A/N So, first off, thank you so much to the guest reviewer who left me a few ideas; I really do appreciate it, and I think I am going to use them in this. Secondly, I'll be going out of town this Thursday and won't be back until Monday, so forgive me if I don't reply to anything until then!
The guard from before came to awaken me the next morning instead of Thranduil himself, his expression more bland than before and his hair and armor both in a bit of a state. I wondered, a bit, what he'd been doing that had made him look so frazzled, but I didn't think he'd much appreciate my asking. Still, he did smile a little at the sight of me, so I supposed at least he wasn't in too terrible a mood.
"You're wondering why I look so unkempt this morning," he said, and I jerked. He laughed quietly, hand patting my shoulder lightly as I scrambled from the bed.
"A bit, yes."
"We were sent to fight last night, perhaps an hour or two after Lord Thranduil escorted you here. The orcs, thinking we were giving your dwarves asylum, returned to attack in greater numbers than before in an attempt to, I suppose, either take our palace or convince us to hand you all over. I expect they've spent enough years hidden away that they forgot the strength of our warriors." Familiar pride filled his expression; the dwarves wore the same look whenever they won a battle. Oddly enough, it made me just as happy then as now.
"It was so simple a battle?" His smile faded at that, one hand sweeping his hair back from his face as he shook his head.
"Simple for some, but we've still a few dead from the initial attack, when they surprised us and gave no time for the alarm to be raised. That is why Lord Thranduil will not be joining you for your morning meal, though I was asked to bring you to his throne room once you finished. He has a few he must inform of the deaths, and fortifications to oversee. We will not let ourselves be taken by surprise again." He truly was a warrior, obviously; it was strange how many of them I was meeting now when for so many years I'd known of them only in stories.
"Let's go quickly, then, so you can rest; you certainly look as though you need it." His smile flashed back again, eyes softening, as he led me from the room.
"Quite rude, hobbit; do I really look so terrible?" I nodded sagely, trying to fight back my own grin and surely failing.
"Oh, yes! I've never seen an elf so messy; you ought to be ashamed!" He tried for heartbroken and didn't manage very well, I assume due to lack of practice.
"I am, I am; to appear before you this way will surely land me in disgraced exile, unless, of course, you ask Lord Thranduil to grant me mercy." I had missed being able to laugh so freely; no matter the poor start, this was a pleasant place to be even if we couldn't stay for long.
"Then I shall, of course, Master… ah, how rude of me! I haven't asked your name." He blinked slowly, as if only just coming to the same realization.
"Thandaer," he said, offering a sort of half-bow as we moved towards the same dining hall we'd used the night before.
"Nice to officially make your acquaintance then, Master Thandaer," I replied, and he only chuckled softly.
"You may call me Thandaer only, Bilbo. I am as good as your guard now, after all." An odd thing to say, but I supposed it made a sort of sense, given that, beyond Thranduil, he'd been the one to look after me since I'd been found, and given that he'd been with Thranduil even then, he was certainly quite trusted. I agreed, and with that, he led me into the room and to the seat I'd used the night before.
I found myself enjoying breakfast far less than I had dinner. Not because the food was subpar, obviously, but only because I was being forced to eat alone, something that I hadn't done since leaving Bag End. Thandaer had wandered off somewhere, and I assumed Legolas was wherever his father was, dealing with the fallout from the attack the night before.
The silence around me was grating; even a song about blunting my knives would've been welcome then, though I'd never admit as much to Fili and Kili. So, I ate as quickly as I was able, barely even bothering to taste it as it passed my lips (and my, but I'd never thought I'd think something like that) and squirmed in my seat until Thandaer, who looked far better than he had that morning, arrived again to spirit me off to Thranduil's throne room. I wondered if the dwarves were doing well; I hadn't seen them in some time, after all, and I didn't expect they were taking well to life here, especially since their deadline for reaching the Lonely Mountain was growing ever nearer and such inaction simply didn't suit them. Honestly I was a bit surprised they hadn't overrun the palace yet. Perhaps they were trusting that I'd been telling the truth when I said I'd try to convince Thranduil to let us go and were giving me the opportunity to do so.
The mere idea of that made me smile, a little; it seemed not even yesterday when they'd been calling me a grocer, but then I couldn't blame them for not expecting much out of me since I hadn't expected much out of me either.
"Thandaer?" I finally asked, unable to contain my worry over them any longer.
"Yes?"
"Do you know how the dwarves are doing?" He laughed, then, squeezing my shoulder once and giving me a kind smile.
"They're alright. Worried sick over you, from what I've heard, and they've demanded to see you more than once, but otherwise as well as can be expected for thirteen dwarves in a den of beings they see as enemies." That much was comforting, at least, and I could easily imagine the sort of trouble they were causing with their complaining. Besides, I appreciated that they'd grown to care for me so much; it felt oddly like being a part of a close family again, which, after my parents' passing, was quite welcome. I was smiling when I entered the throne room merely because of that thought, and Thranduil returned it when he saw me, though he did appear a bit troubled otherwise.
"Lord Thranduil," I greeted, and he nodded distantly.
