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The path was twisting and turning, with roughly hewn rock walls that dwarfed you all, even Gandalf. You and the Company had to shuffle along in single file, awkwardly waddling along. It was a tight fit, and your shoulders would brush the walls if you moved slightly to either side.

No one had any idea where they were going, except for Gandalf maybe. The old wizard had kept very quiet as everyone trundled along behind, eyes peering nervously ahead. You could encounter anything on the path, and it would be very hard to fight back in such an enclosed space. Clutching the talisman around your neck, you prayed that everything would be okay.

Feeling the talisman's shape under your fingers, you realised that soon you would have to explain everything to Thorin. The realisation caused a chilling feeling to enter your stomach, and you bumped into Bofur, who was walking in front of you. Then you realised that Bofur had stopped. In fact, everyone had stopped. Wait, they were moving again.

You filed along in the middle of the line, until you saw what they were marveling at. The passageway had ended, and a beautiful property lay before you all. Towering rock walls surrounded it, protecting the tranquil beauty. Waterfalls softly showered the lush plants, and birds could be heard twittering sweetly in the bushes. The buildings were smooth and tapering, elegant and graceful, shining white under the sun's fading light.

"The valley of Imraldis," Gandalf heralded to the group. "But in the common tongue it is known by another name."

"Rivendell," breathed Bilbo, his face shining with delight.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea." Gandalf smiled slightly.

Thorin's face immediately darkened. "This was your plan all along!" He accused Gandalf. "To seek refuge with the enemy."

'You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield " Gandalf said sharply, gazing intensely at the dwarf. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself!"

"You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?" Thorin argued, a derisive look on his face. "They will try and stop us."

"Of course they will," Gandalf replied. "But we have questions that need to be answered."

Too right.

"If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me." The wizard began to wander down a path leading off the ledge.

"Come!" He called.

Gandalf lead you and your companions down the path, across a narrow, delicately engraved bridge and into the quiet city. You are ushered into a beautiful courtyard, and no sooner had Gandalf looked around than a young, dark-haired elf began to descend the stairs.

"Mithrandir!" The elf smiled politely, addressing Gandalf.

"Lindir!" Gandalf grinned widely back at the elf. "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

"My Lord Elrond is not here," Lindir said regretfully.

"Not here?" Gandalf's brow creased, and he looked around. "Then where is he?"

A strange sounding horn filled the air, and you recognise the horn from the plains, from the orc chase when unseen forces had intervened. Of course.

The sound of hooves on the cobbestones filled the air, and you saw a group of riders approaching. It is only as they grew closer that you saw they were clad in full battle regalia. And their swords, bared to the evening light, dripped with blood.

"Ifridi bekâr!" Thorin roared. "Close ranks!" Bofur pulled you backwards, and you drew your sword, ready for a fight. The other dwarves form a defensive circle, back to back in a circular formation as the elves and their mounts entered the courtyard. The horses cantered around the edge of your circle, coming to a halt, and you growl, tightening your grip. Hating the elves for their past errors in judgement would be hypocritical, especially if you wanted Thorin to forgive you for yours. But that didn't mean you had to like them- or trust them, for that matter.

"Gandalf!" A particularly tall elf called, dismounting from his horse as the Company watched suspiciously. Gandalf and the elf exchanged more words in elvish, before the pair embraced familiarly. You quirk an eyebrow. Gandalf was acquainted with this elf?

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders, " Elrond continued, holding up a crude orc dagger. "Something or someone has drawn them near."

"That may have been us," Gandalf gestured sheepishly at your companions. Thorin stepped forward slightly, chin held high, and the other dwarves shuffled on behind, you included.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," the elf acknowledged, making eye contact with Thorin. His piercing gaze swept over the Company, and landed upon you.

"And those who have returned," he added quietly, dark eyes boring into yours. You shifted uncomfortably. How did this elf lord know of you?

You were Thorin's love, a voice reminded you. Many across Middle-Earth would have noted the span of your relationship with him- and maybe even believed you would marry.

True. But look how that turned out, you thought glumly.

Elrond and Thorin were still exchanging words, Thorin being as grim and hostile as usual. You fought the urge to shake him about for being such a grump. The thought made you giggle. Grumpy old dwarf.

"I do not believe we have met, " said Thorin grimly, glaring frostily up at the towering elf.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," ventured Elrond mellowly. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed," Thorin replied coolly. "He made no mention of you".

"Thorin!" You hissed scoldingly before you could stop yourself. Even if you weren't fond of elves, your former lover should remember his courtly manners. "Don't be rude!"

The dwarf turned his head to look at you irritably, and you noticed Gandalf and Elrond's eyes on you as well.

"Ah, Y/N," said Elrond, meeting your eyes "It is good to hear of you. Many believed you had perished in the dragonfire."

"It is good to not be dead, my lord," you said, staring back at the elf unflinchingly. Knowing that as you did, by being polite and calling the elf 'my lord' would only incense Thorin further. Hopefully it wouldn't pit him against you even more

"Curious...." the elf murmured, before proclaiming something long-windedly in elvish.

