Chapter 7: Andalusite

Disclaimer

A/N: I wanted to thank all those who have read and especially reviewed this story thus far. It is appreciated! This chapter took on a life of its own. Blame Gandalf.

Enjoy!


The library of the Last Homely Home was renowned for being the most extensive and oldest in all of Middle Earth. Usually the sight of the three stories of shelves filled to the brim with knowledge would bring a sense of calm and tranquility to Lady Galadriel. For every question, the answer was here. She just had to read with both her eyes and her spirit. One or both was failing her now.

Sighing, she shoved the book aside to join the growing pile of useless books beside her. Normally, Galadriel would never treat a book so irreverently, but her emotions were chaotic lately. Ever since her magic had failed to heal Arwen, she could not find peace. She, like Elrond, would not rest until she found a cure.

Lady Galadriel was not used to failure. She knew very little was beyond her power. The spell used on the Hobbit home was simply to illuminate the house for a brief time. Sarumon had cast it to provide some warning in case The Other was ever free. It should have been impossible for this spell to have harmed anyone. For its victim to have been Arwen, it was inconceivable.

Of all the times for her magic and faith to fail her, it had to be when the one person she cared for the most needed her. Arwen was not just her Granddaughter, but also her protégée.

Galadriel knew there would be a time when Arwen would be alone in Middle Earth. The elf would need the knowledge of all the Old Ways if she was going to survive. People would need her to be strong and wise. All of the future depended on Arwen's complete recovery.

The Lady of Lorien considered her options. Twirling her beautiful, golden hair, the Lady searched her memory for a book or any resource that would help. For some reason, Sarumon's assurance that the potion would help Arwen was in no way reassuring. The man might be powerful, but there was a darkness inside of him that always troubled her.

Her ring, one of the Rings of Power, caught her eye. Since Sauron was dead, the Ring would not be dangerous to use. The beautiful Nenya was made of mithril with a pure, white stone. It had been called the Ring of Water. She always found it fitting that the ring reminded her of the Mirror of Galadriel in Lorien. Though looking at it now, Galadriel realized the ring had changed without her notice. Strangely, the stone was no longer a pure white. A thin vein of darkness was winding around the stone. Alarmed, Galadriel extended her spirit to look at the Ring more closely. Something was wrong with the Ring of Water!

Walking with a calmness she did not feel, Lady Galadriel went to the basin in the corner of the library. Pouring river water into the basin, she took a phial from her pocket. It was no ordinary phial nor were the contents. Inside the Phial of Galadriel was water that had once been in the magical basin called the Mirror of Galadriel. Water scrying was a skill that had served her well for it allowed her to see visions from another place and time.

The moment the water from the river met the water from the Mirror of Galadriel, the surface turned black. There was no image at all. Peering closely, Galadriel could not see the bottom of the basin or anything at all. Furrowing her brow in confusion, The Lady extended her spirit to see if that would pierce the abyss.

At first glance, there was no change. But as she continued to watch, a lone figure appeared. It was a woman who was wearing a white dress. The face slowly came into focus. A shiver of dread overwhelmed Galadriel as she leaned closer till she was almost touching the water's surface. The person also seemed to move closer. It was her!

The mirror Lady Galadriel was much different than the original. Her eyes were glowing black. There were deep lines of black that followed where all of her veins should be. Each one of her teeth were sharpened to a point. Her beautiful golden hair was as white as snow. The image was wraith-like.

"Nazgul…." she whispered in horror.

Shaking, Galadriel brought both of her hands to her face in growing horror. The mirror image did the same, but the mirror smiled cruelly back at her.

Those disturbing, glowing, black eyes were as piercing as knives. There was no happiness or life; the look of death and malice was more than she could take. The mirror Galadriel charged at her suddenly. Falling back away from the mirror in fright, the water barely missed her as it exploded out of the basin.

Running in terror, Galadriel did not have a destination in mind. Her only thought was to flee.

"Air…I need air" She gasped, running out of the house. Heading West, Galadriel fell to her knees at the edge of the river. She was eternally grateful that no one had seen her in such a state. Her shoulders were trembling with fright as she sat by the shore. Leaning over to look at her reflection in the river's surface, her own beautiful face was staring back at her. The pale and frightened expression was one she has not seen in many years.

