Rating: G
Summary: While in Rivendell Bilbo meets somebody you might recognize. Squeaky clean and fun for all the family. ;-)
A/N: This story was written in response to a friend's "First meeting" challenge, and it's my first LotR fanfic. It's in The Hobbit's timeline.
Bilbo Baggins sat in Rivendell, twirling a pen idly as he stared at the blank paper in front of him. The group of Elves at the other end of the hall began a new song and the pen darted eagerly, pinning it to the paper and displaying it for all to see. He scribbled furiously, but the melody was lively and he couldn't catch every word. As the song ended the group wandered outside, laughing in merriment. Bilbo sighed in disappointment and sat back, surveying what he had been able to get down and glancing up at the various Elves wandering around. It would be so easy to ask one of them the rest of the words, but Bilbo was rather shy of Elven folk and he wouldn't like to draw attention to himself
Settling into the chair (legs dangling and looking slightly ridiculous), he tried to remember all the fantastic songs and tales that he had heard during his time there. He'd begun to write some of them down; he was sure that the folk back home in the Shire would love to hear them. He thought of home with a great deal of longing, picturing himself sitting comfortably with a pipe, telling the Elves' tales to the children (with a few older hobbits surreptitiously eavesdropping, no doubt!). For a moment he allowed himself to entertain the idea of parting company with the Dwarves and leaving for home, but he quickly admonished himself. He'd done so much already, and if he stuck it out he would have a tale of his own to bring home. Imagine if he related the events leading to this moment to an avid group of listeners and then finished with "And then I came back."
Giving up on the song for a moment, he looked to see if any of the dwarves were nearby. Elves were all very well, but at this moment he would really prefer to converse with somebody familiar and slightly more ordinary. A head at a lower level than the others caught his eye and he glanced in that direction.
The face looking back was most certainly not a Dwarf. With a slight jolt Bilbo realized that it belonged to a child, the first one that he had seen in Rivendell. But a moment longer confirmed that the boy wasn't an Elf. His features labelled him as a Man, and that, reflected Bilbo, was profoundly odd.
The boy was staring at him. Bilbo stared back with unashamed curiosity until the child looked down.
Frowning slightly, Bilbo watched the Man-child try to melt into the crowd. What was a lone child doing in Rivendell? He hadn't seen his parents. Did the boy have any? Slowly and deliberately he pulled the paper towards himself and began to scribble nonsense, looking very busy and industrious. Without warning he glanced up sharply.
The boy was closer. And he was staring at him again.
Before the child could become embarrassed Bilbo smiled and dropped his head again, scribbling less urgently than before. He looked up, more slowly this time.
The boy was closer still. And staring.
Bilbo inclined his head to the paper once more, chuckling at the childish game. In fact, he recalled that the children in the Shire played one with a similar principle. Now what was it called….
The next time he glanced up the boy was much nearer.
After a moment Bilbo was aware of somebody standing nearby. He smiled, but didn't stop writing and didn't look up. Suddenly a small voice piped up beside him.
"Excuse me, Sir, but why have you written 'I am a fish' all over your paper?"
Bilbo smile faded. He quickly covered his paper and sighed.
"I don't know." He paused and looked at the boy. "I'm not, you know. Most odd." The boy regarded him with solemn, slightly skeptical grey eyes. His voice wasn't what Bilbo would have expected in a lad his age. Very polite, very controlled. You wouldn't find Hobbit boys speaking like that.
"Where did you come from?" The child asked curiously. Bilbo grinned.
"I am a Hobbit from the Shire!" he said with a touch of pride "Hobbiton to be more exact." The boy frowned.
"Please Sir, what's a Hobbit?"
"I'm a Hobbit," Bilbo retorted. "And you needn't call me Sir. Bilbo Baggins is my name; Mr. Baggins will do nicely. And what can I call you?""Estel."
"Who are you here with?" Bilbo asked with interest.
"Oh, I live here," said the boy. Seeing Bilbo's surprise he added, "My father is dead and my mother passed away too not long ago. I'm Lord Elrond's ward."
