Chapter Text
“What are you?” Galion muttered, his speech slightly slurred, “Some sort of rabbit?”
Lyla huffed.
Was everyone blind?!
Did she truly look like a rabbit?
Honestly…
“I am NOT a rabbit thank you. I’m a hobbit.” She stepped back as the elf slowly inched forward.
“Leave the hobbit alone, ye little snivelin’ princess elf lass,” Bofur growled, his fingers grasping tightly at the bars of the his cell.
Galion chuckled darkly eyeing Lyla, “Oh I think not.” The elf smirked, “I think I’ve finally found that missing creature you’ve all been hiding. And-“ He glanced over at Bofur who was seething, “I think I’ve found something that finally annoys you.”
The elf turned and lunged at the hobbit, who let out a small squeak of surprise and tried to duck out of the way.
But there wasn’t much room. And Galion was very tall. So she did the only thing she could think of.
She ducked between his legs and stumbled backwards towards the cells.
Galion growled, “Get back here you ugly little rat!” he snarled turning towards the cells as Lyla scrambled to her feet backing up down the hall.
She had to get away from him.
But she had to get the keys as well.
“Ah no thanks, I’d rather not,” She replied knowing her next words would get her in trouble. “I’m certain that I don’t really need to enjoy the company of someone not even fit enough to protect his home. That’s why you were sent down here isn’t it? Couldn’t handle the chaos upstairs.”
Oh her Tookish mouth!
Galion snarled and stalked towards her as Lyla took off down the hall pulling the ring from her pocket. Thank goodness for the element of surprise.
She gave a shriek as her legs were pulled out from under her and nearly dropped the ring.
Galion, it appeared, was far closer than she suspected.
Element of surprise indeed.
Said elf hauled Lyla to her feet and, fisting the collar of her jacket in his large bony hand, lifted the hobbit into the air until her feet were dangling and she was face to face with the enraged elf man.
“You petulant little sniveling rat!” He hissed in her face, “How dare you!” Then he gaze narrowed further as his eyes travelled down to her hand.
Her hand that was clasped into a tight fist. Hiding her ring.
“What do you have there,” he muttered darkly, trying to reach for Lyla’s fingers.
She tried to jerk away, kicking her feet.
And she refused to unclench her fist, a dread filling her belly at the strange glint in Galion’s eye.
He couldn’t get the ring.
She couldn’t let him.
“Give it to me,” The elf whispered dangerously, eyes flashing as his fingers closed around Lyla’s hand, trying to pry them open.
She struggled to pull her hand away.
“No.”
“You carry something,” Galion murmured, “Something of great power. Give it to me.”
His grip tightened around Lyla’s hand until it was alarmingly painful.
Lyla hissed but would not release her fingers. She kicked her feet and twisted as far from his reaching hand as possible.
Her kick connected with the elf’s stomach.
Infuriated, Galion rammed Lyla’s back into one of the cells that stung but wasn’t hard enough to cause any real damage. His grip on her jacket twisted and tightened until breathing was getting difficult. The elf’s nails dug into the skin of her hand, clawing at her closed fist, trying to pry it open.
“Give it to me! It should be mine.”
A hand shot through the bars next to Lyla’s face and grabbed a hold of Galion’s tunic yanking the elf closer to Lyla…
And the cell bars where Bofur and Dori were trapped.
Galion’s face connected with the hard metal with a sickening crunching noise and his grip on Lyla loosened.
She dropped to the floor gasping and coughing, her lungs searching for air. Lyla gazed upwards, noting the choking noises coming from a very startled Galion.
Dori had his massive arms wrapped tightly around the thin elf’s neck. Galion was clawing at Dori’s arms wildly, trying to get the dwarf to loosen his grasp.
But Dori held firm, a dark fury written in his features that startled even Lyla.
“Don’t-“ she coughed trying to clear her throat, “Don’t kill him!” She gasped out.
Dori cast her a curious glance, “It’s not better than he deserves. He tried to kill YOU!”
Dori had a point. Galion had been nothing but unkind and nearly cruel.
But did he really deserve death as a result?
She gazed into the face of the elf whose eyes were bulging, his face going a spectacular shade of red. Panic welled in his blue orbs and he gazed beseechingly at Lyla who lay on the floor.
And she felt pity for him.
Aule help her. She hoped she wouldn’t regret this.
“Don’t kill him. Please.” She remarked, “Please. Just-just knock him out or-or something.”
Dori gave her a strange look but nodded and with a quick jerk backwards, connected Galion’s head forcefully with the metal of his cell walls.
The elf stilled in the dwarf’s grasp and Dori rereleased the limp form into heap at Lyla’s feet.
Lyla hesitantly reached for the keys connected to a leather strap around the elf’s waist and scrambled to her feet, thrusting the ring back into the confines of her pocket.
“Mark me, my dear,” Dori murmured as she unlocked his cell, “I’ll not be lenient to that filth a second time.” He gave her a pointed look, as a small smile crept on his face, “You’ re far too kind to the undeserving you know that?”
