The trees thinned out and Lostoriel caught flurrying glimpses of the mountain ranges stretching out to either side of them. The elf hadn't noticed that she'd stopped running when a warg nearly crashed into her. Lostoriel instinctively reached for an arrow, turning to look over her shoulder and growling in frustration when she realised that she had lost her quiver and arrows in Gollum's cave. Instead she unsheathed her sword, the rasping of metal on metal comforting her as she ran, twirling backwards and darting her sword out at the wargs when they leased expected it.
All around her chaos had exploded upon the mountainside. The warg scouts were snapping and lunging at the dwarves as they ran with all they had to the edge of the mountain. The ground climbed upwards, littered with towering pines and then sloped dangerously off several sharp ledges and dropped down a sheer cliff.
Dwalin leapt over a long slab of rock, throwing his axe over his head and the sharp blade biting into its skin. The dwarve's axes and swords hacked and slashed at the beasts as they retreated into the worst possible position they could. Lostoriel gritted her teeth as she jerked her sword free from the hideous warg and turned to face the great, brown beast that snapped viciously at her.
"Lostoriel! Behind you!" Screamed Bilbo as a warg lunged at the elf. Its huge fangs nearly biting her head off. The elf whirled around, her sword flashing amber in the dying sunlight and thrusted the blade into its mouth, pushing it up with all her strength until the creature collapsed into a furry heap.
She pulled her sword from its jaw, the silver blade now stained red in the evening light. Lostoriel nodded her thanks to Bilbo who had ducked beneath a rocky outcropping as the warg's leapt into the air around them.
The elf aimed and threw her dagger into the eye of another warg without much thought and tucked and rolled as a second creature bounded over her.
Bilbo had gotten his sword stuck in another wargs skull, after it had run headlong into the blade. Lostoriel would've laughed as the hobbit pressed his foot into the creatures head as he tugged it, had it not been for the wargs that were closing in around them. Instead she rolled her eyes and shoved him aside, pulling out the sword and practically throwing it into his hands. "Get up into the trees! Quickly!"
"Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!"
"They're coming!" yelled Thorin as the entire warg pack descended upon them, growing and yapping hungrily at them.
The Dwarves leapt into the trees in a stunning show of acrobatics, swinging around the branches by their legs, hoisting each other up by the waist or by their axes and clambering up the trees with unexpected flourish and grace. Thorin ran over the bent back of Dwalin, leaping for the nearest branch like an oversized flying squirrel as Nori swung himself by the arms and flipped from one branch to the next. Lostoriel stood gaping at their precise skills as they bolted up the trees, reaching the highest and thinnest branches with the ease that only Woodelves could have achieved. It truly was a sight to behold.
Bilbo needed no further prodding when the warg pack descended on them. Writhing, barking and howling in fury. Their enormous jaws snapping at him as they clawed at the tree trunks. He swung up awkwardly, clutching a low branch with all four limbs and hanging there like a confused squirrel.
Lostoriel had far less trouble bounding into the trees. The elf crouched on her toes and sprung up into the trees like a squirrel, bolting up several branches higher and watching with bated breath, ready to leap down and help him, as Bilbo rectified himself and stood on the thick bough, clutching the tree trunk like a small, furless bear.
Below her Balin and Thorin clung desperately to the thick trunk of the tree, Thorin's eyes darting about assessing their situation and trying to find some impossible way out of it. They could try to fight them off or they could leap off the cliff, he thought wryly, and save the orcs the satisfaction of killing them. Thorin gazed up through the branches at Lostoriel who frowned frustrated, seeming to come to the same terrifying conclusion. They were trapped.
The warg's below howled as one sending shivers up Lostoriel's spine as the orcs astride their hideously furry mounts bounded down the mountain. Lostoriel blanched, the orcs and their wargs were monstrous, mutilated and scarred for fashion and through battle. The monsters said to stalk about under the cover of night. They snarled and licked their lips hungrily as they watched the little figures hugging the trees, like baby birds waiting to be eaten. The elf loosened her sword from its scabbard and tapped her fingers impatiently upon the hilt, more than ready to leap down and end the dismal creatures before she became part of their midnight snack.
Then out of the shadows of the trees emerged an image from her deepest nightmares. His skin translucent light beneath the water, scarred and lethal. Leering at them from astride a snow-white warg. The orc stood taller and leaner than the rest, bulging muscles etched with deep, jagged patterns that stretched like a twisted mask crisscrossing on his face and across bare chest. From the remainder of an arm hung a distorted, giant fork and from his back curled the talons of thick iron bands that reflected the pale moonlight as it danced menacingly in his beady, blue eyes.
The orc strode forward, each step of his warg met the ground with foul intent as malice radiated off him. The Pale Orc swung his bulky mace experimentally, enjoying the feeling of the familiar weight in his hands as he stared down the dwarves. His eyes locking on someone below her. Lostoriel followed his gaze and failed to supress her horror. Her eyes nearly popping out of her skull when his face contorted into a twisted smirk as he stared at Thorin with nothing but pure hatred.
"Azog?!" The dwarf said breathlessly as he watched his oldest, most hated foe before him. Truly it could not be him? No ,he had killed him all those years ago in Moria. The beast that had beheaded his grandfather before his eyes, held up his head like a trophy and had taken the life of his little brother was surely dead.
Thorin's heart thudded wildly against his ribs as his mind swam in and out of memory. He was wrong. He was so terribly wrong. Azog was alive. He could not move, fear held him captive, his limbs lead and his mouth dry.
The Pale Orc leaned over the warg's massive head, stroking its long, matted fur, "Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast?" the guttural rumbling of his words grated in Lostoriel's ears, she wished that she had no understanding of Black Speech. She chewed her top lip, now clutching white-knuckled onto the hilt of her blade. Fear. He could smell their fear radiating off them and he seemed to be enjoying their partial paralysis.
Lostoriel painstakingly inched down from her perch, making her way around the back of the tree towards Balin. They had no idea if the orcs had archers with them and she was not willing to find out. Azog had captured Thrain, Thorin's father and Lostoriel knew that if Thorin took on this orc himself that the entirety of his troop and that the army of goblins would be upon them before he could lift his sword.
The old dwarf caught a flash of movement out the side of his eye and briefly locked eyes with Lostoriel as she landed on the branch next to him without disturbing a single leaf. The elf had one foot on Thorin's branch, the other hooked around the curve of the trunk. Balin was secretly thankful that she had done this, he knew that he would not be able to hold Thorin back.
"It cannot be." Whispered Thorin, his face hiding none of the grief and burning fury that bubbled within his gut, swimming through every fibre of his being. The Pale Orc had had his father held prisoner for almost sixty years, the same amount of time he had been searching for him. Now. Now Thorin could not deny the fear that twisted his stomach, causing his hands to shake in fear or fury he did not know the difference as Azog pointed his terrible war mace at him and smiled, singling him out as his prized kill.
