This story did not win the small story poll. It scored a total of 684 votes in total, putting it in last place, in fact. FILFy Teacher came in second for once LOL, beaten by my other Highschool DxD crossover, Gods and Devils and Wild Horses, Oh My 2,014 to 2,042.

However, with both the patty on and Large story poll winners being Ranma fics (Sword Bow and Horse, and Horse for the Force respectively) I decided to try to see if I could get a chapter of this story out, prioritizing it over GDWHOM so that my Harry fans could at least have a bite to eat this month rather than the full meal you normally get from me LOL. I have Horse back from Hiryo, and will be updating that story late tomorrow night.

Next month FILFy Teacher battles it out with Magic of the Force in the large story poll and depending on if I can get GDWHOM done fast enough that it doesn't impact next month's work, ATP may be in the small story poll. You know what to do if you want more say in what I update month to month.

Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter. This has only been edited by me via Grammarly, but I hope there aren't enough mistakes to bother everyone's enjoyment of the chapter despite that.

Chapter 9: Elfish Annoyances, Orcish Issues

Harry and the dwarves were escorted through the forest, and for a few minutes, it was all Harry and Thorin could do to make certain that the others didn't mention the missing member of their party. Pretending to stumble and nudge one or the other dwarf due to the darkness of the night around them was easy enough. Doing so, they passed on the word to most that they couldn't mention the missing scouts to as many as possible. But a few of the dwarves, Bifur and Oin, were hard of hearing. And after the past few weeks deprivations, starting to become hard of thinking too.

The elves threatened them whenever they tried to speak or stumbled, which was making Harry rather annoyed. In response, and to cover Fili grabbing Oin to pass that word on to him, Harry began to sing. He didn't have the voice for singing, but that sort of added to the effect. "Oh, ninety bottles of ale on the wall…"

"Hahaha, only ninety-nine bottles? And of weak human beer too, bah! And as for your singing voice, Harry, my lad!" Balin, quick on the uptake, jumped on this, and he Ori and Nori, began to sing some kind of dwarfish children's song. Between them, they covered the fact that Thorin and his nephews were talking to the others.

But to Harry's surprise, the Elfin woman didn't seem to take much offense at this. If anything, she was amused by it. Or perhaps because of their continued stumbling through the dark, it was hard to tell.

The other elves barely lasted two verses before one of them, the dark-haired one who seemed to be in command, barked out an order. The others all raised their bows, pointing them at the singing dwarves. "Enough! You will walk silently or be gagged."

Thorin growled, cracking his large knuckles, and stalked forward, putting himself between the elf pointing at Kili and his nephew. "How many arrows do you think you're going to get off before my fellows on you?!"

"I only need one, dwarf!" The elf barked back, raising his bow into the air, pulling the string back to his ear and holding it there with ease as he stared Thorin down.

"I wonder if there's a spell to make all your bowstring's break," Harry murmured in a very loud tone. "Beyond that, few of you seem armed at all." He grinned maliciously at the suddenly worried-looking elves.

The woman, however, shook her head. "Ignore him. He's bluffing. If he had the power to that, he already would have used it."

"He has a name, you know Harry. He would also like it if you would use it, please," Harry drawled back as the dwarves quitted down.

"That's nice for him," the woman retorted, sending him a smirk. "Still, we should at least make some torches. Mortals need them to see in the dark, so limited are their senses."

Harry chuckled at that, raising a finger to indicate she had scored a point. Although he didn't know if the elves had the same kind of body language that humans did.

Once the elves had followed the woman's suggestions on the torches, the dwarves marched along quietly, occasionally pushed in the back by one or other of the elves were feeling particularly belligerent. Dwalin, Gloin and Thorin, the prickliest of the dwarves, did not take to this well. But after one incident with Dwalin, when an elf found himself tossed through the air, it stopped. After he was threatened once more, anyway.

However, the depredations of their time in the forest quickly began to tell. Dwarven stomachs rumbled, mutters began to grow, and Bombur slowly started to lag behind, ignoring the elf pushing him in the back. "If you're going to take us prisoner, the least to you could do is to feed us! We haven't eaten anything for days thanks to that thrice-damned path!"

The elves, even the woman, said nothing to that, simply pushing the dwarves on. Finally, Bombur could take no more. He slumped down onto his rear and shouted, "I'm not taking another step until I get some food!"

"Then, we'll simply kill you and leave you your corpse for the spiders!" Said the chief elf. "From the look of you, you could feed one of their colonies for a least a week."

This joke didn't seem to sit well with all the elves, but they didn't argue with the sentiment, while all the dwarves tensed, Ready for a fight. But before anything could happen, there was a bit of movement to one side, and a group of five more elves appeared, appearing out of the forest as if they had been summoned into being. They all wore the same green jerkin, pants and cloaks, and even the same bows. But every one of their quivers was empty, their bows strapped to their backs.

In the lead was a blonde-haired elf. This elf's face was slightly more angular in the torches a few of the elves carried, somewhat more aloof-seeming, but there was nothing else to mark the newcomer out. But the instant he showed up, the elves round the dwarves all nodded their heads respectfully to him, and the woman and the elf who had been acting as if he was in charge moved quickly to his side.

From where he was at the front of the column of prisoners, Harry heard him begin to speak to the others in rapid-fire Elvish, making Harry very glad for the lingering effects of the translation spell. "We harried them back south, but we started to reach the edge of their webs quickly. There we did battle with still more spiders which came to the aid of those retreating. There are more spiders out there than reported previously, and they further north than they should be. The speed with which they are spreading is growing."

"As I've said several times," the woman shot back, shaking her head with a sharp twitch of her neck that set her hair to swish. "The spiders are growing as a threat all the time, and we do nothing?"

"That is not up to us," said the newcomer shaking his head along with the other man. The way they repeated it made it sound like a rote response to Harry's ears. The one who had been in charge of capturing them went on. "Let them spread as much as they wish, so long as they do not threaten our lands, the spiders are not our problem."

"And the first you will know of when the spiders have become our problem is when they are stealing in and taking babies away!" The woman growled back.

But the newcomer waved his hand in a brusque cutting off gesture. "It has been decided by the king, that is the end of it." He then pointed to Bombur, who was still sitting down. "What is wrong with that one?"

"He's hungry," Harry said, deciding that since the others knew he could speak Elfish, he might as well not try to keep it a secret from the newcomer. "We haven't eaten anything much in more than a week."

The blonde elf looked at him quizzically, cocking his head to the side. "A human traveling with the band of dwarves?"

"He's not a human," the female interjected as she looked over at Harry. "He is a wizard. He was casting spells of a kind I have never even heard during the battle against the spiders. Destructive and very fiery spells."

"Truly? He looks a little too young to be wise. Of course, with humans 'young' is relative, but I believe the men among them are supposed to grow beards as they age?" the newcomer joked.

"You think you're funny," Harry drawled. "Won't it come as a big surprise when you realize you're not."

The blonde elf shook his head at that. "He certainly seems to act like a human. All talk and no brain."

"Oh, I'm making a list," Harry muttered to himself. "I'm not going to bloody bother checking it twice. I'm just going to mark you all down as naughty, and then I'm going to treat you as such…"

The newcomer ignored him, moving in to speak to the woman in a low tone, before moving away when she didn't seem to be in favor of whatever he'd said. Or perhaps the fact that he was so close to her, it was hard to tell. Harry reflected that Elfish body language was very low-key, a thing of subtle facial movements more than anything else, extremely hard to discern in the light of the torches.

But eventually, the man simply nodded at whatever she had said, moving over to the fat Bombur. He pulled out a flat piece of bread, holding it out to the dwarf. "One piece for each of you," he intoned. "Then, no more arguments, no more noise. You are still trespassers and will be treated according to the King's laws about such."

The bread filled Harry up, and he blinked, staring down at it. "Ah, Lembas."

"You know of it?" the woman asked. She and a few of the others were also handing out bread, and she had moved to give him some of the bread before any of the others could.

"I did say that we had met Elrond. Is it so odd that he would have given us some Lembas?"

"You use spells far more profligately than the Istari are supposed to do, you travel with dwarves, and you mention the names of Elrond and Mithrandir." She shook her head, almost all her earlier attitude gone now, either connected to the events of their first meeting or subsumed by her curiosity. "What is your story, wizard?"

Harry didn't reply, occupying his mouth for a moment with a bite of Lembas, looking over the woman's shoulder at the newcomer. "I take it he is someone important?" he asked instead of answering her.

"He is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, Commander of the Unseen Host," the woman replied, turning her head just slightly to look at the now-named Legolas.

"Unseen Host? Well, that certainly fits most of you elves right up until the battle was won," Harry snarked, unable to help himself. She stiffened, and Harry went on hurriedly. "I take it he is also an unwanted suitor of yours?"

She blinked in surprise. "How did you…"

"I was looking at you and the other one when he arrived. He was relieved, but you were annoyed, especially by the first sentence out of his mouth. You got over it quickly when he started to talk about the spiders, but it was visible for just a second, then afterward, you didn't like whatever he was saying to you. I decided to take a running leap to a conclusion." He chuckled, shaking her head.

"Isn't so much a suitor, where he is rather, but he has taken my refusals well enough so far." The woman then shifted the conversation, if such it could be called, back to what was most important to her. "Are you truly one of the Istari? You are younger by far then the only one of the Istari I have ever met before."

"Let me guess, that would be Gandalf or Radagast. Gandalf is the only one who seems to travel, and Radagast I know lives somewhere down south. And I hope that I look younger than either of them, I'd hate to look as old as dirt, after all," Harry retorted.

She chuckled at that but looked at him seriously. Harry sighed, wondering how often over their captivity or whatever he would have to say this. "Let's just say that I am and am not. You elves are supposed to be fans of answers to questions that are not actually answers."

"The Sindar or Noldor perhaps. But I am a Silvan elf, and I prefer plain speaking." She persisted, using terms for the Elfish races that Harry had only heard once from Gandalf. "Have you seen the glowing lands? Are you an Istari, sent after your older fellows for a specific task?"

"I have not been there myself, although…" Harry paused, then shrugged. Something about the subject matter seemed to demand at least some honesty as if the memory of the dream itself held power. "My consciousness was pulled there in a dream. I can tell you some of what I saw, although the majority of what happened is little too personal to explain."

The woman bit her lip, a facial expression that elves seemed to share with humans, then shook her head. "No. I have heard tales of Lands beyond the Eastern Ocean all my life…" She paused, but Harry did not bite on that one, and she went on. "But I would rather see it for myself if so. Yet if you are not an Istari, you are still a magic-user and one who associates with Mithrandir and Lord Elrond. So why are you with dwarves? And such a small, scruffy-looking band of them too?"

"Are you asking or are demanding a. answer?" Harry asked in turn.

"Now I know you're just playing word games with me, wizard," she said with a chuckle shaking her head as they marched began to continue.

