CHAPTER TWELVE.

BOFUR

The dwarf with the funny hat puffed as he made his way up the steep edge of the Valley of Imladris with the rest of the company. Usually, he wouldn't complain about walking, but the spring heat began to creep up the back of his neck and the thick sacks filled with traveling supplies he carried only worsened his situation. It had been a long time since he had felt the swelter against his skin, and strangely, he welcomed the way his winter coat became too hot for his liking. For a brief moment, he was able to pause in his strides and shrug the dense material from his shoulders.

In the early mists of the morning, Gandalf had woken the company from their sleep, insisting that they make haste for the Misty Mountains. Thorin readily obliged while the rest of the company scrambled to pack their belongings quietly. Most of the dwarves didn't have an easy time waking after days of sleeping in under the hospitality of Elrond, including Bofur. That morning he grumbled, with the thick of sleep still heavy on his eyelids. He'd fallen asleep the previous night talking to Bifur in Khuzdul about his family before they were exiled to the Blue Mountains by the terror of Smaug. Bifur remembered vague bits from his younger years, but mostly tried to block out the desolation of his home.

Under no circumstance would their journey bring them across civilization from here on out, and an air of stillness washed over the pack of dwarves. From the corner of his eye, Bofur could see Thorin striding up the mountain deep in thought. He only glanced back once to remind the hobbit he mustn't be left behind, which sent Bilbo scuttling to catch up with the group.

"Bofur?" The question came from the girl- Lizzie- looking up at Bofur curiously with her wide green eyes. She was a pretty lass, with dainty features he'd only heard about in the stories he'd learned as a young boy. Most dwarven women didn't have such feminine characteristics. Elizabeth earned a soft spot in his heart with her eagerness to listen to his tales. He looked at her expectantly, one scruffy eyebrow raised slightly.

"What is it lass?"

"It's been a few days since you've last stopped with that story," She smiled up at him warmly. A few strands of her hair had fallen down into her eyes, and she moved to push them away.

Bofur chuckled, "I haven't forgot." He was eager to break his mind free from the journey ahead and the story behind it.

Florin's people did not take so kindly to Theódor as she had. Perhaps they could not be blamed; they had not seen the likes of any other creature than their own, ever. The idea of a foreign man who grew almost as tall as most of their homes and spoke of vast lands filled with mountains and many others like himself brought a certain fear upon the people. They did not know if they would be peaceful or try to take their lands and kill their families. And over all, they feared for their magic.

Theódor could talk to the birds, they granted him that, but he seemed to know of no other power. He had seen the way some of them practiced the arts on the streets, and it was no laughing matter. If it fell into the wrong hands, the magic of the wood dwellers had the power to demolish more than the forest they called their home. Theódor didn't question much, but they could see in his eyes that he was curious about it.

At once when he'd been brought into their village, Florin's family fostered the young man into their home upon seeing his state. He had not seen another man in many moons, his stomach was empty and his face slightly gaunt from his lack of nourishment, and he was in great need of a bath.

"Young man, you are curious as the edge of the forest. Where do you come from? I have not seen one as tall and... different as you." Florin's mother spoke as she sent her daughter off to fetch some clean water from the well. The patter of her tiny footsteps raced across the floor before the door swung shut. She ran her hand over the cheek of Theódor's face, looking at him with questioning, cautious eyes.

"I lived near a lake m'lady, far from this place. It centers itself in between the dense forest of Mirkwood and the great Lonely Mountain. I come from a modest family of farmers and my people don't do much talking to the birds. In fact, we live much differently from yourselves." Theódor answered the woman's questions with a weary gaze as his tired hands rested on the arms of the chair.

