Greetings, my minions! Apologies for the wait, but I felt that this concept was worthy of some good thinking about to make it sound good :D Since this is a oneshot, I tried to keep it rather short, but I might expand on this idea sometime in the future. Maybe. Also, if anyone gets the Doctor Who reference, kudos! Enjoy!
It is the gems! They are drawn to the pureness like vultures over a dying beast!
Tauriel crouched in the shadow of one of the huge columns that dominated the interior of the Lonely Mountain. Her King's words still rang in her ears, though the Elvenking had long since departed to tread lightly among the heaps of dazzling white stone that had been isolated into one area among the gold. Ever since Thranduil had conquered the Mountain, betraying the Human they called Bard and slaughtering the last of the line of Durin, he had changed. A sickness had come over him—an insatiable greed for the pure gems that lay like tiny flecks of starlight among the acres of gold.
The Rivendell Elves had been informed of the Elvenking's madness, and Elrond himself had made the journey to speak with Thranduil. He had received a hostile welcome from the silver-haired Elf, and had left with no success. Thranduil had ranted over how the Elves of Rivendell were plotting to steal his treasure, and usurp his new throne under the Mountain.
Tauriel was scared of her King—not intimidated, as was usually the case just by his mere presence, but absolutely terrified of the silver-haired Elf. To him, she was the only Elf save perhaps the absent Legolas whom the King would allow to speak to him other than reporting and obeying orders.
"Tauriel!"
The Silvan Elf jumped at her name being called. She got to her feet and slowly peered from the shadow of the column. The Elvenking was standing in all his terrifying power, ankle-deep in gold objects. For all he cared, anything that was not pure white could go to the crows.
"Yes, my lord?" Tauriel inquired, approaching cautiously and bowing slightly. She couldn't make herself meet Thranduil's eyes—the usual serene crystalline color was now as wild as the raging Forest River that flowed past the Kingdom of Mirkwood. Yet even in sickness, they still did not fail to miss the slightest details.
"You are afraid," He noted. "Why?"
Tauriel's mind raced at this question. Should she tell the truth and risk his wrath, or take the smoothest course? Her mind didn't feel like dealing with an angry Elvenking at the moment, so she replied,
"New surroundings, lord. It is taking some time to get used to, and this place still smells of Dragon-stench."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed. He could tell she was lying, Tauriel was sure of it. He stepped forwards, and the Silvan Elf had to force herself not to flinch away as he stood over her. His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled. She probably reeked of fear-scent, Tauriel thought, and Thranduil would be able to smell it on her easily.
"Come," He said at last, "Walk with me."
Tauriel obliged somewhat reluctantly, and she and the Elvenking began winding their way through the massive hills of precious metal. The Silvan Elf was racing to think of how to respond to her King should he ask any more questions of her, as the slightest misstep could cost her life.
"Tell me," The Elvenking said, snapping Tauriel from her thoughts, "Why are you afraid?"
He just wasn't going to let that go, was he? Tauriel thought irritably. What did it matter if she was afraid? It wasn't like he could do anything about it in his current state. But she took a swift, calming breath, and decided to be honest.
"It is you, my lord." She told him. This remark actually made Thranduil stop in his tracks. He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised expectantly, but Tauriel could see the storm starting to brew in his gaze.
"Go on," He urged, his voice a savage command.
"Ever since you took the Mountain and reclaimed the white gems you wanted, I fear the Dragon's influence has not completely vanished from this place." Tauriel said. Thranduil's head tilted slightly, though the Silvan Elf could tell he was growing furious.
"And?" He growled.
"And, my lord, you're changing. Your greed is blinding you." Tauriel went on, slowly putting distance between herself and the silver-haired Elf, hoping desperately she could make him see what he was becoming before he attacked her or worse.
"You are falling under the same spell that imprisoned Thrain—the very lust for gold that you warned him of. If you don't snap out of it soon, you will become like the Dwarf King, and you saw for yourself what became of the kingdom once its ruler fell under the spell. I implore you—"
"Enough!" Thranduil bellowed. "You dare to doubt my wisdom! I will not stand here and be lectured by a lowly Silvan Elf! You will do well to cease talking, or I will shut your mouth for you! I will not have my honor—"
"Honor!" Tauriel burst out, her anger at his stubbornness getting the better of her. "How can you speak of honor?! The Bowman who slew the Beast—how did you repay him? By betraying him? And the line of Durin—you slaughtered Thorin, and drove his kin into the forest! I may be a lowly Silvan Elf, but I do not lack honor! I was right about you—there is no love, nor honor, nor emotion in you! I am wondering what your pledged was thinking when she accepted your vow! She must have been completely—"
Before Tauriel could finish her rant, she felt cold steel against her throat, and rough stone against her back. The silver-haired Elf had lunged, slamming her against the nearest pillar, and the frigid edge of his sword was resting against her delicate throat. The Elvenking's teeth were bared, and his pupils were dilated in fury until his eyes were almost black.
"I will take insults to my character," He snarled, spittle raining upon Tauriel's brow, "I will take insults to my rule, but you do not ever insult my pledged."
Tauriel gasped as she saw his face—the pale skin on the left side of his cheek and jaw was gone, replaced by raw muscle and sinew, and even that was patched in placed so that she could see straight through to his teeth and gums. His left eye was milky and sightless, the skin around it raw and red.
"What happened to your face?" The Silvan Elf cried in horror. The Elvenking bared his teeth, eliciting a cry of fear from Tauriel as the hideous mass of muscle contorted.
