The only reason I'm updating so quickly is because I'm putting off studying for my finals.
Arasion and Hedwig spend a full week at Tom Bombadil's house, and the elfling actually grows quite fond of the eccentric couple, even if they do sing constantly. An important factor in this fondness is that they sense his aversion to being carried or overly coddled and refrain from doing so. Of course, they still treat him like a child and call him "little one," but at least they aren't constantly manhandling him. They also treat Hedwig with immense respect and dignity; she accepts their royal treatment like it's her due, and sometimes he can't help but laugh at her for it.
But all good things must eventually come to an end, and by the close of the sixth day, Arasion feels it's time to go.
"Well!" says Tom Bombadil when the elfling makes his intention clear. "Well! Certainly, if you feel you must. But you and your winged lady are always welcome in my home!" Then he breaks into song.
Goldberry comes over and sweeps him up, which he allows her to do since he's about to leave. She holds him close to her chest and presses a kiss to the top of his head. "Safe travels, little one. I hope you find your home soon."
This time, Arasion decides he wants to see a Dwarven kingdom. He's pretty sure Moria has already fallen at this point—though he could be wrong—but the fact that the Shire isn't established should mean that Erebor hasn't been taken by Smaug. The easiest way to get there is to follow the same road the Company will one day take (the East Road), but that means they'll be flying almost directly over Rivendell.
After an afternoon spent on the edge of the Old Forest, consulting his map and Hedwig, he decides to risk it.
After all, what could the elves do even if they saw him? Shoot him off his broom?
They shot him off his broom!
It was an accident, granted, because he's pretty sure the archer was aiming for something else entirely (considering he was invisible), but what the hell! Had he been a more cynical man, he would have suspected Irmo or one of the other Valar, but he doesn't think they'd go as far as having him shot at. Luckily he isn't flying very high. Double luckily, Yavanna apparently blessed Hedwig with a truly freakish amount of wing strength, which he only learns when she latches onto his cloak and saves him from breaking several limbs by crashing through the forest canopy.
With an irritated grunt, he latches onto a suitably sturdy branch, allowing Hedwig to release him. His arm stings fiercely where the arrow grazed him as he pulls himself up to sit against the trunk of the tree. He has no idea where his broom landed, but he really hopes it's unharmed. He has little to no chance of sneaking past the elves on foot.
"Dammit," he mutters, pulling his cloak aside to examine the bloody furrow near his elbow. He glances up at Hedwig, who's watching him in concern. "Hedwig, can you go find my broom?" She bobs her head once and flies off.
Arasion doesn't think the elves saw him go down, so he takes the time to pull some bandages and a healing paste from his bag, carefully covering the wound and wrapping it. Normally he could just use Episkey, but with the Exploding Twig Incident still fresh in his memory he has no desire to test his unstable magic on his own flesh. The stinging fades into a dull throb as the paste begins to work. He flexes his arm and the bandage stays in place, so he packs his stuff up again and pulls out his wand. Might as well be prepared, he reasons as he settles back to wait for Hedwig.
Not five minutes later, Arasion hears rustling on the ground below. Alarmed, he yanks his hood back up, returning to the safety of invisibility, and holds his breath. No one should be able to smell or otherwise sense him up here, not if he stays still. To his horror, two hooded elves walk into view, both armed with swords and drawn bows. They're searching for something, heads turning this way and that, and he has the sinking feeling that they're searching for him.
Eru FUCKING dammit! he thinks, resisting the urge to bang his head into the bark. Now this has Irmo written all over it.
"Ach!" one of the elves says, his voice barely audible to Arasion. "I swore it fell over in this direction, but I see no break in the canopy."
The other elf rolls his eyes, the hidden action evident in his tone. "We have hardly been searching long enough to dismiss the possibility, Elladan. Besides, can you not hear the trees singing? Something altogether queer has happened in this area."
Arasion focuses on the tree-song and is both alarmed and indignant to find that the forest is indeed singing about him. Stop that, he tries to sing back, poking the tree he's sitting on with an irritated finger. That was a mistake. The elves both stiffen, jerking in his direction, and he shrinks back against the wood. Whoops, he thinks, chagrined.
"Elrohir, did you...?" the first elf, Elladan, asks.
"I did," Elrohir breathes in response. "But where?"
