Chapter 7

"There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man."
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

Barrel riding gave Pam very mixed feelings.

Despite a terribly abrupt start that wasn't too soft on her injuries, once they had all managed to pop their heads out of their transport they were greeted with a rather heavenly view of the river banks and open air. Pam was close to tears; she half doubted that she would see anything but the Carrock Fields and the dense, sick trees of Mirkwood. She could hear the shouts of surprise and triumph as the dwarves worked out how to steer themselves.

There was even something merry about the whole thing; Pam found herself grinning widely between the wincing of their sharp ride, finding herself drunk on their fantastic escape.

Of course, it didn't continue to be quite so easy.

She wasn't sure of who began shooting at them first, but hails of familiar black arrows and light beech ones attack the sides of the barrels, almost toppling many of the Company over into the waters. She herself held herself inside the barrel, lucky enough that the wood was thick enough for protection as she almost took off several times into the air. After the second time of falling below the water level, she involuntarily vomited, choking on the river water that drove into her nose and mouth. Some sort of rock had hit her eye at one point so now she was partially blinded again.

Everything was a blur.

Somehow Kili had been separated in an attempt to open the gate that would allow them to escape further down the river, but at that point both orcs and elves were close enough to burst from the foliage and attack in close combat. Pam's barrel became stuck in the middle of the others as the water pressed then against the iron bars, and she shrieked almost inhumanly several times as their attackers tried to reach them. A body of an orc fell on top of them at one point, but Dwalin had kept the corpse off her with a great heave of disgust.

As soon as Kili managed to push down on the lever, the gate was tugged open and the company was forced down down the river again. Much to Fili's joy his brother managed to roll back into his barrel, and as soon as they spread out again Pam found that Bilbo was hanging on to the rope of her barrel, but barely. She tried to pull him in with one hand, but in a panic Bilbo clenched his fingers into her wounded shoulder, and with a scream she lost her grip. The current pushed both of them out of the barrel.

Bilbo had the good fortune to get a grip on Balin's barrel, but as he whipped his head around, he couldn't get a glimpse of Pam. The latter was not so lucky. The river was cruel towards her, dragging her below the barrels of her companions so that the their chaotic bobbing was impossible for her to dodge. The metal rim of Bofur's barrel slammed down onto her temple, and with that, everything went black.

There must be some heavenly guide on her side, Pam would think in hindsight. She awoke in a coughing fit, sand and river water dribbling down her mouth. She rolled over and groaned. Everything hurt, again. Her ears were blocked and she thought she might have a headache strong enough to make her bleed. Her shoulder was in agony. She began to uncontrollably shiver, clinging to her wet clothes and wiggling around on the bank to retain some warmth.

With a nasty crack, one ear popped and she became away of the sound of battle still ongoing, and far too close. Pam blinked her eyes open, keeping them in narrow slits to keep out the morning sun-

It was already past dawn, meaning that Beorn was certainly already here!

Despite being in what she would class as agony, Pam had no intentions of getting caught again. Taking several deep breaths, she propped herself up with her good arm, hissing as her hip seemed to be bruised as well. Marvelous, she growled. With another moment to prepare herself, Pam rocked onto her knees, then stood on wobbly legs into a crouch. She look around where she was. She could faintly see small figures upstream growing closer, and with the veil of Mirkwood to her back, Pam began to gingerly run further downstream, staying within the first line of trees to stay hidden. She could not for the life of her spot the Company, she realised with dismay, and what was worse was the heavy chill in her bones. If she wasn't careful, she'd get sick.

A yell of pain far too close for likely came from behind her, and without thinking she ran further into the forest to become more hidden. She tripped over every root, barely standing upright as fear overcome her complaining body. An arrow nicked the skin of her neck. She screamed in terror, her instincts of runrunrunrunflyflyfly-

And without hesitation, Pam erupted in a mass of yellow feathers. She flapped as hard as she could to climb over the lower branches until trees hid her. Unlike her last flight, Pam stayed below the open air, navigating around the forest as best as she could. Several times she misjudged distances with her sharper eyes and slammed into unforgiving bark. The forest seemed to endless continue until at long last all she could hear was the wind whipping around her, the battle lost behind.

She slowed, knocked into the side of another trunk then flew higher to get a better view. She had gone quite the distance, she tiredly noted. The Elven realm was far away, and she could make out Lake Town, and with much greater ease the Lonely Mountain. Suddenly she dipped, then caught herself steady again. Pam needed to find a place to rest, as much as she wished to find the Company again. Beorn would have trouble finding her scent after travelling by river riding and by flying, but she couldn't perch in just any old tree in Mirkwood. The other birds were unlikely to gossip and give Beorn clues, but you never knew.

Pam looked ahead, finding that the land between Lake town and Mirkwood was either part of the river or farmlands and meadows. Beorn would easily get her in the open plains, but he would be hesitant to swim a great distance in the river, surely? At the same time however, she felt terribly weak and cold. Pam knew the winter alone could kill you, and as stubborn as she was, she wondered if dying was really worth her adventure.

I'm only dead if I don't warm up quickly. Find warmth, then move on! With that thought in mind, Pam flew further towards a dock at the mouth of Mirkwood, landing in several rather embarrassing roles. She whimpered as she changed back into her human form, again quite naked and wet on the timbers of the dock. She eventually stood again. There were no ships, but recent muddy tracks told her that someone was likely here earlier, maybe even the Company. There were several crates and barrels on the side, turning out to be filled with nothing valuable, but to Pam they were gold.

It seemed that sailors had left a small store of clothes along side a small sack of dried meat and tar for their boats. She grabbed several tunic to pull over her head after using the first to rapidly rub all over her body, dancing up and down to retain some warmth. Again she chose to wear several pairs of the first trousers she found, then some large damp boots and a torn up sail that she tied like a cloak around her. Shortly after finding her hair was soaking her back again, she wrapped more cloth around it like a turban, grabbed the sack of meat and ran as quickly as she could into the tree line again.

Still shivering, but slowly calming down after eating several pieces of meat as she ran, Pam was getting ready to find a spot to rest when she was tackled from behind. The air was knocked out of her, but by the time she had begun to struggle the figure on top of her hand roughly pulled her arms behind her back. She screamed loudly as her injured shoulder was pulled yet again. There was a rough laugh echoed by several words in a sharp language she had never heard before.

At that moment, Pam realised with horror that she had been caught by the pack of orcs.