29 | The Wise Words of Bilbo Baggins

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Elrond Peredhel | Lord of Rivendell

Location: Rivendell, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

"You are getting better with that ring of hers, mellon."

Mereneth told him this as they strode side by side towards one of Cirdan's courtyards.

She also mentioned, "You almost had Ereinion's arm off the last time. Now you can get two or three people through."

Once they were in the middle of the open area, thankful that it was empty at this time of day, Elrond had no restraint and simply sighed to himself. At least he didn't rub his temples (possibly the thirtieth time today) either because of stress or the comments and actions he received or saw.

Most were because of the future meetings they were going to have.

The next was because of Ereinion and the Teleri elleth beside him.

'Oh to have you back, melmenya.' He mentally groaned as he slipped out the sling ring from his sleeve and heaved again. 'Must you leave me with two of the most tiresome quendi that we consider as friends?'

He eyed sideways to her and commented tiredly, "Thank you, Mereneth." He then ushered her, "Now, please. Be polite."

"I am polite," Mereneth replied defensively.

All he returned was a raised eyebrow before he conjured up the golden gateway.

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When both he and Mereneth stepped through, the first thing Mereneth commented on was how much the place changed since she had last been there. His immediate thoughts were how bland and bleak it was now: noticing how bare the structures were without the overflowing plants and flowers blossoming. She did find a way to make it cheerful, pointing out that this place was exactly what she described him as well as Illyria.

He felt that sting in his heart before he turned his way and guided her towards his study. Thankfully his presence wasn't entirely too surprising, finding Lindir who welcomed him and Mereneth. Once Lindir informed him that the person they wish to speak to was already inside, Elrond thanked him as they entered the study.

When the doors creaked open, he and Mereneth found the familiar dwarven king standing up from the chair followed by another dwarf with whom Elrond was vaguely familiar with. Though once Thorin Oakenshield bowed his head and Elrond followed respectfully, the former introduced the other dwarf: introducing him as Bofur.

Ah, one of the companions during Oakenshield's quest. He remembered oddly from Elrohir that he was the one who would often offer them pipe weed once they joined the Company.

(Elrond intentionally blocked every memory regarding his wife or his children and their antics with the dwarves – especially when it came to the most crazed and ridiculous things they did.)

Though once Thorin eyed him confusedly, he asked: "I thought you were in the Grey Havens, Lord Elrond?"

Glancing sideways to the Teleri elleth, Elrond responded, "Illyria has given me her methods of travel. Hence why I bring you someone whom you'd like to know." He then gestured to her, politely referring to her name, "Thorin Oakenshield, this is Mereneth of the Greenwood, though you may know it now as Mirkwood."

Elrond didn't mention her previous title, knowing how it might affect whatever outcome Mereneth wished this to be.

All he could just hope was that she wouldn't – and in Illyria's words – 'blow up' whatever plan she had with Thorin Oakenshield.

With a slight nod, Mereneth began with quirked lips, "I've heard stories about you, Lord Thorin." She clasped her hands together in front of her, clicking her tongue as she continued, "But let us cut to the reason I am here, which is to discuss some things with you. I need help in increasing reinforcements for the kingdoms of both Mirkwood, Dale and your kingdom: Erebor. Lord Elrond here is offering passage through the gateways; we only need an offer of an alliance with your other clans."

For a short moment of silence, Thorin was merely staring up at her.

Elrond – who was doing everything in his will to refrain from face palming – simply waited before there was at least a change in the former dwarven king's demeanour. All whilst he prayed that Mereneth did not simply destroy every chance of gaining this alliance.

"And why should the dwarrow help you, Lady Mereneth?" Finally, Thorin had inhaled as he squared his shoulders and eyed them incredulously. "I do not know you and may I have been amiable with King Thranduil, I do not easily agree with such direct terms from you."

To make the matters worse, Mereneth looked stumped before she let out a snort, causing both Thorin and Elrond to leer at her.

