The Hobbit - The Desolation of Smaug Edition (ON HOLD)

9. How You Make A Monster

A shadow unseen beneath the dimness of the cave-halls, was what he was. Yet, he wasn't nothing – although this may be a shadow unseen, it possessed blood and flesh. It possessed the ability of communication, and left behind it large footsteps where the ground billowed slightly, and as it passed, the wind moved with the dust. It breathed and it thought; as the burglar whom had passed the son of the king unnoticed; the Captain of the Guard, and whom had passed the King - he who's awareness of presence and warmth was independent and strong like a breeze. These creatures of such valuable, rare senses had not noticed this scant hobbit pass them by beneath their range of sight, for he wielded a golden hoop of greater value than the elves' treasures, and gleamed brighter than the elves' silver curtains beneath the stars.

As his abnormally big feet brushed the hard stone paths, they turned to look, still their elf-eyes saw nothing – just straight through Bilbo's invisible frame, and the creature advanced ahead with a sigh. He ducked behind nooks and crannies; gasped and viewed the elves' magnificent, tall silhouettes. He peeked behind large, carved carried walls of white stone, in search of metal capable of freeing his friends of everlasting imprisonment. Though instead – his heart beating with such a brisk pace like a mice – was stopped hastily, tangling within his throat as a pair of ice-blue eyes illuminated the grey expanse within Bilbo's invisibility. It was like he had been running as fast as he possibly could – as fast as his feet would carry him – only to have to dig his heels deep within the earth as a great, wide abyss stretched out like an ocean before him, and another step would lead to a sure doom.

His muscles solidified beneath his grey skin within this dark expanse of nothingness; his breath got entangled in his lungs, and his eyeballs ran cold and irritated as he banned the blinking reflex. Whereas now, the Elven-king stood there before him – great and magnificent, silver curtains to the floor, iris staring straight into Bilbo's hazel colored, like his glaciers freezing everything into a panicking, cold, frightened marble. His crown of berries and leaves of the seasons were no longer upon his head, his gowns of royal red and gold had been replaced by great, thick cloths - brimming his body of tough, ice colored flesh such as a surging river, embracing him with care and with love, regarding every flex, every curve of his muscles. The cloth drizzled in silver green like the color inside the rock enclosing around him. His complexion glistened like luminous fireflies, this – otherwise inviting under different circumstances – not so much to Bilbo, not able to breathe. The king's delicate palms of a healer, powdered with gold rings topped in gems alike sapphires and rubies, enclosed a cup beneath his chest, and he turned – ever so slowly.

“I know you're there...”

I am so sorry, my dear friends, thought Bilbo as he felt how his life was gradually slipping out of reach; how the king's emotion-hollow expression bore a hole within him like one icy flame, and there was no longer an end note to his saga. “Why do you linger in the shadows?” The voice of the king was smooth and pleasant, with a clang of bells ringing in victory.

“I was coming to report to you.” Tauriel, daughter of the forest, Captain of the Guard of the Woodland Realm, flaming hair from kisses of fire; emerged into the vague light. As of prior events she had waltzed with beasts with feet of eight – was now calm and moderate, passing a silhouette unseen.

When the elf with red hair, dressed in dark green emerald from paint of the forest almost brushed shoulders with Bilbo, trailing down the staircase of stone, he breathed a sight of relief. Her chin was held high, her steps ran lengthy upon the stone between the pillars like trees hewn from the gravel. The flames running down her back flew vivaciously around her as she went to cease before her king – whose posture towered over her Silvan silhouette. His beauty was unmatched, exceptional and frozen like a portrait – it was beyond compare. Not even she could compete with it. She bowed before him, swiftly and clean.