Like a promised. Only...1 hour ago...Didn't take as long as I thought it would. Next chapter will be in a couple weeks. Summer courses are keeping me rather occupied.
Again, thank you QueefCream for being such a loyal reader and a wonderful conversationalist. Everyone should check out her story: Lians' Contingency. It's getting really good right now. Can't wait for the next chapter.
And thank you Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - I saw your review just before I published this and want to say thank you, I'm glad you liked it :)
Four days later we are set upon by a strong chain of storms, determined on soaking us to the bone. My cloak is hardy enough to withstand the brunt of it. However, my hands inside the gauntlets have now been chilled to the point of uselessness. The only positive at the moment is that I can still feel my toes thanks to my wools socks. In my mind, the only thing worse than chilled hands are frozen feet.
I glance over my shoulder at Bilbo and wonder how in the world hobbits make do without shoes. I know that their feet are kind of like shoes, but still… The look on his face is one of absolute misery. Today's downfall has been particularly thick so he has even started to shiver from time to time. Taking pity on him, I start falling back and fishing out my sleeping roll. Once I'm even with the hobbit I unfurl the roll and cover him up with it. He hadn't even noticed my presence until my roll touches him and startles him out of his thoughts. However, once he realizes what is going on he begins to protest.
"Good ranger, I cannot take this. It is bad enough that our clothes will be soaked," he explains. "You shouldn't let your roll become soaked as well."
He begins to push it off so I lean back over and wrap it around him tighter in place of answering him. I finish by tucking his hands with the reigns to his pony inside the dry fabric. Naturally, his hands come together to hold the blanket in place. He gives me a small smile.
"Thank you."
I smile back at him and hope that it reaches my eyes. He snuggles himself in a little more and I look around at the rest of our rag-tag group. Fili and Kili are eerily quiet, though I think it has more to do with that night four days prior than with the weather. Despite my forgiveness, they have barely spoken to me, our lessons have also halted (though that is due to the weather), and I find myself missing them dearly. Thorin's hardened words have made them quite sad, despite Balin's assurances. They work hard for their uncle's approval and it is not easily gained. I also feel bad because I threw my bow at them.
They are still licking their wounds from that night. While I did appreciate that they are beginning to take things like orcs more seriously, I wish they would revert back to their old ways. They are trying so hard now to be serious, but all it does is make me sad. I had been enjoying their positive energy and their sudden change left me feeling like I had been cheated.
My eyes shift to Bofur as he tries for the third time to light his pipe, and like the last two, he failed miserably. At least someone hasn't lost their optimism. He's the only one without a hood on because of his hat, which allows me to see his face. Despite that he looks rather crestfallen; he gives me a smile when he catches me looking at him.
A little further back, Ori is tying his damnest to keep his journal dry. He kept it in a bag in his shirt and would continuously shift in hopes of having less rain land on it. The rest of the company is grumbling their complaints regarding the weather from under their hoods. I personally enjoy the scent of fresh rain, but since it had been like this before dawn the charm of it has worn off.
"Mister Gandalf," shouts Dori over the pitter-patter of rain. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"
"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it shall continue to rain until the rain is done," replies Gandalf with sass dripping from his voice, "If you wish to change the weather of the world I suggest you find yourself another wizard."
"Bullshit," I grumble, "If Morinehtar can do it, so can you." Once again Gandalf looks back at me as though he heard me, and watches me like a fish behind a glass.
"Are there any?" asks Bilbo.
"What?" asks Gandalf as his eyes shift to the cocooned hobbit. He raises an eyebrow in question as he observes the hobbit. The halfling's pointer finger appears from beneath the folds of fabric and points noncommittally at me. Gandalf's gaze shifts back to me with a soft look in his eye.
"What about the other wizards?" asks Bilbo as he tries to continue the conversation.
"There are five of us," he starts as he turns back around.
"FIVE?!" I shout. I feel a sudden headache coming on as I rest my forehead on my hand. I am jostled repeatedly as it is highly uncomfortable to use a hand propped up on a saddle horn for a headrest. Morinehtar had been enough of a pain in my ass and Gandalf isn't much better. To think that there are three more…
"The greatest of our order is Saruman the White," Gandalf continues. "Then there are the two blue wizards…"
Two? I recognize Morinehtar as one of the blue wizards. His robes were as blue as the waters of Esgaroth on a summer's day. That means there is another blue wizard out there? I find it an odd thought that there would be another old man besides Morinehtar running around in blue robes. I spent two years with him in the ice caves in the Grey Mountains, learning and growing under his tutelage. I can't picture anyone else being like Morinehtar …
"You know I've quite forgotten their names…" he says lamely. I sit up in my saddle rub my temple. There are five of you; if you can remember the names of thirteen very similar dwarves, but not five of your own kind…what kind of pipeweed has he been smoking?
