It doesn't take long for Billana to realise that the horns belong to elves, something which is confirmed moments later when a dozen on horse back charge past them and clash with the pursuing orcs and wargs. The Company can only watch, their ponies nearly spent and, in truth, so are its members.

A dozen elves make short work of half their number of remaining orcs and wargs and it would be a good thing, if the immediate reaction of every dwarf hadn't been to close ranks around her. It makes her feel caged and Billana has reason enough to fear those. Then one of the elves rides forward and removes his helmet. His hair is dark, and his face is vaguely familiar though Billana knows that when her mother had returned to the Shire she had been an infant. His eyes run over the Company, lingering on her for a moment as an odd expression crosses his face. Dori, who is closest to her, shifts as near to her as the pony will allow and the elf's eyes move on until they find Gandalf.

"Mithrandir," he says, "I might have known that this had something to do with you."

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf inclines his head, though he does not try to defend against the accusation, and he inclines his head respectfully.

Billana startles, she knows of Elrond, of course. Her mother spoke of the Lord of Imladris fondly, she had spent six years living under his roof after all, and he had been the one to bring Billana into the world. Her mother had gone so far as to teach her daughter to speak Sindarin, the language of the elves, although she is rusty now that she has no one to use it with regularly. It is Elrond's sons that she is most familiar with. Elladan and Elrohir had escorted her mother back to the Shire and they check in with her periodically. They had given her the bow she carries and taught her how to use it. They have also told her many stories of their father and she wonders if they are among the elves who have come to their rescue.

She doesn't have to wonder for long.

The dwarves are offered refuge in Rivendell, as Gandalf must have known that they would be, and the offer is grudgingly accepted by Thorin after a brief glance around shows him that everyone is too exhausted to go much further. If the greyness of his skin is anything to go by Thorin is on his last reserves as well. Billana has heard much of Rivendell and has longed to see it for some time. Knowing that Thorin had wished to pass it by she had secretly promised herself that she would ask Gandalf to bring her here should she survive the quest. Kili's offer of a home in Erebor had been kind, and Billana longs to believe it will become a reality, but she fears the dwarves will turn on her in the end, just as Camellia had predicted.

"What are you doing here, Dilthen Rís?" The elf who rides beside her as they make their way into the valley asks. She cannot see his face, but she doesn't need to. It can only be one of the twins. "It is not safe for you."

"Very few places are," she replies, "and it was Gandalf's idea." She adds. "So don't get snippy with me. He asked and I didn't see any reason to turn him down." The elf in question gives her a long look.

"I can think of one with no effort at all," he says. "Ivanneth is still some months away."

"And yet Gandalf suggested it," she shrugs.

"Do they know?" Comes the concerned reply.

"They must do," she mutters, "at least, Gandalf implied that he told them." He breathes her name in exasperation and the tone tells her which of the twins it is. They both know that the wizard has a habit of not always sharing pertinent information. "I'd have to leave eventually; you know that the smial was already starting to fall down and when it finally did, I'd have nothing left and no one truly willing to help me. I used up the last of my grandfather's good will getting a roof over my head in the first place. At least this way I have left on my own terms."

"Is this elf bothering you, Billana?" She hears Gloin demand.

"Not at all," she forces herself to smile, realising that they have arrived in a courtyard. "Elladan is an old friend." She glares pointedly at the elf who bows his head.

"Rooms have been prepared for you so that you might bathe and take your ease," Elrond announces. "A meal will be ready shortly that you would be most welcome to join us for, or should you prefer to dine alone I will have trays sent to your rooms."

"We shall join you," she hears Thorin reply, but it is as much an order to the company as it is an acceptance of Elrond's offer.

The elf nods and they are quickly escorted inside. That is when the problems seem to start. The elves immediately move to separate Billana from the rest of them so that she might wash and change in private. While she has become accustomed to the dwarf idea of communal bathing, she has always bathed out of sight of them on the road. There is immediate uproar when a she-elf approaches to lead her away and more that one of the dwarves step forward to block her path. She turns pleading eyes on Fili and Kili.

"Please don't cause trouble," she whispers. "What are they going to do to me?" Fili looks at the elf maid dubiously. "Fili, please," she breathes, "please, we all three of us know that I can escape if I have to." She doesn't tell them that Elladan and Elrohir know it too, they don't need to know that now. The princes exchange a look.

"Very well," Fili mutters with a grimace, "but promise you will come straight to us should you become uncomfortable for any reason."

"I promise," she squeezes his hand.

"Billana's willing to go with them, Thorin," Kili says loudly, "I think we've all learnt by now that it doesn't end well to stand between our hobbit and the promise of a bath and food."

She stamps on his toe, though it hurts her foot more than it does him, and he gives her a brilliant smile. The other dwarves part, however, and she follows the elleth with a mutter of apology. The elf waves it off as nothing less than she had expected of dwarves and that makes something in Billana clench angrily. The dwarves have been nothing but good to her, for purpose of this quest she is one of them, why should they not protect her from a potential threat?

