Hello everyone,
After some good long thinking on my part and more than a little bit of caution, I've decided that I will be editing and posting Call Me Home on AO3! As much as I love Fanfiction and the fact that this site was my intro into the online writing forum, I can't say I'm very wild about the changes that have occurred to the site in the last few years.
**Of course, I will be finishing Call Me Home here, but any sequels and the like I choose to post down the line will be on AO3 under my pen name there- inkbadger.**
I will be posting the first chapter there later today, so if you prefer AO3 or just want to continue supporting me, I appreciate all of you immensely!
That being said, we have another special guest this chapter! I hope you all enjoy!
WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 34? OR 19-33? IF NOT, READ THOSE FIRST! I'VE BEEN UPDATING VERY QUICKLY IN THE LAST COUPLE OF MONTHS.
Inspired by a prompt I stumbled upon by lateforerebor on tumblr.
Summary: Bilba "Bell" Baggins decides that she's waited quite long enough to take her mother's advice and old stories and go on an adventure of her own. What she didn't expect was to end up in Ered Luin and be adopted by dwarves! AU, Pre-Quest, Nori/Bilba.
-;-
"This is seems unusually cruel of you, cousin." Heledir commented mildly as Legolas exited the rooms behind the thick door, the sound of the ancient oak firm as the blond elf sighed, leaning against it for a moment. "She only asks to know the welfare of her companions."
He tilted his head in sympathy at the frustrated sounds of distress that came from the room, as there had been for the last several days and just as many visits from the Woodland Prince. The Halfling was of great interest to the Lord of the Woodland Realm- something to do with their more unruly dwarven guests.
"Her companions are those my father has ordered detained and imprisoned." Legolas replied tiredly, shoulders slumping. "Let it be a small mercy she does not hear of her company in such a state."
His copper-haired cousin made a non-committal sound in his throat; if there was one thing so clearly divisive between them, it was temperament. Legolas, the heir to his father's throne, had a much stricter standard to conduct himself than his cousin. Heledir held no such qualms, often being the voice of reason… and the source of more mischief than not during their youth.
Legolas shot him a look without heat, starting down the hall with Heledir falling into step a half-pace behind him as status dictated. (Rather, as his Lord had dictated while he was but an elfling reeling from the loss of his mother). Still, Legolas allowed him far more freedoms than Thranduil ever would, allowing him to rise through the ranks and become his personal guard.
"He is still displeased, then." Legolas hazarded, glancing over.
Heledir offered a one-shouldered shrug, the air of indifference as he commented, "No more than usual since all of this began."
No more than the realization that dwarves had dared trespass into the Woodland Realm for the first time since Erebor's desolation.
It wasn't said aloud, but they had been raised as siblings and Legolas could divine the thought clear as the sun on his cousin's features. Equally clear was the knowledge Heledir had likely also been punished for his part in all of the ensuing chaos.
The single point of contention that lay in their family could likely be laid solely at Heledir's feet; in particular, the copper-haired elf's opinions in regard to the spiders that now lived within the Greenwood's once mighty forests. Thranduil remained convinced a passive approach would suffice in the matter- a certainty that they would long outlive whatever foul creatures lurked beyond the safety of their gates. To say Heledir disagreed was a gross understatement.
Quietly, Legolas found it difficult to disagree. One thing unsolved by doing nothing was the too-rapid spread of the cursed arachnids crawling their formerly pristine homeland. Too many of their kin had met their end in battle against them- most recent of that number Tauriel. She had been a close friend and confidant in their elfling years, well on track to becoming the next Captain of the Guard. Legolas nor Heledir had been able to save her, too far from her side during the skirmish that claimed her.
And now there were a company of dwarves in the Woodland King's cells and a mysterious halfling who refused to do more than stare wordlessly at Legolas or ask of her companions' welfare.
The guards stationed by the doors of the grand hall eyed the pair but nonetheless stepped aside as Legolas approached, eyes ever watchful of the copper-haired elf as they passed.
Even now, the legacy of his mother's sister did not fade.
