The road to the Mountains was made harder because we no longer had horses to burden with our loads. Although we had left what we could not carry, we were all tired from the arduous trek that had led us thus far. I stayed close to Bilbo, the little conversation we had varied between the Shire and whether the Sackville-Baggins' had already begun to think we had left for good.
It was many nights after we had climbed out of the valley, leaving Rivendell far behind, and we were still ascending the great mountains. It was a dangerous path to travel; at any moment the path which we walked upon could drop right out from beneath our feet, that is, if the wind didn't blow us right off the ledge. Despite the unsafeness of the mountain pass, the view from up here is wonderful. I can see for miles, back to the roads we have travelled, back to where everything is wonderful and green. Somewhere, back down in the world that we have left behind, lies the Shire, tucked away in its tidy little valley.
The further up the mountain we travelled the colder it got and the colder it got the slower we walked. I shivered and tucked my cloak tightly around myself, the wind came rushing past us at an ever growing rate and when the rain began to lash at us from all sides, I wished for a moment that I was back in the Shire, in front of our hearth with a warm cup of tea.
"The summer will be getting on back home," Bilbo mentioned to me one day.
"Yes, they will be having picnics and haymaking."
"Not to mention, blackberrying." He sighed, Bilbo did love blackberrying. "And all that will be over before we even begin to make our way down the mountain at this rate."
It was that very night, not that long after the mention of haymaking and blackberrying that seemed to spur me and Bilbo on, that the weather took a vile turn. The thunder came rattling into the mountain pass, and the rain followed it. Lightning split the sky above us and the rocks groaned and growled around us. I kept my hood up and my head down, my eyes never straying from the path that kept us above the rocks that lay below. That was until a yell made me whip my head around so fast I nearly slipped from the path in fright.
It was Bilbo that had called out, Dwalin had grabbed him just in the nick of time before he tumbled off the edge of the mountain pass. I grabbed his arm as Dwalin pulled him back to safety. "Bilbo, are you alright?" I asked breathlessly. He nodded once, a worried smile on his face and told me not to worry.
"We must find shelter!" Thorin yelled from up at the front. But he got no further; a magnificent cry from Dwalin sent our eyes to the sky as a great bolder flew in our direction. It smashed upon the wall above our heads and sent splinters raining down at us. I pressed myself against the wall, my hands scrambling for a hold so the rumbling would not shake me from my perch. I felt the rocks tumble past us as the wind tore the hood from my head.
"This isn't a thunderstorm!" Balin declared as I moved my head away from the wall. "It's a thunder battle!"
My eyes widened as the cliff face opposite us broke apart into a massive stone figure. So the legends are true! There really are great stone giants in the Misty Mountain pass! The giant let out a massive roar and sent another great boulder in our direction; it tumbled away from us and into another giant that just rounded the mountain. The mountain rumbled beneath me and the ground cracked and split around us. I felt a tug on my cloak and glanced down just as the mountain path split beneath my feet. I tumbled backwards, right into the chest of Kili who held me firmly against him. My eyes widened as we were pulled away from the rest of the group.
"Bilbo!" I cried, a helpless shout against the noises around us. I looked up, the ground shaking as the rocks we stood on began to move. I grabbed onto the rocks behind me, as the giant we stood on was attacked by another.
Rocks were assaulting us from all sides, the noise was horrendous but all I could see was Bilbo's face as our perch sailed past his own. Our giant was falling, falling down towards the ground below us. The mountain walls were rushing towards us and my eyes slammed shut as the walls collided.
I was slammed forwards, straight into the opposing wall. I hit the ground hard, throwing my hands over my head to shelter it from the rocks falling around us. "No!" I faintly heard Thorin's cry, "No! Kili!" I forced my eyes to open, an ache pounding within my skull as I raised my head. Pushing myself upwards I turned to see the rest of the company, their eyes filled with joy as they realised that we had not been killed.
But there was no Bilbo.
"Bilbo!" I cried, scrambling upwards, feeling a pain jolt in my side as I did so. "Bilbo! Where is he?" I yelled, seeing Bofur glance down over the cliff face.
"There!" Bofur cried, scrambling down to grab hold of him. I saw his hands slip and I screamed out, scrambling forwards to the cliff edge just in time to see Dwalin grab hold of my brother's hand.
"Bilbo! Bilbo, grab my hand!" The cries came from everyone. I stretched my fingers but I knew I would never be able to reach him. I did not, however, expect Thorin to leap down the Cliffside and haul Bilbo to safety.
