A Sword and A Shield [The Hobbit X OC]

10 - The Last Homely House

Thorin and Balin spent the next couple days preparing for a speedy expedition to the Lonely Mountain. Reaching Erebor by Durin's Day would be a difficult task indeed. Thus, efficiency was key. We needed to travel by the most direct path, take only the necessary provisions, and divide the load amongst each other to avoid reductions in speed.

While those two worked out the details, all other companions spent their time as they pleased, relaxing the best they could within the safety of Rivendell's walls and under the eyes of the pointy-eared bastards; the hosts were just as annoyed with tending to the whims of such a rowdy group of disheveled, cave-dwelling men.

Well, except for Bilbo, the well-mannered, gracious hobbit who currently resided in a place nothing short of paradise.

Seeing him so entranced by the sights, I offered a tour of my city.

He happily obliged.

The bright sunlight and scent of crushed pine needles surrounded us as we walked slowly along bridges and stone pathways, balconies, passed underneath arches, and crossed gardens. There was little need for conversation, both of us immersed in Rivendell's beauty, tranquility, and the sound of rushing waterfalls and bubbling brooks.

Bilbo observed with amazed eyes, taking his time to admire every detail. It was enjoyable to see someone so enthralled by the blend of elvish architecture and the natural world. The hobbit spoke of the few elves he had met in the Shire and the stories they shared.

I happily listened, finding his cheerful and carefree voice soothing. My mind drifted far away from the tense meetings with a certain dwarf.

We passed through the various halls and rooms of my city. The mess hall. A garden. My father's study. Another garden. The barracks, and the armory. Yet another garden. Bilbo commended my ability at not getting lost in the elven labyrinth.

One of his favorite places was a large room with a collection of paintings, statues, and relics gathered over the course of Rivendell's lifetime since its creation. Spanning the walls was the visual history of Middle-Earth.

Bilbo spent some time in front of paintings detailing events from the First and Second Ages. I explained the story of Melkor and the three Silmarils, moving onto how they were eventually won from him and lost to the world. We looked upon the images of Sauron's downfall at the end of the Second Age, Isildur wielding his father's sword against Sauron wielding the One Ring.

A statue of a woman stood nearby holding the shards of a sword on a plinth between her arms.

"Is this," Bilbo looked at the painting behind us, "that sword?"

"Indeed. These are the shards of Narsil, the sword of Elendil."

Bilbo ascended the few steps to look at the broken sword properly, amazed by the piece of history lying in front of him.

"Come on." I held out my hand to help him back down from the steep steps. "It won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

We next ventured to the library. Then, after the nearly impossible task of prying Bilbo away from the mighty book collection, we exited onto a platform overlooking the valley. The hobbit smiled, placing his hands behind his head to stretch and absorb the fresh air and beauty of the land.

"So, what do you think so far?"

"It's wonderful," Bilbo answered with a blissful expression.

"It is."

After a beat, he slowly turned to me. "May I ask something, Rose?"

I met his curious expression with a welcoming nod.