"Namir! Get off the table" The sound of a scolding tone full of disapproval was something that woke most of the company the next morning. It was followed by a sharp hissing and the clatter of something being knocked over and bouncing on the floor. There was another sharp sigh and a surprisingly high pitched giggle. Kili and File were the first to roll on to their feet and nervously approach the door separating the cottage from the barn. The two of them peaked their heads round the frame to stare at the scene. 

Gandalf was seated in a large wooden chair, smoking pipe in one hand and a large tankard in the other. He seemed completely relaxed and was even blowing out smoke that shifted into the shapes of birds that flew several feet before hands smacked them out of existence. On the other side of the table, Namir was half in his chair, half crouched on the table. The boy was still barefoot and wearing the trousers from the day before but he had added a brown leather waistcoat that was buttoned over his bare chest. His pupils were wide and he was watching the smoke birds with all the intent of a predator waiting to pounce. Around them, a third man was moving. He was a hulking figure, taller than Namir and as broad as a barn door. Hair covered most of his face. Beard hanging over his dirt covered shoulders and eyebrows easily covering over half of his forehead. His hair seemed to grow in a line down his back, disappearing under his woollen waistcoat. He was far more dirty than Namir, more tanned too. His hair was more of a brown than the pitch black tangles and his eyes were a different shape. It was easy to see the bear in those eyes, just as easy as it was to see the cat in Namir's. 

The mentioned cat boy was the first to spot them. The brothers jolted when the sharp gaze landed on them. Namir grinned as his hand snapped over the smoke bird without his head even turning. "Ah. You're awake. Want some breakfast?" 

The bear man, Beorn, turned his gaze on them but did not say anything, which the brother's took as permission. Kili headed for the table first, Fili just behind him. They sat themselves between Gandalf and Namir, but with enough distance from the cat boy that he would probably not pounce on them. (Though judging from his eyes, they wouldn't put it past him). Beorn wordlessly filled two cups with milk from a jug and passed them over. "You two are brothers", Namir stated suddenly. "And you're related to the one who smells like a forge. You all smell similar". 

Kili opened his mouth then shut it. File was the one who answered. "I am Fili and this is my brother Kili". The two of them inclined their heads and Namir smiled slightly. 

"So you're a cat?" Kili blurted. 

"I as much a cat as I am a man", Namir replied smoothly. 

"A boy more like", Beorn grumbled. "A boy who still doesn't know that you should not sit on tables". 

Namir's eyebrows furrowed and he bared his teeth at the other Skin-changer but the action was more playful than angry. "It was your fault that the cup was too close to the edge". 

"I saw you push it", Gandalf voiced. "Don't try it young one". Namir hissed again and scowled. During the exchanged, more dwarves had awoken and entered the room. Dori, Ori and Nori all taking cautious seats at the table before being followed by Balin and Dwalin. Thorin was next with Bomber. The red headed dwarf looking eager at the sign of food. 

"Might as well eat since you're here", Namir stated, waving a hand at the sliced bread on the table and the tankards of milk that Beorn was rapidly pouring out. He held out his own empty mug and the man wordlessly refilled it. 

"So how come he's a bear and you're a cat?" Ori asked as he buttered his bread. There were the sounds of footfalls and Gloin and Bofur joined them at the table. It was beginning to get crowded. 

"Simple, I'm adopted", Namir answered before downing his drink. There was a clatter as Bifer, the last of the dwarves to arrive, almost tripped over a chair leg. The only seat left was the one next to Namir and the dwarf sat down hesitantly. Namir pushed a cup of milk towards him. When he looked up, he saw the last of the group come into the room. "What are you?" he asked. The small figure stopped mid yawn. 

"Me? I'm a hobbit. The name's Bilbo". 

"A hobbit?" Namir raised one eyebrow. "I've never heard of those creatures before. You smell nice though, like earth. Unlike dwarves, who smell of rock and iron". 

"Are you saying we stink?" Dori raised his voice. 

