A/N: Reuploaded from AO3 account (also as Harta :P)

I wrote this a long time ago before the second film of the Hobbit came out. I hoped for interactions between Thranduil and Gloin, bantering and little arguments and whatnot (just like Legolas and Gimli in LotR). Alas, it was not to be :')

Oh well. I hope you all enjoy this little story.

The Banter of Elf and Dwarf

Gloin was not enjoying this moment.

For a Dwarf to be stuck in a prison…it was stabbing away at his honor! And what was worse was that he was stuck in an Elf prison. An Elf prison! He felt like taking his weapon and using it to gauge himself in the chest. Though of course, his weapon was confiscated.

He grumbled to himself, stroking his red beard before walking forwards to the bars that held him. He wrapped his strong hands around them, frowning. He would rather face Durin's Bane than stay here.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating a tad bit.

Elves weren't Orcs. Elves were kinder. Orcs barely kept prisoners, and if they did, it would not be pretty.

This prison cell was rather spacey, with a place to sleep and even food and drink delivered each day. Now as he bonked his head against the cell bars, a glass of water and slices of bread was propped on a small barrel at one corner of the room.

Ohh, for Durin's sake.

He hated this.

He thought that the worse thing that could happen was for them all to starve in the blasted maze that was Mirkwood. He and the Company had struggled with each step along the dark and stifling roads, nearly losing Bombur in the river, and falling to their hunger and jumping into the glade filled with food, laughter, and lights whenever they came across it. But alas, it'd all disappear, along with the food and drinks.

And then they were finally caught by the Elves of Mirkwood, and brought into the prisons.

He wondered where the other Dwarves were. He worried tons for his brother, Oin.

From Oin, his thoughts shifted to the burglar. Hmm. Now whereverdid that Bilbo Baggins wander off to? Gloin had not seen sight of that curly head ever since the capture. He shrugged. He would force himself to be patient.

"I would like to speak to the prisoners," said Thranduil. He swept his yellow hair to the side as he walked towards his guards. He was in his throne room again, and it was time for some interrogation. He steadied the crown on his head, feeling its weight, making sure it was well in place.

Thranduil was known for his gracefulness. Elves. What would we do without them?

"Of course," said one of the guards, who stood at attention at his door. "Which Dwarf shall be spoken to today?"

"I want to see the one with the red hair," said Thranduil.

The guard furrowed his brow. "Which one?"

"The one that attempted to fling his footwear at me the last time I visited."

"Oh, that one."

And then they set off, Thranduil and his two guards, down into the places where the dwarves were kept.

"Well, if it isn't the mighty King Thranduil himself!" roared Gloin as the Elf entered the hallway of his prison cell. "What an honor to feast eyes on such a glorious specimen!"

Thranduil mentally rolled his eyes. The Dwarf's harsh sarcasm made his ear twitch. Yet he stuck with his grace and poise. "You talk as if you laid eyes on the lovely Galadriel, fair as snow she is and radiant as the sun."

"Not only is he pretty in looks, but pretty in speech as well!" replied Gloin. He was sitting on the floor of the cave, munching on bread and not hesitating to talk with his mouth full. "None can match the great mighty King Thranduil!"

The Elf King then heard stifled laughter at each of his side. He glared at his guards with his piercing blue eyes, and they both fell silent, pretending as if nothing happened.

"Please," said Thranduil, and he held up his hand towards the direction of the exit, his arm adorned with the graceful fabric that he wore every day. "I ask for privacy with the Dwarf."

His guards blinked. It was not a good idea to leave their king along with a prisoner. "But—" they said.

"Please." Thranduil smiled sweetly. It was sweet, yet dripped with venom, as if an apple that was secretly poisoned.

The guards were out of there before you could say "precious".

Now with the two of them in the room, an Elf and a Dwarf, Thranduil cleared his throat.

"Well now, let us skip to the point." Thranduil placed a fair and slender hand on the bar of Gloin's prison. "Master Gloin, would it be too much to ask of you to use your legs? I would prefer to not look down when speaking to somebody. It is rather painful and stiff on my neck. Ah, alas…"

Gloin gulped the last bit of bread and stood up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"…it appears that even as you stand, I still have to risk a stiff neck," finished Thranduil, and he smiled sweetly.

Bang!

The Elf King let out a rather feminine shriek as a boot crashed against the bars, hitting the place where his hand had been a split second ago if he had not pulled them away. He stumbled back a couple steps, nearly tripping over his long clothing.

"Aye," said Gloin the Dwarf. "It appears that my boot slipped off my grasp. Now how did that happen?"

