Author's Note: The idea for this story came last year when I was rereading LOTR and I noticed that someone mentioned Beorn's children. I thought about that for a minute, and realized that that meant he must have had a wife. And so this story happened. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 1
Along the dark borders of Mirkwood forest, a small girl moved.
She held a basket on her arm, and she glanced back into the trees as she went, her feet making very little sound in the underbrush. She turned back, and the sun struck her full in the face.
She stepped forward, grinning. Surely the world outside the wood couldn't be more dangerous than the world inside, with its threat of spiders and confusion! Not with this gloriously warm sun on her face, and the soft grass beneath her feet! She dropped to the ground and slipped her shoes and socks off, leaving them sitting in the shadow of the trees.
She took another step forward, and was fully out of the shadow of the forest. A great field spread out before her and she had the sudden urge to run. She dropped her basket with a giggle and took off across the grass, her skirt, dirty and torn, whipping about her ankles. She spun around and dropped to the ground, laughing so hard that tears spilled down her cheeks. Now she could go back and tell her father that the outside wasn't so bad!
She stood and dusted herself off with a sigh. She supposed she should gather the herbs that she had been sent for now, or her father might never let her go alone again. The sun shone on her back as she turned to the dark, old wood again, and she just stood there, enjoying the feel of the grass on her feet for a moment longer. She could never go barefoot in the wood. One never knew what strange creatures may lurk in the underbrush, or what thorns may lie in wait along the path.
A strange sound rolled across the field behind her, and she whirled around, her basket clutched tightly in her hand. A shadow moved near the edge of a small copse, its head raised in a roar. She stood, rooted to the spot.
It was the form of a great bear.
Her eyes wide, she watched as it stalked across the waving grasses and disappeared back into the trees. It emerged again and paced back across the field, its head low, growling.
It was a bear! A real bear!
Oh, this was truly an adventure!
It disappeared into the shadows again, and she just stood there for a moment, waiting anxiously for it to reappear. The minutes passed, and finally she turned back to the wood with a sigh.
A shadow moved behind her and she whipped around again. The form of a great, tall man strode out of the trees and away across the fields. Her mouth dropped open and she hugged the basket to her chest.
And then she was running.
She careened back into the wood and through the through the trees, the cool air tearing at her lungs. The basket swayed on her arm and smacked her in the side over and over, but she couldn't care less. She had seen a skin-changer! A real, actual skin-changer! Oh, what would her father say to this?
She skidded to a stop in front of the little cottage, wrenched open the door and fell inside.
"Father, father!" she cried, but there was no answer. She looked around, and saw a note sitting on her father's desk. She approached it, and a figure appeared in the doorway.
"Father!" she cried, and ran into his arms. He lifted her from the ground and swung her in a circle, setting her down with a chuckle.
"Now," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I suppose I am to assume that you have only just arrived back from your little herb-gathering expedition." He glanced at the door. "For I know my little Ara would never be so imprudent as to simply leave the door sitting open, unprotected."
She nodded solemnly. "Yes, father," she said.
"And what herbs did you gather?"
She glanced at the basket, still empty. "Um."
He looked down.
"And where are your shoes?"
"Father?" The flickering of the fire filled the darkening room and Ara sat by the flames, her feet hanging off the edge of a stool.
Shadows danced across her father's face as he bent over his desk, writing. "Yes, my dear? What is it?"
"Have you ever seen a skin-changer?"
"Skin-changer?" He lifted his head from his work and set his pen down on the table with a clunk. "They don't exist. Not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that they were killed years ago—all of them. Why do you ask?"
"I—" She looked at his haggard face, and his hand, sadly touching the pen that had been her mother's. "I was just wondering."
"Very well." He turned, and shadows hid his face again. "You may return to your wondering."
It was well Ara had another pair of shoes. They were old, dirty, and worn out from years of trekking through the wood, but at least they fit. Somewhat.
Her father wouldn't let her venture back out the get her shoes—not in the dark of night. And she knew well enough not to ask him to get them himself, for he hadn't approached the edge of the wood since before she could remember. And so she was forced to wear her old ones that night.
But she knew where she was going the next morning. The minute the sun, or what could be seen of it in the wood, peeked its face in the window, she was out of bed and running into the kitchen, slipping on her dress and her old shoes as she went.
"I'll gather herbs today, father," she said, bouncing on her toes and grinning up at him.
"I wasn't aware of the fact that we needed them," he said, and she thought she saw just a hint of a smile around the corners of his lips. "I was certain that yesterday's errand would have supplied us enough for a week, considering how long you were gone." He spoke the words in a teasing manner, but Ara looked away, feeling a tinge of guilt. She knew he worried about her.
"I—" She looked at her feet, feeling a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Well—"
He set a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You want to get your new shoes back," he said.
She looked up at him with a smile. "Yes," she said. "And I forgot the herbs, anyway."
He handed her the basket. "Well, go on," he said, giving her a teasing push toward the door. "I'll have breakfast when you return."
She stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, father!" she cried, and she was out the door in a flash.
She ran through the wood, her feet crunching on the leaves and her basket swinging wildly. She must have made a terrible noise, but just now she didn't care. She burst out into the bright morning sunlight, looking down, and grinned. There were her shoes and socks, sitting just where she had left them the night before. She picked them up and plopped them in her basket, and stepped fully out of the shadow of the wood. She looked out over the field and saw nothing.
Setting her basket beside her, she sat down. How long did she dare wait? Her stomach growled and she put a hand over it as if to silence it. Surely the bear would appear again today!
The sun moved farther up into the sky, and the last vestiges of sunrise were burned away. Ara glanced back at the wood. Her father would be worried about her, she knew. She looked one last time out over the field, and into the grove of trees.
No presence graced her field of vision, and there was no movement but the waving of grasses in the wind.
With a sigh, she turned, and walked back into the forest.