Your Room or Mine?

Title: Your Room or Mine?
Author: Roma
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Middle Earth. My plot bunnies have just borrowed parts of it and brought them into my mind to play. Don’t sue me, sue the plot bunnies. (They probably have more money than I do anyway.)
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: LotR
Pairing(s): Thranduil/Gloin and Legolas/Gimli
Warning(s): This was written as part of Lady Kardasi’s lj challenge. Also I know Thranduil is supposed to have blonde hair but for some reason my mental picture of Thranduil for this fic has black hair. Every other fic I have Thranduil in he has blonde hair but now the elf refuses to cooperate!
Beta: Rei
Summary: Gloin wakes up in Thranduil’s bed after a party with a lot of alcohol.
Dedicated to: Rei and Jenn


Gloin was slowly waking up, kicking and screaming because he was having the most amazing dream. Thranduil, the black-haired beauty, was laying on top of him, kissing him, touching him, thrusting in and out of him, and whispering such hot nothings into his ear that he thought he would come just from that voice alone. The sound of some sick cat purring in his ear finally convinced him to wake up.
Wait a second, he no longer had a cat.
And this certainly was not his room!
Where were his clothes?
He was half on top of a smooth, lean body and was holding it close and snuggling into it. The sound he heard was not of a sick cat but of a warm body snoring. He was half-afraid to look up, but he saw that he was indeed cuddling with an elf. And not just any elf, but Thranduil the black-haired tyrant, himself. The long, normally immaculate, silky black hair was all over the place, and a good portion of it was in his face. Gloin carefully eased his way up the lithe body and put the stray hair behind the Tyrant’s ear and sighed. Thranduil was truly lovely. His skin was soft, pale, and without blemish. Gloin doubted if Thranduil had an ounce of fat on his body; he was completely muscle. So lean, so beautiful… so going to kill him when he woke up.
Gloin’s head pounded suddenly, and his stomach heaved - his body’s cruel punishment for making merry the night before. He curled up against Thranduil and sighed. He’d rather go up against an army of orcs with only darts to defend himself than to have a hangover this morning; he would have to think fast if he wanted to keep out of the dungeon once again. How did he get here anyway? The last thing he remembered was having a few drinks with Thranduil and talking about how good the kids looked together. Then something about how would sex work between an elf
and a dwarf. Gloin looked down and saw their naked bodies resting together and groaned; it appeared that they figured that out some time last night. How could he look at Thranduil again? How could he look at him without wondering how good
it was to make love to him? Gloin turned to force his mind to work, but the headache only got worse so he tried to stop thinking all together.
If he ever had a chance of wooing Thranduil and winning his heart, this whole nightmare would permanently destory it. Gloin rolled away from Thranduil and felt his heart heave in his chest; he didn’t know what to do. Should he get up and leave or stay?
Thranduil made a pained noise, and Gloin turned back around to see the lovely Tyrant open his eyes slowly. He said something in elvish, but Gloin did not understand it. The light sea green eyes blinked slowly and were still hazy with sleep and being hungover. Gloin held a breath and waited for those haunting eyes to recognize him. Thranduil mumbled a few more words in elvish and smiled gently; he reached out hesitantly to touch Gloin’s cheek but then suddenly pulled away.
Thranduil sat up suddenly, grabbing for the sheet in one hand and holding his head in the other. “Thieving dwarf, what are you doing here?! What kind of male are you, attempting to seduce me while I am not myself?!” Thranduil shouted, but winced in pain at the sound of his own loudness.
“How dare you think that I would ever-- I woke up here just a few moments ago to your ungodly loud snoring!”
“I do not snore!”
“Yes, you do. You sound like a sick cat purring!”
Thranduil moved his mouth, but no voice came out, only horrified clicking sounds. “I don’t know what happened between drinking last night and waking up next to you this morning, but I promise you that I have been asleep for some time by the state of my hangover and no matter how drunk, I would never take advantage of anyone, especially a loud, obnoxious, snoring, tyrannical elf king!”
“You aren’t suggesting that I willingly came back here with you and… did things?”
“Why not?”
“You’re an ugly, smelly, drunken dwarf!” Thranduil hissed. “Now get out of my bed, my room, and for havensake, take a bath!”
“You think you smell like roses this morning?” Gloin said as he slowly climbed out of the bed, having a faint awareness that Thranduil’s eyes were on him and that he was giving him a good view of his backside as he picked up his discarded clothes. Gloin couldn’t look at Thranduil and quickly threw his clothes on. He was missing his socks, but he didn’t feel like searching for them. He held his boots under one arm and stiffly walked out the door. It took all of his strength not to just fall to the ground in a heap and sob his eyes out or just pass out. As he closed the bedroom
door behind him he heard Thranduil shout, “And stay out!”

Gloin was quite happy that he did not run into anyone on the way back to his room. He was worried that Gimli would be waiting for him since they had rooms next to each other. The halls were quiet enough that he could hear two distinct snores coming from Gimli’s room, and Gloin smiled bitterly because at least someone was happily in bed with their lover.
He entered his room quietly and sighed. Thranduil was right, he did need a bath and to wash his
mouth out. He felt disgusting. He changed into his nightthings and put on a robe over them. Now
he was not sure how to order a bath; he felt guilty asking these elves for anything. At home he
was used to doing everything himself; it’s much easier that way in the long run.
A quick knock at his door disturbed his thoughts as a female elf quickly entered his room. “Good
afternoon, Master Dwarf. Is there anything you require?”
“How did you know?”
“I have checked your room every half-hour since daybreak, and I am glad to see you have
returned,” she smiled.
“Thank you, Lady. You are too good to me.”
“I am your maid.”
“But still I do not deserve your goodness,” Gloin said to the ebony-haired elf-female, who had
been very kind to him while he was here.
