Hey everyone! In light of the Battle of the Five Armies (no spoilers, don't worry), I decided to do a little Hobbit special for Christmas, and like the BotFA, I decided to add a little not-so-subtle reference to a LOTR character who we all know and love (oh look, a spoiler). My main reason for writing this, however, was to answer that age old question: what exactly were the Elves on when Bilbo and co. entered Rivendell?!

Enjoy.

Warning: contains feels and fluff. Many, many fluff.

Flashback - 1st day of Lithe (21st June: Midsummer's Eve) T.A. 2941

The Dwarves looked weary as they entered the valley - weary and grumpy. The path was steep, their steps laboured, and their supplies sorely depleted. They had clearly encountered trouble on the road. 'The road from where?' Lathron wondered, from where he stood under the trees, 'and what kind of trouble?' These lands were peaceful at present, and yet for some reason these Dwarves were careworn, and appeared to have lost a great deal of provisions.

Beside him, Elladan appeared through the twilight, his eyes bright and mischievous. "Are you sure you won't join us, Lathron?" he asked.

Lathron shook his head, and the older Elf sighed dramatically. Lathron could smell the wine on his breath. "Very well, if you really wish to be so boring, you can stay here. As for me, I'm going to go and give these Dwarves a bit of cheer on this fine Midsummer's eve. Does everyone remember their words?" he called to a number of other Elves converging on the spot. There were whoops of agreement, and he left smirking. Lathron rolled his eyes. Elladan and Elrohir, in fact most of Rivendell's Elves, were generally sensible and reserved, but give them a few bottles of Dorwinion red, and they became as insensible as the rowdiest Men. He'd never understand it - give him a mug of ale any day; at least he'd still be standing afterwards.

He watched as a large party of Rivendell's noblest courtiers swung themselves into the trees ahead of the visitors. He saw Elladan and Elrohir, as well as Lindir and a number of others, but did not join them himself. Instead, he sat on a tree stump and watched as the Dwarves approached unawares. He was pleasantly surprised to see a distinctive tall figure among them - grey robes, a tall, faded blue hat and a silver scarf, carrying a gnarled staff - Mithrandir. What was he doing with such folk? Then, he was struck by genuine surprise as he saw an even smaller figure among the Dwarves - plump, curly haired, clean-shaven - most at odds with his companions. What was a Hobbit doing here, out of the Shire?

Then, the Elves in the trees burst into song, and the next few minutes were a cacophony - a beautifully in-tune and harmonious cacophony, but a cacophony nonetheless - of nonsense.

"O! Tra-la-la-lally, here down in the valley!" sang Rivendell's finest, as the Dwarves grew gradually redder and redder in the face, their eyebrows lowering, looking around for their merry assailants.

"What are they doing?" asked a small voice at Lathron's elbow. He turned to see a young boy standing beside him, trying not to laugh at the singing Elves and irritated Dwarves. "Why are there Dwarves here, Lath?"

If it had been anyone else, Lathron would have resented that nickname (it did technically mean 'leather thong', after all, and who wanted to have that name attached to them?) but instead he smiled at the boy. "I'm not sure. No doubt we'll find out soon enough."

"Isn't that Gandalf with them?" the boy continued, peering eagerly through the trees. "Do you think he'll have fireworks? And who's that other boy with them?"

"That's not a boy," Lathron chuckled. "That's a Hobbit."

"What's a Hobbut?"

"A Halfling. The Little Folk. They live in a land to the west called the Shire, and they live in holes in the ground.

"He looks funny," the boy said, a comically thoughtful expression on his face. "I bet I'm taller than he is." He clambered onto Lathron's knee and began playing absentmindedly with the braids that hung in front of the hunter's ears. "Someday, I'm gonna go to the Shire, and see all the Hobbuts. Will you take me there, Lath?"

"Possibly," Lathron smiled behind his scarf. The boy's enthusiasm was infectious.

There was laughter, and the singers began drifting back through the trees. Elladan, Elrohir and Lindir came towards the duo. Lathron lifted the boy off his knee and walked to meet them.

