Thorin's POV
I had little choice but to admit that our accommodations now were far nicer than they had been, though I knew well enough how little that actually meant; we were, after all, still prisoners just the same. My kin remained just as restless, in any case, wandering between the rooms we'd been given and trying to pick fight with the frustratingly indifferent elves who guarded us. Much of it, I knew, was that Bilbo had been taken to some undisclosed location for no discernable reason, and the fact that Thranduil himself had been the one to order him taken there.
They refused to take us to him. My Company were not the only ones bothered by that; I myself was probably the most annoyed. I could admit that I'd treated him poorly at the start, and I could admit that I'd done so without merit just as I could admit that he'd proven me wrong quite aptly. I had accepted him as one of my Company and so I'd accepted responsibility for his fate just as I'd sworn I wouldn't do. He was as much my kin now as any dwarf who'd ever stood beside me; I refused to forsake him now, and simply waiting this way in comfort while Thranduil wanted him for Mahal-knew-what was as much torture as my time in the dungeon had been.
Eventually there came the point where sitting there, not knowing, became too much, and so we began to plan, my kin and I. Honestly that none of the elves grew the least bit suspicious when we suddenly stopped fighting was a bit shocking; I'd have thought Thranduil would've trained them to be just as suspicious and cold as he. Still, I wouldn't complain.
We plotted carefully, if not for very long; they would distract them and I would creep away in search of Bilbo, as I was the only one who had ever been in the palace itself before, even if it had been when I was scarce more than a dwarfling and the relationship between Thranduil and my grandfather was more friendly than anything. I only hoped the vague memories would be enough; I did not have what anyone would call a particularly good sense of direction, as my nephews so loved reminding me.
In any case, my Company at least played their parts perfectly. They faked a scuffle, rough and angry, and the guards came running just as we'd assumed they would. I slipped away unnoticed, the guards too focused on separating them to pay much mind to me. The halls were too tall and darker than I recalled; it was nothing like being in a mountain, for I had no idea where I was in relation to anything, and everything seemed wide enough and tall enough that I could easily be swallowed up by the empty space.
I had not done what I had to be stopped by such silly fear, however; I moved quickly, ducking out of the way whenever I heard rare footsteps. Finally, though, finally, I heard Bilbo, along with the guard who'd been with him when last we saw him. The two of them were walking somewhere very purposefully, though Bilbo looked relaxed and was even smiling at the taller figure. Obviously he'd become friendly with him, which, while certainly not unexpected, was a bit of a bother. He always had been too kind, too trusting; surely Thranduil sought to take advantage somehow.
I trailed after them as carefully as I was able; Bilbo never looked even the slightest bit worried about where he was being taken. Perhaps he knew already, though why he would I didn't know; he was no more a guest here than we were, no matter what illusions Thranduil had appeared to be trying to make him believe. My thoughts continued in that vein as I followed them through the winding halls, my bearings having long since been lost. How I would get back I didn't know, of course, but I assumed I'd manage something; I was a king, after all, and if I could not even find my way through Thranduil's palace I scarcely deserved to call myself such.
Finally, they opened a large door and I crept in after them, for once grateful for the elves' senseless need to over-decorate as it gave me a place to hide once the guard left the room. I realized suddenly that I was in Thranduil's throne room, all alone but for the elf king himself and Bilbo. I went tense right then as the danger of the situation hit me; I could be killed for this and I couldn't even dispute that Thranduil had no right to do it.
I grew worried the moment Thranduil asked Bilbo to address him as equal; I'd never heard him speak that way to anyone before, not even in the days when I'd thought him an ally and a friend to myself and my people. To hear him offer something like that now, to a burglar hobbit in a company of dwarves, was… unprecedented, and quite a bit shocking, to say the least. He couldn't possibly be planning anything good and I feared for Bilbo desperately. When the elf lord began spouting nonsense about love and Ones I realized I'd been a fool myself for not stepping in and fighting the moment my worry reared its head.
I'd thought that I'd learned to trust those instincts; obviously, I hadn't. And now… now Thranduil was standing there, speaking to Bilbo of loving him as if he had any right to do so and I wondered what his game could possibly be.
After all, he wouldn't be saying this unless he had a reason, unless he thought there was something about Bilbo he could use, and Bilbo didn't even sound the slightest bit suspicious, as if Thranduil were the most trustworthy being in all Middle Earth. At least, I supposed, he didn't take it without even surprise; I had never been so glad to see him faint.
My stomach roiled as Thranduil knelt beside him, hand on his arm and lips a little parted, as if he were truly worried for the hobbit. I wanted to kill him, then; I'd wanted as much before, admittedly, but now the feeling was sharper, more obvious and biting. My fingers twitched for want of a blade as he lifted the hobbit with ease and strode from the room, taking him somewhere else, somewhere we dwarves didn't know and wouldn't be told simply because Thranduil wanted something from our burglar.
The worst part was that I'd suspected this already; I'd even warned Bilbo of it, however vague I'd been. I had not seen Thranduil so gentle with anyone before, so kind (and I would not believe that it wasn't false) and I'd suspected. Why had I said nothing to my kin? I should've let them know my suspicions the moment I had them so perhaps we could've planned something earlier, something to stop him from taking this action he'd taken. I felt faintly ill for not the first time since I'd begun this quest.
Bilbo was my responsibility, and more than that, he was one of my dearest friends. I refused to stand aside and let him be fooled by the elf king's pretty stories, to let Thranduil snatch him away like a bauble to be won for whatever whim he then felt. I gritted my teeth and swept from the throne room, knowing I wouldn't be able to find them now that I'd waited so long to go after them, and deciding instead to find my way back to the rooms in which Thranduil had us imprisoned. When I returned, I spared only a moment to marvel at the fact that I'd managed to go uncaught, and less to let my kin congratulate me and ask if I'd found our burglar. I had them sit; they obeyed. I expected the look on my face was as near to distraught as it ever was.