"And who is the fifth?" asks Bilbo.
"That would be Radaghast the Brown."
"Is he a great wizard or is he…more like you?" he asks carefully. I start giggling behind the mask. I know that Bilbo didn't mean anything by it, but just the way he said it made it humorous. The wizard seems to be thinking the same thing as there is a slight awkward pause before he answers.
"I think he is a great wizard; in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others," he says.
I can understand the brown wizard's thoughts as I look down at my loyal horse. I have been on my own for so long, with Wildwind as my only companion that I'm sure I would be lost without her. I rub her neck gently and she huffs, contentedly.
"He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the east, and a good thing too. For always evil will look to find a foothold in this world," he finishes ominously.
"What evil, Gandalf?" asks the curious hobbit.
Despite my curiosity at the wizard's answer, I wish Bilbo hadn't asked. As the question permeates the air it turns the rainy atmosphere into something more dark and heavy than it should be.
"A great shadow, the likes of which have not been seen in over an age," the wizard grumbles to himself, "It grows stronger over time…" The wizard trails off, lost in his own thoughts. A tense look settles on the hobbit's face, which causes the wizard to take on a false, cheerful attitude. "But that is why we wizards are here and it is highly unlikely that such evil shall ever rise again. It merely bodes well to be cautious…"
"The rain is finally stoppin'," says Ori.
Sure enough the large, fat drops from earlier have stopped leaving only a light mist in its wake. We still have half a day of daylight left and hopefully it will be enough to dry out most of our belongings. I look over at Bilbo and see him smiling at me.
"At least your sleeping roll won't be too wet," he says cheerfully.
I wave my hand at him like it's no big fuss. I didn't plan on going to bed wet anyway. However, the moment we get a fire going I plan on curling up next to it just to prevent my tits from freezing – literally.
There are a few more days of on and off rain, but thankfully today there is nothing, but sunshine. Everything would be dry and I could sleep properly for once. The moment we find a spot that is dry enough after our afternoon stop Thorin calls for us to stop. I'm glad he recognizes that we are in desperate need of drying out and resting. If it weren't for the damp saddle I would have tried sleeping on Wildwind. He orders Gloin and Oin to set up a fire and has Fili and Kili see to the ponies. I lead my horse over to the boys and hand over Wildwind's reigns. They had been nervous the first time I handed her over to them. Apparently dwarves are nervous of beasts that are larger than them, but once I showed them how sweet she was, they loved her.
I am about to ask Thorin if he wants Dwalin and I to go hunting when I overhear the loud grumblings between the wizard and dwarf prince.
"I think it would be wiser to move on," says Gandalf. "We could make for the Hidden Valley."
I feel myself sigh heavily. Gandalf has been trying to get Thorin to head for Rivendell for the last few days. The horrible weather and Gandalf's insistence has done nothing for Thorin's mood. His temper, despite the little I had seen, didn't need the added prerogative.
"I've told you already . I will not go near that place," Thorin says.
"Why not?" questions Gandalf. "The elves could help us. They could give us food, rest, advice…"
"I don't need their advice."
"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," says Gandalf optimistically.
Map? What map? I thought that the dwarves just knew where we are going. We are relying on a map they couldn't read? Dwarves have the worst sense of direction and we have no clue where to go? I had been taught by my uncle to read hidden messages; maybe I could help.
"Help?" he asks as his voice dips dangerously low. "A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather…betrayed my father."
My heart aches slightly for the prince. He must feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"You are neither of them," responds Gandalf. "I did not give you that map and key to hold on to the past."
"I did not know they were yours to keep."
A heartbeat passes and Gandalf turns my way. He stalks past, completely ignoring me. Thorin follows the wizard, but stops to stand beside me as he continues to watch the wizard with his eyes.
"Gandalf, where are you going?" asks Bilbo.
