Bilbo's POV
It really was a very nice room I'd been given, not that I knew why I'd been given it. I was, after all, just as much of an intruder as the dwarves, if not one they had the same cultural issues with, and if anything I had been causing far more trouble than they in my wandering through the dungeon. Thranduil had absolutely no reason to be being so kind to me, and yet… here I was, in a room even nicer than mine at Bag End, clean and clothed and cared for, waiting only for dinner. It made no sense and the elven guard that had been with me certainly hadn't done much to explain.
Perhaps Thranduil would at least tell me something over the meal, so I would know at least if this was only being done to lull me into some false sense of security in his halls so he could more easily imprison us all again later. I shook my head to clear the silly idea, honestly certain that I'd been spending far too much time sitting around and listening to the dwarves, because he wouldn't have let the dwarves up here to being with if that were the case, and I didn't expect he thought he'd have much trouble tossing me in a cell anyway, should he want to do so.
No, he was having me treated so well for another reason, but what that reason was I didn't know. Thorin seemed quite worried about it, though, given the way he'd gone on and on about me being careful. Again, however, I knew the tensions between the two kings, and his worry could just as easily have been related to that old distrust rather than anything new he'd noticed. It really was a troublesome situation, and I'd been out of my depth far too many times on this adventure already. If nothing else I swore to myself that I'd figure out what was going on in Thranduil's head tonight, despite being certain that that would be far from a simple task.
He was, after all, the king of the elves of Mirkwood, known even in the Shire by his reputation of coldness. He seemed to like me, yes, although again I had no idea of the reason why, and that would certainly help some, but still I knew it would be a struggle to get him to tell me anything he didn't want to say. I had had some exceptionally good practice with my dwarves, though; perhaps I was wrong and Thranduil's stubbornness would be simple to crack in comparison. I sighed. Yes, and tomorrow Thorin sign a peace treaty with him, possibly after marrying an elf girl and sending Smaug a kindly worded letter informing him that Erebor was his. Really I should've learned by that point that no part of this journey of mine would be simple, at least not for me.
I got off the bed slowly, the thing a bit too soft and certainly too tall for me to be able to do so comfortably and with any haste. Still, it was quite comfortable, and the elves surely weren't to blame for not having a bed more suited to my height. I paced around the room, then, too many thoughts buzzing in my head to sleep and too much nervous energy coursing through me to even sleep. When Thranduil finally came, opening the door after a quiet knock and an assurance that he could enter, I almost ran to him I was so eager to go and do something, even if only eat.
"Hello," I greeted, and he blinked, hand light on my arm.
"Bilbo. Your room is comfortable, is it not? I'd have thought you'd take the opportunity to rest." Funny, how he actually sounded a little worried, as if my health should've mattered to him. Perhaps he was a better king than Thorin thought if he was so easily able to show care for people under his watch. I smiled up at him and he raised an eyebrow, actually looking a little shocked at me. He really was handsome, more so even than Elrond, really, and there was a strange sort of strength to him that I couldn't quite place. He did look far better when he smiled, though, like he was then, when he saw my own grin.
He wasn't delicate, I could see that at a glance; his grip was too powerful and I knew that if I saw his arm it would be all elegant muscle. Chances were that if I saw him swing a blade he'd do it in the same way as Thorin, as if it were an extension of his arm, as if he'd been born holding it. There was more than physical strength to him, though; perhaps that was why it seemed so strange. How had he known so clearly that I was there in that dungeon anyway? He couldn't have seen me, yet still he acted as if he had.
"It's quite fine, I assure you. I'm only… honestly it seems that I've been running for so long, whether from trolls or orcs or goblins, that I can't seem to find rest now." He nodded thoughtfully, hand drifting to my shoulder and settling there lightly, gently, the touch oddly comforting despite everything. I almost wanted to thank him, though for what reason I didn't know.
"I've seen as much before with my own guards. I'm sure you've noticed the… troubles we've been having here."
"The spiders?" I asked, and he honestly laughed.
"The spiders, yes, but not only them. To be honest, were I to let my son fight them with those he calls friend as often as he'd like, we'd be rid of them in a week, perhaps less. It is more what they represent that worries me; they are dark things, things that have no place in my wood, and they encroach here without care, as if the threat we pose is nothing. I fear that there are worse things afoot, and that they are but a symptom of the illness that is here." I swallowed; there was a distance to his face, and though he was looking down at me, it felt more as though he were looking through me.
"This place was the Greenwood once, wasn't it? That's what it's called on all my maps back home." He nodded, and the distance in his eyes grew greater.
"Greenwood, or Eryn Lasgalen in my own tongue. It was, yes, years ago; I hope to make it so again one day, but this illness… I do not understand it fully, I can admit that. My wisest study it day after day and still can tell me nothing. The spiders, and the other unwelcome creatures that try to take my wood, are more recent troubles, and daunting for that as they mean the situation is worsening. I fear for the state of my wood, and yet… there seems a sort of hope, now," he said, lips curling into a faint smile as he glanced down at me. I blinked, and his mouth only twitched as though he were fighting a greater smile, or even a good chuckle.
