10

EAGLE IN EYRIE

The forest was burning.

Viska clung to the trunk of the massive pine tree with one hand and flung a fiery pine cone with the other. Around her, the rest of the Company cheered and whooped as the snarls turned to yelps of fear and pain and the Orcs tried to control the scorched Wargs. They had sown chaos among their enemies, but the damage was already done. The tree was overloaded with fifteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard, and the grip of its roots on the ground was weakened by the repeated assaults of the fire and their enemies. It groaned, and then it toppled, the roots barely enough to keep it from plummeting over the side of the cliff. Whoops were replaced by startled yells as the Dwarves lost their footing, grabbing desperately for handholds. Viska found herself astride a large branch, clinging for dear life. She had lost track of Trisk since splitting up in the flight from their first roost, but she could see Thorin, Balin, Bilbo, and Fíli, and she could hear Kíli. A sudden panicked cry caught her attention as Ori lost his grip and dropped, just managing to catch hold of Dori's ankles as he fell. His elder brother yelped, scrabbling for purchase as they both slid toward the void.

"Mister Gandalf! Help!"

The Wizard lunged with his staff and Dori seized it, hanging on with all of his considerable strength.

"Thorin! No!"

Balin's cry made Viska's stomach churn with fear and she turned, sweeping her hood back to clear her vision. Thorin had climbed onto the trunk of the fallen tree and was marching toward Azog with unwavering intent. Orcrist shone in one hand, the famous oak shield gripped in the other, sapphire eyes locked on the pale Orc. Dwalin was bellowing in protest, clawing his way up only to have his branch break beneath him and nearly drop him over the side. The Dwarf lass stared in horror as the king charged the Defiler alone, focused only on his foe, as his nephews and oldest friends struggled to follow him.

At the Battle of Azanulbizar, a young Dwarf prince had defied the odds and grievously wounded the gigantic Gundabad Orc. This time, that Orc rode a massive Warg and the Dwarf never stood a chance. The white Warg sent Thorin sprawling before he ever reached Azog, lunging at the king with huge paws and knocking him on his back, where he lay fighting to recover his breath. Viska bit her lip, fighting a scream as the beast clamped powerful jaws around the Dwarf's midsection and shook him like a dead rat before tossing him aside contemptuously. Thorin came to rest close to the cliff's edge, Orcrist skittering from his nerveless fingers. Azog gave an order in Black Speech and one of his minions approached the heir of Durin, grinning. Viska did not understand the twisted language, but the intent was all too clear.

She scrambled to her feet, reacting without thought or hesitation, every fiber of her being screaming at her to protect her king. She ran forward, boots skidding on the precariously tilted trunk of the tree, slender sword in hand. Just as she reached solid ground, a smaller figure brushed by her and she stared, momentarily frozen in shock as she watched the Hobbit plow into the side of the Orc that loomed over Thorin. Caught by surprise, the beast staggered and fell, scuffling with the burglar on the ground. Viska lunged forward, unsure if she was rushing to the king or the Halfling, but determined that she had to help. Then Bilbo was astride the Orc's chest, his small Elvish blade buried deep in its throat. A hoarse triumphant shout escaped her as he wrenched it free and staggered to his feet, standing over Thorin defensively. The Dwarf lass made it to his side as the Warg riders approached, their mounts snarling viciously and the Orcs drawing cruel, jagged blades.

"DU BEKAR!"

The Dwarven battle cry rang out over the growls and harsh cries, followed by a fair figure and dark joining the fray. Fíli's twin falchions flashed in the firelight, hamstringing mounts and riders alike as he darted through whatever openings he could find. Kíli's blade swung in deadly arcs, slicing through Warg throats and Orc limbs. Dwalin was right behind the princes, his axes Grasper and Keeper tearing into the nearest enemy. And the auburn-haired figure behind the warrior was Trisk, a two-handed grip on his mace as he threw his weight into a powerful blow that knocked a heavy Orc sprawling. The Warg that it had been riding lunged for Bilbo, jaws gaping, and Viska knocked the Hobbit out of the way. Bracing herself against the weight, she drove her sword into the top of the beast's mouth at an angle, seeking the brain. The Warg yelped, spasmed, and went still, its forward momentum forcing the Dwarf lass to wrench her blade free as she dove clear. Her tumble took her underneath another beast and she seized the opportunity to rake the blade across the soft belly, disemboweling it as she scrambled free. Staggering to her feet, she looked around, trying to get her bearings, and saw the pale Orc advancing on the small group of desperate warriors. Forcing her tired legs to move, she ran to join her brother, back to back with the heirs of Durin as the Orcs closed in. They knew they did not stand a chance – there were simply too many of the Orcs – but they would not sell their lives cheaply.

