(See Chapter 24 for the final A/N ^_^)
Thorin gasped, as even the smallest movements caused jolts of agony to run throughout his body. The knife that had been so close to ending his life had been pushed away by some miracle, and he finally managed to get some air into his strained lungs, but any other movement was complete torture. Despite how much he wanted to move, to just get up and fight, his limbs were unresponsive, no matter how hard he tried. He knew he had to get up, he had to fight, the choice wasn't given to him. If he stayed here, like this, those he'd brought along with him would all die, and Thorin didn't think he could live with himself if he let such a thing happen. The dwarf was still sprawled on the ground, available for the first set of hungry jaws, but he was alive, he was still breathing. And for now, that was all that mattered. Alive, he could still try and do something.
Slowly, he tried to turn his head, desperately seeking what had caused the halt in the blade that had been about to send him to the halls of his fathers. Looking up, blinking through unfocused eyes, he thought he could make out a little red coat. It took him a while to make the link but the dwarf pushed his brain, and he found the answer he'd been searching: Bilbo? Did Bilbo really save him? Indeed, standing as straight as he could, Bilbo Baggins was trying his best to look intimidating, to show that they would need to take him down first if they wanted to get to Thorin, but felt like jelly on the inside. He'd come out of his hiding place on a surge of adrenalin, realizing that nothing would come to save the dark haired dwarf's life if he didn't move, but it was quickly fading, the momentum having passed. But he just couldn't have let Thorin die like that, at the hands of such a beast, especially knowing he could have done something. He would never have forgiven himself. They all needed Thorin, this quest meant nothing if they had to leave one of their own behind.
Turning his head a little further, ever so slightly, Thorin could also see what looked like blonde hair, next to Bilbo's head. It took his senses a while to process the information, but after putting the pieces together, he realized that there was only one member of his company who had golden hair, Fili! No! His nephew, despite being a more than competent swordsman, wouldn't even last a minute against those beasts, let alone Azog. Fili was all but a child still, even if he'd come with the will to prove himself to Thorin, his Uncle couldn't let him do this, especially given the state he was in right now. He didn't even need to prove himself, his Uncle knowing the blonde was already an accomplished warrior, even if he never said it out loud. Panicking, Thorin tried to get up, he really did, but found he had no strength left within himself to move, even if it was just his little finger. He could feel frustrated tears well up in the corner of his eyes as he realized he could not act, he could not help them, and was silently begging the courageous hobbit and his foolish nephew to stay back, return to the tree where they just might have a chance to escape with their lives.
He'd never thought it would end like this. As a leader he'd always thought he would go down first, probably on some battlefield fighting some great enemy after having reclaimed Erebor. Thorin had always envisioned himself dying in a more than decent way, because he was an honorable dwarf. He didn't want this, dying all alone, agonizing on a rock after being between the jaws of a beast, having to watch those he cared about die for him. Both the hobbit and his nephew were too young for this, way too young.
Azog started. What in the name of- were these two things?
The little man (was it a man? He couldn't really tell, having never come across such a creature in his life before) had managed to overpower the henchman he'd sent out. His subordinates were really incompetent if they could get thrown out of the picture by that. Despite its short victory, he could sense the little being was terrified, it was shaking all over, and the orc knew he had little to fear of it, it wouldn't harm him. It could barely hold the sword in its hand correctly, probably never having used such a weapon in its life. He could see a second orc one coming up behind the peculiar creature in the red coat, but before it got its chance to strike, and thus send it to an early grave, the blonde dwarf had struck it down.
Getting a closer look at the miserable miniature swordsman, Azog found he looked remarkably like Thorin in some ways, safe for the golden hair. But he could see the same defiant eyes, the same position and the same stubbornness Thorin had shown upon the battlefield so many years ago, even if this one was much younger than Thorin had been then. The orc felt his hands clench, and his beast growl beneath him, as he put the pieces together. The little runt was another of those bloody Durins! It had to be, if it looked so much like the dwarf he'd nearly killed. But he snorted at how pathetic it looked. The blonde one was a dwarf, no doubt, with the beard and all, but safe for that, he didn't have much more dwarvish traits at all. The whelp was way too small, way too scrawny to even pretend to be a warrior, even the swords he was wielding seemed to be weighing him down. Indeed, the creature beside him looked more intimidating!
Both of them turned towards him, side by side, and Azog could have shaken his head, almost willing himself to pity the two fools. They were no more than children, and they expected be able to defeat him? An accomplished warrior such as himself, whose name sufficed to make even the strongest tremble with fear? He who even Thorin Oakenshield could do nothing against? He didn't know if both were incredibly brilliant or incredibly stupid, but he didn't care. One of them was a Durin, and he'd see him die, hopefully screaming in agony and begging for mercy, just like his kin. And if Thorin wasn't dead yet, he could relish in the spectacle, he could watch his own family die right in front of him.
