I always thought it would be funny if Thranduil and Thorin ended up as a family. Not to mention, brothers in marriage. They argue so much after all. (Cackles madly)
Lots of hot scenes, swearing, romance and some sexual content, but strictly no lemons. (I go by that policy)
PS. I apologise for any spelling errors or grammatical errors for I am still learning English and this is a way for me to practice. Please tell me if you see one? I'll change it as soon as I can!
This story also contains a polygamy, reverse harem relationship with a large age gap. (Thranduil is freaking 5000 years old. Harry is only just 17. That means an age gap of freaking 4983 years!) Please do not read this if you dislike reverse harems or gay stories(Harry was a guy after all.) You have been warned. Now, I really hope this entertains you to some extent.
Harry knew that he was dead. One minute he was laughing, the wand in his hand oily and grimy, slick with sweat. Exhilaration, relief, happiness and joy flooding his veins. Voldemort, his enemy for years, was dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD. The Dark Lord had exploded into black flakes of ash, disappearing into miniscule specks of dust. Gone forever.
Then his vision had blurred, his hand trembled, and his faithful wand of six years slipped from his grasp. He remember his legs giving way, losing the energy to stand. He had toppled forward with a loud thump. His head hitting the ground painfully, and for a few seconds he had been unconscious. Harry had blinked dazedly awake, to find himself surrounded by family and friends screaming his name.
He had smiled at them almost comfortingly, his vision a haze of light. He remember knowing that he was dying, that this was it. He could no longer go on. He was too tired. Too tired to live. The next second he was dead. Harry theorized that it was sheer willpower and magic that allowed him to stay alive long enough to kill the crazy lunatic. No one could escape the killing curse after all. Not even twice.
He believed that he would be able to see his parents. See Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Professor Dumbledore maybe even Snape. What he did not expect was to find himself butt naked, alone and in utter darkness. Where the hell was he? He glanced around, squinting his eyes.
Surrounding him was mist of varying colours, ranging from blue to dark grey. They twisted and turned around him, spiralling in the air sluggishly slow. Shit. Would he be stuck here forever in his birthday suit? Merlin no! This has got to be the most bloody boring afterlife. Was he stuck in between or something? Perhaps this was his punishment for escaping death twice?
"Hello?" He yelled again for the fiftieth time. "Anyone there?"
"Shush child. I hear you." A voice that sounded like soft wind chimes tinkling softly, with a feminine edge echoed across the area. Harry's eyes widened, trying to find the source of the sound. Who was that?
He watched as little shards of light appeared before him, flickering slightly. They swirled, almost teasingly in the air, painting intricate patterns. Harry leaned in closer to have a look. They exploded. They burst into puffs of dust raining down over him, flying into his nostrils and deep into his windpipes. He coughed and spluttered, sneezing from the bits of glitter that had entered his nose. Bloody hell!
He squinted as the little buggers which began to form an outline of a women with flowing hair. Her body was made out of those tiny glittery sparks. Her every move was a galaxy of glistening stars that winked teasingly at him in shades of vermillion, silver and gold. Harry stared at her warily, his eyes narrowing slightly. What the bloody hell was going on?
"Harry Potter." She whispered, glowing with an ethereal light. "You have had an unlucky life in the upper realm." Harry stared at her incredulously, is she pitying him? Stating the obvious? God! Get on with it already lady!
"Unfortunately, it is not your time to go for you are much needed in Middle Earth, my dear chosen one." She raised a flickering finger of sparks trailing it in the air. Wind rustled at his already messy raven hair, tousling it further. Glittery sparkles encircled his body, brushing against his skin. He flinched, brushing the sparkles off. Was he getting molested by some ghost?
"For you have much happiness to be found here." She gently gripped his wrist, and he watched amazed as ink begin to seep into his skin reaching outwards and twisting over his skin. It travelled across his arm, twisting and turning leaving a mark of some kind in its wake.
