Chapter 34: Teddy Bear Picnic

Sara stared up at Beorn not sure she had heard correctly, her previous unease about the queerness of the night forgotten in the shock of his question.

"When will the battle at Erebor take place little Sara?" asked Beorn again, his big brown eyes fixed on her face."

"W… what?"

"When will the Battle of Five Armies take place?" he asked for the third time, never looking away. "I wish to fight the Goblin's with you when the time comes, as will much of my kin. We would exact our revenge." Everything inside her mind was careening wildly on a collision course with sanity.

"How do you know about that?" she asked shakely, trying unsuccessfully to pull her arm from his grip. "Who told you about that?" His eyes searched her face wanly.

"So it is true," he said, turning to look at Tom who lay in the dirt several feet away. "You were correct."

"Who was correct," she asked, voice quavering. "How do you know about that? Did Nori or Gandalf tell you? Have you been spying on me?" He released her arm and stood.

"I hardly call it spying when you tell someone openly," said the giant. Tom came to sit at Beorn's side, his old brown eyes looking at her fixedly.

"I never told you any of that," she insisted. "How did you know?" He rested one of his large callused hands on the dog's head.

"Tom."

"What?"

"Tom told me," repeated Beorn. "He was there when you told the wizard, and he was there when you told Mr. Bilbo Bunny Baggins."

"But Tom... He's just…" she sputtered.

"Just a dog," finished Beorn, raising an eyebrow. "Tom is much more than a simple dog. He very old, and has accrued a wealth of wisdom to match that age. He is, in short, aware."

Sara could not believe her ears. An intelligent dog? One who could communicate complex ideas to Beorn? But the more she thought about it the more she supposed she should have seen it coming. Even in the book Beorn's animals had been odd. They were said to perform work around the house, walk on their hind legs, and even communicate with the giant, or at very least he with they. Not only that, but the old dog had always seemed more cognizant than he ought to. She rubbed her right hand, remembering the way he had acted when they first encountered one another. Had he recognized the symbol on her hand even then? It was as if Beorn had read her mind.

"I did not know the meaning of the mark on your hand, although Tom did to some extent. I am much more familiar with the scars on your arms. I have seen them before on others of my kind. It was your marks from Azog and Tom that ultimately convinced me to let you all stay and hear you out." Sara was so busy absorbing Beorn's words that she didn't notice Tom had moved till his warm tongue caressed her fingertips. She looked down at him with a new appreciation.

"He can talk to you?" she asked, scratching behind his ears. "How?"

"Not in a way you would understand," said Beorn. " But he can communicate with me well enough."

"And he told you about the upcoming battle?" She looked up at him shrewdly. The book said Beorn would arrive near the tail end of the fight and be the one to carry Thorin away from the battlefield… unfortunately not in time to save the dwarf's life. "Kin, are there more of you, skinchangers I mean? And why do you want to know more about the battle?"

"Even I have family little Sara. My kind have suffered greatly at the hands of the Goblins. They drove us from our home in the mountains, killing many, and if given the chance we would take our revenge on them and reclaim our mountain home."

"You and Thorin both," she said, frowning. "What exactly did Tom tell you?"

"Simply that there is to be a battle against the Goblins in the near future."

"Nothing else?" she asked, looking down at the old dog.

Beorn snorted. "He told me the rest was none of my business, the cantankerous old dog." Surprised she crouched down to rub the dog's ears vigorously with approval.

"He's right," she said. "It is none of your business." Beorn huffed irratabley.

"And I suppose that's why the dwarves know nothing of it either," he said.

She flicked some pebbles in the dirt, not meeting his eyes. "They will know… eventually."

"I see," he said, folding his arms across his chest. She smiled faintly. The men of middle earth sure liked that pose. "But what of the battle," he insisted. "I want to join the hunt and I know others who would likely wish to join me." Sara pondered that for a moment as she continued to rub Tom's soft fur.

"You're supposed to be there," she said finally, pulling a few burs from the dog's coat. "I don't know about the others you want to bring, but I do know you will be there. You are a great asset and even kill the goblin commander." She searched her memory for the name. Though Gandalf had wanted to know about the tactics of the battle the name had never come up. "Bolg I think his name was."

