CHAPTER NINE: THE BIRDS AND THE BEARS


It was several mornings after their frantic escape from the Wargs and Bilbo woke up with the early sun in his eyes, its slowly strengthening rays still close to the eastern edge of things. The morning was cool, and mists were in the valleys and hollows and twined here and there about the peaks and pinnacles of the hills. They were surrounded by trees that looked like oaks and elms, and wide grass lands, and a river running through it all. But cropping out of the ground, right in the path of the stream which looped itself about it, was a great rock, almost a hill of stone, like a last outpost of the distant mountains, or a huge piece cast miles into the plain by some giant among giants. There was a flat space on the top of the hill of stone and a well-worn path with many steps leading down it to the river, across which a ford of huge flat stones led to the grassland beyond the stream. There was a little cave (a wholesome one with a pebbly floor) at the foot of the steps and near the end of the stony ford.

It had clearly been used as a landmark of sorts as Gandalf had seemed to recognize it (once he had managed to tug on the flying ends of his beard to keep it from flying in front of his face) and had called for their flying mounts to descend nearby. At the thought of their miraculous journey some nights ago, Bilbo jumped up to look at the time and to go and put his kettle on-and found he was not home at all. So he sat down and wished in vain for a wash and a brush. He did not get either, and while there was no tea, he did manage to get some crackers and a rasher of bacon for his breakfast, leaving him once again thankful for the rations they managed to pull from the seemingly endless depths of the packs that Michael had enchanted and filled for them.

At the thought of his friend, Bilbo turned towards the towering mountain range at their backs, a massive wall of stone and pine almost cutting the sky itself in twain, and trapping the mighty Titan behind.

'Though it's probably us that's trapped instead. After all, we're now on the side that holds the dragon.' Bilbo thought darkly.

The thought of the dragon weighed heavily on the Dwarves' minds as well, as it had done since the days it had laid waste to Dale and shattered their underground kingdom. But it had especially seemed to have grabbed a hold of Thorin, who stood tall (or as tall as any Dwarf can really stand) gazing in the exact opposite direction as Bilbo and towards a mountain that could not be more different than the sprawling ones the Hobbit was looking up at.

Whereas the Misty Mountains were an immense curtain of towering stone, crags and peaks all slashing through each other to create a pointed relief, like teeth growing out of the earth itself and so wide you'd have to turn your head to see where the edges wandered off to, the Lonely Mountain was… well, lonely. It wasn't as high as some of the tallest peaks in the Misty Mountains, but there even the highest spire constantly struggled to reach above its many brethren. Erebor stood alone, making it seem more impressive.

It had a wide base, formed out of six ridges, who with flat slopes worked itself all the way up until they formed a central peak that was snowcapped well into spring and looked particularly pointy. If the Misty Mountains seemed like teeth, then the Lonely Mountain appeared like the tip of a spear.

"I see your thoughts dwell once more upon the underground halls of Erebor, young Thorin." Gandalf mused aloud, stuffing his pipe but shooting the Dwarven prince a considering side-glance from underneath his silver eyebrows.

"Aye. It had been my kin's stronghold in this world after the fall of Moria, though Elves called it Erebor by that time. We however called it home, for two hundred and eleven years, before it was abandoned by the first Thorin. He sought to lead our people to join our fellow kin in the Grey Mountains, but after three hundred years of struggle, they were driven away there as well by foul dragons. Only then did we return to Erebor, so foolishly abandoned by the forefather whose name I share, by the decree of Thror, my grandfather. Until a dragon found our homes yet again and set them alight in hellish fire. And once more, a Thorin had to lead his people away from their rightful kingdom."

Their camp had fallen completely silent at Thorin's tale, the fury and the hurt in his voice stirring their hearts and none dared move as the prince turned to face Gandalf with a grim determination.

"I will not see the mistakes of my ancestors repeated. I will not see yet another home of the Dwarves be taken by accursed dragons. Never again. The struggles of Thorin I shall be avenged by the deeds of Thorin II and this Company, I swear it!"

The Dwarves let out great cheers and many a "hear hear!" at that and even Bilbo gave a polite clap of his hands, but Gandalf remained huddled and bent by their little campfire, gnarled hands still absently working his pipe, his gaze far away.

"You wish to press on then, I presume."

Gandalf's dry voice cut through the boisterous cheer of the rest of the Company and Thorin was silent for a long moment, before he gave the wizard a considering nod.

"Indeed. With our destination so close, a haste has come over me. I wish to lay eyes upon my home once more, Gandalf, and upon the slain corpse of Smaug even more so!"

"We are close, yes, that is true. Closer than we have been at any stage in our journey, which is the nature of any journey. It's what tends to happen when you set one foot in front of the other. Tomorrow, we shall be again closer than we have ever been and the day after it will be the same. Every day we shall come closer, but we'll only have arrived once we're there and as it is our destination in the first place, Erebor will be where we shall arrive in the end."

Bilbo's eyes briefly went cross-eyed as he followed the wizard's logic and he saw several of the Companions exchange confused looks and careless shrugs.

"You would counsel lethargy, now, when we are so close?!" Thorin thundered, but Gandalf seemed unimpressed.

"I would counsel caution, and especially now that we are so close."

With that, he seemingly deemed his pipe sufficiently stuffed as he placed it to his lips. He extended his thumb, which was suddenly engulfed in a small, bright flame, which he then brought to the head of his pipe, puffing away contently.

Bilbo recognized it as a trick that Hyperion liked to use and had likely taught the wizard.

"Normally, I would advise folk to look beyond, but in this particular case, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, I would advise you to stop looking so far and to look near instead. Look not to the horizon, but to what lies between it and us." Gandalf continued, rising to his full height and towering over the rest of the Company as he swept out his arm, indicating the vast sea of green that rolled outwards from where the slopes of their foothill met the outstretched vale.

"You know these woods?"

"Aye. Mirkwood. Home to Wood Elves." Thorin muttered darkly and Gandalf nodded at his words.

"It was not always called that, of course. At the dawn of this world, when the Elves began to awaken, they first rested here on their Great Journey from Cuivienen to the Far West and named it Eryn Galen, or Great Greenwood in the Common tongue, for these are the largest woodlands that remain from those ancient times. Some were so enchanted by it, that they became Umanyar: those elves that settled the world instead of continuing the journey to Valinor, where the divine Ainur dwell. But no enchantment now remains, save that of dark forces. Shadows have darkened those woods and poisoned air and water. Great Greenwood it is called no more, that name now only known to the Silvan Elves that remain, since Dwarves no longer travel the Old Forest Road and Man dare not enter at all: for they have named it Mirkwood and whisper of many-limbed monsters with far too many eyes."

