Lost and Found Again

Chapter 7 - Bilbo

Rivendell, Bilbo had decided, was beautiful. Every archway and hall was meticulously detailed, each flagstone on the floor beneath him a work of art. He had never seen a place so devoted to being magnificent and he found he liked it rather much. The long corridor he found himself walking through now held ancient artifacts and works of art, perfectly preserved and displayed with a sense of style that seemed almost second nature across the whole city and its inhabitants.

Stopping before a mural painted upon the wall itself as if the history it displayed was as much a part of this place as the everyday goings on, Bilbo stared open-mouthed at the tiny details in each section of the painting, individual elven faces each showing unique expressions of pure terror in their eyes, clearly locked upon indistinct fiery figures pervading the destruction portrayed in the painting.

So absorbed was he in his inspection of the artwork, Bilbo missed the sounds of quiet footsteps closing in upon him until a smooth elven voice said curiously,

"What are you looking at child?" His deep musical voice heavily accented in a way Bilbo had not heard in others of Rivendell. Affronted, Bilbo tore his gaze from the dark-haired elf closest to the shadowy figures and jumped rather enormously as he found himself gazing at nearly the same face he had just seen within the painting. Piercing blue eyes seemed to pin him down while a curtain of dark hair braided neatly off his face accentuated his sharp unearthly features, so different from the hobbits of the Shire and even the Dwarves of Thorin's company. Shaken, yet still offended, Bilbo responded hotly,

"I am not a child, I am a Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit." The elf raised an eyebrow amusedly and replied,

"Alright then, Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit, what has you so entranced you seemed almost sucked into the very image itself?" Bilbo smiled and motioned towards the mural, saying,

"The amount of detail in this image, you would think the painter had been there himself, though that must be impossible. A battle such as this must have taken place in the first or second age if I know anything about history but-" Bilbo cut himself off, noticing the expression on the elf's face. It was mournful, nostalgic, and pained as if he had personally known those in the image, and Bilbo's next words were anxious, worried he might have offended the elf,

"Are you quite alright?" he asked, and the elf shook his head slightly, eyes flickering away from the painting and meeting Bilbo's wherein he could see a deep well of sorrow and memory. It seemed to the hobbit that if he looked long enough he might be swallowed by the depth of his eyes,

"I believe the painter might have been, to achieve that level of accuracy. This is the fall of Gondolin if I am not mistaken, and I shouldn't be, I was there." Bilbo stared in awe at the dark-haired elf towering above him, and when he next spoke he could feel himself stumbling slightly over his words, his mind suddenly connecting the dark-haired elf in the image to the one standing beside him,

"Y-You were there?" He asked incredulously, and pointed shakily at the elf in the picture,

"Is this you?" A bitter smile twisted the elf's face and he did not even need to glance at the image to respond in the affirmative. Bilbo's mouth fell open, eyes widening as he reassessed the elf standing beside him,

"But Gondolin fell in the first age! That would make you..." He trailed off attempting and failing to do the math of how old the elf beside him must be, and a laugh echoed down the hallway as another elf joined them, this one recognizable to Bilbo as Lord Elrond,

"Older than he ever hoped to be I am sure. However, I must insist that the two of you take a short break to join us for dinner, or I fear you shall not be eating until tomorrow." This prompted a fearful look from the hobbit and he quickly bobbed his head in a short bow and rushed off to find his companions. However, before he was out of earshot, he heard the elf ask Lord Elrond in a curiously open voice,