Concerning Hobbits and Dwarves
Of Dwalin's dilemma of finding Bilbo, a displaced Warg with a big ego and a curios creature of old, a confused/pleased Balin and an ancient smithy with an odd history in the woods…
Part eight ; Unsuspected meetings and discoveries.
"Mahal's balls, where has the brat vanished to now? He's worse than Nori on his best of days. It's easier herding cats than keeping him in line!"
Bilbo, who was currently tiptoeing around his family Smial, paid Dwalin's curses no mind.
He hated weapons training! He was only a half Dwarf anyways, so what was the point in Dwalin dragging him out each morning for training in the meadow to force the rules of close combat down his throat? Looking behind him, he saw Kili and Fili slouched next to the fuming son of Fundin. The two did not dare run out on Dwalin too, so their trainer would not give them extra lessons.
It was by the now, a well- known morning ritual that Dwalin and Bilbo had established. Well, only Bilbo, actually…Dwalin could have done without but wasn't asked, so…
Bilbo would try to avoid training and Dwalin would try to get him trained.
Balin stood in the doorway, sipping his slowly cooling tea and watched as his brother cursed and threw his ax, Grasper, in a fit of frustration at having lost Bilbo, again to the earth. Balin saw Bilbo from his vantage point, the lad already a good distance away and if he kept his head and stayed as silent and careful as he had been, Dwalin would indeed be missing a pupil for the day.
Again. He barely suppressed a snigger.
He took another sip of his tea and chuckled at the sight of his brother trying to find Bilbo. After a few moments Dwalin ordered Fili and Kili to find his damned nephew for him, since the two seem to be the only ones who could manage to find Bilbo nowadays. They perked up visibly and with twin grins both tried to find a trail left by Bilbo.
What was harder as one would think, since Bilbo had learned quickly and now left rarely anything for them to find.
Well, at least the Durin brothers got a good tracking lesson this way. They had greatly improved over the last few days and if Balin wasn't mistaken, enjoyed the hunt just as much as Bilbo enjoyed leading them all on a merry chase. It meant that they would have no hard weapons training today, after all. But even the devilish duo often failed to find Bilbo.
Somehow Balin thought that today would be one such day and went back inside to put his mug into the sink.
Rory had reached the outskirts of Michel Delving in the wee morning hours.
He had gashes on his large feet from his mad run and he looked as if he would keel over at any second. Beside him, the Dwarven leader of the small settlement near the river looked no better. If anything, he looked worse when compared to the lighter Hobbit. Never! Never in his entire life, would Dangor have believed it that a Hobbit would have had more stamina than him! He silently cursed his heavy armor into his beard while trying to catch his breath without to keel over and pass out.
But that Rory Brandybuck had managed that feat with ease stunned him and not only that, he had even surprised Dangor more with his knowledge and endurance on the way here.
The two had a chat with the Major and the leader of the Brandybuck clan, Gorbadock. And while Bilbo was sneaking out of Hobbiton with the princes hot on his heels, Dwalin was called away and joined Master Baggins, Balin and Thorin in their haste to reach Delving to hear the bad news that the two scouts had brought in.
Bilbo was steadily gaining on more distance between the duo and him and by midday, Bilbo reached the rim of the Forest around Hobbiton and vanished into its shadows with a sigh of relief.
Here, the twin menaces could search for him forever and not find him.
The two knew this too and so their cursing him wasn't surprising to Bilbo, who watched them stumble around in the woods under him. He had climbed up an beech tree and now sat comfortably against a gnarled branch, eating crackers, watching the two's futile search for him on the ground while he flipped idly through the book he brought with him.
This would be a long day…
While the trio was in the outskirts of the old Forest, there was a little ball of fur running from its future rider and master on the rim side of the opposite end of the woods a good a few days march away. The little beast did not want to be beaten again, or kicked… or bitten… or any of this! Giving the frustrated Orcs behind him a growl the pup vanished inside the dense old woods.
