Thanks for liking this story so much guys!

Paring: Bilbo Baggins/Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood

Bilbo Baggins/Legolas Greenleaf

Rating: MA/E on AO3 (possibly)

The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.


Far too soon for his liking Bilbo was ripped from the warmth of the larger body around him. Even though Legolas tried not to wake up Bilbo by slowly leaving the cot the hobbit had woken nonetheless. His smaller frame was shaking in the cold of the Eastern Autumn air, seeing as the shirt he was wearing did nothing to help shield him from the cold.

"Good morning Little One," Legolas greeted Bilbo as the hobbit shimmied out of the bed.

"Mornin' 'Las," he mumbled as the elf picked him up.

Bilbo, even if he had just woken up, blushed furiously as the prince held him like a bride or a princess. A small settee was placed right next to his clothes chest that had been insisted he had to bring. He was put on the settee as Legolas began to look through the small chest; he pulled out a pair of silver leggings followed by a dark grey robe. After giving the clothing to Bilbo he went over to his chest and pulled out his armor and and underclothes; he knew that today there would be a showdown. Or a battle, whatever it was it was gonna happen and Legolas would be prepared.

He had to help protect his homelands as well as his hobbit, and would die doing so if that was what the cost would be. If he died then Bilbo would be in the capable hands of his father, if he lived then all would be well.

In record time Legolas had put on his underclothing and armor before moving to help Bilbo arrange himself. His swift and lithe hands had been able to button all those little buttons that Bilbo seemed to be so fond of. Then Legolas made sure that he put on a darker robe over his silver clothing, "If for some reason you are found by enemies, this might help you blend into the shadows."

He was rewarded with a bright smile for his thoughtfulness, and the elf swore his heart skipped a beat.

"Come Bilbo," and he offered his hand to the hobbit, who took it happily. Outside the tent the entire elven army was running around in an orderly manner as they prepared for the upcoming fight that was on the horizon. Legolas narrowed his eyes at Fili as he was being escorted by Adasser and Elvedui to the King's tent; Bilbo on the other hand looked torn.

Fili had been nothing but kind to him during the journey, as had Balin, Bofur, and Kili; they were sympathetic to him. Where he was unaccustomed to life on the road, they were used to it and helped him try to get used to it. Though in his fifty years of life he had never really had to ration nor did he not have a bed to sleep in; unless one were to count the Fell Winter. Then he had to ration as a tween, he slept on the floor in his parents' room; and he knew fear.

As a young hobbit of twenty he had never seen such a storm but his mother was told of stories by Old Took, of similar occurrences before her lifetime. After the first week, and much of that time was spent in his parents' room during the nights, they began to run out of food. Then Bilbo had started to get chilled easily, before he had taken to illness. His little body was racked with sickness and cold when his mother elected to leave the safety of Bag End for the help in Tuckborough. While Bungo had been skeptical of the plan he agreed when Bilbo began to cough up blood.

All he wanted was for his only child to be okay.

So with Bilbo on his back and his wife leading the way with her sword, one that Gandalf had given her for emergencies, they began the trek to Belladonna's childhood home. The Great Smials were far off and over the Brandywine River, so they assumed that there would be danger after crossing the river.

Bella and Bungo never made it to the river.

Orcs had come from nowhere and upon seeing such defenseless targets; they charged at the family. At the lead was a white orc that Bilbo remembered in his disoriented state, and he certainly remembered the fear. He was crippled with it as both Bella and Bungo ran, and he turned his head to watch their impending doom gain footage on them. Entire yards and feet were eaten up by the steady running of the wargs and orcs, then Bilbo remembered with vivid memories what came next.

"MOTHER!" he screamed with his hoarse voice that day.

Bilbo remembered the snow that clung to her long dark curls as she fell, an orcish arrow protruded through her head. The first orc that reached her wasted no time in ripping her body apart. Some had stopped to consume what used to be his kind-hearted mother, most had unfortunately kept their pursuit. Bungo cried as he ran, his large hobbit feet finally reaching the bridge over the Brandywine.

