"Back to the chasm!" Fili cried, ushering his company back down the tunnel. "Into the open, we cannot fight here."

Kili had been carrying their torch, and it had fallen from his hand when the orc imp knocked him down. The flame had gone out and they were forced to stumble through the dark until they turned the corner and could see again the filtered light from the open room. It had been luck and the sharp eyes of a dwarf that allowed Fili to save his brother's life after the light went out, but they could not fight orcs in the dark. High up the stairs behind them, they could hear loud cries answering the last shriek of the scout. There came the padding of many running feet on stone, hurrying toward the company.

As they rushed back into the chasm, Fili and Kili threw down their baggage and drew their swords. They set themselves in the center of the southern half of the room near the bridge. They did not have the tools they needed or the time it would take to cross over and throw down the bridge behind them, and it would have been too difficult to fight on the stairs with boulders for their enemies to take cover behind, but if the battle on the southern side grew too hot, they could at least fly across the bridge and defend the narrow way... provided their enemies did not come armed with bow and arrow.

Their weapons at the ready, the brothers stood back to back and watched both east and west tunnel not knowing whether orcs might come at them from both sides. They could not, as yet, guess how many or how well armed their enemies might be, but even half a dozen of those small imps with knives would be a battle greater than the brothers were prepared to fight. Any battle, if it lasted more than an hour would go against them. The sun was nearly dipped below the lip of the deep well and soon the room would be cast into shadows.

Fili glanced at his brother, and Kili nodded. They were as ready as they could be. But then, Fili saw Betta. She stood near to his side with her little knife held tight in her hand. She had made up her mind to fight, but her pack was still upon her back and her face was pale.

Fili turned and took hold of her wrist, pointing across the bridge. "Go! Make for the tunnel!" he ordered. "They will not have seen you yet and, with luck, they will not know that you are there. Go and hide. Stay until I come for you."

"And if you do not come?" she demanded. "If you and your brother are killed?" She shook her head. "I will not hide. I will fight with you."

"Go!" He shouted, and pushed her toward the bridge. "You do more harm than good here. I cannot be sure of both your safety and my own."

And, with that, he turned his back on her, though it pained him to do so. He had no soft words of farewell to offer, and none that would not take the courage from his heart to say aloud. Betta hesitated, looking at him for a long moment, but she said nothing more. She glanced at Kili sadly and then ran for the bridge.

She slowed her steps as she hurried across the narrow way, and then started up the many tiered steps. It pained her to leave her friends in danger, but she knew it would be more painful to know that she had been the distraction that had gotten Fili killed. Besides, what could her little knife do against an orc's strong arm? She knew that she had been very lucky to survive the attack at Evendim.

But suddenly, halfway up the stairs, Betta remembered her father's bow slung across her back and the quiver of her remaining arrows at her side. Days ago, near the falls, Kili had reminded her of their usefulness in battle. That night, she had restrung the bow and sharpened the arrows, but she had soon forgotten them as they walked through the suffocating darkness of the tunnel. Her weapon was not as well-made as Kili's bow had been, but she could shoot as straight as any Dwarf. And probably, hopefully, straighter than an orc.

Behind her, she heard an explosion of harsh voices as their enemies burst from the western wall. Their cries were answered by a loud shout from the dwarves, and Betta knew that she could not run and hide. She must fight. She must live or die beside her friends.

She turned and saw that only five orcs had entered the chasm, not dozens. Three little orc imps faced the dwarves, and they were no larger than the one that Fili had already killed. Two others, large chieftains, a few inches taller than the dwarves themselves, stood at a distance, watching. The imps carried long knives of brittle iron, and one held a wooden club. The tall orcs held each a curved scimitar in his hand. One carried a long, iron rod for a club, and the other wore iron plates across his bare chest for armor.

Only weeks ago, this little band would have meant nothing to two strong and well-armed Dwarves. Now, Fili and Kili were both weak with long hunger and travel; they held their swords tight in their hands and knew that every blow must be certain if they were to survive the battle, but Betta did not understand what it was to fight for her life. Before joining up with the Dwarves, she had run and hid often enough to save her own skin. She believed in her heart that Fili and Kili could beat five orcs easily if she were there to give what aid she could.

Without stopping to consider the wisdom of her actions, Betta took off the pack from her back and too up her bow, setting arrow to the string. Her shoulder was nearly healed, and she had taken care not to use it much, but as she raised her arm, she could feel the weakness in the muscles there, and it ached to bend her bow.

