Of Dragons, Dwobbits and Dwarves

Chapter Thirty-Three

The tunnel was massive, and bitterly cold. The walls were a mix of soil and stone but they, and the presence of the orcs, were more than enough to raise flashes of Moria in her mind.

A pale light flared ahead and she looked up to see the crystal at the top of the wizard's staff glowing. With a start, she suddenly realized why she'd thought one of the crystals Gothmog had thrown to Saruman had seemed familiar. She'd seen it before, adorning the head of the staff carried by the old man from the goblin caves, Gandalf.

A sick feeling settled in her gut. She'd liked that wizard far better than she'd ever liked Saruman, who'd always seemed perpetually sullen. She desperately wanted to hold out hope that Gandalf was somehow all right but could think of no good reason for Gothmog to have had the crystal.

Yet one more thing the bastard had to answer for.

A clawed hand in her back shoved her forward and she stumbled, catching herself on Frerin who was a few steps ahead. He shifted his balance, bracing her until she could get her feet under her. Bilba gave him a brief smile in thanks and fell in beside him. Thranduil was a few feet behind and all three of them were surrounded by orcs.

Gothmog walked at the front, with Azog near him. Saruman was there as well but he was several feet back and couldn't quite get up next to Gothmog no matter what he did. It didn't seem to be sitting well with him, judging by the glare on his face, and Bilba suspected this wasn't what he'd imagined when he'd set out to betray Middle Earth.

A second, massive tunnel opening came into view on the side wall and Bilba guessed that was where the worm creature had gone after creating the one they were in. She strained to see down it as they walked past but all she saw was darkness.

"Ugh," Frerin said suddenly from beside her, "what in Durin's name is that smell?"

Bilba frowned at him, wondering how he could smell anything over the stink the orcs gave off. Then the smell hit her as well, a thick, oppressive stench like that of rotting meat, and she jerked back as if she'd been physically struck.

"It's that monstrosity of his," Thranduil said coldly from behind them. "The smell isn't as bad outside but builds up quickly within the tunnels."

Monstrosity? Something large shifted in the tunnel ahead of them, still lost in the dark past the wizard's staff, and she tensed. A few moments later the light fell on a creature that was like some horrible bastardization of an orc dragon and... something she didn't want to think about.

"Mahal have mercy," Frerin breathed, horrified. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I assure you," Gothmog said with amusement, "there was very little mercy involved."

An almost red hot heat began to build inside Bilba's veins and it took all she had to hold herself back from physically lunging at him.

Frerin did not have the same control, as he gave a snarled, "You bastard," and proceeded to lunge at Gothmog.

A second later he was on the ground, screaming in pain as he clutched his head without Gothmog having laid a hand on him.

Bilba darted forward as the attack ended and dropped next to him, grabbing his shoulder and resting a hand on his chest. Azog started to step closer but Frerin gave a near snarl and struggled up to a sitting position and then, with Bilba supporting him, stood up.

Gothmog had already turned his back on them and was studying the hybrid. As the thing, which appeared to have no more intelligence than a simple beast, swayed and moved Bilba caught sight of orc dragons crouching behind it.