"To seek the company of the only one around here whose got any sense," the wizard replies gruffly.
"And who is that?"
"Myself, Master Baggins," he yells angrily.
I unintentionally jump when Thorin speaks loudly, "Come on, Bombur. We're hungry."
Thorin turns away to take up a perch on a nearby log. I look between the wizard and the dwarf lord deciding that now is as good a time as any to inquire about the map. Thorin pulls the key out from under his tunic to fiddle with it between his large dwarf fingers. When his eyes look up to meet mine they are as cool as ice.
"I do not appreciate eavesdroppers," he grumbles.
To be fair your conversation was hardly private, but the real reason I'm here is to see if you want Dwalin and I to go hunting.
"No," he says more gently now. "We have plenty for now." I nod my head in understanding. I don't leave, knowing I want to say more, but I don't know how to say it. Thorin looks up at me the question obvious in his slight glare.
"Do you want to voice your opinion on the matter?" he growls.
I will follow your lead, Thorin. However, if he didn't want us to camp here, aren't you curious why?
"The wizard only wants us to make for the elves," he says. "There is no danger here."
Despite that the elves are Gandalf's main goal; I have no reason to believe his warning about the campsite being false. At the moment I couldn't sense anything out of ordinary in the area. I glance at the ruined farm house, but everything is too old for me to find anything of use. I turn back to Thorin and he is still glaring at me.
Could we at least set up a perimeter? Dwalin and I could-
"I said, 'There is no danger here'," he growls. "Do not make me repeat myself a third time."
A small growl emerges from my throat and I'm glad he can't hear it. We are both in foul moods, but if I try to push him it will only make it worse. I decide to drop the subject of threats and instead navigate the conversation to the map. I highly doubt that there is a chance that he will let me look at it, especially in this state, but my stubbornness gets the better of me and I try anyway.
What map did Gandalf speak of?
His eyes harden slightly as he continues to look up at me. "It's a map my father left behind. It is a guide to a secret entrance on the mountain."
But it is hidden?
"Yes," he sighs. He almost sounds…defeated. It is strange to hear such…insecurity in his voice. This is the dwarf who faced Azog the Defiler; it seems unnatural that he would have doubts, but then again if anyone had doubts it would be him. His gaze finally leaves me and moves to the gauntlets hanging loosely between his knees. I feel the need to comfort him, but I reign myself in and reach for his shoulder to draw his attention back to me.
Would you like me to take a look?
The hardness returns to his eyes as he stands. "Let me remind you, ranger, that I do not fully trust you. I have faith in your skills and I can see you can follow orders, but the details of this quest are for dwarves only. You have been playing your part well and I appreciate your willing heart, but these matters are for the Dwarves of Erebor and so they shall remain."
With those as his final words he stalks back over to the rest of the company. The hostility he lashes out with brings my growl to full fruition. Perhaps the wizard is the smart one for leaving. With no way to properly vent I throw myself into work by helping Balin do inventory of supplies. I would rather be doing a sweep of the area, but ever the prideful, stubborn dwarf Thorin would never agree. Usually when my instincts cry out like this I would do it regardless, but I can feel both he and Dwalin watching me closely. I will likely not sleep again tonight as I am now very anxious. By the time sunset is underway, the camp is fully situated.
Rather than the stew Bombur offers, I take out some of my dried meat ration and nibble on it. Bombur used to be offended by my declinations of food, but once he realized I prefer it this way he usually just offers me the dried meat. Tonight I beat him to it, as I am anxiously watching Fili and Kili who are watching the ponies. Whatever is enough to put a wizard on edge is certainly enough to put me on edge. From time to time I will gaze over the forest, but so far nothing seems out of the ordinary.
As if sensing my tension, Thorin and Dwalin watch me from their places farther away from the company. They are eating and talking between bites, but their eyes are on me. Thorin is stubborn beyond reason. I'm quite alright with him not trusting me – thinking he trust me based on a clan that no longer existed and one deed he saw me do, would be foolish. However, the fact that he is ignoring a potential threat to his company – to his nephews – is something that could get us killed. I don't care if the wizard was only using it as a pretense.
Balin suddenly appears at my side with his bowl of stew and I remove the jerky from my mouth. I replace the strap on my mask, waiting for him to explain what he wants. Balin usually eats with his brother or Thorin; while I took up with Bifur, Bofur, or the boys. What did Balin want?
