Admittedly, I was quite impressed by the creativity of dwarves; it had been some time since I'd met any one group capable of creating so many excuses seemingly right off the tops of their heads. Perhaps a day after Bilbo awoke, I sent Legolas to lead my army back to Mirkwood, mostly simply because he was getting far too friendly with the dwarf princes and I didn't expect my sanity would survive that particular friendship if I was forced to examine it for too long. Besides, it made him happy, me giving him that responsibility, trusting him to lead them back alone. I almost laughed at the shock on his face when I asked him to do it, the smile that bloomed immediately after.

Truly I didn't worry, though, or at least not near as much as I might have the day before; it had been a long time since I'd really watched him fight. I hadn't realized how strong, how capable, he'd become. Really it was almost saddening, but then I expected he'd but get annoyed at me for saying so. I could only hope he'd have a child one day so that he might understand, though even then he'd likely refuse to admit to me that he'd felt the same as I. In any case, Legolas left, and I planned to follow with Bilbo a few days after, once he had a bit ore tie to rest and recover, but obviously the dwarves were quite actively against it. On my first attempt, I almost made it out of the mountain with him before he started insisting on saying goodbye. I thought it foolish, as I knew precisely what would happen, but he, of course, didn't believe it would cause any trouble and I didn't have it in me to deny him something so simple, especially not after I'd rushed from my own kingdom to save a dwarven one at his whim.

Neither of us were truly adept at navigating the mountain, but he did better than I, so I let him lead and eventually we came across what was then serving as the throne room, Thorin at the head of an enormous cluster of dwarves, jobs being doled out seemingly by the hundreds. Honestly I couldn't understand how there could be so much to repair; the mountain looked barely any different inside to me than it ever had. At the sight of Bilbo, though, the whole group of dwarves parted widely, as if scared to even brush by him. A few of them made it a point to elbow me in the back of my knees, as if desperate to prove the point that that particular respect didn't extend to me. I suppose at least most of them had the good sense to pretend as if it were an accident, and the ones that didn't were all a part of Thorin's company. Perhaps they saw it as a strange form of friendship, I didn't know; it had been so long since I'd associated with dwarves that I'd forgotten how they expressed such things. So long as none of them attempted to head-butt me, I supposed I was fine with it; I was nearly certain that that particular form of affection had broken bones, after all.

In any case, Bilbo wandered to Thorin first and offered up a little bow, but the dwarf king only laughed and shook his head, standing from the throne and bowing himself instead.

"I would not be here if not for you and the rest of the company, Bilbo; I do not wish you or they to bow to me. What have you come for?" he asked, and Bilbo smiled, sweet and small.

"To say goodbye, I suppose. Thranduil and I were going to travel to Mirkwood, and then perhaps to the Shire so I might gather those things I wish to keep and make certain none of my less savory relatives get their claws stuck in Bag End. By now I'm sure there's a right mess going on about who owns it if I never come back, after all." I could see the thoughts flash rapid-fire across Oakenshield's face; his smile wavered, his hand twitched, he glanced at the rest of the company scattered over the room, obviously thinking of a way to make Bilbo stay. Admittedly, he was far from the most creative of them, but he was the one who paved the way.

"Already? You've only just been allowed out of bed, Bilbo; how in the world do you plan to travel so far?" He blinked.

"Mirkwood isn't so very far, Thorin," he said, chuckling quietly, and I took a half-step closer. Oakenshield turned to eye me instead.

"If your elf needs to get back, I assure you that you may stay here with us until you're fully healed, and we will send a party to deliver you to Mirkwood." Oh, yes, and then I might see him again in about five years, when Oakenshield deemed him well enough to travel, and likely then only for a few days, as his condition would surely still be too precarious to let him stay for long. No, if he insisted on Bilbo staying longer, I would remain with him so that at least I would be assured of him eventually getting to Mirkwood.

"And how long do you deem it would take for him to be fit enough for such a terribly long journey, oh king under the mountain?" I asked, and he raised one thick brow, looking as if he wanted to cross his arms.

"A week, at least. Come, Bilbo, it won't be so awful to spend a bit more time with us, will it? There'll be a feast in celebration tonight, after all, and I'm sure celebrations would not be near as merry without you to partake in them." Bilbo took a moment to look like he was considering it despite everyone knowing the moment he spoke the words that he would stay. I sighed.

