Just an Observation

by Elizabeth Athineu

Shortly after the Fellowship leaves, Elrond sends Bilbo to Mirkwood to the company of Thranduil so that he might have a look at Bilbo's new book . . . and visit a few old 'ghosts' as well. (One Shot)

Just An Observation . . .

"Who?!" Thranduil demanded, standing and glaring at the guard angrily. The soldier bowed her head, eyes still held in sheer wonder at her king. It was not uncommon for she-elves to be warriors as well, but it made it far more difficult to be in the presence of so beautiful a commander. Thranduil had donned his flowing silver gown with cream underclothes, appearing like stars bursting forth from a small cloud. His golden hair fell perfectly; how could it fall otherwise? The silver circlet he wore was a testimony to the fact that he had planned a simple, quiet evening to ease his mind what with Legolas being sent off to tell Elrond of that blasted Gollum's escape; worse, he had agreed to some foolish journey to Mount Doom in the company of the son of Gloin. How he missed his son and the she-elf knew it, but pity could hardly hold place in her heart when such a lovely king was practically shouting at her. "I have given no invitation to such a creature, send him away with small provisions. Now!"

"But my king," she said, quivering inwardly and outwardly. Why on earth had she joined the ranks? Being in the king's presence was far too distracting. She carefully held out a letter with Elrond's seal. "Lord Elrond bids you take him as a guest for a short time."

Thranduil frowned. He tolerated Elrond, the Elf-lord was wise and strong with a great deal of skill and, from what he had heard from Tauriel, good sturdy handsome features as well. Still, he was just as much of a nuisance now as this creature asking for entrance if he was sending word. All Thranduil wanted was a quiet, peaceful evening after the torrent of emotions he had hidden from his subjects at Legolas' departure. He opened the letter and read it. The she elf waited patiently, glancing to either side. Thranduil scoffed.

"A halfling?! The halfling that aided the dwarves?!" he exclaimed. "Does he not think this an insult to me? And here he tells me that the old hobbit has a book for me to examine and give my blessing regarding his adventures! His adventures indeed! He stole away perfectly good barrels, ruined many bushels of apples, destroyed at least two barrels of butter, and took my prisoners from me; and now Elrond expects me to host him as a guest?!"

"Of course he does," a tired, but spritely voice announced. Having made his way from the Elfin escort, Bilbo now stood, leaning on his cane, large book under one arm, and staring up at Thranduil with a contented smile. "Unless, of course, you wish me to be an unseen guest yet again," he added with a wink and a soft chuckle. Thranduil frowned and folded the note, handing it back to the she elf. Bilbo approached him more closely and bowed as best he could. "How extraordinary to finally meet you, oh Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood, Ruler of Greenwood the Great, Victor of Dol Guldur, and the last of the great Moriquendi of the East."

"Well, at least your manners are worth having at my table," Thranduil replied with more softness. The old hobbit was dressed in strange attire with brown leggings, a white buttoned shirt, a red vest, and a tattered green waistcoat that matched the walking stick which had clearly seen more walks than most. Thranduil sighed and contemplated this for a moment. This was the halfling that he had heard about? The Barrel-Rider that had stolen away the Company of Thorin Oakenshield during the Autumn Feast? It was positively insulting to not only be asked by Elrond to house him, but to be asked to read about the exploit as well; it was preposterous!

"I believe I have something that might lighten the burden of having a burglar at your table," Bilbo offered with a wink. Thranduil watched as he withdrew a lovely diamond necklace with a large pale, pink garnet at its center. "There now, what do you say to that?"

Thranduil sighed and gently closed his long-fingered hand around the hobbit's weathered features. "Keep your offering for now, Master Hobbit, and let us see what has been written of me as we join the small company in the dining hall."

"By all means," Bilbo said with such enthusiasm that he nearly dropped the first and currently only copy of There And Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins. "It has been nearly 2 hours since last I've eaten." Thranduil looked at him in confusion. "I'm practically starving!"

