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𝔚𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝔚𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝

After their conversation on the bridge, the air around Bilbo and Naerien had changed slightly. It was less formal, less awkward. They were at relative ease around each other, most of the time spending their time in comfortable silence. She showed him around Rivendell, to places he had already been, but explained what each place was for and even shared a few stories. Naerien was hoping Estel would show up at some point, but he seemed to have gone suspiciously missing outside the House of Elrond after the incident a few days ago.

Elrond was a good guardian and mentor, but he was a hard one. There was no room for foolery in his home, and he usually cracked down rather severely on those who misbehaved. His sons were proof of that. Having once been wild and untamed, Elladan and Elrohir were now respected among the elves of Imladris as mighty warriors (they still enjoyed a good joke or two, however, and it was impossible to get their sister Arwen to join them during their less-than-noble ventures).

Now, the pair of unlikely friends were sitting in the upper solar of Elrond's House, enjoying the warm, midday sun and facing off against each other in a game of chess. They were both enjoying themselves quite immensely, even if Bilbo had yet to win a single game. The downside to playing against a centuries-old elf, he supposed.

Naerien gently gripped her only rook and slid it horizontally across the board, taking the pawn that was protecting Bilbo's king. Her lips quirked at the look on his face as she announced calmly, "checkmate."

"What?" He squeaked in surprise, eyes furiously scanning the board. When his mind processed that he had, in fact, lost, he sighed, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms against his chest. "You win, again," Bilbo conceded, looking rather perturbed.

The she-elf let out a soft laugh, but it died quickly as guilt gripped her heart. "Do not be too hard on yourself, Master Baggins," she told him. "I've been honing my skill for far longer than you have."

That fact seemed to calm him down a bit, but that didn't stop him from shamefully uttering, "I used to think I was good at chess."

"You are," she encouraged, though there was mischief in her voice. "I am simply better." He scoffed lightheartedly as she continued. "Perhaps you should challenge Kili or Fili to a game."

"Winning against one of those two would make me feel better, I suppose," he admitted with a laugh.

A comfortable silence stretched between the two for a long while. They simply watched each other, noticing how the sun set alight the irises in each other's eyes. Bilbo's eyes reminded her of a warm hearth, while he would say hers looked almost achingly like the sunlight dancing through the oak groves of the Shire.

The hobbit cut through their daze by clearing his throat and looking away bashfully. He sat up straighter in his chair, eyes back down at the chessboard. Naerien had told him when they started playing that the board itself was older than he was, and was used by two great Elf-Lords during the Second Age.

"Another game?" She questioned, a mirthful challenge in her tone as looked him over.

"Oh, no," he laughed. "I think I've had quite enough losing for the rest of the summer." Bilbo paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Actually, it's worked up quite an appetite within me, I admit. Care to join me, my lady?" He offered.

There was a part of her that wanted to accept his offer. She had enjoyed his company greatly over the past few days, more so than she had enjoyed the company of many an elf. But something stirred in her heart, a dark voice, warning her that happiness was not something she could have.

Before she could come up with an excuse, one came to her. A grey figure standing in the doorway of the solar behind Bilbo caught her attention.

"You go ahead," she hummed, rising to her feet. Her eyes were no longer on him or the board, but the doorway behind him. Confused, Bilbo turned and noticed the wizard waiting there, patient expectancy written upon his aging features. The hobbit nodded in understanding.

"Will I see you later?"

"Of course," she replied with a small, wavering smile and a nod. She watched him leave, giving a passing greeting to Mithrandir as he left, then turned her full attention to the wizard.

"It seems you've grown quite fond of my hobbit," he commented with a kindly, knowing tone.
"He makes for rather good company," she waved him off, following him out of the solar and down the white stone steps of Lord Elrond's House. His grey robes and her blue skirts swished around their feet as they walked.

"Indeed," Mithrandir agreed. "He's a good fellow, Mister Baggins."

"Though I feel you didn't come here to discuss the half-ling, Mithrandir," Naerien inputted, feeling the impulse to steer away from the topic of Bilbo Baggins; the wizard seemed to notice this.

"No, it is not," he confirmed. "We are leaving Imladris by tomorrow's first light." He slowly halted his steps near a window on the second story. He looked down upon the Hidden Valley and she took it as an invitation to do the same. After his short pause, he turned to meet her leafy eyes. "This is sudden, I know, but there is a second reason I directed the company of Thorin to Imladris."

