Skin Changer : A Hobbit FanFiction (Discontinued)

Enough is Enough

Dwarves are wonderful people. They're kind, loyal, understanding, and they're always there when you need them. That said, they are also very racist.

Dwalin was especially vocal.

"This blasted forest is closing in on us," he grumbled just loud enough to be heard. "How long before we reach the end of it?"

Ilma sighed, rolling her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "If a group of heavily armed elves entered Erebor, I'm sure your mountain would do the same."

More grumbling.

All of the dwarves - and bilbo - had fallen into unease since entering the Greenwood. They had questioned her leadership at first, but, as the light began fading to a hazy red that sank heavily through the canopy, even Dwalin fell silent.

Thorin pulled her aside as the Company stopped to rest.

"Is there some place to rest safely tonight?" He asked quietly. "We could do with a warm meal and some laughter."

And by we, he meant they. Ilma sighed again. "I know of a place, but kindling must be gathered from fallen wood, and hunting is strictly forbidden. The trees are keeping us secret as it is," she added, looking up at the surrounding giants fondly.

Thorin looked dissatisfied, but he nodded politely. "How long until we reach this haven?"

"We'll be there within the hour, at this pace."

He nodded again and headed off to spread the word.

-

There was little laughter around the fire that night. Even Bofur was unusually subdued. There were no stars above them, only leaves, and the trees leaned forcefully away from the small fire Ilma had allowed. Thorin refused to sit and rest, standing watch at the edge of the clearing she'd lead them to. It pained her to see them like this, so unhappy. Sure, Thorin's brooding was nothing new, but it wasn't supposed to be contagious!

"Why is there no meat?" Dwalin growled, and what little conversation there was died. "Is there a reason why we must make due with hard bread and jerky?"

There was no doubt where that question was directed. "I told you," Ilma said patiently. "The trees specifically requested that we not hunt here. They are already keeping our presence secret and-."

"What do I care if a couple trees call in the elves?" He demanded, standing angrily. "Our girl children are manlier than their men! We would be done with them within the hour."

All were silent as they awaited Ilma's response.

"You dare," her voice shook with barely suppressed rage, her violet eyes alight. "You dare offer my people insult. As a child, I never understood my father's disdain for your people, Master Dwalin, but you have taught me the reason. You lack respect. One word from me, and the entire Woodland Realm will come upon you; without me you would all have lost yourselves to the wiles of the wood, and yet you dare insult not only me, but my home, my people, and my culture. Let me tell you something, dwarf," she all but spat the word as she stomped up to him angrily, towering over him. "Without me, your king would be dead. You'd all be dead, and Erebor would forever belong to Smaug, as it might yet."

Her words echoed through the clearing, and Ilma realized with a start that she had dropped the spell that kept her size relatively close to her companions'. Dwalin stood barely taller than her elbow. The Company looked at her with wide eyed astonishment, and she turned away from the fear in their gazes. There was no more speaking that night.

The next morning, Ilma was gone.