different idea. While the dwarves were deep in slumber, the hobbit quietly began to pack up his things and make his return to Rivendell, his mind dead-set on leaving the dwarves on their journey to the Lonely Mountain.
Truthfully, the hobbit had already felt like he'd run out of patience for such a quest. He wasn't cut out for such things, the mountaineering, fighting, and nearly trampled and crushed by mountain-sized creatures. He may have been able to deal with it had it not been for Thorin's biting tongue, the dwarf prince not bothering to hide the contempt he held for the homebody hobbit. The journey was bad enough having to deal with such harrowing moments, but the verbal abuse was not something he was willing to take.
If he wanted him gone, then Bilbo would be gone.
Carefully the hobbit stepped over the sleeping dwarves until he believed he was in the clear, the mouth of the cave in front of him, and then it would be a set course for civilization.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Bilbo knew that it wouldn't be that easy. Thorin would have had someone guard the entrance, and who else other than the concerned Bofur. But Bilbo had made his mind up, no matter who got in his way.
"Back to Rivendell."
"No, no!" Bofur said in a hushed voice. He seemed shocked that the hobbit would even consider leaving after all they'd been through. "You can't turn back now! You're part of the company! You're one of us."
"I'm not though, am I?" Bofur's face fell at what Bilbo was saying. "Thorin said I should have never come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, I don't know what I was thinking."
Despite their hushed whispers, the voices of Bilbo and Bofur had in fact managed to wake up one of the dwarves. The blue eyes of Thorin Oakenshield slowly peeled open, wondering who was talking at this hour, but kept silent to hear what the hobbit had to say.
"Shouldn't have run out my door."
"You're homesick! I understand." Bofur tried to appease to Bilbo, but the hobbit would have none of it.
"No, you don't! You don't understand! None of you do, you are dwarves! Y-You're used to this life," Bilbo gestured around him with a pinched finger to the slumbering party, camped up inside a cave, "Living on the road, never settling down in one place, not belonging anywhere!"
Bilbo didn't mean to say that last line, but after the day he had his temper, as small as it may be, was bound to spill over. Bofur's face instantly morphed into a saddened frown.
"I-I am sorry, I didn't…" Bilbo stopped himself from talking any further, not wanting to unintentionally drag the dwarf down any more than he should. But Bofur was not gloomy because of what Bilbo may have said, it was because that deep down, the dwarf knew that the hobbit had accidentally spoken an unmentioned truth about them.
"No, you're right, Bilbo. We don't belong anywhere." Bofur solemnly said as he turned around, looking at the party still sleeping. His mind raced with all the memories of constant travel that the dwarves of Erebor had to make, even when they settled in the Blue Mountains. Dwarves such as them never really had a home after Erebor, not like what Bilbo had, a place to call their own.
The hobbit had nothing to say to that, and neither did Thorin himself.
"I wish you all the luck in the world." Bofur said, and Bilbo realized that he was letting him go. The dwarf smiled anyway, putting a friendly hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "I really do."
Bilbo silently thanked the dwarf for allowing him to leave without hassle, fully confident that their journey would be successful without him. He simply hoped that he would be able to reunite with Gandalf and Augusta again.
Yet before he could even leave the cave, Bofur noticed something odd with Bilbo's gear.
"What is that?"
Bilbo, perplexed by what Bofur was talking about, turned around to see that the dwarf was eyeing his scabbard, the same one that held the elven sword that Gandalf had found for him. Only there was a faint blue light peeking from the edge where the hilt met the top. Slowly, the hobbit pulled his weapon out, which revealed that the entire blade had somehow started to glow blue. It was then that Bilbo remembered the foreboding words that Gandalf told him days ago, after he had found the sword in the troll hoard.
"…it will glow blue when orcs, goblins, or other fell creatures are nearby."
Something bad was on its way.
There was a sound of something moving beneath their feet, like gears turning in a machine. Thorin heard this as well, and his eyes were drawn to a sudden crack forming at the floor of their cave. Only this was nothing sort of natural; this was clearly made by something lurking in the mountain where they had decided to rest.
"Wake up! WAKE UP!" The dwarf prince urgently said, strong enough to knock everyone out of their slumber at the command of their king. But even as Thorin tried to get his company on to their feet, the floor beneath them suddenly gave way and opened up like a stony trap door, and the company was sent plummeting down into the mountain.
They did not fall down into a bottomless pit, but instead a carved, smooth ravine that tossed the dwarves and hobbit around as they fell faster and deeper, torches lighting the way. Soon enough their bruising tumble came to end with all thirteen members landing in a large, haphazardly-built cage of some sort, some landing on the ground while others like Bombur landed on their fellow dwarf. A great cry followed once they landed from around them, and it was then they saw what sort of new enemy they had on their hands.
"Look out! Look out!" Dori shouted out to the rest of the company.
A massive crowd of mountain goblins, pale-skinned and hideous, came rushing up from the wooden walkway towards their newly captured prey. Snarling, aggressive, and covered in various sorts of leather armor, they dragged the dwarves up one by one into the horde. Even as some of the dwarves fought back such as Dwalin and Kili, there were simply too many of them. Even poor Bilbo, who was obviously frightened at the hissing and growling from the goblins around him, could do nothing but be dragged away.
While the goblins were mean, their attention span was lacking, only caring about the bigger, meaner dwarves than the meek little hobbit. An idea came to Bilbo's head, one that he hoped would work. As the horde carried the dwarves to wherever they were leading them, Bilbo slowly sank to his knees and hid himself, arms covering his head while the horde continued onwards, either not caring about the hobbit or simply had their eyes elsewhere.