Then they were falling.

The young tween's head hit the stone cruelly, and his ears could only pick up a muffled sound and ringing. Bungo clutched at his leg where a black arrow stood out against the stone bridge. "Papa," he called out weakly and Bungo looked fearful. Not for himself but for his son; then he stood on his two legs and gather his son in his arms.

Rushing water was beneath the two and in a split decision Bungo decided Bilbo's fate, his frantic mind thinking that drowning was better than being eaten alive. "I love you so much Bilbo, your mother did too," and with one last kiss to the forehead Bungo Baggins threw his son off the bridge. Young Bilbo was doing his best to keep himself above the surface after his initial landing, but the cold chill of the water took the edge off his will.

His body drifted farther and farther away from his father; away from the carnage and pain.

He remembered not dying and being found in Buckland; half drowned and a sickening blue. He remembered being fawned over and then being passed from relative to relative until he ended up in the Great Smials. None wanted him and his grandfather was more than happy to take him in; thinking that his daughter and son-in-law would accompany young Bilbo.

Bilbo remembered being carried to his grandfather by his quiet uncles in a stretcher; he remembered him asking where his Bella was. He remembered him laying there in an unresponsive state as they asked him over and over to give any kind of answer. Tears had streamed down his face as he was kept for the rest of the horrid winter before being sent back to his empty home.

He had known fear those days, and Thorin was not the only one to loose it all to the orcs. The King Under the Mountain was not the only person to know the meaning of suffering. In fact he was letting the people of Esgaroth suffer, by not giving them their due so that they may start anew.

"Legolas, I cannot understand. How can Fili see what Thorin could not?"

The prince looked down at his hobbit and could only shrug, "Some can see beyond themselves. Maybe Durin's Line is not as weak as I perceived it to be." It was grudging to admit that but it was true. Although the dwarf was not from a direct descendant; he could still understand the fine line between a passion and obsession for gold.

It unnerved him to be so wrong about his previous conceptions of the Line of Durin.

"Come, perhaps we can scavenge some breakfast for you."

Bilbo was incredibly grateful for the support and love that he had received from the Elves and was more than happy to walk further into their embrace. He know knew the ploy they were playing and couldn't find it in him to care. All he cared about was the fact that someone wanted him again; he hadn't been wanted since he was in his twenties.

It felt great to know that someone wanted him once more.

It felt great to be loved once more.

He had no clue of the near obsession that was rising in the two royal elves.

Later Bilbo found himself sitting once more in Thranduil's lap, staring straight into Fili's eyes once more as he waited for his time. He was not ignorant enough to believe that he would not be used to their advantage. The young prince was more than sure that he would not be forgiven for this, but all he wanted was for the chance to protect his brother from war.

However, he had seen the elves and human getting ready for a fight; and knew that although he had smoothed things over they weren't going to leave it at that.

Fili regretted not going back into Mirkwood to save his friend; oh how he mourned the loss of the hobbit. He spent his days of wandering around the jewels of Erebor wondering what had become of Bilbo Baggins. Looking at the hobbit now he did not see his friend; in the place of the friendly Shireling was a puppet. Staring endlessly into his eyes, not offering any greetings or slight smiles to the golden dwarf like he once had.

This was different than the tanned skinned hobbit that rushed forward to save his uncle; Bilbo's pale parlour was striking against the dark robes he wore. The tamable curls he now sported proudly under a silver circlet were different than the wild ones he and Kili would jest about. Though in his honey eyes Fili could tell that there was a sense of contentedness that he had never seen in him.

Bilbo looked happy as he sat with his back to the chest of the Elven King of Mirkwood; it was as if he belonged there. No matter how much Fili would miss his friendship with Bilbo he was just glad that he was happy.

He had never seen him this happy so he was content to let him be.

No use trying to change a mind that won't change.

~.~.~.

