Soooooooo… about this chapter. It's a little more graphic than in the film. That being said, it's nowhere near as gory as Kill Bill, but still a little unexpected if you were hoping for the clean bloodless fighting from Peter Jackson's version of the events.
I also took a few liberties with this chapter. You'll see what I mean if you decide to read on. If you're upset about the changes, then just imagine that Cassie was far too wrapped up in trying not to get stabbed to notice all the acrobatic stunts that took place as the company was running for their lives.
Inflamare
I slept poorly that night, my dreams plagued by whispers and half conjured memories. The Great Hall danced behind my eyelids, alight with flames and the blinding flashes of curses. Reality merged with fantasy to create a new and terrifying nightmare as Death Eaters' masks fell away to reveal the leering faces of orcs. Again, I saw the child sprawled on the ground, spine broken, staring up at me accusingly. 'Why didn't you stop me?' his eyes seemed to say. 'I don't know why,' I wanted to answer, but the words stuck in my throat. The past was assaulting me, breaking through the walls I had painstakingly erected after the Final Battle to keep the memories at bay. The Lady of Lothlorien had beaten the walls to rubble, tearing them apart with her Legilimency attacks until they gave way to her invading mind – and there was no repressing the images now.
'Why are you doing this?' my mother sobbed, her voice loud and distorted, 'Why are you pushing me away?' I could almost see her leaning against the doorframe to my bedroom, tears streaming down her pinched face. She always looked so disappointed when she cried, as if I were somehow responsible for her anguish.
'I did nothing!' I screamed at the memory, even though I knew she couldn't hear, 'It was you – It was always you!' Why couldn't she see it was all her fault? That she had ruined any chance of trust between us with that one, unforgivable lie? The image cracked like a mirror, breaking Elaine Morgan into a thousand shards of glass that shattered to the ground.
"Wake up!" Someone shouted through the murky enclosure of my dream. The owner of the voice sounded very far away, as if he were shouting from the depth of a long tunnel.
A girl's face swam into focus like a reflection on still water. 'He hasn't said a word since we found him.' Her sandy hair was greasy and matted. There was a shallow cut to her lower lip and a bruise blossoming over her temple. She shrugged helplessly. 'We don't know if he can't talk of if he just…won't.'
"Wake up NOW!"
I awoke with a start to a dizzying sensation of vertigo. The ground was slipping beneath me. Surprised shouts rang in my ears as the company realized the cave floor was tilting. Still half submerged in sleep, I flailed around clumsily for something to cling to and found nothing. For a second, the Stranger's face loomed into view above me, his expression one of deep satisfaction as he watched me clinging to the edge of the bridge. Then my world tipped and I was falling for the second time in twenty-four hours.
There wasn't time to cry out. My body slammed onto a hard, smooth surface and immediately started sliding, gathering speed. A multitude of beards and braids of all different length and color cartwheeled past my eyes as the dwarves hurtled with me down the twisting slope. I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye that may have been Bilbo's coat. The tunnel twisted left, right and left again. I spun uncontrollably, my world reduced to the sharp whistling in my ears, the sensation of cold stone sliding beneath my body.
A thud and groan sounded from somewhere below and a moment later I landed heavily on something soft and squishy, breaking my fall. It wheezed loudly and I realized it was Bombur. I had only a second to catch my breath before another body fell through the jagged hole in the ceiling and landed painfully on my stomach, wrenching a cry from both myself and the fat dwarf lying beneath me. I raised my head with some difficulty to see that we had landed into what resembled a giant wicker basket.
"Look out! Look out!" Kili shouted from somewhere within the mass of tangled dwarves. Everyone started moving at once, alerted by his cries and groping for their weapons as a chorus of whoops and cruel laughter echoed through the depth of the large cavern into which we'd landed. I pushed myself up and immediately regretted it when my midsection felt as if someone had lit a torch underneath it. I wheezed and fell back into a kneeling position, gaping as I caught sight of the creatures scrambling up the twisted path towards our party.
Their ugliness was such that I found it hard to wrench my gaze away, fascinated by the wretched creatures despite the immediate danger they represented. Their skin was so pale it boarded onto gray, as if it had never been exposed to the sun, and their lamp-like eyes reflected the torchlight in a way that convinced me they could see in the dark.
