The Hobbit - The Desolation of Smaug Edition (ON HOLD)

5. Embroiled In Insanity

Here's a really long chapter that I hope you guys enjoy :)

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The Friesian horses, with their big hooves, beautiful proportions and patterns washing down their bodies, stomped and trotted anxiously on the spot as their saddles and bridles were secured; magnificent though they were, with crooked necks and pierced ears. 

The Dwarves, the Elf, the wizard and the Hobbit mobilized in the glade together with Beorn who had brought in the great creatures from the wide plains outside his house – and the Dwarves' refuge – at their command. They mounted up, one by one, the Dwarves petting them and mumbling calming, mute nothings as they went. The sun was yet still high in the sky, its rays pouring in through the gaps in the forest ceiling, brilliant and clear.

Beorn hurried them along as swiftly as he possibly could as the survival and animal instincts set in and he begun to sniff the air with his chin raised high. He felt the pressure and as usual, his body grew tense, his eyes widened and his approach appeared more and more ferocious by the second. 

“Go now, while you have the light!” he hissed, and with Gandalf in the lead, the company galloped out of the glade and onto the great plain. “Your hunters are not far behind...” Beorn looked around himself in a paranoid manner, before letting a great growl escape his mouth with a roar to follow it, and as the company disappeared into the morning light, two great, dark paws set into the earth. 

By the time they reached the wood – looking sorrowful and cold like a corpse – it had begun to slowly drip from the sky. Mirkwood was encircled with weeds, thatch and soggy earth. The plump, grey trees was a woven, and tangled mess with spear-like branches pressing out from within the trunk. It looked threatening, dead and queasy – not as beautiful as it had once been. 

The company assembled on the expanse before the wood, their horses counting in the ground and snorting until light clouds were starting to form around their mules. Gandalf dismounted and started to approach the wood with one hand clenching his wooden staff. Before him, a few meters into the wood, appeared a large goblet made of stone, with a round circle of trees surrounding it. Gandalf observed it with care, paying strong attention to a sound that did not exist – the wood was abandoned of all life. The wizard looked around himself; on the stone path beneath him, covered in mud and dead leaves, on the stone trees which created the large circle embracing the goblet – having string-like twigs rolling and hugging around the cold trunk. 

“The Elven Gate”, Gandalf mumbled to himself before turning to the company, “Here lies our path through Mirkwood!” 

Bilbo, striding one of the Friesian ponies with the deep black and white patches, turned to look displeased, observing the wood with great distaste.  

Aria slid down from her horse's back with grace and facility, however there was a worried wrinkle between her dark eyebrows that indicated that something was terribly wrong, as she pulled Gandalf off with her, away from the rest of the company. 

“Calm down, child”, he spoke with consideration and care as he noticed Aria's breaths running unsteady. She was quiet, and she could see the concern in Thorin's eyes as she looked past Gandalf's tall frame and met his sapphire-blue gaze amongst the company. 

“Please, do not ask me to go in there”, she said, her voice soft and calm as she looked Gandalf in the eye, “You know what it'll do.” 

“Aria, you know as well as I that we don't have a choice by now...” 

Aria turned silent once again, observing the wood from her spot in the damp earth, contemplating all of the possible scenarios and all the things that could go wrong, and she shrugged. “Stick to the path”, he whispered comforting, “And you'll be alright.” Their conversation went on however, their blue gazes and body language strain and deliberate.