When you come out of the storm

[honorbound_heir]

CHARACTERS: experting & honorbound_heir
DATE: Around September 14th
WHERE: On the edge of Mirkwood, near the Old Forest Road
SUMMARY: The dwarves have made it to the last major obstacle on their road to Erebor - Mirkwood. Unlike on Thorin's quest to reclaim the mountain, however, this time they're not to be left to blunder through on their own. A very uneasy agreement with the elves was struck, and part of it was mutual safe passage through each others' lands. Here, too, the group is to split up - with the majority going straight through, but Thorin has other plans.
WARNING(S): Do elves warrant a warning? Thorin would say so. But probably not.


[ It's no secret that Thorin has no love for elves, and perhaps even less so for their cursed forest that ever seems to stand between him and wherever he needs to go. He remembers the days of his youth when it was called Greenwood the Great, back when they were true allies with the Silvan elves that lived there, and is told that it has changed much since then. It's of little matter to him. Even though they are not enemies, as long as Thranduil remained their King, there would be no chance of resumed camaraderie as there had been in times past. They had mutual enemies now, and that was more or less as far as it went. The fact that Thranduil's son seems to have some sense of honor, and isn't a consummate coward like his father, is at least convenient when he has to speak to an elf.

He knew that the conversation with Bilbo wasn't going to be easy. Or pleasant. He is aware that he's going into what was not so very long ago a veritable stronghold of evil, a place so thoroughly corrupted that nothing green grows within miles of it. Gandalf told him that Necromancer had been banished, but an ill shadow still lingered over that place, one deeper even than the one that clouded the surrounding forest. That said, he suspected that things would once again begin to creep back in. It was all part of a slow, troubling turn of events that had been set into motion many, many years ago.

The point was, if Thorin was going to go, he needed to do it now. He didn't hold out much hope for finding his father alive - somehow, when Gandalf told him this time that his father was dead, it rang true in a way that it had not before. Even the vindication Thorin felt at being right, despite being the only one that still had faith, was little comfort when faced with the knowledge that he had been so close, and yet so far away, still. All this time, he had been so close...

This is about family, and there's no way around it.

There hadn't been any doubt as to whether or not the Company would come with him. His sister would stay with the rest of the group, and he trusted her to see their way through, perhaps all the way to Erebor should Thorin and the others not manage to catch up with them. While she's not pleased with this arrangement, she also understands, and is aware that trying to argue with her brother on this is an exercise in utter futility.

Thorin never doubted for a moment that Bilbo would insist to come with him. He would have preferred that Bilbo stay with the others, but Thorin has too much respect for him to dare make such a suggestion. Would he even listen if Thorin did try to order him to go anywhere? He's not certain, but that is very much a moot point here.

Instead he relays his intentions to Bilbo with a steady voice, and an almost defiant tilt to his jaw, his pony's reins grasped firmly in one hand as he flicks a glance behind Bilbo and to the edge of the forest just beyond him. There had been no set meeting time here, but he knew that the elves would be looking for them, as they were the last time they came through. It probably wouldn't take long before they reappeared - no doubt generally looking just as displeased with this arrangement as Thorin currently does. ]

As soon as our escort arrives, we leave. The others will stay here and make camp for the night.

[ The fact that he's forced to wait around on an elf still irritates him to no end, but he knows that it's the only reasonable thing to do here. ]

Comments

well this went a tad more huffy

[experting]

[ Mirkwood; ah, how he has not missed it. Passing through it a second time had been far easier than the first – and he assumes this third go will be much the same – but it's a dark, dreary, unnatural place, the gnarled growth particularly suffocating to someone far more sensitive to carefully cultivated greenery. So in the lapse, when there's nothing to do other than wait for the inevitable, Bilbo keeps a great deal to himself in the beginning. Swallowing his displeasure, he's taken to watching the others. It works for awhile. It distracts him from the urge to mutter about and make a spectacle of himself by grumbling of unpleasant trails; after all, he's done remarkably well this time around of keeping his complaints to a minimum and he's very much determined to maintain such a streak. But then he begins to notice certain things.

There are supplies strapped to every one's ponies, that's nothing new. The sudden distribution of food though, that's different. Unnecessary too… if they're remaining together. He's missed something. Clearly there's been an order given somewhere, sometime, and somehow, Bilbo has been ignorant of the plan. Had this been set in motion from the beginning? Before Bilbo even came into the equation? Or did something change along the way? Either way, once the realization slots into place, all those thoughts of maintaining an agreeable disposition fall to the wayside and he's frowning, mouth stubbornly set as his gaze swivels here, swivels there before finally landing on…

For being so tight-lipped about the eventual detour all these past weeks, Thorin is exceptionally forthright once Bilbo sets himself firmly in front of him. Would this count as lying? Perhaps not. Though, it does bother him, a little, to be on the cusp of the split and to have no more than a few minutes, a few hours – when will the elves be here? – to process everything before throwing himself in a new direction. Because of course he's going too. Even though he's had their trek mapped out in his head for weeks now, he's meant to go where Thorin goes and if Thorin is set to explore a terrible, no-good, abandoned – hopefully – place, then Bilbo will simply have to take a breath, find his courage and follow.