They all looked so betrayed; their disbelieving faces as they looked down at Bilbo from their hastily built battlements. Kili was gripping the stone tightly as Thorin breathed harshly, and above him he could feel Thranduil clutch at him. His large hands splayed over his abdomen as the entire elven army came to a halt at the foot of the mountain. Bilbo shrank back into the King at the sight of the animosity coming from some of the dwarves; Ori most of all. The scribe looked down cruelly at Bilbo and instead of his favored slingshot; he bared a bow and arrow.

It was notched and the arrowhead was pointed right for the two.

The five closest archers near Thranduil and Bilbo immediately broke from the army to notch arrows of their own. Ready to defend their precious hobbit and king if need be.

Next to Thranduil on his left was Bard, with the wrapped Arkenstone in hand; to his right was Legolas with Fili tied up in front of him. It was discussed between all parties and with Fili's permission that he was to be used as a bargaining chip along with the Arkenstone. Though the golden dwarf was not expecting to be bound like a prisoner, so he sulked in front of Legolas.

"FILI!" his younger brother screamed, "BILBO!"

Bilbo gasped slightly when Kili called out his name and Thranduil cursed inside his mind; he was not letting one little dwarfling ruin all the careful work he created. He gave his hobbit a reassuring squeeze before glaring up at the company. "We have come to settle all grievances," he began regally. All the dwarves on the battlements tensed up as he spoke.

Thorin looked ready to murder as he watched Legolas untie the cloth around his mouth, and let Fili push out the wadded fabric from his mouth.

"But it seems that payment had already been offered...and accepted."

That set off a chain reaction that could have been avoid if things were a tad bit different, when the roar of protests from the company arose it startled Ori. Not matter how focused he may have been he accidentally let the arrow go with a loud TWANG. Bilbo turned to hide his head in Thranduil's chest and all five archers let their arrows fly.

Splitting the arrow before it got the chance to reach either Bilbo or Thranduil. Really they shattered it due to their precision; though the mistake on the Company's part was ever thinking of raising that bow. The Elven King nodded his head to Bard and he unwrapped the Arkenstone; holding up in a sense of victory.

"However we are more than willing to trade our payment and a certain heir for something more...material," Bard negotiated as Legolas jostled Fili to prove his point.

Thorin could only stare at the stone and looked in disbelief; his gold-sick mind connecting the dots quickly. There was no explanation for the Arkenstone to be out of the mountain, and if Fili had been captured without anyone entering Erebor then it was self-explanatory. Though he had to ask anyway, he needed to now this was not as he thought it was.

"No... how did you get that?"

All the others were just in shock; their minds quickly realizing the same thing that Thorin did.

"As I have said, payment has been offered and accepted from the Prince Fili," Thranduil growled out as the dwarves began to curse at them. He had put up with their foolishness to last him a lifetime. Though the looks of betrayal on their faces made him smirk just a bit; however his smile was wiped off his face when Kili notched another arrow and fired.

The five archers neutralized the arrow and waited for the next move.

In fact Thranduil almost wanted them to fire once more; he wanted them to give him a reason to declare an all-out war. Bilbo was trembling in front of him and it was all the King could do to keep his hobbit from bolting. "Shh, I won't let anything happen to you," he whispered under his breath. His little reassurances was the only thing keeping Bilbo from doing something he might regret.

His blue eyes quickly made their way back to the forms on the top of the battlements and he raised his right hand. Behind them hundreds upon hundreds of elven archers notched their arrows in a swift, unified movement and aimed even quicker. All of the dwarrow ducked except for the stubborn King and he merely sneered at the army.

"Do not underestimate the strength of Durin's Line!" Thorin snarled.

Thranduil was about to answer when the loud and deep horns of a dwarven army sounded in the entire valley; causing the upheaval of Thorin's Company. He turned Thiadon before racing off to the hills in which dwarves from the Iron Hills were descending. The King cut through his army quickly as he made to reach the side of his army that would first intercept the dwarves.

Ignoring the cheering of the Company behind him he made his way to where Bard's army resided, his son following him closely behind him with Bard in tow. "Good mornin' to ya!" the loud, guttural voice of Dain called out. Bilbo could only watch as the dwarf began to go on and on about how the elves and men should surrender before they started to fight.