The piercing cry of a massive bird of prey broke over them and Viska glanced skyward to see the night full of huge golden-brown Eagles, eyes bright with reflected fire. Some were diving and grabbing Orcs and Wargs, tossing them aside or dropping them over the cliffs. Others pushed burning trees down on on the attackers, or fanned the flames with huge wings. As the Orcs and Wargs retreated, snarling in frustration and rage, the Eagles changed their focus, swooping low to close gentle talons around members of the Company. Viska stood, mesmerized, as Thorin was carefully scooped from the edge of the cliff, the oak shield slipping from his arm. Seized with a sudden urgency, she lunged for it, snatching the shield up just as claws closed over her shoulders. She swallowed a scream as she was carried high into the air, then released, dropping a short distance to a broad feathered back. Trisk landed just behind her, clamping anxious hands onto the great Eagle's feathers.

* X *

Azog watches them go, blood boiling with fury. Once more, the Line of Durin has slipped his grasp, carried away in the talons of the detested Eagles. This pack of his followers is decimated and scattered, lost to the Wizard's fire and the birds of prey. But the confrontation has borne some fruit. Oakenshield has been broken, and his fall has brought out the hidden heirs. Light and dark, they raced to their king's aid, exposing their ties to him and sealing their fates. Thorin son of Thráin is no longer the pale Orc's main target. It will be far more satisfying to let him watch his kin suffer first.

* X *

Bofur, son of Forbur, had certainly not expected to end this day (or any other, for that matter) clinging to the back of a Great Eagle, trying to get his cousin to sit down, for Mahal's sake, before you plummet to your death! But there he was, one hand clapped to his hat to keep it from flying off, the other buried in golden feathers as he stared wide-eyed at Middle Earth spread out beneath his feet like an intricate map. Behind him, fire raged on the mountainside, while the air around him was filled with the Eagles, each carrying one or two members of the Company. He could see his brother clinging to one, eyes squeezed shut in terror – Bombur had never had much of a head for heights. Dori and Ori had apparently been rescued when they fell, and Nori was off to his left. Fíli and Kíli shared a bird, of course, as did Trisk and Visk. The light of the moon illuminated Fíli's concerned face as the young prince called out to his uncle. Bofur sobered abruptly, remembering Thorin's still figure on the ground in front of Azog, surrounded by flame, as the burglar stood over him with his tiny Elven blade. Squinting, the miner could just make out the limp form cradled in an Eagle's claws far ahead.

Mahal, let him be alive.

* X *

Kíli barely resisted the urge to throw himself from the Eagle's back before it touched down on the great rock ledge. He could see Thorin lying still on the stone, battered and bloodied, and the dark prince cursed himself for not going to his uncle's aid sooner. Finally, the great bird landed and he slid off of its back, his brother on his heels. Gandalf was already crouched over Thorin, one hand on his forehead, eyes closed as he spoke arcane words under his breath. Bilbo hovered at the Wizard's side, watching anxiously. The others were being dropped off one by one, reuniting with family and checking each other over, but eventually all eyes turned to the king.

And, after an eternity, the deep sapphire eyes opened and Durin's heir took a deep, painful breath. Kíli moved to help him to his feet, Dwalin joining him, but Thorin resisted at first.

"The Halfling?" he demanded. "Where is he?"
"It's alright," Gandalf assured him. "Bilbo is here. He is quite safe."

Only then did Thorin allow them to pull him to his feet, shaking them off once he was standing. There was a fierce look on his face as he advanced on the bewildered Halfling. The young prince felt Fíli tense beside him, brows furrowed in confusion, and Trisk was nearly glaring as their leader strode forward. Viska was still and inscrutable.

