If This is Victory: I wrote a hobbit time travel fic, Dwalin time travels and Bilbo is raised by a king in exile ;D

Chapter 22 - The Benefits of Niceties

The forest felt strange.

Like someone waking from a long sleep, which was odd because it was autumn, not spring.

Still, the forest was recovering from something dark. They didn't dare to leave, they didn't dare leave the path.

There was no privacy sleeping on the path, no reprieve from the reflective eyes that peered at them through tree branches through the day and night.

Yet Bilbo had zero hesitations about climbing into Thorin's sleeping bundle each night, bearing himself against the warmth and security that was his Heartsong.

Thorin welcomed the closeness, practically rolling over him to protect his hobbit from the perceived and real dangers of the forest.

It was well worth the teasing from the others.

Bilbo would come to treasure the memories of those nights later on his journey when the path grew lonely and his heart grew ever colder.

oOo

They were halfway through the forest before the elves appeared to take them captive.

Fíli's Khuzdul had gotten better in leaps and bounds, mostly due to Bilbo who was also learning their language now.

So it was in Khuzdul that Fíli asked, "Uncle, please, please, play along, don't fight and don't curse them. Be angry but let the hobbit insult him."

Thorin and the rest gave him an expression as if he was insane.

"Please, Uncle. Just pretend like they are insane for not treating you like royalty."

"Which is why I would curse them," Thorin muttered, also in Khuzdul.

"Don't, please. Let Bilbo and I play politics. Just be disdainful. Be better than them."

Thorin blinked slowly and exchanged a look with Kíli then Balin.

"Do as he says," Thorin commanded.

"Dirty looks," Fíli emphasized. "But don't fling insults. Don't offer violence of any kind."

Bilbo pressed into Thorin's side and said, "The tallest one is Greenleaf."

Fíli's smile was vicious.

"What are you planning?" Thorin asked, still in Khuzdul.

"I'm going to get you what they should have given you over a century ago." Before he called in the Common Speech, Bilbo said, "Prince Legolas?"

The young elf stumbled glancing at the hobbit with widened eyes.

The elves tensed.

Bilbo smiled as if victorious.

Thorin realised why after a moment of thought. He had never met or seen Thandriul's son. He had been kept hidden and safe long before the dragon came.

But what the hobbit said next explained a lot about the way the other elves closed ranks around their prince.

"I've heard many a tale about the youngest elfling in Middle Earth," Bilbo said.

Thorin blinked.

The elves had stopped having children?

Thorin looked at Balin, and suddenly it made sense why an elf would steal a dwarfling. Why their children would be coveted. Yes, Fíli had mentioned that Legolas was the youngest elf but Thorin hadn't put it together that maybe he was the youngest because they couldn't have more.

Oh Mahal, were elves dying out as a race?

Thorin had once thought nothing would be better for the world.

But he had lived too long among men.

Elves were haughty and supercilious, or nonsensical and mischievous, they were selfish and kept to their own kind no matter the tragedies around them.

But they also didn't go out of their way to cause tragedy to others.

They didn't let their children starve, they didn't leave their people out in the cold to freeze, nor did they treat their women like mules or scold them for the blood they shed and the pain they bore so their descendants could be born into the world.

Nor did elves assault other races for being alone on the road.

The woodland elves' king aside, the race of men had done them far greater harm than withholding aid.

And for a race to fade from Middle Earth? An entire race?

There was something tragic about that.

One of the other elves hissed, "What does a dwarfling know of elves?"

Bilbo, dearest Bilbo, straightened to full height which was least among them, including Saradoc, and yet he managed to look down his nose at all the grand elven warriors as he said, "I am a hobbit. And your ignorance of it might be forgiven if you can remember it."

The elf sniffed, "A halfling."

Prince Legolas looked more interested, to the apparent dismay of his companions.

Curses, but was Thorin feeling far too sympathetic toward these wretched creatures as he looked at his own princes?

Fíli looked cold, gaze sharp as searched the elves' faces while Kíli looked between his brother and their hobbit trying to catch up to the game.

Kíli wasn't bad at politics. He wasn't a half-bad peacekeeper when he tried.

But they had raised him to be a dwarven leader, they hadn't raised him to be a diplomat. No, in fact, Thorin had gone out of his way to shelter him from humans. Kíli went to market days, he saw their behaviour when they travelled, but neither Thorin nor Frerin ever let Kíli be the first point of contact except when within Thorin's arm's reach. when any real trouble arose they were there to handle or scare off as needs be.

"A halfling, from west of Imledres?" Legolas asked with open curiosity of the young.

Thorin has never seen their burglar look so offended.

"A halfling? Half of you? Half of a man? I think not. I am a hobbit, and I would thank you to remember it. We are our own people with our own customs and histories, thank you very much. Why my Great-great-grandfather was beheading goblins before you were even born."

The elfling's eyes widened even further, "I did not know there were warriors among your kind."