"Bolg!" exclaimed Beorn. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"I know of him and he is no goblin. He is the spawn of that cur Azog." Tom growled indignantly. "Oh don't take it that way," said Beorn patting the dog's head. Tom looked only slightly mollified as Sara followed the giant to an oversized shed near the front gate.

"If Bolg is an orc what is he doing leading the goblins?" she asked, chewing her lip.

"I'm not sure." He opened the shed and picked up two large barrels, one under each arm. She followed him out the gate to the tree where he sat them down. "But," he said, prying the lids off the barrels before returning to the shed. "My kin have seen Azog and his kind frequent the goblins in the mountains. Perhaps they have made an alliance with each other; we already suspect they are in league with the necromancer in the old fortress." He handed her several wide mouth wooden bowls that she carried back to the tree.

"The orcs are in league with the necromancer," said Sara, laying the bowls in the grass. "Azog said his master was in Dol Guldur." Beorn nodded as he filled the large bowls with thick dark honey from the enormous jug he carried.

"Then we are right," he said. "Tell me little Sara, when does the battle happen?" He licked the honey from the rim of the jug before going to the shed once again, this time returning with several buckets of thick cream.

"I'm not sure of an exact date," she admitted, dipping a finger into the amber honey before popping it into her mouth. "A couple of weeks after Smaug dies," she said around the sticky digit.

"And when does that happen?"

"A few days after Durin's day, and before you ask me when that is, I'm not sure," she said wiping her finger on her pant leg. "Balin said mid to late October. He has to do some calculations to be sure but I can ask him tonight if you want, though it still wont give us an exact date for the battle. My guess would be in the first half of November."

"November," said Beorn. "Good that should give us enough time."

"Time for what?"

"To prepare, to gather, and to march," he said.

"You really think that others will join you?" she asked, unsure what to think.

"I am certain they will." His voice was sharp and clear. They stood in silence for many long minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. The book had said that Beorn came alone, but if he brought more of his kind… Beorn was huge in bear form, and she could well imagine that having more like him would be devastating in a fight against the Goblins. Would it be enough to tip the scales? Could it possibly save Thorin, Fili, or Kili? Even if it couldn't, it was still sure to save many lives, for even the wargs had fled from the titanic bear. It could only be a good thing to have the aid of Beorn and his people. Right?

A thunderous and familiar roar sounded in the near distance, and a smile slowly spread across the giant's face. "She is early," he said. There was a familiar glint in his eyes as he turned back to Sara.

"Who is early?" she asked, looking around, searching the waxing twilight shadows for the source of the sound and Beorn's excitement.

"As Tom would say," said Beorn leaning over her, a smug smirk playing across his lips. "That is none of your business. I think it's time for you to return indoors." He let her down the dirt path, but before she climbed the wooden steps he caught her arm. "How do you know about the future little Sara?" She looked at him for several seconds debating.

"Do you believe me?" she asked. He nodded his great shaggy head. "Then it doesn't much matter how I know, just that I do."

He sighed. "Very well," he said. "Keep your secrets, I will keep mine, and Tom will keep them all."

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Sara woke from her restless sleep and peered into the gloom of the hall lit only by the glowing embers of the fire that had long since died in the rectangular pit in the floor. She sat up waiting for her eyes to adjust, listening to the snores of the dwarves, but there was another sound under it all coming from outside the wooden walls. She tried to identify it but gave up seconds later as her stomach gurgled. She made to throw off her blanket only to find that Kili had a tight hold on it to her left. Careful not to wake him or Fili on her other side she stood. Bilbo's bed was empty. She stepped high over the sleeping Tom and crept towards the kitchen trying to be silent but had to stifle a gasp of pain and muttered curse when her toes found the steps before her eyes. The low tones of two voices reached her ears as she spied the narrow strip of light from under the kitchen door. Feeling a vague sense of familiarity she opened the door. Bilbo sat at the tall counter, feet dangling from his long legged stool, his fingers nervously drumming the mug in his hands, as he talked quietly with Bombur in the soft light of several candles. They turned to her as she closed the door.