“You are too generous,” she said. “May I draw you a hot bath? After all that merry making last
night you must be exhausted.”
“Aye, I am, and I would appreciate the bath. I fear when I went out to get some air last night I
feel asleep against a tree. Forgive me, I’m a frightful mess.”
The elf laughed as she backed out of the doorway. A few minutes later she returned with a
handful of other servants carrying large jugs of steaming hot water and filled the bath tub. There
was a collection of fine soaps and bathing oils provided for him, but Gloin went to his pack and
brought out a simple green grass scented soap and hair rinse he bought from a local merchant near
the Lonely Mountain that traded in elf-goods. He wanted to smell like an elven lover rather than a
dwarven thief. Gloin would have felt that he wasted the money, if he hadn’t enjoyed the scent so
much. After the elven servants left, Gloin stripped down, put his dirty clothes in a pile by the bed,
and stepped into the hot bath. The water was not as hot as he imagined it would have been,
probably something to do with what the tub was made out of. Never in his life had he felt
something so smooth.
Except Thranduil’s skin.
Great. Gloin knew those thoughts weren’t going to get him anywhere fast. He submerged himself
under the water and enjoyed the feel of the hot, wet warmth flowing around him. He surfaced,
grabbed his soap, and lathered his body up well. The pain in his muscles was ebbing away, as was
the headache. He studied his body carefully for any signs of pain that could give an indication of
what happened last night. He felt nothing, which meant… Thranduil had allowed him to be on
top? Impossible. Although they were extremely drunk, and that always allows for a looser sexual
conduct. He was laying on top of Thranduil when he woke up.
In the end, it really did not matter because after what happened, Gloin knew he had to leave. The
last thing he wanted was Thranduil’s scorn and distrust; he could not bear it if that happened.
Once he felt able to travel he would depart for home. He had stayed a few days and felt he had
overstayed his welcome the first second he arrived. The people of Mirkwood seemed to like Gimli
and held him in good grace, but after the situation with the Ring and the War, who could not?
Gimli and Legolas were quite a pair to be seen and so obviously happy together. Gloin felt
ashamed; he was envious of his son.
He soaped up his arms and shoulders well; they were sticky with what smelled like wine. He must
have had a drink spilled on him sometime during the night. He quickly washed his face and then
went to work on his beard. Although the hair rinse did wonders for his beard, it was a pain to
work into the thick nest. He spent what felt like forever rubbing it in and fingering out all the
tangles in there. He would need to brush them out later on. He allowed himself to enjoy the soak
while the hair rinse worked it’s magic. The water was beginning to get cold, but Gloin didn’t care.
He felt ancient imm immovable in that second; he was getting too old for all this silliness!
He submerged himself again to get all the rinse out of his hair and then quickly got out of the
bathtub. The water had gotten colder than he thought, and he quickly reached for a towel. He
could have sworn he heard stirrings from his bedroom but shook that idea off as just having water
in his ears. He quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He could not find his
robe anywhere, so he went back to the bedroom to get dressed. He found all his dirty clothes had
been picked up. That elf-maid was really too nice to him. He also found clean underclothing,
breeches, and a tunic laid out for him. Gloin normally would have complained that this was too
much, but he felt so bad that he really didn’t care. He put the clothes on slowly, mindful that the
room was semi-starting to spin. He would have to get something to eat soon, no matter how
much his stomach would protest it.
“You left these in my room; I found them mingled with my clothes.”
Gloin looked up to see the freshly bathed Thranduil standing against the wall, and caught the pair
of missing socks that were thrown at him. He was wearing cream-colored robes, which looked
rather bad on him. “Why do you insist on wearing that horrible color?”
“Horrible color? It’s the color of neutrality. It’s a tradition started by my father to wear
cream-colored robes when visitors are present.”
“Cream is not your color,” Gloin said. “You wouldn’t have any clothes in dark blue, do you?”
“And why is cream not my color?”
“You look like a sickly man. It makes your hair look too dark for your face, and you look far too
skinny. It’s not flattering.”
Thranduil walked over to the full-length mirror, which was next to the bathroom door, and
sighed. “I know you are right. My father had a fair complexion and his blonde hair was almost
white. It flattered him.”
“But you are not your father, eh?”
“I attempt to remind myself of that everyday.” Thranduil turned around.
“Dark blue would look very becoming on you or maybe more earthy colors like light browns or
all shades of green. Put such traditions aside and be comfortable in your own skin again, eh?”
Thranduil looked at him carefully; Gloin felt about one foot tall. “Comfortable in my own skin?
Excellent phrasing, for a dwarf that is. I think I shall feel comfortable in my own skin again when I
have some memory of what passed between us last night.”
“You shouldn’t let it trouble you, Thranduil. You’ll soon forget about it when I leave Mirkwood,
which I am planning to do at the earliest opportunity!”
“By each that the conjurer deceives! Gloin, you cannot just leave. People will wonder why you
have just picked up and left after working so hard to be accepted here. Gimli will be quite put out,
probably thinking I chased you off, and the rest of the visit will be quite miserable. No, you must
stay.”
“I would perfer not to.”
“Was I so bad to wake up to this morning that you must turn tail and run back up to your
precious mountain?”
Gloin stared at Thranduil and gritted his teeth. The elflord was fishing for something or was trying
to get at something, but hell if Gloin knew what the stupid elf wanted. His stare turned into a
glare, and he went to his bag and dug out a pair of socks and put them and his boots on. He
refused to say anything to Thranduil. If that elflord was fishing for a compliment he could go jump
in the lake!
“If you are going to pout and sulk like a child, that is fine with me,” Thranduil’s voice had a sharp
edge to it. “What I wanted to suggest is that last night never happened.”
“What never happened?”
Thranduil looked confused a moment. “Last night.”
“What never happened?” Gloin said again, this time more slowly.