The orcs had not seen her yet. The little imps hesitated for a moment before dashing forward and engaging the dwarves with astonishing fierceness for their size. The two large chiefs hung back. The one with the club seemed to be the captain of their small army, and he shouted orders and many curses at his soldiers, but the orc with the armor talked back to the captain, and the two of them seemed to have a grudge of their own. Perhaps that would work to their advantage, Betta thought. She could not fire her arrows upon the imps who were grappling so close to the brothers. As optimistic as she was, she knew that she was too far away and the little ones moved too quickly for her to be sure she would hit them. She did not have enough arrows to spare even one on a missed shot, but the captain and his lieutenant stood far enough away from the dwarves, and the lieutenant himself looked more often back at the captain than ahead.

He was distracted. He was her target, Betta decided. The little ones were quick, but not strong. Fili and Kili could handle them easily enough, but the large chiefs, once they decided to fight, would be strong and better armed.

She bent her bow and took her aim, feeling a sharp pain in her shoulder, but she ignored it. The point of her arrow shook and she struggled to steady it. Her arm trembled, but she put aside her fear and doubt, thinking only of the brothers. She released the arrow and watched it fly over the river and toward the great orc.

.

When the imps ran forward, two attacked Fili first, who was the closest to the western tunnel, and Kili had only one to defend against for now, but his was quicker and more cunning with a knife. With the first swipe of its blade, it nearly took off one of his fingers. These imps were not the same skittish, starving creatures that the brothers had faced at Evendim. Though they were not battle-trained, even the smallest orc at Carn Dum learned to be quick-witted and fierce or they died. Fili had been lucky to catch the scout by surprise and to kill it before it had a chance to see what manner of steel the Dwarves carried.

These orcs knew better now, they had seen their enemies weapons and, Fili felt sure, the two chiefs that held back were only biding their time while the imps wore down their prey. He had not much strength left after carrying the heavy baggage for so long, but he comforted himself with the thought that Betta, at least, might escape.

Almost as soon as the thought passed through his mind, between one crash of steel and the next, he heard the twang of a bow and looked up to see one of Betta's crooked, wooden shafts sink deep into the left shoulder-joint of the armored orc chief.

Me'lad roared in anger and pain. His head swung round and he saw Betta standing on the stairs across the water. With a shout, he ran toward the bridge, spitting out a stream of curses that she could not understand but their meaning was clear. She had been aiming for the throat to kill him, but her weak arm had failed her. She drew another arrow, but she no longer had the element of surprise and Me'lad was running too fast. She could not hope to bring him down before he had his hands on her.

Dropping the arrow, she reached for her knife, but Fili had not needed to look to know where the shot had come from. He kicked aside one imp and with his sword drove back the other, then ducking low, he threw himself into Me'lad's path. He threw his shoulder against the great orc's side, and they both fell to the ground in a heap. Fili had wrestled often enough with his brother to be able to hold his own against a less wily orc, but after grappling for several minutes, Me'lad's massive fist struck him full in the face and sent him rolling away across the floor and almost over the ledge of the river. Fili caught himself just in time and leaped to his feet, expecting the great orc make for the bridge again.

Me'lad had fallen with a crash, but he had held onto his sword and as Fili stood up, he swung at the dwarf's chest. Fili stumbled back, thrusting out his blade blindly; it struck uselessly against Me'lad's armor. The great orc roared again, but the archer was forgotten, and he now had a taste for dwarven flesh.

The two imps that Fili had cast aside when he ran at Me'lad had recovered and they had stood back, shouting, but Me'lad had growled at them and they scampered away. They knew better than to interfere with the battles of their betters. This was Me'lad's fight.

Instead, the two imps rushed at Kili, and now he was hard-pressed to keep his feet with three orcs fighting to get behind him. He cast a desperate glance at his brother but knew that no help would come from that quarter. All that Kili could say was that he was glad that the other chief, the captain, seemed content to stand back and watch the battle with smug satisfaction. He cursed his soldiers and told them to be quick, but that was as much as he did. Kili kept his eye on the chief, however, knowing that if he turned his back for even a moment, he would most certainly find a knife in it.

By now, Betta had run down to the promenade by the river to get a better shot, but when that was not enough, she climbed to the midpoint of the arch of the bridge and stood above the battle. She had taken up her second arrow again and it was notched and ready to fire, but the imps were too close to Kili, and the lieutenant too close to Fili. For a moment, she considered taking aim at the captain, but when she pointed her arrow at him, he sneered at her and she hesitated. He seemed content to watch the battle from afar for now, for whatever reason, and she did not like to be the one that brought him into it. She hoped to have another shot at the lieutenant who was now testing his curved blade against Fili's two swords.

