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On Thorin and Thranduil

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Thranduil looked at him with affection—Thorin could see it even as delirious with spider venom as he was—and he hated him for it, and he hated himself for feeling the same.


He could always say he had simply drunk too much ale, but he knew the love for this ally turned enemy turned ally again would always be there and could never be the result of something as base as too much drink.


Thranduil looked beautiful spread out on his bed, hair streams of gold and skin glowing in the darkness of Thorin’s chambers, and Thorin knew that given the opportunity, he’d keep him under these blankets and keep him hidden from everyone unworthy of laying eyes on such a treasure.


He had been trying to learn Sindarin, had searched Erebor’s libraries for every resource he could find on the language, but that wasn’t important anymore.


He wanted to snarl at him and fight him, but all of his energy was going into not melting into those soothing hands treating the wounds from the spiders.


Thorin arched his back and pressed his head further into the long-fingered hand stroking softly through his hair.

Coca-Cola - (modern au)

He sipped at it with distaste and glared at Thorin when the other man laughed at the face he made when the taste hit his tongue.

Coffee - (modern au)

It didn’t take long for Thranduil to realize that Thorin was useless without his morning coffee.


Thranduil looked different without his crown; Thorin liked him better without it.


Walking through Mirkwood now, Thorin felt a pang of sadness when he realized this was not the paradise he remembered.


A peaceful smile played at Thranduil’s lips as Thorin reverently traced calloused fingers over his features, as if in awe that he was allowed to touch something so lovely.


During their first meeting, the Elvenking had seemed aloof and almost intimidating, but when Thorin had managed to pull a smile from him, he realized he would be content waking to the sight for the rest of his life.


He was lying in the grass, crownless, for once, and the sight was so strange Thorin he made him a crown from some flowers nearby.


“Anywhere you reside is more of a home to me than Mirkwood, even Erebor, my dear prince.”

Horror-movies - (modern au)

Thorin was convinced that this would finally be the movie to scare him, but Thranduil just fell asleep with his head in his lap.

Hospital - (modern au)

He awoke to Thranduil, eyes red rimmed, hovering over him and to his hand covering his mouth as if to muffle the relieved sob that left him when Thorin opened his eyes.


When Gandalf showed him the key he had obtained from Thrain in Dol Guldur, Thranduil let him pass without a word.


It was Thorin’s idea to give Thranduil the box of white jewels; what was the moon without stars? 


Thranduil loved to watch Thorin write, the dwarf’s movements unexpectedly graceful as his hand moved across the page.


“I look ridiculous,” they commented at the same time.


He had always been captivated by how dark the dwarf’s hair was and how it contrasted with those clear, light eyes.


He wanted to hate him when he saw him, but there was no kingdom to avenge and no dragon to kill, and the Elvenking turned human looked just as tired and relieved as he did.


He had never expected the great king of the dwarves to be shy.


He looked so delicate that sometimes Thorin forgot he was a warrior, and he had to force himself to stop staring as Thranduil sliced his way through a group of orcs.


His wounds were screaming in agony at him, but he lifted his hand to wipe the tears off Thranduil’s face anyway.

Tie - (modern au)

He was exhausted and getting more frustrated by the minute until Thranduil walked around him and tied a perfect knot in that miraculous way he had.


When Thorin got the anonymous package of toys for Fili and Kili, he knew immediately who it was from and wanted to throw it away, but his nephews had fallen in love with the toys immediately. 


How anyone could treasure a jewel over Thorin confused Thranduil to no end, but he would not make the same mistake.


Loving the elf—the elf that had claimed to love him, that had pretended to treasure him, that had left him to burn—made him weak.


He had once made Thorin a promise to guide him through these woods.


It was almost a shock to see him now, to see the change in him, with streaks of silver in his hair and hatred in his eyes.