"Here lies the last Homely House East of the Sea," Gandalf says.

As Bilbo stands with mouth agape at Rivendell, Thorin turns to Gandalf, fury etched across his face. "This was your plan all along," he growls. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf retorts. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself." Bilbo surreptitiously glances back at the pair of bickering leaders. He keeps his face blank, desperately wanting to go down to the valley, but not wanting to anger Thorin, who is temperamental about the elves at best.

"Who think the elves, will give our quest their blessing?" Thorin spits incredulously. "They will try to stop us," he says, shaking his head in frustration.

"Of course they will," Gandalf says good-naturedly. "But we have questions that need to be answered."

Thorin slowly lowers his head, fighting his pride and trying to let good sense prevail. He gives a sigh of defeat. "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect," Gandalf tells him. "And no small degree of charm." He gives Bilbo a quick wink when Thorin isn't looking. "Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

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They descend into the Elves' Valley on the small dirt trail which slowly gives way to the stone walkways that arch throughout Rivendell. Passing over one of the many rivers roaring down from waterfalls, Bilbo looks around with a smile on his face, pleased to feel the warm sunlight on his face and a sense of safety that has been sorely lacking since this quest began.

Gandalf leads the party to a round platform at the bottom of a set of stairs, a theatre designed perfectly for welcoming guests, Thorin staying close behind him. Kili and Fili follow further back, Kili gently shifting the woman in his arms. She is breathing softly against his chest but every so often her eyes crease in pain before she settles again. Looking around him, Kili hopes that the majesty of this place also means it contains powerful healers. Despite the danger being past, she is still gravely injured.

The dwarves gather loosely on the dais, examining their surroundings. Thorin dips his head low to confer with Dwalin, his whisper sounding tight and angry. They scan the surroundings with more caution than their companions. Above on the stairs, a tall, dark-haired elf steps into view, passing between two guards clad in mail and midnight blue robes. "Mithrandir!" He calls.

Gandalf turns to looks up at him. "Ah, Lindir!" Gandalf says fondly as the elf lightly touches his chest above his heart, offering the same hand towards the wizard.

"Stay sharp," Thorin whispers to Dwalin as Lindir reaches the bottom of the steps and approaches Gandalf. Bilbo peers around the dwarves trying to get a better glimpse at what is going on. Kili holds onto the woman a little tighter, not knowing how to react around elves.

Lindir says something to Gandalf in Elvish to which the wizard responds "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

Lindir's expression shifts but only slightly as if he has practiced great control over the course of his life to appear so perfect. "My Lord Elrond is not here," Lindir says, this time in the Common Tongue, hair stirring slightly in the breeze.

Gandalf's eyebrows crease slightly in confusion. "Not here?" He looks beyond Lindir for a moment as though expecting the elf lord to be hiding somewhere in the House. "Where is he?"

Lindir looks ready to reply when a hunting call rings clear and true in the valley and his gaze goes behind Gandalf. "Ah," the wizard says with an amused smile and turns to look back through the archway they had just come through as the sound of approaching horses fill the air. All the dwarves turn as one to see the host descending the slopes into the valley.

Gandalf's smile fades when the horses do not check their pace. Thorin hollers, "Close ranks!" and grabs the back of Nori's pack, dragging him close. Bofur grabs Bilbo, pulling him to the middle of the circle. Fili draws one of his twin blades and Dwalin hefts his axe with a defiant scowl on his face.

As the elves mount the dais, they surround the party, banners rippling, horses pressing close to the bristling dwarves. They form two solid rings around the dwarvish company, hemming them in from all sides, looming over them in both stature and from high on horseback.

As the horses surround them, Kili pulls the woman in close to his chest, wishing he had a weapon in hand but unwilling to let her down seeing as she can't stand. Fili notices his predicament and stands back to back with his brother to offer some support. "Turn her to the middle," Fili whispers quickly as the horses surround them. "We don't know if we can trust them or not." Kili and Fili rotate together, hiding her from direct view.

