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Chapter Four:  Warmth of the Flame
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      BILBO AND LADY NAERIEN shortly after morning had passed. She had mentioned something about needing time to contemplate. What she needed to think about, the hobbit did not ask. It was not his place. But he had found himself growing rather concerned with Lady Naerien. Not that the business of an elf such as herself should have concerned him. But it was as though a thin string tied their souls together, and possessing the power to make her smile made his heart glad. She did not smile often.

     The hobbit passed under a large, arching entryway as late afternoon settled in the Valley. As soon as he stepped across the threshold, a sudden wave of heat hit him in the face. He saw a doorway without doors leading into a cavernous room lit only by a hearth in the center. He would have passed the room if not for the familiar sight of golden curls rolling down the back of a figure sitting before the fire. If she were any other elf he had encountered, he would not have recognized her. But he had noticed rather quickly that none of the elves of Rivendell had fair hair — at least, from what he had seen.

     Bilbo debated on entering the chamber and approaching the she-elf, but his Tookish curiosity won out over his hesitation. Before he had the chance to change his mind, he stepped inside and found Lady Naerien alone. He was not surprised, but seeing her alone caused him to feel he was intruding.

     She caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and tilted her head to greet him. He froze like a startled rabbit. "I did not mean to disturb you," he murmured, taking a step back.

     In the firelight, he swore her cheeks glistened with fresh tears, but she turned her head back to the fire and shadow shrouded her features. "This is the Hall of Fire, Master Baggins," she informed him, her silvery voice quiet but strong. "All are welcome to sit and think."

     He nodded without a word, though she could not see him. Unsure if he should leave, or if her words were an invitation, he settled down a few paces beside her. The Hall of Fire, he noticed as his eyes adjusted, was not furnished — there weren't even any chairs to sit in. It was much more grand than his hearth back home, and the flames crackled with a strange sort of ferocity. As though the fire wished to burn away all the stresses plaguing him and Lady Naerien.

     As he stared into the fire, he found time slip away from him. All thought washed away from him. All feeling but the warmth of the hearth, all sound but the crackling of fire, everything burned away. The dancing flames took him captive, and he slipped into a trance.

     Bilbo blinked, yanked from something like a dream or a memory by a sudden movement to his left. He rubbed his eyes as though someone had roused him from sleep, then glanced over to see what had shaken him. Naerien had risen to her feet and observed him with a knowing look. "How do you feel?" She asked in a gentle tone.

     "Uh..." he said intelligently, still attempting to rouse himself from the trance. She chuckled, the sound like a bubbling creek. Bilbo assessed himself and found that, despite sitting there for how ever long, he felt well rested. "I feel good. At peace, I suppose."

     She nodded with a hum. "As do I, however temporary that feeling will last. Good morning, Master Baggins."

     "W—wait," he called out as she turned to leave the room. He was not sure why he had called to her and stopped her. He was at a sudden loss for words; his voice had a mind of its own, much to his displeasure.

     "Yes?" She asked, curiosity and firelight dancing in her green eyes.

     "I just, er — what I mean to say is..." he cursed himself for acting such a fool in front of the she-elf. Bilbo cleared his throat and tried again. "I want to say thank you. For — for sharing the moon runes with me last night, and for allowing me to continue to pester you."

     Bilbo wasn't sure if it was a trick of the shadows, but he swore there was a ghost of a smile on her face. "Of course, it was a pleasure. I have greatly enjoyed your presence in Rivendell. You needn't think of yourself as a bother."

     He grinned as they walked together out of the Hall of Fire. As she had said, the morning sun had risen over the Hidden Valley. It did not feel as though he had sat before the hearth the entire night. But then, as his thoughts turned to the dwarves, his smile faltered. "I do believe you are the only one who thinks that."

     "Why is that?" Lady Naerien asked, not pausing.

     "Truthfully, I do not think the dwarves want me on their quest," he confessed, keeping in step with the she-elf. "Gandalf promised I had an important role, but..." He sighed, shaking his head.

     "You feel out of place as well," she finished for him. "Do you regret accompanying Thorin Oakenshield?"

     "No," he replied without thinking, then hesitated. "I — I don't know. I did not want to come, at first. They asked me to sign a contract, but I refused. I told Gandalf I was not made for adventure. But I awoke the next day to find them all gone. The contract was on my mantle."

     "And so you signed it," she said, hands folded behind her as they walked. "It seems you have made your decision with ink."