Gandalf seemed to be taking in the humor that the little one-sided argument Dain was having with Thranduil until the wizard was brought into it. Now the Grey Wizard looked annoyed by the dwarf riding the mountain goat, and Bilbo snorted softly. Thranduil gave him a small look until he saw what Bilbo was looking at and let the briefest of smiles on his face.

Dain misinterpreted that smile and raised his war hammer high above his head.

"LETS SHOW THA' PONCY LIL' ELF WHAT HE'S MESSING WITH!" Sometimes Thranduil really doubted the intelligence of the dwarven race. He turned his head to Legolas and gave him a sharp nod; the prince swiftly cut through the bindings of a frozen Fili. The dwarven prince not saying a word since they left the front of the gates.

Hell, Thranduil was sure that the dwarf didn't even speak.

The advancing dwarves may have cowed the Men of Esgaroth into submission but his elves stood strong. Until the ground felt like it was shaking underneath their feet.

It was Bilbo that saw it first and his jaw dropped; his hand trembled as he pointed to the right and squeaked out. "T-Thranduil!" Bilbo looked panicked and had a very good reason to be. Giant earth-eating worms had burrowed out large holes in the sounding hills and when they retreated orcs replaced them. Everyone diverted their attention to the menaces that were starting to advance towards the three armies at fast paces.

The King looked to his son and the two shared a mutual agreement without the need to talk; they both had decided it long ago.

"Hathelas, Caladhel, Gilrin, Thilia, Haerel! Get Bilbo to safety and protect him by all means, even if it costs you your lives!" and without a second thought the King handed over the kicking hobbit. His curly haired love was trying his best to stay with the King, knowing that he would be there to protect him. The five nodded and Gilrin took Bilbo into her hold and allowed herself to be surrounded by her fellow warriors in a protective formation.

"Lets move out!" she commanded as Bilb called out for Legolas and Thranduil.

Both were ridden with guilt as they forced themselves not to rescind Thranduil's orders, and with a command falling off his lips the elven army charged after the dwarven army to their certain deaths. None would see the uncertainty on Thranduil's face as he went forward, just as none would see the regret on Legolas' face as they left Bilbo behind.

It was for the best they decided, and they would not forgive themselves if Bilbo perished on the fields of battle.

~.~.~.

Protect him to the death.

It was their orders and they took it seriously, and now Bilbo was all alone. His body was frozen with fear as he was dragged across a frozen river; they had been so clever in deciding to hide in Ravenhill. What had gone so wrong? Bilbo remembered seeing Gilrin's head be cleaved right off her shoulders and especially could vividly remember her green eyes widen as her head hit the ground. How it seemed that her mind couldn't cope with the shock before she stopped moving altogether.

Hathelas was killed first, before Thilia who was shot in the head with an orcish arrow, and he let out a small gasp when he was stuck with a dagger in his neck. It was the last breath he ever let out and it was the only way that the group could prepare for the onslaught that followed.

Bilbo had been shoved into a small niche in the rock cliffs and just as he made it in a pack of orcs jumped into his line of view, as limited as it was. He had seen Thilia fall next before Gilrin was beheaded, Caladhel was next and was impaled with a wicked looking blade. Bilbo was unable to see who held such a blade until young Haerel was disemboweled.

His guts were spilled before he died and Bilbo could only watch.

Azog stood in front of the crevice he had been forced into and he could still see some of Haerel's guts on the blade. The wicked smile on his white face as he pulled the hobbit from his hiding place kicking and screaming; dragging him to his warg without stopping to look at his new hostage. He should have and no matter how docile Bilbo grew during his stay with the Elves of Mirkwood; he would always remain vigilant after that first fateful encounter with Azog. As he was pulled past Thilia's body he nicked one of her daggers and hid it in the waistband of his leggings.

If he was going to die it would not be without a fight, he remembered thinking that.

He also remembered that someone would come to find him; Bilbo remembered that foolish hope that swelled in his chest at the time.

