18. A Little Slice of Hell

            If that didn’t catch the company’s attention, I didn’t know what would. My alarm had also alerted Azog and his minions to my presence. In his booming voice, he bellowed some command. It was a charge; Wargs descended down the slope like mad hounds.

Without hesitation, I headed towards Gandalf, Bilbo, and the Dwarves, hoping to be back within the safety of numbers. Animals huffing behind me told me that I was soon going to have to fight for my life.

            A loud growl made me instinctively dive for the ground. That didn’t turn out to be the best idea. Instead of sliding along the grassy floor, I tumbled, my vision spun. Colors blurred together, up ahead I swore I heard my group call out to each other. I noticed there was less brightness, the sun was setting rapidly. Soon, darkness would envelop us, making our situation much more dangerous.

            The breath was knocked out of me as something heavy crashed into me. I was squished between it—a Warg judging by its wiry fur touching my bare skin—and the ground temporarily before I flopped around only to land on my stomach. I glanced ahead to see the boys heading for the safety of the trees, some of the Dwarves were beginning the climb upwards.

            I cringed as Wargs passed me within striking distance, heading for my companions. I jumped to my feet only to duck low as a Warg sailed over my head. My brown eyes bugged as I faced the beast one-on-one. It exposed its razor canines. My heart wanted no part of this fight, it was beating so fast—like it wanted to burst from my chest.

            Instead of using my long-distance weaponry, I pulled out my knife. I headed for the group, who was still tree climbing. The Warg leapt at me from the side, I swung the curved blade at it. I think I struck its nose; it gave a howl of pain and danced back.

            The sun was sleeping for the night, darkness settled over our chase. I ran as fast as my legs would allow me to. I felt a light throbbing in my forehead thanks to the knock I gave it when falling in those caves.

I was suddenly airborne, my stomach churning uneasily.

            I screamed, praying that I didn’t meet harsh tree bark when falling. I flailed in the air; my eyes never left the Warg who was ready to play with me as though I was his new toy. I just barely skimmed his head with my knife as I landed…on his back.

            My fingers immediately sunk into thin fur. The Warg barked, his head snapped around to try and bite me. He started bucking, my fingers dug deeper. With my jaw locked, I thrust my knife into the Warg’s shoulder. The creature reared, standing almost as tall as Gandalf on its hind legs. He toppled backwards, crushing me between his back and the ground.

            I held my gut as I inhaled deeply. The Warg rolled off me, shaking its body. I got to my knees, panting lightly. The Warg tossed his head, snapping at me. A challenge. I steadied myself on my feet, slowly going backwards. From afar, I could hear more Wargs coming.

            It was like I was leading a dog; my knife was the Warg’s leash. He watched me with beady, hungry eyes. I yelped when I bumped into something.

            What happened next made my life flash before my eyes.

            The Warg took advantage of my spook, he lunged. In that split second, as I was trying to prepare for him, Bilbo shoved me behind him. The Warg didn’t stop, and Bilbo’s sword plunged right into its skull. My mouth dropped. Bilbo was as stunned as me, he released his sword. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t vomit.

            “Thank you,” I whispered. My pulse was loud in my ears.

            More growls and howls reminded me that we couldn’t just stand here, gaping at Bilbo’s sword stuck in a Warg’s skull. Even though the idea really disgusted me, I went to the Warg, tugging on the sword hilt. It wasn’t budging. I could hear heavy paws thunder closer.

            “Help me out,” I ordered Bilbo. He grabbed me around my middle and together we tugged. I closed my eyes, trying to not picture a sword coming out of an animal’s head. With strained noises, we felt the sword give way to us.

            “They’re coming!” Thorin shouted. Way to not pressure us.

            Bilbo and I stumbled backwards once we got control over the sword. My best friend righted me before we could both fall to the floor. I opened my eyes, immediately handing him his sword back. I didn’t look back at the dead Warg behind us; a herd of them sprinting down to us caught my eye.

            Bilbo snapped out of his daze before I could, he pulled me to the nearest tree. He latched on like a squirrel, shimming up. I followed him, peeking through the branches to see some of the Dwarves in the tree we chose.

            Bilbo already had himself perched on a thick, sturdy branch. He had a firm grip on the side of the tree, carefully extending a hand for me to take. I tried my hardest to not look down; to not glance at what fate would await me should I fall. I reached for Bilbo’s hand, but I came up short.