His beast snapped out, aiming for the hobbit's hair, but to his dismay, the little being just sidestepped, and managed to land a blow on his warg's nose, just where Thorin had dealt one earlier. It growled as the hit throbbed, letting out a sound between a whimper and a cry of pain.
Bilbo took a few steps back, not daring to believe he'd actually attacked –attacked!- one of those beasts and that he'd literally managed to hit it, without having those enormous teeth snapping around a single part of his body. He was most definitely the luckiest hobbit to have ever lived in the Shire right now. Seeing he'd managed to deliver a blow, it gave him some courage and as he tried to control his shaking body he went for another swipe, on its side, trying to disorientate it, as Fili swung towards its hind legs.
They were doing well, and he wished the others could assist him, but knew better than to hope for their help, they were too precariously balanced. Should one so much as move, the others would all tumble down. Besides, they would need to pass by the other beasts before even being able to reach them. Bilbo started seeing defeat, even though he didn't want to. It was just him and Fili, and they needed to get to Thorin, before his wounds got the better of him or he be the prey to any of the surrounding beasts.
The blonde didn't know what foolishness possessed him to move out with Bilbo, for Gandalf would certainly call his action foolish, if he made it out of this alive. Had he obeyed Thorin's orders, he probably would still be in the "safety" of the tree (safety being quite irrelevant here), but he couldn't leave his Uncle to meet his end here, like this, it wasn't in his blood to look on as people he cared about died right under his eyes when he could do something to prevent it, and leaving their burglar to face the orcs alone was definitely out of the question. Having Bilbo next to him gave him courage, the little hobbit who knew next to nothing about fighting was still risking everything for Thorin, and if Bilbo could do such a thing, so could he, it was his duty to his king, after all. Family also meant looking out for those he loved, it was what he'd been taught by his mother and Thorin himself.
Sidestepping to the right, he even managed to cut through the flesh of the orc's thigh, distracting the beast and at the same time was trying to let Bilbo drag Thorin somewhere else without the warg chasing after him. Fili knew the hobbit wouldn't last very long were he to be forced to use his blade, and he didn't want to see him hurt either, he hoped Bilbo might be able to pull the fallen dwarf to somewhere without immediate threat looming over him, and his small size would come in handy. His Uncle was their priority, they needed to make sure he was safe no matter what happened, anything potentially harmful to them only came in second. Fili knew the company would be lost if Thorin didn't make it, they needed a leader, someone they could look up to, and that person was his Uncle. The blonde had never envisioned death before, he'd never even thought of giving his life for a cause, but right then, he promised himself that if it were required of him, he'd do it. If it was what it took to guarantee Thorin's safe return to the others, he was willing to die for it. And as he made up his mind, Fili swung out once again, managing to strike the warg's stomach, if only a small scratch.
He hadn't anticipated being kicked out at, however. With a blow to his chest, he found himself losing his balance and much too soon did he find himself in the same position as Thorin, sprawled on the ground, having let go of his twin blades in the momentum. His head was throbbing, his arms hurt from the weight they had been supporting, and he could not lift them. The blonde knew he was in an extremely vulnerable position, he needed to get up.
Fili was scared in the next few seconds he was spared to think. He knew a warrior should never let his emotions get the better of him, it had been one of the first things Dwalin had taught him, and he also knew a prince should not fear death, his father had pounded the lesson into his head when he'd been a dwarfling still, and he wasn't about to forget it. Yet, here he was. Having fallen hard on his back, his head smacking painfully against the solid ground beneath him, he tried to get his breathing back to normal, if only to make sure he was still alive, even if it was only for a moment longer, at least he just might be able to make his way back to Bilbo, lend him a hand. But he was tired, as they were all, and his limbs took much longer to respond to his mind than he would have liked. Fili had almost managed to regain control over his breathing, and had tried his best to not let himself panic, when white hot pain suddenly seared through his small stomach, just below his ribs, and he couldn't hold back the scream that tore from within his throat as he felt sharp claws just digging in further, delighting in the pain they were causing. Oh god, it burned!
Even the heat in the forges he'd worked in alongside his Uncle or the occasional burns he'd get when he'd let a heated tool slip out of his grasp both paled in comparison to this. He had but a moment to hesitate whether it was a reasonable idea or not before Fili tried moving, hoping it might dislodge the claws entangled in his body, knowing that Bilbo needed his help to drag Thorin away, the dwarf being no doubt a lot heavier than the hobbit. If he stayed sprawled out like this, the beast's paws would just sink in further, and if they ever managed to go straight through… He didn't even want to think that far. Bilbo needed him, and he needed to get up to help him. Moving wasn't devoid of pain however, and Fili could feel blood spurting out around the beast's claws as he tried to withdraw from the solid grip they had on him, pinning him between an immense white warg and the solid ground.