"Sara," greeted Bilbo nodding.

"I see I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep," she said. Bombur eyed her cautiously.

"Would you care for some coffee Ms. Sara?" he asked, holding aloft a mug. "Or are you still not speaking to anyone?" She opened her mouth to protest but realized he was right. She had hardly spoken to any of the dwarves in the last two days. Her head dropped and it was quiet for a moment. Bombur pushed a plate piled high with thick slices of fluffy white bread across the counter. Her middle made its need known loud and clear as her mouth watered in anticipation.

"I'm sorry to have been so off-putting," she said finally, coming to take a seat next to Bilbo. "I have not been quite myself for the past few days. I've been under a lot of stress and I'm sorry I have been avoiding you all."

"That's quite alright," said Bombur. "So long as it's all behind us. We are back on the road tomorrow and it would be unpleasant to travel with a silent companion. I suppose you have dealt with a lot in the past week or so. Would you care for some coffee?"

"No thank you," she said. "I have never cared much for the taste of coffee. Too bitter. But thank you all the same."

"If you won't take coffee is there something else you would like?" inquired the portly dwarf.

"I would take a warm cup of milk," she said hopefully, reaching for some bread.

"I could do that," he said smiling.

"So what has you awake?" she asked, spreading butter and a sticky blackberry jam over her bread. She glanced at Bilbo who was bouncing his leg up and down rapidly, his eyes fixed on the door to the back porch. He was jumpy and she wondered if perhaps his drink had affected him, but his cup was still full of the dark liquid.

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"I always find it difficult to rest the night before a departure," said the cook, placing a pot of milk on the stove before adding several pinches of cinnamon.

"Bilbo?" she asked, taking a bite of the heavenly bread. He remained still, watching the door with an intensity that was unlike him. "Bilbo," she repeated, touching his arm. He snapped back to attention.

"What?" he asked, but his eyes were already on the door again.

"Why are you…"

"Can't you hear it?" he asked, distracted. He set his drink down.

"Here what?" asked Bombur, stirring the pan idly.

"Those queer noises," said Bilbo, sliding from his seat.

"It's just Beorn's animals," said the dwarf uninterested.

"No," insisted the hobbit. "It's a different sound altogether." Sara's brow wrinkled.

"Beorn had just finished locking up all the animals as I came in," she said. "It can't be them." Bombur turned around scrutinizing the two of them as he listened more carefully, frowning.

"Your right," he said. "The sound is…"

"Shhhh," hushed Bilbo, flapping his hand as he stepped toward the door and they fell silent listening intently. There was definitely activity outside. Sara opened her mouth to speak but paused. The timbers of the house creaked and groaned as some massive bulk stepped onto the back porch, it's claws clicking on the hard worn wood. She set down her bread and slid from the stool and came to rest her ear against the heavy outer door. There was a snuffling sound near her feet and unbidden her hand fell to the brass lever as a morbid curiosity charged through her. A deep guttural growl sounded from without making her jump back, startled. Bilbo scuttled back behind the counter beside Bombur, his wide eyes glued to the door.

"W...what was that?" he asked, his face pale even in the golden glow of the candles. The snuffling continued and the door rattled on its hinges, making Bilbo squeak, but then the steps retreated and a large body dropped the couple feet to the ground.

"Durin's beard," whispered Bombur after several tense seconds, a long kitchen knife in his hands. "What on middle earth was that?" Sara shook her head and snatched a stool, dragging it to the door, setting it under the only window in the room. Above the overlarge door there was a half circle window, but even on tiptoe atop the stool, Sara's eyes only just came up even with the bottom of the pane of glass. Her toes left their perch as her fingers gripped the sill pulling her body up till she could see out. It was an overcast night, the light of the moon and stars blocked out, but despite this she could see dark lumbering shadows moving about in the yard. More than a dozen of them. She watched for several minutes, her breath fogging the glass. An enormous black body moved into sight just as there was a break in the clouds allowing the moonlight to glint off a pair of large eyes and the wet nose at the end of a long muzzle. Sara gasped as the head turned to look right at her and her fingers gave out unexpectedly. She dropped unsteadily back to the stool which wobbled ominously before toppling over completely, sending her crashing down on top of Bilbo and Bombur who had come to stand behind her. His knife clattered to the floor as Bombur caught her before her head could hit the ground.

