A/n:
Hello! It is currently 12 am on September 22, 2021! Hobbit Day!
I hope you are all doing absolutely excellent on this fine Hobbit Day! Happy Birthday to Bilbo and Frodo!
A couple of quick notes:
1. I have indeed posted the first couple chapters of my series of oneshots. It's called "Appendices of Unexpected Adventures", and so far I have posted one story about the lives of Dwalin, Dís, Thorin, and Frerin, and one about Sam, Merry and Pippin dealing with Frodo and Bilbo's departure from Middle-earth. I am very fond of them and it would make me very happy if you checked them out.
2. I have had two of my History of Middle-earth classes and they have been so rad, I cannot even explain. My prof lectures in a robe and has the TA play the LOTR soundtrack while he lectures. It is so cool and my textbooks are my prized possessions. If anyone has questions or wants to know more, seriously please hit me up! You can also reach me on Tumblr, (woodashandoliveoil) :) You can also find a funny personality quiz that I made there, if you want to know which of the Company you are!
3. I made a Tiktok, which is very embarrassing, but I also think it's kinda funny, so feel free to follow me if you're on the app (ashenoil)
"What is this?" came the haughty voice of a tall, dark haired elf. "What's a halfling doing so far east?"
…
Bilbo stood unmoving, the Ring clutched tightly in his sweaty palm. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slipped it into the waistband of his trousers and shifted his gaze to the elf, trying very hard to keep his gaze steady and his hands from shaking.
"Who, me?" he asked with a forced laugh. He felt like his blood was on fire. His head still spun with half-truths and falsities. The adrenaline was the only thing keeping him upright, he knew it. "I'm um-"
"Trespassing into the Greenwood is a punishable offence, small one," said the elf, looking down at Bilbo with an arched brow. "Law dictates I bring you before the king. What say you to that?"
"Sounds like an awful lot of trouble for just one hobbit," said Bilbo, trying to look as small and unassuming as possible. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to bother your king with something so trivial. I've heard that Lord Thranduil has quite a temper. Let me go and I promise you won't see hide nor hair of me again."
Bilbo figured it was worth a try but the elf was not convinced. They took Sting and Fíli's knife, and patted Bilbo down, looking for weapons. He held his breath, hoping the elf did not feel the Ring, tucked neatly in front of his belly button.
They didn't, and stepped back to rummage in a pouch at their waist. Pulling out a length of thin, silvery rope, the elf tied it around Bilbo's wrists, then took out a scrap of fabric and covered Bilbo's eyes with it, for all the good it did. Bilbo could remember the layout of the Elvenking's kingdom and forest with ease. That was something he would not forget. The knowledge that The Company's fate had rested on his shoulders alone had burned that map into his mind.
Bilbo was marched blindly through the forest for some time, led rather patiently by the dark-haired elf. He knew they were getting closer as the sound of water grew stronger. Before he knew it, he felt smooth stones beneath his feet, and knew that he was crossing the bridge before the gates to Thranduil's palace. He heard the magic gates opening, the sound completely unique to any gate, door, or drawbridge he had ever heard.
"Súldil, what is it you bear?" called a voice, in the cool demeanor common of a wood-elf. "Do you bring forth a child, mellon?"
"And if yes?" Súldil replied, their silky voice harsh. "I see not what business it is of yours."
The other elf laughed. It was callous and taunting. "So be it. Continue on, bring this child to the king."
With no further talk, Súldil ushered Bilbo forward, muttering insults under their breath. It was testament to how dire the situation was that Bilbo did not laugh at the elf's petty insults. Once they were inside, Súldil removed the cloth covering Bilbo's eyes.
"Thank you," Bilbo said. Súldil cocked their head and said nothing. Bilbo padded after them, his mind numb. He did not even know which problem to start worrying about, so he just worried in general, biting into his lip until he tasted blood.
Finally, they made it to Thranduil's throne room. Bilbo had avoided it for the most part Last Time, as he figured going right to the Elvenking, even while invisible, was rather risky.
Being ushered forward towards the throne, Bilbo was struck by the immense beauty of it. It was splendid in its natural enormity. It embodied all the overgrown might of the forest, and yet none of the darkness, despite the fact that they were underground. The very air itself seemed bathed in gold.
The kingdom seemed to have been made from the top down. It was built within the roots of the ancient trees at the surface of the hill into which the kingdom was built. The landings near the top were the oldest, and Bilbo could tell that each newer floor had been built as the roots descended ever lower.
Bilbo's eyes were drawn upwards by the twisting roots that held Thranduil's throne. The king himself was lounging, the picture of ease and elegance. Resting on his silver locks was a crown of autumn leaves and berries, and small twigs that twisted into some semblance of antler, making him look like the very beast he rode into battle Last Time.
"My Lord," said Súldil, bowing, then shaking their dark mane behind their back. "I bring you a trespasser, found just east of Gûlduin."
"A halfling," breathed Thranduil, sitting up ever so slightly, a look of interest on his face. "And what is a halfling doing in my forest? I don't know of any hobbit settlements east of the Misty Mountains."
"No, there are none," Bilbo confirmed, mind racing. He had to get out of here and go find the Company.
"So what, pray tell, are you doing here?" Thranduil crossed his legs in front of him and leaned forward.
"I am but a simple traveller, my Lord," Bilbo said. "I wished to see the Greenwood of legend."
"If you think flattery will win this battle for you, you are wrong," Thranduil said, eyes narrowed. "This is not the Greenwood of old. People no longer come to see our beauty and majesty, rather they cower in fear of our shadow. So tell me again why you are here, and stay your pretty tongue this time."
"I-" Bilbo began, but Thranduil held up a hand to silence him, looking at a space over Bilbo's head.
"Tauriel."
Bilbo glanced back to see Tauriel, the young silvan elf that Kíli had fallen for. She had fiery red hair, pulled back away from her face, and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. She had all of the wild beauty of youth, yet stood strong, erect. Like a young soldier who had never seen war.
"My Lord," Tauriel said, bowing. "I come to report trespassers in the forest."
"Indeed," Thranduil said. He levelled his gaze to Bilbo, expression searching. "These travellers, are they perhaps companions of yours?"
"Not at all my Lord," Bilbo said. "As you said, it is rare to see a hobbit so far east. I am but one."
