Well here's the next part (almost done now, only one or two more chapters to go ^^). Well, there's a little canon divergence here, but I figured, as Thorin's already become "friends" with Bilbo, he didn't have to prove himself all alone.
And as usual, thank you for following :)
All too soon, their little talk had been over, and Fili found himself running once more. Much like when they'd been chased before, which had led them to Rivendell, he could feel himself falling behind, not having enough strength to keep up with the others. Having to be careful so as to not slip on the unsteady ground below, and run as fast as he could, he was feeling exhausted. The awful taste of blood at the back of his throat wasn't helping either, when he realized he still had aftermaths of the Goblin King's interrogations.
The howling through the trees and the rising moon certainly did nothing to ease his nerves. If anything, he was growing more and more anxious. What were they going to do? He needed to trust his Uncle, Thorin certainly knew what they were doing, didn't he?
And then it happened, one of those beasts just leaped right in front of them, letting them know they were way too close to danger. At the sight of the giant creature, his breath caught in his throat. Fili had grown up on stories, which prince hadn't, but to see one of these things up so close, it was absolutely terrifying! He tried pulling out one of his twin swords, which he'd been carrying on his back, and almost panicked when he couldn't. The blade was too heavy!
No!
Time seemed to have stopped as he realized what it meant.
He was a swordsman. He was supposed to be able to wield his blades in any situation, he was a warrior. Fili tried lifting the blade again, but the simple weight of the weapon was too much. Only then did he realize the full extent of what he'd done to himself.
He couldn't fight. And the thought terrorized him.
That was out of the question! He needed to fight, he needed to help the others, help his brother and Uncle, help Bilbo! He had to be able to fight. As Fili heard more growling growing nearer by the second, he forced himself, he used whatever strength he had left, and tried to adopt a fighting stand. He couldn't let the others know. He just couldn't.
Looking behind him, he saw that even Bilbo, the hobbit who had no experience with weapons what so ever had managed to defend himself with a small sword Gandalf had given him. If Bilbo could wield one, then so could he.
It was a carnage. The dwarves were scattered everywhere, the beasts having taken to separate them in different directions. They tried regrouping themselves, but only managed as they reached the very end of the high cliff they were on, Balin and Nori being the first to reach the edge, and realize that they were trapped.
Gandalf urged them into the only place they could have a hope of escape, into the trees. They all hastily obeyed him.
Fiil's heart was in his throat, thumping madly as he took hold of one of the lower branches, reaching some form of safety, just under his brother. In the long term, he knew it probably wouldn't help, those beasts could wait for days, and the dwarves would have to go down eventually, but he didn't see any alternative, and so he managed to climb up the first tree, the others doing the same, with ones further back, closer to the cliff's edge.
"They're coming!" Thorin warned the others, hoping they'd all managed to climb high enough.
Much too soon did he see wargs swarming around them, just waiting for any of them to fall, and catch them in their sharp fangs. In those few moments, before he felt like his tree would fall down, Gandalf sent for help, hoping he'd get an answer, if they were to make it out of this. The dwarves, despite being fully trained warriors, all of them, would not stand a chance against such beasts, no matter how good they were at wielding their weapons.
Looking down, Thorin suddenly noticed how the beasts seemed to have stopped their clawing and barking, creating some uneasy silence and they'd all turned in the opposite direction. Had they possibly found better meat to catch? Oh he hoped so, they had to get away from here as fast as possible, he had to make sure they'd all manage to get away. If this was the only chance they'd get at escaping their temporary shelter, then he'd force the dwarves to take it. He looked up then, trying to find some form of path they could use to get through the trees-
-Only to stop.
No.
No. No. No!
It wasn't possible! Thorin's mind denied his eyes, as his breath caught in his throat.
He was dead! He'd been dead for years!
But, unfortunately, his eyes weren't deceiving him, even after blinking time and time again. That white warg was still there, there was only one of those beasts he knew of, and on its back…
"Azog" he barely whispered, not wanting to believe it.
Fili heard his Uncle's strangled realization, and turned once more to the thing making its way through the pack of beasts. Sure enough, sitting on some enormous white warg, was probably the most terrifying creature he'd ever seen, the Goblin King paling in comparison. He'd heard his Uncle talk about him, he'd even forged an image of the line of Durin's long nemesis, but nothing compared to seeing it there, right in front of him.
