Fíli swayed in the upper branches of a tree. The sky still held tinges of orange and pink, but the sun was long gone. It would have been quite picturesque if he could forget about the wargs prowling at the foot of his tree.

The Company had been trapped up different trees for at least an hour. The wargs had chased them partway down the mountain until everyone was forced to either climb trees or be overtaken. They had no choice but to wait out the wargs, hoping they'd get bored and leave them in peace. Unfortunately, the foul creatures below seemed to be waiting for something themselves. Occasionally one would test the strength of the lower branches here, or jump up and snap at the dwarves there. Poor Bombur clung to his branch, but soon gravity would win out and pull his considerable girth down. Fíli and Kíli were scanning the surrounding trees, wondering if they could somehow find a path through the branches.

Fíli was weighing the pros and cons of leaping to the tree beside him when the sound of shrieking and many running feet filled the air. Not long after, dozens of goblins poured into the clearing beneath the trees. When they spotted the dwarves, they pointed and laughed with glee, congratulating the wargs. It was then that the dwarves really began to worry because goblins can climb and chop down trees, where as wargs cannot.

Curse their thumbs.

The goblins heckled and taunted the Company, savoring their awful predicament. They built a huge fire in the middle of the clearing, but still, they did nothing.

"What are they waiting for?" asked Kíli. There was a nervous edge to his voice. Fíli shook his head. He didn't know. He looked toward the other members of the Company, wondering if anyone had some sort of plan. Gandalf, Bombur, Oín and Gloín were in one tree. Balin, Bofur, Bifur and Ori were in another. Nori, Dori and Bilbo had scrambled up a tree near Gandalf's, and Thorin and Dwalin were a few branches lower in Fíli and Kíli's tree. Since Thorin was the closest, Fíli hopped down a couple branches, limber as a cat, to where he was perched.

"What did you see?" his uncle asked.

"Not much," Fíli said. "I might be able to make it to the next tree, though."

Thorin nodded, pondering this. Fíli and Kíli had been climbing trees since they'd mastered the ability to walk. Growing up, they spent more time in trees than on their own two feet. They could probably make an escape through the treetops, but what about the rest of the Company? The majority of them were too heavy and clumsy sitting still in a tree, let alone trying to jump successfully from one to another.

Thorin grimaced. He had no idea what to do. He realized suddenly that the goblins and wargs below had gone quiet. He didn't have long to wonder why.

A large orc with pale, mutilated skin stood at the edge of the clearing. His teeth were bared, and the look in his eyes was hard and predatory. At his back were at least a dozen orcs astride more wargs. When he spotted Thorin, his mouth twisted in a hideous mockery of a smile. He pointed at the trees and ordered something in Black Speech, the harsh, grating language used by many evil creatures in the world.

The goblins screeched in excitement and leapt toward the bonfire, taking up burning sticks and logs. They rushed to the trees and set the trunks ablaze. And Bolg, for it was none other, laughed in victory.

The dwarves scrambled as high as they could, trying to evade the flames, but they were running out of time. Fíli thought furiously. If he and Kíli jumped to the next tree, they could help the others make it across. He looked at his brother, seeing the same intention clear on his face.

"I'll go first," he told Kíli.

"Okay."

Fíli edged out a bit on his branch and steadied his balance. He crouched low, keeping his breathing even. Then he jumped. Landing was a bit tricky, but he managed it and was grateful for the leather protecting his palms. As he pulled himself up, he heard Kíli yelp. When he turned, Kíli, as well as half the Company, was gone. They weren't on the ground, and the orcs and goblins looked just as stunned as he felt. His kin had simply vanished. What on earth?

"Kíli?!" he yelled. A dark shape blacker than the night sky blocked out the stars above and swooped down on Fíli. It caught him up and carried him away. Far below he could hear Bolg's frustrated roar and the triumphant calls of...eagles? The orcs and goblins scattered, along with the wargs, yowling and howling in the worst way.

Whatever was carrying Fíli gripped him by both arms, and his feet dangled as they soared straight up. A screeching cry erupted from the creature, nearly deafening the poor dwarf. Fíli groaned involuntarily over the piercing sound, and the creature laughed at him.

Laughed?

"Fear not, little one! You find yourself in the capable talons of Baranthor!"

"Baranthor?" Fíli managed.

"The same!"

Baranthor screeched again as he rolled in the air, releasing Fíli at the height of his spin. Fíli's heart was in his mouth as he began to fall, but the thrill of it made him laugh in spite of the danger. He landed with a woomph on the creature's back. Enormous feathers cushioned him, and strong muscles flexed and relaxed as giant wings flapped up and down. Fíli recognized the creature's call...

"You're one of the Great Eagles," he realized.

Baranthor chuckled deeply, and Fíli could feel the vibrations of it in his hands and chest.

"That I am, little one!"

In the light of the rising moon, Fíli could see the eagle a little more clearly. He truly was gargantuan, and his feathers were dark, even in the moonlight. Around them, Fíli could make out the forms of other eagles with small figures on their backs or in their talons.

"Is my brother alright?" he asked.

"Which beardling is your brother?"

Fíli actually had to stifle a laugh at that. It bothered Kíli a little that his beard wasn't coming in as quickly as Fíli's had, and Fíli did his best to be sensitive of his brother's feelings on that.

"Well, he doesn't have much of a beard."

"You don't mean the one with hairy feet, do you?"

"Ha! No, no. I'm sure if Kíli heard you thought he had hairy feet, he'd be quite miffed."

"What about the dark-haired, laughing one?"

"That'll be Kíli," Fíli chuckled in relief.

"I'd say he's doing just fine."

