Hi everyone! So it's been a year since I was last on here, and I have this exciting (I hope!) new story that has been on my mind for sometime now! It is a replacement for 'The Wolf and the Fellowship' and 'The Wolf in Rohan', which one reader said copied the films too much. I have now rethought the whole idea of werewolves in Middle Earth, and have come up with a new character and plot to fit in and around the films/books for a 13th walker fic. It is completely different to my previous attempts, and the previous stories will be discontinued.
This is the story of Dale, who now has the task of finding the fourth companion, changing the very identity of her race...and learning to trust again. Enjoy!
Her fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her tunic as she warily watched Lord Elrond take in her words. His face appeared to be as smooth as stone, but his eyes revealed a range of flickering emotions: first they were disbelieving and shocked, then they scrutinised her, looking at the skin he could see, as if searching for evidence. They were in his study. It was made up of a desk, a chair, shelves containing books, a window overlooking Rivendell; all distinctly elvish, yet there was an equally distinct sense of the owner's character. While she had been waiting for him to arrive—he had been busy with other business—she had busied herself by looking at the books. Some were on battle strategy, but there were also many on culture, the arts and languages. The desk was beautifully carved, with family heraldry carved into the panels, and the chair had a cushion that was permanently dented, the telling sign of someone who had spent many hours sitting in it.
Elrond sat in it now, a stern look on his face. "What you have told me is surprising indeed, Lady Dale. Why should I believe you?"
"I could show you if you wanted." A wry smile crept upon her face. "But I don't think you would appreciate the smell of wet dog."
She had just had a shower, and was now dressed in fine but simple elven clothing, her still-wet hair neatly plaited down her back.
He steepled his fingers and leant forward. Without her realising it, the sun had begun its descent, and streams of light filtered through from the top of the window, casting his eyes into dark shadow further emphasised by his furrowed brow. "I do not take kindly to being trifled with." His voice brooked no argument.
Dale sighed, tilting her chin up. "Very well." She took a chair, which had been placed against a wall, and placed it slightly to the side of his desk so that she didn't have to squint. She fidgeted for a second; it felt so strange, so unnatural to do it like this, but she settled for placing her hands on her knees and leaning forward slightly. Dale allowed that half of her brain—which was always held so tightly in check— to eke out, to allow it some control. It began slowly at first, but then she began to tingle all over, and she could tell by Lord Elrond's shocked expression that her eyes, usually grey, had turned golden. She sucked in a breath. What had been controlled suddenly lashed out. Her hands gripped her knees as she squeezed her eyes shut. She growled, a low, guttural sound that rumbled through her body. For a second, she could smell the food Lord Elrond had eaten for lunch on his breath; the hum of voices in the corridors, in the streets below them. If she had concentrated, she might have heard the clatter of hooves as riders entered the Last Homely House. Her body prickled, her senses sung, and for a second she thought there was no going back.
She fought for control, her body squirming against the onslaught. Slowly, and desperately, she regained control, forcing that feral, unpredictable side of her back with an inevitable whine that racked her body.
When Dale opened her eyes again, Lord Elrond's hand held a sword that had somehow appeared on the table. It rest on the top, but his hand held it with a white grip. He nodded when he saw she had regained control, but the sword remained, his hold relaxing only slightly.
"Now I'm glad I did't have to deal with the smell of wet dog," he said, eyeing her warily.
Dale smiled ruefully, her body now feeling like it could collapse on the nearest bed. She shrugged a shoulder. "You asked for it."
"I did indeed." He re-sheathed the sword and placed it behind his desk. "I have heard of your people before, but we know very little about them."
"We are very reclusive. The stories say that there was once a time when man knew of my people's shapeshifting abilities and we were hunted for it. Whether they are true or not is another question."
He nodded in understanding and spoke slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Do you lose control when you…change?"
