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Bilbo sat on a bench in the warm sunshine, hearing the babble of the river to his left. He tilted his face up to the sun and closed his eyes, letting the whole world wash red and black, soaking up the heat and small moment of peace. For a moment he could pretend that he was back in the Rivendell of his old age, with the peace of the valley wrapped around him, the cheerful song of the elves in the distance, the sweet scent of the flowers in the air. For a moment there was no Ring or Quest or the shadow of sorrow laying on his heart. For a moment he was at peace in the sunlight, just breathing in the clean, crisp air.
Memories came back to him in this quiet moment. Memories of being in Rivendell for the first time, awed and staring, feeling so small in such a grand place. How his dwarves – for they would forever be his dwarves, no matter what – had been so grumpy, so prickly in these fine halls. How, now that Bilbo had years upon years of living with these very same elves, the hosts of Bilbo's dwarves had pulled their own pranks on the Company, feeding them only sweet salads and light dishes made of vegetables when Bilbo knew very well that one elf alone could eat the better part of a cow on their own, if they wanted to.
(There might have been a party one Yule when Bilbo's joints were getting stiff and sore in the winter chill, where he watched Glorfindel and the other guards of Imladris roast half a side of beef over a fire, sprinkled with such spices that it warmed the very air. There had also been quite a lot of alcohol at said party, where Bilbo had been the only one awake to hear Glorfindel croon poetry and song to the fire while he held a bottle to his chest and swayed in his seat. And if Glorfindel named not one elf, but two in his strange song...well. Bilbo was the only one to know and he never felt it was his place to say a word.)
Bilbo sighed and let his eyes open, blinking away the wetness that lingered on his lashes. He looked down at his lap, where Sting lay across his knees, the scabbard dark and nicked with scratches here and there. Neither Maglor or Maedhros could remember if the dagger had been Turgon's or Fingon's, though they were happy to let Bilbo keep Sting for his own. They both claimed that their cousins would have been happy to see Bilbo armed with their weapon, considering where they were to go.
Bilbo knew they would have to leave the sweet safety of Rivendell soon enough. The days were passing and Bilbo had no wish to be caught in the mountains during winter or even fall. Which meant they would need to leave soon...but Bilbo had no idea what to do next. The first time he had found the Ring it had been happenstance...surely. A moment of pure chance.
Surely.
Sometimes, though...sometimes Bilbo thought it was not chance. Sometimes Bilbo thought that he had been meant to find the Ring, that the destiny that had been his Frodo's should have been his to bear, if he had not been such a silly fellow back then. Now, though, he had another chance to right those wrongs, and perhaps, perhaps his Frodo would be the happy lad Bilbo kept in his memories, full of good cheer and kindness and full of love, where no shadows would ever touch his eyes.
Bilbo was loath to take Maglor and Maedhros from Elrond, though. He knew that Elrond could not come on this quest with them. No, his dear friend had other worries to face, like a Necromancer in Dol Guldur and a traitor on the White Council that would have to be set to rights.
Bilbo winced at the memory of telling Elrond that Saruman was not all that he claimed to be. Even by a wizard's standard. But due to whatever strange gift of dreams had been given to Elrond, Lindir, and Erestor, Elrond had believed Bilbo when he spoke of Saruman's fall from grace and how he had been corrupted by Sauron's darkness and evil ways. It had pained Bilbo to see the sorrow on Elrond's face, but they could not chance that Saruman or even Sauron remembered the past that Bilbo had come from. It was strange enough that Elrond, Lindir, and Erestor did. If their enemies knew of their plans then they would be up a rough creek with not a paddle in sight for sure.
There was the soft sound of a step on the stones and then a slight body took a seat next to him. Bilbo looked up at Erestor, who was out of his normal dark robes for once. The hunting leathers looked worn in and comfortable, as if they were something Erestor had once worn regularly. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him.
“I was not always sitting behind a desk and running a household and chasing after Elrond,” Erestor told him, wrinkling his nose. It made Bilbo laugh.
“I think if you dressed like that more often you would have more elves walking into walls in your wake,” Bilbo told him. “Have you thought of loosening your neck ties? I bet you could get one of the Rangers to fall over a railing if you did that.”
“Bilbo,” but Erestor was laughing.
“I'm just saying. Do you remember that one time, oh what was his name, the guard with the,” Bilbo wiggled his fingers at his ears. “All those piercings? And he wore that – what was that called, I can never remember – anyway, and it made Hanlin trip down the stairs and Elrond made them both sleep in the beds next to each other?”
“Bilbo,” but now Erestor was knuckling tears from his eyes. “Your dreams were much more detailed than I. But I seem to remember something of that sort, yes.”
Bilbo felt his smile fade a bit. The elves all believed that the past that Bilbo remembered living were due to dreams, some accident of this tapestry of Vairë the Weaver's and not actual lives once lived and now vanishing into the chance of something new. “Anyway, you shirt is quite fetching but I have a feeling that is not why you've come to hunt me down. What's the news?”
At that Erestor sobered, his smile dimming. “At the new moon we shall leave.”
Bilbo blinked at that. “...We?”
Erestor's mouth ticked up on one side. “Yes, we. I am going with you, my friend.” Some emotion shifted through his eyes that Bilbo could not name. “As is Lindir.”
“But...”