"Goblins!" Dwalin spat, fumbling at the ground for his mace, but too late – they were upon us. Clammy hands groped at my arms, twisting them behind my back. They overwhelmed us, wrenching the dwarves weapon's from their hands before they had the chance to use them. The company resisted, beating the creatures back with nothing but their bare hands. I saw Dwalin ram his head down on a goblin's scull with such force it tottered backwards and fell over the edge of the path and out of sight. I twisted and bit the hand clasping my arm, gagging as hot blood pooled into my mouth and throat. The goblin yelped and struck me sherply over the head with his other hand. I reeled backwards. It took advantage of my dazed state to secure my arms once more. By the time my ears had stopped ringing we were being forced into motion.
Our captives dragged us down rough, twisting paths that looked as though they had been carved into the rock by the creatures themselves. Over groaning bridges and rickety wooden walkways we ran, never pausing for breath as they led us deeper and deeper into the very heart of the mountain. At some point I heard sounds of a scuffle and twisted to see that Kili had managed to break away from his goblin only to be dragged back into the line by four more. They raked his flesh with their sharp claws and bit him, drawing blood, and after that there were no more attempts of escape.
New goblins joined the party along the way, jumping out from cracks and crawling down the walls like pale spiders, shrieking gleefully as they caught sight of their prisoners. Torches flared along the walls, lighting up the path and revealing a widening in the cave ahead.
We emerged into what looked like an underground city. Long, wooden platforms connected by shaky bridges covered the sides of the dome in a complicated network of passageways. The place was swarming with goblins, thousands upon thousands of them dotted all around the walls and ceiling, whooping and chanting in grating voices. My stomach started doing little flips as I took in their number, realizing that our chances of survival were close to nil.
They haven't killed us yet, I reminded myself as we were dragged down yet another passageway leading to a raised platform at the very center of the dome. If they'd wanted us dead, they would have slit our throats as soon as we fell into their cave. They're keeping us alive for a reason. I wasn't sure whether or not that was supposed to be a reassuring thought, but at least our prolonged lives meant that we still had a shot at escaping this hellhole.
The pathway widened and our party halted before a massive throne, as hideous as the creature sitting upon it. It was a goblin – that much was obvious – but it dwarfed all the others in size. Pustules and warts blossomed across its pale skin, giving it the appearance of melted wax. A rough crown made of jagged bones sat on the creature's head. There was a loud clatter as one of the goblins dropped our confiscated weapons besides the throne. The Goblin King heaved itself to its feet, flattening a couple of his smaller kin who hadn't cleared the way fast enough, and peered through watery eyes at his captives. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" It intoned, massive chin wobbling as it spoke. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"
Kili and Bifur shifted their positions, shielding Thorin from view.
"Dwarves, your Malevolence," one of the smaller goblins supplied, "And a Man." His words were greeted with hisses and jeers from our audience. I thought it best not to correct them on account of my gender and carefully stooped down to dwarf level, trying my hardest not to stick out.
"Dwarves?"
"We found them on the front porch."
"Well don't just stand there," the Great Goblin thundered, "Search them!"
I repressed a shudder as the goblins jumped to their king's command. They pushed the dwarves around roughly, patting them down and extracting a number of smaller weapons from the folds of their clothes. Oin's ear-trumpet was torn away and thrown to the ground along with Ori's sling-shot and a several short daggers found in the lining of Fili's furs. I bit back a shriek as a thin, gnarled hand groped at my chest.
The goblin jumped back in surprise. "Female!" it hissed. Pale, misshapen heads turned in interest and the word was repeated, growing louder and louder until it became a chant, "Female, female, female!"
"What's this?" The Great Goblin loomed closer, shrewd little eyes dissecting our tight band. "Oho!" he crowed when he spotted me crouching at Bofur's side, "We have a lady in our mists!" The great dome resonated with cackles and mocking cries as our surrounding audience took in their leader's words – and their promise of later entertainment.
There was really no point in hiding so I slowly rose to my feet, drawing myself to my full height and trying my best not to look as nervous as I felt. I fixed the Great Goblin with a defiant glare which might have been more intimidating if the action hadn't been undermined by my visibly trembling knees.