The wargs leapt upwards, clawing viciously at the tree branches, their bodies writhing in hunger as they jumped high, snapping the thinner branches in two and nipping at the Company's toes. The trees shook and swayed violently, their leafy boughs colliding with their towering companions. The dwarves screamed and shouted curses with every colourful word they were taught as they struggled to hold onto the swinging branches.
Then all hell broke upon them. The tree closest to the wargs, onto which Bilbo and most of the Company clung onto for dear life swung dangerously as three wargs scampered up into the lower branches. And sent the tree leaning precariously into the tree Thorin, Balin and Lostoriel now dug their nails into as a great moaning and crunching erupted from the ground as the first tree was uprooted itself. Lostoriel's heart dropped as the leafy giant tipped over and as if in slow motion, collapsed into their tree with a crash and the dwarves leapt from its branches onto their tree. But the dominoes were already in motion as the combined weight of at least eight dwarves, an elf and a hobbit caused the tree to groan with an ear-splitting crack. Sending the roots lifting from the ground and tipping the tree over into the tree Gandalf and the other dwarves were perched in, at the sharp edge of the cliff.
The orcs laughed menacingly, "Little birds trapped in the nest!" they cried.
Lostoriel scrambled up into the higher branches as the wargs continued to snap at their feet. They were closing in on them, there must have been more than ten wargs surrounding the base of the tree. Frothing and salivating.
Something whirred passed her ear, the heat brushing her skin ever so slightly as the glowing red fireball hit the ground with a satisfying thud. The flaming ball sent the wargs retreating and Azog reeling his warg back as Gandalf gave a short cackle of victory from his perch at the top of the tree.
"Fili!" he cried, as he threw down a flickering pinecone and the dwarf prince caught it easily in his hands, blowing on it to set the rest of the cone caught on fire before tossing it down to Kili, who threw the cone with all his might at the orcs below.
"Take that you miserable yapping dogs!" Yelled Lostoriel as Bilbo dropped a flaming pinecone into her hands and she flung the projectile onto the head of the nearest warg. The Company worked with momentous speed, pulling pinecones from the branches and flinging them up to Gandalf, who lit them up and sent them back down the tree for the rest to blow on and thrown onto the enemy below.
And soon a cascade of flaming pinecones hit the wargs and orcs with such viciousness that they were sent yapping and reeling away from the flames as their companions were burnt and killed. All around them burning pinecones pierced the night like a meteor shower, a ring of fire erupted around the trees, the acidic scent of burning fur caught their noses as the wargs retreated through the wall of flames. The orcs were pushed back but the Company was trapped. Their cheers of victory were hastily turned silent as the orcs took a collective, daring step forward.
"Come down little birds! Or you'll burn in your nests!" snarled an orc.
"Little boys should not play with fire!" called Gandalf from above, "Nor should they taunt this many Dwarves, or do you fancy the thought of your body missing its head?"
The orcs leered at them now, Lostoriel watched in satisfaction adding her cheers to the Dwarve's, which morphed into cries of fear.
A resounding crack split the air, the tree waned precariously from side to side, strained under their combined weight. Lostoriel gulped nervously seeing the night sky come into clear view as the tree roots burst forth from the ground.
"Oh shit!" she hissed, her stomach somersaulting.
The tree toppled over, gaining momentum as gravity pulled at it, crashing through the other trees and sending a wave of screams from those clutching on for dear life. The tree hit the ground with a sickening crack as it collided with the edge of the cliff. Hanging halfway over the dizzying drop below.
Gandalf had his legs wrapped around the tree, his back strained as he tried to keep, if he fell he would surely die. The ground was far below them, the trees at the bottom of the mountain were no more than pinheads on the ground and the river that he spotted out the corner of his eye was nothing more than a line in the sand. The wizard shoved his foot deeper into the wedge between the tree and the branch and hoped that their help would arrive soon.
Dori and Ori hung precariously onto each other. Ori gripped his brother's thigh with all he had as Dori squeezed his eyes shut, seeing red and not the bottom of the ravine. His fingernails dug into the bark of the thin branch as he struggled to hang on, his little brother's body weight painfully pulling at his tendons and joints.
"Ori hold on!" He yelled as brother slipped further down his leg and then onto his ankle. The weight of Ori's body was too much and Dori found himself slipping down the branch and falling into the air.
"Mister Gandalf!" He shouted desperately and the wizard's staff came down just in time to grab onto it and he yelled again through gritted teeth as Ori dangled like a pair of on a tree.
Lostoriel had fallen onto the other side of the tree. Her fingers dug into the loose sand at the edge of the cliff and her other arm, the newly relocated one was wrapped around a branch. Her legs dangled in the air, trying to find a solid foothold in the rock. She refused to look down into what she knew would be her death. The height between where she hung and the ground far below was dizzying, she had fallen to temptation and watched how tiny the world seemed from up here.
Her muscles burned and she could feel her shoulder sliding out of the socket. Again. The shocking pain blinded her for a second, she shook it off and painstakingly unhooked her arm from the branch and pushed herself upwards.
Someone grabbed onto her jerkin, pulling her up with a mighty shout. Bifur had one arm slung around the branch hanging over her and the other gripping the back of her jerkin. He called down to her, encouraging her to push herself upwards, though she did not understand him she saw the desperation in his eyes and refused to give up. He willed his muscles to contract with everything he had as Lostoriel managed to bring one leg up and over the edge of the cliff. The weight became lighter as she tumbled head first into the thin pine-needles.
Lostoriel shoved herself as far from the cliff as possible, she reclined against the tree trunks, unable to turn as one trunk towered over the other and the branches crisscrossed above her. Somehow, through the branches she caught Bifur's eyes and nodded her thanks, before searching for a way out of the strong pine scented trap she found herself in.
Splinters of wood bit into her palms as she rose to a crouch beneath the boughs, seeing someone's shadow rise above her. The pine needles poked her head and got tangled in her hair as she caught a glimpse of dark hair wafting in the wind and the amber glint of a broadsword flickering above her. Thorin glanced down between the needles and saw her gazing back up at him.
Horror clutched her heart. It was Thorin.
She watched with bated breath as he slung his oak branch shield across his arm and bowed his head lowly before he spun on his heel and charged at Azog the Defiler. His heavy footfalls shook the tree as he stomped along its length. Lostoriel resisted the urge to yell at him as the thinner branches got entangled with her bow and the thin bristles snagged her hair.
Lostoriel heard Thorin's war cry rise above the cackling of the flames, accompanied by the gasps of fear that rose from the Company. She pushed and shoved the thicker branches out of her way, fighting with the thin branches tangled in her bow and winced when she managed to stand but the branches in her hair pulled her back down.
Hastily she turned to see how far Thorin had gotten when she heard his cry of pain and saw him being knocked down by the white warg.