At that moment Hedwig reappears, and Arasion feels a strange mixture of disappointment and relief when he sees no broom in her talons (because that would be unbelievably suspicious). She settles near her boy, but not in the same tree, and he thanks the Valar that she's wise enough not to give away his position.
But she does give away something.
"A white owl," Elladan chokes out. His head is tilted up, and Arasion can see his saucer-wide eyes. "You do not think…?"
Elrohir is similarly stunned as he looks up. "But then, where is the child? How did he get so far so quickly?"
To Arasion's infinite alarm, Elladan slings his bow onto his back and leaps gracefully into Hedwig's tree, scaling it with inhuman fluidity. The invisible elfling shrinks back further, pressing a hand over his mouth, and tries to breathe inaudibly. Elladan perches on the balls of his feet, looking much like a bird, and pulls his hood down to reveal long brown hair braided away from his face. He cocks his head curiously.
"Hail, White Lady," he says softly to Hedwig, who eyes him imperiously. He raises one elbow, clearly offering his vambrace as a perch.
Don't you dare! Arasion thinks at her, scowling into his palm. He's pretty sure that they share a proper familiar bond here in Middle Earth, so she should be able to hear him. He's either wrong or she chooses to ignore it, because she flutters over to rest on the grown elf's forearm.
Elladan smiles and strokes a finger along her snowy white breast feathers. "You are no common owl, are you?" he asks. She croons, lifting her head so he can stroke her chin.
Arasion fumes silently less than ten feet away, mentally shoving his feeling of betrayal at her. She continues to ignore him, and he's hard-pressed to keep an irritated scoff from escaping his throat and giving away his position.
"Tell me, White Lady, where is your boy?" Elladan asks. "Will you take us to him? We only wish to see him safe."
Arasion stiffens in alarm and stops breathing entirely. You wouldn't he thinks with a bit of uncertainty as Hedwig eyes the grownup thoughtfully. She glances toward her boy once, but no more, then suddenly takes off—in the opposite direction. Arasion slumps in relief.
"Elrohir, go!" Elladan cries, descending quickly even as the other takes off in a dead sprint after the owl. The elfling they inadvertently left behind waits until he is certain they are far out of earshot before exhaling shakily.
"That was too close," he mutters. He puts his wand between this teeth and descends to the forest floor in six quick, controlled drops. After only a brief hesitation, he lays the wand in his palm and whispers "point me," controlling his magic as tightly as he can and allowing only the tiniest drop of power into the spell. The wand spins sluggishly (nothing explodes, much to his relief) and finally stops, pointing at his chest. He whirls around and take off in a sprint, trading silence for speed. His hood falls, but he doesn't much care; if the elves are close enough to see him, they're close enough to hear him.
Luckily, Arasion doesn't have to run long, for there, up ahead, he catches a flash of red and silver. Relieved, he speeds up and then skids to a stop on his knees next to the broom, reaching for it with eager hands.
At the same instant, another, much larger hand enters his line of sight.
The elfling's head snaps up to find a startled male elf with long, sun-gold hair kneeling and reaching for his broom as well. They both freeze, leaf-green eyes locked on ocean-blue. The adult opens his mouth slightly, drawing in breath to speak, and Arasion does the only thing he can think of: he yanks the broom to himself, smacks the other elf between the eyes with it, and scrambles for freedom.
That, paradoxically, seems to snap the golden-haired elf from his daze. "Child, stop!" he cries with mingled desperation and wonder, and Arasion can feel heavy feet pounding after him.
"No!" he answers with both force and petulance., He ducks behind a tree, pulls his hood up, and mounts his broom in one smooth motion. The elf, oblivious, sprints right past him, and Arasion wastes no time in rising high above the trees. He goes far beyond the reach of arrows, sight-seeing be damned, and takes off toward the Misty Mounts at full speed.
Hedwig, magnificent owl that she is, apparently sensed his actions and so catches up within a few minutes of his harried flight. He slows so that she can keep pace, and yells over the winds. "We're getting to the mountains tonight girl! I'm not staying near Rivendell a moment longer!" If she disapproves, she keeps it to herself.
Arasion's mouth tightens into a grim line (and absolutely not a pout); he and Irmo are going to be having a long conversation tonight.