The room she is shown to, while large, is equipped with furniture and facilities scaled for a hobbit. The bed, while still over large, is low to the floor, the chairs are of hobbit build rather than the flowing elvish lines that she had seen on her way to the room. To her immense pleasure there is also a copper bath filled with steaming water. A soft summer breeze fills the room through open doors to the balcony, carrying the scent of flowers from the garden below.

"As I understand it, these rooms belonged to your mother," the elf says before she can ask. "I will leave you to bathe," she continues, as though oblivious to the pain her words have caused, "and return to help you dress. We have a few things which were made for her that Belladona was never able to take back to the Shire. One of her dress should fit you well enough."

She breezes out silently and Billana takes a moment to look around the room. Elrond must have been fond of her mother, she thinks, to have kept her room this way. Belladonna had trained the last gifted healer herself, so there was no reason for the elf lord to keep the room like this. After what happened to her mother, after all, there was no reason for him to believe that he would be trusted with the training of another hobbit lad or lass.

The scent of jasmine reaches her and reminds her that her bath is waiting for her. Not wishing the water to cool, although she suspects that it has been charmed to remain warm for as long as she needs it, Billana strips and immerses herself. She will have time to explore the room later, she knows, and the hot water is marvellous on her aching body even if it has been scented. Ordinarily she wouldn't bother with a scent of any kind, her animals dislike the way that it masks her natural odour, but she is so happy to have the chance to be truly clean that she cannot bring herself to care. She simply lathers and soaks and rinses until what feels like years of dirt has been removed. The bath water is still warm and she lingers, enjoying the way it eases muscles abused by the last few days.

"It's a nice room, this," she hears Kili say and she yelps, "its even got sensible furniture."

"What are you doing here?" She demands, peering over the edge of the bath to see her friend wandering about the room without a stitch of clothing on. "I'm naked!"

He grins at her over his shoulder.

"So am I," he shrugs.

She forces herself to look away, though she suspects that when she closes her eyes the image of him will replay through her mind for weeks. Every inch of him is toned, his muscles seeming to play under his skin as he bends or twists to examine something new.

"Kili!" She snaps in exasperation, careful to stay as low behind the copper side of her tub as she can.

"Thorin was worried so he sent me to check up on you," Kili tells her.

"Thorin?" She raises her eyebrow.

He pulls a face and a blush dusts his cheeks as he glances over his shoulder at her. He has been careful not to turn in her direction, she's noticed, and this is only the second time he has looked at her. Both of those times have been little more than a glance.

"Fili and I were worried," he admits. "Thorin decided it wasn't the worst idea we'd had when I offered to check on you."

"Well, I'm fine," she assures him a little tartly, "but you won't be if that elf comes back and finds you're still here."

"I see your point," he says. "See you at dinner." He leaves, still careful not to look at her, and a moment later she hears wings.

Billana clambers out of the bath and reaches for a towel, grumbling to herself about ridiculous and over-protective dwarves. She'll need to get them back somehow and when the elleth walks back in only minutes later Billana knows exactly how she's going to do it. It will take time, but she hopes it will be worth it. When she explains her plan to the elleth the elf maid grins and tells her that she knows just the thing to add. It takes time, but soon enough she is ready.

She takes a deep breath as she stands outside the hall where everyone has gathered, she is later than the rest of them and she can already hear the voices of her dwarf companions. Perhaps, she thinks, this was a bad idea. The quest is a serious undertaking and being dressed up like some sort of doll isn't going to make them take her seriously. It's too late now, however, so she smooths the skirt of her dress down and steps through the door.

At first no one seems to notice and given her nerves she can't help but think that is a good thing as she starts towards the table. Then she spots Kili talking to Dwalin, sees him look her way and pause mid-sentence. Fili turns a moment later, his attention obviously caught by his brother's sudden silence. His gaze makes something in her shiver, though he seems no less stunned. The dress, she will admit, is stunning and she can hardly believe her mother only wore it once, or that she is now wearing something so fine. The fabric is made in such a way that it almost shimmers, likely some elvish application of the gift, which is only aided by the golden colour of it. The embroidery is of healer's herbs and done entirely in black thread. The fashion for hobbit party wear has hardly changed and though she is smaller than her mother it is nothing that a little creative lacing hasn't fixed. She doesn't recall ever having felt this feminine.

Dwalin glances over to see what has gained Fili and Kili's attention and she sees him smirk and shake his head. He nods in her direction and Balin, who is beside Fili, turns even as Dwalin smacks Kili on the back of the head. The younger yelps, which seems to draw the others attention too, then both scramble from their seats. The stunned silence is about what she had hoped for, a simple reminder that she is female and would appreciate occasionally being treated as such, it comes as a surprise, therefore, when Fili reaches her first and bows, offering his arm to her.

"Allow me to escort you to dinner," he almost purrs and she wills herself not to blush as she accepts the offer with a smile. Kili raises his hands in good natured defeat and winks at her before returning to his own seat as Fili shoots him a smug smile.

