In the end, finding a hole big enough to house three large trolls wasn't that difficult. Bifur sniffed it out, quite literally, within a minute of beginning the search.
The Dwarves made their way in, complaining about the smell but eager to see what loot the trolls had accumulated. Andrea followed close behind, covering her face with her sleeve and breathing through her mouth. Despite her efforts, the air tasted thick with decay.
Past the bend in the tunnel, which kept sunlight from streaming in, lay a large chamber. The Company lifted their torches high to cast as much light as possible. The torchlight flashed off the metals scattered on the ground and in the cobwebbed corners. Andrea toed a small pile of coins. They clinked pleasantly.
"There we go!" said Bofur, quite satisfied. "A good haul, lads!"
"Leave it," Thorin ordered, examining a pile of scabbards and clothes too small to fit a troll. "There are riches enough at the end of our journey."
"Aye," Gloin said sadly, "We'll have to leave it. But not unprotected. Nori, get a shovel, would ya?"
Nori dashed back up, brushing past Andrea. She took a step to the side, and something crunched beneath her heel. Glancing down, she saw it was a skeleton, small and delicate. A bat, perhaps. She grimaced.
"These were not made by any troll." Thorin's voice was quiet, but Andrea heard him nonetheless. She saw his firelit form holding two dusty swords, sheathed in cobwebbed scabbards.
Andrea picked her way over as Gandalf took one sword from Thorin. "Indeed, nor were they forged by any Man," said Gandalf.
She reached them at last as Gandalf unsheathed the sword by a few centimeters, examining the bright metal of the blade, untouched by time. He bent towards Andrea obligingly. "Would you like to see it, my dear?" he said, holding it out flat
Andrea peered at the sword, trying to remember which of the two Elven swords Gandalf had used. She brushed the cobwebs from the hilt, admiring the craftsmanship. "It's beautiful," she murmured.
"It was forged in Gondolin, by my guess," Gandalf said. "By the High Elves of the First Age."
To Andrea's left, Thorin gave a quiet huff. She turned her head to see him begin to set the sword down. Gandalf stopped him with a swift rebuke: "You could not wish for a finer blade," the wizard snapped.
Thorin's lips curled into a slight sneer, but he didn't drop the sword. In a single, rough movement, he pulled it partway out of the scabbard.
This one, Andrea decided, was even more beautiful than the sword Gandalf held. The sweep of the blade was clear from the shape of the scabbard, and the curve of the hilt made her fingers itch for a pencil to sketch it out. The blade gleamed in the torchlight.
The name of it came to her abruptly. "Orcrist," she whispered, barely audible even to her own ears. The name tasted hard and sharp on her tongue, but fitting. "The Goblin Cleaver."
Thorin glanced at her for a moment, his gaze unreadable in the shadows of the torchlight. He sheathed the sword. Turning to the pile, he snatched up another dusty scabbard, still attached to a belt. He weighed it for a moment and checked the blade. "Good enough," he muttered, before thrusting it towards Andrea, hilt forward. "Ask one of the others to sharpen it for you later," he said brusquely.
Too surprised to refuse, Andrea took the sword, which was a good deal shorter than the ones Gandalf and Thorin held. It was not obviously Elven or Dwarven in make, plain and squarish. The weight of it was reasonable.
"Thank you," Andrea said.
Thorin only grunted, turning and heading towards the exit. "We're leaving," he said to his Company.
Kili and Fili greeted Andrea when she came out. "I got your stuff, Miss Chen," Kili said, holding up Andrea's pack.
Andrea smiled. "Thanks, Kili."
"Is that a sword?" Fili cut in, his attention on the dusty thing in Andrea's hand.
"Yes. Your uncle picked it out at random and made me take it."
The brothers laughed. "Well," Fili said, "I'd say that means he's worried about you. Can I see it?"
Shrugging, Andrea let the prince take the sword. He looked it over as his uncle had, though he unsheathed it fully and gave it a few experimental swings.
"Man-made, I think," said Fili, thoughtfully. "Local, probably. Good quality, though. Needs sharpening." He handed it back. "I can teach you how to do that, if you like."
"Maybe later," Andrea said. After a moment's hesitation, she belted the sword about her waist. It bumped against her left hip awkwardly, too short to reach her knee.
From some meters away, Thorin's voice rang out: "Something's coming!"
Fili drew his sword at once, leaping towards the rest of the Company. Kili pushed Andrea's bag into her arms and unslung his bow from his back.
"Stay together!" Gandalf called. "Arm yourselves!"
