As Dori fell backwards out of the tree, Ori lunged to try and grab him, but fell out himself, crying out. "Mr Gandalf!!", hearing their pleas, the wizard quickly stuck out his staff the dwarf could grab on to, and kept a hold of it, with Ori hanging tightly onto Dori's foot. They were safe, for now.

Saeril couldn't believe that Thorin would do such a thing. An opportunity that could result in death. He shouldn't, and couldn't, die now. She looked at her godsons and then back to the wounded Thorin. She made an exasperated sigh before hovering herself above the fire, blowing at the flames towards Azog with huge gusts of wind, and landed on the ground a few yards away from the Orc, the reflecting blazes of the fire radiating from her figure. "Face me, creature of malice!", she hissed in anger.