     "I fear that contract means I haven't a choice anymore, to turn back. To go home," Bilbo continued, feeling all his anxieties rising within him once again. "The only one who seems to want me on this quest is Gandalf. What...what should I do?"

     "In the end, it is up to you, Master Baggins," she said after a few moments of silence. "But if you desire my council, I would tell you that the path ahead of you is dangerous. There is no room for doubt, lest you die."

     Her words were not comforting Bilbo. They only served to further confirm that he should turn back now, before something worse than trolls tore his head off. But she was not finished.

     "I would also tell you that never in your life will you face a journey such as this one." She paused at the edge of a balcony overlooking the sunlit structures of Rivendell. He looked up at her and she down at him, her Shire-green eyes serious but kind. "I have no doubt Mithrandir has told you that this will change you. If you decide to go, I do not believe you will regret it in the end."

     They fell into a comfortable silence as Bilbo processed her words. The crickets had gone to sleep and the birds had taken their place in the unending song of the world, chirping their song of the wild things. He did not have a firm decision just yet, but her words had moved him. "Thank you, My Lady," he said, "for your advice." His lips quirked into a bit of a smirk as he recalled something he read. "It seems the rumors are true, after all."

     "What would those be?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

     "That you should not ask for the council of elves, for they will answer both yes and no."

     She did not laugh, but her smile was wider than he had seen it, revealing a row of white teeth. Her eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. "Indeed," she said, her tone dancing around laughter. "Have you made your decision, then?"

     Bilbo sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'm afraid not."

     "Well, you have a few days yet to decide what you shall do," Lady Naerien told him. "If you choose to stay, your presence would be most welcome."

     "Thank you," Bilbo said for what felt was the hundredth time. He had meant it as earnestly as each of the times before. "You and your husband have shown us great kindness."

     A perplexed look crossed the she-elf's face. "My husband?"

     "Lord Elrond," the hobbit said, uncertainty filling him like a flash flood. "Is he not...?"

     Another smile of deep amusement formed on her face, though it flickered with her attempt to suppress it. "No," she informed him, and Bilbo felt embarrassment flood his veins.

     "Oh — oh, I'm so sorry!" He cried, offering a small bow in apology. "I had just assumed...you and he are the only ones with, ah, with titles. I — I'm sorry. I hope I have not offended you."

     "No offense taken, Master Baggins," she assured him. In fact, she looked quite amused by the idea. "Lord Elrond is a dear friend and has been for quite some time. He is perhaps the only other being alive who has understood, well...me."

     Bilbo furrowed his brow. "Why is that?"

     "Lord Elrond and I are half-elven," she explained, gaze drifting up to the view of the Valley. She seemed unbothered by the stunned look that had surely crossed Bilbo's face. "Our ancestors fell in love with mortals, a rather uncommon occurrence. Aside from Lord Elrond's children, we are the only two of such heritage... Unfortunately, he was blessed with the height of elves, and I with the height of men."

     He chuckled, but his curiosity was burning. "Does that mean you are not immortal?"

     "We are," she corrected. "But we are also given a choice. We may remain immortal, as is our inheritance, or, we may choose the Gift of Illúvatar."

     "What is that?"

      "To become mortal, to die."

     Bilbo could not imagine anyone would choose to be mortal, especially the elves. But he felt it would be rather rude to say as such, so he did not. "Have you...have you chosen, yet?"

     Lady Naerien shook her head, a pensive look appearing on her face. "No, I have not."

     "Why not?"

     She hesitated, lips drawn down in the familiar frown that seemed to mar her features like a scar. "I do not know. Perhaps I have not found the opportunity to decide just yet."

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     NAERIEN FOUND HERSELF spending the rest of the morning and afternoon in the company of Bilbo Baggins. His companionship was easy and the air surrounding them was comfortable. He seemed to pull all melancholy from her heart, a gardener ridding the garden in her soul of weeds.

     She had offered him a tour of Imladris so that he would not have to wander without some knowledge, and the time slipped by like a bubbling stream. She also offered to teach him, after a passing comment that he wished to learn, some Sindarin. Naerien taught him the words for the sun, moon, and stars. She made sure he learned a few greetings and farewells and how to introduce himself. She was rather impressed by his quick learning, though it amused her to no end when he fumbled with the pronunciations of a few phrases.

     In the late afternoon, they found themselves in a smaller courtyard beside a series of waterfalls. They sat at a stone table in the center, a magnificent chess board before them. Bilbo had expressed great and endearing excitement at the craftsmanship of the board and pieces. He informed her with a shy sort of pride that he was, in fact, rather good at the game. His father had taught him, while her mother had taught her. Naerien chose not to mention that Ost-in-Edhil had once considered her mother among their greatest players.

