✧

𝔗𝐡𝐞 𝔇𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

Naerien sidestepped the snapping jaws of a warg and sliced down with her blade, ending its life before it could end hers. Only she, Thorin, Bilbo, and Mithrandir had weapons to defend themselves and the others, so they stood in between their new enemies and the dwarves. Well, Bilbo had been shoved behind Thorin and had been ordered to climb a tree, so he wasn't much help (even though he wanted to be). They had been chased to a large, open clearing that ended sharply and plunged into another valley far, far below them.

They held the line as best they could as the others scaled the trees with surprising agility, then turned and fled up trees of their own. Up into a slender fir went Dwalin and Balin, while Fili and Kili had ascended a tall larch tree, climbing nearly to the top as they observed the action down below. Oin, Gloin, Dori, Ori, and Nori had found safety in a large pine tree nearby, high enough to be saved from the snapping jaws of the wargs. Meanwhile, Thorin had jumped up behind Bifur, Bofur, and Bomber, blade still out as he swiped at any creature that jumped up to get at him. Mithrandir had scaled a pine of his own rather quickly, being considerably taller and more able to climb than the others. Naerien had followed after him, finding refuge in the green pine needles a few branches below him.

If she were a safe distance away, the she-elf would have laughed at the sight of thirteen dwarves hanging among the branches of the trees. They looked peculiar, their thick boots and beards sticking out of the green leaves and pine needles.

But Bilbo was still on the ground, attempting to rip his small blade from the skull of a dead warg. His blade had been buried up to the hilt, much to the horror of the half-ling, and now he was trying desperately to get it free.

"You've left the burglar behind again!" She heard Nori shout to Dori, who argued that he couldn't be looking after the hobbit all the time.

"Bilbo!" The she-elf cried, climbing down the tree as he finally freed his blade and noticed that the rest of the wargs were upon him. He dashed toward where he heard her voice, looking up but unable to reach even the lowest branch. So she jumped down and hoisted him up as quickly as she could. Once she was sure he was safe among the branches of the pine, she sheathed her sword and pulled herself up.

Before she could get safely out of reach, the warg closest to her jumped before she could get out of its range, clamping onto her foot and dragging her down. She lost her grip for a moment, letting out an agonized shout as pain exploded through her foot. Her fingers dug into the bark of the branch she had managed to catch and she grit her teeth.

"No!" Bilbo shouted, drawing his sword and hacking at the wargs muzzle. It yelped, releasing her foot and dropping to the ground. She let out another cry of pain as she hoisted herself up higher into the tree, resting just below the wizard and next to the half-ling.

Now they were all safely out of reach of the wargs, who were jumping and snapping and scratching away at the lower branches. Naerien's left foot throbbed with pain. She gripped onto the trunk of the tree, staring down as her boot filled with blood and dripped down to the ground. The red liquid seemed to be taunting the wargs, who circled their tree hungrily, licking up the blood whenever it dripped to the ground. Bilbo kept glancing down at the beasts and back up to the she-elf worriedly, knowing that asking her if she was alright would be pointless. He could clearly see the pain upon her pale face.

She gave him a poor attempt at a reassuring smile, but it faltered immediately when another wave of pain shot up her leg she grimaced and dug her fingers into the branch.

It was then that fire suddenly erupted within the center of the warg pack. It had come from above Naerien's head, so she looked up and saw that Mithrandir was setting pine cones ablaze and hurling them down upon the wargs. He dropped one down to Bilbo and to Fili and Kili, who were nearby. Naerien grabbed one that fell into her hands and lobbed it down, hitting a warg — the warg that had bitten her — square on the muzzle. It howled in pain, recoiling from the flames.

The she-elf didn't usually approve of revenge, but she would admit it felt good. The fire jumped to life, spreading from the pine cones to the grass and to the warg's pelts. The ones caught on fire fled yelping and howling into the forest or rolling around to extinguish the flames.

The fire had scared off the creatures, driving them back from the trees they were hiding in. Unfortunately, the wargs were no longer the only threat that they faced. A cheer erupted from the dwarves, but it didn't last long.

From Naerien's perch, she could see a yellow glow lighting up the trees, approaching from the mountains. The air was soon filled with excited shouts and cries, turning into a sick sort of hunting song.

Goblins...again.

Under the cover of darkness, they had poured from their mountain tunnels, wild and angry as they tore through the trees in search of the prey that had escaped them. The goblins were soon upon them, surrounding the trees and joining in with the wargs. For a long time, the wargs and the goblins had been in an alliance, going on raids in the night and attacking the Woodmen who resided on the Edge of the Wild.

Goblins were surprisingly intelligent, stamping out most of the fire around the clearing until only the flames closest to the trees they were sitting in were alive. They gathered up dead brush and pine needles, feeding the flames until they were roaring, snapping, and licking at the lowest branches that hadn't been clawed off by the wargs. Unlike the wargs, the goblins were far from afraid of fire and they used the flames to their advantage. Smoke rose into the trees, blinding them slightly and preventing them from escaping at all. Not that they could before, seeing as in one direction were the wargs and goblins and the other was an immediate drop.

To make matters worse, the goblins began taunting them, singing a terrible song as they danced around the flames:

"Sixteen birds in five fir trees,
their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!
But, funny little birds, they had no wings!
O what shall we do with these funny little things?
Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot;
fry them, boil them and eat them hot?"

Raucous laughing erupted from the vile creatures as they watched the dwarves, hobbit, wizard, and elf in the trees. Smoke made them dizzy and the heat was starting to affect them. It was only a matter of time before the goblins and the wargs would kill them all.