A chill went up Bilbo's spine and he saw several of the other Dwarves shudder as well, though Thorin merely clenched his fist.

"The failing kingdoms of Elves is no concern of mine; I must look towards reclaiming the one lost to my kin first and foremost." He said with bitterness in his voice.

"Considering that said failing kingdom lies between us and your lost one, I would say that it is a concern indeed!" Gandalf thundered angrily.

"Begging your pardon, but do we really need to pass through it? Can we not simply go around?" Bilbo hesitantly asked, not so much because he minded being in Elven territory (he was rather exited at the thought of seeing Elves again after their wonderful stay in Rivendell), but because he did mind being in a haunted forest.

Most of the Dwarves seemed to agree with Bilbo's suggestion (though in their cases it was a bit of a toss-up whether they were motivated by a dislike of Elves or shadowy monsters), but surprisingly Gandalf and Thorin agreed to disagree with Bilbo.

"We could, of course, if you care to go two hundred miles or so out of your way north, and twice that south. But you wouldn't get a safe path even then. There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go. Before you could get round Mirkwood in the North you would be right among the slopes of the Grey Mountains, and they are simply stiff with goblins, hobgoblins, and rest of the worst description. Before you could get round it in the South, you would get into the land of the Necromancer; and even you. Bilbo, won't need me to tell you tales of that black sorcerer. I don't advise you to go anywhere near the places overlooked by his dark tower!" said Gandalf.

"Have you not heard the wizard's tale, Bilbo? While its grandeur has surely diminished, the same cannot be said of the forest's size. Mirkwood is massive; going around it would add many months to our journey. No, the best path forwards is to go… well, forwards." Said Thorin.

"Through monster-infested woods." Bilbo bemoaned quietly.

"Through the Elven kingdom." Thorin groused loudly.

"True on both accounts. And neither Wood Elves nor shadowed spawn are opponents I would choose to face without the aid of our greatest ally. Wait, Thorin. Wait until Hyperion has returned to us." Gandalf said imploringly, and the Dwarven prince glanced back towards the towering curtain of stone peaks and deep valleys that formed the edge of the Misty Mountains.

Bilbo could understand Thorin's apprehension, because he was feeling rather similarly, all things considered. It had been three days already and if it hadn't been for the magically enchanted packs that Michael had gifted them, they likely would've been forced to push towards the great forest regardless of the dangers, lest they wanted to graze the grassy fields alongside their mounts. As it was, Bilbo suddenly realized that this was the longest he had ever been apart from his friend, and it was beginning to make him nervous.

Well, as he had only found out afterwards, his horrible time underneath the dark tunnels of the Misty Mountains had been a bit longer, but then it hadn't been Michael that had left him, but rather Bilbo who had been apart from everyone else instead and the poor Hobbit had lost all sense of time down in the pitch-black gloom regardless.

Thorin's thoughts likely had gone down a similar path, because he shot Gandalf a challenging look.

"And how many days will it take for the Titan to return to us? Can he even find us? The Misty Mountains are treacherous and these plains are vast and our Company small. Does he even know where to look for us? When will he have a chance to do so? In another few days? Weeks? I must remind you, Gandalf, it is not only my own urgency that would have us push on: we must reach the Lonely Mountain before Durin's Day, or wait in the shadow of that dragon's desolation for another year!"

But Gandalf was not swayed.

"Fear not, young prince. We have made good time, and shall certainly make more of the same, considering we might just be the first company in Middle-Earth's history to pass over the Misty Mountains with all our mounts healthy and whole and our packs still filled to the brim. Some delay will not harm our progress and it is the least we owe to Hyperion for the immense aid he has freely given us." The wizard said in an admonishing tone.

"Hyperion's powers are mighty indeed, I will not deny that. My heart is lighter at the thought of him at my side when we finally challenge Smaug. Which is why I say we make all the progress that we can: the Titan will have little trouble catching up to us as he travels much faster than any of us could hope for. If we were to wait instead, he could still catch up to us, but then we'd all be moving at our slowest speed away from here instead." Thorin argued.

"And what if you were to come upon the woodland realm of Thranduil, son of the Sindar King Oropher? He is a cautious fellow, distrusting of outsiders as he seeks to protect his fading realm at all costs: he will not take kindly to your intrusion upon his lands, no matter how just your cause. You would seek such a confrontation without the aid of a Titan at your back?" Gandalf pressed, but Thorin merely looked at him strangely.

"Hyperion certainly has shown a great skill in dealing with the arrogance of Elven kind, as he has shown many times back in Rivendell, though I will admit Elrond to be a perfect and gracious host. But surely, for one who is called friend amongst all great Elven lords and kings, you would be able to arrange safe passage for us through Mirkwood from this Thranduil?"

But Gandalf shook his head at that, his beard as a waterfall of silvery grey shifting over his chest and down to his belt.

"Would that I could, dear Thorin. And I could've, perhaps, would I have been there at your side. But sadly, I shall not be."

This caused an outrage of confusion amongst the company and the wizard puffed a few more times on his pipe as he sought for the right words to say, eventually raising a gnarled hand in a calming gesture.

"I always meant to see you all safe (if possible) over the mountains," said the wizard, "and now by good management and good luck I have done it. Indeed we are now a good deal further east than I ever meant to come with you, for after all this is not my adventure. I may look in on it again before it is all over, but in the meanwhile I have some other pressing business to attend to."

The dwarves groaned and looked most distressed, and Bilbo wept. They had begun to think Gandalf was going in come all the way and while they trusted that Hyperion would always be there to help them out of difficulties, it had been the wizard that they had relied on for directions and leadership.

"I am not going to disappear this very instant," said he. "I can give you some advice at least before I depart. For one, you don't know where you are. Now I can tell you that so that you, in turn, can tell Hyperion once he has arrived. You are still some miles north of the path which we should have been following if we had not left the mountain pass in a hurry. Very few people live in these parts, unless they have come here since I was last down this way, which is some years ago. But there is somebody that I know of, who lives not far away. That Somebody made the steps on the great rock-the Carrock I believe he calls it. He does not come here often, certainly not in the daytime, and it is no good waiting for him. In fact it would be very dangerous. Instead of remaining here in the open any longer than we already have then, I shall guide you to his house, and there you can wait in comfort for Hyperion to come find you again."

And so a compromise of a sorts was achieved between Thorin and Gandalf. The young dwarven prince didn't need to remain waiting around and could feel like he was advancing upon his goal once again, and Gandalf was reassured he could leave the company in capable hands to keep them from tackling the Mirkwood without him or Hyperion at their side. Still, while Thorin was mollified somewhat at least, the same could hardly be said of the rest of the Company, especially poor Bilbo now that his second protector was about to leave them behind.

They begged him not to leave them. They offered him dragon-gold and silver and jewels, but he would not change his mind.

