Scumper stopped the long wagon train King Fengel ordered north to the Lonely Mountain and Dale. In all his years, only rumors and legend of those places reached his home in Edoras. For thirty years he worked a wagon train in the summer, taking one trip per season to the Iron Hills and dealt with a dwarf named Dáin Ironfoot. A messenger came from the elves of changes and to hurry with all the supplies they could part to these other locations. He looked to his left at the king riding beside him. "This is where we meet the elves, Sire. We swing around the south end of Mirkwood and make for the river and this place when we come from the Iron Hills with our ore."
Fengel cut a dashing figure of a warrior and was still spry at seventy-two and sat his horse naturally; a gift of the horsemen of the Riddermark. "Do they always keep you waiting?" Patience wasn't among his sparse virtues and one would be hard pressed to find any at all. He wasn't a beloved king his subjects felt loyalty to and prayed for the day his son, Thengel, would return and take the mantel of king.
"We never wait long. They must bring barges down the Silverlode from Caras Galadhon and it takes up to an hour, depending where their scouts first spotted us," Scumper quickly replied to avoid the king's ire.
Fengel snorted in disdain, "I bet they've been watching us for two days. You see how the elves are when they come to Edoras. You can't sneak up on one if you tried and they rarely sleep."
"Here they come," Scumper replied with a finger pointed across the wide Anduin.
Fengel ignored the relief in the wagon master's tone and watched one barge being poled against the current until the front touched a stone Land Wall with elven Cirth and immediately the ramp lowered and two elves anchored the barge using chains with hooks that easily attached to the metal eyelets mounted on spikes driven deeply into the granite.
The elves on horseback filed off and two approached until the horses were nose to nose. "I am Prince Legolas," one introduced himself while the other remained quiet, but observant.
The king looked him over and saw one who didn't portray himself as royalty, but was wearing the garb of the warriors around him; with his leather arm guards, dark blue tunic and black vest. His knee high boots looked broke in and over each shoulder, two ivory colored knife handles were conspicuous, as was the bow in his hand. Scrutiny over, the king spoke, "King Fengel, at your service." He smirked that the best the elves could offer for the meeting was a prince. "Per instructions from Lothlórien, we made haste with a load of supplies for dwarves. Something was said about payment doubling if we were able to reach this mythical Lonely Mountain in one month from this point."
"The mountain is real. Are you leading the caravan all the way to Erebor?" Legolas asked the questions in a soft voice and didn't let his gaze wander. He kept his face stoic when the king dropped his gaze from the piercing blue eyes, but knew the conversation was going as Celeborn instructed.
"I thought to see it for myself," Fengel acknowledged.
'More like not trusting your hirelings with that much gold,' Legolas thought to himself, but knew the elves could read his telegraphed thought. "The March Warden, Haldir Halungiôn will be your guide and insure safe passage through King Thranduil's lands. You did bring the fee he will charge?"
"Highway robbery," Fengel blustered in an angry outburst. "I don't know who this elven king is, but paying five gold coin per wagon and one per horse and man is outrageous."
"If you travel down the east side of the Rhovanion and take the trail that leads by Dol Guldur; it comes out right in this spot." Legolas pointed to a trail going due east.
"Well, we will take it and save our gold," Fengel replied with satisfaction.
"And when King Thranduil sees your wagons at the mountain and he isn't paid for you crossing his southern road, he will attack you with his warriors." Legolas made a show of looking at the large number of wagons and soldiers that accompanied the king from Edoras. He turned his bright blue eyes back to Fengel. "You don't have enough men to hold off an attack by the elves."
"But we're supposed to be allies," Fengel objected. "They can't just slaughter my people."
"Elves are also allies with dwarves, but that didn't stop Thranduil from arresting a handful last year and throwing them in his dungeon for not paying tariff or sending word ahead they were using our roads."
Fengel frowned. "You say that as if you are in charge of this Mirkwood!"
Legolas cast a quick glance to the elf at his side and back. "Follow the road Haldir directs or you may end up in a dungeon."
"I want assurances from Lord Celeborn he will honor his word."
"Has he ever cheated you?" Legolas countered, growing weary of word games. Court intrigue and games of wit was his father's playground, not his. He was a warrior; that happened to be the only son of a king.
"I've never traded more than horses and supplies for his measly parting of iron ore after taking the best for himself. My men tell me how at this very spot, elves rummage through our wagons as if they owned them, ordering the best grade ore be diverted to the barges. I was hoping for a meeting with Lord Celeborn to discuss this situation among others."
"I am emissary for the great lord. You deal with me."