"That will be alright, I suppose. I suppose I shall go settle Arasson back beneath the shelter; we will stay another week, but no more." I ran a quick hand through Bilbo's hair, turned, and left to do as I'd said. I saw Bilbo little over the next week, too many dwarves piling about him for attention, all of them just-so-happening to mention things they just wished so desperately Bilbo would be around to see.

"Oh, Bilbo, the library will just be so glorious when it's clean!" the homely scribe gushed.

"Uncle used to tell us of this cave where the stone on the ground looked like water, and that above looked like draped curtains. He said that there were beautiful crystals in the walls, worth little but glinting every color he knew to name, and that whenever anyone spoke there, it sounded like a song," the younger prince said one afternoon, and the older nodded.

"Yes, I'm sure you'd love it, but it'll likely take much time indeed to find it again and make certain it's still safe."

"I've heard that a particular group of dwarves who lived here had a talent for fabric making. I expect we'll find the place where they worked soon enough, and much will likely still be fit for use," the one with the intricate braids told him thoughtfully. On and on they went, from claiming a wealth of smoking pipes surely being kept in the deepest cave that would take the longest to reach to assurances of a faraway kitchen that would allow them to make meals fit for a thousand Shire feasts. By the time a week passed and Bilbo was as fit as ever, his hair clean and trimmed and his tattered garments replaced with the most suitably hobbit-y things anyone could find, I was almost expecting one of them to get desperate enough to claim a replica of Bag End in the farthest hall, all ready for Bilbo to stay in if only he'd wait for it to be found. I'm almost certain that once I finally got him to the door, the company all there for last goodbyes, one of them tried to kidnap him and it was but my own quick arm about his shoulder that stopped it.

There was much hugging and many promises to visit were made on both sides, with myself reluctantly agreeing both to allow Bilbo to come back there and to allow dwarves in Mirkwood as guests for the first time since Erebor had been lost. I found it rather funny that a hobbit would go down in history as the catalyst to dwarves and elves regaining moderately civil relations with one another. Still, I was glad when it was over, and gladder still to be going home again, Bilbo ever at my side.

It was not truly a long journey, as Bilbo had said, but it felt like decades before we arrived. Horns sounded as we neared the palace, and Bilbo tilted his head back to look at me as if to make certain that was supposed to happen, and I chuckled.

"Arasson is a loyal creature, and the finest mount and companion I could ask for, but I'm afraid he is not precisely built for stealth. The guards likely saw us miles ago and had a welcome party arranged." He laughed a little, and after we rode perhaps another half mile, the welcome party I'd predicted now marching in front of us, Legolas seemed to almost fly at us, face bright and pleased.

"Father!" he said, then seemed to settle himself, as if unwilling to even look slightly as if he'd missed my presence. "I'm glad to see you back; I think the people were starting to think I'd killed you and usurped the throne. Now they'll just think you've somehow managed to get yourself brainwashed by a hobbit, which is far better for me as they'll depose you themselves and I'll still have the throne." Bilbo stared.

"You sound far too much like Fili," he said at last, shaking his head. "I find myself suddenly and inexplicably glad you've no little brother." Legolas took a moment to pretend offense at being compared to the dwarves, then only laughed, wild and open, prancing along beside us towards the palace.

"I expect it's going to be far more pleasant living here with you around here, Bilbo," he said, almost conversational, glancing at me as if to make certain that Bilbo would, indeed, be living with us, and I nodded.

"I imagine it will be, yes," I said, squeezing him lightly, and Legolas rolled his eyes.

"When you're not too busy, Bilbo, I'll show you about. Tauriel has been dying to meet you," he said, and Bilbo only looked pleased to already be so included. I could only hope that I'd be able to make him feel so welcome there for the rest of our lives. My palace stretched towards the heavens before us, tangling with the trees, and I smiled again, my skin prickling, as we dismounted Arasson and walked inside at last. I was home again; I could scarce believe I was seeing it again.

"That will likely have to wait, however," I said, taking the hobbit by the hand. "We've ridden without pause for some time so that we could get here as quickly as possible. Would you like to rest with me for a time, Bilbo?" I asked, and the hobbit grinned so brightly I thought it would sting my skin.

"Certainly," he said, and Legolas only rolled his eyes and snorted quietly, something I was almost certain he'd picked up from the dwarves, which I would have to have a discussion with them about. In any case, at that particular moment, I had more important things to worry over. I led Bilbo through the winding halls, sparing nods to those who greeted us, and finally came across the doors to my room, grander than perhaps they had a right to be, but I had not been the one to have them made. He gaped a bit at the sight of it all, full lips slightly parted, and I closed the doors behind me, bending down to kiss him soundly.

