𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ━ lord of the rings

Three: So it Begins

The dwarrow had already helped themselves to the ponies by the time he'd arrived to help them, and were busily rushing around saddling the beasts when he rounded the corner to the paddocks. The thirteen piebald, stocky animals were pawing at the ground with feathered hooves as the short men scurried about them like fire ants. It was a funny sight to see indeed, watching as the dwarves struggled to reign the ponies to a stand still so they could tighten girths and shorten stirrups. The animals were having none of it, doubly confused at the fact that they were being handled by small creatures whom they did not know, and refused to stay in one spot for more than a couple seconds at a time.

 The only one, in fact, who seemed to have had any luck was Gandalf. The wizard was already on the back of his mount - a much larger, heavy-chested stallion - and was watching his companions chase after their steeds with mirth twinkling in his wisened eyes. Nymmril smirked at the scene before him.

"I see you've helped yourselves to our stock," he said humorously. Several of the dwarves stopped in place, freezing and fingering the hilts of their axes and swords and knives that lay at their waist, others continued on slowly, weary of the young shifter but too focused on their nigh-impossible task to give him their full attention. He ignored their distrust - he could work on that later. At his voice, his old friend beamed.

"Nymmril! I take it Beorn has let you accompany us, then?" Gandalf asked happily.

"Indeed! For a moment I thought he would not let me leave, but it seems even the Great Bear is not immune to my charm."

The wizard laughed, nudging his horse over towards the young man.

"I doubt there is anyone in Middle Earth who is, my friend," the grey-clad Gandalf answered, clapping Nymmril on the shoulder. The shifter smiled dismissively and walked forwards, towards the young Ori, laying a hand on the nose of the dwarf's spooking mount and speaking quietly into its velvety ear. The beast let out a soft whinny at its familiar-friend's words and stood stock-still, allowing Ori to finally heave the heavy leather saddle onto its back.

"Thank you," the dwarf sighed, looking up at the shifter. "I didn't think I was ever going to be able to get it on."

"It's no problem," Nymmril said with a soft smile, giving the pony a soft stroke before he moved on towards the next nearest member of the company who appeared to be struggling. He was making towards the halfling, who could barely reach up far enough to bridle his poor pony, but was beaten by the brooding, fierce-looking dwarf who had looked so unhappy at the mention of taking the Elven path. The dwarf gave the young man a sharp glare as he came to the aid of the halfling instead, as if warning Nymmril to stay away, and the shifter grinned widely with raised brows at the display and he instead turned towards two dwarrow who looked surprisingly similiar, if not for their hair colour. The pair were stood close together, and were helping each other out in kitting up their ponies: It must have been working, for one of the animals was already prepared to be ridden. Still, he slunk over towards them, for they looked friendly enough (as friendly as a dwarf can look, that is) as they jested with each other and Nymmril wished to be introduced to other members of the company. He recognised one of them, the one with a blonde beard, for he had spoken out earlier about his and Beorn's relations.

"Hello," he said, "We have not yet met properly, have we? I am Nymmril."

The two dwarves snapped their heads round to the speaker at the exact same time, popping up from beneath and behind the ponies with braids flying in hysteria. Twin smiles adorned their beaming faces as they spoke;

"Fili-"

"And Kili-"

"At your service!" They said at last in such unison that had he not known better, Nymmril might've suspected them of rehearsing it. The dark haired Kili bent down low in a bow, smirking even as his brother elbowed him out the way to do the same.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. Do you require any assistance with your ponies?" They didn't appear to be struggling, but Nymmril wanted to offer his help anyway - it was the polite thing to do. Kili scoffed, but his brother glared at him and smiled up at the young shifter.

"We don't need any help here, we've had plenty of practice with chaps such as these. Though perhaps you could teach me to ride something else," Fili said suggestively, wiggling his brows. Nymmril had no clue what he was speaking of, face remaining blank and impassive as he stared down at them. Kili let out a short, barking laugh and slapped his brother across the head, dragging him back towards the ponies, throwing a short, insincere apology over his shoulder as they left. The young man watched the dark-haired dwarf throw a worn leather saddle at his brother, jesting (or perhaps scolding) him about something that had gone beyond Nymmril's own understanding. Quite the characters, it seemed, were those two dwarves.

After he had made the rounds, trying not to feel personally hurt by the reluctance of the dwarrow to accept his help, Nymmril had come to know the names of all the company - even if he had to coax them from Gandalf and not from the horse's mouths themselves, so to speak. Thorin, apparently, was the leader of the company - the handsome, moody dwarf - who just so happened to be the rightful King under the Mountain. Joining on the quest to reclaim their homeland were his heirs, Fili and Kili, as well as his trusted companions: Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Nori, Dori, Dwalin, Balin Oin and Gloin. It was going to take some getting used to, for Nymmril to remember all those names - he was hardly the best at remembering things. As for the halfling (or Hobbit, as Gandalf had soon corrected him), his name was Bilbo Baggins and he was ever the little gentleman. This the young man had learned just as they were setting off from the cosy shack that Nymmril called home.

"Pardon my asking, Mast- Nymmril," the Hobbit began, having learned his lesson from the shifter's telling Ori his preferred way of being addressed, "But where is your horse? Are you not riding with us?"

"No, Little One, I am not."

"What? But surely you can't expect to keep up with us on foot?"

The shifter threw his head back, laughing as he grabbed hold of the halfling's pony, leading it by the bit out of the gate. The sound was bubbly and cheerful and almost immediately the hobbit began to smile too.

"Indeed I do expect to do so! You are forgetting that I am a skin-changer, Bilbo. I am perfectly capable of keeping up with you all."

At Nymmril's words Bilbo flushed, muttering numerous "oh of course"'s and "do forgive me for forgetting"'s, causing the shifter only to laugh once more, releasing his hold on the hobbit's steed and slapping it on the rear to send it towards the head of the company. After that he was flanked by Bofur and Bifur, the hatted dwarf constantly throwing warm smiles towards the shifter even as the other spoke only in a language he couldn't understand a single word of. Khazgul was not his speciality.