Hy-O!!!! Did you miss me? A HUGE thanks to all of you who reviewed and private messaged me! Your reviews are the reason I found the motivation/time to edit my story to the point I was comfortable letting it out into the world. After a while, the positive reviews made it so I couldn't bear to leave you all hanging! Also thank you to the hidden people who favorited and followed!

This chapter was 11k and I chopped 3k off and put it into the next chapter. Please let me know what you think! And enjoy!

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"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do." -Eleanor Roosevelt

~Chapter 25~

Sixteen Funny Birds in A Tree

"WHERE IS MY HOBBIT?!" Gandalf's voice booms through the air, full of anger and desperation.

I can't bring myself to look back at the others, my gaze remaining fixed on the path we've traveled, leading towards the imposing mountain. The once exhilarating feeling of joy that had coursed through my veins, ignited by the warmth of the sun, now fades into oblivion as a black dread consumes my heart. We faced the goblins, confronted our fears, but has it all been in vain?

The towering pine trees obstruct my view of the cavern entrance, but still, I cannot tear my eyes away from where I know it's located. Please, Bilbo... please be okay. You have stronger plot armor than I do, damn it! If I can endure, so can you!

Amidst the chaos behind me, I hear Dwalin muttering a string of words in Khuzdul. His gruff voice barely cuts through the tension that hangs in the air. Gloin's voice joins in, rough with stress, "I thought he was with Dori!"

"Don't blame me!" Dori's voice rings out, laced with panic.

"Well, where did you last see him?!" Gandalf's voice trembles with despair, searching for answers amidst the chaos.

"I think I saw him slip away when they first cornered us!" Nori suddenly remembers, his voice breaking through the silence that followed.

I draw in a sharp breath as I finally force myself to turn my eyes from the mountain to seek Nori's. "At the beginning? When we first fell down the chute?!" I ask, my voice filled with urgency.

All the company's gazes seem to have already been fixated on me before I had turned around. Their expressions are full of remorse, anxiety, and pensiveness at how I'll react to Bilbo's disappearance. "Aye, I saw him slip away right at the very beginning," Nori says softly, as if he's choosing his words carefully.

I turn back to face the mountain, my mind racing. Bilbo would have taken the opportunity to quietly follow us, I know it! So why didn't he? Where is he now?

"And then what happened?" Gandalf pleads when the dwarves fall into an uneasy silence. "TELL ME!"

"I believe that Master Baggins saw his chance, and he took it," Thorin's deep voice rumbles calmly. Even though he's responding to Gandalf's question, I can feel his words are directed at me. I can't bring myself to look back and away from the trail, still holding onto a sliver of hope. "He's been yearning for his soft bed and warm hearth ever since he set foot outside his front door," Thorin continues.

"NO!" I whisper, my voice filled with anguish as I close my eyes, trying to shut out the horrible idea. I take deep breaths, but my breathing is ragged, and I finally glance back at Thorin. He's standing there to the side of the company, watching me solemnly. I shake my head at him fiercely, tears welling up in my eyes. "Bilbo would NEVER do that!"

His blue eyes briefly show a hint of pity, but he doesn't retract his words. I turn my gaze back towards the mountain, a sense of hopelessness washing over me. Bilbo wouldn't... would he? How could he even climb back to the trail with how twisted the chute was?! What can we do now?

What happens next in the book? More likely than not, Bilbo is now wandering around the catwalks of Goblin town looking for a way out. A surge of despair clouds my thoughts, threatening to drown me and my breathing becomes frantic. Tears well up in my eyes.

I can't just stand here. I can't just leave him behind and continue on with the others. I would never be able to forgive myself. But what else can I possibly do?

Grim determination takes hold as I start to slowly walk back up the hill, intent on retracing our steps. But my feet feel heavy, as if they know I am walking willingly towards my own doom.

Protests erupt from the company behind me, and suddenly, my arm is grabbed from behind, forcefully turning me to face Thorin. His voice is harsh, filled with disbelief. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm going back," I choke out, my attempt at sounding firm failing as my voice cracks. "I know it's foolish. I know there's little hope of accomplishing anything. But I can't just walk away."

"Your hobbit is dead, Peyton!" Thorin's thunders out and voice pierces through me, cutting like a blade. "Can't you see that?!" He looks as if he wishes to shake some sense into me as his other hand grips my other shoulder, turning me fully back towards him but doesn't.

"He's my best friend and his name is Bilbo!" I cry, my body wracked with the weight of my grief. "I can't just leave him! I can't just...It's my fault he's... he's..."

I break, clapping my hand over my mouth with sobs as the horror of the situation washes over me. The weight of my failure and despair is suffocating, and I find myself leaning into Thorin, unable to help myself. I feel weak, hopeless, but when I think of strength, I think of Thorin. I feel his strong arms gently, almost hesitantly, wrap around me.

