Because of the already setting sun, the dwarves were forced to spend the night in Sveilrun's home and leave once again in the morning. Unfortunately the skin-changer didn't have proper accommodations for so many people, so the dwarves had to set their bedrolls up around the hearth in the centre of the main room. Sveilrun lead all of the horses they had borrowed from Beorn back to her home and placed them in a paddock with her own horses - which were the same breed as the bear skin-changers - allowing the dwarves to collect all of their possessions. Some of the dwarves prepared dinner in the wolf's kitchen using vegetables from the garden behind the home and dried meat Sveilrun had preserved days before.

Sveilrun was taking care of the horses when she was approached by Gandalf and Thorin. While Gandalf had a relaxed and cheerful demeanor about him, Thorin looked stiff and angry. Sveilrun paused the brush she was using to get some of the grime off one of the horses, and looked up at the two approaching her. The only indication of greeting that she gave was the slight nod of her head before she returned to brushing the horse, speaking to it in a language neither Thorin or Gandalf could understand. The two approaching the wolf woman could barely see her in the dark of the night, and would have missed her if it weren't for the hint of yellow shine that came from her eyes.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Sveilrun," Gandalf remarked the skin-changer politely, "We just have a small matter we need to go over before we leave."

Gandalf sent Thorin an expectant glance until the dwarf king begrudgingly pulled folded parchment from the inside of his fur cloak and handed it to Sveilrun. The woman took the paper hesitantly, unfolding it with gentle hands. The contract she was given listed her as the fifteenth member of the company, the occupation labeled as 'Watchdog'. Sveilrun raised an unimpressed brow at the dwarf king, whose lips quirked slightly in amusement. Sveilrun huffed before reading what was listed in the rather long contract - most of which was taken up by all of the possible deaths - murmuring some of it underneath her breath. The contract promised a share of the gold of Erebor in return for whatever protection and guidance she could offer. She did not have an interest in whatever treasure could be found in the mountain, but if she were to be successful in the reclaiming of her homeland she could use the gold to replace what had been lost in the orc raids that destroyed her village. Even if there was no longer anyone to fill the homes that had been lost.

After going over it a second time, Sveilrun growled lowly in her throat before nodding, "Fine."

"Excellent," Gandalf commented, producing the skin-changer a quill to sign with, and smiled, "I knew this one wouldn't faint."

Sveilrun quickly signed the paper with a messily scrawled 'S', that looked even poorer in comparison to Thorin's charming signature, and handed it back to the dwarf king. He stuffed it back into his fur jacket before taking his leave of them and heading back to his company. Sveilrun sniffed ungracefully as his turned back before her eyes flickered to the elder wizard before her.

"Is he always such a way?" Sveilrun asked, putting down the brush and letting the horse return to its herd.

"Thorin's concerns lie with the company's success and safety," Gandalf replied, pulling a long pipe from his traveling robes, "For now he sees you as an unnecessary risk, but don't fret, he will warm up to you sooner or later."

"Make no mistake, I do not care what the dwarf thinks of me," Sveilrun corrected, pulling out a pipe of her own and leading the wizard to a wooden log that was faced to look out over the small field the horses grazed from, "However, I am not pleased with the tones of disrespect."

Gandalf chuckled, taking a seat on the log as he puffed trails of smoke, and said more to himself than to the woman, "Warming up to each other may take some time."

Sveilrun made a silent noise of agreement at the back of her throat, wisps of smoke escaping her lips, "That is an understatement."

The two sat in comfortable silence after that, simply enjoying the peace that the night had to offer. Or at least, that's what Sveilrun had wished, unfortunately any semblance of peace that the night air could have brought her was lost as she heard a muffled crash immit from the house behind them. Her face twisted into a brief frown of frustration before she sighed and stood to her feet.

"Excuse me, there are some house guests that need to be ki- attended to," Sveilrun sighed, only earning an amused chuckle from Gandalf.

Storming towards the house, trying her best to keep her temper in check, Sveilrun threw open the door and found her home completely overtaken by the company of dwarves. Most of the dwarves were concentrating on creating an enormous feast, most of which from Sveilrun's own food storage, but the rest were wondering around the room studying everything they found. The crash, as she had heard just moments before, seemed to be from one of her glass jars falling off a shelf and shattering upon the floor. A pile of rocks and broken glass were strewn across the rock floor, which was being cleaned up by one of the dwarves. Sveilrun didn't have to say anything, she simply folded her arms across her chest angrily and raised one of her dark eyebrows, and a young, dark haired dwarf, who had introduced himself earlier as Kili, stepped forward and said apologetically, "Sorry, I bumped it with my elbow."

