It could be said that memory is…well, highly subjective.
" Oh, no, I have always had a great head for remembering songs, and poetry." Bilbo's voice held the quaver of old age, and Frodo sat continuously by his uncles' side. Soon he, and his fellow Hobbits, would return to the Shire… where it was implied they were much needed…but Bilbo would remain here, in Rivendell. Frodo was afraid Bilbo would die here, and the next time he saw his adoptive father, it would be time say silent goodbyes. So he hung on every word Bilbo choose to speak, ignoring Pippin and Merry's not so-subtle signs to join their drinking. The tall elves seemed to understand, as did Sam, and they interrupted only to ensure that Bilbo, and Frodo, had everything and anything they might want.
" This is truly fine wine, I've never had better…but once…" Bilbo commented to the she-elf who refilled his goblet, then the old Hobbit blinked and drew back in his chair with wonderment…" Why, my Lady!" He exclaimed, eyes widening, " You were there!"
The she-elf expressed no surprise, merely smiled serenely and tilted her head towards the Halfling sitting atop two plump cushions so he could reach Elrond's table. Her large grey eyes glinted in amusement as she gave him a little look. Bilbo, much to Frodo's surprise, blushed.
" Those dwarves told everyone your King threw them in the dungeon, you know, but I've settled that in my book!"
Across the long, open room, a pale blond head slowly lifted from its conversation and dark blue eyes settled on the old Hobbit. Thranduil, of the Great Greenwood, turned from Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flowers. When Thranduil's hand came out, a Sylvan elf deposited a silver bowl brimming with rich wed wine in his palm. The King of the Greenwood murmured, " I welcome always a compliment to my choice of vintage," To the other elfin Lord, " No matter the height, or visibility, of my guest."
" Locked in their rooms they were, after such trouble they gave you! It was a wonder, Lady Mouse, that you didn't take a broom to them – especially Bombur! I would have swatted some manners back into him, had I been you!"
Thranduil had lifted the bowl of wine to drain, but stopped dead. Suddenly the King seemed slightly less complacent. His sharp blue stare sought the Lady's over the silver rim. Ai'mithe met his eyes for a moment, and her mischievous grin flashed for only a second, only for him.
The other elves present – representing all three remaining realms – became very still and quiet. Unaware he was the object of so much observation, Bilbo earnestly assured the Lady that he would set to rights any other slanders he found perpetuating from the ill-fated Quest undertaken by Thorin Oakenshield and his company. " For all though you did not know it, my Lady,"
" O, she knew it." Thranduil's thought rose, unconsciously, off him. He drained his wine -bowl and held it out for a refill.
" You were my most gracious hostess!" He turned to Frodo, " Head of the King's Household, you know, and a Lady of many skills – Frodo, have you met the Lady Mouse – I'm sorry that after so long your elvish name escapes me! She makes nutcakes that melt on the tongue…"
Thranduil drained his second, and the silver bowl came out for another. He also cleaned this in one draw.
" Perhaps, kinsman, you should slow down." Glorfindel thought to him. In response, the tall Sinda held out his bowl for another refill.
" Skin a rabbit, pluck a bird, and cook them up so savory your mouth would water a mile away! (And there are places in the Hall you can be a mile away! So wonderfully large, and a bit dim, but not nasty! Oh, no!) And her arrows never miss!"
" That is so." Legolas murmured, looking at Elrond's twin sons. Their eyes glinting, they nodded once emphatically. Elladan thought to Elrohir, " And find your bottom with a bird-weight when you're unaware!"
" And such a dancer!" Bilbo went on, still blissfully oblivious, " But only with the King, and he too! No other partners could so compliment each other –despite the height difference! I remember still the night it snowed for the first time, and the King recited poetry for you as the flakes fell! On the balcony before the Review Field, now, let me see, I did try so very hard…for it was beautiful to hear but I speak no old elvish…to remember exactly what he said! Let me see…"
Bilbo straightened up in his chair, at last becoming aware that he held every eye. The lady murmured something beneath her breath, it sounded like…" Oh, sweet Eru…" Across the room, Thranduil expressionlessly drained his sixth bowl of wine. Glorfindel no longer even tried. As the old Hobbit began fumbling with phonetic Elvish in a ringing voice, the Lady said, " Mister Baggins, you are far too kind," as she sank into a deep courtesy. She remained sunk low as Bilbo expounded. Suddenly elfin heads tipped, one or two even blinked, and Glorfindel actually swallowed his laughter, choking slightly. Legolas became very straight, looking dead ahead with a blank face. He took a step backward, then another, and out the door behind him even though Bilbo spoke on. By the time to old Hobbit beamed at Frodo, and said, " Now, isn't that beautiful!" the Prince of the Great Greenwood was half doubled over in the hall, one hand pressed to his mouth.
