A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Dinner and More Conversations

"Ouch!"
Dwalin let out a low grumble of annoyance.
"It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd hold still Halfling."
Once they'd established that Dwalin was not, in fact, going to relate his discovery to Thorin, the hulking dwarf insisted upon attending to Lyla's numerous scrapes and bruises. He had stood and started to pull various pouches of fine power and herbs from the many confines of his person (she wasn't going to ask just how many different hiding places he possessed) along with several crisp white bandages.
"How did you...?"
Dwalin snorted in amusement, "I nicked them from Oin when he wasn't lookin'." He gave her a pointed look, "I was figgerin' you didn't want anyone else to know about your...condition aye?"
Lyla nodded in apt agreement, "Yes...that would be...best I think. Though I don't really need you to look after-"
"No. None of that," Dwalin cut her off, "I know yer hurt and if I don't tend to those bites and scrapes and whatever else yer hidin' then things could take a nasty turn."
"But I'm perfectly-"
"Don't make me pin you down hobbit. I'll not warn ye again. Now relax."
And that was that really. Lyla couldn't very well argue with a dwarf who appeared to be twice her size. It would have been a futile fight and she deemed keeping what little she had left of her dignity in tact thank you very much.
Dwalin, though, sensing the hesitancy, was very considerate to not reveal more of her should or torso than absolutely necessary. He asked her to unbutton the uppermost buttons of her shirt and slid her arm out of the sleeve and then he carefully maneuvered her arm out of the shirt so he could assess the damage.
He gave a low whistled at the oozing bite marks, "I'd say yer in a fair amount of pain," He muttered bringing the wash basin closer and proceeded to clean her wounds.
Which led to her jerking movements and exclamations of pain.
When he she shied away from his touch a third time, Dwalin huffed and gave Lyla a firm look, "Now ye best hold still. I don't have patience for this and times wastin'. If yer willing to blow yer secret then keep movin', otherwise hold still."
Lyla tried to steel her nerves after that. To be honest, Dwalin's glare was a fearsome thing to behold and she didn't want to tempt her chances of maintaining such a strong ally so soon.

Her nerves couldn't prevent the hiss of pain escaping her lips as Dwalin applied a poultice to the lacerations on her shoulder.
'Lacerations. Hmm..at least this particular injury had been covered in the contract' she mused drily.
"There," Dwalin whispered triumphantly, "Done. Now take care not to jostle yer shoulder too much or all my work will be for naught. Now onto yer ribs."
He quickly-though gently-unbuttoned a few of the bottom buttons of her shirt and shifted the article of clothing upward to get a better look at her stomach.
Lyla tried to stop the blush. Really she did. But the red hue proudly stained her cheeks, declaring to the world just how embarrassed she was.
That is, until, Dwalin pressed lightly on her ribs. Then, the color drained from her face and she let out a low groan of pain.
Dwalin muttered something quietly and pressed again, this time in a new spot.
The same response bubbled up from Lyla's lips.
"Hmm.." The dwarf murmured sitting back, "Well it doesn't appear that you've broken anything, though there may be a crack or two. The best I can do is give you a poultice for the pain and a draught te help ye sleep tonight."
"You came prepared didn't you?" Lyla whispered with a pained gasp, unable to lift her head from the cushions of her bed.
"Well, Oin did anyway." She chuckled at his response.
Mixing a few of the powders together in his hand, Dwalin poured a little bit of water into the mixture, and slowly worked his index finger into the mix, creating an unusual green paste. Once we was satisfied with the consistency he turned back towards Lyla's torso and gently rubbed the cold mixture onto her stomach.
Then, after, cleaning his fingers, he grabbed the remaining bandages and lifted Lyla forward enough to wrap them around her middle.
If she was red before, she most certainly was cherry-colored now.
Dwalin, to his credit, didn't acknowledge it.
When the bandages were snuggly tucked around her torso, Dwalin gently laid the hobbit back down and gazed at her face for a moment contemplating.
"It's best if ye get some food in yer belly. Helps to stave off fever and infection. And, we don't need the other te ask questions before they're due aye?" His eyes drifted to her shoulder, "And we'd best get ye something new to wear. Yer shirt's well done for and I'll not have ye passing out because yer trying to disguise..." he trailed off a little gruffly, clearing his throat, "Ye can borrow one of mine. It'll be plenty big."
