Chapter Eleven: The Armour of Elf-Princes

So I am very happy this morning (technically it's actually afternoon for me, because it's nearly 2pm, but I only got out of bed about three hours ago so it still feels like morning). If anyone is watching the Shadowhunters TV show, based on The Mortal Instrument books, you will know why I'm so happy, with last night/this morning's episode. There's nothing better than a ship becoming canon, and the way that they did it! I've watched the scene about four times now, and the entire episode twice. And I'm probably going to go and watch it again once I've done this.

Anyway, new chapter, and Bilbo is turning up! This chapter is cut a bit shorter than normal, because otherwise it would be way too long and would interfere with later on, where I have to cut the chapters in very specific places (to be evil and give you some nice cliffhangers and angsty moments). Bilbo was a bit of a challenge to write, after writing a lot of elves for about 40,000 words of this fic, but it was fun to play with it. The title of this chapter comes from the book quote, said to Bilbo by Thranduil:

'The Elvenking looked at Bilbo with a new wonder. "Bilbo Baggins!" he said. "You are more worthy to wear the armour of elf-princes than many that have looked more comely in it."

The way I have written this is that the conversations that happen in the book- Bilbo agreeing to give the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil- is not explicitly written about. I didn't think there was much point writing a scene that we've already seen happen, but what happens before and after that is written about. You'll see what I mean (hopefully).

Also, I was reminded recently that I sort of owe you guys a oneshot/drabble thing, because a bunch of you helped out and read the draft for that book thing I did as a school project (it's all finished now, and looks brilliant, so thank you all again for that). In addition, I was thinking that this story is only twenty reviews away from 100, as I'm typing, so how about this? I was recently prompted with an idea that really stuck (thank you again 1monster2), and a lot of you really like Belhadron, so once this story hits 100 reviews, I'll publish a fairly angsty/hurt/comfort oneshot that I have in the works as a thank you. That sound like a good idea?

Anyway, here's the actual chapter now. Sorry for the rambling. I am still very excited over two fictional characters finally getting together.

0-o-0-o-0

The days passed slowly, amongst training and sparring, and slow wandering around the camp's perimeter when there was nothing better for them to do. Gandalf watched them all, the Elves and the men amongst them, the mountain off in the distance. He also did not have much better to do. A lot of those things he had planned for, the removal of Sauron from Dol Guldur, had already happened. Now he was just waiting for the next move to be made.

It was dark, and six days since the elves had first arrived outside the mountain. Gandalf took a seat at the edge of one of the fires, the one that the captains had seemingly claimed as their own. Three of them were already there, sharing out food between them from something hanging over the fire. Umor was at their feet, as usual. As Gandalf watched Legolas came up, seemingly just from patrolling the perimeter. The others all hid their own food behind their backs with sly laughs, and Legolas rolled his eyes. He grabbed some of his own and sat down with them, Umor greeting him enthusiastically.

Gandalf smirked as Legolas still managed to end up with one of the other captain's apples. The blond elf looked up and saw Gandalf. "Mithrandir," he said with a smile. "You do not have to sit in the shadows all the time. Have you eaten?"

Gandalf huffed a laugh, but moved over to the rest of them anyway. "What is it?"

"Whatever he managed to cook up," said the captain opposite him. She pointed over at one of the other captains who was sitting by the pot hanging over the fire. "He's our designated cook for now."

The other laughed. "Just be glad it isn't someone else," he said, handing a bowl to Gandalf. "At least I can actually cook."

"Well…" said Legolas, and then laughed when the captain glared at him half-heartedly. "It is good, Mithrandir, really. And I'm not just saying that because I'll end up with bruises otherwise." He took a bite from his apple, grinning at the one he stole it from.

The captain shook his head with a smile. Umor huffed at his feet, and pushed his nose into the captain's hand. "At least you like it," the captain said to him, ruffling his fur. "But then you like anything if it is food." Umor licked his hand in agreement.

They stayed around the fire for a while, talking about things that needed to be done tomorrow and in the days to come, tentative plans for the people of Esgaroth who were camped still on the shores of the Long Lake. As it had been for the past few days, the mood was light, for there was still not much to do outside Erebor. They were merely waiting.

Umor suddenly raised his head, his ears pricked. The captains looked up. There was the sound of slightly hurried footsteps, and then Belhadron stalked down towards the fire. "We have a problem," he said, his voice low. "You know the creature that is a companion of the Dwarves, the one that we've never actually seen?"

Gandalf straightened up. "Bilbo?" he asked, not quite keeping the worry out of his voice. Belhadron nodded shortly.

