A/N: AAAAND I'M BACK! Thank you for all your support and encouragement! :D 'A'-Levels are finally over yayyy so hopefully I'll have more time to write now. Sorry for the wait; I had to take some time to rethink the direction of the story.

Thank you Squishy91 for beta-ing this chapter! Massive help in both the plot and the writing, and made it 1732842 times better :D

Reminder - Vilyahína: sky-children (referring to the dragon).

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Comments will be greatly appreciated!

DISCLAIMER: not mine

Part 20(2)

Bilbo pushed his sweat matted hair out of his face. Shakily, he hauled himself to his feet and tried to centre on himself. He didn't know how long he had spent sitting at the corridor, but he needed to get moving.

He needed to come up with an explanation, needed to find Thorin and - and Balin.

Thank Yavanna that Balin and Thorin were held in different cells. He needed to convince Balin before Thorin had a chance to speak to him. A shiver ran up his spine. He clutched his ring and steeled his nerves.

He is fire. He could do this.

He snuck past the guards until he was standing in front of the dungeon cell that held Balin, Bofur, Gloin and Bombur. Kili, Fili, Bifur and Nori were in the cell next to them. The last cell opposite the others consisted of Dori, Dwalin, Ori, and Oin.

The dwarves shouted in joy when he appeared. They crowded at the bars; as close to Bilbo as they could get, pleas of "find a way out, hobbit" falling from their lips. It was a surprise the guards did not come running.

"Shush!" He hissed, looking over his shoulder. He hunched into himself and whispered, "they don't know I'm here. I need to speak with Balin."

Balin stared at him expectantly. "Well? I'm waiting," he said. The rest of the dwarves nodded eagerly, none budging from their positions.

"In private," he added.

The dwarves exchanged glances. "Very well," Balin finally replied. He gently pushed Bofur, Gloin and Bombur away from the metal bars. "You heard him. Move it."

Grumbling, the other three retreated to the other end of the dungeon, as far as they possibly could. The dwarves in the other cells also gave up trying to eavesdrop. They could barely hear anything due to the walls of the dungeons separating them. Ballin would share the details with them later if it was necessary. It was only Bombur and Gloin that edged closer every second, stopping and whistling innocently whenever Balin glared at them.

"Yes, Mister Baggins? Have you found a way out of our predicament?"

He hesitated for a second, before ploughing on. "Yes," he confided.

Gloin gave a shout, startling all of them. He thumped the floor gleefully. "That's our burglar!"

The dwarves shushed him noisily; Bilbo and Balin gave him the stink-eye.

"Sorry," he muttered, shuffling away slightly. "I wasn't listening at all. Carry on."

The hobbit gave him a suspicious glance before lowering his volume until it was barely audible. "But I need your help, Balin. Thorin's stubborn and I just know he won't listen to me."

The white-haired hobbit raised an eyebrow. "I think you should start from the beginning."

At the end of his narration, Balin was looking deeply conflicted. "I don't know if I can do anything, but for the sake of this mission, I'll try," he said.

Bilbo smiled nervously. "Also," he added, "don't trust what King Thranduil says. He often twist truths. I get the feeling that he'll lie to cause more problems."

Balin's eyes sharpened onto him uncomfortably. "There's something you're not saying."

The hobbit glanced away. "No, no, there's nothing," he laughed sheepishly. His eyes darted away. "Just a bad premonition. Another one of my gut feelings, you know."

Balin said nothing for a few seconds. "Very well. Do you have a back up plan in the event a second negotiation does not go well?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Steal the keys? I'll find another way for us to escape."

At the word "escape", the rest of the dwarves scuttled forward. "Do you," Gloin said in a very bad stage whisper, "need our help?"

"We can't be of any help now," Bofur pointed out. "Hey, Bilbo, why can't you get us out with your Hobbit Magic?"

"It doesn't work like that," the hobbit protested. "I only know fire, uh, spells."

"Oh." Their downcast expressions were both amusing and heart-tugging. "Any way we can help?" Bofur asked hopefully. Gloin punched his shoulder as he shouted a gruff "Hey! I asked that first!".

A small burst of laughter fell from his lips unexpectedly. His eyes went wide in surprise, mouth uncontrollably tugging upwards as he watched the banter between Gloin and Bofur. A bubble of happiness made itself known in his chest, relaxing some of the tension knotted inside. "I'll try my best," he said.

"We're not worried," Bofur said, winking. "We know you won't let us down."

