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Crack!
Boom!
Thunder rolled across the mountains as rain poured down in sheets. Jimmy and the dwarves pressed forward along a narrow path carved into the cliffside, a sheer drop yawning just a few steps away.
Ever since entering this valley, Jimmy had felt it.
That crawling sense at the base of his spine. The kind that warned him something was very wrong.
Rain or no rain, they were not on a peak.
So why did it feel like the sky itself was about to strike them down?
"We can't keep moving," Thorin Oakenshield said, wiping rain from his eyes. "We need shelter, now."
"No," Jimmy snapped. "Trust me, this place is dangerous. We have to move. Immediately."
Rain plastered Thorin's hair to his face as he turned, eyes burning.
"I am the leader of this company."
"And they trusted you with their lives," Jimmy shot back. "That doesn't give you the right to drag them into danger you can avoid."
Tension had been building for days.
All the food had come from Jimmy. Each time, it appeared out of his pack just long enough to be handed out, then stopped. Thorin had begun to suspect Jimmy was rationing deliberately.
Jimmy had never even considered it.
Add to that the dwarves' fondness for Jimmy after the drinking night, and Thorin felt his authority slipping.
This was the result.
"Where is the danger," Thorin demanded. "You keep saying—"
"Down."
Jimmy lunged forward and yanked Thorin back against the cliff wall.
Boom!!
Rock shattered.
A slab the size of a millstone smashed down where Thorin had been standing moments earlier, exploding into fragments.
"Mudslide," someone shouted.
"No," Glóin said faintly, staring into the storm. "This is war."
Across the ravine, the mountains were moving.
Stone shifted. Cracked. Rose.
A colossal shape tore itself free from the cliff, a living mass of rock forcing itself upright.
Farther away, another followed, striding forward with earth-shaking steps.
Jimmy stared at them, then at his blades.
Against something like that, even a sword forty feet long would look like a toothpick.
"Run," Jimmy barked. "If you want to live, run, get out of this area, now."
This was not a fight.
This was something ancient.
And unstoppable.
For once, Thorin did not argue.
He ran.
The ground shook violently beneath their feet.
Only then did Jimmy realize the truth.
They had been walking across the stone giant's body.
What they thought was a ridge was its waist and hips, and now it was rising to join the battle.
"Move! Move!"
The rain turned the stone slick as thunder cracked overhead.
A massive boulder hurtled down.
Jimmy sprinted forward, bracing himself, redirecting chunks of stone with his body, kicking aside what he could, shielding the dwarves behind him.
"Keep going, don't stop."
Another impact shook the air.
Far above, stone giants fought, hurling pieces of the mountain at one another. Each thrown rock was the size of a wagon wheel.
Then—
One fell.
A giant collapsed, its body breaking apart as it crashed downward.
Jimmy's eyes widened as an entire section of the mountainside came down toward them.
No way to block it.
No way to stop it.
Then—
Impact.
The falling mass struck an outcropping above them instead, shattering and diverting just enough force to spare the path.
They lived.
Barely.
"Fíli, Kíli, Glóin."
Thorin's voice broke through the rain, raw and desperate.
"We're alive," came the reply. "We're still alive."
The mountain thundered behind them as they fled, knowing only one thing.
"Thank the mountains," someone gasped. "I thought you were buried. Is everyone here?"
"Bilbo," someone shouted. "Has anyone seen Bilbo?"
Jimmy scanned the group.
Bilbo was missing.
"I'm here," came a shaky voice from the edge of the cliff.
Jimmy moved instantly.
Bilbo was clinging to broken stone, his footing unstable. Jimmy grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back onto solid ground in one smooth motion.
Once Bilbo was safe, Kíli forced a laugh.
"For a moment, I thought our burglar had finally vanished."
That was when Thorin Oakenshield spoke.
"He vanished the moment he left the Shire," Thorin said coldly. "He does not belong in an adventure. He does not belong in this company. He is a burden."
The words hit hard.
Several dwarves stiffened at once.
Jimmy stepped forward.
"There's no need for that," he said evenly. "A contract is a contract. If we agreed to bring him, then we would see it through."
Thorin did not turn back.
"Do as you wish," he said. "But if he dies, do not blame me."
He moved on, The others followed in silence.
---
Thorin's anger was not truly aimed at Bilbo.
It was fear.
Mountain giants were creatures of legend, spoken of in the same breath as dragons. And they had just seen them. Worse, they had nearly died beneath them.
If mountain giants still walked these lands, what else did?
Was Smaug truly gone?
No one had seen Smaug in sixty years. But how long had those giants slept beneath the mountains, unseen by the world?
The thought would not leave Thorin's mind.
When the giants rose, the helplessness he felt had been absolute. No axe. No courage, no strategy could have mattered.
For the first time, he doubted the journey.
Perhaps "expedition" was the wrong word.
Perhaps this was a march toward death.
His outburst had been an attempt to cut away the weak links, If Bilbo left, if Jimmy left, then only dwarves remained.
If Smaug still lived, then they would face him as dwarves alone, as fate demanded.
If Smaug was gone, then they would reclaim Erebor and restore their people's glory.
Victory or death. Both were dwarven endings.
Others did not need to share that burden.
---
They finally escaped the danger zone.
Rain still fell, but the ground steadied.
Jimmy lit a fire and set a large pot above it. Soon, hot broth steamed into the cold air.
"Come," Jimmy said. "Drink, Last of the liquor, This time, it really is the last."
"Sure," one dwarf scoffed. "You said that last time too, you slippery human."
Laughter followed.
Jimmy handed the remaining bottle to Thorin.
"Try it."
"Thank you," Thorin said quietly.
He took a drink and paused.
"Now I understand why Balin never stopped talking about your liquor," Thorin admitted. "It is the strongest I have ever tasted."
"When Smaug is dealt with," Jimmy said, "I'll write the brewing method down for you. It may not be identical, but it will be strong enough."
Thorin looked at him, but said nothing.
Jimmy smiled faintly.
"Thorin, you are their king. They trust you. You cannot afford despair."
He gestured toward the fire, toward the weary dwarves.
"Smaug is only a dragon. I came on this journey because I wanted to see such a creature for myself. You must believe in victory. If even you do not believe, how can anyone follow you into battle?"
Thorin was silent for a long moment.
"Thank you," he said at last.
Then his gaze shifted to Bilbo Baggins.
"That said," Thorin continued, more quietly, "there is still no reason to drag Bilbo further along."
"He was brought here by Gandalf's tricks. When he was pulled up from the cliff, I saw it in his eyes, Fear, Confusion."
"He is beginning to understand that this road leads to death."
He looked back at Jimmy.
"You are different, You have walked among death before, I can see that."
"But Bilbo likely believed this was little more than a long walk away from home."
Thorin exhaled slowly.
"To let him continue, only to die without understanding why… that is something I cannot accept."
The fire crackled between them.
And the mountain watched in silence.
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