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And so the wedding reception continues!

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Chapter 83

~X~

Thranduil had been sitting alone at the table ever since Glorfindel had chosen to abandon him. He did not mind, however, for even he could only take so much of the optimistic elf before his conversation became tiresome. The sons of Elrond were not much better, in his opinion, for they were far too jovial for his tastes. While he knew the twins had seen their share of pain and sorrow in this world - the loss of their mother as she sailed over the seas being a prime example - their indomitable spirit appeared to have remained.

Thranduil still could not believe he was here in Erebor, celebrating the marriage of Thorin Oakenshield, no less. And yet, his advisors had urged him to accept the invitation, saying it could cause a rift in diplomatic relations, should he decline. Yet from the way stiff way Thorin had greeted him at the gate, Thranduil was almost certain the dwarf king would not have minded his absence. As far as he was concerned, the less he and his mountain neighbors saw of each other, the better. Dwarves were not refined in any way, they laughed too loudly, they drank far too much, and the amount of facial hair they sported was downright beastly. He could not for the life of him imagine what Glorfindel saw in such a race, much less why he insisted that they come watch one of them marry…even if it was their king. He gave a slight shudder at the idea that this might eventually lead to Thorin procreating! Thranduil found that he truly pitied the little hobbit lass.

Taking up his glass of wine, the elf king sipped at it slowly, allowing the rich flavor to sweep the disturbing thoughts from his mind. However, when he lowered it, there, barely peeking over the edge of the table were two small sets of eyes…and they were staring right at him!

"Hello," came a greeting from the blue eyed, blond haired lad. "Are you the king of Mirkwood?"

"I am," Thranduil replied, staring at the glass in his hand and trying not to make eye contact with the little dwarfling. Perhaps if he ignored it, the little creature would just go away…and take his companion with him. Where were these whelps' parents, anyway?

"Is it true that you put my adad in your prison?" the little voice persisted.

"Perhaps," Thranduil answered, a little smile curing his lips. "I have put a lot of dwarves in my prisons. Which one might your father have been?"

"My adad's name is Fili. And I'm Flinn, by the way," the dwarfling said in way of introduction. "I'm usually supposed to say, at your surbus after that…but would you want my surbus if I offered it?"

"I would not," Thranduil drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I'm still Flinn," the dwarfling continued, apparently unfazed by the elf's lack of interest. "And this is Frodo…he's a hobbit"

"I am fully aware of what a hobbit looks like," Thranduil stated, perhaps a bit more harshly than necessary, yet he really wished the two children would simply go away. "I have met others of his kind before. Well, one at least…a Master Bilbo Baggins."

"I'm a Baggins too!" little Frodo piped up, reaching up to pull himself above the table top a little more, so he could see a bit easier. "Bilbo Baggins is my cousin!"

"And Thorin Oakenshield is my uncle," Flinn added in for good measure.

"Delightful," Thranduil mocked. "Now, will you please go away?"

"But…you looked lonely over here all by yourself," Flinn protested, his voice full of pity. He then turned and looked at Frodo, the two lads sharing some silent form of communication, before both their heads suddenly disappeared from the elf's view.

Just when Thranduil had thought they had blessedly left, the two tykes suddenly reappeared, emerging from under the table and scrambling up into the chairs on either side of him. Egad! They were now close enough to touch him!

"We didn't want you to be sad with no one to talk to," Frodo stated, sitting down on the overly large chair, with his hands in his lap and a smile on his face.

"Will your parents not be looking for you?" Thranduil asked, hoping that they would indeed come fetch the lads at any moment.

"No…they are busy talking and eating, they probably don't even know we are gone," Flinn revealed.

"I would be most happy to alert them to your absence," he offered, wondering how he might do just that…without actually having to converse with anyone.

"But we wanted to ask you some questions," Flinn insisted, kneeling on the chair cushion and leaning over the arm rest, staring up at the elf in wonder. "We were talking to Mister Glorfindel, and he said you fought in a big battle, is that true?"

"It is," he nodded, suddenly taking note that the child to his left bore a striking resemblance to his own son, Legolas, when he was younger. Not so much in stature or size, for elf children were tall and willowy, where dwarflings were short and stocky. But his blue eyes and blond hair caused the elf king's heart to soften just a bit towards the lad.

"He also said you lost your papa in one of the battles," Frodo added, looking up at him with sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to make you feel better."

Thranduil was speechless. What was he supposed to say to that? Thankfully he was not required to, as the little dwarf continued speaking.

