Beorn chased his mother's skirt pulling asking why Father couldn't teach him the sword again. Mother reached down and caressed his head with tears in her eyes.

He was by Mother's bedside. Holding her thin arms crying out, pleading for her to open her eyes. He felt Arwen hold him while he wept.

The scene disappeared. Beorn was ten again, standing on a road being held back by Galanör. Seeing his brothers back disappearing into the gloom, Beorn reached out trying to catch him he pleaded, "Take me with you, don't leave me please!"

Suddenly he was standing near a great tree. He saw Galanör belt on his quiver and walk into the forest. Smiling back at Beorn he said, "Don't worry little Beorn, I'll be back before you know it."Beorn wanted to warn him, he knew this was the last time he would ever see his mentor. Opening his mouth, he found himself unable to speak. Beorn tried to reach him but his limbs were frozen. A dark shadow rose from the ground and engulfed Galanör before morphing into the Direwolf.

It looked directly at him. The malice in its eyes was palpable as it spoke, "The ancient blood, I look forward to tasting it." before opening its jaws and leaping at Beorn engulfing him in darkness.

Beorn woke up with a start. He felt a weight on his chest. Making out the shape of a person through his bleary eyes he heard someone call out, "Shit he's awake, knock him out."

Sensing danger, adrenaline coursed through his body allowing him to get his right arm free and flail. He caught the person holding him down in the face, making him reel back. With his upper body free, he struck the one on the right and felt his nose break. Managing to sit up he saw two dirty looking men with fang tattoos trying to tie his legs with some rope.

Kicking them down, Beorn stretched out to the side of the bed. Grabbing the end, he dragged himself off the left side. Rolling onto the floor, he pulled the legs of the fellow grabbing at his nose and tangled him up in the covers. Locating his face beneath the sheets, he pummeled it until the thug stopped moving.

Pausing to recover his breath, Beorn wanted to kick himself. He'd been ambushed twice in a single day.

That wolf definitely had magic but how did these bumbling idiots manage to sneak up on me? Galanör would be disappointed.

No time for further thought he heard the others recover and call out for more people. Beorn freed himself from the mess and grabbed the rope covering his legs. Untying himself, he rewound the rope along his left forearm. Thankful that he'd not taken off his vambraces before going to sleep, at the very least now he had some protection. Hearing a group making their way up the stairs, Beorn peeked from the side of the bed.

The two at the foot of the bed had recovered their balance, the closest one took out a wicked-looking knife. The other had a short sword. The third looked to have gone off to get reinforcements.

Ducking back, he gathered his legs under him and leapt towards the dressing table. Clutching his belt, he pulled it off the chair and rolled, avoiding a knife blow. Beorn turned around as the knife-wielder swung once more, he deflected the blade with his left arm and pulled his belt taut managing to catch the knife-wielders arm. Looking at the blade almost cutting into his forehead, Beorn wrapped up his hand with the belt. He thrust the hilt of his sheathed dagger into his neck. Still attached to the belt, the reach was enough.

As the thug spluttered, his sword-wielding companion tried to take Beorn's head off with a wild swing. Beorn felt the blade nick his ear as he ducked. He managed to tug the dagger out of its sheath and stab him in the foot. Screaming in pain, the thug tried to slash Beorn's back, but he was too close and the short sword was too big. Beorn thrust the top of his head into the sword wielder's chin cutting off his screams. Knocked back, his arms flailed trying to keep balance. Dodging the wild swings, Beorn slashed at his neck.

Beorn watched the man die choking on his blood, his heartbeat pounded in his ears. The metallic scent of blood caused him to feel nauseous. Despite spending most of his life hunting, Beorn had never had to kill a man before. He tried to rationalize it as self-defense but the blood on his hand made him feel dirty. He was skilled enough to incapacitate him without killing, but the fact that they had ambushed him while asleep had made him furious. Hearing the rest of the gang come in he decided to not show any mercy. They had brought this on themselves. Knocking out the choking thug with a swift rabbit punch, he calmed his breathing and steadied his heartbeat.

With the dagger in hand, he crept to the door. As the first Fang came rushing in with his dagger outstretched, Beorn clamped onto his wrist and stabbed in twice in quick succession; once in the neck and once in the chest. Holding the dagger in position he lifted and shoved the body into one following causing him to go down in a tangle of limbs. As he snatched the dagger from the corpse's slack fingers with his left hand, he moved to finish the kill. Before he could thrust his dagger, his excellent hearing warned him of an object coming flying towards his head. He ducked as an axe narrowly missed his head and buried itself in the wall behind. Satisfying himself with a kick to the tangled man’s head to knock him out, he turned to the right to see the giant Fang from before come barreling towards him with his axe raised high.