Sveilrun sighed and had to resist the urge to growl in frustration. If the young dwarf didn't look so much like a wounded pup she would probably be much angrier, but as it was she couldn't find the will to snap at the lad.

"It was just an accident," She muttered, more to herself than anyone else, "Don't fuss about it."

"Hey, where did you get all of this stuff?" An even younger dwarf, Ori if she remembered correctly, asked, his hands folded in front of him as if to keep himself from touching anything.

"I found it," Sveilrun replied shortly.

"You have quite the collection of books," A short creature, most definitely not a dwarf Sveilrun observed from the even further lack in height and facial hair, pointed out.

"Thank you," Sveilrun responded, her eyes narrowing down on the extremely small man, "Apologies, but I don't believe I've ever met one of your kind. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my name is Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins," He introduced freindly, holding his hand up to shake hers politely, "I'm a hobbit."

The woman took his hand to shake before releasing it, and replied "Sveilrun. It is nice to meet someone who can appreciate more than jars of pebbles."

Just as she spoke, the larger dwarf, Bombur, walked past with a gigantic stock of meats piled in his arms haphazardly.

"Or food," Sveilrun added, wondering what will be left in her pantries by the end of the dwarves' raid.

Bilbo smiled somewhat sympathetically, "You'll . . . get used to their behaviors. Eventually."

Sveilrun hummed her agreement, but had no time for any more conversation as she noted the leader of the company pick up a book that lay on one of her crookedly made tables. She quickly excused herself and stalked over to the tallest of the dwarves.

"That," Sveilrun said, snatching the large, leatherbound book from his hands, "is private."

"What is it?" Thorin asked, his eyes narrowing slightly on the book.

"None of your concern," Sveilrun replied before placing the large book on one of her many shelves- the highest one up to be exact - so that she had to go on the tips of her toes to nudge it up. Having a few inches of height over the dwarf king was coming in handy already. Thorin grumbled underneath his breath, not understanding the privacy that would be needed for a book.

The night continued as such; the dwarves were noisy, messy, and didn't have a regard for the woman's boundaries. Sveilrun had a difficult time keeping them from touching her possessions, growling underneath her breath every time she had to put something back in its place. Even her precious birds were not so fond of the noise, and most of them left to find other accommodations for the night. Eventually Sveilrun gave up trying to control all of the dwarves movements and decided to keep herself in the comfort of one of her chairs settled in the corner of the room. One of her birds, a rather large blue jay she called Hokey, settled in her lap and watched the company with cautious eyes. Sveilrun let her fingers gently brush over Hokey's back to try and comfort him and herself.

"I like your bird," someone voiced next to the skin-changer. Looking up from her low chair, she found a brown haired dwarf with a funny bump of hair on top of his head. Sveilrun searched her mind for a name but came up blank, but who could blame her, all of their names sound alike.

"Thank you," Sveilrun replied, "He's a good companion."

"Where will he go when you leave?" the dwarf asked.

"Back to the woods, I suppose," Sveilrun replied, "Or to Beorn's with the other animals."

"You know Beorn well?" By then the dwarf had taken a seat on the floor next to the skin-changer, and took to dwarf-watching with her, "You seem different."

"Our villages were close together, but I did not meet him until we fled the mountains," Sveilrun replied, her fingers brushing over Hokey's blue feathers. Feeling done with their current conversation, Sveilrun stood from her chair and lifted Hokey up so he could fly up into the rafters, and said to the dwarf as politely as she could currently manage, "Dinner looks to be nearly ready."

Dinner was a disaster. The dwarves were loud and played strange music using anything they could get their hands on as instruments, they couldn't get the majority of the food into their mouths, and they drank enough ale and wine to kill a troll. Sveilrun sat at the end of the table near Gandalf and Bilbo, the only two with actual table manners, and watched the dwarves slowly become more and more rowdy.

