A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Worth and Sacrifice

No.
Lyla turned briefly to look up at Thorin's horrified face. She looked panicked, tired, and terrified. But then, a small, resigned smile lit her features and a look of calm affection sparkled in her large hazel eyes for a brief moment. She gave Thorin a quick nod of her head and then she quickly turned around.

Thorin's stomach dropped at the realization.

No!

Mahal, no!

"Lyla!" He thundered, trying to scramble from his barrel, reaching his arm for her, trying to grab her jacket, her arm, anything, as she pulled the lever, dropping the companions down a chute and into a fast-paced river. The last image that he caught was a mop of matted, dirty golden curls disappearing from his view as his barrel plunged into the river.

No!

That foolish, impertinent, annoying, brave hobbit. Why would she do that?! Why would she purposely put herself in harm's way like this?

Mahal help him, no.

No.

****
Azog's roar was deafening as the barrels containing Lyla's dwarves tumbled down into the chute, safe from the pale orc's mal intent.

The same couldn't be said for their small hobbit burglar.

She knew that by pulling the lever she'd have a small chance of making it through the chute along with her company members. But that didn't matter. What mattered was getting those she cared about to safety. That was the most important thing to her.

And part of her wanted to gloat of her success, to triumphantly stand in from of Azog, with a calm demeanor and a large smirk.

She had bested him after all. How many creatures could claim such a title as their own?

But as she stared down the pale orc, whose beady blue eyes betrayed the utter hatred and contempt he held for the small hobbit, she didn't feel smug. Far from it in fact.

She felt fear. Heart-stopping, limb shaking fear from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her soles.

Her gaze flicked down to the still, blonde elf lying in crimson, his breath still, his eyes closed, mouth pulled into a silent cry. Anguish filled her veins for the loss of an innocent life.

'Aule bless him,' she thought pleadingly.

But then a panic welled up inside her, threatening to destroy her rational thinking as she realized that she too might end up like that.

Lyla looked back to Azog's scowling face and saw the look in the orc's eyes and knew that he wanted her dead as well. There would be no games played, no dancing around the issue.

He intended to kill her.

But despite this earth-shattering fear, the terrified knowledge that this moment could likely be her end, Lyla felt no regret for her actions. She knew it was the right thing to do. And she'd do it again if the opportunity presented itself to her.

Thorin's face flashed in her mind and then Fili's, Kili's, Bofur's, Dwalin's and the rest of the company's. She smiled at the thought of those thirteen rowdy, unusual, boisterous, creatures.

Those dwarves meant more to her than anything in Middle Earth.

They were her family now.

And she'd protect them, even if it meant never being able to see them again.

Because after all, she was just an ordinary little hobbit.

Nothing special really.

But they were important beyond all measurable treasures.