Chapter 11
"Master Oakenshield!" Bilbo breathed, a little confused and apprehensive. "I- Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" he said, jerking away from the king when he saw the pained grimace the dwarf sported and rubbing his face to hide the tears with a mortified blush.
Beorn scowled and straightened, glaring down at the dwarf from his impressive height.
"Master Dwarf," he greeted, and Bilbo had to give him some credit; the disdain in his voice was quite tempered compared to the outbursts the company's mere mention usually provoked.
The king's expression darkened at the tone, and he sneered. "Who are you? Why are you here?" he snapped, and swept Bilbo aside to glare at the skin-changer. The hobbit staggered, but righted himself quickly, glancing back at the king with furrowed brows. The gesture wasn't as mean as much as it was slightly protective, and poor Bilbo was understandably gobsmacked. The temporary confusion, however, was dismissed and forgotten by way of the rising indignation Bilbo felt at the rude ungratefulness the king had addressed Beorn with.
Even if Beorn had started it. Yes, Bilbo was a little biased. He didn't feel guilty about it either.
"This is Master Beorn, and you'd do well to thank him," he interjected testily. "He did come to your rescue."
The dwarf jerked as if slapped, and he rounded on Bilbo. "What?"
"I said he tried to save you, so stop being rude to him!"
The king's lips clicked shut before he could spit back an answer, likely an insult in the making. He visibly swallowed back his anger, gritting his teeth as he eyed the hobbit for a long moment. Bilbo was simply amazed. What odd behavior.
"Master Burglar," the dwarf enunciated carefully, "I should think I would have noticed a man of his stature... helping us."
Bilbo cocked his head to the side. He didn't know? Then again, he wouldn't, would he? The king likely lost consciousness not long after Azog's attention had left him, and even if he had been awake, Beorn had not shifted until the dwarves were far ahead, so they may not have seen. Now Bilbo felt a little bad for not explaining properly, but before he could open his mouth, Beorn beat him to it.
"Idiot dwarf," he snorted, and Bilbo had to clamp down on the urge to smack the back of his head for acting like a petulant fauntling.
"Master Beorn is a skin-changer," the hobbit interrupted, not wanting Beorn to rile the king further. "He can shift forms and become a bear. He was the one that attacked the orcs."
The king's eyes widened. "Skin-changer?"
Bilbo nodded and the dwarf's gaze darted back and forth between him and Beorn, at a loss.
"Master Radagast left me at his house, so I was Beorn's guest for these past weeks."
"That's right," Beorn chimed in happily, reaching for Bilbo and drawing him close to ruffle his curls. "We had a lot of fun, didn't we, little Bunny?" he said, sending a razor-sharp smile at the king over the oblivious hobbit's head.
Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, wargs and orcs and a lot of sword fighting," he mumbled, only half-joking.
"You said it," Beorn crowed, and the hobbit realized the above were, in fact, what made Beorn a happy bear.
Meanwhile, the king stood in place as if rooted, observing them quietly. He cleared his throat and smoothed his dark expression with much effort, as far as Bilbo could tell from the pained process. The dwarf really was acting rather strange. All the self-control had to have hurt.
"Master Burglar," he began, "if I may have a word?"
"You already had much more than that," Beorn muttered, but Bilbo ignored him.
"Of course," he answered, wondering what this was about. He shot Beorn a warning glare that had once upon a time caused Lobelia Sackville-Baggins to stutter, and stepped away, limping further so that the king and him could have some measure of privacy. Whatever he had to say better be fast, because those injuries he had sustained needed attention, and Beorn had to be checked and probably stitched up as well. Bilbo very much hoped Master Oin would be kind enough to help his friend, if only-
"I am in your debt."
-because of the assistance... Bilbo blinked. "Um, what?"
The king exhaled in frustration. "I am indebted to you. You have saved my life," and here, he sounded as confused as Bilbo himself felt at the moment, "and risked your own. Such an act is befitting of gratitude."
Bilbo tried very hard not to gape. 'Why not just thank me then?'
When no verbal response was forthcoming from the hobbit, the king continued. "I will do my utmost to repay you in any way I can."
Bilbo shook his head to clear it.
Well, this was quite a shock. Though the magic words never actually left the proud dwarf's mouth, Bilbo was stunned enough by the allusion alone. Was this why he kept acting halfway decent? And Bilbo just had to nearly die for it to happen.
The hobbit didn't know if he should laugh or give in to the bitterness bubbling under the surface.
