A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Preparations

"And remember father," Legolas smiled slightly, "She saved your life. Twice."

Thranduil frowned at that comment and narrowed his eyes at his son.

Clearly this was a sore spot for the elf king to concede.

"And she saved my own," Legolas continued (unashamed of the hobbit's actions), watching as his father's gaze turned to surprise. "Even after all the suffering her company endured while imprisoned here, she still risked her life to save us. She pulled me out of Azog's reach as we tumbled down the river in that barrel." Legolas inwardly cringed at that memory and the shock he'd felt as they tumbled down. The utter lack of control and the desperation and panic swimming in two large hazel eyes as water sloshed around.

"We are indebted to her as much as the dwarves or anyone else."

Thranduil shook his head, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"A hobbit will shape the fortunes of all," he murmured, echoing Galadriel's earlier admonishment to the elves on her return from Rivendell.

Then Thranduil's gaze shifted between Gandalf's and Legolas, a soft, resigned expression coloring his features.

"Think you that the Lady Galadriel would lead you astray?" Gandalf questioned, his voice soft but commanding as he leaned heavily on his staff, watching Thranduil through hooded eyes, "Think you that she would deceive you in any manner? She saw something and chose to inform you of its coming. Now you must choose if you heed those words."
Legolas already knew what path he would choose, regardless of whether his father would travel that path along with him.

He focused on his father's face, studying him, and waiting.

And Legolas saw something he had not seen in some time.

His father's eyes were clear, their depths not clouded by the wickedness overshadowing the woodlands.

He was thinking clearly.

He was coming back to himself.

Finally, Thranduil sighed and folded his arms together, "Very well, then. I shall not stand in your way. Call up the troops and be prepared to march at dawn. We rely on stealth and swiftness for our success." He turned to Gandalf with a sigh, "And it would appear that I cannot escape your counsel even if I should wish it. So come, Mithrandir, tell me of this plan that we must enact on the morrow."

Legolas quickly bowed and retreated, giving a silent prayer of gratitude for the powers that persuaded Thranduil's return.

*****

"Come here lass and lemme take a peek at yer arm," Bofur's voice cut across the boat, pulling Lyla from her distracted thoughts.

Thoughts of dragons and fire and darkened tunnels.

"Huh?" she questioned stupidly, "My arm?"

Bofur rose slowly and made his way over to where Lyla was squished between a sleeping Kili and Nori.

"Aye lass, yer arm," He crouched in front of Lyla and gently grasped the hobbits wrist, where The Master had grabbed her not once, but twice.

Barely visible bruises darkened her flesh slightly as small nail prints glared an angry red back at the hatted dwarf.

Bofur let out a small growl of annoyance but released her arm gently.

"Aye there's nothin' I can really do. But mark my words, if he lays another hand on ye, I'll not be listenin' to any pleadings to spare his life."

Lyla's eyes were wide at Bofur's stern face, but she nodded quietly.

She didn't have much sympathy for The Master and though she wouldn't wish death on anyone...