Erebor's Guardian

Chapter 21

The wooden door cracked open and Dori popped his grey head out scanning around like an overbearing mother hen. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him holding my right side with my left hand. The sensation of the touch made me feel thinner than before. I felt a bit proud and sexy. Dori shut and locked the door against the creeping night after I entered the house. The company scattered themselves around the one room house constructed of stone and supporting beams of wood. To my left sat a dining table and a bed tucked against a window and to the left oxen slept in their well-spaced stables. Hay laid piled up around the posts and scattered below the feet of the oxen. I shuffled quietly over to an empty stable with several crates stacked up just like Beorn said. Our host also mentioned the white porcelain bowl filled with fresh water, gauze and a needle with stitching ready for him to return. He kindly offered the supplies to me after inspecting my wound. One odd thing about this charming place was the size of everything. Huge. Even the tall wizard looked a bit out of place.

The moonlight shone through the single pane glass windows onto the hay covered floor as I began to strip out of my armor. The fight against the remaining orcs Azog had left behind was easy until my mind was taken over by visions of my past life. Visions of my life here in Middle Earth. In the heat of battle, it was a tang of deja vu until the visions became over barely strong and I was wounded. After the battle, Beorn explained to me who his people were and that my mother was his chief's daughter. Some reason I was taken from Middle Earth and sent to my world with no memory. I was around ten when they found me in the middle of the woods mid-winter.

"Lakota?" Ori asked a few feet away as I continued to undo my armor leaving on the clothing beneath. Remaining silent I rolled my undershirt up over my wound swallowing the hiss of pain that boiled up to my throat. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Alright was far from where I was mentally. My whole world was flipped upside down between who I was before the fall of Erebor and who I became on earth. Confusion and anger clouded my mind and emotions, setting my sanity of the bridge of snapping in two. Water trickled down from the rag, down my abdomen running a diluted shade of red, down to the floor and some even seeped into my pants. The cold stung against my burning wound.

"Lakota?" Ori sheepishly peeked around my side and my eyes met his honey brown eyes. His bushy brows furrowed. "What happened?"

The blood swallowed the clear water in the basin when I placed the soaked rag into the bowl. "I was wounded in battle." I said.

Ori's eyes widened in panic. "Thorin!" The young dwarf dashed off.

I rolled my eyes continuing to clean my wound until the blood ran a healthy tint and the flesh was a good pink color. The wound was not that deep compared to others I had seen before. I leaned on the crate as I readied the needle and stitching trying to steady my blood-stained hands.

"Lakota?" A deep gruff voice caught my attention and I looked up to see Thorin stripped from his outer layers in only his blue tunic sleeves rolled over his tattooed forearms.

"I'm fine." The crackle in my voice and tears welled eyes betrayed my lie.

Thorin ignored me pulling the needle from my hands. He leaned his forehead against mine holding me close. "Amrálimê, you are not alright."

I shut my eyes tight against the world fighting my trembling lip pushing everything back behind the wall I erected to keep others out. The once strong iron wall crumbled into a fallen sand castle. Instinctively my hands went to his shoulders gripping the thick wool fabric that creaked between my nails. My side burned, my heart ached, my brain pounded and my knees shook. Thank god for the stable wall I hid behind as all strength left me and I burst into tears.