Author's Note: I want to apologize for the longer wait for this chapter. I struggled with it for quite a while and I'm still not completely happy with it. There's a lot of dialogue, which always makes me nervous because of characterization and I'm still not completely satisfied with the pacing. But hopefully it will still be enjoyable. Let me know what you think?

And also, I've decided to take a bit of a different route when it came to Beorn, and later Mirkwood. While I liked the movies quite a bit, these two parts were a bit of a disappointment to me. It seemed like they were only with Beorn for a blink of an eye. And Mirkwood, well, I really liked in the books how suffocating and creepy Mirkwood was and in the movie it was just... trippy. So, this chapter, and the one following, relies a bit more heavy on the books than the movie but I hope the changes are not too off-putting.

Finally, I want to thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows since the last chapter! I cannot tell you how fantastic it is to see others enjoy this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Laura.

When all was said and done, Gandalf and I went alone.

No one seemed particularly happy about it, not even Gandalf. But Gandalf's plan had merit, even if it was a bit underhanded, and we could all agree it was probably our best option. It made me uneasy, mostly because of what had happened the last time we separated – though that at least was by accident – and the only thing that helped temper it was Gandalf's warm hand on my shoulder as he guided me away.

Gandalf insisted that he would be able to explain our situation to our benefit and part of that would mean we would all arrive in small groups. It, in theory, would make it more difficult for Beorn, our potential host, to turn us away.

As we entered the compound, we began to see signs of life. Huge bees, as large robins, buzzed lazily around our heads likely to the enormous thatched beehives hidden behind a great hedge, several fluffy sheep grazed undisturbed farther to our right, and to our left three ponies trotted up across the grass. They watched us unblinkingly as we passed before one bolted farther into the compound.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked Gandalf warily, watching the pony disappear around a barn.

Gandalf made a noise but didn't deign to reply. I decided not to take it personally.

Soon our dirt track ended at the edge of a magnificent courtyard that had three walls formed around what was probably the entrance to the largest rectangular building. Within the courtyard was a huge man, who could only be the skin-changer Beorn, standing near a felled tree that looked to have been partially stripped of its branches.

Beorn was tall. Even taller than Gandalf, with a thick beard and hair and arms and legs like tree trunks. As we got closer, he was bent close to the pony that had run at the sight of us, and murmuring too quietly for me to hear. Whatever Beorn said seemed to satisfy the pony because it trotted off without a backwards glance.

When it disappeared, Beorn's attention turned fully to us. "Who are you?" He demanded gruffly, axe in hand. "What do you want?"

I swayed, pressing myself into Gandalf's side as Gandalf gave my shoulder a final squeeze before his hand fell away.

"I am Gandalf," Gandalf replied genially, "Gandalf the Grey."

Beorn looked unimpressed. "Never heard of you."

Oh, good.

Gandalf cleared his throat. I wondered if he was nervous. "Ah, perhaps you've heard of my cousin, Radagast the Brown who resides near the southern borders of Mirkwood."

Beorn lowered his axe slightly, thank God. But then his attention switched to me. "And what is this little fellow?"

I took a deep breath and held up a hand in an aborted attempt at a wave. "I'm a hobbit." At this, Beorn frowned impressively, so I quickly continued, echoing how the dwarves had introduced themselves to me back at Bag End, "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

Beorn watched me for a long moment before dropping his axe to his side. "What do you want?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled and I knew right then that he had found his opening. Without a moment to lose, Gandalf began explain our journey through the mountains, how our company had lost all our essentials, and that we'd very much appreciate Beorn's help.

"Goblins?" Beorn demanded, eyebrows furrowed. And that was when Thorin and Dwalin rounded the barn, coming into view.

The three of us halted our conversation, allowing Thorin and Dwalin to approach.

Thorin and Dwalin both gave no more than a set of grudging nods in greeting. Though they, at least, after a brief pause, offered their names as well. It was more than they had done at Rivendell.

"These are not hobbits," Beorn boomed in displeasure. "They are dwarves!"

I winced at his tone, mind working. What was wrong with dwarves?

"Ah," Gandalf replied, as if he'd only just noticed, "Yes, that is true. But they are fine fellows all the same."

Beorn scowled, but didn't stop Gandalf's story, though he did grow more and more impatient as the dwarves continued to arrive. Next came Fili and Kili, Dori and Nori and Ori came shortly after while Gandalf was describing the goblin tunnels, then Bifur and Bofur arrived while Gandalf detailed their escape, followed by Bombur and Gloin as Gandalf described us getting caught in the trees, and then finally came Oin and Balin as Gandalf reached the climax of the story at the eagles' timely arrival.

At the end of it all, the sun was beginning to dip lower and lower into the sky and Beorn seemed satisfied. It was a relief to see. I was tired.

"A fine tale!" Beorn declared, "The best I have heard in a long while. You may be lying, of course, but you deserve supper for the tale regardless even if most of you are dwarves."

My eyes narrowed. There it was again. The dwarves seemed as surprised as I was when Gandalf explained who Beorn was. It couldn't have been personal, and even if it was, I had a hard time buying that the dwarves had been as terrible as Beorn seemed to be implying.

"Thank you," Gandalf said, looking relieved, and raised a hand to me, gesturing for me to move along. I did so, Gandalf falling into step with me. Beorn had already turned away, leading us towards his house. After a few moments, I heard the dwarves begin to follow, too.

"He doesn't seem to like us much," I muttered to Gandalf as he placed his hand on my shoulder again. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Gandalf?"

Gandalf let out a sigh in reply. "My dear, of course I do."

I didn't think even Gandalf believed his own words.

That evening we feasted. Beorn, for all his initial reluctance, was an excellent host. His table was oversized, even for Gandalf, and was laden with bread, honey, cheeses, and huge tankards of mead. It was delicious and by the time we were finished there was hardly anything left. We were all quiet, which was more like the dinners at Rivendell than the ones on the road, but Beorn wasn't bothered. He filled the silence with tales of the wildlands on the east side of the Misty Mountains.