… Of course, it might take a few miles before his rattled feelings resettle in a way that is less… annoyed. Hurt? Yes, that too. Thorin said he'd never lie to him – and he hasn't, technically – but he could have said something. Goodness, it's not as though there hasn't been ample opportunity, hmph; after all, they only spend every evening together.

He's trying not to take issue with it though, at least not here. Later, he'll let it stew and simmer and then he'll shove it away. Because Thorin says this is about family and his father and Bilbo cannot give him too much grief for not detailing every little thing to Bilbo when he has so much to focus on. Even so, there is a telling agitation in the way he stands, arms hung at his sides but fists balled and shoulders rigid. And even though it's for family, Bilbo's becoming habitually huffy any time Thorin and potential – probable – danger cross paths. So even though the reason is noble and understandable, no amount of rationale will be enough to completely overcome the worry. First the goblins, now this…

He nods briefly. Exhales. And then his body relaxes, marginally, as he turns his gaze away, not quite looking to where he's left Patches, but in that general direction. Right, escort, then they leave, just like that. No delay. Little warning. It's almost as though Thorin didn't want to tell him, perhaps to catch him off guard enough that he wouldn't come. ] I suppose I should ready my things then. [ Not that there's really anything to ready, but it's said more for show. ] I seem to be the only one who hasn't already. [ And yes, he isn't doing a very good job of keeping the pointed blame out of his voice. Whose fault is that, really? Hmph, exasperating, idiotic dwarf. ]

[honorbound_heir]

[ To be entirely fair, this is news to most of the others, with notable exceptions, but his sister is rather skilled at organizing things properly without making much of a general fuss. It doesn't hurt that there are few dwarves present - or even among those not present - that would challenge her authority. Of course, the usual faces that are getting ready to follow Thorin were obviously ready for this. They're not precisely grim, but neither are they cheerful. No one has good associations with Mirkwood in general.

Thorin did not, in fact, want to tell Bilbo about this, he didn't like to talk about it at all, but he is aware that he should not have put it off for as long as he did. There was never any question as to how Bilbo would react to it, so it was really more about avoiding the conversation for his own selfish sake. It might not have been lying, but he knows it wasn't fair. Ever stubborn, though, he's not ready to openly admit to that just yet, and being this close to actually finding his father has brought up a lot of old, unpleasant emotions that drag his thoughts elsewhere, almost against his will. His thoughts have been lingering here increasingly often, but now guilt and responsibility weigh heavily on him here. He knows they shouldn't. He spent decades searching for Thráin, even when everyone else, even his own kin, had given up hope.

It's not reasonable for him to feel as if he failed his father, but he does.

The tone of Bilbo's voice does a fair job of dragging Thorin's attention back to him. He almost responds with an irritated snap of a reply, but he catches himself harshly before he can give it voice. Instead a look of regret briefly crosses his face, though his mouth is set rather firmly, still. Bilbo is well within his rights to be frustrated with the unfairness of it, and Thorin knows that he should not, cannot, let his personal frustrations and pain cause him to lash out unnecessarily at someone he cares so much for. Especially not when he's so unquestioningly ready to follow Thorin into peril. Again. As annoyed and frustrated as he might be right now, that loyalty doesn't waver.

An apology is there, somewhere, though he hasn't gotten so far as to put words to it yet. The tense set to his shoulders - really only discernible from his usual sternness by those familiar with the subtleties of his stances - does soften fractionally, just for a moment, if just to be replaced by something more subtle and painful. ]

My grandfather and my brother will never rest below Erebor, as they should have. If my father is dead, I would still bring him home.

[ He knows that he doesn't have to explain this to Bilbo, as if he needs to justify himself. It's not about that. ]

[experting]

[ Perhaps he's more intimately tethered to Thorin than he wants to admit, for all it takes is a loosening of those shoulders and Bilbo softens with him. Not wholly of course – he's entirely justified in his annoyance, thank you very much – but there's a shift in his focus and all at once, Thorin's comfort becomes more of a priority than his own. It is petty to be angry over this. He knows that. Even so, his stubbornness will not relinquish its hold for some time yet; however, he is still entirely capable of being supportive. Compassionate. Of being a small foundation of strength someone like Thorin probably doesn't need – or even want, really – but Bilbo cannot help wanting to offer. Because he knows that hollow feeling.

It's not the same of course. He cannot even begin to compare, but the loss of his own parents is there, less so than in days past but a constant nonetheless, and on that alone, he can sympathize with the desire to do right by those now gone. A grandfather, a brother, a father... – from what Bilbo's gathered, all three happened more or less at once. The Battle of Azanulbizar devoured and took and destroyed and sometimes, Bilbo repeats Balin's patient explanations in his head as he looks at Thorin, wondering how anyone could stomach such loss and continue, on and on and on to lead and then retake all which was stolen. Well, not all, for some things, some people cannot be saved.

Is it strength? Is it courage? Is it sheer stubbornness? Bilbo cannot say what drives Thorin so. Bilbo thinks anyone else would have buckled under the strain and for that, he's always found something fascinating in the very idea of Thorin. Always thought Thorin to be a touch heartbreaking and exceptionally grand all at once. And right now, there's a flicker of pain and Bilbo wants little else than to see it gone, hopeless as that may be.