He had a war cry on his lips and his eyes promised vengeance for the earlier embarrassment. Beorn was surprised to see him holding anything much less the massive axe, but it seemed like he’s tied it onto his wrist with a splint. With no footing to dodge, Beorn was forced to face him head-on. He managed to cross his dagger before the axe buried itself in his head. Beorn was forced to his knees by the weight of the blow. The giant pressed downward, as the axe blade came closer to its target, he let it slide to the left of his body. With the axe stuck in the floor, Beorn thrust into the giant’s armpit with his left hand. Roaring in pain the giant clamped Beorn's left arm and held him in a bear hug and head-butted him. Beorn tasted blood in his mouth and saw stars for a moment before regaining his bearings. Beorn saw him coming in for another one, he managed to wriggle his right arm free. With no room to maneuver his dagger, he shifted his head to the left and punched him as hard as possible in the face. Beorn felt the shock run through the bones of his arm. Gritting his teeth, he kept punching until he felt the hold on him go slack.

Panting, Beorn raised his dagger for the finishing blow before his instincts screamed a warning at him, trusting them he managed to dodge an oncoming slash with only a slight cut on his shoulder. The kick hadn’t quite knocked out the one from before. As he raised arm for another downward slash, Beorn picked up the other dagger with his left hand and threw it into his neck. He saw the man grab futilely at his throat before falling down. Turning back to the groaning giant, Beorn wanted to finish him off when he was forced to duck yet another axe flying towards his head. Turning to the stairs he saw Roderik and was relieved to see his other arm empty and in a sling. He seemed shocked at the blood pooling on the floor of the corridor. Beorn’s rage intensified, his vision turned red as he rushed at the man responsible for this all. He got close enough to see himself in Roderik’s frightened eyes, his dagger so close to his throat when he felt slashes along his arms. Beorn felt himself fly backward in the air with a nice view of the ceiling.

What!?

Beorn had the time for only that single thought before he smashed his head, for the third time in the day, into the wall at the end of the corridor.

I’ve definitely suffered some permanent damage. What the fuck hit me?

Swaying drunkenly, he managed to get back to his feet. Examining his arms, he saw blood seeping from a series of long thin cuts on his forearm. Looking up he saw a man clad in a black cloak standing next to a relieved Roderik. He was taller than Beorn and had black hair that reached his shoulders. His skin was pale, and he had a narrow face with a long nose and a cruel smile. His gloved hands held two ornate daggers; twins stained with Beorn’s blood. Beorn strained his senses to the maximum to anticipate his next move when the man raised his left dagger to his mouth and licked it. A crimson light shone on the dagger.

An essence user!

Beorn went into high alert. He hesitated at the sight for a moment, before deciding to throw his dagger at him. But his body refused to obey him, it was frozen. Beorn’s eyes widened in shock, or they would’ve if his body wasn’t magically bound.

A Blood-Mage! Where did Roderik find a Blood-Mage?

Roderik groveled, “Thank you for saving me, Lord Silas.”

The man named Silas looked at bodies surrounding Beorn before turning to Roderik, “I tell you to secure one man. ONE MAN! WHILE HE’S SLEEPING!” shuddering he managed to calm himself down. Silas spoke in a low voice, “Go knock him out and tie him properly this time.”

Still frozen, Beorn was puzzled at the whole situation.

Well, it’s clear who’s in charge here. But why is he after me?

“But he’s killed so many of the Fangs…”, whined Roderik.

“I need him alive, if you so much as hurt a hair on his head without my permission, I will make you wish you were never born.”

“Apologies Lord Silas, it will not happen again. The Fangs will live up to your expectations.”

Silas scoffed, “Expectations? I don’t have any expectations for you, he turned to Roderik, “only orders. Do you understand?” Roderik gulped and nodded. “Good, now go be a good little doggy and do as you are told.”

Roderik made his way over to where Beorn was standing frozen. He plucked Beorn’s dagger out of his frozen leaning in as he did so. He whispered into his ears, “I am going to enjoy what Silas is going to do to you, Beorn. I’m going to enjoy it very much."

The last thing Beorn saw was the hilt of his own dagger before complete darkness.