Twenty Chapters… wow, never thought it would turn out like this. But hey, it's great!
So because this is somewhat of a milestone: thanks to everyone who ever reviewed, reviews on a regular basis, reads this story since day one or just started reading yesterday. Thanks to all of you who read this story and let me know how you like it!
Also a side note to everyone who's been sending my messages: I've been really busy the last two days, lectures started again etc. I'll reply as soon as I can, I promise! I'm not ignoring you, nor did I forget about you!
Anyways, enjoy our 20th chapter!
A sudden silence fell over the mountain.
Many nasty orc faces turned towards the two young dwarves and the little hobbit believed he would faint behind his rock. Bolg sat startled, staring at the dwarves, before a malicious glint appeared in the icy blue of his eyes.
It only took a second before at least a dozen orcs had circled them, one already raising a large axe above his head to bring it down on Fíli's neck, when he suddenly had Kíli's blade at his throat.
"Touch one of us and I will cut your nasty face off", the youngest growled.
It was only by Bolg's order though, that the orcs retreated a little, for the pale orc had raised his hand in a discarding gesture. He glanced down at the dwarves, a strange mixture of curiosity and sheer bloodlust in his eyes.
"The Dwarves of Erebor", he snarled, his voice deep and hoarse. "Last time I encountered your kin, you were the Dwarves with no Home!"
"Erebor is our righteous home and we will reclaim it!", Fíli answered, pointing his sword at the orc warlord. "And we will take your head along the way!"
"Will you now?", Bolg asked curiously.
The orcs chuckled and grinned maliciously.
"And you believe you can do that by storming in here with only two dwarves, while the rest of you is fighting above?"
Kíli and Fíli stared at Bolg, completely taken aback. They hadn't believed he was aware of the fighting going on above, for he surely would've joined the battle like any warlord and leader would.
"You knew we were here all along", Kíli realised.
Bolg roared with laughter, the other orcs joining in.
"I was waiting for you!", he thundered across the hall. "Ever since that key came to me I knew you would follow sooner or later! And here you are!" Bolg spread his arms in a mockingly welcoming gesture.
The youngsters stood speechless for they had believed that the dwarves had taken the orcs by surprise. Now learning that Bolg had known of their coming all along made them feel incredibly stupid and small.
"And you even brought another guest I didn't anticipate", the pale orc grinned, obviously referring to Dáin, the dwarf who had killed his father.
Anger suddenly flashed across Kíli's face, a silent rage that even scared his brother for he had never seen the younger dwarf like this.
"You mean to tell us that you know of your dying kin up there and yet you sit here and feast and sing?!", he yelled furiously.
"Of course", Bolg chuckled. "I sent them up there. They gladly sacrifice themselves for the greater cause!"
"And what is the greater cause?", Fíli growled.
"To end the Line of Durin!"
While the youngsters felt their knees grow weak, nobody noticed the small hobbit. Bilbo had looked at the scenery with sheer terror and it took him a long while until he was able to move. For the first time though, he did not fear for his own life. He feared for the lives of the boys who had trusted him enough to risk everything. He could not disappoint them now. He fumbled around in his pocket until he found what he was looking for.
The ring glided swiftly onto his finger and the hobbit disappeared entirely.
He left his save spot by the rocks and sneaked across the hall, towards the stone bridge that led to Bolg's throne, invisible to everyone including the young dwarves, who still stared at the warlord, not a sound coming from them.
"How do you-", Fíli began but Bolg cut him off, madness glinting in his eyes.
"Don't hold me for a fool, for I know who you are! Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís, daughter of Thráin!", he bellowed.
The dwarves grew pale.
"You show the same arrogant nature like the rest of your kin! And you shall pay for that pride like the rest of your kin! Your dead bodies shall be the next to decorate my halls and your heads shall be thrown at the feet of your loved ones until they go mad with grief like your grandfather did!"
Bilbo quickly made his way across the hall, careful not to bump into anybody. He passed by the dwarves unseen and stepped onto the narrow stony bridge that led to Bolg's throne. There he waited for a few seconds, assuring himself that he hadn't been seen, before he began to fumble with the chain hanging from the maze.
