{Melamin} Thranduil/Reader 6

“You idiots.”

“Aw come on, you love us.”

“I’d love you more if you shut up.”

You giggled as you watched Kili pretend to be hurt by his words and Fili stifling a laugh. Thorin continued to glare at them, then picked up a knife and threw it at their heads.

Kili jumped out of the way and snickered at him, “You missed. Losing your touch, old man?”

“I didn’t miss.” Thorin grumbled while picking up another and aiming it in the same direction he’d thrown the first one, “If I killed you during target practice, what use would you be to me?”

Kili looked back to see the knife in the bullseye of a target about twenty yards away. He muttered something under his breath that you couldn’t hear and Fili laughed.

“Enjoying yourself?” Thranduil sighed, suddenly standing next to you at the doorway.

“A little.” You giggled again when Kili did a backflip and stuck his tongue out at Thorin, “I don’t understand why you don’t like them. Just look at them, they’re like adorable little children...with beards.”

“Well it’s about time they grew up,” he sneered.

You frowned, turning to look at his unhappy face, “What’s the matter?”

He looked down at you and continued to frown, but his expression softened a little, “They ruined my wine.”

“It was an accident.” You sighed, annoyed that he was still hung up on the subject hours later, “Besides, they apologized.”

“And I forgave them, didn’t I? That doesn’t bring my wine back from the grave.”

“You have plenty,” you tried not to smile at the whiny expression he gave you and failed, “here, come with me.”

You seized his arm and hurried him down the hall and to one of the lower leading staircases. You waited to see his expression until you got down to the wine cellar, but he only looked confused. The two elven guards sitting at the table in the center of the cellar stood abruptly when the king entered, bowing awkwardly.

They stood straight again and the one spoke, “Your majesty…it’s an honor.”

They weren’t used to having any visitors at all, and the king himself had probably never even set foot in the place. Thranduil sniffed and peered around the room with a displeased face, nodding once in the general direction of the men.

“He means thank you.” You smiled at them, to which one smiled back and the other raised a brow.

Once they sat back down, staring at the two of you, you led the king to one of the shelves and pulled a bottle of white wine from it.

“Drink with me?” you suggested, offering him the wine.

He tilted his head at you, amused. He took the bottle from you though and placed it back on the shelf, choosing a red wine instead and placing that in your hands, “Sure, elear.”

You rolled your eyes, wondering at all why you’d suggested a white wine, and led him back to the table where the guards were sitting. They looked up with slightly frantic eyes as if they’d done something wrong.

You smiled warmly, gesturing toward the door with the bottle still in your hand, “Do you mind?”

They exchanged a glance and shook their heads “no”, then got up and made for the door. They shut it rather loudly behind them and their footsteps carried hesitantly up the stairs, probably unsure of where to go while they waited.

Thranduil sat down uncomfortably at the small wooden table, looking out of place. You chuckled lightly and set the wine down, then went to the cupboard by the door to grab two of the cleanest glasses and a corkscrew. When you sat back down and placed the glasses down, opening the wine and pouring a bit into each cup, Thranduil eagerly took a drink.

After he set his glass back on the table you leaned across it and took the crown off his head, placing it next to the bottle. He didn’t seem to care much but still looked uncomfortable and out of place in the dark and damp wine cellar.

“See, you’ve got plenty of good wine.” You stated again, nodding towards the glass in front of him.

He took another sip and nodded in agreement, but his brow furrowed, “Why don’t you drink with me more often, elear?”

“I don’t drink as often as you.” You said honestly, ironically taking a sip of the strong-smelling wine, “Besides, I can’t get any work done while I’m drunk.”

He frowned, “I’m never drunk.”

“But you aren’t exactly sober half the time, are you?”

He half-smiled at you and took another long drink. You smiled in return and drank as well; only he refilled his glass after setting it back down.

“You may want to slow down; it’s not even dinnertime yet.” Your brow raised in concern.

The Elvenking hesitated to take his next drink and ended up setting his glass back on the table, leaning forward and looking into your eyes, “I need your advice, [Name].”

“Who better to ask than your advisor?” you snickered at yourself and took and drink.

His intense gaze didn’t help as he spoke, “Tell me honestly…do you think I need a queen?”

You put your glass back down on the table, frowning, “We already discussed this—“

“No, we didn’t.” he growled, “I discussed this. Tell me honestly: Do you think I need a queen to properly rule Mirkwood?”

Your frowned deepened with his tone and you avoided his question, “There have been plenty of other kings who ruled just fine without a queen.”

“I’m not talking about other kings!” His voice raised, loud enough for you to cringe, “Do you think I, me, can rule without a queen?”

You tried to answer, but no words came out of your mouth. You simply sat there, stunned, as Thranduil’s face changed from angry to what you could only describe as depressed. He searched your eyes for a moment before giving up and laying his head in his arms on the table, something you’d never, ever seen him do in the years you’d known him.

You got over your initial shock and turned your attention back to his present state. He was taking deep breaths and his hair was splayed in a disheveled manner over the table and his arms.

“Thranduil…” you murmured, reaching out a hand and touching his arm soothingly.

After a minute of silence he sighed and murmured into his sleeve, “Amin ante est.”

“Alright.” You murmured in return, standing from the table, “I’ll take you to your room.”

“I can handle it.” He stood from the table and took his crown, placing it back on his head. “See you at dinner, elear.”

He looked longingly at the wine for a moment, but turned and left without another word. When the door shut behind him you muttered to yourself about “mood swings” and “other kings”. You put the wine back on the shelf and left the glasses on the table, opening the door just as the guards walked in.