His smile faltered. The pressure was back. He took a step back and looked at his feet. "Yeah," he said, tone odd and falsely upbeat. "Yeah."

Tauriel and her team rode through the gates of Mirkwood, nodding to the guards as the great gates clanged shut behind them. Legolas was leaning against the pillar, watching them.

"Captain Tauriel."

"Prince Legolas," she nodded as she dismissed her team. "We have verified the findings of our scouts to be true."

"Thank you," he said softly. She shrugged; it was her job, there was no need to thank her with such gratitude shining in his eyes. They made their way down the winding hallways, steps light and relaxed. "Have you met Cyadhon?"

"The Vilyahina? Can't say I have. How's the situation with the dwarves?"

He shrugged. "Uncooperative, as usual. I 'm on my way to report to Ada. Would you like to come along?"

She deliberated her choices: a visit to the dwarves, or standing stiff and attention for another meeting with the king? The previous meeting with the taller archer dwarf had only served to spark her curiosity.

"If there's no need for me to be there, I'll rather check on the dwarves instead," she finally said.

Legolas wrinkled his nose. She laughed heartily and nudged him with a shoulder. "Are you scared of King Thranduil now?" she teased.

"Of course not, he is my ada," legolas demurred. "It's just a bit boring."

Her grin was cheeky. "I know."

He shot her a dirty look at her obvious amusement. "I can use my authority to make this part of your duty."

"You won't; you love me too much."

He punched her in the arm. She dodged it, cackling.

After bidding goodbye to her childhood friend, Tauriel made her way to the dungeons where the dwarves were held. Her mind was preoccupied with musings about the taller-than-expected dwarf, the handsome archer with dark brown hair and a dazzling smile. From what she had read, archers were a rarity in dwarven culture. He was interesting. That was all, she told herself, even though her cheeks had a light dusting of red.

Down the steps, she saw their hobbit — the Vilyahina, but it's a secret, Legolas had whispered — heading towards her. He was alone, footsteps silent and head down, seemingly deep in thought. What was his name again?

She slowed down and waited for him approach. There was something fluid and twisting in the way he moved, like a coiled serpent in water. When he was on the steps in front of her, she spoke out. "Cyadhon?" she guessed.

He froze mid-step. An expression of guilt and panic crossed his face, like Legolas' the one time Tauriel caught him with his hand in her hidden cookie stash. His abrupt standstill set him off-balance and he pitched backwards dangerously. Tauriel grabbed his forearm before he could fall. his eyes, blown wide, made contact with hers. His irises were slitted, pupils vividly coloured. Those were definitely un-hobbit-like, and that was coming from someone who had only seen hobbits in drawings. there were dark eye-bags like bruises under his eyes, and he looked drawn-out and harried.

Regaining his balance, he gave a huff of relief tinged with embarrassment. "Thanks," he said as he gave a shaky bow. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service. you are…?"

"Captain Tauriel, friend of Legolas'." she inclined her head. "Pardon me; I was very sure Legolas said your name was Cyadhon."

"No, no, it's fine," he said immediately. "He's not wrong. I, er, my name, that's also my name. It's just that I'm currently Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit."

While he was talking, she took note of his other draconic traits: unnaturally sharp fangs, a forked tongue, clawed and blackened fingernails, a palm that seemed to be hardened by something more than just calluses, and scales on the underside of his wrists. He was emitting an inordinate amount of heat. She recalled lessons of pudgy, weak hobbits with a soft and gentle disposition and a penchant to avoid violence and danger. In comparison, he was rather un-hobbit.

Tauriel could see why Thranduil would detest him. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, a skin-stealer, hiding his true nature behind a placid facade. The dark, swirling colours of his slitted eyes were knowing and ancient, and the way that forked tongue flicked out to lick his lips brought forth bad memories.

A cold shiver went up her spine.

She repressed it and gave him a bright smile. It wasn't right to judge him by his nature. "I'm sorry for the earlier mishap in the forest. I trust Mirkwood have treated you well since then?"

He grimaced and ducked his head down sheepishly. She wanted to laugh; there were the hobbit mannerisms she had expected. "It could have been better. Have you just gotten back from patrols, Captain Tauriel?"

"Just Tauriel is fine. Yes; I was tracking the orcs." she smiled soothingly. "Do not worry, Vilyahina. They are not near our borders."

"I don't know," he muttered, "something feels suspicious."

She shrugged. She was a soldier, not a seer. "Where are you heading to now, Vilyahina?"

