Bilbo wasted no time bundling down the wooded cliffside as fast as his little legs could carry him, the hobbit still hidden from the visible world with his newest prize, that golden ring, snug on his pointer finger. Even after all he had gone through, between raving goblins and dark tunnels and whatever that odd creature Gollum was, Bilbo never once considered taking it off until he knew he was safe and sound, and more importantly reunited with Gandalf and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. He could see them up ahead, even with the milieu around him turning into that blended haze of shadows and colors.
Further down the cliff, the Company and the Heathmoor Gang raced through the trees and over the many crags and boulders that littered the slopes of the Misty Mountains. The afternoon sun shined on in its orange-gold light far to the east, a welcoming sight for the adventurers who were finally in the clear. Yet they had no idea they were being followed by an invisible hobbit.
"…five, six, seven," Gandalf breathlessly said, taking a headcount of the dwarves and heralds around him as they stopped for a moment to let the wizard finish, allowing rest from all the running they did earlier, "eight. Bifur, Bofur, that's ten. Fili and Kili, that's twelve. Augusta, Theodore, and Ryuma, you're all good here. And Bombur, that makes sixteen."
Thirteen dwarves, and three heralds, but alas they were missing an important member of theirs. Gandalf immediately realized that he had not spoken one particular name, and he wasn't alone as Augusta also noticed that the hobbit amongst them, or who should be among the party, was nowhere to be seen. Dread began to seep into her gut while Gandalf made his concerns known.
"Where's Bilbo?"
"Hey, hey Bilbo!" Augusta cried out, frantically looking around to try and find the hobbit with her own eyes before putting her hands over her mouth and aimed towards the woods. "Where are you hiding, hobbit!"
"Augusta, calm yourself!" Ryuma urgently said, but he too was concerned with the whereabouts of the small homebody. The conqueror wordlessly responded with a worried look.
"He's gotta be around here somewhere. There's no way we could've lost him." Theodore nervously gave his two cents, hoping that he was right.
"Where is our hobbit?" Gandalf asked, turning his attention to the dwarven company, looking around to see if anyone had any answers, but he found none, and this time he asked again with a bellow, "Where is our hobbit?!"
Meanwhile, unseen by the company, the still-invisible Bilbo Baggins stopped near the gathering once he heard the voices of the Gandalf and Augusta cry out for him. To hear their concerns for his well-being was comforting, but the shouts coming from the mouths of the dwarves stunted any further travel, halting his reunion with the company while they began to talk to each other.
"Curse that halfling!" Dwalin spat. "Now he's lost?"
"I thought he was with Dori!" Gloin added on, and everyone's attention immediately went to the elderly dwarf.
"Well don't blame me!" He shouted, rounding to Gandalf.
"Well, where did you last see him?" Gandalf urgently asked.
It was Nori who spoke up this time, his memory serving him well.
"I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us." The wiry dwarf said while pointing back to the mountain they just fled out of, and the heralds felt their eyes widen in horror.
"You mean he's still in those damned tunnels!?" Theodore all but shrieked, instantly fearing for the poor hobbit's life. A warrior such as he would be hard-pressed to win with those stacked odds, but Bilbo? He was just a single meek little halfling, and against the horde of goblins that had chased them down prior, there was no way Bilbo would have lived to tell the tale. Even Ryuma was stunned by what Nori had said.
"I don't know, honest! It was all so quick!" The dwarf dismally said back, now feeling like he was the one responsible for losing their burglar.
"Well, what happened exactly?" Gandalf pressed on, wishing to know the full truth. "Tell me!"
"I'll tell you what happened!" Thorin spoke up for once, his tone as biting as it could be. In the dwarf prince's mind, he knew precisely where Bilbo was, distinctly remembering the words that the hobbit had said to Bofur in his attempt to leave the Company before they were taken by the goblins. "Master Baggins saw his chance, and he took it!"
Unknown to him, Bilbo was hearing everything that Thorin was saying, and each word stung like a fresh wound to the hobbit's already soft ego. The wish of a warm welcome for rejoining the others now seemed like a fruitless endeavor for him, the hobbit leaning behind a tree while Thorin kept going, wondering if he was right all this time.
"He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and warm hearth ever since he stepped out his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again." Thorin said, fully believing that the hobbit was well on his way back to his home in the Shire. "He is long gone."
With his words spoken, the Company stood there despondent over the loss of Bilbo, Augusta and Gandalf more so than the others. The wizard couldn't believe that the hobbit would make such a poor choice as to leave them all behind, and neither did the conqueror, whose vision was cast downwards. She felt like she had just lost a good friend, one that had missed her chance to say goodbye. Maybe Thorin was right. If Bilbo wasn't here, then the only place he'd go back to was the Shire, far away and never to be heard from again.
Except he wasn't. Bilbo was, in fact, quite close by, still invisible to the world around him. After what Thorin had said, he was well within his personal rights to make sure what the dwarf said reality. He could quietly slip away thanks to his new ring, but yet Bilbo remained where he was against the tree. There was something keeping him tied here, compelling him to honor the contract he signed and the journey, the adventure, that he had so willingly joined. Like it or not, he was part of the company, just like Bofur said he was, even if he wasn't really what they believed him to be. Home was far away now, and so Bilbo made his choice.
"No," a familiar voice suddenly said behind Thorin, revealing itself to be none other than Bilbo Baggins alive and well, "he isn't."
The dwarves, heralds and wizard couldn't believe their eyes. Bofur seemed to be the most relieved out of the dwarves, and Augusta felt a wave of reprieve wash over her. Thorin, however, seemed to be disturbed or even aghast that Bilbo had not quite vanished as he thought, as he fully believed that the halfling had left them all for the safety of the Shire. To be proven wrong in such a way was quite startling.
"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf laughed, absolutely joyous to see the young hobbit again. "I've never been glad to see anyone in my life!"
"Gave us quite a scare there, Baggins." Theodore humorously said, a grin on his face and arms crossed over his broad chest. "It's good to see you're still in one piece."
"Indeed. Grateful, we are, to once again have you here alongside us." Ryuma added, the shugoki granting a brief bow to the hobbit as a show of respect.
"Bilbo!" Kili excitedly gasped, a bright smile on his face, evident of his joy of having Bilbo back with them again, even after what Thorin said. "We'd given you up!"
"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" Fili asked.
"How indeed…" Dwalin muttered, wondering how the hobbit was able to sneak through Goblin Town without getting so much as a scratch on him.
Of course, Bilbo had an actual reason, meaning the ring he had taken from Gollum after falling down to the lower chasms of the Misty Mountains. But Bilbo made no effort to say such things, instead opting to quickly laugh and slyly put the ring, which he had taken off beforehand, into his right vest pocket, acting as if he was simply resting his hands. The only one who had caught a glimpse of what Bilbo was actually doing was Gandalf, who managed to spy a glimmer of something gold in Bilbo's hand before he slipped it into his vest for safe keeping. The wizard chose not to make a concern, instead allowing the hobbit to have his moment.
"Well, what does it matter?" Gandalf said, changing the subject. "He's back."
"It matters," Thorin countered, wishing to know one thing from the hobbit as he faced him, "I want to know. Why did you come back?"
