Thandaer's POV
As we rode into Laketown, silence reigned; people off to market dropped their baskets and fell to their knees at the sight of my lord, the scarcely seen ruler of the Mirkwood, as if they thought he would expect as much simply because he was king. The dwarf lord watched them warily, distrust swirling in the ice of his eyes, and I supposed I could understand as much. Chances were, he had not had particularly pleasant encounters with men, in his time; many, I knew, had taken advantage of the newly-homeless dwarves of Erebor shortly after Smaug's arrival, and king or not, Oakenshield had likely not been spared that.
In any case, though the people were obviously a bit terrified of Thranduil and the cold, noble dwarf, they still cast curious eyes to the small creature bundled in front of Thranduil, held close and partly hidden from prying eyes by the curl of my king's arm and the drape of his coat. I listened to them mumbling to one another as closely as I was able as I rode by, leading the other guards while the dwarf who rode beside me, an older fellow who'd actually been quite pleasant conversation on the way here, led the remainder of Oakenshield's ragtag company.
Most, oddly enough, thought him a child, though I had to wonder how many children they imagined were running about Mirkwood for Thranduil to have simply happened upon one. Perhaps they succumbed to the old tales men once told, about how elves snuck into human homes at night and stole away with their children, and I chuckled a bit at the thought. Were he truly a child, Bilbo would've fit perfectly into such a tale; he looked and acted precisely like the children in those stories always did, with pale, curly hair, a kind smile, and a penchant for adventures. None of them recognized him as a hobbit; did they even know what hobbits were, I wondered? They were, after all, so very far from the Shire, and I knew that no other hobbit had ever managed to travel so far from there.
As for Bilbo himself, he looked around curiously, eyes wide and bright as he looked over the stalls we passed, chattering quietly with Thranduil the whole while. Thranduil himself chuckled quietly at something the hobbit said, and I could feel my own lips tilting up even as the guards behind me turned to stare at one another as if their neighbor held the answer to why their king was acting so strangely. The older dwarf beside me chuckled quietly, shaking his head and smiling at the Oakenshield's back.
"You know, I never thought I'd see the day when Thorin was so concerned for one not of our blood," he said, and I tilted my head towards him, letting him see that I wanted him to elaborate. "Thorin's always been a bit… well, he's never been too terribly fond of anyone who wasn't family or a dear friend of family, and if ever he even spoke to someone who wasn't a dwarf I considered it something close to a miracle. For him to care so much about Bilbo is strange, if not unwelcome. After all, I expect the only other two whose personal life he'd stick his nose in so obviously are Fili and Kili, and they're his heirs."
"Oh?" I asked, and he nodded thoughtfully, one hand stroking lightly through his thick beard.
"Oh, yes. Of course, come to think of it, he was this way when his sister wedded as well; I expect he almost strangled her husband more than once simply because he was under the impression that no one was good enough for her. I do understand why he feels so with Bilbo now, though; in a way, all of us feel the same." Fondness painted his expression as Thranduil stopped a particularly harried looking man and asked where the Master of the town resided. The man, tripping over his tongue and his feet, scrambled to point the way. I almost felt bad for the poor fellow, who looked so grateful to be alive when Thranduil nodded and waved him off that I couldn't help but toss him a small purse as I rode by him.
"Why is that? I imagine he's capable of looking after himself, isn't he? I will admit that I do not know him as well as you all probably do, but he is nothing if not brave." The dwarf laughed out that, boisterous and easy, nodding faintly as I finished speaking.
"Brave? Yes, he is definitely that! He's saved us more than once, Thorin more than any of us; jumped in front of an Orcish blade for Thorin, he did. He'd saved us before then as well, at least once, but that was when Thorin finally realized how unfairly he'd judged the lad when we first set off from his little hole in the ground. That's why he cares for him so fiercely now, you see; making up for lost time and all that. As for the rest of us, he's our brother in spirit even if he isn't a dwarf, so of course we don't want him hurt." There was a sincerity to him that the other dwarves were not so willing to show, or at least weren't willing to show to me. Perhaps he, at least, was wise enough to see that Thranduil meant Bilbo no harm, that none of us did. I could only hope; Oakenshield respected him, from what I'd seen, so perhaps if he told him as much he'd stop glaring so harshly, or at least wouldn't do it as often.
