Three Days Before,
Thorin had taken shelter from the storm under a large tree, thunder booming and lightning cracking overhead. Eventually, sleep found him leaning against the tree.
When he woke up, he frowned, he was lying down, how had that happened? He got up, stretched, looked down at his paws.
Wait, Paws?!
He gave them each a good shake. They were still there.
He also realized he was covered with fur.
Uh-oh.
He looked around and spotting a puddle of water, went to examine himself.
A warg's face stared up at his.
No.
This was a dream, and he would be himself again when he woke up.
He closed his eyes very tightly, and lies down.
He opens them, and looks at his reflection.
It's not a dream!
Thorin glanced back at the tree he had slept under. It was badly charred, and part of the top half was gone. The lightning...? He wonders.
He was so upset, he howled, and felt a jolt of horror when other wargs answered him in the distance.
Gandalf! Gandalf will know what to do. Gandalf will help, change me back. He had to find Gandalf. He raced towards the camp.
They were running away. Why are you running? He thought. "Wait!" He called, a loud bark. That only hastened them. And there was Gandalf, and he was ontop of him, yelling "Wizard! Change me back right now! It's me, Thorin Oakensheild, can't you understand warg language? Answer me!"
That was what he meant to say. But what comes out of his mouth is barking and howling. And then there is a flash of pain in his right forepaw. A knife.
"Get away from him!" Kili yells. Kili. That's when it all comes crashing down on Thorin. They don't recognize him. Gandalf is staring up at him in sheer terror. Gandalf doesn't recognize him, and can't help. The rest of the company has bared their weapons. If he stays, they'll kill him.
Thorin runs into the night.
He ran far away, hearing Kili yelling, "Take that, mangy beast!"
He wishes that wargs could not hear so well. The knife plunging into his paw, him turning to see Kili, and the hatred in Kili's eyes, how scared Gandalf was- Gandalf who was usually so passive and calm. . He didn't know, he didn't know, He thinks with every step he takes with his bad forepaw. He will try again in the morning. It was rash of him to just lunge into the clearing and expect them to recognize him. Rash, rash, rash. He can't stand it. He falls asleep. And he dreams.
"Fili, Kili," He says, turning to turning to 15 year old Kili and 20 year old Fili, "Today you will be learning about wargs." He sets down a warg pup, dead, that he had found on patrol.
Kili laughed. "How could that little thing attack whole villages?"
"It'll grow." explains Thorin. "See those little teeth? They'll grow into fangs five inches long. Those little claws? They'll turn into 20 razor sharp daggers. It'll grow into a five foot tall killing machine."
"Wow." Said Kili, staring at the little pup.
"What do we do if we meet a warg, uncle?" Fili asks.
"You kill it."
He woke up starving, and decided to find food.
I've hunted many times before, how much harder could it be as a warg? Thorin thought as he spotted a partridge, carefully stalking up to it, however he misplaced a paw and with a loud crunch of leaves, it looked up and flew away.
After several hours of similar failed attempts, he reconsidered, and he was about to give up, starving, when he spotted an old squirrel, on the ground, moving with stiff, arthritic movements, dragging one leg behind it. He gulped it down gratefully. He wasn't sure what to do, and had decided simply to go back to where he had slept, when he heard something. Dwarves. He calmly trotted towards them, no leaping, no running, no barking, he kept his head down, trying not to look threatening.
Needless to say, he did not expect the axe coming at him. With a yelp, he jumped back.
"Get away from us!" Yells Dwalin. He does.
And as he bolts, he's thinking to himself, What was I thinking? They don't know that I'm me. Stupid.
He decided to hunt some more, not for himself, but them. It's harder then he thought, but it's the very least he can do for his company. He finds a rabbit with a broken leg, picks it up and carries it to the place where his company is staying. There is already a pile from the traps. Fili and Kili must have left it out there. As he thinks of his nephews, his paw starts to hurt even worse. He didn't know, he reminds himself once again.
He finds a pheasent that fell out of a tree. As he's setting it down with the rest of the game, he hears only too familiar voices.
"Fili, the warg's back and it's stealing our food!" Kili calls.
"I'm your uncle!" He snaps at them, but it's useless, they don't understand the way of speech he's forced to use right now, to them he just looks like an aggressive warg guarding it's loot.
"Get away from that, you thief!" Fili yells at him. He does.
He ran far away, Fili's words ringing in his ears, and suddenly he felt something soft under his paws. His cloak. He decided he might as well get it sheltered, if he ever wanted to use it again. It was not that heavy, but it was made of good, thick wool and he hadn't been eating well for the past few days, and he did not have hands anymore, so he could not carry it. He spat out it his hold in defeat, impaling several pieces of fabric on his teeth, pieces of thread hanging off his whiskers. (Whiskers...Thorin shuddered.) He went looking for someplace to wash it off, and fast, and he raced to find some water. In his haste, he veers into a thorn bush, and they rip into his muzzle, and he can feel hot blood dripping down his face, and then he noticed something in the distance. The dwarves. There were Fili and Kili! He knew that after the last three encounters that getting near was not a good idea. But he wanted to make sure that they were alright. He stepped forward, and saw their eyes widening with horror at the sight of him. He started to leave, hearing Fili yell,
"NO!" A knife. Right for his throat. He twisted away and felt it slicing into his shoulder. a
He ran away with all his might.
The blood. The piece of cloak. He realizes they think that he's been killed. By himself. A funny thought, but true at any rate. Pain in his shoulder. Stabbed. He runs away. At fifty yards, he continunes to keep running, nearly winded, and he suddenly feels a cold trickle of dread running down his spine. They'll be hunting him down...
He was on the run from his own company, who were going to kill him because they believed he had been killed by himself. How ironic. He knew he had to keep going, but his paw was getting infected, and the wound in his shoulder was deep and wide, the open air was making them worse. He is reduced to a rapid limp.
They catch up to him in a clearing. A bright, hot light is flashed and his warg body is telling him that he needs to get away, even though his mind knows it's just fire. He trembles as a tree explodes into flames, Fili says, "Now you're going to pay."
Thorin looks at Kili, readying his bow, and then he sees the branch. In seconds, he realizes, it will fall and kill his nephew instantly. Barely thinking, He leaps forward, shoulder and paw screaming with pain, knocking Kili out of the way, and his heart skips a beat when he hears Kili's scream but lets out a tiny puff of relief when he sees him getting back up. Dwalin's axe is right above him. "You've howled your last howl, warg," Dwalin growls, and brings down his axe. But before the axe can reach him, something else hits him first.
He's burning, and there's pain, so much he can't stand it, and more pain, and he's on fire, and pain, and then he knows nothing more.