"Don't call me that, please. Bilbo Baggins will do. Or hobbit." he shifted uncomfortably. "I'm, er, heading back to my rooms for now."

"Do you require assistance?"

"No, no, it's okay. I know my way around," he said. "Thank you for your help. It's nice to meet you, Tauriel."

She nodded, bemused by this short creature. "It's nice to meet you too," she said perfunctorily, and he hurried past, once again lost in his own world. Were dragon-hobbits meant to have so many distinguishing non-hobbit traits? It seemed a bit too obvious.

Oh well. It was time to see the dwarves.

The dwarves were quiet, but cheerful despite being locked away. She had expected them to be desolate or furious as they had been when they were first thrown into the dungeons, but once again, she was proven wrong. In his cell, Kili was inspecting a shiny black stone with an engraving in his hand. He flipped it in the air and caught it on the back of his hand. Tauriel paused to watch his actions.

Curiously, she inquired, "the stone in your hand, what is it?"

Kili looked up and smirked, a mischievous light sparkling in his eyes. "It's a talisman. A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed." He quickly held up the stone up, offering it to her. Instinctively, she took a step back. Kili guffawed and she flushed.

"Or not, depending on whether you believe that kind of thing. It's just a token." He smiled cheekily and she relaxed, returning his infectious grin with a tentative smile.

A second later, he said, "a runestone. My mother gave it to me so I'd remember my promise."

"What promise?"

His smile was nostalgic as he turned the stone in his hand. "That I will come back to her. She worries. She thinks I'm reckless."

"Are you?" she asked teasingly.

The dwarf gave a cocky grin. "Nah." He tossed his stone upwards again, but this time, instead of catching it perfectly, his finger stumbled and the token rolled out of his cell. Tauriel stopped it with her foot before it could roll further away. She handed it back to him and sat down next to his cell.

"Have you met our hobbit?" There was pride and underlying concern in his tone. "He says he's fine, but…"

"He is a guest in our halls. He is treated well." She paused, then stated, "there's something special about him."

"Our hobbit? Yeah, he's one of a kind."

Ah, they were really clueless. Her laughter was slightly melancholic. "Well said. There's more layers to him than you know of. But he's strong. Do you trust him?"

Kili hummed. "I guess so, why?"

Tauriel looked both rueful and pleased at the same time. Oh, Cyadhon, what a heartbreak this would be. "I see. Such an unorthodox friendship you have."

"You're speaking in riddles."

Tauriel coughed into her hand. "Maybe you'll understand someday, dwarf, or maybe you're too dumb to."

He shot up indignantly. "Hey!"

She threw her head back and laughed, this time cheerfully.

"…and orc scouts have been reported to be at the edge of Mirkwood, but there are no further signs of the orc army. We have basis to believe that they have chosen to avoid Mirkwood entirely," Prince Legolas reported. He stood at attention in the middle of the throne room.

"As is prudent for them," King Thranduil drawled in a lazy tone.

"The lack of any sightings of the orc army, contrary to the dwarves' claims, is suspicious. As a precaution, I shall dispatched an additional patrol and increase our security for the next few days."

He scoffed dryly. "No need. The dwarves are known to exaggerate their plight. Do not take them for their word. Focus on the spiders' nests instead."

"Yes, Ada." His head dipped slightly.

"Very good, Legolas." Thranduil sounded pleased; his son felt a swell of pride rise in his chest. "Ensure that the dwarves are locked up properly. If there are nothing else, you may take your leave."

He was already walking towards the door when he hesitated, then turned around. While he was still searching his words, his father sighed and leant his cheek against a fist.

"What is it, Legolas. Speak."

"Ada, about Gandalf and Bilbo's warning…"

"I've made up my mind, Legolas. Are you questioning my judgment now?"

He ducked his head respectfully. "No, ada. I was just wondering if there are no better ways to deal with the dwarves."

He raised an eyebrow coldly. "You are too close to that wyrm. Have I not advised you to stay away from it?"

"His name is Cyadhon and he's a Vilyahina. He's not the one that killed—"

"Enough," King Thranduil cut off sharply. He straightened, back too stiff and fists clenched around the hand-rest of his throne in agitation. His demeanour was frigid as he went from father to the King of the Mirkwood. "This matter is closed. Is there anything else, Prince Legolas?"

The prince bit the insides of his cheek. "No, my king. That is all."