"That idiot."She growled, ignoring the blinding pain from her shoulder, she grimaced at the tangled blond and brown and sighed in resignation. If she wanted to save Thorin, she had to lose some of herself.
Wasting no more time and sparing herself the pain she whipped out her dagger and sliced her braid in half. She paid no heed for the chunk of hair knotted in the trees and shot out of the tangle just as Thorin rose from the ground.
Lostoriel clambered over the tree trunks and faltered in her step as she watched Azog smash his mace across Thorin's face. The adrenaline pumped through her veins, mixing with the fury and rage she felt rise within her stomach as Thorin collapsed in a heap. Azog cried out in joy, and Thorin laid there barely moving, his breathing shallow.
That was it. Lostoriel was not going to let him die. She caught a flurry of movement out of her eye and charged at Azog before her mind could register what she was doing.
The tree shook as she sped across it, the scorching heat from the fire ignited the air flowing into her lungs as the walls of fire grew taller, licking up the trees and burning the branches. Lostoriel dodged the falling branches and momentarily locked eyes with Azog. The orc snarled, enjoying seeing the fire burning in her eyes, the icy determination and the satisfying hum in his mind that he'd enjoy ending the elf's life.
In her mind the flames were contorting into Smaug's hideous face. In a flash the walls of Erebor rose around her, Smaug's massive snout lunged from the flames and made to decapitate her.
Lostoriel wildly shook her head, it's not real, she told herself as she spun her sword in her hand. The curved blade catching the amber firelight as the warg held Thorin between its teeth, no doubt already crushing him. He knocked it in the head with the pommel of his sword and the warg threw him into the air. He landed with a crunching thud on a bed of flat rock. His sword clattered to the ground and this time Thorin did not rise.
Lostoriel watched in horror as an orc hopped off its warg and stalked hungrily towards Thorin. She was still too far away as the orc's jagged blade rested against Thorin's neck. Without thinking Lostoriel unsheathed her dagger and threw it at the orc, the blade embedded itself in the orcs shoulder with a wet thud, but still that did not stop it raising its sword over Thorin.
"Eärendil!" she cried, bolting towards the beast and threw her sword against his with a might clang! As a flash of brown and blue sped past her and Bilbo threw himself at the orc, knocking it out of the way. Bilbo stabbed the orc with his glowing, blue sword and stood over Thorin's limp body, waving his sword madly as Lostoriel stood behind him, her sword resting calmly at her side. She growled as Azog bared his teeth, commanding his fighters to kill them.
"Bilbo stay close to me!" she shouted just as an orc lunged at her. She brought her sword up, holding it high in the air and kicking out at the orc in his stomach. As he fell back she stepped towards him, pushing his sword down with hers in an arch and using the momentum to stab him up and under his armour.
Forgetting about Bilbo at her side she pulled her dagger from the fallen orc's shoulder and charged at the wargs snapping around them. She stabbed at the nearest one with her sword, burying it in its skull and easily pulled it out, spinning on her heel and cutting upwards at the its rider.
Injured yelps and howls erupted behind them. Lostoriel whipped around to see Fili, Kili and Dwalin slicing and stabbing their way through the snapping and biting wargs and orcs.
Bilbo and her remained standing before Thorin, the hobbit swinging his sword in all directions, clumsy hitting any orcs that came near him. Bilbo thrusted his sword into its stomach and pulled out the blade not knowing what to do next when Lostoriel was by his side. Her sword moved in a blinding flash that sent the orcs head tumbling and its body crumpling to the ground. She had no time to relax as another orc astride its warg jumped off the high rocks and knocked her on her side, the sheer force of its massive paws hitting her sent her flying across the clearing. Her sword clattered to the ground far away from her as Lostoriel landed with a pained scream on her already injured arm.
"Lostoriel!" came Bilbo's vague cry as she lay still, her shoulder erupted in pain as she attempted to move. The small fray seemed to dim around her, the horrid noise of metal on metal grated at her ears, the heat of the flames had no warmth for her. Lostoriel groaned, painstakingly rolling onto her side, she wished that she could just lay down again and let the battle go on around her. But Bilbo was alone and vulnerable and she had no intentions of letting the innocent Halfling die. The warg that knocked her down now bounded over to her and stalked towards her, saliva dripped from its snout and she could smell its foul breath from where she lay.
Her heart fluttered uncontrollably, this was it. Lostoriel tried again to push herself up by her hands, but the pain was too great. Just as she held herself up the warg pinned her down by one massive, black paw, knocking the air out her lungs. Its warm saliva spluttered over her face and she was sure that her ribs were bruised. Again.
The warg's snout grew closer on her neck, its long whiskers tickled her skin and its stale breath blew into her hair. She did not want to die this way, but as it reared back to open its wide snout, Lostoriel caught a flash of leather boots and felt the weight knocked off her back.
Fili had run straight into the warg, knocking it over using his shoulder and head. The warg never stood a chance as he stabbed it in the jaw and it collapsed unceremoniously in a giant heap of fur. Its rider leapt off its mount and dove at Fili who finished off the orc with two sweeping strokes of his twin blades and just that orc fell another warg rider appeared.
And Kili appeared with it, his sword moving in lightning fast strokes , easily taking down the wargs and orcs, whilst his brother twirled in a dangerous circle brandishing his blades in a dangerous twirl its rider Kili hot on his heels finishing them off as Dwalin ploughed a clear line through their lose group.
Hope swelled in Lostoriel's chest and she was galvanised into action, pushing herself up in one swift motion, gritting her teeth the entire time. Immediately seeing her rise a warg lunged for her, its jaws snapped wildly in the air. Lostoriel nimbly stepped to the side as the warg passed overhead, she caught a glimpse of her sword lying in close reach through the chaos, but she was too far away and the warg had turned to face her with nothing but murderous intent.
"Fili! Blade!" She cried as the warg sprinted towards her, she hoped that the dwarf had retained one or two of his perfectly hidden mini armoury. If he hadn't then she was about to become the wargs midnight snack and that did not bode well with her.
The metal blade sliced through the air, flying in a high arc over her head and embedded itself in the first warg's forehead with deadly precision, just as Bilbo appeared yelling and stabbed the warg from under its neck.
The beast fell and Bilbo stood there heaving for breath, looking up at Lostoriel and hoping that she didn't notice the way his hands shook. First he had seen Thorin fall and then her, the hobbit had had enough of his friends almost dying.
"Thank you!" she cried over their raging cries and pulled the small knife from its face.
She squeezed Bilbo's shoulder reassuringly, seeing his entire form quivering like a leaf. This was his first real fray, her eyes widened as she watched the fear in his eyes.
"I won't let them get to you." Bilbo merely nodded at her, watching how the three dwarves were slaying the majority of the wargs and orcs with unnatural ease and speed. "It's okay to be afraid Bilbo."
