Next Chapter? Since I've been asked to update immediately :P
First of all to answer Marta's question: yes, I did up the rating to 'M' in the last chapter because the story will get a little more violent in future chapters. I wasn't aware that updates don't show up on the front page anymore then, so sorry about that! I will however still try to update every day, even though exam time is coming up.
Thanks everyone for your lovely reviews, especially to those who believe that the last chapter was the best so far… no pressure here… no… how the hell do I keep that up now? :D
Enjoy the chapter!
Blades cannonaded down on the dwarves, swords, spears and scimitars alike, trying to cut through dwarven flesh and wipe out the brave warriors. Dáin's dwarves stood their ground though, chopping and pounding, driving the orcs back into the dark caverns beyond the gate.
Before them unfolded another great hall but this time it wasn't of dwarven make. It was no more than an ordinary cave, beat from stone and rock, dug by the unskilled hands of orcs. Torches burned at the sides, illuminating the hall and revealing gruesome carvings and paintings on the black walls. Battle scenes of Azanulbizar, the beheaded King Thrór and a victorious Azog, his painted body gleaming white in the dim light of the hall. It almost seemed like the dwarves stepped into a temple. A temple once built by mad creatures, hailing a long lost white king. For the Orcs of the North were nothing like their whipped kin from the South, cowering behind the great black gates of Mordor. The Orcs of Gundabad were fierce and proud and didn't answer to anyone but the great warlord Bolg, Azog's son.
Blades crashed onto blades as the dwarves fought their way deeper and deeper into the hall. Dáin's red battle axe split many skulls, chopping his opponents into pieces as he reeled across the hall like a deadly hurricane. Orcrist slayed one orc after the other, cutting through skin and flesh but Thorin seemed somewhat distracted.
He was looking for Bolg, the only opponent that mattered to him in this moment. The warlord was nowhere to be seen however and Thorin wondered if he was a coward, unlike his father, hiding behind his army of orcs.
The youngsters quickly found themselves at the other end of the hall, not exactly sure how they got there but they were given no time to wonder about it. While Kíli took out one orc after the other with his bow and arrows, shooting them down mercilessly, Fíli remained by his side, taking on any opponent that came too close to his brother.
Fíli just blocked one blow of an orcish blade with one sword, slicing the other across the orcs chest, when he noticed the hobbit nearby. In the past days Bilbo had learned that he was safe with the brothers, though he couldn't quite explain why. He was fighting his own battles bravely, actually impressing Fíli. Sting's blue blade shone bright in the dark hall.
The hobbit stood his ground, defending himself as well as he good, but orcs are unfortunately much bigger than hobbits and Bolg's orcs were of an abnormally brutal breed, thus Bilbo's opponent mercilessly brought his blade down on him. The Halfling struggled, staggering back through the darkness of the hall and just when Fíli was about to hurry to his aid, Bilbo suddenly disappeared.
Grabbing his brother by the sleeve, Fíli rushed over to the spot where Bilbo had just been fighting a minute ago, slaying the orc that had cornered the hobbit and when they looked around, they spotted a hole in the ground.
"Stairs!", Kíli exclaimed, while Fíli fought off two more attacking orcs. "Bilbo! Bilbo, are you down there?"
"I- I'm fine", came a squeaky voice from below.
"Thank Mahal", Fíli breathed and followed his brother down the stairs, unseen by the fighting armies.
They found the hobbit at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his head.
"How did you find this?", Kíli asked, looking around.
"I don't know, it was just- there", Bilbo replied, a little grumpy since he had in no way intended this crash.
Before them lay a dark tunnel, narrow and pitch black. The air was thick and reeked of death and mould and breathing was difficult, even for the dwarves who were used to being underground.
"What is this place?", Fíli whispered.
"We should find out", Kíli replied and off he went, down the dark tunnel. Fíli and Bilbo followed close by, Stings blade glowing in the dark like a torch.
They staggered through the darkness, supporting themselves on the sharp, black walls of the tunnel and though they had their weapons drawn, anticipating an orc attack any minute, nothing happened. Bilbo didn't know for how long they followed the tunnel but he felt the way going deeper and deeper down into the mountain, for the further they went, the more foul the air became and the temperatures rose to a point that had the hobbit sweating in his thick vest and coat.
"We'd better turn back", he muttered, not at all happy with the situation.
"We've come so far, we might as well see what's at the end of the tunnel", Kíli remarked, still leading the little group.
"If it ever ends at all", the hobbit chuntered, although he did feel safe, walking between the brothers.
They walked in silence for a while until Kíli suddenly stopped, pressing a finger to his lips.
"Shhh, can you hear that?"
They listened into the darkness and after a while a deep thumping sound wavered towards them. The sound became louder and louder, the further they went down the tunnel and after a few yards, they figured out what it was.
"Drums", Kíli muttered surprised. "Those are drums."
"But no war drums", Fíli pondered. "Sounds like someone is playing a melody down here."
"If that's supposed to be music I don't think I want to know who's making it", the hobbit whimpered, for the melody of the drums sounded cruel and vicious and the deep and dark tone vibrated through the bones of the hobbit, making his stomach churn.
A light flickered in some distance and when they stepped around a corner, they froze on the spot.