"My adad went to battle once. He had to fight a bunch of orcs, and I was really scared he wouldn't come home," Flinn informed the elf. "It's not fun being scared like that."

"No…no it is not," Thranduil found himself admitting, having felt such terror more times than he could count. "I too fear for the life of my own son, who is currently off hunting orcs."

"You have kids?" Flinn piped up, his expression turning to one of joy. "Can I meet them one day?"

"I have only the one, and he is a grown adult now," the elf revealed, his hand drifting unconsciously to the cheek of the dwarfling, once again imagining his own inquisitive son at that age. Oh, had it truly been that long ago since Legolas was so young?

"I don't have any brothers or sisters either," Flinn told him. "At least not yet, but pretty soon my ama is going to have a baby, and then I get to be a big brother!"

"My congratulations to you and your parents, young Flinn," he replied with a slight bow of his head. He had noted that the crown prince and his wife were expecting, that fact more than evident as she was escorted down the aisle during the ceremony. So this little one belonged to them, did he?

"And I'm Flinn's sword brother," Frodo announced, not wishing to be left out of the conversation. "At least until I go back to the Shire in the fall."

"But you will still be my sword brother even there," Flinn reminded him, the two having already made a pact never to lose touch. He then looked up at the elf king, cocking his head to the side as he posed his next question. "Is it true that elves don't have any good toys?"

"Toys?" The child's strange inquiry caused Thranduil to crack the smallest of grins. "Who told you that we did not have any good toys?"

"My Uncle Thorin," Flinn confessed, resting his elbows on the arm of the chair and supporting his chin on his knuckles. "At least he said you didn't have any that would interest a dwarf. Is that true?"

"Well, far be it from me to contradict the ever wise and knowing king under the mountain," Thranduil said with a smirk, his biting sarcasm being lost on the two lads. "But I assure you, that elf children do play with toys, and very fine ones at that. My son had a whole room full of soldiers, ships, building blocks, and all kinds of animals. His favorite was an elk, carved from the wood of our own forest, and more than once I almost came to harm tripping over all his playthings as I went in to tell him a bedtime story." This simple, but precious, memory once again caused the stoic elf king to smile.

"You know stories?" Flinn gasped, his eyes growing wide as he leaned in further towards the elf. "What kind of stories?"

"Amazing ones," Thranduil chuckled, the dwarfling's enthusiasm cracking the shell of indifference he had worked so hard to maintain. "Stories about legendary creatures, of adventure, and deeds of heroism."

"Can you tell us one now?" Frodo begged, his little brown eyes full of eagerness.

"Well…if you don't think your parents, or uncle, would mind," Thranduil mused, thinking of what Thorin might have to say about all this. Yet, imagining the dwarf king's adverse reaction only spurred his desire to give in to the lads' wishes.

"Oh, no, they won't mind at all!" Flinn insisted, quickly scrambling over the arm of the chair to plop himself down in the king's lap, much to Thranduil's shock and amazement. "Tell us one about dragons!" he begged, but then looking over at his hobbit friend, he added in a rather loud whisper. "But don't make it too scary…otherwise Frodo can't sleep at night."

"I can too!" the hobbit protested, yet then he got a sheepish look on his face as he leaned over and took hold of the elf king's arm. "But if you could try not to make it so scary, Mister Thranduil, sir, that would be very nice."

Thranduil looked from one lad's face to the other, and then suddenly he did something he thought never to do in the mountain of the dwarves…he laughed. It was not a full belly laugh like Flinn and Frodo were used to seeing the dwarves and hobbits give…but it was a laugh nonetheless. And for the first time in quite a few years, the elven king felt happy. He missed his son, Legolas, terribly…but to find humor in the antics of these two children surprised him more than he could say. And yet, there he was, with a dwarfling in his lap, a hobbit hanging on his arm, and a smile on his own face. Would wonders never cease?

"Well, then…let me see," he pondered, digging through his memories until he found the perfect story. "Once upon a time, there lived a very small dragon, no bigger than your hand, and his name was…Spark."

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Fili had just sat down, having managed to carry three plates back with him, when he noticed that Flinn had not returned to the table like he had been told to. Neither, he noted, had Frodo, the two chairs between his wife and Prim remaining empty.

"Where is Flinn?" Fili asked, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of his son.

"I thought he and Frodo were with you," Sier replied, though not appearing overly worried.

"He was, but I sent them back to the table while Kili and I got their dinner," he explained, gesturing to the little plates. "He has to be around here some…" and there he stopped, his mouth dropping open as his eyes grew wide. "By Durin's ax and beard!" he gasped, spotting his son in the most outrageous of places. "LOOK!"