Harry noticed that the one called Legolas was now walking beside Thorin, staring at him thoughtfully, then over to a few of the other, older, dwarves. Thorin, in turn, was glaring daggers at him, saying nothing even as he trudged along. The Lembas had helped regain their energy, even if most were still hungry.

"I will answer your question about why I am traveling with dwarves if you answer a question for me. And if I am satisfied with your answer." Before the woman could reply, Harry went on, asking, "Why haven't your people wiped out those spiders?"

The woman tsk irritably, turning away, her legs carrying her off and to the side of the column of prisoners. Yet there was a flash of something thee, annoyance, damaged pride, something of the sort on her face as she went. I wonder, is she jealous that we were able to fight them? Which her orders apparently restrain her from doing? And why the hell has this King ordered such a thing?

While Harry was thinking about that, Legolas had turned his attention on Harry. What Legolas saw was a young, not overly small, but well-built human man with heavily scarred hands, and eyes which constantly flicked in every direction, concentrating on nothing, seeing everything. It was the same kind of look that took decades to train into the members of the Unseen Host, the look of a warrior ready for combat. Interesting that a human would have such a look. I have not seen the like before. Then again, Legolas chuckled internally, I have not yet been beyond the edge of Taur-e-Ndaedelos.

How long they marched along, Harry didn't know. Eventually, they were ordered to halt, and a second later, more elves merged out of the dark forest around them, a bit of forest that was much like all the rest to Harry's eyes: a mass of trees, with little to no moonlight, and a lot of shadows.

These elves were dressed differently from the Unseen Host. They wore what looked chain mail of very good quality to Harry's admittedly untrained eye and swords at their side, double-bladed halberds in their hands paired with large kite shields on their backs.

The free hands held bags of cloth, which the elves around the dwarves took quickly. Moving among the dwarves, they unceremoniously stuffing them over the heads of the dwarves. "You will be going like this from now on," Legolas intoned, as he personally put the hood over Harry, then on to Gloin, frowning as he saw something glimmering around his neck. "And what is that?" he asked curiously, taking it in one hand and opening the locket with a flick of his finger. "Your son?"

"My wife," Gloin growled back.

"Ahh." Legolas shook his head and then finished putting the hood over the dwarf.

At the front of the column, Thorin grit his teeth, locking eyes with the elf who did the same to him, still staring as it was pulled down. But if it had any impact on the elf question, no one could say. I will not forget this effrontery!

With the cloth bags over their heads, Harry and the dwarves lost all track of time entirely. But eventually, Harry could make out the twitter of birds in the distance, and through the sackcloth, he noticed a bit more light around him, indicating that dawn was upon them.

Soon after that, the dwarves once again began to mutter and complain, only to be smacked by the flat of the halberd blades carried in their new guard's hands, accompanied by Legolas's voice. "move in silence or go in chains."

An interminable time later, there was a change in the atmosphere Harry somehow felt through the bag on his head. There was a faint note of songs in the air, as well as a kind of musky, heady sort of smell. It was as if someone had gotten one too many air fresheners and stuck them in an enclosed space. Not exactly unpleasant, but certainly a marked change from the forest beyond.

For the first time since they had talked earlier, the female elf spoke up. The woman spoke in a local dialect of Elfish, though Harry understood it thanks to all Elvish languages being connected somehow, if with different syntax and sentence structure. "We are within the city of Celeb Aduial now, surely we should be able to remove their hoods? The better to overawe them."

"That is not for you to say," an unknown voice stated, officious sounding or perhaps as if the new speaker didn't particularly like the woman. Harry couldn't tell.

"But it is mine," Legolas shot back. "Unless you would gainsay me?"

At that, the new voice backed off quickly. "Of course not. But I believe that your father wanted their first sites to be his halls, not the city of twilight."

"…Very well. But we don't need all of the dwarves to be brought before the King. The one with the black hair who acted as their leader. Take him and the human. The rest will be taken to the cells at once. Whatever the King decides, they can cool their heels there."

"Wizard," the woman said, sounding tired as if the two of them had been having an argument. "We must be aware of his unusual skills, regardless of his origins."

"Wizard then," Legolas answered.

Soon after, Harry and Thorin found themselves grabbed and then led off away from the others, their hands bound together by light chain, which they had not been before this. While Harry was philosophical about this (hey chains equals heavy weights equals weapons) Thorin was incensed. "I will not be chained like a criminal to the gallows!" he roared, trying to break free.

The other dwarves heard this and also began to protest, shouting and pressing forward. Dwalin slammed his shoulder into one elf's stomach, Gloin headbutted another in the side. Fili and Kili tag-teamed a third. But all of them were still hooded and still dealing with the exhaustion from their ordeal in the woods. For all their shouts and protestations they were quickly overcome, beaten into submission.

As they tried to fight free, Harry's hands began to twinge in pain for a second, causing him to twitch before the feeling quickly faded. What was that?

Once the dwarves were brought back under control, Harry and Thorin found themselves led away. About three-hundred steps later, up and down several sets of stairs, Harry finally was halted in place by a hand on one shoulder, and then felt someone else removing his hood.

OOOOOOO

Behind the elves and their captives, Bilbo followed the elves through the forest with almost ridiculous ease. It wasn't that the elves were unaware of their surroundings, or unwary. More than once, the elves doubled back or changed direction randomly to throw off both their captives and anyone who could attempt to follow them. But with the invisibility ring, Bilbo only had to worry about the sound of his passage.

And despite the noise of his stomach, Bilbo was about as silent as a butterfly. Hobbit feet made no noise, and Bilbo had often snuck up on other hobbits. With the invisibility ring helping him, avoiding the elves detecting his presence was child's play.

But despite that, Bilbo had issues of his own. As a hobbit, his metabolism was well beyond anything the others of his party could boast, meaning that after days of deprivation, he was suffering far worse than even Bombur. He nearly gave the game away when the elves gave the captives some Lembas, and after, promised himself that he would do something nice for Fili and Kili, who somehow successfully dropped a portion of the bread they had been given for him, a plan they had come up with on the fly.

He was still with them when the dwarves were led into the Elvish city. Although the dwarves couldn't see it, the elves had led them to a small hill in the forest, a barely discernable rise in the ground at first but one which became obvious as Bilbo stopped and looked at it before hurrying after the elves. As the elves came close, a portion of the hill seemed to shimmer, and the massive trees to either side moved apart, allowing an entrance to the interior of the hill to be seen.

But if the magic of that was surprising, the city so revealed was even more so. Say what you will about these elves and their response to lost travelers, but they can certainly build, Bilbo though in awe.

At first, coming through a tunnel between several different trees that had seemingly grown into one another to form an outer crust, Bilbo thought that they would just be in a large cavern under the hill. But they were not so much underground as under tree. The outer edge of the hill was, in fact, an illusion covering a dome that had itself been made out of trees. It completely hid and protected the city from detection from both the ground and the air.

The city itself was molded out of the ground of the forest and the trees within this outer shell. Each building was molded to almost look natural, merging into the totality. Homes in the ground like hobbit holes for some. Homes in the trees for most, with a few here and there created out of natural stone formations.

There were lights and sounds here, music straining in the distance, which made Bilbo remember Rivendell, although not as invasive or, frankly, as good to his ears, somehow lacking the power to make you feel at ease that the songs of Rivendell carried. The lights too seemed to be everywhere, glowing softly. Such was the effect Bilbo wasn't certain he could tell the difference between the light they shed sunlight.

And everywhere Bilbo looked, there were elves. More elves than in Rivendell, many more. There were even elvish children who looked at the strangers before hastening on their way, talking in low whispers. When he looked at them, he could see more maturity than he expected in their faint frowns or the need to be quiet around strangers, but their bodies were clearly unformed.

Oh yes, elves age mentally faster but physically slower, don't they? Still, while there are more elves here, I have to admit I don't quite get the sense of overwhelming goodness and welcome that Rivendell gave me. And only half of that can I explain away due to our welcome here. These elves are different from those who look to Elrond, for certain.

As the troop of elves moved into the city, the nature of the city changed slightly, from magically packed dirt and trees into trees and stone, the outer shell ending abruptly at the edge of a thin chasm. Below at the bottom of the chasm was a river.

There a bridge led to what looked like a blank wall in a wall of stone, except for a series of glowing sigils on it that rose into what looked like another hill. As they came close the doors opened to reveal a massive hallway carved out of the living rock of the hill, with high fluted columns carved to match the trees outside. High up in the ceiling, which Bilbo estimated was at least fifteen feet above his head, those columns merged into the trees above the hill so seamlessly he couldn't tell the difference. Here and there staircases led to upper galleries or down and away out of sight.

It was here where the elves began to divide the party. Drat, of course they wouldn't all be kept in one place. That would be too simple. Unless, am I hearing that right? They're taking Thorin and Harry to the King? That could be good or bad, I suppose. Oh, please, Thorin, keep hold of your temper!

With that in mind, Bilbo decided to follow Thorin and Harry. They were the ones that would possibly be in direct danger soonest, and he wanted to be there to help if so. However, a second later, he was faced with temptation: an elf passing by with a plate of sliced meats and some kind of fruit or vegetable mixed together, held at waist height. And as hungry as the hobbit was, Bilbo just couldn't stop himself.

Before he could think too much about it, Bilbo raced forward on silent hobbit feet to the other side of the tray, timing his movement along with the elf's. Then when the elf turned to head down a passage set to one side of the hall, he made his move. Reaching forward, Bilbo grabbed up a handful of the slices of venison and vegetable from the side of the plate that was away from the elf, just three of them. Not enough, he hoped, to be noticeable.

The elf didn't even look down as he moved off. A second later, Bilbo quickly twisted around and back the way he came.

He paused in the shadows again, wolfing everything down hungrily, almost biting his own fingers off such was his hunger. He stayed there, eating while watching where the elves escorting Harry and Thorin to meet the King were going.

Instead of being taken further down, they were guided back up a series of stairs in the center of the huge cavern. Two guards were stationed at the foot of the last set of stairs, but Bilbo passed them by quickly, noting how the stairs separated into different levels, different rooms perhaps.

It was to the topmost level that Thorin and Harry were led.

Bilbo ascended to the top of the stairs just in time to watch as their hoods were removed as they stood in front of an older seeming elf. Obviously with elves it was sometimes hard to tell. His hair was silver though, falling nearly to his elbows. He was thin of body as all elves were, but he instead looked somewhat emaciated rather than thin by design while also being grim of eye and haughty in expression.

The elfin King wore a circle around his brow, silver of course, with two tiny golden antlers etched out on either side above his brow. Like many of the other elves that Bilbo had seen in this city, he wore loose flowing robes, but the King's was white, whereas most of the others were tan, dark gray or green like the elves who had captured his companions. Currently, he was sitting at his ease at a stone table, which seemed to grow from the rock beneath them.

"You stand in front of King Thranduil, lord of the elves of Taur-e-Ndaedelos, wizard and dwarf," the elf named Legolas said, nodding his head to the man. "Be respectful, as he holds your lives in his hands."

The King was silent for a moment, waiting until Legolas left, leaving him with the two captives, seemingly alone save for his guards, of which there were four between the captives and Bilbo.

