Any of y'all that are old followers are probably shocked at the two chapters per day update rate. I can only say that I hope to continue at this rate at least through BOFTA. As always, thank you most kindly for your continued support!

Disclaimer: Tolkien own Tolkien, you own you!

The company runs to the promontory's edge. You knew there was no way down, but fear still rises in your chest as you look over the stark drop.

"Up into the trees!" Gandalf shouts. "All of you! Come on, climb!"

You're not quite sure you want to climb; you know how that ends, but considering the warg pack barreling down the way, you decide to deal with the trees. Once again your natural elvish talents serve you well as you climb fluidly over thick branches. The wargs circle the trunks like vultures. You scramble up a bit higher for good measure.

The wargs are distracted by the arrival of their master. Azog, atop the white warg, approaches the scene slowly as if to savor the moment.

"Azog?" Thorin whispers in disbelief. Azog speaks in the Dark Tongue, but you understand his drift, as does Thorin when Azog names him and his father directly. "It cannot be!"

Your heart throbs at Thorin's grief, but there's little time to comfort him: Azog orders the wargs forward again, and they break upon the tree trunks like a wave on a rock. The combined force of their vicious paws and snapping muzzles shakes the tree and uproots it. You jump with the Dwarves through the falling pines to the tallest one furthest on the precipice. It's such a stressful moment that you make sure to get a decent spot in the last tree, because you aren't about to cling to a flimsy branch and hope it doesn't snap.

The first flaming pine cone sails out of the tree in a graceful arc and ignites some dry brush. The wargs retreat in fear. Gandalf tosses another lit pinecone to Fili, who distributes the flame. You throw each miniature torch with savage enjoyment and aim all the time right for Azog. The fire on the ground grows and scorches some wargs. The Dwarves cheer.

"Hold on!" you yell at the first sign of swaying.

The tree lurches sickeningly to lie almost parallel with the ground, only there is no near ground to catch anyone who falls. You get dizzy looking at the deadly drop. You train your eyes on the closest thing in front of you, which happens to be Thorin's blazing face.

"Don't," you pant. "Thorin, don't do it, don't you dare - "

Thorin rises slowly to stand on the trunk, an expression of pure hatred in place. He draws his sword and heads purposely towards land. Any other time you would have giggled and sighed dreamily at his recklessness and majesty. Now you were just annoyed.

The branch you are on groans and splinters. You scream and clutch the wood as it dangles at a terrifying ninety degrees. "No no no, I am not supposed to die," you whisper to yourself. "I do not die like this!" But you don't know for sure, considering you were never meant to be here in the first place.

You hear screaming from on land. You inch closer to the trunk; the almost severed connection point crackles threateningly. You leap to the relative safety of the sturdier trunk just in time for the branch to fall and for Bilbo to rush past you. You follow him without a second thought.

The white warg throws Thorin through the air like an uninteresting chew toy. An orc dismounts and approaches him with a drawn blade. You know Bilbo has that situation well in hand. You set your sights on a bigger prize.

You scoop up a burning branch as you run towards a distracted Azog. With a freeing cry of rage, you plunge the branch into the white warg's face. It yelps and thrashes away from the burning branch, but you keep jabbing it everywhere you can reach. It finally swipes at you, knocking you on your back and possibly breaking several ribs. You get back on your feet defiantly. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Bilbo still protecting Thorin's body.

Suddenly, Dwalin, Kili, and Fili rush up to join you. Encouraged by their presence, you slash violently at the white warg. It roars and rears, throwing Azog to the ground. You freeze when Azog's pale blue eyes lock onto yours. He slowly rises and steps towards you, gripping his sword. Too terrified to move, you watch your life flash before your eyes.

An eage swoops in from nowhere and divebombs the warg pack. To your left, another eagle carefully lifts Thorin. His oak branch shield slipping from his limp fingers kindles one last, massive blaze of courage inside you. You slam your sword in its holder and make a mad run for it. You grab the shield with one hand, snatch up a cornered Bilbo with the other arm, and jump right off the side of the cliff.

Bilbo shouts in terror as you fall, probably wondering why you had to bring him down with you. The rush is exhilarating for you; cold wind whips your face as the starry sky above grows just a little more distant. As planned, you land surprisingly gently in a fluff of feathers as an eagle intercepts you. You make sure to flip Azog off as you fly out of his clutches and off into the night on the back of a giant freaking bird of prey.

"Why...did...you..." Bilbo grinds out, finally releasing the death grip he has on you.

"It was the best thing I could think of at the time," you say apologetically. "It was a bit of an impulse."

"A bit of an - !" Bilbo glares at you, outrage. "You are the most infuriating and reckless woman I have ever met!"

"Ha, calling me reckless? You're the one who murdered an orc and stood in front of your friend's unconscious body."

"Oh! Thorin!" Bilbo worriedly checks each eagle to see which one is carrying the injured Dwarf. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, he'll be fine. I think Thorin is literally too stubborn to die."

Morning breaks. The great orange sun finds you nestled deep in the feathers of your eagle, trying to avoid the cold wind of the skies. Soon after the sky turns from pink to blue, the eagles circle and land on the Carrock. One places Thorin gingerly on the ground.

"Thorin!" Gandalf exclaims, rushing to him. Thorin does not stir. Gandalf performs some sort of magic while the Dwarves and Bilbo look on in concern.

Thorin's eyes flutter open. "The halfling?" he asks faintly.

Gandalf smiles. "It's alright. Bilbo is here. He's quiet safe."

Kili and Dwalin help Thorin to his feet. He shrugs them off and fixes Bilbo with a piercing stare. "You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"

The relieved smile that graced Bilbo's face flattens into a grimace.

"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? ...I have never been so wrong in all my life!"

Witnessing the hug in real time warms your exhausted heart. It's even more amazing to hear Thorin apologize to Bilbo for doubting him. If only he could admit he was wrong more often!

Thorin is distracted by a sight in the distance. The whole company gets to gaze upon the far-off profile of the Lonely Mountain for the first time. It's a breathtaking view.

"Is that what I think it is?" Bilbo asks in wonder.

Gandalf nods. "Erebor, The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-earth."

"Our home." Thorin's voice is quiet with emotion.

A flock of birds twitter overhead as they fly off in direction of the mountain. One in particular catches Oin's eye: "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain!"

"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush," Gandalf corrects with a triumphant glance at Thorin. The first part of the map's instructions has held true.

Thorin smiles for what may quite be the first time since you met him. He murmurs, "We'll take it as a sign - a good omen."

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

Your own smile fades as Bilbo says this. He does not know the road ahead like you do. The most grueling parts of the quest did in fact lay ahead, but the worst would never come to pass - not if you had any say in it.