He patted her shoulder as he exited the cell, Bofur hot on his heels, crushing Lyla in a large, warm embrace.
“Aye, ye are far too kind,” he murmured as he tightened his grip on her, “Far too kind indeed.”
He knocked his forehead against hers again and then pulled back with a grin.
“Now!” He remarked cheerfully, “Let’s abandon the lovely hospitality of the elves shall we?”
Lyla nodded in eager agreement.
“We have to hurry,” She murmured going to each cell and setting the dwarves free. She received several claps on the back and a bone crushing hug from Dwalin in the process.
“Aye lass we know that,” Gloin remarked giving her a small nod of his head, “Weren’t plannin’ on dilly dallyin’ around this place.”
Lyla snorted and shook her head, “Yes yes of course I knew that. It’s just, we’re going to have more company than expected.”
She hurried to the other room with Bofur in tow.
“Who do ye mean lass?” He queried confusedly, eyebrows quirked upwards.
Lyla sighed and stilled for a moment the keys firmly locked in her hand. Her throat went dry at the thought of…
“Azog,” she whispered lowly, “Azog is coming. Gandalf headed him off, but he-he knows you are here. That Thorin’s here.”
There was a low cacophony of curses thrown into the air, propelling Lyla to finish the task at hand. She quickly unlatched the three remaining cell doors and freed the rest of her companions, earning praises and thanks for her efforts.
“Head out to the main cell area,” Lyla murmured amidst the murmurs and movement of limbs, “I’ll-I have to get Thorin free.”
She darted down the hall towards the staircase that lead to Thorin’s cell.
When she rounded the corner, she noted that Thorin was standing, alert, his hands clenched around the metal bars of the cell, eyes narrowed questioningly.
“What in Durin’s name is going on?” He murmured eyeing her cautiously.
Lyla sighed and fiddled with the keys, trying to find the right one, “We’re leaving. Things have certainly gotten…complicated. Ah ha!”
She pushed a rather old, ornate key into the keyhole of Thorin’s cell door.
The lock made a loud click and she pulled the door open for Thorin.
Thorin stepped hesitantly out of the cell, eyeing the hobbit carefully, his barefeet silently slapping against the cold stone.
He stood close to the hobbit, peering down at her, his nose nearly brushing the top of her head, as his hands encircled her arms in a gentle yet firm grip.
“What is going on. We’ll not more another step until you explain.” His warm breath ghosted over her cheeks and sent a tingle down her spine.
Oh Aule help her. This is ridiculous.
Lyla sighed again, and gave Thorin a firm look.
“Azog.” She replied. “He’s here.”
Thorin’s eyes widened and he stepped back, releasing her arms as though he’d been burned.
“When?” He muttered darkly, the startling blue of his eyes dimming.
“I’m not sure, but soon. The guards are preparing to defend their settlement, but Thranduil doesn’t seem to think that Gandalf’s words are of much concern. There’s a-a way out.”
She inwardly cringed. They weren’t going to like her plan.
But then again, they didn’t have much choice, did they?
“I’ve got some of the weapons retrieved and I’ll try to get more, but we have to hurry.
Thorin rubbed his face and let out a low groan.
But then his face contorted into a resolved determinate scowl. He eyed Lyla for a moment and then nodded.
“Lead on.”
*****
It was far easier that she could have hoped for, getting from the cells to the barrel port. She supposed that most of the guards were busy with Legolas’ orders.
At least that’s what she hoped.
That and Galion wasn’t available to inform anyone of their escape. Bofur and Dori had ensured that.
The unconscious elf currently lay inside one of the cells that the previous occupants had just vacated. And Lyla had a firm grasp on the keys.
He wouldn’t be discovered for awhile yet.
The company moved silently through the halls…or as silently as dwarves could move that is. They followed Lyla without a word, as she navigated the staircases and hallways leading towards the barrel ports and the armory.
Of course her luck would run out when they actually reached the barrel ports.
As she rounded the corner into the room, she met the startled faces of two of the guards, patrolling the small alcove and lever systems that led in the river.
Their eyes widened as they took in the small, disheveled hobbit before them. Then their gazes hardened and they pointed their swords towards the small creature, who didn’t have a chance to unsheathe her own weapon in defence.
Not that she had to.
Thirteen dwarves rounded the corner after her, their gazes furious and hardened, challenging the two guards to charge the small hobbit.
And then Dwalin and Nori were upon the guards, their fists silencing any cry of alarm that would escape the elves’ lips.
“Get in the barrels!” Lyla hissed warily, her stomach clenching painfully.
Something was going to happen.
She could feel the foreboding taint in the air.
“Are ye mad woman?!” Gloin retorted.
“This hardly a reliable plan burglar,” Thorin remarked wrinkling his nose in disgust, “We’ll be dashed to pieces travelling down that river.”
A low murmur of agreement swept through the company.
Lyla ground her teeth in annoyance.
