Everything belongs to JRRTolkien

Warning: This chapter would make more sense if you've read 'To become a dwarf'. It can be read independantly, but it contains some spoilers about a few details of the other fanfiction's plot. (Not much, but still.)

He awoke in a startle again.

It wasn't uncommon for him to do so. This time though, he knew perfectly well that there was no one in his room. Still he felt nervous and on edge. He slowly sat and tried to rub his hands on his face to calm himself. He let out a shuddering breath and stood up. The cool stone under his feet made him shiver, but he didn't really mind. He scratched his chin and let his hands trail in his beard for a minute.

He was only wearing two braids now.

He could remember a time when his beard was adorning several braids with large, intricately carved beads. It was a time long ago, when he was a warrior. He had been one of the best, and at the time he was proud to wear the proof of his status in his braids.

But a stupid accident had left him broken and almost useless.

Now he wasn't a warrior anymore.

He sat slowly his feet dangling barely an inch above the floor and tried to get rid of the anxiety that put him on edge. It was common for him to feel this way, and he had learned, over the years, to calm himself down. Though it didn't work all the time, he had found that keeping his thought focused on one thing could help. Focusing his mind on memories, he remembered what had happened when in an angry fit, he had gotten rid of all those braids.

The plates and other items he crafted were selling reasonably well. From time to time, Bofur would help Bifur carve the intricate design. The miner was just as good as his cousin when it came to this craft. They had it in their blood, Bombur usually said. Bifur didn't pay any attention to that; he worked because it helped him tame his blood thirst and his anxiety. With Bofur's help, they could obviously sell more items, allowing their family to earn a bit more.

They were actually selling so well, that Thorin, their king, was sitting right now in their kitchen, discussing how they could potentially sell them to men.

"A few merchants, who came up to the market yesterday, seemed interested." Thorin said calmly.

He was sitting on the other side of the table, rubbing his chin as he thought about the possibilities this entailed.

"You think we should try and sell them in men's town?" Bofur asked, slightly surprised, before he placed a large mug filled with beer in front of Thorin.

"Do you think you could craft enough?"

"Certainly." Bofur shrugged. "But I'll have to leave the mines for good."

Thorin frowned at this and sighed.

Bifur kept silent, as always nowadays, and listened. He knew that his cousin was a good miner. For many, this wouldn't mean anything, but for a dwarf it meant that Bofur knew the stone, the mountain. He knew instinctively where to dig and where to be cautious. For the long decades Bofur had spent in the darkness of the mines, he and his team had only had one accident, and that was before Bofur was made leader of his team. After Bofur had become leader, his team had been able to uncover several copper veins, and hadn't suffered from any loss.

Bifur shuffled uncomfortably on his seat. Immediately he felt the three dwarves around glance at him. Bifur knew they were silently assessing the threat. Ever since the accident, every time he was becoming unsettled, Bifur would sometimes become violent. When he settled back and remained motionless again, he felt the three gazes leave him.

"Would it be possible for you to come down the mines every now and then? Give some directives and then go back?" Thorin asked, clearly he didn't want to lose Bofur's gift.

"Sure." Bofur agreed, sitting near Bifur. "I could come down in the mornings."

"Good."

Bifur quickly glanced around. He was on edge that day. He shifted on his seat once again as his gaze kept shooting around, as if he was waiting for an enemy to pop out of nowhere in the middle of their kitchen. He tried his best to remain calm. He knew how upset Bofur and Bombur could be when he had those violent episodes. Bifur tried to breathe calmly and to focus on something else. He saw that Bombur was quietly listening to the discussion, while preparing dinner for the four of them. Bombur was always calm. It was good for Bifur, it helped him.

"How have you been Bifur?" Thorin's voice forced him to look at the king.

The older dwarf was observing him, concern evident in his eyes. Thorin knew him well of course. After all, Bifur had been one of the settlement's best warrior years ago. Thorin had lost a good asset in the accident that had left Bifur crippled. At the time, before the accident, Bifur had often talked with Thorin. Dwalin, Bifur and Thorin had spent long hours talking and drinking companionably before. They usually would spar together too, but recently Bifur didn't spar any more. The few times he had tried to spar against Dwalin, he had almost injured his old friend. Bifur didn't know when to stop anymore. He didn't know how to hold back his strikes. He was dangerous. He felt ashamed at that fact.