Oddly enough, his expression doesn't collapse in on itself though and there's still the pinch of his mouth, displeased and bothered in that way of his. Instead, there's a relaxing of his brows and his gaze softens into something kinder. It's not sympathy that has him stepping forward, not really, though, perhaps it's impossible not to feel sorry in some way for the hand Thorin's been dealt over the years, when he should have grown up in his mountain and lived comfortably with his family all accounted for. What ifs and should haves help no one though. There, shrugging off such thoughts, Bilbo's hand finds Thorin's free one and without even a hint of his usual hesitance, he wraps his fingers around and curls comfortably for a strong, steady squeeze.

Tilts his chin up and the stubborn set of his mouth, as well as the gradual knitting of his brows, pull together for a firm, determined frown. There's no way to guarantee it but— ] We'll find him. [ —there's conviction there nonetheless. This is what Thorin needs. If finding his father will bring some semblance of peace, then Bilbo will help see it done in any way he possibly can. ]

[honorbound_heir]

[ Thorin has carried heavy burdens for most of his life, of both literal and metaphorical kinds, but never unwillingly, and always proudly. Not so much for his own sake as for his people, and especially for Durin's line, with an unshakeable sort of faith. Despite how many defeats they suffered and how many losses were to be endured, he has always known the true heart of his people. He's never doubted their place in the world. Their value. To say that he's left certain personal concerns by the wayside in favor of the larger perspective would be something of an understatement. This is... not entirely personal, but very nearly so. He remembers in uncomfortable detail how Gandalf described his father at their last meeting - aged even beyond his years, half-crazed and delirious, and now truly lost to them.

He would never be in any state to rule - that possibility had been lost long ago - and their people need a king. Thorin is aware that a balance between honor, loyalty, and duty - between his family and his people - must be struck here. There is no room for selfish sacrifices, and he knows that, too.

Thorin has never asked for, nor wanted pity, and he does not find it in Bilbo's face here. There is only an understanding, and unhesitating support. A fleeting glance of something close to surprise crosses his own face as Bilbo reaches for his hand - it's a different gesture from the shoulder clasp that anyone else might have given him - but the warm, steady grip is unexpectedly reassuring. He wasn't asking for this, but it's offered freely, insistently, and he's very clearly moved by the gesture.

He returns it with a firm grip of his own, not at all caring if anyone happens to see him lift that hand to press it to his chest, briefly but significantly. He doesn't intend to hold onto it too long, though, unless Bilbo insists otherwise. ]

Gandalf found him, while we were floundering around in this wretched forest. This after he tried to convince me months prior that he was dead, but I knew that he still lived. After all those years of searching, I was this close. [ He shakes his head, frowning. ] The wizard says he could not have survived. I cannot believe that until I see it for myself.

[experting]

[ Now that tenacity wavers. It's not the returned grip, but instead the shift and his mouth goes lax, parting marginally as his hand is held to that broad chest. Bilbo does forget at times that they aren't alone. Sometimes it feels as though they're in a world all their own, when they allow their barriers to drop for one another, but there's clearly the sounds of meandering dwarves about and Bilbo, despite how he wishes he didn't, remembers soon enough. Still, that awareness and slow seeping awkwardness doesn't have him pulling his hand back, instead it merely acts as an urge to drop his gaze and chew on his bottom lip, just for a moment, before braving a glance to Thorin's face.

Habit has him wanting to lessen the burden by offering encouragements, that Gandalf might be wrong, that they might find his father alive, that Thorin might not be too late after all. But while Gandalf does have his ulterior motives that have him twisting facts to spur on certain actions by the rest of them, Bilbo doesn't see what there would be the gain from coaxing them into going there. Thráin is dead, Bilbo feels as though that's a certainty and any encouragement he could offer would be empty, even unkind. So he merely nods along, faintly and briefly, and then stills, gaze falling back to Thorin's chest.

There's so much history there. So many details that Bilbo doesn't know surrounding Thráin's disappearance. But if Bilbo knows anything, it's of Thorin's determination and his unwillingness to quit once he's set his mind to a goal. Those years of searching... Bilbo cannot fully imagine how hard Thorin must have searched and toiled, the amount of energy he would have put into salvaging a missing piece of his broken family far too extensive to truly measure. It makes Bilbo ache. And worry, just a little. Because he thinks there's a great deal of significance to that this close. Regret, maybe even guilt?

A breath in, a breath out and then he retracts his hand, letting it swing back down to his side. ] You were doing right by your people. You couldn't have known how close... [ He trails off, his nose twitching and lips pressing tight together for a momentary frown, only for everything to relax once more with a shake of his head. Gaze up now and there's a look; he hopes he's wrong, that it's pure regret for a missed opportunity, rather than a guilt born from the idea of needing to have done more. He thinks he knows Thorin though, so— ] Whatever it is you're thinking... it isn't your fault. [ Being blind to the chance doesn't diminish the fact that Thorin tried. He cared enough, loved his father enough to never entirely give up hope; that's worth something, even if the end result isn't what was sought. ]

[honorbound_heir]

[ It's obvious enough that Thorin knows now that his father is dead, truly, and he's not so unreasonable as to hope that he could will things otherwise. That does not change the fact that he's just as determined to find out for himself, and try as he might, he cannot entirely banish the persistent, foolish hope that somehow, against the odds, they're all wrong. That he's wrong this time. The others don't know that Gandalf found him alive at all - it seemed unnecessary to speak of since that revelation was immediately followed up by Gandalf's grim confirmation that he was now, indeed, dead. That he had suffered such torment in Dol Goldur, for how long even Gandalf could not - or perhaps would not - say. Nor do they know that his last words were 'Tell Thorin I love him. Tell my son that I loved him.'