"You wished to see me, adar?" Legolas asked by way of greeting, tone mild as he assumed the correct posture for being in the presence of the Elvenking. Heledir slipped to the shadows of the wall by habit, an autumnal shadow to his prince as he crossed his arms behind his back.
Thranduil cut an imposing figure of his own, sat upon a throne built upon a twisting column of roots and branches. His robes glimmered silver in the dim lighting of the setting sun above, fingers tapping against the arms of his perch. From below, he looked more like a bird of prey.
"I wish to know of your progress of the Halfling." The Elvenking intoned, tone as sharp as his gaze. "I listened to your plea to spare her, given she was an innocent caught in a skirmish. And yet… there is nothing to show for your effort and it has been several days since your questioning began."
"She wishes to know the fate of her companions." Legolas stated evenly. "I fear if I were to speak of their fate, she would refuse to speak entirely."
"The dwarves." Thranduil's lip curled.
"If she were to see that they are well, mayhaps she would be more willing to speak with us." Heledir said quietly, voice echoing around the empty hall.
It was the wrong thing to say; Legolas could recognize it in the way his father stiffened, gaze flicking over to settle firmly on the other elf in the room.
"So says the elf who knowingly left this hall- despite my warnings of the consequences should you do so. Tell me, Legolas, why I should not strip your guard of rank and suitably punished for leading you to peril and being responsible for the senseless deaths of your kinsmen?"
The words were pointed, the acid consistent with how he usually spoke to the other elf. More than likely he had already summoned Heledir and punished him away from prying eyes- it would be just like him to hide it from Legolas.
"We have seen for ourselves the dangers the spider-spawn have wrought in our wood, adar." Legolas said, plea evident in his voice. "I cannot sit idly by and watch them take our homeland away from us; they no longer call this place Greenwood but Mirkwood- a place full of danger and shadows."
"A pretty lie from our guests." The Elvenking sniffed, procuring a goblet of wine from somewhere and sipping it idly. "We will long outlive whatever temporary creatures live in this wood."
"Are they truly such lies if they ring with truth?" Heledir asked mildly, though his voice echoed ominously in the hall. "In the past months alone, we have lost three elf lives. Lives that should have been spared had we paid more mind to the threat that continues to swell in our borders."
"Lives that perhaps could have been spared had you ceased your poisoned tongue from spilling thoughts into my son's ear. You. My son's ever faithful dog." Thranduil's lip curled. "Leave us."
"As my lord wishes." Heledir bowed, taking his leave.
The doors closed quietly, but it seemed to ring like thunder as Legolas exhaled a breath. He wasn't terribly concerned; his cousin oft picked topics of contention with Thranduil- despite the number of penalties dealt over the years, it never seemed to grind his cousin's edge as it did his.
Then again, Heledir was not the heir to the titles the realm carried.
When he finally emerged from the hall some time later, Heledir was leaning against the wall, sharpening his dagger with idle patience. At the exasperated look from his cousin, the copper-haired elf had the decency to look appropriately apologetic for riling his father's ire once again.
"The verdict?" he inquired.
"The same. He wishes to starve out Oakenshield and coerce some kind of accord. I reminded him that torture would make us no better than them." Legolas sighed, allowing some of the worry he felt bleed into his frame.
"The gems." Heledir guessed.
The white gems of Lasgalen had been a commissioned gift from the Elvenking to his bride and wife-sister, a sign of prosperity of their union into the house of Oropher. What none of them could have predicted was the Queen and her sister to fall in battle before the completed pieces could be bestowed upon them. Coupled with dwarven pride and dispute of the payment, one thing had led to the next until matters were as they were now.
"The gems." Legolas sighed, uncharacteristically sober as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Adar will continue to taunt Oakenshield until one or both of them passes from this world to the next, while the rest of the dwarves are to be used as bargaining pieces. You are to be responsible for the halfling- evidently not even my father could have predicted such an oddity amid their ranks. It makes her more valuable."
"And thus more at risk should our king decide to change tactics." Heledir deduced, groaning as he ran a hand through his hair. "I hate politics."