     While she set up the board, he told her of the Shire. She had given him lessons, so he reasoned he might tell her stories of his homeland in return. The more he spoke about his home, the lighter her heart felt. He told her of the simple lives of hobbits, and how it seemed that no evil would ever make the vibrant green of the hills fade. She asked a few questions, about the architecture of his hobbit hole with circular windows and doors. She asked about his books and of the great oak trees. Bilbo answered them without hesitation and with fond, nostalgic smiles. He smiled so readily and with such warmth the sun might burn in jealousy for all the days of his life.

     The Shire must have seemed so far away to him who had never left it before. He and the dwarves were hardly on the first stretch of their journey and had many miles to go, but that would not stop him from missing home.

     After their first game of chess, which Bilbo had lost, their idle conversation drifted off. Concentration settled between them, leaving a comfortable silence hanging in the air. It was halfway through their third game (Bilbo had, by a narrow margin, lost the second game) when they had drawn a crowd. Naerien was not sure when they had arrived or how they had known, but several of the dwarves had entered the courtyard to watch. First came Kili and Fili, the sons of Thorin's sister. They had come in search of Bilbo, but stayed with intrigue in their eyes as they watched pieces slide across the chess board.

     Another of the youngest of Thorin's Company, a dwarf with cropped copper hair named Ori, appeared next, with his elder brothers Dori and Nori. Bofur and his brother Bombur arrived with Balin last. Despite their dislike of the elves, there was genuine interest in the game. Their presence seemed to unnerve Bilbo, but he put forth a valiant effort to ignore their hushed whispers.

     For the past few minutes, he had been chasing her white king with his black rook. He had put Nearien in check multiple times, but anxiety was written on his face as he stared down at the board. She had already won two games, and he had come to suspect she had some sort of trap coming he did not yet see. And as guilty as she was for doing so, she sprung her trap.

     "King to E-Five."

     Shouts from Kili and Fili rose up to their right, only to be violently suppressed by Balin.

     "What?" The halfling cried, scanning the board with frantic eyes. He had left his rook undefended, his pawn too far away to help. He frowned down at it as her king took the rook, slender fingers plucking it off the board and dropping it into the graveyard of pieces.

      He had, for his credit, taken quite a few of her key pieces: a bishop, both of her knights, and many of her pawns. Both queens had been taken. But his rook was one of the last important pieces he had lost, leaving him with one rook and three pawns to defend his king on G8. He seemed to have accepted that he would lose that round as well, but he just did not know how yet.

     "I should have seen that coming," he grumbled; her chuckle echoed among the gathered dwarves, and they continued.

     With his second rook sliding left to E8, he checked her king again, but she moved it right to F5. Piece after piece slid across the board, claiming more lives. He took her rook; she took his pawn and cleared the way for one of hers to become a queen. His rook took her new queen, but her king then took his rook. She had trapped his king, but he did not concede. He managed to turn one of his pawns into a queen, but she had once again done the same. With his king on H6 and her king on F7, she slid her new queen from G8 to G7. A white pawn blocked his only escape. They locked eyes from across the board and she lifted a single, elegant eyebrow.

     "You win, again," he sighed, and chaos erupted around them. Groans and shouts of disappointment rose and Bilbo ducked his head in shame and embarrassment.

     "Shall I say it?" Naerien asked, a rather satisfied look on her face. Her fingers tapped the crown of her king.

      "Please, don't," he groaned, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "I have suffered enough torture at your hands, Naerien."

"I apologize," she hummed, suppressing the urge to laugh. It would not be fair to the poor halfling, she thought.

     "I used to think I was good at chess," he huffed. Kili and Fili came to his side to knock him about and offer their condolences, as though he had just lost the greatest battle of his life.

     "You are," she encouraged, busying herself with setting up the board again. "But after many years of playing against my mother, I am simply better."

     "Clearly," Kili joked, sending a rather charming grin her way.

     "Would you like to face her?" Bilbo demanded, sounding rather cross.

     "Oh, no," he laughed. "I have never played a game of chess in my life."

     "Clearly," the halfling muttered under his breath. Naerien gave him a secret smile, having been the only one who had heard him. However, Fili had come to the same conclusion and said as much, earning a hard shove from his brother.

     "Perhaps I can teach you to play someday," Naerien offered, to Kili's obvious delight.

     "I am impressed," said Balin, a reluctant smile on his face as he approached her. "It has been a while since I have seen such a skilled player."