The tattoo continued to circle around his arm like an armlet, forming words of some kind. It was in another language he did not know of. A runic kind of writing with its messy sharp lines, and ups and downs. The tattoo looked as if it were made of some sort of insanely beautiful stone that glimmered with iridescent shards of light. He twisted and turned his arm, watching it reflect the light with a rainbow sheen.
The ink continued down his left shoulder forming vines of little gold leaves with blossoms of white shimmery flowers, which sparkled even brighter than diamonds. The gems glittered with a luminescent light, each cut of the flowers were perfectly symmetrical, glistening with an almost comforting light. The vines curled to the small of his back in an intricate weave.
It was girly. Girly as hell. But, honestly it was beautiful. He brushed his fingers against it, unable to stop himself from touching the beautiful markings on his body. His touch brought a shiver of pleasure up his spine and it took all his will power and dignity to stop his arousal from showing.
"What the f*ck did you do to me?" Harry asked the glittery women, his mouth agape. Did she just give him a tattooed on marijuana that never ends or something? Male potency drugs? The hell was this shit?
"The one on your back is a vine of special fruit, white gems of pure starlight." The lady grinned, almost cheekily. "The tattoo on your arm is khuzdul, dwarven language, written in a precious gem called the arkenstone." She gave him a bright smile. "My dear Harry, it will not do well for a lady such as yourself to speak such crude language."
"Lady? What the hell are you talking abo-" He squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden rush of wind and the bright flash of light. He yelped as he hit the grassy floor with a painful thump on his belly. His eyes snapped open and wincing as he slowly got up. That hurt. God his balls must be in deep shit for it to not hurt at all when- He glanced down at himself to see two pale round mounds of flesh on his chest. No shit. He felt around. No. No. No. No. His one indication of his male status was gone, and in its place was something he never got to touch in his entire life…Merlin.
Did that lady just turn him into a girl? He knew those tattoos were too girly to be true! F*CK! Harry mentally cursed, as he pulled at the curls of ebony hair that flowed down his head to end at his lower back. Longer hair? Seriously? He sighed.
Where was he anyway? All around him-no, wrong pronoun usage-her stood large brown pillars of brown wood reaching towards leaves of various shades of green, ranging from dark olive to a bright orange. The leaves so densely packed that only some rays of sunlight were allowed to seep through, shining onto her face with a warm carress. A forest? Harry sighed. She squinted. All she could see were trees and more trees.
The magic of this land encircled her teasingly, a warm feeling that reminded her of basking under the sun after being in an air conditioned room for too long. Harry frowned. It felt foreign but in a good way. It prodded her magic seemingly filling up her magical core, nurturing her, caring for her. It was willing to accept her as a foreign body. Harry felt rejuvenated, like a fully charged battery with added power.
Wherever this was. It was definitely not Earth. She distinctively remembered the lady calling it Middle Earth. How unoriginal. She glanced around to see none other than the elder wand and her invisibility cloak lying beside her. Tch. The elder wand never did seem to leave her did it?
She threw it in the air and away from her. That was probably the dumbest action to do in a foreign world considering how it was the only weapon she had. However, thankfully it swooped back to lie beside her immediately. Of course. Harry nodded to herself. It was one of Death's magical artefacts after all.
Harry glanced around and groaned, she hated the woods. Not to mention, her monthly female problem might appear any moment. She probably had to cast period charms on herself to stop her monthly flow. Thank God Hermione had taught it to her, claiming that Harry should learn everything about witches if she wanted to even date one.
On the bright side, Harry's eyesight was not as shitty as her old ones in her previous life and she did not need those blasted round glasses anymore. Bloody hell. Harry mentally screamed at herself. She was a bleeding female with cramps, PMS, girly shit and boobs! Maybe this was not her rebirth. Maybe this was hell.
Thranduil awoke to the soft glimmer of light from the sun, the silken sheets of his bed cool under his skin. He blinked, his long dusty brown lashes fanning across his milky white skin. He grimaced at the ting of pain that stung him with his every move of his body. He sat up clenching his fist tightly in his hands. He hated this. He hated that his face, something he treasured so greatly was disfigured by the dragon. The dragon which also killed his wife.
