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The sun's final rays were sinking quickly behind the mountains in the distance. Yellow against a blood red sky, as though it was descending into hell.

And hell was where you and your companions were headed, it would seem. The chilling howls of the wargs coupled with the growing darkness send shivers down your spine as you all gallop down the hill as fast as your short legs can carry you. You dodge thick pine trees, hop over rocky plateaus and dash through the scratchy undergrowth.

The shapes of your companions running for their lives around you, headed by Gandalf, spurred you to keep the pace, despite the feeling of a knife between your ribs. You weren't ready to die, not here, not now. A few scratches and some sore ribs were far better than being short a head at the hands of the orcs.

Several wargs approach rapidly, teeth bared like spit-slathered knives. They close in, abd are quickly dispatched by your companions, but more still are coming. The howls of the wargs grew closer, and a spike of panic drove through your heart as you realise that your companions were nearing the ledge of a cliff, which opened into nothing. The nearest ground was hundreds of feet below, and it was unlikely anyone would survive the jump.

"Up into the trees! All of you!" The urgency in Gandalf's voice gives you the strength you need. All around you, the others shimmy up the tree trunks, lending a quick hand or words of encouragement when needed. Fili and Kili grasp your arms, and attempt to drag up into the tree after them, but you cant seem to find a foothold. Your boots scratch uselessly against the bark, and your panic grows.

All of a sudden, your left foot finds something solid, and you push off and up to safety. Looking down, you see Thorin standing below you, and figure he must have given you a boost. You give him a quick smile, and he rushes off to climb a tree of his own. You climb higher into the pine behind Fili and Kili, grasping branches for handholds, and pulling yourself up. Soon you're a fair distance above the ground, and hopefully safe from the monstrous warg pack that are rapidly approaching.

All of a sudden you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You whip your head around and see that it's Bilbo, running for dear life, as the wargs bear down upon him. Panic seizes you again, for the young hobbit has grown upon you, and you would hate for anything to happen to him.

"Hurry, Bilbo!" You cry, and the hobbit turns his head wildly, searching for your voice. You beckon hurriedly, and you watch him scurry up into the tree beneath you with a sigh of relief. When he reaches the part of the tree where you, Fili and Kili are, he rests his back against the tree trunk, breathing hard. You pat his shoulder comfortingly, trying to subdue your own exhaustion.

The wargs now dash beneath the trees where Bilbo was only seconds earlier, growling and snapping at the dwarves in the lower branches, who hurriedly climb higher to safety.

As you watch the wargs pacing below, you notice them all turn to attention at the approach of a shape on a rock ledge. A massive albino warg appears, slavering and snarling, razor sharp teeth bared. But the biggest spike of shock and unadulterated fear comes from who is astride the foul beast.

Disbelief and a smudge of panic coats Thorin's features when you turn to gaze at him, perched in a tree nearby. You begin to tremble slightly, as your mind goes into denial. No. This could not be happening.

"Azog." Your beloved's most loathed enemy. Hell-bent on wiping out the line of Durin for good.

The Pale Orc smiles, but it appears more a grimace. In the place of his missing arm, lost in the sack of Moria he has a clawed metal spike. The prosthetic limb only serves to make the gigantic orc more scarred and hideous than ever before. The hell-spawn inhales deeply in a mocking fashion, then sits back on his saddle.

"Do you smell it? The scent of fear?" His tongue mangles the sound of your native language, Khuzdûl, and you shudder in anger. How dare he disrespect the tongue of your ancestors.

"I remember your father reeked of it," The orc smiles gloatingly. "Thorin, son of Thraín."

The orcs astride wargs behind him chuckle evilly. Thorin's face morphs into anger as he glares down at the filthy orc.

"It cannot be," he murmurs, devastation evident from his tone. You fight to resist the impulse to take him into your arms and hold him, to comfort him in the face of this great evil. Your heart fills with compassion.

"Let him be, scum!" The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and Azog swings his head in surprise to gaze at you, cat-like pupils meeting yours. The gloating smile is back, and the orc laughs, the chilling sound echoing off the rocks.

"So your women do your fighting for you now, Oakenshield? Have you sunk so low that you leave it up to your concubine to defend you?"

His words only serve to enrage you further. Kili's warning hand on your back makes your anger simmer enough to stop yourself from launching yourself out of the tree and towards the Pale Orc.

"I see you have come back from the grave."The Pale Orc spits upon the ground and smiles nastily.