Thranduil nodded, “I catch your meaning now. I will see you at dinner, which will be in about
three hours. Good day to you.”
“Good day to you as well,” Gloin said as Thranduil walked out of the door.

Gloin had been dozing in a reading chair when he heard a familiar knock to his door. “Eh? What?
Oh, come in Gimli!” Gloin called as his son and his elven lover walked in.
“Good afternoon, Father,” Gimli said. “You are up early. We got back before you, and that was at
dawn.”
“Did you find a warm elven bed to sleep in?” Legolas teased, and Gloin was grateful when Gimli
gently elbowed him in the side.
“Yes, if by Elven bed you mean a tree, Legolas. I went for some fresh air last night, found a
comfortable tree to sit against, stared up at the stars, and promptly fell asleep. I guess I’m getting
too old to make merry like I used to. Woke up this morning with quite a stiff neck and a sore
body. That wonderful elf-maid I have is worth her weight in mithril. She knew when I got back,
and then I instantly had a hot bath. I have to be weary or else I’ll let this place spoil me.”
“You deserve to be spoiled,” Legolas said, “and you have made quite the impression here with
your stories and dwarven charm. I think you could stay here forever, and no one would ever
complain.”
“I think that your father would be less than thrilled.”
“You’d be surprised,” Gimli said. “You two looked like you were getting along last night.”
“Yes, that was the influence of all the alcohol, and I don’t think my body could put up with that
again. I feel like death warmed over this morning,” Gloin said.
“Well, maybe a trip to the gardens would do you good?” Legolas asked.
“Yes,” Gimli agreed. “The palace gardens are like none I have ever seen.”
“Why are you two so determined to keep me from dozing in my room?” Gloin asked.
“Because you’ll feel better once you get the blood moving in your system,” Gimli said. “Come on
now.”
“All right, all right,” Gloin said. “I wasn’t aware that my son was such an expert on hangovers. I
will walk with you.”
“As much as I would love to join you, my father has sent for me, which means I’ll see you both at
dinner,” Legolas said, then kissed Gloin on the cheek and softly kissed Gimli on the mouth before
heading out.
“He’s a good lad, Gimli,” Gloin said.
“Aye, that he is,” Gimli said, watching Legolas close the door behind him. “Shall we be off?”
Gloin stood up, his bones creaking. “Never get old, boy!”
“I will make a point of it,” Gimli said as he put an arm around his father and led him out the door.
They walked through basically empty hallways, running into servants more than courtiers. Gloin
made sure to wish everyone a good day. Most of them responded warmly and looked a tad
confused, but all asked how he was, and he stopped for a few of them to have a conversion. Gimli
stayed back and smiled a lot. Gloin could not figure out why his son looked so pleased.
“They like you,” Gimli said.
“So that is what all this smiling is about? The more you are around Legolas the more elf traits you
are acquiring.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Gloin thought a moment, his face in a thoughtful pout, as they continued to walk down the
hallways to the outside. “Elves are a merry race, and once you get to know them they aren’t so
bad. No, Gimli, it is not a bad thing. Maybe it is a good thing for dwarves to have a little of that
elven cheeriness?”
“Just not in the morning.”
“I will second that,” Gloin said as they passed the gates and entered the gardens. For being an
underground garden, it was gorgeous. Somehow the Mirkwood elves of the past had designed a
way to get sunlight from above into the underground palace through glittering crystals. The
crystals gave off just enough light to sustain the garden. There were grasses of all sorts, trees, and
countless flowers in every color imaginable. There were scattered benches around the garden, and
Gimli and Gloin took one of them near the lavender.
“The light pathways to the crystals also give fresh air down here. Legolas and I like to come to
the garden a lot. His favorite flower is baby’s breath.”
“That is a beautiful flower but lavender comforts me. I remember the first time I smelled lavender,
real lavender, not the oil or the incense. I was sent to a Tirth village, which we traded with,
because we had not gotten a caravan for a few months. It seems that the village had been taken
over by some tribe of mercenaries. Sad case, they were a nice village. The villagers that escaped
had armed themselves somehow and had been pint up in a makeshift fort for two months. Make a
long and boring story short, I worked with the villagers, and we kicked out those vile
mercenaries. A little girl handed me from freshly cut lavender when was leaving to return home.”
“You never told me that story before,” Gimli said.
“I’m not much of a hero or adventurer, Gimli, you know that. You are the great hero in the
family,” Gloin laughed. “I’m thinking of getting out of the business; I’m too old.”
“But if you could have, you would have joined the Fellowship?”
“Yes, I would have. I would have been honored to fight alongside another Baggins! I wish I
wasn’t so old. Who knows? I might have been useful.”
“You might have taken Legolas from me as well.”
“No, Legolas would have been yours, my son, because I have too many memories of his father.”
“I see,” Gimli smiled again. “So tell me what happened last night?”
Gloin looked at Gimli from the corner of his eye. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, because you were having a very long discussion with Thranduil, and you were very close
together. He appeared to be almost in your lap.”
“The elflord almost on my lap? You must be joking.”
“Legolas said that you two left the room together,” Gimli said, looking at a nearby tree.
“Well, I do remember that,” Gloin lied. “We had trouble hearing each other, I think, and we got
into a spat about something or other, and I headed out to get some air. I really should tease him
for almost being on my lap though. I never would have thought he felt that way about me.”
“Oh?” Gimli said. “I wouldn’t tease him; Thranduil would string you up by your private bits.”
Gloin laughed and nodded, wondering in the back of his head why Thranduil hadn’t done that
already. “Gimli, I have enjoyed my time here.”
“I am glad. It is a nice place.”
“I confess that I’m missing home.”
“You cannot leave early,” Gimli said, suddenly startled. “Thranduil and the elves would consider
it an insult.”
“I won’t,” Gloin said. “I promise.”
