7. Not Your Average Bedtime Story

            For a while, our troop of sixteen was confined to level plains to travel across. We rested, ate, drank, and relieved ourselves when we saw fit. Mainly Thorin called the shots as to what we did and when we did it. Honestly, I knew Thorin saw me as a burden; he’d said so since I brought Bilbo to the company to join them. I felt like I had something to prove now.

            So much for being able to enjoy this opportunity with my best friend. I now felt obligated to prove to Thorin Oakenshield that I had every right to be in the company like the rest did.

            Our scenery eventually changed from grasslands to pathways on mountains. Today was the day we changed scenery. Since the path was narrow, we had to ride single file. I had to admit, this was something I never expected to happen in my life.

            I wondered how Jack was managing without me back home in Hobbiton. I knew he would remain faithful to me, yet there was a shred of doubt that told me that maybe he’d get fed up with being lonely and have an affair. I mean, it would be the perfect time to, right, while I was away embarking on a voyage to help Dwarves—strangers—take back their kingdom from a dragon?

            Stop worrying. Jack said so himself, he’ll be fine. He’ll be waiting for you when you make the journey home. Then you’ll be able to tell him everything that’s happened! That was definitely something to look forward to, at least.

            When sunset was upon us, Thorin declared that a little spot on the mountain was where we’d make camp for the night. The space was vast enough to give us and the ponies some room. A fire was soon made, as was supper. I’d never had stew in my lifetime until I joined the Dwarves. I had to admit, the cook, Bombur, wasn’t really that bad of one. Though, I did wish he had put some things in the stew so it would be a little more tolerable for me. Get used to it, this will probably be all you’ll be able to eat for a long time, my conscience reminded me.

            Night fell upon our group of sixteen. About half of us decided to turn in for the night, Thorin was amongst that number. Gandalf sat near the unsaddled ponies, smoking a pipe. Kili and Fili were still up, huddled near the fire. Bilbo was trying to sleep, like I was.

            However, we should have expected to not fall asleep so easily, not with Bombur’s obnoxious snoring that sounded amplified in the dead of night.

            I sat up with my back supported against a rock. I watched the Dwarf as he snored, seeing little things disappear into his mouth, then pop back out when he breathed. I grimaced, realizing that as Bombur snored he took in flies and then released them when he exhaled.

            Bilbo popped up, shooting an annoyed glance at Bombur.

            “We’ll get used to it,” I whispered to him. He jumped; I bit my lip so I didn’t laugh. “Flighty, are we?”

            “You can’t sleep either?”

            “I’ve been trying. Trying but failing.” I sighed. With every part of me still awake, I rose to my feet, ambling over to the ponies. I sought out my boy, who greeted me with a soft snort. I beamed as I pressed my forehead against his, scratching his cheeks lightly with my nails.

            “You can’t sleep either, can you, boy?” I crooned. “That makes two of us.” Nearby, I heard Bilbo sneaking his pony, Myrtle, an apple. “Well, more than just us two.”

            A distant, unfamiliar screech broke me out of my content state. One of Remy’s ears flickered towards the noise; it seemed to be on the other side of the fog that lingered near us. The noise erupted again, travelling to us.

            “What was that?” Bilbo whisper-panicked.

            “Orcs,” said Kili.

            “Orcs,” I mumbled, leaving Remy to join the brothers near the fire.

            “Throat-cutters,” Fili murmured. “There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lone-lands are crawling with them.”

            ‘They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep,” Kili added. “Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.”

            Bilbo paled beside me. The brothers’ serious facades faded as Kili snickered. My eyes narrowed. Boys and their foolish tricks. I should have expected the brothers to try something like this.

            “You think that’s funny?” Thorin growled. I snapped my head round to notice he was awake. “You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?”

            “We didn’t mean anything by it,” Kili said abashedly, looking down at the ground.

            “No, you didn’t.” Thorin stalked off towards where the ponies stood, resting. “You know nothing of the world.”

            “Don’t mind him, laddie,” Balin said, coming to join the conversation. “Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs.”

            I had a feeling this was going to be a campfire story that none of us could avoid hearing.

