𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ━ lord of the rings

Four: Ambush on the Plains

The company, with the added companion of Nymmril, made great haste towards Mirkwood, traversing across the wide fields and hills of the Ford and achieving many leagues distance before the sun had even begun to go down. Six days he had been with the company, often travelling beside Fili (who it turns out is a prince!) and Ori, the two dwarves who seemed to accept him most of all. Nymmril had managed, in fact, to keep up with the company at a light jog in his human form, running tirelessly beside the ponies as they cantered along the grassy banks, and he had not yet shown off the attribute that had made all the dwarrow weary of him when first they met. 

As a rule, Beorn had never allowed him to shift often, and very rarely was he allowed to do so in daylight. Nymmril was not as unpredictable as the Great Bear, but he was still dangerous and untamed in his animal form and he was loath to endanger the lives of the dwarrow just so they could see what his radag was. Because of this, It was nearly a week before the company first saw him in his shifted form, though they did not realise at first who it was they were staring at.

The howls of beats drew nearer and nearer the further away from the protection of Beorn they got and the stench of foulness grew and grew until it clogged Nymmril's nostrils as they drew closer to Mirkwood. Long had it been since he had journeyed this far out on the Fells... He did not remember it being so sick. The grass was brown and dried, not the lush green he had come to recall, and there was little wildlife around - in fact, throughout their whole hike he had not smelt, seen nor even heard even a tiny rabbit darting to and thro amongst the scraggly bushes.

 Briefly, Nymmril recalled his keeper's warning about the world not being the same as the one he had loved way back when, but he refused to believe this was all it had to offer him. However, even as they settled down in the dry for the night, he could feel the roughness of the grass blades and the crumbling soils. It seemed the closer they drew towards the cluster of trees that lay vast and wide some miles away before them, the worse the nature became. There was something evil lurking somewhere, playing a cruel game.

Thorin drew his horse to a stop on the gentle slope of a hill, overlooking the expanse of land before them that cut off quickly at the border of trees far below.

"We will rest here for tonight," he said gruffly, dismounting and ordering his fellows to do the same. Nori and Oin were sent off to collect firewood, and Bombur to prepare their meal for that night. It was uneventful for the largest part: Gandalf used some magic trick to spark a flame that seemed to never die and Fili was anointed first watch as the others settled down into an unsettled slumber. Nymmril, however, did not sleep. Even as Fili stared out into the growing darkness, he did the same - four eyes were better than two, after all, especially when one pair of them could see through the blackness. There were creatures moving out there, and the noises they made filled him with dread.

"You should be resting," Fili said suddenly. The dwarf did not take his eyes off the wilderness, instead seeming to sense that Nymmril was uneasy.

"I cannot rest when we are out in the open as we are."

"You needn't be afraid," the dwarf said kindly, finally turning towards the young man with warm eyes. Nymmril met his gaze, emerald eyes burning in the fire-light.

"It is not for myself that I am afraid, Fili," he said, "There is something tracking us out there. I can see them over on the distant hills."

"You can see in the dark?" Fili said in wonder, shifting his body so it was turned squarely towards Nymmril. The shifter sighed.

"Yes. There are many things I can do that you dwarves cannot," he said honestly. The young man sighed, resting his head in his hands and meeting the dwarf's eyes. "But there are also many things your kind can do that I would wish to master. I have never wielded a weapon, for instance."

"I could teach you," Fili said brightly, though he flushed at his own eagerness. He wrung his hands together in front of the heat of the flames. "I can teach you how to fight... If you want."

Nymmril let out a small, huffed laugh. "Thank you, but I'm afraid it would be a lost cause. I have awful coordination in this form... I am far better off sticking to fighting how I know best."

Fili leaned forward in wonder, blonde hair illuminated in the light of the flames. "Which is?" He asked, eyes skimming over the silhouette of the shifter as the tall man sat in the moonlight, flaxen hair reflecting both the pale of the rays and the heat of the flames. Nymmril smiled at him gently, opening his mouth to reply. And he would've, had it not been for the sudden howl slicing through the crackling of the fire, coming from much closer than the shifter would have liked. He snapped his head around, towards where the sound of heavy feet crashed through dry, grassy fields towards their camp.

"I fear you're about to find out," the man muttered, narrowing his eyes as two pale yellow dots appeared at the edges of the camp. They grew larger as they grew closer, and soon they were joined by many of similar colour and hatred. The snarling of wolves rang loudly in Nymmril's ears and he flexed his fingers instinctively, never breaking eye contact with that first pair of glowing orbs. "Wake the rest of the company," he ordered.

Fili nodded, taking only a second to observe the bristling shifter as he stood poised for attack before kicking his brother and dragging the sibling to his feet. He explained what was happening, and together the two set to work shaking their companions awake. Every now and then they would glance up to where Nymmril stood, and spy the ring of yellow eyes gearing closer as they circled the camp.

"What are they?" Bilbo asked quietly, blinking his eyes owlishly and brandishing his own sleek 'sword'. It glittered silver in the dim. "There are no Orcs around."

"Wolves, Bilbo," Gandalf replied, holding his staff in two hands as if he were to beat someone down with it. "And they seem rather hungry."

"You'd best get behind us, Burglar," Dwalin said as Thorin yanked the hobbit into the middle of the defensive circle the dwarrow had formed. "They'll be done with you in one bite."

"Stop scaring him, Dwalin," Balin exclaimed. The older dwarf looked towards the halfling. "You'll be fine laddie, just you see."

"Stop scaring Ori, more like," Dori grumbled as he shot his youngest brother a weary glance. "Poor boy's close to shitting himself!"

"I am not!" - A series of complaints and insults were thrown around the ring of dwarrow and Gandalf let out a sigh of disbelief. The growling and barking grew ever closer, until Fili could feel the hot, putrid breath of one of the beasts on his face. But he couldn't see it; the darkness seemed to follow the creatures as they lurked closer, swallowing the glow of their little fire.

"A little light, Gandalf, would be great!" He cried out, swinging a knife back and forth blindly to try and keep the animal at bay. A howl echoed through the Fells, ringing in their ears and suddenly one of the creatures broke from the ranks and burst into the light of the fire, large and grey and dangerous.

 Its jaws were snarling, saliva dripping from its gums onto hundreds of sharp, serrated teeth as it snapped at them, playing with its food. The wolf's haunches tightened and it crouched low, about to lunge towards its closest meal - which just so happened to be Bombur, perhaps the biggest meal of them all - but its teeth never sank into its victim. A deep rumble came from the side, a sound that drove fear even into Gandalf, and the foul animal was taken out mid-leap by a golden blur. It was tackled into the darkness surrounding the camp and a high-pitched, squealing yelp was the last thing the dwarrow heard of it.