"You look familiar to me," the other elves intoned, staring at the dwarf. "Yes, I have seen you before, have I not? In the halls of your fathers…Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Last King Under the Mountain."

OOOOOOO

Elrond, this man is not, Harry reflected, stopping his perusal of the area around the area to look at the elf. Let alone Galadriel. The thought of the lady of Lothlorien allowed Harry, astonishingly, to bite back his anger at their treatment for now. The fact he looks like Malfoy senior is not helping matters, though.

"My son and his fellow rangers were no doubt wondering why dwarves would trespass on our lands. But seeing you, I can easily discern the manner of your quest. You seek the Lonely Mountain. Erebor. You seek Smaug's horde. Or perhaps…something inside it," The man said, standing up from his table and moving around them, sending a single look Harry's way before looking at Thorin from all angles, as if he was a puzzle that Thranduil was trying to solve.

"Our business is our own. We were traversing your lands, the path that you and yours are supposed to be keeping up, but which instead you have allowed to fall into darkness and disrepair. Before you meddle in our business great King," Thorin made the title and the word great into daggers almost hurled at the King like weapons. "See to your own affairs!"

"You are in my lands, and you are thus my affair. You wish to travel to the Lonely Mountain. I know not why specifically, but why would I be so foolish as to allow you to tempt fate in such a manner?"

"Erebor is mine!" Thorin shot back, his dark eyes practically aflame with anger and determination. "Alive or dead Smaug is a trespasser, and he will be evicted if still alive. If dead it will be simpler, but we will reclaim our homeland whatever happens!""

Thranduil chuckled, but there was no humor in it, rather the sound was scathing. "You speak of things beyond your ken. No weapon of dwarf or elf can harm Smaug. In him, the great beasts of the Greater Darkness has been reborn. You do not fight such a beast, you avoid and try to survive it, like any other natural disaster."

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you? Having tried so hard against Smaug when we asked for aid?" Thorin paused, then snarled. "But wait, you didn't did you? You tried nothing! You gave nothing! When we, who helped you build these magnificent halls you now skulk in, asked for help against Smaug, you turned us away to face Smaug's fire on our own!"

"Do not speak to me of dragon fire! I fought in the war against Morgoth, I faced the drakes of that age," Thranduil hissed, thrusting his face deep into Thorin's, a bit of it seeming to come apart as an illusion failed. Beneath the illusion, a portion of Thranduil's face and neck was blackened, darkened skin, from the side of his jaw down to the collarbone. It reminded Harry of the scars on his own hands, wounds caused by fire and kept from healing by the magic within that fire, just like the wounds Voldemort had dealt Harry in the Void between worlds.

Thorin stared back undaunted. "You lost a portion of your woods and your portion of your face in that ancient war. To Smaug, my people lost everything! Family, friends, heritage, wealth, home, dignity, pride! And what did your people do! You could have helped us after Smaug retreated into the mountain at the very least. But when we asked for aid so that our dams and children could be safe, you turned us away to face the desolation Smaug left behind him."

"You would have done the same in my position and you seem to think we were on good terms at the time!" Thranduil chuckled, again a noise without any humor in it. "Your father went back on an agreement he had with me, the workings of a set of jewels, white jewels he and your finest lapidaries were to make for me. Days before Smaug attacked. We were not allies at that time merely neighbors, and who was to know if taking you and the rest of your rabble in would have brought Smaug's ire onto my woods?"

"You would put the…"

By this point, Harry was done with being ignored and cut in before Thorin could speak further. "I am actually going to quote Gandalf here. The betrayals between elves and dwarves go back so far that debating on who is in the right serves no purpose. There is enough guilt to go around, and perhaps if we can put it behind us, we might actually get something done. I…"

He was interrupted in turn at that point by the King, twisting around on him so fast that even Harry was surprised. Elves were quick, that was certain. "You dropped the human name for Mithrandir quite lightly, and I am told by my son and others that you spouted it to them as well, along with the word Elrond. In conjunction with this."

He reached to the side of the table and hefted Orcrist, Thorin's sword into his hands, twirling it this way and that. "The sword of our ancestors held by the captain of Gondolin's Royal Guards before that most powerful of ancient kingdoms fell to the dread enemy. And now in the hands of a dwarf. What am I to think but that you stand before me not only destitute but a grave robber?"

"Thorin was allowed to keep that sword thanks to Elrond's decree that it came to him for some purpose. If anyone can lay claim to that sword, and its companion Glamdring, who Gandalf now wields, would it not to be the master of Rivendell, who can trace his parentage back to Turgon, King of Gondolin?" Harry asked, although it was more of a statement than question as he used some of the lore Gandalf had told him.

"Continually mentioning Mithrandir and Elrond half-elven will bring you no succor here," The King shot back, now glaring at Harry.

"Shouldn't it?" Harry asked, cocking his head to one side. "After all, the White Council is something like an overall governing body for the Elven nations, isn't it?"

Thranduil smirked slightly, the movement pulling at the burn mark on his face before his illusion fell back in place. "The White Council, and Gandalf, in particular, do not rule the other nations of Elvenkind. They advise. My halls, my lands. Not that of the Council. I will not have my actions dictated by others."

"Nor will you apparently be dictated by the agreement you made with those others. Such as keeping the portion of the East Road through Mirkwood clear. Then, when it became clear that to stay on that path would be to starve, why did your people not help us?" Thorin interjected, piling in with Harry as he could. "In what land that is good and fair is it acceptable to capture people who have simply run into a problem on your lands which you apparently have not done anything to solve!?"

"We have no need to help those who stay on the path, and those who stray are free to look after their own devices until they meddle in ours." The King intoned chuckling now with actual humor. "You question me? You, a vagabond with but twelve followers to your name, think you can speak to a King in his own halls in such a manner?"

"Thirteen, actually," Harry drawled." And if you think those paths are so safe, I dare you to walk them yourselves. The spells on them are either decayed or horribly twisted. They not only keep people from finding their way once their away from the path, they keep all game away from the path so that travelers can't feed themselves! Every step we took on that trail was a test of our will, and it shouldn't have been."

Thranduil sneered, a sneer that made any Harry had seen on Snape or Voldemort's face seem that of rank amateurs at the art. "And now the human who styles himself as one of the Istari wishes to take me to task about the enchantments I created for Men-i-Naugrim? After throwing around your unwholesome magics in my land, making such a cacophony that I was nearly deafened here in my hall? Did you think you could do so without consequences?"

"Hmm, alive to listen to you bitch or dead by spiders. Tough choice," Harry retorted. He was angry and getting angrier at the way this elf was talking to them. Yes he was a king, but he wasn't their King, and automatic respect only took you so far, and this guy had passed that point ages ago. "Spiders I might add, which attacked us while on what you have called your land. You vomit on about your land this, and your land that when you can't seem to control anything that goes on beyond the environs of these halls."

Shaking his head, Thranduil ignored Harry's words moving back to the table, picking up Orcrist once more, seeming to stare into the glimmer of his reflection on the blade for something. "I will not bander further words with either of you. But neither will I slay you out of hand. Thorin Oakenshield, I will keep you in my halls until you give over this mad quest, or…" he smiled thinly, looking up at Thorin. "you tell me why you think it is possible you could succeed when the armies of your grandfather failed. And if you do, perhaps, perhaps we can make a deal."

"I will not make any deal with you!" Thorin roared. "You stand here in halls my people delved for you, proud as a cockerel in his cage, yet fearful of everything outside, unwilling to act. You expect me to forget or worse to equate the creation of your jewels to the welfare of my people, our dams and young!? After how your people have treated my company and me? Do you take me for a fool?"

Despite the dwarven leader's anger, Thranduil acted as if he hadn't even spoken, turning slightly to look at Harry. "You human, represent something of a mystery. You speak of being friends with Mithrandir, and Elrond. Yet you are clearly human despite your magic. I will keep you in my dungeons, I think. Until one of the Istari comes by and vouches for you."

"In one breath you call me a wizard, and then in the next say you're going to keep me? How exactly do you expect to 'keep me'?" Harry snarled, his anger flaring up almost uncontrollably at the idea of being caged against his will, just like the Dursley had done to him when he was younger. So angry was Harry, he took a step forward even though the guards behind him raised their halberds threateningly, his hands clenched.

The tip of Orcrist rose lightning-fast, causing Harry to jerk his chin back lightly so that it didn't break skin. Yet Thranduil's voice was still bland as he threatened Harry. "You expect to be able to use your magics here in my very halls? You truly are not very wise, then are you?"

With his hands still clenched in front of him, Harry flicked a single finger upwards towards the Elvin King. A weak Expeliarmus hit the Elven King, causing him to stumble backward. Then Harry was leaping forward, bringing down the chains on top of the King's head.

The spell hadn't knocked the King off his feet. As weak as Harry was from lack of food and his earlier exertions, his magic was barely a flicker of what it should've been. But it had been enough to let Harry get an edge on him.

Orcrist blocked the downward swing of the chains, but Thranduil was so surprised that his grip hadn't tightened back up after the Expeliarmus. The blow smashed the sword out of his hand, and then Harry rushed him, baring Thranduil to the earth before any of the guards could do anything.

But as Harry smashed down a blow on Thranduil's face, the butt end of one of the halberds caught Harry in the back, only for the elf who hit him to be grabbed by Thorin in turn. Thorin tossed him aside nearly down the steps they had been led up, the dwarf's strength still incredible even now. But the other two beat Thorin to his knees, then switched targets as the one Thorin had hurled to the ground scrambled to his feet. The two companions found themselves pinned to the ground, as the King rose to his feet, clutching his injured face as one heck of a shiner began to grow where Harry's one punch had landed.

"Take them away! Take them away and lock them into our dungeons. There they will remain, fed on nothing but water and weak regular bread, until they learn better manners," Thranduil hissed in a fury, staring daggers at Harry.

Harry was groggy from the blows of the staves of the guards, but Thorin was still going strong despite having taken half again as many blows as Harry had such was the doughty nature of the dwarves. "You only compound your dishonorable acts in this, Thranduil! Harry was correct, Gandalf will know what has happened to us, and more! You could have been our ally! You could have stood with us at this, the changing of times. But you have made a poor choice!"

Above them, the King looked down stoically as they were led away, shaking his head slightly. "The words of the powerless mean nothing to the strong, Thorin Oakenshield. You would do well to remember that. And until you understand that, in my cells, you and your companions will remain."

OOOOOOO

Bilbo was not the only being to follow the elves. It would have shocked them, from Legolas and his fellow officers on down, and perhaps burst some of their egos, to know that a few spiders had been able to track them through the woods as well. They lead a group of orcs evading all of the Elfin sentries. The spiders had long mapped out a route like this for themselves through the outer edge of Thranduil's realm, almost to the elven city's outer reaches.