            “After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria,” Balin began. “But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs led by the vilest of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by…beheading the king.”

            I shuddered, a vivid mental picture painted in my head: a tall, menacing Orc (whatever they looked like) taking one slice to the Dwarf king’s throat with a sword, decapitating him.

This was no bedtime story you told children.

            “Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know,” Balin went on gravely. “We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us.” Solemnity briefly left the ancient Dwarf’s face; a spark of admiration was in his eyes. “That is when I saw him.” Balin’s eyes moved to Thorin, and that’s where my eyes went. “A young Dwarf prince facing down the pale Orc.

            “He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.”

            I knew whatever I came up with could not compare to what really had gone on in Moria. I could not imagine being in the midst of such a bloody, violent battle, to see Dwarves beheaded and slain, to see nasty creatures such as Orcs. I knew I had a sense of adventure, but that did not equal a battle.

            I hoped that was not what this voyage held in store for us, because I had no weapons and no idea how to defend myself.

            Engulfed in Balin’s story/memory, I sat on the ground next to Bilbo, who was entranced by the tale, like me.

            “Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back,” Balin continued, his eyes flickering to the flames every now and again. “And our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived.”

            Looking around, I noticed that the sleeping Dwarves had woken. Balin’s tale must have gotten through to them enough to stir them. Those who stood around me tonight were the survivors of the battle, I realized. So few, indeed.

            “And I thought to myself,” Balin went on, “that there was one who I could follow. There is one I could call king.”

            All eyes strayed to Thorin, whose back was no longer turned to us. No wonder these Dwarves were together, they were the last of that battle in Moria. No wonder they were close like brothers, they had endured a horrible event in which I could never see Hobbits ever going through.

            I would never be able to truly understand the pain these Dwarves went through, losing their home and losing so many of their kind.

            “And the pale Orc?” Bilbo asked. “What happened to him?”

            “He slunk back into the hole whence he came,” Thorin grumbled, walking back to where he had slept before. “That filth died of his wounds long ago.”

            Okay, I knew I disliked Thorin because of how he reacted to my coming along with the company, but I had some newfound respect for him. To go through what he did and live through it all…

            How he hadn’t gone insane was a mystery to me. Losing my home, partaking in battle and losing so many people around me would do my mind in. I wouldn’t be able to handle all the trauma that came with what these Dwarves saw and went through.

            “Thorin,” I said, rising to my feet. He turned to look at me. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Look, I know we got on the wrong foot when we started out for Erebor. Now, hearing what’s happened to you all…I wish we had never started off badly like we had. I know you probably still don’t approve of me being here with you all, and that doesn’t matter to me, but I just want you to know that I respect you.”

            Thorin said nothing, he just glared at me. If he thought I was trying to get on his good side, I wasn’t. I genuinely respected him for what horrors he had to go through in his life.

            I was a little pissed off when he said nothing to me in return and went back to his sleeping spot. Then again, I couldn’t be too mad, considering I probably caught him off guard with my speech.

            “I knew things could be rough out in the world, but I never thought about war,” I whispered as I slipped back down to the ground. “Do you think we’ll have to fight on the way to your home?” I directed the question at Balin.

            “If I were to tell you no, lass, I would be lying.” He stroked his snow-white beard. “We have seen enough fighting for a lifetime, but that does not mean Moria will be the end of it. No, I fear at some point in time, we will have to fight.”

            My heart pounded anxiously in my chest. I was no fighter, and neither was Bilbo. True the Dwarves could fight, and Gandalf probably could as well, but what if we Hobbits weren’t around the company? What if we were casted out, surrounded by enemies? What would we do other than be captured and die?

            “I wouldn’t worry too much, Red,” said Kili. “We’re fighters, we don’t give up easy.”

            “That’s not the problem—did you just call me ‘Red’?” I probed curiously.

            “I did.” Kili bobbed his head.

            “Did you forget my name?” I teased.

            “I didn’t, I just figured it had a nice ring to it.”

            “Hmm. Red. It could catch on,” I considered. “Say, since I’ve got a new name, let’s try to find one for Bilbo, eh?”