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief as soon as Tauriel disappeared around the corner. When she had called out to him, he was so sure that she would point out his obvious lack of guards, yet she didn't mention anything. Thinking back, she wasn't there when Thranduil had ordered him to be escorted at all times. He had been careless, and so, very, lucky.

Bilbo slipped back into his rooms just in time, for barely five minutes later, Legolas walked in.

"Have you been in the room all along?" He asked suspiciously.

"The guards didn't see me leave," he said vaguely. Legolas raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"We both know you can be as evasive as a snake when you want to Cyadhon," he grumbled before letting the topic drop. "Come, let's go for dinner. I'll introduce you to my friend, Tauriel."

Oh. Bilbo smiled nervously, casting for a valid reason to refuse and finding none.

Not so lucky now.

Legolas, as befitting a prince, had his own suite that included a drawing room and a private dining hall. He led them straight to the latter. A round walnut table with intricate details sat delicately in the middle of the room. Carvings of the Mirkwood forest in its prime adorned the walls, but generally the design of the room was minimalistic. There were plates of lush vegetables and bread, artfully arranged, carefully placed on the table, and no servants or guards in sight. Bilbo appreciated the privacy.

Tauriel was already waiting for them, gently swirling her glass of water from where she sat on the seat furthest away from the door. Her eyes lit up at the sight of them and she stood up gracefully.

"Cyadhon! Legolas didn't tell me we're dining together," Tauriel greeted warmly.

Bilbo could feel the other elf drill holes into the side of his head with his eyes. He resolved to avoid eye contact with him. "I didn't know either," he said weakly.

"You've met?" Legolas asked suspiciously. He folded his arms, radiating Disappointment.

Tauriel frowned. "He was coming up from the dungeons. Is there something wrong?"

"He was supposed to stay away from the dwarves and be escorted at all times," Legolas replied, smile strained. "Bilbo-"

"I'm sorry, I was worried," the hobbit grumbled, ears turning red. "And I didn't lie, I told you the guards didn't see me leave."

The elf shook his head. "Do you need me to follow your every footstep?" He chided.

"No," muttered the hobbit with a huff. "I'm not a child, I've been saying that since… Since more than a decade ago."

"Huh." The elf paused, then snorted. "Fancy that; a decade, and you're still childish as ever. Perhaps you really do need the supervision."

"You're one to say!" Protested Bilbo weakly. "I think it is you who needs supervision. What about that time you decided to pull-"

The prince flushed ever so lightly before he smacked the back of Bilbo's head. "We promised never to speak of that again."

The hobbit stuck his tongue out at him childishly. Legolas ruffled his hair. Bilbo tried to dodge and failed, cursing profanities as his hair stuck up in different directions. The elf smirked. "I like this height of yours."

Bilbo growled, a low thrum vibrating from his chest, as he patted his hair down. "Stop doing that. And really, I didn't lie," the hobbit complaint as he folded his arms. "I merely omitted the truth."

Legolas was highly unimpressed. "Lie by omission?"

"Doesn't count," Bilbo stubbornly insisted.

"Very well, technically, you didn't lie," Legolas finally contended."I'm still siccing a guard on you at all times from now onwards, even when you sleep."

There went his plans to find alternative escape paths. Legolas was like a Mother Hen, hemming and hawing at his heels when he wanted to be exceedingly irritating. The elf may have grown in terms of appearances and skill since they had last met, but he was as naggy as ever. Bilbo would never be free.

Tauriel watched the exchange in amusement. "Don't be overdramatic, Legolas. You both are acting like children. I'm sure Bilbo knows better now."

Legolas quirked an eyebrow up, expression skeptical. Bilbo didn't blame him; if he was the elf, he wouldn't be convinced either. The elf knew him too well after all their years of friendship.

She clasped her hands together. "Shall we eat?"

Although Legolas did not sic a guard onto Bilbo at all times, he might as well have. The guards checked in on him every hour, even when he finally acquiesced and sworn to stay in his room. Nanny elf and his overbearing, mothering tendencies, Bilbo thought sourly as he hacked away viciously at a block of wood he was supposed to work on while whittling the time away. A few more angry stabs annihilated the perfectly good wood into sawdust. So much for exploring his artistic talents - screw you, Legolas.

Finally, he tossed his tools aside noisily and threw himself into the fluffy bed. What was he to do? The temptation to sneak out was strong.

His door creaked open and a guard peeked in. "Sir, is everything..."

A deep growl resonating from his throat. Bilbo directed a beady-eyed, narrowed glare from a single slitted pupil at the poor guard.

