The Sons of Durin clumped together protectively with Thorin, Dwalin, and Nori standing at the exterior and Fili, Kili, and Bilbo at the center. The sound of coins clinking to the bottom of slot machines came from all around the and flashing red, yellow, and white lights blinded Bilbo, making him startle and blink, while luring unsuspecting patrons into its trap. Rowdy cheers came from Bilbo's right and out of the corner of his eye, he could see a man gleefully collecting an armful of round, colorful chips. They were in a casino. One with a prohibition theme, apparently. The dealers and wait staff were dressed to the nines—fancy flapper dresses and smart boulder hats. Bilbo had never been here before—he'd never gambled a day in his life, thank you very much—but he'd heard of places like this through the Took grapevine. "Imraldis," he whispered, repeating what Gandalf had just stated. "We're in Imraldis."
"Stay sharp," Thorin ordered. His jaw was tense and jutted out just so. Bilbo could practically hear his teeth grinding and gnashing against each other. His brow was furrowed, fists clenched, shoulders back and stiff. He looked like a man about to do battle.
"You have no enemies here," Gandalf's tone was soft, gentle. But there was a waning glint in his eyes. A harshness that only shone through when Gandalf worried Thorin was about to act recklessly. A sneer stretched over Thorin's nose and lips. Gandalf's warning didn't seem too ridiculous to Bilbo. Then again, as tall, slender men and women in matching suits and earpieces slowly surrounded them—appearing seemingly from nowhere—Bilbo had to admit that perhaps Thorin's warning was just as founded.
"You think we're safe here, do you?" Thorin challenged, not taking his eyes off the security guards in front of him. "They'll try and stop us." Bilbo bit at his bottom lip. Thorin had a point. When the Durins were in their golden age, they were competition for casinos and bars of Rivendell County. With the Durins gone, the Lindon family had a monopoly on the market. It didn't make sense for them to help their competition rise from the grave.
"Of course they will," Gandalf scoffed. Bilbo's head jerked sharply, surprised to hear Gandalf and Thorin agreeing on something. "But they will not turn you over to the authorities," technically, Bilbo mused, Gandalf was the authorities, "or the ORCs, and we need more information—current information if we are to be successful in reclaiming Erebor. To gain that information, however, we'll need to be smart. We have to use all our charm and treat the Lindons with tact and respect." He side eyed Thorin and huffed. Bilbo wasn't sure if the sound was an aborted laugh or an exasperated snort. "Which is why you'll leave the talking to me."
A tall and lithe man with short, dark hair stepped through the blockade of security guards. He was smartly dressed in a three piece suit. His tie was silk, Bilbo noticed, and was a lovely shade of burgundy that worked well with his pale complexion. This was Elrond Lindon, Bilbo realized dully. Head of the Lindon family, notorious mafioso, and the real person in charge of Rivendell. He didn't look like a hardened criminal. He looked like an affluent, well to do parent of a misbehaving private school student. At least, that's how he was staring down at Thorin. Like the leader of the Sons of Durin was just a tantrum throwing child.
They were the same height, Bilbo noticed with a start, and yet somehow Elrond was still looking down his nose at the other man. Then, his gaze shifted to Gandalf and his lips widened to a genuine smile, "Gandalf," he greeted, opening his arms so they could embrace.
"Elrond," Gandalf barked a laugh and clapped the other man good naturedly on the back.
"My sources informed me you were in Rivendell," Elrond started, then looked at the rag-tag group of criminals before him. "As well as Wargs—it's unusual for the ORCs or their underlings to cross into our territory. Something, or someone," his eyes locked in on Thorin's icy blue ones, and Bilbo felt a silent challenge ripple through the room. "Has drawn them here. Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." The words were old, the sentence out dated, but the words hit their mark all the same. Bilbo thought he heard a low growl rumbling deep in Thorin's chest, but couldn't be sure.
Thorin inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment, "Elrond. It's been a while."
