"There are other Men living in this region besides you," the Eagle-king reminded.
Gandalf reacted at once, patting his own forehead. "Look at my memory."
"Levi, do you remember a few years back when we drove the orcs out of the Anduin Vale and evacuated the people there?"
"Of course." That was when the name Bane began to spread among the enemy. Back then the orcs had not yet understood what they were facing and still dared to stand and fight.
"Then you must also remember where those people went."
"Some wandered and joined nearby kingdoms and settlements. Others took my advice and went north to unite in the upper Anduin Vale."
Stroking his beard, Gandalf said, "I passed through there recently. They listened. They gathered in the north and formed a tribe."
"Lately that tribe has taken a name."
"What is it?"
"The Beornings."
"Beorn… that sounds familiar. Is it the skin-changer Beorn I know?"
"That's right." Gandalf explained, "At first those gathered in the north still had a hard life. Banding together simply meant they could stand and fight rather than flee at the first sight of orcs."
"Shortly after the Battle of Five Armies, Beorn's name spread. His valor on the field stayed in people's minds."
"About three months ago, I visited Beorn. He told me that after he returned home from the Mountain, and news of that battle spread, many people came near his homestead. They asked him to be their leader and guide them in resisting the orcs."
"At that time, Dale had not begun rebuilding, and Lake-town had only just finished relocating and was still desolate. If it had been later, many of them might have chosen your domain instead."
"It's not too late even now," Levi said, and then snapped open his elytra. "I'll be right back."
Whoosh.
With the sharp crack of fireworks, Gandalf blinked at the figure that shot skyward.
"Be right back?"
No. He is always back. He is forever back.
Old Gandalf sighed. "I thought becoming a lord would steady him a little."
"This adventurer really has not changed at all."
Hearing Gandalf's mutter, the Eagle-king was silent for a heartbeat. This legendary lord truly followed his temperament: talking one moment and deciding and flying off the next. Perhaps a touch too decisive. And those things that opened from his back… wings? Strange.
"Let us go as well. The Beorning warriors are still outnumbered. This could be a hard fight."
The Beornings had not been organized long. Nearly every member was brave and battle-wise, but there had not been years to grow. War came quickly, and time to prepare was short.
Even so…
Gandalf shook his head. He did not fully agree with "hard fight," yet he still accepted the Eagle-king's proposal. With a powerful beat, the Eagle-king leapt from the crag and carried Gandalf after that black speck in the sky.
…
"All who can bear arms, take up arms!"
On the western edge of Mirkwood, high in the Anduin Vale, Beorn summoned every adult and every sturdy youth. The village armed.
Even so, their numbers were small, perhaps a few hundred.
By Dale's standards, a few hundred of these men could crush a thousand orc riders. The problem was poverty. Not every place had the wealth of a certain legendary lord's domain.
The Beornings had existed only a few years. The only reason each able-bodied person could carry a weapon was the newly built Sky Road. Work crews had sunk a lift shaft here, a dedicated passage for the several thousand Beornings.
When Bard and Beorn first proposed it, Beorn had been genuinely stunned. Such a massive project, and they were willing to build a dedicated access for our small people?
The passage was certainly useful. It linked east and west of Mirkwood and brought large quantities of honey and wild fruit to Dale and Lake-town. But surely they did not build it only for honey and fruit?
Whatever the reason, it was a blessing. Thanks to easy trade, the few hundred able-bodied men could each take up a weapon. That was the upper limit of the village these two years. As for armor, most wore leather, and most of that was homemade.
After gathering all available strength, Beorn spoke before battle. As a fierce, battle-hardened skin-changer, his words were as direct as his hands.
"I trust none called here is a coward. If those orcs dare challenge us and try to plunder anything from us, we will meet them as they wish. We will give them death."
The tribesmen roared. Battle-fire burned in every eye. White breath plumed from Beorn's nostrils and drifted upward. Winter had come. At this time of year the orcs raided. They were not the sort to settle land and store food.
A rushing sound broke the air. A black shape dropped fast and splashed headfirst into a nearby pool.
"Whew."
Levi surfaced from the ice-flecked water and donned his armor as if he felt no cold at all. "Good thing it has not frozen over."
"Good afternoon," he said.
"…Good afternoon," Beorn answered. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a moment he gave up trying to parse the manner of arrival and spoke in a level tone.
"You could not have picked a better time. As you see, we are about to fight."
"The enemy are orcs from the northern Misty Mountains. Presumptuous fools who intend to attack us."
Facing this famed ally, Beorn hid nothing and laid out what he knew from the start.
"They're a bit too arrogant for their own good. Count me in," Levi said, patting the sword at his hip.
"Then please…" Beorn's first instinct was to ask Levi to take care of his own safety. If anything happened to him, the consequences would be grave. He paused. Judging by the last Battle of Five Armies, the chance of Beorn dying to a goblin in bear form was higher than the chance of Levi taking harm in a fight like this.
Beorn corrected himself mid-sentence. "Then please do not refuse our thanks."
"Of course. I will be glad to bring a few souvenirs home."
Levi inclined his head, though his attention had already wandered from the talk and the small battle gathering at the forest's edge. His gaze had drifted to the great hives near Beorn's hall.
The bees were not ordinary. They were so large that the dwarves of the Expedition had been startled when they first saw them. Because he never needed much honey, Levi had long overlooked the bees. But while it was not necessary, having some would be very good indeed.
Honey, like milk, became special in Levi's hands.
Milk could clear all buffs, good and bad alike. Honey was different. It cleared selectively, removing poison without affecting anything else.
And compared to milk, honey held another advantage: it stacked. One slot could hold sixteen bottles, sixteen potent antidotes. Bring a few stacks on the road, and if Nazgûl came shrieking, let them scream themselves hoarse. No poison would stick.
"I do, in fact, have something I want…" Levi said, eyes still on the hives.