Only Dori seemed to notice that Bilbo had somehow managed to sneak out of the goblins' grasp as he was pushed along the walkway. The dwarf dared not say anything, unless he wanted to risk the hobbit's life. The goblins kept their hands on them, all while Bilbo stayed as still as possible, not moving a muscle until the footsteps around him slowly went quiet.
Once the last goblin had wandered off over a rope bridge, Bilbo slunk on his hands and knees to a piece of cover and watched on as Thorin and the dwarves were taken somewhere else. Where they were dragged off to remained to be seen, but now the hobbit was, for the first time, now completely on his own against an innumerable foe. But he couldn't let Thorin and the others suffer, no matter what. Unsheathing his elven sword, which was indeed glowing blue, Bilbo prepared himself to try and rescue the dwarves from the goblins any way he could.
At least that was his plan, but he hadn't counted on a stray goblin to suddenly land in front of him, attracted to the sounds of hobbit feet. Matted gray hair covered its head, and warts too numerous to count. It held a jagged knife in its right hand, ready and eager to cut the meek little hobbit into giblets. This would be Bilbo's first ever true sword fight as the goblin charged.
Bilbo instantly went on the defense as the goblin wildly struck with its knife. Neither had any form, just sheer aggression of the goblin matching with the hobbit's rigid, fearful swordplay. A lucky parry from a terrified swing knocked the knife out of the goblin's hand, but the angry little monster simply lunged up and clawed its way onto Bilbo's back, opting to use its teeth and claws to try and kill him.
Bilbo desperately tried to knock the goblin off of him, but a single misstep on Bilbo's behalf sent both the goblin and the hobbit tumbling down the dark ravine below. Even as he tried to grab a piece of rope hanging from a rope bridge that he had smashed on his way down, there was nothing that Bilbo could do other than hopelessly yell as he fell into the deeper, darker depths of the mountain.
…
The dwarves, on the other hand, were eventually led towards the heart of the goblin village. Like what most of the goblins built, the village was chaotically strung along the edges of the mountain walls, lit with countless torches. Thorin and company were greeted with the immense noise of horns, gongs and drums blaring from a platform overhead once they entered. Bifur went so far as to cover his ears from all the sound around him. At the center of the expanse lay a throne built on top of a rocky spire, and sitting on that throne was none other than the massive Goblin King himself, dressed with a crown made of bones and a pronged staff.
While the other goblins were small, some smaller than the dwarves, the Goblin King was huge, at least twice as high as the dwarves. And much bigger as well, with an enflamed goiter dangling off his chin like some sort of fleshy beard.
Once he was done hacking up a loogie, the Goblin King spoke while his goblin servants scrambled to position themselves underneath as a footrest for their majesty.
"I feel a song coming on…" He groused, and while the dwarves were being led to him, the large goblin patriarch began to sing.
"Clap, snap,"
"The black crack!"
"Grip, grab,"
"Pinch and nab!"
"Batter and beat,"
"Make 'em stammer and squeeeeak!"
"Pound, pound,"
"Far underground!"
"Down, down, down in Goblin-town!"
Even his fellow goblins joined in the fray alongside him as well, singing to their heart's content.
"Down, down, down in Goblin-town!"
"With a swish and a smack,"
"And a whip and a crack!"
"Everybody talks when they're on my rack!"
"Pound, pound,"
"Far underground!"
"Down, down, down to Goblin-town!"
"Down, down, down to Goblin-town!"
"Hammer and tongs,"
"Get out your knockers and gongs!"
"You won't last long on the end of my prong!"
The Goblin King went so far as to impale a goblin with his staff and hurl the creature overhead at his dwarf audience, who didn't look the least pleased at all.
"Clash, crash,"
"Crush and smash!"
"Bang, break,"
"Shiver and shake!"
"You can yammer and yelp but there ain't no help!"
"Pound, pound,"
"Far underground!"
"Down, down, down in Goblin Town!"
"Yeah!"
The song itself ended with a fast-paced cacophony of banging instruments, and the Goblin King doing a little twirling dance on the tips of his toes, feeling quite good after he'd sung a personal favorite tune of his. The dwarves, on the other hand, were as dour as they could be. With the song over, the Goblin King returned to his throne.
"Catchy, isn't it?" He said to the dwarves with a gleaming smile. "It's one of my own compositions."
"That's not a song," Balin shouted from the back, "That's an abomination!"
"Abominations, mutations, deviations!" The Goblin King said back, not bothered in the slightest that the dwarves were no fans of his songs. To each their end, he supposed. "That's all you're gonna find down here!"
Now it was time for the goblin monarch to get some answers. The goblins that had snagged the company threw the dwarf's captured weapons at the foot of the Goblin King, who was suddenly not happy that these invaders were carrying swords and axes into his mountain halls.
"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" The Goblin King thundered as he took a mighty step off his throne and leered at the smaller dwarves. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?!"
"Dwarves, your malevolence!" A goblin spoke up.
"Dwarves?"
"We found 'em on the front porch!"
"Well don't just stand there, search them! Every crack, every crevice!" If the Goblin King knew anything about dwarves, it was that their pockets ran deep. All sorts of goodies could be hidden in or on those heavy jackets of theirs, and soon it would belong to him. The goblins standing around immediately began sticking their hands onto anything they could grab, one snatching Oin's hearing trumpet and stomped on it for good measure. Another snagged Dori's satchel and dumped out all of the contents within, revealing stolen Elven silverware, glass goblets and a whole slew of items that he had most likely snatched from their little visit to Rivendell.
