18.
Skulking through the network of rooms and tunnels and halls that made up Thranduil's abode quickly became the most uncomfortable thing Bilbo had been subjected to since he had set off on the great adventure. The Hobbit wondered morosely just how many times he had said that to himself, unknowing that the next twist and turn of the affair would be even more miserable than the ones before.
He couldn't possibly liken the home of Elves to Goblin Town or even the suffocating evil of Mirkwood, but loneliness and helplessness bit Bilbo even harder in a place where there was light and music and fair people milled about. Instead of seeking them out and appealing to their kindness, Bilbo had to slink about faster and more silent than a mouse and steal a loaf of bread here and a cup of wine there from the unsuspecting Elves. The poor Hobbit had to be constantly on the look-out, always careful to make no noise and avoid the light of torches unless the shadow he cast even when being invisible should give him away. He hid himself and always scurried to the darkest corners, speaking to himself within the confines of his own mind until with great horror, Bilbo realized he'd begun to resemble that loathsome Gollum creature he'd come across in more sinister tunnels.
Whatever madness had possessed Bilbo to run away before the Mirkwood Elves bound his friends and carried them off and whatever courage had driven him to pursue them quickly faded, once the gates snapped shut behind him and Bilbo found that he could not get out again. Some form of Elvish magic commanded those gates and if he risked following the archers as they stepped out on patrol, Bilbo could only do so by walking right among them and risking capture. If he was discovered and cast in prison as well, all his efforts and his lonely haunting through Thranduil's halls would be for nothing. He could not let that happen as long as he was the only hope of escape his friends had, however poor that hope may have been.
Living on the few things that Bilbo dared to steal without rousing too much suspicions and sleeping restlessly under the constant fear of being discovered, the Hobbit spent the longest days of his life getting lost in the maze of underground passages and hidden stairs until he had some idea where he was and found his imprisoned friends one after the other. Desperate for a kind word from someone, Bilbo wanted nothing more than to reveal himself, but while the watchful guards still lingered outside the dungeons, he did not risk it. The Hobbit had to contend himself with knowing that his friends were alive and on the mend, as the Elves may have held them captive, but they did not show them cruelty. They had food and drink and cots to sleep in and apart from growing restless with worry for the others and much pent up energy, the Dwarves did not seem much worse for wear.
As the third day of captivity wore on - if Bilbo's time keeping functioned correctly in a place with no sun and none of the landmarks the Hobbit was accustomed to - he saw that the guarding of Thranduil's prisoners had lessened. Where before, armed guards had constantly patrolled the passages each cell opened into, as time passed and the interest in the Woodland King's prisoners waned, so did the severity of the watch over them. In fact, if Bilbo had understood correctly, most of the Elves were drawn into the preparations for a great feast and even their king had set his righteous anger aside, in favor of a much more welcome preoccupation.
Bilbo rejoiced and seized his chance to approach his friends. He gave Fili a tremendous scare when he tried to draw the young Dwarf's attention and came very close to being caught by the returning guard, but eventually, Bilbo managed to pass along the encouraging news of his freedom. To Bilbo's relief, Kili had woken and although he seemed a little sluggish, the weight of the world had fallen from Fili's shoulders once he could speak to his brother again. Fili saw to it that Kili took sustenance enough for all the meals he had missed and even though both Dwarves grumbled about the bland food, Bilbo left them with a big smile on his face and sped off to find Thorin.
The angriest and most despondent of them all, Thorin could not quite believe his ears when the darkness spoke to him and it sounded very much like their brave little Hobbit. He should not have been so surprised, Bilbo grumbled to himself. After all, Thorin should have known by then that Bilbo would never abandon them to any fate. But he could not stay disgruntled when Thorin's face lit up and all the weariness fell from him as he learned that not only his nephews but all the others were well enough to complain about the boredom of captivity.
Of course, Thorin wanted to discuss possibilities of escape and to make plans for it, but Bilbo had found no other way out of Thranduil's halls but the main gates and that route did not lead to freedom. He promised the greatly revived Dwarf King that he would search every passage and every crevice until an alternative route presented itself. But inwardly, the Hobbit grumbled about how easy it was for Thorin to make such demands when all he had to do was walk back and forth along twelve feet of dark cell.