Whereas in the corner of their periphery, the other dwarf appeared to be refraining from a chuckle.

Raising a brow, she folded her arms over her chest. She muttered with a slight smile, "I can see why he finds you annoying. He found me annoying too."

Elrond advised slowly, "Mereneth, not now."

Nevertheless, she continued;

"Hated me at first, when we met here. Thought I was arrogant and self-entitled. Unladylike and improper and had the tendency to never sit at the dinner table appropriately. Not to mention the fact that I can shoot a bow and sail a boat and still can't do embroidery to this day."

'For once I genuinely wish for doom to come barging down my door...' Elrond internally was rubbing his forehead.

Thorin's gaze narrowed, "Who are you talking about?"

"My husband."

'...or for doom to finally have my head instead.'

"You have...met him." Mereneth drawled, triggering Elrond to give her a double take. Was she rocking with her heels—

"I have met many annoying elves from Thranduil's realm," The former dwarven king scoffed.

And yet she let out a breathless laugh.

Elrond could only look at her, though the longer he did he realised then the tone which changed in her. The way her eyes slightly brightened, though despite the lack of what other Calaquendi possessed, almost made it look like she had reminisced something which crossed her.

A smile then grew upon her lips.

She replied, "Oh he's the most annoying. But that's what we do for love, don't we?" Mereneth's smile stayed, though now calming down as she held a genuine solemn look to them. With a composed tone, she added, "You have a family there, do you not?"

He glanced back down to Thorin Oakenshield, sensing the silent anger dissipate as the words deepened into his mind. It would seem it struck a nerve in the dwarf's mind, causing a fracture of his stoic expression.

Elrond could quickly tell what that face was.

Because he too was feeling it as well.

Her voice grew softer but remained crisp and polite as she continued, "I won't force you, my lord. But Middle Earth will end in flames if we do not help one another. Forget past moments and grudges. We must do what is right and save our world." Mereneth breathed in, the tone darkening as she spoke, "Because Morgoth and Sauron won't care if we are elves or dwarrow or men. A Life is a life worth destroying for them."

Mereneth's words almost strung a chord within not only Thorin and Bofur's but also Elrond's.

Even when he stood idly in silence, Elrond's chest sharpened. 

They all knew what was happening right at this moment. Especially to those they knew who were in the East. Family. They were all at the frontlines of Sauron's wrath and here they were many leagues away.

And as she said, it did not matter who or what they were. Their lives mattered not to the enemy.

As Thorin glanced warily between the Teleri elleth and then to Elrond, he inhaled sharply.

What came next surprised him.

"What is your plan do you speak of then?" Thorin questioned.

Mereneth remained calm as she answered, "Ered Luin." She explained, dictating to him: "Gather the clans and make way to Erebor and Dale."

The proposal already took interest, causing Thorin to nod slowly.

Elrond blinked.

He wondered then if he should be proud of Mereneth for not causing a rift or Thorin Oakenshield for finally yielding some of his stubbornness.

But then again: giving permission for Bilbo Baggins to travel with Illyria and Maglor had already shocked him.

As Illyria told him: life still gives surprises despite how long his life has been.

Thorin turned to him, grumbling slightly as he spoke, "Never would I imagine you, Lord Elrond, to make me now both an ally to not one, not two, but three elves."

With a slow nod, Elrond didn't openly say that he was astonished as well. He would not ruin this now when they were perfectly amicable now.

Then Mereneth decided to input with a slight twinkle in her eyes, "Of you'll love it when you meet Cele'." She gossiped, "He and Narvi were great together until Annatar decided to ruin it all."

That was when Elrond finally took the last straw (or so how Darcy Lewis once said) and sighed, "You pair everyone with him, Mereneth."

Mereneth simply gave him a shrug, though not before saying with amusement, "Fëanorians have that charm."

Sending her a stern look, she arched her brow before grinning back at him. The familiar and notable expression she wore after she won a sparring match with the person with her. In this case, it was himself to the dismay of the countless times he's had to converse with her during the Second Age.

