I walked behind them slowly, a little cautiously; I had no idea what they would do, what the upcoming reactions would be, and so I was admittedly wary, especially given that I knew at least part of the plan involved letting the dwarves out of their cages with so little defense. I didn't dare argue, however; I'd seen the expressions on the faces of some of my friends after being reprimanded by Thranduil. I wasn't eager to experience whatever they had, after that.
We came to Thorin's cell first, of course, and at the sight of us with the hobbit had him crashing madly against the cell door, rage and desperation and sadness painting his face. I hadn't thought he would ever look like that over anything; he seemed to care for the dwarves who followed him, of course, but he hadn't looked that way for them. He'd been angry, of course, and vengeful, and he'd have killed every last one of us for them if he had half a chance, but this… seemed different, somehow.
In a way, I expected it was because he trusted his motley band of dwarves to protect themselves. This hobbit, however… I wondered if it could even hold a blade aloft, which, again, set me to questioning why it was even with them.
"Bilbo," Thorin said, grip white knuckled on the bars, "Bilbo, I am sorry. I did not… I had thought that you could hide from them, and so I let them follow you. I have no right to ask your forgiveness again, but I do ask it this last time if this… if what I have done worsens your fate. If you begin regret following me." The little hobbit smiled, patting the massive hand around the bars and shaking his head.
"You've no need to ask forgiveness, Thorin. I agreed to have a discussion with Lord Thranduil in exchange for you and the other dwarves being moved to more comfortable quarters until we can get this whole mess straightened out. I'm sure you won't be treated as guests, but it'll be better than the dungeons if nothing else." Confusion flooded Oakenshield's gaze; I hadn't really thought that that was possible either. I wondered, if I thought so little of him, what could he and his dwarves have been thinking of me? I assumed that I served no other purpose than to kill them under Thranduil's order. In a way, I supposed that was at least partially true. In another way, I realized all of a sudden that perhaps it would be better if elves and dwarves actually spoke, at least a bit.
Thranduil settled an easy hand on the hobbit's shoulder, softly sliding him away from the door to the cell, from Oakenshield's grasping hands, in a way that most would've seen as meaningless. I, though, I knew well enough what his gesture had meant, why he'd done it, what he was feeling. I'd felt the same things for my own One, my wife, many years before, just as she had felt them for me. The hobbit obviously thought nothing of it, but Oakenshield… his eyes flashed with rage again, where it had settled for a moment.
"What did you agree to do, Bilbo? What did he say to you?" His voice was quick and low, as if we couldn't hear him, and Thranduil arched his brow, amusement in every line of his body, every facet of his face. The hobbit's brows furrowed and his lips pursed, worry in his eyes as he seemed to think that he'd somehow managed to agree to anything more than he thought.
"Only to talk, Thorin, just as I said. What have I done? You look as if you've seen a ghost," he murmured, almost as if he were trying to soothe the dwarf, and said dwarf only took a deep breath, shaking his head.
"Nothing, Bilbo. Only that you must be careful with what is said when dealing with elves, especially one such as Thranduil." I almost felt offended at that, though I realized quickly that he was right to say so, honestly. After all, there was more going on, more than what the hobbit knew, and I didn't expect that Thranduil would be eager to reveal all right away. He never had been willing to do so with anything else, after all, and this… this was more important than nearly anything, and blessed for it being the second time he felt thusly.
It would be gladdening to see his sadness lessen, at least; since the death of Legolas' mother, he had not been the same. His loneliness was palpable, and always worse in winter when old injuries I'd never seen caused him the greatest pain. I would be gladder still to see him with a reason to smile again, and I expected that his son would be even gladder than I. I wondered if the boy truly remembered the time when his father had been truly happy; it had, after all, been a very long time before.
"He's been only kind to me," the hobbit said, "And I don't mind agreeing to speak with him. Come along, now, let's get you out of that cell. He and the rest can have a quick bath, can't they? And have someone check their injuries? We've been traveling for some time and I fear their wounds becoming infected with all the filth and the lack of care." A little amusement flickered on Oakenshield's face under the worry; the hobbit seemed fussy in a way that he was very likely deeply familiar with. Thranduil opened the door with the key he kept in an inner pocket of his outer robe, and allowed the dwarven king to warily exit the confining space.
The hobbit looked like he wanted to fuss over him, but my king kept his gentle, leading hand on the smaller being's shoulder and led him away, towards the other cells and the other dwarves. We faced nearly the same reaction with every cell; first, sudden terror at the sight of Bilbo (who must have been sneaking around the dungeons since the dwarves had been placed here, looking for a way to escape) and anger at Thranduil's hand on him, followed by deeper, more personal fear and the assumption that they were to be executed.
I almost found it funny, how easy it was to understand those dwarves. How they'd even managed to live long enough to reach here I'd never know. Such an expedition should have, by all logic, failed the very moment it set out. Of course, one glance at those dwarves should have told me that they had no ties to such things as logic; that they brought a hobbit with them, of all things, likely should've told me that much. I shook my head, hoping against hope that I would be able to understand whatever explanation for his presence the hobbit gave.
