A Better Place - The Hobbit Fanfiction

Twenty-Third Entry - Disfavor

As though I were made of cracked china, the two dwarves—with Bilbo behind me in case I fell that way too—led me into the mountain. We stepped quietly around the dwarves that had been lucky enough to keep their slumber, and found a clear space on the ground for me. Bilbo ran to fetch a heap of blankets for me, most of which I ended up using to cushion the ground as opposed for warmth. Oin held my hand as I lowered myself onto my nest of smooth blankets and kissed it with a smile when I finally made it down. I could tell from the twinkling of his eyes that whatever Thorin said, he was very glad to see me returned, even if I was in poorer health than we had left each other. Dwalin, too, gave me a look of affectionate gladness. Bilbo’s attention to hospitality didn’t go unnoticed either, particularly when he noticed that I’d used all of my blankets for cushioning and offered to fetch some more.

Dwalin was the one who settled down to sit against the wall near where I was lying though. He braced his forearms against his knees, waited until he was certain I was as comfortable as I would get with my back in shreds, then took a breath. “How were the elves toward you? After we left?”

“Thranduil was furious. He questioned me again, and he can be….frightening when he is angry. But we growled at each other some and then I….I sang to him. For hours. I sometimes express myself better that way. The elves were always perfectly courteous to me—well, the king wasn’t always, but then he’s a nut of a different sort—and they took care of me. At first I was afraid they would assign more guards to watch me after you left but—” But was there a way to tell him what had happened without telling him of some of the things I had suffered in their absence? “But I had cracked ribs at the time, so I couldn’t have made a bid for escape even if I’d tried, and they knew it.”

Dwalin chose to chuckle at my singing than to reminisce on my hurts. “I’ll bet that gave the old king a turn.”

“I think it very well surprised him. I doubt many people start serenading him while he’s in the middle of arguing with them.”

“Not many people dare to argue with that particular king, either,” he added, with an admiring glance toward me. I flashed a smile up at him.

A question that had long been awaiting direction resurfaced to me. “Dwalin, why did you leave without me? I can think of a number of reasons but I’d like to hear what happened. I still don’t know how you escaped, and I think it must be an excellent story.”

“We’ll gladly tell you the story in the morning, after you’ve rested,” he agreed. “And we left you behind because we couldn’t find you. Even Bilbo didn’t know where you were, and he’d been sneaking around unseen for weeks apparently. And because….” At his he hesitated, though with what I couldn’t quite tell. “And because some of us wouldn’t admit it but we thought you were better off where you were. We knew we couldn’t take proper care of you, not with the injuries you’d been having. The elves are renowned for their skills in healing. We thought they might be able to help you.”

I sighed. “I’m afraid they can’t. This isn’t the kind of magic they can fight.”

“Ah well, at least they tried.”

“They did,” I said, having heard the question unspoken at the end of his statement. “Their healer is very upset that she can’t help me any more than giving me herbs to dull the pain a bit.”

“Do the herbs work?”

“A bit.”

“I’m sure Oin has some.”

“I’m sure he does, but if I can convince him he’ll keep them, too. I don’t want you exhausting your stores for me. We all know there’s nothing to be done.”