"It is my belief, your great protuberance," A goblin said as he held up a candelabrum to the Goblin King, who took it from him, "that they are in league with Elves!"
The Goblin King turned over the piece of silver to view the writing at the bottom of the pommel.
"Made in Rivendell. Ugh, Second Age. Couldn't give it away." He scoffed, tossing the elven item away like trash.
Some of the dwarves, mainly Nori, turned to give frowning looks at the wiry dwarf who had thought it was a bright idea to lug around so much stuff, and stolen ones at that.
"It was just a couple of keepsakes…" Dori weakly defended himself.
"What are you doing in these parts?" The Goblin King demanded. It was Thorin who almost made his appearance known but was stopped by Oin putting a hand to stop his prince.
"Don't worry lads, I'll handle this."
"No tricks! I want the truth, warts and all!" The Goblin King said as he sat back down on his throne, making his demands known.
"You're going to have to speak up! Your boys flattened my trumpet." Oin loudly said as he held up his ruined hearing aid for the goblin to see.
"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" The Goblin King stood up and stomped forward in a furious rage to turn the uppity dwarf into a smear on the floorboard. Some of the goblins made themselves scarce at the sight of their fuming king.
"If it's more information you're wanting, then I'm the one you should speak to!" Bofur immediately rushed to stop the angry goblin from crushing them with a meaty fist. It seemed to work as the Goblin King stopped in his tracks once he heard Bofur talk, pausing for a moment to let him speak.
Of course, Bofur really had nothing to say, so he decided to do some ad-libbing.
"We were on the road… well, it's not so much a road as a path. Actually, it's not even that, come to think of it, it's more like a track. Anyway, the point is we were on this road, like a path, like a track, and then we weren't! Which is a problem, because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday."
"Shut up…" The Goblin King said under his breath, already getting fed up, but the dwarves kept talking.
"Visiting distant relations!" Nori added on.
"Some inbreds on me mother's side." Bofur kept on going with his story until the Goblin King couldn't take it anymore and slammed his staff down on the floor.
"SHUT… UP!"
His bellowing cry was strong enough to send the goblins around him cowering, but the dwarves instantly clammed up, knowing that they'd only made the goblin patriarch even more irritated. He knew that the dwarves were only trying to buy some precious time. If they were going to hide the truth from him, then the Goblin King had a few ideas on how to get it out.
"If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!" He gleefully said, and the goblin village erupted in cruel cheers. "Bring up the mangler! Bring up the bone-breaker!"
"Start with the youngest!" The Goblin King pointed directly at the terrified Ori.
"Wait!" A single shout silenced them all as Thorin made his way in front of the group, finally making his presence known to the goblins. The Goblin King knew exactly who this dwarf was the moment he laid his eyes upon him.
"Well, well, well! Look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror! King under the Mountain!" The Goblin King made an extravagantly mocking bow before the dwarf prince. "Oh, but I'm forgetting that you don't have a mountain! And you're not a king, so that makes you… nobody, really."
While Thorin's face remained in a stoic fury, he knew that the Goblin King was right on everything that he said. It always hurt to hear that his kingdom was still under the weight of Smaug, and here he was, in front of the Goblin King and his mountain kingdom, like some sort of cruel joke. Speaking of the Goblin King, a sudden smile grew on his twisted face.
"I know someone, who would pay a pretty price for your head." He couldn't help himself but snort. "Just a head. Nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak of."
"An old enemy of yours." Thorin slowly rose his head to meet the Goblin King as he continued to speak of a familiar foe that Thorin had thought dead for many years past. "A pale orc, astride a white warg!"
The dwarf prince, to his horror, recognized who he was talking about.
"Azog the Defiler was destroyed! He was slain in battle long ago!" Thorin desperately said, hoping that the Goblin King was only playing with his fears, but something at the back of his head was telling him that this monster was speaking truthfully.
"So, you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The Goblin King touted, and then turned to a small, deformed goblin who was sitting in a cage latched to a pulley. "Send word to the pale orc. Tell him, I have found his prize!"
…
Far deeper below the goblin town in the darker caverns of the Misty Mountains, Bilbo felt his eyes slowly open. Strangely enough, even after falling for so long, the hobbit didn't feel any worse for wear. Perhaps it was because he landed in a patch of large brown mushrooms. The goblin that had tried to kill him was not so fortunate, as it lay dazed and bloody in the center of the cave, letting out an occasional wheeze.
Only, after a couple moments of waking up, Bilbo started to hear something else. Out from a passage connected to where he fell came another creature, only this was no goblin. Its eyes were too big, thin strands of wiry hair dangling on its large, pointy-eared head, and it crawled on all fours as it made its way towards the injured goblin. Along its torso was a simple tattered belt, the only thing it wore.
It hadn't noticed Bilbo, so the hobbit remained quiet while the new creature looked at its latest prize, hopping around the cavern on open hands.
"Yes!" The little creature giddily said between his ragged breathing as he inspected what had fallen down into his home lair. "Yes! Yeeesss! Gollum, Gollum!"
He began to drag the goblin away, all while Bilbo watched on through a little hole through one of the mushrooms. However, whilst the creature was dragging the goblin away, the warty monster suddenly woke up in a frenzy, flailing its clawed hands to try and attack the other creature, which had grabbed a rock and began bludgeoning the goblin in retaliation.
It was then, out the corner of Bilbo's vision, that he saw something peculiar. In the middle of the fight, right out of a small, woven pocket on the other creature's belt, flew a large, golden ring, glimmering underneath the pale underground light. Neither the creature who once held it nor the goblin it was beating had noticed what happened, and before long it had knocked the goblin unconscious and resumed dragging it further away.
