After a long night of keeping a watchful eye over his land, Beorn wearily returns to his home, slowly changing from great beast to tall man. Night after night he does this; his only company is the light winds that blow from the West, whispering in his ears, ruffling his heavy coat. Tonight it brought with it the stench of Wargs and Orcs. As he walks towards his abode, he begins to slowly change back into a man. He notices a light flickering in his home. The Dwarves he chased earlier were now resting there, no doubt stinking up the place, he thought.

Finally, he is home. Still exhausted from his long night, he breathes heavily; his large chest puffing out with each inhale. He surveys the small home for a moment, but he is too fatigued to shoo the dwarves away. A shy Hobbit pretends to sleep in the hay; he watches carefully to make sure the large man does not spot him awake. The Hobbit's gaze follows Beorn to a small room, where the tired protector shuts the door and finally rests his head.

Deep in the dungeons of Goblin Town, a creature lurks in the mucky corner. She is the last of the skinchangers alive, she thinks. She is definitely the only one still imprisoned. Naara's aggression had lead the Orcs to be rid of her as sport. The two scars on her shoulder blades were the only reminders of the wings that the Orcs had ripped away from her. Now, all she was good for was her Dragon's fire, to help build the fires that would in turn help the Goblins create the machines of great terror that they loved to make.

She had been thrown in a dungeon years ago, and only let out once a day to start the fires. Just one exhale and the entire inside of the mountain was on fire. Restrained by chains, she could never turn far enough to either side to burn those bastards alive.

He cell was guarded at all hours by a platoon of 30 or more goblins, ready with a large cauldron of cold water right above her door. But tonight, a huge commotion began. She wasn't sure what or who had entered the mountain, but it or they had slain the Goblin King and all of his subordinates were now in a confused frenzy, going after whatever or whomever it was and chasing them out of the mountain.

This was her chance. She set fire to the door, melting the iron bars that held it in place. With one swift kick, the fragile door was now a pile of firewood, slowly turning to ash. She followed the sounds of battle cries, hoping it would lead to an exit. The sounds seemed to be fading downward, so she began to carefully climb down a wall.

Once at the bottom, she began to listen carefully to know which direction to go. Once she found the direction, she lightly blew fire down a strange walkway, to make sure it was safe. After so many years in this dark mountain, however, her eyes had accustomed to the darkness. At every fork she would stop nd listen, then she would continue down the path she believed was the way out.

She began to pick up a heart-wrenching cry, like that of a child who had lost his mother at the market. As it became louder, she knew she was approaching whatever pitiful creature inhabited this part of the mountain. She noticed a skinny, grey figure, frantically running in circles on all fours. He was cursing someone named Bagginses. Suddenly, a wizard stood at the end of a walkway, urging some others to hurry towards the exit. The pale creature clung to a wall in hopes that he would not be seen.

Once gone, the strange creature began to look frustrated. At the same time, Naara thought she saw the walls of the narrow walkway become distorted for a moment, as if the wind was visible. But there was no wind down here. There was nothing down here but a creature and his solitude. Again he cursed this "Bagginses," then began his way back. She would soon be discovered so she decided to momentarily blind the creature with her fire. As the flames became too bright for him, he shielded his eyes and The skinchanger was able to escape.

She decided to get as far away from the mountain and it's recently escaped visitors. As she began to run, hiding every once in a while to avoid being seen; she came across a group of dwarves and the wizard. They were yelling at each other about where one of their comrades was. Had he been captured? Was he still alive? Did he escape?

Naara began to hear heavy breathing, but it was not her. Just then, the strangest thing happened. A figure suddenly appeared crouched behind one of the trees only a few meters from her position. He was a small person, shorter than the dwarves, with large, hairy feet. She was low to the ground and the man didn't seem to notice her. He revealed himself to the dwarves, and they rejoiced. Naara, still shocked at what she had just seen, shook it off and began to walk away quickly. She knew of a small woodsy area she could hide. It was behind the home of an old friend of her father's. He was also a skin changer. She figured his home would still be there, although he most likely wasn't. The best she could hope for was that the Orcs hadn't comeback to destroy it after capturing him.

After a long night of keeping a watchful eye over his land, Beorn wearily returns to his home, slowly changing from great beast to tall man. Night after night he does this; his only company is the light winds that blow from the West, whispering in his ears, ruffling his heavy coat. Tonight it brought with it the stench of Wargs and Orcs. As he walks towards his abode, he notices a light flickering in his home. The Dwarves he chased earlier were now resting there, no doubt stinking up the place, he thought.

Finally, he is home. Still exhausted from his long night, he breathes heavily; his large chest puffing out with each inhale. He surveys the small home for a moment, but he is too fatigued to shoo the dwarves away. A shy Hobbit pretends to sleep in the hay; he watches carefully to make sure the large man does not spot him awake. The Hobbit's gaze follows Beorn to a small room, where the tired protector shuts the door and finally rests his head.

Beorn's sensitive ears hear the light steps of a wizard slowly meandering throughout the house. He hears the door open, then creek closed. Refreshed from his nap, he decides to get up to follow the wizard to better understand the reason for the intrusion.

Outside, Gandalf, the Grey wizard, strolls over to the ponies, greeting each one with a gentle pat and a "good morning." Beorn approaches the cheerful wizard. Gandalf turns to look at Beorn, having to look up, for the wizard was barely more than half his height. "Good morning, Gandalf. Did you rest?" he asked, genuinely.

"Oh, yes. Can't complain. We have been on the road many weeks now; there isn't always a comfortable plce to sleep once dawn approaches."

"Right. About your… ergh… company," began Beorn.

"I assure you we will not need but a few days to rest. I do hope you will allow us to."

"I suppose I do owe you a favor for helping me so many years ago."

"Great! Then shall I help with breakfast?"

"No need. Just ask your dwarves to wash at the waterfall. Just follow the path bordered by the blue tulips." With that, Beorn began his morning chores while Gandalf woke the sleeping dwarves from their much needed sleep.