I stay near the window for a few more seconds, enjoying the murmuring background noise that the dwarves make, and let my thoughts wander around. A sudden tug of my cloak snaps me out of my daze and I turn around only to see Bilbo smiling at me in a sheepish way.
"With what can I be of service to you, Mater Bilbo?" I take a sit on the nearby bench, feeling tiredness and sleep taking over.
"I… um… I wanted to give you this back." he says, handing me back the Ice flute. "I kept it safe."
I give him a warm smile and shake my head, closing his hands around the magical instrument.
"Keep it. You may need it."
"Are…. are you sure?" he seems amazed as his eyes widen, allowing the candle I kept close by to reflect nicely in them.
"Aye. Now go to sleep, little Hobbit, as tomorrow is going to be a long day."
He smiles again and nods before leaving. Yet after a few steps he turns around, again that anxious look in his eyes.
"You will be coming along tomorrow, right?"
"Of course I will." my lids are heavy and it's hard for me to keep my brain working properly, let alone formulate sentences, yet I don't whine.
"Good. Really good. Well, rest well then."
With a final nod he turns around and goes to his sleeping bag.
Soon everyone is comfortably situated in their bags, well covered and somewhat relaxed. As my eyes scan the room from my place on the bench, I can't help but notice that we are one dwarf short. Rising from my spot I enter the other room and once again look around. I spot Thorin in the furthest end of the room, his hands crossed over his chest in a threating and stubborn manner, and his head looking up. Following his gaze, I see Fenrir casually lying on the beam, his massive head looking down at the dwarf. Hearing their hushed voices and mostly the rumbling growl of the Dire wolf, I wonder if I should interfere. Frowning I go down the few stairs, before successfully and silently tip-toeing past the sleeping forms of the dwarves, until I reach the place where I left my bag, which conveniently is only a few steps away from the still awake duo. Stealing a glance their way, I notice that they are aware of my presence, since the dwarf's eyes are following my every move with that characteristic angry frown of his.
The silence settles as I kneel on the ground and unfold my sleeping bag, my ears trying to grasp any sound that may indicate a forthcoming quarrel.
"It's improper to eavesdrop, Ice Witch." the whisper, despite the growling timbre, doesn't wake anyone.
From my place I look up, my eyes briefly stopping on the stormy blue oceans of Thorin's, before looking higher at the green emeralds, now narrowed into slits. The wolfish smile that tugs at the corners of Fenrir's mouth makes me frown, as usually nothing good comes out of that.
"I have little to no interest what so ever in your conversation, as long as it won't result in a fight." I state in a low voice, returning my attention back to the now completely unfolded bag.
The rumbling laugh that comes from above makes me roll my eyes in irritation. Yet I don't grace the wolf with any further attention, as I feel too sleepy to deal with him. So instead I remove my cloak and fold it nicely as a pillow. Then I unbuckle the belt around my chest that holds my staff and sword steady on my back, and leave it near me, alongside said attributes. Without any more words I slip under the warm furs and rest my head on my hand, that way turning my back to the two troublesome males. Soon sleep takes over and the darkness of a dreamless rest sucks me into its warm and awaited embrace.
A low feral growl accompanied by a gust of hot wind in the face wakes me up the next morning. Blinking my eyes open I rise up, only to come uncomfortably close to a nice set of sharp teeth. With a low squeak I jump back and put a hand on my now rapidly beating heart. Fenrir just gives me a grunt-like sound before nodding to something behind me. Turning around, I notice one pretty big figure near the fireplace. For a second the thought that we have been attacked and taken hostages crosses my mind, but then I recall where we are, and realise that the enormous body I'm currently starring at belongs to out host, Beorn. With a soundless yawn I rub my eyes and stand up, stretching my stiff muscles. Running a hand over my hair, making sure it's still in a nice braid, and then tautening my shirt and the vest over it, I tip-toe around the still sleeping and snoring dwarves. Finally reaching the set of stairs I quickly climb them as soundlessly as possible and come to stand near the skin-changer.
"It's nice to see you again, Beorn. It's been a long time." I say in a quiet voice before stretching my hands towards the fire in attempt to warm them up.
"Fair meeting, Isis." he greets, his eyes trained on the flames.
"I apologize for intruding in such a way in your home, but we were left pretty much with no other option."
"What brings you so far away from your lands?" he asks and steals a glance at me from under his huge eyelashes.
"I offered Gandalf my help in his current enterprise." my evasive answer seems to not please him as his eyebrows furrow and he grunts.
