The Bar-Bearian [A Pub]

[Baphởmet]

A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair.
The bear! The bear!

Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair!

And down the road from here to there.
From here! To there!
Three boys, a goat and a dancing bear!
They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!
The fair! The fair!

Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair!

The bear smelled the scent on the summer air.
The bear! The bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair!

He smelled the scent on the summer air!
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air!

Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!

The bear, the bear!
Lifted her high into the air!
The bear! The bear!

I called for a knight, but you're a bear!
A bear, a bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair

She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
But he licked the honey from her hair.
Her hair! Her hair!
He licked the honey from her hair!

Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair

--"The Bear and the Maiden Fair"

Nestled in a vibrant and verdant corner of Greenwood the Great, far from the troubling darkness of the southern reaches, sits a small, nameless brook with clear, bubbling waters. Fed from crystal clear springs, this nameless little stream wanders and meanders through a hundred different groves and clearings before it reaches a tiny oxbow lake amidst a great copse of trees. Pines, oak, beech, willow, ash, spruce, rowan, maple, and fir. The weather is perfect, clear for miles and miles. The sun is out, throwing golden light that flitters through the leaves to cast shadows of a hundred different hues and colors. This little corner of the forest is alive with the sounds of running water, songbirds, insects, and… are those bears?

Indeed! Any weary, paw sore traveler that comes upon this hidden grove has arrived at the Bar-Bearian, a majestic, open-air tavern constructed, under the auspices of Beorn, by and for bears of the Wilderlands, a special place for those of the ursine variety to kick back, relax, snag some salmon, and make a nuisance of themselves in a perfect safe environment.

Under the eaves of an ash tree so large it almost looks like a mountain sits the bar, a rudimentary thing made from old logs, stones, and moss. It wouldn’t win any fashion contests with the elves, but when one caters to bears, one has to build with sturdiness in mind. Behind the bar is Beorn himself! What is he doing here, of all places? Even the greatest skinchanger Middle-Earth has ever seen needs to place to put his paws up and take it easy once in a while. Not far from the bar are a dozen wide, sturdy hammocks, perfect for taking quick bear naps should the need arise.

Drinks
Old Dorwinion – Stolen from the Elvenking by none other than the caper master herelf, Osa
Black(bear)y Wine – Created by Alagon, an elf of immense brewing talents but less than desirable security (also pilfered by Osa)
Beorn’s Special Reserve – No bar created by Beorn would be complete without his world-famous honeyed wine
Grizzly Bear Stout – A thick, almost black beer that is guaranteed to give you the fearlessness of a grizzly
Trow Bridge Porter – Brewed with dark summer fruits for a delightful hint of sweetness
Radagast’s Rauchbier – Smoky with hints of rosemary and sage, a herbaceous gift from the Brown Wizard himself
Wild Hunt Reserve – A special Bière de Champagne brewed for special occasions by the Mirkwood elite (Osa managed to nick a few bottles)
Osa’s Ancient Grain Stout – Osa’s own, very special brew, smooth and creamy with hearty oat notes
Tea – Black, Mint, Ginger or Cinnamon
Water – Pure, refreshing, ice cold, and straight from the stream

Food
Salmon – Fresh caught fish, broiled over a campfire or raw, whatever your liking
Hare – Snared and stewed with roots and herbs
Venison – Big enough to feed a whole family of bears, raw or oven roasted
Oatcakes – Compliments of Beorn, his own special recipe
(Bear)y Medley – Raspbearies, strawbearies, bluebearies, blackbearies, mullbearies, goosebearies, and hucklebearies, with your choice of honey, coconut, or mint
Stuffed Mushrooms – Delicious, fresh foraged, stuffed with breadcrumbs, crayfish, or pork
Yams – A sweet root staple at any place frequented by Osa
Lembas – a special elven treat, stolen by Osa on her last trip through Lothlórien
Honeycomb – the best dessert a bear could ask for

Rules
1. Normal pub rules apply, no godmoding, be nice, etc or Beorn will toss you out, the TR maintains the right to GM any situation they deem to violate the proscribed rules
2. Refrain from using #556B2F as that will be your humble TR’s (Beorn) color
3. Any and all OOC comments should be directed to the Imladris OOC thread to keep the pub nice and clean
4. We are all adults here and can decide for ourselves the stories we want to read so rather than dictate what can and cannot be written in this thread, we will ask that any CW (at the discretion of the writer) be placed at the top of the post
5. And most important: All patrons of the Bar-Bearian must be bears or beornings

[Moriel]

Arth was a big, big bear, a large and mighty, roly-poly specimen of a grizzly with strange dark fur that was almost black. His fangs were fierce and his claws were long and curving, leaving deep scores in the ground where he walked, and his huge dark eyes glinted with hunger. This was not because Arth was a particularly devoted hunter or anything, but rather because he was always hungry. A five time winner of the most-rotund ursine contest, his pendulous belly and perfectly rounded limbs demanded to be fed at all times. Even his ears were chubby, round and fuzzy on top of his head. Small creatures tended to flee before Arth wherever he went, when all he really wanted to do was make friends! Such was the price of his glorious roundness he supposed, but it could be awfully lonely. So when he heard that Beorn was hosting a pub in the Greenwood, he hastened south (as hastily as one so girthy could hasten) to join the party, eager for the company of other bears who hopefully wouldn't run away at the sight of him. When Arth finally made it to the clearing he was exhausted, and as tempting as the hammocks were, his stomach growled (sending a nearby squirrel running for cover). He lumbered over to the bar.

"Oh, Beorn!" Arth exclaimed, rising up on his hind legs and flopping his forepaws onto the surface of the bar, his head swiftly following to slump down on top of them, "I'm so hungry! I tried to tell all the bunnies I've gone vegetarian and won't eat them but did they listen? No, and they wouldn't show me their carrots either. Please, please can I have some yams to start? A BIG bowl? Ohhh and mint tea, oh Beorn pleeeeeeeeease," Arth's plaintive request was followed by the emergence of his tongue; from his position half-laying on the bar he could see an errant crumb of honey comb on its surface. He thrust his tongue out to capture it. Just a little further....

[Baphởmet]

Beorn was around bears again. All was right in the world. Bears were the best. They were just as complex and complicated and sneaky (lookin’ at you Osa) as humans and elves, but they were just easier to be around. Bears were simply better. That’s why Beorn felt the need to be build them a special place to congregate and relax. The sun was shining bright, the air was at that perfect spot between cool and warm, the clouds hung around, but they were fluffy white kind and the only concern with such clouds was determining the exact shape they were mimicking. He wiped out a bowl absently. He’d been wiping that bowl for the last hour, nervously waiting to see how long it took the bears to find the place. There wasn’t exactly a network bears could use to spread word the way that men and elves had. He supposed ravens and thrushes might be amenable to helping with the task, but that was a problem for another day.

