Chapter Text
Bilbo smiled from his place up in the trees, nestled comfortably in the branches of a particularly tall pine. Today was shaping up to be a great one. Adad had finally carved some time in his busy schedule to spend time with him! The boy would have been happy just to sit in the family forge and watch in silent awe as his father made the kind of dainty tools that Dwarrow would never find use in but that Men (and privately the pebble himself) would pay good coin for. Pocket knives and garden tools, sturdy and long lasting. Certainly not the heavy, cleaving sort of swords or imposing and near unbreakable pickaxes that his people typically used.
But instead of that, he'd been told that they were going on an adventure! The last of the snow had finally melted and he could finally return to the trees at the base of the mountains. It happened every winter since the boy could walk. He would become forlorn first, and then grumpy, finally culminating in months of mischief and the disappearance of his already lacking patience...
Dis, Vili, Fili, and Thorin were the most common victims of the 'duckling prince' shadowing them. Baking, mining, and royal meetings could all fall prey to the raven haired pebble's presence (although Bilbo knew well enough to not cause trouble while his family worked.) It often helped to put the little prince in charge of taking care of Fili. His cousin was still quite young, a bit too small to be the type of playmate he could wrestle or adventure with. And it seemed to work, Bilbo's wandering feet stilled and darting eyes were turned to a sharp focus. But still, as soon as Fili was back in the arms of his family, Bilbo would be back to causing some harmless trouble among the dwarrow of Ered Luin.
All of this is to say, Thorin had known that as soon as they stopped to set up camp in the pine grove that his boy would dissapear into the trees for a bit to scout the area from above. One of them needed to have a sense of direction.
By the time his son scampered down from the treetops and returned to his father's side, Thorin had already laid out their bedrolls, cleared an area for their campfire, and was pulling some snares from his pack.
"'Udda?"
"Back already from your adventures my little wolf?"
"Mhm. I found the river, 's not too far away. You picked a good spot."
"You should never doubt your king Bilbo,"
The statement drew a giggle from Bilbo, who held out his hands expectantly, "You can carry more firewood than I can, I'll go set the snares!"
"Aha! Tricky little thing, trying to get out of physical labor again I see," Thorin tutted but placed the traps into the pebble's hands nonetheless. "You know the best places to lay those right?"
"Trails, dens, and water," Bilbo listed off proudly, childishly rocking on his heels and metaphorically chomping at the bit. "Soooooo?"
Thorin smiled down at his boy and reached out, his warm hand coming to rest on the back of Bilbo's neck. He leaned forwards until their foreheads bumped against each other with all of the gentleness a dwarf could manage. "That's my boy. Don't wander too far."
Bilbo closed his eyes and lingered, longer than most pebbles his age would. He had always been sensitive like that. He knew his adad wanted him to grow out of it, that he didn't have much longer to savor these private trips and gentle touches. Soon, he would be dealing with barked orders and pressures he wasn't yet equipped for. Maybe if he was fully dwarf…
When his eyes finally opened it wasn't to the gentle breeze of the forest and his adad's face. It was to the gentle light of the sun peeking through his windows. No longer did he stand in the forests at the base of the Blue Mountains, instead he was in a bed softer than anything he had ever had in Erid Luin. Where was Thorin? Where was his dad? "Udda?"
"I feared you would never wake," a voice spoke and Bilbo found himself looking to the side where a dark haired elf entered his bedroom, pulling the curtains to the side and letting more light into the room, dashing any plans the younger man may have had of getting some more sleep.
As the haze of sleep fell from his mind everything slid into place. Right. He'd spent the last (X) years here in Rivendell with-
Bilbo grumbled something like a greeting to him, feeling a hand come up to hold the side of his face. There was no hesitation as the elfling leaned into the touch, letting the warmth of his hand coax him fully to awareness. "Daeradar…"
"Good morning Titthon-draug, you have a busy day ahead of you. I've brought you some lembas to snack on. Remember, today you have your first solo scouting mission-" Lord Elrond laughed, before he had even finished talking, Bilbo had thrown himself out of bed with the energy only an elfling could possess and dug through his closet for something simple to wear down to the armory.