The meal was pleasant, as far as food went, and Thranduil found the first few chapters of the book amusing. The dealings of the dwarves even seemed entertaining although he still had strained feelings and memories of Thorin and the Line of Durin at all. Then came the section where the issues in Mirkwood were described. Thranduil frowned at how desperate and grim the forest was described. His kingdom had, even in its worst days, never been so repulsive! This was insulting, but not insulting enough to warrant criticism. It was not until the description of Thranduil's harsh behavior towards the dwarves and his fondness for gold and gems described that the elf began to protest. The very same words, the very same, had also been used to describe Smaug previously, and Thranduil felt very much as though Bilbo wanted to compare the two as equals.

"If you must know, Your Majesty, I did in fact see you, Thorin, and the dragon as no better than one another in your desire for treasure and power," Bilbo replied with a shrug. "But such is the nature of royalty and I was only observing."

"Observing falsely!" Thranduil complained. "It was not unjust, they were trespassing and refused to give me cause to believe they were not up to trouble!"

"Oh for the sake of the sacred standing stones, Your Majesty, it was not fully justified. They had harmed nothing and done away with several, well actually I did away with several, spiders that could have easily killed those of your kind making merry in the forest," Bilbo corrected taking a long drink from his glass. "That is not a false observation and there is not one false observation in that tome to my knowledge. If there is as you read further, please point it out. I would hate to take this to a scholar to copy for posterity's sake with any mistruths."

Thranduil muttered half angrily to himself looking over the pages as Bilbo watched in childlike excitement. The Elvenking's frosted brows furrowed and he scooted closer to the halfling, holding out the book firmly. "Here, now, what is this?" he asked.

"What is what?" Bilbo replied, wiping his mouth and putting on a pair of thick spectacles for show as Thranduil huffed and pointed to a word in the book. "Eruilloise . . . oh! The ghost child! Why that's nothing you haven't heard of, I'm sure."

"Ghost child?" Thranduil said in disdain. "Eruilloise? What on the whole of your homeland are you speaking of?"

Bilbo's face suddenly went pale and he looked at Thranduil in concern. "You mean, Your Majesty, you don't know?"

"No, I do not. And I would kindly thank you to leave out at least half of this drivel when you do manage to hobble up to some scholar and have copies made, particularly this nonsense about my farcical fondness for gold that you conveniently mention in the same manner as that damnable dragon, and a ghost child that you never even explain!" Thranduil said loudly, slamming the book shut. Bilbo seemed to frown a little at the gesture, but seemed more ill at ease that the king didn't know what, or rather, who he was speaking of. He gently reached out a small, wrinkled hand, and touched Thranduil's smooth, pale skin as gently as a grandfather.

"My dear, dear, Thranduil, Great Elvenking of Greenwood the Great, Victor of Dol Guldur . . . I meant no disrespect to either of you," Bilbo said in a hushed tone.

"Either of us?" Thranduil snorted in reply. "I suppose you speak also of this ghost, this-this Eruilloise?"

"Of course," Bilbo replied. "Such a sad story," he said softly as he stirred at his soup a little. A wry smile crossed the left half of his mouth and he glanced up at the king with a twinkling wink. "But in the end, she's still just a little girl, just having fun, I suppose."

"Ghosts, wraiths, and spirits, do not 'have fun'," Thranduil corrected. "Not without it being at someone else's expense."

"Of course not!" Bilbo chuckled. "And I did without a good night's rest many a time because of her; so did my companions! Ask any of them, or their descendants. Ask Gimli or Legolas his friend, they will tell you."

Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, still reconciling the friendship his son had with the son of Gloin. He realized that his anger was making him seem just as Bilbo had described in the book and though he was weary and a little insulted by the text, there was no excuse for rudeness. He cleared his throat and placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Master Hobbit, do excuse my outburst. I have missed my son for some time now. He is my comfort, my joy, and always will be. I suppose reading of these days long past have brought back some things that sit unpleasantly with me, but I mean you no ill respect, my friend," Thranduil offered smoothly. Bilbo smiled at the king's sentiment. It was mostly genuine and very well-woven, again like the dragon. Thranduil called for the last course and turned back to Bilbo gesturing towards the book. "I do apologize for treating such a work of art with such brutality. Words must never be treated with anything less than the kindness that wrought them."