And speaking of today’s problem! He laughed as Arth ambled into view. Arth, the biggest, fattest Beorn had ever seen (aside from himself), claimed to be a vegetarian, but even Beorn had a hard time believe that the bear’s very impressive girth had not been augmented by a stream full of trout. “Arth! You old rascal! It’s good to see you.” He gave the bear a scritch behind the ears. “So cruel of those rabbits not to share their carrots,” he agreed with an extra helping drama. He even crossed his arms and scowled in the direction Arth had come. “Well, lucky for you, I have more yams than I know what to do with. Osa… she does love her yams, and stealing them.” He shook his head at the display Arth was making and laughed. Not only was Arth the biggest bear in the woods, he was the most dramatic. “Oh pish-posh Arth! Anymore drama out of you and I’ll send you to Imladris so you can start teaching them how to act.” He hung the cast iron kettle over a nice crackling fire and brought a big bowl (all the bowls were big here at the Bar-Bearian for obvious reasons) and began to peel the yams as the water heated. The kettle began to whistle and, caught up in the relaxing rhythm of peeling, Beorn began to whistle with it, until that is he realized what the sound was.

“Oh bother and confusticate!” The great bear of a man leapt up from his spot and dart over the kettle before the water hissing and bubbled its way into the fire. Grabbing a tea towel (one that looked like comically tiny in Beorn’s massive paws) he lifted the kettle and expertly poured a healthy portion of water into a nearby mug (all bear sized and durable). He let the water settle for a moment then scooped in the mint tea mixture and let it steep. “So Arth. Tell me, besides becoming vegetarian and putting all those elven poets to shame, what have you been up to?”

A pub! A pub for bears! What could be more perfect? Nothing Osa could think of in that moment, that’s for sure! The golden moon bear shook her fur, finished the yam she’d been snacking on, and bounded into view of the great ash tree. She sniffed the air. There was so much here! When Beorn told her about this place, she hadn’t expected something so extravagant! This was utterly delightful. He’d asked her to procure some special drinks and she’d been only too happy to oblige (mostly because it gave her the chance to hone her sneaking abilities). The place smelled like what Osa imagined Imladris smelled like, only with more bears. This was the absolute height of bear excellence. One might even say it was “the beary best for bears” and Osa would naturally agree.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in, she counted on her paws, at least a few minutes now and she was in the mood for something tasty, and maybe stolen. An elf once told her that stolen things taste even sweeter and she had decided then that that was how she was going to live her life.

“Arth!” she shouted to the giant bear already lounging and laying on the bar top. “You look as glorious and fat as ever!” You always complimented grizzlies, it buttered them up and helped you sneak passed their defenses so you can nab whatever it was they were eating. In this case, Osa grinned and with a surreptitious paw, managed to snag one of the yams Beorn had left in the bowl for Arth. It tasted sweet and honeyed! She grinned and licked her chops innocently as soon as she scarfed down the delectable root. “I think I shall have a glass of black(bear)y wine. Wherever did you get that?” She did her best to look innocent.

[Afird Splitax]

Paws Hunig (his real name was Deonor Hunig, but everyone called him Paws because of his large hands) walked beneath the eaves of the large ash and looked about the surroundings. The Beorning had a long face that suited his tall, lean body. A shock of golden-yellow hair rose from his scalp then curled down towards his face, past his furrowed brow, over his eye, and on to meet with his thick beard. He wore high black boots, fitted trousers and a leather jerkin over a soft fleece shirt.

Paws didn't talk much if he didn't have to. He mostly grunted and growled. He spent most of his childhood in the company of bears who used the bear speech - his father and mother being skin-changers. He did learn to speak the Common Tongue but used it haltingly and rarely. And although he did have the ability to take the shape of a bear-like his sires, he never did. Not because he couldn't or didn't know how to or was afraid, no, he never changed because, like his name implied, his large bear paws would not serve him in what he liked to do the most and the best, while his large man hands did. And that was, playing his spoons.

It seemed like he always had a spoon in his hand since the time he was very young. At first, it was because he couldn't get enough of the honey that his father stored in the large earthenware pots that lined the walls of the honey shed. Then as he grew older, he became bolder and greedier (after all, he was a growing lad) and would have two spoons, one in each hand, ready to dip into the honey pot. But when his father forbade him, he sat waiting for a chance to sneak at the honey and passed the time hitting the spoons together. First, he did it with his two hands, still too young and uncoordinated to hold the utensils with one hand. Eventually, he soon got the hang of it with one hand and would pass hours striking them against his knee and the palm of his hand, making a jig-style type of sound that was quite catchy. As he grew older, word of his talent grew in the settlement where he lived. Soon he was playing at weddings and Yule-tide gatherings. It was his passion, and he never went anywhere without his musical spoons.

So, unsurprisingly, his spoons tucked into one of the large but secure pockets of his jerkin, he walked up to the bar. He recognized the great one (Beorn) who stood there. He had seen him before but never spoke with him. Now was his chance. In his deep growly voice, he said.

"Fine pub you have here! I will have a Grizzly Bear Stout!" He then nodded his head and said no more.

[Baphởmet]

Beorn gave a side eye to the golden moon bear but said nothing as she nicked a yam from the bowl he’d set out for Arth. Sadly, the great grizzly was on his own when it came to Osa, who’d pilfer the blueberries out of your hand if she could find a way to do it without getting caught. He put a warning finger then began to attend the workings of his bar again. There never seemed to be an end to things to do; he had to prepare drinks, get food ready to cook, and clean, constantly clean. The downside of having a pub in the middle of the forest was, well there was a lot of the forest in the pub. Not that he minded most of it, aesthetically, he was quite certain there was no bar, pub, tavern, or inn that could stand against his own. He’d never been of course, that would necessitate being around far, far too many men, dwarves, and elves for his liking. He’d heard about them from travelers though. His bar was an approximation of what he assumed most of them to be, plus bears.