The elves press close but don't lower their lances towards the dwarves. The leader is without helmet and dismounts with a grace that is fluid as water. "Gandalf!" he calls in greeting, a smile on his face.

"Lord Elrond!" Gandalf greets the regal elf, who sweeps the edge of his cloak back behind his legs. "Mellon," he says in Elvish, greeting Elrond much the same way that Lindir greeted him, with a gesture from the heart outwards. Thorin and the company watch warily, not understanding the elvish passing between the two men.

"Where have you been?" Gandalf asks.

"We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South," Elrond responds. "We slew a number near the Hidden Pass." Bilbo looks on in surprise as the elf lord embraces Gandalf.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," he says in the Common Tongue, holding up an Orc sword for examination. He raises his eyebrows at Gandalf as he walks past the wizard to hand Lindir the sword. "Something or someone has drawn them near." He glances at Gandalf with a wry look in his eyes.

"Ah, yes, well that might have been us," Gandalf says sounding a bit ruffled and chagrined at the same time. Elrond, standing beside Gandalf sees Thorin step forward from the ranks of dwarves. The elf lord does not flinch from the animosity in the dwarf king's eyes and approaches him.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," he hails in his cultured voice, circlet of silver gleaming in the sunlight on his brow.

"I do not believe we have met," Thorin says, looking up at the elf from under suspicious dark brows.

Elrond looks at the rest of the company, then back at Thorin. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed," Thorin says in mock surprise, voice lowering slightly at the end. "He made no mention of you."

Elrond nods, a small, acquiesce grin on his face, clearly seeing he will get no further with the stubborn dwarf king within offering his hospitality. But before he can speak further, his gaze is drawn to a movement in the middle of the dwarves where none had been before. With his keen elvish eyesight, he picks out the anomaly in the group and his eyes widen fractionally, a wave of foresight passing over him.

"What is this?" Elrond asks, an elegant eyebrow raised. Thorin follows his eyes and sees him looking at the woman in Kili's arms. Kili backs up a step, shielding her partly with his body as the Elf approaches. Fili raises the tip of one of his swords slightly in warning. Elrond acknowledges it by stopping his approach.

"We found this young woman in the wilderness, just off the Great East Road," Gandalf intercedes. "She was badly wounded in an encounter with trolls and the orc skirmish only aggravated her injuries."

Elrond looks back at Gandalf with a wry look. "My, you have been busy, my friend."

"She needs immediate medical attention," Gandalf says. "We were hoping your people could see to her." Elrond gives one graceful nod.

Elrond turns once again towards Fili and Kili who look unsure. Kili looks at Thorin for a cue as to what to do. Thorin looks to Gandalf who nods slightly. Thorin tells his nephew, "Let the elf take her into his care, Kili." As Kili hesitantly steps forward, Fili jerks slightly towards her as if he doesn't want her to leave his sight. The gesture does not go unnoticed by Elrond who nods to him.

"I will not harm her, prince of Durin," he says, addressing Fili by his title. Slowly Fili nods and Kili passes the unconscious woman to Elrond. The moment she enters his arms, his eyes raise in question and he turns to Gandalf with a questioning gaze. "Strange," he mutters under his breath, his eyes meeting Gandalf's who motions that they will discuss it later. Thorin watches the exchange with narrowed eyes, not liking the secrecy between Gandalf and the caretaker of Rivendell. Truth be told, this woman unnerves him. He hasn't put much faith in destiny or fate since the fall of Erebor but something about her sets his senses alight as if she is changing the fabric of reality around them.

Elrond calls for several elves to help carry the woman into Rivendell on a litter so not as to aggravate her wounds any further. He sees the forlorn look Fili, Kili and many of the other dwarves are giving her retreating form, marveling at the strong connection that has clearly already formed. He addresses Fili but includes the rest of the dwarves and the one hobbit when he says, "We will care for her tonight and you may visit her as soon as the healers are done dressing her wounds. We will send word to Thorin when she is settled."

