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Chapter Fifteen

The eagles had come. They had arrived in a flock to aid the company as they fought, surrounded by fire and death. The great birds beat their wings, forming huge gusts of air to fan the dancing flames, and their sharp talons pierced Warg skin as they tossed them away from the fighting Dwarves. They were as one entity in their movements, and they seemed to communicate with one another with barely a sound.

Dori's fingers had begun to slip on Gandalf's polished wood staff, and after a moment of terror, the Dwarf felt himself clutching at the night air. The two brothers fell down into the darkness and their wails echoed off the cliff walls as they continued down, before landing with a soft expulsion of air onto the back of an eagle. The great bird flew high and fast, leaving the hillside and heading towards the ever lightening sky of beckoning dawn. This rescue was swiftly followed by more of the eagles as they picked up the company members, and began their soaring journey in the cool air.

One eagle flew low over the hill and grasped Thorin gently in its talons, beating its wings to become airborne once more, and joined the rest of the flock as they left the enraged Orcs behind on the burning hillside. The last sound clearly heard echoing around the mountainside was the guttural howl of disappointment from Azog as he watched his enemy make their escape.

The eagles flew with the rising sun, their wings touching clouds as they moved through the air with little effort; the Dwarves clung to their feathers, fear evident in their tightly curled fingers and wide eyes. Only Gandalf seemed at ease atop one of the great birds, and he chuckled softly to himself as he looked about the group. Even Miluiel looked terrified, despite her considerable skill in horsemanship. Then again, the old wizard supposed that an eagle was a little different to a trusted pony.

The eagle holding Thorin adjusted its grip gently, causing Fili to yell "Thorin!" across the empty sky before him, worry etched over his young features. The two young brothers clung to one another as they watched their beloved uncle, who was still dangling precariously from sharp talons. His oaken shield had fallen from his arm as he was carried off, but Orcrist still lay clutched to his chest. The mighty head of dark hair hung at a grotesque angle, swaying gently with every down-stroke of the eagle's wings; his face was impassive, almost peaceful as he was carried through the air, soaring on the breeze like a free soul. Miluiel felt eyes watching her as she stared wordlessly at the Dwarf prince, watching his body shift and sway with the movements of the mighty bird, her pink lips pursed in concentration. She dared not look away, and her heart had leapt to her throat the moment she had seen Thorin grasped in sharp talons. Her curls were lifted on the wind as they continued on their journey, and a great flat rock came into sharp focus against the dawn sky.

The eagles began to descend, allowing the Dwarves to dismount and steady themselves against the stone before taking off again, soaring into the sun-kissed sky and back on their way. Gandalf was the first to be deposited, and he waited anxiously as Thorin was laid gently upon the rock before him. He approached as the eagle took off, whisking his hat from his head and laying it next to his staff at Thorin's side. He began to mutter in a strange tongue, placing his wizened hand upon the Dwarf prince's unlined brow. His hair had fallen about him in a dark curtain, and his soft expression belied the raging emotion the wizard knew lay beneath.

"What is he doing?" Dwalin asked, fear lacing his voice as he looked to his kin. They stood around, gazing intently at the wizard as he continued murmuring. Miluiel had taken one of Fili's hands in her own, whilst her other was grasped tightly in both of Kili's. She squeezed lightly, watching both brothers as they stared with unseeing eyes at Gandalf and their uncle, who lay still on the cold stone. She whispered a soft prayer to Aulë the great creator, promising anything he would ask of her to return the Dwarf prince. Her heart lay heavy in her chest as she watched, tears pricking at the corners of her grey eyes. They began to spill slowly over her pink cheeks as she prayed, her head bowed so her hair fell over her shoulders in a soft tumble. Just as she felt that all may be lost, Thorin's eyes began to flicker. Gandalf smiled down at him, moving his hand from his forehead and tilting his head gently.

"The Halfling?" Thorin croaked, feeling his voice rush from his lips like water over rock. He tried to sit up, heaving his body a little before Balin and Fili rushed forward and helped him upright.

