The elleth from under the mountain

Howling at the moon

Bilbo's P.O.V

Her scream pierced the night like a hot blade through butter. Easily it disrupted the surrounding chaos, capturing everyone's attention like an eclipse.

It was the silence that briefly followed that was unnaturally eerie. It was as though the world had stopped turning, it had for us.

I scrambled to my feet, stumbling in my haste as I scrambled over the log I'd been instructed not to leave.

In an instant I  slipped past the company of huddled dwarves, who all for once didn't have anything to say.

The sight before me had my breath catching in my throat, lungs contracting painfully as I struggled to process what I was seeing.

Thórin knelt one hand cradling Ontario's head, the other splayed carefully, trying to stem the flow of blood that rose between his bloodstained fingertips and the blade that still stood firmly in her chest.

A fine trickle of blood seeped from her slightly parted lips, rolling down the edge of her pale white cheek that was usually so full of colour.

"What are we to do?" Thórin asked his normally schooled features twisting in pain. In the short time I'd known him he had always kept his cards close to his chest. He was often cold and at sometimes distant. The rare times he did show any type of emotion other than anger or disinterest were to his nephews.

They were his blood, and the way he looked at Ontario...

He looked lost.

"It's got to come out," Balin replied. I shook my head, I had never seen a wound so threatening in my entire existence. "But it'll kill her," I couldn't help but comment. "It'll kill her if it stays in," Balin murmured ruefully.

"Move! Out of my way!" A powerful voice commanded as a tall figure strode past the sea of dwarves who all stood with varying levels of concern written on their faces.

Gandalf sighed deeply as he assessed the sight before him. His face falling dramatically. A somber Gandalf was never a good sight to behold.

"It has to come out," Balin stated soberly, "It'll be her only chance,".

"You'll never stop the bleeding," Gandalf muttered shaking his head in defeat. My heart sank, this was it then. I was going to watch someone I considered a close friend, die right in front of my eyes.

"Unless..." Fili trailed off glancing over at his equally stressed brother the two momentarily communicating silently with just their eyes, "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Fili asked, the younger of the two nodding quickly as he chewed on the end of his finger nail.

"Blasting powder,".

The second the words left his lips everyone jumped into action.

The fire was stoked up and roaring. Oín was throwing items out of his bag as he and Balin began to stack jars of different coloured powders in front of Gandalf who began to carefully pour different measurements into a bowl.

Water was fetched, bodies were dragged out of the ruined campsite, someone even had the foresight to round up Ontario's beloved feral horse who had wandered over to where its owner laid so still.