𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 || 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

TW: Robb has a panic attack and a (long deserved) mental breakdown!

Its beginning and end are underlined, so you can skip it and won't really miss anything.

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The night brought little rest for Robb once more—he supposed being beheaded was an interesting new experience, even if it had only happened in his dream—and the day after went by just like the one before it.

That was, until another pack of wolves attacked them.

Well, wargs, as Aragorn had called them. Robb was surprised at the term—had Old Nan not told him and his siblings stories of wargs and greenseers, as well? But it was obvious that these wargs were something else entirely than the people who were said to be able to inhabit animals.

They had heard the wargs howling from miles away, but as Moria was still too far away and there was no shelter to be found, their group simply climbed a small hill littered with trees and boulders that would be easier to defend. As it was obvious there would be no escaping the pack of wargs, no matter what they did, they lit a fire to at least stave off the oncoming darkness.

By nightfall, the beasts had reached them.

They were far bigger and uglier than any kind of wolf Robb had seen before. In fact, he was fairly sure they would be of a height with Grey Wind.

Gandalf tried to threaten them into leaving—a useless endeavour, as it only seemed to make the wargs angrier. The biggest of them, the one who had to be their leader, leapt at Gandalf—only to die by an arrow to the eye.

And then they were gone.

At once, the hill had been deserted by the pack of wargs. The night was silent.

Gandalf and Aragorn searched for them, but found nothing.
The party fell into an uneasy sleep and when the howling of the wargs woke them back up, it was almost morning.

“Get some more wood onto the fire!” Gandalf ordered and was immediately obeyed by the Hobbits. “Draw your blades and stand with your backs toward the fire!”

As the flames blazed higher into the air, Robb could see dozens of wargs running at them from the darkness.
Boromir beheaded one of them, Aragorn felled the next by ramming his sword into its throat. Legolas kept firing arrows.

Seeing that the Hobbits were as good as unprotected, Robb stepped in front of them. He did not necessarily trust their skill with a blade, as terrified as they looked. In addition to that, they were about half the wargs’ height at best.

No, better to protect them.

When the first warg reached Robb, he was immediately glad he had not had to face Grey Wind on his own campaign. He was sure he wouldn’t have fared much better than all the Lannister soldiers Grey Wind had torn apart. As it was, he only barely managed to kill the first warg, before immediately being ripped to the ground by the next one.

All of the air left Robb’s lungs at the impact. The giant paws on his chest only made it worse. Had it not been for his armour, Robb was certain his chest would have been slashed open by the beast’s claws, his ribcage caved in by its weight. This way, his gorget took the brunt of the damage.

Robb stabbed at it blindly with his sword. He must have hit something, going by the yowl of pain and the resistance his blade met, but the warg kept snapping at him, trying to reach his jugular. Robb lifted his sword in front of his face to keep the beast’s jaws at bay. It was useless.