"Bilbo is here, he is safe," Gandalf replied, turning to smile at the Hobbit, who was standing apart from the group. Miluiel had moved away too, allowing his company to converge on him as he struggled to stand, their relief evident on their smiling faces. She swiped at her cheeks, smearing dirt over her skin as she quickly erased the evidence of her foolish tears. Why should she not believe in the wizard and his magic? And what good had crying ever done for anyone? No, she did not wish for Thorin to see her weeping; he already thought of her as a silly woman, superfluous to all aspects of his quest, and she did not want to compound the issue.

Bilbo heaved great sighs of relief as he watched Thorin get to his feet, blood still adorning his face and hands as he approached him slowly. The Dwarf prince shrugged off all offers of aid as he strode forward.

"You!" he cried, his lips twisted in what appeared to be a snarl. Gandalf furrowed his brow and made to step between the two, but Thorin was deceptively quick to cover the ground between them. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!" Bilbo looked flabbergasted, and he rocked back on his heels from the Dwarf's apparent anger as Thorin continued.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?" Thorin was now close enough for Bilbo to smell the damp fur on his cloak, and the remnants of pipe tobacco. The Hobbit swallowed hard, feeling a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he stood quietly, waiting for the Dwarf to recount just how useless he had found him from the moment he had ran after them clutching his contract. The green grass and rolling hills of the Shire seemed so far away in that moment, and how he longed to be back on his bench, sucking at his pipe and watching his neighbours going about their business in a gently self-important way.

Thorin heaved a great sigh at that moment, and his face softened, "I have never been more wrong," he said, lurching forward and gripping Bilbo to his chest in a tight embrace. The Hobbit was shocked, but returned the gesture awkwardly with a puzzled yet relived smile upon his face. The company around them began to laugh and smile, clapping one another on the shoulder and watching as their leader held fast to the small Halfling.

"I am sorry I doubted you," Thorin said as he released Bilbo, squeezing his shoulder in a final moment of gratitude.

"Oh no, I would have doubted me too," Bilbo replied, nodding earnestly. "I'm not a hero; I'm not even a burglar." He watched the last of the eagles dip out of view, and then turned to face the rising sun. "Is that that I think it is?"

The company then moved as one to the edge of the rock upon which the stood, and gazed out at the distant peak as it rose from the earth to touch the clouds. Thorin smiled, his joy at laying his eyes upon his homeland etched upon his face.

"Erebor," Gandalf rumbled as he pushed Miluiel ahead of himself, to stand a few paces behind the Dwarf prince. She too looked out at the mountain shrouded in mist and smiled softly, feeling her heart gladden at the sight of their journey's end. She then looked to Thorin, and her smile widened almost imperceptibly as her eyes roved over his face as it lit with pleasure.

"The Lonely Mountain," Gandalf continued to speak as he watched the young woman, watching Thorin as he stared across the earth. "The last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth."

Thorin did not move as he replied, "Our home."

A bird began to chirp behind the assembled group, and Oin turned gleefully. "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain!" He pointed to the dancing wings with his ear trumpet, and Thorin gazed at it as if it held all the wonders of the world within its sweet song.

Miluiel could not help but giggle softly, "Oh Oin," she said gently, smiling at him from beside the Dwarf prince. Thorin looked down at her, as if noticing her for the first time, and furrowed his brow. He shot her a questioning look which she did not see as she looked to the wizard, standing tall against the lightening sky.

"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush," he said, leaning on his polished staff.

"But we'll take it as a sign," Thorin rumbled, turning again to look at his beloved home in the mountain. "A good omen."

"You're right," Bilbo said, smiling. "I do believe the worst is behind us."

The Dwarves seemed cheered by this pronouncement from the Hobbit, but Thorin caught Miluiel shooting an anxious look at Gandalf, who merely quirked an eyebrow and patted her shoulder gently. She drew her generous bottom lip between her teeth and began to chew it, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. For surely their journey would not be easy from here, and she feared that complacency among them would only lead to ill fates. An unease filled her heart as she stared at the Lonely Mountain, before turning her head to meet dark eyes, intently boring into her own. Thorin lifted an eyebrow and she released her lip, darting her small tongue out to taste the blood there, before dropping her eyes and turning slightly so she could see the group. The Dwarves had quickly become her friends, and she was disturbed at the thought of any of them falling into darkness. What would become of them now, when they had come so far, and yet their journey was not at an end? Would every one of these Dwarves cast their eyes once again over their home? Or would the return to Erebor be a more sombre affair?