The Hobbit: The Desolation Of Smaug.
Fan Fiction.
Chapter 4; What Do You Need?
I woke several hours later, bedded down beside Bilbo in a heap of straw, to the sudden sound of movement. It had been the most fitful sleep I'd had in days, and the sudden noise ripped me from pleasant dreams and had my heart racing in an instant.
I could feel Bilbo stir beside me, the noise having snatched him from sleep as well. I turned gently towards the noise, my eyes darting around the room as my fingers searched through the straw for my knife. I always slept with my knife.
I half expected to find one of the Orcs stumble into the room, axe in hand and ready to cleave through our skulls while we slept. The sight that greeted me was not what I expected.
I choked back the gasp and watched as Bilbo tensed at the sight.
A man, well I assumed it to be a man, thought he was far larger than any I'd seen before, stumbled into the room bare chest-ed and breathing heavily, as thought he'd just run for miles.
He was tall, his head nearly scraping the ceiling and built like a bear. His hair was long and tattered, matted together, though not particularly dirty. His beard was much the same, dropping down to fan across his chest.
In the darkness, it was hard to focus on his features, to discern any details about him, but as his eyes flashed across the room, taking in the sleeping Dwarves, I saw a firm intelligence glinting in their depths.
He huffed at the sight of the Dwarves, before lumbering off to what I assumed to be his bedroom.
I let out an almost silent sigh in relief as he disappeared, Bilbo tuned at the noise, shifting around on the straw until he faced me, wide eyed and very much awake.
"Who do you suppose that was?" Bilbo whispered.
"It must be the Skin-changer Gandalf spoke of, Beorn I think his name was?" I murmured in response, slowly prying my fingers from the stiff blade by my side.
"Well, he's most certainly large enough to be a bear..." Bilbo mumbled, his eyes flickering over his shoulder briefly. "Do you think he will let us stay with him?"
I sighed. "Well, he hasn't thrown us from his house yet, so I think if Gandalf speaks to him, he may take us in for a while... although, he has yet to meet the Dwarves, I wouldn't set my hopes too high." Bilbo chuckled lightly. "Now, get some sleep," I said, shifting further down under my coat and into the warm straw, the familiar tug of exhaustion beginning to lace my lashes together once more. "We don't know how long we'll be safe; better make the most of it while we can."
And with that I let sleep pull me under and blind me to the world.
I woke once more to the peaceful light of morning and a steady hum in the air.
My eyes snapped open as something light and fury landed on the tip of my nose. I gasped in shock, a bizarre squeak slipping through my lips at the sight of a bee, as large as my thumb nestling itself down across my face.
I sat up sharply, startling the bee to life and sending it speeding off across the room. I sat for a moment, staring around myself and trying to still my pounding heart.
Most of the Dwarves were now awake; I could hear the gentle rumble of conversation, drifting over from the dining table.
I sighed as my heart rate settled, and glanced over at Bilbo, who lay sleeping soundly beside me. I thought it best not to wake him; he'd looked so tired of late, deep purple etched beneath his eyes. I stood slowly and tip toed over to the dining table, plucking straw from my coat and sliding it back over my shoulders.
The Dwarves were deeply engrossed in their food this morning. It seemed Gandalf has spoken with Beorn, for as I neared the table his large form loomed across a few Dwarves, pouring milk into their tankards and setting plates of food out onto the table. He was being the most gracious host, considering we had invaded his home, and spent the night without his permission.
In the daylight I could see his face clearly. His dark eyes sharp and bright, almost hidden under the mass of hair sprouting from his head and eyebrows, his beard was thick and left little of his face visible, that which was, was marred by deep scars. I shivered slightly at the sight, recognising them from the blackened snout that had threatened to tear into our little company the day before.
I seated myself beside Fili, muttering a 'good morning' to the table and stifling a yawn behind my hand.
"Good morning, my dear." Gandalf smiled, passing me a plate of cold ham. I returned the smile and quickly began piling the meat onto my own plate, my stomach growling loudly at the sight.
"Milk?" The gruff voice startled me. I looked up into the dark eyes of Beorn and nodded timidly.
"Yes please." I murmured, suddenly feeling like a child under his stern gaze.