With Arth chomping at the bit to get at his yams, and Osa doing her darnedest to get those yams, Beorn had his hands full already. So full that for a moment he didn’t realize the pub already had it’s third patron! When he looked up from the bear shenanigans (or bearnanigans as some might call it) he saw a hug honey haired man with big meaty paws amble up the bar. It took Beorn a moment to recognize the man. They’d never talked face to face, but Beorn was a man who liked to know all the folk that were about in his part of the world. He knew Paws only by reputation, but that reputation was a good one. The great skinchanger wouldn’t have allowed anyone with a bad reputation in his bar (aside from Osa). The man was a great spoon player by all accounts. Beorn wasn’t exactly sure how one played spoons, but whenever the topic came up, several folks (including a few bears) were quick to praise Paws for his playing ability, so much so that Beorn’s question of “what the heck is playing spoons?” never got around to being answered. That was fine with Beorn though, he preferred to listen to most folks rather than do much talking, one got into trouble if one talked too much, he’d found that out a long time ago.

“Well, I’ll be damn! Paws Hunig! It’s good to see you here lad!” the skinchanger’s smile was genuine and broad. He poured a massive stein (all the steins were massive on account of the necessity of their handling by bears who were, by definition, very large) full of the Grizzly Bear Stout. He slid the foaming beverage across the bar and nodded. “Tell me lad, what have you been keepin’ yourself busy with?” He noted the spoons in the man’s pocket and decided he’d ask how those things were “played” at a certain point.

He took his eyes off the golden moon bear and grizzly for half a moment whilst pouring Paws beverage, but out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Osa, who’d presumably stolen enough yams from Arth to satisfy her hunger, sneak up and start sniffing. “I’d watch that one if I were you, she’ll rob you blind of all your food and give you the sweetest smile after you caught her.”

[Marceline]

Ursula

The journey to Greenwood the Great from the far reaches of the north was long and arduous. As Ursula went, the snows receded farther up the mountains, till meager snow caps were all that she could see in these southern lands. Every now and then, the great polar bear lifted her nose to the sky; today, she caught only the faintest sharp scent of cold. The rest was greenery and warm woods, mosses and the animals who lived amongst them. She padded onward.

It was unusual for a bear of her kind to travel so far to the south, but Ursula was nothing if not unusual. She was curious about warmer climes and hungered for more than the fatty seals that could be hunted from the ice floes near her home. What, for example, would a creature with legs taste like? She had found out well enough as she traveled, and she found that she liked it. Rabbits, small as they were, were tasty, but deer were best.

Though she did not know it, this was to be the last year of her childless youth: cubs would enter and become the center of her existence not far in the future. For now, though, she meandered along without a care in the world, save for a persistent thirst.

It was just her luck that she came upon a lovely sparkling stream. She drank deeply, and then caught a delicious scent on the air. Curiosity piqued, she followed her nose into a grove populated by - was her nose deceiving her? - bears of all different kinds! She did not truly believe it until she saw it, and when she saw it, she was floored. Why had she never met any bears on her travels until now? And how was it that there were so many different kinds of bears? She rushed forward, then balked. Was she being too forward? Was she courting some unknown set of dangers? She hesitated. A large, dark bear (Arth) proclaimed his hunger loudly to a being (Beorn) who seemed both bear and not-bear all at once. Ursula squinted at him, but could not focus for long because not long after, she caught sight of a beautiful, golden bear (Osa). And then there was another of those beings (Paws) - both bear and not-bear. Ursula grunted her delight and confusion. She gathered her courage and decided to plunge into the midst of the scene - if it all went wrong, at least she would have size on her side.

“My, my!” she said, to no one in particular. “What sights there are to see in the south!” She ambled up to the bar and found a place not far from Paws. “Excuse me, sir,” she said to the man behind the bar. “What is this place? And what are” - her nose twitched - “all those wonderful smells??”

[Baphởmet]

Having finished pilfering most of Arth’s yams (okay all of them because he was too busy watching his tea to notice), Osa noticed the newcomer. She was surprised by the sight of the giant white bear. So surprised that at first she simply stared at the creature. Osa herself was a bear out of place, her home being much further east, but to see a polar bear here, why it was inconceivable! Osa had, of course, never met a polar bear before, having only heard rumors about giant white shadows that hunted in the great north, bears that could appear and disappear as if they were magic. They were real! The golden moon bear couldn’t believe it! She glanced at Beorn who looked very busy with another large human, presumably a skinchanger. Excellent, he was distracted. Osa crept closer to the polar bear, still half entranced by this creature of pure white. She had no idea bears could even come in that color! It made sense though, the more she thought about it. Bears, unlike humans and elves, could come in dozens of colors and patterns. She’d met blue bears, red bears, black and white bears, white and black bears, brown bears, black bears, even a green bears (though as it turned out it was only a brown bear covered in grass)!

It was Osa’s natural urge to steal and pilfer and borrow. She planned on sidling up to this polar bear and seeing what they had to steal. Then, some inner voice of reason that Osa was forced to listen to from time to time spoke to her. This was a bear that had come a very, very long way. Osa was not exactly sure where “the north” was except it was, well, north and very far away. It would be very mean of her to try and steal from a bear that had travelled such a long way. She looked back at Arth, still staring at his tea as it cooled. It was okay to steal from him, he was a very fat bear who she’d known for quite some time. It was expected of her to steal from him. But this new bear, this new bear could be a very great asset in her many planned capers.

Before she had a chance to plop down next to the mighty polar bear, Beorn finally noticed her and made his way over. Drat that man sometimes! Osa growled, crestfallen, and languidly draped herself over the edge of the bar.

“Why this is the Bar-Bearian,” Beorn’s deep, rumbly voice sounded like he was everywhere at once, even as Osa was trying to pretend to ignore him. “A place for all bears to come and relax and let off a little steam. We have whatever kind of food or drink a bear could dream of, even one so far afield as you, my icy friend. You can call me Beorn. Tell me what brings a polar bear this far south? Nothing troubling I hope?”

Osa’s tummy rumbled. She was hungry, starving even. Those yams were delicious, but that had been nearly five minutes ago now! She grumbled and tried to reach for the tray of freshly baked stuffed mushrooms but they were just out of her reach, darn her short paws! Settling, she reached for a bottle of black(bear)y wine, clenched the cork stopper in her teeth and delicately but firmly ripped it out. She brought over a bowl, knocked the bottle over, and watched it fill with the sweet, dark, and stolen liquid. She licked her chops.

“And that’s Osa,” Beorn said.

What!?

It had not occurred to the golden moon bear to act stealthily, she was sure that Beorn was distracted with the new bear. She looked up from the bowl and licked her chops again. “Hi!” was all she could think to say, caught as she was with her paw in the cookie jar (mmmmmmmmm, Osa made a mental note to find some cookies later).