"Bilbo!" I cried, flinging my arms around him and holding him as tight as I could. "Are you alright? Oh- Of course not, what a stupid question-" My voice was on the verge of hysterical, so I pulled back and wiped the tears from my face.
"I thought we'd lost our burglar!"
"He's been lost ever since he left home- the both of them have. They should never have come. They have no place amongst us." Thorin's voice was harsh. It cut through me like a knife, and I'm guessing it did the same to Bilbo. I looked down, not willing to question what Thorin had said. Perhaps he was right… perhaps we never should have left home.
There was a cave- unoccupied as far as we could tell- just a little further along the path. Tired and miserable we entered the cave in hope of a good night's sleep. There was no fire lit that night as there was no knowing what lurked in these caves. Thorin decided it was best that we didn't attract anymore unwanted attention from anything else that might occupy these mountains.
I found a nook in the cave, a small place away from the rest of the company. The words Thorin had said not long after the escapade with the stone giants hurt me, but I wasn't sure why. It made me think of Bag End and it made me realise that I had no idea what I was doing when I left home. I curled up under my covers, trying not to think about home, or blackberrying or haymaking… I was afraid that if I thought of such merry things, I would feel more homesick than I have been before.
Pulling the covers tightly around myself, I closed my eyes and hoped that everything would be alright in the morning.
Sleep had taken me quickly after that. Maybe it was the journey, or the rain, or the fact that I could have lost my brother and some of my closest friends only a few hours ago. But now I was being shaken awake, just like on the day I left Bag End with the dwarves, only now it was Bilbo shaking my shoulder and not Gandalf.
"Up! Get up, Rosa!" The panic in his voice had shaken me more than the suddenness of my awakening. The ground was jolting beneath me and all around me the dwarves had scrambled upwards. I kicked myself out of the covers, just barely making it to my feet when the ground collapsed from underneath us.
I grasped for Bilbo, or for anyone really, but at the speed we were falling it was too hard to even see where anyone was. The world rushed by in flashes of darkened reds and flashes of yellow, but as soon as we had begun falling, the ground rushed up to meet us and my hands scraped the rock as I tried to steady myself.
Everything was happening too quickly, the groans of my companions echoed around me, but something else, another sound, worried me more. The screeching howls of hundreds of goblins met my ears and within moments of me catching a glimpse of the first creature, they had swarmed us. I reached for the knife that Kili had given me, but I was bustled and shoved to my feet. I winced as the creatures surrounding us raked their hands on my exposed skin as I attempted to turn.
"Bilbo!" I yell, desperately seeking my brother. "Bilbo! Get your hands off me you filth!" I batted at the goblin to my side, but the other forced me forwards sending me stumbling to the floor. The skin on my knees split and blood began to trickle.
"Let go of her!" I heard the cry from somewhere behind, I know that it's either Fili or Kili trying to help, but which I do not know. I was dragged to my feet again, only just aware that Dwalin was in front of me.
I have no idea where they are leading us. Everything I see is identical. The bridges are all tattered and broken, the walls all the same blackened shade of red, the torches all stood tall, the rocks all dropped off into the same abyss. One false move, one tempted shove and it is certain death; there is no knowing how far that drop is, or how many jagged rocks lie at the bottom.
The endless screech of goblin wails echo in my ears. They're just as I imagined them to be, dirtied bodies, scarred skin and bruised all over. Weapons of all descriptions hang from their sides, teeth are broken and missing. They are almost as terrible looking as the Orcs and Wargs we faced just before Rivendell.
I stumble again, the ground uneven beneath my bare feet, I catch myself this time and try to catch sight of my brother once more. Once we stop I will find him, that is, if we aren't destined to stop at the bottom of the next cavern.
The goblins begin to sing. It is a horrid tune matched with the slapping of their feet, their stony voices are far from harmonious, but it is not that, but what they sing, that sends a shiver down my spine: 'Down, down in Goblin town,' and 'cracking whips.' I hoped that that wasn't a warning for what was to come, but no sooner had we passed over the next rickety goblin bridge I felt the sting of the whip colliding with my shoulder. I whimper, my eyes filling quickly with tears and, for a moment, I imagine Bag End.
The roasting fire is welcoming. Seed-cakes and buttered scones litter the pantry table, hot fresh soup and pork pies sit on the picnic benches ready for midsummers eve. Gandalf's fireworks burn brightly in the sky, bursting and sparkling, twisting and turning, contorting into an array of glorious flowers and wondrous insects. I see it all, everything I can remember from home and everything that happened before I hurried out of the door at the end of April. I can see everything that happened before the danger in the Troll Shaw, everything before seeing the Wargs and the Orcs. I even see old raggedy Radagast and his Rhosgobel rabbits.
