Whaaaaat? I've finished. Already? I am literally chewing my fingers as I prepare to post this last chapter. God, I hope it lives up to your expectations. Here goes (*shudder*) :

The Eagles

As I approached the cliff edge the tree creaked some more and I staggered, catching myself at the last second. All around I could hear dwarves shouting and groaning. Our perch hung to the cliff edge by its last blackened roots - and the fire was avidly eating them away.

A loud clang resonated beyond the veil of smoke barring my path. Bilbo shouted something incoherent.

I was in motion before another thought crossed my mind.

Waves of heat hit me in full force and I stumbled, shielding my eyes from the blackened fumes. The fire danced like some wild creature refusing to be tamed, each gulp of air burning my lungs, the unwithstandable scent of smoke reeking in my nostrils, scorching and sweltering hot. Sweat trickled down my temples and neck. I ran, retching heavily as I hurtled through the flaming landscape, until a blast of cool air washed over my skin. My eyes stung, tears blurring my vision. My throat felt as dry as bone.

The Defiler sat upon his white warg, back turned, moonlight emphasizing the network of scars etched across his pale skin. I experienced a thrill of fear before realizing that neither warg nor rider had noticed me emerging from the smoke. Azog's reddish eyes were fixed on something a short distance away. I followed his gaze and was met with a surprising sight.

The hobbit stood over Thorin's motionless body, waving his short sword frantically as the warg-riders slowly circled him. At his feet lay an orc.

A dead orc.

I lost a handful of seconds to sheer amazement – Bilbo had managed to take down an adversary twice his size – then my brain kicked in and informed me that the hobbit was about to be torn to pieces. I broke into a flat-out sprint just as Azog barked an order – and with a sharp pang I realized that by the time I reached Bilbo's side it would be too late.

Doubt seeped into my mind like poison, wrapping its tendrils around my slender resolve. How would rushing recklessly into danger be of any use? What good would do if we were both killed tonight? Run, every self-preserving nerve in my body shouted. Let the hobbit's death serve as a distraction while you make your escape. There was a time when abandoning Bilbo to his fate would have been the easiest thing in the world.

But now I just… couldn't.

I clenched my fists and lengthened my stride. Azog's eyes darted to the side as I ran past him. His massive mount snarled and I felt its foul breath on my back. Teeth snapped together, the sound as sharp as a whip. I scrambled out of the way, never daring to glance over my shoulder in fear of what I might see. Almost there. The hobbit's eyes went wide as he saw me pelting towards him.

A warg closed in on us, teeth bared, striking to kill.

No!

The world wavered around me, the vision of a pitch-black room overlapping reality.

Something stirring in the deep.

The memory of a nightmare half forgotten.

I recoiled from the image, horrified as a low snarl echoed in my mind, a sharp metallic taste washing over my tongue. It was happening again; just like when Gandalf had embraced me after we'd escaped the goblin caves. My brain howled at me to defend myself, but against what? The wargs, the Defiler, or the Thing inside my head?

My eyes snapped shut and I screamed. A word. A spell.

"Protego!"

A rush of wild magic answered my call. I seized it, picturing a shield around my body and mind that would withhold any attack. A shield that would protect me from all enemies, inside or out. The Thing howled as I drew upon its power – its beautiful, intoxicating power. I felt dizzy; chaos and elation swirled around inside me, a cocktail more potent than anything I ever dreamed of. I was drowning, it was too much, I couldn't think…

Without warning the magic whooshed out of me, draining from my body like water flowing through a dam. Blue light erupted from my palm, a translucent sphere leaping between Bilbo and the oncoming warg. The force of it knocked the monstrous creature backwards. It yowled like a dying cat, legs flailing in the air, crushing the rider beneath it weight.

A jolt vibrated through my body. Bilbo shouted my name. I dimly realized that my knees had given way. I felt… weak. Worn. Like a rubber band snapping back to its original shape after having been stretched to its limit. The ground suddenly lurched towards me and my hands shot out, breaking the fall. This isn't right, I thought, as the world swam in and out of focus before my eyes. Where had the magic gone?

Things stopped making sense after that.

