A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Where's Supper?

Lyla fingered her golden curls with a mixture of trepidation and dread. Her once rich, tumbling locks were cropped close to her ears, framing her delicate face and making Lyla feel even smaller than she was before. She felt vulnerable.
"This is never going to work," She murmured glancing at her reflection in the mirror next to her bed, "No one will ever buy this farce."
Dressed in her brother's old cropped brown trousers and green suspenders, her small chest bound tightly as a precaution, she admittedly look quite similar to her brother. But, her features were too delicate. Even she knew that. She wasn't the most feminine hobbit, but her thin cheeks and pointed chin and small hands and wrists, gave her a distinct softness that most male hobbits did not possess.
Lyla sighed. It was highly unlikely that those small differences would not go unnoticed by her impending guests. Honestly, what had she been thinking accepting Gandalf's ruse? Curse her Tookish blood for rearing its ugly head when her life had settled into a very comfortable pattern. Yes. She was quite content before that confounded wizard popped into her little smial with an enticing offer to escape the Shire.
Admittedly, it didn't take much to convince Lyla to forsake tradition and welcome a group of Dwarves (Dwarves!) into her home. Clearly she was as mad as Gandalf. And she was certain that tongues would be wagging once word got out that Little Lyla Baggins had turned Took once again. She smirked at the thought of Lobelia, purple and spluttering in fury once she realized that Lyla was no longer acting like a "respectable" hobbit lass.
And despite all the fear of the impending introduction to a gaggle of surly, battle hardened dwarves, she couldn't bring herself to regret the decision to go along with this half-baked plan. The appeal of adventure was just too strong to resist for a young hobbit with Took blood flowing freely through her veins. She'd stifled her desires for too long and Gandalf's appearance at her doorstep was the push she needed; the push she longed for (though she hadn't realized it at the time).
She couldn't help but note, with a pang in her chest, that she was breaking the promise she had made to uphold the respectability of the Baggins name. Would her father forgive her? And how would she handle being addressed as her brother? The mere thought of Bilbo's name sent tremors of grief and guilt through her chest.
Unfortunately, she didn't have time to consider such thoughts. A swift and hard knock echoed through her quiet home and Lyla turned a frantic eye towards the door, butterflies flittering in her chest, her stomach twisting in knots acceptance. Padding softly down the hall, she reached the wide door and, taking a deep breath, pulled the latch forward.
Lyla thought she knew what to expect with dwarves, but she could, in no way, prepare for the gruff character standing outside her door. Towering over his petite frame, this dwarf bore strange tattoos on his bald head. His knuckles, arms and chest were clad in armor and various weaponry. His beady dark brown eyes assessing his surroundings, narrowed as he took in her small form cowering in the doorway.
"Dwalin," the dwarf addressed dipping his head in respect, "at your service."
Lyla gaped at the dwarf for a moment, clearly stunned. After he narrowed his eyes at her, clearly expecting her to do something other than stare, Lyla came back to her senses.
"Yes, yes of course! Bil-" she cleared her throat to prevent her voice from cracking, "Bilbo Baggins at your service. Come in. Sorry." She pulled the door open wider and the massive dwarf lumbered forward flicking his cloak off in a huff.
"Which way laddie?" He queried surging forward, tossing said cloak at the unsuspecting hobbit and tromping inward, his boots thundering through the silent house, "is it down here?"
Lyla was confused by that question. "Uh-is what down...where?"
"Supper. He said there'd be food and lots of it," Dwalin remarked in a clipped tone, cleared miffed at the lack of the promised supper. His heavy footfalls trudged down the hall as he explored Lyla's smial.
Supper?! Gandalf didn't mention supper. Thirteen dwarves wanting and expecting supper?! She wasn't prepared for this.
Lyla felt her eye twitch in annoyance.
Leave it to that finicky wizard to withhold vital information.
Oh confusticate it all!
Her doorbell rang at that moment and Lyla turned back towards the door she had just shut.
She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two hours later and Lyla could feel the start of a headache pounding behind her eyes.

And the noise from her dining room was only increasing.

The second Dwarf to arrive had been Balin. The white-haired creature, clad in red robes, smiled kindly (if a little apologetically), commented on the possibility of rain, and meandered into Lyla's entryway. She was surprised to discover that Dwalin-who had gotten his hand stuck in her biscuit jar-was Balin's younger, much more intimidating brother. They had greeted each other affectionately and to Lyla's horror smashed their foreheads together. She had cringed at the sickening noise their two heads made when they connected and fancied that she'd never try that form of greeting.

The next time her doorbell rang, Lyla was surprised to find not one, but two rather young looking dwarves standing at her door, identical smiles plastered on their faces.

"Fili" stated the blond dwarf with the braided mustache

"And Kili" the dark-haired youth remarked
"At your service." They both bowed deeply.
"You must be Mr. Boggins!" Kili grinned cheekily pushing past her without waiting for answer.
Fili followed with a smug smirk, dumping his weapons in her unsuspecting arms and trundling down the hall towards Dwalin and Balin's hulking forms. Were they moving her furniture around?!
Shortly thereafter, chaos ensued. The next time she answered her door, an entire gaggle of dwarves tumbled into her doorway, nearly crushing her in the confusion. The largest dwarf (by far) was crushing several others. A hat went flying as they tumbled into a heap of groans and grunts of annoyance and pain.
And behind them stood a tall wizard clutching his staff and looking somewhat apologetic (which wasn't apologetic at all really. How sorry can a wizard actually be?).
Lyla felt her eye twitching.
"Gandalf" she had breathed grumpily.
Now however, after two hours of listening to loud laughter, watching her pantry diminish in its contents, witnessing food flying through the air, Dwarves walking on her table, her dishes flying through the air and Gandalf-that blasted wizard-sitting calmly with a smile on his face watching Lyla run about making requests and demands only to be ignored. It was infuriating. They were her dishes after all. And her maps and books. And her doilies! The least her guests could do is respect her property.
Then a pounding echoed throughout her home and silence stifled the dwarves as they turned towards the sources of the noise. Gandalf rose quickly, and moved past Lyla to answer the door.
Lyla felt her mouth go dry at the figure who stepped into the light of the candles in her entry. Long ebony locks streaked with silver, a straight prominent nose, and piercing blue eyes pummeled Lyla's vision and she felt her neck warm up as a blush crept up to her ears.
He was very...handsome...not even that word did him justice! He was exceptional, powerful, intimidating... majestic? Regal? Whatever he was, his presence filled the whole room, that was for certain.
"Allow me to introduce the leader of our quest: Thorin Oakenshield"
Those piercing blue eyes turned towards Lyla, assessing and calculating, sizing her up.
"So this is the hobbit?" He gave a derisive snort, his eyes flicking across her face. She half wondered if her ruse would be unraveled by his man's penetrating gaze. Her heart started pounding.
"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." He pushed past her, not bothering to even attempt being polite.
Well that was...rude, selfish, arrogant...
She sent a glare towards Gandalf, who had the decency to look apologetic at this insult (and maybe he really was apologetic this time). This was certainly NOT what she was expecting when she agreed to this adventuring business. This was frustrating, annoying, terrifying. She certainly didn't think she'd be dealing with such a pompous creature. It was enough to drive anyone batty.