Reminder: Thranduil struck a bargain with Smaug- the Arkenstone for peace, and a black arrow that had appeared in Thranduil's dreams and that was entirely useless to Smaug. Every ten years, the peace is renewed by a warrior of the Wood visiting Smaug and promising no elf will lift a hand against the dragon as long as he does not come to the Wood. It is ten years and Smaug asked for Thalos, Thranduil's middle son to be the next Danedh-amlung.

Thanks to reviewers on all the sites. It really is encouraging.

Chapter 10: Thorin Oakenshield

Bilbo sighed. He had sat with the dwarves for a few hours and told them some of what he had found out, which was very little, for the dwarves did not want to hear what the elves spent their days doing and they did not care that a patrol had destroyed a spider colony, but that Anglach had been hurt, nor did they care that Galadhon's wife was expecting a baby and so there was much rejoicing in the stronghold. Dwalin had been quite unpleasant about that and so Bilbo no longer told the dwarves of the little things that happened and he felt even lonelier. And he certainly could not tell them that Thranduil had asked Thalos to be the Danedh-amlung and was even now preparing to leave to renew the promise on behalf of the Wood that no elf would lift a hand against the dragon; Bilbo did not think he could make the dwarves understand as he did now. And they would not care if Thalos ever returned or if he was lost to the dragon forever. As far as the dwarves were concerned, the elves were little better than the spiders.

But Bilbo had changed. He felt it in his bones. Not just the adventure had changed him, although it had. But he had seen the dragon as Thranduil had, the magnificence and the power and the terrible loneliness of being the last one. He knew too that Smaug was cruel and terrible, and the very idea of burgling the dragon was simply the most preposterous thing he had ever heard and he wondered what on earth Gandalf had been thinking. He wondered where Gandalf was now, and Thorin. Especially Thorin.

He had changed in other ways too; the voice that sometimes spoke to him, whispered of great treasures and power, was wiser than he and he had learned to heed it.

So when he heard hurried footsteps approaching and the voice murmured that he should follow, he did. The footsteps belonged to Legolas and he was clearly late for something. As he hurried, he pulled his belt tight as if he had left his chambers not quite dressed, not unusual for Legolas, thought Bilbo in mild disapproval, and he carried a cloak but did not wear it. He was dressed for hunting rather than a patrol or for duties within the palace. He hummed to himself and sang a few snatches of a song which Bilbo recognised as the Lay of Luthien, but Legolas's words were not any that Bilbo had heard in Rivendell and they made the tips of his ears go pink. Quite suddenly, Anglach came around the corner, and Legolas slapped him on the shoulder in delight.

'Are you ready?' Then he saw that Anglach carried a tray and he rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue in irritation. 'Haven't you finished with that yet?' he asked. 'We are going to be late and everyone will have gone off before we even get there.'

'If by gone off, you mean people holding hands with each other, and if by everyone, you mean Tauriel,' said Anglach patiently, 'then you need not worry. She is feeding the dwarves first.'

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. Legolas had been mooning over Tauriel like a tweenager, in spite of his dalliances with Miriel, and Lossar. Although neither of them seemed to mind that it was Tauriel that Legolas really pursued.

'Well the way you dawdle means that they will be long gone before we get there.'

'No they won't. We have plenty of time, Legolas. And if you are so worried, then go ahead and I will come later.'

Anglach had a sweetness and naivety that Bilbo found very endearing, although he completely understood why Legolas was irritated and charmed by it in equal measure.

'No. I will wait,' Legolas took the heavy jug of water from the tray so that Anglach had less to carry and fell into step beside him.

'That is because you know I am better looking than you and girls are more likely to speak to you if I am there. Otherwise your ugliness will scare them off. It's a good thing you are the son of the King, otherwise you would be left in the mountains for the goblins to claim as their own.'

This was familiar fare between the two elves; Bilbo almost did not follow them, for the pair of them squabbled over everything, usually which of them was the best looking, or which of them Tauriel liked, or Miriel, or whoever else it was that had caught their eye for the pair of them were silly with lust.

'Well if Tauriel is going to be late too, then we could go by the dwarves' chambers and walk down with her. Or you can,' Legolas said as if inspired. 'I need you to tell her lots of good stuff about me.'

'I have told her everything you told me to say, Legolas, but she is just not interested in you,' Anglach said. Bilbo had lost count of the number of times Anglach had said this to Legolas. 'But if you see Lirewyn, will you remind her about that injury I had from the spiders. I think she likes me.'