Andrea had no choice but to be swept away with the tide as the Company drew their various weapons and ran towards the oncoming commotion.
They hadn't gone far when the source was found. From the trees and underbrush burst a sled pulled by massive rabbits. On the sleigh was a man all in brown and furs, crying out, "Thieves! Fire! Murder!" The sled came to a halt amidst the Company, which had split like water before the bewildering sight.
A moment of silence allowed Andrea the time to examine the man. His eyes were wide and wild, his beard unkempt and windswept. His cloaks looked unusually dirty, and he clutched a staff topped with a stone in one hand
"Radagast!" Gandalf exclaimed, sounding very pleased. He sheathed his sword, saying, "It's Radagast the Brown. What on earth are you doing here, my friend?"
None the Company put away their weapons.
"I was looking for you, Gandalf!" said Radagst, in a voice so agitated it gave Andrea anxiety. "Something's terribly wrong!"
Gandalf frowned. "Step away with me, friend, and explain to me what is so terrible that you have left your hermitage."
Radagast stepped off his sled, and said a word to the rabbits in a language Andrea didn't know. The rabbits certainly knew it, however, as they all sat down and began chewing on whatever they'd been storing in their mouths. Radagast bustled away with Gandalf, and they stood some distance away from the Company, speaking in low voices.
Thorin let out a heavy sigh and sheathed his sword, encouraging the rest of the Company to follow suit.
Andrea sat down on a raised tree root, watching the two wizards converse. A yawn came up in her throat, but she stifled it. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes. Damn, she was so tired.
Someone sat down beside her. Looking aside, she found that it was Bilbo, clutching a short sword in his hands.
"What's that?" she asked.
"I found it in the troll-hole," explained Bilbo.
Andrea reached out. "Can I see it?"
Bilbo shrugged and gave it over. It was too short to be anything but a pocket-knife to a troll, but for Bilbo, it was just the right size. Andrea pulled it half-out of its sheath, admiring the sweeping lines and curves.
"It's Elf-made, that's for sure," she said. She tentatively touched the edge of the blade. Blood beaded in a line on her finger. "Still sharp." She glanced up at Bilbo, offering a smile. "There are some Elvish blades that are enchanted, you know. They glow when Orcs are nearby."
Bilbo took the short sword back, looking over it with a new light in his eyes. "Do you think this is one of those?" he wondered aloud.
Andrea shrugged. "Maybe." She tilted her head. "Why'd you take a sword? I thought Hobbits didn't like violence."
The Hobbit pursed his lips. "I thought– well, I don't want to be such a liability to the Company. Did they tell you how we got into such a state last night?"
"Yes," Andrea lied.
"If I'd only been better at defending myself, you would never have had to risk your life," Bilbo lamented.
Andrea smiled. "You were a little foolish, yeah, but so was I. Ask any of the Dwarves and they'll agree." She paused. "It was a mistake, Bilbo, and you weren't the only one at fault. Fili and Kili shouldn't have sent you alone." She glanced at the princely brothers, who were leaning against a tree, bored expressions on their faces.
"Perhaps, but I shouldn't have tried to overstep." Bilbo sighed heavily. "I should have gone back and told them instead of trying to free the ponies myself."
"You should have," Andrea admitted. "But it's in the past now. You'll have to learn from your mistakes and move on, do better next time."
"I don't want there to be a next time."
Andrea laughed. "We never do. But we all make mistakes, Master Hobbit. What matters is how we let them shape us." She looked up, and caught Thorin's eye. The Dwarf king looked back at her, stern-faced and unreadable. He looked to Bilbo, then over the rest of his Company.
Orcrist was the perfect blade for Thorin, even though it was Elf-made, Andrea thought, studying the Dwarf's noble profile. They were suited to one another, somehow. Maybe it was just the aesthetics.
"What do you think they're talking about?" Bilbo said, nodding to the wizards.
Andrea tried to remember that dumb subplot the movies had pulled out of their asses. It was about Sauron, right? How his power was steadily rising? She barely remembered any of it, and the theater hadn't had subtitles for the Orcish in the second movie– or was it the third? That scene where Azog had spoken to that shadow on a stone bridge or something.
Andrea wondered if the powers-that-be expected her to do something about that too.
"Something bad, I guess," she said.
From far away filtered a drawn out howl, almost like a wolf's but… not quite.
Bilbo got to his feet quickly. "Is that a wolf? Are there wolves out there?"
The Company had tensed, drawing their weapons. Andrea leapt to her feet, her heart beginning a rabbit-fast rhythm in her chest.