Lostoriel's voice brought him back into the present and he squared his shoulders, nodding again as he didn't trust his voice to sound as confident as he need to be. Seeing that he was ready Lostoriel held his gaze, having the utmost confidence and kindness in them and took off running. Bilbo was hot on her heels as she ducked to pluck her sword from the ground and nimbly dodged the orc that had jumped in front of them.
Lostoriel spun her blades in her hands, levelling her sword with its neck and her knife with its heart and in one swift stroke the orc fell and her blades came away black with its blood. Bilbo watched in horror and amazement as she threw the knife at a grey wargs head and in a flash had stabbed the beast in the throat and then spun on her heels to meet their next opponent. He never wished to be on the other end of her sword, she moved with such grace it was as if she danced, her sword an extension of her arm.
Bilbo spun around at the sound of heavy footfalls behind him. His heart raced in his chest and he gripped his sword white knuckled, breathing in deeply as he swung it around threateningly. The orc was not threatened and he lunged for the hobbit who broke off in a run towards the orcs chest, his sword held above him like a javelin as the orc ran straight into it.
Lostoriel glanced beside her, pulling out her sword from an orc, satisfied that Bilbo was holding his own against a particularly large orc.
Lostoriel inhaled deeply and turned her attention to Azog. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw that Azog was not where she had left him, but was stalking towards Bilbo astride his terrible warg. The furry beast licked its lips hungrily at the tiny figure who had been knocked to the ground by another warg.
Fili, Kili and Dwalin stood back to back, the trio working as one well-oiled machine, lunging, hacking and stabbing at the wargs as they tried to get closer to Bilbo. Kili fell, a warg standing on his chest, its frothing mouth about to bite him when Dwalin tossed it aside with a massive swing of his axe. Lostoriel was impressed by Dwalin's skill and rather terrified as she caught the dangerous glint in his eyes, dwarves were renowned for their battle rage.
Lostoriel swallowed nervously and sprinted towards Bilbo, crying out as she did so to distract Azog from where he leaned over the warg's back ready to kill the tiny hobbit.
A feral smile split his hideous features as he turned his warg to face her, recognizing the challenge in her steely blue eyes, the fire silhouetted her scowling face and he grinned manically. It was too easy.
Lostoriel stood ready, her sword suspended dangerously at her side , she set her jaw, rolled her shoulders back and ran headlong ay the orc as he dug his knees into the warg's side and spurred it on.
Leaping over the bodies of its fallen brothers it lunged at Lostoriel. The elf twirled out of the way, as Azog aimed for her head. Lostoriel ducked just in time, narrowly missing the war mace as Azog swung it in a backwards arc.
The white warg landed with unnatural grace and spun growling for her blood. Lostoriel made a run for the boulder in the centre of the clearing, hearing Azog's taunts from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder once and ran straight into the white warg that had crept up behind her. Without thinking she thrusted her sword beneath her arm and pushed, feeling the blade embed itself in the warg's soft flesh. Lostoriel made to turn around, but something forcefully pulled her back by her hair.
She yelled as Azog yanked her backwards with his pronged hook. She barely registered the pain as he lifted into the air, holding her by the neck, her feet dangled above the ground and his grip tightened her throat.
She could not breathe.Her face reddened, she tried to kick at him, but he was too far back. His gravelly laughter echoed in her ears as she struggled to breathe, his fingers pressed into her flesh and her lungs burned for air. Lostoriel clawed numbly at his hand, managing to pull his fingers from her throat as the world began to blur around her and she thrusted her elbow up and out, hearing a satisfying crack where it collided with his nose.
Azog threw her to the ground where she landed with a resounding thump.
Lostoriel pushed herself up, gasping and wrenching for all the air she could. She rubbed her throat where Azog had held her. Her flesh had swelled and was painfully sensitive to the touch. She hoped that this was the end of it. How wrong she was.
Lostoriel screamed, though it came as more of a whisper as he kicked down from behind. She hit her face on the hard ground and Azog pressed a knee into her lower back.
As he bent forward Lostoriel's lungs screamed for air and her heart pounded as the space of her chest compressed beneath with every second.
The orc snarled at her as bent over and pulled her head to face him. His eyes were filled with nothing but black malice and hatred. He snatched her braid in his hand.
His crooked teeth filled her vision as he grinned and she caught a whiff of the stale odour of the orc. Lostoriel grabbed her sword from beside her, only to be stopped when the Pale his other boot on her hand. Crushing the hilt dagger in her palm. Lostoriel resisted the urge to scream, to give him the satisfaction as he crushed her hand and brought his blade up to her hair.
No, he decided, he would not kill this one. Not yet.
He held her gaze as he cut through her golden locks with one clean swipe and held the already shortened braid in her face. Lostoriel tried her best to hide her pain, whatever dignity within her fading as she watched him wrap her hair around his wrist. It was a trophy for him. A victory to have defiled the beauty of the Firstborn whom the orcs despised above all else.
Then rage filled her mind. Un-stoppered, livid rage. And the elf hooked an arm around the orc's leg and pushed up with what strength she had.
Azog tumbled over. She took advantage moment to painfully roll to her side, grab her sword and stabbed him in the shoulder. Hastily ducking to the left when the orc aimed for her heart. Lostoriel let the adrenaline fill her and she leapt to her feet, bringing her sword in an uppercut and sliced into Azog's bicep, sending the orc reeling back with his warg in tow.
Behind her she heard Bilbo's terrified scream and whipped around to find him hopefully uninjured. But the hobbit was nowhere to be seen. Just then a screeching filled the air, thundering and high pitched as the eagles began to swoop down on the mountain. Picking off wargs and dropping them into the valley below, or sending them tumbling into the massive mountain fire. Batting their wings to fuel the flames and deplete the enemy numbers whilst they pulled the dwarves out the trees and sent them falling onto the backs of their winged companions.
Lostoriel looked on in amazement as the Eagles waged battle around them and grinned as Azog stared in disbelief as his small platoon was killed off before his eyes. The elf almost laughed as he clutched his shoulder where she had stabbed him and roared viciously in Black Speech. He looked pathetic to her. Lostoriel wanted nothing more than to run up behind him and finish him off, to make him pay for what he had done. And yet something held her back. No, he was not her enemy to kill.
Lostoriel took advantage of the moment to run and grab her bow and go back to stand over Thorin as the eagles circled overhead. He still had not moved, she leaned down to check his pulse and inhaled sharply when it fluttered beneath her fingertips.
"No, no Thorin. Come on, stay with me." she croaked. Lostoriel had no time to begin compressions on his chest when the flames licked the trees and thick shrubbery around them. The heat swelled in a great wave with every wind from the eagles caused them to tower higher and higher until the forest fire was visible from miles around.
The elf shrunk away from the flames, nearly shuffling onto Thorin. She shielded them both from the flames as Smaug's great snout snapped at them. Lostoriel blinked away the illusion, feeling like she was going to die as her heart raced in her chest. The heat from the fire awoke cruel memories and the dragon's face haunted the flames no matter how much she attempted to shake herself clear of it.