Someone was shaking my shoulder, urging me to get back on my feet. It might have been the hobbit but everything sounded too distorted for me to be sure. All around, the sound of fighting resumed – so loud it hurt. Fighting? My head was pounding. Thud-thud, thud-thud. The earth shook beneath my fingers. A deafening screech split through my head like nails on a blackboard. I thought I heard Dwalin roar from somewhere close by, but that couldn't be right, because Dwalin was hanging from the tree, about to plummet to his death – they all were ; everyone except Bilbo, Thorin and me…

I blinked.

Thorin.

Was Thorin alive?

With a huge effort of will, I twisted my head, fighting against the exhaustion weighing me down. A leather boot lay by my side. I followed it, my gaze traveling up and up until I found a leg, then a torso, then a face…

I froze.

Dark eyes stared back at me, drawn and haggard – but perfectly lucid.

Thorin was awake. His stunned expression reflected my own bewilderment.

Ice settled in the pit of my stomach.

He'd seen everything.

He'd seen everything.

The ear-splitting screech sounded again, closer this time. A gust of wind blew past me, sharp and unexpected as something enormous swept down from the heavens. Before I could even cry out in surprise, it had curled its talons around Thorin's limp form. With a rustling of wings the giant eagle took to the air once more, lifting the dwarf king with it, rising higher and higher until the darkness swallowed them both.

For a second, I could only gape. Then I felt something rough wrap tightly around my midsection and I was wrenched off the ground. I yelled but the whistling of the wind drowned my voice. Up, up, up we soared, the air rapidly getting colder as we distanced ourselves from the flames. I twisted in the eagle's grip, repressing my panic when I felt razor-sharp talons press against my spine. The burning cliff edge was visible below me, glowing orange in the night. I tried to spot the dwarves clinging to the downed tree but my eyes were watering, blurring my sight.

Dark forms circled and swept above the battle-ground. Wargs were scattering for cover in the woods.

Dizziness washed over me, my grip on reality slipping.

With a shriek the eagle dived, jolting me back to the moment. I felt the talons holding me slacken. My stomach dropped. "Wait –" I started to shout, but too late: the giant bird extended its wings and pulled out of the dive, releasing me in the process.

I fell, arms out, screaming in fearful exhilaration. A great vast shadow loomed up beneath me and I smacked onto a feathery surface. The impact walloped the air out of my lungs and my head snapped forwards. Teeth punched bloody holes in my tongue, the warm taste of salt filling my mouth. I gasped and spat blood, twisting my body to grasp a fistful of sleek feathers before I slipped off the eagle's back. Someone seized a fistful of my tunic.

"I've got you, Cassie," Oin shouted over the rushing wind.

Oin? I blinked and the old healer's face appeared in my line of vision, looking tired and disheveled, but other than that very much unhurt.

"You're safe," he said, catching on to my confused expression. He glanced down at desolate landscape gliding beneath us. "We all are."

An angry roar echoed in the distance, followed by the sound of the tree finally breaking away from the cliff and tumbling into the valley below. The eagle beat its powerful wings and turned east, letting the currents carry it higher. More shadows appeared left and right, tiny figures perched on their backs. My head rolled to the side and I saw dark lands opening wide underneath us, touched here and there by the light of the moon. After that I knew no more.

I awoke with a headache that felt like a hammer striking behind my eyes. When I tried to lift my head the pain worsened and I hunched, nausea forcing me down. The ground felt hard and cold beneath me. Where was I? The last thing I remembered was drifting off to sleep in a mountain cave with dwarves snoring loudly besides me. Flashes of nightmare forced past the hazy fog obscuring my brain. The taste of smoke made me retch. Someone was patting my shoulder.

"Thorin!" Gandalf sighed from somewhere close by.

My eyes fluttered open and I saw grey stone.

"The Halfling?" Thorin rasped, voice so low I had to strain myself to hear his words. "The girl?"

I jumped up, stomach lurching with the sudden movement.

The hand on my shoulder tightened, pushing me back into a horizontal position. "Easy Cassie." Oin's voice. He shifted at my side, poking my tender stomach. "Bruised ribs," I heard him mutter.

