The rest of the trip to Rivendell was leisurely, or as leisurely as it could get when it came to Elves and Dwarves in proximity to one another.

Most of the Company kept to themselves or clustered around Thorin and the Pretty Twins, as though they had some odd notion the Elves would suddenly attack the three royals without provocation.

Personally, knowing Thorin as she did, Bilba felt any attack against him would most likely have plenty of provocation at its core.

Even then he was continuing to mutter unflattering things against the Elves, all in Khuzdul of course.

Gandalf rode at the head of the group deep in conversation with Elrond and most of the Elves rode with them.

Bilba found herself falling back, content to look at the scenery and enjoy not having anything trying to kill her at the moment.

"My father says you are Bilba Baggins, yes? Are you perhaps related to Belladonna?"

Bilba looked up at the Elf who'd drawn alongside her. Before she could respond a second one, identical to the first in appearance, came along her other side.

"You must be Elrond's sons," Bilba said in Sindarin, remembering stories her mother had told her. "Forgive me for I am quite unable to tell you apart."

The one on her right laughed. "It is rare anyone can and you have only just met us, after all. I am Elladan."

Bilba nodded and looked to the Elf on her left. "Which would make you Elrohir." She hesitated. "Belladonna was my mother."

Elladan looked startled. "Indeed? I wasn't aware she had children. She never mentioned any during her visits."

On her other side Elrohir made an odd noise. Elladan's eyes widened and he began stammering. "I mean...well...what I meant to say was--"

"It's fine," Bilba said shortly. It was little surprise her mother never mentioned them. She was quick enough to run off with Gandalf any time he came calling, leaving her children behind for months at a time.

She used to believe the fact her mother returned at all was proof of her love. Given what happened in the end, though, she wondered if it was her father, rather than her and Bungo her mother returned for.

"If you don't mind my asking," Elrohir said, "how is she? She used to visit all the time but we haven't seen her in a little while."

Nearly a decade ago, Bilba thought sourly. Her mother had often spoken of the two as close friends but they hadn't bothered to so much as inquire after Belladonna even once, despite her sudden absence.

"She died," Bilba said flatly. The two both jerked slightly in their saddles, startled. Before they could question her further Bilba spurred her pony ahead of them. She considered going back to Thorin and Fili but, just from a glance, it would appear they hadn't yet tired of insulting the Elves. Going by the fact she hadn't heard them repeat a single insult she wondered if it wasn't some sort of bizarre hobby they practiced on a regular basis.

Instead she found Nori, riding along the outskirts as usual, though nearest to Dori and Ori.

"Want to start that first lesson?" She asked.

"You want to start teaching me Black Speech while we're surrounded by Elves?" He asked in surprise.

Bilba smiled sweetly. "Why not?"

Nori gave her an admiring look. "You are certainly an interesting Hobbit."

"No need to be insulting," Bilba replied dryly.

Nori started to say something else but trailed off, his eyes going past her.

Bilba followed his gaze and saw Ori drawing up alongside her, keeping her between him and his brother.

"Did I hear you mention you were going to teach Nori Black Speech?" he asked quietly. "Would you mind if I listened in? I'm always interested in new languages."

"Of course," Bilba said lightly, hiding a pang of regret. Nori wouldn't be able to help her with her Khuzdul with Ori around.

Still, it would be worth it to watch the Elves cringe as she spoke fluent Black Speech in their presence. They could consider it a fair trade for all the time they'd had with her mother that she hadn't had.

She didn't bother to lower her voice as she began and, several yards ahead, saw Thorin and Fili both jerk around in their saddles to stare at her. Around them the Elves stiffened and even Elrond at the head looked back at her, askance.

Kili, who rode next to Thorin, near doubled over in his saddle with laughter. Thorin caught her eye, an approving look mixed with something she couldn't identify, before he turned away once more.

A warm glow spread through her body and Bilba felt herself sit up straighter in the saddle. None of the Elves stopped her and she continued the lesson all the way till Rivendell itself came into sight.