Comforting a distraught woman is probably not his forte, but he's doing a surprisingly good job. It's almost like an invisible barrier has disappeared between us ever since we were pressed up against one another in the dwarf pile. Since then, we've remained close through the chaos and danger of the goblin tunnels. Any touches between us now seem mild and innocent compared to being literally squeezed together uncomfortably like that and breathing in each other's necks.

He says nothing for a moment, just holds me as I cry. And then his deep, gentle voice rumbles through me, "Bilbo may yet be alive and on his way back to the Shire. But even if that is not the case...there is nothing you can do for him now."

I shake my head, trying to breathe, "He's a-always been there for m-me and I f-failed him! I've failed e-everyone!"

And then a voice I thought I'd never hear again tenderly speaks up, cutting through the despair, "No. You didn't."

I gasp, turning my tear stricken face to see Bilbo Baggins himself standing there beside a tree, a tender smile on his face.

"BILBO!!" I shout, at the same time as the rest of the company cry out, a mix of voices filled with unimaginable joy and confusion.

I rush over to him, overwhelmed with relief. I squeeze him in a huge bear hug before finally pulling away, my hands still trembling.

Then the words burst out of me like a torrent, filled with a mix of anger and relief as I start shaking him by the shoulders, "YOU. NEARLY. GAVE ME. A. HEART ATTACK! Why didn't you show up sooner?!?"

Gandalf calls out, his voice filled with amusement as he leans on his staff in relief. "Be careful with our burglar, Miss Peyton. It's obvious he has quite the story to tell."

I stop shaking Bilbo when I notice him grimacing and wincing. I take in his extra dirty clothes and disheveled appearance, concern filling me. I go back to hugging him instead of shaking him, gently holding on to him. "Are you okay? What happened?" I ask with a worried tone.

Bilbo breathes out a relieved chuckle, hugging me back. I think he mouths a 'thank you' to Gandalf over my shoulder before saying out loud, "I had a tussle with a goblin and took a nasty fall into a deep crevice. I'm a little bruised but... I'll be alright."

"We'd given you up, Bilbo! It's a miracle!" Fili exclaims as he and the rest of the company join us, their faces beaming with relief.

"How'd you make it past the Goblins?" Kili breathes in wonder.

Bilbo gives a shrug, a strange almost sly smile on his face. I notice a glint of yellow winking from his hand before he puts it into his pocket. My mind feels strangely hazy, going momentarily blank before I snap out of it and a smile spreads across my face. He's got it! He's got the ring! Oh, praise the Valar!

"Well what does it matter? He's here!" Gandalf says, his voice taking on a strange quality.

"No. I want to know. Why did you come back?" We all turn to see Thorin still standing where I left him, his expression unreadable.

Bilbo puts a hand on my shoulder, perhaps sensing that I'm about to start yelling at Thorin for asking such a thing before stepping forward to face him himself. "Look, I know you doubt me. You always have," Bilbo speaks with frankness, surprising me with his direct approach. "And...and you're right! I DO miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden! Because, well, because that's where I belong. In Bag End, that is. That's my home." He doesn't shy away from the truth, acknowledging that it's okay for him to miss home. "And I stayed because... well, because you don't have one. A home, that is. It was taken from you." Bilbo's expression is pure, his words sincere. "But I will help take it back if I can."

My throat tightens, overwhelmed with emotion and a sense of astonishment. Bilbo ventured into the darkness of nightmares and came out as a conqueror. A stronger hobbit than I've ever seen stands before me now. The rest of the company can feel it too. Shocked into silence, they can only look at him, their faces reflecting how touched their hearts are by his words. I glance over at their King and in a rare moment, Thorin Oakenshield looks ashamed. Embarrassed, even, in the face of Bilbo's heartfelt conviction. He hadn't truly considered Bilbo's sacrifice until now, the enormity of it sinking in. It's okay to miss home. Every single person in the company misses home.

I wipe away the new fresh set of tears rolling down my cheeks, trying to compose myself. Ugh, I love this story so friggin' much! I'm such a mess.

At my soft sniffles, I quickly wave away everyone's concerned looks in embarrassment, "Don't mind me everyone, I'm fine." Sobbing because I thought Bilbo was dead and now crying because Bilbo's amazing...I'm SO exhausted right now. It's been a long day and I would love nothing more than to sleep.

Ever the considerate one, Bilbo hands me our handkerchief that we have joint custody over, which elicits a small chuckle out of me at the familiar offer. There are so many funny memories associated with this now very un-white piece of embroidered cloth.

Thorin, a bit subdued, tries to hide his embarrassment with quiet annoyance. "Did you at least get the ring?" he asks, his voice grumbling.

