A/N: Hello, my fellow peeps! TERRIBLY SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE GUYS, loads of shit to do. I signed up for a writing programme for selected students, which required me to write 5 short stories within a month. (Hopefully I get accepted :/) So yeah, between that, schoolwork, and other commitments, the amount of time left for this story drastically decreased. (Sorry, RL comes first).

Anyway. Thank you for your continued support! To claire1663, Not-Gonna-Update, Nicole, Reader-anonymous-writer FanfirHydra, Friend Of A Fangirl, SuriGuri, Guest, PaperbackHeart, Zyenna, KillerWidow, godess bubbles and ArtistFox, thank you for the reviews :)

A shorter chapter this time round, sorry :(

Disclaimer: The Hobbit is not mine, yadayada. For this chapter, most conversations and descriptions are taken from the book.

Chapter 13

Bilbo peeked out nervously from behind a rock. Not even two feet away was an orc and its Warg. The animal lifted its head to sniff the air and Bilbo crouched down quickly. He held his breath.

The warg sniffed a few times before trotting away, the sound of its footsteps gradually fading away.

Exhaling softly, Bilbo made his way back to the campsite.

"How close is the pack?" was the first question the Company asked.

Bilbo shook his head. "Too close. A couple of leagues, no more. But that's not the worst of it."

"Have the Wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked.

"Not yet. But they will do. We have another problem," Bilbo began.

Gandalf quirked an eyebrow. "Did they see you?"

"They saw you!" exclaimed Ori, horrified.

"No, that's not it," Bilbo replied impatiently.

The wizard turned towards the dwarrows with a smug expression. "What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material."

Some murmured their appreciation. Bofur rolled his eyes. "We know, Gandalf."

Impatiently, Bilbo stomped his foot and folded his arms crossly. "Will you listen? Will you just listen?"

They looked to him.

"I'm trying to tell you, there is something else out there!"

"What form did it take? Like a bear?" Gandalf asked, not looking in the least surprised.

"Yes, but bigger. Much bigger."

"You knew about this beast?" Dori asked incredulously.

"I say we double back," Bofur muttered.

"And be run down by a pack of Orcs?" Thorin demanded. Gloin whacked Bofur on the head, receiving a soft "ow" in response.

"There is a house," Gandalf interrupted the scuffle, "not far from here, where we might take refuge." Thorin squinted at Gandalf dubiously.

"Whose house? Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither. He will help us or he will kill us," the wizard answered cryptically. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"What choice do we have?"

"None."

They were silent.

"Well, that settles it, then. To a suspicious house and uncertain future do we venture forth! It's not like we have a choice, or that our future hasn't been, you know, uncertain all along," Bilbo concluded with fake cheerfulness. No one deigned him a response. Thorin did, however, scowl furiously at him.

Gandalf gave them a brief overview about Beorn, their potential host and skin-changer.

"He changes his skin: sometimes he's a huge black bear. Sometimes he's a great strong man. I cannot tell you much more, though that ought to be enough. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However," Gandalf paused. "He is not overfond of dwarrows."

"Just our luck," muttered Kili.

"At any rate, he is under no enchantment but his own. He lives in an oak-wood and has a great wooden house; he keeps cattle and horses who work for him and talk to him, and hives of great fierce bees. He lives most on cream and honey."

"What's the plan?" Bilbo asked.

"You must all be very polite when I introduce you," Gandalf took a moment to stare sternly at Thorin. "I shall do so slowly, two by two, I think; be careful not to irritate him. He can be appalling when angry, though he is kind enough if humoured. Still, I warn you he gets angry easily."

Their leader grumbled inaudibly under his breath and but nodded.

That settled, they followed Gandalf as he navigated his way to the house. They trudged past trees and more pastures; Bilbo observed that more flowers were visible each time in the pasture ahead.

"We are getting near," Gandalf told them. "We are on the edge of his bee-pastures." An oddly immense bee buzzed close to them; all it took was a threatening wave of a wooden spoon by Bombur to send it on its merry way in the other direction. After a while, the trees thickened into tall, ancient oaks so gigantic that it would take at least six dwarves holding hands to surround its trunk. Gandalf stopped there. Bilbo fidgeted uneasily; the scent left by this shape-shifter screamed to him of danger. Only foolish animals would dare tread, without permission, on these lands. It was another alpha male's territory he ventured, in an almost harmless, small form, with barely any natural form of defence or intimidation factor. It was inevitable that he would be nervous.

What if Beorn decided to attack and kill him?

What if he decided not to help the dwarves?

Worse, what if Bilbo blew his cover?

Behind the trees was a high thorn-hedge which towered over even Gandalf. A few horses trotted over, eyes shining with intelligence surveying them inquisitively. One or two broke off from the crowd and cantered into the area; Gandalf claimed that their task was to inform Beorn of the Company's presence. The rest of the horses lost interest quickly after deeming them sufficiently non-threatening, and milled around the area, grazing.

"You had better wait here," said the wizard to the dwarves; "and when I call or whistle, begin to come after me, but only in pairs, mind; about five minutes between each of you." Gandalf beckoned to the hobbit. "You'll come with me first, Bilbo."

And should things go wrong - and I pray it does not - you would have the best chance to survive, and can flee quickly if need be.

Bilbo understood.

Onwards they went, a ball of nervousness writhing and twisting in his gut. His hands were sweaty, clammy. They soon came to a wooden gate, high and broad, beyond which they could see gardens and a large, thatched house. Bilbo caught sight of these, and instantly ducked behind the gate, out of sight.