"Nasty goblinses, gragh! Better than old bones, precious! Better than nothing!"
As the sound of flesh scraping on rock faded away, Bilbo stood up tall and tip-toed out of the mushroom patch. While he was now free of the goblins, he now had this other thing to deal with. His sword had thankfully landed nearby, still glowing blue and undamaged from the fall. It would be helpful for navigating the dark depths of the Misty Mountains.
With the glow of his sword leading him on, Bilbo caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was the gold ring, still sitting at the floor of the cavern. The other creature must have forgotten about it, or hadn't seen it fall out of his pocket. Curiously, the hobbit leaned down and plucked it off the dark wet rock, rolling the piece of jewelry between his thumb and forefinger. It was quite heavy for a ring, and Bilbo found himself drawn to it for some reason.
"Ooh, too many boneses, precious! Not enough flesh! Shut up!" The creature's voice rang out again, some distance away from where Bilbo was standing. He knew that there was only one way out, and that was the same direction where the little creature took the goblin, deeper into the mountain. With nowhere else to go, Bilbo slowly but steadily made his way forward, listening to the voice of the creature leading him on.
"Cut its skin off! Rgh! Slice its goblin head!"
Bilbo eventually found himself arriving in a massive cavern, a weak beam of light piercing the ceiling of the cave. Jagged, rocky outcrops jut around him, and in the center of the cavern lay a cold, still lake, where on top of a single boulder was the creature, sitting directly under the light with the goblin beneath him. Bilbo managed slink off behind a slab of rock before it began to sing, not in a jubilant tone, but in a growling, cruel voice.
"They cull our lands, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet!"
"Through rocks and stone, they like old bones, they bare old meat!"
"Cold as death, without no breath, it's good to eat!"
It was then the goblin awoke for the final time before the gangly creature lurching on top of it finally silenced its attacks by a swift strike to the head with a rock. Right as it was done swinging it turned its head right where Bilbo was hiding, its large eyes gleaming in the darkness. The hobbit instantly hid himself with his back pressed against the rock, but his sword began to flicker as the light faded away with the goblin finally dead.
And it was for that reason Bilbo felt confused. Was the other creature not some sort of monster as well? He craned his neck to see if it was still there on top of the stone, but it was gone. Only now could hear the familiar ragged breathing coming from above, and he saw that, to his shock, the creature had somehow silently snuck up to the hobbit, when it then landed right in front of him.
"Blesses and splashes!" He hissed as his pupils narrowed into little dots. "That's a meaty mouthful!"
Before it could even attempt to take a bite out of the hobbit, Bilbo remembered that he still had his elven blade with him. The tip found itself pressed against the base of the creature's neck, stopping it from coming any closer as it did its horrid cough.
"Back! Stay back! I'm warning you! Don't come any closer!" Bilbo desperately said as he and the creature put some distance between themselves.
"It's got an elfish blade, but it's not an elfes!" The gangly thing said to itself as it crawled away. "Not and elfes, no! What is it, precious? W-What is it?"
"My name," Bilbo began, "is Bilbo Baggins."
"Bagginses? What is a Bagginses, precious?"
"I am a hobbit, from the Shire."
"Oh, hehe! We like rabbits, batses and fishes. But we hasn't tried hobbitses before!" The creature slowly slunk closer to the nervous hobbit as its voice turned more insidious than previously. "Is it soft? Is it juicy?"
"No! N-No! K-Keep your distance!" Bilbo frantically swung his blade to keep the creature at bay. "I'll use this if I have to!"
"Raaaagh!" The creature cried out as if to scare the already frightened hobbit further.
"No, I-I don't want any trouble, do you understand me?" Bilbo said, and soon felt more aggravated with his current dilemma. "Just show me the way to get out of here, and I'll be on my way!"
"Why? Is it lost?"
"Yes, yes! And I would like to get un-lost as soon as possible."
"Ooh! We knows, we knows safe path for hobbitses! Safe paths in the dark!" The creature pointed to where the way out was supposedly before it suddenly changed its facial expression again and began to turn… on itself. "Shut up!"
"I didn't say anything."
"Wasn't talking to you." It replied in a sour tone before it ducked underneath a slab. "Well, yes, we was precious, we was."
Bilbo couldn't help but feel more confused.
"I-I don't know what kind of games you're playing here, but…"
"Games?!" The creature excitedly exclaimed once he heard the word come from the hobbit's mouth. "Oh, we love games, doesn't we precious? Does it like games? Does it? Does it? Does it like to play?"
At first the hobbit was unnerved by how quickly this creature's personality changed, and now it was here asking about games, like it was a lost child or something of that nature.
"Maybe?" Bilbo said, before the creature put a hand up to get his attention, and then proceeded to say a riddle.
"What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up, up it goes, and yet, never grows?"
"The mountain." Bilbo plainly said. He'd heard that riddle before countless times from his family members out in the East Farthing when he was a boy. The moment he answered correctly, the creature let out a giggle.
"Yes, yes! Oh, let's have another one, yes! Go, do it again! Do it again! Ask us!" It asked, before the other personality took over again. "No! No more riddles! Finish him off! Finish him now! Gollum, Gollum!"
Sensing that there had to be some way to talk his way out of this scenario without resorting to violence, Bilbo decided that the best way to find his way safely out of the mountain was to play along with the nicer side of this creature, the one that wanted to ask riddles.
"No, no!" He said, sticking an open palm out to stop the creature from trying to kill him. "I want to play, I do! Really! I can see that you are very good at this!"
