They weren't friends, per se. Or even remotely. More like cool and indifferent classmates. Not even. Just kind of like, two kids that knew the other existed.

Thranduil had his own friends. And Thorin had his own. No big deal.

But it was Preschool and everyone (i.e. the teachers) thought that all the kids should interact with each other so they decided to pair up the students with classmates they never so much as realized were alive. And naturally, they had partnered up Thorin and Thranduil for their class trip to the pumpkin patch that brisk October morning.

Now if the teacher had paid just an inch of attention, then she would notice that Thorin and Thranduil had very similar personalities. They liked to be the leader. They enjoyed telling others what to do. And they did not fare well when questioned. So it was only natural that they did not get on.

It didn't start like that, of course. Oh no. Thranduil was quiet and kind, and Thorin let him hold his hand without complaint, as was the buddy system protocol. It was when they were searching for pumpkins that everything went downhill.

Literally.

Both boys returned home with bumps and bruises, dirt and leaves in their hair, and no pumpkin to speak of.

Later on in the year, Thranduil was snubbed by Thorin when he wanted to join his friends in a game of knights and dragons. Then Thranduil purposefully took the last chocolate milk in the lunch line, despite disliking chocolate milk, knowing that Thorin would be less than pleased.

Their grudge match, their feud, and general hate from one another stemmed from the fact that neither wished to waiver in the face of the other.

Every day that week, Mr. Grey's and Mr. White's class met in the auditorium, where songs were played on the piano by Mr. Brown and Mr. Grey taught the boys the lyrics while Mr. White looked down on them and told them how horrible they were.

They weren't going to choose Santa Claus until the following week, and it really was up to the teachers. Talent had nothing to do with the casting. It was whoever the adults thought deserved the role the most. Thus, every day Thorin would come to class with a smile on his face, eager to do as Mr. Grey bid them.

Bilbo shot him funny looks, no doubt wondering what had gotten into him, but Thorin needed to be Santa Claus. He needed it more than anything in the whole wide world. And if Thranduil thought he could beat him, and steal his Bilbo, then Thranduil had another thing coming.

"Guess who I am!" Bilbo asked, grinning broadly at Thorin, a pair of antlers on his head and a bright red ball on his nose. He held out his arms and twirled around, to give Thorin a better look. Thorin scrunched his nose and tilted his head in thought. When an answer wasn't forthcoming, Bilbo put his hands on his hips and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm Rudolph," he told him.

Of course. "I thought so," Thorin replied, not wanting Bilbo to think that he didn't know who Rudolph was. Honestly, Christmas was not Thorin's best holiday. "You look very nice," Thorin told him.

"Thanks," Bilbo smiled, sitting down next to Thorin as the rest of the children were handed their costumes, feet dangling off the edge of his seat. "Do you know who you are yet?"

Thorin shook his head. "They won't tell us till Monday," Thorin told him.

"You should pick up your antlers now."

Bilbo and Thorin looked up from one another to find a sneering Thranduil standing in front of them. He preened under their gaze. "Mr. White thinks I'd be a perfect Santa Claus. He told Mr. Grey so himself. There's no way you're being Santa."

"Why don't you go bother someone else?" Thorin growled back. "Bilbo and I are busy."

Thranduil leaned in closer, smirking at Thorin before turning his attention to Bilbo. He smiled grandly. "I am Thranduil," he introduced himself, grabbing Bilbo's hand and kissing the back of it. "You must be Bilbo."

Bilbo blushed under the treatment, smiling up at Thranduil under his eyelashes. "Hi," Bilbo replied.

That. Was. It.

Thorin stood up and shoved Thranduil away from his Bilbo. Thranduil stumbled backwards and fall inelegantly on his butt. He glared up at Thorin before he let out a loud cry, crocodile tears falling down his face.

Mr. Brown was there in an instant, picking up the boy and holding him gently to his chest. He was all sniffles as the two teachers came up to check what the ruckus was all about. Thorin felt his blood run cold as Thranduil sobbed out, "Thorin pushed me!"

Oh no. What had he done? He looked down at his hands, completely surprised by his actions. He had been doing so well! "Mr. Durin," Mr. White scolded, his frown etching further into his face. "What is the meaning of this?"

How was Thorin to answer?

Bilbo stepped forward and yelled, "Thranduil's lying."

Suddenly, Mr. White's cold stare was on Bilbo and Thorin stepped in front of him. He wouldn't let Bilbo get in trouble for his actions. "No," he told Bilbo, before turning to Mr. White. "I pushed him," Thorin confessed, head held high, back straight, as the proverbial chopping block loomed closer.

"You do realize that you cannot be Santa Claus with this type of behavior, don't you?" Mr. Grey butted in, putting a hand on Bilbo's and Thorin's shoulder.

Thorin nodded. He knew. Of course he knew. "The boy shouldn't be in the show at all," Mr. White argued. "Rowdy, undisciplined child."

"Now, now," Mr. Grey eased Mr. White. "Thorin is still a young lad. He doesn't know his strength, that's all. There's no need to punish him so severely."

Mr. Grey led him and Bilbo to the other end of the auditorium, away from Thranduil, who's tears quickly faded and was playing with his friends , as he put on the Santa hat, as Thorin watched jealously. "It seems that whenever there is trouble, you two are at the center of it," their teacher said. "I'm sure you are aware, that your consideration to play Santa has been withdrawn."

Bilbo glared angrily at Mr. Grey. "Thorin has to be Santa Claus," he argued. "He has to."

Thorin scuffled his sneakers, displeased with his behavior. He didn't deserve to be anyone. He couldn't even control his temper. "I understand," Thorin said, causing Bilbo to huff up and march away, his antlers bobbing up and down as he did so.

It was a with a heavy heart that Thorin saw Bilbo leave his side. He had disappointed him greatly, Thorin knew. He sighed, wiping away any tears that may have fallen from his eyes, before sternly looking back at Mr. Grey. "I will talk to him," Thorin said, following after Bilbo.

Mr. Grey chuckled under his breath. Oh puppy love. To be young again.

Bilbo didn't understand why no one ever seemed to like Thorin. He was the greatest person in the whole wide world. And that Thranduil… Bilbo snorted angrily. If he thought that his fake tears were going to get him the part of Santa, then he had another thing coming.

Bilbo may be small, but he was tenacious. And to think that Thorin would give up without a fight!

He grumbled and pouted, away from the other kids. It wasn't fair. Thranduil had taken away Thorin's chance. And maybe he seemed nice – truthfully Bilbo had thought him very nice indeed prior to today – but his actions proved otherwise. Thranduil was a mean boy.

"Bilbo," Thorin said, sitting down beside him.

Bilbo crossed his arms and looked the other way. He was angry with Thorin. And he wasn't going to stop being angry. "I'm not talking to you," Bilbo responded.

"I'm going to be a reindeer too," Thorin told him, showing Bilbo the antlers Mr. Brown had handed him on his way to Bilbo. "I know you wanted me to be Santa."

"You'd be a great Santa," Bilbo muttered. "I think a beard would look great on you."

Thorin chuckled. "I thought so too."

Bilbo snuck a peak at Thorin, who sat rather dejectedly beside him. Bilbo slowly felt his anger melt away as he wrapped his arms around Thorin. "At least we'll get to sing the reindeer song together," Bilbo chirped, his good mood back in place.

Thorin placed a soft kiss on Bilbo's cheek, just as a scream interrupted the moment.

Thranduil glared unhappily at Nori who had stolen the Santa hat from him and was now running around the auditorium with it on his head. Maybe Thorin wasn't Santa, but at least if Thranduil was, he and his friends would make it as unenjoyable as possible for him.