Agarwaen then parted from the party, and walked upstream for a while before finally sitting down to separate her crusty bloodstained clothes from her skin. She laid all her weapons down where they were easily accessible, and began the painful task. She peeled the browned fabric from each cut, each scrape, clenching her teeth in pain as she did. Once undressed, she looked down at herself. Covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. She hadn't been this beaten up in quite some time. She hissed in pain as she stepped into the cold water, undoing her braid, which had practically fallen apart by now, as she waded deeper. She tossed her leather tie near her clothes and dunked under. The water around her turned a murky brownish red as the river started washing away what was left of the challenges of last night.

She wondered what everything would be like, now that Thorin had accepted her into the group. Camp would probably be more tense now, less merry than it used to be. She liked listening to their drinking songs and laughter from afar. It reminded her of her first year adventuring. Young and bold, wanting to be anything other than the perfect elf she'd been for the first 450 years of her life. She often visited notable taverns, drank herself silly, and joined in with everyone's drunken shenanigans. Singing horribly, dancing around, having a jolly time. Then woke up the next morning miserable, and everyone went back to their sad miserable lives on the farm or at the forge. But the dwarves didn't need mead or ale to be happy. They just seemed merry all the time when they were around friends and family. Sure, they do love their drinks, but Agarwaen wished she could find merriment in everything as they did. It made life interesting and bearable. To laugh, joke, and have a love for each other as they did. She contemplated staying apart from the group still, in order to keep hearing their happiness despite the circumstances.

After climbing out of the water, she washed her clothes in the river, and then dressed her wounds with some bandage from her bag. Her pants however looked unsalvageable, being torn everywhere from the fall and goblins grabbing at the already existing holes. She tossed it aside and decided not to waste her time fixing it. She did not spend too much time drying in the sun, due to the dwarves still being near, and pulled on her other tunic and pants. She carried her boots, bag, and wet shirt back to where they agreed to meet her, and waited.

"Enough Oin, I'm fine." Thorin grumbled, pulling his arm away from the dwarven healer who insisted on patching up the king's wounds. It had been a while since they'd gotten into the river, so they began to spread out along the riverbank. A few still remained in the water, but Bilbo and Gandalf sat farther away and had a smoke, and Oin started to tend to everyone's wounds.

"I'm heading back, don't let them take too long." Thorin muttered before taking his shirt and weapons with him back to where they'd left all their other belongings. He began to wonder if maybe now he should officially include Agarwaen in the company. Maybe Balin still had an extra contract lying around, but doubted it. He doubted she would want to join anyway, especially this late in the venture.

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to last night, and wondered how even after falling and climbing back up again, Agarwaen was able to fight like she did. Perhaps it was just some kind of talent given to the elves. Being able to move with such agility and grace, even after being severely hurt. As he thought about the elf, more questions that he forgot he had came flooding back. If she wasn't from Rivendell, then why did she talk about it like it was her only home? Didn't she have her birthplace? Was she from Lothlorien or the Grey Havens? And was there a reason behind why she left besides boredom as she claimed? He figured he'd get his answers in time, as few could resist telling stories from their past around the fire at night.

Agarwaen sat against a tree trunk, her long hair still wet and clinging to her face. She was trying to sew her shirt back together, but with her fingers all torn up after falling and climbing up the mountain, they kept bleeding whenever she tried to stick the needle through. While focusing on her painful task, she barely noticed someone approaching until she saw movement from the corner of her eye. She looked up to see Thorin, shirtless, with a bandaged middle with blood faintly seeping through the wrapping in the shape of bite marks. Even though she tried not to, she quickly looked over his strong, well built and battle-worn form. What caught her eye most of all was a dwarven design tattooed on his right shoulder. She looked away when he noticed her and he quickly pulled his still damp shirt over him.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be back yet." He said, taking a seat in the sun a couple yards away from her.

"It's okay." She said, trying to get that image of him out of her head, but it wouldn't go away. "I'm not usually one to sit around in the open like tha--ouch." She hissed as the needle caught on a piece of dead bloody skin on her index finger and pulled. Thorin looked over at her.

"Your hands..." He trailed off, shocked at just how bad her fingers looked.

"Yes, what about them? This is what they normally look like after trying to stop yourself from falling off a cliff and then having to climb back up in the rain. On relatively sharp handholds." Thorin swallowed hard. He didn't like the tone she was using, but she had every right to use it.

"I'll have Oin take a look at them. Is the rest of you alright?"

