Sansûkh (Bagginshield & Gigolas)

Chapter Ten

"Bloody Elves."

"Shut up, Óin, I can't see!"

"Why would you want to?" Óin folded his arms and settled back, glowering. The Elves around them milled, graceful and serene and remote. "All you can see is more bloody Elves."

Thorin, Balin, Óin, Ori, Nori, Fíli, Kíli and Thráin stood beyond the circle of chairs, listening intently. Seeing Bilbo at this great meeting had made Thorin's heart clench painfully. Bilbo's hair had turned white, and his face was finally showing signs of his very great age. He moved slowly, and spoke but little. Much of the talk came from Gandalf (who was either ignoring the Company or unaware of their presence) and Lord Elrond (the smug, self-satisfied Elven git). Bilbo and Frodo both appeared terribly small amongst this council of free peoples and mighty lords, and Thorin wanted to snarl at each one of the damned Elves (and especially that arrogant Man) who looked at them and turned away with dismissal in their eyes.

Gimli looked very uncomfortable, his face set and glowering. Glóin's expression was grim and calm, even though Thranduil's git sat but a few seats away. They were both in formal attire – their gold clasps adorning their beards and their hair unbound. Thorin absently noted that Gimli, once again, had forgotten to brush his.

First Glóin gave the news of the Mountain. Gandalf hummed in thought and his eyes narrowed under his bushy brows. Thorin waited impatiently, but no-one in the Council had anything useful to say at all.

"Erebor will see war," he sighed to himself.

"It was always going to happen," said Balin heavily. "There is no avoiding it."

"I had hoped that one of these great Lords might give us some hope," Thráin said, eyeing the Elves darkly. "Too much to ask of a bunch of weed-eaters. I should have known better."

"Twice in a generation," muttered Óin. "Evil days indeed."

"Um, excuse me, be quiet please!" hissed Ori. "They're speaking about the old days!"

"What old days?" Fíli craned his neck. "Óin, get down, I can't see a thing!"

"Move then! I'm fine where I am."

"Who's Isildur?" said Kíli, frowning.

"A King of Men, a Númenorean," Ori said scornfully. "Don't you know anything?"

Nori snickered.

"Oh, and you're so smart," Kíli said, sticking out his scruffy chin. "So when'd he live?"

"At the end of the Second Age, and the beginning of the Third, dimwit," Ori snapped. "He was one of the Men who established the Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor."

"Arnor?" Fíli raised an eyebrow. "What's Arnor?"

"I cannot believe you pair," growled Balin. "You have both forgotten everything I taught you!"

"Including how to be quiet!" said Thráin, and at the sight of their grandfather's stern face, both Princes fell silent.

There was much talk of the Rings of Power, and Thorin allowed his mind to wander. He let his gaze drift to Bilbo. The old Hobbit was wrapped in a shawl, and he looked small and doll-like on the oversized Elven chairs.

"So what is Arnor?"

"Shut up!"

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo," said Elrond, interrupting Thorin's thoughts, and he whipped his head around to stare at the youngster. Bilbo's ring, that innocuous little thing, landed on a plinth with a disproportionately loud sound. He frowned at it, and then at Frodo, who was retaking his seat with a huge sigh of relief.