After supper we all gathered around Beorn's enormous hearth, the dwarves pulling out their pipes and were either talking or singing quietly. Gandalf stood close to the door, conversing with Beorn in hushed voices. And then the great door creaked and slammed and when I turned to look over my shoulder Beorn was gone.

"It is time for us to sleep," Gandalf said after rejoining us. "Beorn has agreed to shelter us for a time. But whatever you do, do not go outside until the sun rises."

"Why not?" Kili asked, a bit too brave in my opinion.

Gandalf huffed impatiently, "Because there are more dangers beyond these walls than I can begin to describe. Take heed to our host's wishes."

"As you say, Gandalf," Thorin conceded reluctantly. I wondered if he was thinking of the times when we hadn't listened to Gandalf's advice. I certainly was.

Soon after, we all retired to sleep. Beorn had set up makeshift beds for us all against the far wall of the long hall, made up of straw and woolen blankets. We bunkered down together and I found Fili and Kili pressed up close to me, caging me in against the wall of the house.

I listened as one by one the dwarves began to snore, falling into sleep. I could even make out Gandalf in the corner thanks to the low embers of the fire. I burrowed into my blanket with a sigh. Just as I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard a loud growl through the wall and the noise of something scuffling against it.

But I couldn't be sure that I hadn't imagined it in my sleepy-haze, because not more than a minute later I had fallen into a deep sleep.

I woke up to sunlight on my face. I rolled over, groggy and disorientated, rubbing absently at my eyes and inhaling deeply. The nightmares had come again.

I stood up shakily, letting the blankets I had used fall to the floor.

I shivered. Why was I so cold?

Buttoning up my waistcoat carefully, wary of how badly my fingers shook, I made my way towards Beorn's huge table where Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, and Nori were seated.

"Good morning," I said as I pulled myself into the chair next to him.

"Bilbo," Bofur said, looking pleased and steadying me with one hand as I tried to settled in the too-big chair. "Good thing you woke when you did. Otherwise, there might not be anything at all!"

I surveyed what had been laid out on the table. There was half of a loaf of bread, a single pot of unused honey, barely any butter in the remaining jars, and untouched fruit. Well, that did track with what I'd seen of the supplies the dwarves preferred.

I pulled the platter of fruit towards me with some effort before picking out raspberries, strawberries, and a small handful of grapes. "And where is everyone?"

Bofur shrugged, biting into his own thick slice of bread. "Outside. Our host hasn't returned, well, we haven't been able to spot him anyway. Breakfast was already on the table when we woke."

I drizzled some honey on my bread and asked, "And Gandalf?"

"No idea," Bofur informed me blithely, "Haven't seen him."

Of course, Gandalf was missing. I hummed in response, deciding not to worry. Or to try not to, anyway. This wasn't the burned ruins, we were perfectly safe here, even Gandalf had said as much.

The other dwarves slowly left the table as I ate, though Bofur was kind to wait for me to finish before we both stepped out into Beorn's courtyard. I squinted in the morning light, taking in Ori sitting on one of the benches knitting.

Up ahead I could see the rest of the dwarves gathered together around Fili and Kili who were clearly sparring.

Bofur let out a laugh next to me, patted my shoulder, and went to join the others. I quickly turned to walk in the opposite direction. I'd rather hike back to the Carrock before I tried to spar with any of the dwarves.

Instead, I spent my day wandering Beorn's lush gardens. They were different from the ones I found in Rivendell. While Elrond's gardens were immaculate and well-maintained, Beorn's gardens were much more organic, sprawling haphazardly across his grounds. I spent most of my time trying to both dodge the oversized bees and to identify the many different plants I found, many of which I couldn't recognize, not even with my new-found knowledge thanks to Fili's willingness to read from Nori's book. I debated going back to house to retrieve it, but decided it could be a tomorrow task. I felt the same pull in Beorn's gardens as I did in Rivendell. There was something about them that appealed to me that no other garden had before, not even in Hayley's mom's garden, or my grandma's, both in which I spent a great deal of my childhood. I was beginning to suspect that perhaps it was a hobbit-trait that had somehow bled into me.

I'd become so wrapped up in the humming serenity of Beorn's gardens that I didn't notice how low the sun until the bees had disappeared for the night, leaving mostly silence. Hurriedly I darted between the flower beds and hedges back towards Beorn's house, letting out a sigh of relief when I found myself back in the courtyard.

Pushing the door open, I could hear the dwarves were already inside. I took in the sight of most of them surrounding the table as I stepped in further, the door swinging shut on its own accord behind me. To my surprise, I found Gandalf among them, smoking on his pipe at the head of the table. It was like night and day compared to the previous night. With Beorn gone, the dwarves were laughing and shoving each other playfully, shouting over each other's heads to be heard.

I smiled fondly. Dwarves.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said at my left, making me jump. I hadn't even noticed he was there.

I nodded at Thorin, wary. He wasn't looking at me as he did on Carrock, like I was a puzzle. Now Thorin looked at me like he did whenever he spoke to any other member of the Company: with intense focus and an expectant expression.

"Thorin, how are you feeling?" I asked politely, testing the waters. He looed better already though the bruise was still wicked and dark across his cheek.

"Well." Thorin replied gruffly, arms crossed. "Where have you been?"

"The gardens," I told him. I watched absently as Gandalf began to blow smoke rings, "Wandering a bit too much. I lost track of time, I suppose."

Thorin frowned before settling back against the huge wooden support column that he had likely been leaning on before my arrival. "We were concerned when you did not arrive for midday's meal."

Two waves washed over me: exasperation and fondness. Thorin's words were unexpectedly sweet, even if the implication felt a little too paranoid for my tastes. I hummed, resting my shoulder on the column, and asked, "Do you think this place is dangerous? Or are you referring to our host?"

