A/N: Just a short filler chapter in which the Company prepares to get back on the road.
Our peaceful time at Beorn's home passed so quickly that I almost regret not staying here longer. Nonetheless, most of my time is spent trying to recover as quickly as possible. Oin replaces my bandages every morning and evening, studying the healing of my injuries closely. After a few days, he decides to keep the bandages wrapped only around the area where the orc stabbed me, wrapping some special ointment on my back and ribs to make them heal more quickly. Once my magic returns fully, it keeps me on high alert constantly, coursing through my veins to help heal me even faster. It was almost eery, like it knew it had to step up in order for me to continue my so-called destiny of protecting Thorin. I only walk to the dining table and back to my room, and I'm always accompanied by Thorin, since he still insists on it even when I don't need him to support my weight anymore. Thorin… I had been slowly coming to terms with the task that was forced upon me by the Valar. Back in the goblin kingdom, when I'd looked at him and truly believed he'd been about to die… it struck a terror I had never felt before within me, the overwhelming love and need to protect him engraved in my heart now. I hadn't talked to him about it, to anyone, for every time I opened my mouth, the words failed me. How did you even explain something like this?
Beorn is actually a nice guy, when he doesn't scare Bilbo whilst roaming outside as a bear. He certainly takes a liking to me, often asking for me to sit by his side whenever we're eating together. He asks me about my life, being the only human in the Shire, and I can sense he somehow relates to being the only person in a group that was different. It made me feel strangely at ease. He couldn't possibly know who I really was, but I could sense he understood. It makes even more sense when he tells us all how his kind got slaughtered by the orcs, which makes Thorin a lot more sympathetic towards Beorn. After dinner, the shapeshifter often tells stories of a better world, full of peace.
In turn, the dwarves begin to tell us more about their lives and customs. They speak of how dwarven courting is a long, intricate process, with lots of steps to undertake. They give each other courting presents, about how few dwarrowdams there actually are, and how every single female is treated with high respect because of it. Fili and Kili tell me about their mother, Dis, who's one of the strongest and scariest dwarrowdams they know, according to the entire company. Bofur tells me how dwarrowdams even have beards, how every single dwarf decorates their beard with great care, and how they all used to care about appearances greatly, back in the old glory days. I'm painted an image of clothes decorated with jewellery, golden thread being used as stitching, of dwarves wearing clothes heavier than their own weight.
They also tell me about the importance of hair, freaking out when I ask Nori to cut my hair with one of his many knives. When I tell them how annoying it is to have had it in the way this entire trip, especially now that movement was limited because of my injury, Thorin stands up before anyone can say anything, moves to stand behind me and begins to braid my hair gently. I secretly enjoy it big time, and turn red when Balin tells me how important braiding is to dwarves, claiming it's often very intimate and a sign of a deeper bond. When Thorin sits back down, having braided my hair elegantly, his ears are slightly red, and he doesn't dare look at me. Although we didn't talk much, there was an unspoken softness between us, of caring for each other. I knew he felt guilty that I had jumped in between him and Azog.
Bilbo and I love it here, almost as much as we loved Rivendell. There's magnificent wooden benches and tables and stools and closets and shelves everywhere we can look, and I'm sure many a hobbit would be willing to pay a lot for such beauty. There's bees larger than rabbits in the garden, horses that can actually talk, but they don't really seem to like talking to us guests. The flowers and trees in Beorn's garden are beautiful, and the last days I find myself slowly strolling through them with Bilbo.
Time flies by, and suddenly it's our last day here. Oin examines me one last time, thoroughly, and only then Thorin agrees to let me continue the journey, the older dwarf having to tell him several times that I would be fine, if I knew my limits and just asked for a break should I get tired. I promise Thorin I'll do just that, and he insists on helping me pack my things.
"Are you ready?" I turn from where I'd been looking at what had been my bedroom for this past week, finding Bilbo smiling at me from the doorway.
"Yeah."