Beorn awoke as the sky was lightening into a pale blue. The early birds were beginning to chirp as he wandered from his bedroom in the western wing of the house into the kitchen to begin cooking for his many guests.
Few things soothed his soul like cooking did, though no one knew it. He enjoyed making biscuits from scratch, preserving fruits into jellies and jams, and rolling out fresh dough. The animals would often help by grabbing ingredients from the pantry and bringing them to the large wooden table he used as a counter. The help would have been useful this morning, as making a full breakfast for seventeen people was no easy task (especially when he and the hobbit could eat enough for several men), but his beastly friends seemed off-put and were outside avoiding the company.
By the time that Morine had waken to the mingling smells of fresh strong coffee and honey, he had laid the table with the finest foods he could muster in a few hours—croissants, biscuits, milk, oatmeal, a variety of freshly picked berries, and much more. She had noticed from supper the last two nights the absence of meat, but she was polite enough to say nothing about it, though some of the dwarves had been less sensitive in their aching for roasted game. Though her pride had urged her to leave the house last night, it had been a long time since she had last slept in a bed rather than the forest floor or a tree, and his cooking was much more fulfilling than anything she could gather or hunt.
"Good morning," Morinehtar said pleasantly as she passed by Beorn on the way to her usual seat next to Bilbo.
He glared but said, "Morning." She glared back at him for a second, and Gandalf saw their intense eye contact before he watched her dig into her breakfast while Beorn grumbled into his milk.
It was a quiet breakfast, and the group was clearly dreading leaving the comfort of Beorn's home as they unenthusiastically packed their few belongings. "You have been very generous," Gandalf praised the host later when they assembled outside by the barn-like structure.
"You're welcome, friend," Beorn said, clapping him on the shoulder. What he said next was completely unexpected: "You can come back any time you please."
"A thousand thanks," Thorin said as he bowed low, making the others pipe up their gratitude as well. "If there is anything I can do—"
"If I ever need your services, I will ask for it," Beorn cut him off grumpily, annoyed at the noble's perpetual propriety.
"Do not hesitate to ask," the noble dwarf told him before mounting his pony.
Morine sighed as she helped Bilbo onto his own pony, which was the smallest of the ones Beorn provided. The top of the miniature steed's head barely reached her hips. "This is goodbye, my friend," she said, brushing the pony's chestnut mane with her lean fingers.
"I suppose it is," he sighed as well. "Whenever shall we meet again?"
"I'm sure we will," she said, hardly believing it herself. She knew better than he just how large the world was. "I just don't know when," she whispered.
They smiled sadly at each other. "Well, goodbye then, Morine," he simply said. "Until next time."
"Goodbye, Bilbo." Her teary eyes looked even greener in the bright sunlight. She forced herself to turn away from him and started walking away from the stables where they were gearing up, willing herself not to look back.
"Where is she going?" Bilbo wondered aloud. In the direction he had watched her disappear, there was nothing but wilderness, as far as he could tell.
"Home," Gandalf told him.
When Gandalf was finally able to leave the complaining company at the mouth of the northern trail of Mirkwood, he was irked that he would be late for his meeting with the White Council. It would be hard to explain to the others since he was the one who had called the meeting. After riding for a few miles back southward with the ponies ahead of him, he reigned in the horse. "Beorn?" he called loudly, knowing that the man had been following the company the entire trip while in his bear form. A few minutes later, Beorn came lumbering out of the tree line.
"What?" he asked sharply, carefully watching his ponies.
"Could I borrow your horse for a while longer?" Gandalf asked politely, hoping that he was still feeling generous. "I am running late for an important meeting near Lothlorien, and walking would only make me later."
After a moment's consideration and a hard stare at the old bastard, he said gruffly, "Very well." He began rounding up his ponies to lead them home.
One nuzzled the Gandalf's knee as the wizard said, "Thank you for your generosity. I will return him to you as soon as I can." He galloped away.
***
When he finally trotted into the glade on the outskirts of Lothlorien, he was the last one to arrive. Haldir, Orophir, and Rumil made him stop at a checkpoint. They checked his bags and person with a sense of urgency. "They have been waiting for you," Haldir informed him. "Galadriel requests that you go straight in. We will take care of your horse and bags."
"Thank you," Gandalf said as he dismounted and strode to the base of the tree with the largest tallon. At the top, a large silver table stretched across the floor to seat over a dozen people, many of whom stopped conversing and leaned over the table to stare at the late comer. Raising a hand to stop their commentary, he explained, "I had an important delivery to make before I could be on my way. I came as soon as I could."
Saruman smiled lightly as he noted, "And since when has the noble Gandalf been reduced to a delivery boy?" A few people laughed at the thought. "Need I remind you that you were the one who adjourned this rendezvous?"
Gandalf looked around as he wordlessly took his seat between Elrond and Galadriel and saw that Saruman was seated at the head of the table. The white wizard had been elected the head of the council despite a few who had cast their allegiance with Gandalf. Several prominent elven leaders were present. Cirdan, Glorindel, and even Radagast had also made it to the meeting. He waved to the latter, who waved a greeting back. The two would have much to discuss after the meeting.
Saruman banged his white staff on the floor a few times and stated authoritatively, "This meeting of the White Council is now called to order. Without further delays," he continued with a perk of a bushy white eyebrow, "I give the floor to Gandalf."