Looking down, Bifur stared for a few seconds at his beads. It was Thorin who had awarded Bifur each of his battle beads. Bifur had been so proud. He had seen respect shine in Thorin's eyes.

But now, Thorin's eyes only shone with concern.

And Bifur wasn't sure he liked it much.

He grunted a brief unintelligible answer that made Thorin frown slightly.

"You're a good artisan Bifur, your craft will help us a lot."

Bifur felt a sharp pang in his chest.

He wasn't an artisan, he wanted to yell. He was a warrior.

He looked down at his clenched fists on his lap. What was he? He knew he wasn't a warrior anymore. He couldn't be. He was unpredictable now, and unpredictable meant unreliable. He wasn't functioning correctly, barely slept at all and woke almost every night screaming in Khuzdul and fighting against ghosts. He was becoming weak.

As he was thinking, his eyes settled once more on one of his beads.

Suddenly, fury overcame him.

Those beads were meaningless now. They weren't his. He wasn't a warrior anymore.

Angrily, he stood back up. Instantly, Bofur, Thorin and Bombur were alert, looking at him as his anger was obvious on his face. But instead of fighting against ghosts, this time, Bifur fought against himself. With furious, jerky movements he started to tear his beads away from his long beard. He didn't even twitch when his violent movements tore hair as well. He was busy removing all traces of his past in his beard when strong arms tried to stop him.

He shouted and battled against them, never stopping in his task.

"Bifur!" Bofur exclaimed. "Bifur stop it! Stop it!"

"Calm down Bifur!" Thorin repeated in a strong, commanding tone.

But Bifur didn't stop until all his braids were gone from his beard and all the beads were gathered in his fists. He was panting heavily once he finally stopped. His anger hadn't abated though. Bofur was trying to hold his right arm, while Thorin was on his left. Bombur stood, silent and motionless near the table. For a short moment, no one talked.

"Bifur?" Bofur softly asked. "Bifur, what's going on?" His tone was calm and even.

Bifur didn't look at any of them and stayed silent. After several minutes, they both let him go. Thorin was eyeing him cautiously, frowning as his gaze fell on his beard.

"Bifur. Your beads…" Thorin slowly started to comment.

As soon as he said those words, Bifur let out a wordless shout and threw all his beads in the hearth, right into the fire.

"No!" Bofur cried out, as he ran to the flames and fell to his knees.

"I'm not a warrior anymore! Why should I wear this? They are meaningless if I'm stuck in this place and can't fight a battle anymore! Why would I want to shame myself further by wearing beads that don't mean anything?" Bifur shouted, speaking so fast that none of the other dwarves managed to catch any of his words.

As soon as he had spoken his mind, Bifur turned away and strode in the direction of his room, leaving behind him three stunned and sad dwarves. The door to the corridor banged so violently that, instead of closing properly, it reopened slightly.

Bombur reacted quickly. Once he saw that Bifur had left for his room, he turned to grab the pot full of cooking soup. In a few steps, he strode to the hearth and emptied the content of the pot over the flames. Smoke and steam filled the room as soon as the liquid hit the fire. Bofur didn't wait for anything to cool down. Ignoring the heat, he quickly found the pieces of metal and gathered them near the hearth.

They hadn't been too damaged yet and were barely warm to the touch.

The three dwarves silently looked at the beads.

Slowly, Bofur touched one of them. His pain was obvious on his face. Bofur had never been very good at hiding his feelings when they were quite so strong. Bombur was extremely sad too. It hurt more than one would imagine seeing his cousin in such a state. Both brothers knew very well that Bifur wasn't happy. Anyone who knew the dwarf before his accident would know that.

Bofur forlornly collected the beads in his hand. He was still kneeling on the floor when he felt a hand on his shoulder. For a long time, no one spoke. Finally Bofur stood up and the three dwarves went back to the table. Unbeknownst to them, Bifur was observing the events from behind the door that was still slightly ajar. As soon as he had left the kitchen, Bifur had felt exhausted. He was often exhausted nowadays. He didn't go back to his room, contrarily to what the other dwarves had thought. Instead he stood in the dark corridor, watching his family struggle because of him.

"I'll come back another time." Thorin finally said in a calm tone.