He had hidden from the nasty Orcs in here before.
The trees felt…strange to the tiny creature but it paid the feeling no mind. One time it had run around in here for days and had hidden under the gnarled roots of an old and rather grumpy tree by the water's edge that had felt a bit like an Ent would. It had even talked to the furball, mostly grumpy complains of it, being there but otherwise, the old willow tree had left the little beast alone. That old one had been funny and had eaten the Orc that had nearly caught it while the little fluffy bundle had yipped in pleasure and had jumped around the tree in glee.
Everyone wanted to possess the tiny white beast.
Because of its mother, the tiny beast had no doubt. She was the Alpha of the pack after all and the oldest of the Wargs. A one eyed, old and evil beast, covered with scars, a perfect match for her rider, the one armed pale Gundabad Orc. He often scratched the pup behind the ears whenever it came back without an orc. He was amused by the pup's cleverness and often assigned orcs he wished dead to be the pup's keeper.
Suddenly a gnarled hand came down from above and before the pup could snarl, its little golden eyes fixed with the golden, green and brown disks that were the eyes of a creature that it had never heard about nor had ever seen or smelled before. To the tiny creature's surprise, the green skinned being with the leaves and grass instead of hair just looked oddly amused with it, before a much too long and thin finger scratched it behind an ear lovingly.
Cradling the tiny fur ball in one of its arms, the creature, female if one chose to decide based on its form, bare even with the first hint of winter in the air, walked away from the place it had found the pup hiding from the Orcs, right into the next tree, vanishing inside of it with the surprised yelping Warg pup.
Behind her, the normally sleepy but now wide awake Huorns of the Forrest suddenly reached down with their gnarled limbs and tore the Orcs to pieces with their strong branches. Soon the floor was soaked in the blood and ichors of the creatures. She did not like the servants of Morgoth, nor their beasts that killed and maimed her plant and animal friends. They were here to hurt the children that she and others protected, the little folk that peacefully lived in the green grasslands beyond her beloved Forest. Tom Bombadil would keep the Orcs from crossing the far forest and she and her brothers and sisters would guard this forest.
After all, the children of Yavanna were also the children of her kin. She was old, so old in fact that she could remember the face of the Hobbit lad that had stolen the love of one of her sisters once away, so that she had left with him and given him children, slowly bringing their blood into the lines of those known as Hobbits.
That had been in what the tall children of Ilufather with the pointy ears called the first age.
She had noticed the half stone child, half their child of the Hobbits coming here more often lately.
He had also come in the past and although it confused her as to how he could be both, he was a pleasant fellow with manners and a golden heart. He never saw Them as They did not show themselves often. But the boy was clearly a good soul, the little members her folk loved him and those two other stone children that he often brought with him were of great amusement to her and the others.
Stone children!
They were so oblivious of the world's other creatures at times, so clumsy in their movements in her beloved Forest, and so blind to the ways of the woods but their antics made her siblings and her laugh often enough madly.
And this little fellow, full of needle sharp teeth and not old enough to be truly evil, he needed a keeper that would take care of it and have it grow in the sunshine instead of the shadows that still concealed too many of the foul creatures of the Dark Lord of old. Their kin were not evil from birth, just a bit less sensible than their distant brothers, the wolves. Hardier and more dangerous but not necessarily cruel. Wargs had once been wolves too before the dark one had twisted them.
Her kin would not kill young if there was a chance for them to turn out good. The little one in her arm sensed this too and stayed silent and compliant in her hold. It perceived an impossible age and wisdom in the creature that walked as if it had roots instead of feet and that could melt with him into the very trees to travel through the very earth in distances it could have never made by itself in its wildest dreams. Her eyes were much too old and sad to belong to any other creature on Arda than one of the oldest of Yavanna's races.
She, had been born when there had been no stars in the sky, when it had been still dark as a member of the Lady's first children to mind her creation. She had seen the first stars come to shine and had seen it when the sun took her first ride over the heaven.
