After a week at Beorn's, we had begun to overstay our welcome. Well, the dwarves had, at least. I'm pretty sure Beorn wanted to keep me here indefinitely. I was a cute little elfling that helped him out with the animals. He also liked Bilbo and tended to call him 'bunny'. Much to Bilbo's chagrin. Though he did not mind that Beorn was trying to fatten him up. It was the first time in around two months that Bilbo finally got to eat like a hobbit. All seven meals a day. I honestly couldn't tell you where he stored it all. Every time I looked over at him, he had some form of food in his hand.

Beorn very graciously offered us some supplies to replace the ones that were ruined when we crossed the misty mountains. Bombur was very grateful when he got a new pot. His other one was dreadfully bent and battered; it barely held soup properly. There were also several blankets handed out, as a lot of ours were ripped or covered in whatever the goblins had on their hands. I didn't ponder long on that thought. Clothes were also repaired during our stay. The cloak that Fili and Kili had gotten me for my birthday had multiple claw marks crisscrossing down it. Mum helped me to sew it back up again.

Mum and I managed to convince Beorn to give us more food. Mainly dried fruit and nuts. Something that would give us energy in our time of need. The journey through Mirkwood could take around two weeks, and nothing in the forest was edible. The dwarves didn't know that in the story and nearly starved in the forest. Thankfully, I had my lembas bread still at the bottom of my pack. That could keep us going for a couple of days.

Beorn lent us some ponies to take us to the borders of Mirkwood, but we were not allowed to take them any further. Beorn would sooner kill us all than let his animals come to harm. I'd rather not risk the wrath of an enormous bear man if I could.

I stroked my pony's nose and gave him an apple while everyone else prepared to set off. My horse's name was Sigor, and his coat consisted of brown and white splodges. He was decidedly more energetic than Mithiel had been. Already, he was tapping his hooves as if he was eager to get going.

Too distracted by the sounds of everyone around me, I didn't notice someone approaching me from behind. Not until two extremely large hands wrapped themselves around my middle and hauled me upwards. I let out a surprised yelp before I realised what was happening. Beorn lifted me up into the air and placed me onto my pony.

"I could have done that myself, you know," I said, trying to orient myself properly on my horse.

"You were taking too long, little elfling. All of your friends are already saddled up," Beorn said with a laugh.

A quick sweep of my head revealed that he was actually right, and I frowned in annoyance.

Beorn bent down to pick something up off the ground. When he stood back up, there was an orange ball of fluff in his arms. "Clarence would like to say goodbye before you go."

I took the kitten into my arms and kissed the top of his head. "I've got to go now, pudding," I said into his fur. He meowed very loudly to show that he was very much against that idea. "I'll come back and visit, I promise."

"Clarence is not the only one who will miss your company, little one. You and your mother are welcome back here anytime you wish," said Beorn, grabbing a very reluctant Clarence. His tiny claws clung to my shirt, and I had to extricate him.

Beorn turned to Bilbo, who had just climbed onto his own pony, albeit begrudgingly. "You are welcome too, little bunny. Perhaps I can fatten you up some more with my honey cakes."

Bilbo looked a little uncertain, not sure how to take Beorn's comment. "Uh, yes, thank you. I shall take you up on the offer after this journey is concluded."

Beorn nodded. Then he stood tall to his full height and looked everyone in the eye. "These ponies will carry you to the boundary and no further. Lest you wish a swift death." His intimidating demeanour was in no way diminished by the crying kitten in his arms.

"The ponies will be returned to you, Master Beorn. You have my word," said Thorin from the front of our congregation. His expression was mostly polite, but I could detect a hint of annoyance at Beorn's threat.

Beorn grimaced at Thorin. He really did not think much of Thorin's word. King or not, Beorn did not like dwarves.

"You have our word Beorn," said Mum.

Beorn turned towards her, looking into her eyes. He was infinitely less hostile towards Mum than he was towards Thorin.