The dwarf Gimli, upon following his friend, demanded, " But what did the Halfling say?!" Legolas could only shake his head once. " When you're done laughing, then."
" Oh, no, not even then!" Legolas lifted his hand to choke it out, " I am not the King! Ask Glorfindel…or the twins…you must understand, he's my father, and she's my aunt. Oh, Ada…" He turned to peer back into the room.
Gimli could not see any change in the expression of the Elvenking, and he patted Legolas' back once to hide his lack of comprehension. " What's so funny?"
He couldn't help the frustrated question.
" That was not poetry."
" Bilbo Baggins, most rightly did I name you Elf-Friend so many moons ago." Thranduil's calm, practiced tones fell through the silent room. " Never have I heard truer words pass any lips in praise of this good Lady." His cold eyes touched upon one or two elvin Lords as he lifted yet another full bowl of wine. The she-elf rose, refilled both Hobbits' cups, and shot his Majesty what could only be called a dirty look. She dipped her head to the room in general before gliding out a different door than one through which Legolas had retreated.
" Who is so modest, she is unable to stay as we toast her health, and yours. To the Lady Ai'mithe, and Mister Bilbo Baggins," Everyone drank with the King, Thranduil smiled with all the aplomb a few thousand years of experience in awkward situations could muster. In fact, he practically glowed.
Out in the hallway, Gimli saw Elrond's twin sons stumble their way into the dim far end.
Elladan gasped, " Ode to the Patience of an Elf Maid –
' O, gentle Lady, as another long winter
Looms before the Greenwood, permit me
to note the enduring patience, the boundless
grace, the very constancy, with which you
still tolerate - after four varied millennia -
my liberal and far-flung shit.'!"
Elrohir flowed into the rest, laughter bubbling in his voice,
" ' For am I fully aware of the conditions
Of living with me, even in a Hall spacious.
Please, permit me to add that…
should you feel the need to empty
yet another full pitcher of mulled wine
over my head this New Year, I would be
very grateful if you first fish out the
cinnamon sticks. And the nutmegs.'
O, how I love Uncle Thrandi!"
" Did you get the bit about fighting to keep a ferret out of his hair all night?"
" No, the Halfling butchered the Doriathrin. Did you make sense of the last bit - 'Anything I have is yours, except the elfling, for we agreed to share him.' "
" '…And I hold you to that!' " The twins said in unison. They looked down the hall to see Legolas and Gimli still hovering outside the door. As one they pointed at Legolas and collapsed against each other, helpless with laughter.
" We love your father's poetry!"
" Never heard better!"
Gimli looked around at the Elvin Prince, biting his own lips to keep down his smile. Legolas lifted a shoulder, " I told you it wasn't poetry."
" And I know she made nut-cakes, for I picked the hazels myself as we rode here." Thranduil's voice preceded him, and all motion stopped as he stepped into the hall. Galion followed, his 'patient butler' face firmly in place. " Don't let Elrond's people keep them. In fact, retrieve and return, bring them to our suites. Ah, ion nin, there you are. The Mouse made cakes. Let us go."
" Hazelnut cakes?" Legolas's head lifted. " No, don't let the kitchens keep them," He turned to Galion earnestly. " Hurry."
" This must be Gimli." The King paused only a moment to look down, smooth and benign, upon the speechless dwarf. " I understand you are familiar with drinking games, I am only four bottles down…that's what, a quarter cask?" To Galion over his shoulder, and then, " What! You're still here?"
" No, Majesty." Came the Sylvan Elf's deadpan reply. " About a quarter, yes." With an affection glance at the Prince, the smaller elf disappeared down the hallway ahead of them.
" You have the advantage, Master Dwarf, but I have put behind me many a good vintage. I should be fine until tomorrow dawn, if you are of a mind for game. You two," Sternly down the dim length of the hall, " On your feet! You shall try the cakes, of course, and give me my first poetry review, nay? Taste a bowl of wine?"
" Aye, gladly, Uncle!"
" Ai'mithe's cakes are better than grandmother's…."
" But don't tell her!" They laughed and implored as they righted their embroidered silks.
The King drew the group with long strides, and Legolas contentedly brought up the rear. He met his father's eyes above the assembled heads. Thranduil smiled, at first the small, tender smile that was for his son alone but it flashed into the brilliant, mischievous grin Legolas knew only too well.
" So, about my poetry!"