Elrond hummed in agreement, "It has indeed. Not since before the death of your grandfather, I believe." Eyes flickering back to Gandalf, Elrond ordered the guards, "Make preparations for our guests to spend the night, and get them anything they'll need. Food, drink, whatever you need to make your stay comfortable, you're welcome to it." Without another word, the mafioso turned heel and glided back through his casino and his guards slowly returned to their posts.
"I know he just offered us food," Gloin said slowly, stroking his red beard thoughtfully. "So why do I feel like we've just been threatened?"
Gandalf laughed dryly, a twinkle shining in his eyes, "Worry not, Gloin. Rest assured in knowing that poison is not Elrond's M.O."
"Well in that case," he patted his large belly, "I could go for a burger or two. Or three. Lead the way!"
Hours later, after Bilbo and the others had been escorted to rooms in the hotel above the casino and ordered room service—and after a tofu burger mix up that had both Ori and Dwalin retching in the bathroom for several minutes—Elrond visited them and lead them all down to his office to talk business. Elrond's office was dark and terribly impressive. A large area rug took up the center of the room, but around the edges, Bilbo could see the floor beneath was made of solid oak. Elrond's desk was in the far left corner of the room, and the mafioso took a seat behind it, his back safely facing the wall. A fireplace with a great stone mantle stood unlit against the right side of the wall and above it was a framed family portrait of Elrond, his wife, and his three children. They looked normal. The phrase 'don't judge a book by its cover' came to mind, and Bilbo thought it fit this man to a 'T'. LED lights illuminated the dark office, casting the room in a white, almost heavenly light. It also made everyone seem deathly pale. Bilbo swallowed thickly and repressed a shiver. He didn't know what, exactly, was about to happen. From the guarded expression on the faces of those around him, Bilbo figured it wouldn't be good.
"So tell me," Elrond started without preamble. "What are the Sons of Durin doing in Rivendell?" He looked at Gandalf for an answer, as did Bilbo. He did say he'd do all the talking, after all, but before the older man could open his mouth, Thorin spoke.
"It's not your concern," he growled out, taking an aggressive step forward. His upper lip was curled back, barring his teeth at the man before him. His fists were clenched and now, with his leather jacket left behind in his room, Bilbo could see the muscles of Thorin's arm bulging beneath his skin. Mouth turning drier than a desert, Bilbo had to tear his eyes away from the gang leader, lest his cheeks caught fire.
"A rival gang invades my territory, followed by Wargs and ORCs, carrying Lindon made weapons, and it's none of my concern?" A tense silence filled the room and wary glances were exchanged. Bilbo's hand unconsciously twitched to his pocket where the small blade Gandalf had given him rested. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice my own company's work?" Elrond scoffed and jerked his chin at Thorin. "I recognized the Orcrist knuckles immediately. They were custom made—one of a kind. Where'd you get them?"
"We didn't steal them!" Bofur sputtered indignantly. Bilbo glanced at Nori, but the red headed thief merely rolled his eyes.
"Not properly," Nori muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Bilbo wasn't sure what that meant, but for some reason it seemed the right thing to say. Several of the Durins who had heard him nodded their head in agreement and began grumbling amongst each other.
"Trolls," Bilbo blurted out, and suddenly all eyes were on him. He didn't know what possessed him to speak, but now that he'd started, he figured he might as well finish. Locking eyes with Elrond, keeping them off Thorin and his ridiculous muscles, Bilbo cleared his throat and clarified, "The Troll brothers. We took the weapons from their stash after they were arrested."
Elrond frowned at Bilbo, his gaze analytical and sharp as he took in the smaller man's appearance. Short, curly blond hair. Dirty, round cheeks. A rumpled button down shirt and stained khakis. He looked like a snake, deciding how to best devour its prey. Bilbo gulped.