"Allow me the pleasure of reintroducing you to it." You glare back at him.

"These two are mine," he barks to his followers, gesturing to you and Thorin, "Kill the others!" He brandishes his mace, and the orcs and wargs charge forward. Reaching the base of the trees, they begin to snap and bite at the branches, trying to climb the shuddering trunks. Their efforts cause heavy tremors to wrack the tree, and you are forced to cling to the trunk tightly in an effort to stop from falling to your doom.

"Drink their blood!" Azog roars, and the wargs heighten their assault upon the trees, ripping of branches and leaving deep gouges in the wood. The tree creaks, and begins to tilt beneath you. It's in that moment, with sheer horror, you realise it is falling.

Frantically, you, Bilbo, Fili and Kili jump to the next tree, whistling through the air in a flail of limbs to where Oin and Bofur are perched. The weight of another tree leaning against it only aids the warg's destruction, because that tree to also begin to capsize, so you are forced to jump to the next tree. Soon all the trees are falling, and your Companions desperately fling themselves from tree to tree, until you are all situated in one lone pine, sitting on the very edge of the ledge.

Azog's grotesque laughter is audible again, and the orc leans back in his seat, benign amusement on his foul face. Looking up to Gandalf, who is balancing near the very top of the tree, you see him pluck a pine cone from the tree branch. He mutters a few words and blows on the pinecone, setting it ablaze

With a cry of triumph, the wizard hurls the pinecone down toward the wargs circling below, who screech and yelp at the feel of the biting flames, sending them running from the tree. They cringe away from the bright fire in confusion, helpless against its bite.

Gandalf is hard at work creating more pinecone weapons, and he drops several of them down to your section of the tree. Fili catches one, and he helps you and Bilbo set your pinecones alight. Soon fiery pinecones are raining down upon the wargs, and they scatter, as yells of victory erupt from your companions. The fallen trees catch alight, forming barriers, and the wargs are forced to retreat even further.

The Pale Orc lets out a bellow of rage, and Thorin glares triumphantly back. But the feeling of success is short lived, and the tree you are all caught in is weakened by the flames. With a groan, it begins to topple, and your companions shout in despair as it begins to fall over the edge of the cliff. But it's descent slows, and soon the tree lies parallel to the cliff face, pointing straight out into thin air.

A scream fills your ears as Ori slips and falls, clinging to Dori's legs for dear life. Dori in turn almost loses his grip, and grabs Gandalf's staff frantically. Gandalf, weighed down by two dwarves, attempts to secure himself in the branches of the tree, grunting with strain.

You feel your foot give way, and suddenly you also are at the mercy of the tree, screaming for help as you dangle over the edge. Fili and Kili quickly seize you, pulling you to safety, but Kili's branch cracks and you and Fili are forced to pull him to safety.

Thorin is clinging to a branch for dear life, face white with shock. You see Azog smile contentedly as the tree continues to sink. Thorin's facial expression morphs into ferocity. With effort, the dwarf prince pulls himself upright into the prone tree, eyes never leaving Azog's. He begins to stride down the tree trunk, towards the orc.

"Thorin, no!" you struggle, trying to free yourself and follow him, but cannot seem to find a handhold to pull yourself up as much as you strain. Bilbo also watches in frozen shock, as Thorin advances upon the Pale Orc.

Clutching the oaken branch and Orcrist, Thorin picks up his pace, breaking into a charge through the flaming branches. Azog spreads his arms, seemingly welcoming Thorin's attack.

But then the white warg pounces. Muscular furred legs push off the rock outcropping and leap upon Thorin, knocking your love flat onto his back and winding him.

Roaring, Thorin gets to his feet, but with a cry, Azog swings his mace and it catches Thorin under the chin, knocking him flat once again.

"No!" Balin yells in despair, but it is futile.

"THORIN!" You scream, tears blurring your vision, and for a moment you are angry. Angry because Thorin is about to throw his life away, fighting Azog, and he will never know how you feel. He is not allowed to die. You wont let him.

Your fingers find that handhold.

"Y/N!" Fili cries, and you see Bilbo pull himself upright too. Without another though, you clamber down the tree trunk, speeding towards the orc.

The white warg has Thorin in its jaws and it bites down on his abdomen, causing Thorin to emit an excruciating cry of pain. The sound of ribs racking meets your ears

"Thorin!" Dwalin yells helplessly, still stuck in the tree.

His voice spurs you on further, and you draw your sword as you dash forward.

