Disclaimer- I don't own LOTR.

OMG DID YOU GUYS SEE THE NEW HOBBIT TRAILER? ELROND WAS THERE AND GOLD AND BILBO AND OMGOSHTHSRH

Ahem.

Enjoy! :)

Bilbo yawned as he tottered out into the main hall. Breakfast was being served, and an elf, Linder, had woken him so he didn't miss it. He was in a constant debate with himself- whether he should sleep until noon and miss a meal or wake up and enjoy it fully.

Breakfast was rich and full, and when Bilbo had had his (and the two Elves' next to him) fill, he noticed that Elrond wasn't at the table.

"Where's Master Elrond?" he asked as he took one last bite of pasty.

It was Erestor, who ate as carefully as he spoke, and was always one of the last elves to finish eating, who replied. "He refused to come down for the meal. He wouldn't even come out."

"I wonder, does he often get like this?"

Erestor smiled slightly. "No, not often. But when he does get in a mood, it's difficult to get him out of it. He's quite stubborn. It comes with age, I suppose."

Bilbo clapped his hands together. "Why don't you let me give him a try? I've heard that I'm quite stubborn also. Not as stubborn as a Dwarf, perhaps, but then, who is?"

"Well said," said Erestor, his smile widening. "But I think you shall have trouble dealing with Elrond. Even Arwen could not calm him now."

Bilbo decided to take this as a challenge, and quickly made his way to Elrond's private rooms, where he hesitated. Was it really appropriate for him to do this? Elrond might get angry, and even a stout hobbit like Bilbo feared a furious

Elf-lord.

Bilbo discarded his worries. Elrond had been kind to him, and Bilbo could only try to reward him best he could.

He knocked on Elrond's bedroom door, heart in throat. What would he do if he opened it? What if he didn't?

"Go away!" roared an uncharacteristically upset voice. "Glorfindel, I'm warning you, I am armed!" There was a crashing sound, and an elvish swear.

"That's alarming." squeaked Bilbo.

Elrond swore again, and Bilbo didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The door opened a crack, and Bilbo caught glimpse of a long Elvish sword dangling from one slender hand.

"Ah, Bilbo," said Elrond, torn between annoyance and embarrassment. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt too much for you to come in, as long as you promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone."

"I promise on the lives on my parents, Belladonna and Bungo Baggins, my great-great-great granduncle, Bullroarer, and of course, the wonderful Old-"

Elrond roughly grabbed Bilbo by the tunic and pulled him in, shutting the door. BIlbo barely got a glimpse of Elrond's haggard face before Elrond had jumped back into the middle of his room, swinging his sword wildly.

BIlbo stood there and stared. Furniture, the most beautiful and expensively engraved Elvish furniture he'd ever seen (with one broken vase on the floor), was haphazardly pushed against the walls, to make room for Elrond's sword "practice." His long, dark hair was tangled and messy as he whirled around in fits of madness.

"I hope you excuse me for asking, Master Elrond," said Bilbo cautiously. "But what exactly are you doing?"

Elrond stopped his swordplay momentarily, his wide chest heaving with effort. Bilbo wondered how long he'd been at this.

"I'm fighting," wheezed Elrond. "Cant you tell?"

"Of course!" replied Bilbo hastily. "Of course I could tell! How silly of me, I wasn't thinking!"

"Well?" asked Elrond expectantly. "What do you think?"

"Huh?"

Elrond's eyes were wide, and Bilbo couldn't see the wise, kind healer, only an insane Elf with a love for hitting things.

"Do I still have my touch? Am I still a good fighter?"

"The very best, Master Elrond," promised Bilbo, secretly wondering how on Earth Elrond managed to survive all those battles if he fought like that. "No one could match your skill."

Sweet Elbereth, this was crazy.

Elrond collapsed into a chair, only to fall over, as if was currently stacked onto another one. He sighed, stood up, and strode over to the full length mirror, the only furniture not uprooted from its rightful place. He was relatively calm.