Azog himself was seething. He'd come all this way for the dwarf scum, not two pathetic children, and those same brats had somehow still managed to stand between him and his intended victim. As a commander in the eyes of most orcs, it led him to lose his own composure, not being used to having what he desired withheld from him, especially not by dwarf scum or hobbit rats. If anything, the situation only served to fuel his anger more, and the orc simply urged his beast to apply more pressure on the whelp beneath it, relishing as he heard the pathetic thing squeal in pain. Even though Thorin himself may not be conscious enough to witness what was being done to the family he held onto so dearly, Azog was certain he was leaving scars deep enough for Oakenshield to feel guilt-ridden 'till his hairs turned grey. And knowing he was going to cause such pain, it was blissful. He might not be able to get Thorin himself this time, but he was still leaving him a gift, a token to remember him by.
The more he urged his beast to sink it's claws in, the more he could just picture the dwarf not ten feet away from him, crestfallen face and helpless as he'd face what he'd done, that he'd let his bratty nephew get scarred and done nothing, that once again, he'd been too weak to stop Azog from hurting another member of his family. The weak were compassionate, it was always the weak that let their feelings for others be the cause of their downfall. Looking out for oneself was definitely better, knowing one had not need worry of what others may think or feel after a decision.
Bilbo stopped in his movements. He'd been dragging Thorin out of harm's way, as he thought it was the least he could do, being no fighter and having no experience in the domain at all. Besides, what amount of damage could someone as small as he possibly be able to inflict? It was his duty towards the dwarf who'd looked out for him, who'd wanted to call him friend, and who'd finally come to accept him among his brotherhood. He couldn't abandon him now, Bilbo couldn't let his fears be the cause of Thorin's death. However, Bilbo was only a hobbit and the dwarf's body was heavy despite not being big in dwarf size, and Thorin having fallen unconscious, Bilbo had to pull him all by himself. He'd almost gotten him to a small gathering of rocks, just out of the main field where he could still see the intimidating wargs but he suddenly stopped when he heard what sounded to be wailing behind him, knowing there was only one person the voice could belong to. Thorin's nephew was in pain, and he needed Bilbo, because the hobbit was the only one who could save him now.
The poor soul was torn between getting Thorin, his leader and friend to safety, where he wouldn't risk any further injuries, or turning back on his tracks, going to help Fili who, upon catching sight the dwarf, Bilbo could see the white warg's claws digging deeper and deeper into the blonde's side, just below his ribs, if not breaking a few in the process. Bilbo wanted to turn his head away at the sight of blood slowly seeping on the ground, the puddle getting larger by the second, but the hobbit was transfixed. He could see the lad was in agony, and if the clenched hands and the stray tears rolling down the side of his face weren't enough to convince him, then the blonde's anguished cries definitely were. The hobbit's breathing quickened. He'd never thought he'd be facing dilemmas such as these, it wasn't what he'd agreed to, but he was here nevertheless, and Bilbo was the only one who could do something about it. It was a horrible place to be in.
Thorin or Fili?
King or prince?
Leader or friend?
Bilbo froze, dead. What was he supposed to do? He wished, not for the first time since leaving Bag End, that he'd been more powerful, that he could be more useful to his friends, now of all times. He wished that he was not just that, a simple hobbit. While his duty lay with Thorin, like every member of the company he knew that, Fili was also his friend, actually one of the close friends he'd made along the way, and just imagining what pain he must be in now hurt. It really hurt, he could almost feel it himself, a sharp sensation in his chest, growing and spreading throughout his body as the seconds rolled on.
Again, another cry tore through the air, as the claws drove into their victim's side once more, as if they were trying to rip the body apart. Bilbo trembled, face scrunching up as he caught sight of a second growing puddle of blood beneath the blonde's body. He needed to get Thorin to safety, it was his duty, but he couldn't leave Fili like that, at the mercy of the animal's enormous paws. But trying to move forward, even ordering his legs to move, Bilbo found himself unable to take even the faintest step. His breath caught in his throat, his hands clenched around Thorin's unconscious form, he even begged his body to just move, run to straight to the danger, maybe even draw out his little sword once again, but none of his limbs so much as flinched. The hobbit was frozen, trapped between the rapidly spreading fire, wargs and orcs, and the two friends that needed him more than anything right now. He was urging his brain to order his legs forward, Bilbo wanted to just do something, but even the strong will he was building was not swaying his body, no matter how firm it was. What was someone such as he supposed to do? What could he do?