Kili backed as near to the edge of the river as he dared to go, but he could hear the crumbling stone falling with a splash into the water behind him. The three imps ran back and forth before him, just out of his reach, but darting in and out to test his arm and wear him down. It was only a matter of time.

Without warning, the little, crafty one took out a thin blade from its back pocket and threw it at Kili. He swung his sword to block a second imp's knife and by chance and good luck knocked the dart aside when it would have sunk into his leg. Kili knew that orc blades were often poisoned, and the dart was a frightening reminder that he must be careful to avoid even a scratch from any of their weapons.

Thinking that Kili was distracted by the dart, the third imp leaped forward, swinging his long knife, but Kili saw it clearly. The knife was sharp, but its edge was notched and the old iron was brittle and weak. With a loud cry of, "Khazâd!" Kili met the knife with his sword, and at the first touch of the stronger steel, the imp's brittle blade broke in two. The orc gave a startled cry and ran back again, gripping the broken hilt tight in its hand, the fractured blade still a deadly shank.

Kili had no time to celebrate. All three imps charged him at once, rushing in a line to drive him over the river's edge. He jumped over a low-swung blade and ducked under a higher one aimed at his throat. Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw his opening and took it, sliding between two orcs and out of their circle. As he slid, he thrust back with his sword blindly and laughed to feel it hit home.

Turning on his heels, he put his boot to the orc's back to draw out the blade from its body. The imp collapsed with a strangled cry and clutched at the gaping wound in its chest before it bled out.

The two surviving orcs shrieked with rage as they watched their comrade die, but they fled the coming wrath of the dwarf, stumbling over each other as they ran. Kili advanced on them with his bloodied blade held out before him; the eagerness of battle raised his strength and his courage. The largest orc imp, the crafty one that had given Kili so much trouble from the start, knocked over his fellow and ran for the far tunnel, looking to escape, but as he ran past the threshold of the bridge, an arrow found his throat.

Kili looked up and nodded to Betta, then advanced on the third and final imp.

Seeing his small army falling one by one, Balmuk cursed the filthy maggots and finally joined the fray. He would have thought that his gang could have taken out two rotten dwarves and a little girl, but that seemed to be too much to ask. He raised his spear and ran towards Kili, leaping over the fallen imp and moving faster than Betta could follow with her shaking arrow. Both of the great orcs knew where she was now, and both knew that she would not risk an uncertain shot past the dwarves. They did not fear her enough to throw their knives at her and risk losing the weapons, but they kept the brothers between them and her so that she could only watch helplessly, waiting for an opening.

It was an unexpected stroke of luck that arrows were not a common weapon in the cramped and crowded dungeons of Carn Dum where Balmuk had made his living. They were not often used by Dwarves, either, and in spite of the abandoned quiver, Balmuk had not expected to meet them here. It galled him to have to duck and dodge like a coward to keep from getting a feather in his neck, but he contented himself with the thought that the archer had no sword and once the dwarves were dead, he and his remaining lads would have little trouble dealing with her.

Fili watched Balmuk run at his brother, but he had his own battle to fight, and it took most of his skill to keep his feet and fend off the taller and stronger Me'lad. Balmuk's gang had feasted well the night before, and they had rested better on the hard ground, too. Though Fili's swords were the stronger, M'lad's tarnished blade was sharp and quick. It took skill to climb to the top of the heap as Balmuk had, but it took cruelty and cunning to survive as long as Me'lad had as lieutenant to a captain as capricious as he. It took all that Fili had to defend himself; he had no strength left to attack.

Betta watched in horror as both brothers were driven closer and closer to the edge of the river. The sun was setting and the room was growing dark; she could no longer see the third imp and hoped that it had taken its chance to escape. Her shoulder was in agony and she had no clear shot. She knew that she must come down from the bridge and get behind the battle lines, but to do that meant putting herself in the path of their swords and she had neither sword nor shield to defend herself.

It was only a matter of time before one or the other of the orc chiefs overwhelmed his dwarf, and at any moment the little imp might return and slip between the fighters with its knife to end the battle for them.

Fili was nearly out of breath. He had taken a good bruising when he threw himself under Me'lad's feet and, as the battle wore on, he had been pressed back but not as far as he might have been. Though Betta's arrow had not pierced Me'lad's throat, the shaft had sunk in deep to the muscle of his left shoulder. The injury hobbled him, throwing him just enough off that eventually Fili was able to duck past him, sliding his sword along the orc's left side. He had learned his lesson and, this time, he cut just below the iron plates.