Despite what his uncle says about elves, Fili cannot help but bowing to one knee in front of Elrond. "You have my thanks, my lord." Slightly surprised, Elrond bows his head in acknowledgement and turns to lead Gandalf into the houses. Thorin grabs Fili and pulls him to his feet.

"While you behaved befitting of a prince, be gracious if they save her life," he says bitingly to his nephew. "Don't forget what they have done to our people. Beware your fondness for a woman you do not know."

Chastised, Fili hangs his head, the other dwarves leaving him alone with Bilbo on the dais, ready for the food and beds Elrond has offered them after taking the farm girl to the healing rooms. The hobbit looks at him with shrewd eyes. Fili looks at him with a cocky grin but Bilbo sees right through it. As Fili turns to follow the company, Bilbo catches his arm, then drops it, fearing he is being too forward. He stutters a bit but then finally gets it out. "I think,.. well, that is to say…. You were right to do as you did, Fili." The hobbit looks at him with sincere eyes. "You will be a wise leader someday."

The hobbit meanders away, looking at all of the majestic sights that greet the eye in Rivendell. Fili shakes his head ruefully in wonder. How strange hobbits can be.

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"Try it," Dori urges Ori as he sips wine from a silver goblet. "Just a mouthful."

Ori looks at the leafy green in his hand with distaste. "I don't like green food," he says despondently.

"Where's the meat?" Dwalin asks, riffling through the salad bowl in front of him, spilling greens and onions onto the table in is disgust.

Oin stabs a small white, curved vegetable and eyes it critically. "Have they got any chips?" Ori asks, peering around at the elves.

Elves sitting on the open-air patio are playing the harp, another on the flute, gentle music like babbling streams and birdsong. It is so soft, that it has lulled Bifur to sleep at the other table, a thin trickle of drool hanging from his mouth. Gandalf and Elrond join them above on another outdoor table, Thorin with them.

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf says to their host as they head for the table. "Though I'm not really dressed for dinner."

Elrond looks back at him with one quirked eyebrow. "Well, you never are," he says and they share a friendly laugh. Thorin watches the interaction, weighing how much he is willing to trust this elf.

At the lower table, Kili looks up at the elves playing the harp and the flute. Bofur watches the young dwarf, seeing the fascination in his eyes as he catches the eye of the brown-haired woman through the strings of the harp she is playing. Kili gives her a cocky wink and a cheeky grin before he notices Dwalin giving him the angriest frump face he has ever received from his mentor in his life. The smile vanishes and Bofur laughs at his expense.

"Can't say I fancy elf maids myself," Kili says nonchalantly. "Too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin." Dwalin raises both of his eyebrows but his expression doesn't change, as if he is humoring his best friend's nephew. Bofur nods in agreement.

He turns to watch an elf passing behind himself. "Not enough facial hair for me," he says, trying for a suave, calm tone. "Although, that one there is not bad," he says, looking after the elf.

"That's not an elf maid." Dwalin says to Kili, leaning over the table. The elf turns and reveals a man playing a small hand harp with high brows and an aloof expression. Kili looks back at Dwalin with an expression of horror and embarrassment to which Dwalin gives him a heavily exaggerated wink. The rest of the dwarves at their table break out into laughter at his expense as Kili's expression turns to a sour embarrassment.

"That's funny," he mutters, noticing even old Balin is joking at him. He glances to the other lower table at Fili for help but his brother is preoccupied with his own thoughts and he probably would not even help him anyways, only make the mocking worse for his little brother.

The woman elf behind Oin continues to play her flute and he looks over his shoulder at her. Grabbing a napkin from the table, he stuffs it into his ear trumpet, readjusts the horn to his ear and gives a thumbs up of delight to his companions at the reduced sound.

Above them at Elrond's table, the lord of Rivendell is handling the curved sword Thorin found in the troll cave. "This is Orcrist. The Goblin-cleaver," he examines the sword. "A famous blade. Forged by the high elves of the West. My kin." He hands the sword back to Thorin. "May it serve you well." Thorin nods his thanks, trying to be gracious and tactful as Gandalf requested.