"We shall see, we shall see!" he said, "and I think I have earned already some of your dragon-gold - when you have got it."

After that they stopped pleading. Then they took off their clothes and bathed in the river, which was shallow and clear and stony at the ford. When they had dried in the sun, which was now strong and warm, they and their mounts all felt greatly refreshed and ready to move on towards the stranger's house to await Hyperion's arrival in comfort and safety. Soon they crossed the ford, and then began to ride through the long green grass and down the lines of the wide-armed oaks and the tall elms.

"And why is it called the Carrock?" asked Bilbo as he went along at the wizard's side.

"He called it the Carrock, because carrock is his word for it. He calls things like that carrocks, and this one is the Carrock because it is the only one near his home and he knows it well."

"Who calls it? Who knows it?"

"The Somebody I spoke of-a very great person. You must all be very polite when I introduce you. I shall introduce you slowly, two by two, I think; and you must be careful not to annoy him, or heaven knows what will happen. He can be appalling when he is angry, though he is kind enough if humoured. Still I warn you he gets angry easily."

At that, the dwarves shot each other nervous glances, all of them rethinking just how safe they'd be in this stranger's house and so they all gathered round when they heard the wizard talking like this to Bilbo. "Is that the person you are taking us to now?" they asked. "Couldn't you find someone more easy-tempered? Hadn't you better explain it all a bit clearer?"-and so on.

"Yes it certainly is! No I could not! And I was explaining very carefully," answered the wizard crossly. "If you must know more, his name is Beorn. He is very strong, and he is a skin-changer."

"What! a furrier, a man that calls rabbits conies, when he doesn't turn their skins into squirrels?" asked Bilbo.

"Good gracious heavens, no, no, NO, NO!" said Gandalf. "Don't be a fool Mr. Baggins if you can help it; and in the name of all wonder don't mention the word furrier again as long as you are within a hundred miles of his house, nor, rug, cape, tippet, muff, nor any other such unfortunate word! He is a skin-changer. He changes his skin; sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong black-haired man with huge arms and a great beard. I cannot tell you much more, though that ought to be enough. Some say that he is a bear descended from the great and ancient bears of the mountains that lived there before the giants came. Others say that he is a man descended from the first men who lived before Smaug or the other dragons came into this part of the world, and before the goblins came into the hills out of the North. I cannot say, though I fancy the last is the true tale. He is not the sort of person to ask questions of."

Bilbo wondered at Gandalf's description. Was Beorn a descendant of ancient bears who could turn into a Man, or a descendant of ancient Men who could turn into a bear? The Hobbit thought back to Hyperion's stories of his own adventures back in his home world and wondered which the Titan would believe to be true. Though he'd probably just laugh and challenge the mighty Beorn to an arm-wrestling match in both forms.

"At any rate he is under no enchantment but his own. He lives in an oak-wood and has a great wooden house; and as a man he keeps cattle and horses which are nearly as marvellous as himself. They work for him and talk to him. He does not eat them; neither does he hunt or eat wild animals. He keeps hives and hives of great fierce bees, and lives most on cream and honey. As a bear he ranges far and wide. I once saw him sitting all alone on the top of the Carrock at night watching the moon sinking towards the Misty Mountains, and I heard him growl in the tongue of bears; 'The day will come when they will perish and I shall go back!' That is why I believe he once came from the mountains himself."

Bilbo and the dwarves had now plenty to think about, and they asked no more questions. They still had a long way to ride before them. Up slope and down dale they plodded. It grew very hot. Sometimes they rested under the trees, and had a nice picknick from Hyperion's magic rations of various fruits and cold meats.

It was the middle of the afternoon before they noticed that great patches of flowers had begun to spring up, all the same kinds growing together as if they had been planted. Especially there was clover, waving patches of cockscomb clover, and purple clover, and wide stretches of short white sweet honey-smelling clover. There was a buzzing and a whirring and a droning in the air. Bees were busy everywhere. And such bees! Bilbo had never seen anything like them.

"If one was to sting me," he thought, "I should swell up as big again as I am!"

They were bigger than hornets. The drones were bigger than your thumb, a good deal, and the bands of yellow on their deep black bodies shone like fiery gold.

"We are getting near," said Gandalf. "We are on the edge of his bee-pastures."

After a while they came to a belt of tall and very ancient oaks, and beyond these to a high thorn-hedge through which you could neither see nor scramble.

"You had better wait here," said the wizard to the dwarves; "and when I call or whistle begin to come after me - you will see the way I go-but only in pairs, mind, about five minutes between each pair of you. Bombur is fattest and will do for two, he had better come alone and last. Come on Mr. Baggins! There is a gate somewhere round this way." And with that he went off along the hedge taking the frightened hobbit with him.

They soon came to a wooden gate, high and broad, beyond which they could see gardens and a cluster of low wooden buildings, some thatched and made of unshaped logs; barns, stables, sheds, and a long low wooden house. Inside on the southward side of the great hedge were rows and rows of hives with bell-shaped tops made of straw. The noise of the giant bees flying to and fro and crawling in and out filled all the air.

The wizard and the hobbit pushed open the heavy creaking gate and went down a wide track towards the house. Some horses, very sleek and well-groomed, trotted up across the grass and looked at them intently with very intelligent faces; then off they galloped to the buildings.

"They have gone to tell him of the arrival of strangers," said Gandalf. Soon they reached a courtyard, three walls of which were formed by the wooden house and its two long wings. In the middle there was lying a great oak-trunk with many lopped branches beside it. Standing near was a huge man with a thick black beard and hair, and great bare arms and legs with knotted muscles. He was tall enough to stand nearly equal with Michael himself, Bilbo realized with a start. The large Man was clothed in a tunic of wool down to his knees, and was leaning on a large axe. Taking in the fearsome weapon, combined with the Man's rough appearance, made Bilbo think that Beorn wouldn't be out of place in fabled Asgard itself.

Well, Michael did have a lot of stories about one of the Asgardian princes who was very adept at shape-shifting himself, though some of the tales got rather strange for Bilbo's tastes (the one about Sleipnir especially). Maybe Beorn and his kin came not from ancient bears or mountain-dwelling Men, but from Asgard itself? They, like Michael, had the ability to travel to different worlds, did they not? Something to ask the Titan when he finally caught back up to him.

Perhaps some of his thoughts about the legendary eight-legged Sleipnir had been picked up by the intelligent mounts of Beorn, as the Hobbit was woken from his thoughts with a start by one of them letting out a snorting whinny. The horses were standing by the shape-shifter with their noses at his shoulder and were glancing down towards Bilbo with piercing gazes. The Man himself merely seemed amused instead, letting out a guffaw when he saw an aged and a tiny man round the corner.

