Talessa ran as fast as she could. She heard branches breaking behind them, the wargs' growls growing closer. She tried hard to focus on the terrain ahead, but it was difficult to spot the protruding roots, loose stones, and holes. She kept stumbling, her skirts tangling around her legs, but Ýrdor was there, pulling her upright and dragging her along when she faltered. Eline, faster and stronger, had already gotten ahead, and Talessa was infinitely relieved for that. The sun was sinking fast, and the trees' thick foliage filtered out what little light remained.
Sounds of fighting reached her from up ahead, and she heard Gandalf's voice commanding them to climb the trees. Everything felt distant. Then she fell, hitting the ground hard, trying to brace herself with her hands. A beast's growl rumbled above her, and as she rolled onto her back, she was met with the sight of a warg's enormous fangs. Its foul breath hit her, and before it could bite, a flash of movement appeared in the corner of her eye—Ýrdor was upon the beast, his sword slashing through its side with practiced ease. But another warg was already attacking him.
Talessa scrambled to her feet, backing away in fear. She saw a third warg approaching behind Ýrdor, this one with a rider on its back. Before she could shout a warning, the rider—a cruel-looking orc—thrust his sword into Ýrdor's back. Frozen in shock, Talessa watched as the elf fell to his knees, his eyes hollow. The orc turned his gaze to her.
Panicking, she spun to flee but ran straight into a blue-gray warg, its fur lighter than the others she had seen. Dread filled her as she looked up to meet the eyes of a pale orc. His face contorted into a malicious grin.
"Look at what we have here," he sneered in the common tongue, his accent thick and twisted. Before Talessa could react, the orc hauled her up onto the warg, holding her tightly.
"And who might you be?" he asked mockingly, ripping her veil from her head to scrutinize her face. He let out a harsh, cruel laugh before tossing the veil back onto her.
"The half-elven lady of Rohan," he said, and all the blood drained from Talessa's face. Does he know her somehow?
She squirmed, trying to break free, but the orc's grip was unyielding. They began moving forward, and in the distance, she could see more wargs circling trees, trying to climb and leap. The dwarf company was barely holding on.
"I killed your parents, girl," the pale orc continued, his voice filled with malice. "They came too close to my den, so I ripped them apart. I'll never forget your mother—such beauty. But she screamed so harshly when I finished off her husband. You look just like her." He leaned in and took a long, revolting sniff of her neck. "Your fear smells just like hers."
Talessa barely registered his words, her world spinning. The image of her parents, their eyes weeping blood, filled her vision. She had a sinking feeling they'd tried to warn her of this all along. If she had stayed at home, none of this would've happened. Eline would be safe. What would Eline's parents think if their daughter never returned? What would the household think?
"I will keep you," the orc said, his voice dripping with malice. "Once I've finished with this dwarf scum, I'll take you to Weathertop Hill. It'll be a pleasure to break your pretty face... slowly. Until you beg for death."
Talessa turned her head away, numb, catching the scent of burning wood. She realized the dwarves had only one tree left, hanging at an odd angle over a cliff. The fire held back the wargs for now. She counted the dwarves and felt a sliver of relief—they were all still alive.
Eline's frantic scream pierced through the battle, calling her name. Talessa spotted her friend, clutching a branch of the tilted tree. But before she could respond, the pale orc spoke again, this time in Orkish. Though she couldn't understand his words, she realized he was addressing Thorin Oakenshield. It hit her then: this orc was Azog, the one who had killed Thorin's grandfather and her own parents.
Thorin stood on a branch, his expression blank for a moment, then shifting into one of furious determination. He charged Azog without hesitation.
The pale orc hurled Talessa off the warg's back. She hit the ground hard next to a burning log, her head spinning. She heard the clash of steel and watched in horror as Thorin was struck in the chest by Azog's mace. The dwarf fought back, but he was too injured, and the warg tossed him aside like a rag doll. Talessa winced at Thorin's pained cry and the desperate shouts from the dwarves still in the tree.
An orc footsoldier approached Thorin, weapon raised, but just as the dwarf reached for his sword—too far out of reach—a small figure leaped onto the orc, knocking him off balance. It was Bilbo. Talessa stared, stunned, as the hobbit plunged his blade into the orc's chest. Bilbo stood protectively over the fallen Thorin, raising his sword toward Azog.
Before the orc could attack, the dwarves let out a battle cry and charged the remaining enemies.
Talessa tried to stand, her legs too weak to carry her, so she crawled towards Thorin. Reaching him, she leaned over him, looking for injuries. His face was bloodied, but there didn't seem to be any mortal wounds.
"Tessie!" she heard Eline shout through the chaos, reaching out from the branch. Talessa was about to move when a screech echoed overhead. She looked up and saw giant eagles descending into the fray. Fear clutched her—had more enemies come?
But the eagles attacked the orcs and wargs instead. Some of them swooped down and gently lifted the dwarves into the air. Talessa moved aside as one eagle carefully picked up Thorin. She grabbed his shield before another eagle came to take her away as well.