"Naerien," Bilbo called lowly, drawing her attention from the goblins to the hobbit. He was staring at her side — her sword, more specifically. She looked down, following his gaze to the small gap between the hilt of her blade and the scabbard. Blue light glowed steadily from the elven metal, causing a flare of panic to shoot through her stomach. As if just to make sure she wasn't imagining it she lifted the sword out of the scabbard slightly. Still, it shone as steady as a full moon.

She looked back to Bilbo, who was staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. "Orcs."

✧

During the first week of their journey after leaving Rivendell, Balin had once asked Naerien about her elvish blade. She had explained to him that she had crafted it with her own hands nearly three thousand years ago. She had specifically crafted her blade to glow in the presence of orcs, just as Bilbo, Thorin, and Gandalf's blades shone when goblins were near.

Thorin had the Great Goblin's disgusting voice ringing in his head as the blue shine of her elvish blade caught his eyes. He had initially believed that the Goblin King had lied, spoken falsehoods to aggravate him.

The son of Thrain no longer believed that.

Through the smoke and flames, a terrifyingly familiar figure emerged, stepping up to stand atop a boulder that sat embedded in the earth. Azog the Defiler met the furious and astonished gaze with a satisfied look. The dwarf prince had tried his hardest to kill him, earning the name "Oakenshield" in the process. But he had failed to avenge his grandfather. He had failed to kill one of his greatest enemies. He had failed.

"Azog!" He shouted, his rage building up to the point where he could not hold it in.

The Pale Orc spoke in the tongue of his people and only Mithrandir and Naerien could understand what he said. He was speaking mainly to the other orcs that had come with him, but he never took his eyes off of Thorin, enjoying the rage on the dwarf's face. "Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thrain."

"It cannot be," Thorin breathed, bewildered and confused. He had been so sure that Azog was dead. But here he stood, astride a white warg, looking overjoyed at the prospect of being able to finish Thorin off after so long.

Azog commanded his kin to attack the dwarves, their own wargs somehow more terrible and more violent than the ones before. They collided into the trees, avoiding the fire as they slammed their bodies as hard as they could against the trunks. The closest trees, which held Kili, Fili, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin amongst their boughs, started to fall over, their roots breaking free from the earth at the sheer force at which the wargs attacked them. The two trees collided into each other, falling against another, then another, until each tree had been uprooted except for one, which all of the dwarves had to flee into. That tree, too, after a few moments, started to sag and crack under their weight, slowly leaning over the edge of the cliff.

Ori lost his grip and fell, causing Dori to fall right behind him. He let out a scream for help as he shot down. Mithrandir dropped his staff lower, giving the two dwarves one final handhold before they could fall into the dark abyss of the forest below. Barely hanging on by its roots, the tree shook as it landed on its side, condemning most of the dwarves to dangle over the edge.

The goblins, having been the ones to summon the orcs in the first place, withdrew into a semicircle out of the way of the orcs. They watched with evil, glittering eyes, entertained by the events that unfolded before them.

Thorin, in his rage, had leapt from one of the falling trucks, drawing his glowing sword and challenging Azog. From the ground, he picked up one of the goblin's wooden shields, and no matter the horrified calls from his kin, he did not turn back.

"What is he doing?" Naerien demanded incredulously, gripping the thick branch that was her only lifeline. "He will get himself killed!"

Thorin charged the white warg through the flames, but he wasn't prepared. The beast lunged, knocking him to the ground well before he could swing his blade. Azog and the warg rounded the fallen dwarf prince with a laugh and lunged again, grabbing him by the middle and crushing his ribs. The heir of Erebor was shaken like a rag doll, shouting out as teeth embedded into his skin, drawing dark blood.

"Thorin!" The she-elf screamed, trying to push herself up, only to have pain drag her back down. He had saved her life, but when he needed it most, she couldn't return the favor.

The warg tossed him to the ground and the others could only watch as Azog commanded one of his orcs to bring him his head.

Then, she saw that the hobbit had climbed out onto the trunk of the fallen tree and had drawn his own sword. It blazed with a small blue glow as he steadied himself. The courage of Bilbo Baggins shocked the she-elf. The half-ling had scrambled through the branches, running across the cracking tree trunk and all-but hurling himself at the orc who had lowered his curved sword to a nearly unconscious Thorin's neck. His small blade embedded itself deep into orc flesh, killing the monster as soon as it was withdrawn. Bilbo stood as the only line of defense between the orc pack and Thorin, holding his blade out threateningly.

Strength filled the dwarves, who had been inspired by the bravery of their hobbit. They hoisted themselves to their feet, rushing the orcs to defend their king.

But not all of them had the strength to rush to Thorin and Bilbo's aid. Naerien had attempted to lift herself up again, but her grip slipped and her heart leapt into her throat. She let out a shriek as her fingers missed the branches and she fell into the open air, the tree she had fallen from slowly getting smaller in her vision.
She felt as if she was in limbo, with the cold air rushing around her uselessly flailing body. Everything was a dark blur as the ground got closer and closer.

And then she wasn't. There was a jerk as something closed around her middle and lifted her into the air. Naerien blinked, gasping as the adrenaline felt like it would make her burst. It was then that she realized that she was resting safely in the massive talons of an eagle.

Now that her mind had caught up to what was happening, she could see that a large group of giant eagles had come to their rescue. Whether they were in the bird's talons or riding on their backs, the dwarves, Mithrandir, and Bilbo had been rescued. She could see the forest edge alight with orange flames and the furious orcs, goblins, and wargs that could only watch as they were flown away.