Hobbit Silent Warrior

"**It's an old Orc ax, which means I've (Bifur) been in battle. Orcs have killed members of my (Bifur's) family, and I'm (Bifur's) trying to find the Orc that did it to me so that I (Bifur) can give it back," he said, laughing. "But as the journey goes on, Bifur actually becomes more lucid. He becomes a bit more focused, and the journey is a bit healing for him, actually." –William Kircher – Bifur. The Hobbit – An Unexpected Journey. **

_2977… The Third Age… Dimrill Dale, the dawn after a third attempt to run the orcs out of Moria._

It was like the sounds of many drums without the resonating boom in their ears, but the reverberating pounding in their head… and in their chests. The healer tent, crooked and gray was quiet and the curtain was drawn in a moment that would have warranted the mournful cry of sad spirits from within the misty haze of impending death. In the split between the materials a guttering flame could be seen, shadows moving in and out of its light. Assistants to the healer, human and dwarf, Bofur only knew by name, came in and out of the tent with water and other things from the packs outside it. The tent was erected haphazardly, in the grip of war; there was no time for niceties. Outside the healer tent, the ground was hard from cold and small innocent snowflakes drifted by or otherwise clinging to the soft stray hairs from Bofur's mustache and thick loose braided hair… a peaceful thing had not their hearts been so heavy with weariness and grief as his and his brother Bombur's shoulders sagged and their eyes heavy with worry and doubt. They waited for news… but in the agony of the moment, time decided to slow down and for reasons of its own twisted device, it wanted to make them feel the pain of loss.

The panoramic of the scene spreading out with the healer's tent at the focal point was many dead orc atop many dead dwarves. Sulfuric scent clung heavy to the air and the steady beat of mournful war drums beat on occasion heavy enough to be felt in their bodies… or was that their pulse? The few living dwarves in the third attempt to run the orcs out of another of their ancestral homes has given them another blow, many of their brothers, and some frightfully found, sisters cut down by the beasts within the mountain that seemed to multiply since the last battle.

Smoke furled up in places and small fires from catapults spewed black smoke, no doubt some of the dead burning to a cinder there. Many moans of pain and grief could be heard rising from the shrouds of post battle, those of orc kind and dwarf kind dying on the field without a comforting hand or a merciful strike to sooth them. The cries of the living who stumble upon the bodies of their dead.

*/*/*

_Bofur's throat had let loose a cry of anguish even before the most terrible aftershock of war. He battled among known and unknown kin, slaying many, injured much but able to stay on his own feet; his brother Bombur beside him, fierce as any, swinging away and hacking down the vermin as they advanced. To the entire battle, their little center of dwarves seemed unnoticeable compared to Thrain… so of Thror, of the line of Durin… and Thorin, Thrian's son, battling in the middle at the epicenter. Balin and Dwalin, sons of Fundin nearer the mountain's summit. Until the first real casualty of war was taken right before Bofur and Bombur. Their older cousin Bifur, as fierce as the rest of them, a talented fighter and an awesome companion and friend was battling two orc at a time._

_Bifur wielded his bore spear expertly, cutting them down as they came; lopping off two orc heads with one sweep of his deadly weapon and he let loose a cry of ferocity as the severed cranium tumbled to the ground and rolled away like hollow wood. Bifur always seemed to know where the enemy was and he met them proficiently. Bifur, normally a kindly dwarf who would spend a lot of his time with his cousin Bombur and Bofur, made beautiful and magical toys of wood and copper that seemed to children like birds whose wings fluttered like magic if you touch their back just right. Bofur was only too used to seeing the children flock to Bifur when he made a new toy and it would always warm Bofur's heart to hear his cousin tell them made up stories about the magic of the bird or whatever animal he had made to move at a mere touch of an innocent finger. _

_'They move nil for the naughty children. If ye place your little finger thither on the red crown if his head and ye have been a good little girl and boy… he will sing and flutter his wings! Give it a try now!" Children scrambled forth in astonishment and clamored to get their little fingers on it first, children of men and dwarves. "I am sure ye all have been good boys and girls. This little fella is going to be worn out with all this attention!" Bifur said gaily. The sound of his soft and gentle voice echoed in Bofur's head, that Bifur in the toy shop belied the warrior instinct he was displaying now… Until a third came in with an ax drawn back over his shoulder and the closer he got, it swung in a hard arch._

_Bifur turned on a dime, his green eyes, deep set, his black hair fanning out as he turned on the spot, the silver of his braid clasps glinted in the shrouded sunlight and he had naught but a moment to open his mouth in shock before he was hit full force. _

"_BIFUR!" Bofur was distracted and he paid for it. A knife, a small one luckily, had sliced across his shoulder, the pain incredible. But his eyes did not avert from his own injury fast enough to escape Bifur turning toward the oncoming orc, not lifting the bore spear fast enough to block it before the arching swing of the ax cracked down on the top left hand side of his forehead. _

