The Last of the Guardians Part 2 - A Hobbit Fan Fiction

Chapter 3 - A Secret Revealed

"That was the night she told me all about Guardians and their work." Beorn finished. "And that is all there is to it - if you forget how she owes me a horse. I found one the next day wandering around in the forest but before the sun set she had run off with it."

By the time Beorn finished telling his tale, most of the dwarves were awake and had come to the table to hear a snippet of their Guardian's life. Beorn had supplied them with tankards bigger than their heads and was making his second round of the table with a pitcher of fresh goat's milk when Bilbo began to stir. The morning sun was filtering through the gaps in the planks of wood that made up the wall, falling across his face and warming his nose. Yawning, Bilbo sat up and stretched, almost convinced he was back in Bag End. But that fantasy was destroyed by the smell of foul breath and the slobber that adorned his face after the goat beside him licked his face.

"Eurgh," Bilbo groaned, wiping the saliva off his face with his sleeve. Voices drifting from the dining area brought him to his feet as Bilbo realised he was the last one to rise. He hated that. It made him feel as though he was not quite part of the company, even after all he had done to help them.

Another yawn escaped his mouth as Bilbo pulled himself - with a little difficulty - onto the last free seat around the table between Bofur and Balin. "Did we wake you, lad?" The older dwarf asked, smiling at Bilbo pleasantly.

"No, no," Bilbo replied, eyeing the huge tankard Beorn set before him, unsure whether he would be able to drink that much milk in a month, let alone a few minutes. "Though I wish you had. I feel like I've missed something important."

"We didn't want to wake you. You've been running around all week scouting for wargs, we thought you deserved the rest."

"It's funny," Bofur said, "you're not the hobbit you were when you left Bag End, that's for sure!"

Dori, sitting across from Bilbo, laughed. "No, that hobbit wouldn't volunteer to find the orcs!"

"That hobbit wouldn't dare to even say the word orc!" Nori agreed with a wide grin.

Bilbo thought that was going a bit far. "Actually, e I'm sure I-"

"Couldn't hold a sword properly!" Bomber chuckled, his three chins wobbling like jelly.

"Well, that's not quite tr-"

"Had never been on a pony before!" Roared Bofur, banging the table with his fist as he cut across Bilbo. That one was true. Bilbo had told them seven times that he was perfectly happy with walking, but the dwarves were not prone to listening to him and had plonked him on a pony before he could say 'Bag End'.

"Couldn't tell a goblin from a troll!" Kili joined the teasing.

"Oh, now you're being ridiculous!" Bilbo retorted, sounding angry enough to make them stop, then, in a lighter tone, "It wasn't even a normal-sized sword and I've only just got the hang of it." That brought laughter back to the room. Bilbo decided he did not mind their jokes so much. The dwarves meant them kindly, and their teasing made him feel more like a friend than just a fellow traveller. Gandalf nodded at him approvingly before returning to his own conversation with Beorn, Thorin and a few more of the dwarves who had not taken part in teasing Bilbo.

"Why were the orcs after you anyway?" Fili asked Beorn.

"Come lad, it does not take much for an orc to mark you out as prey," Dwalin said.

Beorn nodded. "True. If they see you, smell you, hear you - you are as good as dead. If they catch you, that is. The orcs hunting me that night were doing so because I had escaped them. I had been their prisoner," Beorn lifted his arm to show the manacle that still chafed against his wrist, even after all those years, "but I got away."

"You haven't tried to remove that?" Dwalin asked, frowning. "Would you like me to have a go? I'm sure with a good whack or two I could get it off for you." The dwarf ran a thumb over the blade of his axe.

"Thank you for your offer, but it won't be necessary. This manacle, this chain I wear...it reminds me of what I have lost."

"And what is it you have lost?" Asked Thorin, meeting and holding the man's gaze. But Beorn turned away, making it clear that he was not going to say more on the subject. Thorin might have pressed him further, but at that moment the Guardians entered, and the dwarves turned to bid them the morning's greetings.

Fili straightened in his chair at the sight of Nema, then disguised the sudden movement by standing and offering her his seat. The female Guardian tilted her head to the side, as she did whenever she was confused. In her hesitation, Sîor sat down on the stool the dwarf had just vacated. Fili glared at him. Oblivious, Nema threw open a window and perched on the sill to bathe in the golden light of morning.

"Ah, Nema, we were just talking about you," Dwalin said merrily. He downed the last of his milk and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "You got anything stronger?"

"No secrets, I hope," Nema smiled. Her tone was light and friendly, but the smile held no power over her wary eyes.

Beorn waited until he had poured Dwalin a tankard of strong mead before answering, and when he did he kept his eyes away from Nema's. "I only told what was asked of me...forgetting one question," Beorn gave Thorin a look. At his words, Nema appeared to relax a little.

But whatever stress she had let go of returned to her when Fili rather stupidly said, "Beorn was telling us about the night you two met. He told us about that village that burned..." His voice trailed off. He had realised - a little too late - what the angry expression growing on Nema's face meant.

"I thought we had an agreement," Nema said slowly, her voice deadly quiet.

Beorn set down the pitcher of mead on the table. He moved around it towards her, his palm facing up in a calming gesture as he said, "Nemaiza, I meant no harm. I only-"

Nema did not wait for him to finish. Moving faster than a snake, she launched from the window sill, tearing the dagger from her belt and sending it flying over the heads of the dwarves at Beorn before running from the room. He ducked, and the blade buried itself in the wall. Sîor rose from his seat slowly to follow her out. He said nothing, allowing the glare he gave Fili to speak for him.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Thorin said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen into the room, "but we must be on our way."

"I was glad to help," Beorn replied. He moved to look out of the window, resting his huge hands on the sill. "You have a long journey ahead of you. I have ponies grazing in the meadow. Take them as far as Mirkwood, then let them go. They can find their own way back. Take what you want from the pantry. I have more than enough for ten men my size, let alone one. It will only go to waste otherwise."

"Your aid is more than welcome," Balin assured him.

Their host let out a heavy sigh, and crossed the room to pull the dagger from the wall. The blade was pure dragon steel, the hilt looked to be of pearl with silver swirls running like veins all over. It was no bigger than a toothpick in Beorn's hand.

"Give this to her," he said, handing it to Fili. "Make sure she knows I meant no harm."

The company made themselves ready to leave, loading the black and white ponies with as many supplies as they could carry, drank their fill of milk and ate enough to see them through the day. Nema was nowhere to be seen when they finally mounted up, but Sîor was leaning against a tree, watching the clouds roll across the sky.

"I don't trust him," Fili told his brother as they climbed up onto the ponies. The smug smile on Sîor's face bothered him.

"You didn't trust Nema and she turned out alright." Kili turned his pony around so he could look his brother in the eye. "I am too tired to listen to more of your crazy theories. Nema trusts Sîor, and he's a Guardian. That's enough for me. Why can't it be enough for you."

Kili did not wait for his brother to reply. Instead, he kicked the pony and rode off after their uncle, leaving Fili to stare after him, a sense of disquiet growing inside.