A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Disparaging Thoughts

Lyla sat, knees tucked to her chest with her hand resting under her chin as she stared out the window of her temporary bedroom. The light snow had turned into bitterly cold rain that pelted the window, obscuring her view of the muted houses and pitter pattered overhead like the gentle thrum of a drum.

Normally she'd find this calming. She used to sit like this as a little girl. She loved watching the rain fall from her own windows at home and marveled at the delightful scents that the rain always brought.

But today, the rain did nothing to ease her worries.

Lyla had begged to go upstairs after their longwinded strategy planning, which, frankly, left her head spinning.

She'd even foregone dinner, much to the surprise of many of the company members. They'd started to protest her request for solitude, until Bofur got a good look at her face.
He must have seen something akin to utter confusion and wearied panic in her eyes and the desperate need to be alone.

"Aye lass," he had pulled Lyla into a tight, but brief hug, touching their foreheads together gently, before nudging her towards the staircase. "Of ye go. But we'll be here if ye be needin' anything."

Lyla sighed and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, sifting through the thoughts racing about in her head, trying to stop herself from sinking into a pool of despair that threatened to consume her.

The plan they'd devised was much the same as the original. At least for Lyla anyway. She would, as was always agreed, figure out some way to thwart Smaug and restore Thorin's place back under The Lonely Mountain.

Of course that type of mission appeared nearly impossible to begin with. Lyla had no idea how to tackle a dragon. She couldn't even begin to fathom what she'd be facing in a few day's time.

Her elevated stress since leaving the Shire was to be expected. She was facing down a fire-breathing creature that could incinerate her (as Bofur had kindly put it). But she'd still signed that contract. She'd agreed to this foolhardy quest. She'd promised her services to aid a gaggle of dwarves.

She knew the consequences.

But now?

Fear niggled at her brain, doubt casting a long shadow over her thoughts as she stared out the window at the pattering rain and the growing darkness.
Now things were far more complicated.

Her role in this quest meant so much more than ever before.

And in that moment, Lyla never felt more exceptionally ordinary, inadequate and insignificant in her life.

There were families, men, women, and children, longing to be reunited with each other and to overthrow the wickedness permeating Laketown. They were relying on her to succeed.

They had to deal with The Master's sinister machinations.

The brute force of an evil race of men aligned with the desires of evil.

And a necromancer (whatever that was really).

Every time she closed her eyes Lyla could still see those little faces, tearstained and dirty, the large eyes, filled with terror gazing back at her, pleading with her to do something.

Sure Legolas had a (brilliant) plan in the works to free the children from The Master and Bard had his arrow, which could pierce through the hardest armor at a blindingly fast speed (or so he said).

But none of that mattered, if Lyla did not perform her duty.

'You can't really expect anything good to come from this mission' the voice of doubt rang in her ears, making her cringe. 'It's a fool's errand you are on. You'll never really succeed.'