Elrond's use of this unknown tongue angered the other dwarves. "What is he saying?!" Gloin growled, and the others grumbled threateningly. "Does he offer us insult?!"

"No, Master Gloin," Gandalf reprimanded the bristling dwarf. "He is offering you food!"

You and the Company huddled together for a second, trying to decide whether to accept the offer. The decision was unanimous, despite suspicion, and Gloin stepped forward once more.

"Well in that case," he paused. "Lead on."

***************************************

Soft peaceful music fills the air as you and the Company sit down to dinner with the elves. You are seated right in the middle of the long rectangular table, inbetween Bofur and Kili, with Fili on Kili's right. From what you've seen of the dwarves, these three should prove to be very interesting dinner companions.

Everyone surveys the dishes placed upon with distaste, and promptly begin to complain to one another. Looking around the table, it is quite a sight to see.

Dori is trying to convince young Ori to try a piece of spinach, much to the younger dwarves reluctance. "I don't like green food," he says stubbornly, turning his nose up at the leafy greens.

Meanwhile, Dwalin is palming through bowls of salad, sending peices of lettuce and egg flying all over the table. "Where's the meat?" He asks from across the table, looking around in despair. You bite back a giggle. Your kinsmen are quite over dramatic, and deprivation of a core dwarvish food, meat, is unlikely to sit well, as they are inexperienced with foreign cuisine.

Oin stabbed a strange vegetable with a fork, looking at it with a mixture of horror and bewilderment. "Have they got any chips?" Ori asks hopefully. You watch Oin stuff a napkin into his ear trumpet, to block out the elvish music still playing in the dining hall, and bite your tongue to suppress another snort.

You glanced up at the high table, where Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin were eating. Or rather Thorin was sitting, and Elrond and Gandalf were eating. Elrond appeared to be examining the sword Thorin recovered in the troll cavern, then Gandalf's. Being an elf, their host would have greater knowledgeof the blades than their wielders.

You saw Bilbo pull his dagger out from under the table. It seemed that the hobbit had also recovered an elvish blade, just big enough for his tiny hands to wield.

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," Balin said, eyeing the tiny blade. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

"So my sword hasn't seen battle?" Bilbo asked, doubt flickering in his eyes.

"I'm not actually sure that is a sword," Balin confessed empathetically. "It's more of a letter opener, really."

"I can't say I fancy elf maids myself, too thin," Kili announced to the table, and you turned your head to observe the conversation. It appears that Fili, Kili and several of the other dwarves had been discussing women- again. You sighed, but continued listening.

"They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin," he continued, the other dwarves nodding and agreeing as he spoke. "Not enough facial hair for me, but that one over there is not too bad."

"Does that mean I'm ugly, because I don't have facial hair?" you pipe up cheekily, and Kili's face turns apologetic quickly.

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N, you're comely enough," he said hurriedly, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Besides," he said "If no facial hair were ugly, then why does Uncle-"

"That's enough, Kili," Fili interjected, seeing your facial expression at the mention of Thorin. He smiles slightly at you.

"Y/N's are pretty as they come. And sorry to blunt your axe, Kili, but that 'fair elf maiden' is actually no maid at all."

The entire table bursts into raucous laughter, you quickly shoot Fili a grateful look, and the awkwardness is forgotten.

"Change the tune, why don't you?" Nori complained, covering his ears to block out the elvish melody. "I feel like I'm at a funeral!"

"Did somebody die?!" Oin asks, deaf as always.

"Alrighty lads," calls Bofur, standing up from his seat beside you. "There's only one thing for it."

"There's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn..."

You laughed as you recognised the song, an old favourite. It was often sung as a drinking song, when dwarves gathered to share an ale. All the other dwarves immediately cheered and began to sing along, stomping and throwing food through the air. You add your voice to the cacophany, enjoying the chance to be one with your people.

..." oh, the ostler has a tipsy cat, that played the five stringed fiddle, and up and own he sawed his bow, now squeaking high now purring low..."

The impulse to dance strikes you. So you stood up with Bofur and began to dance a merry jig with him upon the table, squashing food and fingers alike under your feet as the singing continued. Gandalf and the elves did not seem to know what to make of it all, as did Bilbo, who sat looking rather shellshocked at the table, a piece of radish caught in his fluffy hair.

The song eventually end with a great shout, and the dining area was a complete mess, but you laughed as hard as the rest of them, still standing on the table with Bofur. Breathless from singing and dancing you looked over to where Thorin had been, your eyes sparkling.

The heir the Lonely Mountain was blatantly staring at you, lips slightly parted in the ghost of a smile. But it was his eyes that really captivated you- they were full of wonder, and most of all, a hint of love. An echo of the way he used to look at you, before this utter mess. Your heart swelled when you saw him looking at you like that. "Maybe there is hope," the voice in your head whispered quietly.

But as soon the moment passed. Thorin noticed you looking at him, and quickly turned away. But not before you saw his cheeks flush slightly. And you smiled slightly to yourself. There was hope.

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