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Bilbo looked at the darkening sky, worried. They all knew they would have to shift; after all, every being in Arda shifted when the moon was full, but most beings, especially hobbits, didn’t shift far away from home with a group that was not their own.
Most beings kept their shifter form a secret; after all, it wouldn’t do for others to come and attack you and yours when you weren’t really yourself, would it? So all Bilbo could do was hope that whatever the dwarves turned into, whatever they became, they didn’t become aggressive because Bilbo had no chance at defending himself if they did.
There was nothing for it now, Bilbo supposed as he hid his clothes and pack in the hollow of the tree he had found, wanting to keep it all safe as well as he could.
Everything was fuzzy for a few moments after that. Bilbo’s body stretching, his feet and arms turning into 4 legs. His face changed until he had a muzzle.
After the change was done, Bilbo flopped down onto his stomach, panting for breath before he took a moment to remind himself of how to move on four legs and how to sniff the air and test his surroundings. How to be anything but the hobbit he was usually.
With tentative movements, his tail between his legs as he crept forward, Bilbo made it to the clearing Thorin had told him to meet them at.
With a deep breath, he finally made it out of the tree line, only to stop and crane his head upwards.
There before him were 13 large rams, all blinking at him.
Bilbo felt himself go still as they all watched him.
Bilbo had avoided sheep in the Shire because their beady eyes unnerved him, and he was certain that the rams were waiting for a chance to punt any unlucky hobbit out of their fields; now, he found himself confronted by 13 extremely large rams, each with horns as big as his entire body.
Bilbo noticed when a ram even larger than the others approached him. From the lack of wool on certain parts of the ram’s body and the fact that he was the largest in the group, Bilbo assumed it was Dwalin.
Usually, in his shifted form, Bilbo would be able to tell who was who, but right now, all he could smell was damp wool due to the drizzle and an undercurrent of disbelief and surprise.
Well, they weren’t the only ones to be surprised, it seemed.
Especially as when Dwalin got close, letting out a huff of hot air into Bilbo’s face, even as he towered over the shifted hobbit, another darker-wooled ram came running forward, letting out an aggressive bleat. As soon as Dwalin turned to the other, they butted heads. Not like they did as dwarrow either. This headbutt was vicious. Their horns clacked against one another as they pushed against one another.
Bilbo had no idea why they had started fighting, but he decided that between two raging rams that were twice his height was not the place to be right now, and so he slowly crawled backwards to get out of the area they were fighting in.
He didn’t go far, just back to the edge of the treeline where he could dart away if he wished, but as soon as he was out of sight, the darker ram shook his head, pushing the other one (the possibly Dwalin ram) away, only to let out a mournful bellow as he searched for Bilbo.
Bilbo let out a nervous sound, unsure if he wanted who he now realised was Thorin to come near him, but then the probably Thorin ram trotted over before bending his knees and lowering his head to Bilbo in an imitation of a dwarven bow.
Bilbo sighed with relief that he wasn’t going to use those horns to skewer him, even if only moments before he had tried to skewer Dwalin, his friend, with them.
Thorin only moved to stand and walk beside Bilbo before lying back down with him, watching as the other dwarf-rams started playing head-butting one another or, in what Bilbo assumed was the prince’s case, frolicking about and seeing who could jump highest like the lambs in the Shire often did.
Thorin let out some kind of snorting bleat, causing the Dwalin-ram to nod as he took off for what Bilbo assumed was a perimeter check.
With him gone, everyone else seemed to be settling down. Bilbo went to move away from Thorin, sure the king wouldn’t want him to sleep beside him, when Thorin let out an annoyed bleat, pushing his larger head against Bilbo’s neck, forcing the smaller being back to his belly. Considering he was now unable to move with Thorin’s head resting against his back, Bilbo decided he might as well sleep.
And that was how a Bilbo Baggins, a rather small wolf shifter, ended up curled up against Thorin, a much larger ram shifter, both as surprised about the other’s form and yet both as content to doze the night away side by side as one another.