"What were you doing?" Thorin demanded, cornering the Hobbit on the edge of the cliff. "You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the Wild? That you had no place amongst us?"
Poor Bilbo looked as though he wanted to disappear. Kíli was glaring at his uncle, angry over his treatment of the one who had saved his life, despite being the least suited among the Company to stand against their enemies. Then Thorin took a final step forward and threw his arms around the astonished burglar, pulling him into a crushing hug.

"Never have I been so wrong in all my life. I am sorry I doubted you."

Kíli relaxed and heard his brother chuff in amusement next to him. Bilbo simply smiled.

"No, I would have doubted me, too," he countered earnestly. "I'm not a hero, or a warrior. Not even a burglar," he added, with a sidelong glance at Gandalf. Thorin grinned slightly and the rest of the Company relaxed and began to pay attention to their surroundings. They were on a massive ledge on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains, overlooking a wide expanse of open land that reached out to a river, another plain, then a wide expanse of forest, and beyond...

"Is...is that what I think it is?" Bilbo asked quietly.

Kíli stared at the distant peak, barely visible at the edge of sight. A warm hand clasped his shoulder and he glanced over to see his brother gazing east.

"Erebor," Gandalf replied quietly. "The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth."

Thorin smiled. "Our home."

"It's still so far away," Ori murmured quietly. "Mister Gandalf? Where exactly are we?"

The Wizard smiled.

"You are currently in the eyrie of the Great Eagles, Master Ori. They are led by Gwaihir, the Wind Lord. They are my friends, and they have no love for Orcs, Wargs, or Goblins, so they were willing to assist us."

"Well, we certainly appreciate the rescue," Balin commented, raising one bushy eyebrow. "But how exactly are we going to get down from here?"

Gandalf chuckled. "They will carry us a bit further, my dear Balin. In fact, they have offered their hospitality for the night, so we might rest in safety, if that is quite all right with Thorin. On the morrow, they will carry us across the Anduin. They will not risk themselves too near the arrows of Men, but they will save us some walking, and a bit of time." Thorin nodded in agreement, his eyes still on the distant Mountain.

"Some dinner would not go amiss," Bombur contributed quietly.

"Hunger, I believe, can be remedied," the Wizard told him, then turned to speak softly to a magnificent bird that had settled nearby. When he returned, the Dwarves were beginning to settle in comfortably, digging through the few supplies that they had managed to grab and keep through the tunnels and into the trees. There was very little, save their weapons. Kíli joined his brother, a little confused when he realized that they were nearly at the far end of the eyrie from their friends. Trisk had his back to them, but Viska was glancing past him, her eyes flashing as they argued over something. He looked at Fíli.

"Trisk is angry over what you said in Goblin Town?" he guessed shrewdly. The fair-haired prince nodded, his face troubled and ashamed.

"Of course he is. Can you blame him? I must set this right, even if they cannot forgive me."

Sighing, he set down his pack and moved slowly toward the siblings. Viska saw him coming and turned her brother with a hand on his shoulder. Kíli saw the auburn-haired Dwarf tense, but Fíli simply ducked his head.

"Would you spare me a moment, Trisk?" he asked humbly. The silversmith stared at him for a long moment, but finally nodded after Viska touched his arm again.

"You can speak to me. Stay away from Visk."

Fíli nodded and Viska stepped away from her brother, going to sit with her back to the mountain. Kíli thought about joining her, but did not want to antagonize Trisk any further, so he simply nodded to her with a small smile and turned to help Bombur with the fresh game that one of the Eagles had just deposited on the ledge. Bofur was humming merrily to himself as he assisted his brother, and the dark-haired prince smiled.

"I think we're safe enough to risk a song or two, Bof," he encouraged. The miner's eyes brightened and he grinned, then launched into a cheery tavern tune that soon had the others joining in.

* X *

Fíli smiled faintly as he heard his brother encouraging Bofur to sing loud enough to protect the coming conversation from prying ears. Then he sighed and turned to meet Trisk's steady glare.

"You threatened to leave her behind," the other growled.

Fíli nodded. "I did."

"You used her history with the Goblins against her."

"It was already working against her. I was trying –"

"What if it hadn't worked?" the silversmith cut in. "Would you really have left her there? Left us there? You know that I would never have abandoned her."

