In the Halls of the Elvenking

by ziggy3

Something has stirred in the Wood. There is conflict and unease in the Thranduil's stronghold and he suspects something to do with Thorin Oakenshield. But he has other things on his mind; it is time to send his son to renew his promise to the Dragon.

13. Chapter 13 Escape from the Halls of the

Thank you to everyone who reviewed or left kudos on this little fic. It does encourage all writers so I really appreciate it even if it's just a quick line to say you liked it.

Especial thanks to Anarithilen although we're working on something else now so this chapter is unbeta'd.

Also thanks to the following for their kind words and support:Nako13yeh, Freddie23, firerosedreamer67, lotrfn. On Ao3, jessieb,zimtlimo, legio and all the guests who left kudos, and especially to samui_sakura, Laynewolf, Himring, and on Faerie, Spiced Wine, Cheekybeak, Naledi, Arasa17, Ysilme, Kalendeer, rikwen96, fadesintothewest. I admit I'm a bit disappointed that perhaps this fic didn't hit the right spot for people –but I enjoyed writing a fluffy Legolas rather than the usual, and I did enjoy the daftness of Anglach.

Chapter 13: The Feast of Starlight

Anglach stood miserably, head slightly bowed and shoulders drooped. If Galadhon had not been in such a bad mood, feeling out of sorts and had argued with his pregnant wife so he felt bad about that, he might not have taken it out on Anglach.

But he had and he did. So thought Bilbo as he listened and watched from his quiet corner near the guardroom. Anglach had worsened an already bad situation by complaining how Galadhon was treating the dwarves. He had said they should be allowed outside to breathe the air and to stretch their legs and Galadhon had said something about how short their legs were anyway and they did not need much space and since Anglach was so so concerned, he could take over guard duty for all of them!

Now Galadhon was clenching his fists and barking orders that had Anglach flying around trying to obey them. Bilbo felt sorry for Anglach and wondered if there was a way to use the Ring to help, but after his attempt to help him in the Springs, he though the had best let matters take their course. Anyway, if all went to plan tonight, they would not be bothering the elves again!

He spent a restless day waiting. The palace was in a state of restrained frenzy preparing for the feast although there was already enough food prepared and ready to feed an army of hobbits, thought Bilbo. He wandered through the chambers, watching elves decorating the halls with green boughs of holly and ivy, winding it with red velvet ribbons and gold threads to make it sparkle. It was much like Yule in the Shire. And suddenly he was struck with homesickness.

In the Shire they would be bringing in the Yule log, pulling it from the edges of the Old Wood into Brandybuck Hall, or from Farmer Maggot's wood to the Green Dragon. There would be glass baubles hanging from the pine and fir branches, and mistletoe from the doorways of the hobbit holes. Ale and wine mulled slowly over the fires and the air would be filled with the smell of roasting meat and vegetables and thick gravy.

Slowly he realised that what he was seeing in the Hall of the Elvenking was not so different. Glass globes were being strung over the ceilings from the delicate filigree of stalactites and boughs of deep green fir and pine hung over the banqueting table. The yule log was already in the huge hearth ready to warm the feasters and instruments were being tuned and turned ready for the evening. There was mulled wine and cakes for the elves decorating the hall and the cooks were hard at work. In the air was a lovely smell of roasting pork and venison, the spice of mulled wine and the freshness of the pine boughs. Bilbo wished he were not leaving this evening. He wished he could stay and did not have to face the dragon. But there was Thorin.

Thorin had turned inwards and brooding. When Bilbo scrambled up to peer into his cell, Thorin was sitting at the far end with the torch lit and the light casting a golden glow onto his face. It made his eyes look deeper and emphasised the fine bones of his face, reflected in his dark eyes like he already saw the dragon's gold. His gold. When he heard Bilbo scrambling at the door, he swung his head round suspiciously, as if something was whispering into the secrets of his heart, corrupting his simple desire for home into something more, something jealous, something darker.