“That’s good,” Gimli said as a ball rolled by his feet. Three elf children came running up to them
and became quite shy.
“Give them their ball back, Gimli,” Gloin said as Gimli picked up the ball and gently tossed it back
to one of the children. They laughed and ran around the garden tossing the ball.
One of the children - all three looked alike - came up to them and asked, “Would you like to play
with us?”
“I wouldn’t mind a game of ball,” Gloin said.
“Neither would I,” Gimli said, the father and son joined the three children running around the
garden, tossing a soft leather ball around. The sound of their laughter could be heard in the
palace. One particular laughter could be heard echoing in the royal study.
~*~
Thranduil had heard the sound of laughter coming from the gardens a few minutes ago and had
gone to catch a glimpse of who was making that racket. He hurt, not from the hang over, that had
long since passed, but because he could not remember something. He never understood why his
father had placed a garden outside the window of the royal study, even if it was floor up. Was
there no place he could get peace today?
“Father?”
“Yes, Legolas?” Thranduil allowed his voice to convey his annoyance at all the disturbances going
on around him.
“What are you wearing?”
“It’s called a robe.”
“No, I mean the color.”
“The color is called dark blue,” Thranduil said. “I was told I would look quite nice in it, so I have
decided to dress in it. The old ways are changing, so I might as well be comfortable in my own
skin.”
“That sounds like something Gloin would say,” Legolas said. “And he is right, you do look much
better in dark blue.”
Thranduil decided to ignore Legolas for now, and it was then he saw it, and time froze for a
moment as his heart ached. The dwarves were playing with some children. For all their gruffness
they had gentle souls and good hearts. And Gloin had a beautiful ass; the way he slowly bent over
almost caused Thranduil to forget himself and drag the dwarf back to his bed and make love to
him. But would it be making love in Gloin’s opinion? Thranduil smiled in spite of himself and
watched Gloin toss a ball to one of the younger children. His laughter was the most beautiful
sound that he had ever heard. Never had he thought of dwarves as being playful or enthusiastic
about anything except their riches and gold.
“Not all riches are gold, Father,” Legolas said.
“What?”
“You just said that you never had thought of dwarves as being playful or enthsasic about anything
except their riches and gold.”
“I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”
“Gimli is not satisfied with gold, unlike most of his kind. He told me that Galadriel told him this,
and she was right. Dwarves are not born that way; they have to be taught it by their parents.”
“What do you know of Gimli’s mother?”
“Gimli was afraid to talk about it,” Legolas said, walking up behind his father. “They do look like
they are having fun down there.”
“Why was he afraid?”
“It was quite a mess and left them in disgrace.”
“I have seen Gimli prove his worth a thousand times over, and no past disgrace can change my
opinion of him. I promise I will keep this confidence.”
“His mother ran away soon after Gimli was born and married a very wealthy dwarven lord to the
north. Gloin had married her, but when his father squandered the family fortune while he was
away, she sued a separation and pleaded with the king to let her marry elsewhere. This was
granted, and Gloin returned home to find her shoving a crying baby in his arms while heading out
the door.”
“Gloin raised Gimli all by himself then?”
“Yes.”
“He is a good father, and I am sorry for the pain the female cost him.”
They stared out the window in silence. One of the children fell, and Gloin helped it to its feet. “He
appears to be very good with children,” Thranduil said.
“He is very good with people,” Legolas said. “The countiers and the servants speak well of him.
They will miss him keenly when he is gone.”
“Yes, well, they will have something to help them get by the time.” Thranduil handed Legolas a
letter. “This just arrvied today. It seems bad weather kept the messenger from arriving in plenty of
time.”
“What does it say?” Legolas recognized the seal. “It’s from Rivendell!”
“Yes, it is,” Thranduil said, “which leads me to believe that Elrond is preparing to cross the sea.
He has sent an ambassador with letters and documents and whatever else he felt he must give
me.”
“Will you go to see Elrond before he leaves?”
“I might have no choice,” Thranduil said. “I might have to make the trip just to drop off that
annoying cousin of his, Lady Monque.”
“Oh no, not her again,” Legolas said.
“Yes. She has her sights set on being the Lady of Mirkwood now that your mother has left. She
will never take no for an answer, and the last thing I need right now is for her to interfere.”
Thranduil felt the weight of Legolas’ eyes on him. It was true, he hated Monque and her selfish
passions. He had endured being married to such a woman, and it had brought him nothing but
grief. It also bothered him that Gloin would have to be put through her presence. Legolas would
protect Gimli from her elven snobbishness, but no one would protect Gloin, and it had already
taken a great deal of convincing to keep Gloin here this long. Had he truly been this bad to wake
up next to this morning? Besides the fact that he had kicked the dwarf out of his room and told
him he stank, which was true. Unknowingly, Thranduil was hugging himself and resting his
forehead against the glass.
“Father? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired and in no mood for silliness this evening.”
“You have been acting strange all afternoon. Did something happen last night?”
Thranduil turned away from the window and looked at Legolas. “What? No, nothing happened.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean by questioning me? Of course I’m sure, Legolas!”
“The reason I am asking is because toward the end of the night, I saw you and Gloin walk out of
the main hall together. Before that you both were in the corner, and you were sitting in his lap.”
“I was not!” Thranduil squeaked.
“It looked like you were struggling to hear him,” Legolas said, ignoring Thranduil’s distress.
“Nothing more, unless there is something you aren’t telling me?”
“Of course not,” Thranduil said. “What happened, to the best of my memory, was not that
exciting. We went back to my room, where it was quiet, and talked all night. I must have fallen
asleep, I’m not sure what time, and when I woke up, Gloin was gone.”
“Really?” Legolas said. “Gloin told me that once you to left the main hall, you had fight, and he
went for some fresh air and fell asleep by a tree.”