"Wolves? No, that's not a wolf," Bofur said tersely, his eyes wide.
A growl came from the hill above, and the snap of a branch. The Company cried out, turning towards it as a huge beast leapt down the hill. It took down Bifur, but it had no opportunity to kill him; quick as a whip, Thorin lifted his sword and brought it down on the beast's neck.
Then, another snarl over the first beast's death throes. Thorin called out to Kili to raise his bow, but the young prince had already loosed an arrow into the eye of the oncoming creature. The beast stumbled and fell, but growled still. Then it was dead, Dwalin's axe through the base of its skull.
It all happened within five seconds.
Andrea clutched at the straps of her bag. The Company clustered, and the wizards rushed over.
Thorin pulled his sword from the neck of the massive beast with a grunt. He was wielding Orcrist, Andrea realized distantly through her fear.
"Warg scouts!" Thorin looked over his Company. "An Orc-pack can't be far behind."
"Orc-pack?" Bilbo exclaimed, but he got no explanation.
Gandalf started towards the Dwarf king, his grey cloaks billowing about him. "Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" he demanded.
"No one," Thorin answered, squaring his shoulders.
"Who did you tell!" Gandalf's voice rose with his agitation.
Thorin shook his head. "No one, I swear to you." He took a breath. "What in Durin's name is going on?"
"You are being hunted," Gandalf replied in a tense voice. His gaze fell on Andrea for a moment.
Dwalin spoke, then. "We need to get out of here," he growled.
From higher on the hill came Ori's fearful voice: "The ponies have bolted!"
"I'll draw them off," Radagast declared.
Gandalf shook his head roughly. "These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you!"
"These are Rhosgobel rabbits!" replied the Brown Wizard. "I'll lead them on as merry a chase as I can manage."
From there it was a flurry of motion. Gandalf directed the Company to the edge of the woods while Radagast leapt onto his sled and set off the opposite way. For a time there was only tense silence.
Andrea pressed herself against the pile of boulders shielding them from sight. She looked out over the exposed plains and hills below, littered with stones and rock formations. Her stomach lurched.
Shouts and cries came over the fields, splitting the silence. Radagast's sled flew over the ridge, followed closely by a group of warg-mounted Orcs. The Orcs shrieked and snarled, and the wargs howled and growled. Too loud, too loud.
Then they were running. Running, running. Andrea's feet thudded against the hard, stony ground. Sharp rocks bit at her heels and sent shocks up her spine. The cold spring air froze her lungs, and soon Andrea was struggling to breath.
It didn't take long for her pace to flag.
It was like a deadly game of hide-and-seek tag. The Company fled from rock formation to rock formation, trying to keep out of sight while Radagast led the Orc pack around and around. Each brief pause to let the Orcs race past was far too short for Andrea to catch her breath.
They came to a stop at the base of yet another pile of rocks. Andrea took in a breath of freezing air. Above them, on the rocks, she heard the now-familiar snarl of a warg.
Kili stepped out, an arrow on the string. He loosed on, then another. The warg and its rider crashed to the ground, and the Company fell upon them, silencing their shrieks. But too late, Andrea knew. The howls of the warg and the Orc resounded in her ears.
The howls of the wargs reached them over the hills, far more intent.
"Move!" Gandalf cried. "Run!"
Running, running. Andrea had already spent her stamina in the past few minutes, but fear put new strength in her legs. She was blind to everything but the ground beneath her feet and the back of the Dwarf in front of her. The sword bumped against her hip, bumped, bumped. Her bag bumped against her back, bumped, bumped.
She could barely breathe, could barely hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears.
She heard voices, shouts, but she couldn't make out the words. Her feet slammed against the hard ground. They ached so much. She needed to stop, needed to rest. Needed to breathe.
A hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. Andrea stumbled and almost fell.
"Kili!" she heard the person holding her shout. "Shoot them!" Thorin, she realized, somewhere between the icy cold breaths she pulled into her weary lungs.
"We're surrounded!" cried Fili from somewhere to the left.
Andrea blinked, staring about wildly. The yellow hills seemed endless, speckled with pines and stones. The Company had scattered, each braced with their weapons. And there, the Orcs, mounted on their beasts, coming towards them. One of the Orcs fell, an arrow in his chest.
"Where's Gandalf!" Dori shouted.
"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin snarled.
The Orcs pushed further in. They knew the Company was cornered.
Thorin pushed Andrea back. "Hold your ground!" he cried to his Company, brandishing his sword.