Either way though, he felt some correction was necessary.
"Master Oakenshield," he said, "I don't think such gratefulness is warranted. I did not do much at all. Truly, it was Beorn who did all the work. A sorry savior I proved to be indeed - I just drew that orc's - Azog's - attention to myself and nearly got killed if not for the bear coming to my rescue. Nothing praise or even note-worthy." 'And poked out the fiend's eye,' he added silently with a shudder, rather wanting to forget the matter altogether.
The king shook his head stubbornly. "It is the intention and the bravery of the act that matters. You have... surprised me."
If it was the intention, why hadn't Bilbo received this honor before? He had been of the belief that he had proven himself with the trolls, so why now? The hobbit was mystified.
"Even so, I do not require any payment from you. I have not acted on such dishonorable expectations, Master Oakenshield," Bilbo finally decided to say, instead of arguing his case. If nothing else, the time spent with the company had taught him to lay low and weather their opinions quietly, because change their minds they would not, regardless of sound reasoning. Or of raging. Or sulking.
"You may call me Thorin," the dwarf cut in with a twitch in his eye.
Bilbo nodded doubtfully. "Very well, Thorin," then added, "and I am Bilbo," because it was only polite to return such sentiment.
The king made a jerky nod. "Bilbo." He shifted a little. "In any case, this is a matter of honor. You have done me a great service."
The hobbit sighed. 'Dwarves!' he thought in resignation. 'Whatever. He can do as he pleases.' If he continued treating Bilbo like a honest member of the company instead of an annoying insect, the hobbit could live with his stubbornness, without problem.
The king - Thorin - nodded again, more decisive this time. He spun on his heels and began to make his way back to the rest of the dwarves, who, as Bilbo finally noticed, were casting interested glances in their direction while whispering amongst themselves. Some, like the three youngsters, were watching him with big, shining eyes as if he was one of the Valar embodied. Bilbo quickly jerked his gaze away. This kind of attention was not something he could ever remember receiving before, and it was more unsettling than anything else. The hobbit had no idea how to deal with it. Ignoring them seemed like an excellent course of action.
Gandalf towered over all in the background, staring into the distance with a thoughtful mien. Bofur caught his eye and waved happily, bounding over with a large grin on his face, while Bombur stayed behind but inclined his head with a quirk of his lips.
Bilbo waved as well, glad to see his friends again, and whole, too, but then remembered to tell Thorin before he got too far, "Oh, and Master Beorn really is much more deserving of gratitude. Without his help, the company would have doubtlessly been overrun."
Thorin froze for a second, his spine rigid, then continued on regally without looking back, passing Bofur on the way. Bilbo shook his head. Going by his own example, the dwarf would probably sooner chew his own hand off than act civil to Beorn. Amongst the proud race, it seemed to be a widely accepted opinion that outsiders had the cooties, and were to be ostracized and avoided at all costs.
"Bilbo!" Bofur said when he reached the hobbit, drawing Bilbo in for a hug. This dwarf was an exception of course. The hobbit returned the gesture with a smile.
"It's good to see you, Bofur."
"I'll say! You had us worried, getting carted off by that mad wizard!" he said in a chiding tone. "Have you healed? How's your throat?" The dwarf didn't wait for answer. "And then dashing to Thorin's rescue like a shining knight! How you managed to survive that, I'll never know. I was composing your funeral song as I watched! Mad, I say! Brave too, but mad. You gave me quite the scare!"
Bilbo chuckled. "I honestly don't know what I was thinking myself!" he said. "But I'm fine, Bofur. Beorn has taken good care of me. Come, I'll introduce you." He dearly hoped Beorn would not insult the dwarf. Bilbo had told the skin-changer about Bofur, and the man didn't seem as antagonistic at his mention as with the other dwarfs. If he acted stubborn about it, the hobbit could always kick him in the shin. It wouldn't do for Bilbo's friends not to get along.
So the two trudged back towards Beorn, who was now sitting on the rocky ground with his legs stretched out, humming and staring at the sky. One arm was hanging limply at his side, and the bloody gashes decorating his body stood in stark contrast to his alarmingly pale complexion. Concerned, Bilbo limped a little faster.
"Beorn?" he called tentatively.
The man looked at him with a smile. "Hm?"
"I brought my friend, Bofur. The one I told you about."