“Well that is ridiculous. Wouldn’t the guards have noticed a drunken dwarf sleeping under a
tree?” Thranduil exclaimed, thinking that Gloin must have been very hung over to think of that
excuse.
“Gloin is very quiet, and the guards know he is our guest after all. Gimli has told me that Gloin
likes to take naps under trees and stare at the stars. It is almost like he is wishing for something.”
“How endearing.” Thranduil mentally rolled his eyes.
“Lady Monque has put you in a horrible mood!”
“Yes. I don’t like her, and I don’t know why Elrond forces me to put up with her.”
“Well, just be civil and politely explain that you have family matters to attend to and cannot be
bothered by entertaining the ambassador and her party.”
“You forget, son, Monque wants to be family and will not take no for an answer.”
“You are afraid she will do something to insult Gimli or Gloin, and you cannot do anything about
it?”
“Gimli is yours to protect, Legolas,” Thranduil said. “Her flirting and loose manners will insult
Gloin, and he has already expressed an interest in leaving.”
“When did this happen?”
“Earlier.” Thranduil went back to the window and saw Gloin sitting by a tree while Gimli
continued to play with the children.
“It was nice of you to check on him and make sure he was ok.”
“I’m the father, you are the son: stop trying to reverse the roles, please!”
“What did you say to make him change his mind?”
“Nothing really, just mentioned the rest of the month really wouldn’t take that long. I don’t
understand how he could be homesick, but dwarves are strange that way, I guess.”
“You are probably right,” Legolas agreed. “What do you want to do about Monque?”
“There is nothing I can do besides hope that Gloin can keep his temper in check. The havens
know that I can barely do it. I just don’t want Monque to make me look like some sort of
skirt-chasing sex-fiend. I give her three hours after her arrival before she starts trying to get in my
lap.”
“Well, go back to sitting on Gloin’s lap and maybe that will dissuade her?”
Thranduil glared at Legolas but said nothing. It was a very tempting idea to sit upon the dwarf’s
lap and cuddle with him. Thranduil was never really one for cuddling, but something about Gloin
brought it out in him. It would be nice to be touched with tenderness and to be looked upon with
such admiration. He could still feel the gentle fingers tucking the hair behind his ear. Thranduil
wondered if that was part of a dream or just a misty memory from not being quite awake enough
to enjoy it.
He did not have long to ponder this because a messenger soon brought word that the Rivendell
party had arrived.
~*~
Gloin saw Legolas about the same time that Gimli did, and they both waved the elf over. Gimli
and the children had all tired out, and Gloin had been telling them stories for sometime. A few
more children had joined the group, as well as a few guards that had just come off duty. Gloin
was quite surprised that his stories had gathered so much attention. It shocked him moreover to
find one of those guards happened to be one that had been assigned to guard the party of dwarves
so long ago. Of course the topic then changed to how he broke out of the prison. Gimli looked
very frightened, but Gloin brushed it off.
“The Mirkwood prison is the finest prison I have ever seen, and it should not be thought less of
because of Gollum or our escape. If it had not been for that Ring, although at the time we had no
clue what it truly was, we would still be down there, and now that the Ring is destroyed no one
shall ever break out of the prison again.”
The guards laughed and nodded, Gloin joining them. Gimli looked much more relaxed now, and
Legolas joined them.
“Good evening,” Gloin said to him. “I’m so sorry, I appear to have rambled on for sometime. In a
place where no one knows my stories, I tend to do that.”
“No, your tales are most welcome here,” Legolas said as he sat down next to Gimli. “We have an
ambassador from Rivendell this evening, and I’m afraid that she will remain here for the rest of
your visit. The Lady Monque, I fear, is quite taken with my father. I am worried that she will be
quite a nuisance because she still has the old opinion of dwarves.”
“I don’t wish to cause trouble in the elflord’s love life,” Gloin said. “If it would be better for me
to leave…”
“No!” Legolas and Gimli said in unision.
“Well, that was forceful,” Gloin said.
“Please, stay,” one of the children said. “We like your stories!”
The rest of the group nodded enthusiastically; this made Gloin laugh wholeheartedly.
“Father begged me to ask you to stay as a favor to him. You were his guest first, and he does not
want you to be put out because of Monque’s visit.”
Gloin felt jealousy prickling his consciousness; Legolas would neither confirm nor deny that
Monque had Thranduil’s heart. There would only be one way to find out and that would be to see
them together at dinner tonight. This was not going to be fun or easy.

~*~

Thranduil was late to his own dinner table, and Gloin was annoyed. A good host is never late, and
Thranduil is the best of hosts. Gloin stopped himself from wondering what the dark-haired beauty
was doing while he was with an admirer whom he might admire in return. They could be having
sex right now while Gloin stewed over it. This just really was not fair. The door flew open, and
Thranduil walked in with a dark brown-haired elf-female on his arm. She was dressed in expensive
silks and gold jewelry and was as fine as any elven female that he had ever seen. Her voice was
sweet as honey and washed over all who heard it. Gloin felt himself quickly build up an immunity
to her charm when he got a better look at her and noticed she was hanging all over Thranduil. The
servants rushed in to put the platters and bowls on the table. Gloin caught Thranduil’s eye and for
that split second he saw how unhappy Thranduil was, and before Gloin could interpret the
unhappy look, Thranduil gestured with his eyes over to Monque and rolled them.
It took every ounce of willpower Gloin had not to laugh for pure joy, and he instead allowed his
caring and relief pour out of him. Thranduil’s eyes widened a moment before Monque demanded
his attention again. “You really do have dwarves here. I’m surprised at you, Thranduil,” she said,
taking the seat to the right of him. Thranduil sat at the head of the table.
