Rivendell. Home of Lord Elrond and his elves, was just as beautiful on this spring afternoon as it had been the first time Bilbo had laid eyes upon it all those years ago. The last time he had visited this valley had been during the last summer, sneaking out of the Shire and trekking to the last homely home. As usual when he looked down on Rivendell he felt both fear and excitement settle in his stomach, and he had to work at not losing his meagre lunch on the thin path which led down to the valley.
Gandalf, for once, was silent and Bilbo was thankful for his quiet support. He was one of the very few who understood what had happened here in the birthing rooms of the Elves, had witnessed the Hobbit at his most vulnerable and clutching at the last threads of life. The fear was beginning to take control, making a cold sweat cover his skin and his hands to shake. Sometimes it could take as long as a week until Bilbo was ready to leave the room which Elrond had set aside for him, and venture into the heart of Rivendell. He knew however that he would not be able to hide himself away this time.
"Have strength Bilbo," whispered Gandalf.
Twisting his fingers into the long grey sleeves of Gandalf's cloak, Bilbo nodded and started with the breathing exercises Elrond had taught him to help with the overwhelming sense of panic which would overcome him from time to time. He had nothing to fear here, he knew that, what was past was past and could not hurt him now. Everyone had come through that traumatic time alive, if worst for wear, and he knew that he had to move on from it though he found it difficult.
"Mithrandir." They had reached the main concourse of Rivendell, and Elrond was climbing down the stairs to meet them. "And the Royal Guard of Gondor if my eyes do not deceive me."
"They do not," answered Gandalf.
"Master Baggins." Elrond helped him dismount the horse, and then rested one large hand on his shoulder whilst Gandalf climbed down from his mount. "It is good to see you again my friend."
"And you Lord Elrond," he answered, covering that large hand with his own.
"So what can I do for you and your guard?" asked Elrond, directing his question to Gandalf.
"I know not what the men of Gondor have come to discuss," said Gandalf. "But I come to you about the Ring of Power and Mordor."
"We come to speak of Mordor also," said Boromir, and Bilbo watched as he jumped gracefully down from his horse.
"Very well," said Elrond, squeezing Bilbo's shoulder gently before stepping away and gesturing for Gandalf and Boromir to follow him into Rivendell.
The main meeting room of Rivendell was in one of the towers, exposed to the elements and with the most beautiful views of the valley. There was a white round table in the centre of the room with tall chairs, and Bilbo watched as Gandalf and Boromir sat down before taking a seat across from Lord Elrond.
"Now what word from Gondor?" asked Elrond.
Boromir sat forwards and rested his elbows on the table, tapping his index fingers against his lower lip.
"My father, Lord Denethor, wishes to march on Mordor," he said.
"He what?" demanded Gandalf, slamming one hand on the table. "Has he lost what is left of his mind?"
He watched as Boromir flinched at this. "Probably. He has found a way to send my younger brother away and secure my right to rule, and he is determined to see the contract through."
"And just who has contracted him to march upon Mordor?" asked Elrond. "And for what reason."
"Dwarves," answered Boromir.
Elrond raised one elegant eyebrow. "Dwarves have contracted Gondor to march on Mordor? Unless gold has been discovered in the Ered Lithui I can't imagine that Dwarves would have anything to do with Mordor."
"Its about Kili isn't it?" asked Bilbo. "That's why they want to go into Mordor."
Boromir nodded his head. "The Halfling is correct. Prince Kili was taken from Mirkwood not three months past by Orcs of Mordor, they have requested a ransom but I do not know what it is."
"It's the one thing that Thorin would never give up," answered Bilbo, glancing up at Gandalf. "The Arkenstone."
Gandalf's face darkened and he quickly looked at Elrond. "And so he shouldn't, the Arkenstone would be too dangerous in the hands of Sauron."
That seemed odd to Bilbo, he had believed the Arkenstone to just be a damned rock, a pretty one sure but still just a rock.
"It's just a rock," he said, only to frown when Gandalf shook his head.
"It is not just a rock Bilbo," he said. "Not a rock at all."
"And just how much of his treasury has Thorin parted with to have his Nephew returned?" asked Elrond.
"None," answered Boromir. "Even though he was willing to give it all, my father wanted something a bit more … permanent."
"Ah," said Elrond quietly. "I got word not two days past that King Thorin was betrothed to a man of all things."
At this words Bilbo felt his heart drop down into his stomach, his vision going blurry, and his breath coming in harsh pants. Thorin engaged? Had he been that easy to forget, so easy to replace even though Bilbo had been pining away in the Shire and never giving another so much as a second glance?
"Faramir," Boromir was saying. "My brother."
"Thorin is a fool," said Gandalf. "But an honourable one. I suppose Faramir would have been executed should he return to Gondor?"
Bilbo found he could no longer sit there while those around the table talked about Thorin's engagement, even in the case of Gandalf encouraging it. No it was all too much.
He got to his feet, his chair scraping on the ground as he pushed it back. "Please, excuse me."
With that he scurried from the meeting room and to his own rooms, determined to lock himself in and cry the tears that he had been unable to find all those years ago.
Boromir watched the Halfling leave as though he had another Nazgul behind him, and then took in the pitying looks of Gandalf and Lord Elrond.
"What?" he asked. "What is going on here?"
Elrond got gracefully to his feet at that, and gestured for Boromir to follow him.
"We shall discuss this ring later this evening Mithrandir," he said. "The White Council are due to arrive by the morrow."
"Very well," answered Gandalf, also standing up. "I will go and make sure that Bilbo is alright."
"Boromir," said Elrond, holding out his arm. "Please follow me."
Together they walked through the halls of Rivendell, with Elrond nodding in greeting at the elves they passed on the way through. Soon they came to the central courtyard which was a quadrangle of grass surrounded by trees and flowers. Here played two children, a boy of about eleven with shoulder length black hair and an easy smile, and an elvish girl with long dark hair and haunting grey eyes. The man Arathorn was sat on a bench smoking a pipe and laughing whenever the girl smacked the boy over the head with her wooden sword.
"He is growing strong," said Arathorn, moving aside so that Boromir could sit beside him.
"Your son is going to be a great warrior," said Elrond.
"Yes he is," said Arathorn. "Though I think Arwen will surpass him." He pointed towards the girl with his pipe. "Must be the Dwarvish blood in her."
Boromir started at that and stared first at Arathorn and then Elrond. "She's a Dwarrow? But she looks like an Elf."
"Arwen there is the daughter of King Thorin the second," said Elrond.
"Thorin bred with an Elf?" demanded Boromir.
The look on Elrond's face was one of pure disgust. "No. Arwen is the product of a Dwarf and a Hobbit, it just so happens that she looks like an Elf. Her pointed ears, lack of beard, fairness of face, and delicate sensibilities come from her Hobbit kin. Whilst her fighting spirit, stature, and hair come from Thorin."
"Does he know?" asked Boromir.
Elrond shook his head. "Nor shall he ever."