She was not an Entwife of the old legends but something similarly old and powerful. They where distant kin.
With long leaves that behaved like hair or fur and skin that felt like soft tree bark. All of her was green and brown or golden and currently her leafy hair was shining in all colors of autumn glory. The pup yawned and curled up in her warm embrace to a dream of chasing Orcs around and slept peacefully while she increased the speed with which they traveled from tree to tree until they reached the other side of the Forest.
There she deposited the small bundle in an astonished Bilbo's lap as he yelped in shock.
Bilbo had always known that Fae were rumored to still live in the old forest, but to know this was somewhat different then suddenly seeing two arms come out of the tree he was hiding in and place a ball of softly snoring fur in his lap!
Under him, Kili and Fili froze and looked up. Only to see a strange creature look them over with golden green eyes before it gave all three a wink and vanished back into the tree.
As they all exchanged looks, Bilbo brought the tiny beast up to look at it. The Dwobbit decided that the Fae indeed had as twisted sense of humor as he was told because they had given him a Warg pup! A Warg pup that wagged its tail as it grinned toothily up at him with golden eyes and barked playfully at the befuddled hobbit.
He held the pup none to gently but took care to not hurt it and he had the faint smell of the creature from before on it. It was clearly of another race but somehow still related to the old one. The little beast could smell the goodness of the strange male in its scent. When the golden one's head shook in irritation and then cradled it under one arm, the tiny beast had already decided to keep the strange and funny creature with the hilarious eyebrows that wiggled most amusingly.
When Dwobbit and Warg came down from the tree it was eyed warily by two other comical looking creatures, a bit bigger as his new owner. They had his scent all over them and he theirs…pack? Most likely to the one that held it, in its tiny mind they got adopted right away and that was it.
One, the darker haired one tried to poke its nose playfully with a finger.
It took that promptly as an invitation to playfully lick and gnaw at the finger, causing the darker of the two to laugh at the beast. The blond gave it a dubious look before he shook his head in bewilderment. They smelled awfully a lot like Dwarves to the tiny beast. Shrugging that off, it twisted to lick its funny new owner on the nose, making the small male laugh.
It could not place that one but oh well… with time came knowledge and it would soon enough find out what race he belonged to anyways.
"What are we going to do with a Warg pup!?"
Fili scratched his head in confusion. "Why would they give us a beast like that?" Next to the blond, Bilbo shrugged, feeling as confused as Fili. Fae were known to do more confusing things than that, though. He had needed an hour to explain to Fili and Kili that, no, they could not kill it and that the pup, a little male from what they had found out, was kind of an odd present from the tree Fae to Bilbo and was most likely for them to care for.
Not to mention that he needed a while longer to explain to the two brick heads what, exactly the being had been and than what a Fae was.
"That was a Fae?!" Kili, it seemed, still was in denial phase while Fili tried to look at the more practical aspects. Why does she give you a Warg pup for, I wonder?"
Bilbo patted Kili comfortingly on his back while they walked. "I think it is best to go to the Took Smial. My grandfather will know what they want us to do with him." Kili nodded absentmindedly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that the Hobbit stories about Fae ancestors actually had truth in them. He looked back over his shoulder at the tree that the female Fae had vanished in.
This all was so strange!
Unbeknownst to Kili, the other three in his company had the same thought.
On the other side of the woods the one eyed female leader of the Warg pack paced agitatedly up and down the rim of the accursed Forest in which her brightest pup had vanished. He was most likely dead, which was a waste, as it had been the most promising and most clever of her last litter. She growled, low and angry, wanting it back.
She could sense the eyes of the creatures inside of the forest watching her.
Her rider, a pale, uncommonly tall Orc with a hook as an arm could not.
He only felt the malevolence of the Huorns of the old Forest. There was no way through this wild Forest, it was too much like Fangorn and had the guardianship of Bombadil who would hunt them as soon as an Orc set foot in the Forest.
