A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

The Stubbornness of Dwarves

It didn't hurt as much as Lyla thought it would, crashing to the ground, her mind in a haze of confusion and panic. However, each leaf-brilliantly green and glistening through the streams of sunlight caught her attention as she drifted to the ground (in a far slower pace that she would have supposed). So, too, did she detail to memory, Bofur's panicked face as he watched her tumble to the forest floor. Lines of worry etched in his brow, rising well into the spaces his hat hid, and his mouth pulled into a horrified gape. She knew there were wargs surrounding them and she knew that she was more than likely to die very shortly. Nevertheless, for the life of her, she simply couldn't share in the panic that Bofur's entire visage seemed to emanate. Instead, she could only admire the beauty of the forest around her-the different colors and the soft scent of flowers, pine and soil. It was...
Like home.
A dark shadow washed over her face, then, as the hot breath of a warg spewed its vile scent into her nostrils, pulling her muddled mind from the depths of starry-eyed contemplation. Lyla's eyes widened as the warg bore down on her, a deep growl emanating from its throat. The orc who sat atop the ward grinned wickedly at the small dazed hobbit. His face-contorted with boils and colored a sickening shade of green-held only a twisted amusement, his pointed teeth glinting like small daggers in his mouth. The sinister creature started speaking down to her, his guttural and gruesome language lost on her delicate ears, though she doubted they meant anything good.
She also knew that trying to move away from the beast would be a futile effort, though her legs shifted of their own accord.
'It's funny' she thought, 'I never thought I'd die under the paws of a warg. It's certainly an...interesting way for a hobbit to go.'
"Oi you snarling pup, get off 'im!" A furious roar emanated from Bofur as he hurriedly descended from the tree, his movements light and sure (much to Lyla's surprise) and his mattock grasped firmly between his white-knuckled hands. His eyes were narrowed and deep frown was set in his normally jovial face. "I'll not let you touch him." He sauntered forward towards the towering beast, a dangerous glint growing in his eyes (a glint, Lyla later learned, showed his determination to fight or die trying).
Bofur, while his heart was in the right place, was severely outnumbered. The warg perched above Lyla didn't even move as the others charged at Bofur's ready form. Lyla's heart clenched painfully in her chest as she knew the outcome of this. There was no hope for his escape now.
"Bofur you have to run!" she hissed gazing at him, "Just-just run. Please." It didn't seem right, Bofur standing against all these terrifying beasts on her behalf. It didn't seem fair that he should have to try to protect her.
"I'll not leave you," He murmured in reply, tightening his grip on his weapon, his gaze never leaving the advancing troupe of wargs "You're part of the company. We stick together."
While the sentiment was certainly appreciated Lyla knew this was a fool's errand and after all the effort to protect him from harm, he would willingly throw away his life to protect her? He was daffy that's for sure. Now it seemed likely that neither one of them would make it out alive unless outside assistance came and came quickly.
With a fiercely guttural bellow, Bofur raised his mattock high as the wargs converged on his person. He swung deftly, connecting with one wargs jaw as another snapped at his arms but didn't have a chance to connect before Bofur's strong swings knocked the warg aside, the animal crashing to the ground with a yelp. Despite his swift movements, however, the sheer number of wargs outnumbered Bofur's movements and soon enough he was pinned beneath a warg of his own-his had knocked from his head-and the large beast clawing at the miner's shoulder. Bofur howled in agony at the contact.
Lyla let out a shriek of protest and started to rise to help her friend, only to be pressed back towards the ground by a rather large paw and the snapping teeth of a warg on her own shoulder. The pain elicited from the serrated teeth of the huge snarling beast was like nothing she had ever felt before (not surprising since she was a hobbit from the Shire, but that was beside the point). Tears sprang to her eyes as she tried to shy away from the creature and hideous orc who look far too pleased with the damage inflicted. He spoke in low clipped tones and the warg slowly dragged Lyla up by her arm growling and snarling, the foul odor and saliva washing over her making her gag. It appeared they were going to drag out this torture.