Then huge talons hooked around her, plucking her clean off the ground and taking her high above the treetops. The elf gasped as she was airborne, which quickly turned into a hoarse scream as the eagle dropped her into the cold air. The wind rushed passed her face as she plummeted into the valley. Lostoriel was sure her lungs were going to burst and her heart pounded sickeningly in her throat. The ground was getting closer with every second, she was sure the eagle had left her to die.
She was wrong. Lostoriel landed with a muffled cry on the massive, feathered back of an eagle. The eagle squawked its greeting, twisting its head to see her as it registered the presence of an elf on its back.
She was too stunned to answer and nodded, though Lostoriel expected it was more of a bounce than a nod. She was too distracted to care about greetings. She hadn't seen Bilbo being plucked off the ground, nor Thorin.
Lostoriel leaned forward on the eagle, stretching as far as she could to see the talons of the other eagles. A stout pair of hairy legs hung from one and from the other dropped a dwarf, yelling and kicking as it landed on a second bird.
High in the navy sky the dwarves rode low on the backs of the Eagles, even Bombur who seemed to be gripping the eagle's feathers with too much strength. Lostoriel noticed Gandalf riding ahead of them on the most majestic Eagle she had lain eyes upon. It was Gwaihir. There was only one eagle who rode with such grace and terror upon the winds. An ancient legend, heard by many but seen by few.
That's when she saw him. His mop of black hair floating in the air and his body held limply in the tangerine talons of the eagle.
"Thorin!" Shouted Lostoriel, hoping that he could hear her. But there was no response, only the bristling of the eagle under her. The elf couldn't help the pang of guilt in her chest, had she not been so angry with him, the fight would have ended much faster and Thorin would have remained unharmed.
"What is it that you require my lady?" Rumbled the eagle beneath her. His voice was like rolling thunder that nearly caused her to topple straight off him.
Lostoriel "How close can you get me to the dwarf hanging over there?"
"Not very close, but we can fly beneath them." She felt the bird stiffen, "I am Landroval and I suggest you hold on young princess."
Lostoriel gripped tightly to his enormous, brown feathers as he shot off like an arrow and flapped his wings. The noise reminded Lostoriel of tarpaulin fabric billowing in the wind as the pushed up against the wind.
Landroval was now just below the eagle that carried Thorin. Lostoriel could see that his injuries were bad. Blood seeped through his clothes and it didn't look was breathing properly. She knew that there was nothing she could do to help until they were on the ground again.
"Thank you mellon!" She called over the wind and Landroval descended to fly below the Eagle that carried Thorin for the remainder of their flight.
The world stretched far and wide beneath them as they soared on the crisp wind that would bring the first days of autumn. Lostoriel leaned back to gaze at the stars above her, she fancied that if she stretched far enough she could reach up and grab them, climb them like stairs to the moon and watch the world pass below.
"Mellon-nin, where will you set us down?" She asked, hoping that the bird would hear her above the wind.
"To the Great Shelf your highness!" A slight smile pulled at her face at the sound of the rolling elven words. Eagles were renowned linguists and spent many days in the great fields of her father's kingdom conversing with the elves and flying them high above their trees. She and Legolas had once gone searching for their nests in their youth, they and their friends had spent many days exploring the lands outside their home until they found the mountains that the eagles lived in. Far from the sight or knowledge of the men and elves that lived far below.
The Great Shelf came into view. It was a massive, flat plateau of rock that ran for miles as far as the eye could see. And steadily sloped towards the earth in great, jagged steps that neatly clipped off the Misty Mountains and stood blue against the twilight.
Upon it Lostoriel spotted the first of the dwarves and eagles to land as she and Landroval slowly descended. The tarpaulin flapping of the eagle's wings deafened her as he roughly grasped onto the ground with his claws and lurched forward, narrowly avoiding hitting his winged companion beside him.
Landroval bent low and tipped to the side allowing Lostoriel to gently slide off his back. The elf landed with a soft thud and inhaled sharply as she saw Thorin lying prone on the ground. Hastily she turned ,bowed in gratitude and bolted off to the Dwarf's side.
She skidded to a halt leaving flurry of dust behind her as she knelt beside him. Lostoriel pressed two fingers to his neck, releasing a pent up breath as she felt the too slow pulse flutter dangerously under his skin. Lostoriel could feel it straining, "No, no Thorin stay with me. Mithrandir what do we do?"
Gandalf ran to them, pushing back his robes and ran a hand over Thorin. He pursed his lips under his fluffy beard and turned to the elf, shaking his head despondently , "Nothing I fear. He is fading quickly, but I may yet be able to save him."
With that he ran his hand over Thorin's face, softly uttering a string on unintelligible words in a tongue that Lostoriel had not heard in an age.
She sighed with a heavy huff as Thorin's pulse flickered back to life under her fingers, and drummed steady rhythmic beat that settled the nausea in her stomach.
A ghost of a smile passed over Gandalf's face "He is not out of the woods as yet, he still needs to wake up. And it looks like Azog's little dog got of his arm."
Lostoriel began unbuckling his leather armbrace when she felt the small pouch she carried under her shirt hit her skin. Her lip quirked to the side, "Miruvor."
She said in wonder, nearly laughing at her carelessness.
"Of which we have none. Unless you intend to fly to MirkWood and bang on the door after a century."
Lostoriel rolled her eyes, and unhooked the strap of the pouch at her side, pulling it out from under her jerkin.
"Thorin!" Fili shouted, coming towards them with Kill hot on his heels.
"Uncle! Is he?" Kili gazed hopefully into her eyes as he knelt beside her.
"He's badly injured, but your uncle will be fine Kili." She coughed at the dryness in her throat and turned to Fili, "Lift up his head please."
"What are you going to give to him?" He asked, gently lifting Thorin's heavy head onto his leg. Hating the fact that his uncle's breathing was slow and that he felt cold to the touch.
"Miruvor." She un-stoppered the oval leather pouch as Fili pulled Thorin's jaw down and she leant over him. "It's an Elven tonic for travelling. Helps to keep up our strength when we're injured or weary. Hopefully it will help."
By now the rest of the company were gathered in a lose circle behind around them, watching with bated breath as Lostoriel tipped the bottle over and let the liquid, turned silver by the light from Gandalf's staff , trickle into his throat. As she did so she sang softly, an ancient song from the West, taught to her by her uncle Merenon long ago.
A pale white light gently glowed around her as Thorin involuntarily swallowed the liquid. Her words echoed softly around the great expanse of rock. The Eagles stopped picking their wings and squawking to listen. For they had not heard a woodelf sing for many a year, nor had they had they honour of seeing one healing a dwarf no less.
