Thanks for the great feedback from the last chapter! I was going to take this story to ten or so chapter if anyone was wondering; this story will cover the Battle and its aftermath before I end it. I might think of doing a sequel for it afterwards.
Paring: Bilbo Baggins/Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood
Bilbo Baggins/Legolas Greenleaf
Rating: MA/Explicit
The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
The youngest dwarf in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield was frozen in place; this was something that he wished he could never see. He had spent most of his time during the journey getting to know the hobbit. He remembered how much Bilbo would move around; mothering him and Fili like their own mother Dis would. Now he couldn't just comprehend how still he was. Kili was just as still as Bilbo at this point; frozen in place because of shock.
Bilbo was still, Kili thought to himself, why was the hobbit so still?
His friend, companion, and could have been brother was laying atop the dirty sword-arm of Azog the Defiler, but he was not moving. Before anyone of the Company could process what had just happened, besides Fili who was perfectly coherent, Legolas and Tauriel ran forward. The Prince was calling the hobbit's name and desperately trying to get him to look into his eyes. His large hands grabbed onto his shoulders as he tried to shake him back into awareness.
"My lord! Its only making things worse!" Tauriel cried out, immediately halting Legolas had let go of Bilbo.
They all could see that the Prince needed to direct his anguish and anger someplace else and diverted his attention to the Company. "You!" he began shaking in rage, "You lot brought Azog with you!"
"Us? You seem to forget elf," Thorin spat, "That Bilbo was apart of our Company until you deemed it fit to liberate our hobbit from us."
"Oh? Am I truly the one to blame here?" He asked sarcastically. The elf let out a self-depreciating laugh; this was too much for him to bear and slowly the Company and Tauriel listened to him descend into insanity. His laughter shook his entire body and he grinned at Thorin; his eyes showed no mirth even though he let his laughter die away. "Aren't you and your little Company the ones that let out a dragon onto a town of Men?"
Some of the younger dwarves looked ashamed but there was little they could do to dispute the evidence.
"My Lord, I need you to stay calm. If you don't then I can't concentrate on healing him!" Tauriel yelled from her position next to Azog and Bilbo. She painstakingly spent her time removing the blade from Azog's arm, while doing her best not to jostle Bilbo's body. His torso was covered in blood and if she tried to (which she didn't) Tauriel could read the word's carved down his chest and stomach.
Her arms carried him tenderly as she tried to keep him from sliding up and down the blade. "You there, Fili come help," she ordered and the blonde easily responded. "Hold him up, don't let his body move at all," and Fili nodded. His dwarven strength did not fail as he kept Bilbo propped up; his grimaced as the head of his dear friend was pressed against his.
"IF YOU HAD NOT BEEN GREEDY-"
"GREED? WHO WAS IT THAT TURNED THEIR BACKS ON A STARVING PEOPLE?"
"You and you're line have been far to selfish!"
"IT IS IN OUR NATURE TO CRAFT FROM METALS!"
Legolas then stalked around the Company and his elven eyes peered into their very souls it seemed. "Thror was too passionate, too lustful for your craft. What do you think attracts a dragon? Huh, nawag? GOLD! PILES AND PILES AND PILES OF GOLD!"
He then rounded on the leader ruthlessly, ignoring Tauriel's pleads for him to calm down.
"Something that Erebor had and still does, who's to say that there won't be another dragon?"
"You don't know that," Balin said from his place next to the King.
"But the possibility is there isn't it? Truth hurts don't it? You truly have the curse of your lineage, to selfish to give up anything."
Thorin's blue eyes darkened considerably, nearly black as the night, but before he could say anything Legolas kept his assault up. In that moment Tauriel saw more of Thranduil in her friend than ever; the ruthlessness displayed was completely from Thranduil. Though Legolas was best known for his calm disposition that he inherited from his mother. "My mother died once for people of your line, if Bilbo dies then don't think that you could fear a dragon more than me."
Tauriel whispered a small prayer and then took Bilbo from Fili's hold, "I need you to break the metal as close as you can to his back."
"What?"