I nodded thoughtfully, turning my attention to the path we walked; this town truly was filthy. I wondered when it had become so, when I remembered it as such a pleasant place. Of course, it had been some time since I'd had need to come here; as far as I knew, I'd never even met the man who was Master now. Still, eventually we came across the Master's home, and found it larger and far cleaner than the remainder of the city. The curtain's rustled, whatever presence there was behind them certainly nervous and wary. Thorin climbed from his pony the moment we reached the building, knuckles rapping harshly against the door. A new silence fell, this one at least shorter than the last, as a particularly slimy looking servant opened the door and scrambled to fetch the Master, who prostrated himself upon the floor before he even reached the foot of the stairs. I sighed. I expect Thranduil did as well, though Thorin only looked faintly disgusted.
"King Thranduil, it is an honor," the Master said, though his voice was muffled from its proximity to the floor, and even had it been clear, he spoke so quickly that I had to struggle to understand him. "And… and Thorin Oakenshield, is that you? So wonderful to have you with us as well, what can I do for you gentlemen and your… is that a child? Oh, what a lovely child!" Bilbo squawked rather indignantly, as if only just realizing how Thranduil so carefully cradled him, and wriggled a little where he sat upon the elk. Thranduil laughed, and even Thorin appeared to be fighting a smile.
"Why, I never! I am a fully grown hobbit, not a… a child!" The Master appeared to be nearly certain that he would be beheaded where he lay, and then appeared to be seriously contemplating the benefits of groveling.
"I'm sorry!" he began, "I've only… we've never had a hobbit here. Forgive me the misunderstanding-." Blessedly, Oakenshield cut him off.
"Save your begging. We are here because I plan to reclaim my mountain from Smaug. We wished only to warn you of as much, so you might have your people leave the city for a time. I will pay for the trouble, of course, and supply aid should damage befall the city." His voice was flat and cool, almost passionless; I almost couldn't believe the shift. The Master scrambled suddenly to his feet, his servant helping him, and looked to be thinking rather seriously about something. I almost thought to warn him of headaches when his lips split into an unnerving grin.
"Of course, of course! I always knew that one day you'd reclaim Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield; yes, from the very moment I heard the story, I thought, he'll knock on my door one day, ready as you please to get rid of that dragon. And while I was thinking that, I thought, of course I've got to help him! Ah, but I'm an old man, now, hardly fit for battle, and my town is so poor, so what can I offer? Then, I remembered: I've a fine warrior in my town, I do! Bard, Bard the Bowman! He works on the barges, you see; I insist that you all make use of him in your quest!" I wondered if I'd ever met someone so blatantly conniving before. Had he never heard of subtlety? I've heard some say that we elves have it in spades, and so expect too much of it from others, but surely wishing for just a bit of tact is not out of line, is it? Oddly enough, both Thranduil and Thorin looked ready to start yelling at the man, very likely for different reasons, but Bilbo's voice stopped them both.
"We'll accept that," he said, too quickly for the others to protest, and the Master rattled off an address and pointed down the street, saying his goodbyes as quickly as he was able and slamming the door behind him. He didn't bother to even pretend as if he was going to speak a word to the townsfolk about our plans.
"Bilbo," Thorin hissed, "why did you agree to that?" Bilbo gave him a certain look that I wouldn't relish being on the receiving end of; strange, how a hobbit can so easily make an elf feel small.
"Because we haven't the time to argue, Thorin, not with Durin's Day so near and a mountain yet to climb; besides, someone will need to tell the people what's happening, correct? He certainly isn't going to, and I expect this Bard could manage that, don't you?" Thranduil looked exceptionally proud, hand stroking softly through Bilbo's hair, and Thorin, much though it shocked me, let out a laugh, one that sounded truly pleased.
