Chapter Text
A set of rolling, green lands may have once been the extent of his eye for beauty, but for one who had only ever snogged a girl once behind the party tree, it would come as a surprise for him to be so caught by another. So much so, that, in the event of stepping into the hidden valley by a path that at first had only seemed to lead to danger (if one ignored the smell of warm bark and fair weather coming from its exit), his gaze eyed at the solitary locks of hair that gleamed in the new light until looking down with everyone else to see the sight of an even city below. And his extent of his, well, curiosity, didn't stop at a particular fascination for dark brown hair and the two heavy braids it often bore. At this point it had gone down to reveling in a hidden study of the pair of brooding and stormy blue eyes as well, not to mention a dwarven-set face, a match of large hands, the voice that rang like a king of yore.
Bilbo Baggins, if anything, was a hobbit of normal means and thoughts. So he was quite sure that if in seeking a dwarvish prince something was to come out of it, it would only be a gruff laugh and a few slaps on the back to say good try, you dim-witted fool. Back in the Shire, dealings such as the one on his mind were generally ones that only occurred in a hobbit's tweens, hence ignored, but everyone was expected to marry once at age and start a family. Bilbo had done no such thing, nor did he visit a particular hobbit lass that may have him (as many wouldn't have minded acquiring such a well-to-do hobbit such as himself), or even keep any secret relations of any other kind. He was Bilbo Baggins, and thus didn't feel bothered to add a second name when writing off letters. So maybe now that he didn't have such things to occupy himself as writing letters or tending to Bag End, his mind found something else to think about. And it was just as ridiculous as it was frustrating.
To add to that, now he was in the heart of Rivendell, and was about to enter a room where his something else to think about might just be fully and utterly unclothed.
After always having considered himself as a fellow of uncanny luck, the belief was all but disposed when he entered the room and found that the only tub in the bathhouse left was the empty one near the left. Surely, it wasn't such a bad thing to have one all to himself, but from the look of all the other scrubbing, singing and laughing dwarves in the other baths, they wouldn't be leaving any time soon. And now that Bilbo was here, and Gandalf went to one of the other bathing houses in Rivendell that was nearer to his quarters, there was only one left in the company that hadn't arrived. The little hobbit wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or utterly terrified at the prospect of being there still if Thorin did decide to arrive.
Just pay him no mind if he comes, was what Bilbo first thought as he padded to the tub, sat on one of its steps, and grabbed a wet towel to ring over his feet. But at once he realized how stupid it would be to do such a thing like ignoring a dwarven prince, nonetheless Thorin Oakenshield, so he instead continued on rubbing most of the grime from his furred feet before unclothing and slipping into the water. From there he moved in hurried, mechanical movements, trying to finish bathing as soon as hobbitely possible, before slipping further into the water and kneading his scalp.
Admittedly, when he poked his head above the water, Bilbo half hoped that Thorin would be sitting across from him, arms resting on either side of the tub in an arrogant posture as those were the sort that the dwarf most often made. But only steam rose before his eyes. Supposing this was all the best and that his luck was still in tact, he slipped out, dried, and clothed before exiting the loud room.
And so, it was in his own room where he found something else entirely than Thorin, though not completely unrelated: a small box at the foot of his bed, of elvish make and topped in hardened, patterned metal, smelling of lavender. At the opening of the clasp that sealed it, Bilbo found himself staring at what was nothing less than a very noble gift, and it soon landed in his fingers to move it around. Though it bore nothing but its own magic, a fine golden chain rested in his palm, with the light of the moon that shone through the open-aired walls nearly dancing like embers on its links. Its sparks even twirled underneath his eyelids, keeping him awake with questions, before finally weariness of travel and an ease that came with being fully bathed took him to slumber.
