A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Row Away

"When will you return?" Bard's low voice prickled through the still air like the quiet crackle of a log consumed by flame. He stood near the door and stared at Gandalf and Legolas expectantly, the grip on his bow tight, his knuckles white from the strain.

He was, understandably worried.

The sun was just starting to lighten the sky-soft shades of pink and peach beginning to peek over the horizon-and the elf and wizard were making their quiet escape before they were noticed by the guards who were undoubtedly on their way to rouse the sleeping company of dwarves.

"Three days. At most." Gandalf remarked, "It will take at least a day for the company to get up to the doorway and Durin's Day is not yet upon us for a few more days. They'll have to wait until the last light casts its shadow over the keyhole. Then, and only then, will the door be opened."

'And they will unleash the beast' Bard thought morosely, anxiety swirling in his head, 'It could destroy us all.'

Gandalf placed a warm hand on the bowman's shoulder, a soft smile on his face, "Do not fear. There is yet still time."

Bard gave a quick nod to the grey wizard. There was still time, it was true, and even though he'd rather leave the dragon well enough alone, he knew with The Master's insistence on the matter, they didn't have much choice anymore.

The hobbit would have to fulfill her task.

And he would have to fulfill his, especially should the dragon descend upon Laketown.

Bard then turned his attention to the golden-haired elf. "You'll take care of him? Don't let any hardship befall my son."

Legolas mimicked Gandalf's movements and placed a comforting hand on Bard's shoulder.

"He will be quite safe," the elf remarked. "They all will."

Bard gave Legolas a stern, leveled look, "I will hold you to your word, then," his voice was hard, firm.

Legolas bowed his head gently towards the bowman, "Let it be an oath then," He murmured gently, his blue eyes conveying the truth behind his words as he slipped through the door, behind Gandalf.

Bard was left standing, staring at the dark grey wood, memorizing each indentation, each divot, crack and imperfection of the doorframe, and listening to the low murmur of conversation in the other room.

"Let it be an oath then," he whispered.

*****
"Mistress Boggins!"

Lyla groaned lowly as her eyes fluttered. Her head felt heavy, like a lead weights were attached to her ears, pulling her back towards the darkened oblivion of silence.

"Mistress Boggins!" Kili hissed again "You have to get up. The Master's coming."

Lyla's eyes flew open at that statement and she gazed up, drowsily, into the large brown eyes of the youngest Durin.

His gazed was worried, his face pulled into a frown.

"Durin's beard, how much draught did they give you?" he questioned warily, tugging on the hobbit's arms until she was in a sitting position.

Lyla blinked a few times to try and clear her head, but it felt so dull and compacted together.

It felt heavy.

And she didn't feel at all rested.

True she didn't dream (something she WAS grateful for), but she didn't really get a true sleep.

She had just been pulled under the effects of a concoction meant to induce sleep, and a heavy sleep at that.

Though...a thought niggled at her brain.