Gandalf had not wanted him to come this way. He had said everything he could to convince Thorin otherwise, and Thorin had said nothing. Had the wizard known, then, that his advice would be ignored yet again? Thorin can only imagine that he did. He must have recognized that look of dwarven stubbornness. But Thorin does not expect his help here. Gandalf didn't say precisely what happened, but gave the distinct impression that it would be very unwise of him to return this way.

... No, Thorin couldn't have known that he was that close. Just as he could not have known that his grandfather was doomed to die on Azog's blade, and that he would be too late to save his brother. Thorin has done right by his people, how could he not? But his family? His own blood? At the end of the battle, he stood alone among the loss and ruin. As hard as he fought, it wasn't enough to save those closest to him, and while that may not be the most fair observation one could make, he sees it as being starkly, unavoidably accurate. He's felt that way for a long time.

It's all too evident in his eyes. This isn't something that he's been willing to discuss with anyone, not even his sister, but he has never allowed himself to turn away from it.

Bilbo, though, is both close enough to see it, and to know. Thorin has slowly and steadily laid bare so much of himself already, and this is no exception, no matter how painful a matter it might be. He takes a deep breath with something not too far from resignation, but his intent gaze is a bit harder to read. ]

How can you know that?

[ He can't see it, but he has come to trust Bilbo's judgment as much as his own. Does Bilbo know that he is the only one that Thorin would listen to here? That he is listening? Even though Bilbo has seen him at his lowest. Bilbo has seen him fail. That is perhaps part of the reason why his opinion matters so much here. ]

[experting]

[ … It's an odd thing. An almost frightening thing. To stand idle and watch the shift. There's nothing weak about it, but the armor that surrounds Thorin at every pause, through every carefully selected word slips, baring a hint of insecurity no one ever sees. Of course Bilbo has always known there must be doubt and anxiety and the less favorable emotions buried below the surface despite Thorin's projected confidence at every dire situation they've faced together, however, the fact that the question is offered between them at all catches him off guard. If Thorin's asking, truly asking…

Yes. How can he know that?

Bilbo hasn't been expecting to explain. It's not as though there isn't an answer, but picking apart the tangle of thoughts and perceptions Bilbo's acquired over their time together, and putting them into words, actual words that, when strung together, mean something, is a feat that he can't wrap his mind around. At least not immediately. In truth, he can't know for certain. He lacks the knowledge of every followed lead, doesn't know the circumstances of each search, can't imagine how grief may have stunted his drive… but even with all that true, he knows Thorin. He spoke once about Thorin's character. Gold sickness tainted such words all too soon, but it hasn't diminished who Thorin is. Headstrong, devoted, dependable, unyielding… he shoulders a personal responsibility to look after all those deemed under his care and that… that is a wide span. Even Bilbo found himself there, back when Thorin couldn't stand to look at him more than a moment. The point is… Thorin doesn't do things in halves. He may make mistakes along the way, but when the time comes, he puts his all into everything and so, Bilbo thinks, Thorin must have tried his hardest for his father. And that's what matters.

He's tripping up though and the words aren't forming just yet. Would Thorin even listen? Believe him? It's all so obvious in Bilbo's eyes, that he cannot understand how Thorin doesn't see the same about himself. So blind. So unbelievable. So… needlessly hard on himself.

Oh Thorin. He still aches. His chest feels tight and he swallows thickly, but even through that, there's that spike of… annoyance? No. He's not upset at Thorin – goodness, what kind of monster would he be then? – but there's that spunk, that spirit to him all the same. The kind that has him forgetting proper placement of hands and necessary distances in-between. Instead, he thinks of dwarven customs and comforting touch, and in the same breath, he offers as freely as he takes. His hands find the front of Thorin's tunic and he tugs down, coaxing Thorin to lean closer because he's too tall and even with Bilbo inching, just a little, on his toes, he still needs help. And there, his hands shift, slide higher and his palms press to either side of that bearded jaw, cupping his face to help tilt his head, just enough so Bilbo can shift, arch and bump their foreheads together.

It's ungraceful in the way he knocks them but he thinks there's meant to be something profound to all of this. A sense of comfort, of calm that words cannot carry. But after a moment, with his eyes squeezed shut, he sucks in a breath and tries anyway. ] Because I know you. You are the strongest, most caring person I've met. You refuse to quit, even with the odds stacked against you. Even when others have already given up hope. [ A short pause, a small frown. ] If there had been a way to save him, you would have found it. But some things are beyond us… you cannot measure yourself against the unfairness of life. Thorin, you can't. [ No one blames him, except Thorin himself; blaming oneself for unfortunate, uncontrollable, unanticipated events… what logic is there in that? Wouldn't they all be responsible for missed opportunities then? ]

[honorbound_heir]

[ Thorin didn't know what to expect of asking such a difficult question, but it was the only sort of open, honest response that he could give. There was no expectation when it came to a response, truly, there was only the offer of the kind of raw vulnerability that he never thought he would share with anyone, let alone even a trusted friend that had so recently tumbled into his life. But Bilbo is so much more than that, and never has it been quite so plainly obvious as it is here.