"You and I both, cousin." Legolas grimaced. "Come- we should drink and find merriment while we are able. There is no telling when we might next find peace with a company of dwarves in our halls."
-;-
Dwarrow indeed were in their halls, and they were not at all afraid of informing their hosts just what they thought of them. Complete with crude hand gestures and several layers of specific curses that likely would have scalded a layer off Smaug himself should the beast be present. One ought to know better than to raise the ire of dwarrow, let alone those who are rather irritable to begin with.
(Coupled with protective streaks a mile long and one would be looking at many headaches in their future.)
(Or at present.)
At the moment, Nori was doing neither of the aforementioned activities. Instead, he paced the cell- comfortable enough, certainly better than those in Ered Luin and other less savory places- attempting to find a way out. Unfortunately, the elves weren't exactly idiots when it came to ensuring no weapons made it past their notice; every dwarf in the company had been picked neatly clean of weapons. Or anything else the tree-shaggers considered to be a weapon.
He had learned two things about Thorin's eldest heir during that particular process, however-
Until the end of his days, the look of the elf who'd been unfortunate enough to confiscate Fili's weapons would linger in his mind. The volume of them he kept on his person wasn't a secret, but it was rather illuminating to see the pile grow steadily larger long after the rest of the company had finished being stripped.
Granted, it wasn't like Nori was any slouch- his line of work tended to be dangerous at the best of times- but it tended to be a bit more of a hazard if your enemy was able to find something to stab him with from his own body.
His fingers tightened around the piece of smoothened oak he'd been carrying since Beorn's, surface worn much the same as Kili's promise-stone from his mother; of which had somehow managed to make it thus far without being lost.
He didn't consider himself much of a sentimental dwarf; aside from his kin and one exceptional hobbit lass, Nori hadn't ever felt the pull of a Craft or a purpose like many other dwarrow. But since Beorn's, he'd perhaps indulged himself in the occasional thought of the chance of something more. Chief amongst his traitorous thoughts were what he might make of the oak if given the right tools. Given that their cells were too far from one another to converse with anyone else of the company, and as of yet he'd been unsuccessful in finding a way out- Nori was left with more than enough time to consider what the future held.
He didn't see himself a fool, but Mirkwood was but a small jump away from Erebor. The weight of their company had set in some time ago, and now he weighed their options. Of whether they truly stood a chance of somehow stealing the Arkenstone out from under Smaug's nose, if the drake was even still alive.
Somehow, Nori had his doubts that after so little time, a dragon would have succumbed to, what? Contentment of taking a mountain full of shiny treasures away from a dwarven people?
No.
The likelihood of Smaug still breathing, and of sending Bilba into that maw should they even find the keyhole on Durin's Day, seemed as though the odds were more than stacked against them. And then there was the matter of a Hobbit travelling with an entire company of dwarrow across half of Middle Earth- even if they managed to get Bilba into the mountain, if Smaug still lived, there would be absolutely no doubt that she would reek of their scent.
More than anything, that was the circle his thoughts inevitably turned back to, worrying over it like a dog with a bone. No matter which way he twisted or phrased it in his thoughts, it all came back to one very clear source.
Bilba.
He groaned, resisting the urge to knock his forehead against the stone walls. It wouldn't do him any good to continue dwelling on it, but it seemed as though they had all missed that vital piece of information when their hobbit had informed them she would be accompanying them on their journey to the Lonely Mountain. Nor, he thought, did he think that they had ever considered how everything had gone so terribly sideways at the start of all of this; how different would it have been for them to never take the lass in when she'd first appeared in Ered Luin? To never have met her or take her into their home and hearth and heart?
Now look at them. Besotted with the lass who had somehow managed to charm all of them into letting her go on a mad quest for a pretty rock.
A very valuable pretty rock, but a rock nonetheless.
And on top of it all, they were being held in the Elf-King's dungeons because Thorin was more stubborn than a mule.
Excellent.
All he hoped was that there wouldn't be bloodshed before he managed to get himself out of his cell.