"It is not my so-called sickness that you fear," Thranduil growled, a slight smile tugging at his lips, "It is this! I have proven my honor fivescore times in the Second Age, long before you were even a thought in your mother's mind! The great Serpents of the far North did this to me—not the cold drakes, but the children of Glaurung himself! And you say that I have no honor, and that I am no more than a backstabbing coward."
"You are no better than Smaug!" Tauriel shouted in his face, pushing down her fear and replacing it with anger. "You slew Thorin, and betrayed the very one who removed the stench of Dragon from this land! Can you not see?! If you are going to rule this Mountain, you must at least give the Lake folk their share of the treasure! They have been on their own for weeks now, while you sit in here with the Elven Army, and live on the provisions of the Dwarves!"
This statement caused Thranduil to press his sword even tighter to the Silvan Elf's throat.
"I will not part with a single gem!" He hissed savagely. "Not one piece of it!"
Tauriel wondered if he knew she was talking about the gold, and not the white jewels. Probably not.
"Those miserable Humans are not worthy of the starlight of Elves!" Thranduil went on. "The day will come when they will arrive at the Mountain from all corners of the land, seeking the treasure, but I can tell you that they will not find it unguarded! Should the Great Eye himself come here, he will discover that we Elves have outlived his kind since the First Age!"
Tauriel gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to call him some choice names. Instead, and reached up and slapped his scarred face, hard. He recoiled, roaring in pain, his sword ringing upon the gold as he dropped both it and Tauriel. In his moment of incapacitation, the Silvan Elf took the opportunity to dart behind him. Perhaps she could subdue him long enough to try talking some sense into him. She leaped upon the Elvenking's broad back, wrapping her right arm around his neck and locking it there with her left. The silver-haired Elf bellowed in pain and anger, flinging her about as he tried to dislodge her. Tauriel's teeth rattled as the Elvenking tried to shake her, spinning and bucking. Finally, Thranduil caught sight of a ledge created by the architecture of the cave—the gold dropped off sharply to more of the precious metal about two meters below.
Thranduil flung himself off the edge with a powerful leap, and Tauriel's world turned upside-down. Her back slammed into the gold-covered floor, the Elvenking's weight landing heavily upon her chest. Her ribcage went crack, and pain exploded in her chest as the silver-haired Elf heaved himself upright. Tauriel was disoriented and in agony, so she offered no resistance as Thranduil reached down to grip her by the throat, hauling her up to his eye level. Her feet dangling several inches off the ground, the Silvan Elf struggled weakly as Thranduil's powerful hands choked the breath from her.
"A dog such as you does not deserve such a swift death," He snarled into her face, his wild eyes flashing blue fire. "The vultures will feed on your carcass, and all will know what happens to those who trifle with the King Under the Mountain!"
Tauriel's ears were ringing as her vision started to go black. She gripped Thranduil's hands and managed to gasp out,
"Amin mela lle, heru," She choked, before her eyes fluttered shut, and she went limp.
Thranduil froze at her words. He dropped Tauriel, his hideously scarred face once again becoming masked by magic. His eyes regain their clear crystalline hue, as the spell's grip on him shattered. A firestorm of confusion and horror ignited within him as he knelt at the Silvan Elf's side, feeling her pulse in a frantic search for life. What had he done?
After what seemed like an eternity, though it had only been mere minutes, Tauriel's eyes opened fractionally. Thranduil felt a surge of relief, combined with crushing guilt. Whatever insanity that had overcome him, it was unlikely she would ever trust him again.
"Tauriel?" He inquired softly. Her head rolled towards the sound of his voice, though her eyes were still half-closed. She tried to speak, but only managed a faint huff of breath and a slight wheeze. The Elvenking shushed her gently, unclasping his flask of water from his belt.
"Shh, don't speak," He told her, brushing some stray hairs from her face. "You—I—I almost—"
He had to halt, as his voice cracked slightly. Tauriel managed to lift her arm, and covered the Elvenking's hand with hers. A voiceless measure of forgiveness. Thranduil felt hot tears brimming in his eyes, but he blinked rebelliously, reminded of another time long ago when a beautiful Elven-maid had been slain at Gundabad, and he had been powerless to stop it.
The Elvenking bit his lip hard, and pushed his emotions aside to deal with later. Tauriel needed his help.
Thranduil slid an arm under her shoulders and lifted her head slightly, before holding the flask to her lips. Tauriel managed to down several swallows, before wincing and laying back. The Elvenking probed her ribs gently, eliciting a grimace from the She-Elf. Thranduil decided that she wouldn't be able to move for at least a day. The Dragon-sickness had sapped his strength, rendering his healing magic temporarily useless, but the Elvenking removed his robe and spread it over the gold, gently laying Tauriel on it in an attempt to make her comfortable.
"You will be alright, mela," He murmured to her. "'Sorry' does not come within tenscore leagues of expressing my regret at my actions. We will leave this Mountain, and go home to the Greenwood. The Lake folk shall be given fivescore their compensation, and Erebor will once again be under Dwarven rule. Rest now, my warrior. Your hardship is over. Amin mela lle."
With that, the King of the Woodland Elves curled up next to his Captain of the Guard. The sickness had overcome him, but one She-Elf had possessed the courage to confront him and declare no more. Thranduil decided that he had never been so grateful to any living being, as he allowed sleep to sweep over his exhausted body.
Ooh, what did they say in Elvish? I'll give you a hint: What did Tentoo tell Rose at Bad Wolf Bay? Also, I apologize if the Elvish is inaccurate-that's me using a translator and in reality knowing literally nothing about the language ^_^'