Several days passed while the company warily camped in the guard room, nerves on edge, expecting the sudden arrival of the dragon to which they still had no solution. Morine was beginning to wonder why Gandalf had wanted her to help them and only halfway listened to Thorin, who was discussing the nature of the birds surrounding the mountains when a thrush appeared that Bilbo recognized from days before. The bird squawked at them a few times, stopping to listen after each time, but when Thorin negatively compared it to a couple of old ravens that used to live there, it flew away. "I don't blame him," Morine grumbled. The restlessness from days of boredom was setting in.
The bird soon flew back, however, in the company of an ancient raven. When the raven began speaking clearly in the common tongue, all but Thorin were starled. It introduced himself as the son of the raven that Thorin said he had missed dearly. It told the company news that was spreading through the region: Smaug was dead.
Movement and noise burst into the room at once as the weight of dread lifted from every shoulder. Borin sighed in relief as Kili clapped Fili on the shoulder. Morine felt a beaming smile upon her face that rivaled the one she gave when she and Romen docked in Numenor ages ago. It took Thorin time to calm them down to hear what else the raven had to say. The thrush had witnessed the dragon slain in battle with the men of Lake-town. Morine set a hand on Bilbo's shoulders, worried that he might blame himself for the unfortunate fate of the town, which no doubt had taken a hard hit from the dragon's attacks.
To their dismay, the raven warned them of the coming storm. While the Elvenking had come for their treasure as soon as the news of the dragon's death had reached Mirkwood, he had turned toward Esgaroth to aid the men in their time of need, having a long standing trade alliance with them. He was assisting with their recovery, but they would soon be marching on the mountain en masse to lay claim to the treasure of Thorin's ancestors. The raven warned, "We would see peace once more among dwarves and men and elves after the long desolation; but it may cost you dear in gold. I have spoken."
Morine watched as Thorin's brows slowly drew together as the possibility of giving more of his treasure than he had originally intended stoked the fires of his anger. Thorin commanded the bird to go find his cousin Dain in the Iron Hills and ask for his aid, knowing that the company would be no match for the coming armies.
The old raven had barely flown away when they were ordered inside the mountain, despite Bilbo's protests at their lack of food. They began preparations for battle in relative silence, hoping it would not come to such a fate. Fili and Kili were sent down the River Running to find their stores they had left on the banks where the men of Lake-town had dropped them off. When they came back with food, Bilbo's mood only slightly lifted, and they set about building a cement wall across the mouth of the gate. Under Thorin's instructions and a few of Morine's suggestions, it featured holes for observation and attack while spanning across the river. Approaching would be nearly impossible.
Morine and Bilbo grew steadily uncomfortable, feeling stuck in the dreary caves. Bilbo showed her the huge pile of treasure that the dragon had horded, and she understood how the dwarves were so entranced by its splendor, though its effect was much less great on her heart. Staring at the wall and awaiting the approach of the army, she felt a terrible foreboding as a weight in her stomach. They had walled themselves in here, and she feared a siege. They only had a few weeks of food at best, if you could call cram that. She glanced at Thorin whose countenance grew darker each day at the threat to his ancestral inheritance and doubted him. Morine said a silent prayer to the Valar that the leader would prove diplomatic in any interactions.
One evening, they noticed a sea of lights near Dale. The men and elves had arrived to take what was rightfully the dwarves. A lump formed in Morine's throat at the threat of tears. Not a solitary claim could anyone in Middle Earth make for the treasure aside from Thorin, yet the armies marched onward, fueled by their greed. As angry as she was at Gandalf, she could not deny that times as these were exactly what she and the Istari were sent to do. Nay. Created.
Beautiful elven music drifted up the hills, over the river, and through the holes of the wall in a cruel contrast to their ugly intentions. Each heart sank into despair. The dwarves played their own music on silver instruments they had among the treasure. Whether to drown out the euphonious taunting of their enemy or to lift the spirits of their leader, Morine could not tell. The earthy music proved a poor distraction from the coming destruction.
Morning met them with an armed parley of men and elves, who addressed Thorin through the wall. Curious to watch the exchange, Morine peeked out of one of the holes to see. A man named Bard introduced himself and claimed that he was the one who had slain the dragon. for which he sought payment, which he also laid claim to as a descendent of the former leader of Dale. He was also bold enough to blame the company for the dragon attacking their town, and Morine agreed with him on that point.
Thorin disagreed to the grim man's claim and refused to parley with him, as they were armed. He also stated his displeasure that the elves were involved in a business that was not their own and was obviously bitter over their unjust imprisonment. The dwarf who called himself the King under the Mountain insisted that he would not parley with them until the elves left and the men returned unarmed.