Beorn fetched an empty tankard from a cupboard and poured the milk, setting it down beside my plate.
"Thank you." I squeaked, reaching eagerly for the drink, a sudden thirst scratching at my throat.
For a moment, I thought I saw the briefest of smiles warm his eyes, but in an instant the look was gone and he turned back to his remaining 'guests'.
I was near finishing my first plate of ham when a deep chuckle sounded beside me. I glanced up to see both Fili and Kili smirking at me.
"What?" I asked, suddenly very uncomfortable under their gaze.
Fili reached forwards towards me and plucked a long strand of straw from my hair, presenting me with it as his smile grew.
"The straw is a good look for you." Kili said, attempting to hide his smile. "You should try it more often." He winked at me then and I let my face fall into a look of distaste.
Fili and his brother chortled loudly at me.
"How very clever." I grumbled, plucking the straw from Fili's hand and launching it across the table at his brother, it hit him straight between the eyes, bounced back and landed dead centre of his plate of food.
The grimace that twisted his features sent both Fili and I into a fit of laughter.
Beorn passed the three of us, offering more milk to his guests as Bilbo appeared at the table, smiling sleepily. Beorn's gravely tone hummed through the room as he began to fill Fili's tankard.
"So you are the one they call Oakensheild." He rumbled, turning away from the table. My eyes lifted from my plate to find Thorin sat against a carved supporting pillar, arms crossed and surveying his table of Dwarves almost warmly.
He turned to face Beorn, as the man continued.
"Tell me, why is Azog the defiler hunting you?" Beorn prowled around the table, his brows furrowed, as the Dwarves stilled, suddenly wary.
"You know of Azog?" Thorin murmured, his face twisting at the name. "How?" he asked.
"My people were the first to live in the mountains." Beorn began, pacing once more. "Before the Orcs came down from the North." Beorn stared out across the room, his eyes now distant and deep in thought. "The Defiler killed most of my family... but some he enslaved." My eyes dropped, noticing for the first time the heavy iron manacle shackled to his left wrist. I felt my face fall in horror at the thought, Bilbo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, casting me and uneasy glance from across the table.
"Not for work, you understand." Beorn continued. "But for sport... caging Skin-Changers, and torturing them, seemed to amuse him." Beorn continued pacing, turning to glare at Thorin and then fill Ori's tankard.
The entire room was silent now, everyone sat in in discomfort as they listened.
"There are others, like you?" Bilbo asked, his small voice shattering across the table.
"Once there were many." Beorn replied, turning from the table once more. I could hear the sadness, and barely repressed rage boiling in his voice.
"And now?" Bilbo asked, shifting in his seat, his large eyes peering up earnestly at Beorn.
"Now, there is only one." Beorn set the jug of milk down, taking a moment to calm himself. "You need to reach the mountain, before the last days of autumn." Beorn began again, seating himself at the table.
"Before Durin's Day falls, yes." Gandalf said, he sat across from Beorn, smoking his pipe calmly. As the conversation lifted the Dwarves began to move again, starting on their food once more. It was possibly the thought of the journey that spurred them into eating again.
"You are running out of time." Beorn stated.
"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood." Gandalf replied.
"A darkness lies upon that forest. Foul things creep beneath those trees." Beorn warned, his eyes flickering across the company. "There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there. Except in great need." Beorn's eyes darkened.
"We will take the Elvin road." Gandalf supplied, smiling reassuringly. "That path is still safe."
"Safe? The wood Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise and more dangerous."
I watched as Thorin rose from his seat and began to pace behind the table.
"But it matters not," Beorn continued, his eyes fixed to Thorin's back.
"What do you mean?" Thorin asked, turning to face the man.
"These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot." Beorn's voice dropped. "You will never reach the forest alive."
I froze, the fear gripping me with icy fingers. I could feel the twist of nerves deep in my stomach once more and found that I had quite lost my appetite.
Beorn rose suddenly from his seat, eyes fixed to Thorin as he stalked forward.
"I don't like Dwarves, They are greedy, and blind," A sharp squeak sounded, I glanced down in time to see Nori push a small mouse off his sleeve, it dropped to the table suddenly. "Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." Beorn picked up the mouse gently, staring down at the creature with gentle eyes as he continued towards Thorin. "But Orcs I hate more!" His growl was vicious as he stared down at Thorin. "What do you need?"
