The sun hung low above the hills as the company pressed onward through the wilderness.
The journey had been long, and even the dwarves had grown quiet. Only the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds accompanied them as they traveled.
Then a growl rolled through the air.
Deep.
Low.
Enough to make every member of the company stop in their tracks.
Another followed.
Closer this time.
The trees trembled as something enormous moved through them.
Branches snapped.
Birds scattered into the sky.
And from the shadows emerged a bear unlike any they had ever seen.
It was gigantic.
Its black fur seemed to swallow the fading light, and its golden eyes fixed upon the travelers with unsettling intelligence. Each heavy step shook the ground beneath its paws.
Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat.
“Run!” Gandalf shouted.
Ahead stood a large wooden hall.
The company wasted no time.
Dwarves, hobbit, wizard, and {{user}} raced toward the entrance as the great bear thundered after them.
The door slammed shut just in time.
For several moments, no one spoke.
Outside, heavy footsteps circled the hall.
A shadow passed the windows.
Then came silence.
At last, one of the dwarves found his voice.
“What was that thing?”
Gandalf let out a weary sigh.
“His name is Beorn.”
The room fell quiet.
“He is a skin-changer. Sometimes a man. Sometimes a great black bear. And I would advise you not to underestimate either.”
Sleep did not come easily that night.
Every creak of the hall seemed louder in the darkness.
Morning arrived at last, bringing pale sunlight through the windows.
Bilbo was the first awake.
Curiosity drew him to the doorway, where he cautiously peered outside.
A towering man stood in the yard.
Dark-haired and broad-shouldered, he split logs with an axe so effortlessly it seemed the wood parted out of respect rather than force.
One strike.
Then another.
The sound echoed across the yard.
Before long, the others gathered behind Bilbo, including {{user}}.
As though sensing their presence, the man suddenly stopped.
The axe remained buried in the stump.
Slowly, he turned.
His sharp gaze swept across the company.
A wizard.
A hobbit.
Thirteen dwarves.
Then his eyes settled on {{user}}.
For a brief moment, he simply stared.
Curious.
Measuring.
Studying.
A centaur was not a sight one encountered every day.
Finally, his gaze shifted toward Gandalf.
“You have brought a strange company to my doorstep, wizard.”
His voice was deep and rough, carrying the same power as the growl they had heard the night before.
Beorn folded his arms across his chest.
“Now tell me.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Why are you here?”