Bilbo's gentle insistence is easy enough to understand, and Thorin is willing. The fact that he is mirroring a gesture that he's seen them do, one that Thorin has personally used on him, is almost too much. Thorin has been struggling with keeping his emotions in check as it is, and this threatens to utterly undo him in a way he hasn't quite felt before, but he quietly welcomes it and the warm sense of comfort that it accompanies. And for once he doesn't move to steer this where he wills it, he simply stays, his forehead pressed lightly to Bilbo's, his eyes calmly open and lingering on Bilbo's face.

Because I know you. They've been through some of the most triumphant and the worst moments of Thorin's life, there's no doubt about that. The fact that these times have happened in such close proximity, and yet there is still that understanding and unwavering faith, only serves as a testament to Bilbo's perceptiveness and his steadfast refusal to accept anything less except the truth. He's truly known Thorin's heart for some time now, even before Thorin showed up on his doorstep some weeks ago.

He must know that Thorin could not easily stand to lose him now, as he has lost so much that was dear to him before, which would put his unwillingness to even attempt to force Bilbo to stay here in a rather different light. He'd let Frerin go, many years ago. He had been too young, too inexperienced, and Thorin would have been well within his rights then to insist that he stay behind. It was bad enough that Thorin was helpless to help his father and grandfather fight their own internal battles, but he very much failed to protect his little brother, in turn. That responsibility had fallen on his shoulders more so than anyone else's.

He knows what Bilbo is saying, and he does understand. It doesn't make the truth much easier to stomach right now, nor is it a simple thing to soothe over such long held scars, but right now, this is enough. For once in his life, he can lean ever so slightly on that determination, the loyalty and faith, and admit to himself - even if not out loud - that a moment of weakness does not make him weak.

This is why Thorin had told him that he would have been lost without him. ]

Has anyone ever told you that you speak with wisdom well beyond your years, Master Baggins?

[ This can't last too long, though. Inevitably Bilbo's awareness of their not exactly private spot will settle back in any moment bow, and they will go back to a more proper distance. ]

thoooooorin. lil muffin.

[experting]

[ Yes okay; yes. That is quite enough. It's not so much the idea that they may be drawing curious stares that has Bilbo drawing back. Instead, it's the question itself. It doesn't carry the same weight as before and while Bilbo knows a few words from a simple hobbit can hardly mend years of self-reproach, they seem to have helped Thorin shrug off some of that guilt. At least temporarily. Well, Bilbo hopes it's not only temporarily, but he supposes he'll be close-by to knock sense into that thick-skull if the need arises once more. So his eyes open and he draws his hands back to himself, returning to the soles of his feet before taking a step back.

There. Good. That's far more proper when they have dwarves fiddling about. Curiosity almost has him looking, to see if eyes are turned their way. However, he's not certain how long his bravery would endure before he begins fiddling with his hands, his clothes. With these past, few weeks, he's only just begun to relax into initiating such closeness when Thorin is the only one baring witness to such boldness, so to think they'd been putting on a show for any who wished to watch…

But this is important. Providing what minimal comfort he's capable of offering has been far more important than getting caught up in his own uncertainty. That's why it's been… easy? Until now at least.

Falling back to habit is only natural, although no, his hands remain at his sides and he doesn't squirm as he often does. His own comfort is achieved in the way that he shakes his head and glances to the side – though keeping his gaze low, as not to accidentally cross anyone's gaze. Modesty always wins out. He never sees anything particularly grand about his own actions or words, especially when, in his mind, they are obvious, expected answers to troubling times. ] I wouldn't call it wisdom. [ Gaze back to Thorin now and he lifts one shoulder, half-heartedly shrugging, as though further brushing off the very idea of it. Faintly, he wonders if arguing – light as it is – with Thorin over such a small thing is worth it, for after what's just occurred, allowing Thorin to respond in such a kind way is better than telling him he's wrong. There's something about praise that draws Bilbo's critical eye though and he simply cannot help the way he must amend such comments until they fit within Bilbo's narrow perception of himself.

So wisdom? No. It's nothing as impressive as that. It's only the truth and really— ] Anyone else would have said the same. [ If Thorin confided in them, that is. The Company would speak as highly of Thorin. Surely his sister as well. Because it's obvious and it's true and so Bilbo hardly deserves too much credit for his bumbling explanation. ]

[honorbound_heir]

[ Under different circumstances, Thorin would typically reinforce such an opinion, in some hopes that Bilbo will eventually see half of what he does, but here he lets it go without a fight - not happily, but clearly with the kind of resignation that comes with the certainty that he has more pressing battles to deal with. That notion is only reinforced by the sight of the expected small band of elves emerging from the forest - as silent and graceful as ever, though that's not how Thorin personally thinks of them, and just as generally unhappy to be here as the dwarves are to see them. Speaking of more pressing battles...

His hand clasps Bilbo's shoulder briefly as he steps past, as always more warmly than it would be with anyone else, and toward the familiar blond elf that's clearly leading the group, his pony trailing along placidly behind him. He's not looking forward to this, honestly, but he cannot afford to let his pride get the better of him here, not when something this important is at stake.

