We ran for another hour as the shadows lengthened around us and the pain on my back and feet slowly began to return. However, I refused to slow the company down and therefore did not bother stopping to drink any more medicine, though I knew I would regret my decision later. I ignored the nagging feeling in my heart and continued to push forward, thinking instead of those I needed to protect: of Kili and his love for his bother, of Fili and his fierce protectiveness over his kin, and of Thorin, who was fiercely loyal to his family and had already lost his father, grandfather, and brothers. I refuse to let him lose anyone else.

The howls of wargs floated down the mountain to us as they had for the past half hour, but it still came as a shock when the first Warg caught up to the group and leaped at Bilbo, who nimbly jumped behind a rock as the Warg's jaws snapped shut on empty air above his head. Kili had given me my weapons after the first howl had sounded, and I skidded to a stop as the Warg landed in front of Bilbo and charged him, growling.

I drew my bow and set an arrow on the string, aiming for the wolf charging the hobbit, but at the last moment sending it speeding into the heart of an orc about to impale Fili on the end of its spear. It froze and toppled over, tripping another that was quickly ended by Dwalin's axes. Fili nodded at me, thankful and surprised, and they continued on as I looked over at the hobbit, fearing the worst. I was quite pleasantly surprised to see that he had skewered the massive beast on his sword and was now standing, shocked, in front of its corpse. Another orc snuck behind him, and with hands that moved faster than sight I sent an arrow between its eyes before Bilbo even had a chance to turn around. With a nod, I turned and ran until I reached the edge of a cliff where the others stood, panicking. I gripped my bow, scanning the landscape for some way of escape. 'The only means of escape are heading back the way we came or leaping off the overhang, neither of which we would survive for very long.'

I growled in frustration and looked at Gandalf for answers. "Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!" He yelled, maneuvering up into its branches. I turned just as Bifur threw his axe, killing a Warg, which had been about to take my head off. I looked over at him in surprise, nodding my thanks, and sent an arrow deftly into the chest of another that had strayed far too close for comfort.

I jumped out of the way as Bofur jumped off a rock and grabbed a tree branch, using Dwalin's head as a stepping-stone to the tree. Other dwarves began climbing into the trees as well. I boosted Fili and Kili up; Thorin was in Gandalf's tree, which was nearest to the cliff's edge.

The king yelled, "They're coming!" As Kili grabbed my arm and pulled me forcibly up into his tree as he and his brother climbed to the top.

"We're not leaving you behind," he told me seriously, gripping my hand. I nodded and yelped as Fili clapped his hand on my shoulder, where a large gash lay from my flogging. Kili's eyes widened at something behind me, and I turned my head to see what had startled him: Fili's hand was scarlet with blood from touching my shoulder.

I turned to Kili. "I'm fine," I said distractedly, reaching for an arrow. I winced and brought my arm back, unable to reach back because of the pain. "Fine," I repeated, watching the main body of Wargs and Warg Riders approach. I slung my bow over my shoulder, unable to hold onto it any longer and not wanting to leave it. I looked down as Bilbo hauled himself into our tree just as dozens of Wargs reached us. They leaped at the trees, clawing at the bark and snarling at those at their peaks, but they ceased after several minutes, and I turned around to see why. Fili and Kili grabbed my arms as I nearly fell off my perch in shock.

The Wargs had ceased their growling because their leader had come: the white warg with Azog on its back was approaching slowly, and the latter was leering at the dwarf king and I.

"Azog?!" I whispered. Kili's grip on my arm tightened.

The warg growled, and the pale orc stroked its fur with his metal arm, whispering in black-speech, which I had trained myself to understand. It raised its voice, sneering. "Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast? Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob." I knew the others would not understand, and I could not bring myself to translate. Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain. My mouth opened in grief for the king as I realized the pain the king must be in, knowing that Azog had captured his father. The orc turned his dark gaze to me. "Agh lat, karanzol. Brusnar nariinizg lat, ziimarpizg darûkûrz: durlob Aeyera." 'And you, elfling. I have not forgotten you, you weak coward: Princess Aeyera.' I shrunk back, terrified, as memories of torture invaded my mind. Kili squeezed my hand, trying to bring me back to myself, but I was focused solely on the orc, who was speaking to his Wargs and Riders. "Kod, Toragid biriz. Worori-da!" Those two are mine. Kill the others!

At his command, the Wargs leaped forward and tried to climb the trees, and I snapped out of whatever spell I had been under. I will not go back. I would rather jump off this cliff than go back to Dol-Guldur. Kili shook me, and I raised my hand weakly. "I'm alright," I mumbled, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it.

The Wargs jumped as high as they could, scrabbling at the tree trunks and breaking apart branches in their jaws in their effort to reach us, but thankfully, they were unable to find a foothold on the trees, which had been stripped bare of their bark. However, the trees shook violently at the assault, and we were struggling to hold on. "Sho gad adol!" Drink their blood! The pale orc yelled gleefully, watching us struggle to maintain our positions in the trees.

