Extremely early the next morning we heard a sound that made us all sit straight up out of sleep.
Howling.
It was many leagues off, but even still we packed up in a rush. Gandalf's grim expression was encouragement enough to keep up a hurried pace as we set off. Later in the afternoon we came to the edge of a cliff face. Thorin sent Bilbo to climb up it in order to survey the landscape. Upon his return, Dwalin accosted him without delay.
"How close is the pack?"
"Too close." Bilbo explained. "A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it."
"Have the Wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked gruffly.
"Not yet, but they will. We have another problem."
Gandalf cut in, his voice laced with worry. "Did they see you? They saw you!"
Bilbo looked flustered as he denied the accusation. The wizard smiled and complimented his skills as a burglar, making the group chuckle. Bilbo tried to regain their attention, looking extremely anxious.
"Will you listen- Will you just listen?" he pleaded. "I'm trying to tell you there is something else out there."
I frowned in concern, stepping closer to better hear the hobbit's words. Gandalf turned to look at Bilbo, growing quiet.
"What form did it take?" the wizard asked after a moment. "Like a bear?"
I saw Bilbo hesitate, looking at Gandalf in confusion as he stammered, "Ye...yes. But bigger, much bigger."
It was then that Bofur spoke up. "You knew about this beast?" I looked at him but he ignored my gaze as he awaited a response that never came. "I say we double back." he offered when no one else suggested anything, but Thorin cut his idea down.
"There is a house." Gandalf stated. "It's not far from here, where we might take refuge."
"Whose house? Are they friend or foe?" Thorin demanded.
"Neither." Gandalf replied ominously. "He will help us, or he will kill us."
"What choice do we have?" asked Thorin grimly.
A horribly loud roar split the silence nearby, causing us all to jump in alarm.
"None." Gandalf replied and then ushered us to move.
I focused all my effort into not tripping as we began a relentless pace across uneven terrain. As we raced through a stream, however, I lost my footing. I stumbled forward and bashed my knees against the rocky bottom as I fell. My arms shot out in front of me to halt my momentum, and as they absorbed the impact I felt a sharp, tearing pain in the front of my shoulder. Tears welled in my eyes; meanwhile a few dwarves overtook me. I grimaced in pain, forced myself back up and continued to run on, knowing I could not afford to favour my injuries and slow down.
"This way, quickly!" Gandalf yelled back to us after the bear roared once more.
It was perhaps fortunate we all had lighter loads, or we might not have been able to outrun the beast we could hear crashing through the forest behind us.
"To the house! Run!" Gandalf shouted after we had broke into a clearing. The creature sprung out of the tree line shortly thereafter, quickly gaining on us now that we were all on open terrain.
I briefly saw out of the corner of my eye the large form of Bombur pass me, then watched with detached amusement as he continued up the line, easily outrunning everyone as we approached the gate in the hedge.
Finally we reached the front door of the house. I looked back and gaped for a moment as I saw the massive bear running straight for us.
"Open the door!" Gandalf yelled, ushering us all towards it. Thorin shoved his way to the front and finally the doors pushed open. We all hurried inside but the beast was upon us, trying to force its way in. I staggered back in fear as I lay eyes on the immense snarling snout and heard Bilbo draw his sword beside me. Finally they secured the bolt, the doors slamming resolutely closed. I stared at them, anxious that the beast would simply break them down, but all was quiet.
"What is that?" Ori asked, looking to Gandalf.
"That is our host." Gandalf stated. "His name is Beorn, and he is a skin-changer. Sometimes he's a huge black bear; sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overfond of dwarves."
Dori and Gandalf began bickering over something as I cast my eyes about the hall in wonder, my pain momentarily forgotten while my adrenalin was still running high. It was without a doubt one of the coziest and most comfortable dwellings I had ever stepped foot in, though much too large even for human standards. The air was warm and sweet, smelling of honey, and fresh hay - which layered the floor. The ceiling was high and airy, criss-crossed with supporting wooden beams. Much of the woodwork was beautifully carved. Candles and baskets of fruit and pine nuts adorned many of the surfaces. At one end were tall steps leading up to an immense dining and living area, at the other were stalls occupied by a few long-horned cows, two large horses, a few sheep, and a solitary goat.
"Alright now, get some sleep, all of you." Gandalf instructed sharply. "You'll be safe here tonight... I hope."
