Cold was the wind which blew a blistering path across the mountainous pathways upon which few had trodden. The isolated ranges dusted with snow, were pale spires before the gleaming sky of harsh, wintery sunlight which held no warmth, cold and distant as a star. Ice fluttered in spiralling cascades, undulating with the wind which howled and snarled akin to a raging beast. Battling against the snowstorm, a lone figure moved against the onslaught with hunched shoulders, trudging against the river of snow that came almost to his waist. Despite the elements that battled with intense fury, the figure continued an unhurried pace to make the treacherous trek across the mountains, as if the veil parted ways and bowed before the being who had declared war upon the mountains and at present, was claiming victory.

At this pace, the lone ranger would make it down the other side before nightfall and to more tolerable climates where he might make camp and rest. It was a laborious task, and the further he climbed the greater the challenge until the snow drifts were all but up to his shoulders, and rather than hiking it became more like wading, or even burrowing through the snow. The cling of night arrived far sooner than expected as the blackened clouds thickened with the vow of another blizzard yet to come, and whereupon the time came that it was no longer possible to see and the ground became far too uneven and unpredictable to navigate safely, the ranger decided to burrow into the snow and create himself a place where he would be sheltered, hoping to at least wait out the worst of the oncoming blizzard.

The temperature continued to drop, falling to such a level that soon not even the worn elvish cloak protected him from the cold, a numbness beginning to creep in. There was nothing to be done other than to wrap himself more surely in the only garb that staved off the threat of freezing to death, the woven material spelled with elvish magic supplying a slight glimmer of warmth against the biting ice and snow. Never had there been a snowstorm such as this, and Aragorn the Ranger began to wonder if it had been a folly to cross these mountains at all, despite being well versed in travel and the wilderness. The night was as long as it was cold, and as Aragorn continued to endure, he felt the distant hope of a swift sunrise gradually wither within him.

Providing that he could survive the night, Aragorn anticipated that the descent down the mountain would be far easier than it had been to ascend. The only comfort in the lonely stretch of night were the thoughts of his most beloved, the dearest gem of his life that shone even in the haze of storms and darkness. He thought of her sable hair that glimmered with stars, her eyes alight with beauty and warmth that fought against the numbness of his body. Every memory of her was his comfort, every glimpse of a smile, the graceful sweep of her porcelain neck and the fullness of her lashes dark as fine as ink. These images brought a smile upon Aragorn's expression, allowing his focus to divert from his present situation and onto more pleasant a pastime. Often his thoughts would think of the ethereal Arwen Undomiel of Rivendell, hours of a time drifting away as his mind dwelled upon his love.

Time passed with more ease, however in his reverie, Aragorn did not think that upon this desolate ice capped mountain, within the heart of a tempestuous storm, that there would be another creature brave enough to combat the elements. It came first as a low growl, a snuffle against the snow. The sound started Aragorn awake from his dreaming, diverting his focus to the presence outside his snow cave. Sitting up, Aragorn immediately reached for his knife, for there was not enough space for a sword in this place, so a knife was his wisest choice. Preparing to defend his shelter and his life, Aragorn listened to the sounds growing more distinct the closer it came. It was certainly an animal, something large, perhaps a bear.

A shadow passed by the mouth of the snow cave, a gruff sound emanating from the creature that also sought out shelter from the storm. Holding his breath with calmness and preparation, Aragorn watched the mouth of the cave as the shadow paused and then returned. It sniffed and snorted, catching Aragorn's scent before then inching closer inside. The first image which presented itself was a huge snow dusted paw with hooked claws, tentatively inching inside. Next came the other forepaw, and then a large black nose wet and frozen from the cold, followed by the great maw of a beast as it climbed down into the mouth of the cave in order to take shelter. Wild golden eyes glared into the dark loom of the snow cave, striking Aragorn as he tensed and met the gaze of the beast before him.

Shaggy fur rippled with every movement as the giant wolf stared back at Aragorn, looking at him deeply with the bright glow of eyes that caused Aragorn to hesitate. The beast did not move to immediately attack him, and so he used this moment to stare back, hunter to hunter. The keen intelligence of those pupils held Aragorn in intrigue, watching the beast as it also observed Aragorn in turn. Its shoulders were sloped and tense, head lowered with its maw pulled back in a snarl of warning, but still it did not go for the kill. In fact upon inspecting Aragorn's presence, the beast suddenly stood up straight and wagged its large, bushy tail, tilting its head before then rolling back and sitting on its oversized haunches. Never had Aragorn seen a beast such as this, easily the largest wolf he had ever seen, and it was alone. There was no sense of a pack out there, which meant this wolf was a loner.