Thorin slams the warg on the nose, and the beast flings him away, and he lands with a thud on a rock, eyes glassy.

"Bring me the dwarf's head," Azog gestures to an orc.

A cry leaves your lips, and you race to Thorin's side, ignoring the orcs. A warg leaps toward you, howling ferally, but with a flick of your wrist its throat is slit. Kneeling by Thorin, you hurriedly brush the hair out of his bruised and battered face. "No, no, no," you murmur wildly, trying to staunch the bleeding through his rent armour.

"You're not allowed to die." You meet his vacant gaze.

"Do you hear me, you stubborn old goat? You're not allowed to die!" A tear slips down your cheek.

And you pull your face to his and kiss him, for those few short, sweet seconds. And it was as if no time had passed. All those years, those thousands of days. Every time you had thought of him, alone in your home in Bree. Everything that had reminded you if him. All compressed into the moment of your lips meeting his. A kiss of blood and broken promises.

But then suddenly you're airborne, flung to the side by the orc approaching Thorin.You land awkwardly, jarring your limbs, and burning pain sears up your right arm.

The orc lines its sabre up with Thorin's throat, and he struggles, snarling, reaching out for Orcrist, which is just out of reach. With a muffled screech of pain, you quickly attempt to scramble to your feet, to reach Thorin, but you're too far, and it's too late. The dagger descends toward Thorin, and you can only watch as the love of your life, the only one you have ever loved, is about to be ripped from you.

A shout breaks the ominous silence, and a small shape tackles the orc. You watch in disbelief as the orc grapples with Bilbo Baggins of all people, who seems to be quite the fighter. Thorin raises his head, breathing raggedly. Straddling the orc, Bilbo thrusts down and his tiny sword pierces through the orc's chest. With an agonised roar, its struggles cease, and it lies still.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Thorin's head drop and his eyes flutter shut. Bilbo wrenched his sword from the dead orc and turns to face the gathering throng of wargs and orcs, headed by Azog. There is a flicker of fear in the hobbit's eyes, but he holds his ground. You clamber to your feet and stumble to stand beside him, clutching your sword.

"I've got your back," you tell him and brace yourself for an attack.

Bilbo swings his sword haphazardly as Azog and his warg approach. "Kill them!" The Orc orders, and death stares you in the face in the form of a snarling warg. But then cries break the ominous silence, and your Companions are upon the orcs and wargs, weapons waving. They set upon the creatures instantly, and the element of surprise gives them the advantage. In the confusion, the orcs and wargs scatter again, and you enter the throng with a scream. You swing at a warg, stabbing it in the chest, and as it crumples you behead the orc riding it.

Amid the chaos, you notice Azog advancing toward a weaponless Bilbo, the white warg snarling threateningly. Screaming, you jump into front of him, arms spread. "Leave my hobbit alone!" You snarl, and in the moment of confusion a giant bird swoops from the sky and havoc ensues.

Moment later, you realise it is an enormous eagle, and more of the massive birds soon appear. They throw wargs and orcs alike from the cliff with their talons, fan the flames with their wings, knock down trees to crush the enemies. Yet the gigantic birds also pick up your companions in their talons gently, and carry them, from the cliff face. An eagle descends, and encloses you in one of its claws, the ground warpibg sickeningly as you rise. The gargantuan bird then flaps a few metres toward the rock and takes off, picking Thorin up with the other.

The world tilts dizzyingly, and the wind howls as the bird takes flight, following its comrades who have the other dwarves. From the way the eagle is clutching you, you're fairly sure you won't fall, and you turn yourself in the eagle's claws so that you are facing Thorin. The fact that he is lifeless makes tears fill your eyes, and you reach out, stroking his cheek. A memory of happier times flashes before your eyes, and you begin to sing softly to him in the freezing gale, tears streaming down your face.

"In the caverns deep of Erebor

Amongst the gems and gold

You will find a treasure there, azyung

A treasure mighty of old

Down beneath the chasms

Even in deepest carven stone

This treasure will still sparkle, azyung,

And you will never feel alone

This treasure does not tarnish, azyung

Nothing can pierce or harm it, like mithril

This treasure will survive till the end of time

And even longer that then still

Do not fear the burglar, for it cannot be stolen

Or the market, for it cannot be sold

This treasure shall forever remain, azyung

In our dungeons deep and caverns old

So rest your weary head, azûng

This treasure is safe, my love

You can always find it when I crawl into your arms

The treasure that is our love."

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