Thorin was quiet for a long moment. "I do not believe that he means us harm," Thorin told me, "But that does not mean his intentions will remain that way."

I thought of the way Beorn's tone changed when speaking of the dwarves yesterday. How his mood would take a downward swing whenever a new set of dwarves would appear.

"I understand," I replied, because truly I did. While Beorn hadn't said a bad word in my direction, they had still been said. As much to Thorin as to myself I said, "But Gandalf trusts him."

"And that is enough for you?" Thorin's eyes were appraising. Not as if he were ready to argue, though. More that he actually seemed interesting in what I had to say. It was both flattering and startling. If we weren't careful, we'd probably end up friends.

I took a moment to thing it over. "I trust Gandalf with my life," I told him finally. "Even if he doesn't tell me everything."

Huh. That really was my relationship with Gandalf in a nutshell, wasn't it?

Thorin made a soft noise in reply. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he almost sounded amused. "On that we can agree."

Gandalf let out another stream of smoke. This time, though it changed shape, moving strangely in a way smoke didn't, or shouldn't anyway. I watched, mesmerized, as it settled as a moth, wings fluttering as it came in my direction. It stopped just in front of my face, just far enough to keep me from going cross-eyed. Its wings fluttered a few more times, almost as if it was showing off, before it dissipated.

I shot Thorin an exasperated look, which I knew was tempered by the smile I couldn't stop from pulling at the corners of my mouth. Thorin stare back evenly, one eyebrow raised. My smile grew.

"We won't be here for long." I was pretty sure, anyway. It wasn't as if it was up to me. I couldn't resist adding, "Just don't call Beorn a grocer and we'll be fine."

I pushed off the column and moved closer to the table before Thorin could answer, several of the dwarves shouted in greeting. I met Gandalf's eyes, which were soft and warm, I could see even through the pipe smoke.

"Bilbo, come!" Bofur called, pulling my attention from Gandalf as he gestured to the chair on his left next to Oin.

I hauled myself into the chair Bofur had motioned towards, and settled in. Once I had, Oin took my chin gently as he assessed the cut through my eyebrow. Whatever he saw was acceptable because he let me go and turned away with a grunt. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Throughout dinner, most of the dwarves' attention was on Gandalf, who was doing a fantastic job blowing smoke rings and ignoring us all.

Finally, his patience seemed to snap because he declared, "I will answer no questions until after dinner. I have not had anything to eat since yesterday."

The dwarves grumbled but listened, digging into the food before us. Supper was much the same as the night before, and even without any variations it was still delicious. With the absence of Beorn, the dwarves were much rowdier than the previous night shouting at each other and telling obnoxious jokes. Though, I noticed, they still didn't throw food. I wondered if that had been just for me.

After we'd finished eating and Gandalf refilled his pipe, he finally seemed ready to talk.

I took the plunge for us all, mostly because I knew Gandalf generally had a higher annoyance threshold for me. The dwarves leaned closer as I asked, "Where is Beorn? Hasn't he returned from last night?"

Gandalf shook his head.

"No," Gandalf replied tiredly, inhaling deeply from his pipe. "I followed him for a time, all the way to the Carrock but he has disappeared into the mountains."

Thorin looked troubled and asked his own question, "What if he is to lead Azog to us?"

"Do not be a fool," Gandalf said impatiently, causing Thorin's expression to darken. "He will do no such thing. Even Azog knows better than to enter Beorn's lands, no matter his quarry. We are quite safe."

That was all Gandalf seemed willing to talk about because after he finished his pipe, Gandalf insisted we all go to bed. Beorn wouldn't return until morning, at the earliest, he told us, and there was no need for a watch. It felt a bit like we were children being sent to bed early, but Gandalf did have a point, however chaffing, and so we all agreed.

"A word, if you please, Bilbo," Gandalf over us.

I sighed already turning around. I could feel the eyes of the dwarves on me. I nodded at Fili, whose eyebrows were raised, as I passed and joined Gandalf at the hearth.

"What is it?" I asked once the dwarves had quieted and settled. I kept my voice low just in case, "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Gandalf told me quietly, leaning low over the fire. "I spoke to Thorin this evening."

I made a small noise. That explained our surreal conversation. "He's let it go?"

Gandalf huffed out a laugh. "Yes, I do believe so. As much as his nature will allow him to."

That was as good as it was going to get.

"Thank you, Gandalf," I said, nodding, turning to join the dwarves.

"There is something else we must discuss," Gandalf told me solemnly, making me freeze in place.

Dread was creeping along my spine. I turned back, frowning. "What?"

Gandalf sighed heavily. "I always meant to see you all safe over the mountains and now by good management and good luck I have done it. But I have other pressing business to attend to."

Oh, no.

"I don't understand," I said shakily. This wasn't what Gandalf had promised at all. What about the dwarves? What about me? What about Bilbo?

"I am needed elsewhere, my dear," Gandalf explained gently, "I must leave you."

"No," I gasped, afraid now despite Gandalf's reassurances about Beorn, "Please, Gandalf. I need your help!"

You promised, I wanted to say. But the words were lodged in my throat.

"Thanks in no small part to your own bravery and willfulness," Gandalf explained in a way that I knew he meant to be kind, even if all it struck in me was fear, "I can say for certain that you now have the Company to lean on. Or rather, they will now have to depend on you."

I shook my head, disbelieving. I couldn't follow Gandalf's logic. Possibly because there was no logic at all that I could find. I blurted out, "I'm not the same as a wizard and neither are they!"

"I would not leave you if it was not important, Laura," Gandalf told me, "I do not give my word lightly. But this cannot wait any longer."

We were both quiet for a long time. I wanted to cry, I was on the edge of it already. I could feel tears prickling behind my eyes. My face felt hot, my breathing growing ragged. Gandalf was leaving.