Sitting opposite Aragorn, the wolf continued to thump its tail against the snow trodden ground, filling up the only remaining space left to them which meant that as Aragorn attempted to press himself further back away from the beast, he could feel and smell the hot and rather foul breath of the panting animal. It was almost…sociable. If it were not for the sheer size of the beast, Aragorn would think that this creature was no more than a domesticated dog found in village markets, tame to the touch and eager to be fed and petted by any passing by. Caught by his surprise, Aragorn even lowered his stance lightly, watching the giant hound as it panted and yawned, licking its maw before it then leaned forwards in order to sniff at Aragorn, learning his scent and clearly deciding that Aragorn was no threat.

Its eyes continued to look directly upon Aragorn, searching deep with every twitch and shift of its body until finally it opened its jaw and stretched out its long, salivating tongue to lick Aragorn upon his cheek. The tongue was hot and wet, melting away the chill that pinched at Aragorn's face as the giant wolf began to lick at his hair, beard and shoulders where the snow had covered him, warming him with its own breath and body heat as it sat close, its huge body filling up any open space which allowed heat to gather more closely between them both. Aragorn could hardly believe his eyes, witnessing something so bizarre as a giant wolf who seemed to insist upon trying to keep him warm. Once more Aragorn was drawn to the bright orbs that shimmered in the dark, aglow with intelligence and drew him further in.

So focused was he upon the mottled irises that held his attention that at first Aragorn did not notice the shifting features and the receding fur, how dark fur melted into a complexion of deep bronze. Once more Aragorn was held in stupefied awe as the phenomenon unravelled before him, watching as the form of the beast took on the image of a woman before him, a wild looking thing that possessed none of the natural grace and airs of a lady for she was a creature born of nature and magic unlike any that Aragorn had ever crossed paths with before. Slackened jaw stared at the being before him, the space that had before now been filled by the giant fur covered body now opening to give way to the presence of a woman who crouched upon her hands and feet, utterly naked before his eyes.

Out of instinctual politeness Aragorn averted his gaze to protect the creature's modesty, for she wore no garb to shield herself from the eye, not even a scrap of cloth. This added to the feral image this strange woman created, a wild mass of untamed hair piled upon her head in a colour that was indistinguishable to the eye for the casing of mud, dirt and grime that had clearly been allowed to fester and gather for many years without proper attention or management. The dark creaminess of her skin was mottled with similar casings of dirt and mud, her nails curving into long claws that were yellowed and chipped from age.

Stretching forwards again, the woman lifted her sloped nose and sniffed once more at Aragorn, clicking her stained teeth where black had mottled with the yellow, and Aragorn was even certain that he had noticed dried blood and old flesh caught between her teeth. Gradually turning his head back, Aragorn avoided looking at the shape-shifter directly, but allowed himself to see her face once more as she continued to sniff at him, impressing herself against him in order to inspect him closely. The keen interest prompted the woman to investigate this human that she had found, judging him to be a gentle and trustworthy character she felt the urge to learn his scent, to try and understand who and what he was, for it had been a many number of years since she had been this close to a creature such as he. To her, Aragorn was as great an oddity as she was to him, and upon catching the scent upon the familiar wilds upon him, found him intriguing and likeable.

Twisting her lips into a grin, the shape-shifter's tongue darted forwards and licked at Aragorn again, attempting to demonstrate friendliness in the only way she knew how. Sitting back once more, the woman shifted herself back into a wolf. Now too transfixed to look away, Aragorn watched the gradual process of transformation. It was almost daunting how quiet it was, nothing more than the occasional sound of bones cracking as they melded and changed into the new skeletal figure of a wolf. Thick fur grew from every pore in clumps whilst her face lengthened and her teeth became thick fangs. Sweeping her tail across the snow, the creature rolled onto her side in play, wriggling until she had made herself comfortable and even scratching at the wall to make it a little bigger before then settling, curling herself up with a snort and closed her eyes to sleep. Unable to believe the situation, Aragorn sheathed his knife.

"Who are you…strange creature?" Murmuring in a low tone, Aragorn gradually allowed himself to go lax beside the creature that acted little more than a pup. Tentatively reaching out his hand, Aragorn marvelled when the creature allowed him to press his hand against the flank which rose and fell with every breath. It was warm, warmer than expected, warmer than a large hearth with flames roaring and crackling healthily upon the firewood. "Never have I encountered one such as you. How many of your kind exist? Are you perhaps alone?" Opening one eye to flicker it in Aragorn's direction, the shape-shifter watched Aragorn as an ear also swivelled to listen. "Are you perhaps a Skin-Changer? I have heard of this kind." It was unknown to Aragorn that the creature before him knew not what his words meant, for she had no understanding for the tongues of Men, Dwarves, Elves, or any other creature that communicated with others of its kind. For she was a singular being, having walked alone for many moons and suns without sharing a single word with another soul beyond the guttural growls or cries of her creatures.