"You are too kind and so well spoken, Your Majesty," Bilbo replied as his glass was filled again. "I should've asked you to be my amanuensis if I had known about your skillful command of the vernacular in the common tongue. It does feel warm to be surrounded by finery in words as well as wood and stonecraft again!"

"The two go hand in hand!" Thranduil agreed with a light-hearted chuckle, his spirit lifted at the compliment. He sipped quietly as strands of thoughts and little fish of curiosity began to swim and swish in his mind, mirroring the fine swirls of reds in his cup. He cleared his throat. "Now, would you be so kind as to tell me this story of Eruilloise? I should very much seem ill-educated if as king I did not know of all my subjects, particularly those in the palace, living or dead."

"The story took place back when Oropher was king of this realm. Her father was a huntsman called Carlan, a half-elf, as I recall it, and not welcomed by the Noldor, the Avari, or indeed any of the Silvan Elves that are your woodland kin. He and his human wife had only one child, Eruilloise, and his wife departed one winter from hunger," Bilbo explained with a solemn tone. Thranduil felt his heart ache at this. There was no need for such bigotry betwixt humans and elves in any realm; as he had told his friend, Elrond, many years ago, there is no half an anything. He had asserted that his friend was both entirely elfkind and entirely human and should be equally proud of both. Thranduil fidgeted with his chalice as the servants removed their bowls and placed a plate of Apple Fold in its place. Thranduil was too entranced with the story to notice and leaned closer, resting his chin on his smooth, silky soft wrist as Bilbo spoke. The halfling instantly smelled the apple, cinnamon, butter, flaked folds of pastry, and reached for the pitcher of cream before continuing. "He hatched a plan to come and serve as one of your father's guardsmen," Bilbo continued as he drizzled the cream over the tartlet with relish. "But the head of the guard long before your Tauriel, was shrewd and unyielding."

"Mordir, I remember him well," Thranduil said as if something foul had touched his tongue. "He was easily and quickly replaced, to the betterment of the kingdom, I might add." Thranduil watched the halfling devour the sweet in a matter of moments and smiled at the little one's appetite. It reminded him vaguely of Legolas who had a fondness for the sweeter ends to each meal. Bilbo politely wiped his mouth clean and cleared his throat once more. "So he joined the ranks of the guard so that he and his daughter might live in the barracks. A little uncomfortable, but hardly any worse than living without shelter and food."

"Oh, if only that had been the case!" Bilbo exclaimed with sudden anger. "That black-hearted devil demanded that he send the child away to a human settlement and fend for herself or else leave the ranks entirely." Bilbo shook his head as Thranduil felt his heart grow a little more pained at this. What a dreadful thing to do to a single father, and he would know. Bilbo sighed as he continued, another smile forming on his lips. "But her father was cunning and he hid her well in the palace just as I hid myself," the halfling replied with a wink. "And until the child was seven years of age, the ruse lasted well. He would hide her in the cellars at night to let her sleep, then stomp thrice to wake her and let her roam the closest part of the forest outside the palace. At night she stood near the eastern entrance where he was stationed and clapped twice to let him know she was there. It was a marvelous arrangement and so loving a family."

"What ended it?" Thranduil asked uneasily.

Bilbo frowned. "I'm afraid it was your birth, Sire," Bilbo replied cautiously. Thranduil's blood chilled at this. "Oropher had the palace made very secure, searched high and low, and all the guards called to their posts. There was no one to let her back in. She stayed by the eastern walls, clapping and eventually calling for her father." Thranduil felt a tear come to his eye at this and he leaned closer. "Not a pretty story, the two never saw one another again when Mordir caught them, Eruilloise first, and then had them imprisoned separately until they died of starvation."

Thranduil's heart sank at the thought of this and it filled his stomach with a rottenness. "What a terrible thing to do," he whispered. His brow turned from a concerned furrow to a scowl. "I should've had him executed for such a thing!"