"It needs to come out, now."
Fili looked frightful about what he was just ordered to do, but he had to do it. The possibility of Bilbo dying because of him was great and he didn't want to bear that weight if he did kill the hobbit. He grabbed the end near Bilbo's back and the very edge, and with one last prayer to Aule he began to bend. Kili and Ori watched the metal bend instead of listening to Legolas and Thorin yell at the other.
Everyone flinched when they heard the sharp break of the blade, and then Tauriel whispered an apology to Bilbo before yanking the rest of the blade from him. She pressed her hands to the wound to staunch the bleeding.
"Don't talk about them like that!"
"Oh, really? You seem to talk bad about my Kin happily and freely, without a single reprimand. Can I not do the same to you? Return the favor so to speak," Legolas barked back.
Fili watched as Tauriel closed the wounds on his chest and back, her frantic whispering doing nothing to calm him down. His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, and he looked hopeful as Tauriel met his eyes. "He going to be okay?" he asked.
"I can't do more for him than this, there is not much I can do for him anymore."
She picked up Bilbo tenderly and stood on her shaky feet; even though she was covered in the blood of her enemies and friends she looked like an angel. Her feet took her to Legolas, who calmed once he saw Bilbo, and handed him to the Prince. A nod was shared between the two of them and they began the trek down the godforsaken hill to the Elven camp.
As they left the Prince turned his head to Thorin and grinned, looking sinister with blood running down his face. A cut ran along the outer edge of his face, making his seem like his father. That smile, those eyes. "Trust me, I keep my word, I do. Not my father so don't lump me in that same pile. Once upon a time I would have helped you and your people, but your pride and arrogance overshadows your positive qualities." It was too much like Thranduil.
He stopped with Tauriel and made sure Bilbo was secure against him.
"But now that I see you for what your truly are I will not help you. Though if Bilbo dies or anything happens to him, I will make Smaug look like a small garden lizard in comparison."
He left them, and did the one thing he could do; care for Bilbo and he did.
Legolas carried his beautiful hobbit back to the elven tents carefully, doing his best not to jostle him. Blood and dirt washed off his hobbit's face as droplets fell onto him from above. He was crying or Bilbo was crying; hell maybe they were both crying. But he had no clue of anything anymore; all he knew was that he had to get Bilbo back to the camp before he died. Tauriel had tried to help the hobbit but there was too many toxins running through his body.
Poison was running through his veins once again, but it was much more potent than the venom of a giant spider. To the point where there was nothing that could be done without proper tools. The spider bite was not bad but an orc's rusted and filthy blade was going to be much worse. Not only will there be some sort of infectious bacteria on the blades but it was common knowledge that there was poison on such rage forged weapons.
"Adasser! Elvedui! To me, to me!" he cried out when he made it to the outskirts of the camp. It was devoid of life on the outside but he knew better than anyone how much of a lie that was. For when he began to call out the names of different elves they all burst out into the open air; ready for the next orders as per usual.
Adasser was much quicker to retrieve Bilbo and get him to the healer's tent while Elvedui was focused on getting the prince to safety. "Where is my father?" he asked once she settled him into a chair. Her nimble hands dabbed at a cut on his brow with a bright blue salve.
"His royal Highness is still in Dale, milord. He has called the army back not to long ago, we all heard the horn of Feren," Elvedui said as she wrapped his head in a bandage. "Be lucky milord, that I do not have to shear your hair in order to get your head injuries dressed," and Legolas rolled his eyes.
"I saw that," she murmured, "Do not think that I am young enough to not know that look. I am a mother my lord, Lumornor gives me that look all the time."
The only indication that he took that to heart was the sudden reddening of his cheeks; he had been chastised by the mother once more. "I am glad that I amuse you," he commented as she snickered silently. Elvedui was not above laughing at the Crown Prince of the Greenwood, not when she had watched him grow from a small child to a strong adult.