"You mean do I turn into monster and start killing all the innocent people?" Dale raised an eyebrow, taking offence. He just stared right back at her and she nodded in acceptance. She heaved out a sigh. "No, once I have made the change—that is the reen in my language—my mind is still human. But during the reen, it is very difficult…it is hard to make a comparison, but it is like trying to give an animal a treat when a big meal is not much further away. They would rather stretch for the big meal than make do with a treat, and so they stretch. Usually they are stronger than you, so it is not always possible to hold them back."
The elf nodded slowly, digesting this information, and his were alight with questions when his eyes glanced down and saw my legs. He half-rose from his chair. "You're…"
Dale waved a hand. "I'm alright." Her hands, which had sharpened into claws as she struggled to reverse the reen, had pierced clothing and flesh. Blood now stained her pale clothes. "My race have a rapid healing process that is part of our genes."
The pain was still sharp, but it had already begun to fade. Dale felt herself fading too, her tiredness beginning to take over, but she still needed to know. Her reason, her purpose for being at Rivendell. "I came to ask for your advice…and for any knowledge you might have. One of my companions went missing after the storm three nights past." Her breath hitched as her mind briefly returned to that fateful night, but forced herself to go on. "My other two companions…are no longer part of my company. I am now alone. I want to find the girl who is missing."
"And how do you think I will be able to help you with that?" He stared at her. Under his close scrutiny, Dale realised that this was a test. His eyes trained on every movement she made, before flicking back to see her expression again, and his words, spoken with such care, had a hidden purpose. Most people had never heard of the Ruénen—any whisper of a shapeshifting race was dealt with quickly—but it was not surprising that the elves knew of them. The Ruénen's secrecy meant that even the elves did not know much. They kept to hiding in plain sight in the realm of man, dispersed, a scattered people.
"With all due respect, my Lord, Elves are not exactly an unknown phenomenon. I know very little of your personal powers other than myth and rumour, but they have been enough to give me hope that you might be able to help me." The elf continued to look at her, distrust evident in his gaze. Some of her desperation slipped into her voice. "Please…it is a matter of some urgency."
Dale thought back to three nights ago. She had returned early from gathering supplies, having found a nearby town so desperate for coin that they would have sold their children, hoping that the fire Callon and Rine had made would ease the heaviness of her heart. She retraced her steps towards the camp, but as she grew closer she realised that there was no light or smoke—there was no fire. Out of natural instinct she had moved downwind from the camp, persuading herself not to shift as it was probably due to humans being around that Callon and Rine had not made camp. Still, the warning in her gut gnawed at her. The trees about her grew thicker as she proceeded, relying on her keen sense of smell to guide her to where Callon and Rine were. She half-ducked as she jogged forward. She had discarded her pack to pick up later.
She slammed to a halt and darted behind a tree. A gust of wind had blown in her direction. Something worse than humans was near. Her nostrils burnt with the acrid smell of orc. Dale forced herself to take another deep breath. None were nearby; she started forward again, albeit more slowly. As she drew nearer to the boys' position, the sound of voices grew louder. She frowned. Perhaps if she had paid more attention, she might have picked up on the distinct lack of the smell of fear, but as it was she was fearful for the two Ruénen. A small orc horde was somewhere ahead of her. As she drew nearer, she made out a guttural voice. Praying the wind wouldn't change, Dale slipped behind a tree at the edge of a clearing and crouched. She peered through the bushes.
It was dark—the moon had clouded over—but although her eyes were not as sharp as her nose, she could just make out the outline of Callon's muscular frame, and to his right she could see Rine's ridiculous boots. They were more ornately decorated than the halls of Erebor, and she hated to think where he had got them from.
"My master will be pleased to hear the words you bring me." Dale stilled as the guttural voice grated against her ears. Her face paled.
"And we are always pleased to serve the Great Lord." Callon replied.
From her hiding place, Dale saw Rine's boots shift. "Very pleased." He held out a hand expectantly, "Especially when he rewards the faithful so well."