"Thank you, Elinneth," said Beorn, placing a hand on Mum's shoulder. "I wish you luck in your travels, and I hope you can find the rest of your family."

I saw Thorin gaze questioningly at Mum. I busied myself with picking up my horse's reins, hoping Thorin's inquiring eyes swept past me. He would find out sooner or later, but every worst-case scenario played out in my head whenever I thought of revealing the truth. It ranged from exile to murderous rage, so I kept my distance and hoped Thorin hadn't noticed.

We set off not long after that. Our journey was blissfully orc free. There were times when I thought I heard a prolonged, pained screech in the air but it was often far away and cut off almost immediately. Beorn was patrolling and must have caught any stragglers he found. I did not envy those orcs.

It took a couple of hours before a great treeline appeared, stretching across the horizon with no end in sight. The closer we got, the more on edge I felt. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like an evil whisper was caressing my skin. A distinct wrongness permeated the air. Even under the blazing light of the sun above, dark shadows twisted beneath the boughs of the trees. It felt like a great sickness lay upon the forest, threatening to infect all those that dared enter its depths.

The sight made me angry. A contorted feeling of longing and homesickness gripped me so hard I felt sick to my stomach. This was not the home I remembered. Green and bright and healthy. This was poisoned. When I was a child, the forest was still called Greenwood the Great. Now it was a decimated husk of what it once was. A creeping sickness clung to every surface, suffocating all life within.

An odd scent blew from the wood. Cloying and sickly sweet, with a distinct undercurrent of rot. Like someone had sprayed perfume onto a corpse to try and mask the smell.

I stood in front of the trees with my hands balled into fists, nails digging into my palms. A muscle ticked in my jaw and a low ache burned at the back of my throat. The kind of pain that usually signalled that I was about to break into angry tears. It took everything in me to keep my emotions in check. However, despite my best efforts, a tear still rolled down my cheek.

A pair of arms circled me from behind, and I felt Mum's cheek pressed into my hair.

"I know how you're feeling, darling," whispered Mum so that only I could hear "We just have to get through this."

I turned so that I could gaze up at her, and for the first time, I really saw her age. Her face was the same, but her eyes spoke of untold years. She had seen this forest in its prime. Called it home for thousands of years. But just like me, she hadn't been there to watch the evil spread. The difference was shocking.

Gandalf walked closer to the trees. Within the gloom lay a beaten path, snaking its way further into the wood.

"The Elven Gate," he said, walking into an opening in the trees "Here lies our path through Mirkwood."

All the dwarves climbed down from their ponies and unsaddled their bags.

"Gandalf this forest feels sick. Are you sure there is no other way?" said Bilbo, coming to stand by Gandalf.

"Not unless we go two hundred miles north or twice that distance south. This is the quickest way to get to our destination," Gandalf began to walk under the ruin of an archway.

Mum and I followed close behind. The air changed as I walked beneath the canopy. It was thick, stale and heavy. Gone was the freshness of grass, and in its place was the reek of decay. My nose curled at the smell.

A few paces under the trees led to a cracked cobblestone path, a mould-covered fountain and a pair of carved statues that made me stumble to a standstill. The forest had tried to reclaim them over the years. Vines and weeds twined around them, strangling until only the faces were visible.

I strode passed everyone until I stood directly in front of them. The face of my mother shone back. Or a close approximation, at least. With the smaller one next to it depicting what I assumed was my own face back at me. That, mixed with the aura of rot and ruin, unsettled me greatly.

These had been made after we died. Dad must have had them commissioned and placed them at the entrance to his realm. The first thing travellers would see. My hand reached up to trace the face of Mum's statue.

Gandalf made his way over to where I was standing, approaching the statue with clear apprehension. With unexpected care, he began to remove the vines from the statue. I stepped away, confused about his motivations. However, once he had unveiled the whole torso, I remembered why.