It took a long, quiet moment for Bilbo to come up with an honest answer. He could have chosen the opportunity to be scorned at Thorin, even if the dwarf held so little faith in their burglar, but that was not who Bilbo was. Perhaps it was now the best time for him to put those beliefs that Thorin had to rest, and prove that he wasn't going to back out on their quest to Erebor. With that in mind, Bilbo knew just what he had to say.
"Look, I know you doubt me, I know-I know you always have," Bilbo began, and Thorin remained passive as he listened to what the hobbit had to say for himself, "And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's my home."
"And that's why I came back, because… you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."
Thorin was not expecting that sort of response from the hobbit. In fact, the dwarf prince seemed to be outright humbled by Bilbo, a mere hobbit giving him such sweet, selfless words after all he had said. Him, a veteran of countless battles and of royal blood, now shown that the halfling had honor and a willing heart in him, and of how wrong he really was. The rest of the dwarves stood there, silently reflecting on what Bilbo said, some turning their vision downcast, knowing that the hobbit was right. They had no home to call their own, and to have the hobbit, who had the luxury of Bag End for himself, offer his willingness to help them touched their hearts.
And while Ryuma and Theodore were impressed, Augusta felt a sense of pride begin to bloom inside her for the hobbit and his own personal journey, and how much he'd grown since he first left Bag End.
For Gandalf, it was the first evidence of what he said to Galadriel was coming to be, how there was courage to be found in little folk like Bilbo. All it took to get him here was a little nudge out of his door.
This moment was not to last, as the familiar sound of howling wargs filled the air, bringing the company back ready to start fighting more monsters.
"Those things again," Theodore clenched his sword tightly, remembering the first time he had encountered those wolf-like beasts, "Today just doesn't seem to end, does it?"
"Out of the frying pan…" Thorin whispered.
"And into the fire." Gandalf finished for him. "Run! RUUUN!"
The company made headlong into the woods, hoping to put some distance between them and the wargs. Overhead, the setting sun finally slipped under the horizon, turning the golden afternoon into the dark blue of night. Their only source of light was now the crescent moon, casting its pale white glow while the fleeing party ran onwards. A trio of wargs, split off from the main group, charged right at the company with eager bloodlust, snarling and growling as they bounced over logs and boulders.
One of them pounced overhead right where Bilbo was the moment it reached the company, landing on its claw-tipped paws right in front of the terrified hobbit. He barely had enough time to get his sword out of its scabbard before the warg charged at him and, blinded by its killing intent, fatally rammed its head right into the elven blade up to the hilt. Bilbo was more or less stunned that he had managed to actually score his first kill with a sword, even if he had not done much other than freeze in terror.
The other wargs kept themselves busy with the rest of the company. While Bilbo was still backed up against a tree, Thorin sliced one of them down with Orcrist while Oin crushed the other's skull with a panicked swing from his war hammer, barely escaping the animal's snapping jaws.
At the front of the group, alongside Gloin and Dori, Augusta stopped right at the cliff's end, her eyes immediately looking down at the immense height below. The conqueror felt her stomach lurch as she backed away from the rocky edge, her legs feeling a little wobbly at the dead drop. Cliffs may have been a common sight in Ashfeld, but the last time she witnessed something of this magnitude was her time spent in The Ring, Hervis Daubeny's personal fighting arena, back when she was still a trainee. And she had hated heights ever since.
"There's no way down!" She cried out to the wizard and her Heathmoor natives. "We're trapped up here!"
"Where do we go?!" Gloin shouted.
"Up into the trees! All of you!" Gandalf said. It would be their only way to escape the wargs and their orc masters for now. "Come on, all of you! Climb! Climb, Bilbo!" The wizard pointed upwards to the canopy of the conifer trees while Bifur hurled a throwing knife at another incoming warg, sending the monster tumbling head-first into a rock.
The dwarves readily took Gandalf's advice, and so did the heralds. Ryuma decided to take a running start before he used his kanabo like a pole vault, digging the end of his weapon between a pair of rocky crags and launched himself up onto the nearest tree branch big enough to support him, while Theodore used his impressive upper strength to clamber up the same plant right next to Ryuma. Augusta was about to jump and join them as well before she noticed Bilbo still struggling to pull his sword out from a warg corpse's head. Further up the incline, she spied the black-brown fur of more charging wargs, and they were making a beeline straight to the unaware hobbit.
"They're coming!" Thorin shouted, the company going as fast as they could to get up and away from the hungry maws of the wargs. Some, such as Balin, were too old to get up by themselves and needed support with the help of Dwalin. Even Bombur with his great weight was able to get himself up a tree thanks to a low-hanging branch.
"Bilbo!" The conqueror suddenly made a risky decision and rushed to the hobbit's aid, leaving the warlord and shugoki to hopelessly watch as the sole female of the Heathmoor Gang ran towards certain doom.
"Augusta what are you doing?!" Ryuma bellowed down at her.
"Get back here, girl! You're gonna get yourself killed!" Theodore exclaimed as well. Augusta paid them no mind, keeping her vision focused entirely on Bilbo. The hobbit was not expecting the conqueror to come and help him, but he readily welcomed it. She skidded over to his left and reached over to help, gripping the handle of the sword with Bilbo's underneath her own.
"Ready?" She asked, and the hobbit nodded, "One, two, and three!"
A strong yank from both of them was all it took to free his sword from the carcass, only for the two of them to look around and realize that they were all alone on the forest floor, and the warg pack was little less than a hundred yards away from them.
"Quickly, up you go!" Augusta pushed Bilbo towards the closest one, giving the hobbit a hoist before she wrapped her flail around the branch and lifted herself up just in time as the massive warg pack came crashing in, just narrowly missing their window to try and snag the conqueror and the hobbit. Augusta looked to the forest floor with wide open eyes. There had to be dozens of the canine monsters around them now, far more numerous than the one they had to deal with before Rivendell.
Bofur and Oin were with them, watching as the wargs below hounded for their prey on the forest floor. Augusta made sure to keep a tight grip on the tree trunk, lest she fall and become warg food.
At the tree closest to the cliff's edge, Gandalf the Gray noticed a small creature foraging within the pine needles near him. It was a small, fluffy moth, its round wings colored orange and gray. Using the end of his staff to gently lift the creature up to his face, Gandalf whispered the magic words needed to send a message to a dear friend, one that he hoped would come and save them, giving the small insect a push with a gentle blow.
The warg pack rummaging below the Company's feet suddenly fell silent as the sounds of their alpha and her master arriving for themselves. For Thorin, it was like he had seen a ghost, pushing down a branch to gaze upon the entrance of his greatest nemesis.
Azog the Defiler, Chieftan of the Moria Orcs and slayer of Thorin's grandfather, stood proud and smiling on his white warg. The Battle of Azanulbizar had not claimed his life as Thorin wished to believe, for the great Gundabad orc had indeed survived his once-thought mortal wounds, replacing his lost arm with a pronged iron spike, which he used to gracefully stroke his beast's fur as he leaned down to sniff the cool night air around him.
"(Do you smell it?)" He asked his orc underlings, who were also riding their own wargs. "(The stench of fear?)"
He made sure to lock eyes with Thorin before he spoke again.
