She dreams of Golden Hope

The stars have all been blown out

"This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn when the swift mind beholds at every turn."- Sonnet 29, Edna St. Vincent Millay

She was walking on Beorn's grounds and exploring his vast lavish gardens. After a few days of rest, comfort and hearty food, her strength had been restored and she could now take longer walks by herself without needing the assistance of Bilbo or of anyone else and while she did miss her and Bilbo's fond conversations, or Fili and Kili's jovial talk and their fascinating and thorough description of dwarven lifestyle and customs, or perhaps Bifur's reticent yet steady company as he fatherly guided her through the clearing and along the meadow before the wooden hut of the skin-changer Beorn. She even at times missed Arien's motherly warmth and comfort during her walks as the woman would walk beside her and converse with her, yet at the same time take great concern over her health. Yet she felt immensely grateful that she was no longer dependant on anyone to take a walk or do something, she was immensely grateful for the solitude she now encountered herself in.

Perhaps that should have startled her. Because never before in her three decades on Middle Earth had she ever taken such comfort from being alone. Quite contrary, solitude had always frightened her after she had experienced it slightly during her early youth when her mother had fallen ill with grief. Ever since that experience, she had been almost greedy with companionship and the need to have someone by her side and fortunately she had found Bilbo.

She sighed sadly as she thought about her cousin. He had welcomed her in the same loving manner she had always known of him, he'd had the same brotherly concern she had grown so fond of during their friendship and he'd treated her with the same care and fondness he'd always held towards her. The same tenderness he'd held when she'd first set foot in Bag End and he'd grasped her hand and proudly shown her his map and without knowing Laurel had already loved her cousin from that moment on. From the moment he'd puffed his chest and proudly presented her with his newly-drawn map of the Shire, which had been a remarkably accurate coal-piece, she'd loved Bilbo.

Perhaps if she was not so perceptive. Perhaps if she did not know Bilbo so thoroughly she would have not recognized it. Perhaps she would not have perceived the almost ephemeral distance between them, Bilbo's distance from her and his slight heed toward her that had pained her even more than the blow she had received from Azog on the day of her escape. But she did, she realized it and while she wished that she could remain blissfully ignorant of the increasing superficiality of Bilbo's affections toward her, of the growing gap between them.

Something had happened in the Misty Mountains. Something had happened in Gollum's cave. Something Bilbo had not told her about. Something that he'd concealed to her. Something that had invoked a secrecy within him that had caused him for the first time in twenty year to not tell her something. And she rued whatever had caused this change within her friend. Though she could not judge him, she could not resent Bilbo for his change. Not when she was painfully aware of her own shift. Not when she knew that her time in Azog's dungeons had marked her and had tampered with her. Not when she realized that it was not only her cousin who had become withdrawn and apprehensive. And she resented herself for that, for the change she had gone through.

She now preferred solitude to companionship for she felt unburdened walking through Beorn's grounds lonesomely, while in the company of others, however amiable they had been, she had always felt on-guard and tense. She did at times dream and remember her time in the Orcs' dungeons and while these dreams did cause her fear, it was more resigned, less panicked and frantic because she knew that she had gotten out but that she would never forget all that occurred to her in Azog's fortress.