I am loyalty (Thorin / OC )

Prologue

Prologue (words with "* denotes the skin-changers language, as opposed to the common-tongue)

I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself and my fluctuating heart beat. My Mother gently held my chin, doing the finishing touches of my 'war paint'. However, I wasn't going to war, I was going to my claiming ceremony. My mother finished painting the red bar across my eyes and stepped back, smiling at me. Today, I was going to claim the one form that I would be able to shift into my entire life. Yes, we were a tribe of shape shifters (the only one in Middle-earth).

As shape-shifters, we are able to transform our bodies into different animals and with this comes animalistic instincts. However, the claiming ceremony was where we claimed our one and only other form. Without this, we would be able to freely shift into any animal we chose. So why have the ceremony you ask? Well, the ceremony was in place to limit our powers, so they didn't consume us.

You see, with our shifting ability comes magic which, in the right hands can do wonders, but in the wrong hands, terrible, terrible things can happen. People fear that type of power. Being able to shift into any animal you wish and have magic, well, power like that cannot be trusted, (or so they say). For instance, once there was a skin walker called Smaug, (skin walker is just another name for my kind), and back then, they didn't limit their powers. Shifters were mostly peaceful people and only used their abilities to protect themselves and their people. One properly trained shifter could take out an entire city on their own if needed. Smaug was very powerful in both sides of his ability, for he could control fire and shift into a great red dragon, (a form only the most powerful of shifters can take). Smaug, taking on the greediness of his dragon form, wanted to take over neighbouring lands and claim them as his own.

Of course the Elders of our tribe denied him over and over, until one day, Smaug left the tribe for good. It is said he made the permanent, or so it's said, shift into his dragon form, using his fire as his weapon. Then he cast his eyes to the Lonely Mountain and it's riches; Erebor, home of the dwarves. When word of Smaugs' attack reached us, it was far too late and there was nothing to be done. Our healers couldn't help the wounded, as they were too far gone. Bitten too deep by Smaugs fire. I shuddered at the recent images of the dead dwarves, with deep burns tainting their skin.

I wore a V-neck white dress with elbow length lace sleeves, and a lace bodice with a chiffon skirt. My long dark hair was pulled back into a thick braid with vines and flowers woven through it. My mother smiled lovingly at me, taking off her crystal arrow head necklace she had gotten from my father, and placing it around my neck.
My father. He left before I was born. He was a dwarf.

Granted my mother said he didn't look like a dwarf, but my height said differently.
My mother and father had been soul mates. Sounds cheesy, but it is actually quite the opposite. You see, because my father was not a shifter, my mothers bond with him was stronger than most soul links. If my father died, then so to would my mother. However if my mother died, she would have the ability to unlink herself and save my wretched father. As a result, if my mother died, my father would not.

I was shunned for being a bastard child, wanted only by my mother. If not for her, I would have been cast out of the tribe as an infant, and left to die. My mother, with her usual kind heart, would not allow it, and being the chiefs' daughter, she was able to keep me. My Grandfather, the chief of our tribe, always hated me, calling me an abomination along with the rest of the clan.

I was grateful I had only gained my fathers short height and his dark hair. Other than that, I had my mothers pale skin, high cheek bones, strong jaw, nose and pointed ears. My eyes were a different matter. From the moment I was born, my eyes had been a shining liquid silver that, as my mother said, could hypnotise someone if they looked into them. My eyes had always been looked upon as abnormal, in the way that they seemed to emanate light from within, only my mother thought they were beautiful.
Or as she called them, the eyes of an angel.
Usually, my kind has golden eyes, but the gods wanted to laugh at me more, so they gave me cold silver ones that could not be mistaken.