It may be true that she was not his soul mate, hers having died centuries before they met. However, he loved her. With a pinched scowl, he sat up to stare at the monster in the mirror. The ghastly holes in the left side of his face had muscles so ruined by dark magic they could never be healed. That deep cut that ran up his face and the various burn scars on the upper left side of his body, pained him for years and years. The dark magic continued to eat at his flesh, never disappearing, never leaving him alone. This was a result of dragon fire.
His left eye was blind as well, murky blue and unseeing. It throbbed with a horrible ache, which greatly spoiled his mood. He rarely smiled these days. The pain reminded him during his every wakening moment of all his faults, his worries and his sorrow. Each day, he had to cast a glamour on himself to even dare to walk out of his room. Sometimes he would question the Valar, wondering what he had done in his previous life to have to suffer this fate. This fate of constantly bearing great pain, shouldering the lives of his people and being without a soul mark.
Every living creature that walked Middle Earth were blessed with another half, their soul mates. While men were known to not have a soul mark unlike the other races. Elves however, shared an interesting flower marking on their bodies with their one true love. If a soulmate were to touch the skin of their other half, the tiny replicated flower of their other half's soul mark would appear on the skin under their touch. Not to mention, the soulmate of an elf would appeal to the elf beyond measure. This was how elves found their true love.
The flowers could bloom to form anything, from roses and lilies to diamonds and gold. It was to be unique, spread out in tiny little waves over their skin, beautiful. Every elfling had one since birth, even if their mate was not born yet or had died. All elflings, except him. It was rare for the people of Middle Earth. However, there had been cases in some men. A more common occurrence for dwarves. Thranduil ran long slender fingers through his hair. Perhaps he wasn't destined for true love.
He sighed and stood up changing into his robes. He was tired. Tired of living. The only reason why he continued was because of his people and his son, Legolas, who thankfully had a soul mark. It would not do if his condition was genetic.
He pulled off his boxers, twisting his body to reach for a new pair only to stop and stare. There on his body, on his ass to be particular, was a mark. A vine of emeralds. It twisted and turned from his hipbone to his ass and to end by circling a rather intimate place, the skin surrounding his very male organ.
Thranduil was shocked, in stupor. He gaped at the mark, not being able to believe his eyes. With trembling fingers he brushed it gently, and watched as it shimmered and glowed ever so slightly, a rush of pleasure running up his veins. A feeling he never thought he would experience. The Valar finally heard his plea for love.
Thorin was a lonely man. For 103 years, he had hoped that his soul mark would appear. It was a futile wish, for dwarves with soulmates would have theirs as soon as they were born. Still he hoped, he hoped for the mark to appear. But by the time he was 70, he became weary of hoping and that flame that used to be bright in his heart. That flame that burned in him for a queen. His queen of Erebor. It had been doused with cold water of truth. He would be mate less, doomed forever to work with stone till he died.
Dwarves were a race who loved stone. Therefore it wasn't a surprise that their soul marks would be their significant other's name, in their handwriting, and written with the stone that represented them. Aside from that, as a race who loved beautiful things. The soulmate and the dwarf would emit a glow that only they could see, a soft shimmer of beauty. This was how dwarves found their other half, dazzled by their beauty. Sadly, Thorin would never be able to see this glow.
At the very least, Kili and Fili would find their mates. The line of Durin would not die out and Erebor would continue to thrive. Thorin sighed, going off to a bush to relief himself in the wilderness.
He was yet again living in the wild. Like the homeless dwarf he was. Thinking of his status as a mate less dwarf with a stolen home made him bitter. He pulled off his trousers, making sure to hide far from view of any wandering traveller. He begin about his business, quickly finishing only to freeze.