"Thank you for coming here today," Gandalf said from his chair. He was must too tired from the several days of hard riding to stand, so he spoke loudly for all to hear. "I have called you together to discuss the growing threat in Mirkwood."
"You mean the Necromancer?" Saruman interjected. "Did we not decide at our last meeting that he was not a serious threat to be concerned with?"
"Yes, so we did, but that was before I learned what I now know," he replied.
Whispers erupted around the table, and Saruman tapped his staff on the floor. "Here, here. What is it you have learned? And please be swift in your answer. We have waited long enough for you," he said icily.
Gandalf brushed the rudeness aside and began to tell his story about stealing into Dol Guldur as quickly as he could muster, leaving out the part about the map and key that Thrain had given him. He knew the possibility that someone would have a greedy heart and try to intercept the company. He concluded, "I now know that it is Sauron who has entrenched himself in Dol Guldur, and he is spreading his evil fingers well into Mirkwood. If we do nothing, all of Middle Earth could be threatened."
A momentary chaos of loud chatter was a challenge for Saruman to quell. Before he could reply, Galadriel asked Gandalf, "How do we know that this is true? The Silvan elves retreated to the north of Mirkwood long ago, but we have heard little of how the evil had progressed since then."
"I have sources in the forest who have watched the evil grow," he replied.
"What sources?" Saruman snapped, clearly doubting him.
"The Blue Wizard Morinehtar." Soft gasps were heard as Gandalf and Saruman stared at each other without blinking.
Finally, Saruman killed the silence with cruel laughter, mocking him. "A red herring, I am sure." A few whispers agreed with him. "No one has heard from the Blue Wizards since they crossed the Misty Mountains over a thousand years ago. How could we possibly believe you?"
Slightly red in the face, Gandalf retorted, "I cannot speak to the where-abouts of her brother, Romenstar, but if not for her continual help in keeping the evil at bay, the whole of Mirkwood would have been overrun by spiders, orcs, and worse by now." A few faces nodded their agreement, though Saruman looked less than swayed.
"I can attest to her presence in the south of the forest," Radagast's low voice echoed, capturing the party's attention. "The Silvan elves even have a legend about her, which surely some of you have heard, as it is a children's tale." He shared but a small snippet of the sing-song poem:
"Into the southern Mirkwood trees,
There lives a cat amidst the leaves.
Its fur is blacker than the night;
Its claws are sharp and eyes are bright.
The panther lurks beneath the stars,
Protecting land, both it and ours."
Saruman raised his hand, signaling him to stop the recitation. "Are you saying that she takes the form of a large black feline?" he asked the brown wizard, clearly disbelieving the children's tale. It was difficult for him to believe that a fellow wizard would waste his magic in such a trivial way.
"Yes, I am," Radagast said firmly with a stiff nod of his head.
Sighing and rubbing his forehead, Saruman conceded. "Alright, so we suppose this is true," he said, suspending his disbelief and preventing the meeting from being stuck on trivialities. "Why would Sauron be stationed in southern Mirkwood, and what can we possibly do about it?"
Gandalf stood up tall for emphasis as he said, "Since we know that it is Sauron at Dol Guldur, it is my belief that he had taken Thrain as a prisoner in order to take from him the last of the dwarven rings he had forged." Stony elven and wizard faces eyed him. For a moment, Saruman's eyes blackened with desire, though no one noticed. "As for what we can do, I think we should try to run him out of Middle Earth before he gains more power. He may yet be weak enough to threaten him, if we work together."
Voices both assented and dissented to his proposal. Saruman was staring darts at him. "And," Gandalf added, "Let us not forget about the dragon who has taken over the Lonely Mountain northeast of Mirkwood. It would not be difficult for Sauron to call the evil creature southward to aid him, and we cannot afford for the two to band together." A few murmurs were surprised to learn about the dragon.
Saruman dryly laughed at Gandalf, who stood his ground. "Not only are you asking for us to lend our lives to run off the Necromancer, who may be Sauron, but you also want us to fight a dragon as well?" A few elves chuckled at the idea, though most of the council remained graven at the thought of two serious threats.
"Certainly not," Gandalf answered. "As it would happen, there is a company of dwarves on their way to take care of the dragon for us."
The elves were flustered by this detail. "You expect us to let a bunch of dwarves handle the dragon for us?" an emissary from Mirkwood asked. "Smaug is no newborn serpent. He will eat them alive."
"The company is well equipped for the encounter," Gandalf assured them. "I would not leave the dragon to them if I thought them to be incapable, and they have the added incentive of fighting for their treasure back." He regretted sharing the last part, but it was necessary for persuading those present that the company would annihilate Smaug at any cost.
The emissary nodded his head, as did a few other elves. "Yes, we well know what dwarves will do for treasure. Very well," he conceded.
Faces were contemplative as Gandalf reiterated, "The dragon is taken care of. We must take action again Sauron simultaneously if we are to stand a chance. He is a serious threat that we cannot afford to ignore any longer."
Saruman glanced around the council. "We have heard your case," he said mildly. "Let us vote. Those who dissent?" Only a couple of nays were heard. "Those who consent?" Quiet ayes were heard round table. "The ayes have it." Gandalf took his seat with a small smile, content that he had at last convinced the council to take action. Saruman clasped his hands together and laid them on the table as he solemnly concluded, "To war we go then."