"What are you, his son?" Fengel figured from what he heard that Celeborn would never allow a subordinate free rein in his realm. All correspondence was the lord penning letters with instructions to him.
Legolas didn't answer, but mentally started a conversation. 'What do I say now?'
'He is everything my messengers say and more. No, I will wait until this one is dead and deal with his son, if need be.'
"We are done here, King Fengel." Legolas made a motion and Haldir joined them. "Your guide. I suggest you do exactly as he says. If he gives a good report, we will negotiate for cheaper tolls through the great forest of the Rhovanion." Legolas started to turn his mount.
"Wait, I demand to see Lord Celeborn."
Nobody responded and his anger erupted. "Don't ride away from me, you idiot of a prince," he screamed at Legolas' retreating back. As for the other, he must be dimwitted, for he didn't even pay attention to the conversation, but kept looking around. Fengel gunned his horse at the two with the intent of knocking one or both off the barge into the freezing waters of spring melt. Drawing his sword, he slashed at the hindquarters of the closest horse.
'ATTACK,' Haldir mentally screamed while all the elves knocked arrows so swiftly, they were at full draw before the men realized something was amiss.
Scumper tried to reach his king, but moved too slowly. As if in slow motion he watched the elves move with blinding speed. The silver haired elf spun his horse in one direction and the prince the other and the slicing blade ripped across the thigh of the elf. When the elf's hand rose, an impressive sword that reminded Scumper of the one they took off the dwarf only six months before was preparing to behead their king. Scumper's eyes were glued to the blade that glowed white with a purple haze along the cutting edge. Before the king's head rolled, mastery of the blade that swung with force to fell a tree stopped and the blade was against the side of Fengel's throat and he was frozen in fear.
"I am Lord Celeborn, King Fengel," the deadly elf finally spoke. "You deal with Prince Legolas or I will cut all iron ore from your share and you can mine it yourself from the White Mountains." As the lord spoke, not an arrow faltered and Fengel's guards didn't feel like dying that day. "You see, if dwarves don't do my bidding, they will never use Redhorn Pass again and I will stop them from retaking Moria. They won't challenge my word if I tell you to mine ore yourselves."
"It is said you never deal with dwarves." Fengel found his voice and his eyes wavered for a second to the thigh he injured. The gash was deep and long and bleeding freely down his leg, but not once did the lord look down.
"I don't; I send my messengers, as I do to you. If you don't like my terms, I can redo them." His tone indicated the new stipulations would be austere and not to Fengel's liking.
"No, Lord Celeborn, I don't wish any change. Forgive me the injury. I only meant to scare your horses and give you a dip."
Celeborn's gaze didn't leave his, but the elves as one relaxed the drawstrings of their bows and the arrows were back in their quivers. Without further word, he turned his horse and the elves sans Haldir were back on the barge and it was moving. Fengel and the men never heard the silent commands Celeborn was issuing.
"Try anything with me and I won't stop my blade," Haldir warned Fengel and motioned for the wagon train to start moving and took his spot at its head. Fengel and Scumper made haste to flank him.
"Haldir," Fengel tried conversation. "I did not know Lord Celeborn was present. I hope he doesn't hold my words or actions against me."
"Your greatest worry is ahead. When King Thranduil learns how you treated his cousin and attempted to dislodge his son from the barge; he might throw you in his dungeon." Haldir looked sideways and smirked. "Don't think a crown will help you. He threw Thorin, king of all dwarves into his dungeon just a few months ago."
"Oh," Fengel muttered and went silent; pondering how much trouble he was in. He had zero doubt the elf spoke truth.
"Daeradar!" Arwen gasp when her grandfather limped into the Great Hall named for him. She jumped off her seat and rushed to confront him. Her eyes strayed to a healthy Legolas and her eyes held scorn. "I hope whoever did this died by your sword?"
"No, he still lives," Legolas truthfully answered.
Healers ascended the last set of stairs and hurried to their lord and Emoth ran from a different direction while Arwen held one of his hands imparting warmth, love and a small bit of healing.
A healer dropped to his knees and rent the legging. "It will have to be stitched, my Lord."
Celeborn sighed, "Fine; come to my study." He leaned down and kissed Arwen's cheek. "Entertain Legolas tonight. Your daernaneth will want to fuss over me for this scratch."
"She is resting. We worked on the material for my wedding dress and set the looms until she looked towards the river and told me you would be injured and she would relax before sitting at your side all night." Arwen smiled up at him. "I hope my husband is that caring when I am birthing his elflings."