It wasn't that Bilbo hadn't seen the chain before, or whose owner it had been before it had been gifted to him. Back in his hobbit hole, which by now seemed leagues away and lived in a memory that had been created years go, he saw the same dancing embers flutter in his sitting room fire. A key had been strung to it before being tucked away to feel the warmth of Thorin's sturdy chest, which the hobbit imagined to be scarred with the marks of battle, but nonetheless a homely place to be pressed to. Not that he would know, unfortunately. But the question stood: why was Thorin's necklace here? Laying there, it had given his heart bouts of an uncomfortably rushed paced every time the question came up. Half of him wanted to just accept it and speak nothing of it, as perhaps it was a result of Thorin realizing how the hobbit studied his face for periods of time much too long to be normal, in which case the prince gave him the chain out of pity. If that was what this was, Bilbo wanted to do nothing more than never see the dwarven prince, lest he feels an embarrassment that would make him want to never speak to, or of, him again. Maybe it was simply a token of gratefulness for saving them all from the trolls, and acknowledging that it indeed wasn't meant as an insult when Bilbo shouted about worms in their tubes.
At night when they'd slept around the camp's fire, it was often he and the prince that stayed awake sitting up against the walls of caves or tree trunks, staring into the woods and open fields and thinking of home. Not often did they exchange words, but it was during those cold nights when the hobbit figured that somewhere they had something in common: an almost burning love for home, and their being separated from it. Maybe, Bilbo thought, Thorin felt it too, and simply thought that it would be a nice thing to do for someone who felt very alone and very small in a company of giants. With that thought he fell asleep in his massively big bed, his head taking up but a small portion of the monstrous pillow, indeed feeling very small.
What he woke up to, however, was something that didn't make him feel quite as alone. He roused sleepily and rubbed his eyes, stretched, and managed to get enough fuzziness out of his sight to see the wizard standing at the foot of his bed. "Though fifty you may be, my dear Bilbo, that is no reason to stay asleep longer than needed when you are in the Last Homely House!"
"Maybe, but I haven't slept so well since we left the Shire!" Bilbo said back, still looking around and quite in disbelief of his room's fine decorations after having slept, and blinking a bit at the open wall that poured the merry eastern sunlight over his floors. He stretched again, and at the movement of his shirt ruffling near his collar bone Gandalf caught a shining glimpse of the fine golden necklace around his neck, to which his eyes widened. However, he settled on an almost mischievous smile. "Now where did you happen upon that?"
"Happen upon wha - oh!" Bilbo dropped his shoulders immediately. "It was sitting on my bed last night!" he exclaimed hasily, not wanting Gandalf to think that his title of 'burglar' held any validity. However, the wizard only hummed in amusement, setting the hobbit quite off, and said over his shoulder as he walked out of the door, "lunch is nearly all set on Elrond's table, if you wish to eat."
Lunch? As a response, his stomach growled at the prospect of having slept through lunch, and Bilbo quite agreed.
Truth be told, the blonde-headed hobbit had to remind himself of homely manners to not leave his room in his sleeping clothes, so he quickly dressed and left his room. Out in his hallway, which lead to the other guest rooms where many of the other dwarves were staying, Oin and Balin were standing and talking before a wide window that looked over the hidden valley. Making sure that his new necklace was securely tucked beneath his shirt, Bilbo approached and asked, "which way would be lunch?" in case it was in a different area from where dinner had been the night before.
"Down in the mess hall, laddie. There should be enough dwarves making their way there to find it," Balin replied, showing that the food was indeed where it'd been last night. And if Bilbo was ever to remember where anything was in Elrond's large house, it would be where the food was laid. The same with the dwarves as well, who he did in fact run into, and nearly all of them were off to the same place other than a sparce few who had already went into the kitchens and eaten. Eventually it was Fili, Kili, Ori and himself who were practically jogging through the lit halls and rooms riddled with elves, who all seemed very amused at their urgency to eat. None of their excitement for Elrond's platters ceased when they actually made it to the tables either, and to much of the dwarves' delight, Elrond had taken Dwalin and Ori's comments into consideration and filled the places with much more meats of all sorts. After breaking through the huddle of the company who swarmed about the table, Bilbo finally got a seat himself and built a mountain of food atop his plate. For some reason or another, the hunger he felt last night couldn't come close to rivaling the emptiness in his stomach now, so it was only until he was half-way through his roasted leg of lamb that he bothered to look up at the laughing and eating others.