A shadow fell over her reflection. Turning swiftly, Lady Galadriel was face to face with the most curious creature. He was taller than a Hobbit, but was definitely not of dwarven descent. Wearing a bright blue jacket, the creature removed his large brimmed hat and bowed to her.

"Tom Bombadil, at your service.
You have no reason to be nervous.
The River-daughter has heard her kin cry,
My love has something for you to try"

Searching the face before her, Lady Galadriel sensed no deception or judgment in this being. So this was Tom Bombadil, a name as well-known as her own. He was powerful in the Old Ways.

"Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, Tom Bombadil" Galadriel spoke the traditional elven greeting.

Nodding slightly, Tom sat beside her. Reaching into his coat pocket, he removed a plant seed.

"Trust Old Tom and plant this tree,
Between the West Tower and the sea.
Together, we shall set things right,
The Flower will not perish in fright.

Reaching out, Tom placed the seed into her hand. Gently, he closed her hand around the seed and kissed her ring, the Ring of Water. Lady Galadriel bowed her head in respect.

Opening her hand, Lady Galadriel felt hope for the first time in days. "Mallorn" she said with a smile.

Mallorn was a tree she knew very well as it was from Valinor. Closing her eyes, she could see it now: a tall beautiful tree with white bark and golden leaves. It would stand between the West Tower and the river. A gift chosen by Goldberry Bombadil would grow faster, stand taller, and be a symbol of the bond that was now formed between their families.

A gentle breeze ruffled her hair. Looking up, Galadriel realized she was alone. The only proof that Tom had been to Imladris tonight was the Mallorn seed in her hand and the hope in her heart.


Dori was a mother-hen, according to his brothers. He would never admit it, but he may have been a nervous wreck when Nori broke his arm as a young dwarfling. His brothers tended to protest but it was a sign of how close to death they had been that Ori did not protest this time. Perhaps that had more to do with being outnumbered for Nori was fussing just as much.

Ori had severe bruising on his arms and legs from when the trolls almost ripped his limbs off. It hurt the poor dwarf to move at all so both of his brothers felt entirely justified with making sure he was comfortable. Oin had placed a healing poultice on Ori's shoulders and thighs. The Stonespeaker was confident that the dwarf would make a full recovery. Looking around, Dori knew the company was very lucky because it could have been much worse.

Bombur's ribs required magic to heal. He had collapsed shortly after Bilbo had been injured, his chest struggling for each breath. Despite Gandalf immediately healing him, Bifur and Bofur insisted on carrying him back to camp, which was easier said than done. Dori knew they too were fussing over him in order to make him more comfortable.

Thorin and Kili sat together near the fire with Fili between them. The heir apparent was still unconscious. Oin had done all that he could and believed the dwarf would wake when he was ready to do so. Thorin was humming in an attempt to keep Kili calm. The panic on the normally cheerful face of the prince seemed wrong on so many levels. He clutched his brother's hand in a death grip, trying to will Fili to get better quicker.

Curled up on the other side of the King lay the unconscious Hobbit. Their newest dwarfling was of most concern. Gandalf had managed to stop the bleeding, but the wizard could not say if his condition was improving or not. Neither Oin nor Gandalf could sense anything beyond skin-deep.

"Gandalf, where did you go earlier?" Thorin asked suddenly.

The wizard had been falling asleep leaning against a nearby tree, but tensed at the question. "I found what I believed to be a troll's cave. It is where they hid during the day to avoid the sun. I was on my way back to warn you."

Dori watched the King nod his head slightly. The gesture was the Dwarven version of an apology, especially for a noble dwarf like Thorin. The wizard had been right about the danger. It was the closest thing to an apology Thorin would give; and Gandalf seemed to realize that too.

"Though I am not convinced the trolls are responsible for the farm's destruction. They would not have left the bodies whole. I still sense something is amiss with this area, though I do not sense danger. Most confusing" Gandalf frowned. He did not want to say out loud what he really thought. He knew that without proof, they would not believe the trolls were sent here to delay them. For what purpose, Gandalf did not know.

"Is it safe to travel tomorrow? I wish to be far from this place as soon as possible." Thorin grumbled while glancing down at the Hobbit.

