D: I only own my OC
She limped her way to the shift changers lodgings, trying her best not to leave a trail behind. The dwarves on the other hand were much more careless. She found their trail with ease and followed it. What worried her was that she could sense a different pack of Orc nearby. Probably not after her at the moment, more likely meeting with the pack she had just left. But soon enough they would be on her trail. All the more reason to try to join the others as quickly as possible.
"His name is Beorn, and he is a skin-changer. Sometimes he's a huge black bear; sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overfond of dwarves." Gandalf explained.
"He's leaving!"
"Come away from there! It's not natural, none of it. It's obvious: he's under some dark spell."
"Don't be a fool; he's under no enchantment but his own. Alright now, get some sleep, all of you. You'll be safe here tonight."
"Attack them now. Kill the Dwarf filth while they sleep."
"No. The Beast stands guard."
"We will kill them on the road."
The arrival of another white orc, Bolg, captured the attention of the small army.
"They are gathering in Dol Guldur. The Master has summoned you!"
His brother howled in anger.
The sky was still dark when Valaira had finally made it to the edge of the forest. But whatever poison the blade had been infected with was greatly slowing her down. She leaned heavily on a tree, struggling to remain on her feet. The elf could see the home of the skin changer in the open field, it was quiet, they had safely made it. And the orcs were nowhere in sight.
A twig snapped behind her and startled her. Valaira unconsciously reached for her weapon.. "You do not look well, Valaira."
"Beorn!" She sighed in relief. How had she not sensed his approach?
"You are wounded." He stated.
"The white orc…" She trailed off.
"You are friends with the dwarves?"
"You could say that."
"They are in my house. I will take you to them."
"Beorn, you do not have to-" The skin-changer ignored her, gently scooped her up and carried her across the field.
The giant man placed her on her feet and knocked on his on door quietly. It was locked from the inside. Gandalf opened the door, he looked wide awake but troubled. The dwarves snoring was almost rattling the house.
"Valaira, thank the Valar you are alright." Gandalf looked her over, frowning at her bandaged wound.
"Beorn, I hope you don't mind the company…" He trailed off, carefully examining the skin changers face for any sign of displeasure. But all Beorn did was grunt, not unkindly.
Valaira limped around searching for some water to boil, while trying to not step on any limbs. Gandalf and Beorn were whispering at the large wooden table as the elf unwrapped the bloodied cloth from her thigh. She hissed at the sight.
There were no signs of it healing, this was odd because Valaira healed quickly. as all elves did. But that's not what bothered her. It was the thick, black, puss, oozing out of it. And the graying skin around it.
That's when Thorin woke up. And he saw it. Or at least some of it. Valaira cleaned it as best she could before trying to heal it. Before she was not sure if she had enough time to do so. But now, she was not being hunted down by orcs, and had a safe environment.
Valaira placed the athelas she was given by Beorn into the broken flesh and tried the spell. It didn't work. One thing she knew for certain, this wasn't the work of a Morgul blade.
"You're hurt." Thorin said gruffly.
"I am fine." She said, wrapping the wound up once more.
But Thorin saw straight through her lie. And his normally hard face softened. "What happened?"
"Azog."
Everyone else began waking up, stretching and complaining loudly that they were hungry. Beorn was gracious enough to make them breakfast.
"So you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"
"You know of Azog? How?"
"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."
"There are others like you?" Bilbo asked.
"Once, there were many."
"And now?"
"Now, there is only one." A silence fell for a moment before Beorn spoke again.
"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"
"Before Durin's Day falls, yes."
"You are running out of time."
"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."
"A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need."
"We will take the Elven Road. That path is still safe."
"Safe? The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not."
"What do you mean? These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive. I don't like dwarves. They're greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own. But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?"
Exhausted. Valaira was exhausted. While everyone else prepared the horses and supplies Beorn had given them, the elf tried to rest. Tried. Dwarves were noisy and Valaira was a light sleeper. Gandalf rested his hand on her shoulder when everyone was ready to leave.
"Go now, while you have the light. The hunters are not far behind."
The company galloped towards the ancient forest, the orcs were nowhere to be seen.
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