Thorin and Thranduil were good friends before Erebor was taken. They would temporarily cast away the titles "prince" and "king" to cause shenanigans. Such as stealing pies from the kitchens, taking a sleeping guard outside to confuse him, throwing food at guards, throwing food at Thrain because Thorin's father was surprisingly amused with their antics, etc... That kind of thing. Also the Battle of Five Armies was the elves and dwarves against everyone else. So obviously AU. ^.^ gonna try to break feels in a short fic.
This is a one shot, Thorinduil. VERY SAD! Thranduil visits Thorin's tomb and talks about his memories and regrets. Inspired by this picture from thorinduilhaven on Tumblr but minus his crown, and looking more disheveled. Drabble-like one-shot. Review pretty please? I wanna know how well I managed to portray Thranduil's feelings. I'll post the link to the pic in a review.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim The Hobbit, book or movie. All rights belong to the respected creators. (Nothing like this is in the movie, as obviously the third movie isn't out yet -.- so the BoFA the way I refer to it vaguely [super vague] is completely irrelevant to the movie and book.)
Memories
The elf king walked into the chamber housing the kings of the past. His friend may have only been king for a short while, but his endeavors made him deserve an entire hall for his memory alone. The great king walked past the guards, his head held high. Once past them, he let his head fall, silver starlight hair cascading into a curtain around his beautiful, tortured face. He turned a corner and rested his forehead against the cool stone wall. Tears began to fall. He hadn't reached his destination, and yet he was so overpowered with emotions that he let himself have a moment to stand there and cry. He usually made it closer to the tomb before breaking down. He reached up and untangled the crown of twigs and flowers from his hair. His arm fell dead next to his side, and a moment later the crown thudded onto the floor as his hand relaxed. A guard, having heard a strangled sob and the crown hitting the granite floor, came around the corner, stocky hand on the hilt of his sword. That wasn't the first, and definitely not the last time that the guard would see Thranduil in such a state.
"My lord, you mustn't keep tormenting yourself like this. You are suffering."
"This is the only way to relieve my torment and suffering."
With those soft and broken words, Thranduil pushed away from the wall and continued down the hall. The guard looked after what remained of the once mighty elf king. The crown sat forgotten and broken on the cold, hard ground. The elf's tall form slowly faded into the shadows and the guard plucked the crown from the ground.
Thranduil stood facing the entrance of the tomb, tears of pure and unsheltered pain streaming freely, yet no sound was to be heard from his lips. He rolled his shoulders, preparing himself to feel his heart break all over again, just as it did every time he visited the wonderfully awful place. He closed his eyes and stepped into the room.
The air felt heavy with sorrow. It pushed at Thranduil; it mocked his misery and laughed in his face. He looked at the raised coffin, runes of Dwarvish telling of the mighty king's last stand.
"I remember that day…" he muttered as he trailed long, pale fingers over the engraved runes. "You looked so proud. So strong. I believed in you that day. I thought you were going to rule the world. Fili and Kili were so honored to be next to you in battle. They admired you so much, they gave their lives for you. Thorin, nothing is the same."
Thranduil broke off in a wretched cry. He put his elegant hand over his mouth and regained his ability to speak.
"I-I am not the same. I miss you greatly, my friend. I come down here as often as I can you know. Do you remember when we stole those fresh pies from the kitchens in Erebor. We hit a guard in the face and knocked him down into that little stream, do you remember it? It was shallow and glittered like diamond and stardust ran in the water. It was magic without enchantment. I've seen it again. It's lost its beauty. Just like I lost you. This world seems bare and lonesome without you. I wish we could meet once more, if only to let me catch a glimpse of mischief in your stormy eyes. I long to see that again. I want to run about as we used to, causing troubles for everyone, but amusing them nonetheless. Those were the good days, Thorin. Erebor was strong under Thror's rule. The cities of Dale and Esgaroth were prosperous. The great lake shone it the sun. Now, the land is afraid to grow, to sustain the beauty and tranquility it once knew. The land misses you as well."
Thranduil collapsed onto the tomb, sobbing broken and free. He knew the guards would hear him down the halls, but he did not care. He screamed incoherently, his heart tearing apart. The guards could hear him, and very well at that, and his cries made them feel ashamed. They felt wrong for hearing such passionate and personal torment. They hated the sounds that he made, chilling their blood and tugging on their hearts. They had never heard him mourning their fallen king. After a few moments of the incoherent shrieks, words began to form.
"Why? Why did you die? I needed you! Your people needed you! You were never meant to die! Eru doesn't deserve you! Not yet!" He sobbed a moment. "I- I want to join you Thorin. I want to be with you in Eru's embrace. Please, Eru, give me the strength to join him."
Thranduil, still draped across the casket, buried his face in his arms and continued screaming and crying. Suddenly, his lamenting silenced and he lifted his head to stare blankly at the runes on the lid of the tomb. Tears still flowed down his perfect face, but he made no sound.
He spoke softly. "Thorin. I was a fool. I was never fully honest with you when I should have been. I love you. I always loved you. You were so strong. So brave. Oh Thorin, you were my a'mael, my One. I hate that I never told you. Please forgive me, should we meet in another life."
With that, the great king laid his head down once more, crying silent and broken. Had anyone seen him in that state, it would break their heart and draw tears from them.
As he cried, a shadow in the corner shimmered. It began to take a form. Eru had heard Thranduil's wish, and had decided to let Thorin see him one last time. The proud spirit of the dwarf stood, looking upon the sight of his broken elf. He hated it. The pain and hell of the elf had permeated the dwarf's eternal rest. He let a silent tear fall to the ground. He walked over to the Elvenking and rested a transparent hand upon his shaking shoulder. Thranduil could not feel Thorin's hand, but something small in his heart lifted. He knew his feelings were not in vain, that Thorin must have felt the same. He felt a hand caress his hair.
"I love you too…."
Thorin's voice trailed off and the elf smiled, hearing the dwarf for the last time.
DONE! What did you think? Review please!