Disclaimer - I, in no way whatsoever, own any of the canon characters, places, or things found in this story. All belong to Tolkien, and I make no profit.
The clamor of a multitude of beating wings echoed in her head as she pushed, willing her current shape faster, the dual set of lungs within her breast pumping at capacity. The group glided above the tree line, following their leader and the trampled trail of underbrush like the beacon it was. A dozen or so eagles had joined her from the eyrie, and she was happy with that number, but not totally sold on their chances at success. It had not been easy for her to ask for help; it was awkward, as normally she preferred to work alone, but she was also willing to admit that the evil that faced Middle-earth was real, and far worse than herself. Besides, if she were being truthful, she had an added incentive as the orcs tracked a certain dwarf and his party, one that she had far too much interest in.
It had been simple enough to rally her feathered allies to the cause; all she had to do was mention the filth that roamed the lands near the eyrie. The great Gwaihir himself had agreed to help—his intent to watch her just as much as to be rid of the orcs. His mistrust was warranted, and she took it as no slight; the eagles had not survived so long in this land by being reckless. Her appearance in their home had been sudden—her hosts had, by no means, been thrilled by it, but even Gwaihir had realized that there was a bigger threat at hand. If nothing else, there was a mutual begrudging respect between herself and the Windlord borne out of acceptance. The eagles, like most of the creatures of Middle-earth, reluctantly understood the necessity of her existence.
The forest canopy broke into a clearing below them, and ahead, in the near distance, she could easily see the pack of wargs, their orc masters poised upon their backs. It seemed that their arrival could not have been better timed, as Thorin's group was literally trapped upon a massive tree whose roots were barely holding it. On instinct, the convocation splintered, a portion beginning the rescue while the others, herself included, took to battle. She dove, finding a warg with its master, plucking it from the ground and tossing it into the abyss. Climbing, she spotted several dwarfs clinging to tree limbs, and she spun lower, heading for the boughs at its base.
Gwaihir zoomed in front of her, his challenge not unnoticed, and it distracted her as she realized, too late, what his target was. The hobbit stood over the unmoving form of a dwarf, and her heart hammered in response as it all dawned upon her. Her screech echoed across the battlefield as he gently scooped Thorin off of the ground. Denial and hatred roared in shrieking reverberation, and another orc and his warg paid the price of her anger; she dug her talons in deep as she dropped them over the cliff. She flew low, grabbing whatever scum she could within her claws, delivering them to a falling death. She lost herself in the slaughter, almost failing to notice the call of success that sounded through the air, and sweeping back, she took the cue, flying low in the valley to catch the launched halfling upon her back. She knew that Thorin had worried over the hobbit, and after the bravery he had displayed, she would make sure they both survived this. The tree fell over the cliff as another eagle collected the wizard as their final rescue.
She pushed ahead, flanking Gwaihir and his precious cargo, and she could hear the pain in the voices of his friends as they called to the fallen dwarf. Focusing, she attempted a healing spell as they flew towards the Carrock, and she stumbled, almost losing her control. Her power is not rooted in the benevolent, and she could not focus enough to weave the magical threads. Her sad attempt had only stopped his bleeding, and so she settled for that. She knew it was not his time; he had much more to accomplish, and she refused any other outcome.
One by one the eagles dropped their precious cargo, and the halfling leapt off her back, nearly seven feet to the ground, in his hurry. All of them hovered around their fallen King while the Grey worked his wonders, and soon the stubborn dwarf was wobbling on his feet. She watched, bemused, as Thorin simultaneously berated and embraced the hobbit, and she realized that the other eagles had begun to disperse, their task completed. She considered following in order to keep up appearances, but she hesitated. It appeared that none of them were really noticing her at that moment, even though she felt like an intruder.
Thorin began to move towards the horizon, his vision locked upon Erebor in the distance, and the pride and joy lit his face like a thousand suns. She heard them talk of their home, and when the Grey raised his voice, she realized her mistake, "The worst? I pray that you are right, Bilbo. But, we have a chance to see if that's true, thanks to the Mage of Evendim and the eagles."
Everyone else looked puzzled, but Gandalf simply turned toward her as Thorin's head snapped in her direction, and she met his gaze for a moment before jumping over the edge. Soaring, wind met wing as she fled toward the eyrie, praying all the while that the mage would not give chase. He would be the only one with the capability to catch her, and it was bad enough that he had discovered her involvement; hopefully he would let her leave with pride intact. But, as the mountainside rose before her, a thunderclap nearly split her ears in warning. So much for the vaunted compassion that Gandalf supposedly had.
She saw a nearby clearing and landed, shifting back to her humanoid firm. Her voice was icy as she grumbled, "No need to be so testy, old man."
