"If you really are a true wanderer, you will find a path and catch up!" Her elven ears easily heard him call down to her. She looked around for any possible footholds, and spotted a way farther to her right that would get her up, but just short of the path.

"I can get over there if you pull me up!" She shouted as loud as she could. It didn't seem like they heard her, however, as they started walking away. "Hey!" she tried getting their attention. "Wait!"

"You'll catch up!" Bilbo called down to her. "We'll wait up for yo--" His voice was suddenly cut off as he disappeared over the ledge. Great. Just fantastic. It could take hours for her to find a way up. If she found a way up. She started climbing back towards where she fell, rain still pouring down atop her, making her path extremely slippery.

She was soaked to the bone by now, and covered in scrapes and bruises from her fall. The cold rain stung her wounds, and she couldn't feel her fingers any longer, but still she pressed on. She climbed left for some time, trying to inch up as she went, but to little success. The carnage of the stony battle made the climb even worse, with giant gaps between footholds and missing pieces of what would have been a path. Her arms and legs burned, and when she came across a ledge large enough, she sat down, her legs dangling over the giant chasm before her. Part of her wished the ledge would break and she'd be put out of her misery. Before she could stop them, tears spilled from her eyes, and she sobbed into her hands, wiping what was left of her dark war paint off.

All she was trying to do was make Gandalf proud, and help protect middle earth from evil that lurked in the shadows. She knew she would never be as great as Elrond or Galadriel, but she could at least try and be something more than the useless wanderer or elven guard she'd been for all her life. No matter where she went, or what life she tried to pursue, it always ended in death or disaster. Maybe if she wasn't here, the dwarves would be okay. Maybe she should just leave them behind, thinking she slipped and died. Maybe nature would just run its course and everything would work out in the end.

Agarwaen looked up and out at the dark mountains in front of her. The rain cascaded and dripped down the stone, falling to the river below where it was swept away to some unknown location. The sky kept weeping along with her, washing away her tears and the dirt of the journey it took to get here.

She sat there for a while, just feeling numb. She barely felt the pain of the fall, and her emotions felt dead. She doubted her strength, her resolve, willpower, and each and every one of her abilities. She questioned if Eru actually cared for his creations. It didn't seem like he cared about her very much. Maybe she made him upset, and he had Aulë punish her with his dwarves. Maybe he'd forsaken her for her sins. Maybe he'd cursed her. She pulled her legs up over the edge and pressed her knees to her chest. She stayed like that for a few minutes, her mind feeling empty and hollow.

But what if this was a test? What if, just like in the tales of heroes, the fate of something did lie with her? Just as she thought that, the rain let up a little bit. Not enough to make the journey safe, but enough for her to take it as a sign. She let out one more choked sob, wiped her eyes, and carefully stood back up. She winced as her fingers curled around a handhold and she pulled herself up. Looking ahead at the path before her, she finally saw a way back up to the path. She'd never seen something more beautiful in her life. Despite feeling like a drunkard in the morning, she forced herself to climb up. Slipping from time to time, she always managed to regain her footing, and before she knew it, she rolled over onto the path, laying down facing the sky.

Cold raindrops hit her face, making her squeeze her eyes shut and sit up. She caught her breath, and then stood. She gulped as the ground briefly swayed beneath her and her legs felt like mush. Still, she put one foot in front of the other, and pressed on.

She walked alone for some time, before she caught snatches of Bofur's voice. Excited to hear something familiar, she picked up the pace, but started to slow. An overwhelming sense of familiarity swept over her as she looked upon the rocks around her, but she couldn't seem to place it in her mind. Why does she remember that stone? She swore she'd seen that crack before. As she grew closer, and heard Bofur wish someone luck, it all came rushing back like a tidal wave. The feeling of adrenaline returned and she physically felt herself pale.

"What's that?" Bofur asked.

"Not this cave! Not again!" Agarwaen rushed to the entrance of the cave, nothing but fear on her face.

"You're back lass!" Bofur smiled.

"No no no, everyone get up!" She yelled as loud as she could. The dwarves began stirring, and Thorin shot up, also shouting for everyone to wake up. But it was too late. Sand fell down cracks in the ground, and before she could utter another word, the ground opened up and swallowed everyone but her, as she hadn't set foot inside the cave yet.

"Iluvitar help us." She said before jumping down on her own accord. She slid down the twisted tube, and silently thanked god for making her an elf as she landed on both feet atop the pile of startled dwarves. "Sorry." She muttered to any dwarf she might have stepped on, and jumped down before unsheathing her sword. Being made by the elves in the first age, given to her by Lord Elrond, it glowed a brilliant blue. A horde of hideous goblins charged them. She knew she couldn't take them all, not even if all the dwarves were battle-ready with her, but she could try.

