The drive home had went smoothly, and thankfully was relatively quick. The second your car purred into life and set off, Thranduil had let out a soft gasp and started forward in surprise, his broad shoulders tightening up defensively. Pretending not to notice, you did your best to make the King feel at ease and drove slowly out of the forest car park, deliberately focusing your gaze on the road ahead and trying not to make any hasty movements. Once out on the main road you sped up, staying just under the speed limit for a time. Glancing sideways, you saw his demeanour had relaxed a bit, and he stared unblinking and wide-eyed at the world flitting by outside. You wondered how fast a horse can go, and whether this was the fastest speed he'd ever travelled. Judging that he'd had enough time to adjust to the movement, you sped up and relaxed more into your seat.

Radio music filled the air between you as you both sat in a comfortable silence, and you cracked a window open to let some fresh air in for Bailey who was panting in the back. Indicating left, you looked over to check the road and realised he was turned to face you. A blush heated your cheeks as you turned the wheel, and you stole a glance at him. Azure eyes bored into you fixedly.

"What?" you asked nervously, unable to fight a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as your stomach swirled. The road ahead was straight and empty, but you kept your eyes fixed stubbornly on it anyway, refusing to look at him. If you had, you would've seen strong composure replaced with a softer expression as he gazed at you, a curious emotion halfway between respect and admiration in those ethereal eyes. "You are very skilled." Thranduil's smooth voice washed over you. Realising he was complimenting your driving, you barked out a surprised laugh, brows contorting in humour at the absurdity of the compliment. "Oh, well, um" you fumbled, a grin breaking out over your face at his adorable cluelessness. Your eyes sparkled as you glanced over at him. "Thank you," you began, glancing between the road and your new companion, "but believe it or not, driving is actually super common here. It's not even really considered a skill, seeing as almost everybody does it. I'm nothing special, I promise". You smiled widely through the last statement, shaking your head a little as your eyes creased in amusement. "In fact," you continued with a widening smile, your eyes growing wide in mock seriousness, "I've actually been told I'm somewhat of a bad driver. My friends always tease me about my distinct lack of parking skills". You decided to leave out the story about the time you failed so miserably at parallel parking you had to give up in embarrassment - and ended up missing your appointment because you couldn't find another space nearby.

Glancing over again, you saw Thranduil's own mouth curved up in response to your enthusiastic denial. The butterflies returned at the sight, fluttering up and down inside your abdomen. "How long is the training period, before you are an accomplished.. driver?" He hesitated over the last word, as though unsure if it was the proper description to use. Your eyebrows shot up at the question and you deliberated a bit before answering. He was … making conversation? Smiling softly you answered, and the conversation flowed - stopping and starting at first, but gradually becoming more and more comfortable. He even laughed once – softly and briefly, but the sound was more pleasant than any laugh you'd ever heard before.

The smile didn't leave your face the rest of the journey home.


Until you almost ran over a cat. You were close to home, going about 30mph; the little thing darted out in front of you with no warning, running out suddenly from between the parked cars that lined the fairly narrow street. It was a miracle you spotted it in time at all - if your eyes had been off the road in that second, there would be one dead cat on your conscience. Unable to swerve lest you hit a car, you shouted out in alarm and slammed the breaks, pulling the hand-break simultaneously to do an emergency stop. Both of you lurched violently forward, the car screeching and juddering to an abrupt stop, the engine cutting out as it stalled.

Thranduil hissed in alarm and jerked a hand out to grip your forearm tightly, the other moving instinctively to the hilt of his sword. The only other time you'd done an emergency stop was during your lessons and driving test, years ago now – thankfully your body remembered what you were taught to do, and reacted on instinct. The cat pelted off under a parked car on the other side and into the bushes bordering the street, safe from harm. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest, and your hands remained in a death grip on the wheel and hand-break. As the initial alarm subsided you closed your eyes, exhaling shakily in relief. Opening them again you breathed out a nervous laugh.