"Moving the injured would be most unwise. They need to rest in order to heal properly. It could be done, but the healing process will take longer or could move backwards." Oin said calmly from his place beside the Hobbit. He was collecting every cloth that had dried gold on it. Dori could see the growing disapproval on Gandalf's face at the dwarf's insistence on keeping every drop of Bilbo's blood. A sudden thought occurred to Dori.

"Mr. Gandalf, are all Hobbits made of gold?" he asked.

The entire company froze and turned as one to look at the wizard. If all Hobbits were made of gold, Dori would turn around now. Erebor did not have gold that reproduced more gold. The gold under the mountain was protected by a dragon while the Shire was unprotected. The simple fact of the matter was that the gold in Erebor was an inanimate object while the Hobbits could work and make more money. There was so much potential, he could actually taste it. Glancing at Nori, Dori could see the greed growing in his brother's eye and knew instantly that they agreed.

"No! Hobbits are not made of gold. I had no idea Bilbo had been changed so much by…" the infuriating wizard stopped suddenly.

"What happened to the Hobbit? We have a right to know!" Dwalin said. The other dwarves were roaring and arguing amongst themselves. To have the dream of Hobbit-gold taken away, especially after the troll ordeal, meant that the dwarves were agitated.

"Enough!" The King roared. His voice echoed around the campsite for a moment. Thorin turned his full glare at the wizard.

"Dwalin is correct. Does this have something to do with that conversation I overheard at Bag End? Are they responsible for Bilbo's prison and his transformation?" Thorin growled.

Sighing, the wizard searched his pockets for more pipeweed. Dori recognized this stalling tactic. It reminded him of all the times Ori would suddenly look for a "lost" quill whenever Dori was yelling.

"I will tell you what I can. You must understand that the Council made a decree regarding what happened 5 years ago. The story begins as any good story about a Burglar should: poison, misdirection, and the theft of an objection that was supposed to be beyond stealing…"


{5 years ago…}

Standing over the body of the giant spider called Lebrennil, Gandalf felt an immense sense of triumph. He had defeated the large spider the men at the Prancing Pony had mentioned.

It was only when Gandalf finally reached the edge of the Old Forest that the adrenaline rush left and a new problem became apparent. Yanking the spider fang out of the torn sleeve of his robe, Gandalf considered his options.

The poison would kill him before he reached Rivendell. Lord Elrond could have healed him in seconds. Swaying with each step, Gandalf approached the signpost that was nearby. The image was too distorted to read from a distance.

"Buckland…the Shire" he slurred.

Belladonna Baggins had an assortment of herbs in her garden. Though she had died several years ago, he knew Bilbo would have kept the garden thriving. The young Hobbit had learned quite a bit from the Took side of the family.

Gandalf staggered through the Shire for the rest of the night before reaching Bag End as the sun was rising. Leaning heavily on his staff and barely able to see, the Wizard knocked on the door. He collapsed when the action overbalanced him. Before unconsciousness could claim him, he heard a voice from inside the house.

"Just a minute. I don't know who you are, but I will have you know all good Hobbits should be sleeping at this hour. The nerve of some people"

As he lost consciousness, the door finally opened to reveal Bilbo Baggins. The Hobbit glanced around at Hobbit eye-level.

"Hello? Hello? This is unacceptable! If this is someone's idea of a joke to knock on my door and run away before I answer it, then I assure you that you will not get away with this! I will…Oh! Oh, dear. Are you alright? Hello, Sir?…"

…The next time Gandalf woke, the only thought he had was that everything hurt. Moving was completely out of the question. It felt as if he had run up to the top of a tall mountain and jumped off the top. Somehow, even his teeth hurt. Gandalf was not entirely sure what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the spider.

The Spider! he thought frantically.

He tried to move his arms, but they were held immobile. Something was wrapped tightly around his entire body.

Spider web! I have to free myself while I still have air. Frightened, he struggled against his bindings. Sitting up too quickly, he fell back and almost blacked out.

"There, there. You have been very ill and need to take care when moving. Have no fear, you are safe and recovering nicely." a voice to his left said. A small hand was patting his arm.

"Bilbo?"

"You're really back this time? I must say, this is a vast improvement over the last time you were awake. You accused me of being a ferret and tried to feed me your pillow." Bilbo giggled into his hand.