'Do you mean that tiny scratch you got when you fell out of the tree?' Legolas asked innocently. 'She is much too clever for you. You need to find yourself a nice orc maid who is stupid enough to believe that you are the hero you think you are.' Bilbo sighed and thought about turning around and so avoiding the usual conversation that frankly, he found a little tedious, but there was a humming in Bilbo's ears and he felt oddly compelled to follow them, though he expected nothing more than ending up outside Tauriel's door.

'I don't understand how Tauriel can not be interested in me at all?' Legolas was saying indignantly and Anglach snorted in laughter.

'Accept that she just doesn't want you. And you should stop pestering her.'

'Pestering her! In what way am I pestering her?' Legolas asked, and Bilbo saw that he was genuinely upset by that.

Bilbo snorted then and then stifled it; Legolas absolutely was pestering her. He took every opportunity to go near her and when he did he made some ridiculously obvious comment or some foolish gesture that had the kitchen elves sniggering and Tauriel rolling her eyes in exasperation. Only Legolas seemed unaware of how silly he was making himself look. But at Bilbo's quiet snort, Legolas suddenly looked round, wide-eyed and alert and his hand flew to his knife.

Anglach rubbed his ear with his finger and shook his head slightly as if there were an annoying mosquito. 'If you weren't so grumpy and bad tempered, Tauriel might actually look at you.' Legolas glanced at Anglach but he took his hand from his knife.

'Am I really being a pest?' he asked in a disappointed tone and Anglach gave him a significant look that was all the answer he needed.

It was only when they took a narrow turning that wound below the kitchens and deeper into the hillside that Bilbo realised they were not going to a part of the stronghold he even knew existed. Legolas and Anglach continued bickering as they wound through the passageway below the main chambers, through narrow arches and past a waterfall that was a thin silver stream from the upper chambers, cascading into a deep, still pool that reflected the stalactites that grew slowly from the roof. It was cooler here. Very quiet. It felt deep beneath the forest and Bilbo felt the slow magic of the Wood. He became aware that the light here was different…the green that tinted everything in the King's stronghold was not because the light filtered through trees, but because it reflected off the limestone and that gave everything a pale subterranean green. It was restful, he found. Even the two elves seemed to feel it for their argument grew muted.

'You can definitely do the latrine bit,' Legolas was saying they turned down a low passgeway that ducked behind a waterfall. There were hundreds of waterfalls in the caverns and Bilbo had found them enchanting at first. Now he was more than a little sick of getting wet all the time.

'It's no worse than mucking out a horse,' Anglach said and Bilbo thought they must be talking about the dwarves for there were no latrines in the dungeons and Galadhon complained bitterly and for a long time when they had to clean the chamber pots. Dwalin took particular pleasure in making the job as unpleasant as he possibly could for their guards and smirked when the pots were removed. But this was not the way to the dwarves' cells, thought Bilbo, puzzled.

'It is nothing like a horse,' Legolas grumbled. 'You would compare my sweet Gwilileth with this miserable Naugrim. I don't know why the King has to have this one so far from the rest.'

Bilbo's ears pricked up; did the elves have another prisoner that he did not yet know of? His heart gave a hopeful squeeze. Naugrim was the word the elves used for dwarf, he knew. There must be another dwarf. It must be Thorin!

'So far from any lavatories,' Anglach lamented. 'But the King will have a very good reason, Legolas. As you well know.' A set of keys dangled from his belt , close enough to Bilbo that he could almost, but not quite, touch them…If this was Thorin, and Anglach had the keys to his cell, it would be no matter at all to release him , Bilbo thought.

'I don't know why you are so grumpy with the dwarves, Legolas,' Anglach said plaintively. They had arrived at a small chamber. A narrow door was at one end and a thin stream ran along the other end, disappearing into a still pool. 'They haven't been any bother and to be honest, I am beginning to think I should speak to the king about how badly they are being treated by you and your guards. I am sure he would not like to think how they are kept locked up day and night with never a breath of air on their faces, or a glimpse of starlight.'

'Oh, you'll go to the King and say that, will you?' Legolas sounded quite sarcastic and Bilbo was surprised for he rarely heard Legolas unkind. Legolas snatched the key from Anglach and jammed it into the lock. 'And I suppose you will make sure you blame me for that, make sure that you look better in my father's eyes than me…'

Anglach turned his face to Legolas astonished, aghast. 'Legolas! I never… How could you think that?'