Again: Elrond wished he was never the one to insinuate this.

Whilst he was giving a slowly growing scowl to Mereneth, Elrond only caught Thorin's question linger in between:

"Did you just say Narvi?"

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They discussed for a couple more hours which ended with Mereneth and Bofur deciding to find a way to rile not only Thorin but Elrond as well. Thankfully fate seemed to be a blessing for once when Lindir arrived at his study and asked him if they would be having a meal there. Elrond was a little too quick and told him that they would stay for the meal before returning to Mithlond afterwards.

He led Mereneth to the Hall of Fire whilst both Thorin and Bofur headed first to the group of dwarrow which were residing in the valley. The Teleri elleth was so happy to see Rivendell, grinning the moment when she finally spotted Erestor reading quietly with his meal.

Oh and never did Elrond see his long-time advisor and friend pale when he spotted the silver-haired elleth stride towards him. He even yelped as Mereneth rushed to tackle him into a sort of struggling hug, forcing Erestor to such closeness for his rather strict and stifled friend.

But even when he stiffened, Elrond smiled secretly as he noticed Erestor relaxing. His eyes softened towards Mereneth before he told her that he was finally to see her again, causing Mereneth's own eyes to well up slightly.

They ate together, with Mereneth constantly asking Erestor how much has changed and if he has finally decided to live outside the library. Erestor rolled his eyes, noting that he was more than some scholar now and that he was entrusted with keeping hold of the city whilst Elrond was gone. Mereneth's own smile grew, genuine as she told him openly that she was glad he was doing well and that she wished she could have been here to see Rivendell grow.

To say that Erestor had finally shown true happiness in his placid expression was beyond what Elrond had seen in public. Because yes, the Noldo elf was not once for emotions and was rather conservative and strict. And he was happy, knowing now that over the years he saw Erestor change and come out of his shell.

Elrond knew partially it was because of Glorfindel, but also everyone in this house and city.

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When Mereneth chose to explore before they left for Mithlond, the Hall of Fire grew quiet once more as both Elrond and Erestor sat alone.

The tiredness and stress seemed to finally get to him as Elrond sagged his shoulders, slumping uncharacteristically onto his chair as if his entire body had been weighed down by a dozen layers of armour. There was an ache which gradually grew present, something which he often now felt whenever he finished a meeting or had been on the frontlines of his children's antics.

But never had he felt it sink deep within his bones. The unexpected pain throbbed in his heart and head that he unconsciously brought his hand to clutch the front of his robes.

It was bearable – yes.

However, Elrond felt no comfort at all as he stared at the fire in front of him.

All he could draw everything that happened was that one moment he felt like this. That day when he felt the sudden grip of half his fëa fading. No: torn. Like a wrapping ripped from the skin whilst the wound had been healing for days. The intake of fresh air turned it into a sharp pain as it trickled up his body.

But why was he feeling this? Why now when nothing has seemed to change? Sauron hasn't confronted him ever since the battle and Lady Galadriel sensed no motives for the Elven Rings of Power to be in the eyes of the enemy.

So why?

Why did he feel as if something was bound to happen? Something that he knew had not happened yet but had felt as if it already did.

His visions were getting narrower. Every sight he saw he felt as if it was certain, that it was going to happen compared to the centuries of his life always having uncertainty.

However, it was not what unsettled him.

No...it was the fact that his sight was changing to his own choice. Like placing healing ointments upon a wound, quickening the chances of survival instead of letting it heal on its own.

All Elrond could think about now was the conversation he had with Stephen Ettelëa. That day in the Sorcerer Supreme's office, he already knew that his confrontation with his abilities would be inevitable. Though as he thought of that day recently: Elrond acknowledged that deep down he knew it was going to happen.

Was it why Stephen Strange didn't seem surprised?

Or was he surprised he hadn't realised it himself?