She has arrived late enough that the only seat left is the other side of Balin, though the old dwarf moves up so that she can sit beside Fili. She slides into the seat he has vacated happily, placing her opposite Dwalin instead of Kili as had obviously been planned. One thing she has learnt already, however, is that it is not always wise to allow the princes to get their own way.

"You look lovely," Balin tells her.

"Thank you," she beams at him. "It feels like too much, honestly," she adds. "The gown was my mother's, none of the others that she had left here were in a fit state to wear. I wouldn't have taken so long but they found these exquisite hair clips to go with it and that meant having to style my hair, which is a beast at the best of times."

Even seated as they are Billana is shorter than every dwarf she is with and she sees Balin take a glance at the clips of gold and some black stone that the elves had procured for her. Knowing the dwarves as she is coming to, she expects him to shrug the work off as the inferior efforts of their hosts. She is surprised, then, to find that Balin's eyes go wide and he leans closer to her, only to jolt away when Dwalin kicks him.

"No elf made those, lass," Balin says when she asks if there is a problem. "I would need to see the maker's mark to be sure, of course, but I remember a broach belonging to Thorin's mother that had a similar stone make by Durin V. It is not outside the realms of possibility he made those for one reason or another."

"I can give them to you after dinner if you like," she offers. "I'd do it now, but they're the only thing holding this mess out of the way." She notes with some concern that her four companions have all gone red in the face and she stares at them in confusion.

"Offering to unbind your hair," Fili finally chokes out, "is a way asking your companion to come to your bed."

He keeps his voice quiet enough that only she can hear him. The elves are setting food onto the table in front of them, plates piled high with bread and summer salads, mushrooms and savoury tarts. She hardly sees them, her face flaring scarlet and mortification filling her. Only the elves around them and the dismay on her companions faces stops her from running. She can hardly believe that an offer made with such innocent intentions that would mean nothing in the Shire could be taken in such a way among dwarves.

"It's alright, lass," Balin says with a kind smile as he pats her hand. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. I think, perhaps, Fili and Kili are right," she stares at him. "We have ways of talking without words or gift," he clarifies, "and they have been insisting that we should tell you more about our customs."

"Balin," his brother growls.

"No, Dwalin," Balin shakes his head. "In this I will go against Thorin and you and anyone else who might object. For the duration of this journey Billana is one of us. She should have some understanding of what that means. Imagine if she had spoken so to Bofur or Nori? Or worse, Gloin?"

Dwalin pauses in his grumbling and looks down the table at the red head. Then he shudders. Even Billana has come to try and avoid the subject of Miris and Gimli. If she wanted to hear others extolling the virtues of their spouse and children, she would visit the Great Smial in Tuckborough more often, even if she is only welcome there for short periods. Balin nods and Dwalin flicks a quick gesture at him, something she has seen all of the dwarves do on occasion but had not realised that it might be a method of communication before now.

"You see my point," Balin agrees, "and Gloin is rarely quick enough of thought to think it a misunderstanding before overreacting. It had not occurred to me to see the point of it until now." Balin confesses. "Our secrets are ours and not for outsiders. It serves us well, usually, because we so rarely need to work with others." He falls silent momentarily as the elves set piles of steaming meat in front of them.

"Billana is going to stay with us," Kili interrupts, "when this is over, I mean, I've already told her that she can." Balin gives him a shrewd look.

"Have you, indeed?" He asks. "That's quite an impression you must have made, lass, not that I can find a reason to object and I doubt Thorin will have reason either by the time we're done." He glances around, obviously mindful of their elven hosts. "For now, I see no harm in telling you that hair is of great importance to dwarves in many ways. We use it to judge ages, craft, status, even whether another is married or in mourning." She gapes at him.

"Uncle keeps his beard short in memory of those who fell when Smaug came to Erebor," Kili enlightens her. "Mine was shaved when I came of age to make way for adult growth," he shrugs, "though most archers keep theirs short. It's probably one of the reasons so few dwarves use the bow." Dwalin shoves him good naturedly.

"The care of one's hair and beard is personal, Billana," Balin continues. "It's a sign of trust or intent to let another care for it, braid it or declare you will unbind it for them. The only time it is acceptable to take it out publicly is while bathing, as you're aware we often prefer communal baths rather than private ones."

They have been eating as they have talked, Billana recovered enough from her embarrassment to think of a dozen questions she would like to ask. The way her dinner companions keep looking around them, however, is enough to tell her that even this much is more than they would usually say in front of elves. It makes sense, then, that they have missed the increasingly tense atmosphere at Lord Elrond's table until they hear raised voices and Thorin's outraged exclamation.

"You would have us take a child into a dragon's den?"

A.N: The Sindarin was translated using an online translator so has been appropriately butchered:

Dilthen Rís: Little Queen
Ivanneth: September.

I thought I'd put this up last night, obviously I was wrong. Oops. This was the chapter that wouldn't stop, until it did. To my lovely guest reviewers: thank you for your kind words! There's plenty more where this came from