This fic may contain spoilers for the movie and book. Since I wasn't aware of how Thranduil's elk was called i looked it up and found out that it is played by a giant horse called 'Moose'. Hence it is here called the same. If you happen to come across a mistake, whether it be in the grammar, spelling, plot, the writing itself or anything else, I would greatly appreciate it if you'd notice me of it. For the rest of the journey, please enjoy!

Blond hair and blood collides unto each other as elven-lord Thranduil rides into battle, his Elk trampling the unfortunate orcs that dared to step on his path. The battle is going well, since Thorin had left the lonely mountain the enemy ranks had fallen like leaves from a tree during Autumn. As the elf looks around, carefully guarding his own body, he notices he has ended up in the middle of the opposing army. His presence amidst the orcs does not go unnoticed.

Swiftly he steps down Moose and sends him off towards Erebor, the giant creature crushing several more enemies in it's way, the giant leaf-shaped antlers knocking over others.

The first orc advances in on him and Thranduil cuts his throat with ease. The second falls in less than moment later. Soon lots of them are encircling him.

The elf-king follows his opponents with wary eyes, not letting a single enemy in his range without killing it first.

Something in the corner of his eye moves, spinning around, Thranduil raises one of his swords, ready to charge the unlucky orc daring to attack him.

"Don't."

Thranduil smiles as he sees his lovers all too familiar face appear in his view. Although Thranduil reaches nearly twice the length of the dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield en he had built up an active relationship in the past few days.

When he took the dwarven-company prisoner first, he made sure to seclude their leader from the rest. And when he found out about the dwarf's quest, he was fascinated by Thorin's bravery and stubbornness.

That stubbornness had started their relationship in the first place. Upon offering his help to Thorin and receiving an insult back, he threw the son of Thrain in the dungeons deep. But as cold-hearted as Thranduil was and could be, he could not understand the guilt plaguing him so after.

He had gone to the dungeons and stood there, in front of Thorin's cell, alone. Fumbling with his hands he had mumbled a sort of apology and a second bargain, which Thorin refused to accept at first. At first.

After foolishly letting his tongue loose and saying he could offer the dwarf everything, Thorin had peaked with interest. A lot of interest, Thranduil dared to say. The dwarf had asked him to take off his robes and show him the true beauty of the elves.

Not after protesting in the slightest, more for keeping his grace than for shame Thranduil had shed his clothes look on Oakenshield's face on that moment is one he will never forget. He had realized he yearned for this more than anything else.

And as the dwarf had requested for more favors, some which should never be heard by anyone else in middle-earth, Thranduil had fulfilled all of them with pleasure in his eyes.

Hours later, Thorin mentioned to him someone he was unaware of. A hobbit named Bilbo. Realizing they both could keep their relationship secret they had agreed upon letting Bilbo take the keys, Thorin acting all along with Thranduil as if the escape hadn't been planned all the way before by both kings. Some pleasant talking it had been, the planning of Thorin's escape.

"Duck, you fool!"

Thranduil was hauled from his thoughts by the- was he angry?- voice of his lover yelling at him.

And right in time the elf manages to dive downwards before a particularly large rock sweeps over his head, landing several hundred feet further on a bunch of orcs. Targeting was something the enemy would never learn. Thranduil shakes his head, chuckling slightly.

Straightening back up he defends Thorin's head from an orc swinging his axe at him.

"You call me the fool for not looking up, yet you do not look behind yourself?" He asks, quirking his eyebrow.

Thorin grumbled something in response Thranduil could not understand, kicking another orc backwards. In the meanwhile the elf has resumed to defending himself from an onslaught of axes, swords and arrows. Dodging each and everything else swiftly he continues to fight back, his cape flowing around him like water would around a rock in the Running River. Before long they are separated from each other in battle, both standing near the frontlines of both armies.

Another orc falls before the elven-lord, but for every single one falling rise double as much. Thranduil is tiring, and so is Thorin. The blond watches how the dwarf decapitates at least three orcs in one swing before he notices something. Faster than he could think the elf runs towards his lover, jumping over dead bodies of elves, orcs and dwarves fighting and leaps in front of the dwarves' back.

The sword meant for Thorin pierces Thranduil instead. As Thranduil feels the metal slide through his chest, falling backwards, he hears Thorin cry out, voice tainted with panic and despair. The orc having hit him is killed by a dwarf from Dain, not paying attention to what has happened to Thorin and his lover.

To the king of Mirkwood everything seems to pass slower now. He can feel how Thorin drags him out of the battle, he can hear the surprised shrieks from elves that have seen him fall and he can see the tears threatening to fall from Thorin's eyes.

"Please don't cry, don't cry for me." He begs, not wanting to see his lover sad. Thranduil knows his end is nearing, fast and Thorin crying for him is not the last thing he will see.

"I would not see the king under the mountain cry for me." Thranduil calls Thorin by what he thinks is the right title, a majestic and powerful name as the dwarf sinks down to his knees by his side.

"But I am no king without you!" Thorin's response makes Thranduil gasp in despair and only then Thranduil realizes how badly he wants to live.

"Don't leave me, please don't leave me please don't leave me!" Thranduil is afraid. He fears death, having seen it so often. Elven warriors, blood splattered across their handsome faces, their bodies not moving a single inch. Soon, he realizes he will be one of those too. And Thorin will live. Thorin will live all of his years without him. And so will Legolas.

"Please take care of my son. Legolas Greenleaf. Give him the best you have. Give me your word." Thranduil starts to whisper, his breath becoming more ragged and irregular with the moments passing.

Thorin swallows, but he locks his eyes with the elf, tears barely contained. "I give my word. I will give him all the riches he desires and even more."

As Thranduils' vision start to fade to black he can hear Thorin become more desperate in his words.

"Don't do this to me, don't do this stay here, please stay here, Thranduil!"

But nothing would call the elf-lord back, for death had taken him to soon, leaving Legolas, his son for all his life without a father, but a great life of him ahead. But he left Thorin Oakenshield, the one he desired above all, with nothing but now a worthless mountain, containing worthless riches.