Skin Changer : A Hobbit FanFiction (Discontinued)

I Told You So

Ilma winced reflexively as Balin poked at her head - at least, she thought he was Balin. Her vision was a bit blurry.

“I’ll be fine, friend dwarf,” she said, smiling. “I’ve been blinded before.”

“I’ll not have you slowing us down,” Thorin replied, and she fell silent in surprise. She must have hurt herself badly if she mistook the king for his aide.

Why was everything so white?

“Master Oakenshield, I’m fine,” she said, placing her hand over his and hissing when she brushed her cut. “Just show me where it is and I’ll handle it.”

He was silent for a moment before sighing, guiding her hand roughly to the tender flesh.

By Eru, that hurt.

She inhaled through her nose, gathering her power through the earth beneath her. The scent of dirt and rain and dust filled her, and she sneezed. Rather painfully. Her fingers had dug into her injury out of reflex.

“Argh,” she groaned, inciting many chuckles from the dwarves around her. “Blasted rain.”

Grumbling under her breath, she again reached for her traditional source of power, only to find nothing but empty air beneath the rock upon which she stood. Confused, and greatly concerned, she tried to stand, reaching out blindly in the hopes of finding a solid wall.

“Woah, there, lass,” a dwarf - Bofur, if his hat was enough to go by - said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to find a wall,” Ilma ground out through gritted teeth.

“Whatever for?” Bofur asked, cheerfully confused.

“The earth is my source of power, friend dwarf. I need solid stone if I’m to heal this wound.”

“Wouldn’t the stone under our feet do?” Bilbo asked innocently as Bofur kindly lead her to one of the cave walls.

Ilma sighed as she felt the indomitable strength of the mountain thrum beneath her fingertips. She channelled it into herself, modifying the raw strength into a healing energy that quickly engulfed her body. Her vision blurred, then cleared, and the pain in her head was quickly gone. Turning to face the hobbit, Ilma shrugged, smiling.

“Well, the floor beneath us is hollow, for one.”

The poor dear’s eyes widened dramatically, and Ilma held up her hands placatingly. Before she could give an utterance of reassurance, Thorin was storming toward her, an angry scowl back in place.

“What did you say, elf?” Again with the ‘elf’ nonsense? “How can you know this?”

Ilma rolled her eyes, giving the shorter man a spitefully petulant look. “If it were solid, then I wouldn’t have needed the wall, now would I?”

They glared at each other, blue eyes meeting violet. Ilma was the first to look away, her attention caught by something decidedly more interesting than a little man with self esteem issues.

“How do you know the mountain beneath us is hollow?” He asked, albeit more calmly than before. Ilma held up a hand to silence him, her ears twitching.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

The dwarf king gave her an exasperated look, no doubt convinced she was avoiding the question, sorry clod. “Hear what?”

She cocked her head, listening carefully as she looked toward the back of the cave where Dwalin was still snooping about.

“Nothing, Master Oakenshield,” she said at last, turning back to him with a small smile. “I am imagining things.” She only hoped she wasn’t lying.

Ilma listened to the dwarves sleep, their snores endearing in their loudness. Radagast snored, as well, when he allowed himself to sleep. He often spent days in the wilds, coming back incredibly disheveled with tired but smiling eyes. An ache ran through her chest as she thought of the wizard. Certainly, Lord Elrond had killed the orcs before they had caught up to the old man, but had he been alright since? Had he returned to the Greenwood to tend to the creatures there? Or had he, too, succumbed to the sickness.

A nasty thought, that, and one she did not like thinking. All the more reason to find a cure.

Her ears twitched again, catching parts of Bilbo’s conversation with Bofur under the same scraping she had heard earlier. How the dwarves who had been born and raised in a mountain didn’t notice the rumbling beneath them was beyond her, but, if their king found nothing amiss, who was she to instigate?

“Did you hear that?” Bilbo asked Bofur. Finally.

Thorin stirred from the other side of the cave, standing hastily.

“Get up, you fools!” he said, and Ilma stood, noticing the crack in the sandy floor as it made its way toward the entrance.

She knew it was petty, really she did, but she couldn’t resist flashing a triumphant smile in the blue eyed dwarf’s direction.

“I told you it was hollow.”

Then the floor was gone from beneath them and they fell, Ilma laughing to herself at the livid expression that had crossed Thorin’s face.