[Marceline]

Ursula

“The Bar-Bearian!” Ursula echoed. Although she had never met a skinchanger before, she could tell that the man-but-also-possibly-bear behind the bar was straightforward and down to earth, and she appreciated that. Ursula knew that some men, believing themselves above nature and the creatures with whom they shared the world, hunted bears for sport or killed them out of fear. She had smelled their bitter hatred on the air whenever she’d witnessed the act or come across the aftermath. If she ever met men like that, she would show them no mercy. But the being before her, Beorn, obviously cared for all the bears in the clearing - why else would he stand behind this large table and feed them? All these thoughts made her stomach rumble trustingly, and Ursula decided that she could eat and drink the fare here without fear of coming to any harm.

“Nothing troubling, no,” she said. Her voice was low and resonant, the hallmark of her kind. But being young and female, it also possessed a sweetness which smoothed away any rough edges. “But I looked at the icy landscape of my home one day and wondered if everything everywhere was white and cold. What would happen if I ventured straight east, or west, or north, or south? We polar bears tell no tales beyond the frigid bounds of the northern tundra, and I wondered why that was. Was that all there is to the world? Maybe, and maybe not. So I set off to find out. For my first adventure, I chose to go south, and now here I am. As for food, I have grown rather fond of deer in my travels south. Do you have any of that, by chance?”

She sat before the bar and tried to disentangle and identify the many aromas floating on the air. A pungent scent suddenly wafted toward her, and she sniffed in its direction. Oh! There was the beautiful golden bear, filling a bowl with the strange-smelling liquid. Beorn introduced the thirsty bear as Osa.

“Hello!” Ursula replied in kind. The other bear seemed a bit tongue-tied. Or perhaps she was just shy. Ursula knew a bit about being shy. Polar bears kept mostly to themselves, and sometimes it was difficult to find oneself among others unexpectedly. Of course, her curiosity had overcome her habitual desire for solitude today. And so she peered inquisitively at Osa and the bowl and the heady liquid spilling into it. “That smells strange,” she said. “What is it?”

[Baphởmet]

“Uh,” Osa had to think fast. She was very good at thinking fast during a heist, but when there was no honey or wine or yams to steal thinking on her feet was not one of her specialties. “It’s nice to meet you!” she finally said, not being subtle as she licked up some of the blackberry wine that had spilled on the bar’s counter. “You’re from up north huh? I suppose they don’t have many yams up there.”

“Osa, be nice,” Beorn’s warning growl cut through whatever it was she was about to say (she didn’t actually know, she hadn’t thought that far ahead). “I have some venison ready indeed. It’s one of the meat I keep well in stock here. This one,” Beorn shot the golden moon bear a meaningful glance, “is also not prone to stealing it. From the looks of you, I’m assuming you’d like it raw, a leg perhaps?” Osa watched with eager fascination at both the skinchanger and the white bear. She was a mesmerizing shade of white, the sort that shimmered and almost glowed. Beorn prepared the meat right on the counter, blood was getting everywhere, but Osa didn’t move. Normally the sight of blood would send her packing to the other end of the room. She wasn’t skittish or grossed out by blood, she kept away from the red substance for a far more practical purpose. Blood did not go very well on her golden coat. She was determined now to put her best paw forward to give the best first impression to the polar bear and not being a squeamish weenie was part of that impression. Her mind was working a hundred miles a minute, imagining all the capers and heists she could pull with such a strong companion. She took another, somewhat, messy draught of blackberry wine from the bowl. Stolen food tasted sweeter, everyone knew it, twice stolen blackberry wine was the sweetest of all.

She could tell this bear was a serious bear, the way she and Beorn talked about dour matters told her they would be fast friends. Beorn was serious, a serious stick in the mud. He did not approve of her capers. The only reason he accepted the blackberry wine she brought him was because “it would be a sad waste to send it back now”. He told her that she would have to write a note (well he would write it, but she would have to be the one saying the words) and apologize to Alagon for stealing his delicious, mostly unsecured beverage. She agreed, mostly because her tummy was rumbling, and she was distracted by the smell of honey and fruit. Surely he wouldn’t actually make her do it. Right? No, no he definitely would. Look, it wasn’t her fault the elf had left the storeroom unlocked. Well, bear proof.

Back to the present though. What could Osa do to draw the attention of Ursula from Beorn? The more they talked and conversed about the state of the world, the less likely she would be to want to join Osa on a caper. That would leave her with Arth as a companion for thievery. Arth was not bad, not by a long shot, but he demanded a greater share of the profits. And that bear would eat everything.

“Hey Beorn,” she said, a plan coming into her mind. “Is it alright if I sing a little karaoke?”

The skinchanger looked up from his work, just cutting the last bit of fat from the massive hunk of venison, and before he could protest (because he would, serious as a wasp’s nest) she began to sing.

Bu-bu-bears, bears, bearsbears bu-bears
Bears, bears, bearsbears, bearsbears
Oh bears! Bears, bu-bu-bears, bears bears! Oh bears, bears bu-bu-bears, bears bears!
Bears! Bears! Bears! Bears!
Bears! Bears! Bears! Bears!
Bears! Bears! Bears! Bears!
Bears! Bears! Bears! Bears!
Beaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrr-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrsssssssss-sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Admittedly it was not her greatest work, if she were on a heist, Osa would have likely come up with a better song about bears and capers and honey, but these were desperate times and desperate times call for… saying the word bears over and over again in a funny rhythm.

[Baphởmet]

Quick TR Announcement before we continue on with more bearaoke (see what I did there?)

I made a quick, simple addition to the Thread Rules:

"We are all adults here and can decide for ourselves the stories we want to read so rather than dictate what can and cannot be written in this thread, we will ask that any CW (at the discretion of the writer) be placed at the top of the post."

And now back to your regularly schedule bear antics

[Marceline]

Ursula

“Yams, hmm,” Ursula pondered. “Not sure I know what those are, so I would guess we don’t have them. At least not by that name.” She thought wonderingly of the many creatures which populated the northern tundra she called home. Not a single one had a name like yam. “What is a yam, anyway?” she inquired.

Before she could inquire further into the details of this mysterious yam creature, Beorn replied in the affirmative about the presence of venison. “Oh, good,” Ursula sighed. It would be a treat to gnaw on a hearty meal again. “A raw leg, yes. Thank you,” she said. Her nose twitched minutely as the man-but-also-bear sliced the meat for her. Something - an instinctive, aggressive something - began to tingle in the back of her brain at the scent of all that blood, and it took all her willpower to remain calm. It would not do to upset the counter or spill Osa’s bowl of pungent liquid, not when she had only just arrived. First impressions mattered to polar bears, and Ursula was no exception.

