AN: So, I decided to fill my own prompt mainly because I was writing this and then remembered I have a prompt with this very same idea. Hope you enjoy it and ideas, suggestions and so on are welcome. Uh, warning, this may turn out to be a Thorinduil kind of fic. So yeah, You have been warned.
Blame it on Thorin
Anki_Shai
He blamed it on Thorin.
They had been working on a new treaty to build better weapons, some armors and some other things King Thranduil seemed pretty interested in. Thorin had offered to show the Elven-King part of the process of forging the blades and the vambraces Thranduil asked for himself. Thranduil felt strange having Thorin making them personally, he knew the King had better things to do than work on the forges but Thorin seemed quite excited to go back there.
If he were to be honest, Thranduil was also excited to see Thorin at work. He just was curious to see a Dwarf working. Nothing else, nothing more. Thranduil never thought, however, that his curiosity would lead him to fall down the stairs, quite ungracefully, and break his arm in the process.
More than pain, he felt ashamed at the pitiful sight of him on the ground with the heat, dim light and ash coming from the forges on him. Thorin had dropped everything he was doing and ran towards the Elven-King, making sure he was okay before laughing at him.
"How does an Elven-King missteps and ends up falling down the stairs?" Then a knowing grin draws on Thorin's face, and his eyes glinted with mischievousness when Thranduil opted to look aside, gritting his teeth while grabbing his left arm with his right hand.
"Are you going to assist me or do you preferred to mock me, King Thorin?" Thranduil kept his eyes away from Thorin and let himself be attended by the King and some of his servants that, by then, were surrounding both Kings.
Now, three days later, Thranduil found himself as a guest in the private dining hall of King Thorin along with the Dwarven King's friends, family and Thranduil's son and some of his personal guards. Legolas had been suspicious of everything, he didn't take well the fact his father was hurt during a simple visit to the forges and he made quite sure King Thorin knew of his displeasure. Thranduil didn't know how to explain to his son that the real reason behind his falling was actually his own doing. Of course, at night, Thranduil would always realize his broken arm was indirectly Thorin's fault. How could he forget those tight leggings wrapped tightly around strong, well-build legs, pressing together a very delectable backside, a loose short sleeve tunic that left Thorin's chest barely covered showing of the broad chest, the glistening marks of sweat and the strong muscles under it.
No, Thranduil would never admit it was the sight of Thorin what made him trip and fall literally and metaphorically speaking.
"Please? Please?" Thranduil turned around raising a pretty amused eyebrow as the youngest Prince, Kíli, begged with his eyes and gestures to Legolas. Legolas looked down at the boy holding back his own amusement while excusing himself from the table. Kíli screamed exited and proceed to follow Legolas and his bow outside to the private training grounds, Fíli followed his brother with some reluctance dragging with him another Dwarfling, Gimli, son of Glóin.
"My nephews seem quite enthrall with your son." Thorin drank from his goblet glancing out of the corner of his eye at Thranduil, the Elven-King cracked a tiny smile pretending not to be looking at Thorin.
"Does it bother you? Your kin, your heirs, quite amiable with an Elf." The sound of laughter and talking filled the room, there was a whole minute in which Thorin didn't answer and it made Thranduil feel strange. Empty. But, he shouldn't for Dwarves and Elves could not be friends…
"No, I don't." This brought Thranduil's attention to the King but Thorin refused to look back at him. "I think it's interesting. Maybe, there is still hope for our races."
Before Thranduil could answer he heard heavy footsteps approaching rapidly the door, turning around he saw a young Dwarf entering the room without asking for permission. Thorin stoop up frowning and demanding for answers, the young Dwarf bowed before his King before replying.
"My Liege, King Dain's convoy was attacked. They need your help right now."
Thorin felt immense gratification at the appalled expression on the Elven-King's face. Glóin was listing to him the things Gimli could and could not do, what he could and could not eat, and the appropriate napping hours or the little fella would get a little cranky if he skipped them.
Thranduil felt a growing headache, he didn't understand why he was receiving these instructions. Didn't the Dwarfling have a governess? What about the mother? Thranduil lifted his stare to explain things to the Dwarf but he was gone, the looked of hopeless desperation on Thranduil's face when Gimli pulled on his robes was all it took for Thorin to start laughing.
"You better explain to your friend I am not a governess nor is it my work to look after his youngling." Thorin smirked at the indignation pouring out of Thranduil. "I do not find this funny, Thorin son of Thráin. I am not taking care of this child."
"Y-you…Y-you don't want us?" Thranduil looked down to see, not only Gimli, but Fíli and Kíli as well.
"O Elven-King, do tell me you will do this for me and my friends." Thranduil was sure he could kill Thorin and still get away before anyone would notice. The smug half smile on Thorin's face was irritating him.