Now allowing his hand to move back and forth over the fur, Aragorn stroked the creature as it continued to allow this physical contact. "What stories could you tell me, creature? From where do you come? What lands do you call home? And why is it that you happen upon me upon this mountain within the throes of a snowstorm?" Continuing to speak, Aragorn allowed his voice to express his curiosity in this miraculous creature of magic and wildness. "Do you have a name, golden-eyed creature?" To this the shape-shifter did not respond, except to snort and close her eyes once more in order to sleep and outwait the lashing whips of snow and sleet that rained down beyond the confines of the cave. Her deep breaths and rumbling snores soon had Aragorn of a mind to rest also, though with no longer the space to stretch himself out, all he could do was lay himself against the furred hide of the beast and cover himself with his cloak in order to rest where slumber overcame him in the presence of a creature unlike any other.

Wherefore the morrow came and brought upon the mountain clear skies and favourable conditions to descend, Aragorn himself in the company of that same creature he had beheld the night previous. It followed him at a distance that it maintained with vigilance, never allowing to fall behind or ahead a single step as it tracked Aragorn down the mountain. As it did him no harm, Aragorn allowed it to follow, and as the days passed the shape-shifter would take a single step closer towards him in distance, but never more than this. It was discovered that this skin-changer or shape-shifter, was able to transform herself not only into that of a giant wolf, but also of other animals. In the brief glimpses of his periphery Aragorn was able to witness for himself the creature turning from beast to woman and then to something new altogether, the transition sometimes progressing so swiftly and smoothly that it all occurred in the blink of an eye.

Several times he would look up and behind in order to see a bird of some description following him aloft as it rode the currents of the skies, wings stretched far as it maintained the same distance from him as it decided upon. His days were soon utterly devoted to learning of this strange creature, and even attempting to communicate it in some manner. Aragorn spoke all the tongues that he knew, but if the shape-shifter knew any of the words that murmured from his lips she gave no indication of understanding, nor any sign of an inclination to respond beyond the general huffs and caws of the various animals she changed into. Thus far, Aragorn had deduced that this being could only copy the shapes and forms of animals she herself has witnessed with her own eyes, for once he spied her studying the form of a great brown bear before then taking on the exact image of the animal before challenging it to do battle.

The overcoming roars and snarls of two beasts swinging their great paws at one another had rent the forest open of its peaceful demeanour, scattering shrieking birds in all directions as the two bears crashed against a tree and caused it to quake and shiver, almost ripping it from its roots in the ferocity of their battle. Aragorn had maintained a safe and respectful distance until the skin-changer claimed victory, pinning the bear down with a paw to its throat before she then released it, licking at its wounds before then lolloping away as if it had been nothing more than an amusement. The creature turned herself into a feline thereafter, a great cat of golden-cream fur and deep black and brown spots. A leopard, if Aragorn was not mistaken, not a creature to be seen wandering Middle-Earth.

A powerful looking creature, Aragorn watched as it clawed and climbed its way up a tree to then settle upon the thick breadth of a branch, panting lazily and enjoying the scatterings of sunlight against the fur. It was somewhat unnerving to have such a creature following him without knowing its intentions, but Aragorn's curiosity outweighed his caution and thus far, he had judged the creature to be somewhat harmless. After all, he had seen many a creature crawl and nestle upon the beast no matter which form it took, even when that of a ferocious predator, the innocent flock of prey would gather and frolic about its great paws and massive maw without fear. Mice would scamper across its body whilst rabbits nibbled upon the grass by its belly, and once Aragorn had seen a robin fly into the creature's mouth amidst a yawn to perch upon its teeth, and the beast refused to close its jaw until the bird had flown a way. A true creature of nature, and goodness too, for if fearful prey would freely gather around such a being without hesitation, then it demonstrated a certain purity that exuded beyond the physical form.

Aragorn would often find himself talking to the creature in different tongues, telling it stories and songs he had learned whilst growing in the halls of Lord Elrond, who had raised him after his father's passing. Unbeknown to Aragorn, the shape-shifter was always listening to the lilting sound of the human's voice, for she found comfort in its company and the pleasant tones felt like that of a rumbling purr at times, and having travelled in solitary silence for so long, the presence of another living being beyond the simple-minded creatures of the land was a welcome change. Although she knew not what he was saying, her keen intelligence allowed her to pick upon slight nuances in his tone and the shift of his scent which followed the course of his feelings, and as gradual words and names were repeated, the shape-shifter reasoned that these particular names must mean a great deal to the loner she had decided to follow out of curiosity.