As the guest of honor, Gloin sat on the left next to Thranduil. Gimli sat next to him, and Legolas
sat across from Gimli. Gloin knew the other three males felt very awkward, but if Monque felt it,
she wasn’t showing it. As much as Gloin wanted to say something very rude to the elf-female, he
just took some stewed apples instead. Truth be told, he really wasn’t hungry.
“They are most honored guests,” Thranduil said, “and have quite charmed the people of
Mirkwood.”
“The servants and lower classes, I’m sure,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“I beg you to refrain from such remarks in my presence or in the presence of my guests,”
Thranduil said, his voice never wavering.
“I love it when a male begs,” she teased, taking Thranduil’s hand. “I will do as you request.”
“Thank you,” Thranduil said as he put his napkin in his lap. Gloin kept trying not to stare at him,
but it just didn’t work. He tried talking to Gimli, but the Lady spoke so loudly that she
commanded all attention against almost everyone’s wills.
“This palace is more beautiful than I remember it. Did you get the paintings I sent you? You really
should decorate this place more, but then again that is more of a woman’s touch, isn’t it?”
“You sent me paintings? How sweet, but I never got them.”
“The messengers never did come back; they probably got caught by raiders or something. Stupid
servants.”
“I hope the servants and the paintings did not cost you too much.”
“Oh, but Thranduil, cost doesn’t matter. You are worth every penny,” she said, squeezing his
hand. “You do look very nice. Is that dark blue satin?”
Gloin looked up from his plate and noticed for the first time that Thranduil was not dressed in that
horrid cream color but instead in the dark blue that he had suggested earlier. “Yes,” he said, “it
is.”
“How exciting,” she said. “And I’m used to seeing you in cream. I’m so glad you took my
suggestion and changed colors, although I still think red silk would suit you better. I knew you
cared for my opinion though. Dark blue is my personal favorite color.”
Gloin pictured Thranduil in red silk and coughed roughly to keep from laughing. The elflord
would look like some sort of pit demon in red silk; maybe someone should sow a tail to his
underthings and go for the full image. “Are you all right?” Gimli asked, slapping Gloin on the
back.
“Yes, fine, sorry.” He took a sip of his water.
“What was so funny?” Thranduil asked.
“Funny?” Monque asked. “He coughed because something was funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” Gloin said.
“Well, anyway,” she shook her head, “thank you for changing your robes. You look quite fetching
now.”
“Almost presentable now?” Thranduil smiled.
“Yes, oh my dear, you are a kidder! Such a sense of humor; I have missed you much.”
“Mirkwood has prospered quite well, and I am glad for it.”
“You should really add a library, Thranduil. It would make you look intelligent.”
“And who am I to look intelligent for?”
“Everyone, of course. You are an elf-king! You have the riches and the power; you should use it
to better yourself.”
“I am as I am, and I cannot get better,” Thranduil said.
“True,” Gloin said. “You are very well being yourself, and if you get better then you shall be
prefect, and then you would be no fun.”
Thranduil looked at Gloin with a look of delighted surprise. “Thank you,” he said.
“Anyway,” Monque smiled and batted her lashes at Thranduil. “Thranduil, are you listening to
me?”
“I am,” he said, turning back to her.
“I wanted to ask if there was to be a dance tonight; there is no one so light on their feet as you
are, and I would love to be the envy of all the elven ladies tonight. For there is no land like
Mirkwood and no King like you.”
“You are too kind.”
“And if you have no plans for this evening, I would most like to entertain you for as long has you
have want of me.”
Thranduil looked thunderstruck and blushed. “I must insist--”
“So must I,” she purred.
That was it - that was all Gloin could take. He had not slept well, he had not eaten all day, and he
had felt guilty and heartbroken since he got up this morning. This was not a good day, and he had
no more patience with this harpy. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have had a long day, and I
must beg your pardon and retire for the night,” Gloin said as he stood up from the table.
“I am sorry if I have upset your delicate dwarven sensibilities,” Monque said in between childish
laughter.
“I assure you, Lady, that you have not.”
“Then why do I affect you so?”
“I cannot say,” Gloin said. “You are a guest in my host’s house, and I respect him too much to
turn this into something silly and petty.”
“But I insist,” she said, her smile turning bitter and demeaning.
“You have not embarrassed me, Lady Monque, just annoyed me, but it’s probably cultural
differences. You have complimented his home, riches, position, and style, and I grant you that he
has all of these in droves. But you have yet to compliment him.”
“What do you mean?” Monque looked very perplexed.
“If Thranduil will excuse me, why did he look bad in the cream?”
“I don’t understand what you are getting at.”
“Neither do I,” Thranduil said.
“Let me try it this way,” Gloin said. “What color is Thranduil’s hair? His eyes? What do you think
of his wit and his thoughts?”
“Why is this important?”
“Can you not answer the questions?”
“All right, I’ll play your game, if only to make you look stupid,” she said. “His hair is an overly
thin, glossy black. His eyes are an odd green color. His wits are imprisoned since he will not
better himself, and his thoughts have gone odd lately since he has befriended two dwarves.”
“What is the point of this?” Thranduil asked, running his hands through his hair and looking at it
somewhat distastefully.
“What are your answers to your own questions?” Monque asked smugly.
“His hair is not thin nor glossy, it is a silky black and shines like starlight reflecting off a cold
mirror. Couple that with his flawless, cream-colored skin - which is why the cream-colored robes
did not look good on him; it made him look far too pale, and all that light color made his hair look
too dark - and he positively glows. His eyes are not an odd green color. They are sea green,
although it breaks my heart to mention the word sea, and from the time I was first imprisoned
here all those decades ago, the color of those ‘odd green’ eyes have haunted me. We had nothing
of that color on the Lonely Mountain, so I asked around to other mineral and gem traders until a
few years ago I ran into some from the far north. They told me that the color was of a rare stone
called tourmaline, and it is priceless. Northern Kings have given up their vast fortunes for just a
piece of tourmaline no bigger than a dew drop.”