Bilbo's eyes widen in shock before glancing over at me questioningly. I smile at him, offering an embarrassed grimace. I feel chagrined, having told Thorin about the ring before telling the ring-bearer himself. It's not like I wanted to! Why did I make that stupid oath?!

"Well! It would have been nice to know about the ring before anyone else knew about it." Bilbo says with a twitch of his nose to no one in particular, before giving me an almost betrayed look.

I open my mouth to explain but Gandalf's gruff voice cuts me off, startling me, "Ring? What ring?"

Gandalf's whole body is tense as he holds his staff tightly. My mind races as I frantically think of an excuse. I cannot, under any circumstances, reveal the true nature of the ring to him. He's supposed to go to Gondor to do research about it. The book, cartoon, and live-action Lord of the Ring movie are for once ALL in agreement: Gandalf is meant to be oblivious to it.

I wave off his concerns like little butterflies around my head, trying to sound nonchalant. "Psssh, oh, don't worry, Gandalf. It's just a ring! It'll help us with our journey." Liar liar, pants on fire.

Gandalf looks at me, torn between curiosity and suspicion. Obviously wondering if my out-of-world knowledge extends to the Ring of Power, but he seems to relax a little at my words. Thankfully, he doesn't press the matter further and I'm grateful he doesn't have a lie detector.

"What's all this about a ring, then?" Balin speaks up, his tone suspicious. He might actually have a lie detector.

Bilbo clears his throat, seeming uncomfortable with the fact that everyone is now aware he has a secret ring. He didn't plan on keeping it a secret, did he? In the book, he was very open about it.

"Ah, yes. I won it in a game of riddles," Bilbo explains, putting his hand in his pocket but not bringing out the ring to show us. "It... makes me invisible. That's how I made it out of the mountain unseen."

Gandalf furrows his brow, clearly puzzled. "I've never heard of a ring doing such a thing."

I mimic Bilbo's shrug, trying to play it cool as well. "Yeah, it's special. Not as special as some rings, perhaps, but it'll help us."

Only two people ever had the ring in their possession after Sauron; Isildur and Sméagol. And it's not like they went around broadcasting that it made them disappear to everyone.

"Good. Then the trip through the Goblin tunnels wasn't a complete waste of our time," Thorin mutters lowly, shooting me a frustrated look. I can tell he's very displeased, as if it's my fault that we went through the Goblin Tunnels after he had gone to such lengths to avoid them.

"Hey, I'm innocent of this whole thing!" I hold my hands up in surrender and smirk at him, trying to pretend like his anger doesn't bother me. "I told you the future, you tried to avoid it, and it still happened! So be happy that everything is on schedule and you're still well on your way to get your mountain back! Besides, now Bilbo can burglar even better than before!" I shoot a smile at Bilbo, the joy of him being alive and with the ring making me giddy.

"And what of Azog?" Thorin demands. His anger seems to simmer at my nonchalant attitude, but his eyes flash with concern. "What is this about him looking for you?"

My throat tightens and my giddiness falters as I realize that this is indeed a serious matter. "I... Do you remember those dreams I told you about?" I clear my throat, hating that my voice trembles slightly.

Thorin furrows his brow, his gaze fixed on me. "Aye. The ones about your family mourning your death, and the being of darkness residing in a castle? I thought you haven't dreamt of them for some time?"

I'm surprised that he remembers; it's been so long ago. "Well, yes, the dreams of my family stopped...but the 'mist monster' didn't. And I guess they aren't exactly dreams." I grimace, feeling a mix of fear and uncertainty. "Apparently I'm...dreamwalking or something like that? I don't fully understand it myself. But, anyway, I guess the dark guy is called the Necromancer who-"

"The Necromancer?!" Gandalf interrupts, taking a step forward, his blue eyes gazing intently at me.

I wither under his gaze, feeling a twinge of guilt for not telling him or Bilbo anything while confiding in Thorin. To be fair, Gandalf isn't around most of the time, and I kept forgetting to bring it up whenever he was.

Nodding, I manage to keep my voice steady this time, "Yeah, have you heard of him?"

Gandalf's eyes widen with concern. "Radagast told me about him. He-"

A familiar howl pierces through the air, cutting off Gandalf's words. Fear grips all of us as we realize the danger we were in. Wargs?! It's not even nightfall yet! I thought we had more time!

Frantically, I turn in a circle, scanning the surroundings for a large tree to climb. But panic sets in as none of the trees seem suitable for sixteen people to 'chill' in. We should have been running instead of chatting here!

"Uh, yeah, we're gonna have to talk about this later guys," I proclaim. "It's cardio time again! Chop chop!"

Without waiting for a response, I turn and sprint downhill, desperately searching for a large tree that can accommodate all of us. I glance behind me to check on them but, like idiots, they're all staring up at where the wargs are coming from.