One question remained stuck in his mind since; the one regarding if his visions were altering destiny or fate itself. In the beginning, he refused to admit of the ring's change in his being. That Vilya was changing so suddenly that Elrond wasn't certain if it was due to what happened or it was something else. Now he refused to admit that his own abilities were changing as well.

Was it his own being or was it Vilya?

Both were eventually moulding together that he could not understand at all.

And somehow: Elrond Peredhel didn't seem shocked that it was happening now.

Because in truth...there was another time to which he felt it before.

"My Lord."

Slipping out of his thoughts, Elrond's chest jumped slightly in shock. He would never usually slip so badly out of reality, but the way the figure's shadow loomed within his side, it had made him blink rapidly before he realised who it was.

And thankfully it was the same one who remained in the Hall of Fire.

Erestor eyed down, asking with a lowered voice. "Are you truly well, Elrond?" His eyes turned up to his, and pure concern filled his eyes as he added, "When you returned, I sensed a difference in your being."

Chest heaving, his eyes slightly panned back to his advisor. But something stopped him from looking directly back at him, almost an anxiousness which caused Elrond to turn back to the flames all whilst he tried to keep his heart from racing any faster.

However, his breathing just kept shortening.

The ringing in his ears echoed in his mind.

"Elrond."

"Do you remember Angmar?" It was barely a whisper when the words left Elrond's lips.

Erestor seemed to be struck by the question, his body leaning back slightly as a flicker of wariness flew past his face.

Both of them knew the answer to that question.

With a low voice, Erestor answered, "How could I not?" He paused, carefully speaking, "Angmar was something all of us never wished to speak of."

Elrond gulped. He then asked, eyes still remaining on the fire. "Do you remember what happened after the news arrived to us?"

"I do."

Breathing in, his torso straightened as he a shiver trickled down his spine.

He was recalling it too well. Almost vividly, he could sense the very flame grow cold as the wash of metal sliced through his skin.

When the blinding light emitted, Elrond's very body had almost grown rigid that day. The very around him shifted, a crackling sound as he heard an array of explosions igniting from his mind and soul. His very heart fractured, and all he could imagine were two blue irises coldly staring up to the skies.

It was not death he felt, but the sensation that something had come back to life.

"That feeling I gained didn't change. It's...different somehow." Elrond revealed, his hand tightening around his robe as his eyes glanced down to the ring on his finger. He spoke, "I've hidden it because I am afraid of what it would do to me if I do show it. And now..."

Erestor finished calmly, "Now you are not certain if it is you or the ring."

Once Elrond rotated his head to him, he could only nod.

There was a flicker of recognition. Never pity, no. Erestor was far from any emotions; he controlled his emotions better than any elf he has met and that spoke highly for those of the older quendi he now has confronted.

Erestor may be stoic and described as an unmovable rock, but in the depth of that, there was truly concern and love. The Noldo before him was compassionate and kind and held more politeness and honesty than anyone he knew. He may never show it, but the things he had done when Elrond knew him reflected the truth. Erestor respected him and has always been someone he confided in even if they disagreed with one another. He enjoyed his company despite what people said during Elrond's time in Lindon and came to care for the family that grew within this household.

That was why Elrond trusted him to know the truth, to which not even Glorfindel or Illyria knew, or his children either.

Erestor knew what happened to him during the death of Elemmírë.

"It should not affect me like this, and yet the longer I keep away the more it troubles me," Elrond confessed to him, knowing well that Erestor understood.

With a sharpened inhale, Erestor adjusted his seating and leaned over to him. "Elrond, I may not have as much knowledge or experience with Vilya nor the foresight you always had..." He trailed off, searching his gaze with a worried expression. But afterwards, his eyes softened and before Elrond, he had openly proclaimed, "But as your friend, you must let me know if something has changed. And..."

"And what..." Elrond stopped for a moment, his eyes quickly turning to him to only see his friend had suddenly frozen. Concern grew as he opened his mouth, "Erestor—"

But Erestor merely gave him that look, a look that told him that it wasn't something to pry despite knowing the trouble swirling in his face.