"This seat taken, lad?" he asks sweetly. He has a tender look in his eye and as I said before, I cannot bring myself to deny him.
I slide over and gesture for him to take the space. His smile widens and he sits down. I glance again at where Fili and Kili are at, and when I see them starting to wrestle I return my attention to Balin. He has only taken one bite of stew before he begins again.
"I don't suppose you would be keen on telling that story tonight would you, lad?" he asks. I don't feel comfortable telling this story. However, I had promised Balin; I swear that if he asked me to jump off a cliff for him I would at least consider doing it before I said no. That is just how potent and passionate the dwarf could be…it…it reminds me of my father. They even share the same brown eyes…I glance up and see the others watching with baited breath. It could be worse – at least I'm telling my secrets to a group of people even more secretive than me. Everything I tell them would be safe. I nod my head to them and I swear they move closer to the fire to listen like children. My signs are fast and swift as I weave my tale…
The snow had just begun to fall, adding to the frost that had settled the night before. The clouds were just high enough that the sun slipped between the cloud line and the mountains. It was a beautiful sunrise, the rays of gold slipping in from the heavens. It was the last sunrise Imelkane ever saw.
People had just begun to stir in anticipation of the coming day. Women started to feed their families and their livestock while their husbands made their way to their place of work. Guards, scribes, blacksmiths – everyone. None noticed it at first. The thin trickle of people as they left their houses made them easy pickings as they were few and far between. As they finally noticed the dead in the streets, people would run to help them only to fall to the orcs that waited in the morning shadows.
It started on the outskirts of the city. Those of us closer to the Palace were unaware of what was happening until the screams reached our ears. By then the orcs had already started setting fire to the city, the wind of the day's coming storm feeding the flames.
My mother had grabbed me and made for one of the safe houses in the city. In case of a siege the women and children could escape there. In these safe houses were entrances to the tunnels underneath the city. While we made our way to the safe house, my father went to defend the city, as it was his duty.
We were unaware at the time how like a malignant tumor the orcs had spread through the city. After an hour of tense evacuations the orcs finally made it to our door.
There was a pounding at the door as the orcs and wargs did their best to force the door down. Mothers clung to their children as they rapidly descended into the tunnels. The stream of people flowed through the hole in the floor like a clogged drain that only allowed a trickle of people through. In the mess children were weeping and wailing while their mothers tried to calm them. Every noise only spurred the invaders further.
The exception was Nirassi and myself. She held the blade out in front of her, keeping herself between the remaining survivors and the orcs at the door. She had thrust a practice blade into my hand during our escape and so I stood near her in a similar pose. I had only just began my training with Gaellyn, and the practice sword wasn't even that sharp; but it was better than nothing.
"Tahna, you need to get down into the tunnels, I will be right behind you," she says calmly. Turning I saw that the rest of the people had in fact made it through.
"No. I'm with you, mother," I stated defiantly. I knew that she was lying when she said she would follow me.
"You and your father's bleeding heart! Tahna, you do as I say right now!" she spoke as loudly as she dare. I flinched as I knew she was mad, but I did not move from my spot.
When I didn't respond she turned away from the door and grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the tunnel. I didn't fight her, but I was afraid of leaving her behind to face the orcs. She was ready to toss me into the dimly lit hole, when a scream sounded. It quickly grew in size and number. We then realized it came from the tunnels. Women and children screamed in distress as they scrambled around in the dark, trying to find a way out. Nirassi's grip tightened on me as she stared down the hole in disbelief. They found the tunnels.
"Tahna!"
Nirassi's voice broke through my terror filled moment and I looked at her. She had found a chair and immediately climbed it holding her arms out to me as if to embrace me. I hadn't even realized she had let go of my hand. Wordlessly I ran to her and she lifts me above her towards the ceiling. It was made of thatch and a child of my size could still fit through.
"Take to the rooftops. Do your best to remain unseen. Get to the Weeping Stones and you wait there. Your father and I will come to get you, understand?"
I nodded my head. "What about you?"
Her eyes softened as she looked at me and handed me the practice sword I had dropped earlier. "I will be behind you shortly, little one. Someone might make it back from the tunnels and I need to be here if they do. I will not be far behind. Stay safe, Tahna."