Elrond takes the sword Gandalf offers him next. He pulls the blade slightly from the sheath to take a closer look. "This is Glamdring. The Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age."

Listening bellow, Bilbo pulls his sword slowly from the leather sheath so he can see the blade.

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," Balin confides in him, having seen what the hobbit was doing. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

Bilbo looks up at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. "Are you saying my sword hasn't seen war?" Balin looks at him, trying to form the words and failing to find a tactful way to tell his suspicions to Bilbo.

"I'm not sure it actually is a sword," Balin says with his small, wise smile. "More of a letter-opener really." Bilbo looks down at his sword and then at Balin, trying to figure out if the dwarf is making fun of him and realizing that he is not.

"How did you come by these?" Elrond asks Gandalf above. Thorin's eyes sharpen, coming up from his meal.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road," Gandalf tells Elrond. "Shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," the wizard says, voice fierce. Thorin watches the wizard, hoping he will not give their quest away just yet.

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Elrond inquires, sitting back, and putting a hand to his chin.

"Excuse me," Thorin says in a low voice and pushes his chair away, leaving the elf lord peering shrewdly after him. He stalks away to find his own counsel, Dwalin keeping an eye on him.

"Thirteen dwarves and a halfing," Elrond murmurs to himself, taking a drink of wine. "Strange traveling companions Gandalf, even without the addition of an injured woman."

"These are the descendants of the House of Durin," Gandalf says, pushing enthusiasm and pride into his voice, trying to fend of the elf lord's questions for a while longer. "They're noble, decent folk." He looks down at his companions just in time to see Nori stuff a goblet into his vest and Bombur to stuff a handful of salad into his beard. "And they're surprisingly cultured," he adds although he must fight to keep the enthusiasm he had before.

"And a great love of the arts," Gandalf says. Below Nori turns on the elf maid Kili winked at and demands she change the tune, muttering about feeling like he's at a funeral.

"Did somebody die?" Oin asks.

"Alright lads," Bofur pronounces. "There's only one thing for it."

Bofur gets up onto the table, kicking aside discarded bowls of salad and goblets of wine. As he starts into a song, Elrond and Gandalf look up to see what all of his antics are about. Bofur starts slow and actually on key and then slides rapidly downhill into a bawdy tavern song with lots of stomping, banging of cutlery on the table and hooting from the dwarves.

A piece of bread flies over Elrond's table and he raises an eyebrow at Gandalf who pretends not to see and bites into his salad with gusto. As the bawdy tune progresses, the flutist and harpist look at Elrond with mute expressions of horror, begging him with their eyes to make the off-key dwarves stop.

Dinner ends with flying salad, and cream pastries all over the old elvish statues.

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Slightly annoyed to have not been accepted to dine with Thorin, Gandalf and the Elf Lord, Fili finds himself wandering the halls of Rivendell after Bofur's rowdy tune. He does not want to admit that the atmosphere is peaceful and serene but it is just that and he wonders again at his uncles deep-seated hatred for the Elves. These are not the same Elves who betrayed Thror all those years ago. They are kin, but not the same. He is awed by the airy vaulted ceilings, as high as dwarrow halls but filled with more sunlight and less of the oppressive gloom that fills the jeweled halls of the Dwarves.

Lost in thought he rounds a corner and almost collides with a tall elf, dressed in ivory who is supporting someone underneath his or her arm. He backpedals quickly, stammering an apology, cursing his clumsiness, chiding himself for not being more mindful. Gathering his wits, he realizes that the elf is supporting the farm girl. He is stunned to see her awake and walking so soon but as she sways, he sees that she is nowhere near recovered yet. His gaze subconsciously runs over her, chronicling her injuries, assessing her figure.