She knew that their small talk would only delay what was going to come; the overwhelming guilt was seen in the depths of Legolas' blue eyes. Elvedui could see that her Prince was on the verge of a mental breakdown. She had seen what had happened to her Little Master, or Young Master if he would stop getting flushed whenever she said it; and to be frank it was terrible. The letters had been meant to scar him for life and Tauriel's healing was never meant to prevent scarring. It was meant to prevent further infection and people from bleeding out.
They all knew that.
"He almost died, he is dying."
"I assure you that Adasser and the others will ensure his survival."
"He's so small, there is no way he can make it through this," Legolas muttered to himself mostly, but Elvedui answered him.
"The Young Master will live milord."
"I'll kill Oakenshield for this."
"I do not underestimate that statement."
"Bilbo's going to die. My Little One is going to die."
"He will not sire," came Elvedui's steady reply.
"The people I love seem to be dropping like flies; first Naneth then Bilbo?"
"All will be okay."
Elvedui was not so sure about that.
~.~.~.
He was being ignored. Something that didn't happen since the elves took him in; he had tried to stop Legolas from verbally assaulting Thorin. He had tried to get Thranduil's attention when he came across the elf known as Erwarth in the eyes of her people. He tried to prevent Thranduil from ordering her arrest but no one seemed to listen to him.
Bilbo was cold constantly and he was frightened at everything. Though he was most shocked by the sight of his own limp body as Tauriel pulled the blade from him; he felt as if his body was rippling. Like the waters of a pond after one has thrown a rock into the once peaceful surface. His hands were see through and it scared him greatly; if this was the afterlife then he did not want it.
"Legolas," he tried to talk to the Prince once more. This time Legolas was holding his hand and to Bilbo he could feel the warmth even though his hands were empty. It was nice to feel something other than the biting cold. "Please answer me," but Bilbo got not a single response.
"Thranduil? Can you hear me?" Bilbo then tried to talk to the Elven King, who had a hold of his other hand.
No one heard him and no one could see him. It drove him crazy.
"Why can you not hear me?"
So he began to spend his time by wandering the healing tents and to his relief most of the elves there were awake and alive. But there were some that were like him, just staring at their bodies. Needless to say Bilbo was overjoyed and ran up to a brunette, who was watching her own surgery. "Can you hear me?" he asked and was happy to receive a response from her.
"Little Master? Is it truly you?" she asked incredulously and Bilbo nodded.
"Do you know what's happening?"
The elf looked over to her bleeding body and nodded, "I fear that we are watching ourselves die."
"What?" and Bilbo was stumped. There was no way this was happening to him, but even as he talked to the poor elf he could see that there was others like them listening in. "We can't be dying; there is no way," he said in a stupor. What would become of Thranduil and Legolas if he died?
"You lie Hadril (Thrower of Spears)!" an elf Bilbo remembered as Dimaethorn (Silence Warrior) cried out. His own body was just laying there limply as healers ran around trying to help all that needed it.
"Do I?"
"Hadril, do you know what is going on?" Bilbo asked gently and the brunette nodded.
The other elves listened in eagerly, some leaving their bodies to get closer to the young elf. "This happened to me before," Hadril began slowly, "I've watched this happen to myself many years ago. But I had an option at the time, one that might not be available to any of us this day."
"GET ON WITH IT!" one of the elves screamed.
"There was a man, cloaked in all black, leaning over my body and he tried to touch my cheeks. I could feel my body sort of ripple as he got closer and closer I began to get fainter. He turned his head to look at me before he could and winked. Then he touched my father's body and I watched his soul leave him and he grabbed the man's hand.
Then there was an archway that appeared before them and he walked through, but his body-" she cut herself of with a small sob. "His body was dead as soon as he grabbed that hand! I'm afraid that I'll have to grab his hand this time around!"
Bilbo gave her a comforting pat on the head before he gasped; he fell to his knees and clutched at his heart as if he was in pain. The warmth that was in his hands had been replaced by stabbing pains in his chest. The other elves tried to help him but Bilbo shrugged them off and ran back to his tent, Dimaethorn and some others followed him.