And, like clockwork, his more appealing side came back, as evidence with his wider pupils and big grin on his face.
"So, why don't we," Bilbo said, as he crouched down to meet the creature, who he believed itself to be called Gollum based on that cough he had, face-to-face, "have a game of riddles? Yes, just you and me."
"Yes!" Gollum hissed as he clambered closer to the hobbit with excitement in his feet. "Just us!"
"Yes. A-And if I win, you show me the way out."
"Yes, ye-mrrph!" The other side of his personality suddenly came out again, angrily pointing at the hobbit as he turned away and began talking to himself. "And if it loses? What then? Well, if it loses, precious, then we eats it!"
"If Baggins loses, we eats it whole." Gollum said, giving the hobbit his demands for if he won the game of riddles. The claim was utterly ridiculous, as Bilbo would be essentially gambling for his life right now. But the hobbit, knowing full-well that he had no other choice but to humor Gollum, took a moment to register the situation before him before he gave his answer.
"Fair enough." And with that, Bilbo sheathed his sword and prepared himself to, quite literally, riddle his way out of death.
…
Some distance away, unaware of the Company's or Bilbo's current predicament, Gandalf and the Heathmoor Gang had finally managed to reach a grassy foothill at the base of the Misty Mountains after leaving the fringe borders of the forest. Gandalf had once again taken the lead, stopping for a moment to allow the three other warriors to take a gaze at the longest mountain chain in all of Middle Earth, where they would hopefully reunite with the dwarven company.
"Behold, Hithlaeglir. The Misty Mountains. Beyond these green summits lies the Lonely Mountain, and the city of Erebor." Gandalf announced in a grandiose voice, pointing at the green-covered summits with his staff. Thanks to the dowsing rainfall of last night, they could see how the mountains had acquired their namesake, as their peaks which had once been visible were now smothered with soft gray mist. The slopes themselves were covered in trees, leaving only a few barren spots of dark colored stone.
"Doesn't seem very green to me," Ryuma muttered, eyeing the aforementioned mist that shrouded the mountain peaks, "More like a dreary gray."
"Thirty white horses on a red hill."
"First they champ."
"Then they stamp."
"Then, they stand still."
Theodore at the same time turned his head back and forth, whistling in astonishment at the immensity of the Misty Mountains. No such formations existed in Valkenheim, or any other place he had visited in Heathmoor. It seemed to stretch on forever in both directions, like a colossal wall that Mother Nature herself built on the lands of Middle Earth.
"Thor bless me, those are some majestic highlands. Hey, Connolly," Theodore nudged the conqueror, "You've seen a couple maps. Got anything in this place?"
"I read that it goes from North to South for nearly eight hundred miles or so, cutting across the entire upper half of the continent." Augusta said, remembering a little bit of information she saved from her nightly library visit back when they were in the Elven town. It was certainly helping now that they were out here in the wilderness, as Augusta could start pointing and naming things around them without having to rely on Gandalf's own knowledge.
Speaking of the gray wizard, he had for some unknown reason remained rooted in the spot where he arrived, looking at the mountains with a creased brow on his newly troubled face, like he was suddenly struck with a grave set of news that he had somehow come to know just now. He could sense it, clear as the sky behind them. The Heathmoor Gang were just beginning their mountain ascent together when Augusta noticed that their wizard guide was not with them, and stopped to see where he was to see him standing where they had left the forest, still as a statue.
"Voiceless it cries."
"Wingless flutters."
"Toothless bites."
"Mouthless mutters."
"Gandalf?" Augusta called out, noticing the worried expression the wizard wore. "Is everything alright?"
Theodore and Ryuma stopped to see what was going on with Gandalf, too wondering where he had been after they started walking. Before they could wander for long, the wizard then grasped his staff underneath a tight grip and began to march towards the Heathmoor Gang with great resolve.
"There's no time," he suddenly said, startling the three heralds, "We must act now."
"Now? What do you mean, now?" Theodore urgently pressed as Gandalf suddenly unsheathed the mighty Glamdring from its scabbard. Even Ryuma, who did his best to remain calm at all times, felt his heart begin to race. For a moment he wondered if the gray wizard was about to turn his blade onto them, his hand reaching for the hilt of his Anbei kanabo, but he was quickly proven wrong.
"The dwarves, master Ulfarson! They're all in danger, and neither they nor we have the time to journey on foot to the mountains lest their lives be lost to us!" Gandalf said back, silencing the warlord. "Arm yourselves, my friends. There is now only one way we can save them before they meet their end."
"This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down."
The Heathmoor Gang instantly heeded the wizard's advice and donned their weapons at the moment of Gandalf's urging. If the dwarves were in grave danger as the wizard believed, then they had to act fast. Augusta and Theodore readied their shields and handheld weapon of choice while Ryuma found his hand returning to the handle of his mighty kanabo, unleashing its full length and mass. With the warriors now readied, Gandalf positioned himself in the middle of the group. Before he could do anything, Augusta once again raised her voice.
"Um, Gandalf? About that 'one way' thing, what is it?"
"Have no fear, Augusta. It will only last for a moment." Gandalf gently replied to her as he slammed the end of his staff onto the ground, and the crystal embedded at the top began to shine like a flare. The gray Istari could feel his suppressed powers begin to swell as he envisioned himself standing before the dwarves, with the heralds right beside him.
"By the gods," Ryuma gasped, he and Theodore now witnessing the might of the wizard for themselves, "You truly are what they say you are, Gandalf."
"Indeed. Now, hold your breath!"
