A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

A Tempest of Chaos

The walk back towards their lodging house was a tense one.

Guardsmen were posted along the entire walkway from the banquet hall, their tall, masked faces, sending shivers down Lyla's spine

Bofur and Dwalin stood on either side of Lyla their gazes darkened with a fury that set Lyla more on edge than the guards did. She suspected that the slightest disturbance would set them off.

Dwalin, though, kept a firm hand on Lyla's shoulder, squeezing his fingers every few moments to reassure Lyla of his presence.

'And to keep himself in check most likely.' Lyla considered, thoughtfully.

But as she watched Thorin leading Bard (whose hands were still bound in rope) towards their lodgings, her steps started to feel like lead.

She could feel the tension rolling off the dwarf king like giant crashing waves. His posture was rigid, one hand balled into a fist as he stomped down the walkway ahead of her, his wavy ebony hair swinging with each step he took.

Lyla wrung her hands together in trepidation.

To Lyla's horror, as soon as they stepped through the door, Thorin let out a guttural roar of anger and twisted Bard around, slamming the tall bowman into a wall. His fist connected with man's jaw.

"What did you do?!" He thundered his eyes narrowed, teeth bared as he stared at Bard. "Answer me!"

"NO!" Lyla shouted trying to break from Dwalin's grasp, but the warrior held his hand firm as Bofur, too, grabbed onto her other arm.

"No lass," He whispered, "No. Let him handle this."

"No!" Lyla shouted again, twisting her arms to break free from their firm grips, but her friends held firm, refusing to relinquish their hold on the little hobbit. "He's got it wrong. He didn't DO anything! Thorin let him go!"

Thorin's head jerked towards Lyla's voice, his eyes narrowed, a cold fury written on his face.

"Let him go," She requested again, her gaze firm as she stared back at the enraged dwarf, "He didn't do anything."

"If I remember correctly," Thorin snarled at her, his grip tightening on Bard's tunic as he slammed the bowman into the wall again, "He tried to kill you when we first arrived. What could have possibly changed since then?!"

"He tried to protect me," she murmured leveling her gaze and narrowing her eyes at Thorin. "He doesn't deserve your anger. He's in the same predicament."

The change was so sudden that Lyla was left breathless. Thorin suddenly dropped his hands, sending the stunned bowman tumbling to the floor. Turning on his heel, he marched back toward Lyla and pried her from Bofur and Dwalin's protesting grasp.

"Come with me," he muttered, his voice clipped, but devoid of the fury she'd just witnessed.

Dwalin, however, was hesitant to release his charge.

Thorin growled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Dwalin," He commanded, his voice steady and low, "Let her go. We have to talk. Too much has happened."

"Aye, that's true enough," Dwalin remarked, unmoving from his post next to Lyla, "But I'll not be leavin' her to fend for herself when yer ragin' on like this."

"So be it." Thorin remarked, "Stand outside the door if you must, but this is one conversation I'd prefer to have alone."

His furious blue eyes never left the hobbit's face. He stared at her, his face contorted into a scowl, eyes narrowed, calculating as he grabbed ahold of Lyla's upper arm and pulled her along up the stairs, towards her bedroom.