The Mage of Middle-Earth - CH - 36 (Patreon)

The morning light filtered gently through the windows, casting a warm glow over the interior of Beorn’s house. The dwarves, along with Gandalf and Sirius, stretched and yawned, feeling more rested than they had in days. Even so, they were all keenly aware of their empty stomachs but dared not touch any of Beorn’s food. The memory of Gandalf’s warning was still fresh in their minds—no one wanted to provoke the formidable skin-changer by stealing from him.

As the quiet murmur of the group faded, the rhythmic sound of wood chopping echoed from outside. Curious, Sirius moved to the window and saw a tall man with broad shoulders, slicing through thick logs with ease. The figure radiated strength and a deep connection to the land, moving with a natural power that was both intimidating and mesmerizing.

“Is that…?” whispered one of the dwarves, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and caution.

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that is Beorn. In his human form, for now.”

The wizard adjusted his robes and looked at the group. “Stay here,” he advised. “I will speak with him and try to make proper introductions.” He glanced at Sirius, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, knowing that Sirius had been particularly curious about the skin-changer. "If all goes well, we’ll be able to partake of some food soon."

With that, Gandalf straightened himself, took a steadying breath, and stepped outside. The dwarves and Sirius watched from the doorway as Gandalf approached the towering figure, his stride confident yet respectful. Beorn paused in his chopping, the heavy axe resting against the ground, and turned his intense gaze towards the wizard.

Gandalf began speaking, his voice calm and measured, gesturing toward the house as he explained their situation. The group held their breaths, waiting to see how Beorn would react, each one wondering if the fierce skin-changer would be willing to help strangers, or if they had intruded too far into his territory.

Gandalf and Beorn returned to the house, and a warm if slightly intimidating presence filled the room as Beorn entered. With his towering height, a mane of wild, dark hair, and a rugged, muscular frame, he looked every bit like the fearsome skin-changer he was. His gaze swept over the dwarves with a mixture of curiosity and mild disdain, yet there was a certain warmth in his eyes that hinted at a more generous side, albeit a guarded one. He was far from the likes of Fenrir Greyback—where Greyback exuded cruelty, Beorn’s rough demeanor held the unmistakable mark of a protector.

Sirius couldn’t help but study him with fascination, comparing Beorn’s natural, almost animal-like presence to his memories of Remus and Greyback. Beorn’s features were certainly wild, with his broad face, sharp eyes, and thickly bearded jaw, but his aura was grounded, strong, and—despite his apparent dislike for dwarves—decidedly noble.

Beorn glanced over at Thorin with a glimmer of recognition. “I’ve heard stories of you, Thorin Oakenshield,” he rumbled, his voice as deep as the mountains they’d crossed. “It’s said you carry a heavy legacy.”

Thorin inclined his head respectfully. “I do, and it is one I intend to honor.”

Beorn nodded approvingly and, with a surprising gentleness, gestured for the company to sit at the long table. Despite his initial reservations, he became a cordial host, setting out bread, cheeses, honey, and mead. He moved with the casual strength of one who commanded the wild around him, his gaze sharp as he watched the company.

"Eat and be merry for now," Beorn said, his tone almost gruff. "Your journey is not an easy one, and danger follows close behind."



As they left Beorn’s home behind, the company grew quieter, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Sirius, walking near the back of the group, glanced over his shoulder one last time. He watched the tall, lone figure of Beorn chopping wood, his silhouette framed by the morning light.

Gandalf noticed Sirius looking back and gave a small smile. "You know, Jimmy," he said, “Beorn is not as solitary by choice as one might think. There are some who have loneliness thrust upon them, not out of desire, but as the cost of their nature.”

Sirius gave a slight nod, his expression thoughtful. “Yes, I see that,” he replied. “I think he’s spent so long being wary of others that he doesn’t know how to let anyone close, not truly. Even us, he kept at a distance.” He hesitated, then added softly, “I know a bit about that, actually.”

“Indeed,” Gandalf replied, his tone warm. “Perhaps, one day, you might remind him of the value of companionship. It is often the loneliest who need it most.”

As they walked in silence, the shadows of Mirkwood loomed ahead. The forest felt darker and more oppressive than Sirius remembered, the twisted trees crowding together as though blocking out the sun. The thick canopy trapped a cloying mist that seemed to cling to their skin.

