Near the Vales in Anduin, atop the cliffs of Carrock.
This was as far as the Great Eagles were willing to carry them. With a gust of wind and a final graceful dip, they gently dropped the group off and soared away into the distant skies, returning toward their mountain nests.
Eric had no idea what had happened during his absence, but judging by everyone's exhausted yet intact state, it hadn't gone too badly.
"Bilbo," Thorin said, his voice hoarse with emotion, "I once said there was no place for you among us… That was the greatest mistake of my life."
He gave the hobbit a tight, heartfelt embrace.
Eric, mildly surprised, leaned over to Gandalf. "What happened while I was gone?"
Gandalf kept his voice low. "Thorin was nearly torn apart by Wargs. He was completely spent, cornered. Bilbo rushed in and saved him."
"I see," Eric murmured.
Luck might be random, but courage? Courage is always a choice.
Eric glanced at Bilbo - then at the bulging pocket in his waistcoat. That thing…
Perhaps it was fate that the ring ended up in Bilbo's hands - part of the great song of the world. But still, no one is born to suffer, and no one deserves torment just for playing their part.
That said, Eric had to admit - Bilbo's resistance to dark magic was something else. Holding onto that cursed ring for sixty years and then choosing to let it go? That was downright heroic.
If there was a way, perhaps the burden of the ring didn't have to rot him from the inside out. Maybe, it could be stopped at the root.
One more thing to add to the ever-growing to-do list after this little trip to the Lonely Mountain.
After a short rest, the company descended from Carrock and resumed their march toward Erebor.
Several days later, across the valley…
Gandalf stood on a high ridge, his brows furrowed as he surveyed the land below. The forest's edge, the plains, and even the riverbanks - everywhere was crawling with Wargs and Orcs.
"They've sent out their entire war host," a dwarf muttered below. "Even the scouts searching for us must number in the thousands!"
"It's a full-scale mobilization!" cried another.
Gandalf rubbed his temples. His poor eyebrows hadn't had a break in days.
Just then--
"ROOOAAARR!"
A deep, thunderous roar echoed from the cliffs above. Everyone immediately reached for their weapons.
A massive bear stood there, glaring down at them, baring teeth the size of daggers.
"Heavens," one dwarf gasped, trembling. "That's the biggest bear I've ever seen!"
The bear leapt.
Eric instinctively reached for his sword.
"Wait!" Gandalf threw out an arm, stepping between Eric and the bear. "Beorn, I know it's you. Easy now. I'm Gandalf the Grey - companion of Radagast the Brown. He and I are… quite close."
The bear locked eyes with Gandalf. For a moment, the wizard's scalp crawled like it was about to peel off.
Then, the beast stepped back. Its enormous frame began to shrink, fur pulling inward, paws transforming into hands, and within seconds, a man - taller than any man they'd ever seen - stood before them.
The dwarves blinked. Rubbed their eyes. Whispered to each other in disbelief.
"He's a skin-changer," Gandalf explained. "A rare breed. His kind can take on the form of beasts."
Beorn looked down at the group, towering over them. His gaze passed over Eric and Bilbo with mild interest but paused, frowning, at the dwarves.
"Wizards, men, halflings… and greedy dwarves?" His voice was rough, and not exactly welcoming. "What business do you have near my land?"
"We mean no harm," Gandalf said quickly. "We're only passing through."
Beorn's story was a tragic one. His people - skin-changers like him - had been driven from their mountain homes by the Orcs. Most were dead now, taken, tortured, or hunted to extinction. Beorn might be the last of his kind.
And the last thing Gandalf wanted was for him to get into a fight with Eric. Especially if it led to the end of the skin-changer race entirely.
After a long silence, Beorn nodded slowly.
"I believe you."
Gandalf exhaled in relief. Thank Eru, we're not wrestling a bear today.
"And what about you?" he asked. "Why are you here, of all places?"
"Hiding," Beorn grunted. "The Orcs have been everywhere these past few days - mad, rabid. Even I wouldn't charge through them alone."
