The Bear-folk
Me grandsons and their old granda enjoyed a fine fishin' expedition filled with many questions asked and few answers given. The fish weren't bitin' particularly well, but we caught enough for a supper supplemented with lots o' vegetables from me garden. After supper it were time for a story by the hearth.
'Each year when Fikta and Beannaithe would return to the Lonely Mountain for the Durin's Day celebration the Dwarf would tell his young ward the story of how Thorin Oakenshield and his company of adventurers reclaimed their ancestral home from the dreaded Smaug the Golden. Within this story were the tale of Beorn the Skin-changer, a huge man who at night would become a bear and roam about the countryside lookin' for wargs and goblins to slay.
Beannaithe had long wished she could visit Beorn and his animal friends. Doin' so would mean travellin' a long distance and include fordin' the Abhainn Mhór ("Great River"). The lass were certain that her grandfather and mother would not allow it, so she secretly gathered provisions in advance of the journey. She placed them with her armour and sword, which she'd stored in the barn under a pile of old farm equipment.
In preparation for her journey Beannaithe had rummaged through some of Fikta's old things. She recalled that he had kept maps to help him from getting lost. This became particularly important as he grew older and more forgetful. Since Fikta had himself never visited Beorn's house he did not have a map leadin' to the place, but Beannaithe recalled hat he would point to a spot on his map when tellin' the tale.
Now equipped with weapon, armour, provisions, and map Beannaithe went forth to fulfill her destiny as declared by The Huntsman. When the time came to leave, since she had no pony, the lass set out on foot. She would've left a note if she could write, but she could not. Instead, she put some pillows under the blankets on her bed clothes in one of her old dresses so at least her family would understand that she'd left of her own will.
It took a few days to find it, but at last Beannaithe found the path leadin' to the home of the Bear-people. The house itself were not as large as the lass had imagined. She supposed the Bear-people were few in number.
Beorn, the Bear-man in Fikta's stories, had grown old and died since the time of the tale. His son himself had grown old, Grimbeorn the Old he were called. He came out at once when he'd received news of a visitor from one of his animal friends.
"Oh, ho!" laughed the Bear-man. "What have we here? A young cub dressed in fancy armour. But where is she going I wonder?" Grimbeorn were as big and imposin' a mortal man that Beannaithe had ever seen. Only the immortal Huntsman were taller.
Beannaithe gestured indicatin' that she were without speech.
"Mute, eh? That is a pity. Let us find you something to slake your thirst. Perhaps that will loosen your tongue."
Just then a wee pony gamboled over with a flagon of mead and two tankards perched on its back. The Bear-man poured the contents of the flagon into the tankards.
"What shall we toast then?" he asked.
Beannaithe smiled bashfully and shrugged
"Down with goblins!" the large man bellowed.
Beannaithe took the tankard in both hands and, thinkin' it were water, took a long draught of mead, for mead it were. Beannaithe, feelin' a bit light-headed, stumbled a little and nearly fell until Grimbeorn reached out his large hand to steady her.
"Slow down, little lady! I see that you care no more for goblins than I," the Bear-man said with a great laugh. "Let us go inside where we may recline while we eat."
Grimbeorn told a version of the tale of Thorin and Company's visit that he'd heard from his father. "They weren't all Dwarves," the great man said, "with them were an excitable little fellow. Bilbo Baggins was his name. Is he any relation of yours?"
Beannaithe shook her head.
"Still can't talk? Well, if the mead can't help I suppose nothing can," Grimbeorn said thoughtfully.
"You're welcome to stay the night. After a hearty breakfast I'll see you off in the morning."'
'I suppose I've rambled on long enough,' I said to me grandkids.
'I'd like to hear more, please,' Darowva politely said.
'We can stay awake a little longer,' pleaded Diolun.
'We can!' said one or two of the others who had not yet fallen asleep.
'No, ye can't,' said Ériu, Diolun's mother. She was supported by her two sisters, Banba and Fódla.
'All right,' me grandkids said disappointedly.
'Good night, me wee darlin's!' I said as they were being led away.