With one last glance at my mother, I pushed myself through the roof. As I pulled my body out, the first thing I saw is smoke. I had to cover my eyes and cough as quietly as I could as to not draw attention from the orcs below. I could see the rooftop of the next building clearly, so without a second thought I launched myself from one roof to the next. The air there was clearer and I managed to breathe properly.
All around me was death. I watched as orcs slaughter people in the streets until the cobblestones were coated in the slick, red liquid. There were screams as people tried to flee from their attackers only to discover more waiting for them. These mutilated creatures ran up and down the streets hunting for people, food, and treasures. They came in all shapes and sizes, but all of them were horrifying. All teeth and blades, they were fast and relentless - these were Gundabad orcs.
A loud crash drew my attention from the streets. I saw the Palace, which was nestled in the center of the city, begin to burn. One of towers was currently collapsing and likely the cause of the new fires that spread along the walls. I see further away the Centennial Tower was also burning. Flames consumed the air at every possible opening, causing the windows along the tower to look like miniature dragons as they spit flames. The white paint along the outside was starting to turn yellow from the heat and black soot began to coat the wooden sills.
Despite the fear that gripped my heart so intensely at that moment, my legs knew where to go. With a running start I made it to the next roof, then another and another. The next building was too tall so I had to use a windowsill to pull myself up. It was then I first saw him.
I had paused in my escape, trying to catch my breath when a pale figure caught my eye. He was large for an orc and taller than most men I knew. He was as pale as the walls of the ice caves found within the Grey Mountains. He sat upright and straight on his mount, which was an equally pale warg. There were scars littering his body, but compared to the blade protruding from where his left arm should have been they looked almost natural. The orc and his snow colored mount stalk down the street, opposite the direction I was going. His face, while not as grotesque as the rest of his race, was no less terrifying. He was hairless and it makes it easy to see the pointy ears that reminded me very much of the elves I had seen visit from Mirkwood. His eyes were as pale as the rest of him, but there was a wickedness gleaming within their blue depths. My uncle says, "Evil is created not born." I completely disagree with him and this orc was my proof. To match the look in his eyes was smirk that would make the hair on the back of my father's neck curl.
His chest was also littered with scars and ended where a loincloth began. He continued to roll forward with that predatory lull that matched his mount. He passed me completely, unaware of my presence. Just seeing him had me frozen in fear, then I realize he was heading in the same direction where I had left my mother. Tears pricked in my eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to go back. Not only was I afraid of the orc, but I wouldn't be able to save Nirassi. I needed to find my father. I started running again, knowing that he wouldn't leave my mother behind. He was my only hope.
Naturally I edit out the parts regarding Azog and my real name. The last thing I want is give Thorin another reason to fight with me. When I look up from the pause in my tale I can see sympathy in the eyes of the dwarves as they knew my pain. Even from the corner of my vision I could see Thorin's eyes have gone soft.
"What happened? In the tunnels, I mean?" asks Gloin. It is no secret that Gloin is one of the few dwarves to have a wife and child waiting for him in the Blue Mountains. I wonder if they have an evacuation system similar to Imelkane in Thornost, where most of the dwarves live. It would explain the sudden fear in his eyes.
They were slaughtered by goblins. In the cramped spaces of the tunnels they would have been lined up like sheep to slaughter. They were all unarmed…they died screaming blindly into the darkness of those tunnels.
My callous answer brings forth a harsh reaction of disgust from the dwarves. With the way some of the react, even Gloin, I thought they might retch.
"How?" asks Balin. His throat is tight with unshed tears. "How could such a travesty happen?"
At this I raise my head and make eye contact with Thorin. This is an opportunity make him understand that he is not the only one with a weight to bear. He doesn't have to trust me, but he should know he is not alone in his sorrows. Maybe this will allow him to identify with me better.
We were betrayed.
Thorin's eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by a loud shout.
"Trolls!"
Fili bursts threw the bushes out of breath. All of us are on our feet and grabbing weapons. I'm first to run up to Fili; he stops when he reaches me, but I grab his shoulder and start looking him over. By the time the others reach us I'm satisfied that he's fine, but he is looking at me with a confused expression.
"What happened?" demands Thorin.
"Kili and I were watching the ponies when a troll came and took two of them. Another appeared and took two more. We followed them to their camp-"
"You did what?!" hisses Thorin.
I'm with Thorin on this one; that was stupid. After seeing the first troll they should have come back to camp – ponies be damned.