He shook his head grimly.
"Last time I saw so many Orcs was when they tried to expand north of the valley. But there's nothing left up there now - no villages, no treasure. Just dead trees. I don't understand what they're after this time."
Gandalf glanced at Eric. Awkwardly.
Eric shrugged.
"Anyway," Eric said, "we do have a common enemy. We'd appreciate your help. Together, we stand a better chance."
Beorn fell silent again, his eyes narrowing as he studied each of them. His gaze lingered on Eric for a long while. Finally, he nodded.
"The enemy of Orcs is a friend of mine. I'll help. I know a path - one they don't patrol. Travel by day, and you'll avoid most of their warbands."
"I'll keep watch," he added gruffly.
That night, beneath the moonlight, a great bear stood atop the cliff, eyes sweeping the horizon.
Inside Beorn's homestead, the company was warm, well-fed, and blissfully asleep.
Far away, an Orc scout whispered into his captain's ear.
"Chief, we spotted a giant bear near the ridge. Orders?"
The captain snorted. "It's big, sure. But not that big. Send a few more lads and we can bring it down--"
"No." The scout leader cut him off. "Don't provoke it. Go around. We've no time to pick stupid fights."
He squinted at a map, his finger tracing a route.
"Our priority is that group of dwarves. And that cursed…"
His breath hitched. Just thinking about him made his skin crawl.
"If you spot him-don't engage. Report back immediately. We'll bring the entire horde."
"Understood."
Dawn came swiftly.
Beorn offered up freshly baked honey-cakes and sweet mead. He provided sturdy ponies, pointed out a hidden path, and saw them off safely.
Meanwhile, with the Orcs unable to locate their quarry, their forces eventually scattered, confused and aimless. After a few fruitless days, they began to withdraw from the plain entirely.
At last, the company arrived at the edge of Mirkwood.
The trees stood tall and twisted, a dark, brooding canopy stretching endlessly beyond the path. This was the gateway to the Woodland Realm and a place where the light rarely touched the forest floor.
Here, the ponies were released - save for one, which Gandalf held by the reins.
"This forest is steeped in shadow now," he murmured. "Something foul stirs within…"
He turned to Eric.
"Eric, may I ask a favor?"
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Depends. What kind of favor?"
Gandalf stepped closer, speaking low so the others wouldn't hear.
"I need to confirm something. Tell me… do you know of the Nazgûl?"
"A bit," Eric said. "Servants of Sauron."
Gandalf winced.
Bilbo glanced up, startled. "Oi-Eric! Don't say his name out loud!"
Gandalf rubbed his temples. Again.
"Even without the Ring, he isn't dead. Not fully. Speaking his name can draw attention--"
"Don't worry," Eric said. "He can't exactly crawl out of the shadows and punch me in the nose."
"Still," Gandalf muttered, "better safe than cursed. Elves call him 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' for a reason…"
Gandalf composed himself. "Anyway-I suspect the Nazgûl are stirring again. I need to be sure. I'll be taking a long journey."
"You want me to come with you?"
"No. I'll go alone. But… when I return, I'd like you to join me for a visit to Dol Guldur. Something's lurking there."
Something? Eric thought. Try: the Dark Lord himself.
"Sure," Eric said aloud. "When do you expect to be back?"
Gandalf gave a rather non-precise estimate that could mean a while.
"Right," Eric nodded. "See you then."
"If anyone arrives first, wait at the gate for three days," Gandalf added.
With that, the wizard mounted his pony and departed once more.
Eric turned back to the group. Mirkwood loomed ahead.
"What did Gandalf say?" Bilbo asked, curiosity shining in his eyes. The dwarves leaned in too.
Eric hesitated. There were things they couldn't quite grasp, even if he explained.
"He said Mirkwood is crawling with dark magic. It's safer if we stick to the main road."
Bilbo nodded gravely. "Got it. Stay on the road."
"I'll be careful."