"I know. And no, we would have carried her out, but then some of us would probably not have made it, and she would have hated herself when she realized what had happened."

A pained look crossed Trisk's face and he nodded slightly, almost reluctantly. Then he shook his head angrily.

"You could have traumatized her even worse. You could have broken her!"

Fíli closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, nodding. "Yes, I could have, but I had to take that chance, and I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Trisk took a furious breath and Fíli's eyes snapped open to see his face flushing with fury.

"You would do it again?"

Blue eyes caught hazel and held them without flinching or blinking.

"To save her life? Yes. Without a second thought. But know this, Triskel, son of Kulvik – never have I hated myself more. I had to get her out of her memories and back in the moment, but I hated it. I still hate it. But I would do it again if it would save her life."

Trisk stared at him, shoulders tense, chest heaving with every breath. It may have been moments, or hours, but finally the hazel eyes dropped and Trisk nodded.

"I have no quarrel with you then, my prince, for how can I quarrel with one who seeks only to protect my remaining family?"

* X *

Thorin was deep in quiet conversation with Balin and Gandalf when the former smiled and nodded at someone just past the king's shoulder. Thorin turned, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw young Visk standing there holding the oak shield. The leader of the Company had thought the shield lost, left behind when the Eagles bore them away from their enemies, but here it was, in the hands of Kulvik's quiet son. Thorin smiled, his intense gaze searching the lad's eyes as he took the shield.

"Before I lost consciousness, I remember seeing you," he commented quietly, running his hands over the worn wood. "You stood by the burglar against the Orcs. Balin also tells me that you and your brother stood with my nephews against the Warg riders. And now I find that you have salvaged my oaken shield from the field of battle. Mahal smiled on us to bring Triskel and Viskel into the Company for this quest."

He set the shield aside and stepped forward to place a hand on Visk's shoulder, meeting the dark green eyes. "With every breath, you honor your father's memory. I thank you for all that you have done, and all that you will undoubtedly do before we see the end of this task."

* X *

Kíli approached after Trisk moved away, flinching at the sight of the bloody gash on his brother's face. "That mark is my fault. They hit you to control me. I'm sorry, nadad."

"You are hardly responsible for the actions of Goblins, Kí," the elder prince replied, shaking his head. "If they'd found me first, it would just have happened the other way 'round."

Kíli snorted. "And you would be apologizing to me, you know that you would."

His brother smiled. "I'm the big brother. Protection is my job. Anyway, I'll have an interesting scar."

"You can make all the lasses weep as they consider how close you came to losing that eye," the archer chortled. "Fíli One-Eye, future King Under the Mountain!"

"Lalkhîth."

"The lasses will adore you." The archer paused, staring at him closely. "Or, perhaps, there's only one lass now? A particular lass?"

Fíli groaned and shook his head.

"Kíli? I love you, nadadith, but I will hurt you."

"That's what I thought," Kíli smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, can you give me a matching scar? Seems a waste for you to have the thrilling story and not even be available. You'll break hearts from Erebor to Khagal'abbad. Ow!" he yelped as the elder prince's elbow sank into his side, but Fíli's heart did not seem to be in the lighthearted banter. Kíli stopped, his smile fading, and studied his brother's face. "Fí? What's wrong?"

The golden-haired prince sighed. "Trisk was right. I could have broken her."

"You meant well."

"Ah yes, the best of intentions," Fíli agreed sourly. "And if it hadn't worked? If she had broken, instead of breaking free?"

"Fíli, listen to me," the dark-haired prince told him earnestly, taking his brother by the shoulders and catching the blue eyes with his own. "Viska is stronger than that, and you know it. That's why you said what you did. You knew it would work, and that it would not destroy her."

Fíli's eyes were bleak. "Did I? Know it?"

Kíli felt a cheeky grin flit across his face. "Oh, I think you know a lot of things about Viska, daughter of Kulvik," he replied. "Whether you are conscious of it or not. Now, don't you think it's time you spoke to her?"

* X *

But Fíli did not get the chance to speak to Viska that night. Óin had just finished tending Thorin's extensive injuries and insisted on seeing to the princes next, smearing salves over the whip cuts and tutting at the one that had nearly taken Fíli's eye.