Slipping behind a partition in his room to change, the young one's voice finally found him as he shifted from moving on instinct to a more purposeful and awake set of actions. "Daeradar why didn't you come and check on my earlier then? If I'm late for this then the guard captain will never let me live it down!" It didn't take long for Bilbo to dress himself in something simple for traveling to the armory. After all, that's where his scouting armor was waiting for him.
If not for the years of caring for his ward, he might have not noticed the casual brush of Bilbo against his robes and the slight lightening of the contents of his pockets. The little wolf was getting better at his… hobby. "Sit at the mirror Titthon-draug, eat while I do your braids."
Giving a sniff, Bilbo sat at his vanity, pulling the lembas from his pockets to take a nibble of. "You don't have to keep doing this Daeradar, I'm not a child…"
Before he even finished his statement, Elrond grabbed his hairbrush. Bilbo's eyes locked onto it, his Durin blue eyes fixated on the handle of it. He'd watched his dad carve it for days by the fireplace. He had been unable to stop watching the process, each line and curve painstakingly carved into the iron backing brought it closer and closer to the end product he brushed his hair with daily. Erebor was carved into it. Bilbo couldn't bear to watch the brush leave with a caravan to sell, instead he'd gathered up all of the money he had squirreled away. It was a small pouch of coin, not nearly worth what it would have sold for in the cities of Men.
Thorin had pushed the coin back into his son's hands and handed him the finished brush.
With a bit of a yelp, he scrunched his nose at the feeling of water in his curly hair. Elrond had to spray his hair first to avoid the risk of making his black hair frizzy and even more of a mess than it already was after he woke up.
Bilbo winced despite how carefully Elrond was brushing any stray knots from his boy's birds nest of bedhead. "Perhaps if you were only a dwarf, but you my peredhel, are also an elf. Now hush elfling, hand me your beads." Nobody could quite make the process painless on the tender headed boy except for Thorin.
Appropriately cowed by Lord Elrond's words, Bilbo took his beads from the dainty dish they rest on while he slept and handed them to Lord Elrond. Bilbo closed his eyes, not looking while they were braided into his hair. If he focused, he could imagine it was hid 'adad carefully adorning him with the beads. One to show he was of the Durin family and one to show his place in line as the crown prince. Hands too large to belong to his adad pulled away from his head and the Dwelf opened his eyes.
His hair was beautiful yet practical, flat enough that it would fit under his helmet without issue but braided so the beads were still on display. Bilbo's pride in his dwarven heritage was too strong to consider not wearing his beads every day. "Thank you," Bilbo bowed his head in thanks, but put up no fight when Elrond's fingers tilted his chin back up.
"Now hurry to the armory before I change my mind. Most full blooded elves don't even scout this young, I'm tempted to withdraw my permission for this whole thing," Bilbo's eyes widened much to Elrond's amusement, who allowed himself a graceless snort. "Run along Titthon-draug."
And with a quick hug, the elfling ran down the halls with the confidence of someone beholding his station but without any of the grace associated. Rivendell was the one place that Bilbo could truly act his age— but that didn't make the new responsibilities he was being trusted with unwelcome.
Barely dodging a laundry maid, Bilbo found himself calling apologies behind him, not stopping for a second. For all of the beauty that Rivendell had, Elves never seemed in much of a rush to get anywhere, which perhaps explained why the armory was so far from the royal quarters. Bilbo had already asked when he was much younger and that wasn't the reason, but it didn't stop him from joking with others about it. In fact, elves seemed to be quite good sports about the insults of Men and Dwarrow! After all, when he first arrived as a little elfling, he has been quite prickly, not quite understanding why his dad had left him behind.
Finally after one last turn at the training grounds, he was greeted by the entrance to the armory. He would be the first of the daylight scouts today, if there was anything to be concerned about he was under strict orders to blow the horn and wait for the Knights of Rivendell to arrive.
Bilbo ducked his head, praying that the tired night shift wouldn't notice him as he slipped through the doors to the armory. Things were good here in Rivendell. Safer than it had been at home in Ered Luin. However not everyone was entirely happy with his presence. And the door had creaked.
Elbereth help him.