Now one of those spiders dropped from the trees to speak to the Orc leader. This Orc was tall, powerfully built, quick of movement and mind, and the spider was almost afraid of it. As it spoke, it spoke the Black Tongue, the official tongue of Mordor, a common language that was used when the different creatures of darkness spoke to one another. It was a harsh language, made even worse by the spider's mandibles. "They have been captured by the elves. We cannot enter that city, but no non-elf will ever come out either. They are gone, gone to us."

Bolg frowned angrily, staring over the spider's carapace before quickly coming to a decision. "Lead us southwest. We will skirt around the Elfin lands for now. If they come out, the dwarves will still be making for the Lonely Mountain, and we can pick up the trail there. If not, dead is dead, and my band is not strong enough to take on the Elfin lands alone. But their time will come soon enough…" he ended with a fang, toothed snarl.

The spiders all bobbed in place happily at that but made no move to obey at once as their spokesman responded in the negative. "We know the root to take you where you wish to go, but we are hungry. We must eat first."

Without any warning, Bolg brought his sword out of his scabbard and down, slicing the spider in two. "You and your kind do not make demands of me!"

He then stepped back, staring up at the nine remaining spiders, all of whom were gnashed their mandibles angrily in their own tongue. Again without any warning, a backhand caught one of the goblins next to them, flinging him sideways unconscious into a tree. "But if you do need to eat, eat that."

For a moment, the spiders stilled, their eyes watching everything at once as they thought of his proposal. Then they descended as one, surrounding the unconscious goblin, who awoke with a scream. A scream that was quickly cut off as his blood was drained from him.

When the spiders seemed to have been sated, Bolg strode forward, jabbing one lightly with his sword. Looking up, the spiders realized that they had been surrounded during their feast, and the orc band stood ready to slaughter them. Such actions were typical when such creatures dealt with one another. "Now, lead us where we wish to go."

Cowed, and having eaten enough, the spiders agreed, leading the wolf riders off through the woods.

OOOOOOO

Sometime after Thorin and Harry had been let off, the King of the elves sat, staring at the sword Orcrist once more as it lay on the table, with a handkerchief in one hand dabbing at the black eye human had given him. He was angry at the affront to his dignity, at the sudden assault, but his tactic had worked: the human had used his magic directly in Thranduil's presence, more than close enough that Thranduil was able to get a feeling for his magic. I could have done without the violence, but now I should know if the human performs magic again in my realm. He will not be able to escape from my halls or my sight, whatever he tries. And with my own enchantments, I can weaken him over time from his already weakened state.

He looked up only when his son came in, along with the captains whose bands captured the dwarves, Saunteeras and Tauriel. He quickly spoke up before any of them could ask what had happened to him. "Speak."

Legolas and the captain spoke quickly about their own parts of last night's activities. Legolas had been leading a band further from the path where the battle began and had moved to cut off further spiders from reaching them after he was alerted to the action. After that, he had harried the retreating spiders back south. "But the spiders are encroaching ever deeper into our lands, my king," he finished with a warning.

The King waved that off concentrating more on the captain of the guard, named Saunteeras, and what he could tell him about the humans magic. Unfortunately, the elves had come upon the battlefield near the end. They had seen some of the fire spells that Harry had been tossing around, but not everything he had been used during the battle.

"So, he is a fan of fire." Thranduil scowled, hiding a shiver of apprehension with some difficulty. He did not like that idea. "Still, he at least seems weakened, and foolishly emotional as all mortals are. Make certain that he is not able to eat anything but water and bread. With that, he will not be able to regain his strength. I will enchant the area around the cells to be immune to fire and to detect if he uses his magic."

He then looked up sharply at Tauriel, who had been silent up to this point, which was most decidedly not her normal way of acting. "You have something to say?"

"Harry, the wizard. He said that Lord Elrond himself had told Thorin that the sword belongs to him. I do not think someone like that wizard, who can wield such powers, and who knows Elrond and Mithrandir would lie," Tauriel began.

"He was but a thief, stealing from the hole in the ground where other thieves had kept their spoils," Saunteeras interjected, shaking his head. "They said they found them a troll cave. They were not given it, they were simply lucky beyond the ken of mortal beings. Now Orcrist has come back into the rightful hands of Elvenkind as it should be."

"And thus, we do one wrong on top of another?" Tauriel argued back.

"Enough. It does not matter. The dwarf has no need for a sword in my cells, after all. And there he will remain until he makes the agreement I wish him to and tells me what I wish to hear."

"But there was something else," Saunteeras intoned, looking over at the woman. "Show him the sword."

The woman frowned but reached over her shoulder to a large package she had been carrying there, pulling it off her shoulder. Laying it down on the table, she gently removed the cloth wrapping over the sword that Harry had been using. "The wizard said it was poisoned, do not touch the blade," she warned. "It's craft is magnificent, but I cannot place the style."

"Hmm, it does look quite odd, true. The blade looks almost Elvish, but the hilt is something else altogether. But I can sense something unusual about it beyond the hilt's design." The King reached out a hand and attempted to pick up the sword only to find it too heavy for him to lift. He frowned, staring at the woman. "And you were carrying this?"

"Yes," she said with a nod.

Thranduil's frown deepened, and he gestured for Legolas to try to pick it up. Legolas did so, only to find the same problem: the sword was too heavy to lift.

"A spell perhaps, so that it can only be wielded by the individual who wore it or the person he gave it to?" Thranduil mused. "Regardless, it is another sign of the odd magic he wields. Store it with rest," he decided suddenly. "Unless you have taken a liking to it?"

In answer Tauriel picked the sword back up, re-wrapping it and setting it back onto her back while Legolas spoke up, shifting the conversation to the topic that most interested him. "There is more. The spiders and the East Road. The dwarves were right in a way. The spiders have been killing off so much game, that none of it has been straying onto the trail to be trapped by the spells. And no mortal can travel through our territory without that food. Worse, the spiders are beginning to encroach on our lands."

"Not in any great numbers. They are but scouts of the Necromancer from the south. And given how little we know of that one, I am not wishful to tangle with him. Not until the White Council take action on their own," Thranduil said firmly. "And since he has been there for near to five hundred years without them doing aught, I do not see that happening anytime soon. We can endure the spiders. We would not be able to endure the dead spirits he could send after us."

"Yet you did not question Thorin or Harry about Gandalf and his involvement with them," Tauriel said sharply.

The King looked at her silently for a moment. And unlike Harry, the woman looked away quickly under the glare from Thranduil's eyes. "You will not speak to me that in that fashion again," he said, making no threat, just a simple statement. But it was enough.

For his part, Legolas nodded. While he felt his father was somewhat too cautious, at least there was some plan there. There was one thing that was bothering him far more. "What about the spells on the trail, Father? They should have kept the dwarves safe, even if the spells couldn't bring the game to them where none exist. Instead, those dwarves seemed to be on the brink of madness, and even the human, who is a wizard himself, was affected. The way they described them, those spells sound almost… evil in how they act now."

Now it was Legolas's turn to be held under the Kings but basilisk glare. "You will not question me on this," he hissed. "The spells on the path are precisely how they should be. The dwarves and the human wizard were simply weak of will, far too susceptible for their own good."

As she stared at the King, it was with the start that Tauriel realized something. Legolas might not see it, but he's afraid! He isn't in control of the spells over East Road any longer, is he? That could just be her interpretation, but even so, that was worrisome indeed. Could the Necromancer be behind that too? and he just is unwilling to ask for aid against him for pride's sake? I think I'm going to have to talk to that wizard some more about his impression about East Road, and what else is going on beyond our borders.

Later, after they were dismissed, she spoke to Legolas. "We should be doing more. We should be leading an army against the spiders, wipe out their pestilential nests from one end of the forest to another."

"And as my father says, doing so would bring us into direct conflict with the Necromancer and Dol Guldur. Away from our own halls and our own portion of the forest, that would be unwise. You know of the foul clouds that reside over that land."

"Perhaps, but is it any less unwise than allowing the spiders to continue to grow into such a threat? Will we only act when they are feeling bold enough to steal away our children, to seal our very woods against us?"

"The King will not let it come to that. You are letting the fact that the dwarves fought so well against the spiders influence your own attitude. The spiders are no true threat," Legolas replied by rote, although his face told her he didn't quite believe it.

She turned away despite that, shaking her head. "If we will not come to an agreement, I am done here."

"Will you wish to walk with me under the moonlight?" Legolas asked suddenly.

The woman looked over her shoulder at him, then shook her head once, and continued on her way, leaving Legolas to sigh, shaking his head. "Always so headstrong, Tauriel."

OOOOOOO

How long Harry and the others had been in the elven King's cells, Harry didn't know. But, feeling out his magical reserves, Harry decided that enough was enough. "Right, I'm just about done with this. Does anyone have any requests in terms of food, and please make it something that elves would actually have instead of something from your fantasies. Bombur, I am looking at you. Metaphorically speaking anyway."

There were some chuckles at that even though a few of the dwarves didn't know what a metaphor was, as Bombur muttered about getting no respect.

The dwarves had been separated into cages of mainly three to each cell along a thin narrow corridor. Thorin had told Harry that it was narrow so that if prisoners got out, they would only be able to escape in a single file, and then be out into open air along the main hall, having to go down an exposed staircase into the rest of the Elvish King's halls. "That was how my forefathers designed it for Thranduil, curse it."

The cells themselves were all right. There was enough room to move about, and the beds were long enough for Harry, so more than enough for the dwarves in terms of length, if not much in terms of width for Bombur and Bifur or Dori, the next widest dwarves. Harry found himself sharing a cell with Thorin and Fili. They had also gotten some regular bread – not Lembas - and some water, but since that had been delivered by elves who were talking about wine, roasted venison, and other things, that was more torture than help.

Still, it was a lot better than being out on the East Road, Harry reflected. The food situation, though. That they needed to address, hence his comment.

"I am sorry that it never occurred to me to come by to take requests, my friends. However, if you all will come to your bars, we can see what we can do about the whole food situation," an un-looked for voice said.

"Master Baggins!" Many a dwarf whisper-shouted, as all of them moved to the jail cells to try and peer out toward the entrance to the cell area. Standing there triumphantly, looking over his shoulder, and holding up a finger to his lips with a large bag over his shoulder, was Bilbo. After a moment, he moved into the corridor, smiling at them all triumphantly.

"And where did you spring from Bilbo?" Harry asked, holding out his hand to shake Bilbo's hand. His scars twitched, one in pain again, but then subsided, making Harry wonder what was going on before he set that aside for now.

"Well, I did sign up as this group's scout, Harry," Bilbo said dryly, as he handed the bag to Thorin. "I would've been here sooner, but I had to eat too."

"Again you are a friend unlooked-for Bilbo Baggins, I thank you for this," Thorin said formally as he took some of the food from the hobbit's sack. Inside he found simple-looking cutlets, a few sandwiches, and a bottle of Elvish wine. He took a swig, held back a snicker at how little alcohol content it had, and handed it onto his nephew, before moving over to a bad to lay out the food there.

