Hey peeps, I'm sorry it's been a while since I late replied, been trying to get this chapter done right before I can get it uploaded. But, I do hope you enjoy it. . .or try to enjoy it at least.

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Dragonett8 – Well, this is going to be a little different than the original story that I had up. Some details and events are going to change from what they were. But, I hope you will still enjoy this xx

Captured

The years after the battle rolled by, quite slowly to tell you the truth, even though a hundred years is nothing in the life of an elf, these past years seemed to drag for me. For the first few years I spent my time in Rivendell, even after I was fully healed I didn't leave, too caught up in my grief for leaving Thorin and Frerin. Every night I prayed that Frerin had survived that ordeal, I still pray for him now and I wish I could go out there and find the dwarves so I can put my mind to rest, but my fear stops me every time. The fear of being rejected once more, not only by the dwarves, but by Thorin. That type of rejection would kill me, I'm not strong enough to face him and go through that.

I also think about Dis, losing her grandfather, her father and possibly her brother all in the space of a few days. . .I can't imagine what she must be going through right now. But, I know that she will always have the support of Thorin, Balin and Dwalin and know she'll get through this. She's strong, she always has been.

Three years after the battle, I hear the news that Thorin and the dwarves have finally found somewhere to settle. A settlement in the Blue Mountains, Ered Luin. I am overjoyed to hear that they can finally be in a safe place and hopefully move on from the trials they have been through the past few decades.

A hundred years go by and when I'm not living in Rivendell, my time is spent travelling around Middle Earth, visiting different towns and cities or taking out some orcs and wargs I come in contact with. I have even been to Ered Luin a few times, but only watching from afar, not wanting to get too close.

There have been a couple of occasions where I have taken a few steps forward to go inside, but I manage to pull myself back and get away as fast as I can before I can change my mind. I will do it. . .one of these days I will get the courage I need to go up to that gate and demand to see Thorin, no matter what those other dwarves may think, feel or say.

In the year twenty eight seventy eight is when everything takes a turn for the worse. I am riding towards the Misty Mountains, on my way to Rohan on a surprise visit to some friends. The first few days spent on the road go well at first, no trouble at all. I can rest easy at night, as well as my horse Raina, both of us not having anything to worry about and with plenty of game to hunt, I eat pretty well also. But as I get closer to the mountains, that's when it all changes.

I don't spend too long resting, an hour at least, two during the night to rest myself and Raina before pushing on. I know we're really close to orc and goblin territory, so I don't want to spend too long on this path.

As I'm riding, my guard and senses are kept on high alert as I look around and keep note of anything and everything. What I don't count for, however, is the sudden arrow to whizz by and strike Raina in the neck, followed by another as she goes down.

"Raina!" I cry out, rolling to keep myself from being trapped beneath her.

I know she is already dead before I can get the chance to look at her. Grief fills my heart and I only get the chance to glance at the arrows to know who made them. Orcs!

I quickly whip out my knives as dozens of orcs rush out towards me. I feel dread creeping up on me, knowing I'm not going to be able to survive this, but there is no way I'm going to go down without a fight.

As the orcs close around me, I size them all up, waiting for one of them to make the first move. That's when my ears pick up movement from behind me. Swinging my knives around, I slice the throat of the orc trying to sneak up upon me, it soon falling to the ground, dead. That's when they all give a loud screech and jump in.

I fight them off as best as I can, managing to kill about a dozen of them before I am overwhelmed and jumped on. That does not stop me from fighting back as they punch, kick, slap and scratch, all in the effort of trying to get me tied up. That's when I feel the thud to the back of my head, their sneering faces being the last thing I see before fading into darkness.

The first thing I am aware of when I regain consciousness is the pounding in my head, the pounding feeling like a thousand hooves battering the dry ground as the steeds gallop. The next is feeling the stone floor beneath me.

Opening my eyes, I see myself in a small stone room, which just had a door and a very small window. While groaning, I manage to shakily pick myself off the floor and stagger to the window and look out, only to freeze as I realise where I am. Gundabad, the place of my mother's death, the place of my birth. . .will it also be the place of my death? Even though I make a vow to not die here, my heart can't help but feel the doubt in that.

