Chapter 8:
Despite his insistence that they should tie a long rope through their belts, or cover their faces with cloth, Bilbo had been assured that he was worrying too much.
"Tis just a forest like any other," Dwalin drawled, looking at the hobbit as if he'd lost his mind.
"You needn't worry Bilbo!" Fili thumped him hard on the back, "We won't let you get lost!" Thorin seemed to ignore him, taking the lead as they entered Mirkwood. Pulling his shirt up over his nose, he followed with a silent prayer that everything went alright this time.
A prayer to deaf ears he soon found out, as it didn't take long for the company to begin to wander. His head began to swim as the air drugged him. Despite the protection of the cloth over his nose, they were all lost in the forest within the hour. Hallucinations and illusions confused the group, driving them deeper into the shadowy wood. After what felt like several days, Bilbo sat on stump, staring at the sky in his drunken state trying to remember something important as his friends wandered and began yelling at each other.
"We can't find East, we cannot see the sun!" He could hear Oin shout, jogging a fuzzy memory from Bilbo's brain. The sun, golden leaves and butterflies. Webs and spiders and fear. Trying to free himself from the fog in his mind he tapped once, twice, three times on his for head.
"Fresh air, up there, I need fresh air." He whispered to himself. The company continued their bickering as he reached up, grasping branches as he climbed into the treetops. Just as before, the fresh air whisked the intoxication away, leaving him free to think once more. This time however, he was joined by an elf with a slightly scary bow pointed in his direction.
"What do we have here? A halfling in Mirkwood?" The redhaired Tauriel stared Bilbo down with a quirked brow.
"Indeed, Bilbo Baggins at your service." Bilbo gave a small bow as best he could without losing his footing on the branch. He could see the lake and the Lonely Mountain, the bright leaves of autumn glistening in the shining sun which still hung high in the sky. He remembered the spiders now and was relieved they hadn't come across any webbing yet. The party below weren't going to get almost eaten this time around at least. The elves being early on the other hand may present a problem.
"Pardon me, but I fear I am lost." He didn't dare move for fear of finding an arrow through his chest.
"Is that so? And where might you be heading to?"
"King Thranduil's keep," It wasn't a lie, as he knew they would likely end up there in the dungeons. He would much rather be guided there than deal with the spiders they had yet to kill and any other nasty that might pop up with him being on his own. "I'm a story keeper for the Shire. I write and record legends, lore both real and fiction. My quest to collect the greatest stories has brought me in search of Thranduil's, as I hope to record his historic battles with ancient dragons." He blew out an exaggerated sigh," I feared I might never reach it; I was beset upon by dwarves in the forest."
Bilbo remembered Thranduil's dislike of the dwarves, and it would serve him well to throw them under the cart so to speak. He'd rather be an unwelcome guest than a prisoner. He only prayed that Thorin and the others understood.
Tauriel eyed him warily, but after some thought lowered her bow. "Very well, I can guide you."
"I'd be much obliged!," Bilbo pasted on a dopey deminer, trying to make himself seem non-threatening. Which he was. He had spared against her and several other elves on the occasions that his visits to Rivendell coincided with hers. He knew her strength and abilities far outreached his own, and that she wasn't afraid to break a hobbit. Slipping down from his perch to toddle over to her branch, they began making their way deeper into the forest via the treetops, leaving behind the company. He could tell they were getting closer to the keep, the miasma had faded, and the forest around them seemed more alive. The elvish magic similar to Rivendell encompassed everything.
"It not common for dwarves or halflings to find their way into this forest; I wouldn't have recommended it in its current form. Spiders are migrating up from the South, which are pesky at the best of times and downright dangerous at their worst."
"Indeed? I-" Bilbo's branch gave out underneath him, sending him plummeting as he hit one branch after another on his way down before the inevitable thud at the hopped lightly from one branch to another following after him, reaching the bottom at the same time to squat over his prone form.
"Well that was unfortunate, are you alright?"
Bilbo wheezed," Um, no, I don't think I am." Pushing up to sit, looked down at the source of a sharp pain in his side. A thin branch protruded from his side, blood beginning to soak through his shirt." That's not good."
"No it isn't, can you walk?" Tauriel helped pull him to his feet, before noting the hobbit swaying. "I'm going to pick you up; it will be faster." No further warning was given before Bilbo was whisked into her arms and they were moving much faster than before.
He must have passed out, because when he awoke, he was in a very large bed deep within Thranduil's underground fortress. Sitting up, he hissed out a breath, looking down to find his dirty clothing had been replaced by a pair of linen pants with legs rolled up to meet his length. His middle was covered by white gauze wrapped securely around him. His eyes darted around in panic before landing on his old clothing sitting in the chair across the room.
Rushing from the covers, Bilbo promptly met the floor face first, knocking the wind from him and causing pain to shoot through his body. Ignoring it, he shuffled to his knees, crawling across the large carpet to the chair. In jerking, rushed motions he felt through his jacket before a small sigh of relief escaped his lips. The outline of a ring still sat securely in his hidden pocket.