"You should have been there, Lathron," Elrohir enthused, tears of mirth in his eyes. "Their faces... what was it you said to Thorin, Lindir?"

"I said..." the younger Elf doubled over with laughter, "'Don't dip your beard in the foam!' Oh, you should have seen their faces, Lathron, and the song... Oh, it was inspired - excellent words by the way, Elladan - I don't know why you didn't join in."

At the name of Thorin, Lathron had felt something twist painfully in his stomach. He kept his voice calm, however. "Someone's got to keep up our reputation," he said sternly. "Does Elrond know you've been molesting his guests?"

"Say not molesting," Elladan insisted. "Merely teasing."

"Besides, that Hobbit, Mr Baggins, if you knew how unusual it is to see the likes of him this far out of the Shire, you'd be laughing too," Lindir continued. He adopted a high, rustic voice. "Oh, Mr Baggins, sir, you don't want'a go messin' with these 'ere outlandish folks now. You's a fine upstandin' gentlehobbit."

They all fell about laughing again.

"I still think you might at least have left out the songs," Lathron suggested. "They were a bit... ridiculous."

"That was high art!" Elladan protested in mock offence.

"Honestly Lathron, you sound like my mother," Lindir scoffed.

He hadn't realised it, but he'd hit a nerve. Lathron's stomach twisted again. If he hadn't been so busy trying not to slap Lindir, he might have noticed Elladan and Elrohir's faces stiffen too. There was a pregnant silence as it dawned on Lindir that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Uncle Elladan! Uncle Elrohir! What were you doing?"

The boy came running out of the trees, and the tension shifted immediately. Elrohir scooped him up in his arms, iliciting a fountain of giggles. "Estel! What are you doing out so late?"

"I'm not a baby any more," Estel pouted. "Mother said I could stay up for the feast, and then I heard there were visitors. Why were you singing to them?"

"Because we were being silly," Elrohir admitted, beginning to head back to the house. The others followed, except for Lindir. "It was very wise of you to stay out of it Estel - we should be nice to our guests."

"Oh, so you'll admit it to him," Lathron jibed.

"Estel, tell Lathron that he's a grumpy bastard," Elrohir said without turning round.

"Lath, you're a grumpy bastud," Estel chirped brightly over Elrohir's shoulder. "What's a bastud?"

"Never you mind," Elladan instructed, giving his younger twin a stern look. Elrohir returned it with an impressively innocent baby-face that had Lathron sniggering in spite of himself.

They had just arrived at the doors to the Last Homely House when a women came out, with red-brown hair and a concerned expression. "Estel," she cried in relief at the sight of them. "Where have you been?" she scolded.

"I wanted to see the Dwarves," Estel whined. "Mother, there was a wizard, and a Hobbut. Lath's going to take me to see the Hobbuts one day, aren't you Lath?"

"I can't make any promises," Lathron joked, raising his eyebrows at Gilraen, but relented at the boy's puppy-dog expression. "I'm sure one day, you'll be able to visit the Shire, and anywhere else in Middle Earth, whenever you want."

"Yay!" Estel jumped down from Elrohir's arms and made to run over to Lathron, but Gilraen caught him and held him back. "Ah, ah, ah. It's way past your bedtime, my little prince. What would Lord Elrond say?" She turned to the trio of Elves. "And you three ought to be ashamed of yourselves; letting my son run about in the woods after 'Hobbuts' at this time of night." She was smiling as she chivvied her son back inside, his protestations echoing in the entrance hall - "but Mother, I'm nearly ten!"

Lathron stared wistfully after them. Elladan noticed his gaze. "I know, I feel the same way too, sometimes. Elrohir and I, we've had time to accustom ourselves to it, but for you it still hurts."

"All the time," Lathron murmured. "I still miss them, all of them."

"At least you've got Estel," Elrohir consoled him.

Lathron grunted noncommittally, slightly embarrassed at his affections for the boy, but the twins exchanged knowing glances behind him. "He adores you," Elrohir continued.