"(I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thrain.)" It was nothing short of pure black-hearted mockery from the orc, and the dwarf prince couldn't help but feel his eyes begin to water up as the mere sight of the Pale Orc, memories flashing before him.
"It cannot be…"
At the same time, another rider upon a bloodstained warg kept to the shadows, observing the interaction between orc and dwarf. Such things were not a priority for her, as she kept an eye out for the familiar glimmer of golden armor.
"(That one is mine,)" Azog pointed at Thorin with his iron mace, "(Kill the others!)"
The warg pack, now enflamed by the order of their master, charged back to the woods. This time they did not bother to snoop around. Now they lunged openly with their toothy maws gnashing onto anything they could bite on to, ripping at stalks and branches as they tried to shake the Company off their hiding spots. Some attempted to climb the trees to get to the dwarves, digging their razor-sharp claws into the bark, but their weight kept them down.
"(Drink their blood!)" Azog shouted, encouraging his monster legion to keep attacking.
The trees themselves, however, could only take so much damage from the frenzied wargs. And soon it wasn't long before the tree that Bilbo and Augusta were on suddenly lurched backwards, the constant pushing and shoving from the canine creatures, coupled with the unstable rocky soil it had grown on undisturbed for years, was proving too much for it to handle. The old tree began to teeter and fall, roots snapping into splinters as it fell backwards, hurling the four unfortunate climbers into another tree. This, in turn, caused the other tree to collapse as well, creating a terrifying domino effect, dwarves and heralds jumping from one tumbling tree to the next, hoping to stay above the snarling monsters below.
With one final jump, the sixteen travelers found themselves on the one tree that remained standing, which just so happened to be the one sitting at the very tip of the cliff face, leaving them all trapped with no way to escape. Azog couldn't help but laugh at the sheer misfortune of the dwarves and their friends. There was, quite possibly, nowhere for them to go but down.
"Oh, t-this isn't good!" Theodore felt his gut drop to his feet after he cast a glance to the drop below. The Viking kept a steady grip on the branch next to Ryuma, the shugoki making as little movement as possible. He could hear the wood beneath his sandals creaking under his great weight, the one time in his life where his body became a detriment.
Above them, Augusta found herself crouching next to Fili and Bilbo, the female conqueror making herself as balanced as possible right below the gray wizard.
"Augusta! You okay there?" She craned her neck below to see Ryuma looking up at her with worried eyes.
"I'm fine!" She replied with a thumbs up. "How about you?"
"Could be better!" Theodore sarcastically answered for the samurai. "Not like we're all stuck on the same tree right next to a cliff!"
"Well, we need to get out of here somehow," Augusta worryingly said, and then turned her attention to Gandalf, hoping that he would find a way to get them out of his dire battle, "You got an idea, Gandalf?"
The wizard did have an idea, in fact, as he reached over to grab a dry pine cone the size of an eggplant for what he was about to do next. Using the tip of his oak staff, a nexus for his wizardly powers, and the enchantments blessed to him from the Ring of Fire, Narya, he blew small cinders into the woody cone like a billow until it burst into small flames. Making sure he aimed well, Gandalf hurled the burning pinecone not at the wargs, but at the arid ground beneath their feet, which was littered with dead pine needles and dry timber, the perfect fuel for an inferno. The instant it touched down on the fallen foliage, the forest floor instantly caught fire at a rapid pace.
The Heathmoor Gang couldn't believe their luck, and even Azog was caught off-guard by what the wizard had done to save their wretched hides. The wargs found themselves blocked by a growing wall of flame in front of them, the burning orange-yellow light blinding the horde from getting any closer.
"Fili!" Gandalf shouted, tossing another burning pinecone down for the young dwarf, who then allowed Bilbo and Augusta to lean over and light their own. Gandalf all the while kept making more of these wooden firebombs, alternating between hurling them at the orc pack or dropping them for one of the dwarves or heralds to snatch.
"This might not be a true fire-flask, but it gets the job done!" Theodore stated as he aligned a shot and nailed one of the wargs directly in the face, the monster turning tail as the burning seedling singed its fur. "Ha ha! Yes!"
Soon enough the fire-laden volley from the Company was becoming too intense for the wargs as they cleared away and fled from the cliff edge. Their orc masters fared no better, shielding their sensitive eyes away from the inferno in front of them. The only one who remained in place among the orcs was Azog, who let out a frustrated roar with his prey being so close but unable to reach them thanks to the protective wall of fire.
With their enemy routed, the dwarves and heralds cheered at their victory over the orcs thanks to the quick thinking of their wizard. It seemed that they would be able to live and see another day on their journey to Erebor. Their triumph, however, was short-lived as their refuge, the last tree standing before the orc pack, began to buckle and break underneath the collective weight of the Company. The roots which had barely managed to hold the tree up were now failing as the large conifer found itself slowly teetering over the edge like a walking board, leaving the sixteen members hopelessly hanging on to any surface that could hold them.
Augusta had managed to get herself positioned on her stomach before the tree angled itself evenly with the cliff edge, the conqueror feeling like her guts had just tried to exit her body through her feet while she tried to keep herself from looking down for too long.
At the same time, Theodore managed to hook his shield around a gnarled branch like an anchor, saving him from falling as he lifted himself up to get a better grip. Ryuma had clung to a branch that was thankfully still strong enough to support the shugoki right behind the Viking. He had never thought that he would ever feel his own two feet hanging in the open air over a cliff as he desperately tried to regain his footing.
In the midst of the cascade, Ori's fingers had slipped from his grasp, and the boyish dwarf shortly plummeted, only managing to save himself from falling to his doom by clinging on to Dori's leather boot, the older dwarf struggling to keep himself up.
"M-Mister Gandalf!" Dori cried out as he felt his arms tire out, and the gray wizard thrust his staff out for the dwarf to cling on just before he could fall to his death, and even then Gandalf felt his arms trembling from the exertion of having to carry two dwarfs on his wooden staff.
Azog, all the while, looked at this change in situation with glee. It seemed he would get his utmost desire for Thorin's death after all. Even if they managed to get themselves back on dry land, his ravenous orc pack outnumbered them ten to one, and they were all trapped on a tree hanging on by a couple weakening roots. It was bound to fall soon, and all the scarred orc had to do was wait for the inevitable.
And Thorin, still stuck on the tree, turned and locked eyes with his nemesis, his dark brown lasered to Azog's light blue, burning with righteous fury. The dwarf would never grant Azog a shred of triumph over him, not while he and his fellow dwarves were still alive and willing to fight. For his father, and his father before him, Thorin made certain that Azog would take his last breath by his hands. This was a look that the Gundabad orc had seen before from the dwarf prince long ago, during the battle for Moria, and the orc watched with abated breath as the heir to the kingdom of Erebor stood tall, armed, and completely alone.
With Orcrist in one hand, and the same hollowed trunk that defended him during their first battle all those years previous on his other, Thorin ran headlong right at the orc through the burning forest, sword raised overhead and shield against his chest, the great rivalry between kingslayer and heir to the throne reignited once again. Behind him, Bilbo and the rest of the Company bore witness as Thorin proceeded to face the Pale Orc on his own, who was seemingly inviting the dwarf to come and try with open arms with a toothy smile on his face.