The Great Goblin leered, casting a sardonic glance over the company. "Are She-dwarves such a rarity that you are forced seek the support of other races?" He smirked suggestively, making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. In the corner of my eye I saw Gloin and Fili stir angrily, glaring daggers and the Goblin king – but neither took the bait.
With an almighty creaking sound the Great Goblin heaved himself back onto his throne. He extended a massive arm the size of a small tree trunk and gestured me forward. "Come closer, sweetling, so I may look at you."
I would like to say I had been immune to the jeers and taunts of the surrounding goblins, that I proudly stood my ground in the face of humiliation, but in truth I doubt I could have moved even if I'd wanted to. There was something profoundly disturbing about the way the Great Goblin's eyes were traveling up and down my person. It made me want to fold myself up like a sheet of paper until I became so small he would no longer be able to apprise me with his leering gaze.
The Goblin's eyes darkened when I did not immediately oblige and he brought his massive fist crashing down on the armrest of his throne. "I said, come closer." The whole platform trembled under his strength and I found myself taking a shaky step forwards, half afraid that if I aggravated him farther, he would cause us all to topple down into the gaping pit below.
"Cassie, no," I heard Bofur hiss, but I didn't stop. Now that I had started walking a little courage was seeping back into my heart, enough for me to hold the Goblin's gaze as I halted before his throne. I jutted my chin up in defiance, silently daring him to try anything.
He was not impressed in the slightest. "Tut, tut," he said, taking in my disheveled appearance with a look of mock sorrow, "It is saddening to see such a frail young thing so heavily scarred."
I squared my shoulders and said, "I give as good as I get," in what I had intended as a threatening growl but sounded more to my ears like a nervous squeak.
The Great Goblin suddenly leant forwards in a movement far more fluid than seemed possible for such a monstrous creature, until our faces were only inches apart. I flinched, revolted by the way his skin gleamed wetly in the torchlight like some kind of massive jellyfish washed up on the shore. "Do I frighten you, child?" he inquired, hot, foul smelling breath rippling through my hair. I could see tiny red veins crisscrossing through the whites of his eyes. "Does the sight of my face send your pulse a-racing?" His massive hand shot out and gripped my shoulder, squeezing painfully. "Does the thought of my touch curdle your blood like rich milk?" His nostrils flared and I was unable to keep a faint whimper from escaping my lips.
"Unhand her."
The deep voice was so unexpected it shocked me right out of my panic. The Great Goblin's eyes flickered upwards at the interruption and I twisted my head as far as his clammy grip would allow. Thorin had pushed his way to the front of the group, his cold gaze as hard as forged steel. If not for the dwarves' wary expressions as they let their king draw the Goblin's attention away from my person I would have doubted he had spoken at all.
"Well, well, well! Look who it is!"
The hold on my shoulder loosened and I was shoved brusquely to the side. I twisted and thrust out my hands to break the fall, sparing myself the pain of landing flat on my damaged stomach. When it became clear I was no longer of interest to their leader two smaller goblins seized me by the scruff of my neck and I was dragged back to the group of dwarves.
The Great Goblin's voice boomed over the commotion as he addressed the dwarf king. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." I pulled away from my handlers to see that he had sunk forwards into a mocking bow. Thorin looked unfazed as the Great Goblin straitened – a taunting gleam dancing in the depth his watery eyes. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain." His lips pulled back into a derisive grimace. "And you're not a king, which makes you… Nobody really."
Around me the dwarves bristled, insulted on their king's behalf, even though Thorin himself refused to dignify the Goblin's taunts with anything more than a glower of upmost loathing. His unspoken contempt did not seem to register as the Great Goblin's smirk shifted into something more ominous and he said, "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for you head. Just a head," he patted his enormous belly, guffawing loudly, "Nothing attached." Pale eyes watched closely as his implied words took their toll.
Thorin remained stoic, though whether it was out of ignorance or stubborn refusal to show the Goblin any kind of reaction, I did not know. Our guards shifted excitedly, sensing that the slowly building tension was about to reach its peak and I snuck a glance towards the pile of confiscated weapons, wondering whether or not I would have the opportunity to grab something sharp before it did.
"Perhaps you know of whom I speak. An old enemy of yours."
At my side, Balin leant forwards ever so slightly, unconsciously expressing his desire to stand at his king's side, or perhaps to shield him from the oncoming truth, and I remembered the knowing look the old dwarf had shared with Gandalf on the first night of our journey, at the end of his retelling of the Battle of Moria.