Legolas, in particular, is more displeased about where he's leading them, rather than the fact that he is obliged to do so at all. He's clearly more troubled than annoyed, even as he pointedly ignores some of the dirty looks that are being thrown his way. His attention quickly focuses on Thorin as the dwarf approaches him, though his eyes do briefly wander toward Bilbo, and his brows furrow slightly as he seems to consider the hobbit's rather unique presence. He had not been expecting a hobbit - but then, neither was he last time. The only time he saw Bilbo at all was during that chaotic escape from Mirkwood, despite the fact that the hobbit had somehow been sneaking around under his nose for some time before that.

Their conversation is brief, perhaps even terse, but not as hostile as it might have been on Thorin's end - his grudging respect for this particular elf shows, if somewhat subtly. It's clear that Legolas is going to be the only one accompanying Thorin to the south, as he guides his tall grey horse away from the group, while the rest of the elves are congregating off to the side, far enough away to be able to talk quietly among themselves without any dwarven eavesdropping.

There is still a little time before everything is properly settled so that they can leave, even though Thorin's patience with the process seems a bit thinner than usual. Dwalin lingers near him, but for once there is only an understanding silence between them instead of the more usual easy conversation. Thorin, for one, seems inclined to keep to himself for the most part. He's still glancing over in Bilbo's direction every once in a while, though. ]

[experting]

[ … He's expecting it, really. A year and then some is hardly enough time to smooth over the damages of, goodness, how many decades – centuries – of petty hate? As much as he's been reassured that, yes, they have been mending things with the elves, at least to the point that they can be within the same room without speaking obscenities to one another, Thorin, he's hardly allowed himself to think they'll actually get along. Bilbo had hoped that the glaring would become less of a reflex though. Perhaps in a few more years, sigh. For now, the feel of the camp turns on its head; it's still rather quiet, but it's strained, the two races, somehow, ignoring each other as much as they're eyeing one another up. Bebother and confusticate these dwarves. Elves too; he supposes he should be fair.

For a time, he tries not to get involved. While Thorin is off talking to Legolas, Bilbo wanders off to find his pony. He never bothered to unpack anything for the wait, for it wasn't long after they came to a halt that he sought Thorin out, so he's more or less ready to continue on. It gives him something to do though; a momentary lapse that serves as a brief hiding place while he glances from elves to dwarves, then from dwarves to elves. Bilbo is, to be honest, quite bias. He can see beyond many aspects of dwarves that other races would deem faults. Not to mention, after their stint in Mirkwood, Bilbo doesn't particularly enjoy these elves, at least not as he had those in Rivendell. All that time running about, cloaked with the power of the ring and listening, always listening to the unkind sentiments toward his dwarves… – he'd always thought elves to be, well, not quite flawless, but untouchable in their grandeur and elegance. Watching and listening, he found that they have ugliness too, just as every race does and yet, even with that true, they still act as though they are above them, the dwarves, Above all of this. Except…

He glances over to Legolas. There hadn't been much to redeem any of the elves while Bilbo had wandered through the halls looking for an escape route – except, perhaps, for Tauriel – but between grasping for the edge of a barrel and blinking water out of his eyes, he did catch sight of blonde and red flanking the river. Of course, killing orcs within their realm is expected. Still, aside from the arrow to Kíli's leg, none of the dwarves were harmed. Without the elves, things would have turned out much different and Bilbo knows that. Appreciates it. They owe their thanks to the elves, at least… certain elves. Especially now that one of the same is going to show them safe passage around, through Mirkwood to a place they really shouldn't be going but is necessary all the same.

Unfortunately, showing gratitude seems to be a foreign concept to dwarves. Well, these are the same dwarves that ate him out of house and home without even the simplest of thank yous, so is it all that surprising? Thorin is doing better, he thinks, but Bilbo hadn't stayed long to listen to his conversation with Legolas and now said dwarf is over there, doing a very good job of giving off the perception that he shouldn't be bothered. Fine fine. If they will not do the proper thing then…

Reins grasped in hand, Bilbo leads his pony and crosses the distance, mustering up a friendly, though perhaps mildly uncertain smile as he draws closer. Nervous? He is a little, given the history but then he's there and he can only clench the reins tighter and draw in a steadying breath. ] The dwarves may not say it, so I suppose it's left to me. [There is humor in his voice, all of which is aided by that smile still firmly in place. Thorin may have said it in that stunted way of his, he doesn't know, but as for the other dwarves, well, it's best to assume they'll be tight-lipped. ] Thank you, it's kind of you to lead us. We haven't had the, ah, greatest of luck navigating our way around Mirkwood. [ An explanation that Bilbo bumbles through despite how it really doesn't need saying; Legolas is well-aware of how lost they can become, isn't he? ]

[golden_prince]

[ Bilbo's slow but steady approach was noted, but Legolas politely refrained from staring. He's absently stroking his horse's neck, murmuring something quietly in Sindarin, when the hobbit's path finally leads him within a conversational distance. He turns to regard Bilbo thoughtfully, his face clear from any discernible sort of preconception, as far as the intentions of this conversation. It quickly turns to a gentle, understanding sort of smile as it becomes obvious that this is a far more forthright show of gratitude than he would ever be foolish enough to expect from any of the dwarves.

