Yeah, there will be ten-ish chapters if any of you guys were wondering. I am thinking up the plot of a sequel and if I go through it will be within this year but not any time soon. Edit: I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING AN UPDATE QUICKER!

Paring: Bilbo Baggins/Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood

Bilbo Baggins/Legolas Greenleaf

Rating: MA (might be Explicit)

The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.


By the time that the Elven Army had made it to Mirkwood, Bilbo had become used to communicating through spilled ink and wine. The once lonely days were spent trying to tell Legolas or Thranduil if anything happened to him. On the bright side he hadn't seen Death since he promised him a good sucker punch to the face, but he had not woken up yet. There was little to do in the month that he had been in this death like state, and he feared that he wouldn't be released from it soon.

He was lonely no matter how much time he spent with Thranduil and Legolas, and he wanted nothing more than to be held. Bilbo missed the way that Legolas and Thranduil would comfort him and relax with him.

Though he also missed the Shire and sometimes wished that he had never left the rolling green hills. If he hadn't then he would be safe and no matter how much he had been snubbed by his family and neighbors it was better than being on the brink of death. But if he hadn't had left then he would have been harvesting tomatoes and just wasting away in his smial with no life.

A life with overprotective and possessive elves was better than a life being half lived.

So he would wait, he would wait with the elves.

Though he had gotten into some mischief of his own, and often tried to scare the other elves. But word got around that it was him scaring them and all the elves relaxed, hell most of them laughed. All of them knew that the odd shoe missing or the bouncing hair of the King was their hobbit's doing, and it was adorable to them if they were being honest.

However, Bilbo was getting cold; his soul feeling stagnant and unstable without an anchor to the physical world.

There was less and less that eh could do as the time wore on without his body improving; his little disturbances became nonexistent, and he found that he was unable to communicate with the royal elves as much anymore. "Bilbo, are you still with us?" they would ask but Bilbo was unable to communicate with them.

Then when wandering in the Palace he found something that sent chills through him.

A dead elf was leaned against the door of the dungeons; the face was bloodied and unrecognizable but there was only one prisoner he knew of that could have done this. There was a rustle behind him and he saw the swish of a tunic as a person rounded a corner. Bilbo frowned and ghosted down the halls after the elf; maybe it was Erwarth.

The ex-captain was not yet sentenced to anything for her crimes and waited for punishment in the dungeons; and if he remembered she was the only person that could be responsible for the guard's death. "Wait!" he cried out in vain when he stumbled across a dead servant, but the person (Erwarth he believed) was fast. There was no energy that Bilbo could use to catch up with her, so he could only follow her trail of blood and death.

And did he follow it; all the way to the healing halls were his body was.

Behind him he heard a chuckle and found Death watching him; that sickening grin on his face and Bilbo felt a panic. Surely someone would find the trail of dead elves and alert the guards or the King and Prince. Though he doubted that anyone other than other guards would be out at night, and he made up his mind. He had nearly died once, but he would not die. Not when he still had the chance to save his life.

The hobbit balled his fists and ran towards the specter; he made good on his promise to punch Death. That only served to weaken his already weak soul, but he still ran. He had to tell Thranduil or Legolas; he had to.

It was easy to find the Prince; Legolas was often kept up at night just wondering the balconies as he remembered the tragedy that was the Battle. The elf prince tried to make himself look strong during the day but he often had nightmares that kept him up at night. Maybe he could get help from the restless prince, and just as he turned a corner Bilbo found Legolas resting next to a statue. A pipe dangling from his lips with some foul Green Hart weed (how he wished he could show the elves that Old Toby was better than their elven grown weed).

"Legolas!" but as usual the elf didn't know he was there until Bilbo ripped the pipe from his mouth.

The elf was startled for a second but frowned, "Bilbo? Is that you?"

Bilbo gripped Legolas' night shirt and pulled desperately, trying to get the elf to move. "What?" he heard Legolas asked but followed in the direction the shirt was being pulled in. The elf followed him obediently and waited patiently when Bilbo lost the energy to keep his grip on the shirt.

"Where are we going?"

There was no answer from Bilbo as they went further and further into the Palace, before finally coming up to the dungeon entrance. Legolas' eyes widened and Bilbo felt his hands pass through the shirt once more but he was too tired to try and get a grip again.

"No," Legolas whispered as he looked at the dead guard. Without hesitating the elven Prince took off towards the healing halls at a break neck pace; and Bilbo tried to follow him. He really did but the hobbit felt like each step weighed more than Smaug as he tried to follow Legolas. His body ghosted down corridors as he tried to get keep going, but the Elf Prince was too fast.