Their gaze fell on a large hall, bigger than the ones they had seen before. It was ablaze with torchlight, the drums pounding heavily, making the ground shake. Above a large fire roasted a wild boar, the walls were painted with the gruesome images of dead dwarves piled above each other and the countless cracks and plateaus, reaching high up, were swarming with orcs. The foul creatures were feasting and singing, drinking a sort of black liquor with a horrible stench, they chatted, yelled and laughed and the two dwarves and the hobbit couldn't believe what they saw.
"Get down!", Fíli suddenly hissed, pulling his companions behind a large rock. "Look! Over there!"
A few yards away from them, the ground of the hall dropped into an abyss and a narrow, stony bridge led to a plateau a little above their heads. On that plateau stood a throne carved from black rocks and decorated with bones and skulls. The hobbit swallowed hard at the sight for he had never seen something as nasty as this.
On the throne sat a very large, pale orc. He was horribly disfigured and must have suffered badly during battle, for parts of his skull and face were held in place by dark metal plates, burned into his skin and drilled into his bones. He was scarred and deep cuts in his arms and legs created a morbid form of tattoo on the pale skin, orcish runes and brandings of old, dark curses. His armour was made from black leather, metal and bones. He had dyed his once sandy mane and beard red with the blood of his enemies and his ice blue eyes stared across the celebrating orcs like terrifying zircons.
"That's him", Fíli whispered, fear drawn across his face. "That's Bolg, Azog's son."
"Are they celebrating?", Kíli asked, pulling a face. Fíli merely shrugged.
An orc handed a large cup to Bolg, a steaming, black liquid in it.
"What's that?", Bilbo whispered.
The warlord took a good gulp, his lips and fangs stained red as he put the cup down again and the eyes of the dwarves widened in shock and disgust.
"That's- blood", Fíli stammered. "He's drinking blood."
The hobbit suddenly felt sick to his stomach, not quite sure whether he needed to vomit or not. He had firmly believed that the Goblin King had been vile but seeing the orc warlord up on his throne, celebrating and drinking blood while his kin was fighting only a few yards above their heads left Bilbo speechless and utterly disgusted.
The blood was boiling in a huge black kettle by the roasting boar, the orcs mixing it with some form of grog or other strong alcohol and a sickening stench came from the kettle, that the dwarves felt their stomachs turn.
Kíli suddenly spotted something by the side of Bolg's throne. Without saying a word, he scurried over to another rock closer to the plateau.
"Kíli!", his brother hissed. "What are you doing?! Come back here!"
"There!", the younger replied. "Can you see that?"
Bolg's weapon leaned against the side of the throne. It was a nasty mix of a war hammer and a mace, pointy spikes drilled into the long shaft, eked out with blades to the sides and Fíli was certain that one blow with that thing would be enough to split a dwarf in half.
"Yes, a mace, come back now!"
"No, there's something dangling from it!"
Fíli squinted his eyes, then gasped in surprise. Hanging from the mace was the key to Erebor, still attached to the thin chain that Thorin had around his neck. Bolg had tied it around his weapon like a lucky charm, possibly intending to present it to Thorin like that. To let the King see it while Bolg clubbed his skull with his mace.
Kíli returned to Bilbo and his brother, quickly and quietly and unnoticed by the orcs, who were feasting and laughing.
"We must get that key back", he muttered.
"Sure, what do you wanna do? Go up to him and ask nicely?", Fíli replied dryly, earning himself a nudge in the ribs.
"Take it back by force if we must."
"You and I and the hobbit against at least 50 orcs, one of them being an infamous warlord. That sounds like it would work."
"Well then you tell us what to do, smartass!"
"We'll go back now", Fíli began, his brother rolling his eyes already. "We'll go back and tell Thorin that Bolg is down here and that he has the key and then they'll come down with our army and we're sorted."
"I- I could get the key", the suddenly heard a thin voice coming from their midst. They glimpsed down, both surprised to find Bilbo with an unusual determination on his features.
"You?", Kíli asked.
"Not a chance", Fíli stated. "We won't let you march in there now."
Bilbo's eyes followed the path across the hall and up to the plateau. Only a few yards, not too many little hobbit steps and he could make it. He would simply have to untie the key from Bolg's weapon but that would require the orc to remain still and not pick the mace up.
"I could make it", he muttered rather to himself. "It just takes a distraction. A diversion of some sort."
Kíli glanced over to his brother.
"Are you sure Master Baggins?", he asked, an idea forming in his head and Fíli knew it without even asking.
"Yes", Bilbo replied slowly, his gaze still fixed on the mace with the dangling key.
"Maybe he's more of a burglar than we knew", Kíli suggested.
"Maybe", his brother agreed.
"He just needs to stay where he is. And so does his weapon", the hobbit was still muttering to himself, but the brothers picked up on it quickly.
It was Kíli who got up from his spot first, followed closely by his brother. They left their hideout between the rocks and marched across the last few yards of the tunnel, their chests swelled with the pride of their kin and not a sign of fear on their features. While they walked, they drew their swords, gripping them firmly.
"What are you-", Bilbo blinked irritated but it was too late for the youngsters were long gone and the hobbit just stared at their backs in shock.
They stepped into the hall, not bothering much with the feasting and howling orcs and they both knew that his could be over within a split second. Only one stroke with a blade, one arrow, one blow with a hammer and they were gone but at least they would leave this world together, side by side.
The orcs didn't even notice the dwarves amongst them at first, drinking and singing vile battle songs. Until Fíli's voice thundered across the hall, loud and clear.
"BOLG OF THE NORTH! THE DWARVES OF EREBOR HAVE COME TO CLAIM YOUR HEAD!"