In addition to that, Thorin asked for news about their Elven friends and those Bilbo could not deliver as he had not come across the dungeons where the three were held. Being such high ranked prisoners, they must have been kept under much tighter security. But, thinking quickly on his feet, Bilbo followed one of the healers into what felt like the very heart of the ancient hill.
Fewer lights lit the narrow passages there and the air grew heavier and more humid. Bilbo heard the deep throb of some underground stream flowing not far beneath the floor under his feet and he was grateful for the way it muffled his footsteps. The healer led him past two guards that chatted to one another in a corner and paid little attention to the prisoners they were supposed to guard. By the flickering light of a single torch the Hobbit saw that Amrod and Amras had been locked up together and they also spoke to each other in hushed voices, lying back in their cots.
Amras rose and held out his hand between the bars, taking a long phial from the healer. The robed Elf passed on some instructions and both prisoners thanked him in what appeared to be a very civil exchange and nothing like what Thorin had recounted. In all honesty, Bilbo was surprised that the Woodland Elves had actually taken action against the Fëanorians and, ironically, it was done at completely the wrong time, for the completely wrong reasons.
But the Elves did not treat their captives poorly and especially not their own kind. Amras seemed entirely revived and Amrod had fully woken as well, grumbling good-naturedly under his brother's constant care much like Kili had jokingly poked his overbearing older brother. At such times, Bilbo felt a pang of longing for someone to care for him and envied the many pairs or groups of siblings in his company. The poor Hobbit was just one of his kind and all alone in many respects, even in the middle of such a large and boisterous group. It was terribly lonely business sometimes and Bilbo yearned for his own home where he thought he would never again scowl at his many relatives coming to visit him unannounced.
Such thoughts, however, were poor company and brought Bilbo no closer to his more pressing goal. He had to find Celegorm and see whether the Elf's apparent friendship with Thranduil's son had been of any use to him. But no healer guided the Hobbit there and all he could do was stalk after several soldiers, almost losing his way more than once, as Bilbo dared not mark his passage through the tunnels in any way. At the end of a few desperate hours, while hunger and thirst almost got better of him, Bilbo finally crept around a corner and flattened himself against the wall just outside the circle of light two torches cast on the bars of an empty cell.
The cot inside had been used and a blanket lay crumpled on the floor. On a small, round table, Bilbo saw a pitcher and a goblet of exquisite make, such as a prisoner was unlikely to be given. But of the prisoner himself, there was no other trace and no guard kept watch in the torch-lit passage, although a wooden bench had been propped against the wall for precisely that purpose.
His stomach rumbled, pinched with hunger, and Bilbo despaired of what to do, as he had wasted so much time wandering through the maze of tunnels without sparing a thought to what he might eat. He wondered if there was some way to leave the Elf a message and muttered to himself about the foolishness of the idea. Even if he had stolen parchment and ink and some writing implements, what better way to leave the wary Elves a clue and jeopardize the whole plan?
Not that he had much of a plan, Bilbo rolled his eyes with an inward groan. Unless that plan was to try and recall which way he had come and just follow his nose toward the kitchens. He would come back to speak with Celegorm later and in all likelihood the Elf was enjoying a meal with his captors. Celegorm was not the type to sit idly and let himself be locked up for too long, not if Bilbo knew anything about the cunning Elf.
He was just about to turn on his heels and stalk away quietly, when the sound of footsteps approaching from the opposite direction had Bilbo back into hiding and holding his breath anxiously. A few moments later, three Elves stepped into the spot of light and Bilbo saw that two of them carried a third between them. Or rather, the third – who's hair hung wet and limp and obscured his face – was propped by two of the guards on either side of him and dragged his feet in a very unsteady gait. By his size alone, Bilbo could tell that it was Celegorm, even before the guards maneuvered him toward the cell and walked him inside without meeting any resistance.
A loose shirt covered the Elf's back and Bilbo squinted, leaning forward when he thought that the light-colored fabric sported several dark splotches. That can't have been blood… although the pained grunt that the prisoner issued when he was lowered onto the cot did not bode well at all. The guards laid Celegorm on his side and one of them picked up the blanket, shifting awkwardly and wondering whether to cover the ailing Elf. The other guard shrugged and they exchanged a very awkward look, retreating without a word. They slunk out of the cell and locked it quickly. Bilbo heard them whispering urgently and saw them shaking their heads, before one nudged the other to leave that place.
