And straight away some more hurt and angst, but this time it's for Feathered Filly who asked if I could give Kíli a good beating, preferably in form of the Great Goblin. And sure I can. I've meddled with the original happenings a lot, so don't be mad please. It's kind of like… a third version of the Goblin-Town scene.

I hope you'll enjoy it :)

"Let's begin with the youngest."

Broad laughter sounded through the dark cracks and shafts of Goblin-Town, clanging from the cave walls until the echo sounded like a million foul creatures laughing at them from every direction. Pebbles began bouncing at their feet and the numerous wooden plank bridges were shaken to the core, swinging lazily above chasms, deep as the mountains were high. Even the fire of the torches flickered.

So far, Kíli had never known real fear. A fear of pain or death, unfamiliar sensations for the young dwarf, whose ego often made him seemingly invincible and even more so, reckless beyond saving. Born and raised in the safety of the Blue Mountains, Thorins nephew had never seen battle nor experienced death first hand and he believed that heroism and courage saved lives better than any shield or weapon.

Now, looking at the enormous Goblin King, unarmed and stripped from most of his armour, his knees grew weak and started to shake uncontrollably. The creature seemed to stare deep into his soul, a sick sense of sadism drawing a huge smirk on it's features, exposing a row of yellow, pointy teeth. And he was afraid. For the first time he was genuinely afraid.

He heard the rattling of the war machine in his back, the Bone Crusher, made from wood and metal, that crept over the planks like a slow and massive beast. Bodies pressed against his and he wasn't sure weather they belonged to his companions or the enemy, that had them circled and captured. Panic-fuelled he looked around but couldn't spot Thorin anywhere.

Instead, a familiar sight of blond, braided hair suddenly appeared before him and he felt his brothers back defensively against his chest, one hand reaching out for him. He quickly grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers, not intending to ever let go.

"I swear by all the treasure in the world, if you touch him, I will gut you like the ugly beast that you are!", Fíli thundered at the Great Goblin, not sure where the sudden courage had come from.

For a moment, the whole town fell quiet and Kíli was just about to regain hope and courage, when the Great Goblin began to roar and howl with laughter until tears formed in his red eyes, his minions soon joining in.

"And how would you do that?", the Goblin King roared. "You have no weapons!"

Obviously a minor detail that Fíli had missed, as he frantically started looking around for something to defend himself with. To no avail of course.

"But I have to thank you, Master Dwarf!"

The Great Goblin stood up from his throne and took a few steps towards the young dwarves, causing a disturbance amongst dwarves and goblins alike. He raised his enormous hands but instead of assaulting the youngster, he dropped a curtsy before the puzzled Fíli.

"For you have just given away our first guest on the Bone Crusher", the goblin smirked. "Get him!"


The brothers were immediately ripped from each other. Fíli desperately tried to grab his brothers clothes, got a good handful of Kílis coat but could not hold his own against the combined strength of about a dozen goblins that had started dragging the younger one away. The fabric ripped and Fíli was left with Kílis hood in his hands. He tried to fight his way past the goblins, but they kept on pushing him back, slicing and ripping his clothes with their claws and daggers.


"Swear all you want, dwarf. I could not care less."

Just as Kíli was dragged down the plank bridge towards the huge war machine waiting on the next peak, Thorin began to make his way to the front of bunch. Without attracting attention or making a sound, he grabbed Fílis shoulder and yanked him back, in between the safety of Bofur, Glóin and Balin, who shielded them from the eyes of the Great Goblin.

"What in Durins name do you think you're doing?", he hissed at his nephew.

"What am I doing?! What are you doing?! They're dragging him away and you're just standing there!"

"What are we supposed to do without weapons?"

"I'll take him on without weapons!"

"No you won't! It is enough that one of you is in grave danger, don't be foolish!"

"What is this!", the Great Goblin bellowed, curiously glimpsing down on the pile of dwarves that was still circled by 30 or 40 nasty looking goblins. "Gone into a huddle I suppose. You will not be able to save your friend. Unless of course, you tell me what I want to know."

Thorin felt uneasy under the intense, furious glare of his own nephew. He shoved the youngster out of his way, puffed himself up until he resembled the noble dwarf that he was and, even without heavy armour and weapons, looked intimidating and determined enough. Like that he pranced through the group and only stopped because a few of the minions pointed their weapons at him.

"Let him go", he demanded in a calm but daring tone.

"Oh", the Great Goblin stared at him for a short while. "Now look at that! So well hidden by your peers, I had nearly not seen you! Folks! There is nobility amongst us!"

Again the Great Goblin bowed down in a mockingly way, causing his underlings to snicker and giggle. Thorin gritted his teeth.

In the meantime, Kíli had been dragged all the way over the bridge to a platform that lay below the throne of the Goblin King. He had done his fair share of kicking, scratching and biting, scaring off two or three goblins, even kicking one of them into the black abyss below the bridge, but still hopelessly overpowered, he could not free himself.

