CHAPTER 34

"It was a good story, that of yours." Beorn rumbles from the head of the table. He'd allowed us to sit, eat, and drink while he got the details from Gandalf. Now that he has them, it's judgment time "I like it still better knowing that it is true."

"Of course!" Gandalf laughs, puffing on his pipe "Of course!"

"Hm. I shall try to think more kindly of dwarves after this, you all having killed the Great Goblin and ransacked their home. It is no small thing you have done for all."

I keep my head down, trying to be as small as I can as the conversation drones on. I'm taller than most of the people seated at the table though, so hunching too much just makes me stand out more and look ridiculous. Still, Beorn's gaze is never far from my own, so I keep my eyes downcast for safety purposes. I only shake my head when he asks about me; ensuring the dwarves aren't responsible for my 'despicable' wounds. I do not lift my head again though, as the less he sees the less he can question. He is completely within his rights to throw out the company and I'd prefer not to be the reason.

"What do you need?"

No one answers so I raise my eyes only to lower them immediately. 'Damn.' He's staring. I'd thought the conversation had come to an end and I'd be right. Partially. In my avoidance, I'd not noticed the dwarves clearing out. I alone sit at the table with the skin-changer looking me over. A few dwarves and bees bumble about, but none are overly concerned (more than the usual dwarvish suspiciousness) with Beorn and I. He stands across the table from me just... staring. 'Does he know?' He can't know. Bears can't smell your insides unless they are coming out, right? Right. It would give bears no evolutionary advantage to be able to specifically smell... internal children. 'But what if he saw something?' No. Bears aren't known for having eyesight so much better than humans, so his eyes are at least as good as mine but not extremely better. He's never been close enough to see my eye color, let alone what lies beneath layers of coverings... I raise my eyes only to lower them immediately again. Still.

"I would hear your story, but I'm told you have no voice to tell it." I peek up through my eyelashes and open my mouth to offer an apology but he holds his hand up to stop me "Not that you need one."

"..."

"Your story is evident just by looking at you." The world grows quiet and still. Not at all like in Rivendale when Glaewon spoke. Beorn's knowledge holds so much more weight. 'He knows. He knows. He definitely knows.' My breath hitches and he lets out a sigh, gesturing towards the front door "Come outside. You need the air and I need the silence."

"..." Standing, I follow him, ignoring the dwarves as we pass because... He knows. How? Damn it. It's too soon. He can't tell the dwarves. He just... can't. I haven't even spoken to Dwalin about the whole healing thing and if they find out now... As we clear the threshold a hoarse whisper is all I can force myself to make "P-please...do...n't t..ell..."

"Breath easy, Farseer. Your secret shall not leave my lips to their ears." We come to settle beneath an old tree. Its branches twist high and strong, casting shade from the sun. Beorn gestures for me to sit as he takes a seat a few paces away from me. I do so and look over at him cautiously but his eyes look towards the mountains I know were once his home. I jump as he begins to speak again "I did not lie. I do not like dwarves. Were you traveling with anyone else, they would have noticed."

"...H... h..ow?"

"It's obvious in how you sit. How you stand." he shakes his head "How you breathe."

"..."

"Even though it pains you, you protect your belly like your very life depends on it." I drop my arms at the realization and suddenly feel cold. I hadn't noticed how much I walk around with my arms curled around myself. When did that start? Why did that start? I want nothing more than be alone in my body but I walk around cradling this... this... parasite? I clench my hands in anger but the Bearman continues, staring at the mountains all the while "You remind me of my mother."

"Ah..." I blink once and then again, stunned as his eyes sadden as the memories come. He looks stricken with grief and I am seated at his side before I can think about it "Be...orn?"

"I was young when I first saw them. The pale orcs... They had many ways to entertain themselves with my people. We were not mindless beasts. They knew that. They knew we had families. Children. Spouses. They enjoyed breaking those bonds. Pitting husbands against wives. Mating fathers to their daughters... Father to... sons."

Shame rolls off him and I immediately know what he means. My stomach rolls at the knowledge of how truly awful Azog is. Him and his spawn. It's in his name but damn. He'd not only violated their bodies but also the relationships between parent and child. Even if they'd been able to escape, they'd have to live with the knowledge that their own family had hurt them in such a way. It's easy to say 'Just don't do it' but that too comes with consequences...

"If we refused Azog would give us to his legion and that was... much worse." he continues as if reading my mind. His eyes glisten and his shoulders hunch ever so slightly. I've done it plenty of times myself. Memories are like that... So real. Like it's happening all over again "We were made to play his sick game and he... they reveled in it... Breaking bones, spirits, minds... My mother birthed many children under his cruel sport."

"..." gingerly, I reach out but think better of it as he continues to stare out into the world. Instead, I place my hands in my lap "You?"

"... No. I was born before the orcs came." I thought so but had to be sure. He said he saw them when he was young but that could've meant he was born under their rule but never saw them. Knowing that he wasn't the product of such cruelty lightens my heart a little. His story though, saddens it once more "I remember freedom before he came. My mother... I remember HER before him. The way she laughed as if the very wind were her breath, it carried and infected all. She walked with her head to the sky as if the earth was blessed for her to trod upon it. She was warm and kind and wonderful... And then the orcs came."

