Last story in the series (for the moment, anyway)! They always end in a wedding, don't they – or, in this case, a double wedding…We hope! Thorin and Thranduil argue their way to the altar. Will one of them leave the other one standing? A thank you to all my readers for accompanying me (and them) this far.

Well, it all started with King of the Antlered Throne, my first attempt at slash. I enjoyed it so much that I wrote twelve stories in total, all linked and all describing the developing relationship between our two kings. If you read this one and enjoy it then I hope that you will go back to the beginning and read the lot. They get funnier and a little more explicit as they go along, I think, with a couple of nasty ones thrown in for good measure. If you have read the lot, then thank you for your support and the patience you have shown as I have put them up, week after week. Perhaps I shall be back with some more stories in the future.

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The Kings and the Wedding

Chp I

Dresses and Lists and Cakes, oh my!

"So, what's the dress like?" Thranduil asked Brangwyn with interest. The day when she would marry Dain's son and he would commit himself to Thorin was drawing nearer and, as far as Thranduil was concerned, they were getting to the most enjoyable thing so far: the clothes.

"Well," said Brangwyn, screwing up her nose in thought, "it's not what you would call spectacular – so don't look disappointed, Thranduil. We dwarf women are far too short to wear anything elaborate and flouncy: I'd rather not look like a giant meringue." And she had a fit of the giggles as she thought about this. "It's made of a very beautiful ivory silk and it's very elegant, in my opinion, but very simple."

Try as he would, the elven king couldn't help but make a small moue with his finely-moulded lips. "However," Brangwyn continued, "I shall be wearing a most exquisite veil in the loveliest lace imaginable; and it will fall down my back and trail behind me on the floor. There! Does that make up for things?"

"It helps," laughed Thranduil. But, then he wanted to know what would be holding the veil in place.

"Flowers, I expect," was the response. "I don't have any special jewellery like a coronet or a tiara. I'm only a poor dwarven woman whose father was a smith."

Thorin, who had switched off from this boring conversation some time ago, suddenly tuned back in at the mention of jewels. "Well, Brangwyn," he said, "I expect we can soon put that to rights. We owe you so much and so I can imagine that a whole selection of jewellery would make a suitable wedding present from us to you, don't you think, Thranduil?" And he turned to look at his lover who was currently spending his designated week in Erebor.

Brangwyn held up her hands in horror. "Oh dear," she said, "that sounded as if I were trying to wangle something expensive out of you."

"No, it didn't," laughed Thorin. "You have never asked for anything from us in all our acquaintance but no generosity on our part can ever make up for all the tireless work you have done on our behalf. And so, as the future Queen of Erebor, you must accept our present with good grace and no complaints."

Thranduil had been thinking. "What about that lovely mithril and diamond coronet from the hoard? You know, the one with the pretty stone that dangles down so provocatively to rest in the middle of the forehead."

"You mean, the one you were modelling the other night for me?" asked Thorin with a gleam in his eye. "Yes, that would be a perfect piece to hold the veil in place." And he turned with a grin to Brangwyn. "It looks equally good, from my personal experience, either with beautiful clothing or no clothes at all." And he raised a cheeky eyebrow. "I'm sure your betrothed will be in complete agreement when he sees it in place."

Brangwyn had another fit of the giggles and, to cover her embarrassment at so rich a gift, she turned to Thorin and asked what he would be wearing on his big day.

"Oh, well, I suppose the materials are very fine – silks and velvets and fur and whatnot – but it will just be a more elaborate variation on what I normally wear. In blue."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "I just can't make him interested in this side of things," he complained.

"But, to make up for it," continued Thorin, holding up an admonitory finger, "I shall be wearing lots and lots of gold and mithril – you know, on my fingers, in my ears and around my neck."

Thranduil tutted and it was the dwarf's turn to roll his eyes at his lover's disapproval. "So barbaric," sighed the elf lord. "It would be much better if you toned that down a little. My family, friends and retainers will more than likely think that you are ramming Erebor's wealth down their throats if you overdo things."