Elrond frowned.

"Nothing to be concerned, mellon." The Noldo reassured him, even if there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "I just simply wish to let you be known that I am here if you need to speak with me."

When his hand graced his arm, Elrond's chest tightened. A flurry of care had been shown and for once, Erestor had come to openly tell him that he was there for him.

Just as he always had.

"I know. You have always been my foremost person." Elrond smiled sadly, genuinely giving his hand a small squeeze afterwards. "Not just as an advisor, but my friend."

There was a glistening sparkle, the flames giving Erestor's face a true glow as he looked back at him.

Though in truth, he knew that Erestor was faltering under the premise. But despite the slight secrecy, there was something in his soul to which he honestly trusted him at this moment of time. That he knew what Erestor was doing and that he would know what to do if the thing happens.

Elrond could only wish to himself that it won't break his friend before it could break others.

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Illyria Strange | The Eternal

Location: The Unknown South, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

One thing was for sure: that the unknown South of Middle Earth was not a walk in the park. Maybe it stretched to even 'Amazon Rainforest Terrible' by how hot and humid it was. Even with the enchanted robes and armour, it didn't help as they trekked on for nearly three days now with nothing but endless green, brown, and maybe some grey rocks peeking out.

Not to mention about the creatures here.

Let's not get her started on the freaking insects.

Suddenly Mirkwood seemed like Disneyland compared to this place.

The endless starry night didn't help as the skies were covered by a thick (and she meant thiccc with three c's thick) canopy of branches and leaves. The vine she wished were here (and not anymore because goddamn Maedhros Fëanorion decided to chuck it out of Orthanc thank you very much) was replaced by long draping green snake-like plants. If this wasn't some end-of-the-world type of mission: she would so try to swing on them and go full out Tarzan for the sake of it.

Right. So yeah the place was beautiful and felt mucky and shitty...but it didn't comprehend how it really felt.

And when she meant felt...she meant how her soul was almost being tugged and pulled towards somewhere.

Was it Ormal then? Maybe it was real, and whatever a remnant of ancient Arda was, she was truly tied to it.

Whatever it was, at least it was following somewhat of the map that was pointing them to it.

That invisible rope pulling her didn't help the nights she tried to sleep. Maglor was thankful for her and Bilbo, allowing a few hours of sleep between for their sake whilst the others remained either resting or taking watch. Once she did try, resting on her cot, all she did was toss and turn as the voices in her head and the humming in her mind was beginning to get louder and bolder.

Whatever she was heading to: it wanted her to come.

The most rational and mature way to go through this was perhaps to tell Maglor and consult with him. After all: he was thousands of years her senior and knew more of the Mystic Arts than anyone in this group.

But somewhere in her mind told her she couldn't tell him. Not because she couldn't trust him. Nuh-uh. She was beginning to trust him now after what he said about Liliana. Which was an interesting story which she may or may not have triggered the poor elf hadn't she soothed his soul a tiny bit.

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"Anyways..." She slowly spoke before she stopped and said to him solemnly, "I know about Gildor's story and Nimrodel's as well. Just not Liliana's."

If elves weren't so agile and flawless, she could imagine Maglor tripping the moment she said that name.

Receiving whiplash by that name, the elven sorcerer's head spun so fast as he sputtered out, "Where did you—" When he paused to eye her, he inhaled sharply through his nostrils and grumbled, "Why am I not surprised."

Illyria gave him a deadly stare and simply answered, "Because you're a hermit cryptid who takes magical beings into Norwegian crack shacks. You took Maedhros on a weird training adventure along with Thena. And you need a fucking shower." She scrunched her nose whilst he glared back. Well, wasn't she supposed to be honest between them? "And no, not the shower spells my dad used to do to me and him whenever I'm late and I forgot."

About a dozen emotions revolved around Maglor's irises.