Here, here was Yavanna's old power at its strongest still.
Cursing he mounted the beast and went back to their temporary camp. They would have to find another way into the Shire, this one was not an option that they could use…ever. And North of the Forest the swamp made a crossing unthinkable without a guide and in the south-west, the river was still not frozen over enough to cross it.
He returned to his camp in a foul mood.
Meanwhile, as the trio, now a quartet, made their way to the Took Smial, Rory ended his discussion with the others and was ordered to help with building of fences around the smaller settlements and evacuating the Smials that lay on the edges of the wilds to the settlements for the winter. Dangor would help with that and, before winter sat in, get fifty more warriors to protect the settlement with the cooperation of Rory and his Bounders.
The musings about who exactly could have killed Seredas Goold had both the leaders of the Shire and the Dwarrow King scowling.
Those humans came from the far south east… why had they come so far from Far Harrad? And that they were Haradrim was a given, based on the descriptions that Rory had carefully given. Brown skin with dark eyes, black hair and tattoos all over and odd clothing that billowed in the wind. How had they come here? They had not used the old road. Maybe, Bungo had mused, they had been brought by boat or ship. And no one had liked that idea much.
The two did not wait and rest for longer than necessary and when late evening came, they were on the road again, this time on the backs of some ponies.
Both had come to mutually accept and admire the other and their strengths and talents. The two different beings complimented each other in many ways and wanted to build a foundation on that for the benefit of their charges. Rory had been promoted to the head Bounder in the river area as well as tactical advisor and Dangor from a simple leader of one war group to a fully-fledged Captain of the area in Thorin's and Dwalin's command.
When they departed, twenty more warriors left with them already as well as fife more veteran Bounders from the Took and Brandybuck clans. One even was from the Stoor clan and was known to have fought Orcs during the last winter in the northern area with only a shovel as a weapon. He bore a ugly scar in his face to show for it and was stouter in build than the most Hobbits. Now he had been handed a long handled Axe by one of the Dwarves and already showed skill in wielding it.
He was near middle age, as Hobbits counted such things, and introduced himself as Dorgo, a guide for the Dwarves of the group.
All Dwarves and Bounders were armed to the teeth and the Dwarrow's were all proven veterans from the battle of Moria. The Orcs would never know what awaited them with the older warriors that all had still some bones to pick with the Orcs and had all volunteered to hold the more dangerous side of the river.
With a toothy grin Rory looked over them before he went on riding. He began to like Dwarves and their ways of dealing with Orcs!
Balin had not seen them off as he had been invited to tea with the Goold Clan.
Dwalin had arched a brow and had wiggled it at his older brother when he had heard, but Balin had ignored that with a serene smile that always proved to drive his younger brother insane. It hadn't failed either, even if Dwalin had gotten nearly as much a rise out of Balin with his sly suggestions concerning the Widow Goold.
She was an honorable woman and mother of two cute children for Mahal's sake!
Now sitting in the main family Smial, he couldn't help but to notice all the carvings in the beams and the fine stone work in the walls. The designs were clearly of Dwarven origin although Balin couldn't tell which clan they could have belonged to. When he finally asked he nearly dropped his teacup in his shock at the answer.
"Oh, those designs were made by our ancestors long ago, Master Balin."
Grandma Goold was old. Not as old as the old Took but nearly so. She was one hundred and twenty two years old and the matriarch of the Goold Family since more than the half of her lifetime. She had watched the odd but well-mannered and spoken Dwarf with the forked beard take to her lovely Celandine.
She had wished to meet the Dwarf for herself to see what he was made of.
So far he had turned out to be a pleasant surprise. He was wise, well learned and obviously a scholar more than a fighter. His manners beyond doubt, his way of talking was courteous, his linage well breed. He seemed to be an honest and praiseworthy fellow. So far, so good. And from what she could decipher, he liked her Celandine… even more than he seemed to realize, which had her chuckling into her tea cup!