He also stated his displeasure that the elves were involved in a business that was not their own and was obviously bitter over their unjust imprisonment. The dwarf who called himself the King under the Mountain insisted that he would not parley with them until the elves left and the men returned unarmed.
Bard left with the group and returned several hours later, still armed and with elves, much to Morine's dismay. It did not bode well for the prideful Thorin, whom she suspected was well under the enchantment of the gold, as dwarves are quite susceptible to. Many times in the days of preparation for this very moment had she caught him lusting over the mound of treasure.
A speaker came forth and spoke their demands: a mere one twelfth of the treasure to maintain friendship with the men and elves, though he politely asked more for the rebuilding of Esgaroth. Morine thought it was a fine compromise and a small price to pay to avoid a war, but Thorin would not hear of it. The hotheaded dwarf shot an arrow at the speaker, who blocked it with his shield before declaring a siege on them.
"He's stuck his foot in it now," Morine thought as she glanced over at Bilbo. His stern glance up at her echoed her own discontent even as the rest of the company steeled themselves in proud determination to fight for their king. She wondered yet again what purpose Gandalf thought she would have here and whether she was on the right side of the battle to come.
***
For several days after Morine's departure, Beorn struggled with his loneliness. He had grown used to her company after three weeks, and he longed for the companionship, though they had talked only a little. He began spending more time with the animals than he had before, and her lingering scent on his bedding taunted him at night. He even avoided his favorite place, the Carrock, in order to avoid thinking of her, but nothing seemed to work. As autumn rolled into winter, he only thought of her more and wished he had spent more time getting to know her despite Gandalf's annoying presence. Perhaps he should have been more bold? Self-doubt gripped him tightly, and each morning when he sat on the sunny veranda, he looked off toward the forest and wondered when they would meet again, if ever.
One cold morning, the same dog that had growled at Morine the night she entered his house uninvited came running up to him with important news. "The dragon is dead!" it barked. Beorn understood him clearly, as he did all the animals.
"Where did you hear this?" he asked the dog. A group of black birds that flew from Mirkwood had told the wild horses of the plains, who came and told him. He had come straight here to tell Beorn.
Before he could get excited for the company's victory over Smaug, it occurred to him that if the word was spreading this far and quickly, an enemy could discover the news and decide to take the company's plunder for themselves. The treasure of Durin's line was renowned, and the news would be dangerous if it reached the wrong ears. Beorn's fists clenched at the threat to the small company.
By the next day, his fears were verified. One of the horses told him that the goblins and wolves were on the move, marching as a large single force toward the Lonely Mountain to take Thorin's inheritance. Even now, they were reaching the edge of the evil forest and hasting onward. Morine's face flashed in his vision as his spirit stirred.
A wicked smile twisted on his face as a dark laugh escaped, blood pumping at the chance for revenge on the goblin horde that had killed his family and stolen his home. The greed of goblins and the wolves' lust for power was insatiable. The day he had dreamed about and waited for had finally come. Helping Morine and the others he had come to care for only sweetened the opportunity and made him more determined.
"They'll need all the help they can get," he concluded. Forsaking the safety of his home and the animals that lived near it, he ran without hesitation toward the forest and shifted to his bear form at a full sprint, hoping that he would reach his friends in time.
***
News of the dragon's death had reached the ears of Gandalf a couple of days before it reached Beorn. He had wrapped up the nasty business at Dol Guldur, though it was a hard fight. He, Radagast, and Saruman together with a couple of thousand elven soldiers had marched on the fortress at high noon, and the struggle for control of the fortress lasted for many days. Using his skills in combat was not something Gandalf did often, and seeing what his fellow wizards were capable of was nearly exciting. The fortress proved difficult to take, and a sizeable number of elves lost their lives for the sake of Mirkwood. In the end, they successfully expelled the Necromancer from the forest in a terrific battle too long to retell here. At any rate, it is another story to be told another time.
Gandalf also heard of the army of elves and men that was marching up the River Running from Esgaroth to the Lonely Mountain. While he had anticipated issues with the dragon and sent Morine in the hope that she could aid them, this particular development was far from his own predictions of the outcome. How exactly the dragon had met his fate, he did not know, but war was something that he knew the full company to be unaccustomed to. Fearing how the situation would transpire, he confided in Radagast, who guided him to the eastern edge of Mirkwood. Gandalf urgently headed northward to the Lonely Mountain and hoped he would get there in time to prevent the brewing war.