"Apologies for the intrusion," the guard said quickly. The door snapped shut.

It was never wise to anger a dragon.

Midday, the air was unnaturally still. Legolas paced the corridors, having just checked on Bilbo to ensure that the hobbit hadn't went on a snooping trip again. He had been met with an unfriendly snarl and what would have constituted as an attempt on his life had it been anyone else, but besides that, the sneaky hobbit was still behaving.

He pondered Bilbo's words and Gandalf's ominous (and rather melodramatic) letter: the dark forces are stirring. Doom will descend upon us all. There were less than subtle hints for them to pledge their support to the Grey Wizard's cause - and by extension, to the dwarves' quest. Ada had been far from pleased. It was partially due to pride. Yet, pride was but a secondary matter in Legolas' eyes.

As for the safety of their home - He knew Ada placed their kingdom first, but what is Mirkwood without Middle-Earth? Forces of evil hell-bent on destroying the peace of the whole Middle-Earth would indubitably affect them as well.

He had to think of another way to assist Cyadhon and his less-than-pleasant friends, and quickly. He still disliked dwarves - specifically that archer Tauriel had taken a shine on - but for the sake of his home and his people, even if it went against Ada's orders, he had to find a way to help. He felt dread pool in his gut, the thought of going behind Ada's back bitter on his tongue, but it had to be done. Mind made up despite the uncomfortable prickling it made him feel, his thoughts were in a whirl as he concocted various plans and back-ups to be sieved later for the optimum one.

Down a secluded corridor, Legolas suddenly felt a shift in the air current. He stilled, head sharply jerking to the left. All thoughts of the Dwarf Plan fled his mind, replaced by a suspicion that only grew. There was nobody there, only dark shadows casted by the twisting wood frames that made up the foundations of his home. His brows furrowed as he palmed his dagger. "Who's there?"

There was no answer. There was an underlying current of electricity in the air, a prickling that heralded a storm.

Something was wrong.

A scream tore through the air. Legolas sprinted towards the scream without hesitation.

"Orcs! Orcs in the-!" The shout was cut off by a growl and the sound of a spear tearing through flesh. Legolas pushed himself harder, but it was too late. He skidded to the scene and watched as an elven body toppled off the platform. A dull thud could be heard from below. There were a handful of orcs on the floor, but their surprise attack had given them a momentary edge over the elves. He filtered out the grunts and growls of the fights surrounding him, the familiar battle calm settling into his nerves.

He didn't stop, instincts kicking in as he let an arrow fly. It hit the orc in the forehead and sent it to a similar fate. "Infiltration! Soldiers, to me! Stop the orcs!" Nocking another arrow, he released it, already knowing it would hit its mark as he turned to wrench another pesky orc scout off an elven soldier. Blood splattered the smooth, wooden floors of their kingdom, seeping into the seams, dark stains that he suspected would not be removed easily.

After the initial shock had died out, the orcs were subdued with little trouble. He wasn't too concerned about the damage they wrought; instead, a single question ran through his mind: how had they gotten in?

The smell of blood, and the stench of orcs, permeated the air, pungent and heavy. The sour, bitter smell intermingled with the metallic one, creating a stench that had no place within the halls of Mirkwood. Legolas hated how it overpowered the natural, faint scent of wood and flowers that usually reminded him of home. He stared at the dark, mutilated flesh of the orcs' corpses, feeling oddly dissociated from his body.

They were told that the orcs had turned away from Mirkwood. How could the information have been so grossly wrong? Was it the dwarves-? No, it couldn't be, there were no way for them to escape, much less sneak them in. Bilbo hated the orcs, there was no reason for him to help them.

A second later, echoes of thundering feet and weapons clashing resonated from the lower regions of the palace, where the river ran through. His sensitive ears twitched, picking up cries of battles that was interspersed with screams and grunts. He cursed colourfully, already sprinting towards the skirmish even as the horn call was sounded.

"Attack!" The guards' voices echoed from corridors away. "From the river! The orcs have attacked!"

The moment Bilbo had heard of the orcs' attack, he had barrelled out of his room and towards the dungeons, the guards be damned. His Elven guards dithered for a moment before answering their brethren's call to join into the fray. The vilyahina could wait; their home was under attack.

He had to seek out Legolas. The prince would understand. Barely five minutes later, it was the elf that found him first.

The prince dragged him to a corner, as far away from the potential prying ears of the soldiers surging past them as possible. "You need to leave now," he said tersely.