He led me into a large dining hall, decorated extravagantly in golds and greens, and had me settle into a chair at his left side while a younger looking elf sat at his right. He was nearly as tall as Thranduil with the same pale hair and the same narrow nose; it must've been the son he'd mentioned, I decided, and was only proven right when he directed my attention to the younger elf.
"Bilbo, this is Legolas, my son. Legolas, Bilbo Baggins." Legolas tilted his head at me, leaning across his father as if to get a closer look, and knocked his father's hand off me lightly so he could push my hair back and prod at my ears.
"A hobbit?" he asked, more to Thranduil than to me, and the elf lord, again, looked to be desperately struggling against laughter as he nodded. I think that shocked Legolas far more than the revelation as to what, exactly, I was, because he turned to face his father and seemed to gape a little. "You're in… a good mood," he said at last, and Thranduil's smile softened.
The love in his eyes was obvious. Actually it reminded me a bit of some of the overprotective, perhaps a bit too hardworking mothers and fathers in the Shire. A bit of Dori too, actually, from when I caught sight of him looking at his brothers. The familiarity of it made me relax, made me put my own hand on Thranduil's forearm, and though he jerked, though Legolas stared at me like he'd never seen someone with such gall, he didn't have me move it. I think that prompted the younger elf to turn his incredulous stare to his father again.
"I am. Has that truly become so rare?" Legolas laughed, then, breathless and sad and a little manic, as if it was either that or start crying, but there was joy there too, mixed in evenly, as he took his father's hand and my own.
"So many years," he said, and I took my own turn at confusion. Thranduil, while not as friendly as some I'd met, hadn't seemed much more than amiable in all the time I'd known him. Had he actually been so different? Yet why would he become suddenly happy now? I wished desperately that someone would explain and assumed no one would. Again, that would simply be far too easy. "I'm glad to see it even still, father. Shall I spread the joyful news to all the ladies and all the guards, so the gossip will be sure to spread?" Thranduil did laugh, then, as plate upon plate of good smelling food was delivered to the table where we sat.
"Only if you've a particular desire to find yourself cleaning the kitchens again, dearest son of mine." The lightheartedness of the comment seemed to send Legolas reeling with more shock as he laughed again, shaking his head.
"Then I shall stay silent, father dear." He reminded me far too much of Fili and Kili, then; perhaps they were about the same age mentally, even if not in actual years. I wondered if Thranduil had ever had to deal with the same pranking phase that Thorin had with the boys and found myself hoping, probably irrationally, that he had simply because those were stories I'd love to hear. Why I thought that Thranduil would ever tell me stories I don't know; I was little more than a guest, and one that had broken into his dungeons at that. I didn't expect I'd be getting such a privilege any time soon. The sudden sadness that made me feel made little sense, at least not to me, and yet I felt it all the same.
"Wise of you," he said, brow raised as he turned to face me again, watching as I piled my plate high. I know I flushed under the scrutiny.
"I, well, I'm sorry for taking so much. I can put some back if you'd like?" He looked bemused, for a moment, before he shook his head, settling his hand atop mine on his forearm, and I realized suddenly that I hadn't ever moved it.
"Take all you like, Bilbo. I'm sure you're in need of a good meal, by now." Myself being a hobbit, I'd never had any idea quite how true such a statement could ever be, and I was unspeakably grateful for it as I grabbed myself a little more and tucked in rapidly, very unhobbity but too hungry to really care. It tasted like heaven on my tongue and I was certain the dwarves would be just as pleased as I was, when they got their dinner; we'd been too long without such comforts, and no matter their source, I was sure they'd partake.
"Thank you," I managed between bites, and so engrossed was I in the meal that, to tell the truth, I forgot that I'd planned to have a serious discussion with Thranduil at all. Of course, it was probably better, honestly, given how public the venue was, and we did speak much in that time, though it was of simple things like my home in the Shire and recent, silly events in his palace like a small group of tired, possibly slightly drunk off-duty guards managing to trap themselves in a storage closet overnight only to be faced the next morning with Thranduil himself, who'd come there to fetch a broom. Apparently they'd been completely unable to look at him since, and some of the senior guards still shook their heads at them in amusement whenever they passed. All in all, it was a pleasant night, if not an informative one, even if I did manage to get at least a little out of Thranduil when he escorted me back to my room after dinner.
"Did you have a pleasant evening, Bilbo?" he asked me, and I, of course, nodded. It had been a pleasant day, really, at least after a few… hiccups, and I felt better then than I had in months.
"I most certainly did! Still, lord Thranduil, I'm a bit curious as to why you're doing all this for me. Am I not an intruder as well?" He looked almost pained, for a moment, as if he'd been expecting the question and still didn't quite have an answer, but he hid the look so quickly that I couldn't have been certain I'd even seen it at all.
"That is a difficult thing to explain, and not entirely proper to mention in the middle of a hallway. Still, I expect I do owe you an explanation if nothing else, and we still must discuss what will be done about your dwarves' little quest. Tomorrow morning, Bilbo, after breakfast; we'll go to my throne room and discuss it all then, alright?" That, at least, was better than what I'd had before, and I certainly couldn't complain, so I agreed readily, and with that (along with a rather impulsive hug I don't know why I gave and that I'm surprised I wasn't immediately jailed for) he left and I fell into bed and the deepest, best sleep I'd had since leaving the Shire.