Lostoriel felt Thorin's heartbeat return to normal and allowed herself a small smile of victory. Her song ended in a whisper as Thorin's eyes gently fluttered open and he groaned softly, clearly in pain. The elf held a firm hand to his chest making sure he stayed lying down. They didn't know the extent injuries, nor did they have the medical supplies to see to him here.
Lostoriel met Fili's eyes and she couldn't help but mirror the smile of relief upon his face. They both gently held Thorin down when he attempted to sit up.
"You're safe Uncle. We're here." Kili piped up grinning rather widely at Thorin as he held his uncle's hand. He looked as if he could have pounced and tackled Thorin into a hug right there and then.
She reached over and squeezed Fili's shoulder and left them alone to bask in their relief. There would be time for her and Thorin to talk and for her to decide if she would not rather turn back to Rivendell. But for now she needed to know where they were going and how on earth they were going to get down this plateau
Already, the Dwarves had little fires burning, no doubt with the help of Gandalf since they had no flint and tinder. Many of the them huddled around them and others - Bofur- were already fast asleep.
She made her way to Gandalf, Bilbo and Balin who stood off to the edge of the cliff speaking in hushed tones not wanting to disturb the rest of their companions. As she strode to the small group she noticed the strange shapes of trees and shrubbery dotting the flat landscape, the firelight casted strange shadows beyond their camp. The eagles dominated the landscape, rising like enormous feathered hills as they nestled for the night near the dwarves.
As she came into earshot, the toll that the skirmish had taken upon her made pronounced itself. Her body ached and her throat itched with thirst. Lostoriel groaned as she moved her shoulder and the pain flared up, she touched her throat and recoiled at the tenderness of her muscles.
Gingerly she prodded at her ribs in front and back and gasped at how it ached. Her everything hurt and Azog had undoubtedly bruised her back when he knelt on her.
"We will not leave you near the villages of men. They will shoot us down with their arrows, thinking that we have come for their sheep." Gwaihir, the Lord of the Eagle's had perched himself upon the edge of the sheer cliff as if it were a tree branch.
Lostoriel greeted him in the traditional hand-to heart gesture. After her time in Imladris, the gesture had become surprisingly familiar once again. She lowered her head as far as her bruised throat would allow. She met one massive amber eye with a slack jaw. They were truly magnificent creatures and they only helped those they deemed fit. To be in their presence was an honour for any elf.
"Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles, we owe you our gratitude and lives for saving us from those foul creatures. If it had not been for the swiftness of your wings we would have not survived the night ." She greeted him with true words, knowing that the way to earning the Eagle's trust was through honesty and no short amount of compliments.
"Your highness!" Exclaimed Gwaihir startling everyone in the camp as his smooth voice boomed. He bowed lowly, one massive wing bent before him, his yellow beak barley touching the ground. After a moment he rose, "We did not expect to find you here.
If I may be so bold as to ask, how is it that you are alive?"
Lostoriel smiled warmly, "Nor did I. I still do not know, however it is not the time for the telling of that tale."
The eagle opened his beak to speak again, but Gandalf cut him off before he could ask any more questions. Gwaihir was an old bird with a curious mind, nothing passed his sharp ears without him knowing the full story. He doubts that Lostoriel would spend the remainder of the evening telling him all about it. He gathered that from the way she gawked at him.
"The Carrock is still accessible is it not?" he asked leaning heavily on his staff.
"Indeed it is Master Gandalf." Answered the Lord of the Eagles, Its guardian will not be there this time of year. For the winds are too strong and the air biting."
Fili skidded to a halt, bowing deeply before the Eagle, his eyes widening in awe as he gauged the size of the bird.
"This is young Fili, Crown prince to the throne of Durin." Gandalf hastily introduced him, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.
"It is an honour young prince." Gwaihir allowed himself a smile that made Fili flush a bright shade of pink and find great invisible in the velvet darkness. He may have been brought up with the title, but being called by it still caused him great discomfort. As if a weight was set upon his shoulders and grew heavier each time he thought about the responsibility he carried.
Whilst he was musing on his title the eagle had carried on speaking, "We shall fly you over many leagues and leave you there. Hopefully your quarry will be delayed by the snow-caps behind us and-"
"That'll put us at least a day ahead of them. Which is all we need. The sooner we leave these mountains the better." said Balin, rubbing his hands together. The icy wind at this altitude did no favours for his old bones.
"Indeed it will Master Dwarf. We shall leave long before sunup. There are still a few hours until then, you may rest easy. I have sent my scouts out to be a pestilence to the pale orc and his followers until we get you safely to where you need to be."
"And for that you have our gratitude Gwaihir." Gandalf lowered his head again, smiling, "Your wings have never failed your friends, nor shall they ever."
With that the little group dispersed, Bilbo, Fili and Lostoriel made their way to where Kili was watching over Thorin. Not willing to leave his uncle's side.
Immediately Lostoriel interrogated Bilbo, her voice hoarse and scratchy, "Never before have I met someone as reckless, foolhardy and downright irresponsible as you Bilbo Baggins!" She crossed her arms and glared at him, fiercely reminding him of his mother.
He stepped back startled at her ambush and nearly fainted when she bent down him in a bone crushing hug. "Never before have I been so grateful to have a courageous friend like you. You were incredibly brave on the mountain Bilbo, but don't you dare scare us again like that!"
For someone so small Lostoriel was strong as a bear, she lifted him off the ground. Bilbo turned red and tried to wriggle from her vice like embrace. Bilbo felt the tears welling in his eyes, that was high praise from her and all he could do was affectionately tap her on the arm. He thought he could hear his bones crack in his arms, he rasped "Lostoriel." His voice was tight, "Lostoriel...you...are...crushing...Can't!"
"Oh! Forgive me mellon-nin. Are you hurt?" Bilbo did not get a chance to answer as Lostoriel immediately set him upon the ground only for him to be crushed again by Fili. Bilbo didn't know what to do, he was not used to such open displays of affection. Not to say that he did not appreciate the love his friends had shown him, he just, did not know how to properly respond. For one thing he was grateful that Fili did not lift him into the air, however his blonde hair did find its way into his mouth and he thought it best that Fili never knew.
"Thank you Bilbo. You saved our uncle and for that we owe you are lives." The Dwarf stepped back and gripped Bilbo's forearm in the way that warriors do. The hobbit merely smiled and responded in the same manner. Not quite sure if he was doing it correctly.
"I… I would gladly do so again Fili." He righted his ruffled clothing and the trio made their way to Kili who yawned audibly, his eyes full of sleep. "I'm not hurt, Lostoriel. Just a bit bruised here and there I expect. Those wargs are heavier than they look."
"Indeed they are. I've had my fair share of scars from skirmishes, but if you want to see real scars you should ask Dwalin to show you the battle scars on his legs. Kili and I were still young when it happened. The first snows of winter had dawned upon Ered Luin and word had come of wolves in the forests at the feet of the mountains. Uncle and Dwalin had decided to take a troop of dwarves out to investigate…" Fili began the story that Dwalin would undoubtedly have killed him for telling as they sat around Thorin at the edges of the firelight. None of them wanting to leave his side as he lay there falling in and out of consciousness.