Sveilrun ate her food and downed her drink quickly before excusing herself, practically fleeing to her bedroom so as to not have to watch the company make a mess of her home any longer. Her bedroom was small and matched the rest of the house. Shelving lined the stone walls and was covered in odd and seemingly random objects. A large bed sat in the centre of the room, covered in furs and blankets that looked relatively untouched. Moving to a small dresser, the skin-changer pulled out a couple different sets of extra clothing and a spare cloak and set them on her bed. From the corner of the room she pulled out a large harness that looked to be fit for a large horse, and had two saddlebags on each side. She stuffed the clothing into one of the bags before searching for the next things she would need. A dagger made from the jawbone of a stag, a child's toy - more specifically a rabbit - made of thick fabrics and had been mended many times, and a small wooden kalimba. Using one of her thicker wool blankets, she wrapped all of these seemingly pointless objects up securely and also placed them in a bag. Lastly she pulled out the pipe from her cloak and placed that in the bag as well. Seeing how annoyed she already was with the dwarves, she would probably need it later.

Finished with her packing, she leaned her head close to the door that separated the main room from the bedroom and listened. The dwarves seemed to be finished with their meal, most likely being successful in completely draining the home of anything edible. There was no longer the sound of food splattering on the floor or walls, or the heavy clang of utensils against plates. Instead only the sound of varying instruments playing bouncing tunes, and deep voices singing cheerful songs and stories, sounded through the home. Deeming it safe to enter the room once again, Sveilrun quietly slipped through the door and clicked it shut behind her.

"There you are!" Gandalf's cheerful voice filled Sveilrun's ears, "I was wondering where our hostess had run off to."

Gandalf, along with all of the dwarves, sat comfortably around the giant stone hearth. A long pipe sat in his hands, smoke rings chasing each other above the skin-changer's head, and he motioned for her to join them.

"I was simply packing some of my things," Sveilrun said as she walked forward, but did not sit with the company, "My apologies, but it seems I have some business I must attend to before our departure tomorrow. I should return before dawn."

"Business?" Thorin questioned, looking up at the woman under his brows, "what business could be had at this time of night?"

"If you must know, I need to speak to Beorn before our departure," Sveilrun replied with a harsh tone, "I only leave with his blessing of your quest."

"Do you not believe our tale?" Thorin growled.

"I would have to be a fool to leave my faith in the hands of strangers," Sveilrun retaliated, before repeating, "I shouldn't be long," and sweeping from the room.

Sveilrun's bare feet drifted silently over the long grasses around her home as she made her way towards the forest. Once she reached the secluded darkness of the forest, where even the eyes of a wolf have a hard time seeing and the silent fluttering and skittering of birds and mice filled her ears, she shifted into her wolf form and took off into the night. The wolf's long, powerful legs stretched as far as they could with each stride, and her claws dug into the earth to propel her forward. Even without scent and stone paths to guide her, she knew exactly where to go as the presence of the only remaining skin-changer called her onwards. The trees parted into a giant field, the light of the moon making everything seem to glow in an ethereal way, and her pace quickened. Running through trees was much more difficult than open spaces. She reached the home of the great bear skin-changer within two hours, and slowed herself to a light lope. Her eyes caught many of the smaller animals that Beorn kept for company and saw them cower away from her presence.

"They can smell the blood on you, strikwon (little one)," The deep grumbling voice of the bear skin-changer greeted the wolf, "How it is you tamed your birds I shall never know with death clinging to your skin."

"Not all of us can live on honey alone," Sveilrun chuckled in reply, "My birds know that to be the scent of an awaiting meal."

"I don't suppose it's a good meal awaiting that makes my horses so fond of you than?"

"No, but a brush and exchange of words may help," Sveilrun replied.

Beorn let loose a loud, hearty laugh, and stepped forward to throw his arms around the wolf's neck, "It has been too long, Sveilrun. Although I am glad to see an old friend, I wish we were meeting in better circumstances."

"So what the dwarves say is all true?" Sveilrun asked the bear skin-changer seriously.

"Aye, what they say is all true," Beorn's tone dropped from it's previous happiness, "I suppose that means you will go with them?"

"I miss my home, Beorn," Sveilrun murmured, the wolf's voice coming out as a soft rumble, "My real home. I miss the mountains and the moon. Even if there is no one to fill the village as there once was; what we have here is not the same. I can't wait any longer. I refuse to wait for them to perish, the orcs are a staining plague that must be wiped out."

"I know," Beorn sighed, "I will not try and stop you from leaving, but please be careful wherever you may travel."

"If I succeed I shall return," Sveilrun promised, "If not . . . take care of my birds for me."