Of Dragons, Dwobbits and Dwarves

Chapter Thirty-Two

You're certain?

Fili hid a flinch at the fragile hope coming through the bond with his uncle. There's no doubt. It was him.

His uncle went silent and Fili tried to politely ignore the sudden flood of emotion. He shifted, grimacing as a particularly sharp edge of stone cut into his hip. He'd been lounging across the stairs leading up to the throne, resting on one hip and his elbow as he watched Beryl shriek at two confused orcs near the bridge leading to the rest of the mountain.

Well, one confused orc anyway. The other looked like it was sizing her up for a meal. The two were orc grunts, usually those considered the most expendable by the rest. Orcs used them as cannon fodder, protecting the best and brightest, by their standards, farther back in the ranks. If Beryl wanted action, her best bet would be orc commanders but, judging by the lack of organization from those still in the mountain, Fili was fairly sure they'd all either gone with Gothmog or were outside with the bulk of the army.

Lucky for Beryl. If she were to come face to face with an orc commander, Fili had no doubt she'd have been three days dead before catching on. It was unreal to him how utterly deluded the young woman was, so deeply and thoroughly spoiled by her father that she genuinely seemed to believe rank and bloodline alone should open any door she wished.

And you're sure he's no longer there? his uncle's voice cut into his musings and Fili tuned back into it.

There's no way to know for certain but my best guess is Gothmog and Azog took him with them when they left. His uncle and Bilba. He'd tried to speak to them when the ability had come back, only to hear silence in return.

And the Arkenstone. His uncle sounded troubled and Fili couldn't blame him.

You really think they're going after the cage?

Where else? Thorin replied. They came here specifically for the Arkenstone and you say he had the other keys.

Maybe, Fili answered, trying his best to put some positive spin on things. Perhaps the ring Bilba wore wasn't one of them. And, besides, no one knows where the cage is, it's been lost for centuries.

He's been alive for centuries. His uncle never had been one for self-delusion, always the one to stand up and face the truth, no matter how dark. He didn't stage this attack on a hope or possibility. He knows where the cage is.

And we don't. If Gothmog got to the cage and, Valar forbid, opened it, then this battle would seem like a mere scuffle.

His uncle gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. One thing at a time. We can't do anything with an army on our doorstep. Can you get free?

Fili barely managed to not snort in derision. It had been one thing when Gothmog and Azog had been there, but now... well, the day he couldn't escape from one delusional courtier was the day he no longer deserved to be called a dwarf.

Some of his feelings on the subject must have leaked across the bond because it was with amusement that his uncle said, Get to one of the balconies. I'll have a dragon come get you.

Fili considered it, tilting his head absently to one side as Beryl's shrieking impossibly reached a whole new level. Her face was red and contorted with rage, her hair and dress a mess and her words so shrill she was nearly incomprehensible. Fili wasn't sure if she was demanding reinforcements or a new dress, either a possibility with her.

You said the army is focused on Dale, right? Casually, he pushed to his feet and stepped down the stairs to the platform.

Yes, Thorin answered. The dragons are trying to hold them back while the people are evacuated to Mirkwood.