"Are you telling me your daernaneth is with elfling?" Celeborn asked humorously while the healers and Emoth laughed.
Arwen slapped his hand lightly and released. "Go to your wine." With a final kiss to his cheek, she told Legolas she would dine with him after he bathed.
The smooth wine helped Celeborn remain still while a needle punched through his skin. He declined aid from the healers to deaden the pain kept his mind distracted musing on the latest battle where he was repeatedly surrounded by orcs and trolls and didn't so much as break a sweat after hours of slaughter. His mind replayed how a stupid Edain got through his defenses and drew blood. He would work with his Galadhrim and recreate the incident to learn where he and his abilities failed. He didn't like failure.
Emoth approached and waited until the lord noticed his presence and motioned him close. "Your bath is ready. I filled the talan tub."
"For this little scratch!" Celeborn snarled with disdain.
"I ordered it done."
Celeborn silently toasted his wife with his glass and upended it as he rose. Handing the empty glass to Emoth, he limped to her. 'I am ordered to stay off this leg for three days per our nagging healers. Any ideas how you are going to keep me in bed?' His arm settled around her shoulders and together they ascended to their private area, with all eyes on their backs.
'We could lounge in our treetop haven and drink wine and watch Ithil and Anar play a game of tag,' she offered. 'I want us linked and see for myself how that mongrel was able to do this.'
He smiled lovingly into her eyes as they climbed the final set of steps to the treetop and open air. In the distance below songs drifted to them of a great lord struck down. 'I will let them have their amusement. Vellon will give me names and any warrior singing will spar with me.'
Bilbo looked inside his pantry with great satisfaction. It took months, but his larder was once again bulging with his favorite foods and he cared not of the raised eyebrows when he ordered four times more than he could consume in a year. He let out a cross between a scream and squeal when a hand clapped his shoulder. Spinning, he saw a grinning Fili and Kili. "Boys," he cried in delight and hugged them hard.
"You did say tea was at four," Fili began.
"And we needn't knock," Kili finished.
"And I mean it." Bilbo looked over their shoulders. "Are you alone?"
"We're the advance scouts," Fili informed him as they moved into the kitchen and Bilbo busied himself with cups and cookies. He noticed the boys didn't wait for their tea to steep before grabbing fresh baked cookies he took from the oven just an hour before.
"The dwarves and elves are in the old forest just north of Hobbiton. We are here specifically to seek an invite to supper for Lord Círdan of the Havens and his steward, Lord Taíban. Also, I would like to invite my mother, Princess Dis and Lord's Gróin and Garad and Lady Gellett, Glóin's wife and his son, Gimli." Fili paused, "And Lady Dioari, mother of Dori, Nori and Ori. Umm, let's see," he ticked off on his fingers. "Lady Meeli is Lord Gróin's wife, but is poorly and won't come, but Lady Dwin, mother of Balin and Dwalin will be here." He stopped with his list of names.
"That's all?" Bilbo questioned with a fair amount of skepticism; remembering the dwarves that didn't stop invading his home until thirteen of them crowded in including Gandalf.
Fili laughed while Kili smiled. "That's all, I promise. Well….if you don't count Kili and me. We are coming also."
"Wait," Kili exclaimed with a knock to his brother's head. "Don't forget El and El."
"Oh yeah. They will be escorting Lord Círdan because they know the way and it wouldn't look good for one of the most important elven lords to wander about lost like Thorin did," Fili explained and took a gulp of his cooling tea.
"I would be delighted to host a dinner for them," Bilbo exclaimed enthusiastically as he rubbed his hands together. "What would be the best food for them?"
"Whatever is in your pantry," Kili replied with a smile. "We weren't fussy and neither are those coming. That is the dwarves. I don't know about the elves and only ate once with Lord Círdan and his friend."
"I'll have a veritable feast ready. I just bought a chicken and duck and….," he prattled on while Fili and Kili grabbed as many cookies as their hands could hold and stood. Seeing his guests were leaving, Bilbo also stood and escorted them to the door.
They proudly escorted the dwarves and most important of elves through the middle of Hobbiton openly grinning at the disapproving looks thrown their way and mutters of Bilbo Baggins would bring ruin upon them with his Tookish ways carried easily to their ears. Up a path that folded back on itself twice while climbing the tallest hill, Fili and Kili led the ponies and taller horses to a round green door with a symbol in Sindar Cirth still visible and starting to glow in the setting sun. Fili wondered how long it would hold magic powers of light as he dismounted.
Círdan looked amusedly at the mark as he swung off his horse. Following the shorter dwarves, he, Taíban and Elrondion's brought up the rear.
