Author's Notes: Aw yiss, procrastination! Despite exams coming up again I wrote this. I'm afraid this scene will be cut into two parts, the second part being from Thranduil's POV because I thought it would be interesting and I also didn't want a 6000-word chapter amid 2000-word chapters. So you get the first half now and the second half next time. :) I haven't finished writing that second part though, so I don't know when it will come up.

Enjoy!


"Colour studies". Watercolours – Thranduil's apartment, early afternoon

The improbable had happened and Thorin had found his Arkenstone. He still couldn't quite believe his luck. Sometimes he stopped at whatever he was doing at the moment and repeated the thought in his head until a stupid grin threatened to split his face in two.

When Thranduil had left Dís' apartment, they both spent the rest of the day celebrating the occasion. Dís patiently listened to his rants about what he intended to paint – there were thousands of ideas, blossoming in his head like dandelions in spring, and each of them birthed other ideas, sailing through the air like little idea-carrying parachutes that took root somewhere and grew more dandelions. He let the name – Thranduil – roll over his tongue until it sounded strange and they both started giggling like drunkards.

It had only been three days, but those three days felt like eternity and at the same time like the blink of an eye. Eternity, because he couldn't wait to paint Thranduil. The blink of an eye, because the days flew past in a haze of giddiness and anticipation. He had his Arkenstone. He knew where he was, he met him twice and Thorin already felt how the thought of him inspired him. He felt capable of moving mountains.

A set of watercolours had to suffice for now. Of course he could have loaned money from Dís, but he hated doing that. He could also have accessed their family fund, but it always felt strange using it. They both hadn't touched it since they paid their father's debts. It had always been their idea to eventually use it for Fíli's and Kíli's education, and so far that was the only thing they used the family money for.

After he acquired the watercolours, paper and pencils, he waited another day, which he spent practicing on the sketches he'd already done from memory. Only then did he gather his courage and called Thranduil from Dís phone. They agreed on meeting after lunch of the next day.

Now Thorin stood in front of the door to Thranduil's apartment, clutching the paper bag with his tools to his chest. The door opened, revealing Thranduil in casual wear, holding a box with takeaway.

"Hi … Sorry, still eating" he mumbled and patted his belly.

"Hi," Thorin replied and stepped in. He immediately took in the creamy light that filled the apartment with golden hues. It fit Thranduil's spirit, he thought. He could work with this.

"Are you hungry?"

Thorin turned and followed Thranduil with his eyes as he walked into the adjourning kitchen, shovelling what looked like rice and vegetables or something similar into his mouth.

"Um, I can always eat," he said hesitantly.

"Good. I ordered a bit too much for myself – and that means something, because I can eat a lot. At least I can and do once I remember to eat."

"How do you stay so slim then?" Thorin asked, set his paper bag onto the floor and accepted a box with sweet-and-sour pork and rice, and a pair of chopsticks. He clumsily gripped them and took a bite.

"Yeah, well, you're right, judging after the amount of food and alcohol I consume I should weigh 300 pounds or something," he said and pointed at the trash, where there were evidently two already empty takeaway boxes piled on top of each other. Thorin whistled.

"So how do you do it? I'd like to know that magic trick."

Thranduil shrugged, chewed and swallowed before saying: "God bless my genes, I suppose. My dad was tall and spindly, too, and let me tell you he could drink. And I don't mean water, mind you."

"And how's his liver?" Thorin asked through a mouthful of rice.

"Dead."

He coughed and pressed a fist to his chest. Five minutes in this man's presence and it was killing him already, for heaven's sake. Was his Arkenstone supposed to do that? Well, looking at his own ancestors this was more than likely, since they had all been killed by or through what was supposed to make them happy.

"What?" he croaked after his fit passed.

"He's dead," Thranduil replied, scraping the last bits of rice out of his box. "But it's not the liver that killed him, don't worry. Mine is fine as well. Comes from having a doctor as a son. He fears far too much about my health. He'd be the one having a coronary seeing me eat like this."

Thorin knew he was probably staring at the other man with eyes as big as eggs, but he couldn't keep himself from doing it. When Thranduil noticed, he set his box down and sighed.

"Sorry, I always prattle and talk morbid things when I'm nervous. Just forget what I said so far," he said with a pained expression. "Short things short: I like to eat a lot, I also drink a lot, but I'm healthy. A man's gotta have a guilty pleasure, right? At least I don't smoke. Legolas would kill me before I could develop lung cancer." He frowned. "Sorry, morbid things again."

Thorin chuckled.

"Is Legolas your son? The doctor?" he asked then. Thranduil nodded.

"I'm very proud of him. At least he achieved something, not like his dad." He grinned a bit joylessly and pointed at himself.

"Oh, speaking of non-achievers …" Thorin mimicked Thranduil's gesture, pointing at himself.

"Don't say that. I googled you. Wikipedia says you had a few exhibitions, that's something."

"They all flopped though. Didn't even make profit from the paintings." He shrugged and chewed a fried piece of sweet-and-sour pork. "Did you know that you have a Wikipedia page, too?"

Thranduil's eyes widened.

"A good thing I never google myself, then. Many horrible stories?"

"Nah. Just … an overview I guess." But what he really wanted to say: Why, should there be any?

"Mmh. So … Do you usually pick up guys on the street to paint them?" Thranduil asked then.