Bilbo gaped. "But... Your father..."

"-is still in his grief. The orcs are here for the dwarves, aren't they? You need to leave," he said as he pressed a set of keys into Bilbo's palm. "We'll escape through the river. Meet me at the lower exit near the third kitchen. You know where it is."

"The river's where the orcs are coming from!"

"That's the only way!" He retorted, lifting his head up to bark out orders at the rushing guards around them before turning anxious eyes back at Bilbo. "Go!"

He ran. He shoved his way past the soldiers, trusting his instinct more than anything to lead him to the dungeons.

It was unguarded when he pelted into the dungeons. Panting, his fingers fumbled as he tried to find the correct keys for the cell.

"Bilbo! What's going on?"

"We need to leave," he said, sweat beading down his temple, fingers trembling. The lock clicked; he gave a triumphant cry and moved onto the next one. "Orcs are attacking!"

"Shit," Dwalin swore. "Where are our weapons?"

He stilled. Shit, he had forgotten about that. Shaking his head, Bilbo doubled up his efforts to free the dwarves as quickly as he could. "Let's get out first."

Thorin's cell was still a level below. Cursing his luck, he ordered the dwarves to stay put as he bolted down the stairs.

"Bilbo?" The low baritone of the dwarven prince was soft and surprised.

"Need to go, talk later, attack, can't you hear?" His words stumbled together in a rush as he made quick work with the last cell. "The others are already released, let's go!"

Thirteen dwarves hurtled their way down the hallways, following Bilbo's lead to the kitchens. They were met with sharp shouts, most which they ignored. Some elves tried to stop them but they were roughly shoved aside. An arrow whizzed past their heads. The dwarves ignored it all, focusing on following their quick-footed hobbit darting ahead. They left the crowd of soldiers behind as they wove through corridors until the only sound were the panting of the dwarves and fourteen pairs of feet.

At the agreed-upon kitchen, Bilbo slowed to a halt.

"Bilbo? The kitchens? What's the plan, where's the exit?"

"Wait," Bilbo said.

"What do you mean wait?" Growled Thorin, storming forward. "You lead us here, but you don't know how to proceed? Where are our weapons? What's next, hobbit?"

"Wait," he said tersely. "He's supposed to be here. He's late, late, where's he?"

"Where's who?" The dwarves were anxious; shouts of "dwarves!" were gaining louder by the second. The elves had caught up with them, and they were weaponless, almost defenceless.

"Ready yourself," Dwalin rumbled as they shifted into a fighting stance, albeit without weapons.

A few tense seconds passed. Archers finally slid in view from around the corner, arrows already nocked. "The dwarves-"

"Leave it," a commanding voice ordered, halting all motion at once. The Company turned to see Prince Legolas appear from behind them, breath quickened from exertion. In his hand held a short sword.

The archers wavered, slackening their bows. "But... Prince Le-"

"What are you doing here! Find the orcs, protect our home!" He snapped. "Forget you saw the dwarves. That's an order." They hesitated again, before jerking their heads downwards with a reluctant "sir" and disappearing from view once more.

"You were waiting for the Elven Prince?" Thorin spluttered in disbelieve. He looked betrayed.

Legolas shushed them and motioned for them to hurry up. Bilbo was sure he was the only one who witnessed the eye roll the elf did. "There's a route by the river that you can take. This way." He continued leading them through the labyrinth of corridors, occasionally pausing to check for people before moving on.

"What about weapons?" Fili asked.

The elf offered the sword - it looked more like an over long dagger in his hands - to their leader. It was Orcrist. "I've taken as much as I can. It's in the boat."

Stiffly, future King accepted his sword. "Thank you, Prince Legolas," he said, inclining his head. His expression was nonetheless still sour. "Why are you helping us?"

"I fear Gandalf's words hold true." He eyed Bilbo, stride silent and not slowing even as he spoke. "And someone has to look out for Cyadhon."

Bilbo threw both hands up in exasperation. "This again! We've talked about this, Legolas: I don't need supervision!"

"There's no point denying it," the prince said, expression slightly mischievous. He opened his mouth to say more, then paused. Suddenly, he jerked his head up, a brown marring his previously teasing expression.

He lifted his hand up to signal a halt, before twisting his hand into the gesture the dwarves had began to recognise as an order for silence. They instantly quietened down, but even their soft huffs for breaths were painfully loud in the still silence.