She placed her forepaws politely on the counter, so Beorn could see what she was up to at all times. Sometimes men were so suspicious of bears and their intents that it was better to be up front. As the meat was readied, she glanced at Osa. The golden bear dribbled some dark liquid into her mouth, and Ursula rumbled with quiet laughter. Looking back at Beorn, she asked, “Might I try some of that? Whatever it is that Osa’s got in her bowl.”

All thoughts of food and drink were forgotten the moment that Osa began to croon a highly repetitive yet pleasant little song. “Bears!” Ursula cheered enthusiastically when Osa concluded her song with a long, drawn out cry. “I like this tune. Did you write it yourself? Have you any other songs to sing?”

[Raisins]

The Three Brothers

It had taken them far longer to discover the Bar-Bearian pub than any other pub that they had attempted to get into. Perhaps because there was far less garbage and far fewer patrons of it that were incapable of eating them whatever the reason was once they did discover the pub they had made a break for it as fast as their wee legs with their opposable thumbs could carry them.

Of course upon arriving the discovered the sign that said 'Bears ONLY' BUT being raccoons and not Beorns or bears they were fantastically illiterate and didn't really care what the sign actually said. Besides everyone called them trash pandas, and pandas were bears right? Right. They were fearless, or stupid, or both. Most likely both as they heard a bear singing. Sounded like Osa which might mean trouble but honestly if they got her some mead she'd probably be happy they still had a bunch of gold from the dwarven halls that they'd stolen, well stealing would be a stretch in their mind, they relocated it to a safer place than it was left.

With that the three of them waddled in as if they were suppose to be there and went straight to the bar to put in an order for mead and see if there were any peanuts on the counter.

[Baphởmet]

She’d done it! She’d impressed the great polar bear! Osa could not be more proud of herself. As it turns out, her singing skills were enough to win over the snowy ursine. She beamed and took a bow. The truth was, she had been incredibly, incredibly nervous about the song. It was a weird little song that had no meaning other than to be silly. Osa liked, no Osa loved being silly, almost as much as she liked stealing, but Ursula was the first polar bear she’d ever met and wasn’t sure if polar bears were serious bears. Kermodes were serious bears, they did not like to sing and dance at all which made them Beorn’s favorite; grizzlies depended on the bear, some were silly and some were angry; spectacled bear were silly, but they lived a far distance from Osa so she didn’t get to go on silly quests with them as often as she’d like.

“Oh thank you! Thank you! I…” she wanted to say that she’d just come up with the song, but that would not be true. “I heard the song once from an adventuring duo, a boy named Finn-Adan and his dog friend, Jake. Not bad for a human and a dog, huh? I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean other than, well bears, but it has a catchy tune.”

Seating herself, or more accurately laying across the bar wit her paws placed innocently under her chin, she began to lick at the bowl filled with delicious black(bear)y wine. “Yams,” she said between slurps, “are simply the greatest, sweetest potatoes that the elves decided to grow. I’m not sure where they came from (the yams not the elves) but they are wonderful to munch upon on cold days. The elves like to boil them up and mash them and bake them with marshmallows. They’re less good that way, harder to steal, but they very sweet. If you want,” she leaned over and gave Ursula a conspiratorial wink, “I can tell you were the best yams are grown. The Lady of the Golden Wood has a special area devoted just to them and they are the bestest of the best.”

She finished slurping up her bowl then looked up, aghast. “Beorn!! Oh Beorn! You must, simply must give us more black(bear)y wine! Give Ursula the biggest bowl you can find! She’s a polar bear and she’s thirsty!”

He could tell she was nervous, being the new bear in town, so to speak. He appreciated when she put her paws on the counter, letting him know what her intentions were. This Ursula seemed to be a good egg, though Osa was surely going to do her best to draw the lovely snow-white bear into a life of crime and mischief. “Osa…” he growled, the bear inside him starting to come out. “don’t you go trying your usual tactics. I remember what you did with Arth! You nearly got him caught by a troupe of angry dwarves after you two stole a wagon full of peanuts.” He eyed the golden moon bear but the more he looked at her the more his features softened. She had a face that was hard to stay mad at. “Be careful!” he said as a final admonishment. He finished trimming the fat from the venison and placed it tenderly on the bar’s counter in front of Ursula. “Enjoy and,” he grabbed the bottle of black(bear)y wine before Osa’s wandering paws found it and knocked it over and poured out a bowl for Ursula, refilled Osa’s and decided to pour himself a mugful, “enjoy some special vintage all the way from Rivendell.”

Then he sniffed the air. There was something distinctly unbearlike in the air. He scrunched his nose up, trying to place the exact scent. His muscles tensed, ready to spring at the first sign of trouble. Ugh! It was a raccoon. It was, he sniffed again, three of them. He barely suppressed a growl of annoyance, he could feel the bear in his blood wanting to jump out. Count to ten, you’ll be feel better. He did just that, closing his eyes and gripping the edge of the bar with increasingly bear like hands. “Nope, nay, never, no more.” With speed that belied his great size, Beorn bounded over the bar’s counter and charged in the direction the little weaselly things. They were just emerging when he grabbed one and punted it football style out back into the forest. “BEARS ONLY!” He grabbed the other two troublemakers before they could get around him, barely managing to grab one before it grabbed a handful of peanut shells and tossed them in the direction of the booted raccoon.

Calmly as you like, he returned to his place behind the counter. “If you see one of those little trash pandas, feel free to kick them out.” He looked at all this patrons assembled at the bar with crossed arms. “I’ve dealt with them enough to know they’re nothing but trouble. Worse than Osa.”

[Raisins]

The Three Brothers

All they got was a measley few peanuts. They were not impressed with their haul and honestly all they'd wanted was a drink maybe some more peanuts. It took them several minutes but they finally decided on a method of trying to once again get into the Bear pub.

It would take some creativity, some thievery and probably several tears from several children.

Indeed they returned a few days later having stolen and riped apart several childrens stuffed bears and were wearing them as costumes. Reginald was complaining about how his tail was squished by the strange shape of his teddy bear which happened to be a very dirty brown colour. Bob and Hob hoped that their disguises would work. Maybe Beorn or the others would think that they were lost bear cubs. That was in fact the hope. With that they headed for the door and slipped in and started once more towards the bar. Hob had to bight Reginald who was threatening to start singing some strange song about being on their way.

Reginald was going to give away the whole thing if he didn't keep his mouth shut like these bears wouldn't hear raccoon and know what was up.