"I don't care what any elf thinks," snapped Thorin. "I dress as is the custom and my jewellery is to please myself and my dwarven guests."

Thranduil rose impatiently to his feet. "Typical!" he exclaimed. "You don't care what any elf thinks and that includes me! Why I tolerate you is sometimes beyond me!"

Brangwyn sighed and slipped from the king's apartments. When things began to get nasty like this then it was best to leave them alone to fight it out.

"You tolerate me?!" shouted Thorin. "And after I've just sat here in absolute boredom, like, forever, whilst you and Brangwyn witter on about clothes!"

"Well, perhaps if you were more interested in what you wore, then I wouldn't be so ashamed of you when you turned up at my palace in Mirkwood!"

Ouch! That was a cruel smack in the face and Thorin felt very hurt. "Clothes are objects of status for you and gold and mithril are objects of status for me. I shall wear as much as I like!" he stormed. "Anyone would think that this was your wedding day alone and not mine too!"

"But, it's me who has to flaunt you on my arm and I'd rather not flaunt someone who is all excessively bejewelled like…..like….. I don't know what!" the elf yelled.

"Go on! Say it! Say it! It was on the tip of your tongue, wasn't it? You'd rather not flaunt me on your arm like some cheap whore!" Thorin spat.

"Yes, if you insist," was the elf king's icily angry response.

"Well," Thorin growled, "I am your whore, aren't I? Let's not be coy about it." And he turned away and stomped off into the next room.

Thranduil had seen the hurt in his eyes and hurried after him. He found him on the balcony and, coming quietly up behind him, he slipped his arms around him and nuzzled his neck. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What? For calling me a whore?" was Thorin's stiff response.

"That and for showing no interest in your attire. Tell me all about your jewellery," he wheedled.

Slightly mollified, Thorin launched into a description of every ring and ear cuff and the significance of the pieces that he had inherited and why it was important for him to wear them on his special day.

Thranduil turned him in his arms and kissed him. "It all sounds fascinating," he said quietly, "and I'm sure you will look very fine and I shall be very proud of you." Then he edged the dwarf slowly backwards towards the bed.

Thorin grinned up at him through his black lashes. "And the most interesting pieces will not be those you can see but the ones you can't. Beneath my clothes. Reserved for the wedding night."

Thranduil's eyes widened. Thorin felt the edge of the bed against the back of his legs and he fell upon the mattress, pulling the elf down on top of him. "Tell me," whispered Thranduil, sliding his hand beneath Thorin's shirt and fingering his nipple ring. "You mean, like this?" he asked.

The dwarf king tore off his lover's top and began to wriggle out of his own. "Yes," he laughed softly, "like this but also…..other things… in ….other places. Things especially designed for newly-wedded lovers to play with."

Thranduil could hardly breathe. He yanked off Thorin's breeches and then his own. The dwarf pulled him down hungrily between his powerful thighs whilst the elf covered him in kisses. "Wear all the jewellery you like," gasped Thranduil into his lover's throat as a million erotic images danced before his eyes. "The more the better!"

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Brangwyn gave them three hours. That should be enough, she thought with amusement. And, when she returned to their apartments, they were, indeed, all smiles again.

"You've decided, then?" she asked with a grin.

"Yes," laughed Thranduil. "If he wants to drape himself in all the gold in Erebor, then it's up to him."

"Good," she replied. And then she noticed that Thranduil was sitting there expectantly and rose to the bait. "All right," she said to him, "and what do you intend to wear?"

"I've got drawings," he said eagerly and he went to pull them out of a drawer. Thorin settled back and waited to be bored for another hour or so.

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Unfortunately, Thranduil's drawings provoke another row. And then there's another over where to hold the reception. Will they ever make it to the altar, LOL?

Next chapter: Designer Clothing.