"Thirteen dwarves, my Lord," Tauriel said. Bilbo fought to keep his face pleasantly inquisitive. He was glad to hear that his friends were all alive, but now the whole Company was captured, with no foreseeable way out. If he could convince Thranduil that he was not a part of their company, perhaps he would let Bilbo go sooner, and he could go about his rescue mission once again.
"Dwarves?" Thranduil echoed, brow furrowed, a shadow falling over his face. His voice changed. "Bring me their leader."
"Yes, my Lord," said Tauriel. She swept out. Bilbo hung in awkward silence as Thranduil watched Bilbo with an unreadable expression.
Tauriel returned with a blindfolded Thorin, his wrists tied together and his hair streaked with the grey of spider webs.
"Remove his blindfold and bindings," Thranduil said. "We have no need of it here. He could not escape even if he were to try. None can escape my magic doors. None can escape the might of my kingdom!"
When Tauriel freed Thorin's eyes, he fixed her with a death stare. Bilbo tried very hard not to look at Thorin, hoping that he would understand not to acknowledge him. Hoping that for once, Thorin would put to use his capacity for complex thought and not give away his position.
"Bilbo!"
Thorin had not gotten the message. The dwarf king lunged towards the hobbit, stopped by Tauriel's firm hand on his shoulder, his eyes blazing, a huge smile building quickly on his face.
"Do my eyes deceive me? You're alive! I thought you lost!"
At these words, Thranduil let out a small, cruel laugh.
"So you do know each other," he said. "What a heartwarming reunion. If only your dwarf were as clever as you are, halfling."
Thorin fell still, eyes still roving over every inch of Bilbo, but his expression was regretful. He knew he had put his foot in his mouth, so to speak. Bilbo shook his head and widened his eyes just slightly, hoping to convey to Thorin that it was imperative for him to hold his damned tongue.
"Thirteen dwarves, and a hobbit," said Thranduil. "Perhaps you will be of more use to me than the halfling. Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield, what are you doing in my forest?"
Thorin stiffened at the use of his name and drew himself to his full height.
"Starving," Thorin said, jaw jutting out defiantly. Thranduil raised his eyebrows.
"Indeed," said the Elvenking. "How came you to be starving in my realm in the first place?"
"Our business is ours and ours alone," Thorin said, face stony. Bilbo's very skin tingled in anticipation of conflict.
"I do not need your account to know your plans," Thranduil said with a scoff. "One might imagine a noble quest. One to reclaim your homeland and slay a dragon." Thranduil said, searching Thorin's face. "For why else would you come so far? Last I heard, your people were in Ered Luin."
Thorin still said nothing. His fists were clenched, and his stance prepared. Like he was ready for an attack.
"Knowing your people, Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil said, eyes glinting. "Knowing your kin, I would not presume your actions to be of noble-intent. You seek that which will give you the divine right to rule. The Arkenstone. Once you have this, the dwarf lords will heed your call."
"And you cannot allow for that risk. You would not have me hold that power," Thorin said. "Do I misspeak?"
"That depends," said Thranduil. "What say you to a temporary alliance of sorts?"
"Go on, delay no longer," Thorin said. "Speak plainly."
Thranduil's mouth split into a dazzling yet sinister smile.
"There are gems within the Mountain that I too desire," Thranduil said. "White gems of pure starlight."
"The White Gems of Lasgalen," Thorin said. "I know of them. And their history."
"I would let you go if you but promise to return what is mine," Thranduil said, bowing his head.
"And you would trust the word of a dwarf to uphold our bargain?" Thorin asked, voice shaking with barely restrained fury.
"I would," said Thranduil. "If you wish to ever see your halfling again."
Bilbo's stomach dropped. Thorin fell back as though struck.
"Are you threatening one of my own?" Thorin asked, his voice deadly.
"Not at all. I would take great care of him," Thranduil said airily. "I'm simply making sure you won't neglect your end of our deal."
"There will be no deal," Thorin said, voice low.
"Think this through, Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil said. "Should you choose not to accept, you will rot in my cells. All of you. The halfling included."
"There will be no deal!" Thorin said, his voice raised to a bellow. Bilbo stood watching, mouth agape.
"Wait, now hold on just one moment," Bilbo said, coming to his senses. If the rest of the Company escaped, he was sure he could do so too, easily enough, assuming he could keep the Ring hidden from the elves. "Thorin, please think about this. You don't need me. Not truly. You must take the deal."
"I would not leave you behind, azaghith," Thorin said, eyes softening as he gazed at Bilbo. Thranduil laughed again, his tone mocking.
"What a touching display," Thranduil said, sitting back in his throne. "Well, I am nothing if not merciful. Should you change your mind, you need only say, Oakenshield. Tauriel, Súldil! Take them away. The innermost cells will suffice."
"Bilbo," Thorin said, the moment the doors to the set of cells fell shut behind Tauriel and Súldil. "How come you to me, whole and hale?"
"I honestly don't know, but believe me, that is the least of my concerns right now," Bilbo spat, head swimming. "You should have taken the deal. It was our only way out."
"Perhaps you are right," came Thorin's defeated voice from the cell to his right. Although he could not see him, Bilbo heard Thorin's breath coming heavy and uneven. His feet moved gently against the stone floor, making the softest grating noise.
"So how do you expect to get us all out of here?" Bilbo demanded, pacing in his cell. "Or will this impossible rescue mission be left for me, yet again?"
"Of course not," said Thorin, sounding pained.
"Call Taur- the guard back," Bilbo said, wringing his hands. "Go to Thranduil, take the deal."
"I can't," Thorin said. "At least not yet. We all need rest, much as it pains me to admit it. And Bifur will need the time to heal."
"He what?" Bilbo asked, blood turning to ice. What had he done? He was suddenly very aware of the Ring sitting against his stomach and wondered what he had done to acquire it. How far he had gone.
"He's injured," Thorin said. "He will be fine, but he cannot make any type of long journey for the time being. But it doesn't matter, I would not take the deal in any case," said Thorin, his voice quiet. Bilbo opened his mouth to interrupt, but Thorin cut him off, seeming to know Bilbo's intention. "You would not understand the weight of such a choice."