The eye of Sauron glared out from the statue's chest. So black it was as if it absorbed all light around it. My hand reached out to touch the painted eye, and the anger I had been trying so hard to control reared its ugly head once more.

My teeth clenched painfully. The rough stone scraped against my fingers as I drew them into a fist. This was done by orcs, I knew. How dare they. Killing us once was not enough. They also had to defile our memory. I wanted to scream. To take a knife and ram it through the head of any orc I could find.

My anger built up so fast that I didn't see my hand glowing until it was too late. Light exploded outwards, tearing through the stone and reducing it all to rubble. Dust and rocks rained down upon us, and we had to step backwards. Where once two statues stood, now there was only a pile of stones.

Oops.

I looked down at the offending hand. It appeared innocent as can be, with no sign of that destructive magic anywhere.

It wasn't the first time my magic had reacted to my emotions. However, it was the first time that pure anger brought it out. All the other times it had been panic and fear. This could be potentially dangerous. If I couldn't control my emotions, I could end up hurting someone when I got angry.

The others came running at the sound of the explosion. They gathered around with a mixture of shock, confusion and anger across their faces.

"What in Durin's name did you do?" said Thorin, annoyance plaguing his voice.

"I'm sorry," I said dumbly. "I didn't mean to." There was no room for me to argue, really. Thorin had every right to be annoyed at me.

"That was not the wisest of actions, Leah," said Gandalf, sounding quite tired. "If the woodland elves were to find this, it may enrage them."

"That's all we need," grumbled Thorin. I was definitely not in his good books right now.

"Now, now I don't think it will come to that," said Mum. "Leah and I are originally from here. There will still be elves that recognise me. I could probably sway their ire enough to let you continue on your journey."

Yes, I'm sure there will definitely be elves that recognise Mum. You don't really forget the face of an important political figure in your land. Even if they've been 'dead' for 1500 years, elven memory is quite impressive. Who knows what their reaction would be to seeing their late Queen. I'm imagining screaming, crying, maybe fainting if we're lucky.

Thorin weighed the merit of Mum's words. His eyebrows drew together as if a sudden realisation had hit him. "You are woodland elves?" the loathing in his voice was evident.

I flinched at the distaste in Thorin expressed. He was completely well-founded in his hatred of the elves of Mirkwood, but I didn't like when it was levelled at me.

"Yes, we are," said Mum, not backing down from Thorin's gaze. "Though over 1500 years have passed since we last stepped foot here."

More specifically, we were not present during the desolation of Smaug. Thorin's face smoothed out into a more neutral expression as he realised this too.

"Now that we have that all sorted, I fear I must leave you," said Gandalf, walking back out of the trees.

There were several protests as people tried to follow him. "Gandalf, you can't really be leaving us," said a bemused Bilbo.

Gandalf strode over to his horse. Thankfully, with all the commotion I made, they hadn't unsaddled it yet. "I would not leave unless it was absolutely necessary."

Gandalf gave Bilbo an appraising look. As if he was finally seeing him properly. "You have changed, Bilbo Baggins. You are not the same hobbit that left the shire."

Bilbo looked down, fiddling with something in his pocket. "I meant to tell you about something that I found…while in the goblin tunnels."

After everything that happened, it had been easy to look over the fact that Bilbo had the One ring in his possession. At some point, I would have to tell him what it was. Maybe if Gandalf knew about it earlier, they could find a way to be rid of it quicker.

"What did you find?" Gandalf sounded suspicious. There are not a great many 'nice' things for one to find in a goblin tunnel.

Bilbo hesitated before shoving the ring back into his pocket "My courage," he said after a little while.

Gandalf seemed a little relieved at Bilbo's admission though there was still a hint of suspicion. "Good, good. You will definitely need it for what is to come."