“As you were.” You gestured back to their table and they hurried over to it.

After going back to walking through the halls as you were doing that same morning, Thorin appeared around the corner with Fili and Kili, looking worn out.

Kili grinned and bounded over to you, stopping you in your tracks, “[Name], quick! Who would win in a fight, an ogre or a pack of goblins?”

You grinned at his odd question as Fili and Thorin approached as well, “Goblins, of course.”

Kili turned to face away from you as if offended and Fili smiled at you, “You see, goblins could easily take down a measly ogre.”

Thorin scoffed, looking at you and shaking his head, “[Name], I thought you knew better. Haven’t you ever seen an ogre? Goblins don’t stand a chance.”

You snickered and shook your head, your mood lifted, “Ogres are stupid; at least goblins know how to work together.”

“Exactly! We got your forth opinion and it’s settled: Goblins trump ogres.” Fili stuck his tongue out at Kili and then locked his arm with yours, ushering you quickly down the hall before they could disagree. You both giggled as they continued after you, Thorin arguing about a tie and Kili stuck on something about an “ogre’s timing”.

The four of you continued your argument about ogres and goblins (and somehow orcs got in there) until dinner time, when two of the guards approached you outside and mentioned the time. You nodded and entered the dining hall with the dwarves and Legolas, whom you’d found along the way to dinner.

The guards opened the large doors and motioned inside the large room. Thranduil looked displeased when he saw you and Legolas with the dwarves, which you knew meant he was completely disgusted. You decided not to let it bother you, though, and you sat next to Kili at the gigantic table on the opposite side from Thranduil. Again, the king looked displeased, but Kili beamed at you and you couldn’t tell if he was ready to delve into conversation or the food on his plate…probably both.

Once the servants left after having set down the food, Kili did exactly that, chewing a mouthful of bread as he spoke to you, “So [Name], now that we’re great friends you’ll get me a better room, right?”

You giggled at his comment, “What, like a king’s suite?”

He laughed openly, “I was hoping to trade with Legolas, but that’s a wonderful idea!”

Both you and Legolas chuckled, and you made the mistake of looking to Thranduil who was glaring and poking at his food. You rolled your eyes at how childish he was acting, after which he called for more wine. It didn’t bother you with how much wine he was consuming until about halfway through the meal when he shushed everyone with the commanding raise of his glass. “This should be good…” Thorin muttered, which you pretended not to hear.

“I’ve had time to think something over,” he said, choosing to swish around his wine and look at that rather than his guests, “and I have an announcement. An inquiry, really.”

Everyone in the room, guards included, shared the same puzzled look. Thranduil looked you all over and crept into a grin. When no one said anything loud enough for him to hear, Thranduil continued, but only after turning his and everyone else’s rapt attention to you. He still held a grin and your brow furrowed, uncomfortable with all the sudden pairs of eyes on you.

“[Name],” he smiled genuinely, “Will you marry me?”

You blushed. A lot. It took a moment for you to collect your thoughts, and another for you to get angry. He was asking you this? At the dinner table? After you’d already tried telling him no?

You shut your mouth that you hadn’t realized had been agape and took a very quick glance to the others at the table. The dwarves were confused and astonished, but Legolas just stared at you with wide eyes and an unbearably innocent expression.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Thranduil again and risk completely embarrassing yourself (you know, at least more than you already had with your prolonged awkward silence), so instead you excused yourself and stood abruptly from the table, exiting out the back of the room to avoid more wide-eyed stares.

You headed straight outside and into the woods, the only place where you knew no one would bother you. You needed time to clear your head. After all, it wasn’t every day someone drunkenly asked you to marry them in front of a number of your new-found friends. You sighed and stopped in front of a large tree with twisting roots and moss-covered branches, sitting down on one of the larger roots protruding from the ground. Your much needed thinking was only interrupted after a few minutes though, just the way everything else you did lately seemed to be interrupted.

“Lle tela? You’ve been skulking around for a while; it’s annoying.”

You jumped backward and hit your head against the tree with a thud, cursing to yourself and looking up to see, of course, that one guard that considered you a stalker.

You rubbed the back of your skull and sat back on your root, annoyed that you hadn’t noticed him approaching, “Maybe you should stop spying on me, then.”

He sat on one of the other roots a little ways away, shrugging nonchalantly, “Everyone’s going to be spying on you when you go back in there,” he nodded his head once toward the Halls, “it’s only been twenty minutes and everyone already knows about how you rejected the King’s marriage proposal.”

“Are you a figment of my imagination?” you growled, looking him over once, “I feel like you know just how to bring me and my mood down.”

He held up his hands in front of himself defensively, “Gossip spreads fast here! Besides, you aren’t even giving me a chance.”

“Fine.” You muttered bitterly, still in a bad mood, “What’s your name, then?”

“Amarthedriel. Most people call me Marth.”

“[Name]. But I’m guessing you knew that, no?”

He snickered, “All the guards know your name, miss advisor. Or should I say Mrs.?”

You shot him a glare after you went pink, to which he held up his hands again, looking honestly sorry this time, “Okay, alright. Too far...noted.”

It was a while before anything else happened besides the sun setting and the first few stars arising. Eventually you stood to leave, though, to which Marth followed behind without question.

About a third of the way to your destination, he piped up in Elven, “Manke naa lle autien?”

“Nowhere you need to be; so shoo.” You shooed him away with your hands, motioning in the opposite direction that you walked when you entered the Halls. He frowned but stopped following you, choosing to stand with another guard at one of the doors instead.

Your mind still clouded, you made your way up the stairs without a second thought.