"Gandalf," I asked finally, shakily, "What exactly are you leaving us for?"

Gandalf was quiet for several heartbeats. Then, "I told you once that evil will always try to find a foothold in the world."

Something like that, yeah. The darkness was a patient thing, I was almost certain was what he said, that it was waiting. I nodded after a long awkward moment, realizing that Gandalf was waiting for some kind of acknowledgment from me.

"In the southern forests of Mirkwood is an ancient fortress called Dol Guldur." Gandalf told me slowly, eyes unfocused. "I must investigate. There are signs pointing to a great darkness that is festering there."

I took in a shaky breath. Oh, God.

"Once I am finished, I will join you at Erebor. With luck, my business will be concluded and I will arrive just as you do." Gandalf said, likely more as an attempt to sooth my anxiety than anything.

I didn't reply. If this evil was as terrible as Gandalf said, evil enough for a wizard to investigate, then Gandalf was in real danger, even I could figure that out. I didn't want him in danger. He was too important to me. He was also, I realized suddenly, my friend.

I wanted to take back what I had said to Thorin about Gandalf not telling me everything. I was finding quickly I actually preferred it that way.

All I could get out was, "I understand."

Gandalf smiled gently, lifting a hand to rest on my shoulder. "Now, perhaps you should join the others. We will speak more on the morrow."

I didn't argue. It wouldn't have done any good, anyway.

"Good night, Laura," Gandalf said quietly, removing his hand.

I nodded back. "Good night, Gandalf."

Not a minute later, I found myself tiptoeing between the dwarves to take up my spot pressed between the wall and Fili's back. I settled onto my back, ready to stare up at the ceiling all night, because no way was I falling asleep now, when I felt Fili shift next to me.

"Everything alright, Bilbo?" Fili whispered, voice laced with sleep.

I swallowed thickly, blinking away tears.

"Yes," I replied, pleased that my voice was steady, "Thank you Fili."

I felt Fili roll back onto his side and listened to his breathing even out. And then I continued to listen long after he fell back to sleep. It was a very long time until I finally followed.

The next morning I woke up in terror, but from what I couldn't remember. It was the nightmares again, dark and cold, and I was starting to think that they weren't exactly ordinary.

I pushed to my feet, realizing that I was once again the last one to wake.

Tripping over my feet, I approached the table to find that our host had rejoined us some time in the night. And that Gandalf was missing. Oh, he had better not have left on his new mission without saying goodbye. I would scream so loud he would be able to hear me wherever he had taken off to.

"Little friend!" Beorn called when he noticed me, loud and pleased. "Come."

Beorn grabbed me by the back of my jacket, lifting me clean off my feet to set me in the chair next to his. I made a strangled noise as Beorn settled me in, ignoring the offended looks Fili and Kili were shooting at Beorn. Beorn's attention was still on me, eyes assessing, like he could see something no one else could. I shivered.

Beorn finally looked away, reaching over the table and then deposited an overflowing plate of food before me. "Eat, little friend, eat."

"Thank you," I said blandly, trying to shake the unsettled feeling that had resurfaced under Beorn's gaze.

Beorn only laughed in reply, then told us how he had carved the Carrock. Beorn was in remarkably good spirits, laughing and eating with vigor. After he finished his story, he revealed why he was so cheerful.

During his absence, Beorn had indeed gone back into the mountains, all the way up to the cliff where we had our battle with Azog. He had even encountered a warg and orc scout near the borders of his land. All of it had more than impressed him.

"It was a good story of yours," Beorn informed us, "Even better now that I am sure it's true. I do not like dwarves but I hate goblins more. Killed the goblin king! I shall think more kindly of dwarves after this."

I stopped chewing. There it was again.

Instead of asking what I really wanted to, I said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Master Beorn."

"If all beggars that appear at my door tell such a good tale, they might find me kinder," Beorn told us, pushing a large mug the size of my chest towards me. "Now, what is it that you need?"

"We mean to journey through Mirkwood," Thorin told him plainly.

Beorn's eyes narrowed consideringly. "Mirkwood? You walk a dangerous road."

I shifted in my chair, unsure. "Can you help us?"

Beorn didn't answer. Instead, he stroked his beard thoughtfully, moved towards his open door, stepped through it, and disappeared out of sight.

Well then.

"Some help he was," Gloin grumbled. The rest of the dwarves made noises of agreement.

"That wasn't a 'no,'" I shot back, climbing down my chair and moving towards the door. It wasn't a yes, either.

I peered out into the sunshine. Nothing. Beorn was gone.

I didn't catch sight of Beorn once that day, nor Gandalf, so instead I stuck to the plan I had cobbled together the day before: I hauled out my book of plants and spent my time back in Beorn's gardens trying to identify as many as I could. I didn't know what else to do. Without Gandalf or Beorn we were dead in the water. At least this was somewhat fun.

After carefully bookmarking each page with a sample of a plant that I'd identified – it occurring to me too late that maybe I should have asked Beorn's permission first- to ask Fili to read to me later, I made my way back towards Beorn's house just as the sun began to set.

I was surprised to find, unlike yesterday, a dwarf still in the garden. It was Ori, one of his journals open, inkwell balancing on one of the corners as he scribbled something down. I waited until he had finished before calling out, "Hello Ori."

Ori jumped, snatching the inkwell from their air after it tumbled off. I was impressed.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly moving to stand next to him, my own book tucked under my arm.

"Oh, that's quite alright, Master Baggins," Ori told me quickly, capping the inkwell with one hand and tucking it away. Despite my repeated attempts to get Ori to call me Bilbo I was still fighting a losing battle. It was funny how different he was from Fili and Kili despite how close they were in age.

I watched Ori bring out a small horn, tap out powder onto his page, wait a moment, and then with a soft puff of air send the powder out to catch in the breeze. After a last onceover, Ori closed his journal and tucked everything away again.