Then Gandalf climbed onto his horse with a grace unfitting of his old man persona. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me," his gaze swept across the company. "The air of this forest is rich with illusion; it will seek to lead you astray. You must stay on the path or you will be forever lost in its depths. Leah and Ellen are your safest bet to get through this wood alive. They are elves and, as such, cannot succumb to the effects of this forest. They will undoubtedly remain a voice of reason should your mind start to dull."

Gee thanks, Gandalf . It felt like a huge weight had been dumped onto my shoulders. While it was comforting to know that my mind would not be affected, being in charge of keeping everyone on the path was not a light responsibility.

Gandalf began to turn his horse away, but I ran up to him before he could set off.

"Wait, Gandalf."

Gandalf pulled the reins of his horse to stop its momentum. "What is it, my dear? I really mustn't delay."

"Gandalf, you need to be careful. Your journey will lead you to Dol Guldur," I whispered, not wanting the rest of the company to worry about my words.

"Dol Guldur?" said Gandalf, concerned.

"Yes, and it's completely overrun with orcs, wargs and him."

Gandalf knew exactly who I was talking about, and his eyes widened with fear. "So it is true. He has returned," he whispered, more to himself than anything.

"You should wait until the rest of the white council arrive before you enter, or you'll be captured."

"I see."

I swallowed, glancing towards Thorin before continuing, "Also, Thrain is there in Dol Guldur. He's alive for now, but he won't be if you get captured."

Gandalf sucked in a sharp breath. "My old friend. All this time, I left him for dead," he whispered."Thank you, Leah. I will endeavour to help Thrain to the best of my abilities, but I cannot promise anything."

"That's all I can ask," I said, stepping back away from the horse.

Gandalf peered back at the company one last time before urging his horse on, "No matter what may come, stay on the path!"


Even with my supposed immunity to its effects, I still struggled under the pressing dark of the forest. The air was rancid, and I drew no relief from breathing it in. It felt like being in an enclosed space with warm recycled air. Just enough oxygen got in to keep me going but not enough to feel like I could take a full breath.

Vines encircled every tree, strangling, choking, like poison in a vein. They snaked across the path at odd intervals, and we had to manoeuvre around them. Darkness pressed in on us from all sides. Sunlight could have been glaring above, and we would be none the wiser.

All in all, it was miserable.

The rest of the company was having an even worse time than I was. Over half of them complained about a headache, and they spoke of eyes following them through the trees. Though when I looked over, I saw nothing. Nausea was another big thing. The very air itself made them feel sick.

I knew that the sun was setting only because what little light we did have quickly began to fade away, bleeding into the darkness around us like ink in water. We weren't anywhere that we could consider sleeping yet. Too many hazards lay on the path; sharp rocks and choking tree roots.

We needed light, but when the dwarves tried to light a torch, it was swarmed by strange winged creatures. Either bats or extremely large moths. They had to put it out before we were overwhelmed.

I looked down at my hands, debating whether to use my magic or not. On one hand, light, yay! On the other, vicious bats who may have rabies, boo! The idea of a swarm of winged beasts flying towards me was greatly unsettling. However, my magic did have a tendency to deter foes rather than attract them, and I was willing to give it a go if it helped the company.

I took a deep, unsatisfying breath and pooled the magic into my hands. I screwed my eyes shut and thrust my hands above my head, away from my face. After a few seconds of nothing nefarious flying at me from out of the depths, I sighed in relief and opened my eyes. A circle of light illuminated the path ahead, brighter than anything we had seen all day.

"Thank Mahal, I can finally see," said Dwalin. Other dwarves echoed his sentiment.

With a start, I noticed that the air around my hands smelled fresher, cleaner. When I inhaled, I actually felt satisfied. It's like a personal air purifier! This revelation was a miracle. If my magic could push away the sickness, then maybe we would get out of this unscathed. Kili, Bilbo and Bofur were closest to me, and I heard them suck in air greedily. But I needed to push more power into it if I wanted to cover all of us.