The warlord's horrid stench stung in his nose, as the orc reeked of damp copper. The terrible smell of blood that hung like a cloud above his head.
'You can do it', Bilbo reminded himself over and over again. 'You have no choice. Those boys are risking their lives for you, you have to do it!'
Fíli wasn't sure what had driven them in the end. Be it recklessness, hurt pride, bravery, stupidity, he couldn't recall but he remembered a vague feeling of hate. For when he and his brother charged into the surrounding orcs, weapons drawn and filled with murderous intent, they didn't remember the happy days in the Ered Luin anymore. Nothing seemed left of the carefree boys. They were young princes, fighting for their long lost kingdom and the restoration of the family's honour.
And the orcs tasted that hate with every single stroke of a blade.
Bilbo snatched the key off Bolg's weapon just in time and hurried back across the bridge. He heard his own heart pumping in his ears and fear crept over him like a black shadow in the night, for he was afraid of getting into the fight.
He dodged the blades flying around him and got close to Kíli at one point. One look at the youngsters face and Bilbo felt his heart leap and his head spin, for the features of the dwarf were grim and determined, his skin already drenched in black orc blood. Bilbo wasn't sure what to fear; the orcs or the wrath of the young dwarves.
Kílis blade cut clean through the nasty armour of the orcs, made of leather and bones and every time the blade hit, the bones cracked and burst, injuring the orcs even further. They were all bigger than him but bloodlust and a sheer suicidal recklessness had taken over, leaving no place for fear. Black blood was running down the fuller of his sword and dripping onto his gloves.
Fíli had meanwhile already scared a great deal of his opponents away. His swords were glistening black in the torchlight of the cave, casting terrifying shadows on the walls for they were as large and sharp as butcher's knives and used with the same force and efficiency. The dwarf, however young he was, knew how to fight and had soon proven it to the surrounding orcs, for his swords were not only sharp, but also peppered with two hooks at the tip of the blades.
Every time the young prince struck out, he buried one of the hooks deeply into his opponents flesh, pulling him close and cutting his throat with the other blade. None got away and by the time that Bilbo arrived at his rock again, the brothers had already killed a dozen orcs with ease.
Bolg still sat on his throne, watching the scenario before him.
Being curious at first, he had gladly sacrificed his kin to this fight, for he intended to learn more about those two young dwarves of Durin's line. After a while though, boredom struck and he rose from his throne.
"ENOUGH!", he thundered through the cave. "CAPTURE THEM!"
"No", Bilbo whispered in terror, when suddenly a group of particularly large orcs appeared, equipped with long whips and scimitars.
The first whip cracked through the air and wrapped around Kílis wrist. The orc pulled tight, forcing the fighting youngster to drop his sword, for no blood was pumped into his fingers any longer. Kíli pulled and struggled but to no avail. Before he could even think about unfastening the whip, another crack echoed through the hall and his other wrist was caught as well.
Fíli managed to drive two more orcs over the edge of the hall and down into the black abyss below their feet, before black whips caught his wrists as well.
He watched in terror, as Bolg picked his weapon up and began to descend from his plateau. For Bilbo wasn't aware of a certain detail: not only had the orcs not seen him, he had of course also been invisible for the dwarves, who had no idea that the key was already safe in the pocket of his coat.
While Kíli was forced on his knees, Fíli frantically looked around for the hobbit and glanced at the rocks just in time, as Bilbo slipped the ring off his fingers, fright and panic on his features. He stared at Fíli, stared at the blood stained face and blond mane and, though with the best intention, turned on his heels and ran.
He planned to run back up and inform Thorin of the happenings, call upon him for help but Fíli knew nothing of those plans. Already fuelled with hate, his mind gone blank in a frenzy, he believed the hobbit was running away in fright, abandoning them.
"TRAITOR!", he hatefully bellowed after the hobbit, before he was forced on his knees himself.
The word rung in poor Bilbo's ears and hit him, as if he himself was pounded with whips as well. He had only meant to do good. Always. And he had begun to like those boys a lot, thus having this hurtful word hurled at him cut deep into his guts and he swallowed hard.
