Autor Tópico: [Fanfic 4, cap. 15] Loyalty, Honor etc - From the frying pan into the fire  (Lida 1025 vezes)

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Offline Luinwen

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They found the way out and kept running for a while, just to be out of the immediate reach of any bolder goblin who might find courage to dare daylight to avenge their king. As they reached a more level ground, Gandalf, who was in the lead, stopped and started to count the passing ones numbering them on his fingers.
“Dwalin, Balin, Ellen, Ori, Dori, Nori, Óin, Glóin, Iris, Kíli, Fíli, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Lily, Thorin...” He looked around, searching. “Where is Bilbo? Where is our hobbit?”
“I saw him drop down and be missed by the goblins when we were pushed along the path.” Nori said.
“Have you lost him?”
Gandalf was beside himself out of anger. Thorin, to no one’s surprise, begun to argue with him.
Iris sat sadly on the ground, leaning onto a tree, covering her face with her hands, crying.
“He is gone! He is lost! That horrible goblins got him, I’ll never see Bilbo again; I was so angry at him, I hit him, and now he will never know how I’m sorry for it!”
Fíli crouched in front of Iris, and took one of her hands in his, trying to comfort her.
“Don’t cry, Little Sister, don’t cry! I am sure Bilbo is fine, believe in me!” He looked up past her, with a big grin. “Actually, I bet my beard he is sound alive, do you hear me?”
The hobbit-lass looked up at him, felling a hand caressing lightly her hair.
“Thank you so much, my brother, but you should not, I am sure he is lost.”
“No, he isn’t!”
Iris spun around to the voice of the one who was actually caressing her red locks.  She stood up and hit him with her fists, shouting.
“Bilbo! I will kill you!”
“Bilbo Baggins! I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life!” Gandalf’s voice faltered.
“Bilbo! We had given you up!” Kíli was glad to see him, as was Fíli.
“How did you get past the goblins?”
“How, indeed?” Voiced darkly the always suspicious Dwalin.
Bilbo held Iris’ wrists in his hands, laughingly. Gandalf perceived something strange, that would have to be cleared out later, but right then he just tried to settle things.
“Well, what does it matter? He is back!”
“It matters!” Gloomy Thorin intervened. “I want to know. What are you doing here? Why did you come back?”
Ellen hushed her own laughter at Thorin’s old and customary phrase. Bilbo held his ground, looking self assured for the first time since she got to know him.
“I know you doubt me. I know, you always have. You are right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books, my own armchair, my garden. There is where I belong. That’s home. That is why I came back, because... you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back, if I can.”
Thorin lowered his eyes, thinking for a moment, and then turned back to the hobbit. He was about to say something when a horrendous howl cut the air. Gandalf was getting tired of yelling the same word.
And run they did, as fast as they could, hearing the orcs’ shrill cries and the wargs’ growls and howls. They had no packs, only their weapons, what made their load lighter, but even so they were on foot, and the orcs were on wargs, some of the mightiest predators in Middle- Earth. The women had had only a slight glimpse of them before they found, or were found by, the dwarves, and no actual fight with them yet. Albeit not sending out a single word about it, in the goblin den flight there was their first real kill, to all of them, and that jelly demons looked far easier to deal with than the bodybuilding orcs that were chasing them right now.
Then the Company found itself in a dead end, a deep cliff in front of them, the warg riding orcs behind. They clambered the pine trees as high as they could, Bilbo having trouble with his letter opener stuck in a warg’s skull and was helped to climb up a tree by Lily.
They were definitely in trouble, the big wargs throwing themselves against the trees, which having grown up too close to the cliff had far too little earth for their roots to grasp upon, and were falling one upon each other in a domino effect. In few minutes fourteen dwarves, two halflings, one elf and one wizard were stuck on the same pine tree, disturbingly close to the edge of the cliff.
Gandalf put his fire skills at use, igniting a pine cone, which he threw down like a bomb. It fell down among the wargs, making them move away out of fear. The next ones he kindled were passed on to the closest companions, who grasped the idea and used one to lighten another and throw them to the wargs and orcs, enkindling the wargs’ pelt, which made them mad out of pain, rolling themselves on the ground and dropping their orc riders away. The Molotov cocktails was a risky idea, because it would not be long before the fire caught on the pine tree they were on.
Just when Thorin’s company was rejoycing itself for their success onto the warg/orc party, the tree they were upon began to shake, its roots too shallow to hold their weight. They dangled perilously like a lot of Christmas trees ornaments, the only problem was that the tree was ninety degrees angle from what it should be. But, worse than that, Thorin saw who the orcs’ leader was.
Dark foreboding came upon Lily. She was hanging on a branch close to Thorin when she saw his jaw shut angrily and he managing to stand up and walk on the pine trunk as if it were a catwalk. She knew they all were inches of being either killed by the orcs or falling into the abyss, so then Thorin had nothing to lose but his chance to finish what he begun years ago. He steadied himself, took a better grip on Orcrist and then walked, fierce, gaining speed at every step, fire in his eyes, hatred in his heart. The pale orc twisted a smile, weighing up his mace. Thorin was running now, the oakenshield of his name held in front of him, his elven sword above his head, ready to strike.