The world spun. She couldn't breath. They weren't running anymore. She didn't know how much longer she could stay standing without the forward momentum. Her feet hurt. Her legs shuddered with the effort of holding her up.
"This way, you fools!" came Gandalf's voice from somewhere behind her.
Andrea stumbled to turn around. Gandalf's hat disappeared into a crevice at the base of a large stone. She took a step forward and almost fell.
A hand wrapped around her upper arm and dragged her forward. "Quickly, all of you!" Thorin shouted hoarsely, pulling Andrea with him to the crevice. "Gloin, take her!"
A different set of hands took hold of Andrea. The world went dark, and gravity turned upside down. Gravel scraped against her arms as she all but fell down the incline. Her legs buckled when they hit the stone below. The hands pulled her to her feet and aside to the stony wall.
"It's alright, miss," Gloin said. Andrea could only wheeze, leaning heavily against the red-bearded Dwarf.
She heard Thorin's voice over the rushing in her ears. Heard the heavy breathing of the Company, the sound of a body coming down the gravel slope.
Andrea sucked in breath after breath, her vision clearing steadily. She saw Thorin come down the incline, rolling into a crouch. The Company braced themselves, staring up at the entrance of the crevice.
The sound of horns pierced the silence of held-breaths and tense muscles. Bright and loud, ringing through the air. The whistle of arrows and the shrieks of Orcs came down to them. The neighing of horses and the snarls of the wargs. The sound of blades and battle.
A body came over the lip of the crevice. It rolled and came to a halt at the bottom. An Orc, Andrea realized. It didn't move. It looked ugly, twisted.
Thorin stepped forward, pulling the arrow from its chest. He examined the arrowhead, and his lips twisted. "Elves," he spat, throwing down the arrow. The sentiment swept through the Company in murmurs and growls.
"I can't see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin's voice echoed off the stone. It was a pathway, Andrea realized belatedly, not a cave. "Do we follow it or no?"
"Follow it, of course!" declared Bofur.
Andrea followed the Company (she had no choice but to follow them). Her stamina had recovered, but only barely. Each step felt like walking barefoot over glass. Her clothes stuck to her skin, sweaty and disgusting. Her hair fell over her face. She re-tied it as they walked; her arms ached with the effort of holding them up in order to do so.
The passage was claustrophobic. Over their heads, sunlight filtered down into the narrow ravine. Andrea wished for a cane to lean on.
"There's light ahead," Dwalin called. The pace of the Company quickened, hurrying Andrea along.
The passage opened at last. Andrea gasped.
There before them lay one of the most beautiful places she'd ever seen. Green lay everywhere, in trees and vines and bushes. The buildings seemed almost built around the trees rather than the trees planted around the buildings. Water spilled from countless pools and streams. And all of it cradled by high mountains, shielding it from the outside world.
"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf said proudly. "Here lies the Last Homely House East of the Sea."
Andrea was ready to collapse; she hadn't even slept last night with all the fuss over the trolls. None of them had slept, but even Bilbo looked less exhausted than she felt.
Glancing back, she saw Thorin exchanging harsh words with Gandalf. Andrea looked away, taking in the fresh view that was Imladris. The lovely sight couldn't soothe her weariness. She closed her eyes and swayed on her feet.
Her feet hurt so much. They'd swell up the moment she took her boots off. She didn't know if she'd even be able to walk tomorrow. The reddish darkness behind her eyelids was warm. The sun on her face barely offset the tightness in her lungs. She took another, faintly wheezing breath. She wondered if she'd get sick from all the stress.
She couldn't really hear anything. It all faded away in favor of the reddish dark behind her eyes. Dozing on one's feet. What a novel concept.
A hand took hold of her elbow. A big hand, with a firm but gentle grip. She would have gasped and opened her eyes at once, had she not been so tired. She sighed instead, and her eyes opened slowly, eyelids heavy as lead.
Thorin frowned at her. He didn't release her arm. She realized why when she swayed a little too far left and Thorin tugged her back into balance. "We are going down the mountain, Miss Chen," he said, his brow furrowed and mouth turned with displeasure.
Andrea wished she had the energy to tease him. Comment on his dislike of Elves, perhaps. But she was so tired. She only nodded.
A/N: thank you to A5mia, Kelwtim2spar, and Jinx1223 for your reviews! They were encouraging to read :) At last we've finally reached Rivendell, and though Andrea may not have noticed, there's been a few changes, at least in the dialogue (I couldn't make myself do the stick-bug scene).
Reviews are lifeblood! I dont know if I could keep going without them– even a couple words is good :)) thanks for reading