"..." I do reach out this time as his tears fall, soaking his beard. Placing a hand on his arm, I allow myself to willing touch another for the first time in a long time. My hand breaks the spell of the memory and he blinks. He looks down at it and then at me, as if he'd forgotten I was real "D..on't... Do..n't go th..ere."

"..." He nods and I get it. I get HIM. His eyes shine with raw emotion and my own swell with tears. They burn as they fall but I find no shame in them... not this time. He sighs and his shoulders square "You move like she did after Azog himself... bred her. There was nothing left of her after that. She moved with fear at her core and hate in her heart for none more so than herself."

"I...m so-o-o-o rry." the pain in my throat tugs at my words, tearing them to shreds but I can't stay quiet "Be...orn... I'm so so...orr...ry."

"... In the end... she could not love those she was forced to create. To her, they were the evidence of malice. Even me, she could no longer love even me. We were all living nightmares... The shadow of her loathed us until the day she died." he places a hand on mine before wiping my tears away. After a moment I do the same for him, stunned that I am not a shivering mess. He pats my hand again, his gaze turning back towards the house. The dwarves move about, occasionally coming outside but never approaching. It's almost funny how completely unaware they are "Dwarves. Greedy and blind. For that, I will not tell them what you carry. If they truly cared, they'd see it themselves. I caution against it but I will not stop you from going with them, though you may stay here if you wish."

"..."

"You may choose to be a mother soon... or not. The first choice I imagine you've had in all of this madness. I will not take your choice from you. Know that you have the option now to decide what comes after."

"I... I..."

You need not choose now. Be relieved and know that you are now a friend that I shall always welcome back."

"Be...orn..."

"I could not help my mother. Her choice and your choice are not one and the same. If you need to leave your burdens here, I will look after it. Raise it if you need me to. Give it away if you can part with it but do what is best for you. I learned long ago that a motherless child is far better than a child hated by its mother."

"...Ye..ah."

"Anita Marie Bloodstone." He says my name with purpose as if committing it to memory. He helps me to my feet and I'm... relieved. After such a story, you'd think anyone would feel awful but I don't. I feel... understood. Seen but not judged or pitied. I can't say what I'll do about my situation but I don't feel like I'm drowning in it anymore. I have... a friend... And choices. Beorn places a hand on my shoulder, grounding me with his parting words "Hatred built that child. Do not the same destroy it."

By the next morning, the company is ready to head out. Although some of the dwarves snicker and poke fun, Beorn and I do not speak of what was shared beneath the old tree. It's between us. Just us. We'll always know each other's secret. Not that we were taken against our will, no. Not that. Knowing that between submission and death, our desire to live made the deplorable act the better choice. A choice. A sacrifice.

My therapist, Ms. Molly, would always hammer the point home that I had no choice. That if I had resisted, the outcome would have been so much worse. And she was right of course. I know that if I was too much of a hassle for Lawrence, he would have just killed me and Anita. If I fought with my all, we just would have died. Ms. Molly and I'd come back to the point again and again but it didn't seem like she understood. Even though I only had one logical choice, I still had another. I had the option to die fighting and I didn't choose that. It was still a choice I had. Still a choice I live with the consequences of choosing. Submit or die. You always hear 'I'd rather die than do that' but when truly faced with dying we all cower and shy away from it. Me... Beorn... so my others... It's the shame of survival. I was ashamed because I would rather give myself to my tormentor than die. Because I want to live.

"The girl." Beorn speaks with Gandalf as the group gets ready to leave. He was not at all happy to hear of the Necromancer but at least he has been warned. As his eyes watch the group ready themselves to set out into the wild again, he cannot help but question "Is she under contract with your company?"

"Hm? Why, no. She is not."

"How long have the dwarves known her?"

"Farseer Bloodstone met with the company when we left the Shire... About 3 or 4 months ago."

"... Did she know any of the dwarves before then?"

"...She met Master Dwalin the same day as Master Baggins, though a few hours prior." The wizard does not like Beorn's attention on Atina. The large man's care for his creatures is evidence of his kind heart. The kindness she has sorely lacked in her life. It is also obvious that the skin changer took a liking to her and she surprisingly appeared to be content with his presence. Still, the girl is battered and bruised. Clearly not doing well with the current mission set before her and both can see that. Gandalf has faith in her though it might seem as if he is negligent of her wellbeing. Still, it would do poorly if Beorn decided against assisting the company "Why the sudden interest?"

"I do not understand why she travels with you all or why you continued with her despite her clearly being out of her depth. Why have you brought her on such a perilous journey?"

"... At the beginning... it was for all of our protection."

"And now?"

"Now? Now..." looking at the girl, the Wizard smiles to himself. Atina has been through the worst of what the world has to offer but she sits atop her own pony making her way forward. She does not smile or lift her head to the sky but she does look onward. For all her troubles, the Wizard has never seen her look back "It is because she chooses to do so."

Some may ask 'WTF' was that. To them I respond with idk. I may throw in a shrug for good measure. Azog has a name and it isn't Mr. Snuggles.