There right on his manhood, was a mark…a soul mark. It trailed along his length, a bright crystal green, emerald stone. This name was in Westron. Perhaps a soulmate from the race of men? His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, racing from excitement and delight. Dwarves tended to live till 250 years old. However, the magic of the soul bond would adjust both ages of the soulmate to the race that lived the longest so he did not have to worry about living pass his soulmate.
He could not believe it. Finally after so long, a name would be given to him. He gingerly traced it carefully, each dip and curve of his dear soulmate's messy writing. He swallowed thickly as zings of pleasure coursed his veins at his touch, his male organ throbbed slightly. Harry Potter.
A smirk rose on his lips. Of course his perverted soulmate could not choose a better place to have her name. His nephews would laugh at him about the fact that without even meeting her, his love already had his family jewels marked. Or should he say, as Kili always liked to call it, jam bags?
Harry trudged through the forest, scratching her arm with a deep scowl. For all that the eye can see, it was just trees and more trees. Harry dearly hoped she would not meet something dangerous in these lands. God knows if this new world had no people but only monsters and trees. She glanced down at herself, dusting off the bits of soil on her cargo pants. The dirt was leftovers from her transfiguration spell. For her modesty, she had transfigured an army jacket, a pair of cargo pants, and a black t-shirt out of a couple of rocks.
She sighed. She won't have to become a hermit will she? God damn it! She wanted her family! Her kids! Harry blinked. Wait…She's female now so…She had to find a bloke to have kids? Get pregnant? Have sex the other wa-ARGH! Harry shuddered, gulping in horror. She didn't want to think about it.
She glanced around, coming to an abrupt stop. The trees here looked as if they were tossed around like a rag doll. Destroyed and pulverized with gashes in their trunks. A large rock from a land slide? Avalanche?
She eyed the crevices on the road closely. On a second thought, it kind of felt like the work of dark magic. It was seeping soft little alluring wisps of it, coaxing her to go closer. Harry frowned. Maybe a pissed off wizard? Or a pissed off dark creature?
Harry did a quick reparo charm to fix the holes in the road and the smashed tree. The tree creaked and groaned back to place, the broken bits of wood flying back to its original spot. Harry watched wide eyed as red ruby like fruit popped into view, contrasting vividly with the dull green of the tree.. The tree continued growing towered over her way above its usual height. Harry raised an eyebrow. The elder wand was a little over powered was it? Oh well. She plucked a red apple from the fixed tree and took a bite into the sweet tart fruit. More magic means easy survival.
She continued on her merry way, doing repairing charms on the floor and trees, leaving behind an army of- Harry glanced behind herself with a twitch of amusement- large happy fruit trees. She turned around and tripped over her feet. She yelped, quickly taking a large step forward to stop her fall, barely missing the head of the animal corpse on the floor. Shit!
She wobbled upright and bent lower to take a look at the ghastly bite on the animal's neck. The wound oozed with dark magic, its flesh ripped out by the pincers of some kind of animal. Acromantula? Harry was speechless. Magical species were here too? What were the odds?
She pursed her lips and waved her wand over the animal expelling the dark magic and burying it into the ground. Animals died quickly from dark magic attacks. Trees were slightly sturdier and despite the exposure to dark magic they were still able to survive for a period of time. She continued down into the forest doing the same for the increasing bunch of dead animals on the floor. These acromantulas were pissed off huh?
She glanced up. Hey wait, a house! A house in the woods! Harry grinned. That means that there was civilization in this place! Thank god! She had wondered if maybe this was a land with just animals. Then again, maybe this was a land with animals and magical creatures. Perhaps this is a centaur's house?
The house was built over two large trees and made with straw, wood and dead leaves. She walked up to the door, stopping for a moment to wrap the invisibility cloak around her body. Who knew what lived in a house in the woods? She crept closer to the door. Someone inside was talking to himself in a frenzy hurried manner. She placed her ears on the door to listen.