"You're quite welcome, Thorin Oakenshield." Bilbo chuckled. "Unfortunately, getting you out of here is going to take a little longer. I haven't even found where they keep the keys to your cells, let alone any way to escape." He then brightened up, holding out Harry's pack to him. "But I did find out where they had stored the things they took off you all."

Harry found it rather ironic that Bilbo had put the mokeskin pouch, a pouch that was enchanted to be nearly as large inside as their present domicile, inside a regular burlap sack. "Thank you Bilbo! This will make sneaking about much easier."

After explaining the properties of the pouch to a chagrined Bilbo, Harry reached inside to pull out his family's Invisibility cloak. It had lost none of its power since coming to this world, although he had not used it since. Given how his body had aged in the Void, the cloak was only large enough to cover Harry, and that would have not been nearly very useful in most of the situations he had found himself in since meeting Thorin. Or perhaps I need to stop equating its use with simply sneaking around and pranking in my mind. Regardless I have access to it once again.

"And with this and a bit of magic, that makes two scouts able to move about these halls. Although I would wager that invisible beats out Hobbit-stealth, my friend, so I will take on the more dangerous tasks if it is all the same to you," Harry said aloud.

Bilbo gaped, his mouth opening and shutting as the cloak made Harry's body below the neck disappear. He might have blurted out something about the cloak being the same as his ring just then, but something held him back. "Erm, certainly! I can concentrate on supplying you all with food then. The way down to the cellars isn't guarded after all, and once I memorize the times they are in use it should be simple enough.

Thorin instead shook his head. "That will surely be useful Harry, and I am thankful you remembered it. But food right now is more important."

"Indeed, food alone puts us all deep into your debt to my friend," Kili said from another cell, reaching forward to clasp Bilbo's arm, getting him moving once more along the row of jail cells. "But how are you doing? You were suffering even worse than we on the trail at the end."

Reminded of that, Bilbo's other closer friends among the twelve also added their own worried questions. "Indeed, how did you fare against the spiders?" questioned more than one dwarf, not having seen him once the battle became more widespread.

Bilbo explained his own adventures during the battle, which Harry ignored, having seen most of it in favor of taking some of the food. He was amused at how Bilbo kept on apologizing for how long it had taken him to get back to them. But like the dwarves, Harry had learned that the hobbit's metabolism was such that it needed to be fed more often, and he was glad that Bilbo was looking and sounding so much better barely a few hours after getting a good feed.

Both Harry and Thorin listened intently when Bilbo explained how he had followed them all through the woods. "So while the elves are arrogant, it's not without reason in their own territory," he mused.

"Exactly. I'm afraid it's going to take me getting back out there and figuring out a route that we can follow before we'll be to escape. There just doesn't seem to be any way to get away from hall, city and territory without being found just yet," Bilbo admitted. "Unless anyone here thinks that heading towards the Lonely Mountain and the lake that the elves won't have as many traps or wards out?"

"No, I think incompetence is one thing you cannot play at Thranduil's feet." Thorin shook his head wryly. Then he asked a more pertinent question to their current predicament. "But do you believe that you can continue to steal away food like this with impunity?"

Bilbo thought about it, then shrugged. "I believe so. The majority of elves here are certain that they are safe beyond the outer enchantments and fortifications. Of course, they have reason to be, but as long as I spread out my depredations, I doubt anyone will notice."

"Good. We need to recover from our ordeal out there. Food, a safe place to be, if not a very accommodating one, enough space for us to at least exercise a bit." Thorin shrugged philosophically, but Harry could see the raw anger burning in his eyes at their treatment even as he set it aside for now. "While I hate being caged like this, there is no reason why we cannot take our time about trying to escape. Thanks to our inadvertent shortcut through the mountains, we are at least three weeks to a month ahead of where we should be otherwise. Which gives you Master Baggins, and you, Harry, time enough to figure out an escape route."

"Right. Bilbo concentrate on getting us food and finding where they stored our weapons. Or better yet, find us some more Elvish weapons for those of us who were still using goblin muck. I will work on mapping out the city and finding us an escape route. And don't bother about trying to find keys or anything like that." Harry tapped two fingers against the lock, murmuring a spell that had some sentimental value to him, given who had actually taught it to him during their first year in Hogwarts. "Alohomora."

The door clicked open, and Harry paused, waiting, looking over to where Bilbo was the end of the hallway, much to the annoyance of the last few dwarves in line waiting for their food. After a moment, there was no hue and cry, and Harry chuckled as Bilbo came back to report. "Arrogance is something you can lay at Thranduil's feet, I suppose. He might have been able to hear me when I'm using attack spells, but not the more subtle charms even if I'm much closer now."

Thorin grinned wolfishly, nodding his head to Harry. "We'll lock up behind you, obviously. Stay safe out there, the both of you."

Thorin Harry clapped Thorin on the shoulder, then moved around Bilbo, whispering words of encouragement to him, before pulling up the hood of his invisibility cloak and disappearing from view. Behind him, Bilbo continued down the row of cages.

As he pulled his invisibility cloak over him, Harry decided he shouldn't be away from the cells for very long just in case someone stopped by to check on the prisoners. Beyond that, Harry found himself very happy for the training that getting around Hogwarts had given him with its shifting stairs and strange architecture. Because Thranduil's halls were much the same, it was very hard to work out where he was in relation to anything they had seen after their meeting with the King. More than once, Harry found himself going back over the same ground, although Harry was able to find his way to the main hall eventually. There he shivered, realizing with a twinge of unease how they would be exposed here.

As he went, Harry became more and more impressed with how Bilbo had been able to move around. There weren't that many elves around this segment of the castle-by-any-other-name, but there certainly was enough to impact his own abilities to move around, even with the invisibility cloak.

Our scout is quite good and shows that Gandalf at least knew what he was talking about when it came to that, if not everything else, Harry thought as he made his way back to the cages. He was worried about the old man, but also really wanted to take him to task at how far off his words about the East Road and the elves of Mirkwood he had been. Just because you were more right than you could know about our need for Bilbo does not mean that I am going to not prank you severely for this, Gandalf.

Just as he was about to go down that narrow staircase to the floor of the main hall, and from there out to the doors beyond, Harry saw commotion below him. Legolas was there, gathering a group of elves, with Thranduil standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the King's section of the hall.

Time for the better part of valor Harry old boy, Harry reflected, turning and racing back the way he had come. Outside the cell, he pulled off the cloak, twisting it around as he piled it up in his bed in such a way that the invisible side was facing outward. Thorin was looking at him in shock while Fili raised an eyebrow in question as Harry locked himself back in the cell. "Elves incoming. Now, look as weary as you can."

A bare second later, Legolas led a group of elves into the corridor. They moved briskly, with several aiming arrows down it as two elves, who could walk abreast here where humans or dwarves could not, moving from cell to cell. They checked the locks, while Legolas and two more stood in front of the cell Harry was in.

The blond looked at the weary, drooping human sitting on the bed, his lips twitching. "My father has detected your use of magics, wizard. And yet, here you are, still caged. Did your spell fail?"

"No, it worked perfectly, or else it would be a good deal smellier in here," Harry retorted, scowling internally. So, he detected my spell use but not the cloak? I should have expected an elf lord, whit their emphasis on enchanting the land around them could do that. Now to see if he could detect the nature of the spell as well.

Legolas looked mildly affronted at the idea that anything in his father's halls could smell. "What do you mean?"

Harry gestured around the cell. "In preparing our accommodations, you forgot to include a means for us to go to the bathroom without leaving refuse behind. It was perhaps the most earthy task I've ever turned my magic to."

Legolas and the other elves with him blanched and to Harry's carefully hidden amusement, all of them took his words at face value. "Yes, well, we'll provide buckets or something, I suppose. I will inform my father of this but do not use your magic in such a manner again wizard. Or else you will be punished further."

"So long as it doesn't get too uncomfortable in here, I can agree to that. As tired as I am, I'd rather not use magic for a while in any event," Harry replied, making certain to look even more tired than he really was.

Once the elves were gone, Harry told Thorin what he had found, looking around for Bilbo, thinking he would pop out at some point now the coast was clear. He was told though that he had been gone for longer than he thought. Bilbo had handed over all the food he'd purloined and then left. The hobbit had apparently found a place where he could hide out and rest.

"Rest, yes. Rest sounds quite good, frankly." Harry found himself yawning even as he said this and shook his head dryly at the dwarves. "I haven't got nearly the endurance you lot have, and I am plumb knackered. I'm going to kip out. If something happens, wake me. Otherwise, consider this our nighttime lads. We can figure out how much the King's ability to sense my magic changes things in the morning."

With the magical lighting, night and day didn't have any meaning here.

Harry's yawning seems to cause a cascade effect, with Ori and Nori speaking up strongly in favor of sleep. Thorin, however, demanded that there was at least one person on watch for every two jail cells and volunteered himself to go first for his own cage, and the one containing Kili, Balin, and Bofur. Harry took him up on this, kipping out in the little alcove at the back of the cell that did for a bed.

In Harry's opinion, it was certainly far too short a time before Thorin was shaking him, getting him up to take his own turn at watch while Thorin took his turn to sleep.

Harry didn't know how long he was on watch for, but unlike the others, his watch was going to be interrupted. An elf appeared at the end of the hallway, moving into the better-lit section of the cells to stand in front of the one that held Harry, looking at him thoughtfully. As she did, her shape and face became visible, and Harry realized with a start that it was the same a female elf from before, and she looked annoyed at something again.

Her words bore that out. "You and the Oakenshield certainly annoyed my King quite a bit. He has ordered that we keep you here until you learn better manners. But is that even possible for humans?"

"I suppose that depends on how you go about their education," Harry quipped, then bowed towards her from the waist. "Perhaps we should be formally introduced at this point? I will go first. Harry Potter, of nowhere in particular just yet beyond Thorin and company."

Her lips quirking, the elf bowed in turn. Just her head admittedly, but enough to be polite. "Tauriel of Mirkwood, captain of the Unseen Host."

"Well, Tauriel of the Unseen Host, what can I do for you this evening. Morning. Day. Whatever?"

"Evening. You all were brought in early this morning and have had most of the day to cool your heels. It will be the first of many you will be spending thus, I'm afraid. My King is rather cross with you, as I said. But I…" She paused, seeming to think of what to say so that it wouldn't sound disloyal.

"You are out in the field, running into spiders and their webs and wants to do something about it." Harry supplied as if reading her thoughts.

Tauriel's eyebrow rose in surprise, and Harry held up his hands. "I wasn't using magic or anything, just… that is how I would feel in your place if my superiors were holding me back from doing something I could see needed doing. And then found others in our territory who had seemingly accidentally accomplished what I wanted to would just be the icing on the cake."

"Are all Istari so quick to see things?"

"I doubt it. Saruman doesn't seem to be much of a people person. And while Radagast was a fun fellow and would certainly understand the impact the spiders are having on the local forest, he probably would not see the impact not doing anything has on you."

Tauriel chuckled, nodding at that certainly dovetailed with what she knew about the reclusive forest wizard. She leaned back against the wall across from Harry's jail cell, looking at him thoughtfully. "Why are you here? With the dwarves? I realize I asked this question before, but perhaps you are in a better mood now?"