Before Thorin could even get close, Azog and his white warg suddenly leapt at the princeling with a war cry, the wolf-like monster knocking the air right out of Thorin's lungs with a paw striking his chest, sending him flat on his back.
This time there would be no wizard to help him, Gandalf preoccupied with keeping Dori and Ori alive, the elder dwarf barely keeping his hands tight around the end of his staff.
Azog circled around and struck Thorin across the shoulder with his iron flanged mace as he tried to stand up and face the Gundabad orc, who was roaring in bloodlust in the midst of knocking the hapless Thorin around. Even with all of his determination, the dwarf prince was no match for the orc and his white warg, and the company could only cry out in despair and grief, Balin and Dwalin chief among them. Bilbo was the only one who managed to get to his feet on the trunk of the toppled tree, but a strong grip from Theodore on his ankle stayed the hobbit from doing anything rash.
Thorin desperately tried to stand up and fight, but Azog would not allow it. His white warg chomped down hard on Thorin's waistline, the dwarf prince crying out in pain as fangs and molars crunched his armor plating. Compared to the warg's size, Thorin was little more than a chew toy for the monster. Azog faced the Company once again, sadism gleaming in his eyes, as if he were showing off the battered Thorin trapped in his beast's jaws like a morbid trophy, showing them how hopeless it was to face his might. Thorin, his shoulder dull and aching, could only dangle from the warg's mouth, already too weak to even try to escape. But if Azog were to finish off Thorin, he chose not to, for there was something else that the orc obliged before he could finish off the line of Durin for good.
The Pale Orc turned his head to the shadows behind him and spoke in a dismissive tone.
"(I believe there's someone here for you.)"
The Company had no idea of who Azog was talking about, or even to, their concerns focused entirely on Thorin, but through the crackle of flames and the snarls from the wargs came another sound emanating from the smoky gloom. It was the clanking of armor, a sound very familiar for most of them. But the question remained, who could this be? Heralds, dwarves, wizard and hobbit held their breath until the source of this new noise finally emerged from the darkness.
"Impossible…" Theodore gasped once he was able to see who it was, and Ryuma shared his sentiment.
While this new foe was unknown to the Company, Augusta, Ryuma and Theodore felt the blood from their faces instantly drain at the terrifying sight of a warmonger standing beside Azog. Her dark red armor, covering her from head to toe and colored the same as freshly-spilled lifeblood, glimmered against the flames. Painted along her gray-white tunic, draped over her thighs, were the symbols of some sort of allegiance foreign to the natives of Middle Earth. Her armor was stylized with many ornate engravings, the most prominent being the one directly centered on her armored chest that depicted a large, jawless skull. It was her knightly helm that was truly bone-chilling, hiding her face behind a mouthplate and angered eye sockets, with a wiry tuft of black feathers strung at the back of her armored head.
Her weapon of choice, a mighty two-handed flamberge sword, lay hanging in her fingers, the blade itself black as the dark sky above and streaked with swirling red engravings.
She did not speak, instead choosing to remain silent as she gazed upon the Company, the jagged tips of her gauntlet scraping against her palm. The warmonger slowly turned her vision to Thorin Oakenshield, and then began to laugh. It was utterly mocking sound, one that send shivers down the Company's spines.
"So," she began, "this is the mighty Company of Thorin Oakenshield? A mere thirteen dwarves and a wizard? How… droll."
Augusta felt her eyes widen in shock, feeling her hands tremble with fear after hearing the rich, husky voice of the warmonger, memories beginning to seep in from a darker time in her life. A hollow pit formed in her gut, hoping that she was wrong about the woman behind that armor, but she knew that voice all too well from those hellish days of her younger years as a young child wishing for adventure, and then as a forsaken knight imprisoned by the once-mighty Blackstone Legion, and those long, dark days as her prisoner.
That voice…! It can't be her!
"Who is that?" Bilbo leaned over and whispered to the warlord's ear, curious about who this knight among the orcs was.
"That, lad, is a sure sign of how screwed we really are." Theodore grimly answered.
"Come on now!" The warmonger suddenly shouted, gesturing to the dwarf prince still held in the warg's mouth. "Aren't you going to save your king from the clutches of death? Or do none of you have such temerity?" She said, instantly earning the ire of the dwarves. Had they not been preoccupied with not falling to their deaths they would have made this
"Or perhaps…" she mumbled to herself, "there is one among your merry little band who I know has a sense of bravery, a person I know very, very well. She's up there, I see her from here," she pointed with a bladed finger at the tree, "A conqueror, with armor forged from steel and gold."
All eyes of the Company instantly went straight to Augusta, Ryuma and Theodore most stunned of all, who went as still as a statue. Augusta felt her limbs freeze up at her mere mentioning, realizing that her worst fears had come to light, while the warmonger continued on with her spiel, this time deciding to drop the theatrics and address who she was truly after.
"I know you're there, Connolly!" She said-sung in a haunting tone. "Are you too afraid to catch up with your dearest, oldest friend? Or perhaps I'll let Azog feed the dwarf to his cute poochie while I make you watch, right after I gut your dwarven friends like the sheep they are!"
In that one moment, Augusta stood up, revealing herself to the orcs and the warmonger, who looked excited to see the conqueror there, just where she knew she was. The conqueror knew that she had no other choice but to make herself visible, no matter what that icy ball of terror in her gut was telling her. She couldn't let the Company, and the friends she made along the way, get hurt because she was too afraid to face her demons.
"There you are," the warmonger hissed once she could see that familiar gold armor, "Finally."
Augusta sucked in her fear, mounted what courage she held in her, and shouted back.
"I'm right here, Louisa!" Augusta bellowed loud enough for her to hear over the crackling flames, revealing the name of the warmonger for all to know. For Ryuma and Theodore, this was even more surprising as the two of them shared a look. Augusta knew this warmonger, like an old flame from her past that she had tried to forget.
"So, you do remember me, I'm flattered," the warmonger, Louisa, delightfully said, dropping down from the boulder on her feet, the flamberge sword never leaving her grasp. Augusta did the same with her flail and shield, slowly making her way towards the warmonger. Whereas Louisa was flamboyant, Augusta walked as rigid as a statue, never once taking her eyes off the other female warrior. The moment her feet touched the rocky soil Augusta primed her shield right in front of her to full-guard, and the warmonger stopped her stroll.
"Defensive already? How cute," Louisa laughed, and proceeded to position herself into a readied stance, "No pleasantries, my dear? That's quite rude of you."
Augusta kept quiet, not uttering a word. Louisa hummed, and accepted that Augusta had nothing to say to her.
"Very well. To each their own, I suppose. Now," the warmonger pointed the tip of her sword at the conqueror, "let us start the carnage!"
In a flash, the warmonger charged right at the conqueror with a ravenous bloodlust, the edge of her sword crashing against Augusta's Demetra shield with staggering force. Augusta had little time to counter or counterattack as she braced herself for the impact and nearly fell over, but managed to stop herself from tipping and shoved the face of her shield right back at Louisa, giving her some needed room to start spinning her flail, readying an attack. The conqueror swung, but the warmonger was ready, dodging the mighty swing from the flail with an attack of her own and hit Augusta across her hip, and the conqueror let out a cry as she stumbled back, using her shield as a brace.