Thorin was absent from the table. Frowning a bit at that fact, more out of disappointment than thought, he continued eating soberly and listened to the chatter of the dwarves. Whatever reasoning the prince had held in giving him the chain, Bilbo wanted to at least thank him for it. "Where is Thorin?" he asked after a sip of nice, freshly brewed tea. It warmed him up like an old friend, as the drink was indeed that to him, and he hadn't had it since he was in Bag End.
It seemed to be only then when the others looked around, just noticing Thorin's absence as well. However, after wincing a bit to remember, Dori said after a mouthful of bread, "I believe that I saw him leave with the elven hunting party this morning." Which, to Bilbo, didn't strike him as the best of ideas, the prince being alone with so many of the kind which he seemed to detest, but the hobbit didn't say anything of it.
This seemed to kindle a related memory in Fili's noggin: "Ah, yes! He was invited by Elrond, I think."
Gandalf, who was at the head of the table (where the only chair he was able to fit in was), was already finished eating and had taken to blowing rings right through the candles at the center of the table and into Bombur's fat face, who didn't notice the smoke at through stuffing his face with a second lunch. He took a moment to tap some of its ash out. "Really?" Bilbo looked over at the wizard, and didn't miss where the old man's face changed from relaxed to startled by a realization. "Perhaps I should go, then."
Brilliant minds think alike, Bilbo said indulgently to himself, and picked away at a salad with his fork. Gandalf put out his pipe and shoved it into his robe before excusing himself from the table and quickly walking off.
"Pass the fish if you please, Master Baggins!" Dwalin yelled from the other end of the table, and Bilbo did just that. It didn't take long for him to finish up his lunch, which by how swollen his stomach felt he figured would last him till a comfortably late afternoon tea came along. For a moment he sat watching the others continue to eat and pile masses of food on their plates, quite content, before a rather Tookish thought appeared in his head: Why not follow Gandalf?
It wasn't really like he had anything to do in these elvish halls at the moment, and he wouldn't be following secretively anyway. The wizard was only a stone throw's away down the path, so Bilbo figured, so he could run along and ask to join. A walk would help settle his meal, anyway, and letting a chance to see the hidden valley pass by was by all means preposterous. And if Thorin was in a nice place to talk to, Bilbo figured that he may as well thank him for the necklace then and there. So up he stood, excusing himself in suit, and padded along after the wizard. "Mind if I join? I could use a walk," he said, looking up and brushing over his pockets for his own pipe.
"Oh, yes, yes. Now come along, and keep up."
Even after having been through a bit of Elrond's house, Bilbo still felt his lips part for an intake of awe-caused breath, since as was well known elvish building was something to be revered, whether someone is a man, dwarf, or hobbit. The backdrop of the elven city was nothing short of an eye-catcher either, as the trees were green and breathed sweet, fresh air, and the wind sang, whether by its own means or by the voices of the elves in the woods he couldn't tell. But what he knew was that Rivendell was indeed under its own enchantment of good air and fair, tall buildings. The Falls of Imlardis rang their greetings into the hobbit's large, pointed ears as the pair passed, and his eyes only tore from them when they had at last passed on. Though quickly the wizard did walk, the valley woke a store of energy that he hadn't expected to find, and kept up easily with fast-moving legs. From there they turned left and pressed on, Gandalf halting here and there to look around, particularly at the ground, which made Bilbo cautious to tread lightly lest Gandalf wanted to look back at the ground they'd already walked.