With a little effort, I widened my circle of power. It was difficult to maintain a set distance. My magic stretched back and forth like an elastic band. It either wanted to explode out or rush back in. Concentration was required to keep it around everyone, but If the company stuck close together, I could provide a bubble of air.

"I can breathe. Oh thank Yavanna, I can breathe," said Bilbo.

"Leah are you doing that?" said Fili, amazement in his voice

"I think so," I said. I wouldn't be able to keep it up indefinitely, but I should be able to keep it up for a while if my concentration remained sharp.

After around an hour of walking, we came across a vaguely flat stretch of road. It was the best we were going to get. This forest had a way of sucking all your energy and everyone collapsed to the ground heavily. Bombur actually toppled over with the force of sitting down. It took help from Bifur and Bofur to right him again.

Everyone made sure to remain on the path. There would be no venturing off to find a more comfortable spot to sleep. That meant that we had to make do with the uneven stone beneath them as a bed. Even our bedrolls wouldn't do much good.

I sank to the ground in the middle of the group, hands still glowing steadily. I didn't want to let up on my magic just yet. It was the only comfort in a forest full of bad, and I would keep it up for as long as I could. Kili sat down beside me, rubbing a hand across my back.

"Please don't overexert yourself, Leah. I don't want you to drain all your energy for us," said Kili

I placed my hands palm sides up on my knees and lay my head on Kili's shoulder.

"I'm okay for now," I urged. "Anyway, it's easier to keep up when I'm not moving." Which was true. Though there was a slight tremble seeping into my arms. It wasn't too bad for now, but I knew that the longer I kept up the magic, the more noticeable it would become.

The company began to talk amicably amongst themselves. After some time of breathing in the fresh air, they were more or less their usual selves. They told each other stories or sang songs. At one point, though, they had descended into speaking in khuzdul with one another. One person would say something, and the rest would laugh uproariously. If I had to guess, I'd say that they were telling each other dirty jokes.

Mum raised an amused eyebrow at everyone while Bilbo gazed back and forth, confused. Occasionally, he would laugh uncertainly, trying to join in on the fun. I was beginning to feel left out.

"I provide you the light from my hands, and you repay me by leaving me out of jokes," I said in mock annoyance.

"Well, some jokes should not be heard by such delicate ears," laughed Bifur.

"I don't have delicate ears."

"Of course you do. All soft and pointy," said Bofur with a pipe firmly between his teeth. "Anyway, I don't think some of the jokes would have worked in Westron. It wouldn't have been as funny."

"Yeah, most things sound better in Khuzdul anyway," Fili piped up. "Insults especially sound better."

"That's true," I said. "I know one Khuzdul insult, and it does sound a lot cooler than English ones."

At the sudden pressing silence, I glanced up to see a dozen hard stares.

"How do you know any of our language, lass," grumbled Gloin, not pleased at all.

Ah crap. My face heated up under the dwarves' scrutiny. "Well, in the story from my world, there were a couple of Khuzdul phrases that were translated."

I heard Dwalin scoff from somewhere behind me. "I'll believe it when I hear it."

"Yes, I'm curious as to what insults you know," said Balin, in a humouring grandpa kind of way.

I looked at Kili, who raised an amused eyebrow at me, expectant. As he once said, my accent and pronunciation of Khuzdul was terrible. Which did not help my confidence. However, I knew how to say one particular insult, courtesy of the movies.

"I want to hear this."

"Go on."

"You might as well say it now."

"Okay, okay," I said. "Well, the only insult I know is one against elves." There were a few laughs at that. "And you should blame Thorin for me knowing it, as he was the one who said it in the story."

Thorin straightened up with a curious look.

Well, here goes nothing.

"îsh kakhfê ai'd dur-rugnul," I said very carefully, making sure to sound it out properly. I didn't need to insult the dwarves further by butchering their language.

For a second, there was no reaction from the dwarves. It was one of the most agonising seconds of my life. Then the forest exploded with howls of laughter.