They flew for a long time. Baranthor and Fíli spent most of the flight in animated conversation. Baranthor was very interested in Fíli's life in general. The daily habits and doings of the two-legs intrigued him, especially the doings and peculiarities of dwarves. Baranthor knew almost nothing about their race, and he just couldn't seem to get enough information to satisfy his curiousity. The subject of Fíli and Kíli's friendships with different birds was a particular favorite for him, and every now and then he would bring the conversation back around to it. Fíli, for his part managed to learn a bit about the eagle himself. They were the same age, as it happened, which both surprised and delighted Fíli. According to the eagle, eighty-two was still quite young in the life span of his race.

"How long can eagles live?" asked Fíli, curious.

"It's hard to say, really. I think perhaps we could live as long as we cared to. We're not like the pointy-ears, of course. We can't live forever, but some of the elders have been around for at least an age or more."

Fíli smiled. Baranthor's comment about living as long as they cared to sounded very similar to his mother's description of a dwarf's lifespan.

After a while, the other eagles began to descend, and Baranthor actually groaned.

"What's the matter?" Fíli asked.

"We're nearing the Great Shelf - my home. It's not often I'm allowed on patrol. Father says I'm too young, you see, and tonight's been more fun than I've had in ages."

Thorin stood on the Great Shelf, waiting for the rest of his Company, and Dwalin was at his side. Gloín and Oín had built a merry fire behind them, and the eagles supplied them with fresh game to eat. The savory smell of rabbit and mutton filled Thorin's nostrils, and his mouth watered, answering the growl of his stomach. Dwalin chuckled at the sound.

"I call the best cut," he said.

"Like hell," muttered Thorin with a smirk. He shoved Dwalin for good measure, and his cousin just grinned.

Kíli arrived with a crow of delight, and as the eagle that bore him landed he rolled down the great bird's wing with flushed cheeks and an excited laugh.

"Now that was fun," he said, climbing to his feet.

Thorin smiled. He didn't intend to make a habit of it, but he had to admit that flying was an incredible experience.

"Where's Fíli?" Kíli asked, still a bit breathless.

In answer, an eagle call split the air between them. A smaller eagle with dark brown feathers was diving toward them at tremendous speed and before it was too late, he opened his wings and swooped to a graceful stop on the edge of the shelf. He lifted his head in a chortle of laughter which was joined by a familiar voice.

Fíli sprang from his perch between the newcomer's wings, breaking his fall neatly by landing on his little brother.

"OOF!"

The pair began to wrestle about, as brothers are inclined to do, and Baranthor, as Thorin later discovered his name to be, watched the struggle with amused interest. After a few minutes of an intense row, Kíli yowled,

"UNCLE!"

"What?" said Thorin, intentionally misunderstanding him.

"No, I mean - AH! Fíli, UNCLE!"

Fíli relented and stood, hauling Kíli to his feet by his hood and sleeve.

"Go get some food, lads," Thorin advised. Well, they certainly weren't going to argue with him on that.

Thorin and Gandalf stood before the Lord of the Eagles after the Company had eaten its fill.

"My lord, Gwaihir," Gandalf was saying, "allow me to introduce Thorin Oakenshield."

"We are most grateful for your aid," Thorin said and inclined his head.

The eagle blinked at him. "The goblins have ever been a thorn in our side. We could not resist spoiling their fun, and it would not have been just to leave you to suffer at their hands. What brings you this far east, Oakenshield? It has been many a year since dwarves have passed through our lands."

Thorin's jaw clenched. Are we to tell everyone from here to the Mountain of our intentions?

"We're going home."

Gwaihir studied him. "Smaug has terrorized the land for long enough, I think. I should be glad when his reign comes to an end."

An understanding passed between Thorin and Gwaihir, and the dwarf smiled.

"As will I," he said.

"My eagles and I will take you down to the Great River, but it is there we must leave you. To go any further would risk the lives of my people, for the men just beyond do not trust us and would bring us down with their longbows."

"My thanks," said Thorin.

"In truth, you do not owe me gratitude for this. The Grey Wizard did me a kindness once, and I am bound to repay him. My people are proud. We are not ferriers, Oakenshield. We are creatures of the sky, not beasts of burden."

Thorin bowed his head to the eagle. "In that case, my gratitude is only magnified. I understand the rarity of this priviledge, and I am honored, my lord."

"Then you must rest. We will take flight with the dawn."

Fíli is drowning. His clothes are too heavy, and his boots pull him down. He struggles to the surface, but there is no relief in the world above. Flames. The surface of the water is covered in fire, and the smell of burning makes his already exhausted lungs seize and rebel. He flounders, searching for something to support him. His fingers tell him something is there, and he latches on without a thought. After a few brief moments that seem like forever, Fíli catches his breath. Suddenly he realizes the object he's clinging to is covered in fabric. He freezes, afraid to look, but he can't stop himself. When he does, the blood drains from his face. The sudden wave of emotion is so strong that it nearly numbs him, and his palms start to buzz. His chest aches. His mind reels. His throat closes. The figure's empty eyes are fixed on the sky above.

There is no breath.

There is no life.

He's clinging to Kíli, but Kíli is gone.

Fíli bolted upright. Every part of him shook, and he was drenched in sweat. He blinked furiously, trying to anchor himself in the present moment. He focused on his breathing, drawing one slow breath after another. Finally, his pulse steadied, and his vision cleared. When he looked around, Baranthor was perched at the edge of the shelf, and he was gazing at Fíli.

Baranthor tilted his head slightly, gesturing toward the sky with a silent question in his eyes. Fíli stood without hesitation and ran in his haste to be free of the nightmare. Baranthor stooped low, and the blonde dwarf was settled on his back in a moment. Then eagle and dwarf slipped from the edge of the shelf, and the night welcomed the pair with open arms.