"And what enterprise do a wizards and a witch have with a bunch of dwarves?" his displeased tone reminds me that, despite his rather disinterested attitude towards what's happening out of his lands, Beorn is known for his dislike towards the Durin's folk.
"We are on a quest to reclaim something stolen." I answer, trying not to give anything away, since Gandalf never told me how much to tell anyway.
"So it's true? The dwarves are on a quest to reclaim Erebor and slay the dragon?" he mumbles under his breath, yet I hear him.
"How do you know that?"
The skin-changer smiles and moves away, taking a seat on the bench, which creaks under his weight. Now we are finally somewhere close to eye-level and I no longer need to crane my neck up in order to see his face.
"Word travels fast and far. Especially when it is a suicide mission like this one."
"You believe we won't manage?" the angry edge of my tone doesn't skip my own ears, yet alone Beorn's and he looks at me with his huge eyes.
"Yes. The dwarves are greedy and pig-headed. Do you really believe you can do anything against that beast?"
My hands ball into fists and I grid my teeth at his remark.
"The prophecy will be fulfilled one way or another, and you know it. The birds are returning to the Misty Mountain – that's the sign."
Only after the words leave my mouth do I realise that, indeed, I believe in what I'm saying. Furthermore, I'm defending the dwarves and their right to reclaim their home; something I'd usually never do unless I truly thought there's even the slightest chance they may succeed.
"That's not an answer to my question, and you know it." he points out, making me look away for a second.
The pop of the burning wood is the only sound that disturbs the quietness for nearly a whole minute before I nod.
"Yes, I believe the beast can and will be killed." my words are confident and stern.
"So you have gone mad as well." he whispers in what can be believed to be acquiescence.
"So it seems, yes." I smile and look out of the window.
The sky is getting a lighter shade of blue with each passing second and soon hues of pink, orange and yellow start appearing at the horizon.
"Dawn is upon us." Beorn whispers and I sense a hint of tiredness in his voice.
"Yes. Is there still someone out there waiting for us to get out?" I ask directly while inspecting the forest that surrounds the house.
"The Orcs and their Wargs are still close by, waiting. I chased them as far away as possible but they will return soon."
"Thank you." I suddenly say and look at the skin-changer, who gives me a questioning look.
"For keeping us save tonight. We needed the rest."
The giant man just nods his head and proceeds to look at the flames for a few minutes before standing up once again and walking towards the window. His tall figure looms dangerously high, almost reaching the ceiling, which results in him constantly ducking under the various beams.
I stand up as well and walk back towards the sleeping company. First I stop by Gandalf and wake him up from a rather troublesome dream, for which he nods in gratitude before noticing Beorn's giant figure and asking with a single glance if everything is still okay. I nod and proceed to walk, until I spot Thorin's sleeping body. His head rests on an improvised pillow made of hay and his wavy hair is sprawled around him like a halo. The few silver strands have fallen across his face during his sleep and before I know it I'm kneeling next to him and extending my hand to push them away. Any rational thought slips from my mind the moment my fingers gently touch his forehead and push the hair back. For a first time his characteristic frown and dark demeanour are gone, and in front of my eyes a whole new image of the fierce warrior appears – the one of a man at ease, at least in his sleep, with no worry on his mind. A small smile tugs at corners of my lips and unknowingly I trace his hairline with my fingers. His low moan snaps me out of my trance and I almost fall back. Quickly moving my hand away and placing it on his shoulder, I lightly shake him.
"Thorin. Thorin! Wake up!" I hush as I shake him, yet to no vain.
Chucking at his deep sleep I keep on shaking him, this time with more passion. The only reply I get is a groan and a few mumbled words, none of which makes any sense. So deciding that I have had enough, I squeeze his shoulder a little bit rougher than needed and send a chilly wave through his body. The result is immediate. The dwarf jumps up and grabs my wrist with such force that I fear he may break it any moment.
"Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Thorin! Let go!" I hiss and pull at my now throbbing wrist.
He looks around, dread and animosity in his eyes, before finally stopping his gaze on me and realising who I am. His hold eases and I pull my hand away, massaging the now bruised flesh.
"Jeez! You sleep like a log! I have been trying to wake you up for over a minute now!" I whisper while making sure there's no fatal damage done to my wrist.
"Well you shouldn't have woken me up by throwing a bucket of ice over me." he grumbles as he stands me, leaving me kneeling on the ground in his feet.
Looking up from my position I narrow my eyes at him and sent him a nasty look before raising as well, now towering over him a little.
"That's a nice idea- I'll use it the next time I have the unfortunate task of waking you up!" I hiss in his face before turning around and continuing to shake up the rest of the group.