He just couldn't keep up anymore.

The hobbit remembered looking up to see feet making their way closer and closer to him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care if they belonged to Death or not. Bilbo wanted to sleep; he couldn't keep doing this forever. His pale eyelids began to slide together when he saw the feet suddenly stop and a laugh bellow out from the owner's body.

"Looks like today is your lucky day Bilbo Baggins," and the hobbit merely closed his eyes.

His soul fading slowly as the figure walked away; and Death whistled as he walked. Such a busy day he was having but he did love the souls of the Eldar when they passed on. Their struggles to stay atuned to the life they had before they were cut off from the world they lived in for thousands of years; but even if Death found the small joys of his job he hated it.

There was nothing sadder than having to steal the souls of children and the elderly from their loving families; to have to torment Bilbo Baggins with the thought of possibly dying. To have to sometimes comfort the blackening souls of soldiers that he plucks from the battlefields. Sure there were perks to his job, but he sometimes wished that there was someone else who could take the job.

But he had better things to do than dwell on his occupation; like escort the soul of Erwarth to the afterlife.

~.~.~.

His little hobbit was so pale against the bedding when Legolas found him; the once perfectly colored lips were a depressing greyish hue. Though he was more alarmed at the sight of his father standing next to his sick bed with a blade raised to a slender neck.

"Ada!" and that one little word had surprised the King. Thranduil, having thought Legolas was asleep, startled and that was his mistake when the elf shoved her own sword into his body. The metal was unforgiving against his skin and cut easily through muscle and flesh without a second thought. If anything the King merely let out a pained gasp but held still as she yanked the sword out of him.

But Thranduil never fell; no, he just stood there with that cocky grin of his. "You honestly think that such a nick will save you from my wrath Erwarth?" and he raised his sword. There was no fight left in the elf but that one spark of rebellion that she always had; and she parried his blow easily.

Her ultimate goal was not him; no, she was going to take the hobbit out of this world. Thranduil had taken away everything she had worked so hard for in this life all because she believed in a cause that was bigger than her. Erwarth - no Barhador was not going to stand for it!

He took away her career, her citizenship, and even her name away from her; but she was going to take his love from him. Her nimble frame moved quick and she sliced haphazardly at the King. His arm being one of the victims of her wrath and she kept her ground before twisting to try and get him in the side. He gasped when he blade slid easily into his hip. Thranduil let his guard down for a moment and that moment was all that she needed.

It was a shame that Legolas was hurt so, but it was the only thing she had to cling to. Barhador was not going to let Thranduil take away her revenge. She turned quick on her heels and raised the sword above her head and plunged the blade deep into flesh. The elf was shocked as the blood ran freely and onto the bed sheets.

All through this Bilbo Baggins slept on, his body laying prone under Legolas as the prince grasped the blade with both hands before it could have went any deeper into his stomach. "You won't touch him or anyone ever again," he grit out of his teeth. Legolas nodded discreetly and Barhador's mouth opened as if to say something.

It merely closed and opened as her eye rolled to the inside of her head.

Thranduil and Legolas let her head fall to the floor happily without her body; the prince was keeping pressure to the wound , but was unconcerned about it in general. He had endured much worse than this in his lifetime and some insubordinate she-elf was not going to end him. "Ion nîn, will you be alright?" Thranduil asked him as he held him own wounded arm.

"Yes ada, is Bilbo okay?"

The hobbit was untouched by anything harmful but he was rather soiled and unresponsive. "I believe so ion nîn," Thranduil said as he sat back on the bed next to Bilbo's and grabbed his arm.

"Shall I get the healers?" Legolas asked.

"That would be preferable."

The Elven King was a picture of perfection even as blood was oozing from between his fingers as he sat in complete silence; his blue eyes trained on the form of his hobbit. If he hadn't been here already, just waiting next to Bilbo's body then the hobbit would be killed. For what he knew was revenge, but there was no sympathy for the corpse on the ground before him.

Perhaps had it been Tauriel or some other respected Captain of his; then the situation would be a little more different. However he had kept an ear on Barhador throughout the years she had served under him, just like he did for any other upcoming elf in his army. She was no different than the others but she was more cruel. Sure the young elf had been efficient but back then he had only seen a tool to use whenever he wanted.