Bofur chirped a happy "at your service," and Beorn only hesitated for a second before returning the greeting in kind, if a tad less enthusiastic. Relieved, Bilbo scooted closer, plopping down beside him, Bofur following suit. The hobbit cleared his throat.
"There's a healer among the company; Master Oin. Would you please let him examine you?" he asked quietly, hoping against hope Beorn would put aside his distrust of dwarves for the time being.
Of course, the skin-changer scoffed. Bilbo wanted to scream, 'Look at you!', but it came out as a harrumph when Beorn reached over to pat his head.
"I don't require a healer, little Bunny. My injuries mend on their own fast enough. I'll be right as rain in a few more hours," he said. "I look a great deal worse than I actually am. Once I wash the blood off, there will hardly be any evidence of a fight. I am touched though. Thank you for worrying."
"Truly?" Bofur asked curiously. "Gandalf told us you were a skin-changer. Do all of your kind heal so quickly?"
Beorn's eyes narrowed, but he answered easily enough. "I am alone, Master Dwarf, but yes, my kin all had this ability," he concluded succinctly. Bilbo winced, wishing the toy-maker had picked another subject. "Bunnies, on the other hand, are not as blessed," Beorn said, nudging Bilbo. "You were bitten by that creature, weren't you? You don't want those wounds to get infected. You should go show that healer of yours," he suggested, then added sulkily, "I would take care of them myself, but I don't have any of the necessary herbs to make a poultice."
Bilbo grinned at the tone, resolutely ignoring the pang in his chest at the mention of Gollum. He nodded agreeably when Beorn shot him a glare. "Will do," he said, glancing up to search out the healer. His eyes lit up with mirth when he spotted the aged dwarf bullying his king out of his armor, so that the wounds could be accessed and treated. "I will go to him once he finishes with Master Oakenshield."
Bofur sniggered beside him. "Aye, never get between Oin and a patient."
Beorn only sniffed, but the hobbit saw his mouth twitch from the corner of his eye. Bilbo rolled his eyes. Of course Beorn would enjoy Thorin's suffering at the hands of overzealous healers.
- FM -
About an hour later, with all injuries inspected and treated accordingly, and sharing what remained of rations for a quick meal, the company decided to head off the Carrock, as Beorn called the huge rock, and take shelter at the skin-changer's home. Beorn was not at all happy with the idea, but he grudgingly agreed in the end. After all, Bilbo wasn't about to leave the dwarves behind, and his friend was thus forced to accept the ragtag bunch if he didn't want the hobbit out in the open alongside them.
The journey to the house took a whole day, and tension in the company increased by the minute. Many a time warg-howls were heard, and Bilbo was also quite worried about an attack. When it had been just him and Beorn, they were able to outmaneuver the scouts, but it was much harder with such a large - and loud - group. Also, the back of Bilbo's neck constantly prickled as if he was watched. The poor hobbit felt uncomfortable enough perched atop Beorn's shoulder while everyone else was forced to walk, but the skin-changer would hear none of his protests, and led the way with the small hobbit held up securely. It was embarrassing, and the stares from the company behind them crawled over Bilbo's skin like a living thing.
It was quite dark by the time they reached Beorn's gates, but the company - even Gandalf himself - seemed amazed by the beautiful garden, as well as the large horde of various animals that came to greet the skin-changer. Bilbo could hardly wait for them to catch sight of the bees on the morrow.
When they stepped into the house itself, Beorn immediately directed the dwarves to stray piles of hay Bilbo knew was usually occupied by some of his friend's goats. His reproachful glare earned him an innocent look.
"Come now, little Bunny. You know I don't have enough beds for them."
Bilbo scowled. "Can't you at least get them fresher piles? And what about Gandalf? - Don't look at me like that, I know you have another spare bed. And the king is injured. He could get an infection!"
"Pish," Beorn said, waving a hand. "Dwarves are hardier than other folk. This won't even faze him."
"Getting his ribs crushed by a mace, then having a warg bite through his shoulder won't faze him?" Bilbo snapped back incredulously.
"Correct," Beorn drawled with an uncaring shrug.
Bilbo grit his teeth. "He can take my bed then. I can sleep with the rest of the company."
At that, Beorn actually scoffed. 'The nerve!'
"Silly Bunny. The dwarf will be fine. You, on the other hand, will get your wounds infected if you don't keep them clean." When Beorn saw Bilbo's glare had not subsided, he heaved a huge sigh. "Fine," he said reluctantly, "the old goat's friend can have the spare bed." Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "And I'll provide some fresh hay and give them clean blankets."