How could he, when his own people show nothing better? So few are willing to let old feuds go, even when the resulting animosity does nothing but lead to more grief, both between them and in general. For years he had listened to his father's bitter stance on dwarves, how greedy and foolish they were. Actually meeting them, and eventually fighting with them, had been part of a dawning realization that he had been wrong to dismiss them as being so far beneath his own people. Perhaps he'd known for some time that this contention between his own father and Thorin's family had been far less one-sided than he had been led to believe, but he hadn't wanted to see it.

He offers Bilbo a slight bow in greeting. ]

You are too kind, but I cannot truly accept gratitude for leading anyone to the likes of Dol Goldur. Our home has become even darker as of late, and nowhere more so than in the south. It has been quiet, perhaps too quiet. [ He shakes his head slightly, frowning. ] I fear what we may awaken in that foul place.

[ He pauses, glancing up and between the two distinctive groups that are forming, and realizes that Bilbo isn't getting ready to settle down with the majority. He... intends to follow Thorin, then? Oh. Well. Ah, that wasn't too optimistic, was it? Well, they're all in this seemingly foolish endeavor together. Thorin hasn't explained to him precisely what purpose he has in this. ]

If only these dwarves could be half as swift and silent as you are. I don't suppose you could teach them?

[ It's as close to a light-hearted jest as Legolas can muster right now, and he's only partially joking. After all, Bilbo had suck about under his very nose, and Legolas had never caught sight of him until the river. That, in itself, is quite a feat. There's definitely a hint of curiosity surrounding that, still. Exactly how Bilbo managed it was never quite explained. ]

[experting]

[ Oh. Um. A bow? That's, that's quite unnecessary, really. It's a nod toward the type of propriety Bilbo is so often clinging to but he never thinks much about having it reflected back toward him, especially from taller folk, not to mention one from the same Woodland realm where Bilbo made a spectacle. That's only in the first moment though. Soon the surprise ebbs and he takes the gesture for what it is. He's already thought Legolas to be someone who might have the potential to see beyond age-old grudges and such a small thing gives him a little more hope, for there's kindness in the greeting. He is a small, misplaced hobbit in this grand world and here's an elven prince, giving him a slight bow, but a bow all the same, even though Bilbo burglared dwarves and barrels from his father. Legolas may be Thranduil's son but he's not much like him, is he?

… Of course, the pleasantness of such thoughts is immediately trampled over with a few words. Dol Goldur. Yes, about that. It sounds just as unwelcoming as the first time. Not that he'd been hoping for some optimism on Legolas' part but… Thorin isn't exactly known for uplifting encouragements and rather, is much more accustomed to blunt, sometimes jarring honesty. So basically, they are, in fact, willingly walking right into a possible deathtrap. Fantastic. Well, to be fair, that's not unusual; not when he once decided to traverse halfway across the continent to bumble about in a dragon's lair.

Why has he left his sweet, safe Shire again?

The answer is simple, really and almost too frustrating to even think about. Yes yes, he knows why he found himself running out his door again but now is not the time to be thinking about throttle-worthy dwarves by the name of Thorin Oakenshield. Except, maybe it is, because there's a switch in tone and with the joke, Bilbo's lips part for a beat of surprise. Ah yes, about that too. His grip tightens on the reins and his other clings at the edge of his coat – the lighter, much more hobbit one, thank you – briefly thinking, just for a moment, of his ring but then there's a beat and he wrinkles his nose, his expression unfurling into something close to indignant. ] If I could teach them? Ha! Believe me, I have tried. [ A short shake of his head and then his shoulders roll back and his chin tips up. Swift, maybe that can be worked on, but silent? ] Especially with those severely lacking manners of theirs.

[ Are dwarves even capable of being quiet for more than a handful of minutes at a time? During travel, there's always thrown jabs, improper jokes, sometimes even a song. At mealtime, always a ruckus of abused plate-ware and loud conversation with mouths full of food. Even when asleep, some make more noise than when they're awake! Hmph, bothersome. So very bothersome. He sniffs, the sound harsh and haughty. ] I think leaving behind a horrid, loud, rude mess is part of being a dwarf. [ During this, he's glanced back toward the dwarves and even with the words, his voice has lightened with them, becoming something closer to fond by the end. Such insults toward his friends rarely hold true disapproval, not like they had in the beginning… but then, of course, he realizes that he's been saying such things to Legolas and he whips his gaze back around. Ah, right. A frown then, one that holds a touch of warning to it, even though he's the one who's said such things. ] Which is, actually, not quite so horrible, really. [ Not when one gets to know them. ]

[golden_prince]

[ Legolas is generally very much unlike his father, as a harsh, cold wind in winter is unlike a gentle breeze in spring. It is due to unfortunate circumstances that Bilbo has seen him at his harshest - which still pales in comparison to the Woodland King, though he does not know how much of that Bilbo might have seen - but clearly he saw a few other things, too. The incident at the river with the orcs, he suspects. His presence in the battle at Raven Hill had been largely unnoticed except by Thorin and Tauriel - and he has no expectation that Thorin would have been too eager to talk about that.

He merely smiles at Bilbo's scoff and then the resulting, familiar sort of rant that eventually dissolves into outright affection. He knows that Bilbo must be fond of them - he would have to be to follow them this far yet again. Legolas might not share that affection, but he does have a reasonable amount of respect for at least some of them now. He and Thorin may be even now, on a personal level, but the fact that there was an exchange at all meant a lot to Legolas, especially after how poorly their first meeting went.