The four spent the remainder of the twilight exchanging stories in hushed tones about their childhoods with Gwaihir and Landroval who could not help but listen as Lostoriel spoke fondly of her adventures with Legolas. Thorin did not stir, it should have comforted them, but each time they caught his breathing faltering Fili and Kili could not help but think the worst. The night passed by hastily has the dwarve's snoring filled the air and one by one three of the four dropped off to sleep. Leaving Lostoriel leaning against Landroval's warm body watching the stars pass by overhead.
Sombrely she combed her fingers through her crudely cut hair trying not to remember the flames that had awoken her memory of Smaug or the foul snarl of Azog as he brought his sword upon her head.
The world passed below as a picture of tranquillity. The Company soared on the backs of the Eagles, high above the clouds where the rolling land below was a breath-taking still-life. The snowy mountains were an ocean of blue and white that stretched beyond the horizon where the sun was peaking. The navy night faded into the warm colours of the dawn that bounced off every available piece of earth below them.
And despite the grandeur of the low lands the Dwarves clung white-knuckled onto the Eagles. And onto each other. Had they not had so great a distance to travel and so little time, the dwarves would have trekked across the mountains. Where the ground was solid beneath their feet and their stomachs did not nauseatingly flip whenever they gazed below their boots.
Bilbo did not fare any better, the Eagle he rode upon squawked loudly each time the hobbit tightly grasped his feathers. Lostoriel grinned at him as he turned a several shades of green on the eagle beside Landroval. Bilbo returned the gesture with a miserable scowl, he hastily turned away, feeling the contents of his empty stomach churn dangerously.
Lostoriel leaned forward as Landroval flapped his great wings and they dipped below a low cloud. The Eagle shot back up like a feathered torpedo and Lostoriel winked at Bilbo. Who turned his withering gaze upon her and was met with nothing but hoarse laughter. The dwarves around her glared at her enthusiasm, their elf was having far too much fun for their liking.
Without warning Landroval dropped a few metres and flew so low over a mountain peak that Lostoriel imagined she could actually bend over and grasp a handful of snow. Then he rapidly ascended and Lostoriel grimaced at the strange floating sensation in her chest. They were thousands of kilometres into the sky and Lostoriel would have lied had she said that she felt the strong pull of vertigo when she looked down and saw the river Anduin coming to a standstill far below.
The Eagles led them further out of the Misty Mountains as the sun rose in the East. They dipped into the deep plunges of the waterfalls and rose high above the valleys. Lostoriel kept a keen eye on Thorin, who was clutched between the talons of Gwaihir above them. She hoped that he stayed unconscious until they landed on the Carrock, the idea of him having a heart attack in mid-air did nothing to calm her nerves. A gust of wind below against them and Lostoriel spluttered loudly as her hair flew into her mouth.
She shoved her hair behind her ears and ran her fingers through her locks. Glaring at the sky when she felt the tips stop short. The orc had committed a foul act of insult. Lostoriel cared about her hair like all elves, but having it cut in battle and taken as a trophy. It was a vile act. And along with Smaug's head, she now wanted to have the pleasure of removing Azog from his pestilent existence.
Shame. That was what stirred in her stomach and made the vulnerability climb upon her. Clinging to her skin. Sighing heavily Lostoriel reached for her hood, cursing under her breath when she remembered that her cloak was lost somewhere in Gollum's cave. She shuddered at the memory of the slimy creature and his foul cave.
In the foremost distance the Carrock rose from the flat land. A massive, towering, jagged plinth of ironstone eroded from the mountains from centuries of the harsh winter snowfalls and summer storms that blew in from the Misty Mountains. One by one the Eagles began their descent, flying in a massive spiral and perching on the flat surface of the Carrock.
Lostoriel was the last to land, she hopped lightly off Landroval's back and bowed lowly with Balin. The rest of the Company had gathered around Thorin, who had still not awoken.
The elf was not yet ready to bid farewell to their companions, she was tempted to fly away with them. The elf turned to the lord of the Eagles,"Farewell mellon-nin. May the wind never cease to carry you swiftly and the light shine evermore on your journey."
"And to you. You are safe for now, but move whilst you still have the light." Gwaihir bowed, smiling down at the little folk before him. As his eagles began their journey homeward he plucked the smallest feather from his head and proffered it to the elleth. Lostoriel stood stunned for a moment, her jaw slack as she stared at the glistening white feather.
"I cannot."
"Indeed you can. It is a gift from my people to yours." The eagle urged her on, his eyes soft and welcoming. Lostoriel gingerly stepped forward and took the large feather from his talons. He allowed her one last honour by letting Lostoriel press her tiny forehead against his.
"Thank you." She whispered, stepping back as Gwaihir squawked with resounding vigour and tipped dramatically off the Carrock, spinning in mid-air and flying back to his nest. She studied the feather in her hands wondering what she was supposed to do with it. And she had no more time to contemplate the subject when Thorin's voice bellowed out.
"You!" The dwarf was standing, albeit shakily and pointing a finger at stunned Bilbo. Clearly Lostoriel had missed the commotion. "What were you doing?" he advanced dangerously towards Bilbo, "You, both of you nearly got yourselves killed!"
Thorin looked up into Lostoriel's eyes at those words and halted before Bilbo. Towering over the terrified Hobbit. "Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?"
Instinctively Lostoriel moved beside Bilbo as Thorin shakily stormed towards the hobbit. Should he try anything, she would have her sword pointed to his throat without hesitation. Thorin grabbed the poor hobbit and pulled him into an embrace, "Never have I been so wrong in all my life! I am sorry I doubted you."
His eyes fell upon Lostoriel, whose jaw went slack at the odd sight before her. This was the Thorin she knew. One who was true to a fault and never hesitant to make amends. A dwarf whose friendship was nothing short of iron forged, loyal and unbreakable. Much like his people.
Bilbo returned the gesture, the strange warmth of friendship spread through his chest. He had finally been accepted into the tightly knit band of Dwarves, he had earned his place and the friendship of one he would gladly follow through any troubles.
Cheers and smiles spread across the little group of dwarves as Thorin finally let Bilbo go. The hobbit tried not to flinch as his muscles relaxed and he could breathe. He concluded that none of the big folk knew how to give a proper hug, one that at least wasn't meant to almost kill him each time. Bilbo's face reflected nothing but the honesty and humility he felt, "No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior, not even a burglar."
Lostoriel squeezed Bilbo's shoulder, "I think even the fiercest warriors are yet to compare with you Bilbo Baggins. You may surprise yourself as you have done so to us."
The hobbit was taken aback by her high words and could do nothing but gratefully squeeze her hand back. The elf stepped in front of him and stalked towards Thorin and her until she was a nose breath from his face. She scowled fiercely.
