This is a stand-alone story but follows on from King of the Antlered Throne.
Thorin and Thranduil have been lovers for a year now but being happy is not a prerogative of kingship and being king means carrying the burden of a crown with all its heavy responsibilities. Can love survive such a burden? Or will Thranduil cruelly reject Thorin so that he will marry and produce an heir? Angsty romance.
.o00o.
King of the Marble Halls
Duty
Thranduil awoke with Thorin clasped in his arms. This was the best sort of morning, when they were together, sharing a bed and sharing their love. This week, the elven king was visiting Erebor and he knew that the days would run headlong towards that moment when they must part once more and he returned to his palace in Mirkwood.
They worked hard at governing their kingdoms so that time could be spared for each other. Of course, that time was never enough, but it was better than no time at all. Yet, when they were apart, it was as though each had lost a limb and they limped through life, functioning as best they could. And when they were together, it was as if they were whole again and their lives had been made complete by each other.
For a whole year now, since the death of Smaug and their victory at the Battle of the Five Armies, they had lived their lives both for their people and for each other and the sweetness and intensity of their love was a gift so special and unexpected that they always looked over each other's shoulders, afraid that it would end.
Thranduil glanced down at the dwarf as he slept in the protective circle of his arms. What had he done in life to deserve such beauty, he wondered? He gently stroked the glorious mane of black hair and then bent his head to tenderly place a kiss upon those finely moulded lips. And he belongs to me, he thought. Totally. As I to him. And it was good to feel such absolute possession.
Thorin stirred a little and the elf, aware of him moving against the length of his body, felt an urge to make love to him once more. But, he knew that Balin was waiting for him and so he carefully unwound himself from Thorin's embrace and slipped from his bed and from the room.
Thorin's friend and counsellor had asked him for a private interview the previous evening, quietly and without Thorin's knowledge, and now the elven king approached his chambers with a certain apprehension. And he was not surprised when the white-haired dwarf paced the room and gave him uncomfortable glances. It was obvious that he had something very difficult to say and Thranduil's heart grew cold.
"Tell me," he finally commanded.
Balin sat down behind his desk and, steepling his fingers, said abruptly: "This affair with Thorin must come to an end."
It was as bad as anything that Thranduil thought it might be and, disguising his fear, the king raised an icy eyebrow. "Must it?" he asked harshly. "And who are you, Balin, to decide on the paths of kings?"
"The path of a king is never of his own choosing," was the reply. And then a silence fell between them.
"The Council has waited a year," the dwarf finally continued, "in the hope that your passion for each other would burn itself out, that it would somehow consume itself."
"But it hasn't," said Thranduil quietly. "Nor will it ever."
"I might have guessed," sighed Balin, "from that first moment that you looked at him all those years ago. But, now I am asking that you give him up."
"I shall never give him up," growled the elf lord, "unless you can adequately explain to me why."
Balin rested his head on his hands for a long moment and then he looked up and said: "You have a fine son, Legolas."
"Yes," said Thranduil and he felt a dread because he could see what direction Balin was set upon.
"He is your heir, the Prince of Mirkwood."
"Yes," said Thranduil.
"But, Thorin has no heir. His nephews were both killed in that final battle and he has no sons to succeed him. When he dies, either Dain or the sons of Dain will follow after, and it is not the will of the people. They despise Dain for not coming when Thorin called and for only turning up with an army when the treasures of Erebor were at stake. Once he succeeds, they fear a flood of dwarves from the Iron Hills, dwarves who do not know the ways of Erebor but who would be awarded positions of power and would thus control their lives."
Thranduil stared at his hands for a long time.
"Surely you must have guessed," continued Balin gently, "that Thorin would eventually have to get married and produce a son for his throne?"
And if Thranduil had guessed, then it was a thought that he had pushed to one side. But, he knew that this was the foremost duty of kingship. And it was a cruel and gilded cage.
At last he sighed. "But, even if I were willing to give up Thorin, Thorin would never give up me. Of that I am certain."
"But, if your relationship is maintained after a marriage is organised for him, then that would dishonour the new bride. You do understand that, don't you?" And Balin gave the king a serious look from underneath his brows.
"Yes, I understand," said Thranduil. "It would be wrong and would undermine the queen in every way."
Then he got up and prepared to leave the room. "I shall do my best," he said sadly and when Balin rose to thank him, he could see the pain in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said as he patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. And he was not slow to understand the cruelty of the situation.
.o00o.
Confrontation
When Thorin awoke and found the elf lord absent, he was surprised. Always, he was there and their early mornings were spent in loving play before they finally arose and bathed together. He got up quickly, threw on a silken robe and went in search of him.
He was not far away and Thorin found him standing on a balcony that led off from the adjacent room. The elven king stared out at the woods and hills and mountains, which already had a covering of snow, and seemed lost in thought. Thorin came up behind him and, sliding his arms around his waist, pulled him tightly to him and kissed him on the shoulder. For the barest moment, Thranduil pressed back against him; but, then, he pulled away.
Walking to the parapet, he said coldly: "I shall be leaving for Mirkwood this afternoon."
Thorin took a stuttering and hesitant step towards him. "But – but you were staying another week. Is there a problem that requires your attention?"
