“He is a skin-changer. He changes his skin; sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong black-haired man with huge arms and a great beard.” - The Hobbit, Chapter 7, Queer Lodgings
Wind blew harshly down the slopes of the mountain tops, bringing a dusting of snow in it’s current as well as a chill that gnawed to the bone, especially towards the shivering pale goblin that worked his way through the waist-deep snow, yellow eyes wide open as if he saw a ghost. He plowed onwards, towards an opening in the mountainside: a dark gaping mouth with a flicker of flame bouncing off the walls. The small orc walked in through the opening, and was met by another with frost gathered on the cold steel of his shoulder-guards.
“Azrat!! Where’ve you been off too?!” The armoured orc shouted at him, yet he had no response from him, just a stiffened gesture behind him. “What’s wrong with you? Seen a Sharp Ears, or a Short Beard?”
“N-n-no Gorbag.. B-bear.” Azrat managed to stutter out as he sat himself by the fire, yet it did not melt away his stiffness.
“We see plenty of bears up these parts, nothing to worry about you old slug!” Gorbag spat out as he sat down, chewing on a bit of squirrel that he found earlier, not even cooked yet he enjoyed it like it was a grand meal.
“N-no.. this bear… this bear was different, Gorbag!!” Azrat squealed out as only now did he snap out of his trance, and looked like he was a deer being chased by a pack of hounds. “This one was much larger and stronger, and angrier… not stupid like the ones up here but clever and wild! Very wild, Gorbag! It got a warg, right in it’s jaws and didn’t let go… thrashing it here and there like it was nothing!! Didn’t even eat it afterwards… left it there to go kill more, Gorbag!! We have to be careful!”
The armoured Gorbag threw a rock towards him with a scowl. “Quit your squealing!! We’ll go out there now and look… see if it is just you lying again!!”
Azrat shook his head, and tried to pull back Gorbag, yet it was no use, and before long both small orcs stood out in the cold climate of the Misties.
Something travelled on the wind. Something that seemed to shake the very air from your lungs as it vibrated in your stomach. A deep bellow of a roar, loud and echoing through the valleys, bouncing off mountain to mountain. The goblins shrunk in fear, as they looked around to try and find the source. Wargs were running frantically towards their caves, snarling to each other in their strange speech with their tails between their legs. Birds flew from the trees, and it wasn’t long before the goblins retreated into the furthest reach of their cave as they could.
There upon a snowy outcrop, lumbered a hulking creature. It’s shoulder blades raised upwards, head low as it’s mouth hung open. It billowed out steam from its open maw, sharp teeth yellow against the black shaggy fur that was dusted with snow. His roar was loud and mighty, and reached far and wide.
A threat. A threat to all of those that would dare leave the holes they live in to threaten his land and his kin. A threat that worked well enough for now.
With great bounds the bear forged his way through the snow, until he started to descend downwards through rocky pathways seldom known, large paws struggling for hold, which soon became large feet, stumbling down the rocks. When he reached the bottom, he was no longer bear-like, but now a great man, with wild hair and a great beard, as bare as the day he was born as he gasped for breath.
He glanced over his shoulder, into the mountains from whence he came, and to where he will return soon.