"It's just been found," he said. "Five or so furlongs inside the scout's perimeter."

"What?" asked one of the captains. "How is that even possible? Those are Rhavaniel's scouts."

"Who found him?" asked Legolas.

"A regular patrol of a few elves," replied Belhadron. "And only because the creature apparently slipped and fell into one of the streams. They're bringing it in now."

Legolas stood up. "Belhadron, go to my father and tell him of this. Mithrandir, you'd get the most information if you went with him. Get a message to Rhavaniel, if you can."

One of the others stood up. "I'll go out to the scouts by the mountain and have them brought in," she said. "Someone will need to send out new ones to the furthest positions."

"I'll see it is done," said another. "Legolas, do you want to bring this creature in under guard or not?"

Legolas shook his head. "I'll go and meet the patrol now," he replied. "But we don't want to cause too much tension amongst people. I think being discreet is our best option at the moment." He looked around at the assembled captains. "Let's move."

Belhadron turned away and began to thread his way through the elves and men around them, back towards Thranduil's tent. Gandalf followed. "Is he unharmed?" he asked.

Belhadron frowned. "Of course he is," he replied. "Whatever you may think of us in this situation, Mithrandir, we are not going to hurt him just because he is a companion of the Dwarves. You do realise that most of us do not want a war?"

Mithrandir raised one eyebrow. "An entire history argues against that," he said. "You are all biased against them, so blind to anything but their faults that you cannot see straight in this situation."

Belhadron huffed an irritated sigh. "I'm not going to try and argue," he said. "I have more important things to do." He suddenly paused, and then darted sideways to one of the scouts who was passing by, distinguishable by their mottled grey cloak. Gandalf frowned in bemusement as Belhadron relayed a seemingly harmless message to the scout. They nodded, and moved swiftly off.

Belhadron caught Gandalf's frown. "I forget that you do not actually spend much time in our realm," he said. "We have codes for situations such as these, when we cannot speak plainly in front of people. What I told the scout to relay to Rhavaniel, she will know to mean something has slipped through the perimeter."

"Someone," corrected Gandalf. When Belhadron looked confused at him, he shook his head. Someone has slipped through the perimeter. That 'creature', as you called him, has a name. He's called Bilbo." Belhadron merely shrugged, and Gandalf held back an irritated sigh.

"So I do not know his name," said Belhadron. "Why does it matter?"

Gandalf raised one eyebrow. "It matters because Bilbo is just as much a person as you are. So are all thirteen of the Dwarves, and all of the men you are helping to train to fight. There are more people back on the shores of the Long Lake."

"Didn't I just say that I, as much as anyone else, don't want it to come to war?" asked Belhadron with a bitter laugh. "I'm aware that if it does, quite a few people are going to die. A lot of the men, possibly, because they don't really know how to fight and you know it. Will it help if I know their names?" He shook his head. "Do not lecture me on war, Mithrandir, not when you know nothing of what we face every day. You don't have the right."

Gandalf shook his head wearily. "I know far more than you may think, but that is not the point," he replied.

Belhadron merely looked bemused. "Then what is?" he asked. "Truthfully, Mithrandir, I'm not following you."

"When was the last time you went outside your realm?" asked Gandalf instead of answering. "When was the last time you really did anything apart from your job?"

Belhadron actually had to think about it for a moment. "I went with Legolas to Imladris about forty years ago for the spring and summer, I think. But since then, we've been busy."

Gandalf shook his head as they reached Thranduil's tent. "And there lies the problem."

He ducked inside the tent. Belhadron, with a roll of his eyes, followed.

Thranduil and Bard were both inside, talking quietly. Belhadron bowed to his King. "We have a situation," he said. To one side, Gandalf started translating softly to Bard.

"The companion of the Dwarves was found five furlongs inside our perimeter," said Belhadron succinctly. "A regular patrol is bringing him in now."

Bard looked shocked. "How did he make it past your sentinels?" he asked.

"I would like to know the same," said Thranduil, his voice smooth. "Captain?"

Belhadron bowed his head. "I've sent one of her scouts to find Captain Rhavaniel, and the sentinels are being changed over. The ones out there now are being brought in for you to speak with. But beyond that, we don't know how he got past us."

"I would not worry over it, Thranduil," said Gandalf, his voice gruff. "Bilbo Baggins will surprise you in more ways than merely this, I believe, before it is all over. I suspect that your people could not have seen him even if they had known he was there."