"No – no problem," replied the elf, gazing at the distant horizon. And then he turned towards Thorin and regarded him steadily and coolly. "I'm just bored."
The dwarf felt totally confused. "Bored?" he asked. "You mean with my court, with Erebor?"
Thranduil sighed languidly. "In part," he said.
"Just wait a day," urged Thorin, "and I can return with you to Mirkwood if your own court is your preference. I would not miss a moment with you." Then, when Thranduil did not reply, he continued: "Tell me what it is about my palace that bores you and I shall set about improving things, if that is possible."
It seemed to Thorin that, at that moment, Thranduil withdrew from him. His eyes became hooded and his lips seemed to twist in a cold sneer. "I am bored with Erebor and I am bored with you, Thorin Oakenshield," he said. And his voice sounded harsh in the dwarf's ears.
Thorin was stunned and wondered if he had misheard. "Bored with me?" he asked.
"Yes, with you," repeated Thranduil; and he gave a world-weary sigh.
Thorin searched the mask that a moment ago had been Thranduil's face. "Is this a jest?" he asked.
"And why would I jest with you?" was the stony response.
"Because, only a few hours ago, you held me in your arms and told me how much you loved me," said the dwarf desperately.
"Things change," replied the elven king curtly and he turned back to the parapet.
Thorin seized him angrily by the arm and forced him about again. "I don't understand," he said fiercely. "Explain yourself to me. In what way have I failed you?"
Thranduil slowly removed Thorin's fingers from his arm. "You are growing tedious," he said. "Your lack of sophistication is one of the reasons why I now find you tiresome. Your unimaginative love-making and your child-like devotion affect me with an ennui that is mind-numbing and it has snuffed out the flame of love. Thus, when I awoke this morning, I discovered that my love for you had died."
"Just like that?" said Thorin, gazing with disbelief into the elf's cold face.
"Just like that," repeated Thranduil.
"And now you will return to Mirkwood to find yourself a more sophisticated lover?"
"Probably," said the elf. And, suddenly, Thorin was filled with both jealousy and rage. He seized Thranduil by the shoulders in such a powerful grip that it was frightening and he brought his face close to the elf's own.
"I don't believe you," he said. "Too much has passed between us." And he pulled the elf's lips down upon his own and kissed him passionately. But, the elf remained unmoved by the intensity of his ardour and his arms hung loosely down at his side. In the end, Thorin pushed him away in disgust.
"You are not the Thranduil that I knew," he cried. "You are not the Thranduil that I loved."
"Nothing is fixed," said Thranduil in frigid tones. "Nothing remains the same."
"Except I believed you when you said that our love was forever," snarled Thorin bitterly.
But Thranduil just shrugged and walked from the room, leaving a broken Thorin behind him.
.o00o.
Thranduil went in search of Balin and the old dwarf was shocked when he saw his face because the king was so drawn and pale and his eyes were full of grief.
"I have done it," he said. "I have broken with Thorin and he now believes that I no longer love him. I shall leave in a few hours when I have gathered my retainers about me and you will never see me again. I hope that you find a good queen for Thorin and that she gives him the love that he deserves." And he swung on his heel and departed.
Balin slumped back in his chair. What had he done? And yet he could see no alternative. And he took a deep draught from his cup of wine. He would go in search of Thorin once Thranduil had left and try to comfort him. But, he wouldn't mention marriage for some months in case this aroused his king's suspicions. It was a matter that would need to be delicately handled.
.o00o.
Thorin lay sprawled on his bed and felt a grief too deep for tears. His body ached for Thranduil and his heart felt split in two. How could he live his life without him? And yet a deep anger burned inside him: he had trusted him with his soul and, for a whole year, he had believed that he was loved. Never trust an elf, his grandfather had said. And he had learned that lesson the hard way. He felt emotionally destroyed and wondered if he would ever rise from his bed.
There was a quiet knock and Balin entered the room. "Get up!" he commanded. "The elf has gone."
"Leave me," he said.
"What! To wallow in your own misery? Get up! If not for yourself then for your people." And he yanked the coverlet from the bed and pulled Thorin to his feet.
The dwarf looked a mess and so Balin filled a bath and stripped him like a child and bathed him as he sat like one turned to stone in the water. Then he helped him get out and dried him and dressed him in clean clothes.
"Now we shall go downstairs and eat," he said.
"I can't face them, Balin," whispered Thorin. But, the dwarf insisted. And, because word had spread that the elf had cast off their king, everyone treated Thorin with a gentle kindness.
For some weeks, he walked around with a stunned look on his face. But, gradually, remnants of the old Thorin began to surface although this was a sadder, hollower version, one who never smiled or laughed but somehow managed to function at a competent level.
And, after two months had gone by, Balin came to see Thorin, who was still looking haggard and pale, and said: "I think it is time, my king, for you to consider marriage."
.o00o.
So, how do you like my second attempt at Thorinduil slash so far? Drop me a line and let me know.
Next/final chapter: Balin has arranged a marriage for Thorin in an attempt to produce an heir. Will Thorin be attracted to the beautiful, proposed bride and do his duty? Or will he find it impossible to forget the elven king who has abandoned him so cruelly?