            I pulled myself up a bit further. Biting my tongue, I reached again. I skimmed his fingertips. Hissing, I went up a tad bit more. Huffing, I reached out again. I found success; his hand had an iron grip on mine. Smiling at him despite the situation, I let him help me up.

            Sudden, searing pain exploded in one of my legs. I yelled, nearly falling had Bilbo not caught me. I looked down to see a Warg smack the ground on its side, his partners who circled the tree watched me with interest.

            “Hang on, Lily,” Bilbo called. “I’ve got you.”

            I shuddered as I felt liquid trail down my leg. I knew my trousers were torn, at least one leg was. My leg throbbed, making me cringe. Quickly, but carefully, and with the help of a Dwarf, Bilbo got me on his perch. He gently pushed me to rest my back against the bark. He pulled the material away from my leg.

            A strangled gasp escaped my lips. Teeth marks were embedded in my skin, blood was flowing out at a steady pace. I glanced down at the Wargs hovering near the tree.

            “How much does it hurt?” Bilbo panicked.

            “Not as much as you think,” I stammered. I grabbed for it. “It could be much worse.”

            “You okay, Red?” Fili shouted from another tree.

            I didn’t get the chance to answer him, because my attention was focused on Azog and his mount. They stood on a rock, defining themselves as the leaders of the group. Faint moonlight shone on the pair. With light, I saw why they were so intimidating.

Azog had scars plaguing his pale skin; his eyes were a bright blue. I also noticed that he had only one arm. The other—from the elbow up—was a weapon that had been shoved through what was left of his arm. His steed, despite being a dangerous animal, had beautiful white coloring for fur. I saw a few stripes of black along his body.

I immediately searched for Thorin in any of the trees. I couldn’t locate him. He definitely wasn’t going to be happy about this reunion.

            The pale Orc spoke in a low, guttural tone in his foreign language. I wondered if anyone understood anything the Orc was saying. I was positive Bilbo didn’t know the language. But I had a rough hunch as to what he was talking about, I heard Thorin’s name thrown into the mix. I swallowed.

            This was far from over. Things were just getting started.

            Azog barked another command, because soon enough, the Wargs began to tear at the trees. They jumped like rabbits, mercilessly taking out branches. It seemed that whatever branches they hit didn’t really hurt them, it was like they didn’t know pain. The more branches that fell, the higher the Wargs pounced.

            I watched the mutant wolves with wide, frightened eyes as Bilbo slowly guided me to stand on my feet. I kept my left leg up in the air—that was the one that got bit.

            Warg after Warg assaulted the tree. It began to quiver dangerously. My hands latched onto the bark, as though it would save me. The shaking jarred me, nearly tossing me off a few times. If Bilbo wasn’t with me, I would be Warg-meat right now.

            A low, inhuman groaning filled my ears. I gasped as I noticed the tree was beginning to topple over. I looked to Bilbo, as though he would have an answer. His eyes met mine. Though panicked, his eyes held the answer. We have to jump, they said.

            I wanted to protest again tree-jumping, I had never done such a thing before, and I was sure my injured leg wouldn’t appreciate it too much. Yet, I was sure arguing would get me nowhere. I sighed heavily, dreading the truth.

            This was going to hurt like hell.

            For some assurance, Bilbo grabbed my hand. I felt a small sense of content despite the life threatening situation we were stuck in. With an exchange of nods, we Hobbits jumped, latching onto different branches. Despite the pain, I hauled myself up the branch, only to realize that this tree was toppling too.

            It was a domino effect. One tree started to fall, the others followed suit. We tree-jumped at least three times before we finally got settled on the tallest in the area. Though we were on the highest tree, there was a catch.

The tallest was the closest to the edge of a cliff.

The tree we had just abandoned was entirely uprooted. More than half of it was leaning over the edge, the rest of it followed suit. The naked tree fell off the cliff, falling to its death.

If the tree all sixteen of us were stuck in went down, we were all doomed.

The Wargs continued to harass the tree we were all trapped in. They continued to leap for us, knocking out branches as they jumped. I pressed myself against the bark of the tree, clutching for my leg. The bleeding hadn’t stopped; I could still feel it running down my leg. I was sure that was part of the reason why the Wargs were trying so hard to get to us, they smelled my blood.

They smelled a meal.