In the heat of the battle with the trolls and then the adrenaline-filled chase across the Arnor plains, he never realized just how small she is. She barely stands as tall as him when upright, tiny by human standards. She is so thin that the bones in her wrists look like the wing bones of a bird, hollow and slim. The loose clothes she still wears flow off her frame, curtains on a sinewy body. Her curly hair is tied loosely at the nape of her neck, cascading down her back in waves. Her skin is sun-kissed and dry, weathered from time spent in the sun, and hollows deep between her bones where it should be more supple and full.

"Pardon me," Fili mumbles, clearing a path and the girl looks up at him recognition flashing through her eyes. The elf whisks her past, murmuring about getting her into a bed, casting a disapproving glance over his shoulder at the dwarf prince. The girl looks back at him, eyes fatigued but bright.

He stands in the hallway for a moment more, thoughts in turmoil, then rubs a tired hand across his forehead and heads towards the sounds of dwarf laughter and the glow of firelight.

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Wandering the halls in wonder late at night, Bilbo finally is able to find the healing rooms of Rivendell. While he has enjoyed the fountains and scenic vistas of the Homely House, his concern for the woman soon overrides his curiosity and he meanders the halls, asking an elf for directions occasionally. Soon he finds the door to her room, marked with an elf guard as per Thorin's instructions. While he may be grateful to the woman for saving Kili on the plains, the dwarf king cannot bring himself to trust her.

When Bilbo does his best to quietly open the door to her room, he finds it moves silently inwards, letting moonlight stream into the room. Gandalf looks up from his vigil at the bedside, low candles burning small flames in the mostly grey light of the room. The wizard gives the hobbit a small smile. "Ah, Bilbo, come in," he says quietly. "She is deep asleep but quietly, my good fellow."

Bilbo takes care shutting the door behind him and then joins Gandalf at the bedside. The woman has been cleaned and her face and arms on top of the blankets are free of the grime from the road. He is mildly surprised to notice that she is so small. Her arms look like the wing bones of birds, slender and graceful, although slightly sickly from malnutrition. The blood has been cleaned from her hair line and her face is relaxed in sleep in a way he has not seen before with her. Her brunette hair lies across the pillow in a wave, long now that it has been freed from the plait she had previously worn. Despite himself, Bilbo realizes that although she may not be considered a classic beauty, something about her makes her seem as though her features have been chiseled by the hand of a greater, mysterious power.

"How is she?" Bilbo asks. The elves have dressed her in a simple white gown and she looks so fragile in the candlelight, skin pale as birch bark.

"Lord Elrond's healers have taken care of all of her wounds," the wizard replies. "She is very lucky to be alive and there is no infection. She should recover quickly here in Rivendell."

Bilbo looks up at the wizard. "She will stay here?"

Gandalf quirks an eyebrow at the hobbit. "Did you suppose she would be joining our company?"

Bilbo opens his mouth to reply, then snaps it shut, realizing what he had said. "I… Well, I guess, not…no."

Gandalf laughs quietly. "Don't be so flustered, master hobbit. You are not the only one to assume she will be coming with us."

"Why would I think that?" Bilbo murmurs, almost to himself. "Why would I expect her to come with us?"

"Because you are attuned to what is around you, my dear fellow," Gandalf says. "You sensed the magic in the passageway to Rivendell. It would make some sense that you would be able to sense the power that she carries as well."

"Power?" Bilbo asks in confusion. Gandalf nods and opens his mouth as if to say more but just then the door to the healing room opens and Kili peers his dark head around the corner, followed closely as always by Fili.

"How is she, Gandalf?" Kili asks, not bothering to be invited in and instead striding into the room, leaving Fili to close the door on the disgruntled looking elf guard at the door.

Gandalf exchanges a knowing look with Bilbo that says they will discuss the woman later. "She is recovering quickly," Gandalf tells Kili and notes the sigh of relief that loosens the muscles in Fili's shoulders. Catching Gandalf watching him, Fili straightens a bit, trying to look more nonchalant about the woman lying in the bed nearby. Bilbo marks the exchange with interest, noting Fili's behavior around the woman and slowly piecing together how the younger dwarf feels about her.