Monque looked bored but Thranduil’s expression was completely blank. Gloin could see Legolas
from the corner of his eye urging him on with a gentle nod and a hidden smile.
“His physical beauty and grace are beyond measure, but I think what has endeared Thranduil to
me is his intelligence and his wit. He does not need a library to prove his intelligence; one only
needs to have a conversion with him. And the fact that he knows the difference speaks volumes
about his wit.”
“So what you are saying,” Monque said, looking puzzled and bored, “is that he is worth his
weight in gold? Or maybe mithril?”
“No, Lady, I cannot put a price on someone who is timeless, ageless, and priceless.”
“I’ve heard better nonsense come from drunken poets of the cities of men!”
“But I have not,” Thranduil said. “Your words honor me, Gloin, and I thank you for them.”
“I am no poet,” Gloin said. “I’m not good with all that fancy speech; I can only speak plan and to
the purpose. Now that I have said my peace, I wish everyone a good night.”
Gloin headed out the door and caught the eyes of two servants who looked proud and opened the
doors for him, something they only did for Thranduil or most honored heroes of Mirkwood. Gloin
wished them a good evening as well as they closed the doors behind him.
“Did he just bid the servants good evening?!” Monque shrieked.
Gloin sighed and walked down the hall toward his room. He did feel exhausted and was looking
forward to just laying in bed a while and wallowing in his numb emotions. He’d practically
declared that he loved Thranduil in front of everyone, and why in the world was Legolas cheering
him on for it? He would be the laughingstock of the entire region now. He should not have let
that bitch get to him.
And even after all this public humiliation, he was hard as a rock. Damn it to hell, talking about
Thranduil’s beauty and looking into his eyes those few precious seconds had put him over the
edge, and his blood boiled with his passion for the elven king. He would frequent his room and
the garden until it was time to leave. He could not be hard for the rest of the month; his poor body
and heart couldn’t tak.
“.
“Gloin!”
Gloin turned around to see Thranduil walking towards him quickly, not a hair out of place, the
bastard. “Is something wrong, Thranduil?”
“No, but what made you speak out like that back there?”
“Like what? A dottering old fool?”
“No, like a passionate male defending his lover.”
“No one else was going to stand up for you, and since I probably won’t be ever coming back
again, I thought I might as well do it. If you will excuse me, your guests will be wondering where
you are, and a nice, soft bed is calling to me.”
"What's wrong with you?"
"Do you want the socially acceptable answer or the truth?"
"The truth."
"I haven't had sex in a very long time, and you're really turning me on."
“We just had sex last night.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t remember it,” Gloin hissed. “Probably the best sex I’ve ever gotten with the most prefect
partner, and I cannot even remember it.”
Thranduil looked down, and his pale skin took a slight blush to it. “What do you remember from
last night?”
“I remember being annoyed with Gimli because he was insistent that I stay for the whole party
and make merry with him. Finding one’s mate is very important, and the announcement
celebration is a landmark in a dwarf’s life.”
“Why did you want to leave then?”
“I felt out of place, and I didn’t want Gimli to feel that he had to entertain me. At one point I
think Legolas talked you into speaking to me. We had a conversion, but I’m not sure what about.
Actually, now that I think about it--”
“It was a bet,” Thranduil said. “Who could drink who under the table first; inspired by Gimli and
Legolas’ bragging of our abilities to down alcohol. I cannot remember which one of us won
though.”
“Let’s just call it even?”
“Good idea,” Thranduil said and then paused for a few heartbeats before continuing. “I meant to
ask you earlier, but it came out wrong. How are you feeling? Our coupling must have been…
frantic, and I hope that I did not hurt you.”
Gloin exhaled slowly in a low sigh. It was he who had woken up on top of Thranduil this morning
and assumed he had taken him. There had not been pain or even the telltale signs of being taken,
such as the pleasant morning-after ache, and he believed that those absences backed up his idea.
“Well, this is interesting.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sure you will take this the wrong way and all, but I thought…”
“Do you really think that I would bottom for you? You must have some sign, or are you that
stupid?”
“No, and don’t start ng thg things! I haven’t done it in a while, but I’m not senile. There are
some thing one just doesn’t forget.”
“Let’s say that you are right, and I promise you that I don’t have any signs either.”
“Well, this has one logical conclusion: we did not do anything last night.”
“Then how did we end up naked in my bed then?”
“And cuddling.”
“We were cuddling?!”
“We were cuddling when I woke up.”
“And you stopped before I woke up! Thanks for ruining the moment for me then.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oeverevermind! So I’ve worried all day about nothing then because we can both agree that
nothing happened.”
“But cuddling.”
“Stop rubbing it in, you bastard!”
“I’d offer to cuddle with you again, Thranduil, but I doubt you want to keep your lady friend
waiting. She looks quite eager to get in your pants.”
“How dare you insult Lady Monque?”
“I didn’t think stating the obvious was considered insulting someone.”
“You come into my home uninvited, drink up my wine, place yourself in my bed, naked, giving
me a heart attack, and cause me nothing but trouble, and now you are telling me how to run my
love life?!” Thranduil barked and slammed Gloin into the nearby wall.
“I’m not telling you how to do anything. Now let me go so I can pack my things and get out of
your silky black hair!”
“Oh no, not yet, Gloin. Maybe you should tell me what exactly is wrong wionquonque that she
doesn’t meet your approval.”
“I see mocking and sarcasm are still your strong points, Thranduil.”
“Answer me!”
“She doesn’t love you. She does love the palace, the idea of being with the King of Mirkwood,
and is infatuated with the idea of being the Lady of Mirkwood now that your Queen has crossed
the sea. Strip you of your riches and title, and she would never look upon you.”