 My nose wrinkled at a familiar scent. I smelled…smoke. Smoke? Where’s the fire? The question was answered the moment I thought of it. A small fireball flew down towards the Wargs, rolling on the ground. Some of the ground took to the flames, creating a small line of fire. The Wargs snarled and barked in protest.

I craned my head upwards to see Gandalf lighting pinecones and tossing them to the others. The others lit each others’ pinecones and then chucked them at the Wargs. Some made direct contact with the beasts; others met the ground, creating a bigger line of fire. Hope flooded through my veins as our enemy began to back off our tree.

I shouted a whoop of victory. I really wished I hadn’t.

Our tree began to groan and lean over the edge of the cliff. I grabbed the branch I was on with all my might, feeling the slight burn as my legs dangled below me. My eyes scanned the rest of the tree, where the others were clinging to various branches. Bilbo was on the opposite side of the tree, on a branch a bit higher up than I was.

Normally, heights wouldn’t bother me. I loved the view height gave me when in the Shire. But I reminded myself that I was far from the Shire, far from Hobbiton. I was in the Wild, with a company of Dwarves and a Wizard. Our tree was protected by fire, which now touched a downed tree or two, making the area around Azog and his minions more like Hell than ever before.

As I fought fear and pain, it was briefly forgotten as I saw Thorin stand erect along the length of our angled tree. His sword was at his side, he gave off a commanding air. I knew what he was looking straight at, and what he was about to do.

As I struggled to pull myself up more on my branch, Thorin stormed off along the tree, landing on solid ground. He was heading into Hell, into fire and Wargs. I could feel adrenaline pulse through my veins just by watching, waiting for what was to come.

Thorin broke out into a sprint, making a beeline past the fires around him. In slow motion, Azog and his white mount leapt off their perch, meeting Thorin halfway. The pair knocked over the Dwarf, making him crash on his back on the ground. Azog and his Warg spun around, ready to charge Thorin again.

Just as Thorin got up, Azog attacked. Thorin fell back to the ground as an oddly-shaped mace smacked into his chest. I heard someone cry out for Thorin. My heart was plummeting into my feet. Though he had won against the pale Orc the first time, this time wasn’t looking so good for him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw someone claw their way off their branch to stand on the angled tree. Feeling a strong need to give Thorin a hand, I tried to pull myself up, but fresh pain shot through my injured leg every time it tried to secure itself on the branch.

I screamed in horror as the white Warg grabbed Thorin in its mouth. Thorin’s bellow sent shivers through my body. I tried not to imagine the pain in which he was going through, having canines pierce through his clothing and go to his skin. This isn’t even a fair fight. Azog is using his pet instead of fighting against Thorin himself. The coward.

I was sure the playing field would be much different if Azog didn’t have his pet to assist him.

I swung my uninjured leg over the branch. Success.

As I got myself in a sitting position, my gaze glanced to Bilbo, who had been the one to part from his branch. He eyed the battle in the fire, his glowing sword out and ready. He and I were thinking the same thing, only he would get to Thorin faster than I would.

 A faint thud over the fire made my head snap back towards the fight. The white Warg had disposed of Thorin, tossing him away like an unwanted toy. The Dwarf lay on his back, looking severely weak. I crawled along my branch, heading for stable ground. Bilbo continued his descent towards the fight.

I heaved myself to my feet as I saw Azog be accompanied by a few fellow Orcs. His pale lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I saw Bilbo running for the scene. My heart hammered with each step his furry feet ran. There’s the Bilbo I know, I thought in awe. I knew he’d never truly disappear.

I started creeping off the tree to get closer to the scene. An Orc dismounted from its steed, stalking towards Thorin, a large, curved sword in its one hand. I coughed lightly; smoke was beginning to bother me. My vision was trying to become fuzzy on me. Focus.

The Orc put its sword towards Thorin’s neck. My eyes bugged. Come on, Bilbo.

Just as the Orc was ready to deliver the death chop, Bilbo intervened. I held an anxious breath as Bilbo tackled the Orc, briefly wrestling before gaining the advantage. The glowing blade stabbed the Orc, whose cries I could barely hear over the fire close to me. I tottered as I stumbled my way towards the situation.