When no further words were forthcoming, Elladan made a guess as to what was troubling the hunter. "It's Lindir, isn't it?" he asked.

It was a good guess, but not the right one. Lathron decided to play along. "Yes. I just wish he could be more tactful sometimes."

"Don't let him get to you," Elladan advised. "He's young, and he's never been far from Rivendell. It's not his fault he doesn't know how to handle delicate subjects like that."

"He's still over a hundred years older than me," Lathron scoffed.

"Yes, but he's seen and experienced a lot less than you. If it's really bothering you, I'll have a talk to him."

"Thanks." Lathron nodded to the twins and made his way inside. He passed the Hall of Fire, where a chorus of gruff voices were raised in song - something about a man in the moon. At least the Dwarves were enjoying themselves.

Thorin. The name echoed in his memory, but for him, it was not the name of a person, but a place - a place where once he had been happy, and then, everything had changed.

Images flashed before him: yellow flames, white snow, red blood. A clap of thunder and an avalanche of rock. A mother's dying words. Then, a scene flashed through his mind which he did not remember - an Elven man standing over him, dark haired, with a face that must once have been fair, even beautiful, but was lined with countless years of care and grief. 'I have made many wrongdoings in my life,' he said, 'but you, my son, will right them many times over'

When Lathron came to, he found himself sitting on the bed in his room. He couldn't remember how he'd got there - he supposed he must have stumbled upstairs - nor could he remember how the tall candlestick by the door had fallen over, spilling hot wax and flames onto the rug... Flames!

His breath hitched in his throat. He made to stand up, to smother the rapidly growing fire with the rug, but his legs wouldn't work. Nor would his lungs. He gaped noiselessly and futilely for air. The flames licked across the rug with the sound of harsh laughter.

"Goodness me, a fire!"

The Hobbit was standing outside the door, a look of alarm on his face. Seeing Lathron seemingly unable to move, he rushed in and folded the rug over the flames, quenching them. He gave a sigh of relief. "I hope you don't mind, Sir, but you looked in need of assistance," he said. "If I may ask, why on earth didn't you...?" He looked at Lathron's face, and his eyes widened momentarily. "Oh, I see."

With a shock, Lathron realised that his scarf had slipped - presumably during his blackout - exposing his nose and cheek. It was this that had stopped the Hobbit from finishing his question - the answer was plain to see. Lathron pulled it up over his face quickly.

The Hobbit (His name was Bilbo, wasn't it?) moved closer. "Are you ok now?"

"Yes, thank you." Lathron nodded, still a little in shock, not to mention embarrassed at having to be saved by a strange Hobbit. "Perhaps I can, erm, return the favour someday?"

"Maybe," Bilbo turned to leave, then checked himself. "If I may ask, what happened? How did the candles fall over, I mean, not..." He gestured at Lathron's face.

"Oh, that," Lathron thought for a second. "I was just tired, and I stumbled against the candles coming in. I've had, er, bad experiences with fire. Thank you for, well, rescuing me, I suppose."

"Not at all," the Hobbit turned to go. "Well, I might see more of you - after all, it looks like we'll be staying here for a little longer."

Lathron had to ask. "The Thorin you're travelling with, is he Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain?"

"From what I've gathered, yes. He's a very great personage, apparently. From what I've seen, however... well, he's a bit pompous."

"A word of advice, then... it is Bilbo, isn't it? Don't trust Dwarves. They're greedy, and they'll do anything to get what they think is rightfully theirs."

"Oh no, I don't think that's true at all," Bilbo protested. "Thorin and his company aren't a bad lot. I mean, they arrived unannounced and raided the pantry and trod mud in the carpet, but I don't think they're bad, or dangerous, or anything like that. They've lost their home, is all, and they want it back. Maybe you've just had bad experiences with Dwarves."

"Maybe," Lathron was stunned. Here he was, an Elf of more than a hundred years, being rescued and lectured by a Hobbit. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight. Try talking with Thorin and his folk. How about Fili and Kili? I'm sure you'll like them." Bilbo left.

