The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was simply trotting along through a forest, one full of wildlife and bustling with nature's activities. Birds chirped happily, bunnies hopped in and out of bushes, and the bushes themselves were full of berries, their branches bent down to the ground, heavy laden with the juicy fruit. Even Thorin seemed in a good mood, for which Gandalf was greatly thankful.

The Company of course ate as much as they could hold within their bellies, and stuffed even more in their bags.

As the group trekked along the winding and illustriously calm pathway that led between trees and over hills, their leader noticed the rump of a rather large goat sticking out of a bush. It must have been eating the berries that the Company had also discovered.

Thorin told his youngest nephew, Kili, to look in the direction of the lightly colored goat, and as soon as the young prince did, the first thing he did was laugh.

Kili approached the hind of the creature with a wide grin on his face, being in a good mood and all, since his belly was full (for the first time in a while). "Are ya lost, little fellow? Or stuck?" He reached out and patted the goat's behind, and it understandably jumped, throwing itself out of the bushes.

At the sight of the entire creature, not just the backside, the entire Company froze, jaws nearly touching the ground.

(just pretend like the fur goes all the way down her legs)

"Hey hey hey!! Hands off the fur!!" the girl...goat...thing shouted. "What're you tryin' to do? Wrinkle it?!" She stood on her two hooves and swept a hand across her bottom, smoothing out the fur that had been mussed by Kili, shaking her fluffy tail for good measure.

Noticing the silence, she looked up to see the members of the Company staring at her with what looked like fear in their eyes, except Gandalf. This was not the first time he'd come across creatures such as this.

"Well, say something!" she snapped impatiently. "You just gonna stand there and gawk at me like I'm some kind of oddity? Maa-a-a-ah!"

No one moved, except the goat-girl, who shifted from hoof to hoof, uncomfortable with all the attention she was getting. "Anyone?" She pointed to Thorin, who flinched a bit, "You smell like their leader," she stated bluntly, as if they would have expected that.

The odd comment however, seemed to pull Thorin out of his confused trance, and he squinted, tilting his head a bit. "I...smell...like their leader?"

"Yes," she huffed, wondering how stupid these men really were (and if her suspicions of them being dwarves were correct, then she would probably be right about them being stupid in the first place). "I am a satyr. Part animal. I smell things just as well as I see or hear or feel them. I can sense that you are their leader; you carry with you a powerful and proud aura, proud to be the one to lead them to your journey's destination, wherever that may be. I can smell the fear practically pouring off of you all."

Gloin was the next to come back to his senses, and once he began to speak, the other dwarves around him started to become riled up. "What are you saying, beast?" he spat. "Are you saying we fear you?! Do you offer us such an insult?!"

The satyr narrowed her chocolate brown eyes at the red haired dwarf in contempt. "I would never insult anything, creature of light or evil." She stood a little taller, which still was only about three inches taller than Balin, who was a bit short for a dwarf. "And when I said I could smell your fear, I did not mean it in a derogatory sense; only that you are afraid of what I am, and what I might do. But rest assured, I would never hurt any of you. Not unless you hurt me first."

"What is your name, young lass?" Balin asked.

"(Y/n) Newthollow," she replied cheerfully, glad to finally be past the awkwardness of them first seeing a satyr. "I live in the town of Rhosgobel, just up and over these few more hills. I was looking for berries for me and my little sister, but it seems the rabbits have gotten to them first," (Y/n) sighed, adjusting the leather band on her arm.

"Rhosgobel?" Thorin interrupted, suddenly hit by a thought, a memory. "That wizard...what was his name..."

"Radagast?" (Y/n) supplied helpfully, and Thorin nodded.

"He said something about Rhosgobel rabbits."

"I'd imagine he had. We gifted him with that rabbit litter after he saved our town from a minotaur. Mighty big, them rabbits are. Biggest you'll find anywhere in Middle Earth!" she said proudly.

