Almárëa

6

Beorn
The Skin-Changer

The old grey wizard tied the strings of Almárëa's traveling cloak tightly around her neck as all around them camp were being broken and the dwarves and Bilbo readied to leave.

The cloak were a very light brown, almost khaki, color. It suited her. But she didn't really like the color. She'd said as much as Mithtrandir had told her that she must wear it.

He had laughed softly and then had ruffled her hair. Her hair was a mess because she had no way of brushing the golden strands.

She had told him that she had, had another traveling cloak before she and the Dúnedain rangers had left her village. It had been green. They had brought it out of her house for her, only for it to be forgotten when the time came to leave.

" Gandalf we're ready," Thorin spoke, walking up to them.

The grey wizard nodded. " Good. We must leave quickly now." He patted Almárëa on the head. " Go join the others, Almárëa. I must speak with Thorin alone."

The half-elfling child nodded, walking away towards Bilbo and Thorin's nephews. By Bilbo's feet sat her pack ,and his, keeping each other company she supposed.

She did not speak to Bilbo, nor to Kili and Fili. They did not mind it at all. By now everyone was used to the quietness of the child. They welcomed it because when they were in danger, her silence were something that was a boon. Other children would have made a lot of noise, of that they are sure, but not Almárëa.

She lifted her pack and swung it over her shoulders, feeling the lightness of it as it settled between her shoulder blades.

The call came for them to move out and she walked beside the fat dwarf with the strange braided beard. Behind them were the one with the ear trumpet and the old one.

She was not sure what the one with the trumpet are called, but she knew the name of the old one; Balin. Slowly but surely she learned their names. She is certain that, at the end of the journey, she will know each of them. Like the fat one who is called Bombur.

They walked for a very long time, making their way down from the rocky outcrop that the eagles have left them on. By nightfall, Mithtrandir send out Bilbo to spy on the orcs that were still in hot pursuit.

Almárëa stayed by Mithtrandir's side, hoping that Bilbo will be alright. She prayed to Eru that he will.

It was minutes later when he returned with news of the orcs.
Thankfully he seemed unharmed.

" How close is the pack?," Dwalin, the tattooed dwarf asked.

" Too close. A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it," Bilbo said, sounding worried.

None of the dwarves, nor Mithtrandir seemed to pick that up. It made Almárëa want to yell at them for being stupid. Yet, she held her mouth shut.

"Have the Wargs picked up our scent?," Dwalin continued his questioning.

" Not yet, but they will; we have another problem,though."

Almárëa furrowed her dark brows at that, but couldn't find the words to ask, Mithtrandir speaking before she could gather enough courage to do so.

" Did they see you? They saw you!" The old grey wizard seemed quite worried at even the thought of the orcs and the Wargs seeing Bilbo. Almárëa can't blame him. She worried too.

" No, that's not it," Bilbo denied.

Mithtrandir smiled, turning to look at the dwarves. " What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material. "