Chapter 10

Originally posted on: 13th February 2014

Slight Thilbo Bagginshield!

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‘It’s high time us to escape,’ Dorian thought.

The flames were spreading everywhere around, chaos had prevailed.

Firstly, he needed to get out of bondages. He and his sister were gagged. Their arms were linked and legs were tied to the saddle. He had nothing to cut the thick ropes with.

The fire did this for him. Dorian neared his tied hands to the nearby burning branch. The rope began to overheat and Dorian finally tore it. Then, he burned a cord on Sybil’s hands.

Their warg sarted going round anxiously. He had become mad as well. He had broken away from Gorbag’s dark mount long ago​​. Orc seemed not to care. He worried more about his own skin than the prisoners’.

Indeed, things got dangerous. The fire was pressing from all sides. Dorian released his mouth.

“You know how to drive this thing?” he whispered into his sister’s ear, the girl sitting in front of him.

She broke the gag out of her mouth.

“ I’ll try,” she said. She slapped her heels into the warg’s sides.

The beast leapt and escaped from the fire ring.

Excitement overtook Dorian. They could run away, just at this very moment!

But then he saw it.

Thorin was running towards Azog with raised Orcrist.

Flames had made ​​him look amazing. He was radiating with power and wrath.

‘And bloody oaken shield, of course,’ Dorian thought, noticing what the Dwarf was holding in his other hand.

Thorin couldn’t stand a chance, it was obvious.

Dorian let out a cry of pain and despair, helplessly watching as his King was recieving grave blows, fighting in the unequal duel.

“THORIN, IF YOU DIE, THEN I WILL KILL YOU!”  Sybil yelled, her voice cracking.

Everything was happening like in slow motion, as if to intentionally sink in so painfully.

'Hohoho, someone appreciates themselves here,' Dorian said in his mind as Azog commanded his subordinate to bring him the dwarf’s head. Pale Olc clearly didn't consider himself  as an ordinary thug. He didn't dabbled in shearing heads like a normal executioner.

Dorian snorted at this discovery. The inflaming liquor which the orc had been treating him with, had restored him a clarity of mind, but had not improved his well-being, not at all. Despite the horrendous headache, he was able to keep in the saddle by himself and clearly see the surrounding reality.

How much he would give to be unconscious now!

When the orc raised his sword to behead his King, Dorian realized that his world had ended.

Help came, of course, from the least expected direction.

***

Bilbo stood up, pulled out his little sword and gathered all the courage he could find in his heart.

Thorin couldn't die. He couldn't. Bilbo had to save him, he had to.

A life of such a simple hobbit like him is worth much less than the life of such a wonderful, dignified dwarf. Bilbo may sacrifice his own.

Besides, world without Thorin Oakenshield was not the world which Bilbo would like to continue to exist in.

In the end, he thought about Sybil and Dorian. Wherever they were now, their mission couldn't misfire.

That was enough.

He started to feel fear only when he had found himself alone against the Pale Orc, mounting the White Warg.

Help came, of course, from the least expected direction.

***

When the eagles had come, taking the body of his unconscious King, he didn't know what to do with himself. He felt emptiness. He was indifferent to if he would whether die or survive.

Why did it matter, since Thorin had probably died?

Probably.

                                                                

“Dorian, we can’t give up now. We need to know if this bloody idiot is still alive or not,”  Sybil said urgently. “If it turns out that he still lives, then I swear, I will punch him in that handsome face of his.”

“Tempting,” Dorian answered. He understood his sister’s bitterness. On the other hand, he also understood why Thorin had attacked Azog. Dorian himself wanted to do it all the time. He would chop the Pale Orc into pieces with his sword ...

“Sword ... Sybil, the sword! Where is it?!” he asked frantically. “I’m not going anywhere without it!”

“Gorbag ​​ has it,” his sister grunted. “Like all of our stuff. He didn’t even touch the backpacks, daggers, my quiver and bow, because…” she snorted. “’They stink like elves’. He tied them to his saddle. The sword is on his back. He even changed the steath, because yours was elfish.”

Dorian shuddered in disgust at the thought that he would have to touch Gorbag​​.

“Make him regret this.”

They moved and began to look for the orc in the general madness. Dorian was looking around carefully, at the same time wondering whence the hell Sybil knew how to ride a warg.

“There he is! On the third hour. He's running away!” he shouted as soon as he noticed Gorbag​​.

Sybil immediately turned around and headed the beast that way.

They drove up to Gorbag ​​from behind. Orc had heard them too late to react accordingly. Dorian tore his sword from Gorbarg's back. Then, they  passed him. Sybil turned the warg and now they were running straight at him. The dun beast jumped up, knocking the orc out of his saddle. The black warg got into a fight with Weakling, but Dorian struck him with the sword in the stomach. Gorbag’s mount ​​slumped with a pathetic whine. Orc rose to his feet but was pinned to the ground with the dun warg's forepaws. Dorian cut the chains tying him to the saddle. He jumped down, walked up to the black carcass, twitching with convulsions, and quickly passed her sister her backpack, bow, quiver and dagger, he also took all of his stuff. He even regained the stealth from Elrond.

He approached Gorbag​​. He wanted to behead him when he reminded himself how the orc had been beating Sybil.

“Dorian, there’s no time, we have to run,” she said quickly, guessing her brother’s intentions.

“But ...”

“No buts, get in!”

Neither he thought. He must kill him first...

A burning tree collapsed nearby.

“NOW!” she roared.  

Before he listened to her, he scratched the hideous Gorbag’s ​​phiz lightly. 

