"I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

Bilbo's jaw slackened in shock as he stared up at the man. "An adventure?" he breathed, not knowing what to do with himself. "I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures," he said rising to his feet. "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things," he said bending over his fence to check the mail, wanting the man to go away. "Make you late for dinner," he said sticking his pipe in his mouth to look the letters over. It was a few moments of pretending to look at his mail and find it very important before he realized when he had leaned over his fence he had seen something. "Is that a lion?" he asked stepping back, their presence entirely unheard of so far west.

Gandalf looked down at his feline companion amusedly. "Why yes, her name is Dolraw I have requested her aid."

Bilbo sputtered as his eyes met strange blue ones much too knowing to be a mere lion. You are going on an adventure with a lion, is what he wanted to ask though he found himself afraid of offending her. "Well," he said wishing to be away and in his home, "good morning."

"To think I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door."

Bilbo turned to the wizard startled at him knowing his mother's name. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked, for he would have remembered an old man who traveled with a lion; a lion who sat quietly watching the hobbit curiously as they continued speaking, her tail or ears flicking occasionally as she listened to their words as though she understood.

Gandalf peeked into Bilbo's window, very much disappointed with the hobbit, before turning to his companion. "He will come around," he assured her as they began walking back down the path; earning themselves the same shocked glances as when they'd first arrived. "It is the others we should worry about," he continued, hearing her growl unhappily. "You do not have to dislike dwarves simply because he does," he reminded her, meeting her sharp eyes with his own stare.

He was right to worry, it was not often a lion was spotted and even rarer the person lived; the dwarves would not take kindly to her, though Gandalf hoped they would be of the same mind as Bilbo in not wishing to offend.

She was forced to follow silently behind Gandalf's small band of dwarves as they returned to the hobbit's house, creeping in the shadows. While the dwarves entered the home and commenced their feasting she laid in the grass beneath the stars listening as they laughed and belched and sang, all around behaving like terrible guests.

Her ear twitched at the sound of large heavy footsteps and she looked up to see the last dwarf finally arriving, paying the lion in the shadow no mind as he passed by her unknowingly. It was well into the night when she was finally called in, Gandalf finding the best moment he was likely to ever have to introduce her.

"There is something we must discuss," Gandalf told Thorin once the dwarves had settled, Bilbo having told him thrice he would not be joining the quest.

The dwarf king stared up at the wizard suspiciously. "And what is that?"

Gandalf sighed knowing there was no way to speak of her that would lessen their shock. "I require a companion," he said at last. "No responsibility will you bear, nor is a share of the treasure expected," he explained quickly upon seeing the refusal bright in Thorin's eye.

Though the wizard's words calmed him if only slightly, he was very curious who this person was offering aid without a payment. "How able to fight is your companion?" he asked, the word companion rather than friend or comrade striking Thorin as odd.

"Very much so," Gandalf answered. "Though it is only for a leg of the journey, unless requested otherwise. The only reason she is so far from her home is because I asked."

Thorin did not catch the first time Gandalf spoke of it being a woman, though the second he heard and refusal was on his tongue before the wizard had finished. "I will allow no woman in my Company," Thorin told him.

"Nor would I expect you to," Gandalf assured him quickly, watching confusion settle on his features. He turned to the nearest dwarf: "she is waiting outside, perhaps now would be the time to introduce her."

Rather put off and confused Balin did as the wizard asked, peeking his head out of the door – catching the glint of eyes in the darkness. "By my beard," he muttered when she stepped into the light.

A stillness settled over Bag End as she stepped inside and walked slowly to where the wizard sat. She was beautiful in the most terrible of ways; fur as yellow as gold, a long lean body outsizing the height of a dwarf should she stand, a slender face. Yet she held the menace of a very dangerous animal, her claws clicking on the wood as she walked, her fangs just barely concealed by her lips, the thin scars running along her back.