The same seemed to go for Celandine and little Lilly had taken to him like a duck to water. She had claimed his lap as her sitting place and not moved from there since he had sat down.
Which was a wonder in and of itself.
Lilly was very cautious of strangers and rarely liked someone on sight.
Celandine had not married Seredas out of love. Both had known each other for years and been best friends, so when Seredas grew older, the two had chosen to marry. They had fit together well enough and two wonderful children to prove that but not many knew why Celandine had taken on him or why he had taken on her great granddaughter.
Celandine was one of their clan that was a throwback to times when their family had first settled in the Shire.
She, the oldest of the Goold family, had always suspected Bilbo to be a Dwobbit, as that nice young Dwarf lad with the dancing dark eyes had called it.
What not many knew was that Bilbo was not the first of his kind in history of the Shire.
A thousand years ago the Hobbits had settled here and they had soon been joined by a wandering group of Dwarves. It had been a small band of survivors of a once great clan and the Dwarves had stayed. They married, had children and, after a while, when all of them had died or gone with to other kingdoms of their kin, only their blood stayed in the Shire to tell of them.
A part of that clan still lived somewhere in the mountains but where, not many knew. Luisia was one of the few who still knew and she kept it to herself.
Celandine had too much of their heritage in her veins and so did her children. Seradon was the best example for that and soon he would be sprouting a slight beard as the Goold and sometimes some of the Brandybuck or Stoor family members were known to do.
In the Brandybuck and Stoor clans it was seen less often but in the Goold clan, that was directly descended from the Dwarves, it was happened more often. Even with the females sometimes. Celandine had slight sideburns that she cleverly masked by braiding her hair in two thick coils down the sides of her face and she often wore a shawl that covered her chin and ears and wound over her head like a cap to hide any other evidence. The rest she let usually tumble down her back in long waves of curls that reached the middle of her spine. Her golden locks were the envy of many a lass in the Shire and she was proud of that outward sign of her heritage.
She had married Seredas because she liked him well enough and he was not shocked about the fact that Celandine would likely outlive him by many years. Her Dwarvish heritage made her able to live longer than a normal Hobbit. He had always loved her golden hair, a trait that had been passed on to both their children. It looked like polished gold in the sun. All Goold clan members had one thing in common, all were blonds.
In various different shades but all were fair-haired.
Balin seem to notice that suddenly too and Luisia could see his sharp mind quickly add two and two together. "Of course! I am such a fool… how could I miss that?" She heard him mumble and smiled into her cup of tea.
"You are called the Goold Clan, Lady Luisia… that name does not by any chance, descend from the name Goldbeard in origin? Or am I wrong?"
The Matriarch just gave him a calm look that had Balin smile somewhat lopsidedly before they mutually decided to drink their tea. Both had too much on their minds to speak and Balin had even more to think through.
Behind Balin, Celandine smirked at her crafty Grandmother's way of guiding Balin to the answers.
And Balin?
He just tried to suppress the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. He couldn't wait to see Dwalin's, Dis and Thorin's gobsmacked faces when he told them the news! So, he thought, here was where the last of the Goldbeard's had ended up when their western kingdom vanished under the sea after the sacking of the western lands in the far past. They had never found a trace of the last Goldbeard's wherever they had searched and here their heritage was strong in this clan. It was clear to see in the members.
It also explained Seradon's unusual talent in the art of the smithy and why the youth seem to want to learn it so badly.
It was in his blood. Simple as that, he was born with it.
He had suspected that the clan had some secret but this was not what Balin had expected! Life was suddenly looking much brighter and he hummed into his teacup.
In the meanwhile, Agmar had the doubtful honor of being dragged along by his over enthusiastic and new apprentice.
His sister had been right, the boy was a delight and had a talent for the smithy unlike anyone else he had seen in a long time. The boy's odd feet had taken some getting used to, but Seradon never took it the wrong way. Currently the lad wanted to show him his family's old Smithy, set back in the woods surrounding Hobbiton. It supposedly had been built by Dwarves underneath the Shire. Agmar was a bit curious. If this really was of Dwarven work, then how in Mahal's name had it come here and why had Dwarves built one in the land of the Hobbits?