Azog was in higher ground, and his well trained warg jumped in a way it was easy to him to hit Thorin, albeit his oakenshield, and at the same time keeping away from his sword. The dwarf fell down with the heavy blow, but managed to get himself up again leaning on his shield. The orc was faster than him and dispatched a heavy blow onto his head, which made Thorin fall again, to the Company’s dismay and horror. Then Lily saw what she would forever keep in her mind as one of the most noble and heroic deeds she had ever seen.
From a branch just bellow the one she was, the hobbit took hold and forced himself up; it was obvious he was not used to tree climbing, as she herself had to help him up first time, but on he went, steadying himself as he could, unsheathing his small blue shining sword, a fierce look in his eyes, and down the pine trunk he went, running, a fury unconcealed.
Following Bilbo’s improved initiative, the fighters who had any way to dislodge themselves from the pine tree did it, following Bilbo’s lead. Not all of the dwarves were able to do so, through, because some of them didn’t get a good hold on the tree and were perilously dangling from its branches and even one from another, as was the case of Dori and his brothers.
It was almost only Gandalf who was aware of this issue, because they were clinging solely onto his staff, so he was one who could not do anything to help the others that not what he’d already done, and that he hoped would succeed soon enough.
Lily scrambled up the branch, only to see Thorin being shaken by Azog’s warg and thrown onto a boulder, Orcrist tinkling on the stone. Fíli, Kíli and Dwalin were already running on the pine trunk when she managed to put herself up and follow them, and she felt by the trunk’s swing that there were more warriors behind her, but the dwarf-lass had no time to look behind. The one she loved was threatened, and she would not let it go on this way.
That bloody orc Azog commanded went to Thorin, unsheathing his sword as if nothing could bother him, and aimed the dwarf’s throat, taking time and pleasure at it. It surely was his worst fault.
Out of the blue an avenger jumped over the orc, unbalancing and making him hit the ground. The bloody creature still tried to react but the hobbit’s adrenaline was too much, and Bilbo’s first kill of an actual thinking being was that orc’s only death. Then he kept there, wielding his sword the best he could, which was not really so good at all, but fierce as a badger nonetheless.
The rest of the Company who was able to do so joined into the fight, as there were not few wargs and orcs it would be no matter of joke. Lily reached Thorin, already unconscious, put one hand quickly to his jugular and another close to his nose to make sure he had minimal vital signs, and then stood up upon his body, the sword he himself made for her in her hands, eyeing wildly around to make sure none would get close to the one she called a king, and of late she was daring to call the one who owned her heart.
Instinctively, the Company tried to make a circle around their leader, protecting him. To kill Azog would be a pleasure, a prize, but if they only had means to survive him it would be enough. Even so, they came as fierce as Durin would not be ashamed of them. But then, the dwarves and their friends were outnumbered by far, and things were going desperate, mostly to the ones dangling from Gandalf’s staff; Dori’s hands could do no more, and all his might to hold himself and his brothers was not enough, and he fell.
A loud cry reverberated in the skies, and Dori and his brothers where caught up in the air one by one, resting flabbergasted each one on a mighty eagle’s neck. Enormous eagles they were, match to Misty Mountains heights, and fierce against orc and warg, catching them like mice and throwing them into the abyss. Some others were catching the company members and throwing them on the back of another eagle, and away they flew, just like Dori and his brothers. When a mighty eagle came to catch Thorin, Lily managed to gather his shield, which had fallen beside him, before another eagle came for her.
It was a tense flight. They knew not where to the eagles were carrying them, nor in what purpose; and Thorin was like a ragdoll in the eagle’s claws, making it impossible to guess if he was dead or alive. Fíli cried out his name when the eagle he shared with his brother flew a little closer, but to no result.
After what seemed an eternity, they started to fly in circles, lower and lower, until the one carrying Thorin reached the flat top of a large outcrop and gently laid him there. In moments Gandalf was beside him, and then Bilbo, and the others. Gandalf called his name, then made a gesture above his face, muttering something in a strange language. Thorin opened his eyes, much to Gandalf’s relief, and first thing asked about the halfling.
“It is all right. Bilbo is here, he is quite safe.”
Willing hands helped Thorin to stand up. His face seemed angry, as usual, when he turned to Bilbo.
“You! What are you doing here? You’re going to get yourself killed!” He paced slowly towards the confused hobbit. “Did I not say that you would be a burden, that you would not survive in the wild, that you had no place amongst us?” The rest of the company looked at him abashed; how could he be so harsh to one who had put his own life in jeopardy for his sake? “I’ve never been so wrong in all my life!”
Thorin embraced Bilbo warmly, much to his surprise and joy for feeling, for the very first time, that he was wholly accepted by the leader of the Company. The others cheered, relieved. The mighty dwarf let him go and spoke.
“I am sorry I doubted you.”
“No, I doubted me too! I’m not a hero, nor a warrior; not even a burglar.” He glanced up at Gandalf. Then Thorin’s eyes looked far past him, and his face was lightened by a smile. Bilbo looked at the same direction in the horizon.
“Is that what I think it is?”
The group walked to the edge of the outcrop, delighted by the sight they waited so long to earn. It was Gandalf’s voice that broke the silence.
But the word that came out of Thorin’s lips was other.
"I´m shieldmaiden, and my hand is ungentle."