The war machine came in sight, towering over him like predator. He spotted metal hooks, ropes, pins and a wooden bolt that hung from the construction above the middle of the Bone Crusher. Dried blood stuck to it, reeking so badly of copper, that Kíli gagged.

But instead of clamping him into the enormous mechanism straight away, the goblins put him on his feet firmly holding tight onto his arms so he couldn't run. His gaze scurried across the throng on the upper platform, desperately searching for a sign of his brother but goblins were blocking his sight. Only the large Goblin King stood out amongst them.

And even on the peek a few feet away, Kíli heard him holler.

"Thorin Oakenshield!"

The goblins began to cheer, some even applauding the dwarf that stood amongst them, not a single sign of fear on his features.

"An honour!", the Great Goblin giggled. "Truly an honour, to, at last, meet the King under the Mountain, minus the Mountain!"

Thorin did not reply.

"I know someone who would really like to see your head. Only your head, in fact."

"I know plenty who do", Thorin replied dryly. "Let him go."

"No. Why? Will you give me the information I require from you?"

In the back, Fíli slowly pushed forward until he was held back by Balin, who chastised him with a glare.

"Don't ye move a muscle", he whispered. "Yer'll be risking yer uncles head if ye take another step."

"But Kíli. He's down there somewhere!"

"I know laddie. I know. Be patient will ye? Thorin knows what he's doing."

"Doesn't look like it", Fíli huffed but remained on his spot, occasionally tiptoeing to glance over the ugly goblin heads, down to the Bone Crusher.

"So", the Great Goblin had taken a seat on his throne again and gestured Thorin to step towards him, away from the crowd. He did, head held high.

"What about it? Can we have a little talk? From King under the Mountain to King under the Mountain, in a manner of speaking. Even though, unlike you, I have a mountain."

"Unlike me, you are no king though", Thorin replied, earning himself another roaring laughter from the Great Goblin. Thorin knew he was being laughed at and the pride of Durin that flowed through his veins made him clench his fists until his knuckles stood out white, ready to go straight for the goblins throat, if his nephews life did not depend on it.

"What do you want to know?", he demanded instead, unmoved.

"Oh well, let's see", the Great Goblin got comfortable on his seat. "I wonder what a company of dwarves would want in my kingdom. Are you here to spy for the elves? Did Elrond send you? I know you are coming from Rivendell, for you stink of elvish folk. And even if not, where are you going? On a quest I suppose? What quest, what destination, just tell me what reason Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór might have to enter my kingdom without my permission!"

His voice had gradually become louder and louder until it thundered through the chasms and across the bridges.

Kíli held his breath. The jingling of the goblins' weapons and the low creaking of the wooden beast in his back made it hard for him to understand Thorins reply. Time passed, the goblins surrounding him began to scuttle about a little and Kíli became more and more nervous with every passing minute. Was his uncle readily answering every single question? Was he trying to negotiate a way out? Or did they kill him in the end? Panic struck again and Kíli felt so uneasy, that he carefully tried to creep towards the edge of the platform, only to be held back by swords and pikes pointed at him. If only he could spot Fíli up there!

The elder of the two brothers up by the throne held his breath in a similar fashion. He felt his hands and legs tremble as he stared at his uncles' back, waiting and waiting for Thorins reply. Even Balin next to him began to grow nervous.

"Come on laddie", the old dwarf mumbled. "Get us out of here."

After what felt like an eternity, Thorin straightened his shoulders, chin high again. The town was still, not a single sound was heard.

"I will not answer any of your questions!"

The following uproar was deafening.

Goblins were howling and hissing and laughing, amongst them the Great Goblin, whose massive head wobbled like jelly. But not only the goblins were upset.

Fíli had started to scream at his uncle, cursed him in foulest Khuzdul and not even Balin could hold him back anymore, as he began to fight against the barrier of goblin bodies, blocking his way to Thorin. Only with the help of Glóin and Dwalin, did they restrain Thorins nephew, unsure whether his anger was directed at the Great Goblin or in fact Thorin, who still stood unfazed.

Kílis knees had given in. He sank down to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

"It is decided then!", the Great Goblin roared. "Strap him to the Bone Crusher! And line his comrades up right here by the edge so they will witness the suffering of their fellow!"

Kíli was yanked to his feet again and pulled towards the war machine, up a baulk and then violently pressed down on a wooden bench. His hands and feed were tied with thick leather straps and no matter how much he tried to fight them, he could not free himself from his shackles.

"Your company must mean very little to you, Thorin Oakenshield!", the Goblin King bellowed, as the dwarves were seized and pulled towards the edge of the peak. Five had to keep Fíli at bay who struggled and fought as if his own life was on the line down there. They were forced on their knees, gazes fixed on the Bone Crusher and poor Kíli who still tried to fight his restraints. Thorin was dumped next to his older nephew who, by now, had a blade held right at his neck to prevent any more struggle.

"Well then", the Goblin King snickered. "Shall we begin?"