-;-
The next morning- following a night of more drinking than entirely necessary and many hours of puzzling their way through Heledir's new responsibility- brought the cousins at the door of the halfling laden with breakfast; on Legolas' part, brimming with trepidation. Heledir hadn't offered explanation when he'd roused the blond with a spark in his eye and more enthusiasm than entirely necessary, instead dragging him off to the kitchens before the light had even begun to filter through the thick canopy of trees above.
It's one thing when elves are early risers. It's another when even the kitchen staff are surprised to see you there before an appropriate hour.
"Remind me again what your plan is?" Legolas asked, staring at the door with a look of curious doubt.
"Dearest cousin, it's almost like you've forgotten all of our lessons on the people of the West." Heledir smirked, relieving the blond of his tray and straightening himself out ever so much. "But to answer part of your question- if you were trapped in a dwarven hall with no kin, would you not desire even a sliver of kindness or friendship?"
With that, he slipped into the room, leaving his cousin to puzzle out the words for himself.
He ignored the look of wary confusion the halfling- Hobbit, he mentally corrected- levelled him with, instead setting the large tray of baked goods down and taking a seat in one of the comfortable chairs next to the small table.
She was small- smaller than he had anticipated, easily half a head shorter than the dwarves in the cells. Clearly well proportioned under better circumstances as well, she wore the dirty but well-crafted travelling garb they had found her in after the skirmish, twisting a strand of braided curls in her fingers. A brassy sort of copper, Heledir mused, seeing some of the red gleam in the light.
"Good morning, Mistress Hobbit." He greeted warmly. "Would you care for some breakfast?"
"I would care for news of my company." She said wearily, side-eying the tray with an unreadable look.
"They are as well as they can be, given the circumstances." He said, grabbing a sweet roll to break apart with his hands. "Our peoples have always had… delicate… relations. Even at the best of times."
Clearly not the answer she had expected, she studied the new elf with an intensity that likely would have unnerved a lesser being. As it was, Heledir found himself lifting a brow as he plucked a mouthful of roll into his mouth, choosing to allow her to make the first move.
"What do you want from me?"
"I have nothing I desire from you, Mistress Hobbit." He replied easily. "The Lord of the Woodland Realm is a different matter, but he and I hardly see eye to eye at the best of times these days. Sweet roll?"
"Where am I?" she inquired, polite but wary.
A test of a question, no doubt; one with an obvious answer she seemed to already know. Still, Heledir saw no reason to withhold such information. Honey tended to catch more flies than not, regardless.
"The Woodland Realm of Lord Thranduil." He inclined his head, schooling himself into something more indifferent. "I am Heledir, healer amongst the court and guard to the Crown Prince."
"Prince Legolas." She confirmed, a darting glance flicked to the door. "You were speaking with him a moment ago."
"Yes."
He managed to maintain his expression, even as he wanted to lift a brow curiously. Hobbits had not been known to travel much at all since their wandering days, a great many years ago. That this curious little thing not only knew which elf land they'd found themselves in, but to know the names of the royals, was odd to say the least. "My prince and I have been tasked with your care whilst you are here."
"Some would think it odd, given your position." She narrowed her eyes.
Something like a flinch ran through him at the sharp demand in her tone.
"My King was not pleased to discover dwarves in his land. Nor was he pleased to find spiders so close to our gates." Heledir offered, resisting the urge to gag at the sheer amount of formality dripping from his words. "But you are neither dwarf nor spider. Where have you come, little one?"
"Bilba. Our company was travelling to the Iron Hills." She said without hesitation, the lie slipping as easily from her tongue as any other. If Heledir had not been trained from a young age to note signs of deception, perhaps he could have believed it. "Some for family, others for diplomacy. With how dangerous the world is, we decided it was safer to travel in numbers."
"Hm." He nodded. He took a bite of the roll in his hands, allowing himself to gather his thoughts. Once he'd sufficiently managed to think of his phrasing, he swallowed. "Perhaps I might believe it, if Thorin Oakenshield's map and key had not been found in your belongings."
A sharp intake of air was enough of a warning as he held up a hand.
"Peace, Mistress Bilba. I can assume enough from you that you are a part of the company. However, I am not so narrow-minded as some to think that dwelling here is enough to stop a drake should it awaken in the mountain and deign grace Middle Earth with it's presence again."