Lyla nodded, "I-erm-thank you master Dwalin." She appreciated the generosity despite her embarrassment.
"Don't mention it lass," Dwalin muttered gruffly rising to his feet (and Lyla half wondered what would happen if she did, in fact, mention his kind nature). "I'll be back in a minute with yer shirt. Stay put and let that poultice work."
Lyla wasn't about ready to move so she nodded her head and closed her eyes, listening to the heavy footfalls of Dwalin's boots and then the almost too forceful opening and shutting of her door.
She let out a long low breath as her muscles slowly relaxed and the pain in her torso and shoulder started to subside. The paste Dwalin had administered felt cool and calming on her skin, like crisp water from a lazy stream, washing over her body. Each knot and throbbing stab of pain slowly ebbed away as the paste continued to emanate a cool radiating pressure on her.
It was a glorious feeling.
But with this relief from pain came the opportunity for Lyla's mind to start running at full speed. Thoughts flitted through her head at an alarming rate. So many questions bubbled to the surface, begging for answers.
And when Dwalin returned with a rather large blue woolen shirt with a matching coat and belt, Lyla carefully approached her list of questions.
"How did you know about-about the truth?" she murmured accepting the clothing and carefully rising from the bed, Dwalin having to steady her shaky footing.
Dwalin, the gruff and ferocious dwarf that he was, seemed to hesitate for a moment before looking sheepish (sheepish!).
"Eh-well it wasn't hard really. You-ah-when it rained I first suspected your secret because you were too slight of build to be male. Of course I wrote that off as a difference between hobbits and dwarves, but throughout our travels I noticed other things too. Ye'd sleep farther away from the company and ye'd constantly fiddle with the buttons on yer jacket always trying to cover yer chest. And then...ye'd slip away during our rests to, ah, relieve yerself..." he trailed off. He really didn't need to finish the sentence.
Was she really that obvious?
"I'm surprised no one else noticed," she muttered with a frown as Dwalin turned his back so she could put the shirt and coat on.
Dwalin remained silent.
True to her assessment, the shirt swam on her, falling to her knees, with the worn sleeves reaching to her fingertips. The tattered blue jacket wasn't much better, the blue sleeves falling well past her finger's reach. But they were clean and warm...and comforting .
She grabbed the large brown belt from the floor and wrapped it around her waist (low enough to disguise her figure) and tried to cinch the thick leather together.
It would have dropped from her waist, clattering to the floor.
Dwalin turned around with a 'hmph' and a muttered comment about skinny little hobbits with no meat on their bones and grabbed the belt from Lyla's hands. Eying the belt with a scowl, he reached into his boot and drew out a long silver knife and added a few more notches to the worn leather. Without a word he wrapped the belt around her waist and carefully buckled it around her frame. It hung loosely on her hips, relieving any and all pressure on her torso and shoulder.
"Thank you."
It seemed she was saying that a lot today.
Dwalin just shook his head. "We best head down to dinner so yer not missed. Bofur was pitchin' a fit when last I saw him."
Yes. Bofur. The others. She'd have to see them soon enough.
"Lead the way then," she muttered with a sigh.
This was going to be a long night. She was certain of it.
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Dwalin's heavy footfalls clamored ahead of Lyla's as they slowly meandered down the tapestry-filled halls towards the dining hall. Lyla could hear snatches of music softly winding through the air-a flute and a harp-creating a delicate, airy melody that described the character of the elves perfectly (at least to Lyla's estimation that is).
The pair remained silent for the most part. Occasionally, Dwalin would make a low mutter in his native tongue, but no conversation was exchanged between the two of them.
But something niggled in Lyla's brain refusing to abate and leave her in peace. And the closer they got to the dining hall, the more persistent the niggling became.
"Master Dwalin, I have to ask," she stopped in the hallway. Dwalin turned to face her, his features schooled into an unreadable mask. Lyla took a breath, "I have to ask, why. Why are you protecting my secret? What do you gain from keeping this from Thorin?"
"I thought I told ye I wasn't going to argue with a wizard. It's bad form to do that," he replied giving her a quizzical look, his bushy brows knit in confusion.
"I know that," she replied in a rush, "But I want to know why you're giving me this chance. I'm nobody to you, so-so why do you care about protecting me?"