Augusta felt a warm trickle of liquid on her hip, and a quick feel revealed that it was blood. Her blood.
"The first strike is mine," Louisa hissed, pointing at Augusta, "And soon, the rest of you shall follow to your grave!"
"Go die!" Augusta roared back, swinging her flail at Louisa, only hitting the empty air where she once was as the warmonger read the conqueror's moves with growing ease. The warmonger slashed again, hitting Augusta across her arm, and then her leg. The conqueror tried to deflect a third blow, but the warmonger raised her bladed hand and swiped upwards and knocked her shield to the side, leaving Augusta wide open for another strike, this time hitting her shoulder. Augusta could feel the blood from her wounds beginning to mix with her sweat as she tried to get herself together. Thanks to the dread debilitating her, Augusta could do little but receive more hits from the black-bladed sword, powerless to stop Louisa.
Augusta aimed her flail and swung at Louisa's head, but the warmonger narrowly darted out of the way and smashed a fist right into Augusta's side. The conqueror tried another shield bash and was once again met with a claw swipe that left her open for a slash at her shoulder.
"Weakling!" Louisa cried out the moment her sword hit her fellow knight.
Now getting desperate, Augusta attempted another frantic swing from her flail, this time a faster, swifter strike with minimal strength, but even then, Augusta found her attack easily parried by the warmonger, who knocked her away with a strong kick to her gut which sent the conqueror staggering back to a shredded tree stump. Bile and spit fizzled out of her mouth, leaking between her lips as she slumped down to her rump and coughed.
Azog was enjoying the entire spectacle, laughing as he watched his otherworldly ally completely overwhelm Thorin's own. It wasn't often that he found himself entertained with such violent human bloodsport, but he wasn't complaining.
All the while still hanging on to the tree, Theodore and Ryuma could do little more than watch as their conqueror friend got utterly thrashed by the warmonger. At first, they couldn't believe what was happening. Augusta was a strong, skilled warrior who they knew could easily handle her own, but against this agent of Horkos it looked like she couldn't do a single thing other than eat attack after attack like a hapless newbie.
It seemed to be getting on the warmonger's nerves as well. She was expecting an even fight, not this sad excuse of a bout from someone who was obviously better than this.
"How pathetic you've become, my dear," Louisa sneered as she loomed over the exhausted and bleeding conqueror, "Have you truly lost yourself in this world, surrounded by the soft and meek? And your worthless friends, a Viking brute and a samurai savage, have gone and left you to die here, just like when we were kids."
Augusta raised her head to face the warmonger, her eyes burning with indignation at Louisa's insults. Her vision was slowly beginning to clear again, the fear slowly fading away to the sensation of fury. Louisa had the gall to talk about their childhood, something that Augusta cherished. All the years of torment she faced at the hands of someone who she once considered a friend fueling her inner fire. She still had her weapons in hand, and a newfound righteous cause to fight for. If she lost now, then everyone else would suffer for her failure.
Ryuma. Theodore. Bilbo. Gandalf. The Company. The people she grew to care and cherish, from this world and her own.
Augusta waited until Louisa sauntered over just close enough for her to try and reach her, before she tightened her grip upon her trusted flail and struck the warmonger across the face with a powerful whack, knocking her back a few feet. It had caught the warmonger, and everyone else watching, completely by surprise. Louisa reached up and felt the dent that Augusta left on her blood-red helm, her head reeling from the blow.
"How's that for nothing?" Augusta spat as she rose to her feet, ready for round two. She still had some fight left in her, and be damned if she wasn't going to go down swinging.
"C'mon Augusta! Kick that níðingr's ass!" Theodore's voice suddenly cut through the air. The warlord was energized by the sight of the conqueror finally making a move, and Augusta turned to see him holding up a closed fist. And he wasn't alone.
"Fight her, Connolly! You can beat her!" Ryuma added on.
And soon enough, encouraged by the cheers of the two male heralds, the dwarves joined in on the praise. They knew that she needed the support. The last thing they needed was to lose their female mercenary along with their king.
"Get 'er, Augusta!"
"You can do it!"
"Show her what you're made of!"
It was just what the tiring Augusta needed to hear. A sense of invigoration washed over her, spurred on by the encouraging words of her friends and allies. The pain she felt across her body ebbed, giving her enough strength to stand before Louisa.
The warmonger, however, was just getting started. Between a sneak attack and the irritating voices of the Company grating her ears, Louisa could feel the blood in her veins beginning to boil, teeth clenching behind her helm and fingers squeezing her blade's hilt.
"Petty words change nothing!" Louisa hissed as her temper flared, once again raising her flamberge sword up high and ran for the conqueror's head. Augusta raised her shield up and deflected the attack with her own, striking the warmonger aside her arm and nearly causing her to drop her sword. Louisa grunted with pain, attempting a swipe for her claws that only scraped the front of Augusta's life-saving shield before it rammed into her chest at full force. Now on the offensive, Augusta pushed the warmonger back little by little with each shield bash, never once giving Louisa a chance to fight back as she continued to batter the blood-armored woman like a drum. For the spectators of the duel, it was as if the tides had completely turned against the warmonger, with Augusta's renewed fighting spirit giving her the métier needed to win.
But such things were not meant to be, for all it took was for one moment of cunning from the warmonger. Just when it seemed that Augusta had a chance of victory, Louisa raised her left foot and stomped down on the chain of Augusta's flail, pinning it to the ground. Caught by surprise, Augusta had no time to prepare herself when she felt Louisa knee her in the gut and wrench her trusty shield aside, leaving the conqueror completely open.
With a clutched palm Louisa reached over and wrapped her armored hand around Augusta's throat in a powerful grip, making sure to squeeze hard. In a terrifying feat of strength, she managed to life the conqueror a good foot of the ground and look up at her prey, her own face hidden behind her blood-red Dysnomia helm. Augusta could feel her gullet constrict under the grip of the warmonger as she struggled to get air into her lungs.
A dark chuckle escape Louisa's mouth as she watched the conqueror fight in vain. She wanted to see the light fade from those dark blue eyes for herself, leaning up for a better look at the struggling conqueror who was batting her arm with weak hits, hoping to break free. Oh, how she longed for this moment of triumph, a flow of ecstasy rushing in at the sight Augusta trying so pitifully to escape. It was high time for her to realize her place in the food chain, and for her just desserts, the warmonger knew just how to make her beloved conqueror truly, and cruelly, hurt.
Planting her sword in the ground and flexing her free hand, the one she made sure to coat with her secret weapon, Louisa readied the jagged tips of her fingers like little swords eager to find some unwilling flesh. Augusta saw this as well, and seemed to realize what was about to happen as she tried even harder to escape from Louisa's grasp, going so far as to start slamming her shield into the warmonger's arm as hard as she could, but it was to no avail.
"How futile."
The warmonger formed her hand into a spear-like form, making sure to aim for the one spot that Augusta always protected, and proceeded to plunge her fingertip blades straight under Augusta's left breast, right where her beating heart lay.
Augusta, as strong as she was, screamed to the high heavens in unholy agony. Tears pricked the edges of her vision, feeling the white-hot pain of the warmonger's serrated finger blades sink into her flesh. The horrid, soul-piercing sound coming from her lips made the Company wince in horror, but the orcs seemed to be relishing the spectacle, as they were beings born from the darkness of Middle Earth, Azog going so far as to openly laugh.
