After the incident, everyone seemed far more wary of Bilbo Baggins. Even Thorin, who before was prone to ridiculing Bilbo for his inability to travel well over land, was much nicer. He even went so far as to begrudgingly offer him a spare cloak when the wind really started to pick up.
The company had been following a subtle trail or white stones for the past day, Balin apparently having been told that they would lead the way. Looking for these rocks was turning into a type of treasure hunt, with all eyes open for the next one on the path. Once, Ori found one of the trail markers underneath a patch of moss, while Fili found the next one inside of a log!
Even though the searching was difficult, Bilbo was quite pleased with the goings on of the day. The company was being much nicer to him, like when Bofur took one look at Bilbo shivering, even with the extra cloak from Thorin, and handed him his hat.
Bilbo took the hat in numb silence, amazed at the offering. After he shook off the original surprise, he started to attempt to refuse.
"I can't take this!" he protested. "It- its your hat!"
"Aw, I don't need it," Bofur said bashfully. "You can use it for as long as you need. Everyone knows younglings are more susceptible to the cold anyway." He wandered off again, looking quite proud of himself and leaving Bilbo with a distinct sense of being loved for the first time in a while.
As previously mentioned, Bilbo was only used to traveling as Smaug and he was regretting agreeing to traveling as anyone but. As a dragon, Smaug's body temperature was much higher and he was therefore wishing that he could have that type of heat while he was living as Bilbo Baggins. The cloak from Thorin and Bofur's special hat combined to create a delicious warmth that comforted him from his head to his toes, and he felt almost normal again.
He was walking along, relishing in his newfound heat, when someone ahead, he thinks it was Gloin, called out in surprise. "What is that?" he cried, pointing an accusing finger toward the valley before them. "Balin, where 'ave you been takin' us?"
Balin looked just as shocked. "Well how was I supposed to know that Gandalf wanted us to visit the elves?" I was just following his instructions!"
Thorin rode forward to get a better view of the valley, underestimating the steepness of the walls of the valley and may have had a slight problem when he got close. His pony started to slip, throwing the dwarven king over its neck and down into the valley. The pony righted itself fairly easily, holding its head high as though it could ignore the fact that it had just thrown its rider into enemy territory.
"Thorin!" Bilbo, Ori, Kili, and Fili all ran forward to look over the edge. Or, at least they tried to. Dori wrapped his arms around Ori before he could get very far and Dwalin grabbed Fili and Kili by the backs of their cloaks, holding them in place. Bilbo however, was apparently far nimbler than those three, dodging the grasping hands of Bofur who is desperately trying to keep the young dragon away from the edge of the cliff. He was unsuccessful and Bilbo peered over the edge, eyes searching desperately in the dim light of dusk for the nice dwarf who had so kindly provided his cloak to him.
He caught sight of Thorin trapped in a bush at the bottom, looking relatively unharmed. "Are you okay?" he called out, just to check.
"I'm fine!" Thorin's gruff voice echoed up the valley wall. "May have sprained my ankle, but fine. Get away from the edge! Mahal knows, we don't need you to fall and break your bones."
Bilbo reluctantly stepped away from the edge. Spinning around the face the rest of the company, he got an incredibly stubborn look on his face. "I don't care if none of you like the elves, we have to go down there to get Thorin!"
"Yeah!" Fili and Kili echoed.
The older dwarves shared a look, each one of them at least slightly uncomfortable with the idea of gain into elven territory, but also knowing that it would be impossible to avoid. If Thorin really was injured, they would have no choice but to ask those tree huggers for help, something none of them were looking forward to.
They begrudgingly hiked down the zig zagging path into the valley of Rivendell, accompanied by the light of a slowly rising moon, to Thorin, who was waiting at the bottom for them.
"Help me out of this bush," he grumbled. Dwalin rolled his eyes, but reached forward to pluck the disheveled king out of the shrubbery and placed him on his pony. Thorin looked rather apprehensive at the sight and feel of his pony, whom Bilbo had just named Lucifer. Lucifer did not look the slightest bit remorseful about the fact that he had thrown his rider down the cliff, and a malicious gleam in his eyes told Bilbo that, given the chance, he would do it again in a heartbeat.
After Oin quickly confirmed that, yes, Thorin's self-diagnosis was accurate and he did indeed have a sprained ankle, the group hurried on toward the last homely house east of the sea, Rivendell.
On their way, they could always hear the faint sounds of elves singing, though they were unable to make out the words. What they could tell however, was that it sounded joyful and perhaps a little mischievous, leading Thorin to draw his nephews, Ori, and Bilbo into the center of their pack along with him.
"Just for precautionary purposes," he muttered when questioned.
Upon their arrival at Rivendell, Bilbo was utterly infatuated by the lovely sights and gentle sounds of the eleven home. When he looked ahead and saw Gandalf standing among a group of elves, he grew even more excited, going as far as to raise his hand and wave wildly, shouting in greeting to the wizard and elves before him.