In a few minutes, groaning and whining about the early hour, everyone is finally up. By the sight of Beorn, though, they all go silent and cautious. Gandalf is the one who urges them to come closer and have some breakfast before we leave. I stay behind to prepare my luggage. I'm in the process of securing the leather strap over my chest when a low clatter of nails over wood catches my attention and I look to my right, only to see the Dire wolf studying the talking group on the table.
"Are you really going to leave them in the dark?" his voice is, for a first time, barely audible.
"What good will it be if I tell them the beast is already awake? It will only crash their spirit." I reply after making sure my sword is nicely secured on my back, alongside the magical staff.
"Your will." he says reluctantly, before changing the subject. "How long do you plan on following them?"
"Until I'm no longer needed, I suppose." I say and stand up.
The wolf growls at my lack of any interest in what seems to be troubling him, so turning around and providing my full attention, I raise an eyebrow his way.
"What exactly gives you the heebie-jeebies?"
He just looks at me with a strange look, in which I see sagacity, uncharacteristic for a wild animal. Yet again, Fenrir has never been merely a wild beast. There are rumours claiming that he possesses a vast knowledge, accumulated for centuries. 'No, definitely not a stupid animal.'
"I'm not asking you to come along, you know. I'd like you to be close-by, yes, but I'm not expecting you to show any interest in a future battle, from which many won't return." I give him a small smile before nodding towards the door.
"You are free to go, if that's what you wish." I whisper with a rather sad voice.
The wolf looks at where everyone is and then at me. His white tail waves slowly behind him, as if he's mulling everything through.
"Let's go outside." without waiting for my reply he turns around and leaves, leaving me no other choice but to follow him out of the door.
The air that enters my lungs is nipping and cold, a reminder that the nights are no longer welcoming for those who choose to sleep outside. As we walk through the garden, still bathed in morning dew, I feel my heart clenching in my chest at what's to come. The sun's barely peeking over the horizon, casting its nice soft light everywhere and making Fenrir's fur no longer appear white but rather pinkish. I can't help but smile at how nicely this shade suit him. The wolf stops right at what can be considered the threshold and stares at the distance.
"You did far more than I could have imagined, and I'm grateful for that." I say, my voice suddenly coming out almost teary.
"Don't get all emotional on me, Ice Witch." the wolf growls and turns his head to the side, so that he can see me.
"I'm not. I'm just thankful. I'm sure they are as well." I continue, paying no attention to his grumpiness.
"I didn't do it for them." the low whisper is almost immediately swept away by the morning breeze, yet I manage to pick it up.
"Then why? Why did you offer to take me all the way here?" a light frown graces my features at his remark.
Yet the Dire wolf stays silent, his gaze following the line of the sun. In this very moment I can see some kind of sadness surrounding him, creating a dreadful demeanour. 'As if he's saying his goodbye with everyone. As if… he's about to die…' my mind takes a dangerous turn and I shake those thoughts away.
"I must go." he suddenly states and takes a step forward.
"Wait!" I call after him and quickly melt away the distance between us. "Will I ever see you again?"
"Who knows?" he whispers and his head gently pushes my hand.
I look down and the sudden urge to caress his fur takes over me. Before I know it, my fingers are running though the soft fur on his head, stroking him gently.
"I'll miss you, despite your awful mood." I whisper and give him a sad smile, before moving away.
"Ah." he groans.
After a few more steps he suddenly runs ahead, quickly disappearing into the depths of the forest. I stay near the threshold until there's no longer a patch of white showing off from between the trees.
I re-enter the house only to almost run into a hurrying Bilbo. He stumbles back and I grab his shoulders, keeping him steady.
"Easy there, mate." I give him a small smile before he takes a few steps back, letting me enter. "What's the rush?"
"You.. you disappeared. I.. we… got worried that… you know…" he looks ashamed of what he just said and a nice blush appears on his cheeks.
"That I'd leave? No way. The fun part is about to start!" I exclaim and push him back inside the house, closing the heavy door behind us.
When we enter the room, all the eyes are on us, or on me, to be more precise.
"Did I miss something important?" I ask out loud and tilt my head to the side.
"No, my dear. But we must go, as the Orcs may return any moment." Gandalf says and nods at my stuff that have been put on the table.
Looking around I take notice that indeed everyone is ready to depart, with their backpacks on their backs and their swords and axes fastened around their waists. Rushing towards the table I quickly take my cloak and throw it over my shoulders then grab my bag and quickly clasp it around my body. After that I take a small griddle-cake from the table and take a bite of it. And everyone is still looking at me rather expectantly.
