Of Dragons, Dwobbits and Dwarves

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Azog's bony hand struck her in the small of the back and Bilba stumbled forward. Her feet tripped over the edge of the crenel she stood on and she felt a gut clenching sense of weightlessness and fear as there was suddenly nothing under her but air.

She started to drop, only to feel her shirt twist around her neck and pull tight in a chokehold. Her body swung backward, slamming into the stone with a heavy thud. The shirt tightened further and she gagged, her hands going to the material frantically to try and pull it clear.

The world shifted and then she was being dropped unceremoniously in a heap at Gothmog's feet. Bilba curled up, drawing her legs in toward her chest as she gasped for breath, one hand going to her throat as if she could magically make herself breathe easier. She heard a scuffle a few feet away and looked through the gap in Gothmog's legs to see Frerin being held back by several orcs.

"I will have my revenge," she heard Azog snarl from just behind her and she tensed in anticipation of a blow.

Gothmog gave an overly dramatic sigh of long suffering. "Mortals." He grabbed her arm and wrenched her to her feet. He twisted her arm behind her back and turned her to face Azog. "So you kill her," he said mildly, "and then what? What happens when you wake up tomorrow just as angry at her? Or the next day? Or the day after?"

Azog looked confused which, Bilba had to admit, was not an expression she'd ever seen on him before.

"Or what about leverage?" Gothmog went on, sounding bored. Bilba was beginning to suspect boredom was his default state of mind. "You kill her and then realize she could have been useful the next day but, oops, too bad, she's dead."

"You say that," Azog growled, "but she served no such purpose to you. The Durin was held back from coming."

Bilba let out a short sigh of relief. She had no doubt Vili and Kili must have been the ones to hold Fili back and made a note to thank them for it if she ever got the chance.

Gothmog looked nonplussed. "She may still have her uses, her and your new slave both."

He shoved her forward, into the waiting arms of several orcs. "Put her away somewhere," he ordered, "and bring me ten more prisoners." He angled his head and turned his attention to Frerin, dismissing Bilba as one might an insect. "Tell me, Durin, how many of your people will your nephew let die before he gives himself up? What value does he place on his life in comparison to theirs?"

Bilba never got to hear the answer, if Frerin even had one to give, as the orcs were already dragging her away and down the stairs. She caught a brief glimpse of Azog, his face twisted in anger, standing near Gothmog and then they were on the ground floor and she was being forced back through the marketplace.

Just as they reached the stairs leading back into Erebor itself she was pulled to a stop and dragged to one side to make way for a line of prisoners being marched down into the marketplace and toward the battlements. Several of them gave her frightened looks and Bilba couldn't help the instinctual step toward them, the desire to help overwhelming.

One of the orcs dragged her back, clawed hands digging into her forearms.

"You think you can save them, slave?" it growled at her in Black Speech. "You think you can save any of them?"

Bilba couldn't have answered even if she wanted but she did her best to convey her thoughts via the look on her face. The orc laughed at her in response, a guttural sound that made Bilba want to gut it on the spot.

"Fool," it spat. "You should feel grateful for the mercy shown them. It is far more than the rest of your ilk will get." He tightened his grip on her arm as the last of the prisoners passed and pulled her into the narrow corridor. "Lord Gothmog has already sent orders for the army to march around the mountain. They will take your people by surprise as they watch their kin die, and slaughter them all where they stand."