"You think Smaug still lives?" she asked quietly.
"I think there is a great chance of it, yes." Heledir agreed. "But there are many other dark things stirring in these lands- orcs, rumors of necromancers, if Radagast the Brown's words are to be believed; something is awakening, and I feel as though Smaug may only be one piece of a much grander scheme. Perhaps not in this age, nor in your lifetime, but there are always whispers."
At his words, it was almost akin to watching a flower wilt. Obviously, there was more going on than he had first thought.
"Blasted dwarves, getting involved in quests and mountains and things with lasting consequences." The hobbit finally sighed, rubbing her temples with a tired sort of exasperation. "I'll be silver-haired before you know it at the rate we've been going."
"Which is why you're going to need help if you want to get your dwarves out of the Woodland Realm before it happens." Heledir said smoothly, for a moment smiling fully at the look of utter startlement on the hobbit's features.
"What-?" she began, brow furrowing.
"I am loyal to my kin, Mistress Bilba, do not misunderstand." Heledir shook his head, slowly working his way through his sweet roll. "But it is exactly for that reason I believe the quest be unhindered. One way or another, fate will intervene and find a way to the same end. What does it matter if it results in an elf taking the side of a hobbit and company of dwarves?"
There it was. Out in the open. Heledir hadn't dared speak it to Legolas, in fear of what might come out to his uncle, but the thought had crossed his mind the moment he'd stepped foot in the room.
"How do I know you aren't simply going to run off to your lord and tell him everything?" she finally said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You don't. However, I can bring news of your company. Freeing them may be more difficult than you think with all of the feuds between Erebor and the Woodland Realm, but it's nothing if we don't try."
She tilted her head.
"You are a very strange elf." She commented. "You seem more like your kin to the west, of Lord Elrond's house."
"I was quite close with his kin, many years ago." He smiled wistfully, remembering the days Elladan and Elrohir had delightedly taken he and Legolas under their wings, showing them the wonders of the west before Thranduil had barred himself in Mirkwood. "Perhaps their influences paid off all these years later."
"Perhaps." She said thoughtfully before huffing out a laugh. "Very well then. Certainly not the strangest thing I've done by now. May I have one of those scones?"
-;-
The great stone hall was nearly silent. It wasn't unusual to find it that way- at the best of times, there were only a handful entrusted with the fibers that would one day become the foundation of the Song. Rich ochres to vibrant crimsons to pale as ice blues and shades of white, they entwined to become the Tapestry she watched over.
Under normal circumstances, she would be doing her work, weaving the spindle through the loom and continuing to write the stories of the world long into the Ages to come.
But there was a strand that twanged, out of place as it shifted in the Song.
Her dark hair curled about her cheeks as she closed starlit eyes, allowing her senses to guide her to the place in the Tapestry that was discontenting her. Feather light fingers traced the patterns, following it back, back, back half an Age before tilting her mane of curls into the silent wind, brows furrowing only the slightest as she honed into the strand that had knotted. Plucking at the strings of an instrument only she could sense, she gently separated the knot from its brethren, finally opening her eyes and setting sights on the thread that challenged her.
She smiled fondly, humming as she examined the autumnal hue that had twisted into the gentle yellow in the scene before her. It wasn't entirely true to the Song; her tapestries were guided by her hand but never set in stone. Always, there were the strands who had their own ideas.
"Little one, you are a change to the harmony of the Song." She chided warmly, following it as its path threaded somewhere new. "Still, I sense you will become a much bigger part of the Tapestry than expected should your path continue."
True, she could just as easily correct the thread and resume her weaving. But she also knew there were those amongst the Valar who desired to change the Fate of those in the Tapestry, and despite her purpose she was not so heartless as to subdue those of free will. Instead, she smoothed her hands over the fabric, willing it to change and adapt to the new paths that had been wrought from the ripple.
"Let us hope you won't be causing as much trouble as Olorin seems intent on pursuing." She sighed, soft as a summer breeze. "Then again… elves have always been unpredictable when they so choose."