The Great Goblin ploughed on, determined to get a rise out of the stoic dwarf before him. "A pale orc astride a white warg."
That triggered a response. Thorin slowly lifted his chin, gaze narrowing. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed." His low voice trembled with barely-contained fury – but there was a slight undercurrent to his tone, a lurking doubt beneath the conviction of his claim. "He was slain in battle long ago."
This was the reaction the Great Goblin had been waiting for. He laughed cruelly, massive chin bobbing. "So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" Abruptly he turned away as if the dwarf king no longer held any interest to his eyes. The platform creaked ominously as he shifted his colossal weight back a few steps and spoke to a smaller goblin. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize." The goblin nodded eagerly and bounded out of sight. I watched him go with a sickening feeling of dread, realizing that our troubles had just worsened considerably.
"And now," our captor intoned, raising his voice so that it resonated throughout the dome and snatched my attention once more, "How should we entertain our other guests? We only have use for one after all!"
There was a deafening roar. "Bone-Breaker!" the goblins shrieked, "Skin-Shredder!"
The Great Goblin leered. "Bring up the contraptions!" With a flurry of movement his minions leapt into action. We were grabbed and jostled once more while the screeching around us piqued to an earsplitting level. The dwarves responded to this callous treatment with shouted insults, adding to the din. Thorin remained motionless, his gaze lost in space. I wanted to reach out and slap some sense into him, but at that moment the Great Goblin's eyes found me for the second time crouching amidst the dwarves.
"Ladies first," he crooned, and the malice I saw in their watery depth was enough to chase away any thought save for those dedicated to my own survival.
Then several things happened at once.
There was a terrible squeal and a loud clatter as one of the goblins who had been examining Thorin's sword jumped back suddenly, dropping the blade as if it were fresh from the flames from which it had been forged. The Great Goblin howled at the sight of it. "I know that sword!" he bellowed, scrambling back onto his ugly throne in his haste to get away from the weapon. "It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!"
Screams of fury erupted from all around and suddenly the goblins were beating us, scratching our flesh with their bare hands as their leader quailed upon his throne, howling for our blood. With more force than I had thought myself capable of I rammed my shoulder into the nearest goblin, knocking up both off balance. We crashed to the ground, its knee catching me in the gut and sending a lick of white hot up pain through my abdomen. My head swam and for a second my vision was reduced the grubby planks of the platform and wrinkled goblin skin.
Then the world exploded in bright light.
It stabbed painfully at my eyes and I threw my arms up to protect them against the blinding glare. Bodies fell heavily around me. I heard dwarves cursing and goblins shrieking, but it was no longer possible to tell one from the other. My right hand made contact with a smooth and cold object and I gripped it without thinking, eager for something to cling to.
The light died just as suddenly as it had come and darkness fell. I shifted groggily, too dazed to take advantage of the temporary stillness around me as our captors groaned and struggled to stand.
A familiar voice boomed through the cavern. "Take up arms! Fight! FIGHT!"
Gandalf.
My hand tightened around the cold object and with a grunt I pushed myself upwards, pulling the ugly sword from the goblin's sheath in the process. The metal hissed and the goblin's eyes snapped open. It reared up. I plunged the blade into its neck without thought. The sword passed through with surprisingly little resistance, delving into the goblin's flesh as if it were nothing more than soft butter. It came out red and dripping from the other side. The goblin convulsed. It tried to shout something but blood was filling its mouth, pouring over its sharp teeth and down its front. Its body jerked one last time before going limp, wide eyes staring blankly at the domed ceiling it could no longer see.
The cave erupted into madness. Dwarves scrambled for their weapons. Swords were unsheathed, filling the air with the sharp ring of steel against steel.
I cannot recall with precision my exact actions after pulling the sword from the dead goblin's throat. Time seemed to slow – past and future blurring together, fading until there was nothing left but the instant and the deeply rooted need to survive Suddenly I was in motion – although I could not recall ordering my body forwards.
There was no elegance in the blows I delivered, no skill to boast about. My movements were unpracticed and without technique, rendering my kills sloppy and clumsy. Goblins reared before me and I struck them down mindlessly, slashing wildly at their bodies with the giddying speed of those touched by battle fever. I could no longer feel the bruises on my midsection or the aching in my legs. My body seemed to vanish – pain and fatigue waning away before the all-consuming urge to keep moving, to keep fighting.