"Come ON you guys!" I yell back at them as I continue running. Every single one of them runs faster than me anyways, even Bilbo, so I know they'll catch up. But concern hits me as I leap over rocks and logs, almost tripping over them. I feel...weary. My muscles are exhausted from running through the Goblin tunnels and I realize I won't be able to run from the wargs like last time.

The dwarves catch up like I knew they would, but clearly my running isn't a fast enough pace for them because Thorin grabs me by the arm and yanks me after him. I only risk a backward glance once the sounds of dwarves fighting with the wargs reaches my ears.

The sight of the snarling wargs unleashed a rush of memories like a tidal wave. Vivid images of terrifying sharp teeth, the feel of a suffocating pressure on my chest, and the putrid stench from a gaping pink throat floods my senses. I force myself to face forward and urge my legs to move faster. Thankfully, gravity is on my side, and I allow the downward slope to propel me forward.

Soon, I'm outpacing Thorin. Oh wait...no, he just let me pass him so he can fend off the wargs hot on our trail. My focus shifts to the task at hand- just putting one foot in front of the other, hoping I don't trip at this speed.

Sprinting full-pelt towards what I think is safety, my speed abruptly halts. My arms flail wildly as I find myself at the edge of a sheer hundred-foot drop, teetering over the edge. The back of my jacket is grabbed and I'm yanked roughly back before the fall can claim me.

"Thanks Nori!" I breathe out when I see the familiar star shaped hairdo of my friend.

"Where do we go now, Pey?" He asks in response, glancing back the way we've come worriedly.

I take a moment to draw air into my lungs and quickly analyze the situation. We must have taken a wrong turn! Looking back, I notice the trees are denser and taller here and there's a few with some low branches. Perfect for a short girl like me to climb. Nothing big enough for 16 people though.

I immediately run over to a tree, ignoring my muscles protest as I hoist myself up desperately, gripping the dead stubs of branches. The tree's rough bark scrapes against my palms and pine needles snag at my hair, but I press upwards.

Gandalf and the other dwarves observe my pitiful attempt at climbing before Gandalf finally stirs them into action. "Into the trees! CLIMB!"

Gandalf comes up the tree after me and I'm surprised about how fast he can do it while in his grey bathrobe. I chuckle a little in an odd moment of distraction. I'm glad I didn't climb up after him! Hopefully he has some grey shorts underneath-

"They're coming!" Thorin's roar, snaps me out of my ridiculous musings. He and a few others had arrived late and are now climbing into three of the trees in front of us. I wish I was in Thorin's tree as this one is too close to the edge for comfort. I cling tighter to the rough limbs.

Craning my neck, I'm shocked to see Bilbo, still on the ground with his sword firmly lodged in a warg's skull. My mouth drops open. Did he actually...did he actually kill a warg single-handedly?!? Whaaaaaa?!?

"Bilbo! Hurry!!!" I scream at him, terrified as I see more wargs rushing into the clearing.

By a hair's breadth, Bilbo scrambles up into the safety of a tree just as the grey fur of the wargs rush underneath. I let out a sigh in relief. We're safe! Well, I mean, as safe as we can be in a situation like this. All of us are spread out over three separate trees.

We're supposed to only be in one large tree but we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Obviously my fault since I was leading the company towards a friggin' cliff.

The low growl of the wargs resonates through the silent night and I release the self loathing I harbor. What's done is done. The danger is too close to focus on anything else as the warg's eyes look up at us, promising violence. I get myself comfy in the tree, hoping to hear some orcs start singing. This should be good!

But my tired, odd thoughts are disrupted when a pale figure in my peripherals captures my attention. I look up in curiosity only for my blood to run cold. A HUGE pale orce rides slowly into view upon an enormous white warg.

Azog the Defiler.

The symmetrical scars are a vibrant red against his pale white skin, covering his hulking body as they stretch across the expanse of his broad torso and down his muscled arms. The hand that Thorin had chopped off is sporting a long metal prong, stabbed right through his bone. The sight causes my stomach to swirl.

This is the guy that I'm supposedly supposed to save Thorin from?! He was born and bred for this! For destruction! For death.

I want to turn and glare at Gandalf. To look at his pale face and raise an unamused eyebrow in a clear 'I-told-you-so!' fashion. But fear keeps my gaze locked on the pale monster. I decide that the red scars on Azog, despite their intimidation, are not the most alarming part of him.

It's his eyes.

They shine out brightly, almost too brightly, against his pale skin.

Azog speaks and it sounds like a guttural nightmare- a strange, oozing language that seeps out of his strange lips like sludge. Glancing over at Thorin, I see anger seething within him, his back heaving with heavy breaths. I'm glad I informed Thorin about Azog being alive, even though I'd had no idea he would show up sooner than the Battle of the Five Armies. At least it gave him some preparation for this.

But then Azog's unsettling eyes rest on me.