What clan had done so? Why where there no records of Dwarves in the Shire anywhere to find?
When they finally reached the entrance to the cavern that held the smithy, he could only look at the big stone door in shock. This was clearly the work of a Dwarven master craftsman!
The boy needed to use his mother's family ring as a key to open it. The old door swung open and let them into a tunnel system that led further back into the small outcropping of stones. What Agmar beheld caused him to nearly collapse in shock. This truly was a Dwarven built smithy and one of the likes the old master smith had not laid eyes on since the fall of Erebor! It had tools that were clearly old but all masterly wrought. Tools he had not seen in a century, because he could not afford them.
The fire places, the melting pots for metal and the various anvils clearly made for the height of a Dwarf or tall Hobbit, like Seradon and made out of the finest steel. This place even had a separate area for silver smiths built into the underground cavern! With tools to use of the like that many of the Dwarves had missed for decades.
"Boy come over to me immediately and tell me how there is a Dwarrow smithy of this quality here in the Shire and in the care of your Clan?!"
Seradon shrugged and told him the history of his family clan. He had been allowed to show Agmar and tell him by his great Grandmother itself beforehand. He was just glad that he finally had found a master to learn from. And what a master Agmar was! He had even worked with mithril in his youth!
Mithril!
Alone, the word gave the young Hobbit hope. He wanted to work with that in the future! He had an uncommon affinity for metals and forging ever since he had been a fauntling. Only Bilbo had ever shown understanding of his need to hoard pretty river stones or some odd metals that he had found.
His ever present need to fiddle around with them in his hands, if only to feel the metal or gems, to learn their feel and weight or to carve stones sometime. Agmar had shown understanding for that too. He called it a talent, a gift and Seradon liked that thought and that he seemingly had some ability with forging things.
But most of all, he was just glad to have found someone he could like and that would teach him this wonderful craft!
Agmar in the meanwhile the lad told him and than thought over this, had to sit down in his shock.
Bilbo stared down at the Warg in his arm with a defeated look that was echoed by the pup.
Both dripped with rain water as well as Fili and Kili did it. Not one of the four had been happy when late evening came and they had been caught in a sudden downpour. Kili had whined since it had started, Fili cursed lowly under his breath in rough Khuzdul and Bilbo tried in vain to keep the pup out of his shirt where it tried to bury its soggy head with a whine that rivaled Kili's more than once on their way.
As the things looked, they would never reach the great Took Smials before midnight at this rate on the now muddy trail!
Cursing, Bilbo changed course and marched into the direction of one of the normally empty Bounder hideouts at this time of the year that lay hidden in the area. His uncles had told him how to find them if ever needed and the rain was cold! They all would catch a cold if they did not get dry soon.
It was almost pitch black out when he finally found the entrance to it and ushered the others in.
Fili didn't ask, he just went over to the fire pit once inside and lit it as fast as he could while Kili checked on the supply of wood to feed the fire with. "It would last for several days if needed Fili." He told his brother who grunted in reply. He was still in a bad mood from the sudden weather change.
Bilbo sat the pup down while he closed the door firmly behind him against the now cold autumn wind. This area was known to have often wolves hunting in it. The Tooks' hunted the beasts each year in late fall to keep them at bay and away from the Hobbits but in the last few years the packs had grown bolder and bigger and more desperate for food with each passing year.
It was no longer a sport but more survival tactic in the late.
Kili helped him to secure the door for the night. Than both went to the fire to strip out of their wet clothing to hang them next to Fili's on the drying racks. The latter had in the meanwhile ended his strip and was now investigating the stored food in his smalls. Next to his crouching, muscular frame sat the little puppy, watching him, clearly as fascinated as Fili was from the sheer amount of food stored here!