Bilbo nodded in satisfaction, then shot Beorn a sincere smile. "Thank you. I know you don't like their kind, but please try to tolerate them. I will have to stay in their constant company for a long time yet, and it won't help matters if my friend antagonizes them."
Beorn shrugged. "I will not promise anything, little Bunny."
"That's all right. All I ask is for you to try," Bilbo said, patting the man's arm, which had indeed healed by then, just like the skin-changer had predicted it would.
Beorn grinned. "That I can do." Then he yawned, not bothering to hide it behind his hand. "Go get cleaned up, Bunny. I will prepare dinner."
The hobbit raised a brow.
"And have one of my children fetch hay," Beorn quickly added. He always referred to his beasts as such.
Before the man could disappear into the kitchen, Bilbo called out, "Thank you again! For everything."
- FM -
"There's no meat. Why isn't there any meat?" Ori complained mournfully, staring at the table leaden by warm, freshly prepared food. There were eggs, butter, cheese, bread, steaming pans with vegetable stews, honeyed nuts and fruits, and yet all the dwarves looked close to tears at the sight. Bilbo frowned, upset on Beorn's behalf for their ungratefulness. He would have thought that after such an experience, the company would be happy with a warm, delicious meal to fill their bellies and the good wine their host had - however grudgingly - served. Even Bofur appeared displeased!
"Master Beorn does not eat meat," Bilbo snapped lowly, hoping the skin-changer hadn't heard the exchange. "Neither is anyone allowed to hunt on this land. Stop grumbling and be grateful for his generosity!"
As opposed to other times Bilbo had shown his displeasure with the dwarves in the past, the company all quieted,their attention riveted upon their burglar. They didn't say anything, but their reactions weren't outright negative either.
"The lad is right," murmured Master Balin softly at last, breaking the awkward silence, then turning to Bilbo. "We meant no offence to your friend, Master Baggins. I'm afraid we are just a little disappointed. We have been looking forward to a good meal after these past weeks."
Bilbo tilted his head in confusion. "Did the elves not feed you?" he asked incredulously. The company didn't look starved. Then again, if what Beorn said was true, of which Bilbo had no doubt, dwarves could weather poor conditions much better than other races. "You have been at Rivendell, have you not?" the hobbit added in a baffled tone. The valley was often called the 'Last Homely House', and from what Bilbo gleaned from his books, the elves there were very welcoming and generous. It didn't make sense for them to starve their guests.
Bofur chuckled. "Aye, fed us they have. But living on leaves, I sure came to understand why elves all look like sticks stuck on legs!" The company laughed uproariously. Even the stoic king's lips twitched at the corners.
"Oh, well... Oh." Bilbo didn't really know what to say to that. So he bit into his honey-and-butter bread, humming thoughtfully while Beorn came to join the table. The skin-changer sat at the head, right beside Bilbo, and began piling his plate with boiled eggs, unconcerned by the sudden silence his presence caused. Bilbo decided to end the awkward fidgeting and blatant staring of most of the dwarves, and asked about what they had managed to learn from Rivendell's Elf Lord.
"That, ah-" began Bofur, but the king cut in with a suspicious glance at Beorn.
"This discussion is best left for later."
Bilbo's forehead crinkled. "But-"
"No need to hold back on my account," Beorn said with a full mouth. Bilbo suppressed a wince at the sight. "I will be accompanying you anyway."
Everyone gaped. Even Gandalf's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Beorn, I don't think..."
"Ridiculous!"
"Awesome!"
"What!?"
"Master Beorn?" asked Gandalf, raising his voice over the cacophony.
The skin-changer shrugged, shooting Bilbo a grin. "Little Bunnies need chaperones when dealing with dangerous wild beasts."
"Are the woods dangerous, then?" piped up Kili, and his brother swated at his head.
"I don't think he was talking about animals, dear brother."
"What?" Kili blinked in confusion. Then his face fell. "Oh."
Beorn bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, which was swept away as soon as Thorin opened his mouth.
"No."
Beorn leaned back in his chair lazily, his eyes half-lidded. "Hm?"
"We don't need you. This is our mission, something important to my people-"
"Ah, Erebor, right?"