Glancing around, Gandalf saw that he was laying down partly in the foyer and partly in the hall of Bag End. He realized the cocoon was actually blankets and not any sort of spider webbing, much to his relief. His bed appeared to be every pillow in Bag End, possibly the entire Shire.

Kneeling next to him, Bilbo Baggins was dipping a cloth into a bowl filled with a green liquid. The cloth was then placed over the wizard's brow. It was almost like the cloth was actually made of snow- the coolness was so refreshing!

"I…am in your debt. Thank you, my friend." Gandalf smiled kindly at his dear friend who had inherited his mother's kindness and charity. Also, the incredible knowledge of herbs, if he was not mistaken.

"Don't worry about that. I used to enjoy all the stories the Old Took told about Gandalf the Gray. You were 20 feet tall and could blow up a pack of Orcs with your whiz-poppers."

The wizard could not contain his laughter. "I dare say you know better now though I would appreciate spreading the story about the whiz-poppers. Good for business."

"You've got a deal. Oh, before I forget, a letter arrived here a few days ago. A giant bird swooped into my garden. I thought for sure I was going to be dead. But it dropped this letter and flew off."

Curiosity consumed him as he reached for the letter. The Council seal was upon the envelope. Something must have happened. He brought the letter closer to his eyes and then moved it further away. Cursing at the poison still effecting his sight, Gandalf asked Bilbo to read the letter to him:

Mithrandir,

I hope all is well. You missed the last meeting. Sarumon assured us that you will be here soon, but Lady Galadriel has sensed danger surrounding you. Our concern grows the longer we are out of contact for a crisis is upon us. We have need of a Burglar. The matter is too delicate to be included in this letter. If you know of a qualified individual, please recommend them with your reply.

Your Worried Friend,

Lord Elrond


{Present day…}

"The rest of the story interferes with the Council's decree so that is that, I'm afraid." Gandalf sighed. He took the time to re-light his pipe which had gone out during his story.

There was an uproar among the company, just as Gandalf suspected. Dwarves were curious by nature. A Hobbit made of gold was an enigma which also played on the curse of Dwarven greed. They were demanding to know more. Dwarves were entirely too impatient to wait, especially since this wait would be without end.

Gandalf held his hands up in surrender and tried to explain, "No, no, no. You do not understand. A decree is not just an order or a promise to do something. It is powerful magic. If I say the words that break the decree, then I am not the only one who will be severely punished. The spell will make certain that the speaker and all of the listeners will suffer, too. I am stopping here for your well-being as well as my own."

"That's not good enough! You have told us everything but what we wanted to know, Gandalf. This does not answer any of our questions. Certainly, a clever wizard like you could figure out some way around this decree." Thorin said coldly.

Save me from Dwarven stubbornness! How many ways can I explain this till they understand the consequences? Gandalf thought to himself. This was exactly the reason he had not brought this up sooner. The Dwarves would never be satisfied until they knew the whole truth. He was saved, by the most unlikely ally.

"Mr. Gandalf, do you mean to tell us that the decree will only punish everyone if you speak certain words which it specifically prohibits?" Nori asked while nudging Dori. His older brother immediately had a smile on his face. It was a wild idea, but it just might work.

The Wizard gazed at Nori for a moment, trying to work out exactly what the Dwarf was really thinking. Of all the dwarves before him, Gandalf always had difficulty understanding Nori and his unique, intuitive leaps in logic. Gandalf answered slowly, suspicion clear on his face. "Yes, I suppose you could say it that way."

Nori nodded for his brother to continue. "Hear us out a moment. When we were young, we used to play a game during our weapon's training. As we fought, our Father would tell us a story where we supplied the relevant information. The more outlandish the story, the more focus was put on remembering the story then on the fight. At the end of our exercise, we would have to recite the entire story back to him, or start all over again. It taught us to be aware of our surroundings, notice details while still focusing on the task at hand, and concentration, in general." Dori replied.

"How does this help?" Gandalf asked.

"For instance, Father would start telling us a story about a dwarf walking in a cave and he found a '...' Father would then wait for one of us to answer what the dwarf found. The story continued in this manner until the end of training. We would then recite the entire story back to him, including the words Dori, Nori, and I had interjected." Ori answered, his features relaxing as he caught onto what Nori was suggesting.

