Disclaimer: Don't own LOTR

Summary: 77 years before the War of the Ring, an unlikely friendship is formed between an injured elf and a hobbit after the Battle of Five Armies.

Simple Comforts

Bilbo spent a long time with the dwarves, mourning the loss of Thorin, Fili, and Kili. But he saw that there were many others who cried for those they had lost, among all of the armies. Gandalf appeared, as he was wont to do, just when Bilbo felt the need to ask for him. "What was the cost, Gandalf? How many more have had to die?"

"The dwarves took the heaviest losses," the wizard admitted, "but many men and elves also perished."

"Elves? I thought that elves lived forever."

"They do not die of old age or disease, but the fair folk can die by the sword or arrow just as any mortal can," he explained.

Bilbo could not imagine such lovely creatures dying. As frightening as the wood elves were, they had seemed a goodly group overall and several had been quite kind to him. He remembered one companion in particular from his brief stay in the elven camp, and wondered what had become of the young elf. He looked up at the wizard. "Do you know what happened to the elf who stayed with me? I think his name was Legolas."

Gandalf leaned over his staff. "Ah, yes, the young prince. He lives, though I am told that he took some serious injury. I was just about to visit him myself, would you like to come?"

"Oh, yes! I mean, if that is all right with you…" Bilbo looked at his dwarven companions for permission.

"Go on, lad," sighed Gloin. "If you are treated kindly, I believe you should always return the favor. Even if it is an elf."

Bilbo smiled a little before following Gandalf down into the elves' camp. Gandalf led him to a tent near the center, bearing the royal crest of Mirkwood upon it. Bilbo was surprised, for he had been here before – this tent belonged to the elvenking. Only now did he recognize the import of Gandalf's mention of Legolas. Bilbo tugged on the wizard's grey robes, making him pause outside of the tent, next to two guards. "Did you say that Legolas was a prince?"

Gandalf looked mildly surprised, "Yes, he never told you? Well, I suppose that is his way. Legolas is the King Thranduil's youngest son."

"My word! And I never once thought to ask, or treat him with an ounce of the respect he deserved!" Bilbo exclaimed.

Gandalf smiled, "My dear hobbit, I very much doubt that you would treat anyone poorly. In fact, your lack of royal decorum has probably endeared you to the prince. Come now, let us see if he is in need of company. I of know none better than that of a hobbit for gentle cheering."

With a curious glance at the hobbit and a stern nod from the wizard, the guards moved to let them pass through the tent flaps. Inside a desk and its papers had been cleared to one side, leaving plenty of space around a large cot. Legolas lay in the cot wrapped in a blanket, gently propped up with firm pillows. He appeared to be dozing when they entered, but he blinked twice and smiled at the sight of his guests. "Well met, Gandalf; hello, Bilbo! It gladdens my heart to see that you are both alive and well, especially you, Master Hobbit, for I had heard you were lost. Whatever happened to your arm, Gandalf?"

"A minor wound, nothing more. Now let me have a look at you; I have heard many wild tales of ghastly proportions," said Gandalf. He pointed to a chair that had been left next to the cot. "You stay there for a moment, Bilbo, and keep out of the way."

Bilbo did as he was told, watching with curiosity and apprehension. "I assure you, whatever you have heard is wildly untrue," said Legolas.

Gandalf narrowed his eyes, and with a sigh the young prince relented and pulled away the blankets, allowing them to view his heavily bandaged torso. Small spots of blood had seeped into the outer layers, but the wound looked to have been well-cared for and clotted. Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "What, dare I ask, lies beneath all of this?"

The eyebrow kept Legolas from more than a moment of hesitation. "I was hit by a spear. It struck just between my ribs, but the force broke one and cracked another. The healer said I was lucky, because though the cut was deep it severed nothing vital. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to walk for a few days lest I pull at the stitching."

Gandalf crossed his arms. "Is that all?"

Legolas blushed, "Well…I am technically not allowed to move at all, as it appears the broken rib might have caused some bruising to my lungs. Really, I cannot feel a thing."

The wizard shook his head, "That is because you have been given a large amount of herbal tea, probably from Lord Elrond's recipe." He pulled the covers up again, took the young elf's hand and squeezed it. "I am proud of you, pen eth, as is your ada. I know not all those stories were false; you were very brave today."

"Hannon le, Gandalf," Legolas replied.

"Now get some rest, and do as the healers' tell you. Bilbo, you watch over him for a little while, make sure he does not move no matter what he tries to say," said Gandalf.

"Of course," Bilbo replied, happy to help his new-found friend. With a nod of satisfaction, Gandalf left them alone.

Legolas smiled brightly at the hobbit, "It appears our tables have turned, Bilbo, for now I am the one in need of comforting."

"Does it hurt very much?" asked the hobbit, stealing what he believed to be a surreptitious look at the elf's middle.

"It is very sore, yes, but it is not so terrible for now. As Gandalf said, they did make me drink a great many recreations of Lord Elrond's concoctions, so I am well enough. How did you get that bruise on your head?"

Bilbo gently touched the darkening spot on his forehead, "Oh, this? I'd nearly forgotten about it. Something hit me just as the eagles appeared. I suppose I'm not much use as a soldier, anyway."