"Oh, my friend," said Elrond sadly. "I found a hair."

"A...hair?" repeated Bilbo. He went and sat on Elrond's bed, partially because he felt like he needed a seat, and partially so he could tell Frodo he'd been in Elrond's bed.

"A facial hair! I found a facial hair!" he said mournfully. "Do you know what that means, Bilbo?"

Bilbo shook his head, stumped. Hobbits didn't get facial hair, so he had no idea what was going on.

"You don't know what this means, do you, Bilbo? It means..." Elrond appeared as though he was forcing the words out. "It means...I'm old."

Bilbo stared at Elrond, uncomprehending. He'd never realized this before? Nowhere, in almost seven thousand years of living, had Elrond considered that he was older than almost any Elf?

Elrond covered his face with his hands. "Don't look at me like that, Bilbo. I know I'm old. For Mando's sake, I'm considered the lore-master, and you don't get that title without experiencing a thing or two having to do with lore. But this...this means...I'm entering my third cycle. I'm officially classified, by my own records, as an ancient being." He started pacing in wide circles, and nearly stumbled over Bilbo. Bilbo, having spent some time in Rivendell by now, was quite used to it.

"Cycle...is that like...what the ladies go through?" asked Bilbo, thoroughly confused.

Elrond gave him a scathing look, one that he deserved. Even Bilbo knew better than to be that dumb.

"Sorry," apologized Bilbo. "It's obviously not. So...what did you do when you found the hair?"

Elrond shuddered. "I plucked it immediantly. Heaven knows I don't want all of Rivendell knowing that I'm...old."

"I'm pretty certain they already know." offered Bilbo helpfully.

"My dear, simple hobbit," replied Elrond, kneading his hands together nervously. "It isn't only age that send an Elf into their third cycle. It's their mindset. When an Elf is old enough to know much of what happens around them, and to predict what will happen, and accepts this fate because they know the tides will change, they are in their second cycle. But for their third cycle...they must be ancient beyond belief, past the idea that anything will have a lasting effect on them."

"Isn't that good?"

Elrond moaned in misery. "What it means is that I'm a stuffy old fart who spends so much time thinking that I can't enjoy life properly."

Bilbo stood up and crossed his arms, bouncing slightly off the bed. "That's not true! You spend as much time in the Hall of Fire as I do."

"Ah, Bilbo, when was the last time you actually heard me sing a song?"

Bilbo thought about it, and realized he'd never heard Elrond sing a song. "You can sing, right?"

"Of course I can sing!" protested Elrond. "I'm an Elf, aren't I?"

Bilbo shrugged. "You could've been born with human singing genes, and therefore be mediocre in comparison to other Elves."

Elrond was insulted, and BIlbo hoped he wouldn't get scolded, kicked out of Rivendell, and be forced back to the Shire.

"How dare you! I'm a perfectly good singer, I promise you."

"Then prove it. Next feast, sing a song in the Hall of Fire, in front of all the Elves."

Elrond's face paled a bit. "It's been nearly a thousand years since-"

"You're an Elf, right?" challenged BIlbo. "And they're your people! If they don't like your music, tell them to get out!"

Elrond stroked his chin, and as Bilbo watched, ran his fingers over a certain spot on it. His gray eyes narrowed momentarily.

"Challenge accepted," said Elrond. "As long as it keeps a beard away, I'll do it."

Bilbo smirked. Who would've guessed that he of all people, would get Lord Elrond to agree to sing a song?

"One more thing," said Bilbo. "This third cycle thing, it has to do with wisdom?"

"Yes," nodded Elrond, looking slightly calmer. "The wiser you are, the more likely it may pounce on you."

"So...I'm just curious. Why do you grow a beard?"

Elrond was unnerved, and after a moment on avoiding the question, finally mumbled, "I dunno."

Part one of two!

Man, I wish Hugo Weaving was incapable of growing a beard...

Reviews are love!