"Well, one could argue that he was within his rights. After all, it is against the law to trespass in the King's Forest and it is also against the law to enter the palace uninvited by the king or the regent," Bilbo explained. "Not to worry; she bore no ill will against any of the guards or even you yourself. But she did never find out what happened to her father. It is, after all, so terribly difficult for a spirit to learn anything, particularly if they became a spirit as a child," Bilbo added. "So she has spent all her years remaining here, looking for her father, wandering the lower halls, sometimes calling his name, sometimes clapping in vain to find him."

"Someone, a wizard, should give her peace," Thranduil said pensively, putting down his glass and rubbing the armrest of his chair with anxiety. He suddenly noticed that he had not touched his own dish and that the halfling still looked quite unsatisfied. He sighed, smiled, and offered the dish to the younger who replied 'much obliged, and thank you kindly' before eating it as well. Thranduil felt his heart race at thinking there was another side to this equation and it was not an innocent child. Had it been he who had been separated from Legolas and died imprisoned, he would have used his spirit to seek vengeance on all those that served Mordir. He shifted uncomfortably. "And what of her father?"

"Oh, now that is a less pleasant story," Bilbo added, swallowing a mouthful of apple and pastry laced with sweet cream. "He is said to lie in wait in Mordir's old quarters. They were moved almost immediately after, you see, so that he could be closer to the king. Now, I believe, they act as the uppermost wine cellar, for those to be used by the soldiers and servants." Bilbo gazed emotionlessly at the king. "Many a guard has been terrorized by him, many barrels of wine destroyed, and even three guards killed because of his anger."

"Killed?!" Thranduil shrieked, nearly standing. "How could this have happened and not reached me even if it happened under my father's reign?!"\

"Only one died under your father's reign . . . a host of barrels mysteriously loosed themselves and fell on the poor chap," Bilbo added, putting down his fork to tell the unpleasant portion of the story. "The other two died shortly after your arrival as king. One was impaled by a broken barrel, again mysteriously. And the third, well, the third was claimed to have died of unknown causes . . . her heart stopped like a broken clock."

"And you believe that was out of fear?" Thranduil asked, hiding the slight trembling that moved through him.

"Of course I didn't," Bilbo replied indignantly. He picked up his fork again and frowned. "But the guards that whispered in the darkness while I wandered your halls believed it. I imagine some still do, but they wouldn't tell the king, not while their lives or yours were at stake."

"I see," said Thranduil cautiously. "Well, at least the child is the more active, is she?"

"Oh yes!" Bilbo exclaimed happily, now eating once more with enthusiasm renewed. "She simply seeks her father, but she also loves games. Some of the people she plays with are willing and some are not. Either way, she is harmless, a gentle and lovely little soul."

"Indeed," Thranduil replied, keeping his acknowledgements as succinct and cautious as possible.

He had heard of very rare 'hauntings' as they were called, when he had been a lad. Most of them were benign, but frightening, and some were downright deadly depending on the severity of the story and even the gender or age of the ghost in question. Elves rarely troubled themselves with thoughts of ghosts since such things were beneath them, but Thranduil had a unique and curious mind settled comfortably between the firmness of the earth among the strength of the forest and the usual higher thoughts of stars, skies, moons, clouds, and all manner of the heavens that gave the elves their beauty and magic. In that sense, he now mused inwardly, perhaps he was some sort of ghost himself. He took the book in hand again and read the rest of the passages as Bilbo finished his meal and continued on with a few more funny stories about his presence making the guards think that a third ghost haunted the halls near each of the dwarves held captive. Thranduil half heard this and chuckled at the appropriate times, both engrossed in the story he was reading of the recent histories of Middle Earth from this halfling's perspective and the other story still nagging at the back of his mind. Bilbo pulled out his pipe and filled it with a strong blend of Old Toby and Berry Moss, lighting it and smiling up at the ceiling.