Still, once the hobbit and Oakenshield explained what was actually happening, it was a simple matter to bring the dwarves to a small bathing room and leave them to their business with a few healers and a collection of guards who would bring them to the rarely-used guest quarters in the palace. Less simple was getting Bilbo away from them, though I'm sure Thranduil didn't know that, given that he left with the hobbit the moment the dwarves were sorted, leaving me and the other guards to keep them there instead of allowing them to chase after the two. I still received a harsh look from my king when I caught up to them, and had it not faintly horrified me at the time, I might've laughed a little.
When we reached the throne room, I made certain that the door was closed and barred, then settled myself in front of it, attempting valiantly to fade into the wood grain of the door. The hobbit still stared at me with wide eyes, curiosity as to who I was mixing seamlessly with the faintest traces of fear at the sight of my bow, ever-ready to be drawn. Thranduil didn't even bother to sit upon his throne before he started asking his questions.
"Why have you left your Shire, Bilbo? I don't expect this journey has been especially comfortable, especially after life lived in such an idyllic world." The hobbit actually laughed, and easily settled on the soft cushions Thranduil found for him to use as a seat until better arrangements could be made. He didn't even look upset when Thranduil himself found his place upon his throne again at last.
"I suppose at the start I did it because I wanted an adventure, like the ones my mother once had. She left the Shire often, though she only ever made it as far as Rivendell. I was glad to travel as she did, and even though I was wary of it at first, the dwarves gave me the opportunity to do that, even if the majority weren't particularly welcoming. I quickly decided that I wasn't meant for adventures, though; I thought to return to the Shire, to my home, but we fell into the goblin tunnels and that became quite impossible. After that… I realized that they don't know home as I do, and vowed that I would do whatever I could to help them reclaim their home." Erebor. I realized it fully very suddenly, though I'd somewhat suspected it for some time.
After all, this company was led by Thorin Oakenshield, rightful king under that particular mountain, and word had spread far that the time was coming for the mountain to be reclaimed. Thranduil didn't look shocked, which didn't surprise me at all.
"They go to reclaim their lost mountain, then," he said, and the hobbit nodded, slow and wary. "But why bring you? I do not mean to insult you, especially considering the fact that you managed to break into my dungeons and elude capture or even notice for many days, but the majority of hobbits are known as warriors, to put it lightly. What use did they expect you to have for them?" The little creature flushed red as roses, squirming on the cushions and staring down at his hands, at his twiddling fingers.
"Er, well, that was… that was an old friend of mine's doing. He told them that I would be a fine burglar to break into the mountain once we reached it. Light on my feet and all that." I couldn't remember the last time I heard Thranduil really laugh, laugh with pleasure instead of mocking and bitterness.
"A burglar, you say? And what sort of friend would this be who sends you on such a quest?" The little creature's lips turned into thin, fond smile, memories alighting across his eyes.
"I'm sure you've met him. Gandalf the Grey; I only ever knew him as a maker of fireworks, before all this mess."
Even I recognized the name, though I'd never met the Wizard it was attached to. Thranduil, on the other hand, certainly had. He heaved a heavy sigh, fingers light against his temple, and shook his head.
"I should've guessed he'd be involved in all this. You go to Erebor, do you not? The Lonely Mountain where the dragon Smaug sleeps? I do not think that I can allow such a quest to go on, you know. The harm it could bring is great and the benefit little." The hobbit didn't respond, still staring down at his hands.
I wondered why he seemed so upset by that; surely he did not want to face a dragon. How could he, being so very small? Of course he would know that he had no chance against such a creature, unless he was more a fool than he seemed.
"We do, lord Thranduil, and we must. I'm afraid that, one way or another, those dwarves will reach Erebor, your consent or not." I feared an explosion, but it didn't come. Fondness painted my king's face, unfamiliar and strange and honestly a little frightening. The hobbit very likely had too much power over him too suddenly and seemed to not even notice. He fidgeted a little more, cheeks still apple red.
"You are interesting, Bilbo, more so than I first thought. Come, come, sit a bit closer. Perhaps you will be able to convince me to let them go yet, though first I've more questions, and next I think you could stand for a bit of tending yourself." The hobbit looked ludicrously grateful, and I wondered what Thranduil was even thinking. Surely he could not free the dwarves to finish their quest? Yet I didn't believe he would lie to his One either; only the most callous of elves could even consider it, and though he would like it to be thought, he is far from callous.
I shook my head; this was going to be far more trouble than I'd first imagined, I could see as much already. And still I had no idea of what Thranduil was planning, as if I ever did. At that moment, and for the first time, I wanted nothing more than to scream at my lord until he saw sense and spoke of his plotting to me, to anyone who could help. I imagined that would end poorly for me, however, and so I only sighed a little to myself. I would stand by him to the bitter end, even still.