By the Light of the Fire

The sun blistered through the shelter of leaves onto the earth, it was going to be a gloriously warm day, red hues danced across the sky and the yellow fluttered above, tantalising the eyes of all those who looked upon its beauty. Ainsel’s eyes fluttered open. She briefly remembered the night before and looked down towards the perpetrator. He wasn't there. Her eyes darted around the scenery, but he was no-where in view. Did she upset him that much? She wanted to grin but something sparked a sense of panic, she knew how precious he was to the group of Dwarves and she didn't want to be the guilty culprit who forced him off into the night. One by one they stretched themselves awake and began searching for Bilbo, calling his name and shouting abuse at him in a friendly way. Thorin grew restless. “Where is he? I hope he hasn't run off again!”

Frantic grew their woe, they searched up and down. Ainsel wondered off to the west of the group into a clearing, stepping cautiously, bare feet catching on the brambles and decayed leaves, thorns and twigs. It was there she found a shivering, small body. Bilbo lay feverish and quivering. Ainsel looked for the firework Gandalf had given her to signal her whereabouts.

It streamed off into the sky, green and bright like a beacon of earthly fire. Soon after the Dwarves came rushing into the clearing, Thorin darted forward to prop up Bilbo’s head. The Hobbit began muttering things under his breath absent of his mind and senses.
"I won’t!" he cried, darting up, seemingly awake before collapsing back into a muttering state of slumber. "She's not one of you.... Don’t... kill...." These were the only legible words dribbling from his mouth, along with actual dribble. Thorin picked him up swiftly and propped him over a pony which he then tied to his horse. The pony protested at the dead weight but settled down after Ainsel soothed its nerves with a swift stroke to its nose.

“Easy” She cooed to the animal.

Riding on her own pony next to him she heard his feverish chanting which chilled her core. Who could he be talking about and what triggered such a state?

“WITCH!” Bilbo screamed once more. And then settled down again for a long period of time.
Ainsel’s sprit grew weary with every passing second. Frantically looking for the trees messages, they seemed all too quiet. Almost normal to the untrained eye.

The shrieking took them all by surprise. Ainsel saw a little blue flash from the body that lay atop of the pony next to her, protruding from the sheath; Bilbo’s sword was glowing the warm ocean colour, an indication of ghastly Orc intrusion. Crows began to caw in the trees above, screaming and almost... calling.
The group jumped from their horses and ponies to the ground, unsheathing axes, bows, swords and shields. Forming a tight formation and looking around. Nothing appeared. What was this trickery?
Gandalf’s face held a look of sheer horror at the sight before him, and yet, to everyone else, they saw nothing.

“Almasenor!”

Shivers went through her spine, her body grew cold, and Ainsel gave out a cry of terror. All the hairs on her body stood on end. That name shook the foundations of her inner most worry.

“NO!” She sobbed.

The dwarves were confused.

“What baggage have you brought upon us, elf?!” Throrin barked at her, sensing something the others could not.

“You did this, you heathen!” Gandalf stated, his voice shaking with power, radiated out into the woods and echoing off the trees. They could not hear the replies.

“You will not harm anyone!” His staff struck the ground and out flew a white aura surrounding the group. “Stay together, and you will see the dusk!” He commanded to the group, and they obeyed. Turning to Ainsel, his face stern and unwelcoming at first, Gandalf looked upon Ainsel’s horror and his face softened. “This name. You know its power, why, I cannot say for certain, but your mother once spoke of this evil, did she not?” Ainsel’s vacant stare become interrupted and she nodded.

“Of my childhood she spoke of an evil which had consumed my father. She spoke the name that he had muttered many of nights in cold sweat and of his silent screams, a conjurer who lived in a dark tavern on the western boarders of our homeland”

“As long as you stay in this circle, I promise you Ainsel you will be safe from this wickedness” Gandalf put a hand atop of her shoulder. It calmed her a little. She backed up next to Bilbo’s pony, hugging the animal’s neck as it fidgeted and grunted.

Eerie whispers filled the air, and the crows took flight from their trees, trying in vain to attack the group. Bouncing off invisible protective magic, they swooped around, diving in again to the same end. The group flinching with every burst of attack from the crows. Then they heard it...

Petrified, Ainsel stood as still as a statue, eyes wide. It was a laugh of sheer bitterness, surrounding the group, burning their ears as it radiated a ringing sound that no-one had ever heard before.
A hooded figure raided the skies on a giant crow, encircled by smaller crows, Orcs began drumming and shrieking, still, in the distance, coming closer and closer. The Dwarves were on edge. Bilbo roused from his slumber, a head still pounding, and now dazed with confusion. He looked at Ainsels’ soft, petrified face.

“Ainsel?” He asked her, trying to command her attention, wriggling off his horse and onto the ground. “Ainsel, what’s the matter?” Her gaze didn’t move. He grabbed her shoulders with considerable force. Still, nothing. She just pointed, her eyes fixed on the hooded figure in the skies. Bilbo cast his glance towards it, and gasped. It was something that had gone bump in the night, which he followed. The voiced filled his head once more.

“NO!” He barked at it. The others cast a glance back at him.