Mercifully the warg clamped around Lyla's shoulder released her with a painful thud as a loud chorus of battle cries erupted throughout the trees, and the rest of the company came charging through the underbrush, swords drawn and their faces contorted into matching scowls of anger. Dwalin and Bifur, looked particularly enraged and bloodthirsty. Even Gandalf appeared, his newly acquired sword glistening in the sunlight as he charged the orc pack.
The orc and warg retreated hastily-nearly trampling Lyla-as Bombur and Nori converged, weapons at the ready and a malicious glint in their eyes. Lyla rolled to the side to avoid the fray and (ignoring the pain) slowly maneuvered herself toward Bofur, who had yet to rise.
"Bofur," Lyla whispered, hoarsely as she noted the dwarf's sallow complexion and closed eyes, "Please Bofur open your eyes for me."
A low groan escaped the miner and he cracked one eye open, taking in Lyla's worried features. He let out another groan as he moved his body slowly, attempting to rise, a weak smile playing on his lips.
"Well, that could've been worse," he mumbled, hissing as he moved his shoulder. Lyla quickly grabbed his elbow to steady him and slowly the two rose to their feet amidst the confusion (thankfully, Fili and Kili were keeping a perimeter of safety around the two of them).
"It could've been better you idiot," Lyla retorted a weak smile gracing her own lips, "You didn't have to do that you know."
Bofur's cheerful face contorted, then, into one of sadness and confusion. "You don't understand do ye lad. You're part of the company. That makes you as good as family in my book. And you saved my life. I'm in yer debt. It's the least I can do to protect one I consider kin."
A painful knot settled in Lyla's chest and she rubbed it absently, trying to quell the sudden onslaught of discomfort. Not since the passing of her parents and brother had she felt this deep rooted thrumming in her heart. And here stood Bofur, a dwarf (a dwarf!) claiming her as one of his own family. They'd only known each other a few weeks! That's hardly any time to get to know someone (let alone someone of a different race than you) and he was fully accepting her and her hobbitish manners. They were a family.
A family.
Oh how that word sent trills of longing through her! Until that moment, Lyla didn't realize how lonely she felt. She didn't have anyone back in Hobbiton who'd truly miss her. Distant relatives may inquire after her, but no one would truly miss her. Their lives would go on. They'd have others to take up their attention. Lyla, though, had no one. She didn't have a mother or father to call on her. She didn't have a brother to look in on her well being. She was alone.
Was that why she dashed off after this gaggle of dwarves?
"Are you alright laddie?" Bofur's gentle hand rested on her shoulder. Lyla snapped to attention, taking in the brows knit in concern and the eyes conveying worry directed at her face.
"Erm-yes. Yes I'm alright. Sorry," she murmured in reply, heat rising to her neck. Bofur gave her an encouraging smile and clapped her on the shoulder.
Prickles of pain shot through her at the contact, reminding Lyla of the injuries her shoulder (and ribs) had sustained in the last few days. Momentarily dazed in a haze of pain, she crouched to her knees, biting back a groan. She noted, however, that the battle seemed to have died down (the howls of the wargs had diminished completely) so she was safe from an further attacks.
Or so she thought anyway.
"Confound it all Halfling! Are you so incapable of staying out of danger that you'd compromise the lives of the company because of your foolishness?!" Thorin roared sauntering towards Lyla, grabbing Lyla by the scruff of her shirt and pulling her to her feet. She whimpered in pain at the rough handling and stumbled to catch her balance. Her eyes narrowed at the accusation. Bofur narrowed his eyes at the interaction, carefully assessing the pain on Lyla's face, though he said nothing (for what could he say to his king?).
He didn't have to say anything however. Lyla's frustration (and pain) had reached its boiling point.
"Now you listen to me, dwarf," She hissed biting back a sob of pain, "I am not half of anything and I'd thank you to remember that. And I may be a member of this company and I may be under contract but I am still a Baggins of Bag End and that does not give anyone the right to criticize me in such a manner! How dare you!"
