Niatha padded across the dead plant matter coating the forest floor, paws silent in the shadowy cloak of night. The hunt was on. An elk herd, oblivious to their follower, were like fish in a fountain: right where she wanted them. Trapped. Having scouted the area beforehand, Niatha knew of a small cliff face into which she could drive the group before choosing her prey and going in for the kill. Carefully, she stalked to the east side of the herd for a better position of attack.
Suddenly, a twig, off to the north of the herd, snapped. A flurry of pounding hooves and terrified grunts cascaded southwards, not the direction she had intended. However, being in the unfortunate circumstance of not having eaten a proper meal for four days, meant that this meal was crucial for Niatha's survival. So, despite the lack of opportunities to trap prey in that direction, she gave chase nonetheless. A yowl from her feline throat rippled towards the elk, causing them to panic in an extra burst of fear. The hunt was on.
Swiftly, Niatha manoeuvred herself around a slalom of trees in persuit of her prey--in a rushed decision she had chosen a sickly youngling unable to find its way into the protection of the heart of the herd. With the agility of the great cat she was, Niatha sprang into the the air to bounce off a tree and back out, claws extracted and fangs bared, in a grim display of death to the youngling. No longer did that calf live once Niatha's strong jaws clamped down upon it's struggling throat.
Dragging the carcass of the dead calf back to her den was not as hard as it used to be (she'd had to get stronger to survive out here in the wild) but it still weighed a few hundred pounds. This boded well for her not-so-future meal that night. Upon arriving at the well-concealed cave she now called home, Niatha pulled the body to the entrance before retreating back inside to get her equipment.
Back in the deaths of the shallow hole in the rock, Niatha's bones began to pop out and back into place, morphing and changing shape into an entirely different form. The form of a girl. From her curled up position only the fair skin and bony flesh of her back was visible beneath the cascading strands of straight, ebony hair that fell to her hips. Unfurling from her protective position, Niatha shook the agony of transformation from her mind and stood up, glancing around her home. There her sapphire-blue eyes rested on her clothes: a long-sleeved, deep blue under-shirt; a short-sleeved, brown over-shirt; dark beige breeches and black leather boot that came up all the way past her knee. Dressing quickly, Niatha then donned her umber cloak and pulled the hood up to shield from the night's unrelenting chill.
Clasping the sapphire broach pin in place to hold the cloak on, she strode over to where her lean meal lay. As the girl knelt beside the body she said a quick prayer to the Beast Lords that the young animal's soul would be at peace before taking her worn knife and making the first incision at the base of the gullet. From there she drew the knife along the belly of the beast right up to between its hind legs. Through the now gaping hole Niatha extracted the elk's innards of guts and lungs and the like--of course she discarded these by hauling them out into the woods and leaving them for the wolves to find. Afterwards, she came back to the fiddly task of skinning. Carefully, oh so carefully not to puncture the muscle, Niatha made small cuts in the membrane to separate meat from skin. In this way she continued until the body and legs were bare of hide. Slicing off the head, she skinned that also, the girl took the miniature horns of the calf for use later on.
In monotonous routine, Niatha hung the skin out on a branch to dry and gathered herbs and salt with which to cure the meat for keeping. Only a meagre ration of the meat did she roast for that night, since she had to make it last, while the rest was salted, dried or boiled into broth.
Slumping down beside the warmth of the fire, a wooden plate of elk meat beside her, Niatha grabbed one of the horns and began to carve it into a sharper, more knifelike shape. Once finished, the girl unrolled her blanket and lay upon it, yanking warm furs over to keep herself toasty and warm.
Another day of survival done.
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Niatha awoke the the squeaking and spitting of dying embers; the fire was out. It was just before dawn--judging from the faint glimmer of pink on the otherwise grey sky--and today's challenge involved collecting more firewood. Groggily, she heaved the immense weight of animal furs from her body and rose for the day, rolling up her bedding and pushing it to the back of the cave where it would not get in her way.
Breathing in the freshness of crisp morning air, the girl grabbed a couple of empty water canteens and a few water skins and strolled down to the gently bubbling stream, humming a tune of her past. The words of which had long been lost to her. The sudden recollection of her homeland and her people threatened to bring a tear falling from her eye sons Niatha quickly suppressed the memory and carried on walking.
In the distance she could hear the morning twitter of birds and the hungry cheeping of their young. The herd of elk from yesterday moved on the opposite bank as rabbits and squirrels came out whilst foxes and owls went away. And there, in the distance, the steady gurgle of running water slithering through the forest.
By the time she reached the stream dawn was fully underway and an azure blanket had been draped across the sky. It was truly a wondrous sight to watch and raw cotton floated across the perfect blue of the sky. Niatha inhaled deeply at the scent of wet forest: her favourite smell of all those she could detect with her feline senses.
First she filled the canteens and skins and left them safely on a rocky outcrop beside the stream before stripping to just loincloth and breast band and diving, head first, into a deep area of water. Coming up for air after a few minutes submerged, Niatha reached behind her head to gather up her hair and run her fingers through it. Multiple time this was repeated until all of the grime and dirt and twigs from the day before were released to the water. Next she scrubbed her body until it was raw and, though it hurt a little, it was worth the cleansed sensation.