"No, I think I understand, O Thorin the Prideful," Bilbo said, voice raising, echoing among the prison cells. "You and your bloody prejudice, I-"
"No Bilbo, you don't understand what it was like," Thorin said. Bilbo could tell he had stopped moving, and could imagine him standing, head down and eyes firmly shut. "I- we did not think we would ever see you of sound mind again. The forest did something to you. I would not leave you here after that."
"Oh," Bilbo said, suddenly hit by what felt like the ghost of a memory. He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden fog. "What- will you tell me what happened?"
"You went mad," Thorin said, his voice tight. "I do not know what more there is to say."
"I can't remember," said Bilbo, feeling numb. "I can't remember any of it."
"I wish I did not have to," Thorin replied. His voice was quiet, but in the empty prison, it echoed strangely. "We lost you to the forest the moment you stepped foot inside. I cannot fathom why. It... hurt you."
"Hurt me?" Bilbo echoed, his tongue dry.
"You were… trapped," Thorin said, his words halting and guttural. "Trapped in your own mind. We did all we could to keep you with us, but…"
"Ah," Bilbo said. He had a million questions, but could not quite bring himself to ask.
"I had half a mind to turn back. To forget this accursed journey and return to the Blue Mountains. To take you home," Thorin said, causing Bilbo's stomach to lurch in shock. "But we had come so far, I…"
Thorin fell silent, and Bilbo knew he was waging a war within his own head. He knew there must be a furrow between the dwarf's brow, and a grim line to his mouth. Bilbo allowed them to sit in the silence for a moment.
"What's done is done, I suppose," said Bilbo. He wanted to berate Thorin, to beg for answers, but the dwarf sounded so defeated that Bilbo could not find it in his heart to rage at him. "We will simply have to find another way out."
"This is my burden to bear, Bilbo. It is I who got us into this mess," Thorin said. "It is my duty to remove us from it."
"You stubborn dwarf," Bilbo said, half exasperated, half fond. "Are we not a team? If you ever expect to be a halfway decent king, you'll need to learn to accept help from those around you."
There was a moment of silence before Thorin spoke again, his voice tight.
"You are right, again," Thorin said. "Tell me, Master Baggins, how familiar are you with elvish architecture?"
"I know enough," said Bilbo, frowning. "If we were able to get out of the cells, I could get us out of the palace."
"Your involvement with elves finally proves its worth," Thorin said, a bitter edge to his voice. Bilbo frowned.
"Involvement with elves?" he asked, thoroughly nonplussed. "Do you mean Lord Elrond?"
"Elrond?" Thorin replied after a beat, his voice strangled. "It is Elrond too, then," he said under his breath. "No doubt it were to have been Thranduil next, if I had left you with him."
"I beg your pardon?" Bilbo replied, frustration rising. He knew he was being accused of something, but he knew not what. "What is it you are implying?"
"Absolutely nothing, Master Baggins," Thorin said and then fell silent. They did not speak again that night.
Bilbo hadn't realized how badly he needed to sleep until he woke, bleary eyed and heavy. The kind of nearly-sick you feel when you sleep far too long and wake up, no longer knowing what day it is. Somehow though, he still felt better. Clearer.
The cell next to his was silent. Bilbo did not know if Thorin was sleeping, or if he was still angry. Bilbo did not quite understand what it was that had made Thorin so mad, but he was not going to be the one to break the silence in order to protect Thorin's precious pride.
Bilbo sighed, sitting up and staring at his toes. They were filthy. If he were to show up in the Shire looking like this, he would surely be shunned. He wouldn't dare let a faunt look at his feet in this state, let alone any gentlehobbits. He sighed and looked away.
Bilbo felt very odd. Mirkwood was so quiet. The two of them were the only occupants in a row of cells on a lower level, closed off by a heavy door, and poorly-lit by several torches. It was, in a sense, stagnant. And Bilbo felt a surge of dread at the endless amounts of time he would have to think. To worry.
He would have to come up with a plan for how to get out of Thranduil's caverns. Furthermore, he would have to see if there was any way to Laketown without use of the river. He could remember well last time hearing the talk of the raftsmen who spoke of the great floods and rains that had swollen the waters that flowed east, the earthquakes that had shaken the foundations of the earth, and the marshes and bogs that had spread wider on each side, swallowing paths and travellers alike. Would it be possible to avoid their watery path?
"Bilbo?" Bilbo jumped at Thorin's voice, almost as though he had forgotten the dwarf was there.
"Yes, Thorin?" Bilbo replied, his body tensing.
"I wish to extend my apologies. I spoke rashly. Your business is your own."
Perhaps Bilbo was feeling reckless in the face of hopelessness, or perhaps he was emboldened by the bars keeping himself and Thorin separate, but he found himself boiling in a sudden rage.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, you did speak rashly. And you have done so time and time again. Tell me, has the term 'think before you speak' never once crossed your mind? And why is it that you always seem to assume my motives or my character are ill? Have I still not proven myself to you? Tell me Thorin, what will it take? Truly, I wish to know!"
"Mohilâli harubaz hubma," Thorin muttered, his voice quiet.
"And please, for goodness sake, speak plainly in words we can both understand," Bilbo said, his cheeks flushed an angry red. "I've had it up to here with dwarven secrecy."
"Mahal, Bilbo, just-" Thorin started, voice angry. He paused and sighed heavily. "Just listen."
"Alright," Bilbo said, drawing himself to his full height. "Well do go on then."
"I know I have often treated you badly. With suspicion and- and contempt. And I know too that I have made our- friendship confusing. Whenever we come to a peace, I break it. I know this and I apologize. But it is maddening to see this easy relationship you have with elves, and the way you and Bofur talk makes my blood boil, and Mahal, I just wish you would stop holding me at arms-length when you do not have reason."
Bilbo was frozen to the spot. He hardly dared to breathe. He felt as though he should not have been there for such an outburst. His ears were flushed and his stomach tense. He decided he would ignore this declaration.
"I suppose I have given you reason enough," said Thorin. He seemed to have deflated, his voice small. "And that is why we're having this conversation at all. "
"Thorin," Bilbo said, when he was sure he could stay silent no longer. "I- I know what I said, but I truly don't hold your short temper against you. Do I wish the circumstances were different? Maybe. But that is not why I keep my distance. Thorin, there are parts of my past that you cannot know. Parts you would never wish to know, and I quite honestly do not wish to share. I am sorry if my silence is hurtful, but I cannot change that."