But when he saw it was Bilbo, Thorin's face was transformed. His smile reached his eyes and he seemed younger, less careworn. He came striding over to the door to press close. So close that Bilbo could almost feel the heat from his body. 'Bilbo!' he cried. He looked at the hobbit with warmth and Bilbo felt his heart leap at Thorin's obvious delight in seeing him. 'Are we ready? Have you told the others?' he said and Bilbo nodded. But Thorin wanted to know every detail, how each dwarf reacted, what they said, how enthused they had been at the prospect of escape and Bilbo had already begun to hide things. He did not tell Thorin how Kili had sighed and asked if they might be passing back this way if they failed. For Bilbo had begun to see that Thorin would see such words as treason.

Treason.

Betrayal.

For to even consider they might fail made Thorin rage. So Bilbo told him that the company was as ready as he, that they were desperate to escape that they were still committed, would die in the attempt… and in his homely hobbit heart, he hoped that none of them would.

He spent one last evening watching his elf friends, Legolas had been out with other young elves and this time Anglach too, for he was not on duty until later. They returned from outside with flushed happy faces and smelt of the wind and forest. Thalos was more subdued but Bilbo knew that he was thinking of the pledge he must make to Smaug and wished he could tell Thalos that he had been spared, that the dwarves were going to kill Smaug so he would not have to. But most of all, oddly enough, he wanted to tell Thranduil.

Like a guest who has overstayed his welcome, Bilbo felt he should in some way, bid farewell to his host. And he thought he would never see the King again and so he stole to his throne room and stood for a while, gazing up at the carven throne where it rose out of the rock, and thought about Thranduil.

0o0o

At last it was evening and the feast was well under way. Bilbo could hear singing and laughing and music although he dared not peek in for he had work to do this night. The cooks had finally made their last preparations and the last dishes had been taken up to the feast. Anglach was almost the only one left not at the feast for the kitchen-elves were almost done. Bilbo felt very guilty for what he intended but he had to help Thorin and Durin's Day was almost upon them.

Damroch and Malchir were still in the kitchen but just wiping their hands and finishing off.

'Go on then,' Úroch said briskly and flicked a cloth towards them dismissively and the pair went off, loudly thanking Úroch and heaping all kinds of blessings upon him. Úroch merely grunted at them in a kindly way and went about tidying and clearing things until all was spick and span and clean to his satisfaction. He was just about to leave when Galion arrived, more than a little drunk. With him were two of his own cellarmen, Legolas and Anglach called them his henchmen but it was affectionate. They went into the cellar and at Galion's direction, filled great flagons to take back up to the feast while Galion pulled up a chair and sank into it, leaning his elbows on the table and sinking his chin into his hands. He was already quite deeply into his cups, thought Bilbo a little alarmed for he did not think he would have another chance and Anglach was nowhere to be seen and Bilbo's plan depended on Anglach being sufficiently unaware so that Bilbo could steal the keys.

'Here. Try this,' Galion said and poured a generous cup of a deep red wine. Úroch took it from him and sipped at it, rolling it around his mouth appreciatively.

'Very good stuff!' he said and quickly drained the lot. 'I doubt I will have this upstairs.'

'No. This is for the King's table I am afraid,. I won't waste it on riff-raff such as you,' he smiled though and picked up the flagon, rising to his feet.

Galion looked at Úroch and said, 'I have a consignment of empty barrels that have to go on the tide tonight or they will not be in Lake-town in time for the new consignment of Dorwinion. I will need Damroch and Malchir to help me move them. The King is very partial to it and we have another feast when Laersul returns. Are they going to be able to help?'

This was good news, though Bilbo, barrels to Laketown tonight would mean the dwarves would reach Erebor by Durin's Day!

Úroch wiped his hands on his apron and untied its strings. 'They will help today but just this once. I know you are short-handed. Come, let us go and join in the fun.' He gave one last quick glance around the kitchens and at a word from him, the globes that gave out light dimmed and Bilbo was plunged into darkness.