She sliced into several that charged at her, and her mind delved into pure unrestrained combat. This was what she'd been waiting for, for years. The goblins grappled at her, and she knew by now she'd cut off several hands. When one goblin managed to jump on her back and knock her sword out of her hand, she had her daggers in her hands in an instant and slit the goblin's throat from on top of her, whipping him off before he could drip too much blood into her hair.

The dwarves, amidst fighting the goblins themselves, couldn't help but spare the elf glances as she spun around in a deadly dance of metal and blood. It was as if she was impossible to restrain. Bodies began piling up around her, making it more difficult for her to move, and eventually that was her downfall. One nearly dead body on the ground wrapped his hand around her ankle, and she fell. The goblins stripped her of her weapons, and dragged her on the ground behind them. She jumped up and managed to kick them, freeing her hands. Though she no longer had her weapons, her fighting style remained the same. Quick and nimble, landing punches and kicks where she could get them in, her new goal to knock the foul creatures over the bridge. Not much could be said for the dwarves, though, as most of them were caught and rendered helpless. However, before long, Agarwaen once again fell short against the tens of goblins attacking her, and was dragged along with the rest of the dwarves.

The company looked on, disgusted by their vile surroundings. The place reeked of death, looked like death, and felt like death. The goblin's cold, bony fingers held tight to their captives as they brought them to their king. Agarwaen was disgusted to see that he looked even worse than he did last time. The goblins piled all of the weapons they'd taken on the floor before their king, who stepped down from his throne.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom"

"How are you still alive?" Agarwaen's voice managed to echo through the tunnels. The goblin king stopped, and searched for her among the crowd.

"You." He snarled.

"Yes, it's me you giant lump of fungus. Didn't expect to see me again, did you? If you can even see through those ugly eyes of yours."

"What is she doing?" Fili mumbled to himself. The goblin king took a threatening step forward.

"Listen up, you rantallion sard," She started, earning wide eyes from the company. "you're going to let my companions go, and I'm going to finish what I failed to do last time I was so unfortunate as to stumble into this maggot infested hole in the ground. Today, you die. I got out of here once, and I'll do it again." The oversized goblin laughed.

"And who would these companions of yours be, elven wench?"

"Dwarves, your malevolence." A goblin answered for her.

"Dwarves? And what would an elf be doing with a bunch of dwarves?" He leaned forward. She could smell his breath from there, and had to stop herself from gagging. "Well don't just stand there! Search them!" He ordered his subjects. "As for you, I'm going to keep your head on a pike, right beside my throne." He said with a large cyst-ridden finger pointed at her.

"So what are dwarves doing in these parts?" He asked. When he was met with nothing but silence, he simply smiled and ordered for his torture machines to be brought to him.

"Start with the youngest. End with her. She gets to watch her friends die first."

"Friends?" She sneered, trying to buy them time. Gandalf did always come at the last second, and if he didn't, all she needed was a tiny opening. A mere second to grab a sword from the pile and they'd all be dead. Goblins weren't exactly smart, and their thin walkways and bridges did not make an easy battleground for them. But it made it much easier for her, only having to take on a few at a time. For someone with the skill, it was easy to escape the goblin tunnels. "These are no friends of mine. I would merely take pleasure in watching them die as you do. They left me for dead." He stared at her, pondering her words.

"Start with her." He said bluntly.

Some of the dwarves believed what she said as well, and were just as ashamed as they were angry at her words. They had left her for dead. Something that they knew was a horrific act. Others however, most notably Thorin, knew what game she played at. She was willing to get herself killed first in order to give them time to try and escape. As much as Thorin disliked her, he couldn't let that happen. Not after they had just abandoned her.

"Wait!" He stepped forward. Agarwaen closed her eyes in annoyance. Did he not understand that she was trying to save their sorry hides?

"Well, well, well. Look who it is." The goblin king grinned. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King under the mountain." He mockingly bowed. "Oh wait, I'm forgetting. You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody really." The goblins snickered and chortled all around them. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head." Agarwaen narrowed her eyes at the goblin, wondering of who he spoke, and what significance it held in their situation besides his intent to slaughter them all, which he already intended to do before he even knew who he had captured.

"Just a head, nothing attached." He continued. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak? A pale orc, astride a white warg." Now that got Agarwaen's attention. She'd heard the tales of the gundabad orc, Azog. Mostly from Beorn, but the tales also say that he's been dead for years. Thorin voiced the answer to her question, saying that he was killed in battle. The goblin however, knew otherwise.

"Send word to the pale orc," He spoke to a small goblin scribe, "tell him I have found his prize."