With the weight of the Wargs climbing it, the furthest tree from the edge of the cliff—which happened to be ours—was uprooted from the ground and began tilting wildly. As more Wargs grabbed onto it, the tree tipped over and landed on the next tree; we jumped from the falling tree to the next. I leaped into the tree, clutching at the pine needles and thanking Tauriel over and over for letting me sneak out and tree hop when I was small: if not for the practice, I would surely have fallen to the ground whether from a bad grip or dizziness from loss of blood.

Just as we were settled, this tree as well tipped over; like dominoes, all the trees began falling onto each other, and with each jump, more and more of my strength left me. All the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and I managed to jump onto the last tree, on the very edge of the cliff. This tree—thankfully—didn't fall over. Yet.

Azog laughed.

Thorin grabbed my shoulder and pulled me backwards. I started, terrified. I had been a second away from falling out of the tree. "Why does he want you?" he whispered. I opened my mouth to answer but was distracted by a fiery pinecone falling past me, which had been thrown from the top of the tree to the ground. It landed on the Wargs, who retreated in fear of the fire, yelping and snarling like dogs. Gandalf lit several more pinecones and threw them down to the dwarves. "Fili!" Fili caught the pinecone and used it to light several others, which he passed down to the rest of the company. We gathered pinecones and Gandalf set them on fire. I threw the flaming projectiles at the Wargs, feeling an odd sense of elation as their fur caught fire. All the area around the tree was set ablaze, forcing the Wargs to retreat a distance, and at least one Warg galloped away with its fur alight, shrieking in pain. Miraculously, our own tree was not caught ablaze; that would have been terrible misfortunate. Azog roared in anger and frustration as the dwarves cheered.

I cried out suddenly, and the others' cheers turned to cries of terror as the roots of the tree we perched in began to give way under our combined weight. The tree tipped precariously over the edge of the cliff but came to a rest sticking straight out away from the edge of the cliff. I gripped my branch with both arms, gasping, my legs hanging out in the air with nothing to support them. I, though I had no problem with trees, was not overly fond of heights or falling, and my heart sped up till it thundered in my chest like a galloping horse.

I heard a commotion from far behind me but was in no position to look to see what the matter was; I managed to hook one leg around a branch and was working to pull myself up. I glanced over at Azog and saw him growl, his gaze flickering between Thorin and I. I glared at him in hate and anger, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over.

I heard a grunt and looked up as Thorin pulled himself up into a standing position, his sword drawn. He strode off the tree and began running towards the orc, oblivious to the obvious danger surrounding him. Screaming in pain, I hauled myself up and pushed myself onto my hands and knees; my promise burned in my mind as I began running after the king, ignoring the shouts behind me as I pulled my knives free.

Thorin ran through the burning ground at Azog and his warg, hair flying out behind him as he brandished his sword and oaken shield. Azog spread his arms wide with a smug grin on his face, welcoming Thorin to him as if his were the arms of death.

"Thorin!" I screamed. Azog crouched, and then roared as his warg leaped at Thorin. The king tried to swing his sword, but the beast slammed him in the chest with its forepaw, smashing him to the ground. I leaped over a burning tree, which kept the other wargs at bay.

As Thorin got back on his feet, panting, Azog and his white mount wheeled around and charged Thorin again. Azog swung his mace and smashed Thorin in the face before Thorin could react.

"No!" I yelled, still running. I felt as though I was running through mud and water, it took so long to reach them. Thorin was brutally flung to the ground by the impact, and his breath left him. Azog roared in excitement. The warg clamped its jaws around Thorin, biting down, and he yelled in pain. As the white warg held Thorin in its mouth, I finally reached them, and I slashed its muzzle with my knife. Roaring, the White Warg threw Thorin several meters away onto a flat rock nearby, and his body slammed into mine, pinning me underneath. Thorin landed heavily, his sword falling out of his hand, and he was nearly unconscious by the time he hit the rock. I gasped, the dwarf was heavy, and I could hardly breathe. The rocks beneath me pressed into my wounds, and I cried out, struggling to free myself. I pushed on the limp king's body and he barely moved; the very one I had to protect was inadvertently keeping me from protecting him.

From behind me I heard Azog say, "Biriz torag khobdudol." Bring me their heads. Summoning the last bit of my strength, I managed to get the majority of my body out from under Thorin, but my left leg was still pinned. I yelled and pulled at it in frustration, trying desperately to get the dwarf's armored body off mine, but he didn't budge.