“Glad you could join us laddie!” Offered Dwalin, and his gripped harder on the handle of his axe, ready and excited for battle.

“Here they come!” Thorin shouted. “Ready yourselves my friends!”

“They have brought a troll!” Gloin protested. “They have a troll!” he hollered once more.

“Stay within the circle!” Gandalf scolded them all as they edged towards the glowing transparent walls of its magic. Almost one hundred Orcs rushed into the clearing. An onslaught flanked by a considerably large and very ugly troll.

Their white shield faltered. Dark magic forced it to receded, and Gandalf couldn't recover the break. It shattered, and the group were exposed to the battle.
Thorin charged, his sword held high, carving downwards mercilessly on the Orcs, as he headed towards the largest foe, trying to sooth his ego he slashed at its knees, but the Troll only grew angrier.

“I need your Axe Dwalin!” he cried to his comrade. Dwalin thundered his way through the Orcs over to help his friend take down the mighty beast.

“Ainsel you have to snap out of it! You have to move!” Bilbo was screaming at her absent mind. She heeded no words he spoke. Only staring evermore into the red eyes of that shadowing evil... Words filling her mind, taking her hostage in a prison of her own dark thoughts. It was communicating to her in the most... unpleasant manor.

Bilbo took up arms against the Orcs as he tried to protect his companions; they were powerful strikes against the unskilled Hobbit, the blows against his sword were mighty, but he prevailed, trying to protect Ainsel and some of the Dwarves caught up with their struggles, unable to see through the back of their skull.

“Stop this insanity and help me Ainsel!” He pleaded, an Orc bearing down its hammer on his blade, sparks flying into his eyes. Kili struck the Orc from afar with an arrow from his bow, gave a nod to Bilbo and continued on with his picking off of dangerous foes.

Something snapped and took a hold of her sanity. Bilbo faced her once more, a sigh of relief to see her out of her fixation on the skies. She was now fixated on him. He grew uncomfortable at her intensive stare. His body grew lax, one hand still in the air holding his weapon, his reflexes kicked in when he saw an Orc advance on her back. He lunged forward and stuck the sword through an opening just shy of Ainsel’s waist and stabbed the fiend in the stomach. It let out a shriek and fell.

Ainsel’s hand softly moved up encircling his grip on the weapon near her side. He stuttered slightly as her fingers laced with his. “Ai... Ainsel?” her face moved dangerously close, her free hand made for his neck, gently resting it in the dip between his throat and shoulder. He didn't realise in all the chaos ensuing behind him that she had wormed the sword out of his loose grip... He just... stared at her, dumbfounded and slightly woozy. ‘What is she doing?’ he asked himself. Drawing closer to her.... he couldn't stop it, he couldn't help it. It happened like a strong magical reaction. A firework in his stomach....

“Bilbo! Look out!” Kili shouted, and broke his attention. He looked at Kili, then back at Ainsel... and down. Sting was facing his chest. Ready for the lunge... the kill. A white hot flash smacked her back and onto the ground, resulting in her letting go of Bilbo’s weapon. He swiftly retrieved it. Ainsel was knocked unconscious by Gandalf’s staff, releasing her from the hold of evil. There was a scream overhead as Almasenor retreated, letting her minions on the ground carry on with the battle, with lesser the chance of victory as their numbers had been drastically reduced.

The Troll was still roaming vexedly, smashing everything that got in its way. The Dwarves had suffered heavy blows to the chest from its tantrum. It paddled around in the tiny bodies that littered the ground, stumbling and crushing bones as it went along. Fixed on something new that lay on the ground. A bright white light to the idiocy of a troll, it was Ainsel's hair that it was attracted to, Almasenor had sent the troll into a red haze after the little creature. He ran for her. The Dwarves had caught onto its war path and shouted, tearing its thick flesh as it ran for her unconscious body. Bilbo peered up at what was making the ground quake, and picked Ainsel up as best he could putting her arm loosely around his shoulder, beginning to run and into to a dead end with her frail body struggling as she roused slightly and into full consciousness. She grabbed for her sword, unsheathing it and letting go of Bilbo completely. She spun on her heel to face the Troll. Not a chance in all heavens did she have against it, but she had a guilty feeling she was the reason for this blood bath... Leaping between its legs, she slashed at its knees, stabbing into the folds of its fat legs. The steel on her sword buckled slightly against the Troll’s disgustingly heavy skin.

It howled, blood curdling into the opening, and swiped at her, knocking her into a tree. A loud sound of crunching dwindled against the shrieking of murdered Orcs and one enraged, large foe.
Bilbo darted in front of her broken body, the Trolls face lowered down to their lowly height. A mistake the stupid creature should not have made... Bilbo plucked at the Troll’s eye, blood exuded from the wound, and in another swift movement, the mighty but small Halfling struck Sting into its throat. The Troll gasped for air, Dwarves now mounting its back and slashing at all angles to bring it down.

Ainsel watched from below staring at his back, the Hobbit exhaling heavily, both hands clutching his sword ad he stood, to her, proud and tall, a battle stance that made him fierce. She smiled slightly, before falling unconscious.