A Treasure Beyond Compare (ThorinxOCxOC)

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, WB, MGM. This is a fanfiction, a non-commercial derivative work. I own nothing but Adelaide. 

As I limped through Lord Elrond's home in my grubby clothes, I felt distinctly out of place in the sprawling villa.

Rivendell's architecture had a lot in common with the old Roman empire. It was like stepping back in time to another age. I half-expected to see Julius Caesar holding court or the infamous Marc Antony striding powerfully down these halls with the aura of a conqueror, the sharply intelligent Cleopatra on his arm.

Long covered colonnades were supported by graceful, fluted columns, many of which opened into lush gardens each more beautiful than the last. Fountains with magnificent sculptures dotted the landscape, the veils of water falling as gently as a lullaby into deep round pools.

The set of my shoulders relaxed even further as Aeriel helped me through the branching corridors until we entered a courtyard and stopped before an arched doorway of a bedroom. Soon as I found my balance the elf-maiden stepped away from me and clasped her hands genteelly at her waist. "If you wish, I can prepare a bath."

A slight smile tugged at my lips.

I suppose that was polite elf-speak for 'you stink'. Not that I could fault her. After a week without any sort of bath, I smelled nearly as bad as some of the dwarves, who did not share my penchant for personal hygiene, save Thorin and his nephews who at least made an effort to stay clean.

"A bath would be wonderful." I told her sincerely.

Aeriel smiled.

While Aeriel went into the bathroom to run my bath (thank god the elves had plumbing) I drank in my surroundings.

The bedroom was bright and airy with high arched ceilings and delicate floral murals painted on the walls. A princess style bed sat in the middle of the room, sheer drapes creating an elegant sleeping bower. In the far-right corner, a writing desk sat against the wall, fresh parchment stacked neatly on the surface beside an inkwell and quill pen.

Aeriel floated serenely out of the bathroom and pushed open the balcony doors to let in fresh air. "Your bath is ready. I'll lay out a fresh chance of clothing and have one of the healers come up and look at your ankle."

I sat my traveling pack on a vacant chair. "Thank you, my lady. Your help is very much appreciated."

The she-elf paused in the doorway. "I will have a tray of food sent as well." She said, then glided away.

In the bathroom, I stripped off my clothes and sank into the deep garden-style tub with a moan of pleasure as the hot water seeped into my aching body. Scrubbing at my hair with elf-style shampoo I vaguely wondered if the dwarves were getting such good treatment.

Probably. Lord Elrond was supposed to be famous for his hospitality. I rinsed my hair and attacked the sopping strands again with another thorough soaping, ending with a lavender smelling conditioner.

I scrubbed my body until my skin turned pink, the water soon becoming murky. Cringing slightly, I figured out how to empty the tub and refill it with fresh water so I might soak awhile.

Thorin better not mess this up with his anti-elf bigotry.

Now that I was finally somewhere safe, I wanted to relax and enjoy myself for once. I had no desire to be kicked out because Thorin offended our host.

I sympathized with him; I really did. Thorin was a good man who had been done wrong in life.

Thranduil was a dick and a disgrace to elves everywhere. But as a dwarf-who-would-be-king Thorin needed to show more tact in dealing with others. A leader needed to lead by example and if he ever hoped to revive his kingdom, he required allies. Lord Elrond would be a good one to have.