Ori turned to me, his own expression sheepish, and I smiled, "Will you be staying out here much longer, Ori?"

"Oh, no," Ori protested, eyeing the sinking sun nervously. I remembered Gandalf's warnings on our first night. Given the older dwarves' habit of ignoring Gandalf- alright Thorin's habit - it surprised me to find Ori taking them so seriously.

"Me either," I said shifting my book under my other arm. "Would you like to walk back together?"

Ori's expression was so bright at my offer, his nodding so enthusiastic, it made my smile widen. We fell into step together. It was nice, walking with Ori. He was probably the smallest dwarf, though still taller than me by a fair amount, and so it wasn't so strenuous to keep pace with him.

We didn't speak, which suited me fine, for most of our walk together, not until we rounded one of Beon's low barns, the courtyard now in sight and so were most of the dwarves who were still milling about outside.

"Master Baggins," Ori said suddenly, so suddenly I stopped walking in surprise. Ori did the same. I waited, Ori's mouth opened and closed several times.

After I was reasonably sure Ori wasn't going to say any more, I said, as encouragingly as I could, "Yes, Ori?"

"I," Ori started again. This time though, after another long pause, he continued, "I wanted to apologize."

I stared, confused. "What for?"

Ori swallowed nervously, but he met my eyes squarely as he said, "For, well, on the mountain when-"

I was stunned, thinking back. I didn't need to hear anything more. "Ori," I said as gently as a I could, "You have nothing to apologize for. That was not your fault. It was an accident."

Ori didn't look convinced so I added, "There's nothing you did in my mind that would need forgiveness. But you have it."

Ori's sigh was long and relieved. He offered me a tentative smile, "Thank you, Master Baggins."

"Bilbo, please," I insisted, amused when Ori's wide eyes met mine. I didn't push it further. Instead, I said, "And knowing my luck, I think it would've gone a lot worse if you weren't there."

"But you fell after," Ori protested, though he looked far more calm now, "and managed to find us even then. That speaks of good luck to me. Even Mister Dwalin thinks so."

I stared, processing. Ori stared back, face going pale. I hadn't spoken with anyone but Nori about my second fall, the one in the goblin tunnels. And Nori had been the one to bring it up to me. I thought back, certain that no one had been nearby to overhear us at the time. Which only meant one thing.

Well, I thought wryly as Ori's expression grew more horrified. It certainly wasn't that unexpected, even if it was grating. There had been a surprising lack of questions from the others in my direction, both after the trolls and after the goblin tunnels. It would make sense that they had been comparing notes about me, either out of earshot or, I realized with a bolt of annoyance, in the dwarvish language when I was around.

I hummed, watching Ori squirm. I wondered if it would be worth it to ask what exactly was said about me. I quickly concluded my self-esteem probably wouldn't survive it – given that even the little Thorin had said to me before we had patched things up on the Carrock had been rough - even if most of it was probably accurate.

The anguish in Ori's voice when he squeaked out, "Master Baggins, I-" settled it. I would put Ori out of his misery. I guess I couldn't blame any of them, even if my annoyance lingered. I was definitely weird, even compared to what I had learned about Middle Earth. I was weird even to me.

"It's alright, Ori," I told him slowly, keeping our eyes locked even as I began to walk again, "Really, it is. I understand."

Ori hurriedly matched my steps. Just before we were in earshot of the others, Ori said desperately, "It isn't only- I mean to say we don't only-"

My annoyance was washed away by amusement now, as I considered it, watching Dori march up to us with a scolding for his little brother already pouring out. I imagined that was very true. The dwarves probably had a great deal to say about Gandalf, Elrond, the elves, even Beorn. I wondered if they risked speaking about it in front of Gandalf. I didn't think I would have.

I met Ori's eyes once more even as Dori pulled away. Something must have lingered on my face- not quite laughter, I knew, but something close- because Ori's own face smoothed out. Ori offered me a smile and a nod before turning to his brothers.

Pushing though the others, I noted that neither Beorn or Gandalf were out, at least not within view. I pushed the door open, and heard Fili say behind me, "Bilbo?"

I glanced over my shoulder and watched Fili come up next to me in the doorway, "Hello, Fili."

Fili turned to me, smiling slightly. "Lost in the gardens again today?"

I blinked, surprised. While Thorin had noticed my absence yesterday it hadn't occurred to me that any of the others would be looking for me.

I couldn't tap down the fondness that kindled in my chest at the thought, "Yes."

I turned my attention to inside Beorn's house when a flicker of movement caught my eye. I pressed into the doorframe on instinct as four sheep pushed past us, causing the dwarves to go quiet, and disappear into the gardens.

Curious, I ducked inside with Fili close behind. On the table lay dinner, with fresh pitchers of mead, steaming loaves of bread, and huge wheels of cheese. The fire in the hearth was stoked and our blankets freshly folded. Had the sheep-? All signs were pointing to yes, given that Gandalf and Beorn weren't inside either.

Middle Earth was so weird.

The dwarves had begun murmuring behind us, though they didn't seem bothered that Fili and I were blocking the doorway.

"Have," I started, already suspecting the answer, "either of them returned?"

Fili shook his head. "No. Uncle's not pleased."

I couldn't really blame Thorin. We wouldn't be able to go anywhere without help from both Gandalf – getting us to Mirkwood - and Beorn – giving us supplies to make it there much less through Mirkwood – and we all knew it. We were at a standstill.

I sighed and nodded and moved to take a seat at the table. Fili, after a beat, followed. We climbed into neighboring chairs quickly, pulling the food towards us and began to fill our plates. Not a minute later did Kili join us in the chair on my other side. The rest of the others followed soon after.