"Ah, these wonderful old halls," Bilbo sighed with the pipe still in his mouth. "Makes a grand difference seeing them without hiding!" he added with a laugh. Thranduil gave a half smile and nodded. Bilbo watched him, pleased that he had managed to slip so effectually into the king's mind the same way he had slipped in and around the Elvenking's halls so many years ago. He puffed and reminisced all the more about sneaking food, conveying messages to the dwarves, and even divulged at last the means by which the escaped. At last, Thranduil set down the book gently, closed it and closed his mind to the thought of lingering spirits. He listened with great relish and renewed humor. Bilbo had to relate the last of it between puffs of smoke and deep chortles that caused him to lean onto the table, smacking it for good measure. "And you should've seen Kili climbing right out of his barrel all smiles and swirling eyes! If he thought he could do it a second time I think he rather would have, you know! Spritely chap, always was!"

"I can't quite recall which of them he was, but I'll take your word for it," Thranduil replied, softly stroking the cover of the book with the silhouette of Erebor and Smaug flying about it on its cover. He smirked and stood slowly. "I admit that there are some passages that sit unpleasantly with me, but it is fair in trade for the discomfort I regrettably gave you while hidden in the halls. Had I known such a harmless creature was visiting, I'd like to think I'd have welcomed you and tried to know more about your people."

"Oh you were in a rare mood that year," Bilbo said with a wink. "We all were, I suppose. Things become dicey when the death of a dragon's involved."

"Always," Thranduil said with resignation. He shook his head and nodded to Bilbo kindly. "The hour grows late, Master Hobbit. I'm afraid I must take my leave of you and retire for the evening."

"Of course, of course," Bilbo said, the pipe in his mouth once more, his glittering green eyes still sparkling with wonder and contentment here in the palace under their tired, worn brows. Thranduil felt compelled to be both reverent to an older creature and as playful as he would with any child at the presence of this strange halfling. Nevermatter, in the morning he could discuss what he would allow to be added from his perspective and what he would not. In the meantime he needed to sleep, to escape these thoughts. Bilbo noted the smoldering thoughts of ghosts and grim tales beneath the king's ageless features and nodded to him. "A pleasant night to you, Your Majesty. And I thank you ever so kindly for such hospitality."

"It is only right that you see this kingdom as it was meant to be seen," Thranduil replied with a proud smile. "Goodnight to you as well, and sleep peacefully."

"Oh I have no doubt that I will," Bilbo replied with a wink as Thranduil turned away. The elf's robes of silver and eggshell swirling around him like clouds billowing about a storm of deep contemplation and subtle caution. The silver circlet on his golden haired head was almost the very same as Elrond's, asserting his authority in a more casual manner. Bilbo smiled and puffed again, reaching into his pocket and feeling for the invisibility stone Lindir had given him. "And now, oh stone of Elvish make," he said with a giggle," Let's have some fun with that sour old flap-dragon."

Thranduil wondered the halls, trying to reassure him that both the hobbit was well-settled by the servants and that his son was safe no matter where he was. He was so lost in thought that he had wandered in wondering out towards the easternmost walls. A slight chill moved through him remembering the story from the hobbit. He swallowed hard and chastised himself for any unrest he felt at the thought of being faced with even a benign spirit. Necromancers, those that dealt with spirits, were foul creatures, and no elf had ever tried such sorcery. Spirits and the like were too sacred for them to dabble in. He sighed and listened carefully. No sounds, nothing out of the ordinary. "It was only a fable, you old fool," he said aloud to himself. "The hobbit snuck about your palace, freed dangerous prisoners, and burgled from a dragon; why would he tell you a truthful tale?"

Clap. Clap.

Thranduil froze. The signal, the sign that she was ready for her father to find her. Thranduil frowned at the silence that followed. No, it was his mind or something else playing tricks on him. "Be off to bed before you start hearing owls in the hallways," he said to himself.

Clap. Clap.

He froze once more and felt his breath leave him. Why are you putting any faith in this nonsense? This is just a silly figment of your troubled imagination, he said inwardly. There is no such thing as . . .

Clap. Clap.