"By Mahal, that is not what I expected to come out of your mouth, Leah," said Fili breathlessly.

"Uncle truly does have a way with words," said Kili with a huge grin.

Thorin lifted his chin up. "I have said no such thing," a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Yet."

"Wh-what did she say?" asked Bilbo.

"Oh Bilbo, it involves a certain bodily expulsion and the face of an elf," said Bofur


The days blended together. I couldn't keep my magic up while I slept, so I had to relinquish my hold on the air. Fortunately, we found that the purified air didn't disappear as soon as my magic did. It lingered around for a good while before the tainted air would seep in. That meant that if we were stationary, I could pull back on my magic, and we'd have good air for at least an hour. It allowed me to rest more often. However, it wasn't much good when we were moving because we would walk away from the good air straight into the bad stuff.

There was another fascinating thing I found too. I had been leaning against a tree, keeping my magic up, when I first noticed it. Before I hadn't really been paying too close attention to our surroundings, simply scanning them for anything bad, but when I looked at the roots directly beneath me, I realised they had changed colour. As did the ground around it. Instead of a mottled, sickly grey, a healthy brown colour began poking through. Followed by strips of green grass pushing through the rotten undergrowth.

As an experiment, I placed my hands against the tree. The magic seeped beneath it with a creaking, grinding sound. A loud crack rang through the air, and several choking vines relinquished their hold on the tree. They moved like snakes, retreating from my magic and in their place, the dark grey bark had lightened to a rich brown.

My throat tightened at seeing life in the midst of all the decay. If I could help reclaim even a small part of my old home, I would.

Even with my healing magic, morale was low. Dwarves weren't very good at functioning with only dried fruit and nuts. My lembas bread went almost straight away. A bite may have been enough to fill a man's stomach, but it wasn't enough for a dwarf's. I barely got to taste it as I shared it with everyone else. It had a rather strange flavour, almost like shortbread, but it wasn't sweet.

My energy started to wane as the days dragged on. There was a near-permanent shake in my arms as I held up my magic. I had to grit my teeth and urge myself to go on. Kili and Mum tried to get me to stop at every opportunity. But each time they tried, I would shake him off and continue. It's not like they could physically stop me from manifesting the light if I really wanted to. However, it reached a point where the decision was out of my hands.

I walked near the front. Though walking may have been an overstatement. My feet dragged against the uneven ground, and each breath came out harder than the last. The ache in my limbs was becoming unbearable. I could barely keep them up. But I needed to do this. Everyone was depending on me.

My foot caught against a tree root bursting through the ground. It would have sent me sprawling if several pairs of hands hadn't caught me. Fili, Kili and Balin set me upright once more.

"Right, that's it, Leah! You can't do this anymore," urged Kili, holding me tightly.

"B–but I need to. I need to help," my voice sounded a lot weaker than I thought it would.

"No, Leah, you need to stop now," said Mum from behind me. "I'm putting my foot down. I'd be a terrible mother if I let you continue on like this."

"But–"

"Leah, please," Kili looked pained. It hurt to see him that way.

Thorin came around and stood in front of us "Leah, we can survive a few days without your intervention. I will not have one member of my company suffer more than necessary."

I nodded, my body sagging as I relented and let the magic in my hands dim. An aching heaviness filled my bones with lead. I had managed to suppress it and force myself to carry on before, but once I gave in, the fight left me. Kili was the only thing keeping me upright. I felt his lips brush my temple.

"Thank you, Leah," he whispered.


So for the next couple of days, we suffered through the wrath of the woods. The air was rank, and the shadows began to flit back around us. Yet my body was thankful for the respite. The tremors and persistent muscle aches were gone, at least.

On the other hand, whereas I was feeling better, the dwarves felt infinitely worse. The headaches returned in full force, and many of them were complaining about hallucinations again. Their deterioration was so much faster this time. With no chance to acclimate to the surroundings slowly, their decline was steep.