"We were all trained in a similar manner. What of it?" Dwalin asked.

"Mr. Gandalf is a clever wizard. He could tell us the story and when he comes across a word that will activate the punishment from the decree, he can motion to us. We will give Gandalf a safer word to use, instead. If anyone asks, we can always recite the story with our words and no one will be the wiser." Dori said, nodding his head.

Sighing, Gandalf glanced at the sky as he spoke, "You want me to tell you everything and allow you to fill in the blanks? That is in no way to tell a story, but I suppose it is the best I can do."

The idea was crazy, and yet, had merit at the same time. The more Gandalf thought of it, the more he agreed with the plan. There was a brilliant eloquence to it.

"It is certainly worth a try, isn't it, Uncle?" Kili was almost bouncing with excitement. Thorin glanced at all the dwarves before turning to look at Gandalf.

"Tell us." Thorin said simply.

Gandalf took a moment to gather his thoughts before he began.

"The group of people I was staying with, the ..." At this point, Gandalf waved his hand towards the dwarves, asking for a word.

"Knife ears" Dwalin answered, raising an eyebrow as if challenging Gandalf to contradict him.

The wizard sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, "Another word, if you please."

"Children" Balin answered after shrugging at his brother, for Dwalin had given a perfectly reasonable answer, by dwarven standards.

"Thank you. The Children wanted Bilbo to steal a ..."

"Tiddlywinks." Kili answered with a smirk.

"What is a tiddlywinks?" Bofur asked in confusion.

"It is some sort of Hobbit game where you compete to flip tiny disks. Mr. Bilbo promised to teach Fili and I the game in return for not walking on his kitchen table. Again."

"Perhaps he can teach all of us. It sounds like-" a cough interrupted Bofur.

"If I may continue?" Gandalf replied dryly.

The King's deep voice answered, "Please do."

"As I was saying, the Children wanted Bilbo to steal a tiddlywinks. What I did not know at the time however was that the Children were setting Bilbo up to fail."

"Why would they want him to fail?" Balin growled. He did not like where this was going at all. The elves were being deceitful from the start. No one harms a dwarfling.

"They were tasked with protecting the tiddlywinks. Some of the, ahem, Children were concerned that it was not safe enough where they hid it. They wanted a Burglar to try and steal it in order to test the security measures that were guarding it." Gandalf paused to smoke from his pipe. He would need the courage and soothing effect for the next part.

"Bilbo did it, didn't he?" Gloin asked when the wizard was taking too long.

"Yes, he did, but that is not what angered the Children." Gandalf was struggling with the painful memories of what was to come.

This time, no one interrupted. The dwarves could sense that this was going to be bad. Kili clutched tighter to Fili's hand while leaning more heavily into Thorin's side.

"Along the way back, Bilbo was attacked by ..."

"Doilies." Balin answered calmly. Ori snorted in amusement before being hushed by his brother.

"Doilies? Did he just say 'doilies'?" Oin asked his brother. At Gloin's nod, Oin muttered, "Well, that was unexpected."

"Precisely the point. We want to make the word something so ridiculous that the decree will not take notice." Balin answered reasonably.

"Very wise, Mr. Balin. As I was saying, Bilbo was attacked by Doilies. He did not want the Doilies to get the tiddlywinks. The tiddlywinks, being so small, Bilbo, well, he…" At this point, Gandalf stuttered to a stop, filled with worry. He was unsure if Bilbo's actions would be seen by the dwarves as taboo, or insulting in some way.

"He swallowed it, didn't he?" Nori said, suddenly.

"Yes! How did you know?" Gandalf asked, stunned. The rest of the company was equally stunned it seemed.

"Bilbo is a third-generation Burglar. He would know that he's about to be searched, and that the tiddlywinks will be taken away. It seems only logical that he would swallow such a small item, which gives him a few days to get to a safe place. The tiddlywinks will…um… be back by then." Nori explained in a rush.

"I don't want to know why you know that, Brother." Dori whispered to Nori. With a small smirk, Nori patted his brother on the arm in a soothing manner. Dori buried his face in his hands, muttering "Get on with it, Gandalf."

Coughing to hide his amusement, Gandalf continued, "Exactly, only something went very wrong, for the tiddlywinks did not come back, not at all. Instead, the tiddlywinks dissolved inside of Bilbo."