Now he realized that there was more to her than he thought and maybe if he had taken more precautions then the elf wouldn't have been insubordinate. Though it was now water under the bridge, if she had taken more than just a bit from his arm and side then he wouldn't have been merciful to just behead her then and there.

If Bilbo had been touched at all, then Barhador would have gotten something worse than death. He would have had her begging for death, but if his anger was something then Legolas's was a hurricane. His son was truly able to hold a grudge bigger than anything or anyone he had ever seen.

Thranduil sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump as he held onto his wounds; and allowed his eyes to wander. Of course he would love to help clean off Bilbo and transfer him to another bed, but he didn't want to make things worse for him.

Then as he was about to avert his eyes from Bilbo's still form he saw the hobbit's fingers twitch. Even if just a little they twitched and that was more than enough for Thranduil. The king got to his feet and went over to Bilbo's side and used one of his bloodied hands to hold Bilbo's clean ones.

"Wake up, wake up," he whispered to the small hobbit.

He wasn't really surprised when Bilbo didn't rouse at all, or even show any sign that he heard Thranduil speak to him. The hobbit slept on and Thranduil moved back to lay on the other bed. Maybe he was just seeing things, but he had been so sure that he had seen his fingers move. He hissed when he pulled his hand back and looked at the deep crimson red that colored the pale skin.

"Eru that hurts," and as soon as he began to apply pressure on it he heard coughing.

Thranduil turned his head to see Bilbo's honey eyes snap open, and his small body be racked with huge coughs. The elf king jumped to his feet as quick as he dared and rushed over to Bilbo. "Calm down and breath," he whispered to his hobbit and removed his hand from his side to help prop up Bilbo.

"T-Thranduil?" and even though his voice was hoarse and rough from weeks of disuse Thranduil thought it was the most beautiful sound he heard in a long time.

"It'll be okay, I promise,"and Bilbo looked at the blood that stained his pristine sheets.

"B-Blood."

"That'll be her," and his head turned enough to meet Barhador's still eyes. Bilbo knew that she would get what she deserved, but still when he blacked out he wasn't expecting to wake up in his body. It was a little disconcerting to him, since he had gotten rather used to seeing his own body through another perspective.

He scowled at her and settled back against Thranduil, "Yes, I was r-rather aware of her. Until t-the end."

Bilbo closed his eyes and let his breathing steady out; at least he was awake now.

~.~.~.

It was a shame, he thought as he stood in front of a rather large mirror; his nude chest bare to any that would have seen fit to enter the room at that precise moment. Bilbo abhorred the crude letters dug into his skin; the puckered skin telling all what and who he was. Of course Legolas and Thranduil have done all they could to keep the scarring to a minimal, but even the elven healers could not make the words fade from view.

Maybe he shouldn't have provoked Azog to the point where he would torture him, but at the time he was so certain that he'd die. Bilbo didn't want to die as a coward, a sniveling mess. If anything he wanted to die with his dignity intact, and if he had died that day on Ravenhill then he'd be happy. Instead he was trapped in some psuedo-hell for months.

"Bilbo?" and the hobbit turned to see Legolas enter his room with a tray piled high with food in his hands.

Legolas knew what Bilbo was doing but for the sake of his hobbit he didn't talk about it; instead letting Bilbo be the one to broach the subject when he was ready. "The cooks still have a hard time cultivating and preparing the hardy food that you've been wanting. Also there have been ravens from Erebor with letters written to you. Prince Fili and the Ur Family mostly, but every now and then an Ori has been asking for you," he said idly as he set the food at the small table in Bilbo's room.

"Some letters have been sent to me personally, one from Balin. Apologizing to me, and then there was another from Prince Fili. He wants to make sure that you're okay," his small talk eased Bilbo as the Prince poured some tea for himself and Bilbo. When he finished Legolas picked up a small silken shirt and walked over to Bilbo.

He accepted the shirt and slid it on, "Thank you Legolas."

"It's not a problem Little One. Come, I've gotten some stew for you, with those mashed potatoes you love so."

Bilbo was led over to the table and gulped a little nervously; he wasn't sure if he could handle such a hearty meal. While he was grateful at Legolas's attempts to try and cheer him, Bilbo was just getting off of a strict soup regimen. And Legolas had went and gotten him a meal that he could have eaten in Hobbiton once upon a time.

The tea went down easily and he munched on one small cookie without much problem; then he let Legolas clear away his dish only to replace it with a hobbit sized bowl of beef stew. A smile flitted across his face and Bilbo quietly dug into his food, letting the Prince talk about everything and anything. His stomach was trying to calm and eventually Bilbo had to reject anymore food.