Materializing out of thin air, the Grey Wizard of Middle-earth would intimidate most, and terrify those with half a brain. But, she felt neither. He feigned an apology, "Pardon my methods. But, you left rather hastily, and I feel we have much to discuss."
She pulled her shoulders back, her naked form taut with power. She imagined the texture of her robes, their feel and weight, and they appeared about her body. "Really? I can't imagine what…"
"You know exactly what." His tone left no quarter, and she sighed as he launched his question, "What are your interests in Thorin?"
She knew exactly where he was heading, "I'm sure he told you that I assisted him when he was searching for you. I am simply curious to see his progress…"
Laughter, disbelief its source, echoed off the stone around them. "You must think me an idiot. You have a reputation, and I know better than to believe such nonsense. The Mage of Evendim is neither humane nor simply curious."
She said nothing to dispute his assertion—she knew it would not matter. "Think what you wish, Gandalf. I have given you my answer, but I know that it will not satisfy you."
He shook his head, "Curiosity does not explain why you chose to come to our aid today."
She countered, "If you do not believe me, then maybe your questions need to be directed toward Thorin."
"I don't believe that he will answer them any more truthfully."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
He shrugged noncommittally, "There is something more going on here, and Thorin's own reactions proved that. He was most disturbed by your abrupt exit—he was rather eager to chase after you, but his injuries would not allow it."
Damn the dwarf, she thought, his emotions so easily betrayed him. She had worried that Thorin would become too invested, the boundaries of unfamiliarity between them done away with over their clandestine visits. She shook her head, seemingly unconcerned, "I can offer no clarity to the inner workings of the dwarven mind. I know not why he acted that way."
"Oh, but I think you do. Thorin is loyal to a fault, and he feels some sort of blind allegiance to you because you helped him when no one else could or would."
On the inside, she was basking in the glory that the condescending elder was missing an obvious connection, that Thorin had bound himself to a promise, but she could not let that on. Instead, she projected ignorance, "Maybe so. But once again, you must ask Thorin about your suspicions."
The Grey Wizard paused as he approached her, stopping a safe but demonstrative distance, "And in all of this, I can understand Thorin's motivations. He's been bamboozled, suckered into believing the beauty and the glamor. But yours...they are much less clear."
She sighed, "He is simply a unique interest. How often does one have the supposed King Under the Mountain plead for help? Those kind of beggars usually crawl upon your doorstep."
"They do so because I will help them, without need for recompense."
"It takes all kinds, Gandalf. You have your ways, and I have mine. You wish to teach charity in the face of evil, and I wish to teach responsibility in the face of oblivion."
"Be that as it may, I know your continuing involvement in this has a price, and it is a high one."
Again, she did not deny his accusations. She tossed her head to the side, almost noncommittally, when he offered, "But maybe, this time you finally care enough, and that is no crime. After all, it is refreshing to see you invested in someone other than yourself."
Her hackles stood on end, "Do not make ridiculous assumptions. You have yet to ever make a correct one where I am concerned."
His chuckle danced off the mountain, "You protest too much. Why else would you bring the eagles to our rescue?"
Anger, she was so enraged, but mostly at herself for the shortcoming. Somehow along the way, she had come to care for Thorin, and not just the favor he owed her. For eons she had kept her emotions in check; they were a weakness that she did not have the luxury of entertaining. And now, she had made the ultimate mistake—one lone dwarf had managed to reach a part of her she had thought long dead. She growled, "For the last time, ask Thorin. You may be surprised at the answer as to why I would be so accommodating…"
His bushy eyebrows slanted downward, eyes narrowing in distrust, "I will. But, I will also tell you this: there is no room in this for child's play and word games. So, I will make myself abundantly clear. Leave Thorin alone. You have done all the good you can for him."
"I will leave Thorin alone…" she offered as she marched into the wizard's space—she would not be backing down on this. "...if and when Thorin asks me to do so."
The Grey disappeared in a huff and puff of smoke, and she rolled her eyes in dismissal. He had always been one for blather, but he could also back it up, and she would have to be very, very careful going forward. She had no desire to quarrel with the elder mage, but she also would not be told what to do, especially when it came to Thorin.
Her fingers reached within her pocket, pulling from it the coin that represented Thorin's promise. She brought it up to her lips, like she was whispering within an ear, "Gandalf is ever more suspicious and you will be hard pressed to explain away my appearance. I will make greater efforts to disguise my presence in the future, and I will still be watching and doing what I can to help you. But you must control your reactions to my mention, because the wizard is no fool. The more restraint you possess, the sooner he will become less wary and the sooner I can visit. I will come to you when your discretion allows..."
She paused, hating herself for taunting Thorin with promises of her appearance, but she did need him to be more careful. She wanted to say something else, something to give him hope, but knew it just wasn't in her nature. Instead, she warned him, because she was very familiar with omens. "Be careful…"