"Ugh! here they are!" he said to the horses. "They don't look dangerous. You can be off!" He laughed a great rolling laugh, put down his axe and came forward.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly, standing in front of them and towering tall above Gandalf.

As for Bilbo he could easily have trotted through his legs without ducking his head to miss the fringe of the man's brown tunic. "I am Gandalf," said the wizard.

"Never heard of him," growled the man, "And what's this little fellow?" he said, stooping down to frown at the hobbit with his bushy eyebrows. "That is Mr. Baggins, a hobbit of good family and unimpeachable reputation," said Gandalf. Bilbo bowed. He had no hat to take off, and was painfully conscious of his many missing buttons. "I am a wizard," continued Gandalf. "I have heard of you, if you have not heard of me; but perhaps you have heard of my good cousin Radagast who lives near the Southern borders of Mirkwood?"

"Yes; not a bad fellow as wizards go, I believe. I used to see him now and again," said Beorn. "Well, now I know who you are, or who you say you are. What do you want?"

"In truth, we merely wish to rest here for just a short while, before moving on with our journey. We are waiting on a friend of ours you see; he is still on the other side of the mountain range. Last we saw him, he was dealing with goblins and wargs, a whole host of them."

At that, Beorn's furry eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Goblins? And Wargs you say?" said the big man less gruffly. "O ho, so you've been having trouble with them have you? You do not seem too worried about your friend. He could be in a lot of danger if what you say is true. Might be dead."

If he sought to get a rise out of them, it certainly failed. The thought that a Titan of Hyperion's caliber would have any difficulty facing a pack of Goblins, after what he and his Giant friends did to Goblin Town, was simply utterly hilarious to the wizard and Hobbit and they just let out grins and shrugs.

"Our friend is quite adept at squashing foul goblins by the score and more! We fear not for his safety, merely that he finds his way back to us from whatever den he has chased them down." Gandalf explained in an amused tone to Beorn's confusion, who crossed his thick arms over his broad chest.

"If this friend of yours is such an expert in the slaying of Goblins, then what did you go near them for in the first place?"

"We did not mean to. They surprised us at night in a pass which we had to cross, we were coming out of the Lands over West into these countries-it is a long tale."

"Then you had better come inside and tell me some of it, if it won't take all day," said the man leading the way through a dark door that opened out of the courtyard into the house.

Following him they found themselves in a wide hall with a fire-place in the middle. Though it was summer there was a wood-fire burning and the smoke was rising to the blackened rafters in search of the way out through an opening in the roof. They passed through this dim hall, lit only by the fire and the hole above it, and came through another smaller door into a sort of veranda propped on wooden posts made of single tree-trunks. It faced south and was still warm and filled with the light of the westering sun which slanted into it, and fell golden on the garden full of flowers that came right up to the steps.

Here they sat on wooden benches while Gandalf began his tale, and Bilbo swung his dangling legs and looked at the flowers in the garden, wondering what their names could be, as he had never seen half of them before.

"I was coming over the mountains with a friend or two..." said the wizard.

"Two? I can only see the one, and you have told me about the other, but I get the sense that these are not the ones you are now referring to." Beorn interrupted with a keen eye, showing that he possessed great cunning to go along with all his strength as well.

"Well to tell you the truth, I did not like to bother you with a lot of us, until I found out if you were busy. I will give a call, if I may."

"Go on, call away!"

So Gandalf gave a long shrill whistle, and presently Thorin and Dori came round the house by the garden path and stood bowing low before them. "One or three you meant, I see!" said Beorn. "But these aren't hobbits, they are dwarves!"

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service! Dori at your service!" said the two dwarves bowing again and Bilbo was suddenly overcome by a sense of what he knew Michael had called Dejavu.

He almost found himself warning the shape-shifter (he didn't think the homeliness of the Man's wooden house would be well-fitted for an 'arcade' room as such now adorned his own beloved Bag End). But once again Beorn displayed a quick wit as he looked over the newcomers with an appraising gaze.

"I don't need your service, thank you," said Beorn, "but I expect you need mine."

'That's such a good line! I should have used that one myself!' Bilbo said and despite the fact that such facilities would not be introduced to Middle-Earth for many hundreds of years, this fact made Bilbo the first person in Arda's history to experience a shower-thought.

Unaware of the historic sanitary significance of this moment, Beorn continued as he studied the dwarves with a good look.

"I am not over fond of dwarves; but if it is true you are Thorin (son of Thrain, son of Thror, I believe), and that your companion is respectable, and that you are enemies of goblins and are not up to any mischief in my lands-what are you up to, by the way?"

"They are on their way to visit the land of their fathers, away east beyond Mirkwood," put in Gandalf, "and it is entirely an accident that we are in your lands at all. We were crossing by the High Pass that should have brought us to the road that lies to the south of your country, when we were attacked by the evil goblins-as I was about to tell you."

"Go on telling, then!" said Beorn, who was never very polite.

"There was a terrible storm; the stone-giants were out hurling rocks, and our friend had gone to join them in their game, leaving us to our own devices. As our current situation clearly displays, he has a habit of doing that. Without him around for our protection, we thought it wise to find shelter and at the head of the pass we took refuge in a cave, the hobbit and I and several of our companions..."

"Do you call two several?"

"Well, no. As a matter of fact there were more than two."

"Where are they? Killed, eaten, gone home?"

"Well, no. They don't seem all to have come when I whistled. Shy, I expect. You see, we are very much afraid that we are rather a lot for you to entertain."

"Go on, whistle again! I am in for a party, it seems, and one or two more won't make much difference," growled Beorn.

Gandalf whistled again; but Nori and Ori were there almost before he had stopped; after all Gandalf had told them to come in pairs every five minutes.

"Hullo!" said Beorn. "You came pretty quick-where were you hiding? Come on my jack-in-the-boxes!"

"Nori at your service, Ori at..." they began and once again Bilbo was overcome with this peculiar Dejavu, and once again Beorn interrupted them.

"Thank you! When I want your help I will ask for it."

'I should have said that!' Bilbo thought in despair, completely unaware that he thus held the rare prestige of having the world's second shower-thought as well. And, as it would turn out, the next several as well.

"Sit down, and let's get on with this tale, or it will be supper-time before it is ended." Beorn continued gruffly and whether it was because of his imposing stature or the mention of supper, the two new dwarves were quick to follow his command as Gandalf continued with his story-telling.

"So, the friend, who we're currently waiting on, was still out in the storm, hurling stones and cavorting with the giants, so we sought to rest up until their game was finished. But, as soon as we were asleep," went on Gandalf, "a crack at the back of the cave opened; goblins came out and grabbed the hobbit and the dwarves and our troop of ponies-"

"Troop of ponies? What were you-a travelling circus? Or were you carrying lots of goods? Or do you always call six a troop?"

