This follows on from The Kings and the Contract where Thorin and Dain get drunk together and Dain makes an excellent suggestion. Because of this, Thorin proposes to Thranduil, then Dain and his son do a bit of proposing too. But perhaps they should have read Pride and Prejudice first. There are ways and ways, LOL!

Hope this one makes you laugh.

First story in series: King of the Antlered Throne.

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The Kings and the Marriage Proposals

Chp I

Suggestion

Thorin woke up, sprawled on a table in his apartments and with a thumping head. He had been drinking half the night with Dain and, since the king was no longer there, he could only imagine that he had called a servant to help him to his rooms.

Dain had made such an excellent suggestion last night that Thorin had intended to leap on his horse this morning and ride with all speed to Mirkwood. But, he currently felt so ill that he knew that this wasn't a good idea. Instead, it might be better to shake off this headache first and then go and consult with Balin before he did something rash and stupid.

The old counsellor looked up with pleasure as Thorin entered the room. Then he raised an eyebrow. "And who were you drinking with last night?" he asked, noting his red-rimmed eyes and sickly pallor.

"Dain," rasped Thorin. "We were celebrating an idea of his."

"It must have been a good idea for you to be willing to share an evening with that old curmudgeon," smiled Balin.

"And I've come to talk about it with you, Balin," grunted the king, sitting down and clasping his head in his hands. "What a hangover! I thought I was past such foolishness."

Balin made him a herbal infusion which Thorin sipped whilst he recounted the conversation of the previous night. "He feels my relationship with Thranduil is rather – perverse – and that it is bringing shame upon his son, my behaviour being a reflection upon my heir." Balin gave a dismissive snort but Thorin pressed on. "Of course, he doesn't want me to give up Thranduil because then I might marry and produce an heir of my own blood. His solution is that we should regularise our relationship by going through a form of marriage ceremony which would make things respectable and would ensure that I didn't marry elsewhere and break my contract with his son." Thorin raised his bloodshot eyes to Balin's face. "I suddenly realised that this is something I would like to do. So, you must tell me if this thing is possible."

Balin pursed his lips and answered thoughtfully. "I don't see any reason why the two of you couldn't sign a document that committed you one to the other. And, in this sense, it would be like a marriage." Thorin smiled in relief but Balin raised a hand. "However," he continued, "it isn't just to do with the legality of such a piece of paper: it is more to do with reactions to such a contract both here and in Mirkwood."

And, for the next two hours, they argued back and forth about the pros and cons of the two kings promising themselves to each other in this way. The old and wise dwarf was unhappy with the idea for various reasons but, in the end, Thorin rose from his seat. "You cannot dissuade me, Balin," he said, bad-temperedly, "for all your arguments. I shall visit Thranduil later today and ask him to marry me." And he strode from the room, leaving Balin behind to ponder on the obduracy of kings.

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When he felt a bit better, Thorin descended to the Treasury. The great hoard looked nothing like it had done when Thorin and his companions had returned to Erebor to reclaim their own, strewn as it had been in great mountains of gold, nor even, in fact, like the time when Thror had been King under the Mountain. A huge effort had been made to tidy and sort the great pile of treasure and Thorin soon found what he wanted.

He remembered the day when an excited servant had brought the ring to him. He had held it out with trembling hands for his king's examination and Thorin's eyes had widened. It was the most exquisite thing, wrought in mithril, delicately incised and studded with a large white stone that glittered like a star. Thorin would have slipped it onto one of his own fingers if they had been more slender but the ring was designed for a slim and elegant hand. "Fit for a queen!" the servant had exclaimed.

Fit for Thranduil, he now thought. And he placed it safely in a beautiful silver box and returned to his apartments.

He sent a note to Dain to explain where he was going, thanking him for the suggestion of the previous night, and then he set out for Mirkwood.

It was a long ride and, all the way there, he couldn't help but turn Balin's words over and over again in his head. And, with that difficult conversation in mind, he tried to shape the words of his proposal to Thranduil. It wouldn't be simple. It wasn't just a case of saying, "Will you marry me?" The elven king would be just as startled as he had been when Dain had made the suggestion the previous night. His proposal needed justifying because he didn't want Thranduil to laugh and turn him down. There had to be honesty between them but, in the end, he was confident that his lover would say 'yes'. And he hugged the thought of Thranduil becoming his betrothed tightly to his breast.

By the time he got to Mirkwood, he was as taut as a bowstring and he set off for the king's chambers feeling as anxious as a young lad about to embark on his first romantic engagement.

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Meanwhile, back in Erebor, it was lunch time and Young Thorin looked around the great dining hall for the king.

"He's not here," grunted Dain to his son, mopping up the gravy on his plate with a large hunk of bread. "He's gone to Mirkwood."

The prince was furious. This was supposed to be the week that the king spent with his heir; the week which the elf and the dwarf spent apart from each other; the week when he and Thorin got to know each other better and he was taught how to be a proper ruler. Dain saw the look of fury on his son's face and snarled: "Sit down, boy, and stop looking like a rejected young girl. This is all about your future and it's your father who has set about securing it for you."

The prince sat down, still glowering.

"He has gone to Mirkwood to ask Thranduil to marry him," said Dain gruffly, between deep draughts of wine. And his son looked at him in amazement. "It was my idea," continued the lord of the Iron Hills. "By marrying Thranduil, he not only makes their union more respectable but it ensures your position as heir to the throne. It means he won't have a change of heart or be tempted to marry someone like Brangwyn and produce brats of his own."