"Only Thranduil, please. We will speak as equals now, or not speak at all." Thandaer looked far less confused by that than I would've expected, instead just bowing and leaving us alone. Oh, dear. Obviously whatever it was he wanted to speak with me about, beyond the trouble with the dwarves, was more serious than I'd imagined.
"You seem bothered," I said, and his mouth twitched up as he gestured for me to come nearer to him and sit on the soft, comfortable cushions he'd let me use before.
"I suppose that's one way to put it. I only fear saying what must be said, as I don't imagine you'll understand." He didn't seem to be trying to insult me with that, at least, so perhaps that was a good sign. I tried to keep my own expression light, though I don't know how well I did; he was worrying me, a bit, with the way he was acting.
"Apparently I've been surprising people quite often since leaving the Shire. I might surprise you as well," I told him, though I was certainly not confident in that. He laughed a little raggedly, eyes a bit unnerving where they were fixed upon me.
"You already have, Bilbo, from the moment I found you in my dungeons. Tell me, have you heard stories in your Shires of the way elves love?" he asked me, head tilted rather a lot like his son's had been the night before. I don't think I'd yet seen him so curious, and I was interested in where he was going no matter the odd nature of his question.
"No, I can't say I have." He sighed; apparently I'd given the less satisfactory answer.
"I hadn't expected so; it is not precisely publicized even if it is not precisely a secret either. Generally, an elf loves but once in his or her life; we've one name on our hearts and we stay with that one forever, when they are found. Some, however, are blessed with a second name with the death of their first, though that is very rare." I stared.
"That's… interesting information, Thranduil, but I'm afraid I'm not entirely certain what you're trying to tell me." He sighed. Oddly, he sounded like Thorin. I almost thought to tell him so, though I expected he'd appreciate me saying as much almost as little as Thorin himself.
"I loved Legolas' mother fiercely; upon her death I was devastated. Legolas himself can attest to as much; you saw his reaction to even a smile from me last night. I have not been truly joyful since the day she passed; I had thought that I would remain alone for the rest of my life. Then, however, my scouts found your dwarves and brought them here, and I had them imprisoned out of suspicion over their reason for being in my wood. I began feeling a stirring in my heart again, and realized that I was one of the few with a second name." I felt like fainting again. I'm quite sure I almost did.
Oddly, however, I also felt a bit… sad. Thranduil had fallen for one of the dwarves, obviously, and had thought to enlist me to help him, probably wisely as none of them would listen to him no matter what he said about love and ones. I don't know why that bothered me, though; if he had truly been so sad and so lonely for so long, shouldn't I be pleased that he'd found another to share his life with? And it would be good for the dwarves as well, given how well it could smooth relations between the two cultures. It did bother me, though, and I suddenly recognized the feeling as jealousy. I fell into a sudden coughing fit and watched his smile turn faintly sad.
"Oh, dear me," I finally managed, and the smile turned sadder.
"You've realized what I mean, then." I nodded, swallowing and attempting to loosen the lump in my throat.
"I believe so. Which of them is it? Perhaps I can be of some help; I know much about all of them." He looked surprised, for a moment, before he fell into a fit of laughter, shaking his head at me in something like confusion.
"You haven't understood me, Bilbo. The dwarves were not the only ones to enter my dungeons when I imprisoned them there, and they were not the ones to awaken my heart again." I hadn't thought anything could surprise me as much as the realization of all the exceptionally nasty ways in which a dragon could kill me. I ought to have known better, after all I'd faced on this adventure. I struck the pillows in a dead faint the moment his words filtered into my head.
I awoke lying on the bed I'd been given, Thranduil settled in a chair beside me and looking far more nervous than I'd ever imagined he'd be able. His hands were clasped upon his lap and his back was straight and stiff, his expression as blank as he could force it.
"I'm quite sorry about that," I finally said, and he chuckled. It sounded disconcertingly bitter.
"I expect I'm the one who should be apologizing, Bilbo." I grinned, sitting up slowly just in case I was still a bit woozy, and shook my head.
"Not at all; I'm not upset, only… well, I expect 'surprised' would be quite an understatement. If it wouldn't be too forward to say so, I think I feel something similar for you. I was quite… well, jealous, when I assumed it was one of the dwarves, and I seem to like you far more than I normally would for someone I've only just met. I'd like to get to know you more, if you'd like the same." His face turned softer than I'd ever seen it, then, and his hand slowly wrapped around mine, long, elegant fingers stroking my wrist lightly.
"I believe I would, Bilbo," he murmured, leaning down and pressing a butterfly light kiss to the corner of my mouth. I expect I beamed up at him more brightly than I ever have before, then, my arms flinging themselves around his shoulders as he wrapped his own about my waist, however awkward the position was for us both. We sat like that in silence, for a bit, until I very suddenly realized something.
"Oh, dear."
"I'm beginning to worry whenever I hear you say that, Bilbo," he said lightly, brow arched, and I gave a nervous smile.
"I expect we're going to have to talk to the dwarves about this, not to mention the matter of the quest." I can't help but feel I was one of the first to see such genuine terror alight in the eyes of Thranduil, elven king of Mirkwood.