They soared over snow-capped mountains, lush forests, and rivers glinting in the morning sun. The great eagles finally set them down on a tall, narrow cliff, then circled once before disappearing into the horizon.
Gandalf rushed to Thorin, kneeling beside the unconscious dwarf. He muttered softly in a foreign tongue, his hands gently placed on Thorin's chest. To everyone's immense relief, Thorin stirred and slowly opened his eyes.
"The women?" Thorin asked, dazed. "The halfling?"
"It's all right," Gandalf assured him, his voice steady. "They're here. We all got away."
Dwalin and Kíli helped Thorin to his feet. Still unsteady, he glanced toward the two women sitting nearby, their arms wrapped around their legs, their dressed thorn and dirty. Eline's face was filled with visible relief. Talessa's expression was harder to discern, her tattered but still intact veil obscuring her face.
Thorin's gaze shifted to Bilbo. He strode toward the hobbit, his face a mixture of disbelief and awe.
"What were you thinking?" Thorin asked, his voice stern but softened by the weight of recent events. "You nearly got yourself killed! Didn't I say you were a burden? That you had no place among us?"
He paused, taking a breath before continuing. "I have never been so wrong in all my life."
He meant the words wholeheartedly. The hobbit's bravery and commitment touched him deeply and he embraced the surprised halfling. The company erupted into cheers and laughter at the sight, their spirits lifted.
But then, as if on cue, a hush fell over the group. Thorin followed their collective gaze and froze. There, in the distance, standing proud and resolute against the horizon, was Erebor. The Lonely Mountain.
Thorin's breath caught in his throat. His eyes filled with longing as he whispered, "Our home."
It was so close now. Soon, they would reach it.
Talessa sat in silence, her thoughts heavy with the revelation about her parents. She hadn't told Eline. She tried, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she let her friend hold her hands, reassuring her that the worst was behind them and that they would soon be safe. Talessa wanted desperately to believe her.
"I assume the elf didn't make it," Thorin said solemnly as he approached them. Talessa stood, facing him.
"No," she replied softly, her voice small. "He didn't."
Thorin's hand twitched, as if he wanted to offer comfort, but he stopped himself. His eyes fell to the object she was clutching tightly to her chest. It was his shield—the one made from the trunk of an oak tree and reinforced with mithril, the nearly impenetrable metal his ancestors had discovered long ago. He had thought it lost in the chaos of the fight.
"I... I thought you wouldn't want to leave this behind," Talessa said, extending it toward him.
Thorin took the shield, strapping it onto his back. But then, in an uncharacteristic moment of impulse, he reached for Talessa's hands, lifting them gently to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low, still holding her hands.
"You're hurt," Talessa whispered, her fingers brushing softly against the bruise on his cheekbone.
"It's nothing," Thorin reassured her, his grip tightening on her hands as his thumb gently stroked her exposed wrist. "Dwarves heal fast. It'll be gone in no time."
Eline's eyes met Fíli's as they both tried not to stare at the exchange between Thorin and Talessa. She raised her eyebrows at him, wordlessly asking what was going on, but he only shrugged, indicating he had no more idea than she did. Thorin had never struck Eline as caring or gentle, yet now he seemed almost gentlemanly, holding Tessie's hands, conversing in low tones. Whatever this was, she hoped it would work in their favor, especially now that they were without a guard.
Tessie had told her how Ýrdor died—fighting, trying to protect her. Eline could see the guilt in her friend's eyes, the weight of self-blame. But she knew it wasn't Tessie's fault. Ýrdor had been loyal, bound by his master's orders to protect them until his last breath.
Eline thought back to how simple this journey had once seemed, their only discomfort being long days of riding. But then they were swept up into the dwarves' dangerous quest. Despite the fear and uncertainty, Eline didn't regret it. A part of her even enjoyed the thrill. She had grown fond of many of the dwarves, and she only hoped their leader would be kind enough to allow them to continue traveling with the company.
The dwarves were preparing to set off again. To her delight, Dori still had his backpack full of dried beef, biscuits, and apples, handing out portions for the day. Eline was feeling the effects of their meager rations, and she longed for a proper meal. Whenever they reached their destination, she hoped they would be welcomed with a feast. She thought sadly of their lost belongings. Aside from a small kitchen knife, a handkerchief, and a bag of gold coins in her pocket, all she had were the clothes on her back. She knew she will never hear the end of it when good old Bertra hears about their misadventure. Not to mention her parents and her little brothers. Oh, how he missed them!
Eline worried about Tessie too. The veil on her head was torn and battered, and she knew it was only a matter of time before it fell apart. And then, what would they do? It was something she had never pressed her mistress on. Tessie had always been reasonable and understanding, but the veil was one thing she never seemed able to let go of.
She glanced over at Thorin, now giving orders to his men. Eline remembered how he had convinced Tessie to reveal her face back in the cave. A thought crossed her mind—perhaps Thorin might be the one to help Tessie with this burden. For a moment, she considered talking to him about it, but then she hesitated. The dwarven king surely had more pressing concerns than their personal troubles.