"I understand," said Thorin. "There are parts of my past I would not share. Parts I wish to forget. But see Bilbo, that is what I do not understand. What drives me to insanity to think about. I wish to share it with you. I would share everything with you if I could."
"You don't mean that," said Bilbo, throat closing up. "Trust me, Thorin, I am not who you think I am."
Thorin was quiet for a very long time and Bilbo fought to keep his breath silent. His fingers and toes were ice and he clenched his hands together. For warmth, or to keep them from shaking, he was not entirely sure.
"Tell me then! Tell me who you are," Thorin said. "Please. I wish to learn!"
"I'm just a hobbit," Bilbo said, tensing his jaw. "Nothing more."
"No Bilbo," said Thorin, his voice raw. "Tell me about your childhood, your parents, your home. What made you the way that you are? How did you become so brave and loyal and good?"
"Thorin-"
"Fine," Thorin said, coming to a lurching halt, sounding as though he already regretted his words. Bilbo let out a breath of relief, mind reeling.
"Thorin, would you tell me what happened in the forest?" Bilbo asked, breaking the deafening silence. "What happened to Bifur? How came we to be separated?"
Bilbo was not sure if he truly wanted to know the answers.
"I would, though it pains me to do so," the dwarf replied. He sat in silence for a moment, seeming to assemble his thoughts. His voice was stiff. Almost awkward. "Much like you, we all knew that the forest was wrong. So very twisted and wrong. But very soon it had twisted you with it. There was nothing within your eyes. You spent much time talking to yourself. You started sleepwalking and we would wake with you standing over us, a distant look in your eyes, again, always mumbling to yourself."
"And what is it I was saying?"
"I do not remember," Thorin said, his voice hesitant. "I had ruled it the ramblings of a madman, but sometimes…"
"Sometimes what, Thorin?" Bilbo asked, tired of trying to pry answers from the stubborn king.
"Nothing," Thorin said. "I must have imagined it. The point stands that you were gone. I thought you broken beyond repair. And then the spiders came. They got to Bifur first and you rushed at him. You killed the spider and that was the last time I saw you. They were everywhere. Hundreds of them. You disappeared somewhere in the mayhem."
"I know," Bilbo said. "That's the first thing I remember. I was trying to save you when Súldil captured me. How did you escape?"
"Elves," Thorin spat. "Thranduil's slimy blond spawn, and the fire-haired she-elf."
Bilbo nodded to himself. It was as he had expected.
"And they brought you here?" he asked.
"Aye," Thorin said. "I have not seen the others since. But I am relieved to be reunited with you. It pained me to think of you, lost and confused on your own in the forest… Or worse."
"Well I'm alright. And you are too," Bilbo said. "So now we can focus our efforts on getting out of this accursed dungeon."
"I do not have the mind for planning at this time, Master Baggins," Thorin said. Bilbo noted the use of his last name with a frown.
"Fine," Bilbo said. They fell silent. Bilbo hardly dared to breathe. There was something in the silence between them. Something heavy and alive. Thorin had revealed far more than Bilbo had ever expected, and Bilbo was feeling almost dizzy with the weight of it. Thorin's words rang in his ears, bringing a flush to Bilbo's cheeks. I would share everything with you if I could.
"Shut up!" Nori's voice shouted over Dori's incessant warbling, which came to an awkward stop. There came the muffled sounds of an argument between the two brothers, but at least Dori had stopped singing.
Dwalin was relieved. Despite the fact that he was fairly sure Dori was on the other end of the row of cells, his singing reverberated all around him, giving him a throbbing headache and a frightening temper.
"Fíli," Dwalin heard from the cell to his left."Fíli!"
"Yes, Kíli?" Fíli replied from Dwalin's other side, voice hushed.
"I've been thinking-"
"Did it pain you, nadadel?" Fíli interrupted, snorting at his own joke. Dwalin rubbed at his temples.
"Funny," Kíli said sarcastically. "But listen. I had another thought. About… about what we... the thing."
"Was it lonely?" Fíli retorted. Dwalin could practically hear the laughter in his voice.
"Shut up," Kíli said, a rare urgency in his tone. "I'm serious."
"Fine, fine… But is now really the best time?" Fíli asked pointedly. Dwalin had spent enough time around them to know that they did not want to be overheard.
"Don't let me interrupt you," Dwalin grumbled, half wanting them to leave him in peace, and half curious about what Kíli determined to be this pressing. Kíli coughed. It was loud and forced.
"It's been days. We need to talk about… Myrtle," Kíli said, falling to a whisper on the last word.. "She's a seer!"
Dwalin wasn't sure whether to laugh, groan, or roll his eyes. If this was Kíli's attempts at subtlety, he would have to rethink his plan.
"You think Bilbo is a seer?" Dwalin asked, finally settling on laughter. "Really, madtithbirzul? Perhaps you are as addled as our hobbit."
"How did you know?" Kíli asked, a pout in his voice.
"I know you, nidoy," Dwalin said. A bout of quickly stifled laughter came from Fíli's cell. "Also Myrtle was the worst pony, so we gave her to Bilbo," Dwalin added. "I wasn't likely to forget that."
"For shame, uncle," Fíli said, chuckling.
"Truly," Kíli said.
"Alright, enough comments from the old man," Dwalin said. "What makes you say such a thing about Bilbo?"
"Actually, I think it might make some sense," Fíli said before Kíli could reply. "Think about how strange he was being in the forest."
"Exactly!" said Kíli. "Remember what happened with the stag? And the spiders!"
He paused, then said "Those did both happen, did they not?"
"Aye, they did," Dwalin said. "But a hobbit's instincts are keen and their eyes are sharp. I don't think it makes him a seer."
"No, I'm telling you, there's no way," Fíli said. "He could not have seen them coming. In either case."
"Yes, and," Kíli interjected, "Remember, he was convinced that the two of us and uncle Thorin are going to die! And come to think of it, he's always been strange. Since the very beginning, he couldn't quite meet our eyes."
"You're right, nadadel," Fíli said slowly. Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that the brothers would amp each other up, arguing to each other about a point they agreed upon until it was blown out of proportion. He sat back. "And do you remember all those strange meetings Bilbo had in Rivendell?"
"And his nightmares! Remember his nightmares?" Kíli asked, speaking rapidly, nearly out of breath. "The ones Balin was helping him with? And the one that happened before he left for the Misty Mountains!"