Hobbits!, Fili thought with not a small amount of amusement despite their bleak situation. They clearly loved to eat too much. At least enough to ensure it even that such a place was filled with it to the rim! He gave the puppy some dried meat to gnaw on and it was soon curled around it in a mock fight that had all three boys laughing.
Bilbo finally took out some meat and a pot to cook a stew while Fili managed to find the stored blankets to keep them all semi warm until the fire had heated the small room up enough for them to not freeze.
Kili helped Bilbo to chop the dried meat and vegetables and went to a makeshift sink to get water for the stew. In the end all three lads begun to warm up again while busying themselves with domestic tasks in the shelter. The pup, named White Fang or Fang for short by Kili after it bit him, lay contentedly next to the youths. Still gnawing happily away on the strip of dry meat.
Kili was petting the beast distractedly while he watched it. Seeing and feeling all the knots in the fur, he took his comb out of his jacket and began to untangle the mess while humming to himself. The little pup let him fuss. It felt nice too, aside from the occasionally sting of a tangle caught in the comb.
His brother looked on while he filled their pipes with the dry weed he had found in the small but well stocked storage area. It was the good sort and that made the blond chuckle anew. Bounders seemed to have a good eye for good quality things and clearly lived decently.
Bilbo watched both and the slowly cooking stew. "We were lucky that we were near this hideout." He told the others solemnly.
"Mother will throw a pitch when she finds us gone, that's for sure!" Fili added and all three looked rather uncomfortably at each other.
"Mine too, oh Valar!" Bilbo groaned.
"Oy Fili, did you find some clothes that we can borrow in that storage?" The older of the brothers shook his head. "Nope Kili. Nothing that will fit us or is of use. We will have to wait for our gear to dry enough to wear it again. But Bilbo was right with stopping here for the night. We could have caught some nasty colds otherwise. Confound this weather! It really is too cold for this time of the year. At least I found some bedrolls and furs stored in there. In the worst case we have to bunk together to share body heat to sleep. Although it would be better one of us keeps watch all the time." He looked out of a small window that lay hidden and was placed cleverly enough to avoid outsiders to seeing a light when the fire place was lit with narrowed eyes.
"I do not entirely trust this place. Something out there does not feel right and I think we better be prepared for eventual problems just in case." The other two nodded quickly at his words and silence fell once more over the group while outside the storm began to rage in earnest.
Fang looked up at the cautious blond for a second before he closed his eyes and sniffed carefully around to check out the scents of whatever the Dwarf could mean with his cryptic words. He found vague traces of some wild men in the wind and his eyes opened again with a calculating light in them. Fang took note of tracking the scents in the upcoming night.
If they came any closer than was comfortable he would wake his new owners quickly.
None of the trio noticed his odd behavior, they were too busy with eating their hot stew and soon Fang got some in an extra bowl too which pleased the little Warg immensely. He had never gotten food as good they gave him without to have to fight for it!
He quickly cleaned the bowl out, much to the amusement of the lads.
Outside, a group of wild men and dark skinned southerners huddled together in the storm. Mumbling curses in their native tongues about the balls freezing weather here in the damnable north and tried to stay warm. Not more than an hours march away from the hidden shelter that currently housed the three youths and one watchful little Warg that traced all their movements through the storm with its nose with unnatural ease.
Never letting them out of his careful surveillance. He had to protect his new pack after all, they had so bad noses to begin with and their ears where also not the best, Fang decided yawning. He knew the southerners that he could smell in the wind that came inside the hideout and he did not like those humans much. They were too much like the Ork's he knew for his likening. All of them a backstabbing lot if he could believe in his mothers teachings and they had those wicked long and curved blades with poison on them with them.
None of the trio of youths at the fire realized that he had begun guarding them nor did they had a clue of it how sharp the little fellow was in real.
They bedded down together not much later, with Fili taking up the first of the three watches through the night.
Hopefully, they would have a good nights rest…