I didn't bother to even let my gaze find Bofur, as it was prone to do, and instead wandered to an empty stall nearest to the back and kicked the hay around. It appeared clean, so I made a nest of it and spread out my blanket on top. I removed my cloak and balled it up to use as a pillow. I noticed my shoulder was once again staining crimson through my clothing, confirming my fears that the healing skin had been damaged in my fall. I was loathe to even inspect it further, as I had no skills in healing and I suspected that help would no longer willingly come from the dwarves. Fortunately it wasn't bleeding very heavily, so I tried to push the worry from my mind, hoping it would mend somewhat overnight. After checking my knees, which I discovered were scraped and bruised but none too worse for wear, I lay down, curled up on my good side, and tried not to feel sorry for myself. Secretly I was hurt that he didn't stop to help me when I fell... none of them did. I stewed over this fact for a while before I was able to let myself drift off.
I awoke in the middle of the night and sighed to myself, wanting nothing more than a few nights of good, solid sleep. I seemed to be prone to waking every few hours, especially with my shoulder feeling worse again and my knees aching steadily. My mouth was also exceedingly dry and I didn't have one of the few canteens on me. I pushed myself up and peeked down the hall. Interestingly, a few candles had been lit, but I could see no signs of movement. I got up and crept past the sleeping forms of the others, squinting around for a water jug as I wandered up to the dining table. After tiptoeing the whole way around it I found nothing but empty vessels.
As it would happen, the door slowly creaked open as I was still standing there wondering what to do. I froze. There was nothing for it. I would be discovered no matter what, so I just stood there nervously as a huge looming figure of a man quietly entered the house. He had a massive chest, great bare arms with knotted muscles, and appeared to have a shaggy beard and mane of hair that trailed down his back. He stopped short when he saw me. I took a tiny step back, raising my hands slightly, trying to show him I was not a threat. His expression was wild and terrifying, his eyes full of suspicion and fear. He strode up the steps towards me, and then looked down at me menacingly. He was much taller than even the tallest of men. I tried to maintain eye contact but slightly cowered under his gaze as he studied me, his eyes sharp and untrusting as he took everything in.
"Follow." he said finally, turning and heading back outside. I obeyed without question, trusting that if worse came to worst I could scream loud enough to alert the others.
The moon was bright and exposed that night, casting a cool blue light upon the soft grass. He led me back towards a garden, stopping in front of a large wooden bench, but he did not sit down.
"You are lodging in my home tonight," he said, his voice deep and laced with an accent I had not heard before. I nodded, unsure if he was asking me or stating what he already knew. "There are others with you?"
"Yes... a few." I responded, remembering what Gandalf has mentioned about his dislike of dwarves and not wanting to elaborate. He did not respond. I noticed a manacle on his wrist; the chain cut a few links down, but I quickly looked away before he caught me staring at it.
"Beorn," I said hesitantly to break the silence, "I'm sorry we intruded without permission... but would you let us stay until morning?" I peeked up at him to see that he looked genuinely confused.
"I was not going to make you leave." he stated gruffly after a moment. "It is unusual for a human girl to be travelling in these parts. What is your name?"
I told him, and he then looked at me for a long moment before proclaiming: "You're injured."
I opened my mouth to object but he had already stridden off. I watched him go, slightly bewildered, and then awkwardly hoisted myself up onto the seat. My feet dangled since it was so high off the ground. I sat idly for a few moments until he returned carrying a leather bag and holding a large lantern in front of him.
"When did this happen?" he asked, indicating towards my shoulder and setting the bag and lantern down nearby. Without further preamble or any sense of reserve he slid my shirt down over my shoulder to better see the wound. Strangely he did not make me feel uncomfortable; I felt he was perhaps naive to other races' customs of modesty and therefore did not know to act bashful or ask permission before invading the personal space of another.
"Near a fortnight ago." I told him after quickly counting the days in my head. He grabbed out a vial and a square piece of softened leather, and then held the cloth against my skin underneath while he poured some of the liquid over the lesion; it smelled pleasantly fresh and had a slight cooling affect.
He then paused and shifted my tunic slightly, suddenly noticing the similar inflictions on the back of my shoulder.
"What caused this?" he said in almost a growl. For some reason I didn't want to tell him, but his tone and intense gaze made me divulge the information without much hesitation.