He made a happy sort of noise, low in his throat, honey eyes closing as he lifted himself onto his toes so I didn't have to bend so far, soft hands settling on my arms. I pulled away, leading him towards the bed, and he flopped down on it, myself following in a way I hoped was a bit more graceful. He grinned up at me where I was settled above him, eyes sparkling, and I ran a hand over his cheek. When he leaned into the touch it almost seemed subconscious, and I couldn't resist the urge to kiss him again, less chaste this time, deeper. He followed easily, eyes slowly sliding closed again, soft sounds vibrating against my lips. I let my hand trail to his new coat, starting to slip it off and moving with him when he sat up to aid me.

It felt so easy, moving with him, so natural, and it had been so long since I'd felt thusly that I almost found it as disorienting as a few knocks to the nose. His vest and his shirt I had more trouble with, though, had to pull away so I could see, and that was far more difficult than it should've been, especially with his warm gaze, a little darker now with passion, settled on me so steadily. Soft sighs slid from hi periodically when my hand brushed skin, and it took little time at all before he was fiddling with the collar of my robe as I worked the buttons of his shirt, likely trying to figure out how to open it.

I had the inane thought that I needed to have some made with simpler mechanisms, perhaps simple buttons; it wouldn't look as nice, certainly, but it would be far better for situations such as this. He seemed to think so as well, given the way he set to yanking at the collar, and a breathless laugh spilled from me as I got the last button of his shirt undone and batted his hands away. I found the hidden hooks easily, if only because of practice, and shrugged the robe away as he managed his breeches, shimmying them down before I gently lay him back down to hover above him again. I couldn't resist another peck to his lips before I settled my mouth to his neck, my own eyes finally closing at the quiet sounds of his pleasure.

His hands tangled in my hair, loose but so obviously present that I couldn't help but be especially aware of them; it had been a very long time since anyone had touched my hair, and I'd forgotten how much I liked the feel of it. He felt so small beneath me, I thought, sucking a small mark onto the place where neck met shoulder, nipping his collarbone, letting the fingers of one hand tease his nipples while I used the other to help hold myself up. There was still a strength to him, though, something about the way he held himself, the aura that hovered around him; no one could possibly mistake him for weak unless they simply didn't look at him closely. His body arched against mine, more another tease for us both than anything, and I groaned as softly as I could manage against his skin.

I thought of all I could do, all the time I could spend with him this way, and realized suddenly and with something like annoyance that I'd have patience for almost none of it then. Later, though, I decided, later I would act on every passing thought, work him open until he could take me, taste him until my name was all that passed his lips. For then, though… I sat up, quick, fluid, and pulled him with me, settling him on my lap and wrapping my hand around us both.

The noise he made then was high and shocked, and his hands fell from my hair to clutch at my shoulders, his eyes clenching closed, small body shuddering and hunched. I let my free hand stroke his back, my own breath coming quick and harsh, my legs quivering just as his.

"Are you alright?" I asked, barely even recognizing my own voice, so low it had become. He laughed, a little shaky but genuine, and offered me a teasing smile.

"Strangely, I don't think I've ever been better," he said, hips twisting a little, pressing himself more firmly against me. I allowed a little laugh of my own and stroked us both slowly, the feel of hot, velvet-smooth skin against mine seeming the finest sensation I'd ever known. His head thumped against my shoulder, lips and tongue moving over the skin he could reach, hands growing bolder in exploring my body, and I struggled to keep a rhythm, especially as he began to thrust in time with my hand.

I started focusing more on him instead of trying to work us both simply because I didn't imagine I could last much longer otherwise. He moaned, low and sweet, as my hand twisted around him, thumb teasing the head, and his toes started curling in the sheets, him obviously unaware that he was doing any of it, and I tilted his head up to kiss him again. He followed my mouth desperately, wet and a little clumsy now but no less pleasurable for it, and I could feel it when he was getting close.

His body went as taut as any bowstring, and he groaned against my mouth, the flush that had painted his cheeks from the start trailing down his neck and chest, even darkening the tips of his ears. He came suddenly and I worked him through it as he shivered on my lap, eyes slowly opening, flush not really fading but lightening a little, and he smiled, a sated, lazy sort of smile. I moved my hand towards myself again, but his smile got a little sharper and he batted it away, instead taking me in his own hand, twisting loose and easy. I wrapped my arms so tightly around him that I was almost afraid I'd hurt him, but he gave no sign of discomfort, instead staying perched upon my lap as if he belonged there, fingers twisting under the head, experimental, feeding off whatever reactions I gave.

