CHAPTER TWO:

Beorns Finding

AN: I'm kind of taking artistic license with Beorns past, here. How he escaped and was found all came from my head, though the idea of him being used for sport by orcs comes from either Tolkien or Peter Jackson. Lol.

Me no own.

You no sue.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

BEORN

The skin-changer wasn't very fond of the rain.

Oh, he understood the necessity of it; without the rain the grass and trees and his precious plants would wither and die which would, in turn, cause his animals…..no, his family….and himself to die. But just because he understood and appreciated the rain, didn't mean he liked it.

.

For one thing, the wet hindered his ability to smell, even in bear-form, which was a sensory deprivation he despised. For two, the rain washed away tracks and trails, making it more difficult to hunt orcs.

Orcs.

.

Even the name of the foul creatures brought a snarl to his face. Cruel, evil, rancid beings with nothing in their hearts but malice. He remembered all too well the cage he had been forced in in the fighting pits; made to sit in his own filth as the spawn of Melkor taunted and tortured him; burning him with hot rods of steel and dancing away before he could claw at them, releasing him only to make him fight for sport.

.

It sickened him how he had begun to yearn for those times out of his cage where he could release the anger he held and tear into orc and warg flesh. Sometimes he barely remembered his human-like self, lost in a beserker blood-rage….but that was how he had escaped.

.

They had let him loose in the pits to fight, only that time it hadn't been wargs or orcs or great Gundabad bats that they had wanted him to fight; it had been another prisoner; a man, though he didn't know where they had kept him for it had been the first time he had seen him.

For the first time, Beorn had refused to fight.

.

That was when the orcs had goaded him, bringing out the whip and the hot irons, the steel and the scimitars, and that was when his beserker rage had overtaken him.

.

To this day, his escape was still hazy. He only remembered the bitter taste of orc blood in his mouth, the pain of his wounds, and the fire of his anger.

.

He didn't know how he fled the pits or how many days he had run, he only remembered coming to his senses tired and hungry and in pain by a stream where Radaghast the Brown had found him.

Seeing his pain and the chains and sensing in some wizard-way that this was no ordinary bear, Radaghast had healed him (which he would have done even if he had been just a regular injured bear, being a friend to all animals) and had nearly gotten his head bitten off in the process.

.

Still, when he had come to his senses, Beorn had been grateful and apologetic to the brown wizard, who had offered him a place to stay while he healed.

.

Still reeling from the horrors he had experienced and just newly in his right mind, Beorn had declined the accommodations, needing solitude and time.

He had wandered off into the woods, living off of plants and fish in his bear-form and jumping at every little noise, ready to attack. (Had she known him then, Cassie could have told him that he had PTSD, post-traumatic-stress-disorder, but he had been just a story in her world and she not even a thought in his.)

.

Then he had met Duke.

The grey wolf-hound had been injured by some careless hunters arrow, limping and whining from where it had pierced his hind leg. At first, the scent of blood had triggered him into seeing red, but Dukes whimpers of pain had calmed him, making him realize that he was not back in the fighting pits. He had soothed the dog and removed the arrow, binding the wound with herbs and leaves and communicating in the way of skin-changers.

When he had healed, Duke followed him, now his faithful friend then, later, as good as family.

.

Numerous minor adventures led to his meeting other animals (some injured, some not, some on the run, others looking for a home) and eventually they had all come to the Carrock where he decided to build his home.

.

Years had passed and, though his nightmares and memories still came, he found a measure of peace caring for his animals, starting a hive of bees and furnishing his home, which he defended fiercely.

Regular patrols kept the orcs from his lands and those he found he killed viciously, ripping them to pieces and posting their heads outside his lands…..he would NOT be captured again.

It was when he came to the Great River that bordered his lands that he saw the woman running along the bank.

.

For a moment he paused in shock as he watched the woman begin to crawl across the fallen tree, wondering what madness she suffered from to make her attempt to cross the river. Then he saw the cat fighting to keep it's head above water, hurtling towards the tree. Saw the woman reach…..

….saw her fall in.