Well at least there was a good thing about her new ability; she could really tell what people were seeing in their souls.

He closed his eyes and softly inhaled. Maglor muttered, "I won't get away from you with this?"

Illyria bluntly replied, "Nope. Now spill." She gestured towards him as she pretended to look at her wrist, "We have what? X number of days to get to wherever this remnant of Ormal is... might as well give me a nice story to tell."

There was another pause before the words came out of his mouth.

"I was studying other parts of the prophecy by travelling the other realities..."

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No: it was because of what happened between him (well every one of them) and that girl who made her keep her mouth shut. Illyria didn't want to make Maglor panic or worry unless it was someone literally bleeding and screaming on the floor.

That was why when they did rest – mainly to either eat or relieve themselves – Maglor insisted for him and her to sit down and practice more.

They sat away from the party: placing a space between them as she sat down cross-legged and began the enchantment. Illyria did what she usually did and what he taught her, keeping her focus on the small light she imagined and trying to let the feeling grow. Pushing the invisible barrier that was beyond the physical plane, her hands clenched her knees as she began to sense the difficulty of trying to find the pathway into the next plane.

Illyria muttered back with shut eyes, "Every time I try it seems to push me out."

"You need to clear your mind." Maglor's low voice entered her mind as she tried to maintain that hold, "Focus on something that will keep your emotions at bay. If you allow your emotions to fester, all you'll be doing is causing a narrower path towards the higher plane you want to be in."

Following his instructions, she inhaled deeply before exhaling back slowly. She continued to do this, focusing on keeping her mind calm and relaxed as she waded further upwards and into unknown territory.

It was like scrambling up a waterfall or like climbing up a mountain with a pathway filled with mud or ice. She tried to sling herself at the edges, maintaining back the frustrations that were gradually building up and up.

Then the voices returned once more.

They were calling her.

The noises began to grow louder and louder until

"That's it..."

Illyria opened her eyes and let out a gasp. Realizing she had pulled herself back into the physical plane, she cursed at herself mentally before she looked back at Maglor.

Sitting opposite her: the elven sorcerer looked at her with dismay.

No not dismay...disappointment.

Frustration and anger lingered as she stood up, hearing Maglor trail off.

"Illyria..."

"Nope. I'm done," She declared, stalking off back to the campsite. Because if anything was to be said after that forced silence, that is that Illyria was absolutely done with the shit today.

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Illyria groaned as she bent down to sit, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

"I am presuming you were unsuccessful."

Her head turned slightly, noticing the familiar gentle-hobbit sitting against the adjacent tree, his legs crossed, his cloak under him – with the iconic pipe in his hand. Bilbo Baggins appeared so out of place within the rainforest environment, visible with the mixed outfit he wore. His waistcoat was decorated with dwarven runes and geometric designs over a beige linen tunic that was thinly appropriate for the heat. Not to mention that he still wore the high-tech shoes which protected him against the heat and were eventually another layer to protect against whatever poisonous insect or plant was around them.

But it wasn't just his looks. In truth, if Illyria wasn't so stressed about what she was doing with Maglor, she would have already noticed how much Bilbo has changed. Yes: it's been forty years since they last saw one another, but those weeks seeing him briefly within the Homely House was different to experiencing the past few days with him.

Instead, she finally saw Bilbo out of his comfort zone again, but surprisingly far from the stifled and proper hobbit who she met that day in Hobbiton. He finally embraced his love of adventure and taking in every culture and knowledge. She already saw it the moment they entered Raj, seeing the wonder and awe in his sage eyes that they could have popped out at any minute. The way he interacted with people, from Dalolthar to Maglor and Daeron to the Ent children: Bilbo had been open and willing to experience it all.

So seeing him smoking his pipe beside her in the middle of fucking nowhere, Illyria just couldn't help but smile to herself.

Because even everything: Bilbo would always ask if she was alright.