[Marceline]

Ursula

“A boy and a dog? Singing with a bear? How strange.” Ursula eyed the fluffy moon bear. Osa must be quite trusting to go cavorting about and singing songs with a human. But then, she thought, perhaps there were some worthy exceptions to her personal rule of avoiding humans at all costs. Case in point: the polar bear looked at Beorn. The man-shaped sometimes-bear (or so she still assumed) had kindly offered her food and drink, and he seemed to be watching out for Ursula and helping her adjust to the strange ways of the south. Maybe if men were only partly-men, they would be okay to deal with. Beorn placed a lovely hunk of venison before her paws on the counter, and she inhaled the smell of bloody meat. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and her eyes flashed with hunger and excitement. It seemed she was hungrier than she had expected.

While she ate, she listened raptly to the description of yams. She had no idea what marshmallows were, and she certainly had no idea who the Lady of the Golden Wood might be. Another man? She was skeptical. Yes, this Osa liked her humans, all right. Beorn was similarly skeptical and offered a warning along with a bowl of “special vintage.” Ursula sniffed deeply at the little bowl and felt her nostrils sting with the strong, almost vinegary scent. There was a sweetness there, too, though. She poked out her tongue and dipped it into the deep purple liquid. It bit her taste buds and burned slightly on the way down. Her eyes widened.

“Oh!” she yelped. “If that’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever tasted.” She dipped her tongue into the black(bear)y wine once more and, knowing what to expect this time, enjoyed it a bit more than the first taste. Slowly, she lapped up a few small mouthfuls. Ursula was a large bear and so she felt very little of the alcohol’s effects, but she did notice how her belly seemed warm and content once the stuff settled there. It was a perfect complement to the raw meat.

“This is delicious. Thank you,” she said to Beorn. She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her, though - he had stalked off to kick out a trio of raccoons.

Ursula had a few queries in mind for Osa, though. “Yams sound most marvelous. But what are elves? Who is the Lady of the Golden Wood? And why do you steal from her?”

[Baphởmet]

The diminutive golden moon bear (only in terms of physical size mind you) watched the polar bear drink up the black(bear)y wine with rapt fascination. Osa was very eager to see the happy reaction she absolutely knew was going to appear. And then it did! Osa congratulated herself on a job well done. Every bear should drink black(bear)y wine. It was literally there in the name! She lapped at her own bowl with rapacious eagerness. Being a much smaller bear (she assumed Ursula was the biggest bear to ever bear aside from Beorn himself), Osa began to feel the woozying effect of the alcohol. She grinned foolishly and hopped up on the counter with all four paws. She was feeling quite giddy. She was making a new friend! Images flashed in her mind of all the capers and heists she and her new BBF (best bear friend) would go on. Naturally she had a little more work to do to get Ursula to accept a life of crime and sweets, but she felt quite confident. “It was quite strange indeed,” she said about the boy and the singing dog, “but they were the nicest pair of doofs I’ve ever happen to meet. The boy even had a sword made of grass. Can you believe that?” she pointed at the grass on the ground for clarification (she didn’t know if there was grass on the ground in the utter north). “If you liked the black(bear)y wine, I happen to know a place we get some.” She laid the bait and gave Ursula the most innocent, sincere, would-you-like-to-be-my-best-friend smile she’d ever given anyone in her entire life.

“Elves, why elves are a lot like Beorn, except they aren’t as furry or angry. They look like humans, but they smell much better. Though I’ve never tried to eat one so I don’t know if they taste different, Beorn would probably get mad at me if I tried. The Lady of the Golden Wood is their boss. She’s a lady, a girl bear, but not a bear, an elf. She’s nice, but she doesn’t always like sharing her food with us bears so…” Osa paused and put a paw to her brow, “so sometimes I have to resort to capering. Elves used to share with us all the time, I’m told. I’m just trying to restart that tradition. It’s very important for bears and elves to get along, and by ‘get along’ I do mean that they give us lots of delicious food. Oh, Ursula! Just wait until you come to the forest with me. There are so many deer and goats and rabbits there! Just don’t eat my friend Seriling, he’s a beauteous pine marten and my bestest best friend. You’ll love him and his shiny coat! Right Beorn?”

Sadly, Beorn didn’t hear any of that conversation. If he had, he would have warned Ursula of how sweet and conniving Osa could be. He’d been drawn in by that sweetly innocent face too. Thankfully he had the better sense not to go on a caper with her. The polar bear was on her own.

No, the skinchanger’s attention was focused solely on the raccoons. Yes. Raccoons. Why did it have to be raccoons? Of all the creatures in the Green Girdled Lady’s care, why did it have to be raccoons? They were twice as devilish as Osa and only half as cute. The crafty little demons were besieging his pub. His pub! His pub that he made specifically for bears!

Raccoons couldn’t read though. And what they couldn’t read couldn’t affect them. He assumed that was the logic at least. Honestly there was no telling with raccoons, the beady miscreants!

He smelled them coming again (had it been a few days or a few minutes, in a pub it was hard to tell). They didn’t stagger their approach. That had worked on him once in regard to some dwarves, but he was wary of that tactic now. Thankfully these raccoons hadn’t tried that yet.

What they did try was, at the very least, imaginative. Dressing up like bears using stuff ones (he was going to hear about that from some disgruntled children later) was clever. But they forgot one thing: bears can smell.

“And just what do you think you three are doing?” he loomed over them, big meaty hands on big meaty hips.

[Marceline]

Ursula

Ursula lapped happily at her black(bear)y wine. She was beginning to really like this stuff! She drank now with such happy abandon that the snow-white hair on her muzzle had been stained a deep purpley blue. Her belly was warm and full of meat and alcohol, and she finally began to feel she could relax. It was no small thing for her to join this little gathering of bears, but between Beorn’s hospitality and Osa’s friendly chatter, she was feeling almost at home.

“They sound very silly,” Ursula rumbled with mild disapproval. She had not had much experience with silliness yet, but her disapproval was tempered by the fact that Osa had proved both silly (she was on the counter, after all) and friendly. “A sword made of grass, hmmm? Humans usually don’t bond so well with nature.” She gnawed at the remaining venison on the counter, completely ignoring the bloody mess on its surface. “This boy may just be worthy. And I do like this wine. Very much.” Ursula’s sentences were short, coming at intervals between continued drinks from her bowl. The thing was nearly empty now, and she found she wanted more. “Say, Beorn!” she called, “Might I have some more wine?”

