Hood » LotR ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Fourteen: Gwath

"I mean, I'm all for fighting," Thralor interjected, scratching the bald part of his head. For the first time ever, he didn't look like he wanted to fight. "But maybe we should hightail it the other way instead?"

"A horse couldn't outrun a wolf," Aragorn shook his head in frustration. "And if Aria is correct--"

"I am."

The howls were growing closer. Tied to one of the trees, Gilroc pranced nervously, throwing her black mane. Clenching his jaw, Robin shifted his feet in anticipation.

These were the kinds of things that could be avoided if he was on his own. Never before did Robin have to deal with orc assassins or kingly duels or bloodthirsty werewolves. Curse the Valar above.

"I think we should take care of them now--" Elladan started, but was swiftly cut off by Thralor, who glared darkly at the to twins.

"Leave it to the elves to put our lives on the line. There was a reason Dain never trusted you pointy-eared--"

"Brother!"

Closing his eyes tight, Robin swallowed the metallic tang on his tongue, realizing his lip had started bleeding again. He took a deep breath around the shouting that had erupted through the clearing-- then realized the howls had stopped.

Opening his eyes, Robin met Elanor's wide green eyes, then turned his head and glanced around. One by one, the others quieted.

Then there was a sharp bark and a flash of black fur. Robin barely had time to throw himself to the ground as a creature four times the size of an average dog leaped through the air, breezing over his head. His torch rolled to the side, licking at dead grass.

The wolf hit the ground with a thud and skidded-- right into Aragorn's blade. The torchlight caught a flash of silver and then a loud yelp shattered the night.

Suddenly, howling was all Robin could hear.

He threw himself forward, fingers wrapping around the torch and rolling to his back, seconds before another wolf leaped out of the shadows, the creature only ducking away as he sliced the flames through the air.

These were no wolves, Robin quickly realized. Not only were they twice the size, but their eyes glowed yellow and red. Where there should have been forelegs, were clawed hands and fur covered muscles. Robin's heart leaped into his throat as the werewolf didn't simply stalk forward, but stood on its hind legs, snarling toward where he laid.

Scrambling back, the pain rocketing through Robin's head and body was forgotten and he shoved himself to his feet, retreating backward.

But his dagger and sword were gone, somewhere in the undergrowth. His bow laid in the dirt ten feet away, from where he had foolishly thrown it before the duel.

By Morgoth's silmaril.

"Good... dog?" 

The wolf snarled, throwing itself forward and Robin barely managed to duck, feeling the air of the creature's movement. Swinging his torch through the air, he just caught its mane and the growl turned into a squealing yelp.

Catching flames streaked into the distance as the werewolf raced away. Blinking, Robin grinned a little, glancing at his torch. "Wadda know."

He had retreated to the edge of the clearing, his eyes snapping back to the chaos. The others were engaged in their own opponents, the grizzled, shadowed creatures a terror in the darkness. 

Cursing, Robin gazed over his shoulder, then gripped his torch tighter, racing toward the fighting.

"Fire! They are afraid of fire!"