"You are not the only n dwelling in this region," Gwaihir reminded them.
Gandalf imdiately reacted, striking his forehead with his palm.
"By my beard, how forgetful I've beco!"
"Garrett, do you recall a few years past, when we drove the orcs from the Vales of Anduin and evacuated the folk living there?"
"Of course I rember."
That was when the title of "Nesis" began to spread among the enemy. At the ti, the orcs had yet to realize what they faced, and they still possessed the audacity to offer battle.
"Then you must also rember where those n went."
"So scattered far and wide, joining nearby kingdoms and settlents. Others heeded my advice and headed north, uniting in the northern reaches of the Vales of Anduin."
Gandalf stroked his beard thoughtfully and said, "I happened to pass through there recently. Indeed, they followed my suggestion and gathered in the north to form a new people."
"Recently, that folk was given a na."
"What na?"
"The Beornings."
"Beorn... that na sounds familiar. Is this the skin-changer Beorn I know?"
"The very sa."
Gandalf explained, "At first, when those people gathered in the north, their lives remained harsh. They could only barely protect themselves by standing together, no longer forced to flee at the re sight of orcs."
"Not long after the Battle of Five Armies ended, Beorn's na began to spread. His bravery on the battlefield stayed in so people's mories."
"About three months past, I visited him. He told of his circumstances. When he returned ho from Erebor, and word of that battle had spread, many people ca to his lands. They asked him to beco their leader and guide them in resisting the orcs."
"At that ti, Dale had yet to begin rebuilding, and Lake-town was still struggling with its post-relocation difficulties. Had it been a little later, perhaps many of them would have chosen to seek your territory instead."
"It's still not too late," Garrett said, then imdiately deployed his elytra.
"I'll be back in a mont."
Whoosh.
The familiar sound of firework propulsion rang out. Watching the figure suddenly soar into the sky, Gandalf was montarily stunned.
"Back in a mont?"
No, he had already departed, always coming and going like this.
He sighed helplessly.
"I thought becoming a lord might make him sowhat more restrained, at least more deliberate in his actions."
"This 'adventurer' truly hasn't changed one bit..."
Hearing Gandalf's muttering, Gwaihir was left speechless.
Indeed, this legendary lord was a man of swift decisions, chatting one mont, making a choice and taking flight the next.
His decisiveness was... perhaps a touch too strong.
Speaking of which, how exactly did he fly? Were those things that suddenly appeared upon his back... wings?
"Let us follow as well. The Beorning warriors remain at a nurical disadvantage. This might prove a challenging battle."
The Beornings hadn't been established for very long. While every mber was a fierce warrior, they hadn't had sufficient ti to grow in strength, and the war had co suddenly, leaving no opportunity to prepare.
But... a challenging battle?
Gandalf shook his head, as if he didn't entirely agree with that assessnt, but he still accepted Gwaihir's suggestion.
The next mont, with a mighty flap, Gwaihir leaped from the great rock, carrying Gandalf in pursuit of that black figure.
---
"Everyone who can wield a weapon, take one up!"
In a village on the western edge of Mirkwood, upstream along the Anduin, Beorn had gathered all the grown n and the stronger lads, commanding them to arm themselves.
Even so, there truly weren't many of them, only a few hundred.
If they were soldiers from Dale, a few hundred could overwhelm that thousand-strong orc force.
But the problem was... poverty.
Not every place had the resources of a certain legendary lord's domain.
The Beornings had only been ford a few years prior. The fact that everyone here could even possess a weapon was thanks to the newly constructed Sky Road.
The construction crews had established a lift passage within Beorning territory.
Yes, a passage specifically created for the few thousand mbers of the Beorning clan.
When Bard and others had proposed the idea, Beorn was genuinely taken aback.
Such a massive undertaking, and they were willing to create a separate passage just for our small settlent?
Of course, the passage proved useful, it promoted contact and trade between the eastern and western sides of Mirkwood, bringing large quantities of honey and wild fruits to Dale and Lake-town.
But surely they didn't go to such great lengths just for their honey and fruit?
Whatever the reason, it was indeed a good thing. Thanks to this greatly improved trade, the several hundred able-bodied n present could all be ard, but only just.
For every person to have a decent weapon was already the limit of what the village had managed over the past two years. As for armor... most wore leather, and that was largely homade.
Once all available fighters were assembled, Beorn delivered his pre-battle address.
As a fierce and formidable skin-changer, his speaking style was direct, "I believe not one soul called here is a coward. If the orcs have the terity to challenge us, seeking to plunder anything from us, then we shall grant them their desire and give them death!"
The clansn roared, battle-fury blazing in every eye.
Watching the white breath streaming from his nostrils and drifting upward, he felt a sudden realization.
Winter had arrived.
Yes... it was that season of the year.
And it was precisely at this ti that the orcs would raid, they were not the sort to peacefully tend their lands and store provisions.
Just then, a whooshing sound ca from above. A black figure plumted down and splashed headfirst into the nearby pool.
Garrett erged from the ice-chunk-filled water and donned his armor, seemingly unfazed by the cold.
"Good thing it hasn't frozen over yet."
"Good afternoon," he greeted.
"...Good afternoon."
When he saw who it was, Beorn opened his mouth but couldn't get a word out for a long mont.
Finally, he gave up trying to figure out Garrett's actions and spoke in a calm tone instead, "You've truly arrived at the wrong ti. As you can observe, we are about to engage in battle."
"The enemy consists of orcs from the northern Misty Mountains. They are overestimating their capabilities by attempting to assault us."
To this friendly legendary figure before him, he had no thought of hiding anything; he simply shared everything he knew.
"Count in for this battle."
Garrett patted the sword at his side.
"Then I must ask you..."
Beorn had been about to say 'guard your life,' after all, if anything happened to this man, the consequences would be enormous.
But then he reconsidered.
Judging by his performance in the Battle of Five Armies, the chances of Beorn being slain by a goblin while in bear form were actually greater than the likelihood of Garrett encountering trouble in a battle of this scale.
So he altered his words midway:
"...not to refuse our gratitude."
"Of course. I'd be glad to take ho a few souvenirs."
Garrett gave a slight nod, but his mind was no longer on the conversation, nor on the small-scale battle ahead.
His gaze had already drifted toward the large beehives near Beorn's hall.
These bees were no ordinary creatures, so large that even the dwarves of the Company had been startled when they first encountered them.
Since his need for honey was never particularly great, he had always overlooked the bees.
But… while it wasn't necessary, it would be nice to have so.
Honey, like milk, possessed special properties when handled by him.
Milk could remove all status effects, whether good or bad.
Honey was different, it was selective, able to neutralize only poison debuffs without affecting other effects.
And compared to milk, honey had another significant advantage: it could be stacked in inventory.
One slot could hold sixteen bottles, the equivalent of sixteen potent antidotes.
With a few stacks of this for future expeditions, even a Nazgûl could shriek itself hoarse without managing to inflict a single poison effect.
"There is indeed sothing I want…"
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