Panic rises within me and my stomach feels like it's full of solid ice as his strange lips transform in a grin, revealing sharp glinting teeth.

But suddenly, a memory hits me of when I gazed at Galadriel's mirror. I recognize the expression on his face! Despite the tension of the stressful situation, I actually feel a huge rush of relief. We must be in the right place, at the right time! So, we're doing good, right?

But his evil eyes remain fixed on me as he continues his torment in harsh syllables. The dwarves tense up, their worried glances flicking towards me. Confused, I realize that Azog must be talking about me, but what could he possibly be saying?

"What's he saying?" I turn to Fili, who's perched beside me, hoping for some answers.

But Fili simply shakes his head, not replying. Annoyance seizes me at his non-answer.

"Fili! What's he saying?" I hiss, panic underlying each word.

"You don't want to know," He growls, glaring at Azog with hatred. I've never seen Fili's cheerful laughing face look like that.

"The hell I don- Ugh! FINE." If you want something done around here you have to do it yourself. Out of sheer frustration, I resolve to find out myself. "Uhh, excuse me!" I call out loudly to Azog, catching everyone off guard.

"Peyton!" Fili's head snaps to look at me, shocked by my audacity. "Don't!"

But, I feel confident! Or tired... But my plot armor must be pretty good since we survived the Goblins despite all odds. And Bilbo did, in fact, find the ring! I wasn't sure if we would survive, but we did. So, I'm 99% we'll survive this too.

I ignore Fili, my eyes locking with Azog's unsettling gaze. He's silent, so I take it as him listening. "Yes, you! Uhh, I don't understand a word you're saying, so if you could use English, I mean...Westron? You know, the common tongue? Then I would really appreciate it. That will be all. Thank you." I tack on the awkward thank you towards the end. Mother taught me to be polite, but I don't think she meant in these kinds of situations.

Silence engulfs us. It's so deafening, that for a moment it's so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Azog finally breaks the silence, responding to my audacity with an evil laugh. The sound echoes out into the night, sending a shiver down my spine, like I just told him a malicious joke. It's so menacing that I'm instantly reminded of the Necromancer.

But it seems to do the trick because this time Azog does speak in Westron. "You have courage, human," he sneers. "I will indeed savor crushing it when I present you to my Master." His accent still carries the same guttural quality, but his words flow in strange patterns, as if his tongue and throat are unaccustomed to shaping sounds in English.

I bristle, and call out to him defiantly, "Yeah? W-well, tell your Master that his days are numbered! He's not even around in the next fifty years! So, he'll be dead within a human lifetime from now. Or…wait…isn't he already dead? He's like, a spirit, right?" Confusion mixes with my anger as I contemplate the notion of killing someone who is already dead. How do you kill an already dead person?

"Peyton, do stop talking," Gandalf wisely interjects, realizing that my exhausted brain isn't functioning at the same caliber it usually does.

Azog narrows his eyes and raises his menacing mace, clearly done with attempting communication, "Feast on their bones! Spare the human. And bring me Oakenshield's head!" I can tell he said that in Westron with the intent to scare me.

The wargs yip and growl excitedly, rushing towards our tree at his command. Their hunger drives them to tear off every limb they can reach, causing the tree to tremble. With jaws like steel traps, they snap at the branches, pulling them down as if they were mere twigs. Thankfully, their inability to climb prevents them from reaching us easily. However, a few tenacious wargs manage to make their way up, requiring well-placed kicks to knock them back down.

Suddenly, the two trees in front of me begin to topple, weakened by the wargs' weight tearing at the branches and roots.

My soul leaves my body as I watch the company barely make it from tree to tree. I have to close my eyes and look away as I watch Bombur struggling to stay on his branch, almost positive that he will fall, but miraculously he manages to hold on. At last we're all in a single tree, like sixteen happy birds. Except we're not happy.

The wargs continue their relentless assault, but it's harder for them to reach us in this particular pine tree as we're literally on the cliffs edge. I desperately scan the skies, hoping to catch sight of any winged creatures approaching.

"Gandalf!" I yell up to him, noticing that he's climbed above me while I had been distracted, "Have you called the eagles yet?!"

"Yes!" he calls back, his gruff voice filled with urgency. "But they will not arrive for some time!"

Shoot. I look back down at the wargs, chomping and scratching away at our tree. We need to find a way to distract them or else we won't make it!

A fireball suddenly shoots out from above me, smacking right into a warg below! The animal yelps in pain and whimpers like a pup as it runs back to its master.

I look up in astonishment to see Gandalf passing around flaming pinecones like the seasoned fire wizard he pretends not to be. He proceeds to pass the hot pinecones down to the rest of everyone else, encouraging them to throw. It works, and soon the wargs have scampered away from the tree as the fire burns hot and bright in front of us, filling the air with smoke.

And then our tree goes. And everything becomes a blur.