One of Azog's warg riders jumped off his Warg and approached Thorin and I, and I fought with waning strength to get free. Tears of anger and fear were forming, and I cried out as a snap shuddered through my body. I suddenly realized that my ankle had likely been broken by Thorin's weight and force of my fall added to the odd angle at which it had been landed on. I was in so much pain by this time, however, that it barely made a difference. The adrenaline flooding through my body kept me awake.

The orc approached Thorin and placed its sword against his neck. The dwarf gasped, trying in vain to reach his sword although he could barely move his arm. I slashed at the orc with my knife, but he parried and knocked the blade out of my hand before delivering a well-aimed kick to my jaw. My head snapped back and I fell, cracking my head on the stone. 'Come on, get up! Protect him, come on!' I raised myself onto my elbows as through blurred eyes I saw the orc raise the sword again, the rider prepared to decapitate Thorin, and then myself. As he swung his sword down, I twisted my body and threw myself over Thorin, eyes shut tight, waiting for a blow that did not come. I opened my eyes and lifted me head to see that Bilbo had thrown himself at the orc and had knocked him over him. The fight was short lived, and Bilbo managed to kill the orc, stabbing it multiple times. As Azog growled in anger, Thorin went unconscious, and I tried to rise, only to fall back onto him, nearing unconsciousness myself but determined to protect him till my dying breath.

Bilbo, much to my amazement, pulled his sword from the orc's corpse and ran to stand in front of Thorin and I, protecting us. He waved his sword wildly at Azog and the other wargs. Azog looked down at him in distain and spoke in the common tongue, sounding disinterested. "Kill him."

A couple of Wargs and Riders approached Bilbo, snarling. I tried to move but was unsuccessful. Black and red spots danced in my vision, and my breathing became more and more labored. I clenched my teeth, but could do nothing but watch. Suddenly, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, who had managed to get off the tree, plowed into the wargs from the side and began engaging them in a fight. In the confusion, Bilbo yelled and leaped forward, wounding a warg. The white warg then hit Bilbo with its head and sent him flying. As the fighting around them continued, Azog and his warg approached Bilbo to kill him.

"No," I mumbled, pulling uselessly at my leg. "Bilbo…"

I turned my dying attention to the other and felt my heart sink at their position. Fili, Kili, and Dwalin had been surrounded by wargs, and Bilbo was at Azog's mercy. I saw Kili lunge at a warg, which snapped at him, nearly catching his arm in its jaw but missing by a hair's breadth. "Kili!" I gasped, moving forward an inch. I grabbed my fallen knife—which lay feet away from me—and threw it, hard. Despite my weakness, the knife hit its target—the warg's eye—and the beast dropped. Kili turned in surprise, but the action had weakened me further, and I had fallen against his uncle's body, unable to move.

Suddenly enormous eagles, creatures as old as the Maiar, appeared, screeching. Some began to swoop back and forth, gathering up wargs and orcs in their claws and dropping them off the cliff. Others knocked down trees, which crushed the Wargs below them. Another Eagle fanned the flames with its wings, creating an inferno which burned the wargs and caused them to run away, yelping like puppies.

Azog snarled in frustration.

One Eagle gently grabbed Thorin and his sword in its talons and flew away, leaving me on the ground, unable to move. As Thorin was lifted off the ground, his oaken branch shield slipped off his arm and landed on the ground next to me. I reached out and grabbed it, clutching it close to my chest.

I heard Azog roar and I turned to see him jump back as an Eagle flew by him; the Eagle headed straight for me, and it picked me gently up, positioning its talons so that I would not fall. Another eagle right behind it had snatched up Bilbo and dropped him onto the back of another.

I blinked up at the eagle's underbelly as my vision became hazy and grey, and I hooked the shield to my arm right before my vision blacked out completely and I finally slipped into welcome darkness.

-o-

"Aeyera! Princess, wake up!"

I gasped for breath and my lungs filled with air as I coughed and hacked, expelling ash from my lungs. My memory remained blank for a moment as I blinked up at the wizard's relieved face above me, then all the horrifying events from before crashed down on me, and my eyes widened as the lashes on my back throbbed.

"Mithrandir," I groaned, struggling to sit up. Someone else held me down, and I looked over to see Kili's hands on my shoulders. A wave of relief fell on me; the last I had seen of him, a warg had nearly bitten off his arm. "Kili…" I whispered, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, "You're alright," I managed, embracing him tightly. "Thank Eruyou're alright," I whispered, tightening my grip as his arms wrapped around my fragile body, holding me as if I were a bit of glass that might shatter if he dropped me. He had pulled me into a kind of sitting position, and my head was nestled between his neck and shoulder. I finally felt my age: I was young, just a child, especially considering my damaged mental state. If we were to convert to human years, I was probably younger even than Kili—and I wanted nothing more than to stay right here and not move for the next century.