Hearing footsteps coming towards the room I'm in, I instinctively reach for my weapons, but they're not there, having been confiscated by the orcs. So all I can do is stand and wait as the steps get closer until the scrabbling of a key in the lock is heard and the door opens to reveal four orcs. My whole body tenses as they step inside, ready for a fight.

"Good. You awake." one of the orcs say, Common clearly not being it's first language. "Master wants to see you."

When the other three orcs get closer and grab my arms, I instantly wrench my arms away, fighting them off, until a whip on my back stops me, making me cry out in shock and pain before falling to my knees. That's when the orcs take their chance and bind my wrists behind my back.

"No use in fighting. Make things harder if you do." the orc warns.

That's when the others force me onto my feet and half drag half lead me out of the cell and down the halls. As we pass more orcs, they all sneer and jeer as we march along, I just hold my head up high as we go. We soon come to some double iron doors which the lead orc opens and we walk inside.

Before I can get a good look around the room, I'm unceremoniously tossed to the ground, my head hitting the stone, leaving me dazed but still conscious.

"Master, we bring prisoner." the orc announces.

Being pulled up and forced to my knees, I'm able to see the large room I;m in, looking like a throne room of sorts. Laid in a corner is a large white warg, softly growling and glaring at me, as if it wants me to be it's next pray. Hearing footsteps, I look to the side door as a figure enters, and that's when my blood goes cold. The Pale Orc. . .Azog!

Memories of that battle come to mind; the orc holding up Thror's head. . .Frerin being struck down by him. . .and then Thorin. . .the orcs cries as Thorin cuts off it's arm. . .Azog being dragged away as the dwarves final charge begins.

"It cannot be. . ." I mutter to myself, my body starting to tremble slightly.

Looking at his left arm, at the point where Thorin slice it off, there's a shard blade attached to the stump, that's how I know it's him. He didn't die after all. . .

Azog know stands in front of me, his hand grips my chin as he forces me to look at him, his cold blue eyes baring into my own, as if he could see into my very soul. I keep the shiver back as I don't break eye contact, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of backing down.

He then speaks in a tongue which I do not understand; Black Speech. I have often heard Gandalf muttering it a few times, while reading scrolls or notes we confiscated from dead orcs in the past. There's one word I do recognise however; Thorin. He grins and chuckles as my eyes and face betray my emotions at hearing his name, fear and disgust filling me as it comes from his lips.

That's when his eyes drift to my shoulder, his hand lowering towards my braids and the beads which hold them together. I instantly toss my head, forcing the braids out of his reach. Knowing that in dwarven customs, the only people allowed to touch hair are their spouses, family and close friends.

"I will kill you if you touch them." I growl.

He laughs aloud before his hand clamps around my throat, squeezing slightly as he cuts the air off from reaching my lungs. I try not to show my panic, but fail, especially as his face comes within inches of mine and he speaks in that guttural language again before tossing me aside. After giving an order with a wave of his hand, I am roughly pulled to my feet again and dragged back down the halls to my cell. My bonds are cut before I am shoved inside and I hit the ground where I stay, even as the door closes to laughing from the orcs.

I curl in on myself as I silently weep, realising that maybe I will actually die here, either by the orcs or fading away. As I think and pray that death would take me, Thorin instantly springs to mind. Azog is still alive and I know he is intent on wiping out the last line of Durin. . .Thorin, Frerin and Dis now being the last lines. . .I can't allow that to happen. Not now, not ever.

Pulling my aching body from the ground, and make my way to the window, looking out past the gates of Gundabad, past the mountains and in the direction of where the Blue Mountains will be, where Thorin will be. I instantly make a promise, a vow to myself, that if Azog wants Thorin, he will not be getting him through me. I will protect Thorin with my very life, as long as he, Frerin and Dis are kept safe.

"Thorin. . .stay safe. . .wherever you are. . ."

Oh no. . .poor horsey is dead and Caladwen captured by Azog. . .if you want to see what happens next, then keep a look out for the next chapter xx