That night dinner was quiet, with Gandalf and Beorn's absences glaringly obvious. Once we had finished eating the dwarves migrated towards the fire. I moved to join them, but was stopped by movement out of the corner of my eye out in the courtyard. The sun was almost completely hidden by the Misty Mountains, with only long stripes of oranges, pinks, and purples left behind in the west.

Turning fully towards the door, I caught sight of what could only be Beorn moving near the barn.

Against my better judgment, and with Gandalf's warning to stay in after dark pushed to the back of my mind, I slipped out through the door and moved quietly towards the figure.

My instincts were right, I realized as I drew closer, it was Beorn. And he had noticed me.

"It is not safe for you out here, little one," Beorn told me, latching the door to the barn.

I cleared my throat, achingly aware of our huge difference in size. "Yes, Gandalf explained. It's only- I wanted to apologize if I. Well, if I was too forward earlier today."

Beorn turned to face me fully, eyes glittering in the low light.

"I only meant," I continued nervously. "I didn't mean to demand more than you are willing, or able, to give."

Beorn snorted, turning away to look towards the mountains, "You have done no such thing. You will find that I am not easy to offend."

That wasn't exactly what Gandalf had implied but I'd take it.

"I have been gathering supplies," Beorn went on in a low growl. "Should you wish to leave on the morrow you and your dwarves will be provided for."

"I," I started, surprised. "Thank you, Master Beorn. Truly."

We were both silent for a long while as we watched the sun disappear completely, leaving behind only stars and a thin sliver of the moon.

"You are like me," Beorn said plainly, as if commenting on the weather. My heart lurched so painfully that for a moment I thought it'd stopped.

I glanced up at him with a frown. I must've misheard. "I'm sorry?"

"I have met halflings before, long ago," Beorn said, his eyes still on the sky. "You are not like them."

My breath caught in my throat. Oh, no.

Beorn moved his gaze to rest fully on me. He was wearing the same look as when we had met the first time, and again at breakfast. Now I knew exactly what it meant. "You are not a hobbit but nor are you of men."

I opened my mouth to explain or plead or even deny but no sound came out.

"I am neither a true bear nor a man," Beorn told me simply. "We are caught."

"It's complicated," I agreed hoarsely, summing up my thoughts about my new body quite nicely.

Beorn settled a huge hand over my shoulders, engulfing both and most of my back. "It is a comfort to meet someone so close to kin."

"Kin?" I squeaked out. "I didn't know that there were other skin-changers."

Beorn looked away, an expression flitting across his face so quickly that I wasn't sure what I saw. But the closest I could guess was raw agony. "Once there were many. Now there is only one."

I could feel my eyes sting at his words. "I'm so sorry."

Beorn didn't reply. We stood together for another handful of heartbeats before Beorn turned away.

"Come," he said is the softest voice I had ever heard out of him. "Let us return you to your dwarves."

I could do nothing but agree.

We left the protection of Beorn the next morning.

Gandalf had returned sometime during the night and after breakfast he announced that it was time for us to leave. Beorn had indeed prepared supplies for our journey: huge waterskins, sealed jars of dried fruit, clay pots of honey, and what looked like hardtack carefully wrapped and in packs. He'd even gone so far as to allow us the use of his animals, a horse for Gandalf and a small herd of black and white splotched ponies for the rest of us.

We all quickly collected our meager belongings, gathering together just outside of Beorn's courtyard to say goodbye to our host.

"The way through Mirkwood is dark, dangerous, and difficult." Beorn warned us, voice grave. "Water nor food will be easy to find, and not very much of it will be wholesome. There is a stream that runs through that forest, dark and strong. Take heed not to drink from it, or bathe, for the water there carries enchantment of great drowsiness and forgetfulness."

The dwarves all nodded in understanding while Balin and I traded looks. I didn't love the sound of that and it looked like Balin felt the same. There was a wariness and a weariness in his eyes.

"And above all," Beorn said lowly, "Do not stray from the path."

"Of course, Beorn," Gandalf agreed amicably, already mounted on his horse. "Thank you, we are indebted to you."

"No," Beorn answered Gandalf even as his eyes met mine. Against my will I was tearing up even as I offered him a smile, overwhelmed suddenly.

The dwarves and I all chorused our thanks and some of us, like Balin and Dori, even bowed. Then they all moved towards the ponies.

I watched the dwarves begin to climb onto their ponies before turning back to Beorn.

"Master Beorn," I started hesitantly, tilting my head back to meet his eyes, "May I ask you for one last favor?"

Beorn nodded. Pleased, I dug around in my pack for a moment before finding my prize.

"Would you be willing to hold onto this for me?" I asked him, holding out the book that Nori had given me in the mountains. I should have probably taken out the flowers I collected. I still felt bad that I hadn't asked first. "I'm afraid that it might not make it to the end of our journey."

Beorn smiled, clearly amused. "Very well, little one."

Beorn carefully took my book from my outstretched arms, making it instantly look like a pocket book more than anything else.

"Thank you for everything, Master Beorn," I said, trying not to wince as Beorn ruffled my curls roughly in goodbye with his free hand.

"Farewell little kinsman," Beorn replied gruffly. "Should you and your company ever come back this way again, my house will be open to you."

"Thank you," I repeated, reaching up and grabbing the mane of my pony to hoist myself up. Before I could even try to pull myself into my saddle, Beorn grabbed my pack and lifted me into the saddle himself.

I glowered as Beorn laughed, turning my pony to fall into line between Bombur and Dori. Once we had cleared Beorn's main gate I turned back to look, surprised to see Beorn watching us. He lifted one hand in a last goodbye, vanishing from view once we made it past his stone walls.

We traveled that day much like we had at the start of our journey. We didn't stop for lunch or even supper instead continuing until the sun began to set, forcing us to make camp. I could see Mirkwood forest in the distance, vast and spanning in both directions.

That night we camped under the stars in new bedrolls that Beorn had provided us which were lined with wool and made out of what looked like woven grass.