"In a better mood as I stand here in a cage rather than right after a battle? That seems to be comparing sour apples to decayed oranges, my lady, I would be a bad mood in either event." Harry teased lightly before going on. "Still, I have gotten my answer to the question I asked you, even if I don't like it as I was afraid I might.

Tauriel winced at that, but Harry went on without saying more on that subject. "There's no great mystery about it or overarching goal anyway. I'm here for friendship's sake, nothing more, nothing less. Thorin helped me when I had nothing. When I arrived here from where I had been originally, I was hurt, wounded sorely. Thorin looked after me when he had no reason to. And in my old life, I valued friends over everything, having gone through much of that life without them."

A dark look came to Harry's emerald eyes at that point as he turned away slightly stared down the hallway instead of at Tauriel. "Beyond that, we all know up a loss. And if I can help my new friends regain something that they have lost, their homes, I will do so."

"You truly believe you have a chance against Smaug if he still lives?" Tauriel was skeptical. Still, while the dwarves might be thoughtless and stupid enough to go into this without thinking about the dragon, surely someone who could use magic would be too intelligent to do that.

Harry shrugged. "I believe so. Though you will pardon me if I keep the why of it to ourselves at present."

"Does it have anything to do with the sword?" Tauriel asked. "I examined the spiders after the battle, and some of the ones near you had been poisoned. I have to warn you that dragons are mostly immune to poisons. In the great wars against Morgoth, my people attempted such things occasionally. They never worked."

"Mostly leaves a lot of room for interpretation. Please do not touch the blade lightly, my lady. The poison on it is beyond anything you can imagine," Harry warned. While he wouldn't lose any sleep over Thranduil killing himself in a moment of cross stupidity, he figured if any of the elves died, they would not only hide his sword away but also would make the elves enemies for life.

"As is the make of it," Tauriel replied dryly. "The design of the blade is honestly a little bizarre to my Elvish sensibilities. It looks somewhat Elvish, but not quite, almost as if elf and dwarf combined their skills, which is just strange. But is there a spell on it? I am able to lift it, but my King was not."

"It's spelled so that it can only be wielded by a person who matches certain qualities, I suppose you could say. It's a relic of the school where I was taught magic. One of the founders had specific desires of what he wanted to see and his students, and it left an impact on the school and on the blade." Harry was interested that Tauriel was able to move the blade at all.

Tauriel looked interested at that, but also leery of asking any further questions, wondering what Harry would ask in turn. She sensed that the more personal her questions, the more he would want in turn. So instead, she turned the conversation to a subject where she felt Harry would respond more openly. "You've said Gandalf name several times, and that of Elrond. You've also said that you are here for friendship's sake. But why was Mithrandir involved?"

Harry paused, staring at her. Then he remembered something that Elrond had mentioned, and which Gandalf had agreed with. "One of the greatest weapons of the ancient enemy was betrayal," he said slowly, watching as Tauriel stiffened at that, her head rearing back as she stared at him. "So just ask yourself this: why would Gandalf wish to remove a dragon from play at this time? When a power is stirring to the south of you, behind the veil of the spiders?"

Tauriel fell silent, just staring back at Harry for a few moments, then shook her head. "What you are implying is impossible. It simply cannot be."

"That is what Gandalf has gone to investigate," Harry replied simply. "We will see. For my part, the signs I've seen, and the discussions I've been part of, seem to most decidedly imply that it is."

Tauriel looked almost ill for a moment, more emotion on her face than Harry had seen since beyond anger and caustic sarcasm. It was obvious to him she had gotten what he was hinting at: that Sauron had returned to power somehow. It was just as obvious that she didn't want to believe it. Evidently, the ability to ignore reality is not just a mortal trait.

As Harry watched the brown-haired elf she shook her head, seemingly setting that aside entirely, to stare at him again. "My King has asked about the spells that you used. He wishes to learn them, and more. There is something he desires in the Lonely Mountain as well. He will never let you go until you accede to his demands to teach him what you can, and to provide him with whatever that is."

"You're talking to the wrong person. Whether we agree or disagree, whatever happens, that is up to Thorin to decide." Harry deflected.

"I will never agree. I will not be your King's catspaw, never agree to any demands he makes upon me. Whatever my current state, I am the son of Kings myself, and I will never bow to another's demands." Thorin intoned from where he was still lying down in his bed with his eyes closed but obviously quite awake. "Not when he and his have done nothing for me and mine save turn us away when we needed help the most."

Tauriel shrugged. "Dwarves have long lives, so I suppose that you can deal well enough with spending a decade or two stuck in here. Humans, on the other hand, I wonder what a human will look like with a beard," she teased, a genuine smile on her face as she looked at Harry.

It made her quite pretty, Harry reflected, the realization hitting him hard. It had been a long time since he'd been around any women of any type, let alone one close enough to the human form to look at in such a manner. Yet doing so also brought a twinge of sadness and guilt to him as he remembered Hermione and what might have been. Part of him remembered Galadriel's advice and wanted to move on, but the rest was still trapped in the past by the memory of bright smiles, tight hugs and curly brown hair.

To over this sudden whirlpool of emotions, Harry looked up at the ceiling for a second, scratching at his chin thoughtfully. "That could be an interesting experiment, I suppose. Although it would probably take me a decade or more to have a beard equal to my companions. Although even so, I no doubt beat out any elf. I haven't yet seen an elf with any facial hair."

The elf woman smirked that, shaking her head. "I have no doubt that we will speak further soon, but I have my own duties to attend to. Until next time, Harry Potter."

With that, she walked off. She was still smiling too, so Harry counted it as a win.

He wasn't the only one, and he felt Fili elbow handing him in the back, having moved up behind him while Harry was still watching Tauriel leave. And in another cell, Kili also was laughing quietly. "You're in like flint lad! She is most definitely interested in you."

"I think you're reading a little too much into it. I think Tauriel's more interested in me as a source of information and adventure than anything else," Harry demurred.

"But adventure can mean all too many different things," Fili quipped, amusement plain on his face. Then he jerked his head back towards the beds. "My turn for watch."

"Indeed, and I would rather you all shut up so that I can get some sleep," Thorin grumbled. Then he smirked slightly, despite not opening his eyes still. "You can all wonder about Harry and his possibly amorous adventures later."

Grumbling, Harry turned and decided at least to get some sleep. He was still feeling the effects of the battle in the woods, after all. As he turned over, his thoughts ran along the lines of the conversation he'd just had, as he wondered what Gandalf was up to.

OOOOOOO

Gandalf frowned around his pipe as he sat back, staring across the long narrow defile that served as a bridge to the large hilltop complex that was the fortress of Dol Guldur. Created in ages past by the Necromancer when he first assumed his Necromancer guise, the fortress had originally been the capital of the Silvan elves under Oropher, who had died in the battle of Dagorlad. Such was the loss of life in that battle that when the Necromancer came her, the shadow he cast was enough to drive off Thranduil and his people. In turn, the Necromancer had been forced to flee from Gandalf himself a thousand years later. Yet in those thousand years, his touch had twisted everything that had been fair into a foul show of brutal power, dark walls and spires rising like spears from the once green hill beneath.

Why did we not make certain a watch was kept here? Why did we assume that Thranduil would warn us if the Necromancer returned? Why did I not pursue him when he fled? I took that as proof he was not Sauron, but I should still have pursued him even so. Illusion, trickery, complacency. We have been plagued by them for thousands of years now.

From here, there was no activity to be seen, nothing on the surface. But the surface has never been the totality, never. The great enemy and those who serve him have always been good at hiding things, and always help had a penchant for being underground as well. Even if I cannot at present discern anything further beyond the darkening of the sky above.

He chuckled dryly to himself at that, looking down at the small stone he held in one palm as the runes upon it glowed faintly with his power. That had been something that he had noticed the first evening out from the dwarves when he first decided to use one of Harry's Notice-Me-Not array. It worked very well. Indeed it worked too well. The nimbus of magical energy the runes created, which, when he was trying Gandalf could discern from the inside, blocked out everything else that could find him, magically or physically, as long as he remained within its area of effect. But it also deafened his own magical senses to the world beyond that field.

It was most disconcerting that first night to be so cut off, Gandalf reflected. As a Maiar, Gandalf was more aware of the world around him than most, whatever his physical raiment might indicate. Added to this was the fact that of all of the Malar, Gandalf looked to Manwë for his powers. To be so cut off from the voice of the sky and wind was almost horrifying at the time, causing him to accidentally overload the array, the stone containing the runes crumbling in his hand.

But he could not debate the fact that it had worked magnificently. Earlier that day, Gandalf had simply walked past - if slowly - several groups of spiders which had been moving through the forest as he came to where the forest ended and Dol Guldur's environs began.

"However, to use my own senses once more, I will have to leave it behind and move forward under my own power." Gandalf chuckled again, before looking down at the rune, and slowly removing his power from it, trying hard not to damage it.

When he was done, Gandalf put the rune-covered rock back in his pouch to one side and made his way forward. He moved across the bridge, using his own magic to hide somewhat from detection, his powers far more subtle than Harry's, not creating the resounding clamor that Harry's magic did in the Ether.

On the other side, Gandalf moved through the outer edges of the fortress, the segments that had been built into the hill it sat upon, looking around him and down at the dirt underneath for clues as to where to go. As he had expected, while there didn't seem to be any outward signs of habitation, once you were past the outer wall, as Radagast had warned, the signs became more plentiful.

It wasn't anything physical so much as the pressure in the Ether. There were no tracks or anything so simple. No, it was in the feel of the place. Like the cloud in the sky above, as if a volcano was about to erupt, so too was there a feeling in the air. A foulness in the very stone all around Gandalf.

Soon he found a way deeper into the former city turned fortress Gandalf kept hiding his presence while sending out his own senses, shivering slightly at what they were telling him. The Ringwraiths had been here for certain, just as Radagast had warned. And as Gandalf delved deeper, it became clear that they were not alone. Orcs aplenty, goblins too. A few trolls. The taste is distinctive on the air, an almost unholy bouquet.

Finally, Gandalf came out across the entrance to the area below the former city, the segment which had, at one point, been the sight of a series of interconnected caverns that housed the industry of Oropher's people as they, still weak from the death of their King and all his host, decided to start to hide rather than rely on their now nonexistent armies for protection. Now, however, after centuries of the Necromancer's habitation, it was turned into a massive underground complex, a twisted version of its former architecture.

And there was a red light everywhere, not the magical lights of Celeb Aurial, but the red light of fires. The fires of smithies, the clamor of them rising to where he was hiding watching from above from a narrow alcove that might once have been part of another floor in times long past. The hoofbeats of beasts, the tramp of training orcs, the roar of trolls and the hiss of metal being cooled. Here, hidden beneath the outer fortress, was a vast army and logistics base.