My eyes were fixated on a Warg, who was slinking around behind its group. I knew where its gaze lay. Knowing what to do, I quickly mounted an arrow in the bow and fired. It sailed much farther than I had expected it to. It landed deep into the Warg’s neck. It dropped to the ground, still.

This caught the attention of the Orcs. They all looked at me. Though I was trembling and frightened, I put on my determined mask as I loaded another arrow, sliding towards Bilbo. An Orc and Warg pair matched me up, the Warg snapped at me as I joined my fellow Hobbit. We both stood protectively in front of Thorin, who—as I stole a quick look at him—was unconscious. He better be only that and nothing more.

I figured our odds in my head. There were two of us, armed with only a sword, arrows, and a knife. Thorin was unconscious, and there were four Wargs and Orcs facing us. There were definitely more lying in wait, they were lingering more towards the back, ready for their chance. Then we had our Wizard and the other twelve Dwarves clinging to a tree that was very close to tumbling over the edge of a cliff.

It was simple: Bilbo, Thorin, and I had little odds of surviving this.

Azog murmured something to his companions in his native tongue. It wasn’t hard to guess what he ordered, because one Warg-Orc pair was slinking towards Bilbo and me. I swallowed; my body trembled from exhaustion and anxiety.

            Before even one pair could reach us, another battle broke out. This time, instead of involving one Dwarf and one Warg-Orc duo, the others decided to join. A smile briefly flashed across my face as I heard their familiar battle cries and saw them ram into our enemies. This encouraged Bilbo and I to jump into the fray. With cries of our own, we dived into battle. During the time, I switched out my bow for my knife, ready to slash at anything that came my way. I definitely wanted to make the Warg that bit me taste my knife.

            Most of the fighting was handled by the Dwarves, as they had better weapons than me. More of the background Wargs and Orcs joined in to take us on. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen amongst the chaos. I wasn’t too worried about him though.

            I was constantly defended from Wargs, but Orcs were something I couldn’t escape. I often clashed weapons with them, only for them to nearly slice me open. I would move on to the next opponent, as my previous would be occupied and defeated by a Dwarf.

            “Red, look out!” someone—I wasn’t sure who—shouted.

            I wasn’t sure what to do, so I ducked. I was glad I had, I felt a sudden breeze over my head. I sprouted back up only to be knocked over by a Warg. I yelled over all the noises of battle, using my arms to keep the Warg from biting my face off. I kept flailing my legs, hoping to kick the beast enough to where it would back off.

            If it hadn’t been for one of the Dwarves knocking the beast off me, I would have definitely been dead. Very weary, I pulled myself to my feet only to lean to one side. I quickly righted myself, feeling battles around me move in slow motion.

            Instead of things getting better, they only got worse for me.

            I was coughing worse; my head was beginning to pound ferociously. Noises around me were starting to blend together, creating one loud, irritating sound. It wasn’t until another Warg challenged me that I knew I wasn’t up for anymore fighting.

            A rescue from Gandalf would have been much appreciated right about now.

            The Warg lunged for me. I danced away, but not quick enough. I screeched as searing pain shot up my arm. I whipped around to sock the mutant wolf in its snout. It didn’t even flinch; it sunk its teeth deeper into my arm. My free arm blindly searched for my knife.

            I lashed out my leg, landing a hit on another incoming Warg. It danced away, soon being occupied with a Dwarf. Once I felt instant relief on my arm, I pulled it to my chest. My stomach churned as I felt fresh, wet blood spray my arm.

            I didn’t get time to even grip my knife, an Orc bowled me over. I felt a sharp slice into my cheek. I scowled.

A Warg took over for the passing Orc, crushing my bloody arm between its belly and my body. I tried to hold it off with my free arm, but it trembled violently.

            Suddenly, the Warg yelped, jumping off me. I inhaled much needed breath. I wasn’t aided, but fighting was dangerously close to me.

“Keep awake, Red,” Fili demanded of me. “She’s got to get somewhere safe.”

“Can you handle them for a few minutes, brother?” Kili asked.

“Just get her up and somewhere away from this.”

Kili’s face swam into my vision. Despite the battles around us, his eyes were soft. He put an arm behind my back, pushing me upright. I flinched as Fili kept a Warg from attacking Kili and I.

“Come on, on your feet.” Kili and I had a hard time making that work. I felt depleted, like I didn’t even have an ounce of energy left in me. I dropped back to the ground, caught by Kili before I hit the harsh floor. “You have to help me, Red.”