"Nah." Bofur immediately replied. "It'll be fine. We'll do as you said. It'll be good for every one if we manage to sell those damn plates to men."

"Bofur…" Bombur softly started.

"I'm fine." Bofur almost barked out.

The older brother sighed loudly and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face before rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry Bombur." He sighed. "I'm fine." He repeated more calmly this time. "I just wish…" He half whispered, looking at the beads before he looked at Thorin. "Is there truly nothing we could do? What about…"

Bofur stopped his sentence abruptly and bit his lip. Looking slightly ashamed he lowered his head. Bifur wondered what his younger cousin wanted to say. It hurt him tremendously to see the usually cheeky dwarf looking so sad and lost. His injury hadn't only disturbed his life. He knew that already, but every time he witnessed it, Bifur felt more pain and shame in his chest. He was supposed to be the oldest. He was supposed to protect them. He wasn't supposed to hurt them like this.

"What is it Bofur?" Thorin's voice caught Bifur's attention. "Speak freely."

"What about the elves?" Bofur whispered shamefully. "Aren't they supposed to have great healers?"

A heavy silence fell on the room. Bombur looked surprised. He hadn't thought of that and it was slightly shocking that any dwarf actually would. He knew also the hate their leader bore for the elves and he wasn't sure it was a good idea to mention them to Thorin. Bofur didn't even look up, he was readying himself for whatever angry words Thorin would throw at him. Behind his door, Bifur held his breath. He wanted to moan in pain at the thought that his younger brother would go to such extent for his benefit. He hated himself at this instant. He was almost certain that Thorin would turn red and shout angrily.

Their leader surprised them all.

"I talked with Oin and Dís." He said very calmly, sadly even, as he sat near Bofur and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "I asked them about the elves' healers and their magic."

Everyone held their breath, shocked at this information. The fact that Thorin Oakenshield would go to such extents was flabbergasting. It spoke volumes about how far their king would go for the dwarves under his rule. At this instant, unbeknownst to Thorin, he earned the eternal loyalty of that family. Of course, the three dwarves were already loyal to their rightful king. Of course they already respected him. But at that moment, they all felt that this respect, this loyalty, was genuinely deserved.

"They both told me that nothing could be done." Thorin continued sadly. "To remove the axe, even with magic, would endanger Bifur's life too much. Both are certain that even the elves' magic wouldn't change this."

"What are we going to do?" Bofur asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Survive." Thorin simply replied. "We are all survivors." He insisted before adding calmly. "Bifur is strong. Trust him. He survived an axe in his head, don't you think that he'll be strong enough to keep going?"

Bofur let out a nervous chuckle and Bombur smiled sadly.

"Aye, he's too damn stubborn to give up." Bofur said fondly.

"He'll soon be one of our best crafters and he remains one of our best warriors. Nothing will change that." Thorin said firmly, pointing at the beads.

"He's going to get bored soon." Bombur finally commented, sadness and worry obvious in his tone. "Bifur never was good at staying idle. He will grow bored soon if he can't fight."

"He can still train and spar." Thorin said. "It should help settle him."

"Haven't you seen what he did to Dwalin last time?" Bofur softly asked.

Thorin grunted and crossed his arms.

"So what? A few bruises and a broken nose never killed a dwarf." Thorin took a long, slow breath and said, his eyes showing how deadly serious he was. "I'll spar with Bifur. It'll be a good training, for me and Dwalin both."

Bifur still felt incredibly grateful every time he remembered that day. He had refused to ask about his beads, but he knew that Bofur kept them somewhere. Since that day he only wore two braids with family beads in his beard. Still he felt grateful for the support that his family and friends showed for him every day.

Now, twice a week, he would spar against Dwalin or Thorin. The two dwarves unknowingly helped him enormously. Those spars were enough to abate him, to calm him. Bifur still wasn't able to hold back his strength, but with the months and years passing, Dwalin and Thorin were now on par with him. They didn't worry about Bifur losing his mind to the fight, because they were just as strong as the artisan.

They usually spared early in the morning or late at night. No one else would bother them then and they were free to use all the space without risking hurting another dwarf.