All I know is that Dori and Ori are suddenly clinging to Gandalf's staff, their lives hanging by a thread and that Thorin is swiftly pulling me up from where I had almost fallen as well, his strong grip an anchor amidst the chaos. I cling to the branch he sent me on, but then he stands up, his dark hair the only thing I see amidst the heat and flames, his gaze fixed on Azog.

"Thorin? What are you doing?!" I ask in horror, my grip tightening on the tree. It's almost as if he can't hear me. The anger emanating from him is palpable as he begins walking with precision towards Azog. "No! No, don't!" I call out in disbelief, struggling to get up so I can stop him. He breaks into a run, intent on finishing Azog now rather than later at the Battle of the Five Armies. As I move to stand, my branch breaks, and I fall again, catching the branch. The pine needles pushing at my face and neck don't even fade me as I shout for someone to stop him and cling tighter to my branch.

"Somebody stop him! Please! Don't let him go!"

Panic courses through me as I frantically hope that someone, anyone, will stop him. Gandalf would, but Dori and Ori are dangling from his staff, their lives depending on him. Dwalin, always quick-witted, rushes to help, but his own branch snaps and he is suddenly dangling by strips of wood just like me.

"Somebody help him!" I scream at whoever is up there, someone who isn't hanging on for dear life. "Please! Help Thorin!"

I can't see anything happening. I can't stop anything. I turn to look at Gandalf whose teeth are grit as he holds Dori and Ori as best he can, but his eyes are on what's happening between Azog and Thorin. And whatever he's seeing is not good.

"Thorin! No!" I cry hopelessly. That stupid dwarf is going to get himself killed! I think I can hear a commotion but I can't be sure, an orc shrieking in agony. Could it be Azog? Did Thorin win!?

Suddenly a hand appears before my face and I look up in surprise and relief at Kili's face before I grip it with all my strength, allowing him to pull me up. I notice Fili pulling Dwalin up as well.

"COME ON!" Kili's voice yells at me through the chaos. He turns and the others sprint away from the tree with me right behind them.

But...Then, I catch sight my first sight of them, and my muscles weaken with despair. Thorin lies motionless on the ground. But Bilbo is standing in front of him!

He holds Sting with determination and swipes it into the air to fend off the encroaching wargs. Bilbo saved Thorin?!? Impossible. But...he did! Even though Thorin has treated him with nothing but disdain this entire trip, Bilbo was the only one not struggling to stay on the tree and to hear my cries for someone to help him.

Dwalin and the others reach the wargs first, slicing at their necks and snouts. Swinging Varzsiel, my blade, I slice at a warg's nose, cutting deep into its grey fur. The hideous creature howls and barks in agony, retreating momentarily. However, the orc riding atop the warg bares his blackened teeth at me. Fili comes out of nowhere and smashes his sword upward and inwards, killing the orc underneath his jaw. Woah. I shoot Fili a respectful look.

I turn my attention back to where Thorin lies and rush to his side, both fear and hope swelling within me. "Thorin! THORIN!? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" I desperately grab his bearded face with my trembling hands, hoping to get a reaction.

He's still breathing!

He moans softly, but doesn't open his eyes. His lips seem to murmur something, but I can't make out the words. The strange rhythm of his breathing sends a chilling realization through me. His lungs sound like they've been punctured! Did he get stabbed?!

A surge of anger mixed with tears washes over me, and I can't help but whisper furiously, "What were you thinking?" My voice wavers with a mixture of frustration and concern as I take in the sight of his cut and bloodied face between my pale hands. The foreign feeling of his beard on my fingers creates an unexpectedly soft reaction inside me, and I feel a brief flash of sympathy. He was trying to avenge his family. It was stupid, yes, but if someone murdered my brother and father and grandpa...would I not be as equally stupid?

Before I can check for any other injuries, my attention is diverted as Bilbo is unceremoniously thrown over us, crashing onto the unforgiving ground. I turn my head to see his dazed expression, but fear clouds his eyes, his attention captured by something behind me.

The growl that follows confirms my worst fears, and I turn to meet the gaze of Azog, still astride his menacing white warg. Oh crap. Panic grips me as his strange eyes lock onto my proximity to Thorin with interest, my hands still lingering on his warm bearded cheeks.

Reluctantly, I release his unconscious face and slowly rise to my feet, never breaking eye contact with the Defiler. His pale skin reflects the orange glow of the flames, and a malicious smirk plays across his lips as he studies me standing before him. In that moment, a crazy thought floods my mind—This is the perfect opportunity to kill him! If I can end his reign of terror now, then Thorin, Fili, and Kili will be saved!

Obviously, Thorin and I are on the same level of stupid because we both think of the same idea. I'm worse though, since I clearly didn't learn from Thorin's horrible decision earlier. But, I have plot armor, don't I? I turn to fully face Azog, Varzsiel gleaming at my side. A rush of determination courses through me, blurring the lines between bravery and foolishness.