Legolas had already closed his mouth as if he could trap the words. But it was too late. He shook his head. 'Forgive me, Anglach. Those words… they just popped out. I didn't even know I was thinking that.' He rubbed his head. 'I don't know what is happening to me. I have a ringing in my ears. It's been like it all day and made me grumpy…' He paused and gave his head a little shake as if he might get rid of the noise. And then he looked a little ashamed. 'And you are probably right. I am pestering Tauriel. She doesn't like me whatever I do. In fact I think she is avoiding me and asking for guard duty with the dwarves rather than go anywhere I might be.' He looked so miserable that Bilbo almost reached out and patted his arm. ' I was unforgivably rude to her earlier today and accused her of desiring one of the dwarves.'

Anglach looked rueful. 'I think it's partly because you are already sleeping with Lossar and Miriel at the same time as trying to woo Tauriel. And she just isn't like that. I suppose you were trying to get both Tauriel and Miriel into bed with you at the same time.' He tutted. 'Why you can't be like everyone else and have one sweetheart I don't know.' Then he grinned. 'Miriel only feels sorry for you because you are as ugly as an Orc.'

Suddenly they were back to their usual caustic silliness that amused no one but themselves, but their friendship was back where it should be and Legolas grinned back and turned the key.

'She feels sorry for me because I have to trail around with you and your warg-breath.'

"It's your warg breath, Legolas,' Anglach said patiently, hefting the tray onto one arm and pushing open the heavy door . 'It's a good thing Lossar has no sense of smell so he finds joy in your company. But Tauriel? If you have offended her, then I pity you!'

Bilbo privately agreed; he had got to know Tauriel a little as well and she was a terror when angered. Then he stopped in astonishment; Anglach opened the door and spoke to whoever was inside, his voice tender and kind.

But the voice that replied was anything but.

Thorin!

Bilbo almost fell over in excitement and haste. Thorin. He had found Thorin.

0o0o0o0o

Thorin paced furiously, punching his fist against the wooden door, the iron bars, the damned stone of the cell that held him. Held him! Fast. Like a wolf in a trap. He still smarted from the audience with the Elvenking, furious to see Orcrist in that gangling fasl bastard's hand like he owned it, like he heard its song. How could it be that Thorin had lost it so soon after finding it! He remembered when he had unleashed the sword from its silent scabbard, how it rang with power, how it thrummed with energy, flooded him with its desire. Even now he felt himself stiffen in response to its glorious ring.

There were voices and a quiet scuffle of feet nearby and Thorin froze, turned with fists clenched and ready. Forcing his anger down, he settled himself back onto the wide wooden bench that seemed more workbench than seat. He exuded calm even if he felt like throwing himself against the bars, for he would not give the elves the pleasure in seeing him so distressed. He let his dark eyes fix upon the dim green light that showed through the bars of the cell.

'Good evening, your lordliness,' came an irritatingly bright voice in thickly accented and atrociously poor Westron. That cursed elf, Anglach, was back, thought Thorin. He seemed to think Thorin was some kind of pet. Thorin knew Anglach's name because the damnable elf had made a point of introducing himself by pointing to himself obviously and saying loudly and slowly, 'Ang- lach.' Like he was slow-witted. Then he had pointed to Thorin in clear invitation. Which of course Thorin had completely ignored and turned his back upon the elf in disdain.

Thorin had deliberately refused to use Anglach's name and only spoke in Khuzdul or Westron, knowing that Anglach's imperfect knowledge of Westron would mean he did not completely follow Thorin's meaning. More importantly, Thorin had not let on that in fact that he understood the elves' own language perfectly well, for trade in the Blue Mountains was not only with Men. These Wood elves' accents were of course thick and uncouth and nothing like the Seafarers of Mithlond, or the Noldor of the Northern settlements that still remained. Still, Thorin could follow what they said though he was careful not to show it for it might be useful later, he thought.

So when Thorin replied indignantly it was in Westron. 'How can it be a good evening when I am kept unlawfully, a prisoner, for no crime?'

Anglach tutted in consternation for he was, whatever Thorin thought about his wits or lack thereof, a kindly soul. But as the thick wooden door swung open, a second voice answered in perfectly understandable Westron. 'When you tell the King why you invaded our celebrations, armed and aggressive, he will release you.' It was the other elf with long blond hair and cool green eyes. Thorin did not like this second elf; he was cold and aloof. And he regarded Thorin was as much suspicion and dislike as Thorin regarded him.