The only times when Bifur would spar against someone else, it usually was Fili, Thorin's young nephew. When the blond dwarf had been lazy or needed to be taught a lesson, Thorin would throw him in Bifur's way. Usually, both Thorin and Dwalin would assist to the spar and, when it was obvious that Fili was about to get a serious beating, they would jump in and distract Bifur's attention, giving him another target. He had spared twice against Kili too.

Bifur grumbled as he felt uneasy. He needed to calm down. He felt as if he was about to lose his mind completely. He needed to do something.

Silently, he put on his clothes and shoes and walked out of his room.

He needed to go out.

His feet brought him directly to their workshop. As he stepped in, Bifur looked around. After all those years, he still had trouble reconciling his past with what his life was now. All around him he could see decorated dishes and toys. The toys had been a surprise for everyone. Bifur had simply started one day to paint one of Bofur's numerous wooden figurines. Since then, the two dwarves carved plates for their business, and made toys simply because they both liked it.

Not wanting to work on any carving right then, Bifur rummaged through a pile of unpainted toys and grabbed a wooden horse. He then made his way to his working bench and mechanically took one of his brushes and opened the small ink jars that were lined on the desk.

Methodically, he started to paint.

Each faint brush managed to appease him. Little by little, Bifur calmed down.

It had been twenty years or so since the accident. Nowadays, Bifur had come to terms with what had happened. He wasn't a warrior anymore. He was an artisan. His craft was recognized and many men and dwarves appreciated the quality of his work. Bofur was just as gifted and together they were now selling their products outside the dwarves' Halls, to several men's towns.

He was an artisan and it made him proud to see how much their work was appreciated.

He might not be a warrior any longer, but at least he wasn't hurting his family anymore. He still suffered from nightmares from time to time, but everyone around him had grown used to the broken, old Khuzdul he used and they were now able to talk almost as well as before. Bofur was even more cheerful nowadays. Clearly, working outside of the mines was good for the dwarf who was happy to work on something he really enjoyed. He still went down to the mines every week to see what was going on and give his opinion, but would quickly come back up.

Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were now as close as ever. Bofur would cheekily tease his two brothers. He would joke with Bifur and didn't hesitate to throw objects at him, knowing perfectly well that Bifur always caught them easily before they hit him. Bombur would listen to the two of them as they quarrelled and teased each other.

"Would you both stop?" The calm dwarf would usually say after a while. "Otherwise you won't have any dessert!" The chef would then threaten with a soft smile.

That usually was enough for Bifur and Bofur to stop.

"Aren't we supposed to be the older ones? Why do we listen to you?" Bofur would almost always whine, eyes shining with mischief.

"You don't behave like you're older." Bombur would then reply before adding with a smile. "And you love eating dessert too much for your own good."

Bifur always burst into happy laughter when his two brothers argued like this.

His life wasn't what he had expected, but yes, he definitely had come to terms with it. He was thankful now that he had survived. Being an artisan wasn't so bad. He still missed the thrill of the fight, but his regular spars with Dwalin and Thorin were enough to appease him.

The only thing Bifur truly regretted nowadays was that he wasn't able to control himself during his spars. What had once been a freeing feeling now felt like a terrible weakness. Losing himself in a spar wasn't good. It only meant that he didn't have his entire mind anymore. He was losing control over himself and was only fighting with instinct. He was fighting like a beast. Bifur didn't like that.

He let his thoughts wander, emptying his mind, as he kept painting the little wooden horse. Once it was done, he simply stood back up and went to rummage through the pile of toys until he found another one he felt like painting.

Hours passed like this, until he heard the soft clicking noise of the door being opened.

Even though no one would have been able to tell, Bifur immediately went completely alert. As he listened to the steps coming closer, he let his mind calm down again, it was only Bofur.

"Oy, 'morning." Bofur yawned as he entered the workshop.

He walked to Bifur's working bench and whistled.

"Wow, you've been here for awhile." He said, obviously guessing from the numbers of toys that were painted. "Nightmare?"

Bifur shrugged and Bofur didn't need to add anything concerning that matter. Instead he extended his hand to grab the horse. Bifur instantly batted his hand away.

"Oy!" Bofur huffed. "Why did you paint it white? I wanted a brown one." He whined.

"They're not for you." Bifur retorted, concentrating once more on his painting.

"So what? This horse was obviously meant to be brown." Bofur pointed out, though how it could be obvious, Bifur didn't know.

"I paint." Bifur simply replied.