"I don't understand why it's not working!" He cried. Harry frowned, it sounded like the voice of a really old man. "It's not as if it's witchcraft!" He sounded frustrated. Wait, he speaks English? Fantastic. "Witchcraft." He murmured and Harry had to strain her ears to listen. Feeling the spike in dark magic, she flipped around to stare at a horde of giant black spiders crawling towards her. Bloody hell.
"Stupefy!" She flicked her wrist stunning the spiders with a bolt of orange light. They reared back wincing, before starting up towards her again, raising their pincers to revealing drops of highly toxic dark venom. Hell no.
"Diffindo!" Harry cried flicking her wrist to cut at their legs, with strips of sharp powerful energy. The magic sliced at their feet, causing some spiders to tumble over. They whined, skittering about in pain and annoyance. Harry raised her wand at the offending spiders, glaring fiercely.
"Depulsio!" The spiders flew back, hitting the tree with a hard thump. With a loud wail, they scurried off in the other direction, looking fearfully and angrily back at Harry. She grinned. Her combat skills weren't that bad after all.
She jumped at the sound of the door slamming open. She watched as an old man rushed out of the house. He paced about, staring around in confusion. The old man was slightly shorter than herself, dressed in rather tattered robes. On his head was a really old hat, and by old, Harry really meant a tattered old hat that looked as if it had centuries of overuse. Harry squinted at him. Was that bird shit in his hair?
Harry raised a brow. She could feel the pulses of magic radiating from his wooden staff. However, he looked a tad too crazy. One too many poisonous mushrooms perhaps? She decided against asking the old man, finding solace in simply walking through the forests in the other direction. Merlin knows what the crazy lunatic would do to her. Who the hell does not notice when a bird craps in your hair?
Harry groaned. She should have just spoke to that old man. She had gotten herself into the territory of the giant spiders. The forest here was chockfull with dark magic, the trees loomed over her with sharp branches, not letting even a small speck of light through their twigs. Darkness painted the entire forest, and a fog that made the place even gloomier lay over the area. Harry shivered, feeling the tendrils of dark magic lick at her skin, enticing her to fall asleep.
Stupid dark magic! She scowled as she shimmied over the branches, crossing the stream that oozed with death. Harry glanced at it, the stream bubbled with dirt and dead rotten vegetation. Bloody gross. Harry wrinkled her nose. It stank horribly. The entire place smelt like dying plants, musky wood, and rot. Harry eased pass a couple of spiders, her invisibility cloak hiding her from view. This place was so infested with them, everything was dead or if not near death!
Harry sighed, taking a sit on a blackened stump, far away from the spiders nest. She flung off her invisibility cloak, keeping it in the small pouch attached to her transfigured wand holster. She gripped the elder wand, the smooth elder wood felt cool on her skin, tingling ever so slightly with magic. She raised her hand, pointing the elder wand to the surface of her palm. She watched with rapt amazement, as slowly the figment of her imagination appeared before her eyes.
Crumbs of soft white fluffy bread danced in her palm before lumping together to form a perfect triangle. Slices of freshly cut tomatoes spelled into view, doing a little hop before being tucked in by a blanket of lettuce. Sliced cheese and grilled smoked ham danced hand in hand in the air, flying down to land on top of the lettuce. The meal is completed with the appearance of yet another slice of bread. Perfect. Harry grinned in amusement at her sandwich, taking a large bite out of her well-seasoned meal.
Culinary magic always amused Harry. A swish of her wand and plain water turned to bubbly soda. A flick of her wrist and a rainbow sprinkles dusted a bed of ice cream. However, food creation was magically taxing, and many wizards and witches found their magical reserves exhausted with just the creation of a piece of bread. Hence, in the wizarding world, wizards and witches still relied on agriculture.
This did not apply Harry, with her incredibly large reserves and overpowered elder wand. She could easily conjure mountains of roast pigs, pools of sliced Bluefin tuna, and caves of melted caramel. It helped her greatly in the wild, especially since she could also conjure up magical ingredients which were unavailable in this world. This meant that she could create potions, healing potions, bone growing potions, blood potions. She could save her own life if need be, and many others as well.