Even when she just didn't want to talk at all, Illyria couldn't help but let out her frustration. Her hands gripped the vibranium dagger Maedhros gave her, smoothing over the engravings as she finally let it all out.

"I thought I had the grip on it back in Arthorien. But here, it feels as if everything around me is just making me all anxious and irritated," she told him, huffing out another exhale as she eyed down at her dagger.

After twirling it around her fingers, she began drawing onto the soil beneath whilst she heard Bilbo speak.

He let out a ring of smoke (which still made her impressed at his skills of simply smoking weed) before he replied, "That is quite a reasonable reaction to make, considering we are in the unknown world. Far from home if I might add. It's hot and humid and by Yavanna's is that a moth?"

Her eyes rose up to where he was pointing, and she paused in surprise at the insect against the tree bark over at the other tree.

Were moths supposed to be that massive? It was almost the size of a basketball...

It stayed still, blending in against the darkness as Illyria shivered and replied with a soured tone, "Yeah I'm not fond of the place too, Bilbo. You should have been with me in the Amazon." Her shoulders rose, scrunching her face as she remembered exactly the worst bits of her mission. "The spiders..."

Don't get her started on the nights. She had placed three layers of shields around their campsite and still a spider decided to crawl into her tent.

Never would she be terrified of a tiny ass spider whilst shrieking like a baby. Maedhros woke up because of it, annoyed that it was because of some spider and not because she was dying from some wound.

Oh, she would have rather died than if she didn't know what would entail.

"Then you are lucky you didn't come with us. Mirkwood was infested with the biggest spiders I've ever seen," Bilbo said empathetically, his own disgust showing as he remembered about the Quest.

Ah yes, thank the lord she actually went with Gandalf and the twins instead of venturing into that place. If she chose to follow into Mirkwood and found herself with a spider: she might have decided to burn the entire forest down. And considering she was already in hasty relations with Thranduil, the elven king wouldn't be fond of the reason his home was destroyed because of her.

Illyria made a snorting noise as she returned her dagger back to her dimensional pocket, "You haven't seen Ungoliant yet then." 

Her head stopped moving, looking ahead as she tried to imagine the last time she had seen those visions. 

"She...I can't remember exactly what she looked like. Only I could sense it. Deep somewhere in my memories," She finished.

Ungoliant wasn't something she was ever going to think about or even witness, but somehow the fear of spiders all fell into that name.

Bilbo, whom she wasn't surprised about, knew that name and theorized with a hum, "Perhaps you are remembering before you were Elemmírë then?"

Maybe. It seemed like a plausible theory, and one which Illyria wished wasn't true. She already had to make believe that she was once a tree, and since she knew how Laurelin and Telperion died...

"Assuming Laurelin could even have a consciousness let alone be sentient..." Illyria trailed off, gulping before she huffed out and revealed, "I just feel as if, what if this doesn't make a difference? What if Ormal won't help because I can't connect with my spiritual self enough?"

She couldn't help it. Just something inside her brain was telling her that this was never going to work, despite every person telling her that this might work and she might finally figure out the extent of her powers. Every time she tried to focus on moving through the planes of existence, her own confidence depleted, a small voice insisting that she wasn't strong enough or that if she did go through it she might lose herself.

The truth was: Illyria Strange was scared. Scared that she would hurt others again and that she would finally kill again without hesitation.

Ever since the battle of Rivendell, she still had those nightmares of destroying the Dunlendings. She could still sense every soul screaming for her to stop – begging to live. And the moment she crushed those souls into mere dust: Illyria would find herself waking up and screaming at what she had just done.

Even she could tell the shock and slight fear in everyone's eyes. Her friends and family knew what she did. She could kill them with merely a blink.

Elrond assured her countless times that she could do it. She can control it and she would always be able to know who she is and focus on those she truly cared about. But how could she when she couldn't do this? How much did she need to push to finally have control?

Was that her fear? Was her fear of losing control?

She hadn't realised for the past half minute: she had folded inwards, arms over her knees and her head hiding underneath. Her face was damp, her nose blocked and her eyes puffed up and red.