     She dipped her head to him in respect. "Thank you, Master Balin. Your praise is worth the price of gold, from what I have heard." Her words seemed to make his smile more genuine, more friendly.

     A voice rose up with a call for dinner, Bombur, she noted from the thick ginger beard and his larger form. A ripple of agreement spread throughout the dwarves gathered. Naerien glanced at the sky and found it to be nearing evening. Lunch had skipped passed them entirely.

     "Would you like to join us, Lady Naerien?" Offered Fili, much to the surprise of, well, all of them. She must have looked startled by the proposition because his face flushed under his braided blond beard.

     "You seem to be much better company than the other elves around here," Kili added. Aulë bless the bluntness of dwarves, she thought with a private laugh. Varying degrees of agreement bolstered Kili's words and she could not help but smile.

     "Well, I appreciate the offer," she told them with warmth in her voice. Her eyes flicked up and she caught a figure behind the group at the edge of the courtyard. All enjoyment in her heart faltered at the sight of the son of Thrain, leaning against a tree with his arms folded against his chest. He merely dipped his head to her; she was not sure how to take that, so she turned her attention back to his nephews. "I would be quite honored."

     Naerien followed the group to the kitchens, where the poor cooks and chefs had been feeling the strain of hosting thirteen dwarves and a halfling. Bilbo commented that his pantry back home had been under more severe attack when they had first visited him. They had even sung a song, he said, about bending his forks and pouring his milk all over the floor.

     Bombur and Bofur led them back to the large living quarters they had been staying in Imladris, finding the rest of the Company already there. It was less a bedroom and more an open-air common room or alcove underneath a set of stairs. The closest they could get to the caves of their home, she noted. They all looked rather surprised and guarded to see the elleth. But the comfortable air their family exuded around her seemed to ease their distrust somewhat. Dwalin, however, remained a stone statue regarding her presence. He watched her with cold eyes as she carried a plate of food with them and sat beside Thorin's nephews on the ground.

     While they cooked and ate, passing around mugs of wine, Balin entertained them with a story of Erebor. He spoke with reverence of its halls and rivers of gold. Naerien offered her memories of the grand workshops where dwarves would create all manner of beautiful things of gold and silver. Awe filled the eyes of the younger dwarves, who had not yet seen the home of their elders. The tales served as a reminder of their quest, of how much was truly at stake.

      "Will you tell us a story, Naerien?" Ori asked, sparking the enthusiasm of the young dwarves on her left.

     "Yes!" Kili agreed. "You must have some grand tales, surely."

     "I can say confidently that she is an excellent storyteller," Bilbo added; Naerien shot him a look and he only tilted his head and grinned. It infected her, forcing a smile onto her own face.

     "Alright," she acquiesced with a dip of her head. She took a sip of wine from one of the mugs the dwarves had stolen from the kitchens. "What would you like to hear about?"

     "Gandalf said you knew our ancestors," Fili commented. "Have you seen Khazad-dûm?"

     Khazad-dûm, the Mines of Moria...she had spent many of her younger years in the magnificent halls of the Dwarrowdelf. The thought of the place turned her smile fond. "Indeed I have. Back in the ancient days of the Second Age, the elven kingdom of Eregion and the Longbeard dwarves had a great alliance for hundreds of years. I do believe I spent more time with the dwarves than I did my own kin," she mused. "I have many stories to tell of that place, of its grand halls and even grander citizens. Do you know of Narvi, the smith?"

     "Aye," Balin hummed, fingers stroking his snow-white beard. "One of the greatest smiths of his age, so the legends say. He built the Doors of Durin."

     "He was a friend and a great mentor," she revealed; the awe-stricken expressions on the dwarves' faces almost made her laugh. "He taught me much of what I know of dwarvish craftsmanship. He was terribly fond of riddles and puzzles, and a good joke." Naerien thought for a moment; she had not thought back to Narvi and Moria in centuries. But the more she sifted through her memories, the more vivid they became.

     "Ah," she declared after a moment. "Once, when I was still young (three hundred years or so), my grandfather, my father, and I traveled to Moria as guests of a grand feast. Durin the Third had ascended the throne, a cause for great celebration. I had been to Khazad-dûm many times, but the grand halls had not been lit as they were then. Braziers and torches lined the towering walls so that the shadows of those who walked beneath them would appear as giants.