Me'lad cried out and clutched his bleeding side. Fili was behind him now, his strength renewed by the sight of orc blood blackening his blade. He cried out, as his brother had, "Khazâd!" and stabbed forward, eager to bloody his second sword, but he was overconfident and Me'lad was cunning. Fili's blade caught flesh, but Me'lad swung round and the curved edge of his scimitar slid over Fili's arm. Most of the hurt was blocked by the thick, leather coat, but he took a long cut across his right forearm.

With a cry of pain, Fili drew back, and Me'lad followed, seeing his enemy's weakness. Over the great orc's shoulder, Fili could see his brother growing tired again under Balmuk's unwavering attack. He thought what would happen if Kili fell and, for an instant, Fili's courage failed him as it had upon the hillside when the wolves had surrounded them. He thought – too soon – that the battle was lost.

Thinking that his enemy was already defeated, Me'lad laughed out loud and leaped forward, his sword raised for the killing blow.

The great orc leaped forward and then fell back with a cry of surprise. Sticking out of his back, just to the right of his spine, was the feathered shaft of Betta's last arrow. Something important must have been severed because Me'lad's right arm hung limp at his side and he struggled in vain with his injured left to remove the offending shaft from his back. Fili had distracted the great orc just long enough that Betta had been able to run down from the bridge. She stood along the ledge between the river and Kili who still struggled with Balmuk and had taken her shot the moment that Me'lad turned his back to her.

Me'lad shrieked at her, but he was too wounded to fight. He had only one arm left, and that one was injured. Fili rose to his feet, his swords shining bright in the last of the daylight and his anger was as hot as the fire in the heart of the forge. He prepared to strike his own killing blow and end his enemy once and for all.

But though Me'lad was ready to fall, Balmuk still stood strong and uninjured, fresh to the field of battle. Kili had been worn down by the imps and not even his new strength was enough; he had not yet won any points for himself. Seeing Me'lad nearly spent and all the rest of his gang destroyed, Balmuk knew that even if he managed to kill both dwarves himself, he could not build a kingdom without maggots to order around. He would be forced to run back to the fortress with his tail between his legs.

No! He could not face that humiliation. He swung his sword at the impertinent Dwarf, but Kili blocked it with his own. Blade to blade, they struggled but Balmuk's desperation made him weak. Kili saw Betta's arrow take down Me'lad. He laughed out loud and threw Balmuk onto his back. The captain of the orcs knew that this was not a fight that he could win.

Balmuk looked around him and spotted the last little imp, the only survivor, cowering almost invisible in the shadows of the wall. "You, maggot!" he shouted. "Get over here and help me!"

The imp shrieked in terror and darted forward, teeth bared and waving its club, but it did not run at Kili or even Fili, though Me'lad was dragging his beaten body back from the dwarf's rage. No, the imp saw Betta as the least threatening, and it ran at her where she stood by the river's edge. Her eyes were on Fili, watching eagerly to see him win his fight. She did not see the imp.

"Betta! Behind you!" Fili shouted.

Me'lad was injured, but not yet defeated. He took his chance as Fili turned away. He rose up on his knees and thrust his shoulder into Fili's stomach. At the same instant, Balmuk threw all his weight into his sword. He knocked Kili back, but did not wait to finish the fight; he fled toward the tunnel as Kili hit the ground. He had heard his brother's shout and saw the orc imp running at Betta. As best he could, he threw out his arm, swinging his sword at the imp's ankles but he could not stop its headlong flight.

The imp stumbled over Kili's sword and fell, but forward, and it crashed into Betta's side. She had not had time to get out of the way. They both stumbled on the edge of the riverbank where Kili had stood before. The stone there was weakened already and crumbling; the weight of both Betta and the imp was too much for it. The ledge broke under them, and they both fell.

"Betta!" Kili shouted. He dropped his sword at the river's edge and threw himself forward, arms outstretched. At the last moment, he caught hold of Betta's hand.

The imp fell, clutching at Betta's legs and dragging her down, but Kili held on and the strong current of the stream was too much for the little orc. It was torn free from her and washed away screaming into the darkness under the western arch.

"Hold on!" Kili said, speaking through clenched teeth. He lay on his belly on the cold, crumbling stone. With one hand, he held tight to Betta's hand, and with the other, he gripped the ledge to keep himself from falling in after her. She cried out as her injured shoulder was twisted under the weight of her body and the cold water washed over her legs, soaking into her clothes and dragging her down. She was too weak to pull herself up, and Kili was too precariously balanced to move or shift his grip on her. They were trapped.

