BAD OMENS

The next morning they finally had the liberty of meeting Beorn at last. Now, Jeanne was intimidated by Thorin when she first met him but there was something about Beorn that made her feel sad yet uneasy, especially when he looked at her fiery hair. His gaze felt heavy and his voice was deep and seeded with old anger that felt like he was holding back for years.

"So you are the one they call Oakenshield," Beorn spoke while he poured the party some milk. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?" He said but his gaze was on Jeanne when he spoke it.

Thorin noticed Beorn's heavy eyes towards her. He could even feel Jeanne's uneasiness. "You know of Azog?" He walked up behind Jeanne and set a hand down on her shoulder. She flinched but relaxed greatly when he stood behind her, almost protectively.

"My people were the first to live in the mountain before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved."

Jeanne's eyes fell on the remnants of manacles on Beorn's wrist and felt a pit in her stomach grow, like she was the one to blame when that wasn't true.

"Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

Small Bilbo spoke up with his humble-sounding voice. "There are others like you?"

"Once, there were many," Beorn answered.

"And now?"

"Now, there is only one." His words carried this grimness that made the room fall into silence. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes," Gandalf said.

"You are running out of time."

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."

A shift turned in Beorn's deep eyes. "A darkness lies upon that forest. Foul 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. The path is still safe."

"Safe?" Beorn scoffed. "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not." Once more, his eyes fell upon Jeanne.

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot with one who carried bad omens. You'll never reach the forest alive with her."

Jeanne felt her stomach plummet to the ground when she realized that he was talking about her. It's not like the world knew who she was or how she came into existence, but his words made her heart flutter with anxiety. Her skin began to crawl, and out of habit, she covered her arms with her sleeves.

What did Beorn mean when he said 'Bad omens'?

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Bad omens? Are you referring to Jeanne?" He watched Beorn with careful eyes as the giant-of-a-man stepped up to Jeanne. He reached out his hand to grasp a lock of her red hair. Thorin tightened his grip of Jeanne's shoulder and felt his worry start to creep up on him too.

"It is said...women who carry scarlet hair are the harbingers of death...the very incarnation of hellfire. Bad Omens are what they are referred to and have been shunned for the last 100 years." His gaze was heavy. "But...I never thought I would meet one who's hair resembled fire so closely. If I didn't know any better... I would think you were born in them."

Is that what the world thought of scarlet haired women? Because of her, because of Sauron, people have been treated like a reject all because of the existence of scarlet hair. It made Jeanne sick to her stomach of what the world might have done to these innocent women the whole time she's been hiding away, the real source of the widespread panic.

"It's merely a superstition." Thorin snarled. He could feel Jeanne tense up and began to tremble as the panic set her. Her heart was beating so hard right now that he could feel it. Probably even hear it too. "Nothing else." He growled his words out.

"Yes...but it's a very well known superstition. I have seen it first hand too...Orcs taking away the scarlet ones and soon killing them...it's like they were looking for someone...specific."

If he spoke anymore, her heart would actually stop dead in her tracks. This was too much for Jeanne. Just way... too much.

"Do..." Jeanne took in a deep breath. "Do you...believe that scarlet haired women will bring the end times?" She waited for his anger with threatening silence that soon followed.

"No. It is after all...a superstition. What do you need?"

Jeanne took a breath. Her once-tight throat opened up and it felt like she could finally breathe again. She reached her hand up and gripped Thorin's hand, surprisingly he held on just as tight.


They were given ponies to ride and were able to make great time to Mirkwood and avoid any kind of danger, which was off-putting for Jeanne. Beorn said that the lands were crawling with Orcs but they haven't seen a single one after they left his home.

Gandalf dismounted his horse and walked up to the edge of Mirkwood. "The Elven Gates." He looked over the ancient archway that sat at the beginning. "Here lies our path."

Jeanne followed suit and pulled her hood over her head out of habit. Mirkwood was dark, not dark like Valnora, but a kind of sickening darkness that would make the mind corrupt with illusion.

"No sign of Orcs." Dwalin noticed. "We have luck on our side."

"Luck..." Jeanne mumbled in a dark tone. "No such thing."

Gandalf looked grim. He turned his head and saw something off in the distance. It was Beorn in his bear-form watching from the ridge. "Set the ponies loose." He said and watched as Jeanne followed the path in a few feet before stopping.

The moment Jeanne stepped inside, she felt her heart stop. Her skin shuddered and her teeth began to chatter from the unexpected chill. "This forest...it's sick." She said as her eyes scanned the vines that grew over the old statues. Her bones began to creak like old wood and her skin burned for some reason too. The gray veins were still not visible but something began to echo in her ears. She began to hear Galadriel's voice.

"Something moves in the shadows unseen, hidden from our sight. Everyday it grows in strength. Beware the Necromancer. He is not what he seems"

Something was wrong.

She felt captivated by something all of a sudden and moved like a mindless doll up to the vines that covered the statue and glided her hands across the leaves. She didn't feel her heart beating. She felt nothing but this burning sensation that ran under her skin like a thousand needle pricks. In one quick motion, she grabbed the vines tightly and yanked them down. Not ember, but black. Jeanne's eyes flashed a dark, empty, abyss-like black as the gray veins began to resurface once more. She let out a deep guttural growl from her throat and stepped back as this bitterness ran through her body, making her feel sick.

Jeanne's throat closed up immediately and she began to dry heave for some reason. She broke out into a cold sweat and wanted nothing more but to throw up right there and then. She was strong enough to keep everything inside though.

Gandalf noticed immediately the sudden and frightening change in Jeanne and rushed up to her, steadying the unbalance girl. She acted like the wind had just been knocked out of her. "Jeanne? What is..." He stopped himself when he saw what had frightened her. On the statue behind the vines was a red painting. It resembled a flaming eyeball. It was only a second but Gandalf saw an image flash in his head of a frightening eye that burned with the flames of hell, but with pure, abyss-black pupils that resembled Jeanne's just now.

Her eyes returned to normal and the veins disappeared. It was only for a second but never had she had a reaction like that, one so strong and frightening.

"The High Fells. So be it." Gandalf took a breath and began to rush back over to the Dwarves who were about to let his horse go. "Not my horse. I need it!" He urged Nori to stop.

Jeanne snapped out of her daze and jogged over to him. "You're leaving us?"

"Believe me, Jeanne. I would not do it unless I had to."

Jeanne couldn't help but feel dejected when he said that, but it's not like she didn't understand why. Something was off and it was strong enough to cause that reaction from within her. This was something Gandalf had to do.

Gandalf turned to Thorin with an actual pleating look in his eyes. "I'm sorry but...please...watch over Jeanne."

Thorin's strong and reassuring gaze burned into Gandalf. "I intended that from the start. Don't worry. She is in my care."

Gandalf gave a nod of approval. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter the mountain without me. This is not the Greenwood of old. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray." He mounted his horse just as it began to rain very lightly. "You must stay on the path; do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again." He bid the Dwarves goodbye, leaving Jeanne with one last hopeful smile before ridding off.

Jeanne watched as Gandalf left as the company turned and began to head inside the forest. She sucked in a deep breath and reached for the edge of her hood and yanked it off her head, letting the light rain cool her body off. She took the moment to breathe in the free air before having to go into Mirkwood were it would be a burden soon.

"Jeanne. Come on." Thorin called out to her. "We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's day."

Jeanne closed her eyes and lowered her head for a moment to take in the freedom one last time. With as much courage as she can muster, she pulled her hood back up and joined the Dwarves into the dense forest of Mirkwood.


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