"I will hold you to that, Thorin Oakenshield, and you will suffer my wrath if you lie," I said in jest, and halfheartedly added, "You may let go- I assure you, I will not fail." I dropped from the low-hanging limb onto the ground in front of Thorin. "See? I am certain even Dwalin could not knock me down," I remarked.
"Now that would be something I would laugh at seeing- a little imp against the scourge of the Enemy."
"I will refrain from being insulted," I grumbled, and playfully shouldered past him. I stalked over to Gandalf's side, and watched him transform smoke rings into birds. My smile grew when the aforementioned became badgermoles and a playful fire ferret. "Thank you, Gandalf," I murmured, looping my arm through his and resting my head on the curve of his shoulder.
"It doesn't have to be only Bilbo's job to miss home," Gandalf said gently, "There's no shame in being homesick, Lyra."
"It's not about missing home- it's about not being able to help these people- to help my friends," I protested, "I want to help them, more than anything."
"And you will- and you already have, Lyra," the wizard assured me. He snuffed out his smoking pipe, and stashed it away in the pock of his robes.
"Gandalf, are you…are you a firebender?"
"What gave you that inclination, my dear?"
"When we were trapped in trees- you summoned fire."
"Ah, now that was merely a trick I learned years ago," Gandalf dismissed with a wave of his hand, "Think no more of it, for I cannot teach you."
"Gandalf," I murmured, "We cannot keep travelling like this- we need supplies before we reach the Greenwood."
"We shall stay in the only house that remains west of Mirkwood," Gandalf announced to the company.
"Friend or foe?" Thorin grumbled.
"Neither. He is very great person- you must all be very polite when I introduce you to him. Take care not to anger him, or heaven knows what will happen…he is quick to anger."
The only person that reminded me of Gandalf's description was Beorn. A large man who I had visited many days in my childhood, and had not in the recent years. He was gentle- when it came to the company of animals- but he possessed an unknown past.
At the company's further inquiries, Gandalf explained our potential guest, "If you must know more, his name is Beorn, and he is a skin-changer."
"A furrier- a man that calls rabbit conies, when he doesn't turn their skins into squirrels?" Bilbo asked me lowly.
"Good gracious, no, no, NO-NO! Don't be a fool, Mr. Baggins, if you can help it. Beorn changes his skin- sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong man with huge arms and a great beard. I cannot tell you more."
"He calls the ford the Carrok, for it is the only one of its kind near his home, and he knows it well. Some say that he descends from the great and ancient bears of the mountain before the giants came. Other, like myself, believe he is a man descended from the first men who lived before the goblins came into the hills out of the North. He, like Radagast, keeps to the company of animals- and he is not the sort of person to ask questions of prying nature," I told the eager dwarves, and shot several chiding looks.
"And how did you come by this?" Balin inquired.
"I would visit him as a child, he told me wonderful tales and taught how to ride a horse," I answered fondly.
"At any rate, he is under no enchantment but his own…come along, we still have a great length ahead before we reached Beorn's home," Gandalf dismissed and led us on.
I drew away from the group and dug my feet into the earth. I reveled in the thunder that rumbled beneath me as I summoned forth a current of earth to carry me ahead of my companions. "I am going to look ahead- to make sure none of the Enemy overtook us!" I called out in reassurance, and vanished from their sight. Nothing in the soil or air spoke of ill-intent as I journeyed across the Wilds. I brought my means of transport to an end, and ducked into the line of trees at a jog. Jagged indentations ran across the expanses of several trees, and as I ran my fingers over them- I realised that they were caused by claws. I drew back slightly, momentarily overcome in my apprehension, before I steeled myself. I lifted one foot high in the air, and then brought it crashing down against the ground. The vibrations traveled far around me, giving me the hypersensitive sight of seismic sight to take in the surrounding cluster of trees. Nothing amiss was present, and thus satisfied I made my hasty return to my comrades.
"Did ye see anything?" Dwalin demanded as I came sprinting into view, "Did anything see you?"
"No- there's… nothing," I panted, and gave Bifur an appreciative smile when he handed me his waterskin.
"That was incredible, Lyra," Ori mused.
"Twas nothing," I belied sheepishly, and wiped away the sweat that clung to the back of my neck. I held my wild mass of curls off of my neck and gave Bilbo a breathless smile before I took another generous pull from Bifur's waterskin. "Thank you," I murmured, and gave it back to him.
"It was nothing," the usually silent dwarf replied.
"It was something to me," I assured him.
"You speak Khuzdul?" Fili exclaimed.
"Why didn't ye tell us?" Glóin added.
"It's hard to explain…I cannot speak the languages of this land, but I can understand them."
"I will teach you how to speak it," Bifur announced happily, the metal shaft of the axe in his head glinting in the sunlight.
"I would like that very much."
The further we walked, the hotter it became. We would huddle beneath the shelter of trees to escape the summer sun; at the aforementioned periods of repose, I could hear poor Bilbo's disgruntled stomach. The times we did rest, it was not long after that Gandalf would summon us all to press on.
"Just a little ways further," I said to Bilbo under my breath as we trekked onward.
"The dragons- tell me of the dragons you lived with," Bilbo panted.
"Their names were Ephraim, Shelagh, and Thraa. Ephraim glittered with the stars dotting the infinite darkness of his scales, and would tell me dragonlore as I fell asleep. Shelagh was patient with me for my shortcomings, the smallest of the three and emerald green. Thraa terrified me at first- and still does, in his own way…he is red like the skies just as the sun rises on the horizon- the brief, intense blood red before it fades to pink. He protected all of us with a fierce loyalty- he even considered me to be his kin."
"You speak fondly of them- you must miss them," Bilbo remarked.
"I do, but I couldn't stay with them forever…" I spoke in a half-truth.
"Look!" Óin shouted, pointing to the great patches of flowers we found ourselves immersed in.
I smiled at the sight, and breathed deeply. The scent of honey from the wide stretches of clover gently assailed my senses. The cockscomb clover melted into purple and then back again; the sight of the unblemished, lively earth in the midst of such tempest was like a balm. "His bees!" I announced gaily.
"If one stung me," Bilbo worried, "I should swell up as big again as I am!"
"They won't harm you unless you have warranted their wrath," I mused, chuckling faintly as one flew languidly past me. The drones were larger than the size of Dwalin's thumb, even, and their bands of yellow shone like the fiery gold in the forges of Erebor.
"We are getting near- we are on the edge of his bee-pastures," Gandalf announced, which caused a wave of good cheer to settle in us all.