"I do not know what my master wants with one such as you." He sneers, his voice a the mix of deep rasp and rumble, the words themselves struggle to escape his tongue. "You hardly seem worth the effort."

The words slip from my lips in anger before I have a chance to fully consider the consequences, "Get off your dog and find out!"

For a moment, Azog pauses, considering me, before his evil smirk widens and a nod of mock acknowledgment. He dismounts his towering white warg as I requested, causing me to almost pee my pants.

Uhh, Peyton? You idiot! Why did you just say that?!

Regret instantly entangles itself with the adrenaline rushing through my veins. How can I be so stupid? Distract him, sure, but fight him?! Even now, I feel my strength slipping away. I barely have the strength to hold Varzsiel! Hiking through a storm, riding a Rock Giant's knee, falling down a chute, getting scratched up by Goblins, running from said Goblins, bawling my eyes out over Bilbo, only to run again from wargs and cling to a pine tree for dear life!!! And I haven't eaten all day! Just some bread and jerky on the Goblin King's front porch!

Azog lifts up an enormous white hand and beckons once to me in twisted amusement. "Come," he goads.

Dread swells within me like a tidal wave, but in that moment I really don't have a choice. Glancing back at Thorin, still unconscious on the ground, and Bilbo, struggling to recover nearby...no one else is here to defend them except me. The others are still engaged with the wargs and other orcs, so I can't run away screaming like every cell in my body is pleading for me to do.

I have to face him, even if it feels like a mouse facing a lion. My mind also helpfully supplies the fact that Azog has a freaking metal prod stabbed through his bone. That sort of constant daily pain means I have to strike a vital organ like his brain, neck, or heart in order to have an effect on him—multiple times. I can't even land a hit on Thorin without cheating!

As I reluctantly approach the pale orc, the weight of my earlier bravado settles into a pit of regret. Only a glimmer of hope remains, if I can even call it that. He said he would take me to the Necromancer? So, that means he doesn't plan on killing me, right?

But if the Necromancer is as terrifying in real life as he is in my nightmares, maybe death is the better option. But then again, if Azog does kill me...couldn't the Necromancer theoretically bring me back? He is a necromancer, after all.

Better not test that theory, I think to myself. I grip the hilt of my sword tighter, ready to defend Thorin and Bilbo.

Azog's amused smirk turns to disdain and ridicule as I raise my sword and take my stance, trembling from head to toe. But instead of striking, his icy eyes bore into me, as if trying to understand something. "You are a fool," he sneers, his peculiar voice oozing a mixture of mockery and confusion. "You cannot even hope to defeat me, and yet you insist on facing me. Why?" He obviously hadn't expected me to actually do it.

I take a deep breath, willing myself not to tremble, "Because I won't let you hurt Thorin without a fight. Or any of my friends."

"Ahhh," a revelation seems to hit him, and the Defiler gives me a downright evil grin. "You care for the exile King, then."

I freeze at his words.

"So. Not only a fool, but a fool in love," He taunts, his sharp teeth sharper than usual.

That does it! Without a second thought, I swing my sword.

Azog effortlessly parries my blow, his enormous mace sending a painful vibration up my arm as my sword bounces back. He then proceeds to disarm me with a single powerful stroke. My epic sword of legend clatters to the ground, as useless as if it were a practice stick and I find myself defenseless before the Defiler. A painful reminder that a sword is only as good as its swordsman. Dwalin and Thorin went too easy on me, obviously not expecting me to engage the Defiler in a fight.

This is it. I'm so dead.

A menacing chuckle erupts from Azog as he towers over me. He gives me a mocking smile, as if pitying me for my foolishness, but I know it's false. Azog pities no one. "I will allow you to carry your dwarf love's head as we ride to Dol Guldur." He mocks, as if offering me a boon.

I bare my teeth, rage filling me, and I roll to the side, grabbing Varzsiel and lifting it up in front of me to face him again. Azog scowls, his icy eyes drilling into mine, but I meet his gaze with a defiant growl, "You'll have to carry both of our heads!"

Suddenly, a massive shape emerges from the smoke above the flames—an enormous beak, feathers, and two enormous claws. I gasp in fear, but then my brain catches up with what I'm seeing.

The eagles are here!

My fear transforms into uncontainable joy as I gaze in awe at the sight of the giant eagle descending upon the orcs and wargs. Its immense wingspan casts a brief shadow over me as its powerful claws snatch up an orc, swiftly lifting it into the sky before dropping it to its death.

The cries of the eagles pierce through the tumultuous air, their harsh screeches echoing as more and more of them join the fray. With each passing moment, their numbers multiply, descending upon the wargs left and right with ferocity and grace.