"You foolish elfling," he whispered into my hair, sounding both relieved and angry. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I-I couldn't let him die," I choked out, shaking. "I couldn't…"

"You saved me in the cave," he whispered. "You should have left me to take the lashing… you saved my uncle, you didn't need to, so why—?"

"Aeyera," Gandalf said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, moving my head away from Kili's comfortable shoulder, and gazed up at the wizard with teary eyes, one hand fisted tightly in the sleeve of Kili's tunic. My face warmed at the thought of the company seeing me like this, but in a glance I saw that most were looking elsewhere, giving me as much privacy as possible.

"Can you stand?" he asked, holding out his hand. I bit my lip, unsure, and took the wizard's hand. Kili held my elbows as Gandalf helped me to my feet, and I stood on my right foot, afraid to put any weight on my left even though my right throbbed from the lashes I had received. "What's wrong?" he asked, frowning. I closed my eyes and moving my weight to my left foot, putting it down, and I screamed through gritted teeth as I crumpled to the ground. Kili held my arms, preventing me from falling, and I felt a surge of gratitude mixed with something… different as his hand brushed against my cheek as he brought it back to push some hair out of his face. I decided not to focus on it as Gandalf felt my ankle through my light boot, muttering under his breath. "Not broken," he murmured. "Although I believe it was dislocated." I recalled the pop I had heard and felt when struggling to get out from under Thorin, and I understood. Oh, Eru. Thorin.

Without another word Gandalf moved over to Thorin, who was lying unmoving, on the ground. I felt a surge of guilt; if I had not fallen unconscious, Gandalf would have first helped Thorin; he was more important to the Company than I was.

"Thorin! Thorin." Thorin was not responding, and Bilbo ran up as I looked away, shame spreading through me. Gandalf placed his hand on Thorin's face and whispered a spell, and I looked back in wonder as Thorin's eyes fluttered open and he gasped for air. He spoke weakly. "The elfling? The halfling?"

Gandalf smiled. "It's alright. Aeyera and Bilbo are here. They're quiet safe."

By now, the other dwarves have all been landed on the Carrock, and they surround the wounded Thorin and I. Dwalin and Fili help Thorin up. However, once he's up, he shrugged them off and approached Bilbo, who stood in front of Kili and I, who were on the ground, the former crouched beside me. "You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! 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 advanced until he was face to face with Bilbo, and it was clear from his posture that the poor halfling was both worried and frightened. I shrunk back myself, alarmed and frightened by his behavior. "I have never been so wrong in all my life!" Thorin grabbed Bilbo and embraced him deeply, his countenance changing completely. The other dwarves cheered loudly and slapped each other on the back, and I smiled, though I still was very worried. Gandalf smiled. Bilbo, clearly surprised, hugged Thorin back. "I am sorry I doubted you."

"No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior... not even a burglar," he admitted sheepishly. As everyone chuckled, the Eagles flew away, screeching.

Thorin then looked beyond Bilbo to me and stepped forward, his face stern. He crouched down till we were face to face and he was on one knee. Then he did the last thing I expected: he bowed his head. "Princess," he said, and as he looked at me his face softened, his eyes sad and full of regret. "I owe you my life, and I would ask your forgiveness. I have known many elves, and you are the only one whom I would call friend. You have saved my life, and you have safe the lives of my kin. You and I share a common cause and a common enemy, and I am proud to fight with you. I am proud to call you my friend." He embraced me as well, and I hugged him back, gladness in my heart. "I am in your debt, Princess of Mirkwood."

As I settled back against Kili, my right leg under me and my left before me, I gazed at the king before me, who had lived longer than I. "You are forgiven, my king," I said softly, bowing my head to him. "I thank you, but you are not in my debt, neither are your kin. I would strive to protect you because although I could not do so beneath the mountain so long ago, I am able to now."

Thorin looked at me in a new way: with respect, and he said, his voice like that of a great king, "Then our debts are paid, neither you or I are indebted to each other any longer." His attention turned to the fact that I couldn't rise, and he frowned and turned to the company. "Oin, come help her," he said. When he turned back, his gaze was fixated on a point beyond me, and I turned around, confused by the way his gaze misted over.

Bilbo spoke up from beside me. "Is that…what I think it is?"

In the distance, on the horizon, I could see the outline of a single, solitary mountain, and for me, I saw the shadow of a great forest before it: my home. "Erebor—The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth."

Thorin looked at it wistfully, his face longing. "Our home."

A bird chirped and flew past, darting back and forth across the sky, and Oin spoke up. "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain."

Gandalf replied, a smile on his voice. "That, my dear Oin, is a thrush."

Thorin responded softly, "But we'll take it as a sign—a good omen."

Bilbo smiled. "You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."

I sighed and leaned against Kili, hoping against hope that the hobbit was right; that the worst was behind us, and the company gazed upon the Lonely Mountain as the sun rose over the peaks behind us, bathing us in golden light.

End of Book 1