Thorin raised his eyebrow slowly while he tried to figure this out. "So this tiddlywinks got stuck inside of Bilbo and these Children wanted it back, I take it?"

"Indeed, there was a vote, and it was tied. Some believed that Bilbo should be killed so that they could remove the tiddlywinks which was trying to overtake Bilbo. I voted against any harm coming to Bilbo. The leader of the Children overruled us." Gandalf looked down, unable to meet the eyes of anyone in the company. He knew that they would never understand what it was like to have Sarumon overrule him, to know that he had failed to keep his dear friend from being harmed.

"What are you saying? You would let them hurt Bilbo!" roared the King.

"I called all of the Children to me so that I could force the numbers of the vote in my favor. Sadly, they did not get there in time." Radagast had been horrified to learn he had been too late for that first vote.

Dwarves were very protective of family, especially dwarflings. Add the fact that Bilbo was apparently made of gold, and Gandalf knew he had to diffuse the situation with no small amount of tact and charm before he had to defend himself.

"The only way he could have survived such a shock to his system would be if the tiddlywinks was made of some form of magic." Oin reasoned out slowly.

"What makes you think that, Mr. Oin?" Gandalf asked, feigning a calmness that he did not feel. This was getting dangerously close to breaking the decree. He could feel the magic of the spell gathering around them, as if it were a predator waiting to pounce.

"Elves do not value things that a dwarf does. Magic is what they value. If this tiddlywinks was important to them, then it stands to reason that the tiddlywinks was a magical item. It is possible that so much magic trapped inside of a Hobbit would have unusual effects." the Stonespeaker answered. Now that he knew what he was looking at, Oin could almost sense magic in the Hobbit.

"I'm afraid I must end this conversation right here and now. Anything more is well beyond the scope of this game" Gandalf answered. The wizard did not want to play this game anymore. He feared the decree's punishment was upon them.

A groan from Fili caught their attention. "Oh, thank Aule, it is only a game. I woke during that part about tiddlywinks and Doilies. All this time, I've been worried that those trolls broke my brain."


Bilbo turned over and snuggled under his blankets. His bed was always so comfortable, even after all these years. Mother used to complain about the struggle she endured daily when trying to wake him. It was that comfortable. Stretching until his back popped, Bilbo slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

The sight of his bedroom at Bag End filled Bilbo with a sense of peace and comfort. Everything was in its rightful place, exactly where it should be. Though, there was a strange sense that something was amiss when he looked at the fire. The blaze was a golden hue instead of the normal red hue that fire always took. Starring at the strange fire, Bilbo suddenly remembered the dwarves.

What is happening? How am I here? His thoughts began racing as he became more frightened. What if the entire quest had been a dream? He ran to his bedroom window. The view should have been of the gardens. But there was no view. Outside of the window, there was nothing but a golden liquid that covered the entire window.

"Good Gracious! What is that? It almost looks like honey…" Bilbo muttered. The window would not open, despite Bilbo unlocking the latch and pulling with all of his might. Perhaps it really was honey…

"I wanted to make you comfortable while we talked." came a voice from behind Bilbo. He turned around so fast that he almost fell. For a moment, he thought that the door had been replaced by a mirror. The Hobbit entering the room was Bilbo in every way, except the eyes. Where Bilbo's eyes were brown from his beloved mother, this Hobbit had glowing black eyes.

"You…" Bilbo whispered, placing both of his hands on his face in horror.

"Me." The Other said with a bemused look on his Bilbo-face.

"What have you done? Where are we? Where are the dwarves? Gandalf? How did -" Bilbo asked rapid-fire without waiting for an answer until The Other held up his hands.

"One question at a time, please." Walking into the bedroom, The Other sat down in Bilbo's desk chair and pointed to the bed. "Have a seat and I will explain while we have this rare opportunity."

Glancing out the bedroom door, the only available escape route, Bilbo saw the same gold substance was covering the entire doorway where the hallway should have been. Gingerly, Bilbo sat on the bed.

"While you were untying the dwarves, the last troll woke up. He was going to kill Bombur. I couldn't let that happen. Unfortunately, your skull met the ground quite hard and here we are. Tea?" The Other had Bilbo's tea set and was pouring chamomile tea into the teacups next to it.