"Thank you Legolas, but I'm going to retire for the night."

Legolas, who was having a nice dinner, nodded respectfully even though Bilbo could see that he was a little sad. He cleared away all their dishes and put it on the tray before he bent at the waist to give Bilbo a kiss on the cheek. The hobbit returned it before letting the Prince leave and gingerly he held his stomach.

"Fresh air, need some fresh air," he murmured to himself.

The air was cool and his large feet brushed against the stone walkways as he made his way outside; the guards stationed near his room tensed and tried to follow him. Though he merely waved them off, and kept going. His head was spinning and his feet were stumbling along the paths near the gardens. "Calm down, calm down," he said to his stomach as it lurched.

Bilbo had no clue where he was going or how he was going to get back to his room, but that didn't stop him. Even when his stomach settled Bilbo kept going, beyond the boundaries of the actual Realm and into the sickened forest. Something was calling him forward. Armed with his memory guiding him through the twisting dirt paths Bilbo walked; then he stumbled across the decayed remains of the spiders from his journey.

A bead from Oin's hair and one of Ori's broken quills littered the ground. The little things that happened to be ignored during their struggle, and he walked over a button from Thorin's pack. He smiled fondly as he remembered some of their time together, the Company was a family to him.

It was a damned shame he wasn't included in that family.

Kili's broken arrows nearly stabbed into his foot had he not seen it in time, and a forgotten dagger of Fili's was laying on the ground against a root. Just waiting for its owner to come and claim it. Behind all of the mementos of the Company's was a little ring, sitting innocently on a piece of his red vest. It was covered in some leaves but he could see it even in the dark.

It was calling out to him, and all the unease he felt disappeared.

Bilbo had forgotten how much the little trinket meant to him.

As he bent down to pick it up, it felt almost like it wanted him to find it; for him to wear it. He was so close to it, maybe it wouldn't hurt to wear it one last time. Though as he began to put it on his finger he was jolted from his trance when he heard his name.

"Bilbo!"

"Little Master!"

"Bilbo."

"Bilbo!"

"Little One!

"BILBO!"

He lifted his head and shoved the ring into one of his trouser pockets, and knelt in the dirt. Bilbo gave a cry of pain as his began to pound in agony; he clutched at his wild curls desperately. Trying to make some sense of what was wrong with him. All the while the ring was sitting happily in his pocket, ready to begin a new plan.

To become what it was supposed to be.

It was and forever will be a legend.

Well, right now it needed all the help it could get to become that once more. It could tell that it had better luck manipulating the hobbit than it would trying to go for the host it would prefer. Now it couldn't feel emotions but it was sentient enough to understand that this creature it was now controlling was different than any other.

The hobbit was happy to be controlled, and the ring deduced it was the elves that rushed to his aid. If only it could get the luck it need to go one with its plans.

Legolas stopped just short of Bilbo's fallen body as the other elves began to check their surroundings; something was wrong with his Little One. Where Bilbo looked healthy Legolas feeling like there was something sick in Bilbo. He quickly glanced around the small path and took in all the paraphernalia from the filthy dwarves.

Maybe his Little One was just trapped in the past. He had seen what memories could do to a man, and like a good elf Legolas picked Bilbo up from the dirt. He could care less about how the white silk was dirty or how Bilbo would need another bath. All he wanted to know was that he would be okay. In his haste to make sure his hobbit was going to be cleared for any injuries, none of the elves payed attention to the fact that a small ring fell from Bilbo's pocket.

It was hidden by the leaves that the elves kicked up in their haste to leave, and it would stay on the Elven Path through Mirkwood for years before it would be picked up again.

By that damned hobbit.

And the ring didn't have the capability to actually hate something or someone, but it was feeling a little animosity towards its chances that were disappearing from it. Though it had spent countless years with Smeagol, it can wait some more years for it to be picked up again. But it was so close to using someone with such a tangible and open mind; something it hadn't encountered since Isildur.

It had done a job that needed to happen.

The hobbit knew the temptation that came with the ring; to feel protected, to hold power that he never knew. It knows that he will feel the absence of the ring keenly, and will seek it out once more.

Yes, Bilbo Baggins was a very special hobbit.

I mean it wasn't every day that a race that was thought to be a legend was coveted by elves and the One Ring.


I'm terribly sorry for not updating on this story, I really am. I'm looking to finish this story and then work on finishing my other ones.

Ragehappy Mavin Fan