It seemed predestined that she would try - and love - this drink and that Osa would know exactly where to get some more. Or perhaps it was merely a coincidence orchestrated by a thieving, fluffy mastermind. The latter thought did not cross Ursula’s mind, though, content as she was with the Bar-Bearian’s provisions.

“Elves sound interesting. A better smell than humans is a good sign.” The humans of the far north thought their odors were concealed by the frosty layers of skins they wore and blown away on frigid blasts of icy air, but the bears got wind of all their smells. They all had a strange, ripe scent. Ursula, like generations of bears before her, had learned to avoid that odor on instinct.

At the mention of ancient sharing between elves and bears, Ursula blinked. “Elves shared with us? Hmmm. That is not down in any of our lore, but we polar bears do live very far away from here.” All that remained of her venison now was bones, and she gnawed happily on one while Osa explained the various attractive features of her home. “I would love to see your forest and meet your friend. I promise not to eat him.” She found she was teeming with questions about Osa’s home and her plans. Did this mean she was excited to have a friend? Or was she merely hungry and thirsty? “How far away is your home? Does the Lady of the Golden Wood live there, too? Will we have to present ourselves at her door to ask for food?”

[Raisins]

The Three Brothers

They had made it to the bar counter and Hob and been about to order some venison for them all in rehearsed bear speak, when Beorn was there asking what they thought that they were doing here. The three of them looked up at the imposing man with his hands on his hips. Reginald may have just realized that he could be stepped on by this man and crushed and let out a pitiful whimper that sounded like a tiny cub crying. Hob and Bob moved close to him to try to comfort him from the big scary bear-man it was fairly difficult as their hands were stuck inside the nubbed legs of the stuffed bears that they had decided to use gently prodding him with the rounded nubs before Hob looked up once more and swallowed hard and said-

"Venison please?" In heavily raccoon accented bear speak perhaps asking politely might get them some tasty food, he crossed his fingers as he continued to try to comfort Reginald - of all the times Reginald would start crying like a baby this would be it.

Hob did of course realize that the extra stuffing around them would very likely have a softer landing this time when Beorn tossed them out once more.

[Baphởmet]

An empty bowl of black(bear)y wine was a sad bowl. In fact, there might be nothing sadder in all the world than a bowl that had once been filled with happiness and sweet alcohol. Both Osa’s and Ursula’s bowls were beginning to look quite meager and sad. The little moon bear had to think quickly. Normally, she would have asked Beorn to give them a refill. Okay, that was a lie, she would have tried to sneak it and, if she were caught, feign innocence with her big brown bear eyes. It worked all the time. Okay, that was a lie too. It only worked when he was distracted, and she had a clear path to the black(bear)y wine. She glanced over at the skinchanger, he looked very busy at the moment. Still listening to her new friend, Osa slipped over onto the other side of the bar, the part of the bar she had been strictly forbidden form entering. But Beorn wasn’t here to tell her she was being an ill-behaved ursine. Nabbing two bottles, Osa shuffled rather comically back over on top of the bar. Climbing was a specialty of hers but climbing with two large bottles of wine was not. She tried to climb first with just her feet. That didn’t work. Then she tired to climb with the bottles in her mouth. That didn’t work. Finally, she left the bottles on the ground, climbed up by herself, then stretched down as far as she could to grab the bottles one by one. It took an embarrassingly long time for her to get the bottles, but what was important was that she did it! Naturally, this meant it was time to celebrate with a great big bowl of wine. Oh, and look there was a bottle that just happened to be right here! She uncorked the bottle with ease (she’d been practicing this maneuver for a very long time) and tipped the bottle over so that it filled her bowl. Nearly half to bottle was emptied by the time the bowl was full. She then proceeded to refill Ursula’s bowl. There we go! Much better. She looked at the polar bear’s snout and had to hide a tiny “eep” of fright. The combination of meat and wine had rendered some of the polar bear’s fur a dark red.

“Well, you see,” she said, trying to recover and pretend like she hadn’t just gaped in fear, “share might not be the right word. We shared with them. You see, we bears came first, before the elves and all their fancy houses and horses and bottles of wine. It was us that taught them how to hunt and forage. They’d have just kept on singing and singing until they all starved to death without us bears. Sadly, most of them don’t remember that. They don’t really share with us as tolerated us. Some elves like us better. There are groups of elves that live in a small forest to the south. They have a princess who loves meat. I bet you’d like her! They share more than the Lady of the Golden Wood. She lives in a fancy schmancy tree house and doesn’t let many bears in. I’m not even sure she lets Beorn in. She’s pretty but she can be quite rude. That’s why I like to steal her yams. Isn’t that right Beorn?”

Sadly, Beorn was still not listening to Osa. He missed the entire comical exchange and the attempted thievery of his wine. Well it wasn’t his wine technically (he was going to have to send a note to Alagon about this, he didn’t like writing notes to people). No, he was still having to deal with these little miscreant children. He stared at them for a moment, unsure of how to deal with them. On the one hand, he wanted to reward their ingenuity but that would also condone their thieving teddy bears from little children and ripping them apart to make an ill-fitting costume. Also, he was a bear and they were raccoons. They weren’t enemies strictly, but he himself had been a victim of dirty trash panda paws on his mead. Had it been this trio? Unlikely, unless they were globetrotting hooligans. He squinted and looked at their paws, however they were covered by the “costume”.

“Venison?” he said in a deep, deep sonorous bear voice with just a hint of intimidating growl. That gave him an idea.

Gingerly, he scooped all three raccoons into his massive, burly arms. “Let’s go see about some venison, shall we?”

He had no intention of giving them venison.

Instead, he carried them around to the other side of the central tree in the pub to the “kitchen” portion of pub that was off limits to everyone, including Osa the Sneaky. There, he had hooks mounted in the tree to help with the drying and preparing of the venison.

One by one, he hung the raccoons on the hooks, making sure not to hurt them. He punctured the bear costumes just at the scruff of the neck.

“Be good and I might give you each a thimble of mead. If I catch you again. I’m going to feed you to the polar bear. Do you understand me?”

[Raisins]

The Three Brothers

Being hung up on meat hooks was NOT what the brothers had been expecting not from Beorn who was suppose to be fabled for being kind to animals. Reginald was absolutely bawling like a wee baby clearly highly upset even if he wasn't clearly hurt he was scared - after all he wasn't use to humans handling him he could deal with bears birds were even better he loved fighting birds they tasted like chicken. But being hung rather uncomfortably by the scruff of ones costume while trying to get food? That was too much for him. IF there was anything that made Hob and Bob mad it was people or creatures upsetting Reginald. That was their job, he was their idiot little brother it was their job other people doing it? No that was war.