“Elrond will need to handle Saruman with Galadriel. We hope to get word to Gandalf though no one knows his whereabouts at the moment. We are...worried that Gandalf with not believe us, if he had not been sent these same dreams as ours.” Erestor shook his head. “Once Gandalf and Saruman were close confidants. If Gandalf does not believe us he could attempt to speak to Saruman on his own, and if Saruman remembers...”
Bilbo let out a sigh. “Yes,” he agreed. “That would be quite the mess, wouldn't it?”
“Indeed.”
Bilbo let his gaze drift out over the small little nook he had preferred when he had lived in Rivendell's quiet halls. “And Glorfindel?”
He saw Erestor bow his head from the corner of his eye. “Is very cross with us all,” he said. “And is still stalking Lord – Maglor and Maedhros.” It had taken some pleading on the pair's part to get Erestor to drop the titles when speaking to them. It seemed to pain them whenever Erestor addressed them so. “He will stay here and make sure Elrond and the family is guarded well.”
Bilbo reached out and patted Erestor's hand just once. His friend was not one for casual touch. “I am sorry, my dear.”
“I...”
“Ah, Bilbo, there you are,” Maglor said before Erestor could say more. There was a bit of wild light in the elf's eyes. “Lindir said you might know where best to...hide, shall we say?”
Bilbo blinked at him. “Glorfindel on your tail?”
“Yes.”
“Didn't you know him, once upon a time?”
A pained look crossed Maglor's face. “Yes. They were always a pain, him and Ecthelion. Now a place to hide? Please?”
Bilbo pointed up. Maglor let out a curse that made both Bilbo's eyebrows go up and then he was scurrying up into the rafters of the roof, sliding out of sight just as Glorfindel bounded into the little nook.
“Master Baggins,” Glorfindel said. He would not address Bilbo as anything more familiar, no matter how Bilbo tried. “Have you seen Lord Maglor just now?”
“He went that way,” Bilbo pointed up the river, not feeling a whit sorry for the lie. He saw Glorfindel pause as he looked at Erestor, his mouth doing something strange, before Glorfindel gave them a short bow and bounded back out of the nook, heading up the river towards the waterfalls to the east.
“You should stay there a bit,” Bilbo told the empty air. “Glorfindel's a canny one.”
“Oh, I'm aware,” said the eaves.
Erestor covered his face with one hand. Bilbo was happy to see that his old friend's smile was not so pained. “The new moon, then,” Bilbo said, hating to see that mirth fade from his friend's face.
“Yes,” Erestor said, hand dropping. They listened in silence to the rushing of the river for a while, the warmth of the day beginning to wane as the sun started its descent.
“Could be worse,” Bilbo mused finally, thinking back. “We could be leaving in the middle of a storm and get caught in a rock giant battle. That would not be much fun at all.”
He felt both elves staring at him.
“At least it should be dry!” That cheered him up a bit. He hated traveling in the rain.
“Bilbo...” Erestor began.
“MASTER BAGGINS!”
“I believe that is my cue to join our friend in the rafters,” Bilbo said in a hurry. Rarely did Glorfindel take a tone like that.
“But Bilbo, wait, what did you mean a rock giant battle –”
“I'll tell you later, it was quite the mess, very dramatic, no need to chance it,” Bilbo patted Erestor's hand once more and slid Sting back through the loop on his belt. He could hear Glorfindel's approach. That was never good news. Then he was up and scooting in next to Maglor in the rafters, shifting the elf over so that they were both out of sight from the ground. He ignored Maglor's wide-eyed look.
“Master Baggins – oh. Erestor. You're...alone.”
“Yes,” Erestor said, voice dry as dust. “Quite alone and abandoned.”
“I...Bilbo lied to me, didn't he?”
“I haven't the foggiest.”
“...Really?” Glorfindel clasped his hands behind his back. Bilbo bit back a sigh. These two idiots.
“Shall we find Elrond? He most often has a better idea as to where everyone is than I.”
“...You...you've very good too,” Glorfindel said.
“...Thank you.” Bilbo hid his face in his hands at Erestor's tone.
“Ah. Shall we?” Bilbo peeked down to see that Glorfindel had his arm cocked out oddly. Was he...was he pretending to be a chicken? Whatever was he doing?
All Erestor did, though, was blink at him. “...Yes? I believe Elrond was in his study the last I checked.”
“Yes. Thranduil had sent a missive.”
“Oh, no ,” Bilbo knew that tone in Erestor's voice. “Absolutely not. Let us go at once.”
“Yes, but – Erestor...Erestor, wait – wait!”
“Are they always like that?” Maglor whispered, eyes wide as he watched the pair leave.
“Unfortunately,” Bilbo whispered back. “At least we won't have to see it every day when we leave.”
“Small mercies,” Maglor whispered back. It made Bilbo giggle, though he had to clamp both hands over his mouth to hide the noise. It was worth it to see the corners of Maglor's eyes crease with his own hidden laughter.
Bilbo tucked that warm feeling away in his chest, knowing he would need all the joy he could get to bolster himself for the task ahead of him. He had no idea just how pervasive the Ring would be this time 'round. He had no intentions of carrying it around like a curiosity for decades before handing it off like a coward. No. This time he would keep all his joy and good cheer close and push all those cold thoughts the Ring would slip into his mind away, so that the Ring would have not a single chance to get its hooks in him.
Thank you and good morning.