"How dare I?! How dare I?!" Thorin growled his eyes narrowing, his mouth set into a thin line of disgust. "How dare you address your superior in such a manner! I am a king and the leader of this company and as such I demand that you respect my position and my criticism."
"You may be my leader, Master Oakenshield," Lyla replied her voice hushed to a fierce whisper, pressing her pointed finger to his chest, "But you are NOT my king. I've had it with the stubbornness of dwarves! You and your blasted pride and ego," she frowned as her shoulder and chest throbbed painfully (the adrenaline rush was wearing off) "It would do you good to remember that it is the entire company working together to reclaim this mountain, not you alone! We're all risking our lives to reclaim your kingdom. The least you could do is show some compassion or gratitude!"
"You're more of a burden than you're name's worth Master Baggins," Thorin retorted pushing past her with a rough shove, "And you'd do well to remember that." Turning on his heels, he walked towards Gandalf and a strangely clad fellow in brown ('when had that person arrived?' Lyla absently contemplated).
If it were anyone else-like Lobelia for instance-then Lyla wouldn't have hesitated to set them straight, to tell them just how important she was. But this was Thorin Oakenshield, a dwarf whose pride and stubbornness ran as deeply as the mountain of gold he was attempting to rescue. There'd be no way to convince him that Lyla was a valuable asset. No, in his eyes, she was nothing but a burden.
And that knowledge hurt a lot more than Lyla would've cared to admit. So here she stood with one dwarf despises her very existence, and another prepared to go to battle for her (Bofur's glare at Thorin's retreating form was enough to convince her of that). And Lyla didn't know how to feel about it all.
Once Thorin was well away from the small group of dwarves gathered around Bofur and Lyla, Bofur stumbled (slightly) towards her.
"Ignore that 'king under the mountain' lad," Bofur remarked, setting his hand on the small of her back, "We'll get him sorted out in no time. You'll see. For now, though, let's get your injuries tended to, eh?"
Lyla's eyes widened and her heart sped up in panic. Yes, tending to her injuries...well that posed a problem. While she knew it was wise to get her injuries looked at-especially since they ached something fierce-it would present a rather awkward situation for her since no one actually knew she was...well a she. That was far more questions and inquiries she'd rather not deal with. At least not at the moment anyway. Plus, Gandalf presented her as a male for a purpose (one he only knew of) and if it came out that she was a female, that would only give Thorin more ammunition to sever the contract between them. And even though she was unused to traveling and fighting and basically thriving outside of the Shire, something about this adventure brought her a sense of normalcy, of comfort. She couldn't give that up. Not now.
"Oh no Bofure, I'm quite alright," she rasped out, giving a weak smile, "Just a good night sleep is all I need. Yes. That's the ticket."
Bofure gave her a questioning look, his eyes narrowing. "Aye laddie, a good night sleep will do ye some good. But only after Oin takes a look at yer shoulder and ribs. And I won't hear any argument about it. We both could use a good look over."
"Is this really necessary," panic welled up in her chest. "I feel fine. Really. No need to fuss. And Thorin-"
"Don't you worry about Thorin," Kili chimed in, "If you are injured you need tending to."
"But-"
"You fell from yer pony and the trees lad!" Bofur exclaimed gesturing to the fallen vegetation, "And I know you were hurtin' something terrible after the trolls got a hold of ye and I saw that warg take a lovely nip outa yer shoulder. It's best to get a once over."
Oh Bofur. Sweet Bofur. His heart resided in the right place, but she just...couldn't. Despite the injuries she knew were there, she couldn't risk it. She couldn't prove Thorin right. She couldn't give up her secret. Not now.
"Bilbo my dear fellow!" Gandalf's voice jostled the small group surrounding Bofur and Lyla, "Come here for a moment. I wish to speak with you."
Lyla blew out the air she didn't realize she'd been holding and slowly maneuvered past Fili, Kili and Bombur towards Gandalf and the brown clad man standing next to him, grateful to the wizard's interference for the moment.
Now if she could just convince Bofur and the rest that she was perfectly fine, she'd be golden.