"I have not learned of many places beyond the edges of our land. Your people do not speak the language of the thrush. Do they know it?" She moved to grab some greens and vegetables from the table and rifled through the cupboard to find a pot to soak it all in. Florin came rushing through the door with the bucket full of water sloshing in her hands, steadying it for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"No, m'lady, no one knows the language but myself. And quite everyone thinks my mind is not right and they do not believe I can." The way he looked down at his hands appeared so hopeless and alone when the words escaped his mouth.

Florin helped her mother to pour a bit of the water into the cooking pot and began to wash off the lettuce while she looked at the boy in silence. He did not appear to similar to the males she was so used to spending her time with. They were not as tall, well-built, and masculine as he was. They were all determined to become masters of their skill alongside their fathers, and their strength lay in climbing trees and moving silently through the forest. This boy- he did not look like that.

Her mother did not once take her eyes from the boiling water. She touched Florin's shoulder lightly to remind her to offer Theódor some water, to which the girl obliged.

"Why have you come if your following of the bird would have earned you only foolishness among your people?" The woman's dark eyes returned to him, more shrouded and fearful than before.

He paused a moment, before he answered. "I cannot keep away from what my heart keeps telling my, m'lady."

Florin's emerald eyes froze and she listened, the soft pecking of a thrush against the window beginning against the window.

Bofur's feet began to ache as if he hadn't been walking in ages, and he bent over to notice that the soles of his shoes were beginning to wear from his travels. "Well that might be enough to satisfy you for the day, don't you think lass?"

"But you've left me with nothing but a cryptic end!" Lizzie strained as she matched his slowing pace. The ground beneath began to grow rocky with each mile they neared the Misty Mountains. The sky dimmed with clouds and thunder rolled in the distance. If there ever was a time to cross a mountain pass, during a thunderstorm was probably the worst. But with the strong-headed Thorin Oakenshield, they would certainly not stop.

"Oi Lizzie, ye can't ever give a man a break, can ye?" Bofur laughed heartily and the girl rolled her eyes playfully.

Not far behind, Fili let out a laugh of his own, "Now that Bofur, she definitely can not do."

A flush of pink washed across her features and she stalked ahead to catch up with Bilbo, who was ambling along beside Dori , delved in some deep conversation. Bofur turned around and narrowed his eyes in Fili's direction, only to receive a wide smirk from the elder prince.

"What'd you do to the lass to make 'er blush like that Fili?"

Fili fell in line with Bofur, peering over his shoulder to check if his brother was in earshot, and quirked an eyebrow up, "You know, my brother's in love with 'er. He's such a girl he won't admit it."

Bofur turned a bit to catch the younger prince out of the corner of his eye, trailing the end of the group alongside Nori. He didn't seem to pick up on the conversation or notice either of the two's passive glances. Bofur broke out in laughter again, giving Fili a firm pat on the shoulder. "Are ye sure you're just not givin' 'im a hard time?"

"Of course I'm giving him a hard time, but my poor brother needs it. I mean he's never going to admit anything to her if I don't do anything."

The roar of distant thunder boomed again across the sky, and the two turned their attention to the worsening weather overhead. Bofur hadn't ignored the fact that one of the brothers, or any of the company really, would eventually fall in love with Lizzie.

ELIZABETH

"Are we going to stop at any point now, or are we going to get blown away on the side of this mountain? I'd rather be weathering this out at home under my own roof! What kind of nonsense is traveling right through this weather?" Bilbo's voice seemed to go up an octave every time the crack of thunder grew nearer and the sky a shade darker. The hobbit would be all but standing on the mountain side by the time a drop of rain reached his face.

"If Thorin insists we travel on, then we must." Dori reminded him, moving himself away from the edge of the mountain side. "Best keep to the mountainside before it starts raining, you won't want to slip when it does."

The hobbit let out a frustrated groan and looked to Lizzie as if he wished for her to protest, but she only shrugged her shoulders. She had donned her cloak to ready herself for the rain as the air about grew dense and sticky with humidity. She couldn't disagree with Bilbo; being underground in a hobbit hole sounded much nicer than stranded on the side of the mountain in the middle of a storm. A drop of rain splashed against the side of her cheek and she cursed, instantly pulling up her hood. They had indeed chosen a terrible time to cross the mountains.