"An orc." I said humbly. "He had a jagged rod of metal in place of an arm... and got me through the back with it."
"Azog the Defiler." Beorn stated slowly, shaking his large shaggy head then fixing me with a hard gaze. "That is most unusual, how did you cross paths with this creature?"
This time I truly did not know how to answer, it was such a long and complicated story. As if he could sense he would get no more out of me after a short pause, he let out a low rumbling sigh and then gestured to my tunic.
"I need to bind the wound. Remove this." he stated bluntly. I was already beginning to develop a habit for following orders of people ministering to my wounds, and so I hastened to comply, however my haste led to discomfort. I grimaced, and he took over with a deftness that I wouldn't have guessed he possessed in such large hands, gripping the hem of my tunic and guiding it gently up over my head.
The cold of the night air caught me off guard as it cut through my undershirt, but Beorn seemed devoted only to his task and continued to work through my silent shivers, daubing on a thick paste that smelled of honey over the marks. He then quickly wrapped beneath my arm and over my shoulder with some kind of luxuriously soft, light fabric and bound it tightly.
As he finished up, he finally spared the rest of my body a brief inspection, noticing the inflictions of my multiple hurts and bruises. With one of his hands he took my good arm and drew it closer to the lantern light to bring the old orc scratches into clearer view. His eyes narrowed once more, but he released my arm and retrieved my tunic.
"Are you hurt elsewhere?" he asked, helping to guide my shirt back down over my bound shoulder.
"Not badly." I replied, knowing my knees were more than capable of healing on their own after the sixth or seventh time I had damaged them this trip. I slid forward and eased myself down to the ground as gracefully as I could.
"And the others, do they need tending as well?" Beorn asked as he gathered up his supplies and the lantern.
I shook my head. "I don't think so. They have their own healer if need be."
Beorn frowned, but said nothing more as he turned to lead me back to the house. Right before we got back to the door, I remembered the reason I had gotten up in the first place and shyly spoke up to ask for a glass of water. We entered quietly into the kitchen, Beorn's heavy footfalls doing little to wake the exhausted troupe of dwarves as he busied himself, setting down the lantern and pouring water into a large wooden cup. I thanked him, but he gruffly gestured for me to wait, and from the kettle by the faltering ashes of a long-dead cooking fire he poured me another glass, this one of warm milk to help me sleep.
After that, he left me sitting alone at the table. I felt like a child drinking the milk, holding the glass with both hands and swinging my legs back and forth beneath me. The simple kindness shown to me was a blessing after recent events, and so I stayed in the moment as long as possible.
The last flickering, spluttering light of the lantern, as it burned down too low for the wick to sustain it, woke me from a drowse, and rubbing sleep from my eyes I slipped down onto the stone floor. Still half asleep, I descended the tall steps and wove my way through the dwarves, all still in slumber at this late hour.
No, not all asleep. Squinting through the darkness, my vision sharpened and made out a shadowed figure leaning up against one of the house's wooden pillars. I took a step forward, wondering if it might be Bofur, wondering if I might have some chance for repentance if I could only talk to him. But what to say? I could think of nothing.
The figure was speaking. It was barely above a whisper, words on the verge of comprehension and so quiet that they were no more than riddles in the dark. Another step closer. It was Bilbo Baggins. He was hunched over looking at something he seemed to be holding in his hand. I approached him.
"Bilbo?" I whispered as quietly as I could.
As quick as a flash he turned to face me, causing me to flinch in surprise. I thought I saw a flicker of gold in his hand before he made a small fist. His expression was twisted and his eyes unfamiliar.
"It's nothing!" he snarled.
His voice and manner startled me. I took a step back, my eyes wide.
He then blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. When he looked back to me he appeared himself again, slightly tired, he yawned then twitched his nose.
"Should get some sleep." he commented lightly with a stretch. He nodded then made a cross between a wave and a dismissal with his hand as he moved to lie down. I nodded back, smiling nervously before turning and quickly walking back to my stall.
Despite the effects of the warm milk threatening to submit me to my weariness, it took me a long while to fall asleep as I pondered Bilbo's unusual and eerie behaviour. Something about it disturbed me, the aggression, the glint of gold. Something I couldn't put my finger on.
Something not quite right...