𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ━ lord of the rings

Six: No Turning Back

Nymmril was walking besides Fili as he rode, taking large strides.

"I thought your other form was breathtaking," the prince admitted sweetly. The shifter let out a joyous sound, a small hum at the compliment.

"I'm glad. We lions are very proud of our appearance." Nymmril thought back to the amount of time it had taken to clean himself of the blood from the wolves. It had been knotted in his hair and smudged into his skin and had taken many scrubs of a water-soaked cloth to rid it from his features.

"Can I see it again? The lion, I mean?"

The shifter shook his head gravely, face set into a stiff frown. "I'm afraid not - it's too dangerous. I am not the same Nymmril you are speaking to now, not when I take the shape of the cat."

"You change that much?" Nori appeared seemingly out of nowhere, coming up onto the young man's free side, mouth forming an o-shape at the tight-lipped smile of distaste that settled on his face.

"It is not just a physical change, but mental, emotional. I do not think the same - rather I have the same thoughts and act on them as a wild lion would in the dry expanses of the far South."

"So you cannot... control yourself?" There was a sigh as the question was asked.

"To an extent, yes. My will is stronger than some and my radag not as overpowering. I recognise friend from foe, and I would never knowingly hurt someone I trust in either form but... Things can- have gone wrong. And when they do, well: I am not the size of an ordinary noble cat, am I?" Nymmril answered, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. Fili looked as though he were chewing over the facts in his head, but Nori just gave a short hum.

"Well, the bigger the better I say! Triple the size means thrice the damage, after all," said Nori. "You'll be of some use to us yet, lad, don't you fret."

Nymmril smiled sincerely, a welcome feature on his face when compared to the rare, sullen looks that had since been replaced. "Let us hope so. And let us hope the damage is not done to any of the company."

They came to Mirkwood at midday. The seemingly solid wall of trees was tall and intimidating even to Nymmril, who was the tallest of the company. Even Gandalf appeared to be shaken by the barrier of nature, evident by his incoherent mutterings beneath his breath. The wizard was staring at a rune that had been painted in the shape of a menacing eye on the bark of one particular tree with narrowed eyes.

The first thing Nymmril noticed was the statue, covered in leaf-litter and webbed with spider's silk. The elves of the woodland realm had not kept up to date with their spring cleaning: In fact, they were quite a few months late to the job. The shifter tutted, swiping some of the debris from the head of the eleven warrior.

"Don't show so much respect to the elves, Kitty," Kili whispered, sneaking up behind Nymmril. He looked at the stone with sad eyes. "They are treacherous. Let them dust off the stone themselves."

"I think they would, If they dared," the young man replied, levelling his gaze with the dwarf as he spun around. The company was debating as to whether or not they should send the ponies back to Beorn. "Why do you dwarves hate them so?"

"They abandoned us when dragon fire scorched our mountain. They gave us no aid, no relief," though even if his words were angry, his eyes were not.

"I'm sure they had their reasons."

"Perhaps."

Nymmril, smiled gently, placing a hand on the tall dwarf's shoulder before striding towards the group, frowning as he saw that the ponies were still laden with baggage.. "I do not see this as a hard choice, my friends. Gandalf promised to return them to Beorn."