"Follow me! Quick!" Gandalf shouted over the chaos.
I have no memory of breaking through the horde of goblins holding us captive. One second I was on the raised platform, the next my heart was racing in my mouth as I pelted down the narrow walkways, sprinting after the wizard as he lead the company to safety. Goblins leapt onto our path. The dwarves spun, hacking and jabbing and stabbing – a morbid dance, as mesmerizing as it was terrifying.
I stopped feeling, I stopped thinking – there was nothing left, only the fight, the foe, this goblin and then the next, and the next, and the next… Some I killed, some I wounded, but always there were more, crawling over the corpses of the fallen, out of jagged holes in the walls and cracks in the floors, always more…
At some point my terror fled, replaced by pumping adrenalin, and it seemed to me that every goblin I faced reeked of fear, and it made me want to laugh because they were so slow, and I felt so alive, and death and the scent of blood was everywhere, so thick in the air that it made my head reel, and I knew I had to keep moving, I had to keep killing because otherwise my body would join the others sprawled on the ground with their throats cut open and their wide eyes staring into space.
I remained blessedly numb to the blows of my enemies. My body had fallen into a kind of mindless trance, instinct overruling everything. Some dim part of my mind informed me that I was being cut by goblin swords whilst the other, stronger part overrode the first, whispering that there would be time for pain later, when I had left this hellhole far, far behind.
One more goblin, and another, and another, and another…
I didn't know how long we had been running or even where we were headed, I had stopped paying attention to our surroundings as soon as our flight had begun, but the sudden slap of cool air was unmistakable against my skin which felt hot and sticky with congealing blood. I sucked in the cold and knew with gut-wrenching certainty that we were nearing the end of the cave. I spurred myself forwards, aching to be outside, away from this dark and gritty nightmare where it seemed I would never feel the warmth of the sun again. We neared a bridge overstretching a gaping crevice and beyond it I could see the faint shimmer of daylight…
With a roar and shattering of planks the Great Goblin burst up through the scaffolding like some kind of ghastly jack-in-a-box. He reared up, dominating us with his massive seize, cutting across our path. I spun round to see that the passageway behind was swarming with smaller goblins. We were trapped.
"You thought you could escape me?" The Great Goblin thundered, gasping for breath, sweaty skin gleaming in the torchlight. He brought his great club crashing down on the boards.
Gandalf, who had been in the lead, leaped back to avoid being crushed. He stumbled and regained his balance, aided by Ori and Oin.
The Great Goblin roared. "What are you going to do now wizard?" he gloated, taking one menacing step forwards. The boards trembled and cracked beneath his weight.
Quick as a flash, the old mad darted forwards and struck the Great Goblin on the nose with his staff. The beast reared back, howling, and with one swift motion Gandalf slashed its belly wide open. For a second, the Great Goblin stood motionless, gaping down at his protruding belly as a gush of blood and intestines steamed from the gash. Then his knees gave way and he came crashing down. "Well, that'll do it," he muttered, massive hands fluttering about his stomach like two giant meaty insects, trying to staunch the flow.
Gandalf delivered a second blow, this time to the throat, and the Great Goblin toppled forwards. His massive bulk hit the scaffolding and the bridge groaned, creaking ominously. I staggered as it suddenly lurched, grabbing onto a solid-looking plank just in time as the rickety wooden structure collapsed under the combined weight of the company and the dead Goblin, into the gaping pit below.
The fall seemed to go on forever, although in reality it could not have lasted more than fifteen seconds. We hurtled downwards, gathering speed, gripping the remains of the bridge with all our might. It crashed against the sides of the gorge, wrenching cries and curses with each jolt from the dwarves around me as they clung on for dear life, and then, finally, the scaffolding landed at the bottom of the pit with a jolt that vibrated through my entire body. My teeth snapped together under the impact and I almost bit my tongue off. The shock resonated through my scull and for a second I lay in absolute stillness, too shaken to even marvel at my miraculous survival.
One by one the dwarves started to immerge from the wreckage, coughing and groaning. I forced myself to move, shoving the broken planks to free my legs, and made a quick note of my physical condition. Nothing appeared to be broken, although there were a substantial number of new gashes and cuts on my arms and legs that joined the steadily growing list of injuries I had sustained since my arrival in Middle-earth. I crawled away from the debris and staggered to my feet.