“Kili!” Fili shouted. I looked to the Dwarf, who looked like he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Get me to safety or help out his brother.

“I’ve got her,” said a new voice. I was ripped from Kili’s grip. I didn’t have the energy to protest, I let whoever came to take me away pull me away. As I was dragged off, I could hear the brothers work together in battle.

I stumbled like a drunk, even with assistance. My vision could be mistaken for a drunk’s too, with the things I was seeing. My vision was blurring, colors started to create one murky, disgusting color. Though those were blending together, the noises of battle weren’t.

            “Stay with me, Lily.”

            Until that moment, I hadn’t realized it was Bilbo who had come to take me from Kili. With what strength I could, I gripped onto Bilbo as though he were my lifeline. He guided me out of the chaos, back towards an unconscious Thorin Oakenshield. All the fighting was happening behind me. Good, it could stay that way.

            My injured leg crumbled under me, my other leg gave way. I nearly took Bilbo down with me when I fell.

            “Come on, stay up.” He grunted as he tried to keep my on my feet. I tried to help him the best I could, but I just couldn’t. I took a nosedive for the ground. I was caught halfway and then turned around. Bilbo had me in his arms, looking down at me, his eyes wide with concern.

            He could only open his mouth; his shocked words were lost.

Low growling made me look to see Azog and his pet had returned. They had the same look in their eyes: bloodlust. I whimpered, deciding that I didn’t care if I wore my fear. I was injured and exhausted. My eyelids drooped dangerously.

“Stay awake, Lily. Don’t go now.”

Azog and his mount began to stalk towards us. I felt Bilbo tighten his hold on me. With desperation, I fought to stay conscious.

            A new noise over the cries, howls, and snarls entered the game. It was a high squawk, like a bird’s.

            I watched the battle before me. One minute, Dwarves were struggling against their enemy, and the next, a big brown blur scooped up the Wargs and carried them off. I wasn’t close to going unconscious now, what with that wakeup call. I squeaked in fright, grabbing onto Bilbo. He was rigid with astonishment under me. We both watched as brown blurs came to our aid.

            A loud crash made me cringe; a naked tree had fallen into the flames. Wargs were being picked off the ground so fast I wondered if I was seeing things.

            “What are they?” I whispered as flames were now fanned towards the Wargs. Some instantly lit up, becoming burned.

            “They’re Eagles,” Bilbo told me, though his voice sounded as though it was supposed to be somewhere else.

            I screamed as the Eagles were snatching the Dwarves along with the Wargs and Orcs. My eyes never left the scene for a second. Swoop after swoop, more battle participants were taken from the scene. An Eagle dived low, heading in our general direction. I expected it to take Azog and his Warg, but it breezed past them.

            Oh no, no, no, no. I closed my eyes just as I saw massive talons reach for Bilbo and me. I burrowed into my best friend, not wanting to open my eyes for anything. Judging by Bilbo’s screaming, we were airborne.

            My stomach had a sudden falling sensation. We were falling. It felt like forever before we hit something solid.

            “Open your eyes, Lily.”

            I peeked out from Bilbo. The first thing I noticed was the loud, constant rush of wind near my ears. I saw other Eagles and heard Dwarves cry out in alarm as they rode the big birds. One of my arms dropped, my fingers felt silky feathers. The touch was oddly soothing.

            In the distance, as we flew farther and farther from our battle site, what was left of the fire was still burning. It was too dark to see if everyone got on an Eagle okay. Gandalf must have called them. How else would they have come to us or helped us like they did? No Eagles would do it willingly, certainly.

            “That was close,” Bilbo breathed.

            “Red!” Fili shouted.

            “I’ve got her!” Bilbo called back. “She’s all right.”

            “Why did you tell him that?” I groaned. “You’re sugarcoating it.”

            “But you are all right.”

            “No, I’m not. I’m injured. They aren’t the same thing. Now can I go to sleep?” I begged wearily.

            “Just promise me you’ll wake up.”

            I smiled thinly.

            As we flew safely into the night, the outraged cry of Azog echoed in the air and in my sleeping mind. 

**This was a rather "fun" chapter to write, as apparently writing action scenes is one of my strong suits (so I've been told by some readers of mine). Poor Lily, she's banged up pretty badly isn't she? Keep reading, my dears, the story is almost finished.**