"Well, you'll have a lovely new scar, lad," he commented as the elder prince hissed with pain and flinched away slightly. "Still, could have been worse, and the lasses like rugged scars." Kíli sniggered and Fíli swatted at him, then moved to let the healer tend his brother's wounds. Bofur brought them their dinners and Fíli realized how late it had gotten. Most of the others were finishing up their meals and settling in for sleep, taking advantage of the fact that Thorin had decided to let all of them sleep the night through, since the Eagles would be on guard. Viska and Trisk were already stretched out next to the side of the mountain, as far from the edge of the eyrie as possible. The golden prince settled himself near his gear and stared out into the night, dark thoughts tumbling through his mind. Kíli had come through the last two days with minimal injury, though Fíli was well aware that that fact was due mainly to the interruptions provided by the discovery of Orcrist and the arrivals of Gandalf and the Eagles. Who knew what tortures the Great Goblin might have had planned for Thorin's heirs? He shuddered just thinking of it, of being restrained while his little brother suffered under the Goblins' whips and blades. His chest felt tight and his breath hitched as he tried to block the images that streamed into his mind unbidden.

"Fí? Are you alright?"

He opened his eyes to see deep brown ones staring at him in concern. He nodded, letting out a deep sigh as Kíli stretched out next to him.

"I'm fine, Kí. Just...we came so close today. If Gandalf hadn't arrived when he did...Mahal! When they dropped you in front of that beast, my heart stopped. I can't lose you, nadadith."

Kíli nodded in understanding and leaned in to touch Fíli's forehead with his own. The elder brother closed his eyes again and reminded himself that they were safe – Kíli, Viska, Thorin, the whole Company was safe and mostly well. He finally felt his tense muscles beginning to relax and Kíli pulled away enough to lay down. Fíli followed suit, his exhaustion finally wearing him down.

Sunrise woke the Company the next morning, the first rays creeping over their faces. They stretched aching muscles as they prepared to face the new day. Meager belongings were bundled into packs, and a sketchy breakfast was scrounged from the previous night's leftovers before the leader of the Eagles returned to bid them good morning. Gandalf spoke quietly with Gwaihir for a few moments, while Bofur reminded his brother that the massive bird had not dropped him the night before and would not this time, either. Then the Wind Lord lifted away and Gandalf finally settled the matter by summoning the hefty cook to clamber onto the back of a strong young Eagle that appeared on the ledge. The others mounted their birds as the Wizard called them over, the Halfling joining him on Gwaihir's back at the last.

The distance that they traveled was not terribly far, as the Eagles fly, but it was quite satisfying for the Dwarves to see the land passing far below without the need to walk each tiring step. They were in good spirits when the great birds dropped them off atop a towering stone pillar on the far side of the Anduin at mid-morning. After a quick bite to eat, they began to make their way down the massive stairs carved into the side of the Carrock (for that was what Gandalf said it was called). The stairs were not proportioned for Dwarves, so it was a long, wearying process to work their way down to the ground. New injuries were gained, and old ones were agitated (Thorin's Warg bite broke open and bled sluggishly), and their earlier high spirits had dropped down around their boots by the time they were safely on the prairie. After consultation with Óin and Gandalf, Thorin decreed that they would go ahead and rest for the night, though it was only the middle of the afternoon.

"I think we can risk a fire, if you are careful with it," he told Glóin. The merchant nodded, using a knife to carve out a large section of sod for the fire-pit.

"Shall Visk and I hunt? See if we can at least bring back a few rabbits?" Kíli spoke up quickly, eyes sparkling.

Thorin nodded. "Take Fíli with you."

Kíli nodded and winked at his brother as he dropped his pack. The older prince glanced at Trisk, but the silversmith simply shrugged, apparently willing to let him speak to Viska if she would permit it. Fíli nodded a thanks to the other Dwarf, then turned to join his brother and the silent jeweler as they left the camp.

No sooner were they out of sight and hearing than Kíli turned to the others with a stern look on his face.

"You two need to talk. Now. I'll do the hunting."