"Bleeding darkness, this forest is cursed," Dwalin muttered, squinting into the shadows.

Thorin grunted in agreement. “There’s a darkness here beyond what the eye can see. Keep alert, and don't stray from the path. I won’t lose anyone to these cursed woods.”

But as they ventured deeper, Sirius's attention was drawn away, his thoughts drifting to a memory he could not shake. He could still see Thranduil’s cold, piercing gaze, could still hear the harsh words he had exchanged with Legolas, once a friend he had trusted.

Without realizing it, Sirius muttered aloud, “Mirkwood…it’s been a long time since I was here.”

At this, Gandalf raised an eyebrow, glancing over. “And not under the friendliest of circumstances, I gather?”

Sirius huffed a wry laugh. “You could say that.”

Balin, overhearing, leaned in. “A tale, is it? Well, do tell, Jimmy! I imagine it’s a grand one, given you’re still alive to tell it!”

The others glanced back, intrigued. Thorin, however, crossed his arms, his tone brusque. “There’s no place for tales of past quarrels now. Mirkwood is dangerous enough without stirring up memories of bad experience in the forest.”

Sirius turned to him, his voice soft but resolute. “Thorin, this forest holds more than shadows. It’s full of ghosts—memories that can haunt you if you let them.” He let out a long breath.

Thorin looked at him, his face unreadable for a moment before he spoke. “It seems that regrets are common company for those who travel to reclaim what’s lost. But Mirkwood is no place for old wounds, Jimmy. They’ll only slow you down.”

Gandalf’s gaze softened as he looked between the two of them. “Indeed,” he murmured, “but some burdens only grow heavier when we bury them too deep.”

Thorin scowled, his tone heavy with authority. “Enough. We should stay focused. We’re here to cross Mirkwood safely, not dredge up old stories.”

With that, they continued onward, the company treading carefully as the forest closed in around them. The shadows of Mirkwood seemed to cling a little closer, as though listening, silent and unyielding.

As they navigated the dense undergrowth of Mirkwood, Sirius led the dwarves deeper into the forest, the air growing thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. He felt a strange mix of nostalgia and wariness as they moved further from the path. Memories of past adventures flooded his mind, a time when he had been free to roam these woods unchallenged.

“Just a little further,” Sirius called back, his voice echoing softly through the trees. The dwarves, weary from their journey and the oppressive atmosphere, followed closely, their eyes scanning for signs of danger.

After a while, they arrived at a clearing, hidden from the prying eyes of both orcs and elves. Thick trees encircled the area, their branches intertwining above to form a natural canopy. Sirius gestured to the ground, where a narrow path led to a large cave mouth partially concealed by underbrush.

“Here we are,” he announced, feeling a rush of pride. “This is where I used to camp when I was gathering herbs. No one ever found me here, not the elves, and certainly not the orcs.”

Thorin stepped forward, his eyes assessing the cave entrance with a critical gaze. “It doesn’t look like much,” he muttered. “But if it’s safe, I suppose we have no other choice.”

Sirius rolled his eyes but smiled at the dwarf’s pragmatism. “Trust me. Once you step inside, you’ll see it’s larger than it looks. There’s plenty of space for all of us, and we’ll be well hidden.”

Gandalf nodded approvingly, his keen eyes studying the surroundings. “A wise choice, Sirius. This forest can be treacherous, and we should take every opportunity to rest and gather our strength.”

With that, the company made their way into the cave. Inside, the cool air was a relief from the humid forest outside. The cave opened up into a spacious chamber, its walls adorned with glistening minerals that reflected the dim light from their torches.

“Not bad at all,” Dwalin remarked, his voice echoing slightly. “I could get used to this. Much better than sleeping on the ground, that’s for sure.”

As they settled in, Sirius pointed out various spots within the cave. “There’s a small stream that runs deeper inside,” he said, gesturing toward a glimmering reflection in the dark. “It’s fresh water, and you can find some edible plants growing nearby. I used to gather ingredients there when I camped.”

“Sounds like a feast awaits,” Kili said, rubbing his hands together. “If we can cook something up, I won’t complain.”

“Just remember not to make a mess,” Thorin warned. “We need to stay discreet.”