The orc himself was huge, definitely larger than any of their other pursuers, and although he didn't want to admit it, he immediately felt afraid. The creature was covered in scars, and the glowing moonlight brought his attention to the severed arm, the one Thorin had managed to cut off what must have been a lifetime ago. In it's place he could see a metal blade, as a replacement, which was probably just as dangerous. His Uncle's stories and the tales he'd heard about the beast meant nothing now, they didn't even begin to do justice to the power the Pale Orc seem to possess, and the fear he could inflict on those he deemed as enemies.
Bilbo was just beneath him, how could any of them possibly guarantee his safety when that was separating them from their freedom? How was he going to be able to look out for Bilbo when a beast, which managed to make even his Uncle's breath catch in his throat, stood between them and their intended escape? Looking back at his Uncle, hoping to find some reassuring façade, Fili could see that the dwarf was hardly willing to believe his eyes, still trying to shake his head in denial. Their leader had been so sure that the orc scum had been killed decades ago. He remembered how Thorin had only talked briefly about Azog, how he almost seemed haunted, nay terrified, when he'd mentioned him. It wasn't often, Fili judging the creature had scarred his Uncle too much already. What was he possibly thinking, seeing it now?
The beast started talking, but as none in the company, safe for Thorin and maybe Gandalf, could understand, they just watched, petrified from high in their hiding place. By the stance Azog had taken, and the tone of voice he was using, they could guess he wasn't talking about doing them any favors, let alone leaving the company a chance to escape with their lives. He looked at their leader in the eye, who was still trying to deny the reality unfolding in front of him, before they saw the other beasts making for them, having probably been ordered to take them out, but keep Thorin for the Pale Orc.
They all panicked as the wargs tried climbing the trees, teeth snapping at bare inches off of where they were. They tried hitting them with swords, kicking out at them, even Bilbo tried using a branch to poke them in the eye, but it all seemed so useless, the beasts were too strong. What were they possibly going to do?
Bilbo watched in horror as the animals kept clawing, desperate to get their teeth into the dwarves and the dinner they were probably coming off as, and they kept jumping back up to hap them. The sheer force they were putting into it soon made the tree they'd been so precariously balancing on sway, and much too soon did he feel like they were falling.
Oh why had he agreed to come on this adventure? It was more a survival of the fittest game than the walking about he'd thought it would be! He jumped to the next tree, and the next, and the next, 'till finally there was but one left. If the beasts managed to knock it down, they'd die for certain, Bilbo couldn't see any other alternative. He didn't want to die, not yet, and he didn't want to have to continue on this adventure by himself, this quest was meant to be done with the fifteen of them, he, Gandalf and his thirteen friends. Bilbo didn't want the good times he'd just started having, the friendships he'd started building shatter now, not when he'd only gotten a taste of it.
With all of his companions below him, and the menacing laughter of the orcs just ahead of him, Gandalf couldn't do much, but being a wizard meant he knew magic. It may not be much, but he hoped it would work.
Grabbing a small pinecone from the branch he'd been hanging on to, and with a bit of the magic he knew, he managed to set it on fire. He knew wild animals feared the flames, and if he could keep them at bay while help came, he'd consider himself lucky. Encouraging the other dwarves to do the same, as he threw a flaming pinecone to both Kili and Fili, soon he could see the burning missiles being thrown to the ground, sending the dry leaves and grass up in flames. Sure enough, the wargs howled, and stayed behind, some even running away much to the inconvenience of their masters, but it was that much already.
Their victory was short lived, as the tree swayed to the side, the only thing keeping it from falling being the roots that linked it to the ground. In a matter of seconds Thorin saw how they'd become too easy preys once more. With some of the dwarves already falling, Gandalf's staff being their saving grace, they needed to make their way out using the forest, and so they needed to face off the wargs, there was no choice left. Thorin wouldn't abandon his friends because he was too scared to face the past.
With no other alternative, he stood up, drawing his sword. The line of Durin were proud warriors, he wouldn't go down without a fight, and he definitely wouldn't leave his company without fighting for them first.
And so with his resolution made, fear thumping madly inside his heart and those trapped in the tree being able to do no more than stare in horror at what he was about to do, he went forward, sword in one hand, oak shield he was so famous for in the other. It was walking at first, then shuffling, then, realizing he finally had a chance to exact his revenge against the beast that beheaded his father, a chance to end the monster that kept lusting after he and his family's blood, he ran, he charged. He was the great Thorin Oakenshield, of the house of Durin, and he would not go down without a fight.
There were a few seconds of silence, where everybody held their breath, both dwarves and orcs. And then they met.
