Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

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We looked up, alarm in our eyes. "Out of the frying pan..." Thorin grumbled.

"... and into the fire." Gandalf finished. "Run! RUN!" Kili seized my hand, dragging me along. I could barely keep up, stumbling over my feet. I was to weak.

"Kili." I gasped in between my small breaths. "Leave me. I'm just slowing you down."

"No. I will not lose you, Amralime." I looked at him, my eyes widening. I must have misheard him. I shook my head, forcing myself to run. We ran down the mountain, and my momentum carried me for most of the time. I heard the footsteps of the Wargs. They were gaining. Fear started to consume me. I wasn't ready to die. It couldn't happen.

As we ran, night descended. That made it harder to run, for I started tripping over the littlest things. But I kept going. Kili's hand never loosened, and he was the only one keeping me going. There were large rocks, and Kili guided me around them. I started seeing double of the dwarf. The sound of a Warg snapping his jaws sounded. A Warg spun around, facing Bilbo. He drew his sword, holding it straight out. The creature impaled itself.

Thorin cut down a Warg. We continued running, reaching a cliff. Dwalin looked at the cliff, and then turned around. Kili whipped around, pulling me behind him. "Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!" Bifur threw an axe, killing the approaching Warg. Bofur jumped off a rock and grabbed a tree branch, using Dwalin's head as some sort of stepping stone to get to the tree.

"They're coming!" Thorin shouted to the Company.

Bilbo tried to get his sword from the Warg's head. It wasn't working as successfully as he wanted. He kept pulling, finally getting it out. Gandalf climbed into the highest, furthermost tree. Other dwarves began climbing into the trees, Dwalin hoisting his brother into a tree. Kili dragged me toward a tree, hoisted himself onto a branch, swinging himself backward and then climbing on. He grabbed his brother's hand, pulling him up. I wanted to jump, but my legs were to weak, shaking even harder. My ribs hurt like fire, every breath needed agony.

"Iridian!" Kili called. "Jump!" I looked back to see the Wargs getting closer. I looked up to see his eyes. They were blazing in the loyalty Fili talked about what seemed like forever ago. I saw Bombur jump and wrap his legs around a tree branch, which groaned at the weight.

"Kili I can't!"

"Then jump as high as you can. We'll catch you." He said. "Trust me. I will not lose you to these Orcs." I nodded. I tensed my legs and jumped. The two caught me by the forearms. Their hands walked up my arms as I used my legs to walk up. Kili grabbed my bicep, where the goblin had slashed me. I screamed, blood seeping out of the newly opened wound. Kili almost dropped my arm hearing me scream. His eyes widened in something close to horror. Fili strained under holding my one arm.

My head swam, and when I looked up, I saw two of Kili, and Fili. He grabbed my jacket, heaving me onto the branch the two were on. Kili looked at his hand in the moonlight, and it was a deep red on his palm. I swayed in the tree, almost falling out again. On accident, Kili grabbed the same arm, and once again I shrieked. His other hand grabbed my lapel instead, and he looked at the blood again.

Bilbo had finally gotten his sword out, and he panted from the effort. He looked around, seeing none of us on the ground. When he turned around, Wargs, some with and some without Wargs, were sprinting toward them. His eyes widened in fear, and he scrambled away, clambering into a tree just in time. Wargs rushed below him. Another second and he would've died. Dozens of the fowl creatures circled the trees, vultures waiting for their prey.

Just like that, the Wargs ceased their growling. It scared me, the silence making my ears ring. Azog the Defiler approached, astride the White Warg. He was ugly. Deep scars covered his chest in a "v" motion, down his arms. They were a pink and etched deep into his skin. His metal hand controlled the Warg, and he carried his weapon, the mace from the Battle of Moria, in his other hand. My eyes traveled to his face, finally filling in the final detail that had been missing from my visions.

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