At that point she did stop, but only because she was so fascinated by the sight of the last Homely House that her words were fair stolen from her entirely.

The approach was along a narrow ledge with rock on one side and a drop on the other. As they moved down it the sight that greeted them was a wide valley rife with waterfalls and lush greenery.

Rivendell itself was comprised of buildings designed to be as open air as possible with arching bridges and walkways connecting them.

Did it never rain? Bilba wondered. What about snow? It was beautiful, just as her mother had said, but it didn't seem all that practical.

Bungo would have loved it though. Her heart grew heavy at the thought and her shoulders slumped slightly. If life were the slightest bit fair this would have been her second time visiting, the first being with her family.

Of course, if that had happened it would mean they'd made it safely and probably safely home again. Would she have gone with the Dwarves at all if her family had been still alive?

No. Her father would have forbidden it and her mother...Bilba felt a flash of annoyance at the realization that Belladonna probably would have gone in her place.

They reached the bottom of the path where it opened to a large stone bridge passing over a river. Bilba found herself riding next to Kili who, as usual, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The way his eyes darted about made her wonder if he'd ever seen Rivendell and she asked him about it.

"Of course not," he responded, "no Dwarf would be caught dead in the company of Elves unless there was no other choice."

"Like needing them to read Dwarvish words written by your own great-grandfather?" Bilba asked dryly.

Kili sighed, his eyes darkening for just an instant. "A lot was lost when Erebor fell."

"I'm surprised Thorin didn't learn it," Bilba said, feeling a flash of guilt for upsetting him.

"He was too young," Kili said his voice quiet. "Only twenty-four. He hadn't even reached his majority yet."

Twenty-four, Bilba thought. Kili and Fili had told her previously they were in their late 70's, early 80's and, from what she could tell, would still be considered in their Tweens in the Shire.

Thorin had been a child when Erebor fell.

"What about that battle he fought in?" She said suddenly. "How old was he then?"

Fili had fallen back to join them and answered. "About fifty-five I believe."

Kili nodded. "That sounds right."

Younger than either of them, barely a child and he'd lost so much.

Bilba knew enough about Dwarves to know they lived an exceptionally long time, upwards of five hundred years. For Thorin to have gone through so much in so short a time span was shocking.

"How old is he now?" She asked. He looked like a healthy Dwarf in his prime but he had to be older than both Fili and Kili.

"I think he's about one hundred and twenty five," Fili said. He gave her a sidelong look. "Why all this interest in Uncle and his age all of the sudden?"

"No reason," Bilba said. "It's just sad how much he's been through already."

"You've been through a lot yourself," Fili said.

"Also before my majority," Bilba replied softly. "And maybe more still. I've still got another three years to go."

"Really?" Fili said. He frowned at her. "When do Hobbits reach their majority?"

"Thirty-three." As Bilba spoke she leaned over the side of the horse to get a look at the river they were crossing. It appeared shallow with large pebbles lining both sides. She had a sudden desire to go splash around in it and hoped to get the chance before they left.

She straightened back up and, to her surprise, realized she was alone. The others had gone on ahead of her and a look back showed Fili and Kili dead still on their ponies staring at her.

"What's wrong?" She asked in confusion.

Kili made a choking noise. "You're THIRTY??? I thought you said you were the same age as me and Fili!"

"I am!" Bilba said shortly. "Maturity wise. Hobbits don't live as long as Dwarves. I'm thirty years into what will most likely be a 100 year lifespan, if I'm lucky. I'll reach my majority in three more years."

"But," Fili said, his voice stunned. "You live alone!"

"The Thain is in charge of my finances," Bilba said, annoyed. "And Seth and Priscilla check up on me. And no," she said firmly before they could say what she knew they were thinking, "I did not have to ask them permission to go. I'm not a child. The Thain keeps track of my finances through formality only. He knows I'm more than capable of handling things on my own but our laws state I must be of a certain age first. As I said, maturity wise, I'm probably right between the two of you."