"What?" I ask after swallowing.
"Where's the white beast?" grumbles Thorin with his eyes narrowed at me as usual.
I mimic his facial expression and take another bite of my small snack. The obvious refusal to obey his orders makes him even angrier and I swear I can see a thunderstorm forming above his head. The twinkle in my eyes, pure mischief, makes him see red; the veins all over his face and neck start popping out and I barely manage not to choke on my laughter at the sight.
"Now, now. No need for this, Isis." Gandalf's scold is aimed mostly to calming down the angry dwarf.
Huffing I nod and swallow my bite.
"Shall we go then?"
The whole gang noisily leaves Beorn's house and heads towards the door. There we are met by a herd of ponies and two horses.
"They'll lead you wherever you want to go." Beorn says after finally ducking under the doorframe.
Soon we are far off, the ponies and horses trotting forward. A few times I turn around to look if there's someone following us, and each and every time I only glimpse at a huge blotch of dark brown in the distance. 'Beorn is making sure we make it safely out of his territory.' I think and smile with relief.
The journey is mostly smooth apart from a few friendly quarrels between the dwarves. I ride at the very back and let my thoughts wander around.
It's hours later when Kili and Fili fall behind so that we can ride together. I smile at them and we maintain a small chat for most of the time. Yet I have the feeling that they want to know something, so finally, after I'm informed that Kili prefers the bow to the sword due to its many advantages, I ask:
"What exactly did Thorin tell you to ask me?" I smile at their shocked expressions and my genuine laugh fills the silence when they blush. "Don't sweat it boys."
"Well… we wanted to know what happened to… the wolf?" asks Kili, his chocolate eyes cautious.
"Fenrir, Kili. His name was Fenrir." adds Fili and rolls his eyes at his brother's bluntness.
"Yeah. Sorry." the brunet dwarf scratches his head in discomfort and I can't help but laugh at how cute he is.
"He left. His debt was paid after he helped you at the forest. " I say, and suddenly feel my light mood disappearing a little.
"Wait! He was paying a debt? Does that mean you made him come?" asks Fili, obviously not catching what I want to say.
"He owed me a favour. To escort me all the way to Carrock wasn't a part of what we bargained for. So he had the right to leave whenever he wished."
"If you don't mind me asking – why did he escort you all the way here? I mean, if he wasn't obliged to do it, why did he bother?" it's Kili who frowns this time.
"I don't know. Maybe he's not as cold-hearted as I thought he was. He never answered me when I asked."
A comfortable silence settles as we continue to ride side by side. It's around lunch time so the quietness doesn't last long and soon everyone starts whining that they want to eat. Despite all the voices shouting over one another, Thorin doesn't even say a word about rest, let alone a full-course meal on a meadow.
"Is he always like this?" I ask his nephews.
"Well… not quite. He wasn't like this before – he was laughing more often and would never decline an offer for lunch. Now…" Fili stops there, not sure how to end that sentence.
"Now he just has too much on his mind to even allow himself to relax for a second. As a leader he thinks it's unacceptable to make bad decisions, so he never rushes into something that may endanger our lives." adds Kili and looks at his uncle with worry.
"Unless it concerns elves. Then he becomes rather irrational." murmurs the blond and I smile at the little humour.
Soon everyone joins in with different stories and events that are rather humorous and laugher is quick to echo around us. To my own amazement I'm laughing more often than I thought I would and the attention of the dwarves, who seem to enjoy a good listener with a sense of humour, only makes it stranger. Being the introvert I tend to be, it's a miracle I'm having a good time with all this attention and various voices coming from everywhere.
I'm in the middle of a good laughter after Bombur told one quite exhilarating story when an icy chill runs down my spine, making my laugher die out almost immediately. I raise my head high and look around, soon spotting in the distance one of the ice soldiers I send ahead.
"Make way!" I quickly shout and the chatter dies out immediately.
I spur my horse forward and rush towards my soldier. Only a few meters away do I notice he is limping and his hands are waving frantically. The moment I reach him and touch his shoulder I know I had made a grave mistake to rush head-first so fast. In a second from behind the hill a group of Orcs and their Wargs appears and heads right towards me. The distance that separate us is not that great and I know there's no way this horse can outrun a Warg, so I quickly pull the ice figures from my pocket and say the spell. The moment the last syllable leaves my lips my horse rises on his back hooves and sends me flying back. I manage to roll around as the heavy body falls to the ground seconds later, dangerously close to me, with a Warg still digging into its chest. The creature lifts its muzzle at me and growls, only to end up with an arrow in his skull. I have no time to look back at who saved me, and instead pull my sword and staff from their cases and take a fighting position.