"Gandalf!" Kili's voice cut across the silence.
I spun and felt my stomach drop. A sea of goblins was flowing down the sides of the gorge – thousands and thousands of them. There were too many of them, we were outnumbered.
Panic sparked in my gut. "We have to go!" I shouted, turning to face the wizard. "Which way do we run?"
"This way!" Gandalf replied, stooping down to help Ori to his feet. "Only daylight can save us now!"
We ran, the sounds of our heavy breathing and thudding feet drowned out by the cries and jeers of our pursuit as the goblins gained on us. I found myself falling behind as Gandalf led us down a narrow crack in the side of the gorge, barely wide enough for us to pass through single-file. The air smelt cleaner up ahead, and I willed myself forwards, realizing with a twinge of desperation that the distance between myself and the rest of the company was slowly increasing as I fell more and more behind. The battle fever was slowly ebbing away and my bruised side was starting to pulse painfully, my breath coming out in short gasps.
I stumbled and cried out, the sound echoing off the narrow walls of the passageway. Fili paused, alerted by my shout, and shot a glance over his shoulder. He hesitated only for a second before cursing and scrambling back up the passageway to help. I pushed to my feet, leaning heavily on the wall for support. The dwarf prince had almost reached me when something caught his attention over my shoulder, causing his eyes to widen in shock. "Look out!" he shouted, raising his sword, but he was too far away.
A gnarled hand grabbed me by the shoulder. I twisted, colliding with the side of the cave in my haste. Sharp teeth closed down over my left arm. I shouted in pain and brought the hilt of my sword swinging down sharply, knocking the goblin away with a sickening crack. It shrieked and the hold on my arm loosened, allowing me to wrench away. Blood pulsed down my arm, hot and steaming. The sword fumbled from my grasp, clattering noisily to the ground. I clamped my right hand over the pulsing wound and staggered backwards just as the goblin recovered from the blow and lunged for a second time, sharp teeth gleaming red.
Fili shouted.
The goblin snarled.
I thrust out my blood soaked hand like a shield between us.
"Inflamare!" The word tumbled from my lips without invitation and I was momentarily surprised by my reflex.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, in a dizzying surge I felt my magic respond to the incantation, flaring up in my chest and pulsing down my outstretched arm with alarming speed. This was not the timid flicker I'd conjured up after the troll attack, neither was it the whirling gale I'd invoked in Elrond's gardens. Fire exploded from my palm in a wave of blistering heat, throwing long shadows across the passageway. The goblin recoiled, eyes widening in shock. It tried desperately to change its course, twisting away from the threat – but too late, the flames had engulfed it, coiling around its pale, twisted body like a red-hot serpent. It shrieked and fell to the ground, thrashing wildly as the fire ate away at its skin. Flesh crackled, fat sizzled, a sickly-sweet sent wafted into my nostrils.
I felt I should be gagging, but my focus was slowly slipping away from the ghoulish scene. The wretched creature's squeals seemed distant to my ears as if I was being submerged into deep water. The magic thrummed through me, flooding every inch of my body, commanding my attention. I'd never felt anything like it – this hungry power flowing through my veins, quickening my pulse, tingling across the surface of my skin. My eyes closed to slits and I relished in the sensation of it. I felt lightheaded, intoxicated. It overtook me, filling my head with a song as pure as the flames it had ignited.
The passageway fell silent as the goblin finally ceased movement. I slowly turned away from the smoking carcass, heart racing like I'd just dismounted from my broomstick after a long and exhilarating game of Quidditch.
Fili stood a short distance away, frozen in the act of raising his sword. Blood dripped down the side of the blade, thick and oozing, leaking in long sticky strands to the ground – drip drip drip. There was shock in his gaze, mingled with another emotion I could not place. I took a slow step towards him and something slammed down behind his eyes. His face hardened, eyes guarded, readjusting the hold on his sword.
I dimly realized my lips were pulled back in a euphoric grin.
Why was I grinning?
A shriek sounded from behind. The goblins were almost upon us.