"Fili!" Kili shouted, but even as he called for his brother's aid, he knew that Fili could not help them. With one strong orc chief to fight and another injured but alive, Fili could not risk coming to Betta's rescue. It would take all his attention to keep the orcs back; Kili was helpless to defend himself while he held onto Betta.

"Hold on, Betta." He looked down at her and knew that it was hopeless. Neither brother could succeed without the other. It would take both dwarves to pull her out of the river, and it would take both to defeat the two orc chiefs.

Kili knew it and, as he looked into Betta's eyes, he saw that she knew it, too. They were only waiting for the orcs to defeat Fili and put a knife in Kili's back. He would lose his hold on her then and Betta would be swept away. They had lost the battle. They had failed.

Betta's face was pale and there was fear in her eyes, but she suddenly smiled as she looked up at Kili. He could not be sure that he saw her mouth move, but he heard her voice say, "Let go."

"No, I…" But before he could speak, she had let go of his hand. Their hold was tenuous, and with a twist of her wrist, she slipped out of his grasp. Kili was left holding only her glove in his hand and the swift waters took her as they had taken the imp. She did not cry out; she was gone.

"Betta!"

Overwhelmed by his grief, Kili barely recognized the sound of a heavy boot scuffed on the stone floor behind him. Instinct took hold of his body and he rolled aside just before a heavy iron club struck the ground where he had lain. Balmuk had returned!

In his heart, the captain of the orcs was a coward who had won his place not through fighting but by selling out his competition and, though he would always fly from a fair fight, when he looked back and saw Kili trapped on the edge of the river, he had returned with his sword and the determination to kill at least one dwarf this day.

But he had waited too long. Betta had guessed that he would come and she had given up her life to save the brothers. Kili was on his feet again, his grief turned to a white-hot rage. As Balmuk threw himself at the impertinent dwarf, Kili raised his sword and with a shout so loud that it echoed through the deep chasm and up into the open air, he charged. Balmuk could only watch as the long, steel blade was thrust through his belly, sinking in up to the hilt, but Kili was not done. With another loud cry of grief, he wrenched the blade aside, opening up the orc's stomach and spilling his insides.

The great orc collapsed dead on the pile of his own filth, and that was the end of Balmuk the Greedy. Kili drew his sword out from the dead orc's body and with a single, powerful stroke, he beheaded the orc.

The head rolled away, bouncing along the smooth floor until it came to rest at Me'lad's feet. When Kili had shouted, both Me'lad and Fili had frozen in the midst of their battle and turned to watch him skewer the orc captain. Now, as Me'lad looked down into Balmuk's unseeing eyes, he gave up the fight. He surveyed the room and the orc bodies scattered about, the two vengeful dwarves baring down on him. He saw the quiver, the prize that had started this mess, which Balmuk had dropped on the threshold of the southwest tunnel.

With a hiss, Me'lad swung his sword wildly, catching Fili by surprise, but he was not attacking, he was escaping. The injured orc turned on his heels and ran, stooping to snatch up the quiver as he darted back into the tunnels. He was not too proud to return to Carn Dum. With his prize he would declare himself a dwarf-killer, whether it was true or not, and he would build his own gang and be a Chief at the fortress without needed to seek his kingdom elsewhere as the foolish Balmuk had done.

The orcs were all either dead or gone, and a deep silence fell upon the chasm. The only sound was the gentle rushing of the river. Kili stared down at the remains of his vanquished foe. He stumbled back from the stinking carcass and collapsed onto his knees too tired to fight the tears that poured down his cheeks.

Slowly, Fili turned from the tunnel after watching Me'lad flee. He turned to Kili and looked at his brother with empty eyes. His face was gray and his voice raw from the cries of battle, his words rang hollow as he spoke.

"Where is she, Kili?" he asked.

But Kili only shook his head and gestured toward the river. He could not speak the words aloud.

Fili stumbled forward. "Where is she?" he demanded. "Kili!" He fell to his knees in front of his brother and took hold of his shoulders, shaking him. "You dropped her, Kili! You let her go!" he shouted.

Kili did not fight his brother's anger. He saw the tears in Fili's eyes and shook his head sadly. "I did not let go," he said. "She let go of me, Fili… She let go to save me, to save us both."

Fili stared at his brother, his hands holding so tight to Kili's arms that bruises blossomed under his fingertips, but Kili did not flinch or look away.

"She is dead, Fili," he said.