Now all he could remember the smiles on Legolas and Thranduil's faces a week ago. The singing that earned him a standing ovation from the high elves in the Mirkwood Council. Beautiful blooming flowers in the royal gardens that managed to stay pure from the evil settling in Mirkwood were vivid in his mind's eye. Then it wasn't enough to keep him from the fear of being tied to the back of a warg as it scaled an abandoned tower.

The rough stone that scraped his skin was replaced with the loving image of his late mother and father. He would smile if he had the strength to but he was completely drained.

The memories of climbing trees with his mother and studying maps with his father kept Bilbo from the pain in his wrists as the dirty rope dug into him, His outer robe flew off long ago and left him for the cold bitter air, but he replaced that with the memories of snuggling up to Old Took by the fireplace in Bag End. The pain in his head as he bounced off a wall had been shifted into that off flowers being woven into his hair by his Aunt Mirabella.

Now he was rudely jerked from his dreams when Azog had jumped off his white warg and untied him from the saddle. He was dragged to a small wooden beam and strung up, though it did give him a view of the frozen wastelands and thee battle going on bellow. In the distance Bilbo saw a familiar elf running around and desperately evading a similar white orc that looked a lot like Azog.

He could call out to Legolas but he would be run through with the same blade that killed his little protection detail.

Bilbo was going to die and no matter how much Legolas and Thranduil tried to prevent it, he was going to die. The only thing that ran through his head at that point was that Azog was snarling at him in Black Speech.

"Speak in Westron filth!" he growled back but grimaced when he was struck with a rusting chain.

"Is this little Elven Whore going to make me?" the orc replied in slow but steady Westron.

"Just did," and despite the bleeding gash across his right eye Bilbo smirked. He refused to let it leave his as the tip of Azog's sword-arm met his Adam's Apple; instead he spat in his face.

Though there was only so much that an orc would allow his prisoner to get away with. Azog was not known for his patience and mercy; he was known for being brutal and murdering innocents. He slashed the robes from Bilbo's form and let his eyes roam across the scarred plain of his slightly chubby torso. The spider bite had been scarred over and it was the first place the White Orc aimed.

He had removed Thilia's dagger when he spotted the ivory handle and thrust it halfway into the scar and indulged himself in the tantalizing scream that Bilbo let out.

"T-That all y-you got?" he breathed out, "S-spider b-bites worse."

"I am no spider," was all he got in return.

Then with his prosthetic arm/blade he began to carve crude words in Westron deep into skin and muscles.

E

L

F

K

I

N

G

W

H

O

R

E

From his collarbone to his naval, Azog cut deeply with the intent to scar and if he lived then scar he would. If not then it would be what the healers would find on his body when prepping it for a burial.

The hobbit screamed loudly and underneath him he didn't see the gathering of some of the Company as well as Legolas and Tauriel at the bottom of the tower. Nor could he tell if they heard his pain filled bellows, but he knew that this was the height of cruelty. Blood dripped into his right eye as he tried to glare at Azog.

Azog grabbed him by the hair and sliced the rope from his little support beam, and Bilbo grinned.

"See you in Mordor you monster," he gasped.

A smile flitted across Azog's face, but it twisted him into something more evil. "I believe you sire said that too when I slayed him," and he made a moved to drop the hobbit from the top of the tower.

Something in Bilbo snapped as he felt the descent begin, and it caused him to grab the sharp edge of the orc's sword arm. Pulling him over the edge as well and the two fell.

Bilbo remembered the screams of Tauriel and Fili as he and Azog crashed to the ground together. His body was impaled on the arm of Azog but Azog's head was bent at an odd angle.

He remembered when Legolas grabbed at him desperately.

He remembered when Legolas laughed with him in the Palace at his stories.

He remembered the devastation that shone in Legolas' eyes when he closed his.

He remembered the happiness in those blue orbs when he pushed a pie into Thranduil's face.

He remembered too much in his fifty years.

Though he remembered wishing he was dead most of all.


I know I left it like this, but the next chapter is slowly being written right now.

Ragehappy Mavin Fan