They were both still staring at her in shock and Bilba rolled her eyes. "One hundred years, boys. Stop trying to judge me as though I were a Dwarf."

Honestly, they MUST be young if they were that shocked to find out other races lived shorter lifespans than they did.

For a second she considered the idea herself. If she was blessed, and so far she had been anything but, she might live another seventy years. Fili and Kili and Thorin had hundreds of years spreading out before them. Their friendship with her would be but a brief candle in that time span, barely worth remembrance by the end.

The same could be said for the entire Company. All of them would one day pass on without her and, in their long lives, would no doubt utterly forget her. Her mind went to Elladan and his brother. Her mother had spoken of them as though they were her best friends, near inseparable when she visited but they hadn't even noticed ten years had passed since the last time they spoke. She'd been dead ten years and they considered it but a little while. Perhaps such was the lot of those who lived so much longer, or didn't die at all. The short life of a Man or a Hobbit was nothing to them, a passing fancy snuffed out and forgotten in an instant.

With a frown she turned her back on the two of them and continued on into Rivendell. She hadn't intended for her thoughts to go down so dark a road.

The others had gathered already in a large, round area. A wide set of steps led up to another level and Thorin and several of the others were already heading up them.

Bilba hurried to catch up. She ended up walking next to Balin as they reached the top of the steps.

For the first time she really noticed his white hair and beard and found herself staring at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Problem, lassie?

She blushed. "I was thinking how much you must have seen in your life." She frowned. "I mean, not that I'm saying--"

He chuckled. "It's all right. You could say I've seen more than most, though less than this lot." He motioned, indicating the Elves.

"Are you married?" She found herself asking. "If so you must have a lot of children."

They were walking down a long corridor as she spoke. The ground was littered with leaves and other forest debris that crunched under her feet as she walked. Usually she would think it untidy but, here, it just seemed to add to the atmosphere.

"I'm afraid not," Balin said. "I was married once, but she was lost when Erebor fell. We had no children."

Bilba flinched. "I'm sorry. You've never remarried?"

"It isn't our way," Balin answered, his voice tinged with sadness. "For Dwarves, once is all there is."

"Really?" Bilba said in surprise. "Only once, no matter what?"

"Is it not so for Hobbits?" Balin asked, looking at her in curiosity.

"Hobbits usually marry only once," Bilba said, "but it's not unknown to marry again if one of them passes away. It's also not unheard of for a marriage to end for various reasons and one or both to remarry."

Balin nodded. "You are much like the Men then. It is not the same for Dwarves. We have but one partner our entire life no matter what."

"It must be lonely," Bilba whispered and then immediately mentally kicked herself. "I'm sorry--"

"It's all right," Balin said. "You are correct."

They lapsed into silence.

The Elves showed them to rooms, Thorin and his nephews first. As they vanished inside Bilba nodded after them.

"Do they have partners?"

"No," Balin said. "The boys have yet to meet anyone and Thorin." He sighed in exasperation. "Thorin is far to obsessed with everyone else's fate to give consideration to his own."

That figured Bilba thought. She had no doubt Thorin prided himself on being an enigma, selfless but with a big mouth.

"I do think, however," Balin said suddenly, "he may have finally started to look to himself of late."

"Really?" Bilba looked toward the room where Thorin had vanished with his nephews. "He met someone?"

Balin gave her an amused, affectionate look. "I believe he has."

"That's good," Bilba said. "Hopefully she's someone able to keep him in line."

"I suppose we shall see," came the mild reply. "Though so far she has shown little trouble in doing so."

One of the Elves came up to show Balin to his room and he took his leave of her.

Bilba waited at the back as the rest were shown to quarters to get cleaned up and ready for dinner.

Leaning against a wall she wondered about the kind of woman that would catch the eye of Thorin Oakenshield. She was no doubt beautiful. Bilba could just picture her, long flowing hair, brilliant eyes, a musical voice and flawless, porcelain skin. She probably dressed impeccably in flowing skirts with ribbons and jewels perfectly complimenting her beauty.