Legolas pressed his ear onto the wall. A second later, he cursed viciously and spun around. "Turn back," he hissed at the dwarves. "Turn the other direction and run now!"

"Why?" Balin asked suspiciously.

Bilbo tried to hear what the elf had heard, but to no avail. Hobbit ears, even those enhanced by the blood of a dragon, were no match for an elves'.

"Hurry," he insisted, shoving them back the way they came as if he were herding sheep. "It's-"

"Prince Legolas." A voice, frigid as ice and dripping with fury, cut through the air. The prince halted mid-step, his back becoming ramrod straight as if he had been struck by lightning. Thranduil slowly strolled into view, alongside his entourage of archers.

The sound of arrows nocked on bows thrummed through the air. "Explain yourself this instant."

The dwarves stiffened.

"One move and you die," the King flippantly. They held their breath, motionless as stones. They knew he was waiting eagerly for them to make a misstep so that he could shoot them. His features were carefully arranged into one of nonchalance. It was too calm and cold, like the stillness of a cobra before it struck.

Legolas approached his king, distress written clearly on his face. "Ada, they have to go. You know why," he said in Sindarin.

"You dare side with the wyrm and his entourage, Legolas?" Thranduil replied in Westron as he spun to face his son fiercely, prowling like a panther. His eyes were livid, mouth twisted into a snarl.

Bilbo interrupted before Legolas could reply. "King Thranduil." He forced himself to step forward despite his instincts screaming at him to stop. All the arrows turned towards him. He ignored the cries of "Bilbo, what are you doing" and "stop, you'll get shot" as he took another step forward. He had amnesty, he wouldn't be shot at, he would be fine, he prayed.

Thranduil lifted his hand to stop the release of the volley of arrows on the hobbit. He shifted his seething gaze onto the hobbit. Bilbo could feel the extent of his fury radiating off him, all currently directed at him. Courage, he told himself. He dared a peek at the King.

The elf raised his eyebrow; an unspoken order to speak.

Cold sweat prickling his back as Bilbo gave a low bow and let the Sindarin words flow smoothly from his tongue. "Please, let us go, King Thranduil. Time is running out."

In one swift motion, Thranduil had unsheathed his sword and rested the tip of the blade at Bilbo's neck. The dwarves shouted, but none dared rush forward for fear that the sword would impale their hobbit's throat instantly in retaliation.

"You brought the orcs to my door. You coerced my son and guard captain into assisting you. And now you dare ask for assistance? Why should I help you?" His tone was accusative, his words harsh. It did not fail to escape Bilbo's notice that Thranduil was deliberately speaking in Common. Even when they spoke in Sindarin, he responded in the language everyone understood. There would be no hiding of secrets; not even from the dwarves, it seemed.

Legolas looked devastated. "Ada, I choose this. Cyadhon didn't-"

"Be quiet, Prince Legolas. Let the wyrm speak."

A look of angry frustration crossed his features before it was carefully wiped out. He inclined his head quietly, but moved to stand protectively next to Bilbo.

The hobbit swallowed. "I-If you don't, things worse than orcs may come knocking." He paused, then, closing his eyes, made a split-second decision. "We'll reward you handsomely. The gems you desire will be yours. I swear on it."

"No! He has no-" Thorin's cry was muffled by Balin and Dwalin. He looked murderous, but finally acquiesced.

Thranduil gave a cold smile. "Swear on it on your name."

"I swear on my name, Cyadh-"

"No," he interrupted. "I want the Vilyahini's Oath."

A sharp intake of breath could be heard from Legolas. Bilbo's eyes widened. Shakily, he looked up, not quite daring to meet Thranduil's triumphant and smug expression. The ancient oath? He had the audacity to to ask for an ancient oath, especially in front of the dwarves? A feeling of doom sunk in his gut as he realised he was trapped. Trapped, with only one way out of this mess.

"I..."

The sword pressed slightly into his neck. "Having second thoughts?"

"Ada. Please," Legolas pleaded. "You are aski-"

"Silence, Legolas." Thranduil's tone softened by a smidgen. "An oath, wyrm. That is all."

Bilbo gulped. He weighed his choices, but what other alternatives were there? This was their best bet and he was unwilling to give it up. He was cornered. The king was sly and extremely bold to ask this from him - from a vilyahina - but if it was a binding contract he wanted, a binding contract he would get.

He never said anything about adding his own clause.

"I will swear the oath to return you your gems, on the condition that you swear neither to threaten nor attack the Company - including Gandalf the Grey, all thirteen dwarves, and myself," he said slowly, deliberately.