"I certainly hope not," said Legolas. "You weren't in any of the fighting, were you?"

"No, I watched most of it from the mountain, up on Ravenhill with the elvenking. It was awfully difficult to make heads or tails of anything, though. Gandalf had to explain most of it later. Where were you? I did not see you among those on the hill."

Legolas smiled proudly, "I am one of the best archers in my kingdom, and my skill was needed where I could get a better shot. I am pleased to say that not one of my arrows missed when our foe first came into the valley. After that it was difficult for me to reach Ravenhill, so I was forced to fight in closer quarters with my knives. Then again, I did not see the end of the battle either. Ada – I mean my father asked one of the eagles to carry me here after I was hurt."

"What is it like to be in the middle of all of that? Is it very exciting?"

Legolas thought for a moment. "It is a bit exciting at first, but it is also very frightening. I can never tell what is happening, and it is difficult for the leaders on our side to relay commands to their warriors and messages to one another. Both your enemies and your friends surround you, and all of them are yelling and getting hurt, sometimes dying. I do not like battles very much, but I am a warrior because I wish to make my kingdom safe again."

"That is a very noble cause, and I think you are very brave."

"Thank you, though I am no braver than any other. I had to protect my king and my people," Legolas said.

"Oh! Gandalf said that the king was your father. Why didn't you tell me before?" asked Bilbo.

Legolas blushed, "Well, I did tell you that I have and older brother and an older sister, so I shall never have to be trained to be a king. Everyone is always trying to protect me, and when I meet new people they treat me differently. I did not want you to think of me as anything but your friend. That is still alright, isn't it?"

"Oh, of course!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I am quite happy to be your friend, Legolas."

"And I yours, Bilbo. I have never met a hobbit before."

"Well I have never met a prince."

"Then we are well-matched," said Legolas. The two laughed, but the action seemed to hurt Legolas because the elf winced.

Bilbo frowned, "Ah! I am sorry, I should not have…"

Legolas reached out to the little hobbit and squeezed his hand. "It is not your fault, Bilbo, and I am alright." He yawned. "Apparently I am also tired. I am sorry, I have been told that I make poor company when I am injured."

Bilbo shook his head, "Not at all; I have quite enjoyed talking with you. Maybe you should rest now, though. That wound sounded nasty, and my mother always told me to sleep more and eat gently when I was hurt or sick."

Legolas sighed, "I know I should sleep, but I have never been able to rest easily after there has been fighting. It seems like I can't convince myself that everyone is safe again, and that nothing will come in here while I am sleeping, when I can't defend myself." He looked down and toyed with the edges of his blanket. "You must think me very silly."

"Certainly not!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I don't know how I'll ever sleep again after all this excitement."

"Will you tell me of the Shire, then, and your folk? You seem like a peaceful people, and I dearly love to listen to stories," said Legolas.

"You will think us very simple, I am afraid, compared to you elves. I am sure you could tell me much more interesting things about your home," said Bilbo.

"Please, Bilbo?" Legolas begged. "I truly would like to hear you speak of your own home, which must be very interesting indeed to produce such valiant fellows as yourself. Unless your head aches very much? We could call for a healer, I am sure they will come running if I so much as cough…"

"Bah, I have had enough poking and prodding already! Gandalf and the dwarves made sure I saw one of the healers, and I have been declared very nearly healthy. My head does not hurt near as much as it did before," he replied.

Legolas grinned, "I see you are not an enthusiast of the healers, either. Won't you tell me a story then? Or sing, there is nothing I love more than singing, but my chest aches too much for that. In fact, it is very sore right now. Won't you distract me?"

When Legolas widened his eyes a bit and conjured up an innocent, wounded look, Bilbo decided that the elf was not very different from an injured hobbit lad or lass who used their hurts to make their caretakers do as they wished. He had a feeling that when the prince was feeling more himself, Legolas would have all of his well-wishers seeing to his every whim, including the elvenking. Still, who was he to deny an elf prince?

"If it would help," Bilbo found himself saying as he launched into a description of the lush green fields of the Shire, its rolling farmlands, his own little house, and all the Shire's inhabitants. Legolas listened intently, but after a while his eyes began to drift, or he would have to ask Bilbo to repeat something. Deciding that the elf really did appear to need sleep, Bilbo slipped into a simple little song he had been composing in the back of his mind.

"The road goes ever on and on…"

Not five minutes later Gandalf entered the tent, accompanied by the elvenking who had returned from hunting down the last of the goblins. Both were surprised to find Legolas fast asleep on the cot, and Bilbo snoring in the chair next to him. Thranduil, the elvenking, chuckled, "The dear little fellow! He has done what few others could. I shall have to thank him when he awakens. Perhaps we should move him to a more comfortable resting place?"

"It may be wise, for the sake of his injury; and then you may have your chair back!" Gandalf whispered.

With a gentle smile, Thranduil lifted the little hobbit and carried him to a cot in a small tent nearby. So it was that Bilbo awoke among the elves the next day, and though he spent a greater amount of time with his companions the dwarves as he prepared for the return journey, he returned everyday to visit Legolas. The two became fast friends as they comforted one another with pleasant, simple stories and songs from their homelands, the same simple comforts that Legolas offered to another Baggins many years later when both found themselves far from home once more.