"Oh, for goodness sake's, Thorin," Gandalf interrupted, drawing Elrond's all too seeing eyes away from Bilbo. "Show him the blue print." Thorin's lips thinned and he looked at Gandalf as if he'd grown a second head. Sighing and looking up at the ceiling, Gandalf grumbled, "Save me from the stubbornness of Oakenshields." Lowering his gaze and returning Thorin's gaze with steely eyes, he ordered, "Set aside your pride this once. This," he gestured to Elrond, "is one of the few people in Middle Earth who can give us the information we need!"
The two men remained deadlocked for some time, their glares unwavering, but Bilbo could see the gears shifting behind Thorin's eyes. He could see Thorin's imagination running away with him, conjuring every possibility, every outcome his next action could cause. Huffing sharply, Thorin nodded to Dwalin, who stepped forward and pulled the folded up blue print from inside his leather jacket and laid it out before Elrond on his desk.
Elrond stared down at the paper and quirked a brow. "The Lonely Mountain," he read off the top, his eyes flickering up to catch Gandalf's before returning to his desk. "What do you need to know?"
"Has Smaug done any redecorating?" Gandalf asked instead, turning to inspect the fire place mantle. "Any reconstruction on the original foundation?"
"Not that I've heard."
Gandalf nodded, rubbing his thumb along the mantle's edge. "And the buildings around it? Has he bought those yet?" Bilbo held back a snort. From the tales he'd heard from Fili and Kili, Smaug didn't buy anything. Not if he could avoid it.
"No, I believe he's waiting for the banks to foreclose on the properties first."
"Making sure the cost is well below the retail price," Gandalf nodded, as if it made perfect sense. "Your family built those buildings, didn't they?" He turned to face Elrond, who'd been watching him with narrowed eyes. "You wouldn't have those blue prints, would you?"
You could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet. Bilbo bit down on his lower lip to keep from making a sound. He didn't think Gandalf was being very subtle, and seeing the brow that quirked up Elrond's forehead, Bilbo suspected the man would agree. "I do," the mafioso said slowly. "Why so much talk about blue prints and construction, Gandalf?"
"Mainly academic," Gandalf answered easily, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Architecture has become my new hobby. Retirement is just around the corner, you know." Elrond hummed, and Bilbo thought a blind man could see plainly that he didn't believe him. "Any chance I could take a look at them?" Gandalf asked, his eyes closing and smile widening. He looked like a harmless old man. Bilbo scowled. It was that assumption that had gotten him into this mess.
There was a pause, and then Elrond's face had shuttered close, his face looking perfectly serene, and Bilbo thought he'd turn down Gandalf's request point blank. "Of course." He nodded and Bilbo blinked twice, not believing his ears. "They're in the archives," Elrond explained, standing up and walking around his desk. He headed for the door, "I'll have someone fetch them. They'll be ready for you by the morning. In the mean time, though, you can take this time to rest. Feel free to go anywhere in the hotel," he told them as he opened the door and granted them leave. "There are plenty of restaurants and bars in case you're still hungry, and for entertainment you can always visit the casino. Please," he said with an easy smile as the last Durin filtered out of his office, "enjoy yourselves. Tonight you are my honored guests." Bilbo thought he saw a flash of suspicion on Gandalf's face, but when the older man turned to Thorin, he looked down right smug. Bilbo figured it must've been the lighting tricking his eyes.
Elrond said his goodbyes and disappeared back into his office, closing the door behind him. Bilbo found himself staring, open mouthed, at the closed door. He was dumbstruck. It worked. They were going to see the blue prints. They'd find a way into the Lonely Mountain. And they were going to get a safe night's rest in a five star hotel. The rest of the gang voiced his thoughts with mutterings of optimism and hope. Bilbo couldn't believe it. After their first few mishaps, their luck was finally taking a turn for the better.
"Well that was easy," Kili commented, his smile wide and gleeful. Bilbo was inclined to agree, but then caught sight of the dark look on Thorin's face. Catching the gang leader's icy blue gaze, Bilbo understood immediately. They might be safe—for now—but they weren't out of the woods yet.
A/N: This fic has returned from the dead! Please let me know what you thought by leaving a review!