With another plop of rain and an impressive clap of thunder, the sky fell out and there was no dry patch on Lizzie's body.

"Everyone hold on to the mountain!" Thorin bellowed from the front, his voice barely audible above the downpour. He steadied himself on a rock almost obstructing the pathway before edging himself around a corner. Poor Bilbo stood motionless, rain soaking through his coat, right in front of Lizzie.

"Bilbo we won't let you fall, just hold on!" Lizzie yelled. She wasn't certain she could even keep herself steady, but the hobbit seemed to find enough comfort in her words to edge forward slowly. She could hear the shouts of the others behind her as the dwarves tried their hardest not to tumble over the mountainside. She could not help to hope that Kili would be particularly safe, and a strange uncomfortable feeling washed over her body. He was at the end of the line, she remembered, but there was no way to tell in the commotion.

Suddenly rocks crumbled from the pathway and Bilbo slipped and almost tumbled over the edge of the mountain. He waved his arms about as he tripped forward, his voice caught in the back of his throat. Lizzie reacted, grabbed onto his shoulder and tried to wrench him back from the edge, but she didn't have the strength to keep him back. Dwalin, who had not been too far behind Lizzie made his way across the path in front of her and caught him by the arm. He shot the hobbit an alarmed look as he steadied him; Bilbo's face appeared as white as the gardenias growing in his front garden and his breathing had escalated rapidly.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin roared again, this time the majority of the company agreeing. Lizzie conceded, full-heartedly.

As if the world hadn't brought on enough challenges, Dwalin screamed nervously against the wind, "Look out!"

Lizzie's heartbeat multiplied in her chest as she turned to face a huge boulder hurling towards the side of the mountain just above them. The wind whipped against her face and the sound of stone clashing against stone rung out over the valley, rocks tumbling everywhere around them. In the middle of it all, her fear of heights had been rekindled when she watched the pebbles spill over the edge, down into what looked like a bottomless valley.

Balin, eyes wide with fear and amazement, rose up from his position against the rock wall and pointed somewhere off in the distance. "This is no thunderstorm, it's a thunder battle!"

For a millisecond, Lizzie thought the old dwarf was out of his mind. Her eyes tore from him in the direction his finger pointed, and she saw the mountain rise and break in the shape of a figure, stumbling and scraping at anything it could get in its grasp. The mountain was alive, and it was hurling rocks in the direction of the company. Even that was hard for her to smooth out in her mind after ending up in Middle Earth.

"Well bless me, the legends are true! Giants! Stone giants!" Bofur stepped forward as another rock was thrown in their direction. It collided with another part of the mountain they were standing on, which had sprung forth in the form of another giant.

"Get back you fool!" Thorin yelled at Bofur, and Fili hurriedly pushed him back away from the ledge.

There was a great deal more scrambling and no progression forward before Lizzie felt the warmth of a familiar dwarf beside her. Kili had managed to traverse the pathway in front of the dwarves, and there was a cut across his cheek where a falling stone had grazed it.

"Are you alright Lizzie?" He asked, bringing his hand up to her shoulder. She nodded. She was quite alright- besides the fact that she had been scared enough to last her for quite a long time- and in much better of a state than Bilbo, who seemed to see his life flash before his eyes. "I've got you, don't worry!"

He formed a barrier between the rain and the falling stones with himself, which Lizzie was greatly glad for. She also didn't let the fact that his actions were quite swoon-worthy go unnoticed, but decided it wasn't time for her to get caught up in it in the middle of some sort of legendary battle between the animated boulders stumbling about in front of them. His warmth calmed her shivering for about a moment, before the ground under their feet began to rumble.

More rocks fell, dwarves shouted, and then it just had to happen- the earth split.