Chapter 12: The Next Step

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The fires of the night roared behind the company as they soared upon the backs of eagles to the carrock. 

High above the river Anduin was the Carrock, a rocky eyot in the green valley.  As sun rose above the mountains one could see the path that would be taken by the company into the jaws of the dragon Smaug.

The view of the Gods, as her mother always referred to way she had seen middle earth from the mountain tops of Rohan. Saraen smiled in thought in thought of her beautiful mother, the brilliant woman who the young ranger had not seen in so long. But she pushed those selfish thouhgts aside and focused on Thorin. 

Despite having been the last member of the company to have mounted an eagle, she was the closest to Thorin after Gandalf; if anyone could help him, it was the wizard. 

The wind ripped past the faces of Dwarf, Hobbit, Dunedain, and Wizard alike, reddening their cheeks as most gripped the golden feathers below them for dear life. Saraen turned around fully and faced the rest of the company, relinquishing her already loose hold on the neck of the eagle. 

The air was thin up so high, but it was here where the mind could be clear. 

It struck her then, where was Kili?

Sharply the ranger looked over the side for the young prince, long hair tangling in front of her eyes, blinding her momentarily. 

And though it was impossible, she still feared he had been left behind. The wind carried a clear, familiar voice up to her, followed by another. It was Kili, calling alongisde his brother to their uncle. 

The weight beneath Saraen began to drop and she righted herself witha firm grip as the great bird quickly swooped downwards. 

Pain rippled across her body as she moved, reminding her that she had an open wound in desperate need of care.

Saraen looked over the side worriedly after Thorin, who was held tightly in the gigantic yellow talons of an eagle far, far below her. Unconsciously her grip tightened and the young woman's arms encircled the broad neck of the eagle below her.  It was an effort to smother the rising fear in her heart that something could be desperately wrong. And that was only rapidly increasing in size as she neared Thorin, and began to examine the damage to his body, and surely his soul.

The company joined in with their own cries to Thorin; a peoples rallying call to their king.

Thorin had suffered greatly, he had lost everything. 

His father. His home. But never his strength. Never his greatness. He had these and more. To Saraen, he was a living legend, and though he could he gruff, and unkind, he was always at heart a noble man and deserved so much more than what he had recieved. And after he got what he deserved, Saraen would personally ensure that all races of middle earth would pay their respects to the great King under the Mountain. 

He was dropped on the the flat stone surface alongside his great-sword. Somewhere in the back of her head a voice whispered..

'A warrior's death'

Gandalf joined Thorin on the rock and leaned down over him in worry and fear.

More dwarves touched down onto the carrock, took a knee, and kept their silent distance from the Wizard hovering over Thorin.   

She kept calm and as soon as she came within ten feet of the carrock she leapt down off the back of her eagle.   

"Move. Out of the way!" ordered the ranger as she cleared a path to the wizard and king.

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