"I thought since you could not go to the fight with us you could at least watch over our most precious treasures." Thorin stood closer to Thranduil looking at the Elven-King up and down, his stare a soft caress that sent shivers of desire down Thranduil's back. "I am well aware you are not governess. And I have to say I am content with that."
Thranduil felt his mouth going dry; he was pinned to the spot under that piercing glance from Thorin. The King smirked with satisfaction sending another lascivious look up and down Thranduil's body.
"Oh, yes, I am very glad you are not a lass." Then Thorin locked eyes with a very astonished Elven-King and, with a more serious tone he spoke. "You see, my nephews had no other than me to take care of them. I do not trust anyone, and I mean anyone to take care of them."
"Then, why would you leave them with me?" Thranduil asked finding his voice, Thorin tilted his head knitting his brows together.
"I cannot help but trust you." A simple statement that sent Thranduil's world into a twirling of conflictive thougths and emotions, he blinked trying to make sense but Thorin continued speaking. "Glóin trusts my judgement and, since his wife is in Ered Luin, he is trusting you as well with his son."
Thranduil glanced down to see Fíli paying attention to the conversation whereas Kíli and Gimli were playing quietly beside the Elven-King's feet.
"We do not trust just anyone with our offsprings, Elven-King. They are more precious than all the gold in Erebor." Thorin bowed his head lightly. "I trusts you understand what this means. You have my heart in your hands."
Thorin didn't give Thranduil time to answer, he just left a gaping Elven-King behind with three little Dwarves behind. Fíli glanced up at Thranduil then at the still open door he then frowned with confusion written all over his face.
"Lord Thranduil?" Thranduil glanced back at Fíli.
"Yes?"
"Do you like Uncle?"
Yes, Thranduil was going to murder Thorin.
It has been centuries since he last took care of children. The last one had been his own son and Thranduil didn't remember his son being this difficult when it was time to take a nap. Of course, 'taking a nap' was not a concept Elves used, their children didn't take naps, they usually were full of energy and ready to learn or play around their homes not resting. But, then again, they did live forever whereas the Race of Durin was a mortal one. Perhaps these naps serve to help the kids recover the energy they usually spent running around the place.
Gimli pouted crossing his arms and standing in a stubborn gesture of rebelliousness. Thranduil cracked a half smile for the sight of this Dwarf being completely and utterly cute was something not even the Elven-King could ignore.
"No!" Thranduil grabbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, he leaned over and grabbed little Gimli by his tunic lifting him without any trouble. To the side Kíli sniggered covering his mouth with his hands, Fíli was still ignoring the whole scene, indignant that his question had been left unanswered.
"Your father assured me you were a well-behaved child. So far you have not impressed me but rather disappoint me. And your father, probably."
Gimli stopped struggling with his eyes welling up, looking over at Thranduil while hanging from the Elven-King's hand. Thranduil looked alarmed for a moment putting Gimli closer to his face.
"Do not cry. It is okay." Thranduil used his best soothing voice, relaxing his features as he spoke to Gimli. "I won't say anything to your father if you promise to just sleep for a few minutes."
"P'omise?" Thranduil felt his lips curling upwards.
"Yes, I promise."
Thranduil could almost sigh in relief he directed Gimli towards the bed when the door of the room opened and Balin entered the room. For a moment Balin observed the scene; the Elven-King with his healthy arm lifting a four-year-old Gimli by his tunic, Kíli was perfectly still on a love chair watching with big, innocent eyes while Fíli seemed to be pouting and ignoring the whole thing.
Balin pursed his lips to hold back his smile, his eyes however couldn't hide the amusement he felt and the Elven-King felt mortify at being discovered in such a position.
"My Lord Thranduil, I thought Elves knew how to carry a child. Unless, this is customary of your kind, in which case you should ask for help and I could teach you what we usually do." Balin commented with fake concern enjoying the embarrassment shining in Thranduil's eyes.
"Thank you, Master Balin." Replied Thranduil dryly placing Gimli on the bed, the little kid crawled upwards and place a small cover on top of his body putting his thumb on his mouth closing his eyes.
"Oh, no, it is my pleasure to help. As far as I can." Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the acting Steward.
"King Thorin told me I was to be alone. Does this mean he lied and you actually could help me with this…" Thranduil almost cringed, he took a deep breath and then, "task?"
"No, sorry, you are on your own, King Thranduil. Taking care of Erebor is a task on its own. Besides, Thorin trust you with them."
Balin observed with curiosity the appearance of a soft coloring on Thranduil's cheeks. He wondered what the meaning behind the flustered expression was but decided he had teased the Elven-King enough for a day. He glanced at Gimli who was now fast asleep and then…then, Balin smirked and the look on his face made Thranduil uneasy.
"Tell me, Lord Thranduil, where are Kíli and Fíli?"
So, what do you think? Comments, suggestions and anything else would be very much appreciated, I'm still thinking what Kíli and Fíli are doing unsupervised.