The clamouring of the dwarves was beginning to annoy Bilbo as he found himself the unwilling host for the band that had trooped his home and had helped himself to his pantry.
It had appeared that his meeting with Gandalf this morning had not been a mere, fleeting acquaintance. He had returned in the evening, underneath the pale moon with twelve dwarves, all whom had an insatiable appetite and a thirst for his best ales and wines.
Gandalf, the troublemaker, himself sat at the head of the back end of the table, politely chatting and making conversation with a dwarf whose eyebrows where so long they had been pulled back and twisted with the rest of his hair, ridiculous!
Bilbo stood at the edge of his dining room, feeling like a guest in his own home. Still, he decided to at least eat something, life may try throwing large yarn filled balls at him, but by the green lady, if it should get in the way of his freshly cooked fish, he would petition her himself.
There was the rude git, Thorin Oakenshield, who, no matter how beautiful his eyes were, was an absolutely ungracious guest. He supposed that he could be no quick judge of a character, and apparently not Thorin Oakenshield, for Gandalf said he was a king of a far off Dwarven land that was no more. Sad business to go around but the name 'Erebor' pricked his memory but he was not able to place it.
Gandalf spoke of dragons, maps, keys and gold. Some rebellious, unleashed part of his soul wanted to run out of the door and revel in these scandalous sort of adventures. Hush! His far more sensible side spoke to the traitorous thought. Mountains and forests, he scoffed to himself, no place for a Baggins.
Another knock reached his ears. Surely there were no more dwarves left to traipse about. Gandalf pushed back the chair, much to Bilbo's protests. I'll get the door, you stay right here.
Do hobbits all come ringing a door through the night, he heard a dwarf mutter. He slid up a hatch and opened the brass knob, pulling the door inwards.
A cloaked, tall figure stood out the front. He heard Gandalf come up behind him to greet the stranger who stooped down to enter the smial. With the dwarves still in the dining room, conversing among themselves. He could hear Nori's, the braided eyebrow's one, smirking tone and Thorin's baritones muttering about Elvenkings, the Misty Mountains and the city of Dale.
The figure lifted their hood and slid their cloak off and Bilbo found himself staring into the face of an elleth. He had seen elves once or twice and they had been marvellous! All bright and youthful with full faces and twinkling eyes. They donned merry smiles and casual gaits.
But the one in front of him was none of those things. A stern face, that may have once been soft, was hardened by, well, he had never seen an old elf, but he was guessing it was age. Brown eyes and swarthy, dark skin that he had never seen in the usually pale as moonlight elves was paired with dark hair that seemed to be tightly wound back.
She was dressed in simple travelling clothes, and to be fair, he may not have even been able to tell that she was of the eldar, had it not been for the immeasurably calm wisdom that she held or the pointed ears that were visible.
Gandalf moved to introduce her. "Bilbo Baggins. Please, I would like you to make the acquaitance of Araniel, of the Teleri. Araniel, this is Bilbo Baggins, a fine hobbit."
The elleth, Araniel, spoke, her voice silvery yet rough, tinged with a heavy and thick accent, "Pleasure to meet you, Master Baggins."
"It is all mine." He spoke, politely. Yet his mind was buzzing, Teleri! In his smial. His classical education had been years ago, but he remembered the legends and the old tales. It would narrow the elleth down to one of the Eldar from the havens or, even from the Undying Lands!
Gandalf nodded, leading them both to the dining room where the dwarves were waiting. Thorin settled his gaze on Gandalf, "I was not aware you had invited further guests."
Gandalf let out an almost imperceptible sigh, and he moved to speak but Araniel stepped forward.
"Mithrandir did not invite me, I came here of my own will. It is an honour to meet you Thorin of Durin's Line."
The Dwarf King's expression did not change, though his brow moved upward. "Indeed, and what moved you so to attend this meeting?"
The elleth moved her head to the side, "I heard rumours of Erebor being restored and I came to offer my help."
A small muttering broke out among the Dwarves. Thorin scoffed, "Your help? And what help could you give us? Or that which you seek for your own gain?"
Something flashed over Araniel's face, an emotion Bilbo could not identify. Anger, perhaps something closer to regret, like guilt? It disappeared as quickly as it appeared and he found himself looking once more into the elleth's face.
Gandalf finally stepped forward, "Araniel offered her assistance of her own accord, Thorin Oakenshield. She is far more capable than you might believe and I believe it is not a bad offer."
Thorin twitched and he held a strong gaze with Gandalf but eventually let his head drop, "Very well. We will trust you, elf." The hidden message was clear. For now.
Araniel let the smallest of smiles to grace her lips. "Thank you," was all she said as the Dwarves turned away and Bilbo could have sworn he heard the fiery one, Gloin, mourn the economics of the Quest now with a fifteenth member.
He watched as Gandalf and Araniel moved past to a smaller room and as he busied himself with preparing for his guests' stay, a rich tone reached his ears.
It was a song, none of that like he had heard before. It floated and it carried the song of the Dwarves' mountain with it. The Dwarves sung of lost gold, of burning fires and vengeful dragons. Thorin's deep voice held up above the rest and it was an eerie sound. He caught sight of Gandalf who looked deep in thought and then Araniel who was watching the Dwarves with a furrowed brow and sad eyes. The song continued with the tale of a stone, the Arkenstone, pride of the Dwarves, and how it shone with unearthly light.
Araniel had now gone rather tight lipped and something unnatural passed over her expression. It was twisted and angry. But she turned her head away and Bilbo turned away too.
He moved around and picking up the soft pillows, he moved to take them to the guest rooms. A conversation pricked his ears and he softly moved towards it.
"Are you alright, my dear? You seem to look rather ill." Gandalf's voice sounded concerned and he heard the elleth huff.
"I'm fine. It's just," she paused, "disconcerting to hear the Dwarves sing of the stone as if," Araniel sighed, "as if it was theirs."
The conversation drifted off and Bilbo's mind wandered, Araniel knew of the Arkenstone then? Was it not the Dwarves' own?
These questions are far better answered in the daylight he thought and he shook his head. Sleuthing could definitely wait.