"Let us not fall into childish banter." Thranduil collected himself and steadied the crown on his head, which had become crooked when he jumped back. "Please do tell me, why you and your Company were in my realm, and for what purpose?"

As if Gloin was going to mention about the gold that he and Thorin's Company were seeking for. "We are just mere travelers," he answered with a convincing sigh. "O King, have I not told you this true reason before? Or are you thinking too intensely of which comb to use for your pretty hair that you did not hear my explanation?"

Thranduil's face was nearly the same color as Gloin's beard.

"That reason seems not plausible," said the Elf king. "Do not feel too comfortable with your accommodations. If you refuse to answer, I shall find a smaller cell for you."

"You wouldn't do that to an innocent Dwarf, now would you?"

Thranduil rolled his eyes for the second time. Mentally, he threw up his hands. "What have I ever done to make you dislike me so?"

"Hmm…" Gloin stroked his beard, frowning, pretending to be lost in thought. Finally he opened a palm and drove his fist into it, as if he had come to the solution of a pesky problem. "Why not start off with how the great mighty Thranduil fleeing when Dwarves needed his aid? When Smaug attacked. Do you not remember?"

Thranduil sighed. To be truthful, he felt guilt in his heart for what he did that day. But he felt that he could not tell the Dwarf. "I could not risk my people," he finally said softly. "If you were in my place, you would have done the same thing."

"I would of fought valiantly!" Gloin banged his hand on the prison bars. "And not run off with tail between my legs! Never trust an Elf!" He scoffed, crossing his arms and stomping the ground.

Thranduil couldn't help but think of how the Dwarf looked like a pouting child who had had his toy taken away. It was actually sort of…adorable.

Catching his thoughts and feeling incredulously embarrassed by them, Thranduil shook his head. "Gloin—"

"If there is ever a fight and you needed my aid, I would not come to you for what you have done before!" the Dwarf continued.

Any gentleness that the king had in his heart for Gloin all dissolved into nothing.

"Due to you not aiding me, I would not aid you back the next time!" he retorted.

Gloin's eyes bulged. "You would not aid me due to me not aiding you due to you not aiding me before!"

Their screams echoed throughout the room and reached the end of the halls and its doorway. The guards were waiting there, and they stared at each other with wide eyes and bewildered looks.

"I would not aid you to due you not aiding me due to-Oh for the love of Sindar, it is useless to continue this conversation." And right in front of Gloin, Thranduil did an elegant Elven facepalm.

Gloin was bristling. "Does that mean you forfeit?"

"No, simply we have agreed to not help each other in battle," answered Thranduil, letting his pale fingers slide down his face.

"The only agreement that a Dwarf and an Elf can both agree on!" Clapping his hands, Gloin nodded. "Whoever breaks the agreement must lick the other's boot."

Thranduil raised an (elegant) eyebrow, clearly showing disgust in his own way. 'Dwarves', he scoffed in his head.

'Elves,' scoffed Gloin in his own head.

Then they both turned away from each other, and Thranduil left the room.

Night fell. The world was asleep, including Gloin the Dwarf. That is, he was asleep until he heard a soft "ppst!".

He awoke with a grumble, wondering if the sound was just simply from his dream. But when he lifted his head and gazed in the direction of the noise, squinting his eyes, he made out the form of none other than Bilbo Baggins himself.

"Bilbo!" Gloin cheered.

"Sssshhh!" hissed Bilbo, a finger on his Hobbit lips. He peered at Gloin from across the prison bars. "Not too loud now," he continued in a whisper. "No guards about, but we can't risk being noticed, now can we?"

Gloin nodded.

"Look," said Bilbo, looking over his shoulder and then back to his friend. "I don't have long to explain but let's just say that I have access to walk these halls freely. And I've not only discovered where the other Dwarves are, but I've also discovered a plan to get you all out of here."

And then the Hobbit explained the plan in his soft voice, and Gloin soaked all of the words in, already savoring the look on Thranduil's face upon discovery of the prisoners' escape.

"Aye, a wondrous idea!" said Gloin quietly. "Always trust the burglar when all hope is lost." He winked and put his hand through the bars, ruffling up Bibo's hair with fondness.

Bilbo nearly whined. His small fingers clumsily and fruitlessly fought back Gloin's large ones, trying to get him off, and eventually Gloin laughed and released his friend.

"Hey, eh, Bilbo, listen…" said the Dwarf, and Bilbo stopped pouting. "Do you know where Thranduil's bed chamber is?"

"The King's bed chamber?" said Bilbo, cocking his head to the side, puzzled. "What for?"

"Do you think it's possible to take your pretty little sword and cut off a couple strands of the King's hair? Or better yet, make him go completely bald!"

