A/N: My darling dearreader, thank you! I indeed had this one written already, I was hoping someone would prompt something fitting, and you did. Yay!

And the Mirkwood one about hallucinations, that's so rad! It's GENIUS! Oh I'm going to have so much fun with it ;)

A/N#2: OMG! I just watched The Desolation of Smaug EE scene with Beorn and just had to rewrite the beginning. And god, am I in love with this man! :) 3 seconds of Thorin left me panting, and sorry, but all the following is based on the film and not the book:)

The time when Thorin was once again jealous, while Wren knew how to talk to the skinchanger.

"And is that it?" Beorn growled, "Are there anymore?" His eyes were scanning the twelve Dwarves lined up behind the wizard and the hobbit. Thorin stepped out of the house, onto the porch, and his eyes met the golden irises of the skinchanger. The man's face wavered, and a strange smirk appeared on his lips.

"Are you the one they call Oakenshield?" Thorin walked slowly and stopped in front of the company and nodded ceremonially. "I've heard a lot about you." Beorn jabbed his ax into the chopping block and looked at the wizard. "You can stay. You are lucky," he once again gave Thorin an odd look, "We seem to have a mutual friend."

They were having breakfast and discussing Beorn's family, Thorin brooding away from the table. The mentioning of a mutual friend worried him, and while the wizard seemed to trust the beast-man, Thorin felt such trust had to be earned.

Suddenly the door opened, and quite a familiar figure sauntered into the room. She looked well, colour had returned to her face, though he could still see bandages on her shoulder under the light white blouse. She wore a strange attire, and Thorin felt his jaw slack. He recognised the cut of her wide trousers, with a silken belt, at the bottom tied with strings on her ankles. Such were the bottoms Haradrim women wore. She had no corset on, and he could see the lace on her undertunic through the gauze fabric of the blouse. Her mad curls were in a simple braid, and altogether she looked very domestic. There was a large basket of vegetables in her hands, probably freshly picked in the garden, and she froze in the doorframe her eyes jumping from one face to another.

"Lady Wren!" Fili joyfully jumped up on his feet, and she threw him an absent-minded smile.

"Your Dwarf is here, little bird," the skinchanger's voice was sarcastic, and she blinked and schooled her face in a nonchalant expression.

"So are your squashes, darling," she entered the room and placed the basket on the nearest stool. The Dwarves, Gandalf and Bilbo got up to greet her, and she gracefully gestured them to sit.

One of the cows leaned in and gently poked its nose into her hair. She giggled and patted its velvet nose.

"I love you too, Grumpy."

"She named my animals, impossible woman," there was tenderness in the raspy voice of the beast-man, and Thorin gritted his teeth. Could the skinchanger be any more proprietal? Beorn started pointing at the animals, "Doc, Happy, Bashful, Dopey, Sneezy, Sleepy, Adorbs, Sunny, and that one," he pointed at the cow who was still nuzzling the redhead, "The black one with white streaks and blue eyes, Grumpy."

And here Thorin was, thinking that all her previous escapades were the epitome of humiliation. Apparently there were many other ways she could stomp his dignity into mud. Most of the members of his company managed to suppress laughter, Kili being the least successful, he was quite obviously snorting into his mug, Ori was coughing loudly, Fili pretended he dropped something and disappeared under the table.

She kissed the cow's noise and walked up to the table. She pinched a piece of bread, indeed like a small bird, and then she looked the table over.

"Where is the elderberry jam?"

"Still in the cupboard," Beorn waved his hand towards a tall shelf, and she popped the bread into her mouth and started pushing a chair to the wall. She then climbed it and stretched to get a jar from a shelf. Her perky bum was on perfect display, and Thorin had to take measured breaths not to growl. Every line of her slender body seemed clearly visible under the gauzy blouse and the light fabric of the trousers, clinging to her shapely legs, her buttocks sticking out, while she was unsuccessfully scraping the very tips of her fingers on the shelf of the cupboard. The resemblance with a cat was uncanny. She was standing on her tiptoes but was still too short.

Thorin felt his temper rise. Not only he was herded into this house like kettle, dependent on the mercy and a whim of the skinchanger, he also had to watch the domestic bliss between the very reluctant host and the woman that managed to escape Thorin's hands so many times. And how in Durin's name was the association between the two even possible? Thorin tried not to imagine the mechanics of the intimacy between them, and immediately did.

"Love, I can't reach." The beast-man gave out an fake exaggerated sigh and handed her the jam. She deftly opened it, dunked her finger in it and licked it. That was the last drop. Thorin jumped up on his feet.

"Will you help us or not?" He barked, and the skinchanger gave him an understanding look. Thorin hated being in this house ever so more now.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs, their numbers are growing and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive. I don't like Dwarfs, they're greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem less than their own." Thorin met his eyes in a direct stare. Whatever race, the two men seemed to understand each other though. Beorn threw an askew look at the redhead who seemed completely absorbed in spreading her jam over a slice of bread, her tiny feet dangling from a wooden stool that was utterly too large for her. "But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?"

They discussed the provisions and transport, and Beorn suggested they started their journey before they lost the light. Several more things had to be taken care before they could go, and while the Dwarves were saddling the ponies, they took turns to take a bath and change, many of them also needing bandages and balms after the goblin caves and the encounter with Azog. Thorin required medical attention more than any, but he was busy supervising their preparations and ended up the last to go at the back of Beorn's dwelling to wash in a stream running through it.

He dragged his brigandine off and realised his tunic was stuck to his body, dried blood sealing it to his skin. He was going to jerk it off when he heard a teasing voice behind him, "That is not how it is done, sweetpea. And Maiar save me, have you been chewed on?"