"Kíli, Kíli!" Fíli said, voice laced with excitement. "They're pro-"
"They're prophetic dreams!" Kíli interrupted. "Mahal, we're brilliant!"
"And that's why he wouldn't sleep in Mirkwood," Fíli said.
"Because the forest magic, or whatever strange elven power resides there made them worse!" Kíli said.
"And that's how he knew about the boat and the stag."
"And the spiders and the- wait, Fíli… All the things he said in the forest... Bilbo thinks we're going to die. What if..."
Dwalin stilled, breath becoming shallow. He wanted to believe that this was just the childish ramblings of tired young dwarves with nothing to do but theorize, but something in their words rang true. He was not quite sure what, but it stilled his heart.
"Alright lads, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Dwalin said, although the words felt false on his tongue. "There's got to be another explanation."
"But what if there's not?" asked Kíli. "What if we truly are marching to our deaths?"
"I don't want to die," came Fíli's quiet reply. Dwalin's heart lurched as he was reminded of another young dwarf with the same blond braids and the same quiet fears. Frerin.
"You will not die," Dwalin said. "Not by my beard. Not by my life."
There was a moment of silence between them. Dwalin could not bring himself to feel a fool, though he knew he probably should.
Then, Dwalin's eyes were drawn to a flash of bright red at the edge of his vision.
"Tauriel," Kíli called suddenly. Dwalin growled. Not the elf-maid again. "Where have you been? It's been days."
"I'm sorry, I-" Tauriel said, approaching Kíli slowly. "Did you say that one among you is a seer? One among you can look into the future?" There was a sort of cautious, hopeful tone that interlaced with her voice.
"What? A seer? No, you must have misheard," Kíli said. "I said 'afeared'. One of our companions has terrible nightmares."
"Yes, yes," said Fíli. "Frightens him terribly."
"Do not lie to me," said Tauriel, a slight furrow between her thin brows. "You said one of you has prophetic dreams, I heard it as plain as day. Tell me, Kíli."
The elf approached Kíli's cell and Dwalin lost sight of her.
"You're mistaken," said Kíli, his voice strained. "Now, if you ask Óin over there," Kíli said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He himself is a seer. Or he fancies himself one anyways. It's all a load of rubbish though, if you ask me." There was a dull thud and Dwalin imagined Kíli leaning against the back of his cell.
"If you will not tell me, I will figure it out myself," said Tauriel. She stepped back from Kíli's cell and turned, a somehow both rigid and fluid movement.
"No, Tauriel," Kíli called, desperation in his voice. "Tauriel, we were just jesting. Come back! It doesn't matter in any case, because he's not here!"
But Tauriel was gone. There was a peculiar helplessness that enveloped Dwalin. He did not know where Bilbo was and he did not know where Thorin was. How was he to protect them, protect anyone, when he was stuck in this cell?
"What are you going to do after all of this is over?"
This was the latest in Thorin's series of attempts at breaking the oppressive silence that had hung between them for days.
"What?" Bilbo echoed. It had been so long since he'd thought about his life outside of the mess that he was currently in. "After this?"
"Yes," Thorin said. "After we reclaim Erebor."
The word 'if' lingered unsaid.
Bilbo had not thought about the after. There was something sour about planning a life he was not sure he could have. But he could not very well tell Thorin that a very large part of his mind was convinced he would not be alive for much longer.
"I don't know," said Bilbo. He was laying on his back on the cot in his cell, staring at the patterns of wood on the ceiling. There was a little spot that looked like an owl if he narrowed his eyes enough. He was growing fond of it.
"Will you go back to the Shire?" Thorin asked, an odd note in his voice.
"Where else would I go?" Bilbo asked, his stomach contorting uncomfortably. He squeezed his eyes shut against the unbidden image that began to flood his brain. It was not a clear image, nor a detailed one. It was mostly just Thorin, wearing an ornate crown and smiling at him. The gentle smile that made Bilbo's heart ache and long for both the past and the future.
"Right," Thorin said. "I thought maybe- but nevermind. It was a foolish question."
"Well I don't very well know, do I?" Bilbo rushed to assure Thorin, although he did not quite know of what. "What about you?"
"I will be king," said Thorin. His voice was shaky, almost as if he had not gotten a breath of air before speaking.
"Another foolish question on my part, I suppose," said Bilbo. He had the strangest feeling of camaraderie. Two people bound by their destinies.
Thorin hummed. It was quiet. Bilbo had to strain his ears to hear it. But still, he felt it in his very soul.
"But if you didn't have to be," he said. "If you could do anything. Be anyone. What would you do?"
"I- don't know," Thorin said, voice soft and mournful. "I do not think it possible to remove myself from such an inevitability. I will be king until I die. There will be little opportunity for anything else."
Bilbo could not tell Thorin that he understood all too well the cruelty of a fate so certain.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the door to the cluster of cells opening. The sound was not that loud, but in such a silence, it echoed in Bilbo's ears.
It was Tauriel, her fair face twisted into a determined scowl.
"Halfling," she said, stopping stiffly in front of Bilbo's cell. "Tell me, what do you know of the fate of the forest? Do you know how it heals?"
"I- I'm sorry, what?" Bilbo asked.
Tauriel stared at him for a moment as though assessing him. "There is something evil in the forest," she said. "You know things, do you not?"
Bilbo stared at her blankly, but his stomach was starting to churn. He wondered briefly what Thorin thought of all this, sitting over in his cell watching this all unfold.
"Things you should not know," the elf continued. "Things you could not possibly have knowledge of."
"I might," Bilbo said after a pause, keeping his face impassive. "But then again, I might not. Why do you wish to know?"
Bilbo had absolutely no clue what information Tauriel was hoping to gain from him, but she had been the most sympathetic to their cause Last Time, and he was not one to skip a party then wish for presents.
"I wish to save the forest," Tauriel said, the tips of her pointed ears turning a warm pink. "For too long we have let the poison sink in. Something must be done."
"Then yes, I do know what poisons the forest," Bilbo said. "And I know what must be done to stop its spread."
"Tell me how," Tauriel said, lips parted and eyes wide. Bilbo frowned.
"I could," he said. "But what if I were to tell you that this is only the beginning? If I were to tell you that this heralds the return of The Enemy? What then, Tauriel, Captain of the Guard?"