Using the chair to pull himself into a standing passion, he looked around the room. It was simple, no window, with a bed and a wardrobe pushed up against one wall. Two large twining pillars of white wood embedded from floor to ceiling on either side of the bed, and a cold fireplace was tucked into the wall to the left. Behind him, the door sat slightly ajar.
Peeking through, he could see a guard posted just outside. If they had heard him fall or rustle around, they made no indication, standing steady at their post. Returning to bed, Bilbo contemplated his options. The others must have been captured by now, so he would need to find the key just as he had last time. However he wasn't really in any shape to keep from drowning if they escaped via barrels. His best option would be to talk to Thranduil and buy for time so he could heal for a few days before freeing his companions… except it might be more difficult it occurred to him.
Last time he had used the ring to sneak back and forth undetected, easily snagging the keys and they were on their way. This time he would likely be kept under watch, and as he didn't want to use the ring, he would need to up his burglar persona.
A soft knock sounded before the door was pushed open. Two guards pushed through the doorway, posting on either side as Thranduil glided into the room with unparalleled elegance that not even Elron could have accomplished. Tauriel followed closely, pulling the door shut behind them. The elven king eyed him like a bedbug among his sheets, which caused Bilbo to grin like an oaf, pretending to be the dopey story writer once again.
"Your highness!" He bent at the waist as best he could from his seat, throwing one arm out while the other covered his heart," It's a dream come true, and that you would visit little ol' me in my sick bed to boot. I'm honored." He pulled out his best Hamfast Gamgee impression; the sweet hobbit had never hurt a thing in his life and had been an excellent gardener but wasn't as bright as his son. Making him the perfect harmless character to gain the elf's lenience.
"He is dense," Thranduil spoke in elvish to Tauriel, ignoring the hobbit," What good is he to me?"
"He wishes to dictate your stories. Ofcourse if you do not wish it, we can send him back into the wood." She replied the same, standing at attention as captain of the guard. Bilbo wanted to roll his eyes at the elves' arrogance, as if no other creature in middle earth spoke their language. Instead, he plastered on a smile of ignorance and waited his turn.
"You're a writer of stories, and Tauriel tells me you wish to write about mine." Not a question, but Bilbo nodded anyway, his longer curls falling into his eyes." Very well, you may join me for dinner until you are healed and can be escorted out of my realm." Turning, Thranduil left much the same way he entered, followed by babbled 'thank you's from Bilbo.
Tauriel approached the bed, placing a small-by-elvish-standards notebook in front of him. "How are you feeling?"
"Right as rain, Mistress. It isn't the first time I've fallen out of a tree." This was the point that Bilbo laid it on thick, going into several stories about himself and Frodo which related to trees, falling, and injuries. By the time he'd worked in the story about how slugs were eating his roses her eyes had glazed over, and she took the first break in his monologue to excuse herself.
A plan blossomed in his mind then. Standing to hobble over to the wardrobe, he donned a too-large shirt. Tying a knot at his hip and rolling up the sleeves, he shuffled into the hall to find his guard right where he left him. And for the next three hours, he didn't stop talking. Stories about his childhood, about Frodo, about the shire. Everything from the grand adventures of the young Tooks, to his Gran's bunions. His captive audience practically ran from his presence at the change of the guard. With the new guard, he then repeated the same stories. Bilbo could almost feel his own ears bleeding at his chatter, and he knew that the Sindar elves were not ones for extended conversations.
He ended up repeating this twice more before he was summoned to dinner. Thanking his hostage for spending the hours with him, he gathered up his note book and followed the newest guard to dinner, continuing to talk about anything that popped into his head. Once the elf dropped off his charge he quickly disappeared, leaving Bilbo with Thranduil.
"Good evening your Highness!" He performed another small bow, waiting to take his seat till the king beckoned him forward.
"I hear that in addition to writing stories you are quite the story teller yourself." He waved his hand before Bilbo could reply, "Tis of no consequence. What would you ask of me?"
"Anything you are willing to share," He placed his little notebook next to his plate, and opened the bottle of ink. Quill at the ready, Bilbo watched the king's expression shift from boredom to a far away gaze. It didn't take him long to begin a tale from the very beginning, when he and his wife had sailed from the undying lands. He would drift into silence between bites of food, as if trying to remember that long ago. For this Bilbo remained quiet, knowing that the last thing he wanted to do was interrupt or anger the Elf.
"You have yet to touch your meal, is it not to your liking?" Thranduil leaned his head on his hand, his meal finished, and the mask of boredom once again secured on his face.
"Well you see, your Highness; I take my job very seriously. If you are done for the evening, I will be happy to take my plate back to my room." He grinned at the elf, who simply stared at him before raising a hand to beckon a guard as escort.
