A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Little Bunny

Lyla's mouth dropped open in surprise and confusion as the largest man she had ever seen stood before her.

Granted she hadn't met many tall folk in the confines of the Shire, but still!

And hadn't there been a bear pawing at her a moment ago?

Now, there stood a man, easily twelve feet tall-towering over every member of the company including Gandalf-with long scraggly black hair, a bushy tangled beard, clothed in a deep green tunic that reached well below his knees, his feet bare of any footwear.

And he was staring at her, his dark eyes, narrowed and assessing.

"You most certainly are NOT a dwarf," he repeated, "But what are you then?"

He reached down and fingered her blonde curls between his massive fingers, then poked at her ears and shoulders.

"Leave him alone!" Thorin thundered from behind the man, his sword drawn and eyes blazing. Dwalin stood next to him, his battle axe poised at the ready, eyes narrowed into slits, and muttering in the dwarves' ancient tongue.

The man snarled and whipped around to face the dwarf king who held his position and sent a glare of his own at the hulking man, his blue eyes blazing.

"Do not think you can command me, dwarf," he growled at Thorin, "You trespass on my land and have no authority here. My judgment decides your fate so choose your actions carefully."

Thorin, to his credit, did not advance again. Though his stance stayed firm and his annoyance radiated from him in waves.

Beorn turned back to Lyla and grabbed her ankle, hoisting the hobbit-upside down-into the air.

She let out a squeak of surprise as the blood rushed to her head making her eyes water.

"I know that orcs and goblins," he spa the words, "have been roaming these lands, so tell me now, little one, what type of creature you are before I decide that you share the same fate they experienced."

From her vantage point, hanging upside down as she was, she noted that the man's eyes were narrowed and his lips curved into a deep frown.

"I'll have you know," she mumbled straightening her tunic and belt as best she could, "I may be nothing so fierce or terrifying as a goblin or orc, but I AM a hobbit from the Shire and I am not used to such calloused handling!"

"And just what is a hobbit then?" He growled and gave her a little shake.

The company howled in annoyance, prepared to charge.

The man sent them another snarling command to keep them at bay. "Do not come near me! I control the little one's fate."

'Blast' Lyla groaned silently at the predicament. She'd become a bargaining chip to the two groups.

"A-a hobbit? " How did one explain a hobbit? "Well, it's nothing so interesting really. We're known as little people or Halflings in the West from where I hail," She rattled off answers, "We-ah are small, smaller even than dwarves and cannot grow beards. We live in little homes tucked away in the hills and enjoy good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts such a home can provide us. And well," Lyla paused for a minute considering just how to placate this obviously distrustful giant, "we possess no magic, except perhaps the stealth required to slip away unnoticed by enemies if we choose."

'Except for now' she thought in annoyance. 'Of all the times I could use stealth, I manage to be hung up like some prized fish!'

"You hail from the West?" The man asked in surprise, "What brings you so far from home then? And with a company of dwarves no less. For I see no other 'hobbits' in your midst."