Chapter Summary: In which King Thranduil decides to aid the dwarves the first time around. (Hobbit) (Harry/Thranduil)

Thorin ran out of Erebor, hearing the screams and yells of his people as they fled the dwarven city. Smaug was here, putting to flame anyone in his way and trampling everything else with his big legs. The survivors of the dwarven guard followed him, helping the refugees out. One helped Thorin's own sister Dis as she tripped on a broken rock, scooping up a dwarfling who had gotten lost.

Thorin dropped his hand to his sword when Frerin alerted him to something on Ravenhill, the site of the dwarven guard post. He peered up at the hill, momentarily stopping in his tracks as he looked and beheld the elves. King Thranduil was atop his white steed, the beautiful white stag looking down on them. A host of elves were behind him, on horseback and on foot, with quivers full of arrows.

And next to King Thranduil was a magnificent black horse, one that had no bridle or saddle. Atop the black horse was a man or maybe an elf but he was wearing clothes just as magnificent as the elven king.

"Help us!"

Thorin waved his arms in the air, hoping to draw the elves' attention to their plight. He had seen many dead friends and dwarven folk as he had raced out, one among them being his grandfather. Sweat poured down his forehead and down his back as he ran over to his brother and sister, hoping that the elves would help. He stared at them, narrowed his eyes as he saw Thranduil start to turn around. Thorin watched as the man on the black horse started to speak to Thranduil, gesturing to the dwarves and behind them, to the elven host.

Then the black horse took off, with no visible urging, and galloped down the hill, carrying its' rider down, towards the dwarves. Thorin's eyes widened as a minute later, King Thranduil did the same, urging his own mount down towards the dwarves. The elven host behind him followed, splitting up at the base of the hill, half going in the direction of Dale and half following Thranduil.

The black horse seemed to arrive at the foot of the road into Erebor within a minute or two of taking off, the man jumping off gracefully and walking steadily past the refugees. The man had a blade strapped to his waist and the clothes he was wearing evoked an image of an old king of men but Thorin had never heard of someone like him. The man's horse stayed still, prancing out of the way of the dwarves who were fleeing.

"Prince Thorin! Are you okay?"

"Who are you?"

"King Thranduil's consort," the man replied, coming to a stop before him. Thorin peered up at him, seeing the strange scar on his forehead and the glowing green eyes and the wild black hair that was tied back. "We're here to help. Is the king…"

"King Thror is dead," Thorin answered, raising an eyebrow. "King Thranduil came to help."

The man grinned a little, gaze going to where King Thranduil had ridden off towards Dale. "He took some convincing, I admit. But yes, we're here to help. I'll take care of the dragon. They'll help the refugees and rebuild Dale, assuming it wasn't too badly damaged. After I get the dragon, they'll need to have access to the mountain, help rebuild."

"A sword won't help," Thorin muttered.

"I don't need a sword to do this," the man offered. "I have magic at my side."

Thorin blinked, watched as the man walked off, towards Erebor, towards the dragon inside. Already he could see a portion of the elven host setting up tents in the center of the valley, a few horses pulling wagons coming up to them, filled with supplies and food.

"SMAUG, GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF THERE!"

Harry stopped at the broken gate of Erebor, knowing that he was drawing the stares of the dwarves behind him. At least, most of the elves in Mirkwood were used to him now since he had arrived in their world 200 years ago. He dropped his hand down to Gryffindor's sword briefly before taking a step into the mountain, avoiding the bodies around him. He spared some magic to heal some of the more badly wounded dwarves, getting them up and walking so that they could walk out and see a healer. Hopefully, they wouldn't discriminate between him and the elven healers that had come with them.

He heard the thumping of Smaug's feet and wings against the stone walls around him and walked further into Erebor, following the sounds of a dragon making his nest. He took note of the many downed pillars, filing the locations away for future repairs in his mind before arriving at the treasure room. The throne room was to his right, where Thranduil had gone to retrieve his jewels a few days earlier. Harry stopped at the entrance to the treasure room, overlooking the whole mountain of gold, and staring right at the red dragon before him.

Smaug was huge and gleaming, taking up many miles of space with his wings and body. Harry blinked then leapt off of the railing before him, between one moment and the next, shifting shape into a phoenix. He flew forward, beating his wings rapidly, glowing with fire and flew right at Smaug's head, making sure the dragon saw him.

The dragon zeroed in on him, Smaug's eyes watching him like a lion watched its prey.

"Who dares to disturb me?! Me? Smaug? The newly crowned King Under the Mountain?"

Harry rolled his eyes, flew in to claw at Smaug's eyes, using his natural fire and warmth to anger the dragon.

Thranduil directed some of his elves to watch the borders of Erebor, to be on the lookout for orcs or goblins that might have seen the dragon. The chosen sentries rode out on horseback, their bows and quivers strapped to their backs. He again turned to look at the mountain of Erebor, a few miles to the north, wondering how Harry was, if he had succeeded. The distressed cries of the men of Dale rose around him as his men and women helped dig people out from under stone. Late, Harry would help rebuild the city but now…

He could see most of the dwarves that had fled Erebor were sticking around, staying under the tents that his own people had set up. It had taken much arguing before Harry had convinced him to come to aid Erebor and Dale and some of that had not been them talking. He had been weary at first, not wanting his elves to die or be injured again, but Harry had talked him out of turning around. Harry had said that he would handle the dragon.