Dwalin stared at her for a moment, carefully assessing her face, his eyes jumping from feature to feature (nose, mouth, chin, eyes) and then with a small sigh, his gaze dropped. "I don't profess to fully understand your motives for this quest, but I do understand that everyone deserves a chance te prove themselves. I'll not be takin' that away from ye. Maybe ye can return the favor with some of yer scones then, aye?"
"Oh. Well-I-that..." she was at a loss for words. He'd protect her secret. He'd give her a chance. (and scones? Really?)
Dwalin cleared his throat. "Let's get some food, aye lass? No more talk tonight."
She nodded her head and the pair entered the double mahogany doors where inside, the quiet murmur of voices and the clatter of dishes resonated.
Dwalin entered first, his firm footsteps causing the company (who sat huddled around a large table piled with various vegetables and breads and cheeses) to look up from their meals. Their gaze drifted from Dwalin's person to Lyla's and back again. Balin's eyes widened slightly in surprise as he took in what she was wearing.
Bofur leapt to his feet.
"Bilbo! Where've ye be hidin' away? I want Oin to take a look at you," he grabbed onto her shoulders, mindful of her injury, and gazed down at her attire, "And where did ye get these things?" he questioned taking in her too large coat and rolled sleeves.
"They're mine," Dwalin's gravelly voice grumbled above the soft music. All heads turned towards the warrior who sat scowling at the food selection.
"But-" Began Dori.
"Master Baggins was in need of new clothing so I lent him my old coat and shirt," Dwalin growled.
"His injuries?" Bofur questioned.
"Taken care of. Now let's eat, aye?" Dwalin's temper was rising and he demanded no further questioning.
"Aye, come on Bilbo and sit by me then?" Bofur gave Lyla a smile and carefully led her to an empty seat between himself and Bifur. Once she was seated the low hum of voices resumed, though several members of the company shot her curious glances. Thorin's gaze, thankfully, was drawn towards Lord Elrond who appeared to be studying Thorin's sword ('Orcrist' he called it). She was spared further glares from the leader of their company. At least for now. The other members though, didn't hesitate to gaze unabashed at Lyla's dress.
'So much for blending in' she thought with a huff
Instead of focusing on the questioning looks and low murmur going on around her, she turned her attention to the food on the table. She knew she should be hungry. She was a hobbit after all (an underfed hobbit mind you). But her stomach was still in knots and she didn't think she could stomach very much.
Bofur had other ideas.
"Here ye are lad!" He chattered, piling her plate high with breads and cheeses, "The salads not to my taste but the bread's mighty fine and it'll get yer strength up." He poured a burgundy liquid into her goblet, "Can't have ye losing strength after today's adventure!"
He stopped then and gazed at her for a moment and then whispered quietly.
"I never did properly thank ye for saving me life Master Baggins. It's a debt I'll not easily forget and it's one that I'll eagerly repay."
What?
"You don't have to repay anything!" she exclaimed in a rushed whisper, "You saved my life too remember. I'd say we're even on that score."
Bofur considered her words for a moment, "Aye, I suppose so, but don't think I'll be forgettin' yer kindness."
"Nor I yours Master Bofur. Believe me."
He gave Lyla a bright smile and the hobbit felt a twinge of guilt shoot through her at her deception. How could she tell him though? Would he still accept her if she did?
"Now!" Bofur's voice pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, "Ye must answer this question for me then."
"Okay." She hesitated.
"How did ye convince that old sour-faced dwarf Dwalin to tend to yer shoulder AND lend his clothes?"
"Yeah!" Kili cut in, overhearing Bofur's questions, "He's never nice like that to me."
"Or me," Fili joined in.
"How'd you do it then?" Kili's curiosity was insatiable.
"What does it matter?!" Dwalin snapped, shooting a glare at Kili and then to Fili and Bofur, "What I do is my business and ye'd do better to leave yer noses out of it!" Grabbing a few loaves of bread, the dwarf rose, battle axes still slung over his shoulders, and testily escaped the confines of the dining hall.
Lyla felt her ears heat up and heard Bofur chuckle at Dwalin's outburst.
"I best leave that questioning alone then?" He chuckled, "Just wanted te rile 'im up a bit." He winked at Lyla, who suppressed her own smile.