_It sounded as if the ax had shattered thick ceramic and Bifur made no sound but for a grunt of impact as the blade cracked his skull and his head jerked forward. His charcoal hair that was halfway down his back came upward from the blow and Bifur was driven to the ground on his face. If Bofur's throat had ever constricted from horror before he could not recall. There was no incident in his life that he can remember feeling this way, a fear mixed with sadness hit him as hard as the orc ax hit his cousin and he too was grounded momentarily by the sight… his brother's shocked gasp sounded his own emotional upheaval. But mere seconds passed and he tides of war forced those away from the scene and neither of the brothers could stop long enough to check their cousin._

_Bofur's heart stood still for a moment as if time had ceased to function… his usual bright eyes clouded over with absolute terror as he heard the groan of fear behind him from Bombur that mirrored his own; a roar of attack and Bofur was forced to turn his head away from his cousin and time cruelly ripped him from the moment to a different instant of keeping himself alive. He worried, tears of anger and trepidation filling his normally jovial spirit as he fought forward with his cousin in mind, who was on his face, blood pooling out from around the mass of his hair. _

_*/*/*_

The silence but for the doleful wail of grief and pain closed round like the icy mantel of torment but for the warm comforting hand that fell upon Bofur's tense shoulder. Bofur hadn't even realized at that moment that he had been weeping, his face in his hands, refusing care beyond a bandage to the deep wound on his shoulder.

"Any moment now. Oin will come out and give news to lessen our burdens." Bombur said as he limped and plopped down beside his brother. Bofur lifted his eyes to his brother and managed a smile. Grateful that the war hadn't taken his brother from him too.

"Aye… yer right. I know he will. I am just tired of waiting. I want to see him." Bofur said weakly and Bombur wrapped his arm about his brother's shoulders, careful not to let his hand fall on the bleeding wound.

"Twas no trifle injury, Bofur. I am sure not even the wise Oin can just conjure a cure. I wish we had a wizard to heal him." Bombur sunk in on himself, appearing wider than usual as he slumped into further sadness at Oin's words of Bifur's condition.

*/*/*

"_Ye need to let me tend to it, lad… it won't do ye any good to let it fester." Oin said, his face lined from weariness, having fought and tried to save many and failed, he wanted that feeling of knowing he could help at least one successfully without passing the news that efforts on his cousin may not be so simple._

"_Nay… Take care of my cousin… please! He's not dead!" Bofur said, pointing back to the tent where he knew his cousin had been brought. Bombur was sitting down on a rock beside Bofur, a couple of wood splints tightly bound around his lower leg and foot where he broke it. _

"_I turned him… he is breathing! He can still be saved!" Bombur said his eyes wide and watery like Bofur's. Oin looked from the sitting Bombur to the standing Bofur as if he wanted to argue but instead looked back at the tent and then to the brothers. He knew how he'd be if it was his brother or one of his many cousins… but he wasn't a miracle worker either. Not with a serious injury like that, Oin didn't even think witchcraft or wizardry could save the life of the dwarf in that tent. _

"_I can do my best… but ye got to understand. That is a serious injury. It is not a broken foot or a scratch on the shoulder. He has an ax in his head. Even if he does live… he may not be the same as ye remembered him before this." Oin said with a frustration he did not want to show. It was news he did not want to give but he could not hold it back and give the brothers false hope. Bofur turned his head away and again covered his eyes and wept into the bend of his arm. Bombur cried though he seemed able to hold it together only slightly better as he reached a hand up to hold his brothers. He too loved his cousin dearly, but knew Bofur was very attached to Bifur, whom happened to be Bofur's favorite cousin in their very extended family. _

"_Ye have to do something… at least try. Please." Bombur said and his voice cracked pitifully. Bofur raised red eyes to Oin and shook his head._

"_We love him. Whatever we need to do to help him recover, even if we have to do everything for him… so be it. We can't lose him now." Bofur muttered thickly through tears. Bofur did not care if it sounded selfish. He did not care if he was asking the impossible of Oin… if Bifur lives, Bofur didn't care that he would devote his time to caring for his cousin… he didn't care, just as long as he could hold his cousin's hand, look at his face, into those eyes that made so many children, not least his brother and himself, so happy. He loved the dwarf and knew Bombur felt the same. He would do anything… Mahal, please let him be. _

"_I'll… try." Oin said finally, knowing he would not be able to talk sense into lads. They plainly weren't ready for this war… and the casualty that comes with it. It was a steep price they thought they could risk paying, but the price seems only too steep on this side of the war when one of their own is dead or dying. He wished he could say something more convincing or encouraging but he has seen many die of less obtrusive wounds. Really, he could not see a light at the end of Bifur's tunnel. He wished in times like this that he was not the one tasked with helping the injured. _


End file.