"T… thanks," said Sara as the dwarf set her on her feet. She attempted to still her racing heart and the quivers rippling through her thighs.

"What did you see?" asked Bombur, going to stir the pan again. She grabbed the stool and returned it to her place at the counter.

"Well?" asked Bilbo, his piqued curiosity overcoming his fear for the moment.

"If my hunch is right," she said, picking up her bread again. "That is Beorn's family out there."

"He has kin," said Bombur, pouring her a cup of frothy milk before he stirred in a spoonful of honey and setting it before her. "I always thought of him as being the only one of his kind."

"Well unless I'm totally blind that is certainly not the case. There are at least a dozen out there and that's just the ones I could see from the window." Bilbo shivered in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

"I'm glad we are in here and they are out there," said the hobbit. Bombur nodded his agreement and she raised the cup to her mouth sipping the warm sweet milk listening with more interest to the sounds from outside. Bombur and Bilbo began to speculate about their host and his secrets and as she drank she found her eyes growing heavy again. Heat spread from her stomach and throughout her body and soon after she excused herself bidding them goodnight and found her way back to her bed.

Sara frowned blearily down at her mattress. Kili had completely stolen her blanket and lay curled around it, but despite his unintentional theft there was another blanket folded neatly atop her straw mattress. She looked around but could not see very far in the dim lights, the coals having given up their glow in her absence. Yawning deeply she wriggled beneath the blanket that was still warm, unaware of the pair of keen blue eyes watching her from the other side of the hall.

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15 ponies stamped and huffed, their breath pluming in the chill of the early morning air as the company prepared to leave. Beorn had returned indoors about an hour before sunrise saying that it was now safe to leave the house, and Thorin had taken him at his word, rousting the company from their slumber. Bags were packed, bedrolls gathered, and a hasty breakfast was eaten. During their rushed morning meal Bombur had offered to heat some water for Sara so she could wash her hair before they left and she had eagerly agreed. She sat alone on the back porch rubbing the bar of soap into her wet hair, lather dripping onto the tan pants Bilbo and Dory had made for her. They had even taken the time to sew extra pockets onto the legs, trying to emulate her cargo pants, but the best feature was they fit! A bucket of warm water stood next to her and closing her eyes she held her breath and dunked her whole head in and surfaced several seconds later, blindly reaching for a towel that was no longer there.

"Looking for this?" came Beorn's voice. The towel dropped into her searching fingers and she dried her face scowling up at him. She rubbed her hair and he chuckled lightly as Tom bumped into her leg before sitting down beside her.

"So how was the teddy bear picnic last night?" asked Sara. Beorn's eyebrows rose though his eyes glinted cheerily enough.

"You were supposed to remain inside," he chided half-heartedly.

"And I did," she said wringing her hair. "But you never said I couldn't look out the window." She pointed over her shoulder at the window above the door behind her. His eyes flicked to the glass and then back to her shaking his head as a smile stretched across his face. "Besides, don't you think that the hundreds of bear tracks all around your house and yard would have given it away? Though the bowls of honey, milk and mead make more sense now."

"Nosy aren't you?" he said, sitting beside her.

"Maybe a bit, but mostly just observant. How did it go? I'm guessing you told them about the battle."

"Not in so many words," he said, leaning back on his arms propped behind him. "I think few would believe me if I claimed to know the future as you do. But there are a great many who still desire vengeance against the goblins and who would fight when the time comes. We all wish to see our lands safe once again." Sara ran her fingers through her hair trying to untangle the knots. She looked up at him just in time to see a breeze blow his beard and hair aside revealing several dark bruises on his neck and under his jaw.