Thorin snarled, his angry gaze already on Bilbo. The hobbit shrank into his chair. "You-"
"I am not stupid, Master Dwarf," Beorn cut in. "The Bunny didn't have to say anything for me to figure as much. There have been whispers about the dragon, Smaug, how he hadn't been seen in sixty years. Many greedy eyes have turned to the mountain alongside your own, and it is unsurprising to learn of such a quest." Thorin was about to reply, but Beorn continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Of course, you'd know the dragon isn't dead," he said, this time to Gandalf. "Such creatures are known to slumber away centuries. I do wonder why an upstanding Istar as yourself would support this foolishness."
Gandalf stared back at Beorn sternly. "I have my reasons."
"Naturally. The orcs have their reasons as well. Sauron had his reasons."
The wizard's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying, Master Beorn?"
"Have I implied anything?"
Bilbo wanted to bash his head into the table. "Beorn, please!"
The skin-changer stared at Gandalf for another endless moment, but when Bilbo surreptitiously kicked his knee, he shot the hobbit a mock-wounded look, and pouted like a child. The tense atmosphere so broken, Bilbo cleared his throat.
"You want to come along, Beorn?" he asked, honestly not understanding. "I thought you- well, didn't you just say you disagreed with the quest?"
Beorn scoffed. "What care I for their idiocity? I just have to make sure you don't get dragged down by them."
Thorin huffed. "My decision stands. You shall not come with us. You are not a dwarf."
"Neither am I or Master Gandalf," Bilbo pointed out logically, despite his uncertainty on the whole matter. Although he had to admit, the prospect of Beorn there to keep him company was not a bad one at all. He had never had a friend such as Beorn before. He felt closer to the skin-changer than to any hobbit back in the Shire, which was odd, considering they had only known each other for a month or so. Perhaps it was the shared danger they have experienced? Bilbo definitely treasured Beorn's protectiveness, even if it was stifling on occasion. Never had anyone placed so much importance on his well-being, except for his parents. By Yvanna, the man was now willing to face a dragon for Bilbo! And the hobbit felt the same towards him. Also, the blunt nature was definitely a shock, but the hobbit had gotten used to the frankness Beorn displayed, and trusted him all the more for it - so different from the good-mannered masks the Shire's residents wore.
Yes, polite words were not everything. Politeness didn't equal kindness. Really, this was the first time Bilbo considered it in such a light, but it was certainly true. Maybe - just maybe - the dwarves weren't all that bad then, either? Oh, the company definitely wasn't lacking in downright nastiness, but perhaps not all of them had been purposefully insulting? Not to say they had not, in fact, been insulting, but they may not have done so with the intention to cause hurt. They had laughed at the hobbit's expense, and at Master Dwalin's cruel jokes, but excepting the king and his tattooed bodyguard, most of the company hadn't actually acted malicious. Just distrustful and quite truthful about it.
Bilbo's train of thought was broken when Gandalf spoke up, silencing the debate that had sprung up while the hobbit had gotten lost in his own world.
"Thorin, I don't think it is a bad idea. Master Beorn would be a great addition. He could be of help, even if only for our burglar's sake. We could do with his unique... talent."
Thorin gritted his teeth. Bilbo didn't understand why he was so against it. Certainly, Beorn was a greater force than all of them combined. Compared to him, Bilbo was just... excess baggage. If he was allowed in, why not the skin-changer?
"I do not trust him."
'You didn't trust me either.'
Yet it was different now, wasn't it? Thorin had, for all intents and purposes (if not outright) thanked him, and implied his acceptance in the group. So Bilbo took a deep breath, and turned to the king.
"He is my friend. Beorn would not betray me."
For a moment, Thorin's expression darkened, but it was gone so fast, Bilbo wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it.
"Nonetheless, Master Burglar-"
"Bilbo."
"Nonetheless, Bilbo, I do not trust he wouldn't sabotage our quest," the king gritted out.
"I do not care for your quest," Beorn drawled. "I don't even particularly care about the consequences your idiocity will no doubt bring about. I don't agree with them, but I have no interest in the fate of others. What I do care about is the little Bunny you have stupidly dragged along, and as long as he is committed to you, I have no choice but to follow. Any other concerns?"
Thorin glared so sharply, Bilbo was surprised Beorn didn't feel the stabs. Gandalf clapped his hands. "Then it is decided," he said cheerfully, ignoring the sputtering king. "Shall we share our adventures then? Bilbo, my boy, you have certainly missed much!"
And so that was that, as far as the wizard was concerned. Bilbo wasn't even surprised anymore.