**VERY IMPORTANT***

***NOTE!!*** I am changing Return of the King! Saruman was killed at Orthnac in the encounter with Gandalf. He never recked havoc on the Shire. So there is no Battle of Bywater, and when the hobbits return, everything is as it was when they left.

Last Time: Sam came back to himself and the guide (and his horse) were hit by lightning.

~~~~*~~~~

~*~Rivendell 3 days before Sam ‘woke up’~*~

“Well, my young hobbits, I wish you a safe return.”

“Thank you, Bilbo,” said Merry, mounting his pony in the chilly moring air outside the silent house of Elrond. “I truly wish Frodo could have been here to see you. Perhaps he shall come along later.”

Bilbo sighed, his aging shoulders slumping forward.

“So do I, Merry. Are you sure you wish to return to the Shire now? Perhaps you could stay a while and wait for his return.”

Merry sighed, remembering the conversation they had had earlier.

“I am certain. Pippin and I have been away from home too long.”

“As have we, young ones,” came the musical voice of Legolas behind him, Gimli on his heels. “But I have heard so much of the Shire, I desire greatly to see it.” He nodded towards the dwarf to continue.

“We wish to accompany you on your way home,” said Gimli, his eyes twinkling.

“You do?” asked Pippin in surprise, his mouth nearly hanging open.

“Yes. Two young hobbits need protection on such a long journey, even if they are fearsome knights.”

The small gathering broke out in laughter.

“Very well,” said Merry, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. “If you want to see the Shire, I would gladly welcome your company! Besides, Pippin and I can show you all the sights.”

“They’re nothing compared to what we’ve seen…” said Pippin under his breath.

“Now, Merry,” said Bilbo sternly. “Do you have the Book?”

Merry patted a secure leather bundle on his pony and nodded.

“I shall give it to Frodo when he returns,” he promised solemnly, and Bilbo nodded his approval.

“Off you go then,” he said, patting the pony’s flank. “Do stay out of trouble, and say hello for me to your relatives!”

“I will!” called Merry over his shoulder as the four started on their way.

“Oh! But don’t tell that to the Sackville-Bagginses!” came Bilbo’s voice. “Tell them one more year and I shall beat the Old Took! They’ll love that bit of news!”

Merry chuckled.

“I’m sure they will, Bilbo,” he said fondly, and spurred his pony on ahead.

~*~

Gandalf watched the two figures wheeling slowly in the air above him, growing ever smaller against the sapphire blue sky.

“Godspeed, Gawihir and Landroval,” he said softly to them. “May you meet with success, and two hobbits, on your mission.”

As he turned away, he chuckled softly to himself.

“Perhaps Frodo and Sam will finally experience the wonders of flying atop an eagle this time, instead of being clutched unconscious in their talons.”

~*~

~Present Time (morning we left off at)~

The man groaned and slowly opened his stiff eyelids. Agonizing pain and numbing weakness coursed through his entire body, making the slightest movement torture. But he must get up! He had to. Something was wrong. He had been trying to do something, but what had it been? His head ached too much to think.

Summoning all his courage, the man raised himself to his knees. There was his horse, standing a few paces off, staring numbly at him. He too appeared to be in pain. Laying in the burnt grass a few feet from him was his sword, or what was left of it. The blade was twisted and bent, the grip melted and still smoking.

He slowly breathed in the crisp morning air, fresh form last nightÂ’s storm. Surprisingly, his mind cleared and he struggled to his feet. He leaned wearily on his horse and shadded his eyes to survey the landscape. All was still, the Road winding dark and muddy along the forested foothills. But wait! Something was moving along the road. It appeared to be a group of horsemen.

The guide didnÂ’t know whether they were friendly or not, but he knew he must take his chances and show himself to them. Perhaps they would help.

~*~

AragornÂ’s stern gray eyes scanned the landscape, scrutinizing every aspect and detail. He was leading the search party headed along the West Road, hoping to find some trace of the two missing Ringbearers. Gandalf had rode North, and another search party had been sent to scour the North-eastern plains of Gondor.

A scout approached the King and saluted.

“My Lord,” he began, “I have found something. There is a man who wishes to speak to you. He is injured, otherwise he would have come to you.”

“Very well,” said the King. “Lead the way.”

As he and his party followed the scout, the lines of worry ceasing AragornÂ’s brow melted slightly. After three days of searching, any hint was a welcome relief. He only hoped the news would be good.