Nearly a half an hour later, the survivors of Dale had congregated outside, under the tents that the elves had set up. Thranduil was seeing to the temporary arrangements for housing, seeing to it that they had enough tents and food. The dwarves had been wary enough of the elves but most had let the elves look at their injuries and the like.

Prince Thorin was directing the survivors, seeing to everyone's needs. Thranduil's own son, Legolas, was talking with some of the guardsmen, keeping an eye on the borders of the land. A few of his scouts had seen goblins encroaching on the far border of Erebor and had kept note of them.

Screams came from the tents that were the closest to Erebor, the ones that were looking at the mountain and Thranduil's eyes widened. He immediately hastened over to the tent that overlooked Erebor's front gate, seeing the ruins of the gate and…

Smaug came flying out of the mountain, blood pouring from a wound in his long neck. The familiar fire bird came flying out too, near Smaug's tail, and as Thranduil watched, swiped again at Smaug's legs, at the dragon's neck. Smaug squealed, roaring out something that sounded like a threat. Thranduil smirked, knowing that Harry wasn't even paying attention to the dragon.

"Quite a man, isn't he?"

Thranduil would forever deny that he gasped, turning to his side to see Gandalf. "Mithrandir."

"King Thranduil. I had not thought to see you two together," Gandalf remarked.

Smaug finally gave out, crashing into the land in front of Erebor, in the valley. The dragon gave one last scream of anger before the phoenix turned back into a man, landing right on Smaug's neck and impaling the dragon with his sword.

"Harry has grown on me."

"Indeed."

"Harry knew of your meddling, wizard. We would appreciate no more."

Gandalf laughed under his breath but nodded. "The results have been quite exemplary."

Thranduil rolled his eyes and headed towards the body of Smaug, hearing his two guards follow. Harry was still standing on top of Smaug's body, breathing heavily, the sword of his past world in his hands, by turns gleaming in the sun and dripping with dragon blood.

"Something wrong?" Harry called out, his eyes intent on Thranduil as he approached. There were still sparks of flame flying about on Harry's skin, the remnants of shifting shape.

"No. Are you okay?"

"I am. How goes the assistance?"

"Prince Thorin is aiding us and unsurprisingly, Gandalf has arrived," Thranduil spoke, taking in Harry's bright eyes. The man who he chose to make his consort was eying him in a way that bespoke want and… "Harry, this is not the time."

Harry snorted, glanced down at the body of the dragon. "Perhaps later I can steal you away in some part of the mountain."

Thranduil felt his cheeks warm. Harry smirked at him then jumped off, his magic aiding him in the soft fall to the ground. "Later then."

A week later, the rebuilding effort for both Erebor and Dale was well under way. Elves, dwarves and men were all working together, aiding each other. The injured had been tended to and the curious company of orcs and goblins had been killed. Erebor was also getting ready for the coronation of a new king, King Thrain.

Harry idly walked alongside King Thranduil in one of Erebor's hallways. The dwarves were busy with repairing everything and with getting ready for the coronation though Harry was helping with the rebuilding. Smaug hadn't been in the mountain for more than two hours but the dragon had done a lot of damage.

"Do we have to stay for the coronation?" Thranduil murmured, as they stopped in a corner to let several dwarves through. Some glanced up at them, mostly looking at Harry with awe in their eyes while giving Thranduil the stink eye. "The dwarves are not trustworthy."

"You just say that because you're an elf," Harry whispered, dropping his arm down to catch Thranduil's hand and entwining their fingers once the dwarves were gone. "They don't have the time to do anything along the lines of a betrayal."

Thranduil sighed. "Harry."

"Thranduil." Harry returned, tugging him further into the corner. "Prince Thorin did seem nice, didn't he?"

"Nice enough for a dwarf," Thranduil agreed, feeling the cold stone at his back as Harry placed a hand on his chest. Warmth flowed from the man even through the fabric separating them. Cold stone versus flesh made warm from the fire within. "Perhaps we could only deal with him in the future."

Harry grinned, wrapping an arm around Thranduil's neck, under his long, silvery hair, and pulled him into a kiss. A strangled groan left his throat as Harry surrounded him, familiar magic wrapping around them and hiding their corner. "Hantanyel." [Thank You]

Thranduil sighed as Harry deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth, nipping bites at the corners of his mouth. Thranduil whined as Harry slipped a leg in between his as their cocks hardened. One of Harry's arms made its' way under Thranduil's tunic, rubbing distracting circles on his hip.

"Ídhron gi phuithad," Harry whispered, his green eyes blown with arousal. "But that will have to wait."

"Then wait we will..." Thranduil trailed off on a moan as Harry pinned him to the stone wall behind them, one hand on his chest as the other made its' way down to his cock.

Harry grinned at Thranduil's face, his grey eyes blown wide with arousal and his mouth open just a little. His elven king was breathing heavily, almost leaning into him as Harry's hand traced downward, meeting his cock and lightly running his fingers over it. "You're beautiful like this, undone by my fingers."

A choked off cry came from Thranduil's throat as Harry placed more pressure on his cock, twisting a little and leaned into bite a claiming mark onto the bare skin of his shoulder. With another whimper, Thranduil let go, his release sticking onto Harry's fingers.

Thranduil slumped into Harry, as the man stroked him through his orgasm, wrapping arms around him. "Le melin."

"Love you too, you daft elf," Harry whispered, smiling softly. "Even if you distrusted me when we first met."