As of this moment, the human was speaking of a name that had been spoken several times over the course of a few days, and the creature knew it to be something of great importance, for each time the word passed the human's lips his scent would become awash with longing, desire, heat and a certain flavour that could not be placed, for the shape-shifter did not know how to describe the scent that she had never discovered before now. Arwen. This was the word that the human spoke, and thus the creature determined that this must be the human's mate, for his scent gave him away even if his expression did not. The human was a great fascination to her, and gradually she began to find herself increasingly curious at the actions and movements of the human before her. Each night when they made break to camp, kindling would be gathered, twigs and branches of certain kinds to be then stacked together and with some kind of sorcery yet unknown, would create a spark that then created a moving life form that delivered light and heat from its source.

The first time the shape-shifter had seen fire, she had marvelled at it with awe and wonder, staring at it for hours until the last ember had become nothing more than cold ash. In the past she had rarely ever stayed in her human form longer than a few minutes, but now she found herself prompted to change back into her natural form in order to mimic and copy the movements of the human she was tailing. She would flex her fingers as if discovering them for the first time, and pick up things in order to inspect and study them, even trying to build a campfire of her own though without success. Through this study, the shape-shifter learned which type of wood the human desired to create the bright-light-which-burned, and thus began to collect it herself and deliver it to him at a distance in order to prove herself useful.

Although there were many skills and habits that the human demonstrated that were uniquely new to her, the shape-shifter discovered that there was also a great deal she could teach the human herself. For instance, she found him to a rather subpar tracker by her standards, which perhaps was an unfair comparison in hindsight, but she could not understand then that his eyes did not see as far as hers or in such detail, or that her nose could unravel the multitudinous threads of scents that lay around them with a single sniff. She sought to teach him better, to learn how to hunt and track as she did, though this progressed with little success as all Aragorn would see is a giant wolf prancing in front of him as if in play, not understanding that she was attempting to show him something. "You are an odd creature." Aragorn mused with mirth as the wolf dropped down upon its front with its haunch in the air, tail whipping from side to side seemingly with enough force to knock a grown man sideways. "What is it that you want of me, golden-eyes?" Having no other name to call her by, Aragorn had settled upon this simple moniker, though was hesitant to give a real name should the being decide to simply take off one day and never cross his path again. He did not wish to grow too fond of that he could not control or anticipate.

Tilting her head, the intense gaze of the wolf truck through Aragorn once more as it always did, mesmerised by such a shade of clear honey and mead he had yet to see before. The penetrating gaze of intelligence rippled with each subtle hue, and Aragorn had to wonder once more if she knew what he was speaking. He hoped that the creature would stay with him long enough to reach someone who could perhaps help him discern its origin, such as Lord Elrond or perhaps the Lady Galadriel. Perhaps even his most recent acquaintance, Gandalf the Grey, might prove insightful towards this creature's heritage. She was closer now than before, barely a few feet away as she slept peacefully under the radiant stars and moon above. It was a comfort to know that she was there, for it allowed Aragorn to rest and sleep more deeply knowing that there was someone else to watch their surroundings, someone sensitive to threat or change and could be relied upon to protect their campsite should they come under attack.

Before Aragorn had realised it, the days had stretched into weeks, and the continual presence of the shape-shifting being remained with him, now walking contentedly at his side with a closeness that meant that one would brush against the other, but Aragorn was never rejected. In fact sometimes, the creature sought out his touch, insisting that he rested his hand upon her back in whatever form she chose to take, and even perched upon his shoulder in some instances in the form of a crow or hawk depending upon her fancy. When rain fell upon them she had discovered that by turning into a mouse, she could disappear into the folds of Aragorn's clothes and remain warm and dry, leaving Aragorn to suffer the deluge until it had passed, whereby the bright shining orbs would always dance with what Aragorn could only describe as laughter.

As of yet the shape-shifter was yet to leave, and the more time they spent in company, the greater he dared to hope that perhaps it was not yet willing to leave, remaining by his side as they travelled south towards the lands of Rohan where Aragorn intended to offer his sword in service to the preservation of Man. It would be some time before his journey might take him to someone of wisdom and knowledge as those he knew, and so he contented himself with learning as much of the creature that had seemingly adopted him as one of her own on something of a whim. Aragorn was not to complain, for he was grateful for the presence by his side as he had not realised the benefit of a warm body to sleep beside, or the security of another set of eyes upon the horizon. One day, he will manage to teach this creature how to speak, and he revelled in the anticipation of learning her truth and discovering for himself what she was and where she had come from, but for now, Aragorn contented himself to simply bask in the amicable friendship they had somehow developed, and longed for nothing more than to continue as they were in peace and comfortableness until such a time came that she was ready to open her heart to him.