Kili moves to her side. "She's so still," he murmurs. "Are you sure she is well?" he asks Gandalf with trepidation. "She injured her leg pretty badly running on the plains and she took the rider from his warg with both feet." The is a touch of admiration in his voice as he looks at her. "I've never seen anyone do that maneuver before, let alone a wounded woman."

"She is extraordinary," Gandalf admits with a smile, patting the seat next to him for Fili to sit down. "Time will tell us just how much when she wakes and you can thank her properly," he says to Kili as the young dwarf kneels at her bedside, holding her hand.

The hours fade to a weak morning light, Gandalf and Kili dozing quietly at the woman's bedside, Bilbo gently sleeping in his chair. Only Fili remains awake, lost in thought, considering. He is therefore the only one awake when the woman shifts in the bed, the first sign of life they have seen from her aside from her breathing. She straightens her leg unconsciously and her eyes narrow in pain, her face turning towards him, hands gripping into the sheets. The pain must be terrible enough to wake her although it does not shock her entirely because her eyes open slowly, hazy grey like the morning light filtering through the airy windows.

There is a moment where she looks around, bewildered, tension creasing her face, as she tries to move, finding her leg bandaged and her hair down. She scans the room, panic beginning to sharpen her movements despite the pain in her leg, her head swiveling quickly, searching for threats. Her eyes flash up and meet his and she stills with unnatural pause.

They stay like that for a moment, he letting her memories return and she gauging him critically with her eyes. He barely dares to breathe, afraid of startlingly her.

When she finally looks a little calmer, he clears his throat a bit and she pulls the sheets up to her chest protectively. "How are you feeling?" It is the first thing that comes to mind and he curses the inadequacy of the first words he has said to her this morning, now that the terror of the trolls and warg chase has been left behind.

She looks at him, hair cascading down around her face, making her look young and vulnerable. With a start, Fili realizes that she truly is young, no more than twenty and five under the weariness. She tries to answer, and has to clear her throat in turn. "Where are we?"

Something about her voice or the cadence of her words causes Kili to stir and she jumps a bit as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on the edge of her bed. This in turn jolts Gandalf and wakens Bilbo and soon four pairs of eyes are looking at her, assessing her health.

"We are in Rivendell," Gandalf tells her, having looked at her confused eyes. "We have brought you to the elves to help you heal."

She looks at them, seeming overwhelmed by the dwarves and hobbit and wizard around her. "Who….w-who are y-you?" she stammers, retreating in the bed from them. "Y-you saved m-my life b-but I d-don't know w-w-who you are."

"Well you remember us, that is a start," Gandalf tells her reassuringly. She nods hesitantly. "I, my dear, am Gandalf the Grey." He motions to Bilbo and Kili. "This is Master Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit from the Shire and Kili son of Durin, nephew to Thorin, our leader." She nods, eyes flowing from person to person as they are introduced. Gandalf turns to Fili last. "And this is Fili, prince of Durin, brother to Kili and Thorin's next living heir." Fili flushes slightly under the title and tries to look princely under her clear gaze. He has not seen her gaze so free of weariness and pain since they have met and something fundamental about it is deep and moving.

Although none of them want to press her, it is Kili who voices the question on all of their minds. "And what may we call you, my lady?"

The woman flushes at the title at the end, ears turning a charming red. She breathes in slowly as if to calm herself, eyes far away, pain creeping back into her expression. "I am the daughter of Ophilion and Manra of Arnor. I lived on the abandoned farm where you found me." She looks at Gandalf, sensing he is the leader here or at least the authority figure. She takes another steadying breath. "I only want to have to tell my story once," she confides, her voice full of loss and grief. "Please let your leader, Thorin I think his name is, know and he may choose who is present to here this story. I will only be able to tell it once." Her voice cracks at the end, and she closes her eyes slowly, regathering herself.

She looks around at them, seeing the grief for her on their faces, finally settling on meeting Fili's eyes. "My name is Belireis." She tells them, her chin coming up, a remnant of pride gleaming in her eyes. "My name is Bel."