I blink and it snaps me from my memory that has managed to fuel my feet this far. We stand now in what could be a grand hall. Goblins stand on all sides, they screech and yell, baring their teeth and wishing us ill. I turn my head. Fili and Kili stand next to me, their faces stony, empty of all fear. I wonder momentarily if they have ever experienced anything like this before. Turning again I almost retch. Standing before us, on some makeshift throne, is the largest and vilest of all of the goblins in the room. He stands at least six goblins high and four wide, his chin is bulging with fat, so much so that it reminds me of an overgrown bull-frog. The goblin's skin is all dirtied and brown, littered with scars and blotches; its eyes are small and beady, sunk into their sockets.
"Search them!" It demanded. The goblins around us rushed forwards, their hands diving into our coats and pockets. "Every crack, every crevice!"
A hand reaches beneath my shirt and I yelp, stumbling back a little and into the chest of Dwalin. Every weapon we hold in our possession was thrown at the feet of the goblin king. He scans them and then his eyes head down to the smaller goblin that whispers inaudibly up to him. He smirks a terrible smirk and stands from his throne, causing the bones it is made from to crack and groan in protest.
"Who are these miserable persons?" He bellows, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"
"Dwarves! We found them on our doorstep."
I restrained from taking a step back as the goblin king walked forwards. I turned, my eyes glancing around for Bilbo. My mind shut out the sound of the goblins bellowing voices, it told me one thing and one thing only, that Bilbo was missing. Dead, even. He could have fallen from a ledge, or pushed, or even sliced down where he stood. No. Not my brother, not Bilbo. He is strong, he has to be somewhere, he just has to be.
"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror." Announced Thorin, stepping forwards. I wondered if Thorin thought that this announcement would appease the goblin king, but it only made his halls rumble with laughter.
"Welcome, King under the mountain," he said, giving a proxy bow. "Oh, but wait… You don't have a mountain… And you're not a king… So that makes you no one, really…" The goblin king chuckled and then bent down so he was eye to eye with Thorin. "I know someone who will pay a pretty price for your head. Just your head, nothing attached."
I swallowed and tried to calm my hands that were shaking somewhat terribly. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak? An old enemy of yours." No. It can't be who I'm thinking of. He's dead, died from his wounds, the wounds that Thorin gave him! "The pale Orc, astride a white Warg…"
"Azok the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago!" The goblin king laughed heartily at Thorin's statement.
"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The goblin king turned towards a small goblin, taking notes at the side. "Send word to the pale Orc. Tell him, I have found his prize."
I felt sick as a familiar horrid beat started around the halls. Feet slapped in unison and a horrid groaning sound rose up from the dark. The goblin king twisted around, his voice echoing a song around his dirtied halls. I turned my head, glancing at the instruments of torture that made my head spin. The goblins began to shove us; I stumbled, knocking into the dwarves, trying to keep my balance. Then there was a horrible wail and a clang of metal, the goblin king recoiled, shaking as he stumbled back upon his throne of bones.
"I know that sword!" He yelled, pointing one of his sausage fingers at the blade. "It is the Goblin Cleaver! The biter! The blade that sliced a thousand heads!" All of a sudden, blows started raining down upon us. The goblins slashed with claws and whips, they dragged us apart and held us down. A hand grasped my wrist and dragged me forwards; I landed on my hands and knees in front of a goblin brandishing a whip. I tugged, tried to pull away from my captors but the whip pulled back mercilessly. I closed my eyes, tears brimming beneath the lids, I heard the crack but felt not the burn of the whip.
My eyes snapped open; a body was in front of my own, taking the blow of the whip. It cracked against his skin and I saw a moment of pain echo in Kili's eyes. Several goblins jumped him, enraged that he had managed to evade their grip in the first place. "No! Stop it! Stop it, let him go!" He was dragged back; the whip fell again, slicing across my shoulder. A strangled cry made its way from my throat.
Amidst the cries and wails a light, more brilliant than any I had seen, emerged from the distance. It blew back the goblins and their king, smashed their instruments of torture and drowned out their song. Then when it all faded, and all eyes rested on the place from whence it came, Gandalf stepped from the source of the light, his eyes empty of anything. "Take up arms. Fight! Fight!"
And fight we did.
Firstly I am going to apologize for how long it has taken me to upload this chapter. I hope you like it, and I will update the next chapter soon!