"Would she believe you?" asked Sara slyly. He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow looking down her at bit taken aback

"I'm sure I don't know who you mean," he said grinning.

She snorted. "Uh ha," she said before pointing. "There are bruises on your neck. I wonder how they got there. I'm guessing she was the one who was early."

"Now you are being nosy," he said turning away, a massive hand tugging his collar higher. "If you must know, she did believe me."

"So you told her?"

"Yes." He fished something from his pocket and held it out to her. "In fact she told me to give this to you." He dropped it into her hand. The white enamel of the large tooth threaded on the leather cord was cool in her palm. She looked up at him, confusion playing across her face.

"Why would she want to give this to me? We don't even know each other?"

"I told her your story," he said. "I imagine she feels you to be a kindred spirit. You have both overcome a similar hardship and both come out stronger for it. She said it was to be a token of your courage and resilience. It's one of her teeth she lost in battle many years ago. She kept it although a new one has long since taken its place."

"But who is she?" asked Sara rubbing a thumb over the smooth surface.

"She is mine," he said simply. "And I am hers. She is…"

"Sara," came Fili's voice from around the corner of the house as he stomped into view. "There you are," he said spying her. "Are you ready? Uncle is anxious to leave and the others are all waiting."

"Sorry Fili," she called. "I'll be right there, just a minute."

"All right, but hurry, he's in a mood," he said, before disappearing again.

"Who is she?" asked Sara after Fili was gone, pulling her damp hair up into a high ponytail and using the cord and tooth to tie it up.

"There is not enough time now," said Beorn, standing and whistling for Tom. "But come November I think very much you will meet her."

"She will be coming with you?" asked Sara. He nodded. "How many others?"

"More than a score I should think," he said, sounding pleased with himself. "But hurry or you're impatient dwarf king will leave without you." They walked around to the front where almost all the others were mounted. She was about to climb onto her own pony when there was a soft growl and something tugged her pant leg. She turned, dropping into a crouch before the old black dog rubbing his soft floppy ears.

"Goodbye Tom," she said, surprised by the sudden pang of loss she felt leaving him behind. She wrapped her arms around him and he tucked his muzzle over her shoulder nuzzling her ear with his wet nose before licking it with a warm tongue. She giggled pulling back, rubbing her ear. "I'm going to miss you." She sighed, rubbing his cheeks, glancing at Beorn who was watching them clearly amused. Leaning closer she whispered into his ear, "Tell him anything you want. There's not really a point keeping it a secret if he wants to know and it may help him convince the others." She let go and stood but paused. "Anything within reason," she amended. Tom stared back at her and she swore she could see mirth in the depths of his brown eyes as his tongue lolled from his grinning mouth.

"May your road be safe and swift," called Beorn as the company began to move. "And see that you send the ponies back once you reach the elven gate."

"We thank you for your hospitality and generosity," replied Thorin, nodding, from the head of the group. "May your axe never dull."

"I thank you for the work and for the entertainment. I will think better of dwarves in the future. Until our roads meet again."

"If they may," said Thorin urging his mount forward.

"When," said Beorn to Sara as she passed. "When."

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The wood gave way under his blade as Thorin carved, shavings dropping into his lap. He looked up from his place under the tree at his back, watching the others gathered around the small fire. It was the third night since leaving Beorn's and they had been making good time with the help of the ponies. The giant had said it would be a four day journey to the elven road and Thorin had been tempted to press on into the night, but had decided against it, not wanting to enter the forest with a tired company. They had made camp for the night between some large Oaks. His thumb rubbed over the artful grooves in the wood and he glanced down at the half carved hairpiece. He was not even sure if there was a purpose in finishing it but he had never been one to leave something half done. Kili's laughter brought his attention once again to the group several yards away, his eyes resting on Sara.