"Hold my breath? What, are we going underwater or something-?" Any sort of further speaking that the warlord wished to say was immediately silenced when the light emanating from the staff suddenly exploded, swallowing the four wandering allies in a mass of simmering white. Just as quick as it happened, it was gone, leaving nothing more than a swirling billow of dust kicked up from the ground as Gandalf and the Heathmoor Gang, under the wizard's power, were swept away to save their dwarf friends.
"What does Bilbo have in his pocket?"
…
In the midst of Goblin Town, the dwarves of Erebor were still waiting for their supposed torture at the hands of the goblins. It had taken some time, but eventually their horrid-looking tools of trade had been brought to the central throne, all while the Goblin King kept himself busy by singing even more of his songs.
"Bones will be shattered; necks will be wrung!"
"You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung!"
"You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin Town!"
Though that was as far as he got with his singing as a curious goblin grabbed one of the dwarf's swords, the one that belonged to Thorin, and began to unsheathe it, revealing the hidden weapon within. Once he was able to see the markings on the blade however, he knew exactly what this blade was, as all goblins did, and tossed it down to the floor like it was made of burning hellfire, revealing its shining edge for all to see. Even the mighty Goblin King cowered back up to his throne at the mere sight of it.
"I know that sword!" He cried out while he pointed a shaking finger it. "It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced us down to necks!"
The goblins around him were launched into a vicious frenzy at this grave insult, unleashing their whips and chains against the dwarves for daring to bring this accursed thing into their lair.
"Slash them! Kill them! Kill them all!" The Goblin King roared, pointing at Thorin, who was now pinned under several goblins with one of them raising a blade above his face, ready to end the dwarf prince's life. "Cut off his head!"
What came next was something not one soul in the cavern could have expected; a powerful, sudden, explosive blast of white light rippling at the center of the throne, sending goblins down to the floor or hurling them through the air along with their ruined torture tools. Even the mighty goblin monarch was knocked down to his back, completely caught off-guard by the blast, and the dwarves and their goblin captors were pushed down from its force. Soon the mighty lightshow came to an end, the large clouds of dust kicked up to reveal none other than the Gray Wizard and the Heathmoor Gang, armed and ready to fight.
Upon seeing the dwarves still alive and well, Augusta felt a wave of relief rush over her. Other than they had their weapons strewn around, they all appeared to be relatively unharmed. But the goblins were not something she was expecting to see, the ugly little creatures with sharp teeth and pale skin, almost the very same as the stories she grew up with.
"That was an experience." Theodore mumbled, mainly to himself. "But let's focus on the task at hand, shall we?"
"Indeed, we shall, Theodore-san."
Slowly the crowd began to get back up on their feet, dwarves and goblin both, before Gandalf spoke to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
"Take up arms," the wizard said, blade in his right hand and staff in his left, "Fight! FIGHT!"
On the wizard's apparent que, the heralds charged to assist the dwarves. Augusta cracked her flail against goblin heads while Theodore clashed his sword and shield against the smaller creatures like a raging bull, breaking and slicing down their ranks. Though it was Ryuma who was dealing maximum carnage, the shugoki delivering a great, brutal blow with his massive kanabo, crushing any unfortunate goblin underneath it into giblets. With a mighty shout, the dwarves of Erebor rose from the pile and grasped their weapons, eager to take the battle to the goblin forces that tried to kill them. Bofur and Bombur were doing their best at re-arming their dwarven brethren by hurling weapons into the air for grabs, with Bombur going far as to use his fat gut to chest-bump a group of goblins off the platform once he had his mace back in his hands.
"Ha ha! Now this is more like it!" Theodore heartedly laughed at the sight of the dwarves fighting alongside him as he stomped a goblin's head in, while Gandalf buried Glamdring up to the hilt in a goblin's chest.
"He wields the Foehammer! The Beater! Bright as daylight!" The Goblin King exclaimed in fear, recognizing the famous blade that the wizard wielded.
"Augusta! You came to save us!" Fili rushed over to the conqueror's side, using his sword to slice a warty imp alongside his brother. Augusta couldn't help herself but chuckle. Leave it to these two to be the first to welcome her back to the fray, but right as she finished off a goblin, she saw that her samurai friend was in immediate danger.
"RYUMA! Behind you!" Augusta yelled, and the shugoki turned around to witness the Great Goblin monarch ready a fist aimed at his face. After all, other than him, Ryuma was the biggest target. Calmly and with a sense of clarity, the mighty samurai rose an open palm and caught the strike in his hand, squeezing the goblin's knuckles like a vice. The impact was strong enough knock him back by an inch, but he still remained standing, much to the shock of the Great Goblin, who couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"You're big," Ryuma said, feeling the bone in his grip creaking under the pressure, "Killed bigger, though."
And with that, he lunged forward with a crushing headbutt, flattening the goblin's warty nose in a spray of black-red blood. The goblin monarch faltered backwards, clutching his newest injury while he yelped in pain and rage before he locked eyes with Thorin Oakenshield, and his wrath flamed anew once he targeted the troublesome dwarf prince.
Thankfully, Dori had managed to snag Orcrist from the ground, giving Thorin the moment he needed to grab the handle of the blade right as the goblin monarch swung his own skull-topped staff to crush the dwarf prince. Thorin unleashed his elf-forged blade right on time and parried the hit with a clanging swipe from Orcrist, sending the mighty monarch stumbling backwards until he fell off the platform completely along with his throne.
With a pile of goblins around them, the dwarves were back on their feet and ready to make their way out of the Misty Mountains thanks to Gandalf and the heralds.
"Follow me! Quick!" Gandalf commanded, leading the dwarves further through the mountains along with the Heathmoor Gang before they were swarmed again by the goblins. "Run!"