"And what would that be?" She questioned, for she knew he was waiting for her to do so.
"I would like to ask you to come with us on this journey."

It took several seconds for Naerien to respond. She stared at him, blinking in shock. For she was shocked — incredibly so. So stunned was she that, instead of an intelligent response as one would expect an elf to give, she stammered out, "I beg your pardon?"

"I have been pondering over this decision for quite some time, even before I called Thorin and his company together," he explained. "There is something brewing in the South, and I have been wondering if I may need to leave the dwarves and Mister Baggins to complete their journey alone."

"What is it you ask of me?" She questioned. "To watch over them? To guide them on a quest that has nothing to do with me?"

"Oh, my dear, you are closely tied to this quest and I know you know it," the wizard replied almost instantly. He was right; she did. "Your House and the dwarves have had their destinies intertwined since the Old Days. It takes much for an elf to gain the trust of Thorin Oakenshield. However, I have seen it in his eyes. He does trust you, however little."

Naerien bowed her head and sighed, pondering over his words. Thorin may have trusted her enough to convince him to let the elves help him, but surely he didn't trust her enough to come along with him on his quest. She was an outsider to him and his kin; she had no business on a dwarf's quest, no matter her personal stake in it. She voiced these things to him, and Mithrandir provided her with an answer as she hoped.

"I understand that the hearts of dwarves are hardened towards you because you are an elf. They are dwarves, after all," he paused to let out a chuckle and the sides of Naerien's lips quirked up ever so slightly. "However, their hearts are not made of stone, and I truly believe their's will soften to you. They trusted a hobbit for one of the most important tasks of the quest, after all."

"With no shortage of convincing from you, I am sure." She felt the need to point it out, and the look on his face told her she was correct.

"But that is not the only reason I ask this of you," Mithrandir continued, moving on from the discussion of trust. She knew he deemed it fruitless to continue. "There are few in Middle-earth I would choose to watch over my own affairs. You are one of them, Naerien. Few see this vast world as you do; your eyes have seen more than many of even your own kind have. And though we have known each other for less than an Age, I would not trust this task of anyone else."

"I don't know, Mithrandir..." she whispered, turning to wrap her fingers around the railing. "I don't think I can. I'm not...ready."

She felt his gentle hand on her shoulder — a kind, familial gesture, that reminded her of her grandfather. She turned to look up at him.
"My Lady." Mithrandir gave her a soft, kind smile from underneath his thick grey beard, the sort of smile that told Naerien that he held no judgment against her and that he held compassion in his heart. He gently removed his hand as he spoke. "No one is ever ready for the road that lies ahead. One cannot prepare for the twists and snares that choke the path. All we can do is go forward with our heads high and our steps confident. I know that I cannot force you to come on this journey with us. That is your choice; but know this: Stagnancy feeds the soul nothing but pain and sorrow."

Naerien offered him a smile of her own, even though her eyes glittered with tears. She turned away for a moment, watching the world below her in hopes that he wouldn't see her catch the tear that fell. The wind caressed her long tresses like a mother comforting her child, and the breeze carried the sweet perfume of flowers. Something about the wind that night was different, as if the air itself was urging her forward. So she turned back to the wizard, her smile still on her face. "I will go with you, Mithrandir. I think I have had my mind made up for a few days now...I just didn't see it until now."

His smile grew into a grin as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Good. I believe you are more needed on this quest than anyone realizes."

The mere idea that she would be leaving Imladris was a daunting one, but full of excitement nonetheless, like the feeling of a sunrise after the long night. Her eyes felt brighter, her bones stronger, and her breaths easier. It felt as though she could smile without guilt and laugh without her barely stitched-together heart falling apart all over again.

Was that hope? Was that what hope felt like? If it was, then it had been far too long.

"Well, anyone but you, I assume?" She teased, her soul rising out of the trap of sorrow ever so slowly. Her lips quirked into a smirk, an unfamiliar feeling on her face.

The Grey Pilgrim chuckled. "Of course, my dear. I am a wizard, after all."

Their shared laughter died down a few moments later and a thought struck Naerien. "Mithrandir, how are you going to convince Thorin Oakenshield to allow me on his quest? You have convinced me, and told me of his small trust in me, but my point still stands: He would not trust his company to the hands of an elf."

"It is as I said, my Lady, I am a wizard," was his response to her inquiry, but the she-elf saw through it.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"It is an idea I have been warming him up to."