Inside, Morine slept listlessly. Tossing and turning, she dreamed of her brother, Romenstar.
The smell of salt water and the feeling of wind in her hair assaulted her senses, even in her sleep. She remembered the scene as if it were yesterday and not several thousand years ago. The trip from the Undying Lands to Middle Earth was a long trek across the open waters beginning at the port in Avallon. The Enchanted Isles were the only point of interest on their way to the first and only stop in Numenor. It was ages ago, and she had felt much younger at heart, unburdened by the world's troubles and looking the same as she did now. Centuries later, she would mourn the loss of the noble race of the Numenoreans and the beautiful island that had greeted them both so warmly.
Romenstar was excited to leave for the land of the mortals. She remembered his huge smile that he wore during the entire trip. He had an adventurer's heart, and the strong wind blowing over the waters swirled his dark ringlets of hair around his head. The two had been given an important mission by their lord, Orome, to assist the elves and men in their social progression. At the time, they had no idea what they were in for. Man was in the beginning stages of proliferation and settlement, slowly developing technologies and advancing their knowledge. As for the elves, the Firstborn had proven their capability of taking care of themselves, though their many wars with Melkor and each other were disheartening. They needed to be reconciled to each other more than to the rest of their world.
Dreaming about that fateful trip long ago, she smiled in her sleep. She and Romenstar had never been closer than the months they spent on that small ship, and her heart ached when her memories relived the terrible storm they had barely survived through. Her body felt the pseudo-waves and nausea she had experienced for the first time, and he was kind enough to hold her long hair back for her when she got sick.
Arriving in Middle Earth was less grand than she had wanted, though Romen was as jubilant as ever. Leaving the ship was her only joy. Initially, they had noticed how different the geography was, and as they slowly traveled eastward as they were told, they encountered some of the many creatures—good and bad—that the strange land was home to. Her subconscious reminded her that she had indeed seen a few hobbits before crossing the Brandywine River, though they were only a few and lived far apart from one another. Hobbiton had yet to be settled, and they had not interacted with the little folk on their way east.
The Misty Mountains grew in the distance, and their splendor had entranced them both. The Undying Lands were beautiful, but this land was wild and rugged, more primordial than they had ever imagined. Everything was exciting and new. Each flower, each animal, each new landscape took their breath away. It was easy to forget why they were sent there in the first place. Romen was sociable with all humanity they encountered, while she stood awkwardly by and watched him bond with them as naturally as if they were brothers. When had he become this charismatic?
From the top of the mountains, the first view of Wilderland was breathtaking. Beyond the gentle slopes were golden plains, and a gigantic, thick forest stretched as far as they could see. The only features beyond the forest were the Grey Mountains to the north and a lone mountain peak, only barely visible. She was truly mystified.
In her dream, she and Romen made their way down the Misty Mountains, across the barren grasslands and into the forest. They walked for hours and hours in the dark foliage. When she turned around to talk to Romen, he was gone. She called for him over and over, louder and louder. Morine got scared and worried as the dream bordered on a nightmare. She collapsed on the forest floor and cried after what felt like hours of searching for him.
Suddenly, she jerked awake and gasped for air. Bilbo had been shaking her gently. "You were having a bad dream," he stated.
"Oh," she said, shaking her head. "Thank you." Looking around the hall and trying to gather her wits, she noticed how bright the room was—warm yellow sunlight glowed around them. "What time is it?"
"It's nearly tea time," Bilbo said with a smile. "Perhaps my favorite time of day. Would you care to join me on the veranda?"
She rubbed her eyes sleepily and climbed out of the low laying bed, feeling groggy despite her half day of sleep. "Sure," she managed as Bilbo scuffled off to prepare the tea. Gathering her thick hair into a ponytail, she tied it back with a long strip of black leather she kept on her person.
Nearly stumbling when she tried to walk, she stopped to do a full body stretch with a yawn. The dwarves all eyed her carefully in the midst of their conversations when she made her way to the veranda. Outside, the smell of honeysuckles and the sound of bees bid her good day. Despite the beauty of Beorn's home, she struggled to leave her dream behind.
"What were you dreaming about?" Bilbo asked her softly, genuinely curious.
Morine sat down beside him on a split log and sipped the warm honeyed tea that he had kindly handed her. "My brother," she answered begrudgingly, knowing that she would normally never share such intimate information with someone, but she could not resist as the sweet hobbit looked at her with his innocent blue eyes like a child.
"You have a brother?" he asked excitedly.
"Yes," she said rather sad. She quietly drank more tea and bit into a buttery scone.
