I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle. The air was growing colder in the evenings with autumn drawing nigh. From my perch on the roof of the lodge, I had watched the company of dwarves and the wizard Gandalf disappear out of sight. The stars were beginning to shine out through the scant clouds overhead. There would be no moon this evening.
I pulled my legs up, resting my head against my knees. The world was so clear to me, it was frightening.
Gandalf had reassured me that things would soon start to make sense. He suggested that I continue my normal routine while the memories that had been locked away for nearly a decade began to stir in my brain. However, I couldn't imagine how anything would feel normal again.
My skin almost tingled with identity. The person I had become struggled to comprehend who I had once been long ago.
I had a name. Briar Rose.
Rosie.
Rosie was what my older cousin Bain had called me. It was Bain who had taught me to swim. A recollection as clear and stinging as shards of glass pierced my consciousness. I was bursting up through the calm surface of the lake. Beating the water with my fists and screaming for him to come fetch me to shore, Bain merely crouched on the dock a few feet away from where I floundered.
Rosie, calm yourself. Kick your feet and push your hands out like this.
He had mimicked treading water, nodding to me encouragingly. I gasped but obeyed. Soon, I could feel my body becoming buoyant.
There you see? Little Rosie, you were born for these waters.
These waters…the waters of Long Lake where Lake-town had been founded. I had been born in the great trading city of men where barrels of wine from the halls of Thranduil were peddled alongside dwarvish metal works.
Rosie, see the mountain?
I was picked up and perched on my Uncle's broad shoulders. His arms were sinewy with muscle from years of shooting his great yew bow. He was the descendant of Kings, but now a simple bowman of Lake-town. He had raised me alongside his own children after my mother's death. He was called Bard.
That's where all the dwarves' gold is, Uncle?
Yes, Rosie
And the dragon.
Yes, but Smaug has not been seen for many years.
Smaug.
I shivered at the memory of stories told by firesides. Every child born in Lake-town had nightmares about the dragon who had blasted our ancestors to ash in the ancient city of Dale. We each envisioned him differently in our mind's eye, for none of my generation had ever seen the legendary fire-drake.
I rubbed my chilled, upper arms, shifting to turn my face towards the fading light in the west over the Carrock. This was my home for so many years. The thought that I had another somewhere out there to the east of the great forest was overwhelming. I knew the choice that lay before me. However, this territory was unfamiliar to me as forest paths on moonless nights.
Running my fingers through my curls, I abruptly scrambled down the roof as though to shake the invisible burden from my shoulders. Sliding down to the edge of the front of the lodge, I shimmied down one of the massive wooden columns to the ground.
Beorn stood watching the wood from the gate surrounding his home. I could see the dark outline of his massive frame leaning against the fence post.
"You aren't changing tonight?" I asked coming up alongside him.
"No," He responded wearily, "Not tonight, Cub."
I smiled to myself as I mounted the fence, sitting down on it as to face the lodge.
"Are you displeased with your choice to remember your past?" He asked directly not looking at me.
"I don't know yet." I replied, "It's all so new."
Beorn grunted, shifting his massive weight, "So, you are the niece of a Bowman from Lake-town?"
"Yes," I answered, "Gandalf said he had suspected that was who I was before he even broke the spell."
"My question is how did you become lost all alone in Mirkwood? You were a mere child." Beorn grumbled.
"Those details are foggy." I replied tentatively, "But I believe it had something to do with my father."
"I thought the bowman was your uncle?"
"Yes, but I had a father as well." I shifted uncomfortably, "From what I can remember, I believe my mother was unwed when she had me. She died in child birth. Her brother, Bard, took me in but never forgave my father."
Images of a hard face with a scraggly beard flashed in my mind. He had yellowed teeth and foul breath reeking of ale. I closed my eyes and shuddered.
"I think my mother's death drove him mad. Or at least to drink. Bard forbade me to see him, though I remember sometimes as a child, a strange man watching me from street corners or doorways. I did not know who he was until he took me from my home."
"Your Uncle let him bring you out into the wilderness?"
"I believe I was kidnapped." I struggled with my words as the memories began to flow like a river, "He said we were going to go beyond the mountains for a new life as a family. I don't know how I feel about my father to be honest; whether he was a bad man or just a broken one."
"Sounds broken to me, if misled." Beorn surmised, laying a hand on my shoulder, "Do you know what happened to him?"
I closed my eyes. There were thousands of glowing eyes in the depths of Mirkwood. My father waved a torch at them but it did no good. I was curled up against a tree, trying to be brave. He unsheathed his sword.
Run! Run, Rose!
I obeyed my father, busting through the thick underbrush. I tripped over a huge, unearthed root. I fell into deep water. However, I knew how to swim so I wasn't initially frightened. Then the sleepiness hit me like a boulder and my mind began to wander down passages with pleasant dreams. It's a wonder I didn't drown. The next thing I knew was Beorn's mighty hand fishing me out of the river at dawn.
"I believe he died." I answered carefully.
Beorn pushed himself away from the fence and held out a hand to me.
"Beorn," I began taking his hand, "You know I love you, no matter what happens."
I could barely make out Beorn's smile in the dim light as I launched myself onto the sod, "And I you, dear one."