"Stupid cat!" you said, your voice uneven as you blinked back tears of shock. Breathing in sharply you swallowed, readjusting your grip on the steering wheel. Loosening your fingers from the hand-break, you realised the Elven King's hand was still firmly wrapped around your arm. Shit. How freaked out is he? Hardly daring to look at him, you swept your eyes from his hand on you up to his face, and saw his body was tense and tight, leaning forward from the seat as though ready to fight. Your mouth twisted nervously at the sight of his lips pressed in a hard straight line. His otherworldly eyes were wide in alarm, fixed down towards the hand break. Slowly he raised them to look into yours, tilting his head in a stern and silent admonishment. His alarmed expression said what you both were thinking: 'that was close!'.

"Sorry". Your voice was barely above a whisper. His expression softened but remained serious, and he released his grip on you to instead rest a pale hand gently on your arm.

"You should not have risked our lives for a cat." The statement was given as a fact and left no room for disagreement, his disapproval heavy and unmistakable in the air. But your brows furrowed as annoyance and emotion prickled in the back of your throat, and you stared back defiantly.

"Our lives weren't in danger" you countered stubbornly, swallowing away the emotion threatening to turn into tears again. "We weren't going fast enough to roll the car or go through the windshield, and the road is empty – no-one could have crashed into the back of us." Removing his hand from your arm, he opened his mouth to reply - but you weren't finished defending your actions. "Look", you continued, "I couldn't swerve or I'd hit something. I had two options – keep going and most probably kill the cat, or stop and risk getting a neck injury." You shrugged apologetically. "I chose the latter, I'm sorry. And yes, you're probably right – I'm pretty sure if an animal runs in front of you, you're supposed to just keep driving. But it was just instinct – I didn't want to hurt it."

You gazed honestly back at him.

If ever a face could embody a look of kingly judgement, it was his. He stared down at you, fair features completely impassive as he blinked slowly, considering your words. His mouth twitched, and he simply inclined his head as a response. You waited for more. When it was clear there was none, you offered a small smile and turned to start the car again. "Well – we're almost home. Should be there in about 10 minutes!" you said to ease over any tension, purposefully making your voice light.


The rest of the evening had passed in a blur. You showed him into your living room and did your best to be a good host, offering him tea (which he politely accepted) and giving a tour of your home before making up the spare bedroom for him. Electric blue eyes had widened in shock as you demonstrated electricity and the other basics – though to his credit, the Elven King adapted quickly and wasn't half as freaked out as you had expected him to be. More than once you had felt a wave of empathy as he drank in his alien surroundings, and you did your best to put him at ease - patiently explaining everything, and hiding the nerves that twirled in your stomach at the fact he was staying in your home.

At one point you left him gazing at a painting on your wall, with his hands clasped behind his back and looking particularly regal, to run him a bath. Swishing your hand around in the water to get the lavender bubble bath frothy, you had realised with a jolt that he probably thought you were poor because you didn't have servants to do this for you. The thought caused you to bark out a sudden laugh, though the realisation was as disheartening as it was amusing – though you were by no means ashamed of your social status or living conditions, you wanted him to think highly of you.

Absentmindedly turning off the taps you mulled it over, before wringing your hands on a towel as a soft sigh escaped you. Well, you thought wryly, you obviously aren't royalty and there's nothing to be done about it. Surveying your bathroom, your eyes roamed over the home décor and you nodded to yourself approvingly. Things could be worse! You lit a few candles and debated throwing in some fancy scented petals you'd gotten as a birthday present and had been saving for a self-care night, but worried if it would be overkill. Biting your lip, you decided to throw them in anyway – it couldn't hurt.

After folding a few of the good white fluffy towels at the foot of the bath and thoughtfully placing a hair tie and brush on top, you paused in the doorway and looked back to survey your work: this was definitely a bath fit for a King! Smiling, you went to re-join your guest.