But he had found out another extra power the Ring gave him was that he could see perfectly well in the dark and in fact, living things gave off a sort of phosphorescence that he could not see in the daylight. They glowed. He assumed that this is what had helped Gollum to see his prey and finish them off silently and without being discovered. Now it meant he could see his way quite clearly to the cellar where the empty barrels were standing ready to be transported to Esgaroth. He peered inside and thought that the dwarves could easily fit inside, one each and although the barrels smelled pungently, it was wine and he thought they might withstand that. Better than fish, he told himself. He cast about for a mechanism to release the barrels into the river and saw a long lever with bronze cogs and wheels. Gingerly he touched the lever and pressed it gently. Immediately there was a whirring and slow grinding of gears and the floor beneath the barrels began to shift. Quickly he shoved the lever back up so none of the barrels disappeared before he was ready.

He stood back, a pleased smile on his face. Now all he had to do was get the keys. It was all falling into place, almost too convenient. Almost as if some other Power was directing matters, as if something was influencing the elves and making things happen. Galadhon's insistence that Anglach serve guard duty on all the dwarves and miss the feast so everyone else could go, was because Galadhon was out of sorts and very grumpy, thought Bilbo. It was almost as though…No, he thought. He shook his head. Sometimes things just happen. It was just luck that meant Anglach was on duty and it would be easier to get the keys from him than Galadhon.

And then he stopped.

Anglach was already in so much trouble. Bilbo wondered what the punishment would be if the dwarves escaped from under his nose. He might well be accused of letting them out, knowing his softness for the dwarves and his earlier argument with Galadhon.

It was enough to make Bilbo pause. Anglach's kindness would bring trouble upon him.

But Thorin must be King Under the Mountain, whispered the voice. Durin's Day is almost upon us and you will not have another chance. Anglach is blessed. The King loves him. He will come to no harm.

But the images of Legolas running through the forest to Anglach's side haunted him again and he saw Anglach's body, still warm and pliable, collapse into Legolas' arms, the bloody mess where his eyes and ears should be coating Legolas' hands, his chest with blood.

Bilbo plopped down onto the ground and held his head in his hands. There must be another way that did not incriminate Anglach, surely?

Durin's Day is almost upon us. Thorin must be King under the Mountain.

Slowly Bilbo rose, heaviness dragged at him like lead weights but he could not betray Thorin. He felt his feet take him silently to the kitchen again and there was Anglach, preparing a supper for Thorin as he always did. Anglach was humming quietly as he went about gathering a small number of tasty danities that had been rejected as too imperfect for the feast. The keys dangled from his belt alluringly and Bilbo knew he would have to wait until Anglach returned from checking on the dwarves. In spite of his disappointment at being deprived of going to the feast, Anglach began whistling cheerily and made his way through the kitchen doors towards Thorin's cell.

Bilbo sat down to wait and wondered how he would manage to get the keys from Anglach's belt without at all raising his suspicion.

The Ring has Power. It can help.

Bilbo shuddered for the last time it had ended with a girl running away and screaming. He did not want that for Anglach.

As it happened, he did not need to for there was a clatter of feet and someone called softly through the passageway.

'Anglach?'

Bilbo recognised Legolas' voice and sure enough, Legolas himself came into the kitchen and looked about for Anglach. In his hand was a small tray filled with food and a flagon of wine. He reached into a cupboard and brought out a goblet which he put on the table next to the tray. Bilbo's mouth watered and had he not been so well fed by skulking about the kitchens himself, he would have happily helped himself to the rich delicacies and dainty treats that Legolas had brought for his friend. Legolas amused himself while waiting for Anglach by playing a game of Five Finger Fillet, where he stabbed his knife down between his fingers without touching them as fast as he could. Bilbo could not watch and winced. He could hear the knock knock knock knock of the knife hitting the table until Legolas gave a small yelp and stopped.

The elf sighed heavily and wandered about the kitchen nosily. He opened doors and cupboards and even the oven. Then he sat down heavily and began juggling with his own knives. Then he fetched the filleting knives and began juggling with them until finally Anglach was heard coming down the dwarves' corridor and whistling cheerfully.

'Legolas! Why are you here and not at the feast?'