     "The feast hall was overflowing with food, malt beer, and meat that fell from the bone when you picked it up. Never had I seen such a sight, and I do not think I have seen a feast like it since. Durin sat at the head of the table and his family sat around him. My grandfather, my father, and I sat beside close enough him to talk. We had brought many gifts for his coronation: blades of the finest craftsmanship we could muster. Narvi had always said that the craftsmanship of the dwarves was finer than that of the elves — " a murmur of agreement rose up from the dwarves around her, who had all drawn close to hear her voice " — but even he had to admit he had seen nothing so fine.

     "Still, however, he had to test them. He challenged us, before the king and his people, to a duel with blades of his own making. I am not proud of how large my ego was on that day, but I accepted his challenge with great confidence. I will tell you, there are precious few things in Middle-earth that are more beautiful than metal glowing in firelight. And so a space was made, and hundreds of dwarves gathered around us.

     "I had been trained well by my father, but I had not fought a dwarf before. Blades clashed as we faced each other; he was more swift than I gave him credit for, however. I held my own against him for a while, and he against me. The fight did not last long, I'm afraid. It escapes me how, exactly, it occurred, but I had taken one wrong step, overextending myself, and Narvi knocked me flat on my back."

     Laughter and cheers for their smith of legend erupted among the dwarves. Naerien, lost in the memory, found herself laughing as well. It would not hit her until later that she had not laughed so freely since Celebrenon was by her side. There was something about the company of dwarves that felt so comforting. She felt as though she could leave every agony and horrible memory behind for as long as she shared a place among them. She missed the way Bilbo watched her, having realized he had never heard her laugh before.

     "I had never been so horribly embarrassed in my life," she sighed, shaking her head. She took another sip from her wine, hiding her smile behind it. "Nor so humbled. But it was great consolation when my reputation spread through the halls of Khazad-dûm as the only elf who would challenge a dwarf to a duel. He did not tell me as such, but I do suspect Lord Durin was quite impressed, even if I had lost the duel."

     The dwarves, warm and at ease with food and wine in their stomachs, begged for more stories of Khazad-dûm. Naerien did not blame them for their eagerness to hear about the home of their ancestors. For many of the older dwarves, the last they had seen of the place was stone steps soaked in the blood of orcs and their kinsmen. To hear such amusing and joyous stories of her adventures in smithing with the dwarves was uplifting to their souls.

     The elleth shared stories until the sun had gone down and they had started a fire in the center of their space. One by one they began to fall asleep, the last being Balin, until she and one other remained awake. To her right, Bilbo had entered the world of dreams with a faint smile on his face, leaning against one of the support pillars. Before her, Thorin sat, having been listening in silence to her stories for quite some time. She had not noticed he was there until now.

     "I suppose I should take my leave," she murmured after they had settled into silence. She rose to her feet and offered the dwarf prince a bow. "Thank you for allowing me to stay and share my stories."

     "Of all the legends I have heard of the ancient home of my people," Thorin said at length, "very few have been full of life as your tales have been. It is...difficult to imagine Khazad-dûm anything more than a battlefield." His gaze turned to his sister's sons, who had fallen asleep on top of each other beside Oin and Gloin. "So I suppose I should be thanking you."

     "I do hope that one day the Dwarrowdelf will be restored to its former glory...one kingdom at a time, I suppose." Her lips lifted into a faint, teasing smile, and she was delighted when the dwarf shared it for a moment. "Goodnight, Thorin Oakenshield."

He offered her a polite nod in return but said nothing, so she left him by the fire. Her heart felt lighter than it had in two hundred years, and the faint, content smile on her face felt odd. The Lady of Sorrow relished the fleeting feeling of happiness, knowing one stray thought could make it fade. As she made her way back to her cabin, she did not see Mithrandir and Elrond watch her go from their vantage point on one of the many balconies of the House.

It was a wondrous thing, thought Lord Elrond, that the dwarves and the halfling could begin to heal an Age of sorrow in a single day.

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a/n: this chapter is almost 5k words omg I've never written that much for a chapter before lol There was going to be more, but I felt it would have made it too long, and the conversation I had written between her and Thorin felt...out of place.

Lots of bonding between Naerien and Bilbo in this chapter 🥰 plus some much needed interaction with the dwarves after she's been avoiding them lol

Don't worry, they will be off on their adventure soon, there is just one more chapter to write. Lmk what y'all think! Comments and votes are seriously the greatest motivators for writers, and I would love to talk with y'all 💖

Also, would y'all like me to add translations for elvish? Might put them in the comments' section, or down here in the author's note. What do y'all prefer?
(Future me update: Sindarin translations are officially up 😌)