Ok I just want to say how much I love the reader character's progression from "HEART EYES WHAT MAJESTIC GORGEOUS DWARVES SPARKLE LOVE" to, after like two weeks, "fuck all y'all and thorin in particular". Because like, tell me I'm wrong. I know for a fact that if I had to go through that long-ass journey, I'd get pretty disillusioned pretty quick. Especially with Thorin. I think a lot of the reasons we love our favorite characters is because we don't have to deal with them daily; shit, if I had to deal with Dean Winchester on a daily basis, I might shoot myself. But anyway.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!
The company camps on the Carrock for a little over a week, at which point Thorin makes it perfectly clear that he will be departing the next day with or without his company. In truth, you're excited to be on the road again. What lies ahead will put your behind-the-scenes scheming to the ultimate test.
To prevent Bilbo from being sent out of his way to scout, you murmur to Thorin during the descent into the forest, "Azog is catching up to us. Ask Gandalf about our destination."
You honestly don't expect it when Thorin immediately asks, "Where are we to hide from Azog?"
"There is a house...it's not far from here, where we might take refuge," Gandalf begins.
"Whose house? Are they friend or foe?"
"Neither. He will help us, or...he will kill us."
Thorin looks sharply at you. You shrug sheepishly. "What choice do we have?" he huffs.
"None. Come on! This way, quickly!"
You can hear the wargs howling much too close behind as the company breaks out of the forest and onto the plains. Up ahead is the sweet oasis of Beorn's cottage. You start to suggest a less brisk pace; surely the time saved by not sending Bilbo to scout could be used walking instead of running. That suggestion would have been a terrible one, for exactly at that moment, a monstrous black bear tears out of the trees behind the company. You're aware it's Beorn, but something about seeing a several-ton bear with a muzzle as long as your forearm coming for blood makes you less okay with slowing to a stroll. You outrun even Bombur, reaching the door first and flinging it wide open.
One by one the Dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf rush through the door. You secure it just in time for Beorn to crash into the other side. You wince as the wood groans upon impact.
"What is that?" Thorin pants.
"That is our host," Gandalf says. "His name is Beorn, and he's a skin-changer. Sometimes he's a huge black bear. Sometimes he's a great, strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overfond of Dwarves."
You suddenly wonder why Gandalf would have bothered to bring thirteen Dwarves here of all places. It was like showing up at Mirkwood and expecting guest suites. The Dwarves looked similarly confused and concerned.
"All right, now get some sleep, all of you. You'll be safe here tonight...I hope."
Beorn's home smells like fresh hay and honey. You certainly don't mind plopping down in a bale and making yourself comfortable. If the journey so far has taught you one thing, it's that sleep is a precious commodity and should be taken whenever and wherever possible. The sunlight streaming in through the high windows has warmed the hay to perfection. You drift off with ease, not even waking when Beorn enters in the middle of the night.
Kili rouses you much too soon with a cheerful, "Breakfast, Aniel!" You grumble and wear your blanket as a cloak as is your custom. A baby goat headbutts your leg gently as you make your way to the table. Its sheer adorableness wakes you up completely; you squat down to feed it hay and scratch behind its ears. Three more babies notice your generosity and flock to you for feeding and petting. You squeal with delight when one lets out a high-pitched bleat.
"The kids seem to have taken a liking to you," Beorn says from high above you.
"The feeling is mutual!" you say brightly. "Are there any more baby animals around?"
Beorn squints down at you. "You are elf-kin. Why do you travel with Dwarves?"
"Er, because I'm the black sheep of the elves? Wait - oh my god, is that a baby lamb? Ohh, lookit the baby!" You don't mean to ignore Beorn in favor of the veritable petting zoo forming around you, but he seems not to mind. He shoos the animals away so you can take a seat at the table.
The breakfast consists of eggs, biscuits with honey, and fresh goat milk. It's a humble spread that is incredibly delicious. Beorn drawls while pouring refills, "So you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"
Thorin looks up. "You know of Azog? How?"
"My people were the first to live in the mountains before the Orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family. But some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."
"There are others like you?" Bilbo asks, surprised.
"Once there were many."
"And now?"
"Now there is only one."
You wish Bilbo knew how to extrapolate just a little better.
"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn."
Gandalf nods. "Before Durin's Day falls, yes."
"You are running out of time."
"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."
"A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need."
"We will take the Elven Road. That path is still safe."
You make a face. If only Gandalf knew how wrong he is. The mention of creeping things reminds you of the giant spiders lurking in their thick webs in the high trees. You have absolutely no desire to tangle with those awful spawns of Ungoliant. You're so caught up in thought about how best to avoid the spiders that you only notice reality when Beorn's already deep voice grows deeper.
"I don't like Dwarves. They're greedy and blind - blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own."
You'd stick up for your your friends, but Beorn's not entirely wrong, so you just take another bite of biscuit.
"...But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?"
Gandalf, relieved at Beorn's cooperation, engages him in talk of ponies and provisions. You finish your breakfast and put your dish in the sink before going outside to explore the marvelous garden. Bumblebees the size of golf balls pay no mind to you as they buzz back and forth between flowers and their hives. Birds twitter in the ancient-looking trees. A family of bunnies munches on a clover patch. It's a contained ecosystem of nothing but beauty and joy, similar in some ways to Rivendell but ultimately much more wild and uncensored. You sit amidst the flowers and breathe deeply, completely at peace.
"Aniel."
"Hm?" You look over your shoulder; it's Thorin. "What is it?"
"You seemed troubled at breakfast when our host mentioned Mirkwood. Is there something I should know?"
"I'd just forgotten about it - there are spiders in Mirkwood. Massive ones. Like, the size of a small car - er, cart."
"You'd forgotten?"
"Yeah. Silly, I know - how could I possibly forget about giant, evil spiders? But given recent events, I've had a lot on my mind."
Thorin sits near you. "How does it work?" he asks, and he seems genuinely curious. "Your foresight, how does it work? Do you receive visions and revelations?"
"No, not like that. It's...well, it's more that I know giant chunks of what's going to happen."
"But how?"
"I've, uh, seen it play out. And every time I watch it, it's always the same. That's how I know that I can change fate by interfering. It's kind of exhilarating, playing god."
"But if you change one thing, how can you be sure that the rest will unfold as it's supposed to?"
You regard Thorin, impressed that he'd just nailed an important law of time travel without realizing it. "I've considered it," you say truthfully. "So far I've tried to tweak only little things that won't impact the bigger picture too much. But I have to be honest with you - after you take the throne, I have no idea what the future will hold. I mean, I'm sure it will be all good things, but as for specifics..."
"How can you be sure it will be good things?"
"Because I have faith in you, Thorin. You think I'd go this far out of my way to make sure you become king if I thought it would lead to disaster?"
He gives one of those rare, brief smiles. "Your confidence is encouraging."
"Well, when you know the future, it's hard not to be confident."
"I think of that when the road gets rough or when we are in danger. You told me once that we will all make it to Erebor, and I have held on to that."
"Thank you. That you're finally coming to trust me means more than I can say."
Thorin smiles briefly again and gets up. You watch him go, your own smile fading slowly. You wonder if his hard-earned trust in you will last when it comes for you to decide which side of the Arkenstone matter you will take.