Namir simply fixed him with his stare. "Every creature smells. Dwarves happen to just smell of mines. It's in the blood. I don't like the dark underground myself. Too small. But hobbits smell of earth, which is far more pleasing than metal". He wrinkled his nose then lit up. "But do you know which race smells the best? Elves. They smell of trees and flowers. Humans smell of sweat and smoke. But elves smell like nature". He smiled at the last word. 

"Eww elves", Fili pulled a face and the other dwarves laughed. Beorn moved over to fill Thorin's cup as the laughter died. 

"So you're the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the defiler hunting you?" 

Namir's head perked up at the name and he licked the butter from his fingers. His slit pupils flickering between Thorin and Beorn. The dwarf was leaning back against a pillar, seeming tired. "You know of Azog. How?" 

"My people were the first to live in the mountains", Beorn spoke slowly as he placed down the jug and set a roll of cheese on the table. Immediately, Namir was out of his seat and stabbing the wax with a knife. He carved out a large slice and sat back down, nibbling on it happily as he listened to the tale he had heard many timed before. "Before the orcs came down from the north. The defiler killed most of my family. But some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him". 

"There are others like the two of you?" Bilbo voiced. 

"Once there were many", Beorn sighed. 

"And now?"

"And now", Namir licked the last of the cheese from his fingers. He looked down the table at the Hobbit. "There are only us two". A solemn silence fell at his words. 

Beorn broke it, speaking up as he sat down in the large chair by the hearth. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn". 

"Before Durin's day falls, yes", Gandalf nodded. 

"You're running out of time". 

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood". 

"You're planning on going through Mirkwood?" Namir exclaimed with a laugh. "A darkness lies upon that forest. Foul things creep beneath those trees. All those who travel there are doomed without the help of the elves. Trust me". He stood up again to grab another piece of bread and slice himself more cheese. 

"There is a treaty between the orcs of Moria and the necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need", Beorn added. 

"We will take the elven road", Gandalf stated. "That path is still safe".

"Safe?" Namir tilted his head. His voice a simple question but still Gandalf shot him a look. 

"The elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not", Beorn had turned his attention to Thorin. The dwarf was listening.

"What do you mean?" 

"These lands are crawling with orcs. Their numbers are growing and you are on foot. You will never reached the forest alive". Beorn stood up and ducked under one of the beams. "I do not like dwarves. They're greedy and blind. Blind to lives of those who they deem lesser than their own". He paused as he picked up a mouse from the table. The creature barely the size of his thumb. He reached over and handed the mouse to Namir, the smaller man letting it climb over his fingers with a amused smile before feeding it a few bread crumbs off his plate. "But orcs I hate more", Beorn stated. "What do you need?" 

"We shall be in need of horses and supplies", Thorin stated. "Food, water. Only enough that we can carry". 

"And we shall be needing a guide", Gandalf's voice interrupted. "If the forest is truly dark then we shall be needing a guide to show us the path". At his words, both him and Beorn turned to look at Namir. 

The younger man looked up, the mouse he was playing with running away. "I'm not a dog", He huffed. 

"No. You're a cat who happens to know his way through the forest like the back of his hand", The wizard smiled. 

"What will I get in return for showing you the way?" Namir leaned on his elbows. "Treasure does not interest me. Nor does glory and fame". 

"How do we tempt a cat?" Dwalin hissed to Thorin. It might have been a whisper but that did nothing to Namir's hearing. "They're stubborn buggers. Can't tame them, can't herd them".

"I'm sure there's something we can offer you", Gandalf smiled. Namir blinked at him. (It seemed like it was the only time he had blinked all morning). 

"Anything that is to you're liking that I can spare will be yours", Thorin's voice rose. "You may have one object of choosing once we reach Erebor and if it is not something of consequence then you may have it. You cannot tempt a cat with clear offers but what about curiosity? You may roam our halls and pick for yourself. Surely that is worth the journey?" 

Namir fixed his gaze on the leader and for a few seconds they held eye contact. Then the dwarf blinked and the skin-changer smiled sharply. "That is a good offer. Very well, I shall let you tempt  me with curiosity. When do we leave?" 

unedited 

Namir is a little shit who definitely does knock things off the edge of tables when he feels like it.