When he arrived at the end of the stairs again, the fighting above had already ceased. The ground was littered with bodies, orcs and dwarves alike and some were still fighting. Dáin, though pretty cut up and bleeding himself, sunk his blade into his opponents spine and Thorin beheaded another, his face bloody and dirty.
As Bilbo rushed towards him, he was so deeply buried in his hatred, that he nearly attacked the hobbit, mistaking him for a goblin of some sort but Bilbo spoke up before Thorin could strike out.
"The boys!", the hobbit yelled, causing Thorin to snap back into reality.
"Bilbo", he muttered, his mind still blurred. "Where have you been?"
"The boys are in a cave down below! There's a tunnel! Bolg is down there!"
Thorin suddenly grew very pale. He hadn't even noticed his nephews slipping away during the fight, way too captured in taking revenge on those dreadful creatures that now lay dead at his feet. Had he known in what danger the youngsters were, he surely wouldn't have wasted his time trying to kill insignificant underlings of the warlord that lingered down below.
"We have to get down there. Now. DÁIN!", he yelled. "DÁIN, GATHER YOUR MEN! WE'RE GOING FURTHER DOWN!"
"What's with the remaining orcs up here?", Dori muttered, standing close to Bilbo. The hobbit stared in shock when he noticed his blood drenched clothes and the fierce look on the usually so gentle and kind features of the dwarf. His sword was slippery and black from orc blood and once again Bilbo felt terrified for he recognised none of them anymore.
"I'll take care of'em", Dwalin's voice thundered from behind the hobbit and when the warrior appeared from the dark, the hobbit nearly had a heart attack. In the dim light of the hall, Dwalin seemed black from head to toe, his blue eyes glistening dangerously under his thick brows and his battle hammer dripped with blood.
"Can you manage?", Thorin asked.
"You think me weak?", Dwalin chuntered. "Go on, I can handle it."
Thorin nodded at his oldest friend, pure gratefulness in his gaze before he turned and followed Bilbo towards the stairs that led down to Bolg's lair. They were closely followed by Dáin and the remaining dwarves and Dwalin positioned himself by the stairs to make sure no other orc could follow them down.
In the hall below, Bolg had crossed the bridge and stood right in front of the dwarves, maliciously grinning down at them, the mace clutched in his large hands.
"Not so confident now anymore, are we?", he snarled, looking at Kíli who simply spit out at his feet.
The warlord bared his fangs, small and pointy and still covered in blood. The youngsters stared up at him, utter hate and disgust shown on their features, but no sign of fear. And Bolg seemed to dislike that brave nature of the dwarves, for he snarled at them and wrinkled his scarred nose.
"I think you've been cheeky long enough. Wonder how your uncle up there might like the sight of your abused and disfigured bodies, should he ever find you down here."
The orcs around them were roaring and howling with laughter and Bolg, confident as he was, turned to his warriors and laughed with them, enjoying this way too much. For he had waited for this moment his entire life. The chance to finally avenge his father in the most gruesome way. He lifted his mace in the air, striking out, the spikes glistening in the torchlight.
It was in this moment of carelessness, that Fíli gathered all his strength and snapped the whips holding him from the hands of his guards. He violently crashed the handle of one whip into the face of the orc, breaking his cheeks and jaw, the other handle wrapped around the neck of the other orc and as he pulled he broke his neck.
When Bolg's mace thundered down on the youngsters, it hit the crossed blades of Fíli's swords so loud, that the clangour echoed back into the tunnel and sparks flew from the black steel. The dwarf felt himself being pressed into the stony ground but he did not flinch.
Taken by surprise, Bolg needed a moment to gather himself and in that time, Kíli had mimicked his brother, ripping one wrist free and immediately killing one orc with one blow of his blade that he had picked up again. The other orc was choked by the whip wrapped around his neck, going down gargling and gagging.
There they stood, back to back, Fíli's blades blocking the horrendous weapon of the warlord, while Kíli had his brother's back, blade in hands and no intention to back down ever. They both knew they'd rather die fighting, than giving in.
"You deem that wise, boy?", the warlord hissed.
"Maybe not", Fíli grinned. "But remember this: if I go down, I will take you with me."