"Clever thing," he said, and Bilbo looked so pleased at the praise from the two of them that I thought he'd surely burst. With that, Thranduil sent two men to this Bard's home to tell him the news while the rest of us left the city, tying our mounts to some scraggly trees at the foot of the mountain and starting the slow hike up.
LINE BREAK
Bilbo's POV
I walked at Thranduil's side, my hand held in his firm grasp, as if he thought I needed the help to climb when my feet moved just as surely over the uneven ground as his own. Still, it wasn't unwelcome, by any means; I was glad of the companionship, especially after my vague thoughts on the ride to Laketown.
"Bilbo," he finally said, voice so low that I almost missed the call for my attention. I wondered if he thought someone would actually care enough over his conversations with me to listen in, and laughed quietly to myself at the thought.
"Yes?"
"Have you given thought to the things I've said?" he asked, and I blinked. Would it be… appropriate to tell him that I had, to speak of the conclusions I'd reached, to say that I was, perhaps, falling for him as well? Well, he'd asked; surely he wouldn't have if he didn't want an honest answer. He, after all, wasn't the sort to seek out a lie, however comforting said lie might've been. I swallowed, offering a wavering smile, and nodded hesitantly.
"I have. I think… I think that I feel something similar to what you do. Not so intense, perhaps, but it's certainly easy to imagine myself with you over the rest of my life." The hand around mine squeezed, so lightly that I could've mistaken if for an unintentional twitch had anyone but the ever-deliberate Thranduil done it. He smiled down at me, so sweet that I almost couldn't believe it, and I returned the expression as best I was able.
"Is that so? I must say that that's unexpected, though far from unpleasant. I'm glad that you've… that, once this is all over, I've something to look forward to." He bent as if to kiss my head again, and I managed to catch him by the jaw and press a soft kiss to his lips instead. He actually stared at me, shock blatant on his face, and grinned like the fool I knew he wasn't for a split second before he face faded to its usual serenity again. "Burglar indeed," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head, and I laughed.
"Oh, don't you go on about that too, now! Honestly that's likely the first thing I've ever stolen, if stealing a kiss even counts as true thievery! Besides, I imagine I deserve a kiss or two, don't you?" I asked, and he had the gall to look thoughtful about that.
"I suppose you do, burglar hobbit of the shire; perhaps I can spare a few, hm? Whenever we stop walking, of course." It was strange, how simple such a conversation with such a being truly was; I'd certainly never imagined that I would end up here, of all places, when I set off on this quest! Not that I was complaining, obviously; I knew well enough the sort of fates that could've befallen me on this journey, and I expected that this was about as close as anything to the best case scenario. I smiled.
"I'll need more than a few, I'm afraid. Only to be certain that I am falling in love with you, you see." He sighed, world-weary and long suffering, one hand sweeping back his hair in a quick, fluid motion.
"My, the crosses an elven king must carry! But, still, I think I will manage." I'd never expected I'd have such fun teasing an elven king, and yet I wasn't sure I'd had as much fun teasing anyone before, not even Lobelia! I picked up his hand, still curled around mine, and pecked it once.
"Such a strong king," I said, and the both of us laughed. On and on we went that way, chatting quietly or simply taking comfort in one another's presence until, after perhaps two days of climbing, we reached the peak of the mountain with only hours to spare until the last light of Durin's Day passed.
Honestly, when we figured out the riddle to open the door, it was a bit… underwhelming. Honestly I'd expected a more dramatic door, rather than a rough-hewn cut into the mountain, underused even in its prime and dusty as anything. What I didn't expect, however, was for Thranduil to look at the door, look at the dwarves, look at me, and then shake his head once, very firmly.
"No," he said, flat and bland, tugging me against his chest. "He isn't going in there." And, for the first time, I was entirely unsure as to what to say to Thranduil in response.