[ … 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? ]
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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? ]