The hobbit ran through the tent flaps in time to see his body jerk and spasm as Adasser and some healers frantically tried to keep him alive. The warrior elves that followed Bilbo gasped in shock as the dark figure appeared over Bilbo's body. The man's fingers ghosted over his cheeks and Bilbo shuddered; but the man's head shot upwards and a cruel smile flitted across that ghostly face.
He turned to Dimaethorn and behind the cloaked man Bilbo saw his body settle when the man's attention was diverted. The warrior elf backed away as the man came closer and closer, "No. NO!" Though the smile on his face grew as an archway materialized behind them, and Dimaethorn's hands were grabbed by the man.
All of them watched as the warrior was lead against his will to the arch and his spirit was then pulled into the afterlife.
"She was right," a female spluttered.
"It nearly killed me," Bilbo was pulled into a comforting hug by one of the archers.
He could only watch as Adasser sigh in relief as Bilbo's body once more calmed and Legolas grabbed one of his hands once more. Thranduil merely looked stricken as his body lay against the bloodstained sheets. He ignored the reassurances of the others as he tried to comprehend the near death experience he had.
"Who was that?" a younger elf asked and Bilbo answered him.
Completely sure of his answer he said, "Death."
At this point not even the warmth in his hand had given the poor hobbit any sort of comfort; they were all on the brink of death. It was only a matter of time before Death was back.
They were all afraid of who was going to be next.
Eventually the elves and hobbit returned to their own bodies and they all waited in tortuous silence. Over time Bilbo would periodically leave his body's side to go check on the other elves. Most had either been dragged to their afterlife or they had woken up and poor Hadril was not one of the lucky elves. She was pronounced dead after Bilbo's last visit to her. Effectively making his time in this experience much more quieter.
Then he decided that the silence was slowly killing him and shadowed both Legolas and Thranduil; at this point it had been two weeks of his out of body experience when he sat in on a meeting. Bilbo listened to the discussions and fought the urge to bash his head into a wall.
"What do you mean?" Legolas asked as Bard sat across from him and his father.
It was in this moment Legolas realized how much he hated these new pointless meetings; all of the leaders from Dain to Bard were there. Even the Master of Laketown was there when it was revealed that he somehow managed to leave the burning town alive, unfortunately Legolas lamented. He very much hated the greedy man and his attempts of trying to buddy up with Thorin and Thranduil.
The Master contradicted himself as he hastily agreed to anything money related.
He sighed inaudibly and forced himself to listen to the horrible discussions, and wishing that he could be by Bilbo's side. Little did he know that Bilbo was sitting in his lap silently.
"I mean that it is only fair that we get to see this so-called "Halfling" that I keep hearing about," The Master demanded, "I wish to see this exotic creature for my own eyes. See if he meets up to the certain...labors as rumored."
Bilbo sighed as he climbed off the elf's lap and stepped off to the side of the large tent, not wanting to let himself be caught in the middle of this fight. And what a fight it was. Legolas stood so quickly that his chair flipped backwards and the elven guards unsheathed their weapons, all were waiting for the slight nod of Thranduil's head. All waiting for that silent permission.
"Now, now," the Master sweated nervously at the sight of the ivory blades, "I am only asking for permission to try your wares."
The dwarves merely kept their mouths shut for once; letting the Man succumb to his own folly. Many now knew the possessiveness that the Mirkwood Elves harbored for Bilbo, and the fierceness that they protected the hobbit. They did their best to protect him physically and mentally.
Thranduil looked to his son and nodded; all the elves sans Thranduil began to circle around the table until a dwarf from the Iron Hills thought it funny to try and trip one of them. After a well delivered insult by the elf in question and a spit from another dwarf Bilbo watched the entire tent fall into chaos. The two Kings in the room also getting into the fight as well.
"Stop it please," he ordered, even though he was used to being ignored by this point.
The wine that Thranduil was sipping on was lightly sloshing as people bumped into the large table and Bilbo grew frustrated as elves, men, and dwarves fought each other. Legolas slammed a blonde dwarf against the table and used his hair as leverage in order to bash the dwarf's head into the wooden surface. "I said that's enough!" but none heard him.