"O no! As a matter of fact there were more than six ponies, for there were more than six of us-and well, here are two more!"

Just at that moment Balin and Dwalin appeared and bowed so low that their beards swept the stone floor. The big man was frowning at first, but they did their very best to be frightfully polite, and kept on nodding and bending and bowing and waving their hoods before their knees (in proper dwarf-fashion), till he stopped frowning and burst into a chuckling laugh; they looked so comical.

"Troop, was right," he said. "A fine comic one. Come in my merry men, and what are your names? I don't want your service just now, only your names; and then sit down and stop wagging!"

"Balin and Dwalin," they said not daring to be offended, and sat flop on the floor looking rather surprised.

"Now go on again!" said Beorn to the wizard.

"Where was I? O yes - I was not grabbed. You see, before he left to join the giants in their merry-making, our friend made it so that the storm would not disturb us in our rest; he extended his arm towards the raging thunder and called down lightning to grasp in his palm. And then he trapped it inside a glass orb and gifted it to me so that it could light our way. But then the goblins came so I smashed it right in the face of the nearest one and the lightning inside lit four of them up instead-"

"Good!" growled Beorn. "It is some good having such strange friends, then."

"-and went off to find our friend instead. He quickly devised a plan: after he knocked wide the crack the goblins had swept out from, I went down into the caverns below while he went off to round up his new Giant friends. I followed the sounds of cheering and awful song down into the main hall, which was crowded with goblins. The Great Goblin was there with thirty or forty armed guards. I thought to myself 'even if they were not all chained together, what can a dozen do against so many?' "

"A dozen! That's the first time I've heard eight called a dozen. Or have you still got some more jacks that haven't yet come out of their boxes?"

"Well, yes, there seem to be a couple more here now - Fili and Kili, I believe," said Gandalf, as these two now appeared and stood smiling and bowing.

"That's enough!" said Beorn. "Sit down and be quiet! Now go on, Gandalf!"

"On and on the goblins sang and jeered. They found the blade young Thorin here carries, spoils from an earlier victory against a horde of trolls -but that is yet another tale. Suffice to say, between the elvish steel and his noble lineage, the Great Goblin was all to eager spill our prince's blood all over the dirtied floor of his hall. The entire horde was about to descend upon them and our mounts and packs, when they were interrupted by yet more singing. Except, this time it wasn't them who uttered the words."

"This goblin-slaying giant-friend of yours? With all his strength and might, he returned to taunt the goblins with song?" Beorn groused incredulously, but Gandalf merely shook his head with a smile.

"Not just song. That was merely the distraction. Together with his giant friends, our missing companion took hold of the mountaintop under which Goblin Town was hidden, and tore it completely asunder."

For just a moment, silence descended upon their little group, the only sound the enormous thrumming of Beorn's large bees hovering in the meadow outside.

"Truly? If you are not exaggerating your tale, and strange as it is, I do not think that you are, then I can see why you are not worried about your friend going up against a few goblins and wargs if he can rend the mountains itself apart." Beorn said with wide eyes, his voice somewhat subdued at the thought of such immense strength.

"Indeed. He certainly fared well against the horde of Goblin Town; he even felled the Great Goblin himself, by squashing him completely flat underneath a boulder twice the size of him! Turns out, goblins aren't very good at playing giant games."

At this, Beorn threw back his head and let out a large guffaw, sending his great black beard rippling as he chuckled in dark satisfaction.

"As rock and stone were thrown down below, I quickly approached the shackled company, breaking their chains and leading them to safety, away from the destruction of Goblin Town and fleeing down the dark corridors of the goblin warrens. What a terrible flight it was! Only by Elven steel and Dwarven stubbornness, and of course a wizard's guidance, did we make it to the lower gate and out into the wild lands. But not all had made it, as we then realized, as poor Mr. Baggins here had been mislaid!"

"We counted ourselves and found that there was no hobbit. There were only fifteen of us left!"

"Fifteen! That's the first time I've heard one from ten leave fifteen. You mean nine, or else you haven't told me yet all the names of your party."

"Well, of course you haven't seen Oin and Gloin yet. And, bless me! here they are. I hope you will forgive them for bothering you."

"O let 'em all come! Hurry up! Come along, you two, and sit down! But look here, Gandalf, even now we have only got yourself, your mighty giant-friend and ten dwarves and the hobbit that was lost. That only makes thirteen (plus one mislaid) and not fifteen, unless wizards count differently to other people. But now please get on with the tale."

Beorn did not show it more than he could help, but really he had begun to get very interested. After all, in the old days he had known the very part of the mountains that Gandalf was describing. He nodded and he growled, when he heard of the hobbit's reappearance and of their scramble down the stone-slide and of the wolf-ring in the woods. But his face went slack when Gandalf mentioned how Hyperion had approached the leading warg with gifts in the form of pats.

In silence, Beorn stood to his full height and quietly strode over towards the window overlooking the bees busily buzzing around his flower meadow. He stood there in silence for a long time, hands clasped behind his back and none in the company dared intrude on his thoughts. The silence was almost broken when Bifur and Bofur came into the house but they were quickly (and silently) waved away by the rest of the company.

The tail end of Bifur's cloak had just swished out of sight when Beorn finally turned to face the dwarves and hobbit, his expression dark and thoughtful as he stared at the waiting wizard.

"I am not fond of Dwarves. I care even less for goblins. They are foul beings, driven by evil and a desire to kill beasts and despoil the woodlands. And, up until now, I had thought the same of wargs. Beasts they themselves may be, but there is a darkness in their hearts, driving them to wicked deeds. It was them who drove me and my kin from our ancestral home in the mountains and often have I clashed with them, claw against fang. And now you are trying to tell me that they can be… petted as if they were nothing more than some misbehaving pups?!" Beorn thundered and the rest of the company scampered away from the enormous man.

Bilbo couldn't be entirely certain whether or not it was his imagination or just a trick of the light, but he could've sworn that Beorn's hair hadn't been that wild and long when Gandalf had first begun to tell his tale. For his part, the wizard remained surprisingly calm in the face of an irate shape-changer.

"I could not say. After all, our friend gave our ponies flight and we crested the peaks of the mountain range, dreadfully confusing several sleeping Eagles might I add. With sorcery like that, who knows what spell he managed to place upon such beasts? A wizard I may be, but replicating such a deed is no easy feat, not even for our mutual friend Radagast, I should say. If you truly wish to know what happened and how it did, you will just have to wait around with us and look towards his arrival." Gandalf said cleverly, because Beorn immediately began nodding.

"Indeed! Believe you me, I shall!" he grumbled as he took his seat again, only later realizing that in doing so he had implicitly given the company permission to stay at his house as they were all waiting for the same person anyways.