It was the first guard from the hallway, and as they left the dining room Bilbo started up again with his senseless chatter. This pattern continued for the next few days and by the third day he no longer had a guard posted at his door, so he began searching for them. Pinning them in the middle of their duties with stories of gardening competitions and Saxville-Baggins. Two days later every guard in the keep would actively turn from Bilbo in the hall to attempt an escape. They were getting faster, and he could see where they would occasionally peak around the corner to see if he was there and even Tauriel avoided him by the end of the week.
If the others had brought any complaints to their king, he didn't mention it. Instead sinking every night into a deep story. Some of these tales were tense with battles and evil being, others took on a lighthearted air such as the one about his son, Legolas's, birth. After a few hours he would draw himself from his memories and dismiss the hobbit.
By day six Bilbo could walk among the halls undisturbed by any elves, and he soon made his way down to the dungeons with a large sheet made into a sack, slipping in between guard shifts.
"Bilbo!" The chorus of dwarven shouts pulled a true smile to his lips for the first time in days.
"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, lad!" Balin laughed.
"He looks like a child in their parents' clothes. What have they done to our hobbit?" Bofur shook his head mournfully
"Aye, you look downright sickly," Bomber pulled on his beard while munching on a stray raw carrot.
"Have ye come to spring us?" Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest as if to threat Bilbo into saying yes.
"Shh, quiet. I'm sorry, I came as soon as I could get away. Where's Thorin?" He eyed the cells, noting only the twelve dwarves.
"They have him separated," Fili shook his head, waving to their quarters," My guess is that a banished king still deserves special accommodations."
"Likely. Now which of the guard's bring you your meals?" He whispered only to receive blank looks.
"They all look the same!" Oin grumbled, causing bilbo to rub his temples at the growing headache.
"Aye, except the redhaired female…" Kili muttered from the cell behind him.
"Yeah well Tauriel is likely to notice her keys missing," Bilbo reasoned, trying to figure out how to get ahold of a set of keys. The last time was simple chance that the guard had been drinking and hung up his set for Bilbo to steal; he wasn't letting fate have a say this time around. "I must speak with Thorin, I'll be back in a few days to free you all, but you must give me time to find the keys." He listened to the harmony of complaints before shooshing them," Here, I wasn't sure if they've been keeping you all well fed." He unloaded his sheet sack onto the floor, passing out the breads and vegetables that he'd been stocking up from his dinner plate every night.
"Is this your food?" Ori asked, giving him a wide knowing stare.
"I'm fine," He consoled, handing the lad a roll before folding up his sheet. "I'll be back in a few days, stay readied." At that he slipped from the room, headed up a wooden carved staircase into what appeared to be an underground tower. There were no guards posted in this area as the only way in or out was already guarded below along with the other cells. Inside he found Thorin lying on a silken coverlet behind bars.
Creeping towards the darkened cell, he whispered "Thorin."
His dwarven king sat up, staring at him in disbelief before rushing up to grasp the bars. "Where have you been?"
"It's a long story, are you alright?"
"Aye, where is everyone else? And why are you dressed like that?" Thorin's frown deepened as he took in the hobbit's appearance.
"I've been undercover to try and break you all out. The others are in the cells below this tower." He waved a hand in the air, changing the subject," Quickly, which of the guards brings you your food? If you don't know their name, I can still figure it out with a description." Bilbo knew Thorin probably wasn't the best one to be able to describe something he'd seen, but he also knew that he'd have been the only one paying attention to the details.
"They all look the same; blonde, tall, ugly creatures that they are. But I heard one greet the other, Elros I think it was."
"That's great, I know that one. I'll find his quarters during his off shift and get the keys then. It might be a few days, but I'll be back." He quickly turned to leave.
"Master Bag-Bilbo?" He turned to find Thorin's frown had softened," Be careful."
A small smile bloomed on Bilbo's lips, his stomach twisting at the order. Nodding, he slipped back into the corridor, rushing down the stairs and into the main hall before walking with a bit of pep in his step towards the arriving guard. Bilbo could see disdain written on the guard's face as he began talking once again.
Several hours later he arrived at dinner at the usual time to find a feast spread out on the table, much grander than their usual fare.
"This is quite nice, what occasion do we celebrate your Majesty?" He inquired as he took his usual seat, notebook in hand.
"It is Mereth e-nGilith - the Feast of Starlight. You are well enough to travel, you will be escorted from Mirkwood in the morning. I thought some change of pace might be nice. You know many of my stories, I would like one of yours." Thranduil propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands." Fact or fiction, I do not care."
Bilbo swallowed hard, trying to pull something from his mind. The shortened timetable for his plan was distressing, and his mind raced in a hundred different directions at once. He'd been talking nonsense for the last week, but being put on the spot by the Elven King was a different monster. Awkwardly fixing himself a plate, he stared at his food. Thranduil waited patiently, and after a minute a story came to mind.
"Might I tell your Highness a love story that conquered even death?"