Tauriel cocked her head to the side and Bilbo's heart sank. There was a moment of silence, before Tauriel spun on her heel and left, leaving the darkness ever darker, and the silence all encompassing.
Then, there was a sound from Thorin's cell. It was the sound of hundreds of questions brewing, bursting on the tip of the dwarf's tongue. Bilbo sighed. And here began the weaving of his web of deceit and lies. It was earlier than he expected, perhaps, but it had always been an inevitability. Fate, if you will.
It was another day of awkward but companionable conversation between Bilbo and Thorin, in which Thorin asked Bilbo a million questions. Did Bilbo know that elf? Why had she sought him out? What in all of Arda had she been talking about? What would Bilbo know about the fate of the forest, and why would she suggest that he knows things that he couldn't possibly know? And why did Bilbo play along, and what had it all meant?
Bilbo brushed off what happened as him simply making up lies on the spot. Thorin believed him, which should have been a relief, but made Bilbo feel truly wretched. He could almost take no more of the heavy, oppressive guilt, when the door to the dungeon swung open again.
"Súldil," Bilbo said. Súldil's dark eyes surveyed Bilbo with an unreadable expression.
"Bilbo," the elf replied, with a curt nod. They stood and watched Bilbo for a moment, before pulling out a set of keys.
"Come with me," they said, head cocked.
Bilbo paused, his heart suddenly racing. But he had no choice but to join Súldil as they marched him away from the cells. Behind him, Thorin watched, hands clenched white-knuckled against the bars, eyes wide.
"Where are you taking him?" Thorin called. "Bilbo!"
And then the door fell shut behind them, muffling Thorin's yells completely.
They were going to the throne room, Bilbo realized after several minutes of walking.
They finally came to a stop in front of Thranduil, who was, as ever, lounging in his throne with a lazy grace. He sat up as he caught sight of them, expression unreadable.
"Thank you, Súldil," the Elvenking said. "That will be all."
Súldil nodded and turned away. Bilbo caught their eye before they vanished. There was something curious in their depths.
"I won't waste your time with pleasantries, Master Baggins," said Thranduil.
"Won't you?" Bilbo quipped. Thranduil narrowed his eyes.
"I will try to restrain myself," the Elvenking said, waving a long-fingered hand. "Tauriel said something… concerning to me, and I wish to know what it means."
Bilbo said nothing, heart starting to thrum. Thranduil stood.
"She told me that you know what is poisoning my forest," Thranduil said, making his way slowly down the stairs that led to his throne. "Somehow, an elf, too young to know, too young to understand, spoke of The Enemy."
Thranduil got to the bottom of the stairs and stood towering over Bilbo, whose fingers felt like ice and whose stomach clenched painfully.
"So, tell me, halfling," Thranduil said. "What do you know about the fate of my forest?"
"If I were to tell you what I know," said Bilbo, "what shall I receive in return? Why should I give you the information you seek?"
"What would you have me do? Set you all free?" asked Thranduil with a smirk.
"Well, actually, yes," Bilbo said, his fingers itching for the Ring. Thranduil laughed.
"And how am I meant to believe a word you say, halfling?"
Bilbo swallowed thickly and shook his fingers, ridding himself of the impulse to turn invisible and flee.
"I can't give you proof," Bilbo said. "But I think I may be able to convince you."
"Do you?" Thranduil asked, raising one thick eyebrow.
"Yes," Bilbo said, feeling very uncertain and very nervous.
"Very well. Do not give me half-truths, halfling. Tell me all you know."
"What do you know of the elven histories?" Bilbo asked. Thranduil raised his eyebrows.
"More than you, certainly," Thranduil replied.
"Naturally," Bilbo said. "But tell me, how have these histories survived? How have they been carried on? Surely you know of Eriol, Rúmil, Gilfanon, and Eltas. If so you would know of the various histories associated with them, such as the Ainulindalë, or the creation of the Sun and the Moon, or even of Túrin Turambar."
Thranduil's face gave away nothing, but he was deathly still and his eyes were fixed on Bilbo unblinkingly.
"And I suppose you mean to tell me that you know of these histories?"
"I do," Bilbo said. "As you have heard, I know things I shouldn't. The world speaks to me. It whispers into my ears the little secrets that have been forgotten, or those that have yet come to pass." Bilbo was making things up on the spot, and hoped against hope that he sounded more impressive and sure than he felt.
"Enough," Thranduil said. The words were quiet but there was a sharp edge to them. "Start at the beginning."
Bilbo paused, then smiled, an almost sinister glint in his eye. He spoke first of all that he had learned in his 17 years working as an historian in Rivendell. He emphasized his timeless knowledge that he, an unknown hobbit who, for all intents and purposes, had not met any elves until just a couple of months ago, had. Additionally, the texts that he had translated had been written in Elvish, so even if Bilbo had somehow managed to get ahold of any ancient elvish histories, it was even more intriguing still for Thranduil, as it would have taken years and years to translate. And so it had!
There was a confused set to Thranduil's face when Bilbo stopped talking.
"Stop," Thranduil said. "I need to think."
Bilbo blinked, then nodded. That was better than nothing.
"Súldil," Thranduil said. A moment later, Súldil materialized from behind Bilbo. "Return the prisoner to his cell."
"Yes, my lord," Súldil said. "Come along, halfling."
Bilbo watched Súldil's dark hair sway at their waist for what felt like the hundredth time and filed out of Thranduil's room in silence.
Thorin wanted to know everything that had happened during Bilbo's audience with Thranduil. Bilbo had, mercifully, thought of this, albeit briefly. He spun Thorin a tale of a desperate king, seeking answers in the clear outsider. The weakest member of the Company.
At that, Thorin had laughed.
"That shows what a fool he is," the dwarf said, and left it at that.
It was several days before Bilbo was summoned again.
This time, Thranduil wanted to know about the Greenwood, so Bilbo told Thranduil about the High Fells of Rhudaur, and the Wringraiths who had broken free of their tombs. Then he spoke of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur, and how Gandalf, Radagast, Saruman, Elrond, and Galadriel would soon be there, in Dol Guldur, to destroy the Necromancer.
Bilbo also hinted at the near future, but Thranduil was more interested in what would be found within the border's of his own forest.
"And when you say 'Necromancer'?" Thranduil asked.