"Why on earth would I do that for?" exclaimed Bilbo, so taken aback by his friend's bizarre idea that he forgot to keep his voice down.

"Just for the laughs, eh?" replied Gloin, rubbing his hands together and chuckling maniacally to himself.

Bilbo blinked. "Gloin, I—"

Just then there were echoes coming off the halls, but it wasn't their echoes. It was footsteps. Then they both heard faint voices.

"Did you hear that? The sound of talking has reached my ears."

"It came from the prisoner's room."

"Drat, I've been found out!" hissed Bilbo. He bowed low to his friend before disappearing. "Till we meet again, Gloin!"

Then the guards barged in the room.

"We heard talking," one said.

"Aye, it was me talking," answered Gloin.

"We heard another voice. A rather high voice," said the other.

"Oh that was just me!" said Gloin, raising his voice in a forced high-pitch tone, doing a terrible impression of Bilbo Baggin's voice. It was ear-cringing.

The guards peered at him in suspicion, then peered at each other, then reluctantly left the room.

Thranduil returned the next day.

He and Gloin's conversation ended with another endless and thoroughly confusing "I would not aid you to due to you not aiding me—" banter yet again. Though this time, the Dwarf kept his boots on and no footwear was flung across the air.

Then the Battle of Five Armies happened.

Enemies were everywhere, yet this time the Dwarves and Elves were working together along with Men. Screaming and the sound of metal on metal and arrows whooshing through the air was everywhere. Thorin had led his Company into the fray, clubbing Wargs here and there, conking Goblins on the head with rocks before a sword or axe was sent through their chests.

And then there was Thranduil, gracefully fighting without a hair out of place.

Gloin and Thranduil locked eyes as they fought against their enemies, though they were rather far away from each other.

Then, to the Dwarf's surprise, behind Thranduil was a Goblin raising a blooded spear, ready to strike the Elf King. Yet Thranduil's eyes were fixed upon something else. They were locked intently on Gloin, and they were wide.

"Foolish Elf!" screamed Gloin, and he rushed forwards.

At the same time, Thranduil ran to him, muttering, "Silly Dwarf."

Then Gloin drove his ax through the heart of the Goblin, and behind him he heard the sound of sword on flesh and then a yelp.

Gloin turned around and to his surprise, saw Thranduil pull out his sword from the body of a newly fallen Warg.

Then they both looked at each other, Dwarf and Elf.

It seemed as if a mental conversation happened between them.

"Did you just save my life?!"

"You saved mine as well!"

"What about the agreement?"

"...Let us break it for one day."

"Agreed."

Then they fought back to back, a glint in their eyes.

"O Dwarf Gloin!" said Thranduil, and he sighed in happiness as he saw a young Elf dashing across the fields, driving his daggers into enemies and switching to bow and arrow and sniping off just as much Orcs.

"What is it?" asked Gloin as he took out yet another goblin.

"That there is my son, Legolas," said Thranduil calmly, as he ducked to avoid a Warg's bite. "Do you not see as he fights valiantly? Just like his father." He stabbed the Warg without taking his eyes off of his son. He was so so proud.

Gloin rolled his eyes. "I do not enjoy bragging, but my son fares better in battle. Gimli is his name. He cradled an ax in his tiny Dwarf fists while he was still a baby!"

"Why is he not here?" asked Thranduil.

Gloin let out a battle roar and punched a Goblin in the face. The poor Goblin crumpled to the ground. "Alas, Gimli is too young to come on such a journey. We Dwarves age differently from you Elves."

"Indeed," said Thranduil. "Well—" He sliced an Gobli's head clean off its shoulders. "That is my twenty-fifth enemy that has fallen by my hands. Not bad, is it not?"

Gloin let out a hearty laugh. "I am on twenty-five myself! This ax hungers for more!"

Thranduil couldn't help but smile. "Let us see who the champion of this battle is," he said. He yanked his sword out of another enemy. "Twenty six."

And thus, the legendary counting game was invented.

High up above, a curious Hobbit looked upon them, seeing all of the events happen. Bilbo Baggins shook his head in bewilderment.

After the battle, both Gloin and Thranduil swore that their sons would not aid each other in battle, and that Gimli and Legolas's hatred for each other would burn brighter than the Sun on Her brightest days.

Yet years and years later, Gimli and Legolas became fast friends, and both Gloin and Thranduil facepalmed.

end

A/N: Reviews totally make my day. Seriously, it's like being given a big yummy cookie :') I love to hear what people think!

I dunno if this is how I should of wrote Thranduil. Was he as calm like Legolas? Or did he lose his cool a bit too easily? What do you think?

I keep having the image of "fabulous, gorgeous" Thranduil stuck in my head due to fanart.