A Better Place - The Hobbit Fanfiction

Fifth Entry - Day at the House of Beorn

I woke of my own accord, groaning and clutching my hands to my head. The light was too bright, the hay under my ear was too loud, and I was altogether frustrated with the state of the inside of my skull. “Bofur!” I snarled, “THERE ARE ROCKS IN MY HEAD.” I rolled onto my bottom to sit up, realized my hands felt scratchy, and stared down at them through the gauzy morning light.

My hands were wrapped in white linens. I could feel some sort of balm underneath the bandages. “OIN!” I bellowed.

The dining room went silent, whereas I’d heard the laughter after my first howl. I hauled myself to my feet, scowling fit to shake a yesterday, and stomped into the hall. “Oin,” I said, in a greatly moderated tone. “I appreciate your concern but I’ve already had and healed from these burns. You don’t need to waste your salves on me.”

Oin flattened his palms to the table. “I discussed it with Thorin, and he approved using them despite your explanation.”

I thumped down onto the end of a bench, running my cloth-wrapped fingers through my tangled hair. “Oin. For all your skills, I don’t think your salves can help me. I’ve already had these injuries. This one is nearly healed anyway.”

Thorin spoke up from the opposite end of the table. “If you are to travel as one of the Company, we have the right to see to your wounds as best we see fit.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as calmly as I could, releasing it before continuing. “King Thorin, I highly respect your authority.” Since it seemed like a good idea on account of the argument I could feel brewing inside me I stood, dipped my head and sank to one knee, proving my awareness of my subordinacy as best as possible since I was preparing to wage verbal war on his decision. “But your journey, whatever it is, is far more important than mine. I am not anyone’s priority here. You will likely need those supplies far more than I will. These injuries are going to appear without warning and there will be nothing you can do to help me. It’s like pouring water into a broken barrel. It’s a waste. Your efforts are better served for yourselves.”

“It goes against my nature to allow anyone in my company—least of all a woman or a child like yourself—to suffer an injury without treating it.”

“I am very sorry to ask you to do anything that fights your character, especially when your character is so admirable. But you must see the reason to my request. What will happen if you, or Kili, or Fili, takes a terrible injury from something but you spent your last bandages trying to keep me alive longer than I’m supposed to live?”

Thorin Oakenshield regarded me for several long seconds, then slowly crossed his arms. “Is there a compromise you will accept that will allow us to maintain our honor as well as your pride?”

I lifted my head, considering. “Would you permit me to debate with you before Oin administers any treatment?”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Would you permit me to hit Bofur for getting me drunk?”

He might have smiled. Behind the beard it was hard to tell. “No.”

As I stood my shoulders slumped, and I heaved a sigh. “Fine.”

“Eat something,” he suggested, “you’ll feel better.” He returned to whatever important conversation he’d been having with Beorn before I’d brought my problems to the table. As soon as his back was turned I thumped Bofur in the back of the shoulder, causing him to choke on his mug of something laughing. “Mistress Mabyn!” Thorin chastised, utterly unfooled.

“My apologies, King Thorin.”

“If we are all to go by our given names, just Thorin will do.”