"Hello?" Thranduil said, finding the courage to speak as dread began to fill him. Even a playful spirit was something unwelcome in the presence of an elf long since unpracticed in magic. He glanced around and heard a faint child's laughter. He whirled around in the other direction. He drew in a deep breath and summoned his tone, temperament, and expression that accompanied being a doting father. What was that phantom girl's name? Blast, why can't I ever remember . . . "Eruilloise?" he suddenly remembered aloud. The clapping came again, only much louder. She is harmless, he reminded himself. He sighed heavily and knelt near a doorway, smiling. "I am afraid I am too tired to play a game now with you, child. Perhaps on the morrow. Would that please you?" There was a series of more clapping, several claps at once and laughter as well. Thranduil frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm unable to change my answer; I do promise I will return tomorrow to . . ."

Before he could finish, an abnormally large barrel suddenly rolled out in front of him. He stopped dead in his movements and felt the blood drain from his usually pale and perfect features. The barrel halted in an odd way and was followed by an eerie sound. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Thranduil backed away a pace and then heard a rasping breath and a growl. It was followed by a child's whimper and heavy footsteps forward. Thranduil opened his mouth to call for help, but felt it go dry and his voice expire in fear. He turned to bolt, but suddenly tripped ad landed unceremoniously on top of something . . . something alive, and laughing. He pulled his robes away angrily as Bilbo released the invisibility stone and clutched his walking stick. Thranduil stared at him harshly.

"If you could have seen the look on your face . . ." Bilbo laughed hysterically. "A cleverly placed barrel, some voice tricks, that's all it takes to bring down the mighty Elvenking!"

"You impudent little scamp!" Thranduil said angrily, standing and composing himself as best he could. "First you force me to read that embellished nonsense about one of my most troubling incidents, then you fabricate this awful story, and now you use it to torment me?!"

"It was just a bit of fun," Bilbo said with a wink, leaning on the walking stick as the elf's features turned from pale to red in a matter of seconds. He cleared his throat. "Oh come now, Your Majesty, you handled yourself quite skillfully. Acting with such kindness towards a child's spirit. No one else in your realm would've thought to approach a spirit as a father?"

"Be that as it may, it was just awful to create such a horrible story about anyone in my kingdom, even that fetid excuse for a guard, Mordir, and then to use whatever magic I'm sure Elrond supplied you with to have a lark at my expense! I am distraught without my son and I know that my kingdom is in danger! Haven't I enough to weigh on me already?" Thranduil said in exasperation.

Bilbo frowned at him and placed a worn hand on the elf's forearm. "I am sorry, Your Majesty. I had no idea you were so troubled by his absence," Bilbo offered tenderly. "I too, fear for my dear nephew as he carries the very source of danger himself. But at least I have comfort in knowing that a cunning and stalwart warrior like your son is there to protect him."

Thranduil shook his head, forgetting that Bilbo was also bearing the uncertainty of a loved one in this quest to destroy Sauron once and for all. He breathed deeply and took the halfling by the hand. "Then let us put faith in one another's kindred and rest for the evening. I have quite had my fill of old worries and new trickery," he said. "But I must say, Master Hobbit, that if you can embellish so convincing a tale of horror and tragedy, you'll make a decent writer no matter what you choose to etch in your tome. I shall be more than glad to give my blessing."

"But, Your Majesty," Bilbo interjected with all seriousness. Thranduil looked at him in concern. "It was not an embellishment." The two stared at one another in silence until Bilbo burst into laughter and tapped the ground with his walking stick. "I have a gift! Bless me, I shall have a great gift on paper and in speech as long as I live!"

Thranduil rolled his eyes and continued to lead the way back to the comfortable halls and rooms to sleep for the night. In the distance the two suddenly heard a soft set of clapping. They halted and looked at one another. Bilbo seemed more afraid than Thranduil now and gripped the elf's hand tightly. "Perhaps it's best if I simply omit the mention of any part of that story or my encounters with her," he said.

"Agreed," Thranduil replied, quickening their pace until they reached the safety of the king's chamber. Despite protocol and normalcy, both Bilbo and Thranduil fell fast asleep on the center of the large luxurious bed, with several candles lit for light throughout the darkness of Mirkwood's night. And while Bilbo did, indeed, omit any part of the story of Eruilloise from his tale, Thranduil still stayed clear of the eastern part of the walls at dusk and night and never himself went down to the upper cellars again. But then, that is only an observation . . .