𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ━ lord of the rings

Seven: Hysteria

The young man went to protest, but at the eyes of the entire company staring at him, he relented and swallowed. "Yes, I suppose I shall." The shifter felt a gentle squeeze on his elbow, looking down to find Ori, and he smiled at the trusting, young eyes before stepping forward onto the beginnings of the elven road. A faint chill swept past him, ominous and foreboding, sending leaves fluttering into the air and Nymmril felt a faint shiver of fear creep up his spine. Long had it been since he'd come anywhere near the woods. He'd barely dared to venture inside it when it had been termed 'the Greenwood', such was the sense of danger he received from the forest. But he did not turn back nor falter in his step as he began the perilous task of seeing the dwarrow (and their little hobbit) through the path that wound through the trees.

They did not get very far before the woods began their trickery: Often Nymmril feared he had misstepped, the path disappearing beneath his feet as if it had simply vanished many times. It had simply been buried suddenly beneath mounds of fallen leaves, but it still resulted in the slowing of the company. Things were going smoothly enough, however, until they reached a jut in the road: A black river. Nymmril had been warned against stepping foot in the river by Beorn many times, for it was impure and mystical and for travellers it could very well prove fatal. And the lion said as much when they came across it:

"Do not touch the water," he said sternly, holding out his arm as Gloin went to wade through it. "A disease lays within its currents."

His words were met with complaints and confused mutterings, and he turned to Nori, who came up beside him at the halting of the company.

"How'd you propose we cross it then?" The dwarf grumbled, untangling a leaf from his bushy beard. "We can't jump it, and Bilbo certainly can't."

Nymmril's brows furrowed and he chewed at his cheek as he pondered, staring at the murky, black ripples. A voice shouted out from behind him.

"There's a boat! Look, upstream!" Bilbo exclaimed, pointing giddily towards what indeed was such a contraption on the opposite bank.

"That's all well and good, Bilbo," began Bofur, patting the hobbit on the shoulder, "but it's on the other side of this blasted stream."

The dwarrow all began to scheme, and there was talking of using what little length of rope they had on them to hook the boat and draw it towards them. It was a good plan, Nymmril supposed, but not the easiest for them to achieve and he didn't wish to interrupt the incredible teamwork of the dwarves by telling them he could simply leap the enchanted waters and push it towards them. Luckily (or not so) the water vehicle was lodged on the soily earth and would not budge, even with the strongest dwarves tugging it towards them, and the shifter took the opportunity to speak up.

"I can jump that distance," he said. "I should be able to get the boat unstuck for you."

"Well why didn't you say so earlier!" Oin muttered, throwing the rope to the ground in frustration. He waved an arm at the river. "Hurry up and do it!"

The flaxen man smiled, cheer somewhat waning in the dark shade of the Mirkwood, and nimbly leapt over to the opposing shore. He skidded as he landed, teetering on the edge of the bank for a terrifying moment and could almost hear his own heart thudding as he balanced himself before rushing towards the boat. He pushed it towards where the rest of the company lay, accepting the rope thrown over towards him. The dwarrow crossed in threes, Bilbo with Balin and Thorin in the first boat, safe and secure between the two.

The last load was being heaved across the black river when suddenly a white stag leapt from the trees, startling them all. Nymmril felt hunger gnaw at his belly as he watched the creature and he turned to Thorin, who had already drawn his nephew's bow, much to the annoyance of the younger dwarf.