Devotion (Thorin/OC)

Chapter seven: 60 years later...

60 years later...

Luka POV

The sounds of merry hobbits drifted out of the window of The Green Dragon pub as I walked by, my long black cloak blending in with the shadows. Lanterns, swinging gently in the breeze, illuminated the path I was walking on, sending a soft yellow glow over the surrounding scenery. I knew that if I was to walk into that pub, the merry singing and dancing would stop immediately. Ever since I had moved to the Shire, the hobbits had labeled me as...strange, which to hobbits was a bad thing to have around.

I would go to the market and hobbits would scramble to get out of my way, and shop owners would try to get me out of their hair as quick as possible, so I wouldn't 'scare off' customers. Once labeled as strange, all hobbits became weary of me, running into their homily holes as I tended to my herb garden. Although, I couldn't blame them.

The door of my own home was covered in cavings and runes, standing out compared to the other hobbit holes. I had converted my hill-top roof into my training grounds, with straw filled dummies and targets set up against the old oak, and I was usually found training most days, shooting arrows, beating up dummies and throwing daggers with deadly precision. I spent most of my time mastering weaponry, incase of a...rainy day.

I suppose this scared the gentle hobbits, as they preferred their village to be peaceful and...lacking in strange people like myself. Not only did my habits earn me my label, but my appearance did also. I covered up most of my body, and braided my hair so it would cover up my blind and scared left eye. Obviously this unnerved the halflings of Hobbiton, as they refused so socialise with the dangerous, strange individual that had moved in with them into their peaceful little village.

I took no offence, for these were gentle folk, sheltered from the cruelties of this world. Naturally, they feared the unknown.

I scaled the steps up to my home, taking them two at a time. I was only a little bigger then the hobbits themselves, so everything fit my size perfectly. I was what you might call the runt of my litter when I was younger, but I didn't let it stop me.

I groaned, as my stiff muscles demanded realise. I hadn't shifted in gods know how long, and the effects were starting to show. Once in a while I'd go out into the woods, hunting, but my inner beast was dangerous. I didn't want to hurt any of these gentle hobbits. Every day I had to struggle to control myself, and it was becoming harder and harder.

It was as if I had become wild, untameable and rabid. My wolf didn't talk to me anymore, she had become drowned in madness, leaving my head empty and alone. It made my existence feel even lonelier.

I stopped as a flash of glowing blue caught my eye. I whipped my head to the right, and was greeted with the sight of my neighbours door.

Bilbo Baggins, one of the most respectable hobbits in Hobbiton. He was no different from the others, thinking me strange. I had never actually met my neighbour, but then again I hadn't really met any of the hobbits in Hobbiton. Unless you counted Mrs.Divet across the road. She seemed to love scolding me constantly about my...'unacceptable' behaviour. Although, I had to say, I admired the woman's bravery when up against me, the big bad wolf.

I squinted, my sharp eyes cutting through the night with little difficulty. Carved into Mister Baggins green door was a glowing rune. One I recognised.

A small smile reached my lips, as I made my way down my own path and opened bilbos gate, knocking on his door.

My sensitive ears picked up on Bilbos footsteps as he came to his door. I turned away as a flash of movement caught my eyes down the road.