She was so aggravatingly confusing. He was still at a complete loss as to why she had run away from him in the barn, or why she insisted he would leave her. Why would she assume that it would end in heartbreak when it had only just begun? Up until that point he had been encouraged by her enthusiasm as she had responded to his advances... and his kisses. The memory of those few stolen moments in the hay set him ablaze with hope and desire, but the flames were quickly drowned as he remembered her tears and rejection. What had gone so terribly wrong when everything had been going so wonderfully right? Why was she so sure they could not be together? Was it his race? His station? His age? Or was it something else entirely. Admittedly they came from very different upbringings, cultures, and even world's but he did not see why this should stand in the way of their developing relationship. Had he offended her somehow or provoked some unknown taboo? He did not know, he only knew that one moment she had been kissing him with such passion and heat and the next she was gone. Her fervor left little doubt in his mind that she was at least drawn to him physically, and her attention and concern for him assured him that she cared for him. Then why had she left? Women were so vexing.

Thorin watched Sara smile as she listened to a story Balin told of he and Dwalin's younger years, despite the warrior's insistence that it was all tripe. The first few days after the kiss she had been tense and withdrawn, not only from him but all the others as well. He had given her the space she had clearly desired, striving to stay away from her. If truth be told he had been avoiding her as well for his own reasons, for he was grappling with his own feelings and reaction. A few days ago he had been so hopeful but the sting of her rejection had dashed them. At first he felt nothing but shock and utter confusion but that had soon grown into anger and frustration with her. Why had she kissed him if she was only going to flee from him moments later. But as the days had passed and he had seen the way she cut off the others, isolating herself further, his anger had cooled into concern for her.

Sara's appetite and sleep suffered and he wondered if he were truly the sole cause for her black spirits. He observed the growing worry in Fili as she avoided even, and especially, he and Kili without explanation. Dwalin had approached Thorin trying to understand Sara's change in moods but even after telling the warrior what had happened, they had not come up with any viable explanation. The only one she seemed to to interact with was Nori, and even their exchanges had been joyless.

But since that last night at Beorn's, something had changed. Thorin had woken to the noises of large animals well aware of the activities outside. He was familiar with the sounds of bears. He watched as Sara had risen and went to find Bilbo and Bombur in the kitchen. He crept after her, listening outside the door for a few moments and had felt relief wash over him when she began to talk to the pair. He had returned to his bed waiting for her to come back, content to let her be. She was finally talking again even if it wasn't to him. She had found his blanket folded on her bed but her weak eyes had not been able to spot him in the gloom. Probably for the best, for she may have rejected the warmth if she knew it was from him.

Since then Thorin had been pleased to note that Sara slowly warmed once again to the others in the company even if she still avoided him. With gratitude he had seen the tension melt from Fili and Dwalin's shoulders as she interacted with them. She was still not herself and he often saw her face fall into worry and for some unknown reason sorrow, but it was still a marked improvement from her self-imposed isolation. For the life of him he could not fathom what went wrong to begin with or what had changed, but he was glad that there was no longer an awkward tension in the group as they resumed their travels. She had grown very close to Bilbo recently and they often shared similar looks at odd intervals throughout the day. Her low spirits had leached into the normally cheery hobbit and the two seemed to reach some sort of equilibrium of mood, which had slowly risen day by day with the help of the others as they drew her out more and more.

Sara must have felt his eyes on her for she looked up from the smoking stick she held in the flames. Though she still had not spoken to him, he had noticed her eyes flick to him throughout the day but she always looked away when he caught her. Tonight she met his gaze unflinching. Something had changed; her eyes were as hard and bright as cut emeralds and he was not entirely sure how to interpret the look on her face. He was encouraged by the lack of fear or grief. Her eyebrows furrowed and she bit her bottom lip and he sensed a new determination in her eyes as she stared at him unabashed. Perhaps all was not quite so bleak as he had feared. Whatever had happened that day in the barn to drive her from him, he had to find and rectify it. He was sure of his feelings for her and almost equally sure of her feelings for him; her actions and behavior toward him had all but screamed it. As the heated memories of her kisses swirled to the forefront of his mind he resolved not to let her slip through his fingers so easily. He would talk to her, clear up whatever misunderstandings stood between them, and if Mahal willed it she would accept him once again. He would woo Sara Miller.