I hissed and shoved his hand away. Thorin had seen me use magic – I didn't have time for a medical check-up.

"Is she awake?" Gandalf. I squinted and the old man's face swam into focus before my eyes.

"Yes," came Oin's reply. He sounded exasperated. "And she won't let me examine her injury for a change. Some of her colour's back but I wouldn't risk moving her right away."

The sound of metal scraping against stone. A fleeting shadow fell across my face. I tilted my head to see the dwarf king pass me by, his movements slow and sluggish like a drunken man, gaze riveted on Bilbo who was twisting his fingers together a little farther away. "You."

The hobbit blanched at Thorin's hard tone. He looked to be on the verge of tears.

I grabbed the front of Gandalf's grey robes. "H – help me up," I gasped. My throat felt raw.

The wizard shook his head and started to speak but my voice cut across his, more forceful this time.

"Please." I tried to convey my desperation to the old man. "Please – Thorin saw me. He knows."

Something tightened in Gandalf's eyes. "Yes," he said. "We all saw what happened."

I jerked upright. Oin started to protest but Gandalf hushed him and placed an arm under my shoulder to steady me. "Can you stand?" he asked.

"Yes," I hissed through gritted teeth, a shower of sparks flaring in my abdomen. I wasn't sure if it was true but I couldn't afford to waste any more time.

I slowly rose to my feet, choking back a sob at the resulting pain. I couldn't find a single part of my body that didn't feel battered and bruised. For a second I thought I might blank out again but Gandalf tightened his hold around my waist and muttered a few words under his breath. Some of my soreness eased and I was able to concentrate on my surroundings.

We were on a tall flat stone, the green forest stretching out far, far below. Eagles circled lazily above our heads, beating their massive wings from time to time to stay above the current. A faint reddish light was rising in the horizon. Sunrise. Had we really flown all night?

The dwarves were all gathered around their leader. Thorin had his arms wrapped around the hobbit in a tight embrace. Bilbo's face shone red as he pulled away, grinning despite his obvious embarrassment. The hobbit was finally getting the recognition he deserved. Too bad the same couldn't be said for myself.

I held my breath and waited for Thorin to acknowledge me, but at that moment something in the distance caught the king's attention.

The sun was slowly rising in the east, bathing the land in early morning light. Far in the distance rose a solitary peak.

Thorin strode like a sleepwalker to the edge of the pinnacle on which we stood. The dwarves followed, longing etched on each of their faces.

"Is that what I think it is?" Bilbo asked.

"Erebor. The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth." Gandalf took a step forwards, pulling me with him, and I remembered how the old man had stood at my side when he had introduced me to the company on my first night in this foreign world. The memory brought courage to my heart.

Slowly, very slowly, Thorin turned to face us. His dark eyes flitted first to Gandalf, then to me. I braced myself for the usual distaste that marred the dwarf king's features whenever he looked directly at me, but it never came. Instead, I was met with… nothing.

No anger, no accusation, no sense of betrayal.

Just a blank slate.

For the first time since we'd come face to face, Thorin was gazing at me with no judgment in his eyes.

My heart beat so loudly in my ribcage I was sure the whole company could hear it. What did this mean? Was Thorin going to let this slide? Barely had the question entered my mind than I pushed it aside. No. I could still feel his suspicion, still see a glimmer of wariness behind those dark, unfathomable eyes. My position in the company was balanced on the edge of a knife – but whether or not I fell was entirely up to me.

Gandalf exhaled grimly at my side. "Come along, Miss Morgan," he said. "It is high time we both set our cards on the table for all to see."

End of part one.

If you're wondering why Cass isn't more alarmed about the presence in her head then I have one word for you: Priorities. Seriously, she has other stuff on her mind. But don't worry, she'll get there eventually.

Will Thorin drive Cassie away? Will the young witch give Gandalf a verbal thrashing for withholding crucial information? Will the Thing in her head manifest itself again? Stick around for part two to find out!

And pretty please review my story. Even if you've already done it once, I'd love to know if you still find my fic worth reading. DAMN I can't wait for The Desolation of Smaug to come out in a week!