"Well there aren't now," Bilbo lectured.

"No, we're far more important than that now. Dear me, I never thought to meet such ignorant elves but I guess there must be some truth to the notion that has turned from the light of Valinor the woodland elves are merely long-lived humans with pointy ears."

Several of their guards near hissed at the hobbit but the elf prince's eyes merely sparkled with amusement which seemed to frustrate Fíli a bit.

"Then tell me, Master Hobbit," the elf prince began not unkindly. "What profession among your kind is so much greater than the slaying of evil?"

Bilbo sniffed, "Gardening and farming, of course."

That broke the tension as the elves seemed to think Bilbo was joking.

Thorin knew that he wasn't. Bilbo was very aware and grateful toward those who protected his lands against shadows, but Thorin understood that in his heart of hearts, his One was less impressed and more sorrowed for its necessity.

The elfling smiled, "A fearsome army to be sure."

"Laugh all you like," Fíli said, voice grander than he normally spoke in but twice as serious. "But a starving army is a dead one."

Thorin had been raised in Erebor, in a great kingdom of a great lineage, but he knew that if history remembered him, that his sister-sons would be even greater kings."

Thorin had known that it was his responsibility to see his people fed and cared for growing up, Kíli had grown up knowing the cost of a king failing to do so.

The elves did stop chuckling, but the elf who spoke next still seemed mocked: "And what do you grow, Master Hobbit? Violets and mushrooms?"

As mushrooms could be grown on animal manure, Thorin fought not to growl at the clear slight toward his One. The elves knew nothing of starvation.

But Bilbo's words were far more cutting than any curse Thorin could conjure.

"I prefer belladonna, which while poisonous can also be made into many different types of medications for pain or moon cycles. My garden may not be the prettiest in the Shire, but my weeds, as many might call them, and herbs are considered to be quite useful. I suppose you wouldn't care for such trivial matters as healing, being the ageless and deathless folk that you are."

"Our blood is as red as yours," the elf prince snapped, likely having lost people to the invaders in their wood and taken it personally even if he hadn't known them well.

That was the mark of true royalty, not your birth but your love for your people.

"Then perhaps you ought to show a bit more shame than a fauntling running about nude in the rain for having put a gardener in chains and not offering my companions water. Or are your powers of observation so lacking that you've mistaken them for orcs?"

The elf prince frowned, "You're trespassing in our lands."

"We have every right to be here," Bilbo argued. "The young one with elven blades is my own, and this is his birth family. We have every right to pass through what was once the Greenwood."

The prince scoffed, "No, you do not."

"I request your aid, Prince Legolas, Son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. Do you deny me and my son?"

The prince frowned at him, looking to the red-haired woman who was staring intently at Fíli.

Thorin looked to Kíli who seemed as if he had finally put the pieces together. Thorin looked back to Balin who seemed as lost as Thorin himself still felt.

Cautiously, the prince said, "That is for my father to decide."

"Even water?" Bilbo asked. "You deny us water."

The redhead said, "Fear not, we will not allow you to perish."

"But we are thirsty," Fíli said, speaking up. "Would you deny my father, who is a hobbit from the Shire, considered a healer by many, and offers no threat to you, a drink of water? Would you keep him chained?"

The prince shook his head, "We are not far from the keep now. Your comfort can wait."

Bilbo smiled, "This insult will not be forgotten, Prince Greenleaf. I pray your father has better sense but I think you will be made to learn from his mistakes as well as your own ignorance."

The redhead elf looked murderous, "Do not speak to him like that."

Bilbo smirked, "My son's uncle was right, speaking with elves never ends in delight."

Some of the other elves let out a huffed laugh or snigger.

Thorin scowled at the small smirk that curled Fíli's lips.

Frerin, who had been walking behind Thorin, muttered in Khuzdul, "I think hobbits are trickier than elves."

oOo

Kíli was pretty sure he knew what was going on.

Bilbo had been pretty heavy handed about it, his brother more so.

The elves had insulted them and so far none of the company had insulted anyone's mother.

Which meant they were the offended party.

And the way Bilbo had said we have every right to be here. Made Kíli think that maybe they did.

Elf friend was how he and Bilbo were constantly being greeted.

But not here.

Thranduil greeted them with the same haughty disdain that Thorin reminded when he visited the Greenwood as third in line to the throne of Erebor.

But this time, Thorin didn't speak, he let Thranduil dig his own grave as he watched his hobbit grow more incensed by the minute.

Bilbo stepped forward, "I must say, the Greenwood is not what I expected of the elves. I understand now why, despite the size of your realm, you are considered to be the least of your brighter kin."

Thranduil looked murderous as he turned on Thorin's spouse and it was all Thorin could do not to laugh.

Bilbo was tied up, dirty from weeks of sleeping on the forest floor, and yet he looked more regal and composed than the elf king who puffed down at him.

"And who are you?"