It was an exquisite sort of torture, the sort I'd face every day, and again the thoughts of all I would do when I had more time and more energy flashed across my mind. I didn't precisely expect it when I came, wrapping myself tight around him, his hand pressed warm between our bodies. Shamed as I am to admit it, the both of us lay down, him curled into my chest, and fell into a deep sleep before we even bothered to clean ourselves off. Needless to say, we did not arrive at dinner on time, and I don't expect my son will ever look so amused at me ever again.

One year later:

Bilbo's POV

As if anyone didn't already know, it's strange co-ruling an elven kingdom, especially when you're a hobbit who's never ruled anything more than an empty house in his life. Not to say it was unpleasant, not really; more, it was an… adventure, one that brought new things with every passing day. Sometimes I didn't enjoy the job, of course; sometimes not even Thranduil did, and before I'd met him I'd thought that he, of all kings, would be pleased with the work. Other times, though, it was perhaps one of the most rewarding things I'd ever done. Really I was only surprised that the people had grown so fond of me in so short a time, as if I'd always been there ruling at Thranduil's side. Stranger still was how no gray ever seemed to start threading through my hair as it normally did hobbits my age. Thranduil had had an unusually enlightening answer from one normally fond of riddles.

"The gods are not cruel, Bilbo; you are my One, our lives are bound and only tragedy, not time, may break it." I know I looked at him like a fool when he said that.

"So I will live an elf's lifespan?" I questioned, and he nodded, head tilted slightly to one side.

"If you so choose, yes. I suppose we could always go to the Gray Havens, but truly I was not yet ready to leave." I laughed, shaking my head and taking him tightly in my arms. He returned the gesture with an easy I never would have expected anyone to have with me.

"Nor am I; I was only curious, but I am glad that I mustn't suffer the pain of leaving you alone." He laughed.

"Not as glad as I am to not suffer the pain of you leaving." That I could believe, and easily. I kissed his cheek to clear the thought, then his lips for my own pleasure, and stepped away, remembering suddenly that Legolas and my nephew, Frodo, who Thranduil and I had discovered needed a place to stay when we went to Bag End to retrieve my things, had been gone for hours and that was generally far from a good sign, especially given that the dwarves were meant to be coming for a visit some time that day.

"Oh, dear," I murmured, and he glanced down at me.

"Something the matter, love?" he asked, and I told him of my realization. He went wide-eyed for but a moment, something like pure terror painting his expression, before he whipped around, robes fluttering, and started marching outside. I followed as quickly as I was able, and kept up rather well if I do say so myself, even if I did have to run to match his quick walk. He yelled for Legolas and I yelled for Frodo and neither of us got an answer. I only hoped Frodo hadn't managed to hurt himself with the silly bow Legolas was teaching him to use. Thranduil likely only hoped that Legolas hadn't managed to get himself into trouble. I don't think either of us expected what we found when we actually came across them, though, settled on the edge of the path to the palace with the dwarves already amongst them.

Fili and Kili chattered quietly with Legolas and Tauriel, the four of them catching each other up on the things letters hadn't been able say. Kili handed Tauriel a flower, flush brilliant on his face, and she rolled her eyes but took it all the same, placing it in her own hair. Legolas snorted, turning to tease her just as Fili teased Kili. Frodo sat on Thorin's knee, grinning brightly at whatever story he was telling, and the look on Thorin's face was warmer than he'd ever admit, soft and kind and so different from the expectation I'd had of him when I met him. The other dwarves chatted amongst themselves, pointing at things or commenting on Thorin's sweetness or Kili's crush and making bets like always and I felt my heart warm at the sight of them. My hand closed around Thranduil's, and he grinned down at me, snorting (which he swore only his son did, and that his son had gotten it from the dwarves and not from him) like he wasn't just as charmed by the sight as I.

The whole lot of them grinned at us when they noticed that we'd arrived, pausing their conversations and stories to welcome us in, and I smiled through the field of dwarven hugs, ready for all the stories they would have to tell about our time apart and feeling happier than I'd ever imagined I could be after all the mess that had gotten us here. I was home again, I decided, even if I was so very far from the place home had originally been, and I didn't mind it at all. I couldn't help but think that my mother would be pleased, and probably my father too, just as soon as mother managed to work him through the shock of it all. I laughed to myself, looking around at them all, my friends, my nephew, my lover, and knew that though I had expected none of this when I raced after the dwarven party that fateful morning in the shire, I had ended up right where I was meant to be.