And with that, he disappeared into the trees, moving with the stealth that made him one of the best hunters in Ered Luin. Fíli sighed and met Viska's gaze briefly. The lass had her head cocked curiously, waiting for him to speak, her eyes unreadable. His found the ground as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"I want to apologize. For how I spoke to you in the Goblin cavern. I just...I didn't know how else to get you to move. You were frozen, terrified. I could see every memory of the raid on your village flashing behind your eyes, but you wouldn't move." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, then opening them again quickly as the memories rose up. "So, I threatened you. I shouldn't have, but everything was happening so fast that I didn't know what else to do. I thought your brother was going to stab me afterward, and maybe he should have. I understand if you cannot forgive me. What I said, what I did, was loathsome. I want to apologize, nonetheless. Just, please, don't leave the Company. Even if you never want to see me again after, you deserve to be with us when we take back Erebor."

The last sentences were said in a breathless rush, and he had his gaze fixed on his own hands as he toyed idly with one of his many blades, strangely terrified of the judgment he expected to see in her eyes. After an endless moment, a gentle hand clasped his wrist and he looked up into her face. And for the first time, he could actually see her face. The scarf was pulled away, the gray hood pushed back. The angry scar that ran from her forehead to her right cheek had healed over the past weeks and was beginning to fade, as was a burn scar on the left side of her face. Her chestnut hair was not yet long enough to really braid, but it was soft and wavy, with hints of the auburn of her brother's. Silky dark hair was growing back at the edges of her jaw. The dark bruises of the near strangulation that Trisk had described were long faded, but Fíli couldn't keep from looking for them. Her skin was pale, after so long hidden from the sun, contrasting with the darker skin on her exposed hands. Finally, he was able to see the smile that went with the sparkling humor in her eyes. It was a kind smile, a little sad, but compassionate. Fíli opened his mouth to speak, to apologize again, but she shook her head at him, holding up a hand for silence.

"I forgave you before we ever left the Goblins' tunnels,"she told him. His eyes widened at the sound of her voice, rusty with disuse, barely above a whisper. "You're right, I was frozen, paralyzed. All I could see was the Goblins who attacked my home, reaching for me with dirty claws and lewd smiles. But then you were there, and you were raging for me to defend myself, and I realized that I was not alone. I had you, and my brother, and Kíli, and something snapped. Trisk says I went a little berserk, and that is probably true. I don't remember the battle – I don't remember anything until we ran out into the sunlight, and I knew we were safe. Gandalf was there, and we were safe under the sun, and the sky was the exact shade of your eyes."

Fíli had just been thinking something similar – that her eyes were the precise color of leaves in shade – and he suddenly realized that he had a rather foolish smile on his face. Viska met his gaze and he watched the blush creep up her neck to stain her cheeks with red.

"Trisk told me he spoke to you, that he was so enraged by what you had said. I begged him to leave you alone, because I understood, but he is my brother, and he would not leave it. And he came back after, stunned that you had accepted his every chastisement. 'He hates himself for it, Viska,' he told me, 'and yet he said he would do it again if the circumstance required it, to save your life. I don't think I could ever punish him more than he already does himself.' But I already knew that, for I had seen the grief in your eyes even as you said it, looking as though you were ripping your own heart out."

He felt his face growing warm and realized that he was probably blushing nearly as much as she was. The only thing that could make this moment more nerve-wrenching was -

"Is it safe?"

- Kíli. Right on time. Fíli closed his eyes and huffed with embarrassment, then opened them again to stare at Viska when he heard her give a throaty chuckle. She smiled at him and his heart stuttered in his chest.

"Have you two kissed and made up yet?"

And the moment was gone. Kíli charged back into the small clearing clutching two fat pheasants. Fíli shook his head and glanced at his brother. The young archer was glancing between them, his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I think life would be much easier if I was an only child," the elder prince grumbled softly. Kíli smiled cheekily.

"But it would not be nearly as much fun! Now, is everything sorted?"

Viska nodded, tucking her scarf back into placed and pulling her hood up.

"All is well," she murmured, startling Kíli with the sound of her voice. "I was never angry with your brother, he just did not believe it."

Translations and Notes:

nadad – brother (Khuzdul)

lalkhîth – little/young fool (Khuzdul)

nadadith – little/younger brother (Khuzdul)

Khagal'abbad – The Blue Mountains (Khuzdul)