Bilbo could only watch, half amazed half horrified, as Thorin actually leapt into danger. This was why he was famous, this was why he was known as Thorin Oakenshield. He'd seen bravery in Thorin, and both of his nephews, already, it just radiated off them, but seeing it displayed right in front of him, in action, it was totally different. This was the extent Thorin would actually go to, to ensure the safety of his friends, he was willing to put his life on the line for it. While some part of Bilbo screamed at him, begging him to hear that this was madness, knowing Thorin would pay too steep a price for his want to protect those he valued as companions, another part of him was paralyzed, by shock or amazement he didn't know which.
The huge beast made Thorin fall over with the massive blow it delivered to him, but he was never one to abandon after a first try. The dwarf got up, trying to suppress the little voice inside him, which kept repeating that this was pure madness, he'd do this if only to save his own line, spare both Kili and Fili nights without sleep when you knew someone was out there, desperate for your blood, no matter what it took, he'd do it for those he deemed as friends, trapped behind him with no other solution than death at the moment, he'd even do it for Bilbo. They hadn't come on this quest to die before reaching the halls of Erebor, Thorin had promised them that they would see the halls of his fathers, and he would keep his word, even if he had to die for it.
He got up, if not for himself, for those he deemed as friends, who he would not leave behind. He'd fight for them, even if it cost him his life. Erebor and all it's riches, despite being home and something he deemed precious to him, paled in comparison to the treasure those fourteen companions were, including Bilbo and Gandalf into the lot. But Thorin was weary, exhausted from being on the run for so long, and had only managed to get up when a blow to his head sent him tumbling back down again.
The others could only watch. Bilbo for the first time, could see why people honored Thorin Oakenshield so much, why he'd become legendary. He was facing the beast twice his size, probably even knowing the outcome already, but still he did it. Not for him, Thorin wasn't doing it out of revenge or for personal glory, it was for them, the company, because he cared for them. It touched him, deeply, and only made his heart bleed as he saw their leader being crushed to the ground, as another blow to his head prevented him from getting up.
Fili watched, horror stricken, as his Uncle was hit straight across the face, he watched as he fell down and crashed on the hard soil, he watched as Thorin screamed in agony as the warg's sharp fangs closed in on him. It was worse than what the Goblin King had put him through, oh so much worse!
He could hear the others trying to make their way back to Thorin, but the branches they were on were too far away, and should any of them move, they would risk falling, taking them all down.
Thorin screamed again, as the fangs enclosed around his wounded body once more. Fili scrunched his eyes closed, wishing it was all some gruesome nightmare, but the sounds were too real, the pain he felt in his chest hurt too much for this to possibly be anything but reality. It was agonizing, and he was beginning to firmly believe his Uncle wouldn't make it. Yes, he was a stubborn dwarf, he could escape a difficult situation much better than any of them, but now… However, Thorin, always being the obstinate dwarf, managed to hit the wargs's nose after regaining some strength in his arm, and was sent flying to the ground as the beast yelped in pain. He couldn't stand seeing his Uncle like this any longer, if nothing was done, he would die, Thorin would die without ever being able to see what he'd set out for, Thorin would never lay eyes on the great halls of Erebor. It was unfair, his Uncle deserved to make it, especially after everything he'd done for him, Kili, and their mother. He couldn't leave his Uncle.
Neither could Bilbo.
To Azog's satisfaction, the Durin dwarf was still unmoving as he saw him crash against the rock. He was probably more dead than alive anyway, if he didn't so much as twitch, good. That meant one of those bastard Durin's was out of the picture. Turning towards one of the orcs on his right, he ordered him to bring him the dwarf's head, wanting to show those other weaklings just how pathetic Thorin Oakenshield was, and wanting to admire the spectacle that was beheading another Durin.
Bilbo and Fili, who were side by side now, could see that if they lingered but a few seconds longer, Thorin would die. Nothing was going to help them, the others were too far away to get back to them, and no matter how much they knew the company wanted to help their leader, both knew they could not come. Thorin couldn't defend himself, not after the blow he'd suffered, and he was barely moving now anyway. They looked at each other, seeking a silent consent.
Azog watched gleefully as he was finally going to get his prize, a head he'd been wanting for far too long. With the Durin scum barely moving, it was a perfect picture, really. He could see himself, holding up Thorin's head once his henchman would bring it back to him, as he'd show it off to the other devastated dwarves, a last image of despair just before they'd fall to their deaths once the tree wouldn't hold them anymore. The moon was bright as he eyed it, competing with him in terms of paleness, and he found the setting quite fitting indeed.
He turned back, however, hearing the orc he'd sent to complete the task squeal in pain as he saw some undersized human with a mop of brown hair and a blonde dwarf standing between him and his prize.