“How dare--”
“It doesn’t matter that you are the epitome of beauty and grace, or that your intelligence and wit,
along with your precious sarcasm, are your true riches, and that under all that kingly, no,
bastard-like exterior formed by people using you and being cruel to you over your long years, you
are a tender and generous person. To see you there, lying asleep next to me, I thought I had died
and gone to the most sacred haven. You are lovable, Thranduil, no matter what you think, and
you deserve to be with someone who loves you… and who you love in turn.”
“Venini, my Queen, loved--” Thranduil stopped when he saw the “you aren’t fooling anyone”
look on Gloin’s face and continued in a hushed voice “How did you know about that?”
“Educated guess,” Gloin sighed.
“Well, it was a good one, Master Dwarf.”
“Will you let me go now?”
“Not yet.” Thranduil slammed him into the wall again, his eyes just beginning to tear. “Why does
a thieving dwarf care… wo yoo you care if I get used? Tell me, or is it that you get some sick
pleasure out of hurting me?!”
“I love you, you insolent bastard! Now let me go, and I shall never darken your doorstep again.
Go ahead and make yourself miserable with the Lady. See if I care!”
Thranduil lessened his grip and dropped the dwarf. He stood up to his full height and brushed the
wrinkles out of his robe. He gently grabbed Gloin’s shoulder when he tried to escape. “Just one
more question, Gloin, and then I shall let you go. Your room or mine?”
~*~
Epilogue:
A knock on the door disturbed the sleeping couple. Thranduil groaned and snuggled closer to the
hairy body curled up in front of him. He cracked open one eye and, once again, saw a naked Gloin
next to him. They must have both passed out after their love making, which had been very intense,
because they were still connected. Thranduil tenderly pulled out of his lover and laughed at
himself. Who could have guessed that Gloin would be such an enthusiastic bottom? He could
spend the rest of his life in bed and let Mirkwood go to hell for all he cared. He covered Gloin up
with a blanket. “I love you too, precious dwarf.” Thranduil kissed his hand.
“Father?” Legolas asked from outside the door. “Are you in there? Where have you gone?”
Thranduil covered Gloin’s ear before answering back to Legolas, “Be there in a moment.”
Gloin woke only a moment before rolling back over, burying nosenose in Thranduil’s shoulder and
falling back asleep.
“Sorry, beloved, but I need that arm,” Thranduil said as he carefully untangled his body from
Gloin’s and got out of bed. He grabbed his discarded pants and tunic and hastily put them on
while walkiowaroward the door. Actually it looked like he was skipping or doing some insane
orc-dance. If he had not been an elf, he would have fallen over many times. He put his hair back
behind his ears. He opened the door a tiny bit, just enough to catch a glimpse of Legolas’ worried
face. “Son?”
“Sorry to disturb you, Sire, but you have gone missing for over three hours, and your guests are
worried. I heard you yelling--”
“I was not yelling.”
“You were yelling, and then you ran down the hallway. Are you all right? You look… a fright.”
“Do you look any better after someone has interrupted your cuddling time?” Thranduil crossed his
arms.
“Cuddling? Excuse me?” Legolas blinked a few times. Took ook was priceless.
“Every time I mention cuddling today, I’ve gotten that response. Now if you will excuse me, I
have a sleeping dwarf in my bed, and you must know it’s never a good idea to wake one.”
Legolas smiled brightly and had a joyous twinkle in his eyes. “Gloin?”
“No, Gimli,” his father said then sighed. “Who do you think, Legolas?”
“Well, it’s about damn time,” Legolas said.
“Excuse me?” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.
“What do you want me to tell Lady Monque?”
“Please tell her that after last evening’s festivities, my beloved and I require an early evening. I
will gladly speak to her on the morrow.”
“I will give her your message, Sire.” Legolas smile turned tender and understanding. “And may I
add that I am very happy for you?”
“Yes, well,” Thranduil cleared his throat. “Thank you, Legolas.”
“You two look quite well together. I will tell Gimli that I have found his father and he is well. We
weren’t sure from the sound of the fight if you two had killed each other or not.”
“Yes,” Thranduil covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned, “Gloin, has this
amazing ability to bring out… strong passions in me. Now if you will excuse me, I have a warm
bed waiting for me, and I have been waiting for that warm bed all my life.”
“Of course, Sire, good evening.”
“Good evening, Son, and...” Thranduil paused again, looking uncomfortable. “And thank you for
this.”
He closed the door quietly, tip-toed back to his side of the bed, threw his clothes back off into a
rumpled pile, and climbed back into bed. Gloin snuggled up up against him and opened one eye.
“Will you be kickin’ me out this time, Tyrant?”
“No, my Thief, I will not. Close your eyes and go back to sleep. You will need your strength later
on, I promise you.”
“I thought I heard the door.”
“You did, my love.”
“‘My love.’ I could get used to hearing those words from your lips if you aren’t careful.”
“I’m glad, because I do.”
Gloin smiled and kissed Thranduil gently. “I love you too, my Tyrant.”
They held each other for countless moments, kissing and touching gently, before Gloin asked,
“Now who was at the door?”
“Legolas.”
“The kids were at the door?”
“Just mine.” Thranduil kissed Gloin’s shoulder. “And he didn’t seem truly shocked to find you
here.”
“Why does something tell me that we are the only ones shocked by this?”
“I’m not sure, beloved, but I think Lady Monque will be quite surprised.”
~*~
Legolas smiled as Thranduil closed the door and looked at Gimli, who had hidden away out of
sight. They smiled to each other and quietly walked towards the main hall, where they would
encounter Monque on the way to their own room. They said nothing to each other, just smiled
like rogues. Gimli even started to innocently whistle. This had been a plot from beginning to end.
No two people fight so passionately and give the other wistful and adoring looks while they
thought no one was looking without being in love. All it took was two masterful matchmakers
and a cellar full of alcohol to accomplish the task.