| REWRITING |
A shapeshifter walks alongside Thorin Oakenshield on his perilous quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. As they traverse the rugged terrain, unexpected challenges arise, testing their resolve and camaraderie. With the shapeshifter's un...
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This book will occur in the two last movies of Tolkiens the hobbit. I will be putting in the love interest of the reader (you) in some places. My writing will mainly write this book. Some may have the script, and it might not. I'll see how far I get. Anyways, let's start! 🐉 ⚔︎
As you glided gracefully from one tree to another, your acute and slightly fur-covered ears picked up an unfamiliar sound that echoed through the otherwise tranquil forest—voices, but not the melodious tones of the elves you were accustomed to. These were coarser, more unrefined. You furrowed your brow in curiosity, as the voices grew louder and more distinct. They were definitely not elvish, nor were they the harmonious whispers of the trees you so often heard in the woods.
You alighted upon a sturdy branch, feeling the gentle sway of the tree beneath your feet, and listened intently. The voices grew clearer, and soon you recognized the gruff timbre of the dwarves, a race known for their industrious spirit and fiery temperament. This was an unexpected encounter, as dwarves rarely ventured into these parts, especially not in such a large group. The trees whispered of their approach, and you felt a strange excitement bubble up within you. It wasn't often that you had the opportunity to observe creatures from afar, and the prospect of witnessing a rare gathering of dwarves was too intriguing to ignore.
As you peered down through the dense foliage, you noticed something peculiar—the scent of a hobbit wafted through the air. Hobbits, those simple, peace-loving beings, were almost never seen outside their cozy abodes in the Shire. It was quite extraordinary to detect their presence here, so far from their comfortable, bucolic lifestyle. You couldn't help but wonder what had brought them to such a place, and what kind of adventure they were embarking upon.
Yielding to your inquisitive nature, you began to inch closer to the unusual assembly, taking care to remain unseen. Your movements were fluid, a testament to your elongated limbs and the time you had spent honing your skills in the treetops. You were a creature of the heights, and the dense canopy was your sanctuary.
The company of travelers grew more distinct, and you discerned a variety of sizes and shapes. The dwarves were stout and broad-shouldered, their beards thick and unruly, while the hobbit was noticeably smaller, with a gentle glow about him that seemed to emanate from his very soul. They were engaged in a heated debate, the subject of which eluded your understanding, but the urgency was palpable.
As you drew nearer, you observed the hobbit's eyes darting around nervously, as if searching for something—or someone. He looked up in the direction of your perch, and for a brief moment, you thought he had spotted you. But no, he was merely scanning the surroundings, oblivious to the creature lurking above. The dwarves paid him no heed, absorbed as they were in their own bickering.
Suddenly, you felt a chilling presence, a shiver down your spine. The unmistakable scent of spiders, those loathsome creatures of the dark, filled the air. The dwarves had clearly disturbed them, and now they were drawing nearer. Your instincts took over, and you bared your teeth, a fierce and intimidating sight for any creature to behold—but these were not ordinary teeth. They were the teeth of a dragon, long and sharp as the shadows that cloaked the forest floor.