"Go, keep going!" Ryuma shouted as he kept to the rear of the group, while Theodore and Augusta were at the front with their shields out.
It seemed that every other goblin had decided to venture into the Goblin King's chamber as the Company of Thorin Oakenshield found themselves now in the midst of a running battle, fleeing their way out of the caves while fighting goblin parties at the same time. They dare not stop, lest they wished to be sieged by the entire goblin horde which was now hot on their heels. The occasional goblin would hop out and try to attack, only to be dealt with by a dwarf, herald or wizard. The group was suddenly split in two, with Gandalf, Augusta and half the dwarves taking a top route while Theodore, Ryuma and the rest of the Company were at the bottom.
Up at the anterior of the second group, Dwalin and Theodore were cutting down swaths of goblin foes, the dwarven warrior acting like a Viking berserker with his axes, beheading any goblin who got in his way. Up ahead, a large swarm of armed imps charged at them, and before Dwalin could try anything he felt Theodore's hand push him back to the rest of the group.
"Stay behind me!" The warlord thundered as he ran as fast as he could with his shield in front of him acting like a battering ram, plowing through several dozen goblins without mercy, knocking them underfoot over the side where they plummeted to their doom. The moment he pushed the last goblin off the walkway, Theodore took a running leap with his sword high in the air, aiming for a goblin warrior in his way.
"Þú ert dauður!" With a mighty swing, he cleanly bifurcated the goblin from head to crotch, the two halves falling off either side and drenching his Golden Bruin sword in its oily blood, and he kept on moving with the dwarfs right behind him.
At the top, Gandalf and Augusta were keeping themselves busy, Gandalf using his staff and sword while Augusta used her flail. At some level they all reunited again, making their way over a rope-bridge, with Gloin using his axe to send a goblin tumbling down onto another bridge below and snapping it loose.
Further up, the Company found themselves in the midst of their own battles, each dwarf and herald fighting on as they made their way through the mountain, stabbing and slashing and crushing their enemies. Augusta teamed up with Oin, using her upper body to rapidly spin her flail overhead as he did the same with his staff, clobbering any goblin that got close.
At the other side of the chasm, goblin reinforcements latched on to grappling ropes to try and intercept the fleeing company.
"Cut the ropes!" Thorin cried out, and immediately set to stop the imp support from reaching them, snapping the holdings lose and sending a large platform hurtling down, taking the goblins with them. The Company fought onwards, never once stopping to rest.
Kili had cut down another goblin warrior before he was attacked by more, these ones armed with bows and arrows. Even before a single arrow hit him, Augusta rushed to his rescue, blocking the arrowheads with her Demetra shield while holding on dearly to the young dwarf. Kili felt his heart swell with joy once he felt the conqueror's hands wrap around him. That, and he was really close to her large bosom.
"You saved me again, Augusta!" He gleefully said to her, a smile on his face.
"I expect some sort of payment for this, Kili." The conqueror simply replied as she kept deflecting arrows off her shield. The young dwarf warrior noticed the ladder behind him, and an idea popped to his head.
"Augusta! Here!" He said as he lunged forward with the ladder in his hands. The conqueror stepped aside as Kili slammed the ladder on to the goblin's heads, using them as a blockade to counter the incoming goblins from approaching them. Augusta, along with Kili, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, pushed the ladder as fast and hard as they could, the four dwarves and the conqueror approaching a gap in the pathway, and on the other side was the rest of the company. The ladder came in handy once again as a makeshift bridge to reunite them with the others, and Dwalin kicked the ladder off once they were over, cutting off the goblins from catching up to them.
"Come on, quickly!" Gandalf urged.
"We're almost there! Just a little further!" Augusta added on, hoping to give them enough hope to keep fighting onwards. Truthfully, she had no idea if they were close to the mountain exit.
The Company kept going, this time approaching yet another platform, this one tied haphazardly like a swing caught on a fence post. Kili cut the rope, sending the platform hurtling to the other side, where the rest of the walkway, and the way out, was.
"Jump!" Dwalin commanded, and the first off were Ryuma, Balin, Bofur, Kili and Oin. The rest kept their footing as it lurched back to meet with the goblin horde, with a couple hopping on to try their luck and kill any dwarf that came close. With a second, final push, the rest of the party jumped to safety, with Fili cutting the rope and sending the swinging platform to the bottom of the chasm.
And like before, each member was in the middle of their own fight while keeping close to one-another. Bombur had gotten swarmed with goblins clambering all over him before he decided to do what he did best; use his weight like a weapon, and so he jumped, crushing platforms beneath his massive rear and sending goblins scattering. All around, the dwarves and heralds were keeping the goblin ranks away, Ryuma splattering a trio of the impish creatures against a rock face with his kanabo while Theodore used his shield like a brace, clobbering a goblin that got too close for comfort.
"Fly!" The wizard shouted as they rounded a corridor made of mountain rock, and he slammed the end of his staff on to a low-hanging stalactite. The formation crumpled under his power, forming a large boulder at the top of an incline.
"Push!" Dwalin, Thorin and Ryuma each gave a mighty shove, sending the boulder hurtling downwards and flattening any goblin unfortunate enough to stand in its way while the Company turned a corner to see the very edge of Goblin Town.
"There it is!" Gandalf pointed to a small, wooden bridge connected to a cave, their way out of this battle. With the goblin horde still right behind them, with their seemingly endless numbers, it was just what they needed to see.