"No, it's okay. I've suffered far worse than this. I'm fine. I just bruise easily, that's all." She said, referencing to the dark purple and yellow splotches on her hands, neck, and face.

"An elf as stubborn as a dwarf." He laughed to himself.

"What?"

"You're headstrong and stubborn." She raised her eyebrows at him, regretting it as it made the bruise on her forehead throb. "You'll fit in with everybody quite well, I think." Realizing he didn't mean what he said to be offensive, she smiled. "Maybe that's why Fili and Kili took to you so quickly." He added, earning a light hum of laughter from her. They sat in silence for a while, and Agarwaen finally managed to finish sewing her shirt back together and put it back in her bag. The dwarves then started to come back, each looking much better than before. Bilbo and Gandalf followed behind them as well.

"Oin." Thorin called, and sighed when the mostly deaf dwarf didn't hear him. "Oin!" He called louder, finally getting his attention. "Take a look at her fingers, and see if there's anything you can do. Oin nodded and approached Agarwaen, who sighed and stood up. She couldn't exactly protest now. The dwarf mumbled under his breath at the condition of her hands, and sighed.

"The most I can do is wrap them, lass. I don't have the things I need to make a good salve. I lost quite a bit to those goblins." She hated the idea of having wrapped hands, but knew that they would have to be wrapped at some point, and she'd rather have a salve to make it heal faster.

"Well, what do you need for it?" She asked, hoping they might be able to find something that works.

"Calendula flowers, oil, beeswax, and honey." The dwarf replied, and Agarwaen was rather pleased that that was all he needed. She'd never been good at anything related to healing, but she knew that those flowers grew around there, and that Beorn had plenty of honey.

"The house we're visiting has plenty of honey and beeswax, and I'm pretty sure he has oil too."

"Keep an eye out for yellow flowers then, and I'll take care of your hands when we get there, lass." He lightly patted the back of her hands with a smile, and left.

"Alright, let's get a move on. Agarwaen, lead the way to this house." Thorin said, and everyone gathered their things and followed after her. They walked for quite some time, and the late summer sun bore down on them harshly. Now that they were out of the mountains, the air wasn't cold anymore, but rather warm and humid. Everyone began shedding unnecessary layers and furs, and a few breaks were taken under the shade of trees. Dwarves were built for harsh mountainous weather, making them all the more uncomfortable in the heat. Agarwaen didn't mind it as much, but did cut down her layers to just her tunic and trousers. She'd pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail, with intentions of braiding it later on.

It had been a while since she'd last seen Beorn, but knew that she was always welcome no matter what. He even told her once that she reminded him of his daughter.

She'd been a little lost when she met him, it was right after she left Mirkwood for the first time, seeking adventure. She lost her map when a gust of wind blew it into the river, and wasn't sure where she was going. She then spent days wandering around, until stumbling upon a giant of a man in the middle of some gardening. He asked her who she was, and if she was lost. She answered, saying that she was lost, and that she was looking for something different in life. He gave her an old map he had, and some of the most delicious honey she'd ever tasted. She thanked him and went on her way. The next time she saw him, she was in the area a few years later, low on provisions and injured after being attacked by a few random orcs. She hoped he would help her again, and he did. This time he told her what he was, and asked if she still wanted to spend the night to rest up. She was wary about it, but after having tea with Beorn and learning more about him, she decided to trust him. He was back the next morning as if nothing had happened. Now every time she's near his homestead, she pays him a visit and she tells him tales of her adventures. He loved stories of any sort, and thus looked forward to each of her visits. She loved recounting her tales to him, some exaggerated, some not. However, she still hasn't told him about why she left Mirkwood a second time after going back. She didn't want him to think less of her, or judge her for her actions. He was practically her only friend for quite some time, after all.

Bilbo made an undignified noise as a giant bee buzzed past his face. He watched the thing fly away in utter horror.

"That was huge!" He exclaimed.

"You'll be seeing quite a bit more of them, I'm afraid. Beorn keeps bees, and plants great gardens for them. His bees make the finest and sweetest honey you could ever imagine." Agarwaen answered.

"Will they sting me?" The hobbit asked.

"Only if you swat at them." As they neared the house, fields of organized and colorful flowers grew everywhere, and the bees buzzed to and fro, working hard to make their honey. The company then came upon a thorny hedge, where Gandalf said to wait. Due to Beorn not being overly fond of dwarves, introducing the bunch to him would be rather difficult, but Gandalf insisted he had a plan that would work.