"To think, flying ponies!" the large man said with a shake of his head and Gandalf nodded in agreement.

"It took everyone by surprise I imagine, both us and of course our mounts, though I must say that Gwaihir himself looked absolutely shocked at the sight of sixteen horses flying past his eyrie."

"Good heavens!" growled Beorn. "Don't pretend that eagles can't count. They can. Twelve isn't sixteen and they know it."

"And so do I. There were Bifur and Bofur as well. I haven't ventured to introduce them before, but here they are."

In came Bifur and Bofur. "And me!" gasped Bombur pulling up behind. He was fat, and also angry at being left till last. He refused to wait five minutes, and followed immediately after the other two.

"Well, now there are fifteen of you; and since eagles can count, I suppose that is all that there were up the trees. Now perhaps we can finish this story without any more interruptions."

Bilbo saw then how clever Gandalf had been. The interruptions had really made Beorn more interested in the story, and the story had kept him from sending the dwarves off at once like suspicious beggars. He never invited people into his house, if he could help it. He had very few friends and they lived a good way away; and he never invited more than a couple of these to his house at a time. Now he had got fourteen strangers sitting in his porch!

By now however, the sun had fallen behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and the shadows were long in Beorn's garden.

"A very good tale!" said he. "The best I have heard for a long while. If all beggars could tell such a good one, they might find me kinder. You may be making it all up, of course, but you deserve a supper for the story all the same. Let's have something to eat!"

"Yes, please!" they all said together. "Thank you very much!" Inside the hall it was now quite dark. Beorn clapped his hands, and in trotted four beautiful white ponies and several large long-bodied grey dogs. Beorn said something to them in a queer language like animal noises turned into talk. They went out again and soon came back carrying torches in their mouths, which they lit at the fire and stuck in low brackets on the pillars of the hall about the central hearth.

The dogs could stand on their hind-legs when they wished, and carry things with their fore-feet. Quickly they got out boards and trestles from the side walls and set them up near the fire.

Then bleating was heard, and in came some snow-white sheep led by a large coal-black ram. One bore a white cloth embroidered at the edges with figures of animals; others bore on their broad backs trays with bowls and platters and knives and wooden spoons, which the dogs took and quickly laid on the trestle tables. These were very low, low enough even for Bilbo to sit at comfortably. Beside them a pony pushed two low-seated benches with wide rush-bottoms and little short thick legs for Gandalf and Thorin, while at the far end he put Beorn's big black chair of the same sort (in which he sat with his great legs stuck far out under the table). These were all the chairs he had in his hall, and he probably had them low like the tables for the convenience of the wonderful animals that waited on him. What did the rest sit on? They were not forgotten. The other ponies came in rolling round drum-shaped sections of logs, smoothed and polished, and low enough even for Bilbo; so soon they were all seated at Beorn's table, and the hall had not seen such a gathering for many a year.

There they had a supper, or a dinner, such as they had not had since they left the Last Homely House in the West and said good-bye to Elrond. The light of the torches and the fire flickered about them, and on the table were two tall red beeswax candles. All the time they ate, Beorn in his deep rolling voice told tales of the wild lands on this side of the mountains, and especially of the dark and dangerous wood, that lay outstretched far to North and South a day's ride before them, barring their way to the East, the terrible forest of Mirkwood.

The dwarves listened and shook their beards, for they knew that they must soon venture into that forest and that after the mountains it was the worst of the perils they had to pass before they came to the dragon's stronghold. When dinner was over they began to tell tales of their own, but Beorn seemed to be growing drowsy and paid little heed to them. They spoke most of gold and silver and jewels and the making of things by smith-craft, and Beorn did not appear to care for such things: there were no things of gold or silver in his hall, and few save the knives were made of metal at all.

Bilbo once again thought that Beorn and Michael would probably end up being really good friends and he was content as he sat on his stool with his full belly and full mug of mead.

The Dwarves were more dismayed however, turning towards each other with worried glances.

"Oh no, not another one!"

"Do you think it's a sickness? Like the opposite of dragon sickness?"

"Could be. It does seem to be spreading."

"Bah! It's all this open air, I'm telling you! Let's the sickness spread too easy!"

"Ma always said that too much sunlight was bad for your health."

"That's because your Ma's beard couldn't stand the humidity of the air above and would curl something horrible."

"How dare you sir! That was my Da, my Ma's beard was always impeccable!"

Bilbo let the argument wash over him without paying much attention to it, beyond briefly wondering how his own mother would've looked with a beard. With a shrug, he determinedly decided that a stately woman as Belladonna Took would've pulled it off with a certain panache. It probably wouldn't have taken long for the other Hobbit women of the Shire to shave their husband's heads and glue the hairs to their own chins.

That led him to amuse himself for several long minutes as in his imagination he went and put beards on some of the less than friendly women he knew.

He especially took the time and care to imagine a truly magnificent one for Lobelia Sackville-Baggins (nee Bracegirdle), one that was so long she continuously ended up tripping over its ends.

Between the lively conversation and Bilbo's own little fantasies, time swiftly passed in pleasant merriment. They sat long at the table with their wooden drinking-bowls filled with mead. The dark night came on outside. The fires in the middle of the hall were built with fresh logs and the torches were put out, and still they sat in the light of the dancing flames with the pillars of the house standing tall behind them, arid dark at the top like trees of the forest. Whether it was magic or not, it seemed to Bilbo that he heard a sound like wind in the branches stirring in the rafters, and the hoot of owls. Soon he began to nod with sleep and the voices seemed to grow far away, until he woke with a start. The great door had creaked and slammed. Beorn was gone. The dwarves were sitting cross-legged on the floor round the fire, and presently they began to sing. The song was mournful, but beautifully sung nonetheless and just as Bilbo began to nod again, suddenly up stood Gandalf.

"It is time for us to sleep," he said, "-for us, but not I think for Beorn. In this hall we can rest sound and safe, but I warn you all not to forget what Beorn said before he left us: you must not stray outside until the sun is up, on your peril."

Bilbo found that beds had already been laid at the side of the hall, on a sort of raised platform between the pillars and the outer wall. For him there was a little mattress of straw and woollen blankets. He snuggled into them very gladly, summertime though it was. The fire burned low and he fell asleep. Yet in the night he woke: the fire had now sunk to a few embers; the dwarves and Gandalf were all asleep, to judge by their breathing; a splash of white on the floor came from the high moon, which was peering down through the smoke-hole in the roof.

There was a growling sound outside, and a noise as of some great animal scuffling at the door. Bilbo wondered what it was, and whether it could be Beorn in enchanted shape, and if he would come in as a bear and kill them and if Michael would swoop in to save them as he always did. But the rays of light that slashed through the room were those cast by the pale noon and not those of an approaching living sun, so he dove under the blankets and hid his head, and fell asleep again at last in spite of his fears.