'I have brought you something to eat, from the King's table. I thought to keep you company for a while,' Legolas said and smiled.

'You don't have to do that, Legolas,' Anglach said but he looked so pleased and Bilbo saw Legolas' kindly face smile in response. It only made it worse that he was going to try and trick his elf-friends into giving up the keys and releasing the dwarves on their watch.

'Come on. Galion has opened up a new cask of Dorwinion,' Legolas said. 'I think we should taste a little to go with our supper. He has already had a little taste with Úroch I think, to help them wth their labour!' He laughed and led Anglach into a small cellar. They sat down at a small table where two large flagons were set. Legolas had seized two goblets from the kitchen and set about pouring them a generous glass each. Soon they were laughing and talking merrily and the first goblet was drained.

'I think we had better stop,' said Anglach responsibly and put his hand over his goblet as Legolas lifted the heavy flagon once again. 'I am on duty after all. Even this one is more than I should have.'

Bilbo's plan suddenly looked to falling apart. But he found his fingers stroking the Ring almost unconsciously and felt its Power awaken;Bilbo hesitated, remembering the last time but now, it seemed the Ring seemed to have learned too and Bilbo felt the lightest stroke brush against his own mind. And then a thought coalesced in Anglach's , just the lightest brush, mere suggestion;

It is the Feast of Starlight and you have been deprived of going by your jealous captain. The least you can do is have a drink with your friend.

'Very well,' Legolas was sighing and returning the flagon to the table. 'Shall I let you get back then and I will return to the feast?'

But Anglach stayed his hand. 'I suppose one more will not hurt,' he said slowly and blinked as if he were surprised by the words leaving his mouth.

So Legolas poured another glass each. 'We will drink it slowly and only have the one,' he said.

They sipped their wine painfully slowly and Bilbo got cramp waiting for them but at last it appeared they were about half empty. Now hobbits Bilbo can be as stealthy as elves are sharp-eared and when Bilbo deliberately cast a small stone in another direction, both elves looked that way, although not alarmed, and he filled their goblets over. He did this three times, with a different object, or with a scuff of his feet, and one time he crept into the kitchen and banged the pots so both went to the kitchen to see who was there. Each time, Legolas and Anglach's reactions were slower and more blurred for this was a heady wine not intended for the goblets they used but small fluted glasses at the feast for the end of the feast and drunk lightly as a toast, or with fine mature cheeses in little sips.

'I have to say…' Anglach's speech was slurred and his head nodding by now. 'Your my bes' fren' Leglas. My very be' fren'…' And he emitted a loud belch which had them both giggling stupidly.

'An' you're my bes' fren' too Ang..Ang-lack,' Legolas managed after several goes. He hiccupped and looked glassily into his goblet. 'How come I feel so…very very….hiccuppy,' he giggled, 'when I have only had…' He squinted into the goblet suspiciously, 'two cups?' And at that he looked across to Anglach whose head was on the table and snoring. Legolas blinked owlishly and looked at the flagon. He pulled it over towards him and peered into it. 'Elbereth's tits,' he swore. 'Anglach,' he shook Anglach blearily. 'Anglach? We've drunk almost all of this…Eru, I feel…'

He shoved the chair out and tried to stand up but crashed into the side of the table. Bilbo bit his lip in consternation and wrung his hands. But there was nothing he could do now; it was for Thorin.

'Shit, we are goin' to be…' Legolas belched loudly and then put his hand over his mouth. He looked a bit green. 'In so much trouble…Better check on…dwarves.' He swayed and fell against the big ceramic sink with the pump. 'Better have some water. Sober up.' He splashed water on his face and then into his goblet, drank it quickly and then another. He left a cup on the table and lurched from the kitchen and staggered down the passageway. Surprisingly he made it to the cells and managed to peer glassily into the grilles to be met with a load of abuse from Dwalin as usual. Legolas' head wobbled a little and he gave a nasty smile and stuck his middle finger up at Dwalin and then grinned. He turned and staggered clumsily back to the kitchen and crashed into to the chair and blinked again as if he might clear his head. Seeing the goblet of water, he drank it quickly, Bilbo watched wincing and feeling terrible for of course he had filled it again with the heady wine.

