Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my original characters.

Chapter Four

Everywhere was peaceful as the company gazed down around themselves; this was a place untouched by the ravages of the wild world surrounding it, and it seemed to be swathed in Elven magic that swirled and danced in the air. The white stone buildings were softened by the lacy greenery of the plant-life, and the breeze that drifted through the area was scented with the beautiful flowers that wound their way over the veranda railings that seemed to encompass everything.

Bilbo huffed out another awed breath as he stood next to Miluiel, and she grinned at the Hobbit fondly. His companionable nature had been a comfort to her in the short time she had spent with him, and it made the unfathomable journey seem less daunting; Gandalf had yet to reveal his reasoning as to why he had included her, and what part she would play in the grand scheme of the company's adventure.

"Shall we?" Gandalf held out an arm, motioning for the company to pass him and move into the Elven city before them. Thorin grimaced, before taking the lead down the stone path which wound about the edges of the settlement. His shoulders were squared with righteous indignation at the thought of seeking refuge from Elves. Elves, of all creatures! Their graceful limbs and languid movements irritated him, and their witty, elegant conversation made him feel as rough as the stone from whence his ancestors were hewn. He felt their race weak and selfish; they protected their own kin, but offered no aid to those really in need, despite the desperate pleading which should have swayed their empty hearts. Oh, how he despised the Elves!

Whilst Thorin trudged forth, expecting his company to follow with no question, Miluiel hung back a little, her eyes full of apprehension. Gandalf placed a hand in the small of her back, pushing her forward as he had in the clearing, and smiled as she turned to him. He nodded slowly as she took a step away from him, and another; suddenly, she had fallen into step with Bilbo, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

She was anxious. No, it was more than anxiety, it was fear. Fear of the reception she would receive; fear of the rejection she would most likely encounter due to her heritage. Her parentage was something that she did not discuss, and she was uncomfortable in this place which seemed as though it would have suited her absent Elven father. Her mother had never mentioned him, so it had fallen to Balel to recount their short-lived relationship, and despite his efforts to be fair, his obvious distaste for the Elf had risen like bile in the back of his throat. She, therefore, imagined what hostility would await her – a bastard child of mixed race, with no knowledge of her father other than the fireside tales she had heard from her grandfather. It was definitely fear she felt coursing through her veins, and it was most debilitating.

Miluiel was startled from her thoughts by Gandalf as he moved past her, his grey robes billowing as he strode down the line of Dwarves with purpose, and with a slight raise of an eyebrow, took Thorin's place at the head of their company.

"This is an encounter which must be handled with the utmost delicacy and tact. As such, it is I alone who shall speak with the Elves," Gandalf murmured to the Dwarf king, who reluctantly acquiesced. They descended as a controlled mass down the stone path and into a courtyard, where they were greeted by a tall Elf in deep burgundy robes. His brown hair was partly swept back from his face, exposing the pointed tips of his ears and the sharp cheekbones which made him seem almost feminine in his beauty, and the rest spilled over his shoulders in a silken stream. His brown eyes skipped over the group, before settling on the grey wizard, at whom he smiled.

"Lindir."

"Mithrandir."

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," Gandalf smiled in response to the elegant Elf.

"My Lord Elrond is not here presently, I am afraid," the Elf replied, inclining his head in deference to the wizard. Gandalf, however, did not seem as serene as the Elf standing before him, and he responded rather sharply. "Not here? But, where is he?" his voice was tinged with something akin to annoyance at his own presumption that the Elf lord would simply be waiting for their arrival, but his thoughts were interrupted by the call of a horn. Before the company could register where they had heard that familiar sound, the clattering of hooves on stone caused them to move closer together, pulling the most vulnerable members of their group to the centre. Thorin's cry - "Close ranks!" - alerted them to the danger. Kili had pushed Miluiel and Bilbo behind himself and his brother, and both stood with their weapons drawn, as did the other Dwarves. Thorin glanced over his shoulder at his nephews and furrowed his brow at the way they readily protected the strange woman, who had offered no explanation as to her purpose, or her mysterious appearance. He turned around again and cast his eyes over the Elven company that surrounded them and his heart pounded with rage.

Huge horses circled the group, drawing them ever closer to one another, and sharp Elven eyes passed over the heads of the Dwarves. A few lingered over the Hobbit, but more still hovered over Miluiel, and she ducked her head at the unwanted attention. Her auburn curls tumbled forward to hide her face, and a pale blush crept up her neck as she looked up through her lashes to find that she had huddled herself against the muscular shoulders of Kili.

"Gandalf!" a low voice sounded from above their heads, and another dark-haired Elf appeared at the head of the hunting party.

"Lord Elrond!" the wizard replied, opening his arms in a gesture of friendship and stepping forward. The two then spoke softly to one another in a strange tongue, which made Miluiel jerk her head up at the sound. Kili turned his head slightly to her and raised an eyebrow, at which she shook her head almost imperceptibly and looked past him again. This exchange did not escape the notice of the Dwarven king.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near," Elrond continued, eyeing Gandalf with ill-disguised intrigue. He smiled softly as Gandalf spread his hands apologetically.