            “Let’s not,” Bilbo snapped lightly. I giggled before yawning.

            After Balin’s story seeped into us all, we settled down for the night. I curled myself into a tight ball, trying to erase the story of war from my mind.

***

            “Move, Red!” one of the brothers shouted. I didn’t care enough to figure out if either Kili or Fili was telling me to run. If I had to run, I had to.

            Rain poured onto me, slamming icicles into my back. I winced as I ran, mud caked my furry feet. In the distance, an unfamiliar roar followed me. I didn’t dare look back. All I knew was that I had to get the hell out of here, to safety.

            I was defenseless after all.

            Bilbo had been told to flee as well, though we were separated once the downpour commenced. I swore sometimes I heard him shouting my name over the rain, but the downpour drowned it out.

            Drops blurred my vision. My feet slipped in the mud, causing me to lurch forward. My face showered in fresh mud. I scowled, spitting out the wet dirt, shaking my messy, soaked hair. I heard slushy steps approach me up ahead. I quivered where I was. How could I have been found so quickly?

            “Lily!” Bilbo’s face poked out through the downpour. Elation swelled within me. I hugged him as he pulled me to my feet on the slippery floor. I could tell Bilbo had his fair share of run-ins with mud, he was splattered with it. “Come on, we have to keep moving!” Without a protest, Bilbo grabbed my wrist and pulled me along behind him.

            “Where are we supposed to go?” I yelled over the clap of thunder.

            “I don’t know! We just need to find somewhere safe!”

            “Where’s safe? We’re in a damn forest!”

            Bilbo shot back into me, pushing me into the muddy floor again. We looked up to see a towering shadow. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me. Was it an Orc, or was it Azog, like from Balin’s story?

            “Oh my,” I squeaked. The shadow held a mace, enhancing its deadly stature.

            Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind, ripped away from Bilbo. I squealed, thrashing about, feeling an iron grip on the back of my neck. I saw Bilbo struggle against his shadow captors, I twisted around to try and see mine.

            “Red!” one of the brothers shouted.

            “Lily! Bilbo!” several voices echoed throughout the forest.

            I would have screamed “Help!” had I not squeaked in pain as the grip on my neck tightened. Black spots invaded my vision. I doubted the company would reach us in time.

            By the time they’d find us, they’d only find corpses covered in mud and blood.

***

            “Lily!” a harsh whisper hissed in my ear. I swatted at it, only to have my wrist caught. Suddenly alert, I shot up only to collide my forehead with Bilbo’s. I fell back down to the ground floor, hissing, rubbing the temporary throbbing.

            “What the hell, Bilbo?” I seethed.

            “You were having a bad dream. I heard you,” he grumbled, rubbing his own forehead. “Whatever it was, you were frightened of it.”

            “You’re right, it was a bad dream.” Nervously, I twisted my wedding band.

            “It wasn’t about Jack or Cecelia was it?”

            “No.”

            “Was it about any of us here?”

            I swallowed, looking around. It seemed it was just the two of us who were awake at this hour. “Yes. That’s all I’m willing to answer, for now.”

            “All right.”

            “Be honest. Did I wake anyone else up besides you?”

            “Not unless you slept walked and hit them.”

            “Did I hurt you while I was dreaming?” I gasped.

            “You kicked me once or twice.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “You couldn’t control it.”

            “I could have controlled my dreams,” I whimpered.

            “Don’t let it bother you, Lily. Just go back to sleep, all right?”

            “I can’t here.” I rose, abandoning Bilbo, heading towards the group of ponies. I located Remy, who was nestled down on the grass. His ears flickered to the sound of my feet on the ground. He turned his head towards me.

            “Hey, big fella,” I cooed. “Sorry to wake you. I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

            Remy stayed still while I got comfortable against his furry side. Once I was settled, I felt better, feeling Remy’s warm breath blow on my hair. 

**Looks like Thorin and Lily won't get along so easily. There could be the chance for that to change later on in the story. And how about that nickname Lily has now. I like it, I don't know about you.**