As a sign of frustration he smacked Thranduil's glass and was mystified to see that the glass was sent flying. The red liquid splattered against the tent and the effect was almost immediate. The fight was halted and they only watched as the stain began to travel down.
Bilbo grinned; he might have finally found a way to communicate with others.
~.~.~.
The rest of the day involved Bilbo returning to his bedside and beginning his vigil next to his body once more; he was just waiting for someone to return to him. Only so that he might be able to try and get someone to notice him; though he found it very strange. He spent much of his time touching the bodies of Thranduil and Legolas but neither had noticed him. Though the minute he hits a glass in frustration he manages to send it flying.
It all befuddled him so much.
There was a bright side to his monochrome world; his body was healing slowly but there were still moments when Bilbo saw the cloaked man. Sometimes he was just standing near the flaps of the tent. Other times he was hunched over Bilbo's head; just waiting for the moment he could take the hobbit from this world.
There was so much that he wanted to do while he waited, but it was all cut short once he saw the cloaked man once more.
"You know who I am," came his whisper of a voice.
"I do."
"So you know what is to happen then, yes?"
"I do."
"Then there is no use fighting the inevitable as your warrior friend Dimaethorn had tried to do."
Bilbo shook his head, "There is always something to fight for, Death."
Death smiled grimly and nodded at Bilbo, "I will be back to claim your soul for my own. It may be tomorrow or the next decade, but the soul of Bilbo Baggins will be mine."
"I look forward to the day that might occur, but if it is today or tomorrow I will fight with everything I have. The next time I greet you, it will be a punch to the face."
The apparition smiled, "I look forward to the day."
Bilbo nodded to Death and let out a sigh of relief as soon as Death disappeared from view; of course he would be the one to threaten Death with a punch in order to stay with the Elves of Mirkwood. If the elves were willing to do anything to keep him alive then he would make it his priority to stay alive. Bilbo owed them that much at the very least for all that they have done for him.
Then the flaps to his tent opened and he brightened up at the sight of Legolas, Tauriel, and Thranduil; their visits made him smile. Though this time they were all hopeful, and most of the other visits they were silent. Keeping their vigil next to him and talking sporadically. Tauriel put a glass full of Dorwinion Wine on the small end table next to Bilbo's bed and Legolas moved forward with a quill and parchment.
"Bilbo? Are you there?" Legolas asked carefully, "If you are then please do something."
His hobbit sensibilities tingled in his happiness and the one thing he did in his excitement was ... unintelligent to say the least. Bilbo was embarrassed to even think about the fact that he began to braid Thranduil's hair. He wasn't even good at braiding so all Bilbo managed to do was tangle the hair of the immaculate Elven King. Thranduil's eyebrows shot up as he touched the back of his head and winced when he tried to untangle the braids.
"It is good to know you're here Little One," he said as he eventually gave up on his hair.
Bilbo winced when he saw that his finger managed to make the world's biggest knot in his hair, and his honey eyes shone with mirth. "Do you know what is happening to you?" Tauriel asked him and Bilbo stuck his finger in the wine and eventually wrote "YES". The wine was hard to write with since the liquid ran and he literally had to redo his letters over and over.
Could they not find anything better than wine?
"What is happening then Little One?" Legolas asked him.
The three elves froze as they watched invisible fingers write DEATH on the tent flaps in a blood red color of wine.
~.~.~.
Cold dark eyes watched the little improvised, makeshift, shitty cell tent (or whatever her fellow elves wanted to call it). Her insides were burning with contempt for her once fellow guards and her hatred for the King grew tenfold. She was going to make them rue the day they took away her name.
She was Barhador, One Faithful to Home; she only assisted the dwarrow of Erebor only for the benefit of her King Thranduil! Why should she get punished for helping?
In the cold wind that ran across the Desolation, Barhador planned. They had taken the one thing that meant anything to her, so she would take the life of the one that meant most the Mirkwood Elves.
Barhador would wait quietly for years if she had to; she would kill Bilbo Baggins.
I hope you guys enjoy! Tell me if you all like it or if you just want to give a little advice.
Ragehappy Mavin Fan