So no, he will not indulge in any particularly disparaging comments about dwarves, even though he would have to agree with Bilbo on all of those observations. ]

Whatever evil we may face there, you will not do so alone. I would have preferred to have more of my own people accompany us there, but my father would never approve. [ Legolas glances up at the other elves, who aren't watching him at the moment. Even so, his voice lowers a bit. ] He doesn't know where Thorin intends to go. Or that I am personally taking him there.

[ He will know eventually, most likely, one way or another. That won't be the most pleasant of discussions, but this is something that Legolas feels he must do. Legolas doesn't dwell too long on that before settling his gaze and thoughts back onto Bilbo. ]

I wasn't expecting to see you here again, certainly not so soon after your last visit. Those guards that you so thoroughly bested swear to this day that you must have had some sort of wizard's spell to help you move about unnoticed. [ He arches an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. ] But Mithrandir was not with you when you passed through here.

[ His questions are still polite, though. He's not attempting to corner Bilbo into making a confession, but he is horribly curious, more so than he's letting on, as to how Bilbo managed all that. ]

[experting]

[ Is that so? Truthfully, Bilbo hasn't thought a thing about it. Though, now that it's mentioned, it's so obvious that he wonders how he hasn't. Goodness, he really does hope this will not land them in hot water with Thranduil all over again. It's one thing to trample about through his forest, but it's quite another to knowingly go looking for trouble. If this puts a strain on the fragile truce between the two races, Bilbo is most definitely going to huff and puff and wag his finger at one overzealous King Under the Mountain. It is interesting though, isn't it? That Legolas, who should have more reason to side with his father and king, is willingly aiding a group of dwarves to rightfully ignored territory. Why? Is it out of a desire to mend broken alliances and preserve some goodwill between them or is it something else?

He might've asked, for while he doesn't mistrust him, Bilbo's curiosity is often emphasized by that very unmanageable Tookish nature, but then the direction changes and they are back here again. Whether Legolas means to corner him or not, doesn't matter, because Bilbo feels it all the same. He's never fully understood the immense reluctance he feels every time the existence of his ring comes – indirectly – into question. Here, yes, it makes sense, because why divulge precious information to one who once imprisoned his friends, who has yet to completely prove himself friendly despite how pleasant his company has proven to be thus far? But he's felt this before. With Gandalf, with Thorin. There's that initial inhale of surprised, panicked breath and then he waits, mind reeling as he thinks of his ring and possible motives and all the reasons not to utter a word even though… why? Why does it matter? Why should it be secret from his friends?

Legolas isn't a friend though. And the thought darkens his mood, just a slight amount, just enough to have him shrinking closer to Patches as he looks down, to the side and then back down. Aside from that one mishap in Mirkwood when he'd briefly lost the ring, Bilbo has never again felt even a smidgen of that kind of violence and here is no different; there's no anger, there's no hissed breath or sharp lines to his expression. Instead, it's a nervousness. A hesitance. One that has him stalling and fluttering his fingers at the edge of his coat again before bumbling through a meager explanation. ] I… I'm small. [ He pauses and then braves a glance up. ] And all hobbits are light on their feet, when there's need to be.

[ He knows how impossible that sounds though. A kingdom full of keen-eyed elves and he'd scuttled by because he's small; bah. With clearer thoughts, he might have thought of generous amounts of wine and elves more interested in the sight of rowdy, imprisoned dwarves than possible trespassers, but for now, he merely shakes his head and offers a weak, unconvincing smile. ] It was a great deal more luck than skill, truthfully.

[golden_prince]

[ It probably won't matter much to Thranduil that any responsibility for Legolas being involved here should sit squarely on his own shoulders, but officially he won't be able to do much about it. Now that Tauriel is not a sharp point of contention between them, things have been somewhat easier, even if there are matters on which they will never agree. This will undoubtedly be one of those things.

Legolas knows that Thorin will go with or without him, and he honestly has too much respect for the dwarven king - and less enthusiasm about who might be in a position to succeed him - to simply stand aside and let him go running into such things blindly. He does hope that this won't result in the worst case scenario, but while Legolas has not been to Dol Goldur himself, he knows all too much about that evil place.

Bilbo's nervousness does not go unnoticed, and Legolas is far too keen to miss a lie. Or, at the very least, a very definite obfuscation of the truth, but he has no idea what Bilbo might be trying to hide, or why. The guards at the barrels might have been embarrassingly drunk, but Bilbo would have gotten past several more on the way in that had been perfectly sober, and much more vigilant. There's a slight furrow to his brows as he takes that in, but then he seems to shrug it off. There's no point in dwelling on it, if Bilbo is that determined to not speak of it.

There are other, more relevant things that he can ask about, after all. ]

We will have need of all the luck we can gather today. Do you know anything about where we're going?

[ He's not even certain that Thorin grasps the entirety of it. Not that he would expect any amount of difference, but he has to wonder if anyone here has any true idea of what sort of place they're walking into. If they thought that the dark and winding paths that they tread before were treacherous...

He does hope that they will be able to escape notice for just long enough, but it seems foolish to count on that. ]