In a Father's Embrace

Chapter 15

"Wake up!" Thorin's voice jolted Thraya out of her dream. Before she had time to process anything or move, suddenly she was falling.

They landed in a heap in a horrid looking cage crafted out of bones. She let out a small shriek at the sight of the creatures surrounding them.

Goblins.

Oh, the stories never truly did justice to just how repulsive the maggots really were. Thorin found her hand and pulled her close.

"Don't worry, Thraya," he whispered. "Keep out of sight."

She gave a little nod and moved slightly behind him. The group was shuffled along several rickety wooden bridges and roadways to the main platform.

"Oh, merciful Valar," Thraya muttered, immediately burying her head in Thorin's shoulder. "That is the most disgusting creature on the face of Middle-Earth."

Thorin would have smiled if it weren't for their predicament. He stepped slightly in front of her as the goblins started groping around for the weapons and tossing them into the pile.

The Great Goblin, in all his hideous 'glory', stood from his throne and fixed the company with his beady stare. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" he demanded, the extra bag of flesh on his chin waving wildly.

"Dwarves, your Malevolence," one of the goblins pointed out. "We found them on the front porch."

"Well, don't just stand there," the 'king' roared. "Search them! Every crack, every crevice! What are you doing in these parts? Speak!"

Thorin subtly pushed Thraya back towards Kili who stood in stoic silence. Thraya's small form came in handy as she slipped unnoticed behind the taller dwarf. Kili's glare remained fixed on the Goblin King, but he squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Very well," the creature said after a moment of silence. "If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!" the crowd cheered in response. "Start with the girl!" he roared, pointing right at Thraya, who froze in fear.

"Over my dead body," Kili hissed. A pair of goblins moved forward to seize Thraya but Fili and Kili knocked them back.

"Wait!" Thorin shouted, stepping forward.

"Well, well, well! Look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King Under the Mountain. Oh, but I'm forgetting! You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody really."

Thorin refused to rise to the Goblin's bait and instead settled for a stone-cold glare.

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head," the Goblin continued. "Just the head, nothing attached."

No...

Something between rage and fear had filled Thraya with energy. No one was going to touch her father. Not while there was life in her. Her hand made her way to her boot, clutching the dagger the goblins had overlooked.

"Perhaps you know of whom I speak," the Goblin said, an evil twinkle in his bloodshot eyes. "An old enemy of yours. A pale orc astride a white warg."

Thorin's face was set with fury. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed," he spat. "He was slain in battle long ago."

"So, you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The Goblin asked with a smirk. "Send word to the pale orc. Tell him I have found his prize."

As the tiny goblin scribe sped off in his little contraption, the other goblins began carting all sorts of lovely machinery up the rickety paths.