Against the Wind

A/N: This is a fan-fiction about Beorn from The Hobbit

The moon rose over the lonely crop of rock.  The Eagles used it by day as a common landing post, sharing hunting tips and important news of other creatures.  That day they had gone to nest after a long day of hunting, leaving the great black Bear to sit alone.  At night, it was his territory.  Not even the Eagles dared to rouse him from his pondering, and they willingly shared the space with him.  He sat, the moon the only witness to his lamenting.  

He didn't like to linger on memories lost, and the Bear didn't remain on the Carrock for long.  Before the moon was in the middle of the sky he had climbed down to start foraging.

While the Bear was in the middle of an elderberry bush, enjoying a late dessert, his ears picked up.  As he moved to investigate the whimpering, he noticed the scent of Wargs and cursed himself for not noticing it sooner.  It could be a trap.  He honed in on the smell and sound, and with one swipe cleared a bush growing near a large boulder.  Instead of a fighting Warg, out jumped three pups--left no doubt so the mother could hunt without hindrance.  The Bear knew they had sprung out thinking their mother had returned.

Without a thought, the Bear crushed the first two as they weaved beneath his huge paws.  The third rushed back into the cave, and the Bear paused at the entrance.  His sharp eyes spotted only the pup in the short cave, but the scent of the mother was weak, and he knew she would be back soon.

He went in anyways, swiping the pup against the wall as it tried to run through his legs.  It whimpered as it hit the ground, shuddered, then was still.

The Bear sniffed at the entrance before he lumbered out.  He could smell the mother nearby, the scent of blood lingering with her musk.  The Bear slowly walked out of the cave, swinging his head slowly from side to side, on high alert.  Before he was two feet out of the entrance, something pounced on him from above.  It was the mother-warg, jumping from the top of the boulder.

The Bear instinctively rolled as the Warg bit into his shoulder.  Once on his back, he could feel her struggling under his massive weight.  He twisted, trying to crush her, but she writhed and bit into the flesh of his back until he rolled over.  

He stood on his hind legs and roared.  She crouched and snapped at his back legs.  The Bears response was to swiped at her, his massive arm snapping her ribs and sending her into a nearby bush.  With surprising speed he ran over to her, eager to finish what he started with her pups.  

She was struggling up as he bounded over, taking one last swing and knocking her jaw off her skull.  The body dropped in the bush, lifeless.  The Bear did not linger, quickly finding his way back to the Anduin river.

He stumbled into the rushing water, grateful it was chilled from the mountains; he dipped below the water, submerging his wounds.  The Bear allowed the water to wash away the stench of Warg and blood.  Soon he emerged and gave a great shake, sending water rushing from his coat.  

He moved on.

The Bear wandered to the edge of his territory, still in search of food.  Off in the distance he saw a camp-fire burning, and noting they were downwind he lifted his nose-cautious because men didn't often stop in this area after nightfall.  He caught the sent of Orcs, dried earth, and fresh blood  on the wind.  As he ran towards the fire, the moon was the only witness to his grin.