"Why?" Bilbo whispered.

"Why, what?" The Other asked, handing a teacup to Bilbo across the way. They spent a moment drinking delicious tea, after Bilbo watched his doppelganger take a sip first. Burglar instincts.

"Where are we?" Bilbo asked suddenly. If he did not know better, he would swear he really was in his bedroom at Bag End.

"This is where I go when you are awake. The rest of the house is…well…under repairs at the moment. It should be finished by morning if all goes to plan. Next question." The Other answered calmly.

"Why did you save Bombur by putting yourself, and me, in danger? It was just so…" Bilbo flailed his hand for a moment as if that would help him find the right word.

"Selfless. Kind. Incredibly heroic." The Other offered.

"This is not what I expected, especially after how we, well, how we met. You were constantly trying to take over my body. You killed those elves."

Placing his teacup back on the table, The Other slumped back in his chair. Bilbo could remember himself doing the same thing as a child when he had been caught stealing vegetables from the neighbor's garden.

"You don't understand. I was suddenly stuck inside of a strange body. There were so many things happening at once. I wanted to see what was happening. Opening your eyes, I saw those elves about to kill us while Gandalf just stood there. He was watching as his unarmed friend was about to be murdered and eviscerated. He was supposed to be your friend! The elves were supposed to be our allies." The Other's eyes were not just glowing now. They burned a black flame that extended out of his eyes.

Bilbo shivered. He had not seen Gandalf before The Other had taken over. Why would Gandalf let the elves hurt him? He had been a friend of Bilbo's grandfather, The Old Took. The wizard would never just stand there and watch Bilbo be harmed. This was a trick! He would not let anyone besmirch the good name of Gandalf the Gray. The man had proven himself and did not deserve this.

"You're lying! Gandalf would never hurt me!" Bilbo screamed, flinging the teacup at The Other. The teacup flew right through him as if he was not there. All Bilbo could do was stare at him.

The Other stood and placed both hands on Bilbo's shoulders, brown eyes met black. Bilbo could not stop the flinch as a cold feeling spread all over his body, starting with his shoulders. "Think for a moment. You are getting 1/14 of the treasure. According to the contract, the King is using his share to rebuild the desecrated kingdom. There are 13 dwarves and a burglar. What does Gandalf get? Why is he helping the dwarves?"


Climbing the sheer rock face leading to the fortress, a lone figure struggled to keep his footing. No one would guess from his appearance that the elf who was covered in layers of dirt was the majestic, mighty warrior named Elrond.

"Radagast was right" Elrond muttered to himself. Looking back at the Greenwood below, he could sense that the forest was dying, just like Radagast had sensed in Imladris. There was a foul stench of evil and decay that clung to everything.

Following Sarumon's map had lead Elrond to the Southern Greenwood Forest. If he was not on a quest of such importance, Elrond would have been greatly concerned by the state of affairs here. But his mind was consumed with finding the ingredients to help his little girl. Nothing else mattered; not his health, appearance, or station, even a dead forest could not distract him.

This ingredient was most unusual for a healing potion, but Elrond trusted that Sarumon knew what should be done. The man was a powerful wizard who ruled the White Council. He was above reproach.

Finally, Elrond reached the summit and entered the fortress. There was a thick coating of dust on the stone floor, proving that no one had crossed the threshold in many years. Entering the courtyard, Elrond finally saw it.

The Black Cypress was one of the rarest of flowers for it only grew in the presence of magical decay. How did the Wizard know that the death flower was here?

As he reached down to pluck the flower, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head. Elrond collapsed to the ground, groaning in agony.

An armored hand yanked his head up and back so that the Elf Lord could see the face of his attacker.

"No…." Elrond moaned before losing consciousness. He was roughly dropped back onto the ground as his attacker chuckled darkly. Pointing a decaying finger at Elrond, he cast a spell that hit the elf directly in the heart. A shimmering glow started at the feet of the attacker, morphing his appearance to be an exact match to Elrond

"You should have cleaned yourself up before greeting a King." Angmar said cruelly, in an exact approximation of the elf's voice. The face of Lord Elrond smirked cruelly down at the Elf Lord's prone form before dragging him further into Dol Guldur.