"Yes," Louisa hissed as she made sure to dig in to Augusta's pale skin through her tunic, "how I missed that lovely voice of yours, Augusta!"
The warmonger slowly withdrew her fingers from the conqueror's chest, relishing in the sight of her enemy's lifeblood oozing down the palm of her similarly-colored armor. Augusta gasped and wheezed, trying to fight through the pain with Louisa holding her up by the neck. With her appetite for malice now sated, the warmonger turned and tossed aside the trembling Augusta across the smoking dirt, where she lay there immobile.
Azog, knowing that this little duel between the two women was over, tugged on the mane of his beast and had her hurl Thorin away, the bludgeoned dwarf coming to a stop atop a slab of rock. Like Augusta, he too was motionless, staring up to the starry sky, too weak to get up.
"(Bring me the dwarf's head.)" Azog, feeling quite confident that there was nothing that Thorin could do, ordered the closest orc to him, who was eager to satisfy to his master's wish, stepping off his warg with a curved machete in his hand. The Pale Orc would have his prize. Louisa as well slowly waltzed over to the pain-wracked Augusta, dragging the tip of her flamberge sword along the ground. The conqueror could do little to nothing as the warmonger pressed her boot onto her chest, right below her breasts, and held her sword pointed at the golden conqueror's throat.
Back at the tree, Bilbo Baggins knew that he had to do something in order to save Thorin and Augusta, the hobbit reaching for his small elven sword and mustering what bravery he could find within himself. Still laying upon the ground, even as he faced certain death, Thorin made a last-ditch effort to grab Orcrist using little energy he had left after feeling the iron edge of the orc's blade rest against his throat, but his sword lay just out of range. The orc grabbed the knife's handle with both hands, ready to destroy the line of Durin forever.
The last thing they, and maybe even Thorin, was expecting was a small, brave hobbit pouncing on to the orc just before he could end the dwarf's life.
Azog himself was caught by complete surprise as Bilbo managed to knock the orc down with him and make the fell monster drop his knife, but the orc kicked the halfling off and tried hit him with a punch. The hobbit retaliated by frantically stabbing the orc in the chest until it let out a death-squeal and keeled over.
With the orc dead, Bilbo rushed over to stand guard in front of the now unconscious Thorin, his elven blade still aglow with blue light. Even as the smiling Azog, his orcs and their wargs converged on him, Bilbo remained steadfast even in the face of such a terrifying force, swinging his sword around, hoping to deter them.
"(Kill him.)" Azog ordered, and his three warg-mounted orc underlings slowly crept towards the heroic but ultimately foolish halfling.
"So, there is bravery among you." Louisa said, who had stopped to see what happened between Azog and his prey. The warmonger was quite impressed with what she had witnessed, and then turned her attention back to the conqueror beneath her, slowly raising her Aegea sword for the killing blow and to end Augusta with a slice through her gullet, peering down at the wide, terrified eyes of Augusta.
"This is goodbye, my friend."
I'm sorry, everyone. I failed you all. Please, forgive me. Augusta internally wept, her mouth too dry to form any words as a single tear dripped down her cheek.
Louisa was poised to strike in her long-awaited moment of vengeance, were it not for the sudden rush of dwarves to stop her as the armed and furious forms of Fili, Kili and Dwalin came to the aid of Bilbo, each of them facing off an individual warg and orc rider either by sword or war hammer. Louisa, caught off-guard by the bravery of the dwarves, swiftly returned her attention to Augusta, noticing that a sliver of hope lay lingering in those dark blue orbs.
Now infuriated with the constant interruptions denying her moment, and the sight of Augusta no longer fallen in despair, the warmonger furiously reared back her hands and plunged her sword down upon the conqueror.
Augusta clenched her eyes shut, but the death-bringing pierce she expected to end her life never came. Instead, a resounding clang echoed above her. The conqueror looked in astonishment at the sight of Theodore kneeling beside her, holding up his Golden Bruin shield against the warmonger's blade, for the Viking had arrived alongside the dwarves just in time to stop the armored woman from taking the mercenary's life.
"What?!" Louisa gasped, baffled by what she was seeing.
Theodore merely chuckled at the warmonger's anger before he let out a single shout.
"Samurai!"
There was no time for Louisa to react before Ryuma, who had also managed to get himself free, came charging at her like a bull and swung his mighty kanabo, letting out a powerful roar as the hefty samurai clubbed the warmonger across the chest with the force of a cannonball. Louisa soared backwards through the air like a missile, far away from the rejoined heralds straight back into the darkness of the surrounding forest.
With the warmonger temporarily out of the picture, Theodore and Ryuma focused their consideration with Augusta.
"Can you stand?" Theodore quickly asked. Augusta tried to push herself up, but the burning sensation from her chest wounds were too painful at the moment. Ryuma offered an open hand which she eagerly took. The conqueror almost fell back down on her knees once she got up, but was caught by the shugoki, who could see that the injuries under her breast were still bleeding through her black tunic.
"She needs medicine," Ryuma stated, holding the gasping conqueror up by the armpit, "I fear the warmonger may have poisoned Augusta with those fingers of hers."
"I hate to break it to you, Tamaharu, but we've still got a fight on our hands!" Theodore said back, unleashing his sword as the orc pack regrouped, outnumbering the dwarves and hobbit. Despite how brave he was beforehand, Bilbo lay fearful on the ground with Azog in front of him, the Pale Orc ready to turn the halfling into mincemeat for daring to deny him his kill. Ryuma clutched Augusta close to him while Theodore valiantly remained in front of the other two heralds, prepared to honor his role as a warlord and defend his allies till the end.
Still struggling to hold up Dori and Ori, Gandalf heard the gentle fluttering of wings in front of him, for the moth he found earlier had returned to him, and with it came the hope he needed. Even as Dori felt his fingers slip their grasp on Gandalf's staff, the Company found themselves saved from Azog's forces by the arrival of one of Middle Earth's most powerful beings, the Great Eagles of Manwë, one of them swooping to catch both the falling Dori and Ori on its back as it flew off. Their screeching cries filled the skies as they soared along their huge, brown-feathered wings, far larger than any warg in Azog's arsenal. It was a sight that brought a smile to Gandalf's face, knowing that they had been saved.
For the heralds, it was something none of them could have ever imagined to see. Eagles of their native lands were nothing of this scale.
"By Odin," Theodore gasped in sheer awe, remembering the tales of eagles within his own culture, "The gods have come to our aid!"
The eagles, led by the mighty Gwaihir the Winglord, Gandalf's friend and Lord of the Eagles of the Third Age, set his winged brethren on the orcs, using their massive talons and beaks to snatch any unfortunate warg or orc and hurl them off the cliffside, or fanning the flames with their tremendous wingspans, dispersing the orc pack away from the Company. With his orcs now facing a foe they could not possibly defeat, Azog could do little but snarl and spit at the eagles decimating his numbers.
One such great eagle lunged for the comatose Thorin, gently grasping the dwarf prince in its claws as it flew off, leaving the enraged Azog to scream in fury as his great prize was stolen right in front of him. The Pale Orc had to dive out of the way before another eagle came to grab the slightly terrified hobbit and dropped him on another eagle's back over the cliff. Bilbo, shaken but still lucid, held on to the eagle's back for dear life as it soared away.