The prince blinked: it was a clever plan, he would give his father that. And it would work in his favour as far as Brangwyn was concerned. The field was now open and he was warming to the idea of asking the lovely young dwarf woman to be his future queen, knowing that there would no longer be any chance of him being cruelly rejected in favour of his adopted father. Yes, it was a brilliant scheme and he sent Dain an appreciative smile. "Thank you, father," he said.

"I should think so, too," snorted Dain. "Don't know what you'd do without me, boy."

But Dain was thinking along the same lines. Without competition from Thorin, he would approach Brangwyn in the next day or so. She had really taken his fancy and once they were betrothed, he could take her to his bed. And he was beginning to feel really impatient for that moment.

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Young Thorin paced his chambers, thinking about Brangwyn. They hadn't got off to a particularly good start. He had lusted after her and had treated her like the whore he thought she was. But, having got past that moment, he had started to enjoy her company and felt quite restless when she wasn't around. The fact that he could be jealous even when it was only his father who paid her courteous attention, proved to him how much he wanted her. She would make a wise and beautiful queen and he was sure that Thorin would approve.

He would wait for Thorin's return, discuss the matter with him and then ask Brangwyn for her hand.

He sat down and had a drink.

And then he got up and paced the chamber some more.

In the end, he decided that he would visit Brangwyn that very moment because he just couldn't wait for Thorin's return. And so, he dressed carefully and went off to seek her in her rooms.

"Brangwyn, can I speak with you?" he sked politely when she opened the door. The dwarf woman smiled, pleased to see him. She enjoyed talking with him, she enjoyed teasing him and she enjoyed gazing upon his handsome face and form.

She invited him to sit and then went off to provide some refreshments whilst the prince stared around the room. In many ways, it was similar to all the other guest apartments in Erebor: lots of marble, very imposing and very fine. But Brangwyn had somehow done things to her rooms that made them especially pleasant to be in. It must be that woman's touch: perhaps it was the vases of lovely flowers; perhaps it was the lengths of gauze which softened the great windows; perhaps it was the pretty embroidered cushions scattered everywhere, doubtless stitched by her own hand. Whatever. He just liked being there because it felt so welcoming and comfortable. And he looked ahead to the time when she would make their shared home equally beautiful.

And the room was a reflection of Brangwyn herself: beautiful and welcoming. He longed to be clasped in her arms, against that generous bosom, and he thought about that mother whom he could scarcely remember and who had been the only one to give him any love in the coldness and the harshness of the Iron Hills.

So, was that what he wanted from Brangwyn? Some form of maternal love? And he grinned inwardly. Definitely not. He wanted love, yes; but not the maternal kind. He wanted the sort that involved naked bodies and tongues and heat and searching hands. And would she say 'yes'? Of course she would. He was young and handsome and the heir to the richest and greatest dwarf kingdom that had ever existed on Middle-earth. She had come to Erebor looking for a king to marry but had discovered that Thorin was committed to someone else. That must have been a disappointment. Now he was offering her a second chance.

Brangwyn returned with a bottle of wine and the prince stood and poured them both a glass. Still standing, he asked her if she had noticed Thorin's absence that day. Her eyes twinkled: "Yes, I have," she grinned. "And are you now going to tell me a choice piece of gossip?"

He couldn't help but grin back. "It's not just gossip but the truth of the matter: Thorin has gone to Mirkwood to ask Thranduil to marry him – or at least undertake a form of marriage which will tie them both together."

Brangwyn gasped and then clapped her hands in glee. "How marvellous for them both!" she exclaimed. And her joy put to flight any lingering doubts that he might have that she was pining after the dwarf king.

He drew himself up to his full stature and looked down at her: "And, speaking of marriage…." he said.

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In Mirkwood, Thranduil stood on his balcony and gazed over the tops of the endless trees. It was quite disturbing, he thought, how much his body ached for Thorin when the dwarf wasn't there. He had been pleased to give Legolas so much attention this past week and he knew his son was enjoying being with him. But, the prince would not have been so pleased if he had known how often his father's thoughts had been elsewhere, fixed on images of Thorin's hair, Thorin's eyes, Thorin's lips, Thorin's voice, Thorin's…

It was just at this moment that his door swung open and he turned to see Thorin standing there, looking dishevelled and travel-stained but totally desirable. With a glad cry, Thranduil strode across the room to clasp him in his arms. The kiss he gave him was endlessly deep but, at last he broke away and said in puzzled tones: "I thought I wouldn't see you for another week."

"I have come on a special errand," said the dwarf, with a strained expression. And he stripped off his cloak, helped himself to a glass of wine from a nearby decanter, then cleared his throat.

He gestured Thranduil to a chair and then stood back, gazing intently at the elven king. He looks for all the world as if he's about to make an important speech, thought Thranduil, eyeing him curiously. But when Thorin started to pace about the room, the elf experienced some concern.

The dwarf finally swung on his heel and, facing him at last, began: "I have struggled for a long time not to love you," he said. "But it is no use. Even though such a love goes against all social expectations and constraints, even though it is a love considered repugnant by so many, including myself, my struggles have been in vain."

Shall I punch him now, thought Thranduil? Or shall I hear him out?

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Next chapter: Dain muddies the waters still further by making his own marriage proposal to Brangwyn. Three proposals in total. But will Thranduil accept Thorin? And whose proposal will Brangwyn accept? Or will she accept neither?