Bilbo sucked in a breath in astonishment. "Lord Elrond's ward, you say? How long have you lived here?"
"I…" The boy paused and finally settled on, "A long time, Mr. Baggins." There was a brief pause as Bilbo thought about this, then the boy spoke again.
"What is Hobbiton like, Mr. Baggins? Are there many Hobbits?"
Bilbo laughed. "But of course! And it's a lovely place. Maybe not as pretty as this," he said, his gesture taking in the hall and, by extension, Rivendell, "but it's charming enough in its own way. And it's home, of course," he finished, slightly wistfully.
"Are there any Men or Elves there?" the boy asked.
"In Hobbiton? No. In the Shire? Well, maybe. Barely any though." The boy seemed satisfied by this and paused for a moment. When he spoke again it was almost with quiet reverence.
"Father says that you're going on an adventure," he said slowly. "He says that you're going to take back treasure from a wicked dragon." Bilbo felt a twinge of pity as he realized who Estel was calling father.
"Did he now? Well, he was completely mistaken! We are going to rescue a good dragon from a wicked treasure!" The boy's brow furrowed in confusion before he caught sight of Bilbo's grinning face and recognized the joke.
"May I come to help you relieve the dragon of its wealth?" He asked lightly. His tone was jesting, but Bilbo could sense the eagerness that lay behind it and the boy was visibly disappointed when he shook his head.
"No, lad, I don't think that that would be wise. It's likely to be a messy business." He frowned. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure that I'm not completely out of my depth. I really don't know why I agreed to come. It's just that when all the Dwarves appeared at my front door, out of nowhere at all, and-"
"Did you know them?"
"Who?"
The Dwarves."
"No, Dwarves don't live in the Shire." Bilbo halted and looked at Estel. "Look, if you have some spare time, would you like to help me with these," he brandished the paper full of half written songs, "If you like, I could I'll tell you more about my little adventure and explain about the Shire properly in return." The boy nodded seriously, as if he were approving a peace treaty.
"One thing first…" he said. Bilbo waited.
"Why don't you wear shoes?" Bilbo raised his eyebrows and lifted up a foot. He studied it a moment and then let it drop.
"I have fine Hobbit feet!" He sniffed in mock offense. "No reason to cover them. Now will you give me a hand with the songs or not?"
* * *
Bilbo watched the boy leave. A most pleasant lad, he decided. He looked in satisfaction at his much fuller list of songs. Estel had even persuaded him to enlist the help of a few Elves, and he'd done far more than he had intended. And as he told his stories about home to Estel, one or two Elves had even come to listen. Bilbo settled into the chair feeling very warm and contented. Though he did wonder about the boy. Estel. An odd name for a Man, he had thought. It meant "hope" in Elvish, didn't it. There was definitely a mystery about that child. He considered it a moment more before discarding it. Whatever it was, it was no problem that Bilbo Baggins need worry about. And Estel seemed happy enough. Bilbo smiled as he remembered the look of shining enthusiasm on the boys face as he mentioned adventure. Perhaps he'll get the adventure he wanted someday, he thought idly, and just maybe he'll find it as nasty and uncomfortable a thing as I do.
Thinking of his own trials ahead, he yawned and leaned back with his eyes closed. A short doze was just the thing for a weary Hobbit after hours of hard story telling. But as he drifted off he couldn't help but wonder about the grey-eyed boy named Estel who Elrond had seen fit to take under his wing. Estel, hope…. He thought and speculated until he slipped into warm, comfortable but utterly mysterious dreams.
An End
A/N: Somebody please shoot me for the Red Dwarf reference. I swear that I could not help it. I tried to delete it, but my subconscious wouldn't let me. And the fic itself…Yeah, it's pointless. I know that, but it's all that I could think of. Please do critique it..
If you enjoyed this (or even if you didn't) why not read the other fics written for the challenge? You can find them on Songbreeze's and Harmonybyrd's profiles (find them on my fav. Authors list)