Bilba wasn't so delusional as to believe she actually had a chance in a fight with Azog. The orc was more than twice her size, better trained and more experienced. Even if she could block a blow from him, which she doubted given her current level of training, the sheer power his body could generate in a swing would undoubtedly knock her sword from her hands at best and shatter her arms at worst.

Fortunately he was an orc and, as such, she felt zero compunction to fight fair.

Azog was still wasting time mocking her while the other orcs were laughing. Bilba grinned at him.

"What's wrong? Scared to get down and face me? Are you trying to play for time while you think of a way to get out of fighting me?"

Several of the other orcs stopped laughing and gave Azog an appraising look. In orc culture the name of the game was very much survival of the fittest. If those who followed him thought Azog was scared to fight he wouldn't last long in his current position.

Azog went silent, his eyes narrowing in rage. He swung a leg over the warg and dropped to the ground with a thunk.

Bilba felt her heart speed up. Her hands shook lightly as they clutched her sword and she struggled to keep the fear from showing on her face.

Now would be an exceptionally good time for Thorin to wake up and take over but she already knew that wouldn't be happening. The form behind her was still and at least a part of her worried over that. Was he even still breathing?

Please let him still be breathing.

Azog stepped forward, lifting the giant mace. Was it really necessary to have a weapon that large? A mace half the size would be just as effective and far less intimidating.

Memory flashed through her mind of the weapon connecting with Thorin, of his body sailing through the air to hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Bilba took a deep, steadying breath.

She shifted her hands, moving the ring tucked in her palm to her fingers.

She slid it onto the finger of her left hand.

Immediately the world faded to a dull, feathery gray.

Azog paused, his arm still raised, a look of confusion crossing his face. The other orcs all erupted in a chorus of shouts and equal befuddlement.

Bilba knew it would only last a second.

She crouched and darted forward.

Azog's arm was still raised and she ducked under it, raised her sword....and drove it straight into his stomach.

Blood sprayed in her face and the orc screamed in rage and pain. Even invisible he knew there was a blade in his stomach and, as such, had a general idea of where she was. Before she could move, a hand fisted in her hair and the back of her clothing.

A moment later she was flying through the air. She barely managed to keep hold of her sword, ripping it from his stomach as he threw her.

She slammed into his warg, the impact jarring her. She hit the ground with a thud and twisted onto her back, driving her sword up and into the creature's throat. It roared and went down, next to where Azog now lay on the ground roaring in pain and holding the wound in his stomach.

Bilba struggled to her feet, still gripping her sword. Heat rushed through her, sweat gathering on her brow and her breath came in great heaving gasps. Blood stained her arms and chest, splattered in a fine mist over her face. Her hand, where it grasped the hilt of her sword, trembled.

The other orcs were still in the same spots, gaping. Azog roared for them to help him but, for the moment, they were too stunned to move.

Again, Bilba took advantage. She lunged at the nearest orc and warg. Her sword went deep into the warg's eye socket, then she spun and drove the sword into the orc's leg.

As it went down she drove the blade into its chest and then out again. Her arms were already aching but she didn't dare stop.

She took down two more wargs and another orc before the threat of imminent death woke the rest from their stupor.

The battle that followed would be remembered as the hardest Bilba ever fought.

Half the remaining orcs went to Azog, lifting him up and removing him from the battle all together. Bilba had no choice but to let them go. The remaining orcs still had her hemmed against the mountainside. In such close quarters invisibility only did so much. She risked bumping into them at every move and all it would take was one of them catching hold of her for it to all be over.

She darted and rolled, throwing herself between the legs of one orc and rolling to slash at its ankles as she came back up. Grit and debris from the fire abraded her skin and opened up burning spots of pain on her legs and arms where she'd been scratched or cut. Smoke still clogged her throat forcing her lungs to work even harder to try and provide her enough oxygen to fight.

Her chest heaved and it was a struggle to keep her sword up.

The clearing was littered with dead and dying orcs and wargs but at least four were still on their feet.

For the first time it seemed to occur to their small brains that Thorin was fully visible and completely vulnerable. Two of them lunged toward him and Bilba cursed, racing to block them. She physically slammed against one of them while slashing her sword across the face of the other.

Arms closed around her from the back and she screamed as an orc lifted her up. She reached a hand behind her and found the creature's face, located its eyes and drove her fingers in.

It shrieked and threw her. She slammed into the ground and rolled up against Thorin's prone body.

She started to get up and froze. Around her the world was sharp and in focus and there was only one way that could be.

She was no longer wearing the ring.