'Get back, dwarf, or you will not eat or drink,' this second elf said coldly in Westron.

Anglach turned to the second elf and said in the elves' own language, 'Honestly Legolas. You should not speak so. That is not very polite and the King would not be pleased!' Anglach turned back to Thorin and smiled kindly, while Thorin struggled to remember where he had heard the name Legolas before.

'Here,' said Anglach. His Westron was very bad but Thorin had got used to the grammatical inaccuracies and thick accent. 'Is here pie, po-tat-toes, veg-it-tables. Pudding is in too. Úrloch tarts and custardy of vanilla. Cheeses and fruits.' Anglach carefully lay the tray down on the wide bench upon which Thorin sat. Stepping back, he watched Thorin attentively and with a concern that Thorin found irritating and disconcerting at the same time.

And then Thorin remembered; Legolas. Yes, the king had three sons he recalled; the oldest two, the lord Laersul and the lord Thalos had been frequent enough visitors to both Dale and even Erebor on occasion. Thorin had met them briefly on one such visit and in spite of himself, could not help being impressed by both. But there had been something concerning the youngest son… Thorin racked his brains but could not remember what it was; something to do with the Master of Esgaroth. His daughters? His wife? The youngest was called Legolas. This must be Thranduil's youngest pup, Thorin thought. Very deliberately, he turned his back on the elves.

Thranduil's pup said something in a low voice that Thorin did not hear but he could imagine the sneer upon the elf's face as he spoke. But Legolas did not enter the cell. It was Anglach who cleared up; Thorin's humiliation over having to use a chamber pot had diminished, and he no longer cringed when the elf threw a cover over it and lifted it to take away. Instead he hoped that the elf would trip and throw it over Thranduil's youngest. The thought made him smile slowly, intensely.

At last the door clanged shut and Thorin turned his head to look at the tray. He had rarely eaten as well as he was doing in Anglach's custody; his minder did make a point of feeding him delicious dishes and dainties, even if Thorin hated to admit it. And the thought of how well he was being fed brought to mind his lost companions and he bowed his head.

He had of no way of knowing if his kin, his friends lived or died.

The elves, however kind Anglach might be, were stopping him from his quest and that he could never forgive. Slowly, the implacable hatred of his heart began to burn, and the desire for gold lit in him, scorched his veins and bones. The elves' voices trailed off down the passageway and silence settled in the caverns now. There was only the natural light, he had grown used to the greenish tinge of limestone and amused himself by cataloguing the minerals and gemstones that might lie beneath the stone. And he listened to the Song of the stone, the rock that had been delved first by water, then by elves and dwarvish hands had shaped and unlocked the structure and beauty within the stone. It was restful.

There was a scrape, as if someone had dragged an empty bucket and upended it outside his dungeon door. A scrambling sound as if someone very small had clambered upon the bucket and was straining to see through the bars. Fingers grasped the edge of the tiny panel in the door, curled around the bars and a mop of curly hair bobbed outside, just below his line of sight.

Thorin raised his head and his deep eyes gleamed. 'Have you returned to taunt me, devil?' he cried, his deep voice resonated with power so that the elves would feel his wrath, and the stone would sing back.

'No!'

That was a squeak. A definate, very un-elvish squeak.

Thorin was at the door in two strides, incredulous. 'Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins! Is that really you or are these elves deceiving me yet more?'

'Yes, it's me,' Bilbo said in a more normal voice. He smiled up hopefully at Thorin's face. Thorin could not believe it; Bilbo Baggins!

'Bilbo Baggins, at your service,' Bilbo repeated for Thorin was struck as if by lightning and could only gaze at the hobbit with incredulity and admiration. How had the hobbit managed to penetrate the stronghold? He glanced behind the hobbit to see if more of his kin were there, if they had all somehow found a way in and free their leader. But there was only Bilbo.

'Where are the others?' Thorin asked in a low, anxious voice, hoping the worst had not happened.

'They are being kept here too. In another chamber. We didn't know you were here!' Bilbo laughed, and his brown eyes were filled with delight at finding Thorin. Thorin smiled back, his heart full. 'Just wait till they know you are here!' Bilbo laughed again as if he could not quite believe it. Thorin clasped the hobbit's fingers where they clutched the bars of his cell.

