#conflcit

“I thought after the war was over things would be better.” “Because you thought we would win.”

Based on a dream I had a while ago + some prompting from my friend Anna. Tell me if you think it should be a love story, and who with.

Mero meets her first dwarf!! Things will get more interesting I promise. This chapter is double the length of the last one, more the length the rest will be.

Warnings: abandonment, stereotypes (bias, fantasy racism?? I suppose that is what it is), mild gore and battle scenes. More will be added as the story progresses.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. If you see mistakes please let me know, but if you are rude I will ignore.

Conflicting Loyalties Masterlist

It wasn’t until the next day that Mero thought to tell Bilbo of the guest that would be joining them. It took a moment for the information to process, but once it did Bilbo all but yelled. “You invited him to tea?”

The invitation had entirely slipped Mero’s mind (as things so often did) until she saw Bilbo preparing two fish teas. She had, quite offhandedly she liked to think, mentioned that they would need more food than that to feed their guest. As expected, Bilbo was less than pleased to hear the news. 

“Why - oh goodness I think I need to sit down, I’m feeling quite faint.”

”I shan’t suppose it’s out of excitement?” Mero said hopefully, guiding her cousin over to his chair in the sitting room. He was shaking beneath her hands. “By the hair on my toes, the way you are acting makes it seem as if that dear old wizard had done something unspeakable - he didn’t take your smokepipe, did he?”

”No, no, thankfully,” Bilbo said, leaning back on his chair and fanning his face. He seemed even more flustered now than he had the previous day, which was no small feat. Mero, concerned for the hobbit’s health, pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Bilbo waved her away. 

“Are you quite well, Bilbo?” Asked Mero, a frown on her face. Bilbo leant back in his chair with closed eyes, attempting to collect himself before he worried Mero. It was too late on his part, for Mero was already regretting extending the dinner invitation. “Did I make a mistake in inviting Gandalf around?”

Sighing, Bilbo rose from his chair and put his hand on Mero’s shoulder. He had to reach up because the girl was substantially taller than him (as many Tooks were), but it comforted her nevertheless. “Of course not, Meroderada. I should have done so myself, yet my manners completely escaped me. All of the talk about ad - well, never you mind what Gandalf was babbling on about. I am happy to say I managed to avoid quite a bit of tomfoolery yesterday. I can’t imagine that he should bring it up again, certainly not in your company.”

A burst of curiosity spiked inside Mero along with a childish wish to object. As much as she tried to tell herself that she wasn’t interested in knowing what had made Bilbo so unsettled, she couldn’t deny that she was slightly curious. Slightly more than curious, one might say, had they seen what she fantasized Gandalf was speaking of - elven lords, terrifying monsters, and heroic acts, to name but a few. Before she could let slip that she desperately wanted to know, she herded Bilbo back into the kitchen, noting that the time was nearing four.

“Set the table, dear Bilbo, I will quickly scrap something together for myself, and Gandalf can have my fish dinner,” Mero said, talking quickly. “I do hope he likes fish, though I can’t see why he wouldn’t, being as well travelled as he is. Though, Old Took said he once met a traveller who wouldn’t eat anything that was once living. Curious, don’t you think?”

Before Bilbo could reply, a harsh knock sounded from the hallway. Mero paused in her food preparation, turning towards the door with anticipation. Perhaps she could manage to get Gandalf to talk of his travels without Bilbo intervening to say it all sounded dangerous. A good cake ought to distract the hobbit enough. 

“I’ll get it, you continue,” Bilbo said, scurrying out of the kitchen and towards the door. Mero, too distracted now to continue preparing food, quickly put an extra plate and some bread on the table. Wiping her hands on her dress, she glanced at the clock to see that Gandalf had arrived at exactly four o'clock, which ought to have please Bilbo. Several moments passed and Gandalf had yet to join her in the dining room, so she went to investigate. 

In the hallway, she saw Bilbo standing stock still. She couldn't see Gandalf behind the coat rack blocking her view of the outside, save for the night sky. This should have been the first indication to her that it was not the wizard at the door, indeed that it was someone quite dissimilar. 

"Why do you stand here so, Bilbo Baggins, as if a spell has befallen you?" Mero said, walking up to stand next to her beloved cousin, still not noticing that their guest was not at all the one they had been expecting. It was Mero's way to notice everything and yet nothing if her mind was sufficiently occupied, as it happened to be at that very moment. "What on Middle-earth is that in your arms? A sword? I can't imagine what our guest must be thinking seeing you carrying around a - why you're not Gandalf."

The man (Mero thought it must be a man, yet he looked like no male she had ever seen before) chuckled or made a noise that resembled a chuckle. It could well have been a hairball, but Mero was inclined to think better of people. Most of his hair seemed to be concentrated around his chin area, stretching up to his ears but not much farther, leaving a clean bald spot with a tattoo on it. Although she had never met one, it was clear that this man with his tattoos and beard was most certainly not a hobbit, but a dwarf.

"By Elbereth and Lúthien the fair, you're a dwarf, aren't you?" Mero couldn't help but stare as she pulled Bilbo out of the way. The dwarf seemed quite content to walk into their home though she had not invited him to, yet she was too shocked to comment on it. Bilbo was in a similar state as her, but at the dwarves words, he snapped out of it.