Bofur grumbled something and went to his own bench, grabbing a piece of wood to whittle. Settling comfortably on his chair he started to whistle merry tunes as he worked.

"Dori, Nori and Ori should be back by today." Bofur commented after awhile.

He often spoke when he worked. Usually he didn't even expect Bifur to reply. Bofur simply couldn't work for hours long without speaking. It usually ended in quarrels and Bofur would sometimes even go to the extent of throwing toys or plates at Bifur to get a reaction out of him.

"We'll probably have to replenish the stock some more. I don't think we made enough."

Bifur didn't reply. If they had to make more, they would do so. There was no need to acknowledge that statement. The two dwarves worked silently until Bofur stretched and groaned.

"Alright, gamul khagam." Bofur said. "Let's go have some lunch."

"Stop calling me that." Bifur groaned as he stood up.

He knew already this was a lost battle. Bofur had been calling him that way in private for years now. There was nothing to do about it.

"But you do speak like a grandfather." Bofur simply replied with a smirk.

Bifur groaned but didn't bother to retort anything. He knew Bofur meant it as a kind joke. Together, they made their way to the main dining hall, Bofur whistling all the way there.

As they sat, they heard the strangest of rumours.

"They brought back a human girl?" Bofur asked the dwarf who was sitting next to them.

"Aye. Apparently they're thinking of making her their ward." A second dwarf commented.

"A human ward?" Bofur was clearly surprised. "That's going to be interesting."

Bifur didn't pay any more attention to them. Quickly, he ate his lunch and stood back, walking to their workshop alone. That afternoon, as he worked, he wondered why the Ri brothers would bring a human girl here. But instead of trying to find out what had happened, Bifur focused on his painting. Thinking of the girl made him nervous. He could hear a girly shriek resonating in his mind whenever he thought of defenceless children. He shifted on his seat several times before his precise work managed to catch his attention completely, settling his feelings and memories slowly.

He met with the human girl a few days later, at the market. Danà introduced them. Bifur at the time had been in a good mood. He never felt truly good anymore, but that day he felt alright. He hadn't suffered from any nightmares and that was a welcomed respite. He also enjoyed meeting with Danà. The lady reminded him strongly of his aunt. They were both strong willed and witty. Seeing Danà at the marketplace was always good for Bifur, it always managed to change his mind and helped him to focus on happy memories.

That evening, alone in his room, Bifur thought about the girl who had been with Danà. He wasn't very good at meeting new people. Most of them reacted strongly to the sight of the axe still embedded in his head. Simply thinking about it made him shift uncomfortably on his bed. But the human girl hadn't said anything, though her eyes had reflected her shock. But in her face, Bifur had seen the shock being quickly replaced by curiosity. This was different. People weren't usually curious, they were scared. She hadn't been and Bifur could only feel glad for her reaction. And more importantly, she had seemed to really appreciate their toys, and that made her interesting in Bifur's eyes.

He liked her.

Some more days later, he saw her again. She was in the market with Danà again. Bifur kept an eye on her as she walked around alone. Years had passed, but he still didn't like women and girls to be left defenceless and Bifur had the strong feeling that this girl was as defenceless as it was possible.

He kept an eye on her until a client came and distracted him as she went to another side of the market, out of his sight.

Bifur sold a few plates and a toy. He kept looking around, but he didn't see the human girl any more. She had probably left the market and was back at the Ri brothers' home. Bifur didn't really know what to think her. It was true that he liked her, though he didn't know her much, but it was an instinctual reaction. Still, he didn't feel completely comfortable next to her. She was so defenceless that she reminded him of another girl, much younger than her. He shifted on his feet behind his stand, unease settling in his chest. He had come to terms with the events that had made him the dwarf he was now, but that didn't mean he enjoyed thinking about them. That human girl was weak. She would need to be protected. Bifur wasn't sure it was such a good idea to leave her walk around alone. She clearly didn't know much about their culture and she shouldn't be left alone.

Bifur's mind was slowly starting to grow unsettled as minutes ticked by. The more he thought, the more unsettled he grew. He had noticed she wasn't even wearing her guardians' braids yet. Many dwarves would just see her as a human, no one would know she was a ward. Bifur shook his head several times. The girl was safe. She didn't need him. He had to focus on something else.