Sier did indeed turn to where her husband was pointing, her heart in her throat until she spotted Flinn, safe and sound, sitting on the elf king's lap.

"Well, that is…unexpected," she murmured, doing her best to digest this new bit of information. King Thranduil did not appear displeased, however, in fact he looked as if he were having a rather nice time.

"Unexpected?" Fili repeated, staring at his wife in shock. "It is more than that…it is simply not possible! I should go get him." Fili stood to do just that, but was halted by his wife's hand on his arm.

"No, leave them be," she instructed. "There is no harm in our son and Frodo speaking to the king, and the elf appears to be enjoying himself as well."

"Thranduil…enjoying himself?" Fili scoffed. "He only gets pleasure out of throwing dwarves in prison, or insulting Thorin."

"Well, it would seem that he also finds delight in speaking to little children," Sier laughed, watching as Frodo bravely joined his sword-brother in the king's lap as well. "This could do more for public relations than all the gold or gems in Middle Earth. Trust your son, Fili…he has won the hearts of everyone from Erebor to Esgaroth, why not Mirkwood as well?"

"I just don't like it," Fili huffed, though he did as his wife had bid, and sat back down. "And I am sure Thorin will not be pleased either!"

"Eat your dinner, and let me worry about Thorin's reaction," she said in a soothing tone. "This could actually turn out to be a very good thing."

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"This could turn out to be a very bad thing!" Thorin snarled, having spotted his nephew and Frodo in the clutches of his onetime enemy.

"Calm yourself, Thorin," Glorfindel laughed, seeing how agitated the king beside him had become. "Thranduil might be stuffy and often snide, but he would never harm or frighten a child. The loss of his father, his wife, and now his own son, has stolen much of his joy…perhaps your nephew can give a little back to him."

"Lost his son? Prince Legolas is dead?" Thorin had not heard anything about this.

"No, not dead," Glorfindel quickly explained. "Yet he has left Mirkwood, choosing to travel through the land in pursuit of the enemy. He has aligned himself with the Rangers…the Dúnedain, and many times the twins and I have been privileged to fight beside him against the hosts of Mordor. Legolas has become a formidable warrior, one that Thranduil should be proud of. I see greatness in the elf prince's future."

"Still, I am not sure I want my nephew's mind poisoned by Thranduil's bigotry towards dwarves," Thorin huffed.

"From what I can hear," Glorfindel chuckled – for elves had very keen ears, "he is only telling the lads a story about a dragon…one so small it can fit inside your pocket."

"He is?" Now this really surprised the king.

"Thranduil may be a lot of things, but he was always a very loving father to Legolas. Perhaps your nephew will one day serve as your greatest emissary between Erebor and the Mirkwood elves," the blond elf chuckled. "He certainly has the charm needed for such an assignment."

"He gets that from his grandfather," Thorin revealed, a smile of remembrance touching his lips. "Flinn the First had the ability to talk a starving cat out of its last bowl of cream, and had a grin that could easily melt any dwarrowdam's heart. Yet, Mahal saw fit to choose my sister, Dis, for his mate…much to her delight."

"You speak highly of him," Glorfindel nodded. "Might I enquire what became of this Flinn?"

"He was killed in battle, back in Ered Luin, when Fili and Kili were very young. It was a bitter blow to my sister, as it was for all who knew and loved him," Thorin revealed with a look of sadness on his face. "Flinn was a fine dwarf. I had no qualms about Dis taking him as her husband. He was an excellent miner, and a fierce warrior. His sons take after him, in looks as well as manners. And now it appears that little Flinn has inherited his grandfather's charm as well."

"Is this also where your nephews get their affinity for pranks?" Glorfindel inquired.

"No…I am sorry to say that they got that from me," Thorin chuckled, recalling just how many times he had been sent to bed without his supper for making mischief when he had been Flinn's age. "You might not believe this, but I used to be quite the terror when I was young. No one was safe from me and my brother's pranks, not even our grandfather, King Thrór."

"What happened to change this?" the blond elf asked, wishing he had visited Erebor when Thorin was still a child.

"Smaug," Thorin replied, his eyes growing dark.

"I understand," Glorfindel nodded, needing no further explanation. "Yet you could not stop your nephews from inheriting this, and now you live in fear of them, the same way I am certain your parents did of you."

"It seems a rather cruel form of retribution," Thorin nodded. "But, yes." He then brightened and looked at his new elf friend. "How did Fili and Kili's prank with the fire filled pastries turn out?"