Redressing, Niatha gathered up the new water she'd gathered and hummed her way back home. She placed the full water containers in a cooler, dug-out pit in the cave so they would be more refreshing when drunk before moving off into the woods to gather more kindling and logs for the fire. For this she picked up a small axe to ease the chopping of branches and a piece of elk meat with water and a wild carrot for her lunch in a leather pack.
By the time noon rolled around, Niatha's pack was filled with kindling of twigs and pine cones and her arms were full of large and medium sized logs. Feeling utterly exhausted, she plonked down on a thick fallen log and took out her packed lunch.
The first bite of food was just inches away from her mouth when a twig snapped behind her. Niatha whipped around, standing and grabbing her axe in the process. Axe pointing directly at the newcomer, Niatha took him in. He was a stooped figure, clearly very old and clad in grey robes from top to toe. From beneath a wide-brimmed, pointed grey hat fell wiry strands of silver and grey hair.
"Who are you and what do you want?" She inquired none too gently.
"Just traveling to see an old friend. She lives in these parts, I don't suppose you've come across her?"
There was no mistaking that playful timbre or the knowing tone of his voice as he lifted his aged head. I recognised that face of mapped lines, added to, much like a map, with the wisdom of age and years of experience. I recognised the thin mouth, slightly turned up at the corners in a subtle smile. I recognised the wiry facial hair covering most of the face. And I recognised the eyes, those icy blue eyes with a twinkle of humour lurking in the shadows, always ready to strike.
"Gandalf?" I breathed, letting the axe slip from my grasp and fall to the leaves with a muted thud.
"Hello Niatha, it is good to see you. Oh!" He was a little shocked by the sudden embrace of squealing and tears of joy. "There, there. Come, let us go back to your home and speak over dinner."
With that, Niatha gathered her things and led the way home.
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"So how have you been managing these past few years?" Gandalf asked, popping his last piece do elk stew into his mouth before slurping up the broth.
"Fairly well, I guess, but it is tiring with one day to the next being a fight just to survive. It is exhausting but never-ending and sometimes that leads me to despair!" Niatha replied.
"And have you not heard anything of, the others of your people? Do they still live?" Though Gandalf already knew the answer, he wished to hear it from her own mouth, her own view.
"No, Gandalf. I am the last Skin Changer, my people are gone..." A single tear escaped the confines of her long, dark lashes to role down her cheek.
In that one tear, all of her memories fell. Those of her beautiful life before the orcs invaded. Those of the invasion: watching people being slaughtered and chained and enslaved and ruined... Those of the torture she and her people went through at the hands of the Great Orc for his amusement. Those of the day she finally broke free and escaped while the orcs were distracted by another runaway. He had so many following that Niatha was absolutely certain he did not escape or die a painless death. But thanks to him, she now lived free.
"In that case, you have been alone too long and I won't allow it to continue for another moon!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat on a log. "Pack your things and meet me in the Shire in two weeks. Ask for the home of Bilbo Baggins and then look for the door baring the dwarfish rune. I'm sure it will be visible in the dark, I'll make sure it glows for you." His voice seemed rather excited as he strode towards the entrance of the cave.
"Wait!" He stopped. "Why the Shire?"
"You are coming with me on a quest little one. And don't try to get out of it, it's already decided and it will do you good to be around others."
"What sort of others?" Niatha questioned.
"... Uhm... Dwarves..." He muttered under his breath, scuffing a a booted foot on the cave's stone floor.
"Dwarves?!" Niatha practically shouted, "no. Just no. Have you any idea what they would do to me if they found out what I was?! If they found out how dangerous I can be?! They fear and try to hunt anything they do not believe they can control or tame or might be a threat! Tell, Gandalf, who is going on this quest and what is it for?
"It is the company of Thorin Oakenshield and twelve other dwarves and, hopefully, the hobbit, Mr Bilbo Baggins. We journey to free Erebkr for its rightful owners."
Niatha let slip a strangled laugh before stretching her plump, pink lips to a thin line in contemplation.
"So you wish for me to accompany a pack of dwarves (who could discover my secret at any point and kill me for it) and a homesick hobbit (who I would have to protect from any and every danger we came across because the dwarves sure as hell won't) on a quest past the Misty Mountains (where the Great Goblin still reigns) and through Mirkwood (where I'm sure Thranduil will have something to say about my being there) to the Lonely Mountain where they will attempt (and, most likely, fail) to reclaim it from Smaug whilst NOT getting killed in the process? I am not a fool Gandalf. This is a suicide mission for them and even more so for me." She shook her head at the old wizard's request.
"When then you'd better make sure they don't find out then hadn't you?"
"Is there no way I can talk you out of forcing me into this?" Niatha groaned like a stropping child.
"No. Now go and pack, it is a fair journey to the Shire. I shall meet you there but first I have some business to attend to." And with that, Gandalf mounted a chestnut horse Niatha hadn't even realised was there and galloped off through the forest.
"So much for a safe life then.
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So this is my second Middle Earth story. I hope you enjoy and think its good. *fingers crossed*. I will be updating very soon and the story will be picking up. I will have a cover by the end of tomorrow and probably a better title but this is just to give you an introduction to the story.
Thank you
-WWM