Thranduil raised one eyebrow. "You are going to explain your burglar soon enough, Mithrandir," he said. "But for now, that will have to suffice." He turned away, gathering up a few of the pieces of parchment that had ended up scattered across the tent. "Do what you wish, Mithrandir. It's all the same to me."

Mithrandir scoffed. "I highly doubt it is, but I'll take your thinly veiled dismissal and leave." He huffed a laugh at Thranduil's wry smile, and then ducked back out of the tent.

"Shall we meet him outside?" asked Bard, reaching for his coat and pulling it on. "It might make him more amiable to us, though hopefully he remembers me well enough."

Thranduil nodded, and turned to Belhadron still standing to one side. "Set up a small perimeter around the clearing outside," he said. "Enough so that any conversation will not be heard. You know what to do."

Belhadron nodded. "Of course," he said. "Legolas has gone out to meet the patrol. He'll be bringing him in. Do you still want to speak with Rhavaniel afterwards?"

Thranduil shook his head. "Let her deal with her scouts as she sees fit, but tell her of what Mithrandir said. I want both you and Legolas visible nearby, if not too close. Use your own discretion, Belhadron. It's always served us well."

Belhadron nodded. "It will be done," he said. With a short bow he turned and left the tent. Thranduil held back a sigh, and looked over at Bard.

"You know this hobbit?" he asked. Bard nodded. "What do you think he wants?"

Bard shook his head. "I have no idea."

0-o-0-o-0

Though it was only a short walk from where the elves had found him to the edge of their camp, Bilbo was already shivering by the time they reached the first of the tents. He had his arms wrapped around himself but it didn't help much, seeing as his coat was soaked through.

They stopped a little way off from the actual camp, and the elves seemed content to wait for the time being. Bilbo felt that they didn't quite know what to make of him, this small shivering person who had nevertheless made it past their own sentinels, and had never been seen in their halls. They were not unkind, but Bilbo felt very much like a small fish surrounded by ancients. He was fairly sure they would count all the years of his life as just a blink of time, whether he actually survived this journey or not.

"Wait here," said one of the elves, and he nodded at the others before he moved forwards into the camp. The others exchanged uneasy glances, and Bilbo got the sense that they were not very high up at all in the chain of command, and had just stumbled across him by accident. As such, he rather felt that they didn't really know what to do.

"Look," he said, quelling his chattering teeth as best as he could. "I just want to speak to Bard and your King, so if you could take me to them, then I would much appreciate it and you could go back to where you are actually needed much quicker, rather than staying around to watch the likes of me."

One of the elves looked down at him. "We're waiting for orders," he said, his accent heavy. "Forgive us for any…" He trailed off, trying to find the word.

"Inconvenience?" asked Bilbo, hiding another shiver. "Not at all, my good elf. I just do not have much time for standing around, and am rather cold."

The elf nodded, but didn't say anything else. Bilbo wondered if they didn't feel cold like he could, because they seemed very unsympathetic to it, or didn't even notice he was cold at all.

There was a flurry of movement from the camp, and then one of the original elves appeared, with someone else at his side. The other elf paused briefly, then darted to one side and grabbed something. He jogged forwards, the other following him.

Bilbo thought that if the elves that had found him had been dangerous enough, with their sharp eyes and sharper steel, then this new elf was deadly. He had what looked like the tip of a bow poking over one shoulder, and two long knives at his belt. Bilbo recognised, after spending so long with Thorin and Fili and Kili and all of the Dwarves who had been fighting for all their lives, the stance of a warrior, and a very good one at that.

The elf, his blond hair swinging around his shoulders, reached them and Bilbo saw that the thing in his hands was, in fact, a blanket. The elf handed it to Bilbo with a smile, the deadly look all but disappearing at the curve of his lips. "To dry off," he said, his voice only with a slight soft accent. "Don't worry about giving it back. Believe me, we have plenty more."

"Hir-nin," said one of the elves abruptly, and the new elf held up one hand. He turned to the others and switched tongues to his own language. From the expression of him and the other elves, Bilbo got the impression they were being told off. Whatever for, he couldn't guess, but the blond elf finished speaking soon enough.

"Master Baggins, I presume?" he asked, and Bilbo nodded. The elf smiled. "My name is Legolas. I am one of the King's captains. If you would come with me, then I will take you to him and to Bard."

Bilbo nodded, and trotted after Legolas as the elf turned and began to lead him through the camp. "Do you need anything, Master Baggins?" he asked. "Food, or drink?"

Bilbo shook his head, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "A warm fire would not go amiss," he replied. "But I just with to speak with Bard and your King."