"Aye, I am, lassie," the dwarf said, in an accent entirely new to the young hobbit girl. "You're husband here had much the same reaction."

"Excuse me," Bilbo said, pilling what Mero now assumed to be the dwarves belongings by the front door. "Firstly, this is not my wife-"

"A pleasure, Mister Dwarf. I am called Mero-"

"-derada. My cousin Meroderada,' Bilbo said, a hint of protectiveness in his voice. The courage that Bilbo had managed to build up to speak strongly to the dwarf suddenly disappeared when he started ravenously eating one of the fish dinners. "Oh, oh my."

That was how Mero would have described it as well, the way the dwarf was using his hands to tear apart the fish and stuff it into his mouth. With wide eyes, Mero watched, until the dwarf noticed her staring. Bilbo had long since moved to sit at the table, most likely feeling faint for the second time that afternoon. It was rare times like these that Mero's Took side shone much brighter than the Baggins side she had partially been brought up with.

"Dwalin," the dwarf mumbled through a mouthful of bread. It took Mero a moment to realise he was saying something, and only a moment later did she come to the conclusion that she had no idea what he was saying. She wagered she wouldn't have had much more luck without food in his mouth.

"I'm sorry?" she said, looking for him to repeat himself. He paused with another chunk of bread just in front of his mouth to fix her with his gaze again.

"My name. Dwalin, after my grandfather, Farin," Dwalin said, his gruff voice making Mero have to pay extra attention. "Your cousin said your name was Merida?"

"Meroderada," Mero corrected, before quickly adding, "though most call me Mero. Bilbo just tries to - well, I'm not entirely sure why he uses my full name. He is the only one. You are welcome to call me either."

"There was no mention made of a young lady hobbit." Dwalin raised a tankard to his lips, Mero following his every move.

"Who would have mentioned it?" She asked, although by now she was beginning to suspect that Gandalf, that sneaky old wizard, had something to do with it. He had said he was going to inform the others. 

Dwalin regarded her with what could only be described as suspicion. He seemingly didn't find what he had been looking for, because he grunted and chewed quickly in order to answer her. "The same old man who told us about this place, and your cousin Bilbo -"

"The door!" Bilbo squeaked loudly, having heard the knock quite clearly. "Excuse me."

Mero suspected it to be Gandalf this time, ready to explain exactly what was going on. However, Dwalin seemed to think differently.

"That should be one of the others," he said. "My money's on Balin."

And he was correct, and Mero would have lost her money if they had actually put a bet on it, because a white-haired dwarf walked into the dining room, talking over his shoulder to Bilbo. Dwalin greeted Balin (his brother, perhaps, both of them named after grandfather Farin) in a peculiar way that made Mero jump - they smashed their heads together violently. Shocked, Mero decided it was best not to ask for if that was how they treated friends she was wary to see how they treated those they disliked. 

"Balin this is Merida, Merida this is my brother, Balin," Dwalin introduced you both as Bilbo reappeared with another tray of cakes. 

"Its Mero, actually," Mero corrected again, yet she had a feeling Dwalin was not going to remember. "A pleasure, Mister Balin."

"At your service, Miss Mero," Balin said, bowing to her. "They didn't tell us that one of our burglars was a lady."

"Burglar?" Mero questioned with interest, at the same time Bilbo said the word with horror. The doorbell rang again before either Balin or Dwalin could explain anything to the hobbits. This time, Mero made sure Bilbo was safely in a seat and answered the door herself because she was certain it was not Gandalf like he was expecting.

Opening the door she was met with the smiling faces of two more dwarves, around her height. One had golden hair that blended into his golden beard, the other dark hair and a little beard, that he made up for with a large grin.

"Mr Boggins," he exclaimed, bowing with the other dwarf. 

"Fili, at your service," the blonde one said, followed by the dark-haired one saying "and Kili."

"You aren't Mr Boggins," Kili said upon hopping inside the home. "You're a woman."

I’ve recently been introduced to this saying. Don’t make waves where none are needed. It was confusing at first until I realized it meant don’t create unnecessary trouble. While that’s true, I was confused because I did not view it as trouble but simply trying to confront the person for answers that I felt I deserved. But as I considered it, I realized, do we create trouble with confrontation,…

I spat in the water and the children of slaughter, who were standing behind me, looking out at the green sea, took a hold of the east wind, bringing dust and disaster, as they danced in their circle, growing louder in laughter. I washed in the water of the daughters of slaughter, running quickly before me, drinking out of the green sea, knowing well of the west wind, turning faster and faster.

Yemen’s Children Bear the Brunt of War as Hundreds of Schools Remain Closed

Schools have been attacked and huge numbers of children bear the mental scars of living through bombings, killings and fleeing from their homes. 

Arwa, 8-years old who lives in a war zone, all what she wants to do is go back to school. She is one of the millions of children who have been affected by the conflict in Yemen, which erupted just over a year ago.

Children are bearing the brunt of the war in Yemen, and reports from "Save The Children" and the United Nations children's agency UNICEF demonstrate the extent of their suffering.

Relatively, the UNICEF said: "After the escalation of the conflict and the closure of nearly 3600 schools, over 1.8 million school-aged children were forced out of school, bringing the school-age population out of school to 3.4 million - half of the total school-age children."