Beastly || Legolas

one

"Namir!" Beorn's voice was echoing after him as he ran. Paws hitting the soft grass and breath filling his lungs as he sped off into the night. "Namir! Be careful!" If Namir had human vocal cords in that moment, he would have called his adopted father a hypocrite. Beorn did not have much control over his bear side, so he had no right about telling him to be careful. The panther knew exactly what he was doing. He still had his mind.

The moon was full as he slowed to a gentle walk. The cottage of his home left beyond the hills with the bear. Beorn would change soon and while the bear did not mind the panther, the bear was still violent and hard to predict. So they normally spent the nights when both in beast form alone. Namir left to wander wherever he wanted across their lands. Nothing out here would attack a skin-changer, other than orcs but they knew better than to march so close to the great Greenwood of the elves. The moonlight shone unhindered over the rolling green hills, glinting silver over his black coat. The stars were bright that night and he was bored. Beorn would be lurking in the stone covered mountains to the west so he had headed towards the east and the distant shape of the Greenwood.

He always loved how fast he could travel when in this form. Human legs never worked the same, but he supposed that it was a trade off for opposable thumbs and the ability to speak. Though Beorn always grumbled about how much time he spent in cat form. Gandalf, whenever the wizard visited, just found it amusing. The old wizard always gave good ear scratches whenever he visited. Bern's bear never got scratches because he'd attack anyone within scenting distance. Just another reason why Namir spent so much time in his cat form, he could control himself.

He let his mind drift as he walked into the forest. The once great Greenwood had become murky. Spring trees now shades of orange and brown with eternal autumn and the miasma had turned thick and disorienting. Namir was not technically supposed to be in the elven forest but Beorn had never done more than grumble to him about it and it was not like the elves had ever seen him. He was a cat, he liked climbing trees. It was fun. Also, the miasma never affected him. Being able to track scents had never let him get lost.

The woods were a black shadow in the night. He paused at the entrance to the elven road, a road mostly abandoned now, to rub his cheek across the statue. The rough stone scratching nicely as he scented it. His throat rumbled deeply as he rubbed his face over the statue's feet. The stone she-elf staring out from the shadow of the trees and across the open planes. She always seemed sad to him, but that could have been the rumour that she was built in likeness of King Thranduil's dead wife. Namir didn't know but he had always used the statue as his key point. A way of finding his way out of the forest again.

Once the instincts in him were satisfied, he flicked his tail and sauntered off into the woods. It did not take him long to climb up into the twisting tree branches. His claws cutting smoothly into the wood as he pulled himself up into the canopy. Up there the moon broke through in small beams that left silver dots on the wood. He couldn't resist patting them with his paws just incase they moved. Spotting one from the corner of his eye, or a falling leaf and leaping across the branches to claw at it as if it was some prey on the run. (Beorn had used metal to shine light across the room for him to chase when a child, since then the instinct had never really faded).

Half the night was spent amusing himself like this and dawn was approaching, the silver of the moon fading into the yellow of the sun, by the time he finally rolled out of the comfortable perch he had found across one branch. He yawned, wondering if Beorn would be human again by the time he arrived home or if he would have to shift to make breakfast, and began following his own scent back through the trees.

A foul scent of decay filled his nose and he whined softly. Spiders. The creatures had been slowly encroaching from the south over the years but it was the first time he had scented them so close to the elven path. His ears twitched and he paused, eyes searching as he waited. In the distance was the sound of many legs on wood and the scrape of steel. Namir prowled across the branches towards the fight, listening as the sounds grew louder as his curiosity drove him on. His paws silent on the wood and sharp eyes picking out any potential shapes in the dawn gloom. From the sounds of combat, it seemed to be a small squad of elves fighting off the spiders. He could now hear the vibration of bow strings. The dying screeching of the spiders made his tail flick uneasily.

Then he saw a flash of something bright. A elf had been forced to break away from the rest of his squad. A spider attacking from his blind spot and forcing him to jump back while the rest of the elf soldiers disappeared into the trees after their own opponents. Namir watched as the elf shot at the spider advancing on him. It hit the creature in it's eye but it hadn't stopped the spider from leaping at him. The weight of the creature hit the elf and knocked them both out of the tree. Blonde hair falling like a star as they hit the ground. The elf winded and struggling desperately as the dying spider snapped at him with it's mandibles.

Namir watched them wriggle for a second. The giant spider seeking to tear the elf apart while the elf held back the clicking mandibles with his bow. All his strength focused on keeping the spider from snapping his head off. Namir flicked his tail, suddenly perked up. The rest of the spiders had moved on, chased back by the rest of the soldiers. He could play with this one.

The elf gasped as the spider was suddenly knocked off of him. Something large and black colliding with the creature and sending it rolling across the forest floor. There was a deep growl that made his heart thump and the spider let out a dying hiss as the black beast tore it apart with it's claws. Namir sat back in satisfaction at the mess he had made. The legs of the creature were all broken or torn off and claw marks pierced it's abdomen.

"Radag!" The word was a hissed gasp and he turned. The elf was back on his feet and there was a new arrow in his bow, the point aimed right at him. Namir sighed and sat down to stare at the elf he had inadvertently saved. He seemed like a young elf, not that the panther had met many before. Long white blonde hair trailed down his back and his green uniform was slightly dirty from the tumble. Bright blue eyes were staring at him with fear but the bow was steady. The elf was probably older than him but he seemed almost new compared to the rest of the soldiers he had heard. Less used to real combat.

Namir twitched his ears but remained still. If he wasn't hostile then maybe the elf wold not shoot him. How could he be less hostile? He laid his head on his paws and blinked up at the elf with big brown eyes as a rumbling started in his chest. The elf jolted at the sound, bow lowering for half a second then raising again. He seemed confused, blue eyes less fearful now and more curious. Namir continued to purr like he distantly remembered his mother doing for him.

The elf lowered his boy hesitantly when it became clear that the Panther was not going to attack, but kept the arrow notched. "Im ceri- ú- know cin", the words were soft and Namir purred. He liked that voice, it was nicer than other human voices he had heard. He stood up with a yawn, the light around them was growing brighter and he was hungry. The bow came back up as the purring stopped and Namir stretched. He taunted slowly closer towards the elf. The man freezing as Namir rubbed his cheek against his thigh. The warmth of the elf pleasant and the smell reminding him of the freshness of spring. He rubbed his head agains the fabric of the elf's trousers with a happy purr as he scented the material.

He heard the elf let out a long breath. "Miog", the word was a breathy chuckle of relief. Namir wondered what it meant but he did not know the language of the elves. Maybe he should get Gandalf to teach him next time the old wizard visited. He nudged his head into the Elf's leg one more time before walking away into the trees. He did not look back but he could feel the elf's eyes on him as he went.

When he got back to the cottage, the elf was smoothly forgotten in favour of breakfast. Beorn took one look at him as he shifted back to human, the leaves in his hair and the dried spider blood on his hands, and grumbled about cats under his breath before making him go and was it off in the nearby stream. Namir had sulked the whole way but cheered up at the sight of the honey covering his bowl of porridge. The whole night a memory.

unedited

Namir is a classic cat, no matter how much he tries to deny it.
Im ceri- ú- know cin = Do I know you.