"Sauron," Bilbo said with a solemn nod. Thranduil narrowed his eyes.
"I see," the elf said.
"Well?" Bilbo asked, starting to get impatient.
"Well what?" Thranduil drawled.
"Do we have a deal?"
"Come back tomorrow," said Thranduil.
"But-"
"Tomorrow. Súldil!"
Once again, Bilbo trailed behind Súldil and back towards his and Thorin's cells.
At this point, Thorin was sure that Bilbo was being tortured. And Bilbo didn't know if he should go along with it, or risk Thorin finding out about Bilbo's deception.
Either way, Bilbo felt terrible. The guilt gnawed at his stomach worse than any hunger pains. Thorin was so angry on Bilbo's behalf and did not doubt his motives for a second. Bilbo only hoped that when the time came, Thorin would forgive him.
Thranduil did not call for Bilbo until after their evening meal. It was Tauriel who came to fetch him this time, and Bilbo could not help but notice the curious looks she sent his way, and the number of times she inhaled sharply as though about to ask a question, but said nothing.
"Master Baggins," Thranduil said when they arrived.
"King Thranduil," Bilbo said, watching Thranduil for any signs that might give away what he had decided.
"I have been thinking," Thranduil said.
Bilbo nearly rolled his eyes. Hadn't that been the whole point?
"I would consider an alliance."
Bilbo's mouth dropped open but he shut it quickly.
"On one condition," Thranduil said. Bilbo grimaced. He should have known Thranduil's help would be conditional.
"Name it," Bilbo said.
"The White Gems," Thranduil said.
"Done," Bilbo said instantly. Was that it?
"Wonderful," said Thranduil with a complacent smile. "Let us plan."
"I should mention," Bilbo said. "It is probably best that my companions are not aware that we are working together. Simply to avoid any… complications."
"I think that is something I can manage," Thranduil replied.
The keys were heavy in Bilbo's pocket. Tauriel made sure to be gentle with him, to allow him to move slowly and deliberately. If the keys made a sound, it was over. The tension between the two was palpable.
Bilbo did not know what the elf knew, but she knew enough. He was sure of it. She watched him in a way that she had not before. There was a buzz of anticipation that they shared.
"Tauriel," Bilbo said, as they approached the cells that he and Thorin shared. "I- Can I request something of you?"
"What is it?" Tauriel asked.
Bilbo hesitated. "Do you know where to find athelas in the forest?"
"Yes," Tauriel said, cocking her head to the side. "Why?"
"I think it would be prudent to start carrying some on you at all times. Starting immediately."
"Why?"
"I hope it will not be necessary, but you may yet find out," Bilbo said. The elf shot him a curious look and nodded. "Right. Well, thank you."
Tauriel opened the door to his cell, Thorin watching on, a defiant glare on his face.
When Tauriel left, Bilbo took a deep breath.
"We're getting out of here. Tonight," he said.
"You have a plan!" Thorin said. It was not a question, and he did not sound surprised. More like his deepest suspicions were confirmed.
"I have a plan," Bilbo affirmed, his stomach roiling in the face of his deception. He then pulled the keys out and let them clink, the sound echoing loudly. He cringed but Thorin let out a breath of relief.
"Bilbo, I- I am most grateful to you," Thorin said, his voice breathy, catching ever so slightly.
"Well, yes, of course," Bilbo said hurriedly, his stomach giving another guilty lurch. "Someone had to do it."
"I have every faith in you," Thorin said.
"Don't say that yet," Bilbo said. "You're not going to like it."
Bilbo explained his plans to Thorin. He told him of the Feast of Starlight, and the underground stream that ran through the hill, accessible through the cellars.
"How did you discover all of this?" Thorin asked.
"You'd be surprised how much people are willing to say in front of someone so small," Bilbo said. It was not entirely a lie, but it was not the truth either. "The elves and the men of Laketown have a trade system that runs along the river. It was easy enough to listen to them complain about their work, and easier still to overhear the excitement about the feast."
"You are ever a surprise, Master Baggins," Thorin said, sounding as though he was holding something back. Bilbo flushed and fiddled with the keys. "Very well. Tonight, we escape."
"I'm telling you, he is asleep," Bilbo said in a carrying whisper. The dwarves walked stealthily, their recently re-acquired weapons dangling soundlessly from their bodies. "Now get into the barrels, or else we will lose this chance."
To the dwarves' credit, they did as they were told, tip-toeing past the sleeping butler, an elf named Galion, and climbing into the barrels with only mild complaints.
Bilbo released them into the stream with one extra empty barrel, and launched himself in after them. The next part was the hard part.
There were more important things to worry about, such as keeping Kíli safe, and ensuring the survival of the entire Company during the oncoming wave of fighting, but by the Valar, Bilbo had forgotten how terrible this segment of their journey was. He felt breathless, both with chill, panic, and the sheer force of being rattled around in the barrel. The water was colder than he remembered, and he could already feel bruises forming on his shoulders where he was repeatedly jostled against the mouth of the barrel. His stomach churned violently and he swallowed non-existent bile.
These more trivial worries were soon forgotten, as just minutes after they were freed, the orcs were upon them. To Bilbo's surprise, Tauriel was already there. She was fighting the orcs tirelessly, trying to come to the Company's defence. Bilbo had the sneaking suspicion that Thranduil had sent her along to spy on them, but her cover was now blown.
The fight was wet, confusing, and violent, but luckily before long, another host of elves swarmed the orcs, their movements fluid and graceful in the dying daylight. Their attention was more on the orcs than on the dwarves, much to Bilbo's relief.
They approached the gate and the tension in Bilbo's stomach heightened with every passing moment. His eyes kept flicking towards Kíli as if of their own volition. He had specifically requested that the grate be kept open for them, with the express purpose of avoiding Kíli's injury, but he could not help but worry. So many things could go wrong, and sometimes accidents happen against all odds.
And then Tauriel was there, on top of the gate, battling fiercely with a large and brutish orc. And she was losing. Before Bilbo could do anything but stare in horror, Kíli leapt up. He jumped from Ori's barrel to Dwalin, and then to Nori, and onto dry land.
Bilbo let out a strangled cry and lodged Sting into the calf of a nearby orc. Kíli was in terrible danger once again and he had not been able to stop it.