Legolas looked at his fingers as if they belonged to someone else. His head rolled a little and he swayed. Then he put his head on his arms and he too fell fast asleep.

In no time, Bilbo was trotting as fast as he could along the passages towards the cells. The great bunch of keys was heavy and clinked however much he tried to stop it, and his heart was in his mouth. He could not prevent the keys making a loud clink every now and again though he pressed them against his chest.

First he unlocked Balin's door and locked it again after him carefully as soon as the Balin and Dwalin were outside. While they were busy congratulating him and patting him on the shoulder, he quickly went about unlocking the rest of the cells.

'Bundle your blankets up so it looks like you are still here,' he urged them. 'If someone looks in then they will think you are sleeping.' And he hoped very much that Galadhon or Thalos might do just that and at least share the blame with Legolas and Anglach.

When they finally reached Thorin's cell, there were tears and deep emotion. Balin held Thorin long and in a hard embrace. He stepped back and nodding said, 'We will make it in time, Thorin. We will be in Erebor in time to find the door.'

'Only if you come with me quickly, now and a bit more quietly than usual!' Bilbo said in an unusually bossy tone for he was anxious that Galadhon might well check up on Anglach. 'And don't make so much noise! These are elves, not orcs and they can hear a pin drop!'

'Do as he says,' Thorin said quickly and Bilbo led them off as quietly as twelve dwarves could, back down past the kitchen and to the cellars.

He peered into the small room where Legolas and Anglach sat snoring and quickly dived in and carefully replaced the keys on Anglach's belt. 'Let them work out how the dwarves have escaped without keys,' he thought. 'At least they might not in so much trouble now.' But he knew that Anglach would be in the biggest trouble of his life and for a moment, he remembered the dreadful scene he had seen through Legolas' eyes and felt tears prick at him.

'Bilbo.' A voice called that pulled on him, that he could not ignore. Thorin.

He took one last look at his two friends and thought he would never see them again and hoped, trusted the King's blindness where Anglach was concerned, pitied Legolas for he was not so favoured, then turned and left.

'What were you doing?' Dwalin asked aggressively but Thorin turned to him with his deep eyes.

'Our burglar has got us this far, sannadidith.' He clasped Dwalin's shoulder and gazed into his face. 'We will trust him. And that elf-guard was not so bad,' he added more grudgingly. He glanced at Bilbo as he said this and smiled wryly. 'Come Master Baggins, we follow your lead!'

With a little more courage after Thorin's words, Bilbo hustled them into the wine cellar where his empty barrels stood waiting. But as soon as the dwarves saw the barrels they baulked and Fili and Kili bumped into Bifur, Bofur and Bombur and Gloin started to complain and even Balin looked askance at Bilbo.

'We shall be bruised and battered and drowned too, for certain,' murmured Oin and Bofur started complaining more loudly and with even more bluster than usual.

'I thought you had got hold of a raft,' Bombur said mildly. 'I am rather afraid that Oin is right.'

But it was Dwalin who surprised everyone and said, 'Where is your Khazad-barathaz!' He spat into the sawdust and glared at them. 'Would you rather linger here and let Durin's Day pass without note? Well, you just shuffle back to your cells and let the nice gaoler take care of your shit and piss and Thorin, Bilbo and me will go on and kill the dragon!'

There was an embarrassed silence and Dwalin smiled scarily. 'This is our only chance, brothers! Come!' And he threw off a lid from one barrel and Thorin gave him a leg up into it. Dwalin disappeared head first and they heard and muffled thump and scrambling around until he got settled. Immediately the other dwarves followed suit and with much noise and thuds and squawks as Fili got into an already inhabited barrel and Kili stepped on Balin's foot, after much fuss and noise they were all safely ensconced in a barrel each.

'It's not so bad,' chirped Kili. 'It smells of wine. There's some left here too.' There was the sound of slurping and soon Fili was copying him. Bilbo was rushing around finding straw and sawdust, wood shavings that would pack the dwarves more comfortably.