“Oh I’m sorry, did you have a better idea your majesty?” She turned and narrowed her eyes at Thorin, “Perhaps you’d like to go back to sitting in your cell while Azog makes his way to you?”
Thorin glowered at Lyla. And she knew she was being impertinent. But she didn’t care.
They were wasting valuable time.
Someone must have heard the commotion they’d caused.
With a resigned sigh Thorin gestured, “Into the barrels. Now.”
Lyla fiddled with her pocket and gazed at the company who were maneuvering into position, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to try and get the rest of your weapons if I can.”
“Lyla!” Thorin called warningly after her.
But she’d already put the ring on and was dashing from the room and towards the armory.
She skidded to a halt as she heard all the commotion coming from within. Chancing a quick glance around, her eyes widened in alarm. The place was swarming with elves.
Taking a deep breath she darted between thin bodies, dodging feet and wayward arms and made her way towards the small pile of dwarvish weapons and Thorin’s boots that sat untouched by the creatures around her. She was going to cause a stir by moving them, that was certain. But, time was not on their side at the moment.
She just hoped that the elves were distracted enough to not take too much notice.
She gathered up what weapons she could, forced to leave a few of the larger swords behind. And then with Thorin’s boots in hand, she waddled her way back through the may lay of people and towards the entrance.
“Orcs!” the call came, just as she reached the door, “To arms!”
And suddenly people were rushing around her, out the door, pushing, knocking her to ground. The weapons tumbled and a few elves gazed down curiously, but did not stop to investigate. For all appearances, it looked as though someone had knocked over the pile of dwarf weapons.
Thank Aule for that.
Lyla scrambled to gather what she could and again hastened her pace back towards the barrel port.
But her heart gave a painful lurch as she realized just where the orcs were, where the battle was.
She was astonished to see Thranduil, clad in rich armor, sword pointed towards Thorin, who had his hands raised in submission.
On the other side of the elf king stood his son, Bow notched with an arrow.
Pointed at Azog.
Lyla let out a low groan. What a fine mess this had turned into! If all adventures were like this, she'd do well to stay at home.
That being said, though, she knew she had to do something.
But what?
A distraction came, however, of its own accord. Out of the corner of her eye, Lyla spotted something.
The faintest of movements from the trees outside. Her eyes widened in realization.
Dammit.
Lyla shoved the dwarvish weapons and boots from her hands and tore the ring from her finger and darted forward.
Straight into Thranduil.
Surprised by the sudden presence of a very small hobbit, Thranduil lost his balance and the two tumbled to the floor.
Just as an arrow whizzed overhead and rammed into a guard’s shoulder.
Well better someone’s shoulder than Thranduil’s chest.
Or at least that’s what she tried to reassure herself as she scrambled from atop the stunned elf.
“I’ll take that your majesty,” She huffed, pulling Thorin’s sword from the surprised elf’s grasp.
And then chaos exploded around her.
And this was the chaos that Azog seemed to appreciate. Legolas’ attention had been diverted to the would-be assassin and his arrow fired into the trees as Azog lunged forward towards Thorin who was propelling backwards.
The elvish guard, thankfully, moved into action and cut off Azog’s march forward.
Just as the rest of the orc’s company leapt into action.
Chaos erupted.
“Get into the barrels!” Lyla cried to the dwarves as they scrambled to collect the fallen weapons. Lyla darted for Thorin’s boots.
And was shoved to the ground by a dark skinned, slimy creature that hissed lowly at her, crude knife raised. She let out a low shriek of surprise.
But a thick wooden staff cracked over the creature’s head and it fell like a floppy reed into the river.
Lyla gazed up in surprise at Gandalf’s grim face.
“Hurry now!” He commanded, “I’ll do what I can to shield your escape, but you have to hurry.”
Lyla nodded again and scrambled to her feet, Thorin’s boots firm in her grasp. Most of the dwarves were in the barrels, though Fili, Kili, Dwalin and Thorin stood, eyeing the battled and attacking any orcs or elves who came to close.
“Move!” She cried, tossing Thorin his sword, “Into the barrels!” The dwarves hesitated, eyeing her with unease. "MOVE!" She bellowed.
They didn’t need a second warning.
Backing up slowly, one by one, the four remaining dwarves darted into the empty barrels as Lyla ran to the lever that controlled the chute they’d travel down. She tossed the boots into one of barrels and grasped onto the switch.
Aule, let them be okay after all this was over.
“Stop!” cried one of the elves and Lyla turned surprised to see, the blonde elf she’d met when he and Galion had given the dwarves their food, coming towards her a surprised yet annoyed look on his face.
A surprised look that turned to pain and horror as an orc blade sliced through is abdomen. The pale elf's eyes dimmed, his mouth gaping into a silent scream as he slid slowly downward, his fingers clenching and unclenching and crimson life stained his clothing.
She narrowed her eyes, biting back a scream of terror (and sorrow for the fallen elf) as Azog growled, his eyes ablaze with recognition and fury.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied her shaking hands, amidst cries of concern from her companions
And pulled the lever.