Doing his best to continue to avoid the possibility of being noticed, Bilbo pointedly looked away from where he could quite clearly hear the unfortunate knights stuck with the night shift that week were changing into the much preferred robes of their kind. As long as nobody paid attention to him, he might be able to get away with avoiding either an awkward conversation about how young he was and how he shouldn't be doing this or even worse, someone like—
Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. Bilbo bit the inside of his mouth hard and jerked away from the unwelcome touch. If he focused on taste of copper coating his tongue, it made the crawling feeling in his skin a bit less unbearable.
He spun to see Mirfael head on, apparently one of the elves who had been on duty that night. Of course, why would Bilbo have any luck whatsoever on what had started as a perfectly pleasant morning. Blue eyes darting from the elf in front of him to the squad Mirfael had left behind, it became clear from a handful of averted eyes and an equal mix of quiet laughing that no help would come.
He was cruel and crass, and Bilbo's skin crawled at the sight of him. "Well," Mirfael drawled, "aren't you going to say good morning mutt?"
The teen felt his lip twitch, close to baring his teeth. If Bilbo wanted to get to scouting in time, then it would just be better to go along with the older elf and hold back the biting remark bouncing around his skull. The grin he offered to Mirfael was surely more of a grimace as Bilbo forced himself to look at him, eyes fixing themselves firmly on the other's forehead, "Ah… right, good morning Mirfael. Lovely day isn't it? I would so love to chat but if I stay much longer then I'll be late for-"
"That's more like it. For a princeling you sure are bad at talking to us lesser folk. Can't even look me in the eyes can you?" A pale hand reached out to grab Bilbo's face, but he saw it coming and ducked his head, now avoided looking at him completely.
"I'm sorry Mirfael but I really am in a rush today!" In a flash, the younger of the two darted away from the crowd in the bathhouse area of the armory, straight into the armor room itself, shutting the door and cutting off the jeers and cackles thrown at the older elf by all of his friends. After waiting a few moments, Bilbo was confident that the man would not return to bother him again while he was on duty. Despite it all, every Elf took the work needed to keep Rivendell running very seriously.
With little fanfare, Bilbo stripped out of his day clothes and into the uniform. With practiced movements, he went through the process of getting ready for scouting, and the possibility of battle that might accompany it. Bilbo wasn't stupid, in fact he liked to think himself quite smart. Smart enough to aknowledge that if he did encounter something he couldn't handle, blowing that horn would call for help but also alert enemies to his location. He would need to survive long enough for the help to arrive.
The armor fit perfectly. No matter how he continued to grow, there was always a set of armor sized for him. After one more check to assure everything was tightened, he moved to grab his weapons. After every use, Bilbo carefully stored them in the same area his armor was, away from prying eyes. His favorite, a fully metal double sides spear he had forged himself, a bow and arrows gifted by Lord Elrond, and the standard sword provided to all Knights of Rivendell… 'adad had said in a letter years ago that he didn't have the time to make his Dwarven age of majority sword, so while he waited (for how much longer would Bilbo need to be patient?) he would use what everyone else here did.
Putting on his helmet over curly raven black hair and pointed ears, Bilbo headed through another doorway right into the morning light. From there, it was less than a minute long walk to the stables where his horse already awaited him, saddled and seemingly impatient as his owner walked towards him, ears flicking back as an elf maiden stepped past him.
"That beast nearly bit me again," Northaiell the stablemaster tutted, despite her words she smiled at Bilbo who swung himself into the saddle with practiced ease.
"Oh dear, again Naergon? I'm so sorry I just don't know what it is with him, he's so kind to me and-"
"Don't waste your apologies on me, with a name like that it's no wonder he grew up to be the most ornery horse I've met in my lifetime! Enough chattering with me princeling, you have a very important post today!"
With her wave of dismissal, Bilbo adjusted himself in the saddle one last time and gave her a wave before he clicked his tongue and urged the black stallion into a trot towards the main exit of the valley. As established with the captain of the guard, he would start there, spend a few hours scouting the area, and return just in time for lunch.
Despite the hiccup in the bathhouse, Bilbo had high hopes for the day. Poor fool.