"We weren't seen. But Bilbo went to try and steal them back."
"What?!" growls Thorin.
I'm suddenly puzzled as that doesn't sound like Bilbo at all. I feel like he would have been the first one to run back and tell Thorin what was going on. Why would he do that? He knew he would get in trouble with Thorin later. Unless he was saving someone else from Thorin's wrath…I look at Fili again. I notice that he cannot meet Thorin's eyes and I'm sure that there is more to the story than meets the eye. However, that would have to wait…
"Come on," says Thorin.
We gather our weapons and follow Fili back to the troll camp. When we arrive Kili is safely nestled in the bushes surrounding the camp and when he sees us he points to the clearing. What I see doesn't please me.
"Grab 'em," yells one of the trolls.
"He's too quick," says another.
Three trolls are swinging their massive arms around in an attempt to capture the burglar. For a moment it almost seems like he would escape, but is suddenly caught by his feet.
"Gotcha!" says the triumphant troll.
"Bilbo!" whispers Bofur, concerned. He tries to move forward, but Oin and Dwalin hold him back.
"Are there anymore of you little fellas 'idin where ya shouldn't?" asks the captor troll.
With an idea in mind I start looking for a decent sized rock in hopes that throwing it nearby will send at least one of the trolls on a goose chase.
"No," says Bilbo.
"He's lying," says another troll.
"No; I'm not."
"Hold his toes over the fire," says the same troll. "Make him squeal."
I find what I'm looking for and coil my arm back only to see Kili jump out of the bush despite his brother's attempts to hold him back. The rock slips out of my hand.
"You IDIOT!" I scream into my mask. What in the Void did he think he was doing?
He hits the back of the knee of one troll with his sword and after passing him once he slices him again in the foot. The one troll falls and Kili continues forward to stand before the other two.
"Drop him!"
"Dis is going to kill him," says Dwalin.
"After she's finished with Thorin," replies Balin. I swear I can see the mighty dwarf lord shudder.
"You what?" yells the captor troll.
"I said," starts Kili with a twirl of his sword, "'Drop him!'"
The Valar must truly have a sense of humor because when I meant I wanted the boys to return to normal I had been speaking of their humor, not their reckless behavior. All wishes must be made with caution it seems. I look up at the sky as if to ask Mahal himself 'Why?'
The troll, angered by Kili's demand, throws the hobbit right at the young archer. Kili drops his sword in order to catch Bilbo and both land on the forest floor. The before anything could be said or done Thorin surges forward to help his fallen nephew. Dwarves charge around me like I am a stone in a river. Before I know it there are dwarves everywhere; hacking and slashing at the trolls.
I pinch the bridge of my nose from my perch in the bushes. Troll hide is tough shit. Weapons may hurt them, but they don't really wound them. A troll's only weak points are in the face: eyes, ears, and their nose (if you can get up far enough). That why they are so small – because it makes them hard targets. Plus they have a regeneration factor. You need to reach the brain to stop the regeneration from happening and the blow itself is usually fatal anyway.
Apparently dwarves don't know this. They are only going for where they could reach – which is the legs and lower abdomen. If they could work together to bring them down they could reach the proper areas. For a moment Ori has the right idea, aiming for an eye with his slingshot, but he is quickly caught.
My hope is restored when Dwalin and Thorin do a combo that puts Thorin in the air. Only to be disappointed when Thorin went after the arm holding Ori instead of the face. It was a solid move and it had been wasted. I see Oin put one on its knees, but Dwalin knocked out its teeth…and nothing else. My headache steadily grows and I close my eyes. I can't watch – it's too painful…
"Bilbo!" cries Kili.
I look up to see the fighting has stopped and Bilbo is once again a prisoner.
"Lay down your arms or we'll rip 'is off," threatens a troll. A moment passes before Thorin turns his blade and stabs it into the earth. For a moment the company is in shock that Thorin would never willingly give up, but he has no other choice. Despite his dislike for the hobbit, he is Thorin's responsibility. Slowly, the company follows his lead and creates a small pile of weapons.
The dwarves take a quick look around and I realize they might think I have abandoned them, but I don't have time to worry about that right now. If I want this company to make it out of here alive, every second counts. I swiftly make my way back to camp, a plan forming in my mind.
Everyone who was waiting for badass things to happen...it has arrived...