'How did you manage to escape?' Thorin asked in bewilderment.

As Bilbo told him how the company had been beset by spiders and it seemed, in spite of Bilbo's modest replies, that the hobbit had been instrumental in freeing the dwarves from the spiders, Thorin's regard for Bilbo increased. He could not quite believe that the elves were so careless that they had not noticed Bilbo sneak in through the doors, or even see him around the palace, but hobbits, as Thorin was discovering, were quite unexpected. Soft-footed, stealthy, discrete and resilient. If anyone was going to free the dwarves, it was Bilbo.

'You are remarkable, master Baggins!' Thorin cried, almost laughing again. Now there was hope. Now he had company too, instead of this endless silence. His dark eyes lingered on Bilbo's face in delight. But then he paused for a moment and looked more deeply at Bilbo. Something had changed about the hobbit…He tilted his head slightly and for a moment, a heartbeat…two.. three…Thorin held Bilbo's gaze, cradled it almost like some precious thing…and then he blinked slowly. 'Master Baggins. There is something about you that is different, changed. In your eyes…'

There was gold-light in the hobbit's eyes; Thorin recognised the light of one who has made his first discovery of gold, and unleashed its power over the dwarvish heart, the love of metal and gemstones, the iron in the blood that called to the Mountain. His own voice dropped then in recognition of the kin-spirit, deeper, the vibration rumbled like his own heartbeat. 'You have discovered something.'

He inclined his head slightly, holding Bilbo's gaze and searching his face; where had he found gold? Was it Thranduil's treasure? After all, this was his stronghold where he was known to keep his treasure.

Bilbo gazed at Thorin as if rapt, and then he moved slightly but Thorin could not see what he did through the wooden door. Thorin did not take his eyes from Bilbo's face though he was acutely aware of Bilbo's movement, like his hand going to his pocket. What did he have in his pocket? Slowly, Thorin stepped closer, his eyes dark.

King of the Mountain. Thorin Oakenshield, the greatest dwarf since Durin, greater even than Durin…and your heart will be turned to gold…gold…Thorin, greater than any king ever, you rule from the Mountain and all dwarves bow to you…all elves kneel…Men will pay tribute, Thranduil be your thrall. All the Mountains will ring with your name!

Thorin stared; this voice, this quiet voice that spoke his thoughts, his dreams…was this Bilbo somehow? He reached out and touched the hobbit's fingers, still clenched around the bars and Bilbo stared, mesmerised.

The greatest king the dwarves have ever known. Wise and just and benevolent. How your people will thrive!

'Bilbo?' Thorin's heart pounded in his chest; Bilbo had something. Something that would release them. Something of power. He had stolen something of Thranduil's! 'Burglar indeed!' Thorin cried in elation, and clasped Bilbo's hand through the bars. ' What is it that you have? What have you stolen from that fasl? You know they have taken Orcrist, the sword that came to me. My sword. And he, that igshalem holds it as if he can hear it!'

Suddenly Bilbo staggered back, blinking hard and shaking his head slightly. It was like some cord had been cut between them and where they had been joined and linked by some thread of power, they were suddenly cast loose and drifting.

'No. No, not me. I've not go anything.' Bilbo shook his head in denial but Thorin stepped even closer, pressing himself now against the wooden door. He narrowed his eyes. Why was the hobbit lying? He should not feel the need to hide anything from Thorin!

'Bilbo?' he said, with concern for the hobbit. 'You do not need to fear me.' For he trusted Bilbo as he only trusted his kin; surely Bilbo trusted him too?

Thorin leaned against the heavy wood of the door, wishing he could melt it, burst it open and seize Bilbo, make him understand. But he could not. This elvish prison closed around him and thwarted him!

'Bilbo? You saved me. You put yourself between Azog and me. You are are more to me than...' He cast around for the right weight, the right measure of his regard. 'You are more to me than gold.' In that moment, he knew the truth. Bilbo Baggins, unprepossessing little man that he was, was worth more to Thorin than gold. He owed Bilbo his life. 'Surely you do not fear me?"

Bilbo looked away for a moment as if considering. His hand closed over something, dropped it back in his pocket.

Then he looked up and meeting Thorin's gaze now his face and eyes were clear and honest and unafraid. 'I am not afraid. Not any longer. Now that I have found you.'

0o0o0o

tbc

Next: Thalos departs for the Mountain and so do the dwarves.