"Only you Thorin Oakenshield would be so reckless as to take on Azog on your own!"
Thorin flinched at the harshness both of her voice and at her new appearance. The thin red line where her hair hung in jagged lines reminded him of the nightmarish pixie. He opened his mouth to speak, ignoring the hushed whispers behind him about her almost fae appearance. Lostoriel cut him off before he uttered a word.
"You have doubted me, ridiculed me and made me feel lesser than I am." She ticked off the list on her fingers, "I care not for what you think of me. I was reluctant to believe what you had said about my father's actions, but I see it for what it is. And I am not him."
Lostoriel inhaled sharply, not sure why she was saying any of this. "Nor am I my grandfather or any elf who does not wish to be in the friendship of Dwarves. They may have seen you as a lesser folk and I know not what my Adar has become, but…" she trailed off, hesitant to utter her next words. "But…" she sighed going against every urge that told her to shut up then and there, to let confront Thorin for what she had seen in the cave before they had fell. She knew then that turning back to Rivendell would be a mistake that would haunt her for the rest of her days.
Her shoulders slumped, "You and I were not always like this and I know that I have no right to suddenly appear after one hundred years and make any demands or requests on any of you. We have made mistakes, yes, however I am willing to put that behind us. " Lostoriel paused, holding out her hand to Thorin, meeting his eyes and the Company behind him. "If you would have me, I wish that we go on in friendship. I long to see that dragon dead and Erebor restored as you do. And I see now that together is the only way we may have peace, this ridiculous rift between our people will only hinder any chance we may have at it."
Her confidence wavered when Thorin stared apprehensively at her outstretched hand. Perhaps she had been too quick to offer her friendship and her sword. Lostoriel's eyes nearly popped from her skull when Thorin's rough hand grasped her forearm and he met her eyes.
"You are right. But you need ask nor apologise Lostoriel. It is me who was too blind to the truth." He flashed her a good natured grin, "Wraith or not, we need you and you us. We now go in friendship."
Thorin found himself beckoning the elf towards him. She complied, painfully bending forward as he grasped her shoulder and brought his forehead against hers. The Company fell into an awed silence. The gesture was reserved for family, friends and brothers-in-arms. To have their rightful king levelling in such a manner with an elf, welcoming her into their ranks as a friend was indeed a moment they would not forget for the rest of their days.
"Is that what I think it is?" Bilbo broke the moment, gazing out at something in the distant lowlands.
Thorin stepped passed Lostoriel following Bilbo's line of sight until his eyes fell upon the jagged conical form of a sight he never thought he'd see again. It rose from the horizon, grandeur oozing from the fog at its peak. His stomach fluttered, Thorin tried his best to ignore the pressure building behind his eyes. But it was no use.
"Erebor. The Lonely Mountain." Said Gandalf, his greybeard swinging in the wind. "The last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle-earth."
"Our home." Thorin made no attempt to shy away from the tears that glistened in his eyes. There over vast ranges, forests and lakes was their home. His home. He felt two hands on either of his shoulders and knew it was his nephews behind him. The old dwarf laid his hands on theirs, smiling for joy filled every ounce of his being. He stole a glance at the elf beside him. Lostoriel had the same mixture of longing and elation upon her face.
The sweet chirping of a bird filled the awed silence as the little creature twittered past them.
"A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain." Exclaimed Oin, grinning as he held his smashed hearing trumpet to his ear.
Lostoriel followed the bird. The sunlight bounced cheerfully off its wings as it fluttered above, hastily flying on the wind to Erebor. As the bird became a black dot against the blue sky her eyes fell on a sight that set her heart fluttering like birds wings. The vast viridian expanse of Eryn Galen stretched as far as the eye could see before the horizon. She laughed giddily. Her home, her family was within hands reach. All traces of darkness and pain left her as she openly let her eyes cloud over with tears.
"…Oin, is a thrush." She barely heard Gandalf correcting Oin on the easy mistake he had made. Thorin stepped forward, wanting nothing more than to fly with that thrush across the land.
"But we'll take it as a sign. A good omen." Said Thorin.
"You're right." Bilbo didn't dare take his eyes off the Lonely Mountain. The solitary peak he had only ever seen on maps had his entire being itching for the adventure that would follow. "I do believe the worst is behind us."
It was precisely at this moment when Lostoriel felt her stomach drop and the world spun beneath her feet. Not now, she groaned internally. From the edges of the Carrock sprang waterfalls, gushing and hissing down into the lowlands. The ironstone grew into plush emerald grass, daisies dotted the ground and she found herself moving towards the edge of the waterfall at the cliff. The pendant around her neck warmed her chest and on the wind there came the soft, female voice she'd heard before. Again as in Rivendell, the stars flew overhead as the ancient lullaby filled the air.
"Who are you?" she dared to ask, searching the surreal sight around her. The song did not stop, it played at the edge of her memory. The moving form of a brown head of hair blurred at the fringes of her memory. A lithe form dancing freely in a meadow, she was so familiar. So calming that Lostoriel could have observed her for hours on end. "I know that I know you, but will you not show yourself?"
Lostoriel jerked as someone yanked her backwards and sent them both stumbling blindly. She blinked back the stars from her eyes and was met with Bilbo's concerned gaze. He looked at her in expectation. "I'm sorry Bilbo. I didn't quite catch what you said?"
"Oh. Uhm…" Lostoriel became aware that the sun had risen high above the horizon and that the Dwarves, Gandalf included were staring at her as if she had lost her mind. "We were just wondering who you were talking to?"
Gandalf came towards her, unnerved by the wildness in her eyes and the way her hands shook uncontrollably. Lostoriel steadied her breathing, now noticing that the Company were ready to make their way down the staircase that wound around the Carrock to the ford below. Thorin leaned heavily on Dwalin, clearly not fine. And Bombur –surprisingly- and Kili were already on Gandalf's heels as he stopped before her.
"I don't…I do not know."
HIIII there! Just one thing. In the books, when the Eagles arrive their names aren't given, but I thought it would be cool to mention a few like Thorondor, the Lord of the Eagles and Gwaihir.
WOW! I can't believe we made it this far! AAAahh! I'm so excited! And proud and thankful for Lancelot 2.0 who has put up with my endless drafting and ranting and angst and beta'd with such excitement (even though it consists mainly of you shouting at me because of the angst...)
And to all of you wonderful readers who've stuck with this story! Thank you! Especially for the awesome reviews! ( They're so helpful and add to my inspiration for writing and continuing with this fic!)
But we made it to DOS! WHoop Whoop! Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I'll go back and look over the Gollum scene and correct it... (This is what happens when one edits at like 2 am... Please excuse the mistakes, half the time i'm very impatient and like posting these chapters as soon as i'm done writing...( bad habit.. I know..))
This was very angsty and teary... But I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed the last chapter! All the answers to your questions are coming soon!