Bilbo looked out at the garden with her before saying thoughtfully, "I have two brothers and two sisters. I hardly ever hear from them though." Morine smiled at him as he added, "Except at the holidays, of course. We do have great parties." She did not doubt it one bit. From last night's conversation in which he divulged to her everything you could possibly know about hobbits, they enjoyed good food and social events, him not excluded. It was clear to her from the start that he had been enjoying himself before and after her arrival.
"I never hear from my brother either," Morine consoled. Opening up a bit, she said, "He moved out east without me."
Sipping his tea, he said, "Ah. Yes. Distance can make strangers of us all." She nodded, thinking that it always does. "Did you hear those strange noises last night?" he asked, turning to her. "Those scratches at the door were rather frightening. I had quite a time trying to fall back asleep."
Morine wondered if he had heard anything she and Gandalf had discussed before deciding that he would not be able to make heads-or-tails of their conversation's content anyway. "Yes, I did," she answered him, enjoying another scone as she pondered what the source of the noise had been.
As the two sat comfortably on the veranda as if it were their own abode, she was amazed at how at ease she was with the little hobbit she had met last night. After only a few conversations, they were talking as friends might, making Morine believe that it was either her loneliness from living in the forest so long without company or else his warm, outgoing nature that allowed their connection to blossom. Whatever the reason, she found herself enjoying his company more than she had anyone else's in a very long time.
They sat in the weakening sunlight for some time, talking and listening and watching the wildlife in front of them. "It's a beautiful place," Morine told Bilbo.
Bilbo laughed rudely before explaining, "Oh, I can see how you would say that. The flowers and animals are wonderful to see, and the land is beautiful by itself, but I much prefer the Shire, with its luscious green grass and gently rolling hills." His eyes glazed over as he envisioned his precious home, and she knew she must look the same when she thought of Mirkwood. "The land is excellent for farming, and there are several small creeks that run through the valleys. The forests are not so dense and threatening as the ones we have traversed thus far."
"What about your home? What is it like?" she asked, being polite and sincerely interested.
"Ah," he said as he laced his hands together atop his miniature, rotund belly. "It is wonderful. My father built it for my mother when they got married. It is in the side of a hill, as hobbit holes often are, and there are windows running along the southern side. The wood is dark, and the walls and ceilings are rounded. I have dozens of rooms, including several closets, cellars, and pantries." He chuckled. "No one would ever go hungry in my home. Everything is warm, inviting, and refined," he said, putting emphasis on the last word.
She understood what he meant. Beorn's home must seem rugged and primitive in comparison to his usual surroundings. Even the brass buttons on his coat, though a few were missing, hinted that Bilbo prided himself on aesthetics and civility.
Standing up, Morine grabbed Bilbo's hand and tugged him off the veranda. "Come with me. I have something to show you," she told him. He did not look as skeptical as she thought he would be, and he trustfully followed her.
Down in a small valley where the house was too far for prying eyes, she stopped. "Here," she said. "I haven't done this in a long time." Her heart began racing at the thought of trying her old skills as Bilbo watched her curiously.
She placed her palms together as in a prayer and closed her eyes, concentrating on the energy she felt coursing through her body. When she felt her fingers tingle, she slowly pulled her hands apart, loosely shaped around an invisible sphere. Bilbo gasped, and when she opened her eyes, the sphere was two feet wide. Lightning crackled between her fingers and shot from one hand to the other. The energy was immense and condensed, raising the hairs on her arms and permeating heat. She pushed her hands slowly together, cupping the energy in her palms as it fizzled out.
Bilbo clapped enthusiastically as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "Splendid!" he peeped, nearly jumping up and down. "Oh, just marvelous! How did you do that? Is it magic?"
"Don't tell anyone, okay? This is our secret," Morine said, feeling that she could trust him.
"Alright," he nodded solemnly. "I swear I will not say a word to anyone." Morine turned to walk back to the house when Bilbo said, "Wait!" He fiddled in his pockets for a moment and said, "Since we are sharing secrets, will you keep mine?"
"Yes, of course," she said, wondering what secret the sincere hobbit could possibly hold.
Suddenly, he disappeared before her eyes. She was so surprised that she nearly jumped. Looking every which way for him, she felt a tug on the back of her shirt. "I'm right here," Bilbo said with a large smile as she eyed him with wonderment.
"How?" she managed to ask with a small smile.
"This little trinket." He showed her a golden ring before tucking it back into his pocket and placing a finger to his lips. "I trust you not to tell a soul, but if the company were to find out, all my fun would be spoiled," he said with a mischievous wink.
Morine shook her head at Bilbo's newfound mystery. She held out her hand for them to shake on it. "Your secret is my secret."
"And yours is mine," he promised.
They smiled at each other in the lingering light of sunset. "We better get back," Morine said, not knowing what dangers the unknown countryside held.
"It will be time for supper soon," Bilbo said happily. Side by side, they walked back to Beorn's house in silent camaraderie.