Azog's arrogance fades into shock and dismay, his face contorting in disbelief at the sudden turn of events. I can't help but revel in the sheer exhilaration of the moment, my heart pounding in sync with each beat of their wings.

"YEEEEAAAAH! That's what I'm TALKING about!" I pump my fists in the air, a surge of excitement coursing through my veins. "EAGGLLLLEEEESSSS!" My voice rings out, relief and disbelief fills me to the brim.

Azog's face is etched with anger and frustration as he realizes the tables have turned against him. A guttural growl escapes his throat, while his warg cowers like a frightened puppy, desperately seeking shelter from the approaching eagles.

The eagles swoop down with great gusts of wind, fanning the flames and causing the wargs to howl in pain and the orcs to cry out in fear. The sight is both mesmerizing and chaotic, as the cliffside becomes a whirlwind of swirling wind, ash, and panic.

An eagle descends upon me, and my heart lurches in anticipation, but to my surprise, it bypasses me and picks up Thorin with great care in its enormous talons, flying away as Azog roars in fury. I turn and shoot Azog a triumphant smirk as another eagle grabs Bilbo.

However, my triumph is short-lived when Azog does something unexpected. He rushes towards me, his intent on grabbing me clear. I step back with a frightened gasp, raising Varzsiel in warning before a wave of pain rushes through me as powerful talons seize me around the chest, lifting me abruptly off the ground.

I know the eagle is trying to be gentle, but the force of its grip temporarily takes my breath away, leaving me struggling to expand my constricted diaphragm.

But then I feel Azog's large hand wrap around my arm, not willing to be defeated. My arm twists at an unnatural angle and-

POP!

Pain, unlike any I've felt before, erupts like a lightning bolt, jolting through my body, and I scream. Azog lets go, but only because he has to in order to not rip my arm from my body as the eagle flies away. Deep, throbbing agony radiates from my shoulder, while the sensation of my arm dangling, disconnected from its socket, makes me sick to my stomach.

"Go back!" I manage to wheeze out at the eagle. "Go back! He needs to die!" My vision blurs with angry, hurt tears as my arm hangs limp, a grotesque and unresponsive extension of my body. Why didn't the eagles throw Azog off? Most of the other orcs were thrown off the cliff except the most important one!

"You're no match for him, little one," a commanding voice thunders from above me. I halt in surprise. I've always talked to animals my entire life. This is the first time one is talking back to me. It's the strangest feeling ever.

"I...I didn't mean me," I force my lungs to say, closing my eyes as my arm is jostled. "Can you go back and grab that Orc and throw him off the cliff? That would actually be very helpful-AAAHHHH!!!"

The world turns into a blur as I find myself hurtling towards what seems to be my inevitable death. I barely have time to draw in a choked breath before I land with a painful jolt upon the downy fluff of another eagle's back. The impact, which normally could be considered soft, sends waves of torment crashing over me, and I bite down on my lip to stifle my horrible screams. The taste of copper fills my mouth as I taste my own blood, my teeth sinking into my flesh in a futile attempt to distract myself from the pain.

Desperation and helplessness well up inside me, mingling with anger and frustration. Why did it drop me?! I cradle my arm close to my chest. Sweat mingles with my tears as I fight to control my trembling, trying to breathe through the searing ache. In that moment of agony, I realize the fragility of my own body, the vulnerability that lay beneath my bravado and arrogance.

I keep silent and shivering for quite some time after that in the wind, tears streaming as I try and cradle my arm in the darkness. I can't see the others as we glide through the night sky, and if anyone is trying to communicate with me, I can't hear them. The sounds of the wind blowing in my ears fade into the background as my world narrows to the pain pulsing through my very being. Every heartbeat echoes through my arm, a constant reminder of my own stupidity.

End of Chapter

I wanted this chapter to end at the Carrack like in the first movie, but it was too long. I'll try to edit my next chapter fast enough to get it out in the next two weeks instead of waiting a month.

Dwarves have crazy stamina! As I was writing the past three chapters I kept thinking to myself "When is nap time? Like, when's the company going to take a break? Maybe get a snack?" I would've been at my limit after hiking in a storm and riding without a seatbelt on Stone Giants! But to have them then sprint through Goblin Town, sprint from Wargs, and then ride all night on Eagles? The only one who gets any friggin rest is Thorin, passed out like he is, lol!

I'm kinda proud of this chapter because I've read a lot of Azog encounters and I wanted to develop a different sort of Azog. I wrote the Great Goblin as a scary perverted guy, and I wanted the Defiler to be more...intelligent, I guess you could say? Like, strategic. I don't think I've ever read a chapter quite like it in all the Hobbit fanfiction stories I've read, lol. I put my own spin on Azog, just like I've put my own spin on Sauron/Necromancer. I think what makes a good villain is when they're intelligent and they use their gift for evil.

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