Gandalf ran a hand over her head fondly when she sat beside him, hoping to prove she would offer them no harm. Though a look to Thorin's still surprised face and Gandalf knew their trust would not be easily won.

The sound of a roar came as a surprise to him as he sat up in his cage straining to listen; almost a year he had been there, caged and shackled with a few of his kin at the mercy of Azog the Defiler and his orcs. His kind had not been the only skin changers to inhabit the mountains, a clan of lions had also dwelled near their territory; scarcely seen save a flash of fur, they were quick and stealthy, unrivaled hunters. Though he realized now they had been hunted, and he wondered how many the orcs had killed.

Several times he came to hear the lion, a roar of anger or fear, a hiss, a whimper; yet he never saw the poor creature. Not for many months, and it was not the lion he saw first but its human skin. A flurry of cries and shrieks reached his cage and he looked out to see a figure running for the stairs, her skin tan when the light finally touched her, her hair as gold as her fur. So close was she to freedom, another case of stairs and she would be at the entrance, she could smell it; he could smell it. But an orc lept in front of her forcing her to back against his cage as the orcs racing after her cornered her.

He watched the orc step closer, a hungry look in its eye as it glanced over her bare flesh, not watching her eyes or her face. He knew it would happen before she moved, and he smiled at the shrieking of the orc when she changed skin and tore into him. With a snarl she turned to the many others behind her, backing herself up the stairs as they inched forward with weapons raised.

All fight left her at the sound of Azog's voice and she turned cowering before him as he descended the steps to her. Casting a passing glance at the now dead orc he kicked it over the side, staring down at the lion – her ears flattened and her belly pressed to the ground, but there was a tremor in her tail as it flicked ever so slightly, a will to fight.

He watched Azog grab the scruff of her neck before carrying her back to her own cage, waiting for the sounds of the whip though it never came. From that alone he knew the truth; she was not a play thing for them all, not unless Azog wished to share – she was his alone.

It did not stop the others from trying when Azog left, which only resulted in wounded or dead orcs before Azog or another more loyal orc would intervene. It was on a day when Azog had gone hunting that he saw her again, only this time in her lion skin. He'd heard her roar, heard the shrieking of an orc whose end had come from her teeth; he knew what would happen, and had he not been chained in his cage he would have helped her, felt a duty to help for there were only three of them left alive.

And so when she was once more at his cage with only a flight of stairs left to freedom, and she was once more cornered by many orcs with Azog too far away to stop them; he decided to intervene. "I do not think Azog would take kindly to knowing you played with his pet," he said knowing not many of them understood him, though it only took one orc and the reminder of Azog before their resolve fled them.

She growled deep in her throat when an orc moved near, baring her teeth as she hissed. If the only way for her to go was not in the bear's cage she would have tried for escape as she had once before; only there were teams of orcs on either side of her, all glaring maliciously down at her as she crouched low against the steel bars.

He watched an orc reach for his lock, seeing her crouched low staring up at it ready to lunge for its throat. The door creaked open before she was kicked inside, and he wrapped her smaller body in his arms feeling her fur shrink into warm skin as she sat shivering against him. His fingers brushed against the few scars she had on her back, feeling from how few there were that was not the torture Azog most enjoyed giving her. She was still so young, so small in his large arms. "What is your name, little lion?" he asked gently.

As viscous and strong as she had looked, in all truth she'd been terrified; one orc she could bear, even if it were as Azog's plaything – but she could not take them all. "Dolraw," she answered as she sought out what little comfort he could offer when he was no better off than she. "What is yours?"

So long had it been since his name had been said he hesitated before answer, having to force the word to mind. "Beorn," was his answer.

So this is an idea I've had since I saw the new movie, and while I don't love the movie Beorn as much as book Beorn - I do really like him. And I don't think Beorn gets as much love as he deserves, and since he had a pretty crappy life in the movie I have decided to make my OC Dolraw (which translates as Mountain Lion) and give him something good. I hope you guys will enjoy this story and please let me know if anything isn't quite working. Thank you very much for reading.