Bob and Hob struggled until there was a rip of their suits and soft thuds as they landed in the back cellar. Bob wanted to go and fight Beorn and tear him limb from limb which while Hob as completely in agreement that that is what the nasty skin shifter deserved they needed to get Reginald down and there were far more... satisfactory means of revenge. First though they needed to get Reginald down.

They found a rather large chair and between the two of them managed to slide it across to where Reginald was. It was of course still far to short for them to reach him and so they clambered onto the back of it. Still too short.

Bob lept as far as he could his forepaws stretched out catching the feet of Reginalds costume and the extra weight sent the costume tearing and the two raccoons tumbling. Hob came and checked them leaving Bob to make sure Reginald calmed down as he got him out of the stuffed teddy bear costume that was now ripped beyond repair and maybe steal some food while Hob went to get their revenge. Putting raccoons in the kitchen area was perhaps not the best plan especially when one bullied them bad enough to make the baby raccoon cry. Hob raced towards a barrel. He had every plan of cracking it open and spilling it all over the floor in revenge. It was the biggest barrel there and he wanted it all over the floor. Yes revenge was a dish best served raccoon belly high in booze.

[Marceline]

Ursula

Ursula watched, both bemused and amused, while Osa clambered up and over the counter to fetch them more wine. Osa was fluffy and soft and round, and it made Ursula laugh to see her sloooowly clamber up the counter, then slide off, then return. The important thing was that, in the end, she managed to retrieve the bottles of wine she’d pilfered.

“Why thank you!” Ursula exclaimed once her bowl had been refilled. She lapped at the deep dark liquid happily, staining her snout even more. Osa told of how the elves and bears had a long history. She had no idea that bears had instructed the elves! But it must be true, she thought. Bears were gifted hunters. They were gifted gatherers, too, if Osa and her thieving ways were any indication. Ursula had been a well-behaved cub and had continued to follow the rules until she ventured south. Now seemed as good a time as any to take a few risks. Surely, even if they were caught in the act of stealing, the elves would remember their great debt to the bears and let them off the hook? Ursula drained her bowl as she thought these thoughts.

“How far away is the Golden Wood? Do you think I could fit inside the Lady’s fancy house? I’ve never seen a fancy house before,” she said thoughtfully.

Just then, there came a series of loud crashing and wailing noises from where Beorn had disappeared behind a massive tree with the three troublemaking raccoons. “Do you think we should go help him out back there?” she asked Osa in a whisper.

[Baphởmet]

He felt rather than heard the crash. In retrospect, it was a bad idea to put raccoons in the kitchen area. He thought it would take them longer to get down off the meat hooks. Beorn was used to the craftiness of bears, not necessarily the craftiness of raccoons. Trash pandas were on a whole other level when it came to miscreant creatures. He sighed. He sighed so deep and so long that some of the bones in his spine popped. At the end of the sigh was a growl. He could feel the giant bear within him wanting to come out and make mincemeat of the raccoons. He could make a raccoon mincemeat pie. Actually that sounded disgusting, no there would be no raccoon pies. He swung his heavy gaze toward the kitchen. There had better not be any kinds of raccoon pies in the kitchen. Beorn flexed his massive hairy fists and strode back toward the kitchen. He was quite certain that Osa and Ursula had begun to make a mess. It was not Ursula that he mistrusted, naturally, she seemed like a good, well-behaved polar bear. It was Osa. He knew that little bear well enough to know that she could get anyone, anyone, to help her with the mischief she concocted. He only hoped there weren’t too many broken bottles, shredded baskets, and shattered bowls by the time he got back.

He was going to have to think of something clever to stop these raccoons. They were insistent on eating his stores, as insistent as he was to keep them out of said stores. Punting them like a ball hadn’t worked, hanging them from meat hooks hadn’t worked. It was clear to Beorn now that he was not going to defeat them by force of arms. He was going to have to outsmart them. He stopped and jammed his meaty fist into a pocket at his waist and fished around until he found them. Two peanuts. He smiled. That smile soon faded when he realized what barrel they’d knocked over. Thank Callisto in the sky it was not his special booze. It was the left-over booze, the dregs at the bottom of the barrels he used to store and pickle herring. The raccoons might be having fun now, but they weren’t going to in a while.

“Alright you little reprobates. You want some peanuts? Fine. I’ll give you two of my best. But you can’t share them. They’re magic peanuts you see. If you eat one of them, you will always know where to find the best peanut within a hundred miles of you and it will make you grew four inches. That’s how I got to be so tall. But the catch is, you have to eat the whole peanut, shell and all. You can’t share it to spread the effects. One peanut per one raccoon. So… who gets left out?”

Was Beorn being serious? Well, Beorn never joked.

Osa could tell her influence was working. Beorn (and others beside) always told her she was a bad influence, and she should stay away from the nice bears because she could make them do all sorts of bad things. They were right! She grinned into her bowl of black(bear)y wine. Ursula seemed as if she might be up for a caper or two. This would have to be a caper to end all capers though. A polar bear caper! It was not every day that a polar bear agreed to go on a mission. It was, in fact, not what Ursula had actually said here either, but that was just semantics. Right?

“Oh, I think you’d fit in her house,” she looked at the polar bear and began to make measurements in her head. They amounted to nothing because Osa, at the moment, couldn’t exactly remember how big the Lady of the Golden Wood’s house was. It was big. She knew that at least. Surely Ursula would fit inside. She slurped and nodded. “Most definitely. I bet you’d be able to frolic in her house if you wanted. Her house is quite large and spacious. It even has pillars to climb on! Oh I bet you would have the best time there. I have an inside source,” (she did not in fact), “that tells me the Lady of the Golden Wood has a whole closet full of pickled fish and golden pears. I bet that would be a caper to end all capers!”

The crash brought her attention back to the present (it had begun to wander, with images of herself lying on a giant pile of fish and pears). What in the heck was that? Where was Beorn? Wasn’t he…? Osa was not in caper sneaking mode and she had not even realized that Beorn was away (or the black(bear)y wine was doing a better job of making her sleepy)! What in the world was going on? Ursula looked concerned. In fact, she looked hecking concerned. The golden moon bear took another slurp of the delicious, sweet beverage. “HmmmmmMmmMmmmm,” she hummed looking from the bar to where the kitchen was around the corner, “I bet he’ll be fine. He probably lost one of his magic peanuts or something and is tearing the place apart looking for it.” Osa knew that was probably not true, but she was having far too good a time drinking and making a new friend.