A center of power with which Sauron could start to exert his influence on the world once more, bringing more fell things under his banner all the time. It is as I feared. Sauron is indeed here, but Saruman was right as well if wrong in his timing. The orcs here all bear the marks of the Northern Mountain orcs, they have indeed rebuilt their numbers, but Sauron has already brought them under his banner. How did he get them here? Are there tunnels that stretch that far? Or were they able to come overland somehow?

Shaking those concerns off, Gandalf concentrated on the here and now. The Council must be told. We cannot allow Sauron to build up still more power here.

With that in mind, Gandalf moved across the balcony like area, sitting well away from the tunnel that he had moved down previously, so that should any enemy come upon him, they could only come at him from one direction. There, he sat down, his back against the stone of the wall of the cavern, setting out the same runestone he had been using earlier to one side, one hand hovering over it just in case. Then he closed his eyes and began to send out his presence out into the world, searching for those of the Council he could find, his breath murmuring out in the spell as he did.

"See what I see," he murmured as he stared at the army below, the preparations, the sheer number of foul creatures which were there. "The great enemy is here! The great enemy returns."

We might not have the material strength to do anything about the army, but once that army moved on, if it did, they could do something about the shade of Sauron. And if that army did not, the Council could throw up a barrier around the area, slowing that army's movement until they could marshal military forces to crush them here in this fortress.

It will be hard to gather that force, Gandalf admitted. The strength of the elves had waned without the need, their numbers were far less than they had been in the time of the War of the Last Alliance. No longer could they field armies fit to match their enemy's number or even close to it. And yet, the humans still have strength if they can be made to see the need. The Dwarves too, for all they are scattered and weakened still by their private war against the orcs under the mountains.

Suddenly his thoughts cut off as he noticed movement below and on other alcoves overlooking the main hall below. As he had feared, Sauron had been on guard and sending out your thoughts like Gandalf had was like creating a beacon, shouting out to those with senses to understand that there was someone here.

Instantly, Gandalf's hand fell on the runestone, and he pulled his senses back into his body as he sent some magical energy into it. The array activated quickly, covering his presence once more.

A second later, a large band of orcs burst out onto the overhang where Gandalf sat, staring around them. "There's nothing here, the master was wrong."

That worthy was sent screaming to his death by another Orc, who growled out, "The Master is never wrong! The Great Eye sees all. Search, he must be here somewhere, if not here, then hiding like the brigand the wizard is!"

Despite that determination, the orcs could not get past the array around Gandalf, becoming more confused all the time as they seemed to be unable to acknowledge the existence of the area covered by the array's power. The magical scent was gone too, so Sauron could not help them. I do believe I have overstayed my welcome regardless. Time to go.

Standing up slowly, with not array in his hand, Gandalf turned, staring at the group of orcs that burst out onto this portion of the tunnel. He bit his lip to keep from chuckling as they began to shout angrily to one another, trying to place blame for the wizard's quick escape. But that urge to chuckle disappeared like smoke on the wind as the orcs and goblins quickly backed away from something deeper into the tunnel, bowing their heads subserviently.

Through their ranks strode a Ringwraith.

The Ringwraith was a creature of shadow, it's power not yet returned to full strength, a cloak over its form, but nothing physical seeming there, not even the shadowy hands that showed out of its sleeves. Except for the image of an iron crown upon its head, gold and iron and glowing red eyes visible under the hood that contained its head.

This was the witch King of Angmar. A powerful Numenorean of long ago, he had quickly turned to darkness under Sauron's influence, becoming a Ringwraith, subject to Sauron's will through the power of that ring as the other six human kings had. Centuries later, he had founded Angmar in order to wipe out the last of the Dunedain, the Faithful of Numenor, and in the main had succeeded before losing his nation to a vengeful army led by Prince Earnur of Gondor and the reborn elf warrior Glorfindel. He was Sauron's chief lieutenant and wielded a power second only to his.

Yet, even so, he too was looking around in confusion and anger. "He was here! Here and yet is not. How is this possible?" The creature hissed in the Black Tongue of Mordor.

Slowly Gandalf backed away until he was right at the edge of the overhand, where he sat down. Sitting as still as possible, he carefully controlled the amount of energy he was pouring into the array, knowing that to be seen was to be taken.

The lights down below started to flareup higher, then dim, as a great shadow began to crawl over the underground holes. In the distant edge of the hall, an image appeared, causing every creature within to fall to their knees, smashing their heads on the ground in supplication as the power of the being they called master washed over them. The image was of a man or the outline of one delineated in front of a raging fire. But the man and fire were somehow one thing, and the image of the man slowly shifted to that of a slitted pupil, the fire into an eye made of magical fire.

From the apparition came a voice, speaking in the ancient, original style of the Black Tongue, a language Sauron created. "While even I cannot sense you Istari, I know you are here. And that is enough. I will tear away your veil and reveal you!"

Before Gandalf could realize what was happening, magic blasted out like a wave of black lightning and fog from Sauron. It crashed into and through the Notice-Me-Not Array, shattering the stone in Gandalf's hand. The physical force of the impact lifted Gandalf off the floor of the overhand, tossing him off the edge with a cry of pain in shock.

Recovering quickly, Gandalf flipped himself in midair, his staff in hand as he shouted out a command in Quenya. The airs of the world surrounded him for just a moment, slowing his descent, and he landed on his feet below, staff still upraised. A blast of light covered him for just a moment, and he raced off before Sauron could bring his pressure to bear once more.

In an arrow hallway leading up, Gandalf found his way barred by orcs. Grimacing, he raised his staff again and the orcs found themselves flung through the air as Gandalf had a moment before, lightning and blasts of air flashing out from his staff. Seven died within as many seconds, twelve more worth thrown back broken against the tunnel's walls. A second later, a troll at an intersection above found itself grasping it's through, it's lifeblood spilling out from the neat cut to its neck from Glamdring, the Foe Hammer living up to its name.

With a bit of space won from his pursuers, Gandalf retreated further, hoping that it would lead somewhere, only to find the Ringwraith falling down from another tunnel that came down into the ceiling of this one. "I see you old one!" it hissed in the foul tongue.

"And I see you, King of Witches!" Gandalf roared, slamming his staff with one hand down to the ground, creating a shockwave that through several other attackers through the air and away even as he reached into a pouch, bringing out one of the shield array runestones that Harry had crafted for him.

The shield appeared, blocking the Ringwraith's attack, and before the creature could comprehend the magic facing it, Glamdring stabbed forward, surging with Gandalf's energy. Although there was a spell on the Witch King to keep the being from dying permanently to any man in this shadow form, it wasn't nearly strong enough to remain corporeal in the face of this onslaught. It's form shattered with a cry like claws raking on glass.

There was a squeal of dismay from the surrounding pursuers, and they backed away rapidly, despite the overarching fear of their master, allowing Gandalf to turn and raced up the tunnel. Curse myself for a fool, if I had not shattered that first array, I could use it now to break away from all pursuit, with Sauron so slow of movement from where he has appeared. As it is, my own powers must do, and my own feet alas.

Despite his inner grousing, Gandalf was able to use his own powers to hide from several bands of orcs as they raced up and down the hallways and tunnels of the was nearly out before his luck failed. There he came upon a band of orcs, standing directly in his way, and tried to sneak past them by creating a sound on the other side of them with a simple spell. It worked, but as he moves towards them, the hallway he was in crossed over with another one directly before he would have gained the open sky.

A growl was the only warning he had to turn, Glamdring rising to stab the wolf as it lunged at him. But it's rider hopped off the beast quickly, bringing around a heavy mace that looked as if it weighed as much as Gandalf himself. Gandalf could barely get his sword up to block the blow, let alone have time to set himself. The blow smashed his sword out of his hand and Gandalf off of his feet.

Azog howled triumph as he strode forward, his massive mace raised fit to crush a troll's skull, let alone a wizard's.

Gandalf raised his staff, which he still had in one hand, and blasted the f orc back. Azog flew backward, rolling just before he would hit the wall, showing far too much agility for such a large creature. But even as Gandalf got to his feet, the damage had been done as the orcs on guard rushed back into the tunnel.

Again Gandalf found himself surrounded, fighting for his life. He slew several more orcs, and several others backed away rapidly as Gandalf allowed more of his aura to show, his raiment becoming gray his power rising.

But that aura, in turn, brought Sauron's attention upon him once more. The tunnel leading down began to glow, and the shadow form of Sauron appeared there.

Gandalf turned, contending with his will, one hand scrambling for his pouch to bring out the rest of Harry's gifts. "You will not have me, Sauron!"

But Gandalf could not fight against both the influence of Sauron's presence and the orcs. A blow got through his defenses, doubling him over, breaking a rip perhaps. Another blow to the head sent him crashing to the ground, his staff skittering away from his hand. Gandalf tried to reach for it, only to find Azog standing on it, leering down at him malevolently.

The orc kicked him in the side, turning Azog over and forcing to stare at the image of Sauron. That image reached out with a hand. "You took one chance to many Olórin. And you will now pay for it."

Sauron's will bore down on Gandalf and in his weakened state, Gandalf could not contend against it. Those words were the last things that he heard before darkness claimed him.

OOOOOOO

While Thorin and company had no way of telling time, it was clear to all of them that they had been imprisoned for too long. All the dwarves, Harry and Bilbo had mostly recovered from their ordeal through the mountain and then the forest afterward. Indeed thanks to Bilbo providing food, Harry felt better than he had since leaving Rivendell. But they were still captive, they still had no way of telling time, and all of them could feel summer ending somehow, like a mountain over their heads.

Well, that and boredom. With Thranduil able to sense when Harry used his magic, he was stuck in the cage with the dwarves. He got away a few times, using two spells at once, and then retreating to the cages quickly so the elves had no idea he could use magic to open the cell's locks, but Thranduil was, magically speaking, watching him like a hawk. He still had no idea about the cloak, which was great, but unless Bilbo could get the keys and Harry could copy them, he was as stuck as the dwarves. There was only so much exercise you could do in a jail cell

This meant that they had to rely on Bilbo all the more, and Harry, somewhat reluctantly, had turned over his Invisibility Cloak to Bilbo. Bilbo accepted the loan, although not as happily as Harry had expected for some reason. Regardless, their scout was proving his worth here in the halls of Thranduil, keeping them fed easily with the mokeskin pouch while creating a mental map of the halls and the city beyond. What help that was just yet no one could figure out, as getting out of the city without a full-scale battle seemed impossible.

Tauriel stopped by randomly, which broke up the monotony of the day for Harry if not the dwarves, none of whom were willing to talk to her or any of the other elves. Mostly they talked about what lay beyond Mirkwood, but Tauriel also subtly questioned Harry about Gandalf and his interest in the company's goals. Yet this was obviously of less importance to her. Most of the time, they just talked about the world beyond Mirkwood, with Harry hinting at what his own world was like, a few of his professors, and friends.

This was frequently a poignant, bittersweet discussion. But Tauriel seemed to be able to sense that before it could become an issue, always backing off and changing the subject quickly.