She was probably demure, quiet and ladylike with perfect manners, but smart at the same time. Able to turn Thorin's head with her social grace and charisma.

In short such a woman would be the complete anathema of Bilba with her ragged, short cropped hair, trousers, and inability to act like a normal Hobbit no matter how hard she tried.

Bilba blinked, where did that come from? What did it matter to her if she was Thorin's ideal woman or not?

"Miss Baggins? If you would come this way I'll show you to your room."

Her train of thought broken, Bilba looked up to see one of the Elven twins standing there, she had no idea which. She also realized that the two of them were the only ones currently in the corridor, the others having all vanished to their own rooms or elsewhere.

She pushed up off the wall. "Thank you. I'd like that."

Her own room, as it turned out, was only a few steps away, close to the one Thorin and the Pretty Twins had been shown.

Inside, to her everlasting joy, she found a number of Elven maidens in the process of filling a tub for her with steaming hot water.

"Oh," Bilba said. "I think I could kiss the lot of you right now."

The Elf laughed. "I'll have to alert my father to the newest idea of diplomacy, offering hot baths to weary travelers."

"It would be effective," Bilba said instantly. Her eyes traveled toward the bed and stopped at the sight of the dress laid over it. Her throat tightened and she stepped over, one hand lifting lightly to run over the material.

Behind her the Elf cleared his throat. "It was left by your mother the last time she visited. I thought you might want it, at least while your things are cleaned." He hesitated a moment and then, "I do wish to apologize if my brother and I hurt you with our lack of sensitivity, it was not my intent."

Elrohir then, Bilba thought. He seemed to have a better awareness of how his words impacted others. She swallowed, letting a breath out and then turned with a smile.

"Thank you."

He nodded. He reached in a back pocket and pulled out a packet tied together with twine. "I believe my father told you of the letters waiting for you." He stepped over and laid them next to the dress. "I'll leave them here for you."

He gave another nod and then left. The women finished filling the bath a few minutes later and followed leaving Bilba alone.

Deciding not to waste time she quickly undressed and got in the tub, groaning in happiness at the feel of hot water against her skin. She took her time bathing, relaxing until the heat was utterly gone and the water grew downright cold.

Finally she got out and dried off before dressing in her underclothes and then reverently picking up her mother's dress. It would be entirely impractical for the journey of course but there was no reason she couldn't wear it for now. Maybe she could pretend her mother had actually left it for her there, instead of thinking her mother had left her for it and everything else Rivendell had to offer.

She pulled it on and slid her arms through the sleeves. To her surprise the dress fit almost perfectly, forming to her body as though made for her. Apparently she must be close to her mother, in size at least. She doubted if anyone would think her Belladonna's daughter based on looks. Her mother had been one of the most beautiful Hobbits in the Shire and many a heart had been broken when she'd finally agreed to marry Bilba's father.

Settling at a small table with a low mirror Bilba started in on her hair. It had grown longer already, much to her annoyance. Hobbits, for whatever reason were blessed, or cursed as Bilba personally believed, with exceptionally fast growing hair. Hers, irritatingly enough, had already grown out to well past her jawline where she preferred to wear it and was nearly to her shoulders. She considered cutting it but then decided against it and instead simply brushed it out. There was nothing to tie it back with but she spotted a few potted flowers near the far wall and it was little effort to break off a few and use them to tie a portion of her hair back from her face.

She glanced at the result in the mirror and then sighed, it would have to do.

Turning away she headed back to the bed and sat in the middle, picking up the letters as she did.

There were three of them. One was from the Thain and she felt her gut clench at it. She hadn't lied to Fili and Kili. She was effectively an adult and able to leave without asking permission but the thought of upsetting the Thain, who also happened to be her grandfather, still disquieted her.

She set the letter down and glanced at the second, it was from Priscilla.

The third was from Fram.

Bilba stared at it in surprise. She hadn't expected him to write her. She stared at the neat writing, waiting for the inevitable feel of butterflies in her stomach she always got when she thought of him.

She felt...something...but couldn't quite define what the feeling was.