The orc chuckled, and said something in another language. There was a rattle of coins and a clinking noise. Callon responded in kind, the words, although guttural, smoothly flowing out of his mouth.
A leaf tickled Dale's noise and she covered it, trying to calm her beating heart as too many thoughts catapulted through her head to be able to identify at once. She felt ill. She forced herself to focus.
"This is less than we agreed," Rine growled.
In the numbness of shock, Dale felt a cold fury overcome her. It stilled her thoughts, even as her breathing hitched.
"What was that?" Callon demanded sharply. He had been facing away from her, but now he spun around, his eyes scanning the darkness. Dale ducked lower. He began wandering round the edge of the clearing.
"More will come when further services are rendered," the orc replied, ignoring Callon's fidgeting. He slowly made his way closer to Dale, sniffing the air and peering into the darkness. For a dreadful moment, she thought his dark eyes, which had once looked at hers so softly, would find hers glinting in the darkness.
"Callon!" Rine said sharply. The orcs, of which she counted three in the clearing, had grown wary at Callon's unrest.
He returned to the group, and Dale saw Rine mutter something in his ear. Callon nodded crisply, and turned to the orcs. "Let's finish dealings quickly."
They continued their discussions, and Dale's legs began to burn with the effort of crouching for so long. The feeling of betrayal ate at her, but she refused to let it overwhelm her, lest Callon or Rine, or the orcs, should pick up on its scent. Instead, she focused on her surroundings, on the fifty or so orcs that rested somewhere beyond this clearing; on the caterpillar that inched its way along the leaf by her ear.
"One more thing," the orc creaked. She snapped back to attention. "My Master seeks something that is of greatly value to him…it is but a trinket, but a small ring. If you should here of it, you must make contact."
Once more that day Dale froze and her mind drew a blank. It couldn't be…
Callon and Rine glanced at each other. They were not stupid, of course they knew what the orc's words had meant. They looked back at the orc.
"Of course," Rine replied smoothly.
The two companies departed, and for an awful moment Dale thought she would be trapped. Then the boys began heading back to the camp. The woman followed them at a distance, careful to beware of where the orcs went and to stay downwind of Callon and Rine.
They loped back in silence, and began hurriedly setting up camp. They had been aware that she would be back soon.
Dale watched them. For a moment, it all seemed so normal and, for a moment, she thought she could forget the last hour. She briefly admired Callon's muscular frame as he heaved a pile of logs to the centre of the clearing. Rine, his skill with fire evident, quickly got the flames going. How badly she wished to forget and carry on with their existence as it had been before. But she knew it was not to be as the mixed emotions of confusion, betrayal and fury broiled within her.
"What was that?" The words were so quiet that Dale surprised herself at her composure. But in the silence it was enough to make Callon and Rine whip around.
"Dale—you're back early…" Rhine said weakly. Callon eyed her closely.
"Don't fool with me." For a moment, her voice lost its edge. She regained her composure. "Bandying words with orcs. How far have you fallen?"
"I don't know what you mean." Callon's eyes were soft, but otherwise unreadable. He held out his calloused hand. "Come out of the shadows, Little Wolf."
Dale flinched at his nickname for her. She didn't move. "It is not I who is in the shadows."
Callon looked at her analytically, noticing the dirt that still grazed her knees. "How much did you see?"
"Enough."
The silence stretched out as Callon and Rine looked at each other, then Dale again. She had seen this so many times before, the strange way they seemed to be able to agree without needing to speak. She tensed. They crept closer, one on either side, and she edged into further into the circle to keep her distance.
"Where did you learn the tongue of Mordor, Callon?" His eyes widened, but once more he held out his hand.
"Dale, I..."
"It's not what you think," Rine burst out.
Dale gave a mirthless laugh. "You mean it doesn't look like you just gave information to orcs in exchange for a new pair of boots? It's beyond mercenary." She moved to the right. She struggled to form into words what she wanted to know. "But…why? Why not sell information to someone else?"