Thranduil barely took a moment to consider it before nodding impatiently. "Very well; I agree to your terms."

Bilbo's smile stretched upwards wickedly before he exhaled slowly and wiped all traces of emotions from his face. With a serious demeanour, he brought his left hand to his mouth and gently sank his fang into the softer underside of his palm. He held his hand out and the blood that slowly welt up dripped to the ground, fist clenched. As another drop of red stained the ground, he muttered in Sindarin, "I swear to return the White Gems of Lasgalen to Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood. I swear by the Fire of my Heart, and it shall burn me from within should I renege; I swear by my nest to honour the word of the Vilyahina even after the embers of my heart have burnt out, as he swears not to attack, threaten or betray those under my care. This oath I swear in front of all present, and to Manwë, King of the Valar and Lord of the Breath of Arda."

The air around them stilled, a primordial presence weighing down on them. Without warning, a gust of wind buffeted through the corridor, strong and fierce and whirling around their hobbit. It howled loudly, like the screams of a thousand voices echoing down the narrow space and deafening all other sounds. None dared to move, stifling their cries as the bellowing of the wind became louder and louder, until it was unbearable, when suddenly - as suddenly as it started - it was gone.

The spectators were pale-faced and shivering. The silence was ringing. Bilbo unclenched his fist, and a small flame flickered upwards from the small graze on his fingers. it danced in his palm before spreading up his arm, twisting and coiling its way up to his shoulders. The mesmerising trail of flame hung in the air for a moment before it settled into his flesh without burning him, leaving a red tattoo in its wake.

The blood sank to the ground, dissipating into nothingness.

The oath was heard.

Legolas looked dazed and pained, brows furrowed together and head shaking slightly. It was as if someone had slapped him by surprise. "Cyadhon, that-" It was a serious vow to make; to think that his friend would go to that extent, risk his name and his every fibre for the sake of this quest...

Bilbo closed his eyes with an air of finality. "It is done."

Thranduil looked satisfied as he sheathed his sword. His smile was slow and smug, like a cat with a canary in between its paws.

Finally, he stepped aside. "Take the side exit to the river. Legolas will escort you." His smile stretched from ear to ear, but it was far from pleasant. "I expect you to uphold your end of the bargain. Do not make me regret this."

Bilbo's back stiffened at the insinuation. 'We do not break our oaths," he hissed. Forgetting himself for a moment, his fingers curled into claws as he slipped back into his old tongue. "Or have you forgotten, King Thranduil," he purred, voice low and silky and dangerous, "the severity of our binding oaths?" His eyes glowed bright as he bared his fangs. "We are not a forgiving race, much less a benevolent one, when our values are threatened. It will do you well to remember that."

The king looked away. A moment later, he stepped aside and his elves parted way for the Company. The dwarves hesitated.

"Go," Bilbo said, the word stiff and awkward on his forked tongue. The dwarves left, hurrying past with worried and wary glances thrown past their shoulders. The dragon-hobbit's eyes flickered red - under the lighting, they presumed - his gaze fixated on the king. When all the dwarves were accounted for and a safe distance away from the elves, Bilbo jerked his head downwards and made to leave.

"I'll hold you to your oath, Viyahina," Thranduil drawled.

Bilbo gave a mock bow. "As I to you."

As Legolas hurried past Thranduil, the king reached out and grabbed his forearm. Legolas stiffened minutely before he relaxed. Thranduil's face was lined with worry, his eyes flickering around his son's face and roving his physique for any signs of injury. After gauging his health and fatigue level, he gave a tired sigh.

"I hope you know what you're doing," his ada murmured in Sindarin, eyebrows creased in concern and annoyance at being defied. Annoyance, then a quiet acceptance and perhaps even sadness.

The prince nodded. "I do."

Finally, he tore his searching gaze away from his son. His face was blank save for the slight furrow of his eyebrows belying his worry and agitation. "Come back safely. Good hunting, my son."

Legolas gripped his arm tightly, forcing his father to look at him. For a lack of a better word, Thranduil looked - Sorrowful. Legolas gave his arm a reassuring squeeze: an unspoken promise to come back. "Thank you, Ada. Good hunting."

They parted.

End of Chap 20(2)

Hope it's okay! Thanks Squishy91 AHHAHAH

(And yes marshkai000 you got the references :D)

Comments will be appreciated :) Once again, thank you so much for all your support!

-littlesparrowkeet