Mum and I stayed close together so that we could monitor the dwarves. So far, we had to steer many of the dwarves back onto the path. Their eyes were vacant as they stumbled towards the trees. It made me wonder how they had managed to get through these woods in the story. With my powers, I feel like we must have covered more ground in less time. Perhaps we had slipped past the giant spiders altogether.

That was wishful thinking. In fact, I had already spotted multiple webs hung between trees. Too large to have been made by any normal spider. The sight of it sent shivers down my spine.

Luck never really seemed to be on our side. You would think that staying on the elven road would have kept us safe. At least, that's what I had thought. But fate must have been so hell-bent on throwing us off that it sent its forces onto our path instead.

We trudged along in almost single file due to how narrow the path had become. Everything seemed fine. Or as fine as it could be in this forest. There were disturbing sounds creeping alongside us, sharp cracks, the skittering of legs. But as we had been hearing similar things the entire time we had been here, I paid it no mind.

That was until a strand of web zipped through the air and wrapped around Oin's leg. We had hardly any time to react before he was dragged bodily into the gloom beyond the path.

The dwarves armed themselves with a roar and charged in after him. I fumbled with my own sword, tugging it free and feeling the slap of the leather scabbard against my hip. Mum drew one of her borrowed knives, courtesy of Fili, and we ran after the dwarves.

The second my feet left the path, a writhing weight of dread settled over me. Gandalf's warning played out through my mind, and I had the irrational fear that we would never get back on it again.

I skidded to a stop, dirt and loam scattering around my feet, and nearly got taken out by a web. The sticky strand of white shot passed me at eye level and fused itself to the tree next to me. With a fierce yank, the web was pulled backwards, taking splinters and bark with it. At the other end of it stood the most monstrous thing I'd ever laid my eyes on.

I could hardly handle a house spider, and these things were a million times bigger. With barbed legs, chittering mandibles and black soulless eyes, I could not stop the scream that tore through my throat. They responded to the sound with a high-pitched squeal of their own and snapped their fangs with sharp clicks. Thick, cloudy dripped from their mouths onto the forest floor below.

They were everywhere, descending upon us from above, cornering us from the gloom. The dwarves and Bilbo fought them off with everything they had, dodging attacks and slicing the air with their weapons. Ori and Gloin got to Oin first. They grabbed him by his arms and pulled. The webbing strained under the tension but didn't relent. Oin was horizontal in the air as the dwarves tried to pull him free. A slice from Dwalin's axe freed Oin's leg, and the change in momentum sent them careening backwards. They all landed in a pile.

A spider lashed out at me with one of its legs. It grazed against my shins and nearly sent me sprawling backwards. I arced my sword through the air, nicking one of the spines on its forelegs but not much else. It continued its assault, pressing closer with snapping pincers.

An arrow whisked past me, the air displacement sending my hair flying and landed in one of its eyes with a sickening squelch. I didn't have to look to know that it was courtesy of Kili. The fletching on the arrow was definitely his. Black ooze spat out of the wound. It only seemed to make it angrier.

Out of nowhere, a blur of pink and purple tie-dye crash landed on top of the spider. A dagger twisted deep into the spider's head with a crunch. The enraged face of my mother kneeled on the spider's back and stabbed once more. Its scream was something straight from hell as it succumbed to Mum's attack. It shrank inwards, legs curling beneath it in quickened Rigour Mortis.

The hoodie Mum was wearing hadn't fared too well against the spider, with strands of viscous black lining the material, but Mum herself was unharmed. She jumped off the spider to land next to me, and several things happened at once.

My ears picked up the sounds of distant running. Shouts on the air.

A spider launched itself at Kili and pinned him underneath it, fangs snapping dangerously close to his face.

And a thick string of webbing wrapped itself around both of my ankles.

Before I could even take all of this in, I was wrenched backwards into the unforgiving forest.