Come to Morning Through The Shadows

Erebor and Lorien

"Home is behind, the world ahead,

and there are many paths to tread

through shadows to the edge of night,

until the stars are all alight."-J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 7:

She hated it.

Aule she hated water.

What she hated more, though, was the terrible sensation of something tugging on her leg, trying to rip her from her hold against the boulder in the center of the river.

And the laughter.

The terrible, sickening laughter that bounced around the inside of her head.

Lyla squeezed her eyes tighter together, digging her numb fingers into the jagged rocks, kicking her leg to shake off whatever was holding onto her, too terrified to even attempt to look to see what it might be.

When the water subsided enough for him to lift his head and gasp a lungful of air, Bofur scrambled to his feet determined to make it towards the center of the river, where a little head of blonde curls bobbed in the rushing water. His boots squelched beneath his steps, the force of the rushing water bogging him down, as Lyla's head became more and more visible as the water receded as quickly as it had risen.

He was thankful for that. Mahal, was he thankful.

"Lass!" He called as Lyla lifted her head sputtering and coughing, her shoulders shaking as her face pinched into a look of disgust and tired resignation as she dragged herself higher out of the water, her limbs quaking from the effort and the cold.

"Lass!" The water sloshed around him as he maneuvered through the slowing current towards the large boulder that the hobbit still clung to, her fingers digging into the rocks.

Bofur knelt near the hobbit, his own fingers shaky, heart hammering in worry, as he laid a hand on Lyla's shoulder.

The hobbit jerked at the touch but instantly relaxed as Bofur pulled her into a tight hug.

"Aye Lass," He murmured into her sopping curly head, "I'm here lass. It's over."

He noted the angry purple bruise that was blossoming on her cheek and the thin sliver of a cut that marred the flesh beneath her right eye.

Anger and confusion surged through him at the sight. He had the distinct urge to tear something apart.

Or someone.

Whatever mess Lyla Baggins had gotten herself into, she never deserved harm to befall her. That was why he and the two princes had followed after her, especially when they learned of the missing maps from the library and Ori's concern for 'Mistress Baggins'.

And when they discovered their missing hobbit who was in none of her usual hiding spots, they knew she'd done something foolish.

Brave, most likely, but undoubtedly foolish.

Gingerly, he and Lyla rose to their feet, his hold never loosening from the hobbit's shoulders as the moved through the (now calm) river and towards Fili, Kili, and Estel.

Lyla remained silent, her lip quivering from the cold as her eyes darted about wildly.

"Lass," Bofur murmured near her ear, "What've ye gotten yerself into. What is it they wanted of ye?"

"It's—I," Lyla's words were soft, her eyes downcast as her bottom lip quivered, "It's...of little importance right now. Don't worry yourself.

Bofur frowned down upon the hobbit.