At last Bilbo had secured the last lid on the last barrel and stood there looking at his handiwork with some pride and even as he did, he realised the flaw in his plan; where was he going to go?

From the kitchen came voices then, a snatch of a merry song and laughter broke out. The kitchen elves must be returning! thought Bilbo panicked. But the voices came closer and there were soon lights flickering on the walls and Damroch came in followed by Malchir. With them were the two raft-elves who Bilbo had seen with Galion once before, Landaer and Bilbo had forgotten the other one's name.

'Where's Galion?' Damroch asked, looking about. 'He should be here to make sure we get the right barrels. He was complaining the ones that came up were too light. I would hate to get ones that are too heavy going back to Laketown!'

'He was flirting with Finariel, silly old fool. He knows she is married and would no more look at him than a goblin.'

'He is just flirting,' Damroch said a little more gently.

'Well he should be here. It will take ages otherwise,' said Malchir grumpily. 'I want to get back to the feast. We've spent days sweating over cooking it and I want to enjoy it now. Come on, let's just get on with it.'

At that moment, Galion blundered in, clearly worse for wear and fumbling about in the kitchen for an empty jug.

'Come on, you old villain ' Malchir said impatiently to Galion. 'We have been waiting.'

'Wha'? I am getting more wine for the King,' Galion slurred a little and held up the empty jug as if this were evidence.

'For yourself more like,' Damroch said.

'Come along, Galion. Tell us what to take for I would not wish to take the wrong barrels,' said Landaer.

'I am just getting a little Dorwinion for Thranduil,' Galion said but he swayed a little as he spoke and waved the jug around. The other raft-elf caught it and held Galion still. Galion looked at him, then brought his face a bit closer to peer at him.

'Unhand me, you fiend.' He belched loudly and the raft-elf pulled back in disgust. 'You will not prevent me from serving my old friend, the King, the very finest wine the Wood has to offer.' He swayed a little more.

'Were you planning to have a little feast all on your own in the wine cellar?" Damroch asked amused. Malchir grinned and Galion looked mightily affronted.

'On my own?' he demanded. 'Why in Namo's stinking arsehole would I be on my own?'

The second raft-elf looked offended and Damroch and Malchir looked at each other in faintly shocked amusement.

'You are the ones who are late,' Galion said with huge impertinence. 'Landaer, me and…' He squinted at the second raft-elf and shook his head. 'Landaer, me and what'sisname had to go looking for you two clowns. It's a good thing you are here and we can all get back to the feast.'

He lurched towards the barrels and tapped one on its side. Fortunately it was an empty one and sounded hollow. 'Here, get them all lined up Landaer. Show them how it's done.'

Landaer and his companion, who introduced himself to Damroch and Malchir as Amarben, hauled the barrels to the trap door and Malchir and Damroch lashed them together into a sort of raft. Even for elves this proved hard work for of course twelve of the barrels had heavy dwarves in them.

'Is that all of them?' asked Landaer. He looked quizzically at the barrels. 'Save us, Galion! Are you sure these are empty? You began your feasting early and muddled your wits! You have stacked full ones in here instead of empty ones if there is nothing in weight.'

Galion looked offended. 'Do you think I would send full barrels back to the Master of Laketown when he has tried so hard to cheat me already?' He drew himself up to his full height to look own his nose at Amarben. 'I think not!' he said with as much dignity as he could muster, and turned to walk off but the exit was rather spoiled when he walked straight into the last barrel, which happened to be Dwalin's. There was a muffled squawk and Bilbo was sure they would be discovered but Galion was so busy shouting curses and swearing that Dwalin's own rather colourful expletives were quite lost.

'Very well, answered Landaer, rolling a barrel to the opening. 'On your head be it if the kings butter-tubs and his best wine is pushed into the river for the Lake men to feast upon for nothing.'

