Hunt, kill, eat, rest and run. These five words were all I had needed to survive; I cared not for the ways of the humans. The tools they used only cut and scared the earth, razing forest to the ground to build protection from the elements. Humans, I scoffed, so weak they had to have animals the survive, covering their fur-less bodies, pulling loads, carrying them around, could they do nothing for themselves? Even for a hunt they needed the domesticated dogs to scent a trail.
I had decided to reside briefly near a human encampment to pass time with idle chatter about current news, learning of places that I needed to avoid due to overpopulation of orcs. Tracking a herd of deer through the plains I chose to stalk the deer with a limp in the back instead of the delicious looking young male buck guarding the side, for the sake of the herd I told myself.
As I crouch to watch a small herd of deer move on from the stream I notice that three small humans had wandered farther from there dwellings than normal, chasing each other in a rather loud fashion. I sighed as the deer picked up the small humans' shouts and quickened their pace away from stream; as much as I tried to avoid contact with the humans I decided that these smaller ones posed no threat to me. Springing up from my hiding place I rush the weaker deer with a slight limp, vaguely aware of the small humans' gasps of surprise and startled cries. I coil my back legs and push off, launching my front paws that incase my claws onto the hind muscles of my prey. Quickly I flip the deer over and I grab the throat with my jaws, effectively ending its life, and begin to brusquely drag my kill away from the horrified eyes of the small humans.
"It's so big! What is it Thèodred?" A female with soft blonde waves whispers to one of the males, however with my hearing, her voice was loud and clear as if she was directly in front of me instead of the sizable distance between us.
"It looks like a wild dog, though" the male apparently called Thèodred paused, "I've never seen one so large before." I laughed internally at that thought. A wild dog indeed, I scoffed, my coat glistened like the blackest onyx and my size was that of a horse, much larger than the sandy brown camouflaged scavengers that roamed these prairies.
"That is no wild dog, the color and size is all wrong." The second male spoke up. I applauded this second male for his observation, while I left the remains of my kill to the scavengers, and walked over to the stream to drink. "It's not a Warg either, the size might be right but the face is completely wrong. Perhaps it is a werewolf of Dreugluin that Grandfather talked about." This thought spoken aloud by the smaller male caused me to pause in the middle of lapping up water; it had been a long time since I had heard that name. Strange that these small humans would know of such a dark creature, I'm sure by now the truth has been hidden by false twists in order to better enrapture the listeners.
"Èomer," Thèodred spoke, "the stories that Grandfather tells are nothing but legends and myths. Werewolves cannot be real; otherwise they would be really old and servants to Sauron, who's dead."
"Brother?" the little blonde female questioned raising her head to look at Èomer. "What is a Werewolf?" As the two males share an uncertain glance, I concluded that this would be entertaining enough for my time so I calmly climbed over to a larger boulder and proceeded to lie down. My vantage point from here, that coupled with my black fur allowing me to blend into the dark rock, would ensure me a hasty retreat should adults come into view, but for now I would listen to these small humans explanation of a werewolf.
"Long ago Sauron conquered an island owned by the elves," Èomer began, "There he created for himself an island of werewolves; the mind of a man but the body of a beast." I chuckled as a gasp came from the small female. "They were strong, fast and could speak, some even could walk on their hind legs and they served Sauron doing his evil bidding. However, there was."
"Èomer," Thèodred interrupted, "it's too late to tell the full story, and we should be getting back." I noticed as Thèodred talked the sun was slowly starting to descend in the sky and that the shadows were being stretched to create a dark blanket on the prairies ground.
"Oh please tell me!" The female pleaded.
"Èowyn," Thèodred replied, "I will ask Grandfather to tell the story tonight but now we must head home." Swiftly Èowyn turned and began running back toward the hill town, "last one there has orc breath!" Èowyn taunted. Soon the two males were giving chase and the afternoon returned to its normal drone.
Werewolf, they were wrong I was not a werewolf; those evil creatures had died many millenniums ago with only their diminished blood in the Wargs. I sighed as my thoughts turned to my race. I knew that our history was a sad one, and much was lost in the Darkness that has happened since and much I choose to forget, for pride caused my mighty race into extinction. First the battles within our factions wiping most of us out and then, as intelligent creatures came to claim the land, what was left of my kind was seen as too powerful and killed or chained to the thrones of kings bound by magic. That is where our name was born, Firron, Dark-Walkers for we were used in dark times for war and death, good or evil, by all races but also because we could become one with shadows and jump from one shadow to the next. Over millenniums the Firron died, not through old age for we are immortal, but loneliness, fatal wounds and the death of our bound king's bloodline until finally there were none left I could call kin. Unlike the werewolves we could choose which form we wished to live in, not only that, but we could possess magic. This magic was used to tie us to the bloodlines of our kings so that when their bloodline died we would as well.
I am the last born Firron; my mother hid my existence from even her master, Sauron, with the help of Lord Elrond, and together they freed me from the spells that he had bound my race with. When she died in the War of the Last Alliance my secret was only known by three: Lord Elrond, he had helped hide me for the first century or so, the Ents of Fangorn Forest, for their company was always pleasant and Gandalf, I had deemed him trustworthy enough, all had pledged by magic that they would never reveal me.
I have seen a millennium and some since my birth and countless battles over good and evil, the most memorable was the War of the Last Alliance. Many races banded together to fight as one and smite Sauron, however the foolishness of man proved too great and evil was allowed to live on the hand of a king. I pondered where the Ring was now, for it has been several decades since then and it would never stay hidden for long. I could feel the Darkness growing, faintly but still unsettling, maybe I would stay here a while and watch these humans toil away with their lives.
As the sun set behind the distant mountains I stretch my muscles and descend from my perch, stealthily running off to find a place to sleep.
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Firron (LOTR Fanfiction)
Fanfiction"You feel it don't you; the shadow growing from the east." Gandalf solemnly looks at me. "The One Ring has been found Firron; It would be wise to seek the safety that comes from friends and allies for I fear Sauron has returned to the land and is pl...