It was a slight cough from the dwarf beneath him that snapped him out of his trance. Looking down, Bilbo decided he'd pulled Thorin into a safe enough place, having managed to get him far enough from the surrounding wargs, and his leader was more than able to survive, Bilbo knew Thorin was a fighter, it was bound to take more than this to put him out of the picture. Resolutely, the hobbit dared adventure himself back into the immediate danger zone, and managed to grasp his short sword once more despite his shaking hands, before rushing to his friend's aid, swinging out as he reached the white beast.
As he managed to his it's leg (truly, this sword of his was clearly magical, Bilbo thought, if he managed to land a blow on his target so many times without getting too badly scratched), the warg wailed in pain as it lifted its enormous paw up, freeing Fili in the process. The hobbit rounded the beast, and stood protectively between the blonde and it's predator, probably not very intimidating, but still hoping it would understand that if it wanted to harm his friend any further, it would have to pass over Bilbo's dead body first, and he was not going down without a fight.
Actually, the hobbit hadn't really been assessing how dangerous this was actually going to be, when he'd rushed back to Fili's side, but Bilbo didn't let fear of what might happen to him overrule the concern he had for his friends. Fili had looked out for him when they'd first set off, now it was his turn. Bilbo would repay him by saving him, if there was indeed anything left to be saved. The hobbit raised his head, looking eye-to-eye at the orc in front of him, and even though the reason within him was screaming madness, Bilbo was not going to step down, not even if he was offered a permanent way to be rid of the Sackville-Bagginses.
The only thing Fili could register was a searing pain in his side anytime he somehow managed to move again. Whatever had been tearing through him had apparently retreated, leaving him a little respite, and instinct taking over, the blonde's hand immediately went to his small stomach. The dwarf shook, as he took in the blood slowly staining the grip he was holding, he hadn't thought there was so much! However, if his hand could cover the wound, it meant that the claws were no longer there, that the beast must have found something else. Panicking, Fili looked up, only to make out Bilbo standing right in front of him. At the sight, he didn't know whether to seethe or cry, whether to admonish his friend for needlessly putting himself in danger or sob for the fact that Bilbo was actually protecting him. Fili was strongly leaning to the latter of the two however.
Bilbo was sure he must have lost so much color that anybody could see through him at the moment. His adrenalin was only now leaving him, and the small sword in his hand suddenly felt awfully heavy. What was he possibly going to be able to do? Should he fight or just grab Fili and try and make a run for it?
The choice wasn't given to him, as all of a sudden, he felt claws wrap around his shoulders as a giant eagle, seemingly coming out of nowhere, grabbed him after picking up Thorin, carrying them away from the carnage and burning trees, up into the air and well out of anymore harm. Bilbo tried to wriggle himself out, wanting to at least ensure everybody's safety before being allowed that privilege himself, but was too small to even try and fight against the enormous claws that had wrapped themselves protectively around him and their leader.
Eyes wide, he looked around, seeing other similar birds spreading fire on the orcs and wargs, burning them in the process or making them run away. More came swooping in, helping the other dwarves find safety upon their backs as one by one, they landed in a sea of brown feathers, before retreating to the sky, leaving the raging orcs behind them.
He wanted to hope that all of his companions had made it safely, and for once, allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out to be all right in the end. He turned his concerns towards Thorin, who'd only done the faintest movements in his unconscious state, nothing more than take a few breaths and twitch a finger occasionally. At least he was alive, and Bilbo couldn't have been more relieved, but his injuries still looked most painful as he could see a distinct red gash tracing the side of his face, and Bilbo swore to himself that he'd get Oin to see to them all once they were far away from the pack of orcs, whether Thorin protested or not. The bruises on his face and the blood trailing down the side of his mouth probably only being the beginning of the scars he'd acquired.
As a friend, Bilbo took it upon himself to make sure Thorin would pull out of this. Then, he'd see to Fili, knowing the blonde had also been hurt while they'd worked together at defending their unconscious leader, helping him by providing a distraction. The warg's claws had to have been painful, given the screams he'd let out. However, knowing his quiet nature, Fili would probably pass it off as nothing to be concerned about. But Bilbo knew better, he couldn't allow Fili to silence himself anymore, knowing what it had lead to the first time, he couldn't allow him to put others before himself when it would cost his health dearly, as a friend, he couldn't let himself do it, even if it was what Thorin's nephew wanted. Bilbo promised himself that he would make sure the blonde would see to his wounds, however reluctant he may be about it. If Fili wanted to look out for Bilbo, he had to accept that it went the other way too, that people who cared about him also wanted to keep an eye out for him.