Bilbo turned up his chin, "I am the King Consort Under the Mountain, and your son and your guards arrested us off the road with no cause. No water or refreshments were given. It is appalling treatment of what should be an ally."

Thranduil sneered, "Thror's heir married a halfling? How quaint."

Bilbo stepped forward, "Hobbit. And I'll have you know I'm someone of importance to my own people as well."

Thranduil looked amused now, as if he thought Bilbo was cute. "Yet the history of halflings remains unremarkable and hardly remembered."

Bilbo looked earnestly insulted this time, "Is that so?" His voice grew shaper. "It astounds me how easy the Big Folk think it is to remember. When the elves retreat to their stars and the men burn down the world, how easy you think it is to rebuild your farms, to learn how the green things evolve while you remain isolated. As if all that ever was will always be. Hobbits may be a humble folk and the Valar may have never fought over us, but we are Yavanna's children, and without her creations, none of the rest of you would have survived."

Saradoc stepped to Bilbo's side, "Big Folk are always bragging about their big deeds, but you don't place importance on what ought to be important."

The elf king raised a brow, "Yavanna's gifts are not in question, your importance, however, has yet to be proven."

Thorin was quite ready to break the elf's nose and he couldn't hold back the curse, "Fundhamâd-ublag."

Bilbo gave him an exasperated look and replied back in Khuzdul, "Yes, because eating cram is so much better than lembas bread."

"And here I thought–" Thranduil stilled mid-thought, his eyes caught on something, and Thorin tensed so hard it hurt as the elf king moved with unearthly speed as he reached for Thorin's throat.

At first, Thorin thought the bastard was going to grab him by his braids or the scruff of his beard, which, no matter what Bilbo and Fíli had planned, would be an inexcusable offence.

But what he did felt somehow worse as the elf dipped his finger into Thorin's collar to pull the mithril chain that held the token Bilbo had given him.

Of the company, only a few had seen it, as was made clear by the many intakes of breath.

The piece was truly beautiful, shimmering like snow beneath moonlight.

Thranduil looked as if he wished to strangle him with it.

The level of fury almost took Thorin aback. In truth, seeing any strong emotion on the elf king's face was a surprise.

"Who did you steal this from?" the king seethed in such a low tone that Thorin almost didn't understand him.

The pendent hung between them, and Thorin understood that how he answered might determine his life.

He realised that such a token must be equivalent to if the elf king had pulled a severed dwarven marriage braid with its bead still clasped in it from his pocket.

Thorin's words were deliberate when he answered, "It was gifted to me by my heart. It was his by right to give."

"What elf would ever love you?" Thranduil asked with scorn and disgust thick enough to walk on.

He tilted his wrist and Thorin watched the Woodland King pale as registered that the topaz petals made the flower pattern look golden.

Thranduil looked to Bilbo before he met Thorin's gaze as it dawned on him who exactly was in his court.

The pendant was dropped against Thorin's chest and Bilbo stepped between. "I love him. Nothing in Arda can change that he was my destined star. You are not my king or my lord, you have no right to question the purity of my heart. There is no judgment you could make that has power over me."

Was that what the elves called their Ones? Thorin wondered.

Balin seemed to regret his request to give diplomatic matters to Bilbo because he stepped forward to say, "Laddie, we are in his kingd–" but he was cut off by an exclamation.

"Bilbo!"

The whole court turned to see the elf who strode into the room, his hair was spun gold against the deep green of his cloak.

The elf king took a step away in deference to the elf lord.

"Lord Glorfindel," Thandriul greeted, inclining his head. "You know these prisoners?"

Glorfindel barely spared the elf king a glance as his gaze jumped first to Bilbo, then to Fíli and Kíli.

Fíli took a step forward and said something in perfect Sindarin, the only word Thorin understood was grandfather.

Bilbo stepped even with Thorin but between Thorin and Glorfindel, "Ada."

The resulting silence was thunderous and Thranduil looked as if he had just been kneed between the legs.

Thorin smiled.

Bilbo and his kin were of Glorfindel's house, and as he intended, Thorin was Glorfindel's son-in-law, all of whom Thandriul had just dragged in before his court as criminals.

With not so much as a sip of water to soothe their thirst.

Bilbo stepped closer to the golden elf and Glorfindel dropped to a knee to embrace his son.

The eyes that looked up to meet Thorin's were filled will an ocean of sorrows, sorrows that turned to a banked rage when his gaze lifted toward Thranduil.

The Woodland King seemed cowed in a way Thorin had never dreamed of seeing him.

Thranduil might be a king, but Glorfindel was a power unto himself.

oOo

AN: So I have the dragon and Mordor chapters written, what I don't have is this little in between with Bard or the fluff afterwards. I still have some drams planned, but particularly between Thorin and Bilbo, are there any after Erebor subplots you would like me to explore?

Requests, suggestions, bread-dragons, or wishlists for events in this story, are most welcome, please?