Damroch and Amarben each seized long and heavy poles that were stored on hooks above the trap door and levered the barrels through the trap doors and Malchir gave one a push or a shove here or there when it looked like one was going to miss the trap door. One by one the barrels rumbled over the planks of the trap door and splashed heavily into the dark, fast flowing river. They sank first and then bobbed up quickly just as Bilbo was thinking that the dwarves might well bob up the wrong way round, and be head first in the water. He hoped they had enough room to make sure they could breathe.

Bilbo watched with trepidation as each of the dwarves' barrels bumped and splashed down into the dark forest river, thudding into one another, smacking into the water, jostling against each other and bobbing away down on the current.

The water was deep and cold, black in the darkness and Bilbo peered down into its depths, watching as each barrel floated away on the strong current. Galion and the other elves were arguing again that some of the barrels were lying too heavily in the water. By now the barrels had all bumped up against the iron grille that lay across the forest river's course as it flowed beneath the hill and stopped enemies from entering the stronghold. Galion was shouting rudely at Amarben as he hauled on the rope that would lift the grille and Bilbo knew he had no choice but to jump into the river if he was to stay with the dwarves.

He took one glance back at the wine cellar, at the huge barrels and dusty flagons and bottles, at Galion hauling on the rope, and Damroch and Malchir who worked in the kitchens. He thought of Anglach and Legolas, fast asleep in their drunken stupor, of Thalos and his errand that perhaps the dwarves' escape might spare him. He thought of Miriel and Theliel and Tauriel, and all the elves he had 'met' and liked. And then he looked down into the deep dark river, and jumped.

The water hit him, freezing cold, and knocked all the air from his lungs. He dunked under and struggled to get back up into the air. His head came up and his lungs were bursting. He took a huge gulp of air that was half water, ahlf air and was pulled under again but the current that swept him away and he crashed into the iron portcullis, pinned there by the strength of the water.

And then it seemed the water itself swirled and writhed around him. Like a sinuous beast, like an otter, it leapt and curled and pulled him down. He felt magic tug at him, pull him back, throw him up to the surface and drag him under again. And then he was pinned against the iron grille easily seen by the raft elves. It felt like the gates, he thought in one still coherent and functioning part of his brain. where he was held under for a moment like he was pinned.

You shall not pass!

That strange, sonorous voice was in his mind again, the same at the gates. Suddenly it seemed that roots broke from the stone bed of the river, surged upwards and clawed at him.

You shall not pass.

The weeds of the river curled around his ankles and dragged him down with sinuous tendrils, wrapped about his ankles and suddenly writhed upwards, seeking to hold him. Bilbo stared in horror and suddenly, as before, Sting was in his hand and he slashed downwards. For a moment the Gates' roots and river weeds drew back and Bilbo was hurled forwards against against the iron grill. And then suddenly there was a grating of iron over stone and the water rushed him away, tumbling and turning and he thought he would drown…

Suddenly his hand caught on something and he was rolled and lifted up onto a barrel and clung to the ropes that lashed the barrels together. He rose gasping and spluttering into the air and was dragged through the cold black water. The roots of trees and bright green river weeds reached and tangled with his legs and arms but he clung tightly to the ropes and suddenly he burst free from the tunnel and above him were hard, bright stars, around him were trees and water and he was rushed along the riverbank, sometimes above water and sometimes the barrel rolled and dunked him under again. But they were free. They had escaped and were on the way again to Erebor.

He heard the beat of his heart in his chest and was glad to be alive. This adventure that he had so reluctantly embarked upon, was drawing to its destination; in the far distance, he could see the head of the Lonely Mountain rise up in the moonlight, its peak gilded silver with the hard, bright stars like diamonds crowning it. And somewhere, deep in its heart, was a dragon.

Translations according to Neo-khuzdul dictionary. (Not perfect but enough)

Khazad-barathaz! Khazad blood oath

Sannadidith- perfect brother

The End.

(To be continued again in Black Arrow, which tells the story from the Wood-elves perspective and in which Thranduil discovers the dwarves have escaped and he decides he must send Thalos to Smaug before the dwarves awaken the dragon's anger; the subsequent events including the return of the Arkenstone to Thranduil in circumstances even stranger than it came to him the first time.)