A Long Strange Journey

The Return Journey

When she opened her eyes again Hannah found Legolas staring down at her with great concern. He had been holding her and calling her name to rouse her.

"Hannah!" he called again anxiously when she did not answer right away. Dazed and disoriented, she groaned lightly against a splitting headache as she stared up into the sky. The clouds were torn by the wind, and a red sunset slashed the West. Seeing the sudden gleam in the gloom, Hannah blinked while her eyes adjusted to the light. And then she saw a sight that made her heart leap, dark shapes small yet majestic against the distant glow.

"Eagles..." she breathed.

"What?" said Legolas, staring down at her and furrowing his brow with concern.

"The Eagles!" she said louder, raising a hand to point to the sky. "The Eagles are coming!" Legolas's eyes widened in amazement when he looked up and saw that she was right. The Eagles were coming down the wind, line after line, in such a host as must have gathered from all the eyries of the North.

"The Eagles! The Eagles!" they cried together. If the Elves coming up the hill could not see them they heard them. Soon they too took up the cry, and echoed across the valley. Many wondering eyes looked up as the Eagles descended upon the battlefield and swooped down upon the legions of Orcs and Goblins and war-beasts, rending them with their claws.

When Bilbo came to himself, he was literally by himself. He was lying on the flat stones of Ravenhill, no one was near. He was shaking, and as chilled as the stone, but his head burned with fire. Bilbo blinked in confusion and was just beginning to wonder what had happened, when he saw them.

"The Eagles are coming," he said aloud, gladdened by the sight, and soon became aware that similar cries were already echoing throughout the valley. "Now I wonder what has happened?" he said to himself. "At any rate I am not yet one of the fallen heroes; but I suppose there is still time enough for that!" He sat up painfully. Looking about he spotted Thorin standing over Azog's corpse a fair distance away.

Thorin had finally defeated his most hated foe. With labored breath the Dwarf dragged himself away to stand near the edge of the fall and look out upon the rest of the valley. With the death of their leaders and the arrival of the Eagles and Beorn, what the Orc legions had become panicked and disorganized, and they were scattering and fleeing the land in a hasty retreat. They had done it. Against all the odds, the Dwarves, Elves, and Men had achieved victory. In relief Thorin allowed himself to collapse. Bilbo, who was startled to see the Dwarf fall so suddenly, quickly scrambled up and rushed over to his side.

"Thorin!" cried the hobbit, kneeling down beside him. There indeed lay Thorin Oakenshield, wounded with many wounds, and his armor rent.

"Bilbo! Where are you?" gasped Thorin, struggling to look round for him.

"No, don't move! I am here!" Bilbo said, removing his ring in a hurry when he realized that he was still wearing it. "Don't move. Lie still. Oh!" he cried when he saw how grave one wound in particular was.

"I'm glad you are here," said Thorin weakly. Bilbo tried to shush him, to make him preserve his energy, but Thorin would not be silenced. "I wish to part with you in friendship." He continued.

"No! You are not going anywhere, Thorin, you are going to live," said the hobbit stubbornly. Bilbo did not want his friend to die. He couldn't bear the thought of it.

"I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me. I was too blind to see. I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril," said Thorin, choking in pain.

"No, I... I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves," said Bilbo earnestly. Thorin looked at him with a smile.