Unfortunately, before they could even cross it halfway, the Goblin King reemerged, bursting from the wooden floorboards with a roar and a swing from his staff, stopping the company from escaping while his goblin minions caught up. If they noticed, there was a thin, dried rivulet of blood coming from his right nostril where Ryuma's headbutt had hit him hardest.
"You thought you could escape me?" The massive goblin monarch nasally taunted the wizard, who was now in front, barely avoiding a strike and a sweep from the king. The wizard almost fell to his back were it not for the dwarves and Augusta to keep him straight.
"What are you gonna do now, wizard?"
Gandalf, righting himself straight, gave no verbal response, instead deciding to jab the Great Goblin in his left eye. The goblin ruler cried out in agony, clutching his face before Gandalf sliced his stomach wide open with Glamdring, sending the large monster to his knees. Now at the wizard's mercy, the Great Goblin could only silently reflect on the wizard's swift attack.
"Well, that'll do it."
Deciding that enough was enough, Gandalf aimed for the goblin's neck and swung the bladed edge of Foehammer right across, finally ending the Great Goblin's rule. His now deceased corpse landed with a solid, crushing thud, which became too much for the hastily-built platform that the company was standing on. The wood beneath their feet creaked and groaned before finally snapping loose, sending the Company tumbling down the smooth slopes of the mountain insides. Thankfully, with the angle that they were at, their platform-turned-sled somehow remained upright while it went further and further down the chasm. The dwarves and heralds held on for dear life as they descended, smashing through goblin construction like paper mâché before finally coming to a grinding, crumpling halt at the bottom of the cavern. While wood and dust caked them once they stopped, none of the Company seemed to be seriously injured.
Gandalf, along with the Heathmoor Gang, were among the first out of the mess, standing before the rest of the debris and the company, who were beginning to get their bearings straight.
"Well, that could've been worse."
As if fate had heard Bofur, the obese corpse of the Goblin King came crashing down on top of them. Augusta shielded herself from any kicked-up dust while Ryuma visibly winced.
"You've got to be joking!" Dwalin groaned as he pushed a plank off of his strained gut.
"That was fun." Theodore said, before he heard something overhead, and his eyes went wide. "I don't wish to alarm anyone, but we've still got our hands full here!"
The goblin horde, still very alive and outnumbering them a hundred-to-one, rampaged down their ruined town straight for the company. There was no way that they would be able to fight them all down here.
"There's too many! We can't fight them!" Dwalin said to the wizard, hanging on to a dazed Dori.
"Only one thing will save us; daylight!" Gandalf exclaimed, knowing that they still had some ways to go now that they were off the path. "Come on! Here, on your feet!"
The Company slowly pried themselves out of the wreckage, some going to assist. Augusta had gone to help Kili and his brother while Gandalf pulled Oin and Balin. Ryuma using his immense strength to heave a pile of wood aside for Ori and Bombur, and like they had before, they continued onwards, following Gandalf to the safety of the outside world.
…
They weren't the only ones on the run. Bilbo too was attempting to escape the mountain from a different enemy, this one being Gollum. The game of riddles had gone sour up at the very end, when Bilbo could not find a riddle but instead used a simple question to beat the gangly creature at his own game.
Gollum, however, was not as stupid as Bilbo thought. The last question, regarding what was in his pocket, had immediately came to a wrathful conclusion after he had despairingly lost his "precious", the golden ring that he had dropped earlier, and realized that it was in the hobbit's hands this whole time. Needless to say, Gollum wanted it back, but Bilbo also wanted to stay alive, so he fled.
The ring, however, had another effect that Bilbo found out after he had tumbled through a narrow passage: it could make him turn invisible, unseen to the eyes of Gollum, who was still chasing him.
"Wait! My precious! Wait! Gollum, Gollum!" Gollum wailed as he tried to find Bilbo, who was behind him this whole time, unknown to Gollum. The sound of footsteps sent the former Stoor hiding behind a rock, and it was then Bilbo saw the most magnificent thing he'd seen all day; Gandalf, standing with Augusta and her friends, and following them was the rest of the Company fleeing towards the outside. He opened his mouth to make a sound, but then realized that they wouldn't be able to hear or see him, so he gave up.
With the last dwarf gone, Gollum slowly emerged from his hiding spot, hoping that he was unseen. Behind him, Bilbo readied his sword and his own spirit, knowing that he would have to get through Gollum in order to leave. Yet, even as he prepared to strike the lanky creature down, the hobbit's sword remained thanks to what he saw.
The wide, teary eyes of Gollum were there, right in front of him, the only thing he kept close to him gone from his grasp. Bilbo, who once saw him with abhorrence, now looked down upon Gollum with a sense of pity. The poor creature was aggressive, but not cruel. He didn't deserve to have his life taken from him like this. Even if he had chased him down, Bilbo Baggins couldn't bring himself to end Gollum's life, and the words of Gandalf came to his mind as he lowered his sword and chose to give Gollum mercy.
"True courage is about knowing, not when to take a life, but when to spare one…"
And so, he did. But he still had to get out of the mountain, even if it meant dealing with Gollum in a preferred nonlethal way. Bilbo took a couple steps back, getting ready to make his move, but this was heard by Gollum, whose pupils narrowed once he heard the hobbit's footsteps and began to spit and snarl, despite not being able to see him.
With a quick, running start, Bilbo leapt over the incensed Gollum, kicking him in the chin with his right foot and sending him on his back. Gollum's flailing hands tried as he could to grab anything of Bilbo, but he was now gone to the wind, and the only thing Gollum could do is cry out in rage and grief at the loss of his precious.
"Baggins! Thief!" He wailed, pounding his fists on the dusty floor. "Curse it and crush it, we hates them forever!"