As he mused over those thoughts, the day slowly passed and Bifur was about to tidy up his stand when Lofà, the jeweller, came to talk with him. Bifur frowned, Lofà was an honest dwarf, but they usually didn't talk. No one, except those who had been close to him before the accident, talked with Bifur. They usually avoided the unpredictable artisan.

"Greetings Bifur." Lofà said, politely lowering his head a bit. "I wanted to ask you if you know who the human girl was. I saw her here with Danà earlier. She seemed like a good girl."

Bifur frowned. He didn't really understand why Lofà would want to know more details about Dori's ward.

"Why do you ask?" He replied, talking slowly and articulating as much as he could.

Bifur knew perfectly well that, except for the dwarves who were used to speak with him, most had trouble to make sense of his broken speech. Lofà frowned and seemed to concentrate a bit before he managed to understand what exactly Bifur had said.

"She went out of the Halls with those useless ruffians. You know, the ones that brawled with the blacksmith's apprentice the other time." Lofà explained not entirely certain that he should actually be worried.

Bifur felt his blood turn cold in his veins. He knew very well of whom Lofà spoke. Those ruffians, as Lofà had said, were a group of men who came in here to buy weapons mostly. They were always creating trouble in one way or another, complaining about the prices every time and looking for fights. Bifur knew that sort. They were bandits. Nori agreed with him, but Thorin still allowed them to come to the market. They brought money, and as long as they didn't create too much trouble for the dwarves, they didn't have any good reason to kick them out.

The thought that the human girl would have followed them willingly seemed preposterous.

"She went with them?" Bifur asked disbelievingly.

"She didn't seem to want to, but she didn't scream or call for help." Lofà replied as soon as he understood Bifur's words.

Of course she wouldn't, Bifur thought. The girl he had met seemed completely oblivious. She wasn't simply defenceless. She just didn't seem to understand the dangers around her. Bifur had seen her looking around with wide eyes, clearly too absorbed in whatever she was observing to realize what was going on around her. Bifur groaned. She probably hadn't even thought about screaming. She had to be taught. She had to be protected and taught about the dangers lurking around here. From what Bifur had gathered, she was lost and couldn't go back to her home, a home that was completely different from this place. She probably was completely clueless.

"So, who is she?" Lofà asked, clearly becoming unsettled by Bifur's sudden nervousness.

"She's Dori's ward." Bifur huffed as he started to stride away.

"She didn't wear any braid!" Lofà exclaimed, clearly worried now.

"Not yet." Bifur huffed.

The two dwarves didn't need to talk to know that they were both going in the same direction; the guards' post. There, Bifur wasn't surprised to find Danà, Gloin and the Ri brothers.

"Bifur!" Danà exclaimed anxiously as she saw him. "Have you seen Amelia?"

"She's outside." Bifur replied.

While Lofà explained what he had witnessed, Bifur went to Nori.

Bifur knew like everyone else that Nori was a thief. Bifur didn't think much of it. He had known the Ri brothers since he had come to live in the Halls. For as long as he remembered, Nori had been Bofur's closest friend. The artisan didn't agree much with Nori's choice of profession, but it had never truly influenced his relationship with Nori. Bifur knew that the thief was as loyal as it was possible to be. Bifur had once been a warrior, and as such he knew that he could trust Nori. The thief wasn't a warrior, but he had honour and strength. Bifur trusted him.

"They took her." He simply said in a whisper.

"The group from last time?" Nori asked, his eyes narrowing on Bifur.

"Aye."

Nori nodded and was about to go out when Bofur came in.

"What's going on? Why are you all here? Péli told me…" He started to speak when Nori cut in.

"Amelia's been taken away."

Instantly Bofur met Bifur's eyes and replied without any hesitation.

"We'll help."

"Alright." Gloin huffed.

Quickly, they divided into two groups and went outside, looking for the human girl.

Once she was found, the dwarves discussed at length between them what should be done, but as no agreement between them could be found, the situation didn't change. As the days and weeks passed, Bifur slowly got accustomed to Amelia's presence. He didn't get to really know her though. The poor lass couldn't understand him so there was no point for him to try and have a discussion with her.