"Of course," said Legolas. He walked through the camp, and Bilbo noticed how other elves around them would move out of his way, bowing their heads to him. Legolas either didn't notice, or was so used to it that he didn't respond, and Bilbo began to watch him more carefully.

The camp grew quieter as they drew towards the middle. Bilbo felt a slight unease prickle over him, though he didn't know if he was merely feeling nervous. After all, he had been the one responsible for the Dwarves escaping from the Elvenking's realm.

An elf detached themselves from the shadows of a tent, standing up from where he had been leaning against a post. "Legolas," he said softly, tucking a loose strand of dark hair back behind one pointed ear. Bilbo watched as the two of them exchanged a few soft words in their own tongue, the rich language so different to anything he had heard before. He watched the other elf, who looked just as deadly as Legolas had at the beginning, if not more so. His dark eyes alighted on Bilbo for a moment, and Bilbo tried not to look away before Legolas said something and the elf's gaze turned back to him.

After a few moments Legolas turned back to Bilbo. "Apologies, Master Baggins," he said. "This is my second in command, Belhadron." The elf in question bowed his head to Bilbo.

"Well met, Master Baggins," he said, his voice heavily accented. "Legolas…"

Legolas nodded. "I know. If you would come with me once more, Master Baggins, Bard and our King are nearby." He turned away, the other elf- Belhadron- coming to walk at one of his shoulders. Something clicked in Bilbo's mind.

He had watched Fili and Kili, or Balin or Dwalin, walk at Thorin's shoulders for quite a while now. Bilbo could now recognise, along with the stance and movement of a warrior, someone who would be willing to jump in front of just about anything for the person they were walking besides. He doubted that this Belhadron was related to Legolas, because they looked far too different, but friendship was just as strong, if not more so, than family.

They stepped through into a clearing, and Bilbo inwardly rejoiced to see a large fire burning brightly in front of him. In the next moment, a tall figure rose from one side of the fire. The orange light glinted off the gold hair around his shoulders, and for a second Bilbo rather fancifully imagined the flames dancing around the figure himself, instead of around the charred wood.

Bilbo gulped, and then the figure stepped around the fire and the haze cleared to show the Elvenking. Bilbo bowed. "My Lord," he said, hoping that he didn't squeak as he spoke. "You may not know my face, but Bard is much more familiar with me. I was hoping to speak with both of you, so that you may hear my tale."

The Elvenking inclined his head, and Bilbo wasn't sure if he had imagined the faint smile that had flickered across his face. A second shape stepped out from the other side of the fire, and Bilbo huffed a sigh as Bard came up to stand behind the Elvenking.

"You have us both here," said Bard, with a hint of a wry smile. He gestured for Bilbo to take a seat in front of the fire, his back to a large tent. Behind him, Legolas' gaze was on his King as Thranduil murmured some soft instructions in their own tongue, but he briefly nodded reassuringly at Bilbo.

Bilbo stepped forwards and then sat down on the offered log, pulling his blanket more securely around his shoulders. It wasn't particularly fine, but it was thick and soft and warm, and it served its purpose well. Bilbo tugged slightly at it, pulling the trailing ends away from the edges of the fire.

Bard sat down opposite him, and after a few moments the Elvenking nodded to Legolas and Belhadron, and joined them. Bilbo glanced up to see Legolas and his second move back away from the fire, Belhadron leaning over to murmur something to him. They disappeared out of Bilbo's view, but he was sure that they hadn't gone very far at all.

"So, Master Baggins," said Bard, leaning forwards. "Why have you risked so much to come out here to us?"

Bilbo tugged the blanket around him once again and sat up straighter. "Let me tell you my version of all these events first," he said. "And then you can decide whether you are actually going to trust me or not. I don't have much time to do much persuading." He could see the suspicion in Bard, the wariness, though the Elvenking was far harder to read.

Thranduil smiled slightly. "Then begin, Master Baggins," he said. And so Bilbo did, sitting in front of a fire with a thick blanket around his shoulders, surrounded by elves and the cold of a winter night.

So I hope you see what I mean when I say that the actual conversation won't be written, though it obviously happens. The beginning of next chapter starts with the end of the conversation. Bilbo was great fun to write, and we are beginning to near everything kicking off for the battle. Don't worry, though- this story is 112,00 words long (exactly! I was pretty happy with myself for getting that) so there's still plenty more to come.

As always, reviews are very welcome, and I'll get back to work on that oneshot. See you all on Saturday!