“YOU WILL REGRET THIS, TRAITORS!” they heard a distant scream as they were driving ahead blindly.   

***

When he opened his eyes, he saw the wizard’s anxious face.

“Halfling?”

“It’s all right,” Gandalf replied with a small smile. “Bilbo is here, he’s quite safe.”

As he got up, he felt full of pain and anger. Anger due to the fact that Azog was alive and had almost killed him.

But above it all, he was angry with himself. How could he? How could he judge Bilbo so harshly? How dared he think of him as a pathetic weakling? How dared he think of it as a big mistake?

Perhaps this rage and physical pain had made that he spoke in such a tone.

“You ... What are you doing? You know you nearly got yourself killed? Did I not say that you would be a burden ... that you will not survive in the wild ... that you have no place amongst  us." He saw the pain drawing on Hobbit’s features at these unjust accusations.

How would he recompense him everything? He had been so wrong.

“I’ve never been so wrong, in all my life.”

The fact that he hugged Bilbo was an impulse.

He had no idea how else could he express his boundless gratitude.

How else could he apologize to him.

How else to show that he holds Bilbo in the highest regard.

***

Bilbo was in shock, nothing more, nothing less. He could not believe what was happening.

King Under the Mountain had just hugged him.

Such a happiness was filling him. Bilbo indeed realized how great honor that was.

Moreover, he wondered... if Thorin too...

When the dwarf pulled away, Hobbit looked out for a sign in the King’s face, anything that would confirm his stupid, naïve hope ...

But Thorin only spoke in unusual for him, kind tone.  

“I'm sorry that I doubted you.”

What could he say to that?

“No, I would have doubted me, too. I'm not a hero, nor a warrior ... not even a burglar.”

His king smiled so lovely and warmly.

As he was looking at the Lonely Mountain looming in the distance, Bilbo thought that maybe he would like adventures.

***

Weakling was splashing water all around them, wading across the stream.

What amazed her the most was that the beast still reamined obedient. Tough the haggard warg had to reel of exhaustion. He had been running incessantly all night long, carrying her and Dorian through the dangerous mountain paths. She forced the beast to enter the water to make Azog lost their trail, just in case if he still was interested in them.  

Suddenly, Weakling stopped short.

‘Oho, it begins,’ she thought. But the warg, instead of starting to revolt, sniffed anxiously.

He began to whine and pull back slowly.

She did not understand his behavior until she noticed a huge black bear sneaking around nearby trees.

‘Wonderful.’

The bear jumped out of the woods and started running straight at them.

She turned Weakling and hastened him.

Unfortunately, they had no chance to escape. She heard the patter of large paws right behind them.

“Dorian, jump!” she screamed.

Brother ​​immediately did what she had ordered. She did the same after a few seconds.

It stayed undecided if the bear had spotted them - the only thing what it did was to jump at Weakling.

The forest was close. Sybil rushed to Dorian, the boy staring at the fighting beasts, grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the trees. She noticed a suitable willow. She run up to it together with her brother.

“Get in there, ”she said urgently.

When they found themselves at a safe height, she stopped and saw that the bear was holding the warg’s throat. Weakling was struggling faintly for a moment, then ceased moving for good.

Sybil saddened. Somehow, she had grown fond of the warg.

As she realized this, she wondered if everything was all right with her head.

She was also a little relieved that someone had killed Weakling first.

The bear was sniffing around the flesh of its defeated opponent for a long time.

After that, it started walking towards them. And, what was shocking, it began to change.

A huge man stood under the willow.

“Get down and tell me your story,” he said. “And you better pray it to be interesting.”

The rightest thing that they could do was to fulfill Beorn's wish.

So they went down. And told him everything, starting with the Thorin's arrival at Ettinor. About how they had become friends with the heirs of Durin. About the dwarves’ sudden departure. The attack on their village. About the exile. About how they had discovered the Azog’s conspiracy. How they had had to choose between espionage or death. How they had been the Company’s shadows. The hospitality in Imladris. As they had been captured (again). As they had  fled. How they had come here. They hadn't  hide anything important from the skin-changer. They had kept for themselves only the details of their stay in Rivendell. They knew Beorn only from the stories of others. And as far as they were concerned, if they didn't want to get killed, it was better not to deceive him.

“Ha! It was a good story! Very interesting!” Beorn exclaimed.  “If what you say is true, I have to admit that you’re extraordinary ... You claimed that you had killed a lot of orcs and hated Azog the Defiler ... Well, you can shelter in my house and stay there for some time. My animals will take care of you. I concluded from your storytelling that you know the area quite well, so you should get there without a problem. Meanwhile, I’m setting off to hunt down the Pale Orc. I also have a score to settle with him.” He changed into the bear again and disappeared.

It was dark when they began to approach the Wooden Manor.

They had encountered Azog’s band on their way. Of course.

They had took a refuge in a tree, waiting, begging Elbereth for the orcs not to scent them.

Then, a messenger had come.

“They are gathering in Dol Guldur,” he said to Azog. “The Master has summoned you!”

Sybil had always been good at learning new languages. Maybe there was nothing glorious in the knowledge of Black Speech, but ...

 As the orcs were receding, only those words were whirling in her mind.

They are gathering in Dol Guldur. The Master has summoned you …

The Master has summoned you

But not that Master ...

“Make your choices carefully,” Elrond had said.

It was the very moment when they had to seriously consider what to do.

Find Thorin or go further.

Because there was only one place where they could go with the information about the Master of Dol Guldur.

THE END OF TOME I