They continued this strange…dance; as Callon and Rine continually tried to manoeuvre her into a corner. Dale's eyes darted around the clearing, desperately looking for an escape route, yet unwilling to take her eyes off them for too long.
"The Dark Lord's power is growing," Callon replied. There was a light in them that she hadn't seen before. "We need to earn our place in the coming age of Darkness to survive."
"It's not guaranteed," Dale replied. She tried a new tact. "Please, don't do this. You may think that you are trying to survive, but you are breaking every code we stand for, everything we have fought for all these years."
Callon barked out a laugh, "Code? There is no code, not anymore. For how long have Ruénen skulked in the shadow of man? Our history, our culture, our pride has faded. In the new age, our race will rise under Sauron's nurturing care to take our rightful place in this world."
"And we will benefit profitably," Rine smirked.
Dale shook her head disbelievingly. How had she not seen? She stilled as another thought occurred to her.
"Where's Douka?"
Callon and Rine glanced at each other. Rine grinned. "We thought she was with you."
Dale smacked herself mentally. She should have kept her mouth shut.
"You will not join us then?" Callon demanded. They were now three metres from her.
"Never," Dale spat.
There was a moment of silence. Then Rine hissed, "Then you shall die."
Lord Elrond's face was thoughtful as Dale completed her story. "At that point we all shifted. I got away. but not without gaining a few scratches." She had nearly been shredded by the two larger male wolves. It had taken her far longer than she should have to arrive at Rivendell, the closest place she could think of to go, due to the healing process. "I landed a blow on Callon's face. He will be scarred for life." It was the only reason she had been able to escape. Rine would not chase after her; wolves did not abandon each other.
Lord Elrond was silent. He stroked his chin as his eyes gazed into the far distance. Dale couldn't tell if he was using his magic or just thinking. She began to fidget again as impatience gnawed at her. "So? Do you think you can help?"
Elrond shifted in his seat as his gaze returned to hers. "I need time, and you need rest. If you would, meet me tomorrow after the noon meal."
Dale stiffened, unused to taking orders. She nodded, muttering, "I suppose one more day will not make any difference. My very presence here has already forsaken a sacred rule."
Elrond's eyebrows rose. "Then why are you here?"
She thought of Callon and Rine, who had already succumbed to the ring's dark power. Occasionally they came across other werewolves, but it had never occurred to her how many might have sided with the Dark Lord. Dale was silent for a time as she considered the possibilities, the hopelessness of her own fate now that she revealed such secret information on the Ruénen. She glanced up at Elrond, who was watching her intently. "Because a lot of sacred rules have been broken already."
Her bones felt like they had the weight of the world upon her as she stood up. She bowed. "My lord."
As Dale shuffled through the corridors, she rounded a corner and collided with another body, flying to the floor. She hissed in pain as she landed on her side.
"Oh, I am so sorry," an elderly voice said. A knobbly hand was held out to her. Dale ignored it, pushing herself up with a scowl on her face. She glanced up to see an old man in grey garb with long grey hair, holding a staff. He hadn't fallen over. She eyed him warily as he bumbled on.
"Please do excuse me…" His voice trailed away as their eyes met. A light lit his eyes, as if he had just put together the pieces of a puzzle. He leaned forward slightly, his bushy brows nearly meeting as his brow furrowed. The moment dragged on, and Dale shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
The old man startled. "No, no, I should hope not, for I certainly don't know you." With that, he whisked off, moving more briskly than she had ever seen a man of his age walk. Dale frowned after his retreating figure, but shrugged her shoulders, but then was painfully reminded of her aching body after the trying process of only semi-shifting. She shook her head and continued back to the room that had been allotted to her.
So...I've set the scene, there is a bit more scene setting to do in the next chapter, but then...lift off! I hope you enjoyed this, please let me know. I would love to hear what you think!
Many thanks,
Penlym