"This is a bad idea, wizard." Bilbo breathed, voice urgent and low.

"Relax, Bilbo," Gandalf soothed. "Beorn is a reasonable man…I hope."

Bilbo turned to him incredulously. "You don't know him?"

"Well." Gandalf looked away awkwardly. "I know of him, from Radagast the Brown. However, I cannot claim to know him personally."

Bilbo groaned and slapped his forehead. "This is not going to go well."

The wizard shrugged. "I pray it will go well. Let us not make our host wait any longer, Bilbo; I'm sure he is already expecting us. Surely this is not anything more dangerous than what we've encountered before?"

It's true, Bilbo reflected, I am a dragon. I have survived the numerous ordeals, challenges and hardships that Life loves to throw to me (and Gandalf likes to aggravate the situation). I will not be fearful of such an encounter.

So Bilbo straightened his back, calmed his jittery nerves, and strode through the wooden gate.

Inside were rows and rows of hives. The first thing to catch his attention were the unnaturally massive bees bumbling about, emitting an awfully loud buzzing noise. The second was the size of the thatched house; constructed of solid wood, it was evidently meant for a tall, broad man - or a huge, lumbering bear. It likely had enough space to house a dragonling. Bilbo bet that in his current hobbit form, he could not even reach the doorknob even if he jumped.

Standing near was a huge man with thick black beard and hair, with great bare arms and legs knotted with muscles. He wore a tunic of wool down to his knees and was leaning casually on a large axe planted onto the ground; Bilbo could easily walk through his legs without ducking his head to miss the fringe of the man's brown tunic.

The man took one glance at Gandalf, and let loose a booming laugh.

"He doesn't look dangerous!" he told his horses, who were nuzzling his waist. In two steps, he covered the distance between them and stared down at the wizard. Bilbo shuffled behind Gandalf before Beorn could notice him."Who are you and what do you want?"

"I am Gandalf, a wizard and cousin of Radagast, who lives near the Southern borders of Mirkwood."

"Never heard of you. But I know Radagast; not a bad fellow as wizards go, I believe. Well, now I know who you are, or who you say you are. What do you want?"

Gandalf was about to answer when Beorn lifted up his hand to silence him. His eyes narrowed.

"You have a dark scent lingering around you, yet it is not your scent that I smell. What are you hiding?"

Here goes nothing.

Hesitantly, Bilbo stepped out from behind.

Beorn's expression darkened instantly.

"You're one of them," he growled, and his hand shot out towards Bilbo. The hobbit shifted his feet, ready to dodge the oncoming blow.

Gandalf moved faster than either of them. The Grey Wizard knocked Beorn's hand aside with his staff while simultaneously shoving Bilbo behind him. He stepped protectively in front of the hobbit, and struck his staff onto the ground. "Stop!"

Beorn, more out of shock than fear, froze.

Gandalf took this chance to talk. "He is not what you think he is, Beorn."

"A child of the wyrm! Abomination! He has to be destroyed!" Beorn hissed; but he did not move to attack the wizard, wary of his radiating power.

"Not Sauron's wyrm, Beorn. Has time addled your memory so much that you fail to distinguish those pitiful creatures from the Lost Race?"

"My nose never fails me-" Beorn paused. He inhaled deeply. A strange, intrigued expression crossed his face. "Indeed, he smells different. But it cannot be true. Let me have a closer look, wizard."

Gandalf looked to him sternly. "Your word that he is not to be harmed."

"You have my word," Beorn pledged. Cautiously, Bilbo stepped forwards once more. True to his word, Beorn did not attack. His eyes widened.

"He smells of warm fires, a subtle difference from the fires of destruction - aye, a subtle difference, but an important one." Beorn knelt down to address Bilbo. "I thought that all the Children of the Sky has perished, centuries ago."

"Not all of us," Bilbo replied softly, "Not all of us. We scattered, we went into hiding - it was not safe to stay together. The elves hid us, raised us separately - I don't even know where the rest of my kin are." He looked down. "I suppose that's for the best."

A heavy hand rested comfortably on his shoulder. "You will meet them again, young one," Beorn smiled kindly down at him.

Bilbo scowled. "I'm not young."

Beorn merely smiled, amused. "Compared to me, you still are."

Bilbo huffed. Beorn turned to Gandalf

"If the Children of the Sky live - is it possible-" His voice held a tendril of wonderment, of hope… Not daring to hope, but wanting to. Gandalf shook his head sadly.

"For decades I have travelled, far and wide, and none of your kind have I seen. I am afraid that you are truly..."

"The last of my kind," Beorn continued in resignation. He looked up at the sky and sighed. "It would be foolish to hope."

The bees buzzed, filling the silence that had fallen among them. Beorn shook himself from his despair. "I did not remember dragons having the ability to take on the form of another. That makes us distant cousins, skin-changer." He grinned.

Bilbo smiled sheepishly. "I'm not really a skin-changer, it's just an enchantment the elves cast so that we can blend in quickly."

"It matters not. It has been far too long since I've talked to your kind, and your story is of great interest. Come, I have food, and a place for you to rest. In exchange, you must tell me your tale."

End of Chapter 13.

How's it? :) Hope that this chapter is alright.

Too boring? Too draggy? Too anti-climactic? Too ooc? Do tell me what you think - Review please! :)

-littlesparrowkeet