The orcs grinned. One of them bent to pick something up and when it straightened it was holding her sword. She hadn't been aware she'd lost it.

Bilba pulled herself up and pressed back against Thorin's side, wrapping an arm across his chest.

Now would be a REALLY good time for him to wake up.

His eyes stayed closed, however, his features slack.

The orcs were no longer in a rush now that they had her defenseless and visible. The one holding her sword twirled it in one hand, giving her an appraising look.

Bilba felt bile rise in her throat even as her stomach clenched in fear. She pulled her feet in along Thorin's side; her entire body pressed against his. She cast around frantically for the ring but saw no sign of it.

How had it even fallen off? It had fit her hand perfectly.

One of the orcs stepped forward and she barely suppressed a whimper.

Call your friends.

Bilba blinked as the voice sounded in her head. It was vaguely familiar, as though she'd heard it before, but she couldn't imagine when or where.

Call your friends, the voice repeated. They would not have left you.

They didn't have a choice, Bilba thought desperately. They fell or were taken by goblins. Even if Azog HAD seen them, and not just robbed their corpses, something she didn't even want to imagine; he claimed to have driven them over a cliff.

And you believed him?

She didn't know what to believe. She WANTED them to be all right, of course she did, but, regardless of the how, the end result was the same.

All of them were gone.

So what do you have to lose?

That was true enough.

The orc stepped closer, one hand idly playing with the blade and point of her sword. They were clearly enjoying her fear.

"Dwalin!"

Her shout was quiet, even to her own ears and the voice in her head spoke again, annoyed.

Is that the best you can do? CALL THEM!

"DWALIN!" The name echoed over the mountain and the orcs stiffened, two of them looking over their shoulders to see who it was she was summoning.

No one came.

Bilba shivered. The adrenaline that had seen her through the fight was fading and now the exhaustion was creeping in. A thousand cuts, bruises and scrapes were making themselves known and blackness was starting to creep into the corners of her vision.

"Gloin!"

The orcs looked again and, again, no one came.

"Bifur! Bofur! Bombur!"

They laughed at her. The one with her sword said something to the others and turned its attention back to her. She should have been able to understand the words but they seemed unnaturally slow and blurred in her ears. It was getting hard to keep her head up.

The voice demanded she keep trying and Bilba obeyed.

"OIN! BALIN!"

The only sound was that of the orcs cackling at her.

The orc began to raise her sword and Bilba futilely put an arm over her head even as she screamed, "NORI! ORI! DORI!"

It laughed and said something to her. Again she couldn't understand. It felt as though she were standing farther away than before, watching events as they unfolded.

"KILI!"

Even her own voice sounded dull and flat to her.

The sword began to fall.

One last burst of adrenaline flooded her, snapping everything back into sharp, clear focus.

Bilba let loose a scream from the very depths of her soul, anger, pain, despair and loss all wrapped into it.

She closed her eyes and threw herself over Thorin, burying her face against his chest as she waited for the blow to fall.

It didn't.

Instead she heard a roar of pure rage, pounding footsteps and the loud clang of metal on metal.

Bilba struggled to raise her head but the adrenaline was already gone and her own consciousness was quickly fading to join Thorin wherever he was.

She managed to turn her head to the side, her eyes flickering open to slits. She could make out shapes, far more than had been there previously and she wondered if Azog had come back.

A distant thumping sound registered in her mind and she realized it was Thorin's heartbeat, pounding against her ear. His chest was also rising and falling she realized dimly and felt gratitude that at least she hadn't defended him in vain.

Everything was growing dark. She could feel her body relaxing, every muscle loosening and allowing her to sink against Thorin even more.

She could hear the faint sound of voices though she had no idea what they were saying.

Dimly she saw boots approaching.

Someone knelt next to her and she felt a hand on her head. She expected pain but instead the hand stroked gently through her hair. A voice spoke but it was muffled and seemed to come from so very far away.

Bilba struggled to push the darkness back.

Her eyes were nearly closed and no amount of effort could open them again. She struggled to move them anyway, traveling past a pair of boots, up trouser clad legs, past the leather overcoat and on to the face.

A vague impression of blonde hair and crystal blue eyes registered dimly in her mind and the slow smile that split her face could have rivaled the sun in its brilliance.

Calling forth all the strength she had left, Bilba lifted a hand to slide along the face of the figure kneeling over her.

"Fili."

Her voice was barely a whisper but she thought she saw him smile in return. His lips moved but she was already past hearing.

The black rushed in, her eyes closed and her hand fell limp.

Her smile, however, remained.