'Let them come', a voice murmured in the back of my head. 'They don't stand a chance against us.' I flexed my fingers, magic pooling into my palms. 'Burn them,' the voice crooned, filling my mind with images of blackened bodies withering in the flames – my flames. Such a beautiful thought. One word and they would roast alive, bones disintegrating under sheer heat.
'Burn them all…'
"We have to go." My own voice surprised me in its calm assurance. I stooped and picked up the fallen sword. The dwarf prince tensed as I passed him by, raising his sword slightly higher. For a second I thought he might try to stop me. Something inside me reared up at the challenge, screaming for a fight, but I forced it down. Goblins, I reminded myself. Too many of them. Get out now. I started to run towards the thin slant of daylight at the end of the tunnel, invigorated by the magic still pulsing through my veins.
It never occurred to me to check if Fili was following.
Fresh air and sunlight hit my face. I sucked in breath, filling my lungs with cold, clean oxygen. The cave opened up to a steep hill dotted with pine trees. The sun hung low in the dimming sky, casting long shadows across the lush green landscape. I glanced over my shoulder at the looming mountain and realized with some surprise that we had passed through it and out the other side.
"Fili? Cassie?" Someone shouted. Dwalin waved from farther down the hill, urging us to hurry.
I ran, marveling in the feel of the wind whistling past my ears, the grass slapping at my legs. We weaved through trees and over rocks never pausing for rest. Once we had distenced ourselves enough from the cave's enterance Thorin called for a halt. The dwarves were all panting heavily, leaning against the trees and nursing their wounds. Oddly enough I didn't feel out of breath, nor did my sides hurt quite as painfully as they should have. My skin was still tingling from the outburst of power. I felt… strong. Alive. There was a giddying lightness in my chest that made me want to laugh and laugh and laugh.
"Bifur, Bofur…that's ten, Fili, Kili…that's twelve… Miss Morgan!" I was shocked beyond words when Gandalf paused unexpectedly in his counting to pull me into a brief one-armed hug. He released me and clasped my shoulder tightly. "I am very pleased to see you alive and well." He beamed.
It happened without warning.
The strange magic, which had gradually faded to a dull pulsing during our descent of the hill, suddenly peaked with renewed intensity and I stared up into the old man's wrinkled face as though I were seeing him for the first time.
Olórin.
Rage. The emotion flared up with such force it overwhelmed me, hate digging through my mind like knives. For one dizzying second I forgot who I was.
Burn burn burn burn burn.
My mouth opened on its own accord and I felt a word build up in my throat – an incantation that would ignite the world in red-hot flames once more.
Burn, you old fool.
I jerked away, ending our embrace and stumbling backwards a few steps. The anger faded instantly, ending with such abruptness my knees buckled and threatened to give way. A hand shot out and steadied me. "Miss Morgan?"
The magic dwindled and died, leaving me hollow and shaking. The numbing sensation died with it and I gritted my teeth as my midsection suddenly exploded with pain, as did my left arm.
"Cassie?"
Gandalf's concerned face swam into focus. Panic seized me as I realized what had happened – what I'd come so close to doing. I glanced to the side and saw Fili standing close by, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he watched our exchange through narrowed eyes.
"M'fine," I muttered, casting my eyes around the clearing for something to distract the old man's attention, anxiety pulsing in my gut. Thorin was speaking to Balin, gesturing at the mountain every now and then as they debated the next stage of our escape. Dwalin crouched beside Oin who was examining a gash above Ori's temple. Bombur, Dori, Bofur and Bifur stood huddled together a little to the right while Nori, Kili and Gloin paced around the clearing, clearly too wound up to catch their breaths.
I frowned, scanning the clearing a second time and slowly counting the faces. "Hey," I said suddenly, "where's Bilbo?"
Yes, I know, I deliberately left out the part when the Great Goblin crushes them. It always seemed a little silly to me in the film so I decided not to have it happen in this chapter. There's just no way they could have survived it.
This chapter's a little darker than the others. Yes, Cassie's magic is returning, but to what price? Please let me know what you thought about it.
Oh yeah, and if you were hoping for some funny/embarrassing comparisons between Middle-Earth goblins and Gringotts' goblins, then sorry to disappoint, but I think that after the conversation with Lindir in Rivendell, Cassie has leant not to make such quick assumptions and never to assume that things will ever be as she expects them to be.
Only one more chapter to go! :o