It was one of the things that the other dwarves probably didn't really understand, but Bifur sometimes felt extremely lonely. Since his accident, Bifur hadn't had any real discussion with anyone. He could still understand everything that was said around him, but the opposite wasn't true. He knew his closest friends, his kin, his family, made efforts to catch the meaning of his sentences. But so much of what he truly wanted to say was completely lost in the difficulty of the translation.

It hurt almost physically sometimes, to be in a room filled of people and not being able to communicate with any one of them. So it wasn't really surprising that, though Bifur was often present during discussions regarding Amelia, he never really participated. The human girl seemed to have a gift to find herself in trouble. It was a true wonder. For her guardians, it was a nightmare though. It was in the dwarvish culture to take care of women folk, so it wasn't surprising that Dori and Balin would often discuss Amelia's weakness. And often other dwarves were involved in those discussions.

Bifur always listened. He couldn't help but frown every time Dori would refuse to train the girl. Balin seemed to think that she should be trained at least a bit, but Dori didn't want her to be hurt. Nori always stayed silent, but Bifur knew the thief was unsure about what was best. The other's opinions were mixed and as time passed, the girl remained weak and untrained.

Bifur never gave his opinion, until one day he finally spoke up.

The girl had been through a lot of hardships since she had first arrived. To Bifur, the fact she had survived and was still sane proved she had some strength. But she needed to be trained and clearly she wanted to.

Currently, Bifur was sitting at a table and all the other dwarves were shouting at each others, not one of them agreeing with the others about the girl's training. Some said that Bifur should help in training her, the others vocally disagreed.

Bifur hadn't slept well recently, and neither Dwalin nor Thorin had had the time to spar with him. It seemed that the dwarves had forgotten why Bifur needed to spar. They had forgotten it was helping him to stay calm. As the shouts grew louder around him, Bifur suddenly stood up and banged both his fists on the wooden table.

Instantly every dwarf was reminded who was sitting amongst them. They all tensed and observed the unstable dwarf.

"She needs to be trained." Bifur calmly said in his gruff voice. "I will help."

"Bifur, are you sure it's a good idea?" Bofur said hesitantly.

"I will help." Bifur insisted.

His memories kept showing him the face of a little, defenceless girl who had shrieked loudly at the sight of a goblin.

If he could help it, Bifur will do his best to avoid such events to occur again.

"What would you do if she got attacked again? What would you do if one day she's outside and attacked?" Bifur gruffly asked Dori.

The dwarves around the table managed to quickly translate his words, so Bifur didn't have to wait for long to get an answer.

"I'll protect her!" Dori spat angrily.

"I protected a girl once too." Bifur retorted, pointing at his forehead and everyone gasped, the meaning of his words and gesture clear enough.

Yes, they truly seemed to have forgotten whom it was they were speaking to.

"I protected a defenceless girl, and it only weakened and endangered everyone."

"She can't be a warrior!" Dori protested weakly.

"No, but she can't be defenceless either!" Bifur commented before sitting back.

Weeks passed again until the day Bifur faced Amelia in the training area. Dwalin and Gloin were both here. Gloin was a strong warrior and he would be able to help Dwalin if Bifur lost his mind. Bifur was nervous about it all. He wanted to help, but he feared he would injure the young human healer. Now that he knew her better, he liked her a lot. She was a kind, though completely clueless, girl.

As they started their spar, Bifur started to battle against himself.

He could feel the beast inside him fighting to break free.

As Bifur fought himself to focus on the spar, he slowly managed to go through the simple movements that Amelia had been taught. His arms were trembling slightly and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was physically painful to stop himself from letting go. Bifur tried his best. He truly tried. He could see Dwalin observing him from the corner of his eyes, making him aware that this wasn't a regular spar.

The girl he was facing was weak. Her strikes didn't have any power. It was too easy for him to avoid being hit. Bifur's fists clenched until his knuckles were white. It wasn't his usual weapon, but fighting with a staff instead of a spear wasn't too different. The beast within him was pushing, slowly forcing its way out. Bifur suddenly feared he would hurt Amelia. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did.

He was struggling until the moment she managed to hit his staff with significantly more force than before. Surprised, Bifur stepped back and, for a second, the little control he had over himself faltered. Rather suddenly, he couldn't help but attack back violently. He thought that Amelia would be scared, but her face only reflected her focus and seriousness. She managed to avoid his attack and Bifur managed to stay focused for a few seconds more before the beast broke free.

