In early winter, bright, warm sunlight shone over a dazzling sea of flowers.
Red, pink, gold, white, and petals of every other hue spread their vivid beauty against a backdrop of green leaves.
Countless nimble bees with black and yellow stripes buzzed busily among the blossoms, then carried the nectar they had gathered back to their hives.
This was Beorn's Garden. Even with the bitter cold approaching, great swathes of flowers still bloomed in glorious splendor.
Such a place was rare anywhere in Rhovanion. Perhaps only in Lothlórien, under the Lady's protection, could one see a sight like this.
Amid this beautiful scenery, Allen sat beside a wooden house with his good friend Beorn.
The two chatted over pastries and drinks on the table. Most of the time, Allen spoke and Beorn listened, though the burly man occasionally asked a question or two.
"So, after that ambush, your girl and my boy behaved themselves a lot better?"
Allen had just been recounting how Grim and Klethi had wandered around the surrounding countryside and come under attack near Dol Guldur.
It had been an extraordinarily perilous ordeal.
"Hahaha, yes, much better. Ever since that battle, those two youngsters haven't tried anything behind our backs. Whether in Minas Tirith or Pelargir, they stayed obediently in their rooms. I don't think they even visited the taverns much."
Allen laughed heartily at the memory. Though Klethi had grown into a young woman in her twenties, he still saw her as a child.
Counting up the years, Allen, who still looked very young, was already over fifty. Yet his vigorous body and everything he had experienced along the way had left him feeling much younger than his actual age.
After all, although he had faced disasters and dangers since coming to Middle-earth, he had never