"Uncle?" Fili asked me, rare frown on his face as he settled by his younger brother, who looked so terrified that I almost thought he'd assumed Bilbo dead, or worse. I wondered if I could consider this worse and finally decided that I couldn't, though it was a close decision.
"I found him, yes. He was being escorted to Thranduil's throne room. I followed them and listened in to what was said."
"Is he well?" Bofur, ever-kind, one of the first of our Company to have accepted him and called friend, asked, and my mouth tilted further down, into a deeper frown.
"In a sense; he is unhurt physically, and he is being treated well. The reason for that is… unsettling, however. Thranduil claims to be in love with him." Silence, shocked and tense and angry. The mere words had their teeth on edge, which I was grateful for as it at least meant that I was right in my own rage, that I would have their support in whatever I chose to do next.
"He said that?" Balin asked, hand stroking his beard and eyes wide. I nodded once, stiff.
"He did. Bilbo fainted, and I assume Thranduil carried him back to his room. I could not follow for fear of being caught." Kili's jaw was clenched so tightly that I thought he was likely close to chipping teeth, and I had the inane thought that his mother would slay me where I stood if I brought him back toothless. Fili settled a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed some, or at least enough that I didn't fear he'd hurt himself. Of course, Fili looked not much better off than his brother, hand twitching rhythmically for want of his blade, and the rest of the Company was not far behind either of them.
"What will we do, Thorin? You know we can't just sit here in this room and wait. Mahal knows what that elf is doing as we speak," Dwalin said, voice gruff as ever, and I nodded.
"Very true, my friend. I don't plan on waiting myself, and I wouldn't subject you all to it either. We'll find them first, and decide from there what is to be done." There, however, inlay the problem; it had been troublesome enough for only me to leave and return unnoticed, and I could see no way for all of us to manage unless we killed the guards, which I didn't imagine we'd be able to do even if we wished to. They had weapons where we did not, and I knew well enough that they could raise an alarm and summon their whole army far faster than we could make them fall with our bare hands.
I know the others knew this too; we sat in our silence for a few moments and thought of what we might be able to do, but none could think of a solution. It was as good as torture, sitting there plotting and planning against our most recent impossibility, yet it was a torture I couldn't end.
At least if we were doing this, we were doing something productive instead of only waiting; at least this way, we could still imagine we had a chance even if it was but a lie we told to comfort ourselves.
So lost were we in our plotting that we all jolted when the door to our rooms opened and Thranduil entered, Bilbo small and soft as ever at his side but the same fierce determination I'd come to see as familiar thick in his eyes. Thranduil's long-fingered hand was settled on the hobbit's narrow shoulder, gentle and easy yet no less obvious in its purpose. I stood to my full height, back straight, and though I knew well enough that Thranduil still towered over me, I felt better for the gesture. Behind me, my kin all did the same.
"We have come to inform you that Bilbo is my love and that he has agreed to try exploring that with me," Thranduil said, voice flat and near enough to dead, and Bilbo's lips twitched up slightly, amusement painting his expression. I know the Company shared my assumption that Thranduil had done something, twisted his mind somehow while he was unconscious. As such, I don't expect we can be fully blamed for what occurred next.
I don't know which of us attacked first, honestly, though I suspect it might've been Kili, yet young and quicker to take action than to consider consequences. I do know, however, that it was with very little provocation that the rest of us joined in the fray, Bilbo having been dragged out of the way when the first punch was thrown.
My own fist struck his stomach; I heard a little air slip from his mouth in a low hiss, his surprise serving as well as my own force to throw him off balance. It had been many years since I'd felt so horribly angry; I expected most of the company would've said the same. Thranduil had helped to take everything from my people, and now he stood, blank-faced, to try and take our burglar, our friend, from our side. He had no right. His guards were coming, I knew that as I went in for another harsh punch. I heard them raising alarms and didn't care because I knew that if they would kill me for striking their king, they would do it whether I ceased at their cry for aid or not. Thranduil himself started fighting back then as well, longer arms and legs serving him well as he knocked Fili to one side and started going for Dwalin, who posed a greater threat, instead. Still I found myself not caring, not really, because Bilbo was my friend no matter how long I'd been in realizing it, and I wouldn't let him be mistreated so by the elf king.
That was when Bilbo cried out for us to stop, however, his voice loud and firmer than was usual. He didn't often speak that way; I'd learned after a week of scolding interspersed with the silent treatment that I'd do well to heed him when he did. The remainder of the Company had as well, though, judging by the way they too immediately fell still. Even Thranduil himself went stiff at the demand, arms falling to his sides as he too stopped fighting us. The only sounds were footsteps in the hall as a collection of elves came running to their lord's aid. Bilbo had a very spectacular frown on his face.
"Sit," he demanded, one finger pointing, straight and stiff, to punctuate the command. We all listened, Thranduil included, and the slightest pinch of my anger became confusion. "Good. Now, we are going to talk about this like adults, alright? Not scuffling children. If any of you don't think you can do that, you ought to leave now as I am simply not going to deal with it." There might've been a time when I'd have laughed at a hobbit giving orders to kings. Now, I didn't dare; I'd seen what he could do when given provocation, and I preferred him as friend instead of enemy. In any case, none of us moved; I expected that we were in for a long night. Still, I supposed at least that Bilbo was, in fact, still alright, and that was a comfort even if he was upset. I could deal with years of scolding if he was still well; oddly enough, I almost thought I saw the same thought reflected in Thranduil's cold eyes, no matter how untrue I knew that to be.