In the morning we rose swiftly, passing apples from Beorn's trees between us for breakfast, before covering the rest of the distance to Mirkwood.

We arrived on the forest's edge by midmorning and I didn't like what I could see. I didn't know if it was my own instincts or some kind of hobbit intuition but something about the forest scared me. It felt too dark, even for how dense the trees were. Like the air was stale, the scent of decay strong even at the edge of it.

It didn't help that once we had dismounted the ponies and removed our bags, they had immediately turned and galloped away back the way we had come.

Balin turned to look at me. My apprehension must have been obvious because he explained, "This was once called the Greenwood. But I am afraid with time and neglect it has become something rather more sinister."

Sinister was an excellent word for it.

"Aye," Dwalin agreed from Balin's other side, "The elves of this forest would rather hide in their fortress than protect their own lands."

I looked at Balin, about to ask him if that was true, when Gandalf called for us near the trees.

Once we were all close enough Gandalf declared, "I have found the elven gate."

He gestured towards the forest. Nestled between two enormous trees was what looked like a garden arbor, twice as large as the one my grandma had in her backyard, made entirely out of antlers. Beneath it ran a dilapidated stone path that vanished into the shadows deeper in the forest.

Lovely.

"Here lies your path through Mirkwood," Gandalf informed us, pleased. "It will take you all the way through the forest, out the other side to the Celduin," catching my confused look he added, "the River Running."

Next to me Thorin shifted, scowling. "'Your?' Should it not be ours?"

Of course, Gandalf didn't tell Thorin. Of course not.

"I'm afraid I have pressing business elsewhere," Gandalf replied, not sounding apologetic at all. "And here is where we must say farewell."

The dwarves began shouting over each other, their ire fixed on Gandalf. I glanced up at the overcast sky. I hoped it wouldn't rain. I hated the way Bilbo's hair frizzed afterward. I didn't know how he managed it.

"You promised to help us," Thorin hissed out, causing the rest to go quiet. "Now you will abandon us?"

"Of course not," Gandalf snapped, looking cross. "Once my business is concluded I will meet you at the overlook of Dale."

Thorin didn't look particularly reassured. That made two of us.

"And so, I will leave you in the care of Master Baggins," Gandalf continued, "Until I can return to you."

I glared up at Gandalf, murderous. No way was he pinning the responsibility of this quest on me.

Gandalf ignored my glowering and said, "Bilbo, a word."

I rolled my eyes but obliged, tuning out the dwarves' angry whispers as they began to distribute our supplies evenly into our packs, and followed Gandalf's over to his horse.

I got the first word in, which was a nice change, "Please don't go, Gandalf."

Now that it was daylight, now that we were on the cusp of a forest that was setting off all my alarm bells, whatever acceptance I'd managed to scrape together since Gandalf warned me of his departure was lost to the wind.

Gandalf's eyes were very bright, his voice low and almost gentle when he answered, "I am sorry, Laura, truly. But there are other machinations at work in Middle Earth, not only your arrival. If this one is left alone, it may spell doom for us all."

I understood that, intellectually, sure. Gandalf had made it pretty clear that my presence here would make waves. I just didn't think it would be one that would sweep Gandalf away.

"I can't do this without you Gandalf," I hissed back desperately, "I don't care what you say."

I felt a tug on my pack and turned to find Bifur frowning, already through pulling it halfway off my back.

"Oh," I said, thrown off and my panic draining. Gandalf was glaring next to me at the interruption. "Thank you, Bifur."

Bifur said something in dwarvish and nodded. After Bifur retreated back to where his cousins were distributing our supplies among our packs, I hazarded a glance up at Gandalf.

Gandalf's gaze was back on me and any irritation he had at the interruption was long gone. All I could see was a softness, almost affection really, that made me think of my dad. I swallowed painfully at the idea.

Gandalf bent in very close, his voice just as soft, and, yes, there was definitely affection there, "I once believed that Bilbo was the only one suited to this task. But you have amply proven yourself just as capable, mayhaps even more so. I have every faith in you, Laura. Now you must find yours too."

I could feel a few tears slipping out, catching at the curve of my jaw. I took a deep breath and rubbed them away with my hand. I was suddenly grateful that the dwarves were behind me. I could only imagine what they'd think if they could see me now.

Once I was sure no more tears would escape, I turned to look at the forest. I shivered, not just from the wake of my tears. There was something wrong with the forest. A feeling of foreboding was creeping over me now, one that made what I had felt at the old farmhouse ruins pale in comparison.

I knew the answer already, but I had to ask, "Is there really no other way, Gandalf? Other than through Mirkwood?"

Gandalf shook his head and answered, "Not unless you go two hundred miles north or twice that distance south."

I sighed anyway and watched as Gandalf mounted his horse, though he wasn't done. "Be very careful, my dear. And take heed to Beorn's words."

The others were moving closer, I could hear them behind me. A few moments later, Bofur appeared at me right, offering me my pack. I took it, letting out a noise of surprise at how heavy it was. Fantastic.

"I remember," I said flatly, trying not to lose my balance as I hoisted my pack over my shoulders. "Keep on the path. Don't drink the water. Don't eat anything we find. Got it."

Gandalf expression was one of satisfaction, looking over all of us. "You will be well looked after."

Gandalf graced me with one last warm smile before calling out to the rest of the Company, "Do not stray from the path, lest it be the last thing you ever do."

With that parting warning, Gandalf took off south, following along the tree line to our right before disappearing around an outshoot of the forest out of sight.

We all stared after him for a long moment, before the dwarves began moving towards the antler-gate.

"You alright, Bilbo?" Bofur asked, still next to me.

I slipped the straps of my pack over my shoulders, wincing at the weight. "Yes, of course, Bofur."

Bofur let out a thoughtful noise as we moved to follow the others. "I know you and Gandalf are right close. But don't worry, he's right."