Kili rapped on the door with his knuckle dusters and waited. He turned to the others. "Fili and I were the second group to arrive when the Company gathered here a year ago." He shook his head. "I never thought so much could happen in one year."
"Enough melancholy, lad," Garad chastised as the door opened and Bilbo stood before them.
The lads noticed immediately he changed into his best clothes as he stood back and motioned everyone inside, and watched as the two tall elves bent in half to get through his door. He saw the surprise on their faces when they could stand upright in his hole.
Fili made introductions and when Dis had her turn, Bilbo reached out and took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. "Thorin had a rough time. You will hear of things he did to me and I want you to understand, we are a fraternity of brothers. I consider Thorin a close and dear friend, so when you hear of rumors, and you will; remember dear lady, Thorin carried the gold sickness in him and isn't to blame."
Dis' eyes teared up and she impulsively hugged Bilbo. Releasing him, she imparted her own salutation. "Every other letter told of your bravery. I trust we can be blessed with your companionship on our journey home?"
Bilbo felt himself blushing as the piercing blue eyes entreated his company. He found thoughts of courting Thorin's sister flashing through his mind and was happy he wasn't in the Golden Wood with the witch reading such carnal images. "I hadn't planned on going this trip." He stepped back and looked up into the amused expression of Lord Círdan and knew he read his mind also. As he told them to make themselves at home, he wondered if all elves could read minds.
"No."
Bilbo laughed. "But you can, Lord Círdan?"
Círdan smiled back and removed his cloak. "There are a handful of us born before the sun who have lived for so long that certain talents were granted by the Valar." He looked around. "Mithrandir told me of you and your home. He understated its charm."
As Bilbo handed him a glass of wine that was handed down for generations, he was grateful for a change in topics and explained he had several bottles brought from his cousins, the Baggins' of Hobbiton.
"I was wishing a word of business with you, Master Bilbo." Círdan's request caught the Hobbit quite by surprise.
"If I can be of assistance, name it," Bilbo graciously replied and motioned for the tall lord to sit. That's when he noticed the other elf standing quietly in the background. "Please, help yourself to my wine."
"No thank you," Taíban quickly replied and remained where he was; close, but not intrusive.
Bilbo sat in a chair and was relieved when Círdan folded his lanky frame into one just slightly larger.
"I would like to purchase fresh spring salad supplies for my elves. That way the dwarves can eat the meat, breads and potatoes we have in the wagons and on pack animals."
"I'll be happy to speak with our mayor. I'll do so first thing in the morning, but now, please join me for a light meal." Bilbo led the way into the crowded dining room and was happy to see the lads moved the table and placed chairs around it. Relief showed on his face which had the boys grinning and reading his mind that Fili wasn't walking the length of the table covered with food with ale in his hands. His place as host at the head of the table was waiting as was two spots to his left.
Círdan looked at the mountain of food and commented dryly, "I hate to think what you consider a normal meal."
Bilbo chuckled and talk flowed companionably, with Bilbo recounting his adventures at the insistence of his guests. As he recounted his games with the Gollum creature, his hand slipped into his vest pocket and he lovingly caressed the ring.
Bilbo rode Myrtle for three days with the traveling dwarves and elves. All wanted to see the Hobbit who joined the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. At the edge of Bree, he bid everyone goodbye as he rode down the long line with sorrow in his heart that he wouldn't be going on this adventure. Lady Dis promised to write and Fili and Kili said they would stop and see if any foals were born from Myrtle and Minty when next they passed through the Shire. He stopped to visit his Took relatives; the only ones who really understood what an adventure was like.
He heard comments like, "Not natural, a hobbit riding a pony; I didn't expect him for a year or more; He acts like the Took's with their peculiar ways and adventures; Wonder if he brought back more gold," when he wound his way past the Green Dragon and farmers market and up the hill to Bag End.
It was a warm spring evening and flowers all around his hobbit hole opened their fragrant, vibrant colored pedals while he was away. The sight lifted his spirits and he settled on the bench for an evening smoke and to watch the sun set. On the morrow, he would plant the acorn and looked around for the best location. He decided just across the lane over the hill where it was the first thing he saw when stepping from his round door. He could sit on his bench and watch it grow.
His thoughts turned to Rivendell and he wondered what spring looked like in the hidden valley. That it would surpass any display of gardening skill the finest horticulturist in the Shire could offer, he had no doubt. Tapping his pipe ashes against the side of the armrest, he rose and went to his pantry. It was in need of replenishing after his entertaining. He decided on a simple supper of ham and baked squash.