It was full morning when he awoke. One of the dwarves had fallen over him in the shadows where he lay, and had rolled down with a bump from the platform on to the floor. It was Bofur, and he was grumbling about it, when Bilbo opened his eyes.

"Get up lazybones," he said, "or there will be no breakfast left for you."

Up jumped Bilbo. "Breakfast!" he cried. "Where is breakfast?"

"Mostly inside us," answered the other dwarves who were moving around the hall; "but what is left is out on the veranda. We have been about looking for Beorn ever since the sun got up; but there is no sign of him anywhere, though we found breakfast laid as soon as we went out."

"Where is Gandalf?" asked Bilbo, moving off to find something to eat as quick as he could.

"O! out and about somewhere," they told him.

But he saw no sign of the wizard all that day until the evening. Just before sunset he walked into the hall, where the hobbit and the dwarves were having supper, waited on by Beorn's wonderful animals, as they had been all day. Of Beorn they had seen and heard nothing since the night before, and they were getting puzzled.

"Where is our host, and where have you been all day yourself?" they all cried.

"One question at a time-and none till after supper! I haven't had a bite since breakfast."

At last Gandalf pushed away his plate and jug - he had eaten two whole loaves (with masses of butter and honey and clotted cream) and drunk at least a quart of mead and he took out his pipe.

"I will answer the second question first," he said, "-but bless me! this is a splendid place for smoke rings!"

Indeed for a long time they could get nothing more out of him, he was so busy sending smoke-rings dodging round the pillars of the hall, changing them into all sorts of different shapes and colours, and setting them at last chasing one another out of the hole in the roof.

They must have looked very queer from outside, popping out into the air one after another, green, blue, red, silver-grey, yellow, white; big ones, little ones; little ones dodging through big ones and joining into figure-eights, and going off like a flock of birds into the distance.

"I have been picking out bear-tracks," he said at last. "There must have been a regular bears' meeting outside here last night. I soon saw that Beorn could not have made them all: there were far too many of them, and they were of various sizes too. I should say there were little bears, large bears, ordinary bears, and gigantic big bears, all dancing outside from dark to nearly dawn."

Gandalf spoke with certainty, for he knew only of Beorn who lived in these abandoned parts of the vale between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood, as had been told to him by Radagast the Brown. Yet for all his certainty, Gandalf would in time find himself to be wrong, for these dancing bears were all kin to mighty Beorn, and thus were called Beornings. Many of their people possessed the gift of shape-changing as well, though few could match their chieftain in size and power. In many later years, after this current adventure had come to its close, they would toll and trade with travelers upon roads that would then see much more travelers and they would trade their famously delicious honey-cakes for tools and news.

During the time of the War of the Ring, it would be Beorn's own son, Grimbeorn the Old who ruled over the Vales from Anduin from Beorninghús, the Hall in which the Company was now sheltered, and whose youngest child would play a key role in the defense of Middle Earth against the dark forces of Sauron.

But those are tales tied to a different adventure and for now the home of Beorn still had its part to play in our current one.

"They came from almost every direction, except from the west over the river, from the Mountains. In that direction only one set of footprints led-none coming, only ones going away from here. I followed these as far as the Carrock. There they disappeared into the river, but the water was too deep and strong beyond the rock for me to cross. It is easy enough, as you remember, to get from this bank to the Carrock by the ford, but on the other side is a cliff standing up from a swirling channel. I had to walk miles before I found a place where the river was wide and shallow enough for me to wade and swim, and then miles back again to pick up the tracks again. By that time it was too late for me to follow them far. They went straight off in the direction of the pine-woods on the east side of the Misty Mountains, where we had our pleasant little party with the Wargs the night before last. And now I think I have answered your first question, too," ended Gandalf, and he sat a long while silent.

"He went to chase down the Wargs? Mayhaps he did not trust Michael to deal with them and went off to finish them himself?" Bofur wondered aloud and Bilbo felt somewhat saddened at that.

Yes, the enormous wolves had seemed very threatening when they emerged from the treeline with saliva dripping from their fangs and with hunger in their eyes, but when they had all rolled over on their backs, tongues lolling from their mouths and tails thumping against the ground, they had seemed harmless enough. Hardly any more dangerous or scary than some of the pooches that roamed the Shire full-bellied and ever-spoiled.

The hobbit felt quite saddened, and as there seemed nothing else to do he went to bed; and while the dwarves were still singing songs he dropped asleep, still puzzling his little head about Beorn, till he dreamed a dream of hundreds of black bears dancing slow heavy dances round and round in the moonlight in the courtyard. Then he woke up when everyone else was asleep, and he heard the same scraping, scuffling, snuffling, and growling as before. Next morning they were all wakened by Beorn himself.

"So here you all are still!" he said. He picked up the hobbit and laughed: "Not eaten up by Wargs or goblins or wicked bears yet I see"; and he poked Mr. Baggins' waistcoat most disrespectfully.

"Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey," he chuckled. "Come and have some more!"

So they all went to breakfast with him. Beorn was most jolly for a change; indeed he seemed to be in a splendidly good humour and set them all laughing with his funny stories; nor did they have to wonder long where he had been or why he was so nice to them, for he told them himself. He had been over the river and right back up into the mountains-as he could travel quickly, in bear's shape at any rate.

"Up into the woods I came, right where you said your ponies had gotten flight. Even with the tales of the sorcery of your mysterious friend, I would not have believed such a claim were it not that they told of the experience themselves to my own horses, who then relayed the tale to me. Pah! Horses flying about! Do you know how many of them have been pestering me about when I will grant them wings?"

"And I am certain that Hyperion would not mind setting them galloping across the sky for a moment should they ask him. If only he were here so that they could, which brings us back to our earlier point: where were you and where is he?" Gandalf carefully interrupted and the giant bear-man nodded at his words.

"The tracks were easy enough to follow and I will admit that they sent my blood to boil at first: because down they let, right down the mountain side towards where I know the villages lie of the woodsmen on the other side of the mountain. I share no kinship with them, for they have arrived in this part of the world far later than myself, but even so I would not see Wargs descend upon their helpless homes. But my fury set me to folly, for I immediately ran down the mountainside with speed, in that moment not realizing that the shape of a ferocious bear would be as much a threat to them as any monster."

With those words, some of Beorn's previous cheer diminished somewhat, his tone becoming more subdued and his tone distant and Bilbo was starkly reminded of the chilling fear he felt at the scraping and growling noises at the door in the middle of the night.