Bifur feared he would truly hurt her, but oddly enough, he managed not to. The beast didn't hurt Amelia. It was free, truly free, and Bifur's attacks were obviously faster and stronger. He wasn't following the pattern taught to Amelia anymore. His attacks were natural. They flowed without faltering. From the corner of his eyes he saw Gloin and Dwalin take a step closer, readying themselves in case they would have to intervene. Bifur didn't care. He could take down the three of them. He knew it. The beast kept attacking the girl. Faster. Stronger. She held her own for a bit. Not for long, but long enough for Bifur to be curious about her abilities.

Something puzzling was going on, Bifur realized. The beast was free, but it wasn't as violent as it could be. Bifur still had some control. He could still alter the force behind each strike. Even though it wasn't much, it was enough not to hurt the girl.

As soon as the beast broke free though, the spar didn't last much longer, and soon enough Amelia's training session was over.

Bifur was breathing heavily as he watched Amelia leave the training ground. He was struggling to keep himself calm. The spar hadn't been enough to calm him. It was quite the contrary actually. He needed to fight someone. He had to.

Bifur glanced around. There were a lot of dwarves who were still training, but his eyes met Dwalin's. The other warrior knew him well. Without exchanging a word, Dwalin stepped closer, holding two wooden swords, and nodded to Bifur.

The artisan didn't hold back and the beast came out completely unhindered. The next day though, against Amelia, the beast remained reasonable once again, until it fought against Dwalin once more.

Soon enough, Bifur realized that sparing with Amelia was helping him tremendously.

She wasn't a threat. She was a woman to be protected. Little by little, Bifur managed to control his attacks more, even though Amelia had no idea how difficult it was for Bifur to spar against her. Every time Bifur couldn't help but break all restraints. Every time though, the freed beast managed to hold back.

Through those spars, and unbeknownst to everyone, Bifur slowly regained control over himself. Those spars with Amelia gave him a glimpse of what he had been. He had once been able to control his attacks. He had once been a great warrior. Against her, little by little, he managed to reacquaint himself with who he once was. No one knew, but it was a bittersweet feeling for Bifur.

Bifur wasn't a beast in those moments.

He was a warrior once again.

Even when the thrill made his limbs tingle, even when adrenaline was flowing freely in his veins, even when the beast he hid in him was free…even then, he was still able to focus, to be relatively in control. His mind was still his. He was able to be free again. He was able to help. He was useful. He had a new purpose. All those thoughts made Bifur happy, it calmed him, soothed his damaged soul. He wasn't just a broken dwarf anymore.

Each time Amelia would smile and thank him for the lesson, he would feel grateful. Bifur hadn't truly been happy until then. No one had truly understood that, even though he could spar against Thorin and Dwalin, he wasn't really himself then, and he hadn't liked how he would lose control during those fights.

But with Amelia, things were different.

He was free but in control.

He wasn't a beast then.

He wasn't really a warrior either.

He clearly wasn't just an artisan anymore.

One evening, as he sat on his bed, Bifur realized he had spent most of his life trying to give a name to who he was. He had tried so hard to fit as a warrior. Once this part of his life had been taken from him, he had been angry. He had felt desperate. He had then tried his best to ignore the beast in him, he had never mentioned it to anyone after all. He had forced himself to become an artisan. He had tried to be proud of his craft, and somehow he genuinely was. Bifur had spent so much time trying to define what he was.

That night though, as he looked at his backpack on the floor, he realized that he had been wrong. The next morning, he would leave the Halls to follow his king on a quest. The next morning, all those labels wouldn't matter anymore. He understood that now. It didn't matter what his job was, or whether or not he could speak common.

It didn't matter that he was going berserk during fights.

It didn't matter that he had an axe in the head.

It didn't matter that he had once been a warrior, and then an artisan.

He was a dwarf of Thorin's Halls, and nothing else mattered.

I truly hope you enjoyed this little companion piece. I know it isn't much, but I still wanted to write something that was more specifically about Bifur. I don't think this dwarf get enough attention :)

I know as well that those of you who read to become a dwarf want a piece with one of the Ri brothers' POV...but well, inspiration hasn't struck yet (though I have a few ideas, it won't happen until later).

Thanks for reading this story. I appreciate the support :)