It wasn't long before Bilbo heard the quick tongues of elvish voices, and they turned on their path into a clearing where a pavilion sat, housing a party of elves and a dwarf that was resting down a deer that had been on his shoulders. All at once the hobbit swallowed and wanted to turn tail, and to pretend that the necklace certainly wasn't around his neck, but Gandalf hailed them before he could slip away. And anyway, it was only a passing feeling, for Thorin turned away at that moment to regard the water that rushed far down below the drop near the pavilion's roots, and another bridge that hung over the dancing river. As usual, his figure was brooding, but nonetheless prominent despite his current company of exceedingly tall counterparts.
"Ah! I take it that the hunt went well, then?" the wizard said, his voice sounding pleasantly surprised. He leaned on his staff, and Bilbo watched as Thorin turned and recieved a more thoughtful look from Gandalf. The dwarven prince said nothing and didn't move, his gaze not even bothering to shift down to the little hobbit, until his sight was cut by an elf who strode out of his shelter to greet them.
"Greetings, Mithrandir. All went well; the woods are lively today."
"Lindir," Gandalf muttered, not unkindly, and Lindir dipped his head. "I've found that even when the woods quiet, the elves still harvest it fruitfully."
The elf's smile widened further. "Walking the paths, I take it?"
"Yes, something of that sort," his voice replied. An elf from the pavilion called, "it would seem as if it isn't only the elves that hunt well; I'd reckon that having a dwarf with us on every outing would let us bring back twofold!"
Thorin dipped his head at the compliment, and said a very brief word of parting before passing Lindir and meeting Gandalf. Bilbo felt himself tense, half out of thought of thanking him for the necklace, and half out of the expression that the prince wore. Once the dwarf's face had passed the elves, it became less than content, if it ever had appeared as that in the first place. "I would have a word with you, Gandalf," he uttered, his voice low, though Bilbo knew that the others would hear with their elven ears nonetheless. However, those in the pavilion made nothing of it, and continued on shuffling their kills to take back across the bridge. Still, Thorin had not glanced once at the now confused hobbit, and continued to what seemed to Bilbo as an attempt to burn holes into Gandalf's face with his stormy blue eyes.
It was only after Gandalf once again leaned on his staff expectantly when Thorin cast a sideways glance at Bilbo, merely acknowledging the halfling's presence, before turning his attention back to the grey wanderer. Bilbo dully noted that he smelled like lavender, a surprising scent from one so stoic and overall dwarf-like. "Alone."
They parted paths from there, Thorin and Gandalf further into the woods and Bilbo back down the path from where he and the wizard had emerged. And so Bilbo walked back by himself, idly fingering the long necklace around his neck and feeling awfully confused. Perhaps he was too quick to assume that Thorin had given this to him, or that it was even his at all. Though it was clearly of dwarvish make, at a quick glance it could be taken as a simple, thin golden chain, and if he admitted it to himself he got about half a second's look at the chain that Thorin had worn at Bag End. Maybe one of the other dwarves had placed it on his bed, before he went to bathe, perhaps.
But if one of them had, they wouldn't have been in there bathing! Bilbo thought to himself, and once again he was drawn to the conclusion that Thorin had indeed placed it there, and now wanted to make it clear that the hobbit should act as if he never did. And even though the Shireling had admittedly been naively gleeful at receiving such a lovely gift from the dwarf that rather caught his fancy, he figured that it was nothing but a silly hope, a fantasy that was really unwholesome, that he should gain intimate company with one so great as Thorin. Even so, there was still a severe feeling of discouragement that chiseled a faint frown into Bilbo's face.
Until, of course, when he walked back through the doors of Elrond's house and happened to pass by Bofur, who smiled his usual polite smile and said, "congratulations! I'm very happy for the both of you." And then, with a wink, he continued across the entrance hall and disappeared through an archway.
Somehow, the hatted dwarf always made Bilbo feel like fainting out of sheer anxiety.