God, she was crying.

She was crying right in front of Bilbo Baggins and all he did was reach out his hand.

Tears still streamed down her face, her chest heaving fast as he tried to soothe her. Bilbo was already at her side, hand rubbing her back as she tried to calm herself. Though the more she forced herself to stop - she was crying harder.

Who was she kidding: she was only twenty-three years old but never had she felt so young and alone again. There was so much she had on her, an entire continent on her shoulders. Heck, an entire universe.

She wanted her parents. She wanted Uncle Wong or even Maedhros here. She wanted Elrond here too but she felt so guilty for placing so much stress on him already. He didn't need to worry about her when he was worried about their children already.

Her children didn't need to see her like this; they too already were experiencing so much shit but the fact that she was now embodying a mix of Elemmírë and Illyria was making it too confusing. On one side she was supposed to be this strong elleth, a mother and a leader. The other was just a young woman who was still at school and still felt like she was finding herself.

Bilbo continued to rub circles at her back before he cleared his throat and murmured to her.

"Illyria Ettelëa." 

He began as she continued to cry a little more quietly, trying to listen. "Many years ago, I told you that I would never be as courageous and adventurous as my mother. That I would never be brave to face the dangers and fears."

Her sobs gradually calmed down, sniffing instead as she continued to listen to him.

"But then you arrived on my doorstep. You told me that being brave isn't running straight into danger but it is to be afraid and facing that fear." Bilbo proclaimed softly, making her look now to him as he smiled, "You told me that even a small difference could change the course of the future. So why would this be any more different than that day when we stepped out of Bag End?"

Carefully leaning her head to the side, she watched as he removed his hand away from her, seeing his smile grow as he continued to speak.

And those words had only caused warmth to spread, making Illyria stop her breath.

"Every small step you make, every moment you seek to practice and push yourself is a large change to your own being. When I first met you, you were unsure of your own abilities, still learning and growing. Though as we went across Middle Earth you began to show who you were and slowly I noticed the independence which grew." He let his voice ring in her ears, causing her heart to swell even more. "And once you returned, I saw a large change in you. You matured and grew to know yourself within the world. You have learned to understand the boundaries you have of yourself and what you can and can't do. And every step you took, I have seen a young woman turn into a lady strong and sure of herself."

As he finished, she finally rose her head and her shoulders relaxed – tears only growing.

Though not for sadness.

She simply couldn't believe it herself, but the honesty and the love which radiated from his fëa just couldn't be hidden. Bilbo truly meant his words and told her how much he had loved her and had changed because of her.

God...she didn't deserve him as a friend.

He simply then patted her hand, taking a handkerchief out of all things. "Now if I were you, I suggest you finally dry your tears and perhaps we could have a spot of food. " Bilbo slightly turned his nose, glancing to where the rest of the group was as he spoke, "I know if I was back at home I would give you a spot of tea and some biscuits but considering where we are we might have to resort to other beverages."

When she finally took his cloth, Illyria just couldn't help but let out a mix of a sob and a laugh.

Illyria shook her head, wiping away as she sighed, "Oh Bilbo Baggins." A small wry smile twitched on her lips as she murmured. "What can I do without you?"

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A/N: A good chapter to get back to with the Lord and Lady of Rivendell. Unfortunately, they are miles apart and going through their own personal troubles. With Elrond's foresight and his own overprotectiveness kicking in, and Illyria's growing weight of expectations as the solution to the war: both of them have come to solace to those they are closest to. With Elrond being Erestor and Illyria with Bilbo. 

I really wanted both of them to show their own struggles and how much other people look out for them. Because despite being Half-Aini and the most notable Peredhel of Middle Earth: these two only just want to have their children and family together again. :(

Next week unfortunately I will be really busy/travelling so I won't be able to post until I've come back home and have proper wifi. Might do other projects but not fully certain.

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Edited: 11/04/2023