I was ready to jump myself until a force drove me sideways. I collided with stone, a sickening crack echoing through the air. I screamed and kicked out. My foot made contact with flesh and a groan let me know that my kick had found its mark. 
                          
Quickly, I lashed forward with my blade and a wave of blood splashed into my face. The metallic scent was overwhelming. Crimson pooled into my eyes and dripped off my face in streams. I wiped it away violently, coughing up that which had collected in my open mouth. 
                          
Up, I told myself. Get up. 
                          
Clutching my right shoulder, I rose to my feet quickly and scaled to the top of the gate. My arm howled with pain, but I raised them both above my head and dove into the waterfall. The current carried me until I bobbed to the surface. 
                          
I gasped for breath and rubbed my face, hoping to wash off the blood. Just meters ahead of me was Dwalin, holding onto an empty barrel. 
                          
"Hurry now, lass!" He yelled. 
                          
I took a deep breath and dove back underwater, thankful that Thorin had taken the time to teach me to swim. Sooner that expected, My hands collided with wood, several splinters digging into my fingertips. 
                          
Dwalin grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me into the barrel, not noticing when I cried out in pain. 
                          
Mere seconds after I was in, we hit the rapids. I was pushed under, water filling my mouth, and then back up, where I scrambled for breath. This happened many times, along with rocks and twists and very sharp turns, and it seemed that we were gaining speed the whole time. I screamed as I bashed against something, my shoulder pinned between the wall of the barrel and all my weight. 
                          
The river was still pushing us along, but the orcs kept coming. I tried to do my part in fighting them off, but my sword arm was not in fighting condition. 
                          
I grunted, tears stinging my eyes as I took the head off of a particularly ugly orc. When I spun around, I saw a blonde elf standing on.. standing on Balin and Dwalin. What he didn't see was the orc on the overlook above him. 
                          
"Blondie!" I called as loudly as I could. His regal face snapped in my direction, blue eyes on alert. "Behind you!" 
                          
As he turned, the Elf knocked another arrow and let it fly in mere seconds. He looked back at me, his face unreadable. If I didn't know better, I'd say that expression was gratitude.
                          
It was interesting to watch him. He hopped from one ledge to another, getting across the river by running atop our heads. He didn't seem to care who he stepped on, but he placed his foot on the rim of my barrel instead of my head. 
                          
Another Orc approached the Elf from behind. I meant to yell, but someone had thrown an ax that planted itself in the Orc's chest. 
                          
We were rushing farther downstream; farther from the orcs' reach. 
                          
I heard them yelling, desperate to cut us off, but the river was too furious. We were moving too quickly. 
                          
***
Eventually, we lost the orcs and the current as well. We had been paddling with our hands and whatever large branches we could find. 
                          
"Anything behind us?" Thorin grunted from the head of the pack. 
                          
"Not that I can see." Balin assured him. 
                          
Every movement sent waves of pain up my arm. Tears stung my eyes and I bit my lip to keep them from spilling over. I'd drawn blood. I felt it slide down my chin and watched it land in the water, where the single drop dispersed, until another followed, then another, and another.