Lathron sat there for a while, head spinning. What had that vision been? Was that his... father? He only had one memory of his father - a small ship with white sails disappearing into the west. He'd never remembered what his father looked like before, and all his mother had told him was that he was of the Noldor. What was it his father had said? 'I have made many wrongdoings in my life.' What could be so bad that his father would abandon his son and wife and travel into the west, never to return? Not for the first time, he felt a little resentment for the man who he'd never met. "Why did you leave me?" he growled. "If you'd been here, she might have lived."

"Who are you talking to?"

A small head of tousled brown hair was peering round the door. Apparently, Estel still didn't want to go to bed. He walked in cautiously, noticing the fallen candlestick and charred rug.

"No-one," Lathron answered. "Just myself."

"You sounded sad." Estel came and stood in front of Lathron, his grey eyes wide and inquisitive. "Why are you sad? Who left you?"

Lathron decided to tell him the truth - those big grey eyes demanded answers. "My father," he sighed. "He left me when I was a baby. He passed across the sea, and I don't know why. If he'd stayed, maybe my mother would still be here too." He felt tears pricking his eyes, and tried to fight them.

To his surprise, Estel sat down on the bed next to him, and he felt a small arm reach around his shoulders. "Don't be sad," the little boy comforted. "My father went away when I was a baby, too. My mother says he was very brave, and he did it to protect me. Maybe that's why your father went too, and your mother."

Lathron was taken aback by the boy's insight, and turned to stare at him in astonishment - first Hobbits, and now ten year olds, were giving him more to think about in a night than he'd had in countless years.

"Why are you staring?" Estel sniggered, and Lathron lowered his gaze.

"Sorry, I just... you're a very clever boy, you know that?"

Estel accepted the praise with a shrug, and began to play with Lathron's braids again. Lathron let him for a minute, and then chivvied him off the bed. "Come on, it's really time you were asleep. What would your mother say to me?"

"I'm not tired," Estel whined, but broke off with a huge yawn. "Ok, maybe a little bit," he admitted.

"Come on," Lathron steered Estel out of the room and down the hall to his chambers. He tucked him in and blew out the candles. As he left, he heard a quiet voice behind him.

"I miss my father, but not when you're here."

Lathron froze, his breath catching in his throat. "What?" he asked, looking back.

Estel was lying with his eyes closed, a faint smile on his face. "It's like you're my father," he murmured sleepily. "I love you, Lathron."

"I..." the words stuck in Lathron's throat. He walked back over and stroked Estel's hair, tears pricking his eyes. "And you," he choked finally.

A heaviness in Estel's breathing told him that the boy had finally fallen asleep. He broke away and walked back to the door, then paused for a last look back.

"Goodnight, Estel," he whispered. "Losto vae, henig."

As he climbed into bed and blew out the bedside candle he thought, 'my parents may be dead and gone, but I'll see them again, and in the meantime, I still have a family.'

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Glossary

Losto vae, henig: sleep well, my child.

Just when you thought you'd recovered...

And you thought you'd got rid of me, didn't you...

I'ma gonna keep in short in the spirit of festive cheer and all. Hope that was suitably fluffy/feely/omgit'sAragornisn'thecute-y. It's a little setup; as anyone who's played LotRO will know, everyone's favourite ranger will feature quite heavily in the next section.

Big thanks to Geththelithen27 for your review and following, and HLeigh for following, it's always appreciated.

Happy Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa or any other festival you may celebrate at this special time of year. Just watch it on the Dorwinion red. Remember, sensible Elves drink in moderation.

What does that make Legolas?

Simon

Disclaimer: almost all of the names of people, places and general things are owned by Tolkien Enterprises, New Line Cinema or Warner Brothers, and are fictitious, or if real are used fictitiously and solely for the purposes of entertainment within boring disclaimers, such as the name Peter Jackson. Just thought I'd make that statement true for once. The others are owned by me. Any similarity to any real life person, alive or dead, is probably almost but not quite certain to be entirely uncoincidental.

Seriously though, don't sue me.