In return, Harry learned more about Tauriel. She was actually quite young as elves measured things being barely in her fourth century, having been born in Celeb Aurial after Thranduil had led his people here, retreating from their previous lands out of grief and pressure from some dark force that invaded their lands and sapped their energy. Harry tried to question her about that, but she honestly didn't know much, since none of the elders liked talking about their exodus north.

He learned more about elvenkind, about how they lived day to day, how they viewed the world, and some more besides. Nothing important, alas. Tauriel was very careful to not share anything of that nature, just like Harry was despite the fact he was coming to like the elven woman, but interesting all the same.

Of course, this interest had not gone unnoticed, and one 'day' Legolas stopped by as well. He stood for a few seconds, simply looking at Harry thoughtfully. "So, a human wizard. One who is not of the Istari. One who is open about his connection to the council, but not his reasonings. I have to wonder, is it the mystery that your presence represents that entices Tauriel or just the novelty."

"Could be both honestly. I'm just as in the dark there as you are, but then again, I doubt that we're alone in being unable to understand the female mind, regardless of race." Harry snarked. 'She seems interested in what is beyond Mirkwood, that's about all I can tell you. Jealous?" he asked with a smirk.

"Hardly. Jealousy likes that does not exist in elven kind." Harry raised a sardonic eyebrow at that, which caused Legolas to inwardly wince, as he remembered that Tauriel had told him that the human wizard knew something of the history of their race. Jealousy, betrayal and other, darker emotions didn't play as big a role in elven society as it did humans, but their history was still rife with enough examples of it and the disasters it could cause.

But instead of addressing that, Legolas went on the attack slightly. "She will soon tire of you, or you will run out of answers to her endless questions. Tauriel's inquisitive nature is such that she will latch onto anything new, then go on to the next when she becomes tired of it. You are but a passing fancy, here now, ignored soon after."

Harry shrugged at that. "If that's the case, why are you here?"

"Perhaps I am curious too. Your use of magic and your connection to Mithrandir gives me pause for thought. If not for the madness of your apparent mission to the Lonely Mountain, I would argue in favor of simply setting you on the East Road once more at the edge of our Western territory sending you back to the Blue Mountains because of that connection." Legolas shrugged. "As it is, that is not going to happen. But why are you with the dwarves?" he asked suddenly, shifting topic quickly.

Instead of answering, Harry asked his own question. "Is it really all that unusual to see a human with dwarves?"

"Yes, it is. Doubly so when it is one who has your powers. But equally rare is to see human and dwarf together, traveling."

"Didn't Tauriel tell you? She asked me the same question, and I told her. Still, as you are asking instead of demanding, I don't mind sharing once more. I'm just here for the sake of friendship. That's all there is to it." Harry smirked as he saw Legolas's look of skeptical disbelief. "She made that same face too. But that really is all there is to it. Your father expects some big mystery or to learn some powerful magic from me that the Istari have learned, which can be used against dragons. My magic can't be taught as far as I know, and my style of magic has nothing to do with that of Gandalf or Saruman."

"And yet, you do possess magic, quite a bit of magic, and spells that none of us have heard of before. Regardless of what you said about us not being able to learn them, you can see where my King's idea is much more believable than the fact you would simply beard a dragon in his lair, let alone face all the dangers on the road for friendship's sake."

"Heh, beard, I see what you did there," Harry chuckled, while Thorin and the other dwarves, who were listening in since they had nothing better to do, grumbled. "To my mind, that says something more negative about you and your King than it says anything at all about me," Harry seemed almost sad for them for a moment.

"Perhaps." Legolas still looked unconvinced though and began to ply Harry with more questions. However, when Harry asked some questions in turn, Legolas didn't answer, unlike Tauriel. She had actually enjoyed that aspect, feeling it made the discussion more equal. Legolas did not.

Finally, Harry began to get frustrated by that, and when Legolas asked, one more time, if Thorin had promised him some of the famous dwarven gold, barked out "enough! I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the more you demand answers of me, the less willingness I have to answer. Until you're willing to answer some questions of my own about yourself, your people and your lands around here, I don't see any reason why I should keep answering yours."

Legolas shook his head. "You speak as if you're in a position of power. You are not. Remember, you, like these dwarves, are our prisoners. As long-lived as dwarves are in comparison to humans, all of their lives are but an eyeblink to Elvish-kind We shall see how willing to answer my questions you are in a few decades."

Of course, Legolas was sort of joking about that. Sort of. It was true that elves lived for literal ages, while humans merely for decades. But he would prefer not to use the threat old age against Harry and the dwarves. No, food and bread without sight nor sound of the world beyond their caves would soon enough breakdown their will. Although it hasn't yet, which says much about their willpower. In fact, while I know nothing of dwarves, not having had any dealings with them before, they actually look…

Legolas's musing was interrupted by Harry's retort to his threat. "Just because Thranduil can sense me doing magic doesn't mean he can stop me using my power. I am here because I don't want to fight through you to earn my freedom. That does not mean I am without surprises." Harry followed this up with a wave of a finger. He was surprised to find he could transfigure the color of Legolas's hair with some ease, unlike when he tried the same on Galadriel, who felt the magic impact her, or Elrond, who felt it wash over his clothing. Whenever magical resistance elves had, evidently, it varied wildly from one person to another.

"Your own words mean nothing Harry Potter, merely deeds. You are still our prisoner, and prisoner you will remain until you tell my father what he wants to know, to teach him your brand of magic and more. Until then, I hope you enjoy the sight of the ceiling of your jail cell." With that, Legolas left, shaking his head at the human's obdurate nature.

Honestly, it wasn't as if his father was asking for much, was it? Was their pride worth being stuck here for who knew how many decades? The dwarves I can understand, stubbornness is in their nature, but the human should be more flexible.

As he walked down into the main hall, at first, Legolas didn't notice anything unusual, until, that is he passed a few fellow elves who began to chuckle, looking at him in bemused wonder, one of them even went so far as to bow from the waist towards him, asking "Lord Legolas, where ever did you get that color of dye for your hair? It is most festive."

"What are you talking about, Clendrial?" Legolas asked, frowning in confusion.

"I believe, my son, they are talking about your hair. I was coming down to investigate the wizard's latest use of his magic, only to discover you." Thranduil's voice drawled out. "Walking around like that, all unaware."

"Like what, father?" Legolas asked, getting worried.

Sighing Thranduil, who had been standing at the base of the stairs up to the royal quarters, sent a servant to find a small mirror.

Moments later, Legolas was back in front of Harry's cell, neon orange hair and all. "I don't like you," he said, bluntly pointing at his hair. "Undo this!"

Harry laughed aloud, as did all of the dwarves who were able to see Legolas at the moment. They had manfully controlled themselves earlier, but now, after days – or weeks – of captivity, they were laughing like this was the funniest thing they had ever seen. Mainly because it really was the funniest thing they had seen for months. "I warned you."

"Take it off," Legolas repeated.

"And what will you give me in return?"

Legolas scowled but eventually decided to go along with it. Tauriel, who was not in Celeb Aurial today, had warned him conversations with Harry were like this. If you wanted something, you had to give something in turn. "What did you want to know?"

"How long have we been in here?" Thorin asked before Harry could say anything. "Answer me that, and I will prevail upon Harry to change your hair back."

While Harry mock-pouted at that, Legolas shrugged. It was an easy enough answer to give. "You have been in here for three weeks. Luckily for you, besides myself and Tauriel, everyone seems to have forgotten you are here, save the King whenever this one uses his strange magic. That could be the best thing for you, really. He'll probably turn his attention back to you in a few months more time. Or perhaps next summer. Let you cool your heels in here for a full year."

He turned his attention to Harry, pointing once more at his hair, which was a fiery orange color, almost neon, even though Legolas, of course, wouldn't have that word in his vocabulary. "Your spell, please."

Rolling his eyes, Harry the finger, watching as the color changed. This time it took a little more energy as if now that Legolas was aware that he was being enspelled, his resistance had doubled. Not enough to stop the spell from latching on, though. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The lady Galadriel didn't like me playing with her hair color, either."

Legolas's eyes widened at that, staring at Harry. "You have not mentioned the Lady of Lothlorien before!" he almost accused.

"What the Lady and I talked about is my own business," Harry said, closing down so quickly Legolas could practically see it in his eyes like a wall coming down. "And since all of you seem to be disbelieving the fact that we know Elrond and Gandalf, why should my knowing the Lady be any different?"

Legolas frowned, opened his mouth, then shook his head, turning and leaving quickly. Since in truth, it didn't really change anything. Thranduil would still want to keep Harry a prisoner until he shared how to do his magic. Yet it did change much since Galadriel would certainly not have met with any normal human wizard. It added credence to Harry's other words about Elrond and Mithrandir endorsing this mission, at least in Legolas's mind.

Harry looked over at Thorin, who nodded grimly. "We're running out of time." They only had a set amount of time before the last light of the springtime thing, which would allow them access to the mountain. They had to start moving again.

After that, of course, Thranduil came by, and Legolas again. They questioned Harry about Galadriel, making threats now, wanting to know more about his connection to her. But after a few random visits, the elves seemed to become tired of questioning him.

In actuality, Legolas turned his attention once more outward with the rest of the Unseen Host. Tauriel, who had yet to return, had hunted many a spider to the south, as they were once more pressing north. More than that, she and her band had reported seeing warg tracks. Not many, but any such tracks were a concern.

Thranduil, however, had decerned more of Harry's few words about the Council and Galadriel than he realized. The fact Galadriel was even in Rivendell at all and meeting with the council, for one. For another, that she and the others had left, each to their own errand. He cared not for what the Lady and Harry had talked about, which made his questions a bit more insidious. He also, unlike Legolas, instantly got into the give and take of the conversation, telling Harry more about his people and their lands.

In a way, Thranduil did so because he wanted to break Harry away from Thorin and the dwarves. In another, he hoped to use this to soften the wizard up for further, more direct, questions about his magic.

While that didn't seem to be happening, indeed, Harry turned down the King's attempt to bribe him with better quarters and better food, the elven King went away secretly pleased with what he had learned: the council was on the move. That could only mean that the Necromancer had finally drawn their ire without Thranduil having to swallow his pride and ask for aid against the shadow cast by Dol Guldur.

Like the council had for far too long, Thranduil made no connection between the Necromancer and Sauron. But that didn't mean he was any less concerned, afraid really, by the threat the Necromancer posed.

Soon after these conversations petered out, Bilbo showed up for his regular drop off. Thorin and Harry told him about the recent discussion, the discovery of how much time had passed, and told him they had to get moving, but Bilbo surprised them. He just nodded and, looking furtively over his shoulder towards the end of the hall, said the most magic words possible. "I, I think I have a plan…"

End Chapter

This isn't quite the chapter I wanted it to be. I wanted to get Harry and the dwarves out, but I also wanted to write up a scene where Bilbo shown as a problem solver and fighter. I had everything but that. So I decided to cut the chapter off here until I could get that scene right. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, the conflicts and the bit of getting-to-know-you type games Tauriel and Harry played.