"That may have been us, old friend," the wizard replied, stepping slightly to his left to reveal Thorin and his kin. The Dwarf king rolled his shoulders back and stood taller; despite his lack of height, his muscular frame and ill-natured glower seemed to make him grow, as though before their very eyes he seemed to fill the space vacated by the wizard.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Thorin, son of Thrain," Elrond inclined his head slightly, surveying the Dwarf and his company as they stood before him, distrust in their eyes.

Thorin stood tall and still, "I do not believe we have met."

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thrór when he ruled under the mountain," Elrond replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched the Dwarf bristle under his even stare.

"Indeed? He made no mention of you," the disdain was evident in his tone, despite the respect he perhaps should have shown to the Elf-lord.

Elrond smiled more widely, and turned to Gandalf; they conversed quickly in the strange language yet again, and Miluiel surmised it must be Elvish. Her heart rate increased slightly, and she strained to catch the beautiful sounds as they fell from the tongues of the two men; her movement jostled Kili's elbow as he held his bow and arrow gently, and he turned his head to her in question. She ignored this motion, and continued to try to absorb the words spoken between the old friends. Her struggling thoughts were interrupted by Gloin's indignant voice from within the group.

"What does he say? Does he offer us insult?"

"Indeed not, Master Gloin. He is offering you food," Gandalf grinned at the assembled group, and moved towards Elrond.

Shuffling ensued, as the Dwarves decided amongst themselves whether the Elf's proposition was one worth partaking in, but it was the sudden movement from Thorin which made the decision for the entirety of the company. They moved as one entity, following the Elf Lindir up a small flight of steps and into a marbled corridor, open to the elements through large archways covered in foliage.

Miluiel found herself walking between Kili and Nori, and she kept her head bowed so as to hide her face. However, her plan to stay inconspicuous was scuppered by the gracious Elf-lord, who paused at the entrance to a small courtyard which had been prepared for their arrival. Long tables were laden with food and drink, and soft music was playing, the notes drifting lazily on the evening air.

"Perhaps the lady would like to refresh herself? Itarilde can escort you," he asked gently, his voice soft and kind as his eyes found hers. A blonde-haired Elf-maiden appeared at his side. Miluiel looked up at him through her lashes nervously, then looked to Gandalf. The wizard, in turn, watched Thorin, who glowered and turned away from her, his shoulders hunched in silent irritation.

Miluiel frowned at the Dwarf king's reaction, her lips pursing in confusion. Suddenly, anger welled up from her stomach and she felt almost devilish, as she turned back to Elrond.

"That would be most kind, my lord," she replied, dipping her head. Gandalf smiled inwardly and watched as Thorin snorted derisively and marched towards the heavily-laden table, ignoring Miluiel as she followed the Elf-maiden up a flight of steps and out of sight.

The Dwarf king felt rather than saw her leave them, and he clenched his jaw. His anger swelled in his heart, and as he approached the table, his fists were balled at his sides. He shrugged off his furs and sat near the head of the table, swinging himself into a seat as his company scrambled to find themselves a place to eat. His eyebrows knitted together, and his surly silence caused Gandalf to chuckle to himself; it amused him to see Thorin so irritated by the actions of another, especially someone whom he had met mere days previously.

Meanwhile, Miluiel followed Itarilde down a few corridors, her head swivelling to catch glimpses of everything as she passed other Elves, elegant sculptures and decorated rooms, before she was halted abruptly by the Elf-maiden, who had stopped in front of a carved wooden door. Selecting a key from a bunch, which she drew from inside her robes, she unlocked the door and swung it inward, revealing a pale walled room with a vaulted ceiling. Soft voices echoed from somewhere, and Miluiel gasped at the ornately carved bed, on which a dress was laid out. She crossed the room hesitantly, before laying her hand on the delicate material and caressing the dress gently.

"It is for you, my lady," Itarilde's musical voice brought Miluiel's mind to the present, and she withdrew her hand as if she had been burned by the silken material.

"Oh, please, my name is Miluiel."

Itarilde laughed softly as the guest moved her hand absently over the beautiful dress again. An inner door opened, revealing a gleaming copper bath and two more Elves, both of whom were blonde and as beautiful as Itarilde. They moved silently into the room, and held out their hands for Miluiel's dirty clothing. Looking down at herself, she suddenly felt ashamed of bringing such ugliness into the Last Homely House, and into the presence of such astonishing creatures. Their tall, willowy grace made her feel short and dumpy, as if she were an animal that had been brought in from the wilds. One of the silent Elves pointed to a modesty screen situated next to the bath, and smiled gently as Miluiel slipped behind it and shed her tunic and leggings shyly.

Moving quickly, covering herself with her splayed fingers, Miluiel slid into the bath and groaned at the warmth of the water, which felt like heaven on her skin. Her bruised ankles felt healed, and her tight muscles slowly began to relax as she sighed happily, before sliding below the water and letting the tendrils of moisture wash away the dirt of her journey.