I thought back. You will be well looked after. The dread in the pit of my stomach had burned away and all that was left was a warm spark of fondness. "Thank you, Bofur. I promise to do the same."

Bofur smiled, clapped a hand to my shoulder, and shook me gently. Beneath the antler-gate, Thorin shouted for us all to ready ourselves.

"Stay together and remain on the path," Thorin told us, "We must reach the mountain by Durin's Day."

I rolled my shoulders, falling in line between Nori and Kili. As if on cue it began to rain.

Typical.

We passed through the antler-gate one by one into the shadows of Mirkwood. Almost immediately the air seemed to shift. It felt heavy and the smell of decay was overwhelming. I glanced around at the trees, nervous that with every step we took the light grew dimmer.

As we walked, the high tree canopy thickened, preventing most of the rain from reaching us. The ground still managed to be damp and the remaining stones on the path were slippery. And what little light we had was filtered by the tree branches, setting our surroundings in a sickly-grey light.

I could see small creatures, tiny black squirrels darting between and through the trees. I really hoped, as we continued our trek, that we wouldn't become desperate enough to eat them, even against Beorn's warning. It was a testament to our journey so far that I wasn't particularly confident.

That night it was determined that it was too wet to build a fire. Instead, we all huddled together in against a few of the massive trees that lined the path, making sure we kept it in sight at all times.

Thorin declared that watch was still needed, now more than ever. Everyone agreed and we all ate our dried fruit and hardtack quietly. We had decided to save the honey for when we would eventually grow sick of the taste of our current meal, since our rations would be the same at every meal until we got out of here.

After we all set out our bedrolls, none of us could settle. Around me I could hear the dwarves toss and turn, no one but Oin able to fall asleep. I couldn't blame them. Something about the surrounding forest made me feel as though we were being watched. By what I didn't know, but I didn't feel safe enough to sleep.

Eventually, though, my exhaustion got the best of me and so I fell into a restless slumber, wary even in sleep of what might be watching.

The following morning, we all quickly packed our things, eager to be back on the path and out of the forest. We had been in Mirkwood for less than twenty-four hours and we were already eager to leave.

The next three days passed much the same as the first. We fell into single file, one after the other, to keep track of each other. The forest grew darker, so dark that only a few rays of light were able to reach us, and even those were few and far between. The forest settled into a murky darkness and the only color I could see were the deep greens of the leaves and the occasional flash of Fili's blond hair. At night we would settle along the path, surrounded by total darkness since the constant drizzle of rain made it impossible to start a fire.

I didn't like Mirkwood, I concluded. Not as Laura or as Bilbo.

After several more long days of walking, I was over it. More over it than I'd ever been over anything. Not only was my pack something awful to carry but I was also exhausted from being so on edge. I was unable to shake the feeling that something menacing was watching us, and hadn't been able to relax since the moment we entered Mirkwood.

When we decided to stop for the night, I studied the rest of the dwarves, dark shapes more than anything else, as I reached into my pocket and rubbed a finger against my ring absently. They all looked as exhausted as I felt.

I settled in next to Oin, allowing him to fuss over the cut through my eyebrow again, which was healing nicely if I didn't say so myself.

I watched distractedly as the dark figures of Fili, Kili, and Dwalin took their axes to the roots of the nearest tree, obviously trying to collect firewood.

A dwarf settled in on my other side, eyes gleaming in the dark as he leaned against the wide tree trunk Oin and I were resting by.

I squinted through the darkness before realizing that it was Thorin next to me. My eyebrows rose. It was difficult for me to tell whether Thorin still had lingering suspicions of me, as Gandalf implied, or if he was genuinely offering overtures of friendship. I had a feeling it was a bit of both.

I nodded in greeting regardless, rolling my shoulders in pain. Carrying all of that extra weight was brutal. "Thorin."

Thorin raise an eyebrow- or so I thought in what little light there was to let me see his face- as if to say he didn't find much good about it. "Burglar."

We both settled into a comfortable silence.

When Dwalin, Fili and Kili were done gathering firewood, Kili dropped a pile of the roots at my feet and began to reduce them into kindling.

I frowned at the sight. Even in the dimness of the forest the roots looked rather odd. They were gnarled and twisted, to be sure, like roots tended to be but they also seemed oily and black.

I shivered. Mirkwood was the worst.

While I debated voicing my reservations over the idea, Fili and Kili lit a fire. If you could call it a fire. The flames guttered weakly, no larger than that of a candle and seemed to spew thick black smoke. But it was better than nothing and at the very least we were able to see our surroundings.

We were all still crying out in delight and congratulations when there came a rustle from the trees. Not one of passing, like a squirrel moving, but it was as if the entirety of the trees around us began to shake.

And then they were all around us.

At first, I couldn't identify what they were because as soon as they dropped they seemed to block the light from the fire. I could feel whatever they were brush against me, huge, as big as a bird. And there were so many of them, I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

They were moths. Huge and black, the size of my hand, they descending on us attracted no doubt by the light of our measly fire. They were flying in the air and crawling all over me. I wanted to open my mouth, to yell for the others to put out the flames, but I couldn't. I was afraid of these moths. Of this place.

Thorin, it seemed, came to the same conclusion, and had no reluctance in yelling at the others, "Put it out!"

Finally, one of the dwarves recovered enough to do just that, though who it was I couldn't see, and we were plunged back into darkness. Almost immediately, as if a switch had been hit, the moths were gone. I had no doubt they were still nearby.

And we were left in the darkness.

That night, after a morose dinner of hardtack and honey, we all lay down to sleep. I stared into the dark for a very long time, terrified. Because that night I saw what was watching us.

Eyes. They were yellow and green and red and seemed to move around us from one blink to the next.

Cold, sickening dread settled in my stomach and I knew it wouldn't leave me until we got out of this forest.

And I was starting to think that we would never make it out.