With the orcs routed, the eagles turned to the Company, using their talons to snag a dwarf or two off the crumbling tree. Gandalf himself landed upon the back of Gwaihir as the tree finally came loose off the mountainside.
"Oho, yes. You two ready to fly?" Theodore asked his fellow heralds as he eyed an eagle diving towards them with its talons spread open. The Viking seemed giddy with the idea of being taken to safety by a symbol of Odin.
The shugoki and the conqueror? Not so much.
"I hate heights…" Augusta woefully groaned as she prepared herself for another escapade that preyed upon her phobias.
The warlord paid her no heed as he, in a moment of excitement, decided to take a running start and jump off the cliff, right as the eagle came down for him and snatched the burly Viking out of the air, Theodore giving a joyful, echoing whoop as he was taken away. Another eagle came up from the same cliffside, its massive wingspan forming a great wind, and clutched both conqueror and shugoki in its powerful toes as gently as it could before it took off to rejoin the retreating convocation. The conqueror winced as she felt her wound brush against the scaly skin of the eagle's foot, but she managed to suck in her pain.
And with the last members of the Company now with them, the Eagles of Manwë soared off into the moonlit clouds far away from the orcs of Azog. The Gundabad orc bellowed in frustration as he watched the eagles fly away farther into the mountain range, leaving him surrounded by his dead and battered wargs.
At the same time Louisa limped over to him, watching as the majestic birds became little more than specks in the dark cloudy sky. The warmonger clutched the sizable dent that the shugoki left on her armor, sharing the mood that her orc companion was expressing. The fact that the Viking and samurai had come to Augusta's aid, rather than leave her to die, was almost unfathomable for her to think of. Had the Seven Year War taught them nothing?
Hearing the sounds of her incoming footsteps, Azog rounded on her, his lips curled into a snarl as he fixated his fury at his Heathmoor ally.
"(You failed!)" He loudly spat, pointing at her with his mace. "(You allowed your prey to fight back and defeat you!)"
"We failed, Azog. Need I remind you of that? You lost your chance at Thorin thanks to those birds, and had it not been for Augusta's friends she would have been dead beneath my heel." Louisa plainly said back, not in the mood for an argument between her and the incensed orc. The warmonger straightened her back, feeling the soft pops of her spine easing some of the pain she felt. Azog hissed away his displeasure with Louisa as she continued.
"They got the drop on me, pure and simple," she admitted to the orc, reaching down to grab her sword from the ground, "And here I thought that they would gladly let the knight die thanks to our shared history, but I guess not."
Azog frowned, knowing that the crafty woman was on to something.
"(So, what will you do? There are three of them and only one of you, and I can always find more orcs for my army.)"
"Oh, don't you worry about that, Azog," Louisa sinisterly chuckled, "Augusta has her friends…"
The warmonger reached into the satchel behind her back and pulled out one of the greatest gifts that the Cataclysm blessed upon the Order of Horkos; a large hunk of gray-green crystal, corrupted draconite, its color so murky it may as well have been black, letting it sit in the palm of her armored hand, the moonlight reflecting off its cleavage. With it, she knew exactly what to do in order to even the odds against Augusta and her partners.
After all, this piece of rock was how she got here to Middle Earth in the first place.
"And I will have mine."
…
Far away, as the night hours slowly turned to morning high over the peaks of the Misty Mountains, the eagles carrying the Company continued onwards with their journey. Some of the dwarves were riding on the eagle's backs while others were carried within their talons. Fili and Kili, riding atop one of the large birds, noticed that Thorin was still unconscious, dangling near-lifelessly in the clutches of an eagle.
"Thorin!" Fili cried out for his uncle, and got no response. Bilbo looked on, fearful for the dwarf prince's state, worryingly gazing at the bloodstained heir.
Meanwhile at the middle of the flock, the heralds and Gandalf clung to their respective winged saviors as they flew over peaks and waterfalls. Whereas Ryuma was keeping his eyes closed to not get sick, Theodore was having the time of his life, the warlord never once believing that he would have the chance to fly in the grip of an eagle. Still, he craned his neck to see Augusta trying to make herself comfortable without aggravating her wounds.
"You good over there, Augusta?" He shouted over the cold airstreams, and she turned to give him a questionably healthy thumb up.
It was some time during the long flight that the convocation finally reached their destination, a tall, rocky eyot called the Carrock jutting up from the heart of the mountain range next to the River Anduin, surrounded by dense woodlands and rocky spires. Its zenith was flat and angled, perfect for the first eagle to gently drop the still-comatose Thorin upon the top of the rocky formation. Gandalf landed, still riding on the back of Gwaihir, and stepped off the winglord's back to see to the dwarf. Bilbo landed soon after, and he too was worried for the heir to Erebor.
"Thorin!" Gandalf loudly yelled as the rest of the eagles began to release their passengers on the peak of the Carrock. The gray wizard knelt beside Thorin, and then gently repeated, "Thorin."
The dwarf prince was still deeply unconscious as a result of his fight between him and Azog, so Gandalf rested an open hand over Thorin's face and spoke hushed words, waking him up from his stupor much to the relief of Gandalf.
"The halfling?" Thorin wheezed out.
"It's alright," Gandalf reassured the dwarf, "Bilbo is here. He's quite safe."
The rest of the eagles had dropped off the rest of the Company while Gandalf worked his magic. Augusta, Theodore and Ryuma landed as well, with the shugoki and the warlord coming to the assistance of the injured conqueror, who was still gripping that bloody chest wound of hers. With the help of Dwalin and Kili, Thorin finally managed to get to his feet before he faced the hobbit who was glad to see him still alive. And for some odd reason, he was not happy in the slightest with their burglar.
"You," he began, and Gandalf turned with a keen eye to the seemingly infuriated dwarf, "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"
Slowly that smile on Bilbo's face turned to surprise and confusion. He didn't know what to say to that, shocked at the treatment he was getting from Thorin. A lump formed in his throat as Thorin continued with his tirade and slowly approached the hobbit.
"Did I not say that you would be a burden," He asked, threateningly looming towards Bilbo. "That you would not survive in the wild? And you had no place amongst us."
The hobbit did nothing against the hurtful words, casting his vision downwards, shoulders slumping as he awaited another barrage of insults. Was this the thanks he was given for saving his life? Gandalf and even the heralds watched on with stunned expressions, wondering if Thorin had either lost his mind or his temper.
All that anger that Thorin projected instantly faded as relief crossed the dwarf's face as he finally spoke what he truly felt.
"I have never been so wrong, in all my life!"
The bewildered hobbit was not expecting the dwarf to envelop him with a warm hug as a way to say thank you. The Company laughed good-heartedly at the sight of their king hugging the halfling, knowing that there was no real harm meant from Thorin. The dwarf prince had every right to give his thanks to the hobbit, who returned the act of kindness before they parted.
"I am sorry I doubted you," Thorin said.