"Surely, no harm had befallen the villagers, be it from you or any warg?" the dwarves hurried to ask and Beorn's mood visibly returned to him, though there was some wonder in his voice as well.

"No, indeed not, thankfully. I had swiftly come upon the village, but my approach had been noticed despite the late hour. But imagine my shock when I was faced, not by torch and axe but by the snarls and howls of wargs! 'I am too late!' I though to myself and prepared to leap upon the wolves to avenge the fallen villagers, when to my surprise a Man sprung towards me from behind the wargs, tackling me straight to the ground! But my bear form is hardy and I immediately got back into the fight, answering with sweeps of my claws and terrible bites from my jaws; yet every swipe missed and my teeth caught on naught but air! 'No matter' I thought to myself, 'if I cannot hit him, because he cannot hit me!'. But oh, how wrong I was." Beorn chuckled ruefully, before standing from his great chair.

He picked up the hem of his tunic and shifted the large garment so that the company could see his exposed side.

"Good heavens!"

More importantly, so that the company could see the absolutely massive bruise in the form of the imprint of a fist that covered Beorn's ribs.

"I should've known something was different about this Man, and not just because he came to the defence of Wargs of all creatures. I had thought him merely a servant of evil, for at that time I still did not fully believe your strange tale Gandalf, no matter the skill with which you told it. The fact he stood even taller than my bear form should've told me that I was facing your giant-friend companion, but alas! In the fury of my wild shape I did not stop for reason."

With that, Beorn let his tunic fall into place again as he dropped back down into his chair with a slight wince, though he bellowed a good-natured laugh at his own discomfort.

"No, not for reason, but the punch to my side certainly halted me in my tracks! Bears aren't known to get winded by a punch after all, especially one thrown by hands without fur nor claw. As I collapsed in shock, my opponent grasped me by the scruff of the neck and with strength I have never known before, nor ever hope to know again, lifted me clear off the ground."

With that, the shape-shifter sat straighter in his chair, adopting a severe expression and dropping his deep voice even further as he spoke in an imposing tone.

"'Beorn!' spoke he as he held me aloft. 'Beorn! Stay your fury and look! Look towards the wolves that you had set your sight upon and your sharp claws again! Look! They do not seek to attack you! They have not charged you, dared not even approach or move from their spots. Look beyond them and see why.' He said to me and though I wished not to listen, his hand on my neck demanded that I did all the same. There stood the wargs still and indeed, they had not moved to attack me, even when I had lost in combat. 'Look! They stand not to attack, but to defend!' your friend claimed and though I had difficulty accepting it, I could see that it was true."

Beorn shook his head ruefully, wonder still in his voice.

"Behind the line of snarling wolves stood fearful Men. But fearful, not of the Wargs at their side, but of me. They held axes in one hand but their other hand was placed upon the flank or shoulder of the wolf at their side, and the creature did not turn to take it from them. I would have thought them both servants of evil, bound by common agreement and hatred such as exists between the wargs and goblins. But these were honest Men, good folk that abide no Evil master. Which meant that the same had to be true of the wolves as well, as difficult as it is to believe such a thing."

"The wargs and the woodsmen were working together? Truly?" Gandalf asked in surprise.

"Well, thanks to what Michael did to the Great Goblin and Goblin Town, and then the kills that I myself made in the corridors of their warrens, we know the previous agreement between the goblins and wargs had been broken. They would be in need of new allies." Thorin mused.

"But to think, that you would ally with your own prey…"

"They no longer see Men as prey. Your friend saw to that." Beorn interrupted the burgeoning discussion.

"He showered the wargs with gifts, not of gold and precious stones, but with filled bellies and warm contentment. These are things any creature seeks and while we may find them common, they were rare and of great value to the wargs. They might never had sought for it thanks to their foul ancestry spurring them to wickedness instead, but I smelt no taint of evil upon them. The sorcery of your friend is mighty indeed if it can change the hearts of wolves even. Now they stand with the woodsmen and guard their lives and livestock and are rewarded with the comforts all beings seek and they have at last found peace. I did not think it possible, but I saw Man and wolf walk around their villages side by side and stand together against predators who would sneak off in the night with their sheep and chickens."

"Yes, the works of Hyperion are great indeed as we have come to realize during our travels with him. Certainly a boon like no other when embarked on a dangerous voyage." Gandalf mused aloud, though he shot a pointed look towards Thorin, reminding the prince of their earlier discussion.

Thorin for his part merely glanced away with a huff, unable to meet the wizard's eyes.

"Well that's all great then! But if all is right across the mountain range, where is Michael? Did he not return with you?" Bilbo asked anxiously, his worry growing when Beorn shook his head.

"I asked him to come with, but he asked for a day or two of respite more, so that he could be certain that the alliance between Man and Warg would grow into a strong and lasting one. I thought it wise not to argue with your powerful friend on such matters. So, I gave him the directions to my home and promised him I would treat you as my guests for as long as it takes for him to arrive here. When exactly that will be, I cannot say." Beorn finished, taking a deep gulp from his wooden tankard.

"Well, that is of no help at all! How long will it take for him to finish his business with the woodsmen and the wolves? Forging such alliances surely takes time, time that we might not have! When will Hyperion get here?!" Thorin practically exploded, the days at the ford and the days spent at Beorninghús having finally reduced the last of his fraying nerves to tatters.

Beorn stilled in his movements, though his eyes were flashing, and all around them the intelligent animals stopped in their tracks as they shot dangerous glares at the abashed prince, who only now remembered the warning Gandalf had given about the shape-changers fury. Even the buzzing of the bees outside, which had quickly become a soothing background noise, barely noticed, now seemed to have picked up in intensity.

Thankfully, Thorin was saved from Beorn's reprisal by the sudden strengthening of light at their backs and in surprise all turned to look at the smokehole in the roof of the hall. Where sunlight had at first come through in gentle beams, it was now rapidly strengthening and thickening until it resembled more a pillar and many of them were forced to shield their eyes.

There was an odd sound, a 'thump!' of sorts, like the swishing of air and when they all managed to blink the spots from their eyes, they were surprised to find an immensely tall Man with marble-white skin standing in the middle of the Hall, a smile on his face as one of the large bees landed on his outstretched finger.

"Hello. Could you spare a small smackerel?" Michael asked with a laugh in his voice, as if referencing an old joke only he could know.


Fun Fact: Tolkien's first civilian job after World War I was at the Oxford English dictionary, where he started with research for the etymology of the words warm, wasp, water, wick, and winter. He left in 1920 to pursue his academic career.

AN: Do you know where the reference in the last sentence comes from? This chapter stuck a little closer to the book, partly because of Michael's absence and partly because I really like Beorn. To make it up, I made this chapter longer than usual. The next chapter is already up on my Pa Treon if you wanna read ahead!