“Alright, everyone,” Sirius said, standing up. “I’m going to go hunt something for us to eat. A nice rabbit or perhaps a deer, if I’m lucky.”

The dwarves perked up at the idea, their eyes lighting with excitement. “I’ll come with you!” Kili volunteered, bouncing on his toes.

“Me too!” Dwalin added, cracking his knuckles. “I could use some action.”

But Sirius held up a hand to stop them. “Wait, wait. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it’s not a good idea for any of you to come with me,” he said, his tone serious. “Mirkwood is unlike any other forest. It’s alive in a way that can confuse you if you’re not careful.”

Thorin frowned, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you mean, alive? It’s just trees and underbrush, isn’t it?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, it’s more than that. The forest has a strange magic to it. If you don’t know your way around, you could easily get lost, and you wouldn’t even realize it until it’s too late. You could walk in circles for hours. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen before.”

The dwarves exchanged worried glances, their previous excitement dampening. “But what if something happens to you?” Fili asked, his brow furrowed. “You’ll be alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sirius reassured them. “I’ve spent years exploring these woods. I know every hidden path and secret glade. Besides, we need to stay in groups here, and there’s no reason to risk anyone else getting lost.”

“Even so,” Balin chimed in, “we would feel better if we had more eyes out there.”

Sirius met their gazes, feeling the weight of their concern. “I understand, but you need to trust me. If I can get some game, it will make the meal much more satisfying. And I promise to be quick. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With great reluctance, the dwarves finally nodded, their expressions a mix of concern and acceptance. “Alright, but be careful, Jimmy,” Thorin warned. “If you don’t return soon, we’ll come looking for you.”

Sirius smiled, reassured by their trust. “You won’t need to. I’ll be back before the fire burns out,” he promised.

As he stepped outside the cave, the air felt cooler, and the sounds of the forest wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. The shadows of the trees danced in the fading light, but Sirius felt a sense of confidence wash over him. He knew these woods intimately; every rustle of leaves, every faint call of wildlife was a reminder of the life that thrived here.

Sirius took a moment to center himself, focusing on the rhythm of the forest. He slipped through the underbrush with ease, moving silently and with purpose. Memories of past hunts flooded back—his senses heightened, instincts sharpened.

After wandering for a while, he spotted a glimmer of movement in the thicket. His heart raced as he crouched low, peering through the branches. A small deer grazed nearby, its ears flicking back and forth, alert to the sounds around it. Sirius took a deep breath, his heart steadying as he readied himself.

Just as he was about to make his move, a sudden rustle in the bushes startled the deer, and it bolted away into the deeper woods. “Blast it,” Sirius muttered under his breath. “Guess I’ll have to be quicker next time.”

Not deterred, he pressed on, knowing that patience was key. As he traversed through the forest, he kept his eyes peeled for any signs of movement, a flash of fur, or a telltale sound. Time passed slowly in the woods, but Sirius enjoyed the quiet solitude, relishing the chance to connect with the land once more.

After what felt like hours, he finally spotted another creature—a wild boar, foraging through the underbrush. Sirius crouched low, his heart pounding with excitement. He took careful aim, remembering the lessons from his youth on how to move without making a sound.

He waited for the perfect moment, focusing entirely on the boar, and just as it turned its back to him, he sprang into action. With a swift motion, he managed to catch the boar off guard, securing his catch. The thrill of the hunt surged through him, reminding him of his days spent with friends, exploring and gathering.

With the boar in tow, Sirius made his way back to the cave, feeling a sense of accomplishment. As he approached the entrance, the warm glow of the fire flickered through the darkness, and the sounds of the dwarves’ chatter greeted him.

“Look who’s back!” Kili shouted, rushing to meet him. “Did you get anything?”

Sirius grinned, holding up the boar triumphantly. “Just a little something. I thought we could have a feast tonight!”

The dwarves erupted into cheers, and Thorin stepped forward, a proud smile breaking through his usual stern demeanor. “Well done, Jimmy! You’ve earned your place among us today.”

“Now let’s get this cooked up!” Dwalin exclaimed, already rolling up his sleeves as he moved to help.

As they settled around the fire, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and anticipation. Sirius felt a swell of warmth in his chest, knowing that this moment, shared with the company, was what he had longed for. They were more than just a group of travelers; they were friends, united by their journey and the challenges ahead.