"Attack!" I order to my soldiers before ducking, as a sword cuts the air right where my head was moments ago.
My staff flies forward and touches the Orc, turning him into a huge block of ice immediately.
"Dammit!" I curse and raise my sword, stopping another one from decapitating me.
Despite my best attempts it's near impossible to protect myself as more and more Orcs appear, surrounding me. I can hear someone shouting orders, the battle yells of the dwarves and even Gandalf shouting words, but the Orcs' hideous faces and voices are all around me, cutting any way out. Before I know it, there's no way to run to. Most of my ice soldiers are held up by Orcs on Wargs and can't make it to my side in time. Gripping my sword harder and spinning the staff in my other hand I know there's no easy way out of the mess this time. In the seconds of lull between their attack, I hear Thorin yelling my name. I take a deep breath and the Orcs attack. The next moments are a blur of spins, ducks, slaying, impaling, freezing and missing something sharp by sheer luck. Unfortunately, I also miss to notice that my surrounding is now rather rocky, and before I can even think of a way around this, I trip and literally roll all the way down to where the dwarves are fighting.
"Shit…" I groan as I try to raise, only to be grabbed by the hair and pulled up.
A face, reeking of carrion and death ends up too close to mine for comfort, but so does the sharp knife, pressed against my throat.
"Drop your weapons, dwarves, or the female dies!" the disgusting creature yells, almost throwing spin on my face.
The effect is immediate – the circle that the dwarves have created in order to protect each other's backs has now frozen on the spot with raised weapons and most of the eyes are looking at me. I try to shake my head, to tell them not to do what he says, but the pain in my head indicates that not only have I received a nice blow while I was rolling down like a sack of potatoes, but also that the blade is at the verge of breaking my skin, making any movement painful.
"Don't even think about it!" I hiss either way, which wins we a painful hit.
"Shut up, meat sack!" the Orc hisses in my face, allowing me to have a whiff of his awful breath.
The nausea that appears by that reek soon passes away as I notice Thorin, who happens to be right in front of me, and his conflicted expression. 'Oh my… he's thinking it through!' my mind shouts for me to say or do something, yet the pain in my skull has me tripping on the edge of consciousness.
The dwarf's worried and angry expression is what sobers me up enough to get my mind working. Looking around, I notice my staff near Thorin's foot. My eyes widen ever so slightly before I look at him. With my eyes I try to show him what is near his feet and while for a second he seems rather confused he finally steals a glance down and notices my staff. Looking back at me I twitch my right wrist, the one he almost broke this same morning, in indication to where I want him to throw it. It takes him a second more before he lowers his weapon and raises his hands in defeat.
"We surrender. Let her go." his voice is rather calm, but by the way he gulps I know it's all just a façade.
"Put your weapons on the ground!" commands another Orc as he takes a few courageous steps closer.
Thorin looks at me once more and I blink at him as an encouragement. My right hand is ready to grab the staff, while the left one will hit the Orc. All the dwarves, alongside Gandalf and my warriors, lower their weapons and put them on the ground. And here I must admit that Thorin plays his role as a pro – even his emotion is of someone who is surrendering against his will. And while the Orcs feast over their victory they skip to notice the sudden movement of the dwarf's hand and the flying object. The moment they realise what he did, it's too late. With my left elbow ending in the Orc's stomach, I roll away and the spell that slips past my lips turns the ground into an ice rink. And as the enemy tumbles over and falls, unable to stand up, my ice soldiers use the chance and kill them one by one. Those who are nearer we take care of personally. The daggers I always keep in my boots are out in an eye blink and I slice a few throats open.
A few minutes later there are no more Orcs or Wargs alive. I'm sitting on the ground, with one hand on my head and the other one checking if there's a cut on my throat. The first to reach me is Bilbo, who dashed so fast that I didn't really realise when he had come until he starts hassling around me, looking at the wound on my head and giving suggestions of what should be done. I don't hear a word, though, as a fierce headache takes over and I bend in half, hoping it will subside.
"Isis! Isis open your eyes!" it's Gandalf's voice that snaps me out of my trance and I try to do as he asks.
Yet even the slightest movement results into pain shooting through my body and I give a weak moan before curling into a ball once again. For a first time in a while I resent the fact that my magic doesn't involve healing, even for myself. So instead Gandalf starts to chant and his soft white magic engulfs me, making the pain go away and the wounds to heal as much as possible. Unfortunately such spells always end the same way. The world drowns in darkness faster than Bombur can devour a whole bread.