Thorin shook his head, pondering on whether or not to tell him the whole Arkenstone-story already. After a few seconds he decided against it – such things could scare people off, and he couldn't tell yet what Thranduil's reaction might be.

"No. I've never done than before. I usually paint urban landscapes or abstract paintings. I mean, I've painted people before, of course. But those were mostly portraits for family and friends. Thanks for the food, by the way."

"You're welcome." Thranduil opened the last box – it looked like chop suey – and began to eat.

They ate in silence for a while, Thorin sitting on the armrest of a couch and Thranduil perched on a bar stool. Thorin felt surprisingly comfortable in the other man's presence, feeling as if – at least for the moment – no words were needed between them. The apartment itself carried a light, open atmosphere, without feeling too cold or impersonal. Thorin saw a few pictures hanging on the wall, mainly of Thranduil with his friends – ha, there was that Haldir-guy! – or together with a younger man, who had to be his son Legolas. They shared the blond hair and blue eyes, and there was just something in their faces that screamed father-and-son, even though they didn't exactly look alike. Apart from those there was one photograph of a house surrounded by thick forest, but sadly no painted art.

"So, uh, how are we going to do this?" Thranduil asked and threw his empty takeaway box into the trash.

"Well, I have a few ideas, which I would like to sketch … And I brought watercolours, to do some colour study first. You won't have to be present for the painting process itself, if you don't want to, though I always like having company for it."

"No, I think I'd like to stay."

Thorin smiled and nodded, setting his own box of takeaway aside. He rummaged through his paper bag for a moment and retrieved his new sketchbook.

"Where are you most comfortable?" he asked then.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

"My bed."

He laughed and absentmindedly twirled a pencil between his fingers.

"Well, I'm not sure if we're ready for a study from the nude yet, so I'd stay we stick with 'clothes on' first."

"Yeah, that's okay." Thranduil grinned, blushing slightly.

Thorin was immediately struck with ideas and set his sketchbook down again, retrieving his watercolours and pencils instead. Seeing the colour on Thranduil's skin made his fingers itch to study it all. Skin, eyes, hair, mouth, hands, everything. He had to go slow at first, though, accommodate Thranduil, make him open up to him, so he filled a plastic cup with water, guided Thranduil to the couch and sat face to face of him on the edge of the coffee table.

"Are you not uncomfortable?" Thranduil asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Oh no, I'm fine. You know, usually I have nothing more than cardboard between me and concrete, so … A wooden coffee table is a great improvement, actually," he joked and quickly sketched a rough oval shape that was to serve as an place holder for Thranduil's face before he dipped a medium sized pencil into the water.

"Do I have to … do something?"

"Not really." Thorin smiled at him, memorizing the pale apricot of his still reddened cheeks that eased into a glowing alabaster on his forehead, chin and nose. "Though it would make it less awkward if we talked."

"About?"

"Anything you want. This is all about making you comfortable."

Thranduil made a thoughtful face and sat with his legs crossed.

"What kind of music do you like?" he asked then, sounding sincerely curious.

"Oh …" Thorin glanced at his first study, satisfied with the result, and moved on to painting Thranduil's hair. While it was certainly blonde, there were many interesting shades hidden among the tresses, from gold to almost silver. It would be hard to capture it properly with watercolours – something more substantial like acryl or oil would be better, or maybe crayons. An interesting thought. He hadn't drawn anything with crayons in a long time. "Um, I don't know, Rock probably. I don't listen to that much music, to be honest. When I was a teenager I was a big fan of AC/DC. And you?"

Thranduil grinned and tilted his head, making the light ripple over the silken strands of his hair.

"I like classical music a lot. Though I also like anything I can dance to."

He did a fake pout.

"Oh, so no AC/DC then?"

"Mmmh, no, not really." Oh, there was that blush again, a perfect apricot. What a pity he'd already captured it …

Thorin grabbed his things and shifted to one end of the couch without a warning. He saw Thranduil's alarmed face and tried to calm him with a reassuring smile.

"This way I get the shadows better," he explained and drew another oval shape with his pencil. This time he added said shades, carefully sculpting out more of Thranduil's face rather than concentrating on the colour of his skin. He felt like it was a rather intimate thing to do – it felt like caressing his face with the pencil, gently discovering all the little details and peculiarities that formed him. For a moment he wondered what Thranduil's skin would feel like under his fingers, and he probably stared at him for a few seconds longer than was appropriate, making his subject blush again.

"What is it?" Thranduil asked softly, apparently intent on conserving the comfortable atmosphere between them. He shifted a bit, bringing his feet out from under his knees, stretching them out sideways and in Thorin's direction instead. The shadows were altered now, but Thorin cared very little about that.

"Can I touch your nose?" he blurted, now sensing his own cheeks redden. He quickly added a murmured apology, feeling silly; and maybe he even put his own sanity into question. What was he thinking, oh, apparently nothing! He saw Thranduil staring at him with wide eyes, certainly questioning Thorin's sanity too. Thorin groaned and turned away, hitting his forehead with his sketchbook.


Author's Note: The first 'real' meeting, yay! What do you think so far? How will Thranduil react to that strange question? xD (I put that question there because I myself am stupidly enamored with Lee Pace's nose. It's so friggin beautiful. Geez. Sorry. If it's too stupid I'll remove it of course, I just couldn't help it, lol.)