"(Y/n)!" a voice called from the treeline, beckoning the satyr. "Where have you gone now?"

"I'm over here, Reyna!" (Y/n), replied, and at the sound of a horse trotting closer, the Company prepared themselves for what they would once again not believe.

A woman, riding a horse apparently, appeared above the bushes behind the Company. "Finally," she sighed, and her horse continued forward, nearly breaking through the foliage. "I thought you were gathering berries! How long does that take?" Reyna emerged from the leaves, only to stun the Company with her visage.

She...was the horse.

Where her torso should have turned into legs, she was the chest of a horse.

"What witchcraft is this?" Thorin asked Gandalf, suddenly remembering that the wizard was still amongst them. "What are these creatures?"

"Witchcraft?" Reyna barked, offended. "There is no witchcraft about us and our kind, dwarf. You'd do well to remember."

"Then what are you?" Thorin challenged.

"I am a centaur." Reyna's golden eyes sparked with a ferocity that matched the fire in her red hair as it tumbled over her shoulders. "My friend (Y/n) is a satyr. We are creatures of the gods, children of Pan."

"Pan?" Bilbo inquired curiously.

"The ancient god of the forest and its wildlife," Gandalf supplied quickly, before Reyna could, as he knew she would go on and on in an explanation, something they did not have time for.

"Why do you accompany these dwarves, old friend?" Reyna asked the wizard.

"They are on a quest," Gandalf bellowed proudly, "to reclaim their homeland."

"Erebor?" Reyna squeaked in disbelief, and Gandalf nodded, confirming her fear. (Y/n) reacted in the complete opposite fashion as her friend, bouncing up and down excitedly on her hooves.

"Oh, exciting!" she shrieked, accidentally letting out a rushed bleat, at which she blushed a bit, the pink spreading over her freckles. "You go to face a dragon? How ambitious! You must be so brave!"

"(Y/n)!" Reyna snapped, and the young satyr shrank in shame, her shoulders drooping. "Why must you always act like a child? You are 900 years old; grow up!" (Inspired by The Santa Clause 2😂don't you just love Bernard)

"My apologies," (Y/n) muttered, her cheeks now tinged with the red blush of embarrassment. A few of the dwarves looked at her in astonishment; this young creature was nearly a millennia old?!

"Do you know the way through this forest, Gandalf?" Reyna asked the wizard. She would have looked as if she were sitting proudly atop her steed, if she had not been the steed.

Gandalf reluctantly shook his head (something that caused Thorin to glare at him), "I am ashamed to say I do not. It has been too many years since I have stepped foot in this forest." He turned to (Y/n). "Not since you were but a young kid," he teased, and the satyr giggled and lightly stamped the ground with a hoof.

"Well that was too long ago," Reyna concluded with a smile. "Follow the directions of the tree and water nymphs. They shall tell you the way."

"Thank you, Reyna," Gandalf said gratefully, and Thorin ever so slightly bowed his head in thanks as well. "I shall see you again after this journey has ended," he promised, and (Y/n)'s grin returned to her childish face.

"Do not let Reyna tell you to grow up too quickly, little one," the old wizard said, bending over to gaze at (Y/n) eye to eye. "You are still quite young, especially for a satyr. You have many happy years ahead of you, with the promise of a bright future. As good of a sister as Reyna is to you, she is no mother. You must live your life."

(Y/n) was nearly in tears. She had always seen Gandalf as sort of a grandfatherly figure, and to hear something so inspiring and poetic as this warmed her to the core.

"Promise me," Gandalf muttered.

"I promise," the satyr bleated. "Cross my heart and hope to die," she swore, marking an 'X' over her heart.

As the Company left, trekking through the woods once more, (Y/n) waved goodbye to the one who looked behind one last time.

A young dwarf with red hair, a knitted scarf and cardigan, and thick, knitted gloves on his large dwarf hands.

TO BE CONTINUED?