The back of his hand pressed over his mouth, Bilbo craned his neck as much as he could and stared at Celegorm's unmoving shape lying with his back to the Hobbit. Nothing happened for a few moments and then Bilbo heard Celegorm sucking in a ragged breath. The Elf shifted and propped himself on his elbows, grunting as he attempted to turn onto his other side. Bilbo's breath caught and he would surely have been found if any of the Wood Elves had lingered close by, when Celegorm gathered his wet hair back and the shocked Hobbit saw the bruises on the Elf's face. One side of Celegorm's mouth was swollen and the corner still bled, while on the other side, his eye had swelled shut in the middle of a very ugly-looking bruise. The cuffs of Celegorm's shirt were frayed and caked with blood and if all of that was not evidence of the terrible treatment the Elf had been put to, the sounds Celegorm issued as he tried to rearrange himself on the cot spoke for themselves.
Bilbo all but ran to the bars and called out to Celegorm, too shocked by what he saw to give his own safety much thought. Obviously, he had been wrong to believe that Thranduil's people would treat their own kind better and the Hobbit could not imagine what Celegorm had done to earn himself such a beating. He sprang from his hiding place and froze in his tracks a second later when another Elf materialized out of the shadows and gasped as his eyes fell on the prisoner.
Bilbo recognized the Mirkwood prince and scurried back against the wall, giving his own shadow a wide-eyed glare as it retreated with him and disappeared. He would surely have been caught, if Legolas had eyes for anything else but the miserable Elf on the other side of the bars. Groaning and muttering to himself, Legolas fumbled with a set of keys until he found the right one and unlocked the door. He leaped through the cell and crouched by the cot where Celegorm lay, squinting at the prince with his good eye.
Wringing his hands and covering his face in horror at what he saw, the prince spoke to Celegorm in a broken voice that sounded even more pained than the wounded Elf's replies. Bilbo could not understand a word of the exchange, but it was not difficult to tell that Legolas fretted in disbelief and Celegorm, although in obvious pain, tried to calm him. The attempt was not very successful as the prince sprang to his feet and turned to shout for someone, most likely a healer. Bilbo plastered himself against the wall at his back, but the prince did not get the chance to call out. Celegorm had risen unsteadily and caught his hand, shaking his head and pleading with him to be quiet.
With a shuddering sigh, Legolas turned to the prisoner and wrung his hands even more when the wounded Elf loomed over him and swayed unsteadily. The prince motioned Celegorm to sit down but Celegorm shook his head and more wet strands of hair fell into his face. Legolas covered his own face with both hands and issued a pained sob that Bilbo found both odd and unsettling. Stranger yet, it was his hurt prisoner that tried to comfort the prince, petting Legolas' hair and pulling him closer in a one-armed hug. Bilbo rubbed his eyes, wondering whether they were cheating him and he was not curled up in some dark corner, having strange dreams.
A moment later, Legolas drew back and shook his head, trying to calm himself, although even from where he stood, Bilbo could see his eyes were wet and wounded. A pained smile tugged the Elf's lips as Celegorm whispered something and let his hands fall at his sides. Very gently, the Mirkwood prince pealed off Celegorm's sodden shirt and collected his wet hair in a loose knot. Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath when he saw bruises and cuts all over Celegorm's upper body and the taller Elf could not hold back a deep groan when Legolas touched a dark bruise on his side. The skin of Celegorm's wrists was torn and bore the obvious marks of shackles.
Legolas gave a sudden shout of rage that startled both his seen and his unseen companions, when he picked up one of the abused hands and saw the extent of the damage. Again, Celegorm sought to calm the prince, tottering on unsteady legs and leaning against Legolas. For some reason, he refused to sit and Bilbo wondered at that, as it would have been much easier for the prince to tend to him that way. But, like a wounded horse that did not give up the fight and would only lie down when dead, Celegorm remained upright, while the smaller Woodland Elf picked up the silver pitcher and whetted a corner of the ruined shirt.
As gently as he could and whispering apologies as Celegorm flinched and grunted, Legolas cleaned the nastiest-looking cuts and applied salve to them from a small phial that he had brought with him. He would have need bandages as well, but Celegorm would not let him leave and Bilbo gathered that the wounded Elf did not wish for a healer, for some reason. Celegorm tried to smile as Legolas wiped the blood from his cheek and the result was a pitiful expression on his battered face. Again, Legolas shuddered and cursed violently, tossing the wet and bloody rag against the wall in a fit, but Celegorm caught his hands and held them together against his bruised chest.