Hope rose in my chest, bursting with a great warmth at Beorn's words.
Moments later we were packed, fully stocked with supplies and saddling ourselves up on Beorn's ponies.
"Go now," Beorn called. "While you have the light. Your hunters are not far behind."
We set off, racing from Beorn's house and out across the field, over hills and through sparse woods, not daring to stop, the itch of fear prickling down our spines again and forcing us to push further and faster in the little daylight we had left.
A day's ride found us at the edge of what I assumed was Mirkwood. It's dense trees curled and twisted together, creating a wall of gnarled branches. It seemed to span on for leagues, the further edges of the forest disappearing into darkness.
Mirkwood, certainly lived up to its name.
We pulled our horses to a stop in front of the trees, it was surely impossible for the ponies to travel through the dense forest. We watched as Gandalf dismounted, and stepped cautiously into the trees, eyes darting around himself.
"The Elvin gate..." I heard him murmur. He turned then, back to the company. "Here lies our path through Mirkwood." He called.
"No sign of the Orcs," Dwalin called, "We have luck on our side." He finished triumphantly and swung himself off his pony.
Gandalf's eyes darkened, his eyes flitting behind us to land on something far in the distance. My head snapped round, catching the briefest glimpse of a large black shape, disappearing from view.
"Something tells me, it has nothing to do with luck." I murmured, sure Beorn had followed us.
"Set the ponies loose!" Gandalf called. "Let them return to their master."
The company leapt down from their horses, gathering their supplies and hefting what they could over their shoulders.
"This forest, feels sick." Bilbo stated, staring tentatively out at the looming trees. "As if a disease lies upon it." I had to agree with Bilbo, it felt as though something sinister lurked in the depths of the forest, eyes seeking us out from the darkness. I shivered. "Is there no way around?" Bilbo asked, almost pleadingly.
"Not unless we go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south..." Gandalf murmured, his voice trailing off as he stepped further into the forest.
Bilbo looked uncomfortable, his hands falling to his sides and into the pocket of his vest to play with something.
I arched an eyebrow. Bilbo seemed distracted and on edge, his brow furrowed deeply as his fingers turned something small in his pocket. I saw the briefest flash of gold and stepped forward, when suddenly Gandalf barrel out of the forest, calling to Nori who was about to set free his horse.
"Not my horse! I need it!"
The company turned to Gandalf, mumbling in confusion.
"You're not leaving us?" Bilbo asked in disbelief.
"I would not do this, unless I had to." Gandalf grumbled, peering down at Bilbo solemnly. The others grumbled in agitation. I watched a tense look pass between Thorin and Gandalf before the Dwarf sighed and turned back to his comrades.
Gandalf turned to Bilbo, giving the Hobbit a rather strange stare. "You've changed Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same Hobbit as the one who left the shire." I wasn't quite sure if he meant it as a compliment or not, but something told me his words were not to be taken at face value.
"I was going to tell you," Bilbo burst, his voice cracking slightly. "I... found something in the Goblin tunnels." Bilbo fidgeted under Gandalf's stare.
"Found what?" Gandalf asked, examining the squirming Hobbit closely. Bilbo paused for a moment, his hand still in his pocket. "What did you find?"
"My courage." Bilbo choked out at last, dripping his hand to his side. Something struck me as peculiar about his reply. Somehow it didn't seem honest.
"Good. Well that's good." Gandalf murmured straightening once more, an uncertain look in his eyes. "You'll need it." Gandalf turned and strode towards his horse, dismissing Bilbo. "I'll be waiting for you at the over-look, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe." He ordered, then turning to Thorin "Do not enter that mountain without me." He warned. Gandalf started towards his horse and began settling his supplies back into place. "This is not the Greenwood of old." Gandalf continued. "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind, and lead you astray..."
"Lead us astray?" Bilbo murmured, his features twisting with worry and confusion. "What does that mean?"
I shrugged my shoulder in reply.
"You must stay on the path, do not leave it. If you do," Gandalf hauled himself up and onto his horse, staring out at the company. "You'll never find it again."
I shivered, unsure if it was due to the cold or the threat of imminent death.