"Oh, splendidly!" Glorfindel laughed. "I pushed us on that day until I knew they would be simply ravenous, and as I hoped, when we did stop they dug right into their provisions. They had already swallowed several bites before they noticed the spices…and then they could not get to their water skins fast enough. I had not laughed so hard in quite a long time. I must remember to thank your nephews for the entertainment."

"I just hope they do not plan on getting even with Fili and Kili on my wedding day," Thorin grumbled.

"I do not think Elladan and Elrohir would dare to disrupt such an occasion," the elf lord assured him. "You and I have both warned them against that."

"Where are they, anyway?" Thorin asked, looking around the room. "I have not seen them for quite a while."

"I do not know," Glorfindel mused, now taking note of their prolonged absence as well. "Oh, wait…there they are." He pointed over towards the doorway, the twins looking as if they had just returned from someplace. "I will do my best to keep an eye on them for the remainder of the evening…just in case they have something up their sleeve."

"I would be most grateful," Thorin nodded in appreciation.

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Meanwhile, over by the large multi-tiered cake, Bifur, Bombur, and Gloin stood staring at the figurines on top. The toymaker had indeed carved them in the very likeness of the bride and groom, and Gloin's idea to have them cast in gold had been genius. Unfortunately, Bombur's cake had turned out so light and fluffy, that the heavy metal figures had managed to sink down inside the top layer, until only their chests and heads remained visible.

"Well, that was…unanticipated," Gloin said with a slight huff.

"Really?" Bombur asked incredulously, staring at his friend with an expression of humor. "Even a dwarfling knows that gold is heavy…whereas my cakes are not," the rotund dwarf chuckled, wondering if he should reach up and pull the figures back out.

"Still, there is something rather fitting to it all," Gloin said with a bit of a smile. "Thorin always did manage to get himself neck deep in trouble…and now love."

"I say…leave it," Bifur stated, using his limited speech and hand gestures to make his meaning clear.

"I agree," Bombur nodded, liking his cousin's idea. "Just make sure we take them out before we serve that top piece. I would hate for anyone to break a tooth biting into a hunk of gold."

This had all three of the dwarves laughing, deciding to leave it just as it was and heading off to share a hearty round of ale.

Well, it looks as though Flinn and Frodo have melted the heart of Thranduil...but really, it didn't take much. I do not see Thranduil as a BAD guy...just...well...a bit rigid. But I am sure, given time, he can loosen up. With Glorfindel and the twins hanging out in Mirkwood, things have to be exciting. ha ha.

Wedding night is up next...and more fun as well, and not just for Thorin, ha ha.

Guest Reviews:

WhoWould'veGuest: (chapter 78) I am glad you enjoyed the pranks. I really don't think they had time for anything too elaborate, and really, I didn't want it to be anything mean or malicious or that would leave any lasting scars. ha ha. And they really ARE just a bunch of goofballs...having fun and enjoying themselves.

Feu d'Argent: Thank you for not only one, but two wonderful reviews! I wish I had time or the room to respond to everything you said, but know that I read and love every word. I have seen that picture on Pintrist too where they called Fili "the dwarf you would pick if the pretty dwarf was taken" and called Thorin "Prince Princey McBroodyPants" Although, I would think he would be KING McBroody Pants. ha ha. I am pretty sweet on my husband as well, he is a keeper. I hope this time when you read the trilogy your head does not hurt and you find a whole new appreciation for Tolkien's work. The movies are great, but the books are soooo much better. Gandalf did a fine job, didn't he? Rory was cute too. And Flinn and Frodo...well, what can we say, they are just too adorable for their own good. Well I DO know what a broken record sounds like, because I AM that old, and you sound nothing like one. ha ha. Thorin and Mari will indeed have a wonderful life together...can't be helped. ha ha. And I wish I could say I got more writing done, but I kind of relapsed and was in bed a lot again. Must have over did on Friday. Bummer. But I will keep at it.

dojoson41: I will admit it is fun to read a block of chapters at a time...I hate waiting. ha ha. And WHAT? You hijacked my Fili when I was ill and in need of him? You fiend! Oh well...hey, Kili...come here, pumpkin.

abc: Well, he is a king, so he better have come up with something pretty great for a ring. ha ha. I love that you called Gandalf a melding wizard, so true. And of course the ring and bead were tied on the pillows...do you think they would have stayed on otherwise? Not with as much as those two lads wiggle. And really, it is just another occasion for cake to be served and Flinn and Frodo to stuff their faces. ha ha. Glad you liked it.

Aranel Mereneth: it is ALL about the Durin family love. Glad you are enjoying all the fluff.