It was the strangest thing Bilbo had ever witnessed and he wished he could understand what the Elves were saying to each other. Something had come to pass that angered the prince to no end and it was beyond absurd to see his battered prisoner being the one who gave comfort rather than sought it. Bilbo wondered what could have possibly prompted such treatment and whom it was that had put Celegorm to such torture. Judging by the prince's rage and obvious shame, Bilbo concluded that the beating must have been administered at his father's orders.
One last time, Legolas attempted to persuade Celegorm that he needed a healer, but the taller blond refused again. He wobbled back to the cot, limping heavily and lying down very gingerly. He motioned Legolas to pick up the blanket and the prince covered him with it. Bilbo could no longer see much of what was happening past the Wood Elf's frame, but Celegorm moved under the blanket and then a bundle of fabric fell to the floor. Legolas handed Celegorm the phial of healing balm and turned to face the bars.
In the flickering light, Bilbo saw the prince's features pulled into an expression of helpless rage that the Hobbit recoiled from. His jaw was clenched and his eyes blazed, before Legolas covered his face and his shoulders hunched, shaking with barely suppressed anger. Behind him, Celegorm grunted loudly and hissed in pain, drawing several shuddering breaths. His own heart beating faster in sympathy and disbelief, Bilbo honestly did not want to think about what further injuries the Elf hid under the blanket. And truly, no amount of bad blood from the past could earn anyone such rough treatment.
A few moments later, Celegorm sighed deeply and lay back on the cot, reaching out and touching the prince's hand. Legolas jumped and whirled toward him, sinking to his knees by the cot and lowering his head on the other Elf's shoulder. He seemed to be begging for forgiveness, if that was the meaning the broken words Bilbo heard. Celegorm petted him gently and whispered that he was well or other such nonsense that did not convince the prince one bit. It took Legolas a little while to regain his composure and Bilbo presumed that he had even shed some tears, which intrigued him even further.
Legolas sat up to retrieve the goblet and as he did so, Bilbo could finally make out the expression on Celegorm's face. The beaten down prisoner followed his captor with a soft smile and sympathy shone in the only eye he could keep open. As peculiar as all of it was, somehow, that expression in those exact circumstances seemed to belong right on that particular Elf's face. But what in the name of all things holy had happened to Celegorm?
Bilbo would come no closer to finding out more as long as Legolas lingered by his prisoner's side, helping Celegorm take a few sips from the goblet and then hovering nearby, likely asking whether there was anything else he could do. Celegorm shook his head and shifted on the cot, making a little bit of room for Legolas to sit on the edge of it. The prince did so immediately and allowed Celegorm to collect one of his hands between his abused ones. He murmured something to the prince that had Legolas nodding eagerly and brushing strands of hair out of Celegorm's face. The wounded Elf sighed deeply and closed his eyes, holding onto his captor's had and letting Legolas soothe him.
The mother of all strange things happened then, as Legolas began to sing softly, his hesitant voice barely rising above a whisper. The tips of his fingers never ceased to brush the other Elf's features, very gently and mindful of the ugly bruises, as the prince murmured a soothing chant. Celegorm was probably trying to sleep, his body taxed by whatever had happened to him and the strain of healing all the wounds Bilbo had seen. But why he kept one of the Elves who put him in such a dire situation by his side was a mystery that Bilbo could not unravel. And, as he watched the rather intimate scene before him, he thought that perhaps he was better off not understanding some things.
Still, he felt that it was important to know what had come to pass and what consequences it might have for the rest of the company. He needed to speak to the Elf, but with Legolas showing no signs of leaving, Bilbo thought he might have to wait a while longer. His stomach protested quite loudly, settling the matter in his place and making Bilbo retreat through the dark passages in search of a bite to eat. His head spun and he found it very hard to focus on keeping himself hidden as he wandered about, assaulted by questions he could not answer. He did not know what to do and how to help his friends and shuddered at the thought that Thranduil would have them all put to torture before long. It made the Hobbit that much more desperate to figure something out and help them escape before worse things befell them.
A/N: All I can say in my defense is that: A) Celegorm has absolutely no sense of self-preservation when it comes to achieving his goals (much like his father). You need not victimize him too much as chances are, that is exactly what he is playing at. And B) I am very sorry for making Thranduil into such a bad guy, but the story needs one and unfortunately, his Royal Highness fits the bill for it.