~*~

Frodo and Sam were ambling along at a steady pace when suddenly two winged figures dropped out of the sky and landed with a great whoosh on the road in front of them. Their ponies reared at the two monstrous birds, nearly throwing their riders. Sam spoke softly to his pony, and it quieted, still eyeing the eagles suspiciously. Frodo was having a more difficult time until Sam stepped in and held itÂ’s bridle, calming it with soothing words and gentle pats.

“Greetings to you,” said the largest eagle, a stately bird whose feathers were still sleek after many years. “We have been sent by the wizard you know as Gandalf who bids you return to the Shire by different means.”

Sam turned to Frodo, hoping he would answer the enourmous birds.

“Your help is greatly appreciated,” Frodo said finally. “I am Frodo Baggins, and this is Samwise Gamgee, although I presume you have encountered us already. I thank you for saving our lives. We are in your debt.”

“As we are in yours, brave hobbits,” the eagle said sternly. “We have come to carry you home to the Shire.”

Sam paled at this, but Frodo bowed low to the ground.

“Your offer is much appreciated,” he said gratefully, and began to remove the more important pieces of luggage.

“What are ye doin’?” gasped Sam, and Frodo jumped back in surprise. “Are you really goin’ to ride on them? Up in the air, miles off the ground? Have you lost your mind, sir?”

“No, I haven’t,” Frodo said softly. “Gandalf sent them, and they seem willing to carry us. Unless, you would rather walk all the way back to the Shire, sir.”

“That’s exactly my point!” exclaimed Sam. “You haven’t told me yet why you keep callin’ me ‘sir,’ you didn’t explain why we were wearin’ each other’s clothes, you’d rather fly than walk like any sensible hobbit…..if you don’t mind my sayin’ so sir, but somethin’s wrong!”

Frodo sighed deeply and hoisted two small bags up on his shoulder.

“You still don’t remember?” he asked softly, and Sam shook his head.

“Pardon me, young ones,” said the eagle, “but we must be off.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Frodo said and approached the eagle, who bent low enough to the ground for Frodo to climb onto his back and settle in amongst the warm feathers on his neck. He smiled as he watched Sam nervously climb atop the other eagle, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

The giant birds spread their gossamer wings and mightily leapt into the sky. Frodo clung tightly to the brown feathers as he watched the ground fall farther and farther beneath them, the road becoming a pale ribbon, then a thread lacing at the foot of the lofty mountains.

The eagles circled higher and higher, gaining altitude, and Frodo was glad for the warm cloak about his shoulders.

All of Rohan spread before them, and they could see many silver rivers winding across the green landscape. The purple mountains behind them formed a solid, but not impenetrable barrier at their backs as the eagles pointed their beaks northward.

“We should reach the Shire in two days,” Gawihir said to Frodo, who nodded and turned to look at Sam.

Sam was cowered down amongst the feathers on LandlovalÂ’s neck, not daring to peek out at the wonderful scenery beneath him. He had never liked heights.

“Sam!” Frodo called. “Open your eyes! Look!”

Sam slowly turned his head and cast a brief glimpse at the ground beneath him before shuddering and burrowing down again. Frodo shook his head in pity and turned back to the beauty around him.

~*~

True to his word, two days later the hobbits arrived in the Shire. It was evening, and the sun was setting when Frodo spied the first gently rolling hills.

“Sam!” he cried enthusiastically. “We’re here!”

Sam smiled back as he watched their homeland spread before them.

They flew over the South Farthing with its many farms and fields, soared over Tookland, watching the lights in the smials twinkle on, and crossed the Water on into Hobbiton, always circling lower and lower to the ground. The eagles knew if they deposited their small burdens in plain view, it would cause quite a commotion, so they set them down in a small field on the outskirts of Hobbiton and bade them farewell before soaring off again into the night.

Frodo and Sam stood quietly on shaky legs as they watched the eagles disappear, Frodo disappointed and regretful that they had to leave so soon, Sam giving thanks for finally being on the ground again.

“Well, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam as he surveyed the darkening beauty around him. “We’re back!”

Frodo nodded silently, too overcome by emotion to say anything. This was his home, unscathed by evil, preserved from witnessing the horrors of the outside world. He finally was home.

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, seeing his hesitancy. “We should be gettin’ back, sir. The chilly night air don’t do no good to one’s bones, is what my gaffer always says.”

Frodo smiled to himself at the sudden return of familiarity, and the two hobbits started for home.

~To be continued!~