Kíli reacted quickly and joined into the fight without missing a beat. He was quickly outnumbered, however, and there was only so much he could do as the orc enclosed Tauriel in its bruising grip.
Bilbo was suddenly occupied as the orc he had stabbed came crashing down on top of him. Through the stench of dried blood and other putrid liquids, and the weight of the creature on top of him, Bilbo attempted to shift, to free himself of the burden, anything to keep his eyes on Kíli.
"Fíli!" Kíli cried, hand outstretched towards his brother. In an instant, one of Fíli's throwing axes was in Kíli's hand. Kíli launched it at the orc who held Tauriel captive, and it collapsed, falling backwards into the water. Its grip on Tauriel remained, and she tumbled in with it.
Bilbo managed to shake himself free of the orc on top of him and he watched Kíli rush to the other side of the bridge, eyes searching the water for a flash of red and green. Tauriel surfaced and Kíli sped back into action. He blocked a blow coming from his right, and stabbed an orc on the left. But it was not enough
"Kíli, get back in the barrel," Bilbo yelled as he caught sight of Bolg for the first time in half a lifetime. The son of the Pale Orc had a malicious smile on his face as he notched an arrow into a wicked looking bow. Bilbo recognized the orc instantly, and a thrill of panic raised the hairs on Bilbo's arm.
Bilbo's cries were drowned out by the rushing water and the sound of battle taking place all around. On either side of him, Bilbo's companions went over the edge of the waterfall, leaving just Fíli, Thorin, Dwalin, and Bilbo hacking away at the ankles of nearby orcs, waiting for Kíli to rejoin them. But there was only so long they could wait in one spot, and Kíli was surrounded. Bilbo's stomach sank.
With a sharp intake of air, Bilbo pulled himself up and out of his barrel. Thorin called after him, but Bilbo ignored him. He rushed at the archer as it loaded an arrow into the bow. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Bilbo watched, hopelessly far away, as the orc aimed at Kíli's heart. A hail of elvish arrows descended on Bolg as he aimed and he let out a cry of fury.
Bilbo was too late. Bolg's arrow flew, its path skewed as his concentration was broken. It did not hit Kíli in the heart, but rather it embedded itself in his shoulder. Bolg wasted no time checking his accuracy before he was gone, rushing at the offending elves in vengeful wrath.
Bilbo cried out, only he heard no sound. He ran towards the dwarf prince as he fell to his knees. Bilbo caught him, world spinning as though he had been the one to fall.
"No, Kíli, stay upright," Bilbo said, grunting under the dwarf's weight, his breaths coming in shaky gasps. "Can you make it over the edge? We'll get you back into your barrel and it will all be- it will all be fine."
Kíli tried to speak, winced, then nodded, his movements jerky and expression pained. Bilbo's stomach lurched painfully and he fought the urge to be sick.
"Alright, are you ready?" Bilbo asked, preparing to turn Kíli over, drop him over the side. "Thorin, Fíli. You need to catch him."
Bilbo wasn't sure if they had heard him, but he had to hope. He was not giving up on Kíli so soon.
Kíli let out a terrible cry as they moved him towards the edge. He dropped off and Bilbo scrambled to the side. Fíli and Thorin were lowering him into a barrel. Bilbo nodded, letting a shaky breath escape him. For a moment, he relaxed, but then he heard the crunch of gravel behind him. He looked around just in time to watch something heavy and metal collide with his face, and he tumbled sideways into the water.
The sky was an endless expanse of grey. That was all that Bilbo knew for several moments, until his head began to scream in pain.
"Bilbo," came Thorin's voice and Bilbo blinked, trying to decipher where it came from. He appeared in Bilbo's vision, leaning over him, his long hair covering most of his face. "You're awake!"
"Am I?" Bilbo asked. Thorin helped him sit up, a hand on the small of Bilbo's back. Bilbo stared around in a trancelike state. They were on Bard's barge. Kíli was lying on the deck, barely conscious, as a pale but beautiful Tauriel worked away at his wound. At Thorin's words, she turned to look at Bilbo with an almost reverent look. In her hand was the athelas plant.
"Are we nearly at Laketown?" Bilbo asked.
"Nearly," Thorin replied. His hand had wandered to a resting place on Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo felt very warm as he realized how close he and Thorin were sitting.
"How are we getting in?" Bilbo asked, eyeing the grim-faced Bard.
"Do not worry, azaghith," Thorin said with a gentle look. "It was you who got us out of our elven prisons. It is your turn to rely on us."
"You know I'm not exactly one to sit back and relax," Bilbo said, raising an eyebrow. One side of Thorin's lips lifted into a soft smile.
"Try. You need rest. All is well."
Bilbo surveyed his dour, but alive friends, the sure set of Thorin's brow, and the worried but calm Tauriel, and he said: "Alright."
Bilbo stood staring out of Bard's window. Laketown bloomed in front of him, a twinkle of dim lights in the darkening sky. He absently remarked that it must once again be his birthday.
How old would he be now? Was he 51, or 132, or some strange combination of both? Eventually, he concluded that it made his head hurt and he decided to move on.
He leaned on the windowsill, pressing his forehead against the glass. It was wet with condensation and he closed his eyes against the icy feeling. He kept his worries at bay, focusing solely on the sensation of his skin turning cold, bit by bit.
The silence was broken by hesitant footfalls. Thorin stood next to Bilbo. He said nothing, just stared out the window, his arm just slightly brushing Bilbo's. That one spot on Bilbo's body felt as though the ice was melting. The warmth slowly moved inwards. He took a deep breath, then turned. He met Thorin's eyes and had the sudden absurd desire to laugh.
"You worry too much," Thorin said. Their knuckles brushed between them. Bilbo flushed and turned his gaze back to the window. He did not pull away.
"I know," Bilbo replied.
Translations:
Mellon - Friend
Gûlduin - The enchanted river in Mirkwood
Azaghith - Little warrior
Mohilâli harubaz hubma -
Nadadel - Brother of all brothers
Madtithbirzul - Little golden heart
Nidoy - Boy
"Skip a party then wish for presents" - A hobbit idiom akin to "look a gift horse in the mouth"
A/n:
Yes, yes, I saw my opportunity and I seized it. I absolutely had to post this chapter on Bilbo's birthday. I HAD to!
Anyways, hope you all take it easy today and celebrate like a hobbit would - with lots of food and good company.