"No, I would've doubted me too," Bilbo admittedly said back to Thorin, "I'm not a hero. Or a warrior. Not even a burglar," he humorously said to them, making sure to lean towards the smiling Gandalf. It was the honest truth, but perhaps it was because of how Bilbo was such an ordinary hobbit, and not a fighter such as they were, that made his actions mean so much more. Something caught the hobbit's eye from above, and he and the Company watched as the convocation of the Great Eagles flew off back to their roost far to the North.
Though, once Thorin turned his eyes forward, he caught the sight of something truly remarkable far in the distance. Bilbo turned around as well, wondering what Thorin was looking at, before he too saw what the dwarf was looking at.
"Is that," he pondered, "what I think it is?"
After hearing the hobbit, the rest of the Company along with the heralds made their way to the edge of the Carrock where they were able to see for themselves. There, at the farthest limit of the visible horizon, lay the single solitary peak of a massive mountain far, far away, illuminated by the rising sun and the blue-orange sky. The scene before them was nothing short of beautiful, and it was Gandalf that confirmed their suspicions.
"Erebor," Gandalf announced, "The Lonely Mountain, last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth."
"Our home," Thorin happily said, feeling utmost relief with their end goal now before them, the image of their long-abandoned birthplace bringing joy to the dwarf prince. It had been so, so long since he had laid eyes upon his kingdom, his rightful inheritance.
The sounds of a tweeting songbird above their heads caught their attention as it fluttered off towards Erebor, the small animal making its way to the mountain on its tiny wings.
"A raven!" Oin cried out, misnaming it thanks to his poor hearing. "The birds are returning to the mountain!"
"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush!" Gandalf corrected the dwarf.
"Well, we'll take it as a sign," Thorin said, sharing a brief look with Bilbo, "A good omen."
"You're right, I do believe the worst is behind us." Bilbo also added, also feeling relieved that their journey's end was in front of them, a smile stretched across his face.
"Yeah, uh, as much as I'd like to enjoy the scenery with the rest of you," Theodore popped up from behind them, and they all turned their heads to see him holding up the weary mercenary, "Now that we're no longer fighting for our lives, can someone please take a look at her?"
It was clear to them that Augusta was struggling to keep herself upright, even with Theodore holding her up. She was leaning over with her hand on that chest wound still covered with dry, matted blood. Whatever that stranger had done had taken a toll on the conqueror's health.
"Augusta? Are you okay?" Fili asked, taking a step closer to the mercenary. Augusta slowly raised her head to eye-level with the concerned dwarf, Kili right behind him.
"It hurts, but I'll live," she croaked, letting out a weak cough. It only seemed to make everyone around her even more nervous, muttering to themselves about the condition of the female herald.
"Now hold your horses, everyone. Allow me to tend to her injuries," Oin loudly said, hoping to disperse their fears as he approached Augusta, being the Company's healer and ultimately responsible for keeping them hale and hearty. One look at her wound through her tunic, where he was able to see four small but deep cuts underneath her breast, was all it took for him to know what was wrong. "Yep, just as I thought. Alright, let's set her down somewhere flat so I can patch her up."
"She's not going to die, is she?" Kili nervously asked.
"No, she isn't. But those wounds aren't going to get any better if we don't do something to clean them. She's been poisoned," Several dwarves gasped at what Oin said, "Oh, don't get your tights in a knot, I can treat her. Come on, let me help you," Oin said to the conqueror, taking her arm off the Viking's shoulder and placing it on his own, "There we go, nice and steady."
"W-Wait a second, Oin," Augusta said, stopping the dwarf for a moment as she turned around to face the other two heralds, "Theodore, Ryuma?"
The two male heralds silently waited for what she had to say to them.
"Thank you, for saving me back there." Augusta earnestly said, her gratitude reflected in her dark blue eyes. It wasn't often that she was the one being rescued from danger, usually it was the opposite thanks to her being the odd-job mercenary.
"Well," Theodore shrugged with a grin tugging his lips, "what are friends for, am I right?"
"Indeed. I believe we are now sworn to protect each other in the coming days ahead." Ryuma sagely stated, acting as a voice of reason.
"Yeah, whatever he said. Though I do expect you to repay us soon, Connolly. After you get cleaned up, of course." The Viking humorously said, and some of the Company laughed with him.
Hidden behind her Cruel Passage helm, Augusta kindly smiled at the appreciation coming from her fellow Heathmoor natives. It was comforting to know that she had the honor to call them her friends on this voyage across Middle Earth, so far away from their home. They had gone out of their way to protect her in her time of need, and the conqueror would be forever thankful for both of them coming to her rescue when she needed it most, like what real friends did.
Eat your heart out, Louisa. Augusta gleefully thought to herself as she was led down a slope where Oin could treat her wounds in private.
"We'll make camp here. Rest up, patch our wounds, and get a weapons count." Thorin ordered. A time out to catch their breath would do his company wonders at the moment as he longingly gazed back to the distant mountain. "Erebor awaits us."
As the Company of Thorin Oakenshield dispersed to attend to their own matters at the top of the Carrock, Gandalf hastily approached Theodore and Ryuma with Bilbo trailing behind him, the four of them watching Augusta as she unstrapped her armor for Oin further along a pathway. There were some dire questions on the wizard's mind that he needed to ask the heralds, more specifically on what they had just encountered before.
"Might I ask, who was that woman that Augusta battled?"
"Not a clue." Theodore shook his head, leaning in to talk as he saw the conqueror remove her helm and arm plates. "I didn't expect anyone else from Heathmoor to be here, let alone a warmonger of all people. What really irks me is that the two of them seemed to know each other, like they might have been good friends at a point in their lives before they became enemies."
"A tragedy, then," Ryuma piped up, "Perhaps she wished to keep such a sensitive topic a secret for her own sake. But like all secrets, they are bound to be opened one day."
"Should we go and ask her?" Bilbo wondered.
"Nah, let her be," Theodore waved him off, "She's had enough already for one day. Let's give her some space. Thor knows she needs it, and so do I." With that said, the Viking trudged off to find somewhere to rest his tired bones. While Ryuma decided to do the same as Theodore, and Bilbo went off to go chat a little more with Thorin and Dwalin, who welcomed their "burglar" with open arms, Gandalf remained where he was with staff in hand, continuing to observe the conqueror with worried eyes as she sat on a bedroll, giggling at a joke that Oin had told her as he dipped a washcloth in some clean water.
This was nothing that the wizard could have ever expected to happen when he first stumbled upon the gold-armored woman back in the forests of the Shire. When he had initially met Augusta, he believed her to be an anomaly, a lost wanderer, but she had turned out to be something far more than a stranger in a strange land. The boundaries of this world have changed, that he knew for sure, and the people of Heathmoor both good and evil would see to that. The coming of Augusta, and others like her, may have opened the doors to significantly change the course destiny of all of Middle Earth.
The gray wizard remembered the wise words of Galadriel echoing in his head.
"…for their arrival may bring about stranger evils than those we know."
For Gandalf, time would only tell if he was right or not.
And so ends An Unexpected Journey. Next up is The Desolation of Smaug. I greatly appreciate everyone who has decided to read this story. I was not expecting such a momentous following for this piece of fanfiction, but I welcome it. With Part 1 over, I'll be going on a small break to work on other projects of mine. Don't worry, I will come back this story sometime in the future for Part 2. Stay tuned, and please leave a review.