She had experimented on potion creating, actually succeeding in making a few bottles of high leveled healing potions and others. Oh man. Snape would be rolling in his grave in horror that the Harry Potter was actually making decent potions! She cheated though. Who said you couldn't make an already freshly squeezed Sopophorus bean, instead of squeezing it out yourself?
Harry finished her sandwich, chewing the last piece with relish, savouring the fluffy texture of the bread, the sweet crunch of lettuce, the sour zest of tomatoes and the salty tang of ham. Bloody hell! If she were going to be able to create food like this for her entire life. She would be living a damn good life. She licked her fingers, taking a big sip from a transfigured cup of water. Harry reached for her invisibility cloak only to freeze.
"Who are you?" A voice trailed from above her, a male voice. Harry glanced up to see. A guy? He was standing on the branches, dressed in a rather girly outfit. Cosplay? Though… Harry took another glance at him. He was probably the most beautiful guy she had ever seen. His skin was absolutely perfect, no blemishes at all! He was blessed with feminine features, his eyes were an icy silver blue, with specks of gold, light reflections from his blonde corn silk yellow glossy hair. F*ck was she checking out a man? God. Were the female hormones finally kicking in? Shit!
"A lost person. Er. Where am I?" Harry scratched the back of her head sheepishly, feeling self-conscious about herself at his stare.
"You're in Mirkwood, trespassing on the land of the Wood Elves." He told her stiffly, his voice cold and arrogant. Wood elves? He's an elf? Harry stared at his rather pointy ears. So these lands had elves that were…She stared at him. Hot, bloody beautiful, incredibly proud- The elf ran over the branch and flipped over to land lightly beside her, his arrow pointing at her neck-Clearly very good at fighting. He was almost like a pretty Malfoy! She glanced up at him, her eyes widening. He was super tall too!
"I didn't know okay? So lower that god damn bow!" Harry raised her hand in surrender. The elf smirked, raising a brow. His bow not even moving an inch down. Urgh.
"A traveller that doesn't know where she is going? How curious." He sneered, clearly suspecting her every word. This guy was freaking suspicious! He walked up to her towering over her body. He finally lowered his bow, sliding it into a clasp on his back. He raised his hands towards her and begun to-Shit!
"STOP TOUCHING ME ELF!" Harry shrieked, as his hands begun to pat down her clothes. He flipped the pockets of her green army jacket, inspecting it with a frown. She swatted at his arm when he came too close to her ass. Bastard. Was he doing a security check on her? Security checks on women are done by WOMEN! Piece of shit.
"Where are you from human?" He asked, wrinkling his nose at the bottles of potions she had managed to make. He shook it turning it over to look at the liquid. Does he not understand the meaning of fragile or don't touch?
"I don't know! Wait stop! Give that back bugger! Okay fine, I got lost in the forest so I just kept walking! Okay?" She snapped at him, grabbing her precious bottles with a huff. Polyjuice potion, draught of living dead, pepper-up potion, skele-gro-
"You didn't answer my question. Anyway what are these things?" He dangled a bottle of essence of dittany in his fingers. Harry watched him, her eyes widened in horror. That was hard to make, idiot! She tried to snatch it back. However, he raised it above her head to inspect it closely, shaking the bottle, watching the liquid change from a pale purple to a light orange.
"They're medicine okay?" She huffed. He raised a brow, as he held his hand up, far from her reach. She jumped up and down, trying to grab it back.
"Ouch." He flinched, his hand moving away from the rather sharp branch at the top of the tree. They both stared at the gash on his skin, which was seeping droplets of blood. Dumb shit. She sighed, grabbing the vial out of his hands. She pulled open the cork, dabbing a little of the cool liquid on her finger. She took his hand and pressed her finger to his wound.
"What are you doing women?" He snapped at her, pulling his hand back with a snarl. Only to stop and stare at his cut, watching it as the skin mended itself, the blood seeping back into the wound, leaving behind a flawless new patch of skin. His eyes seemed to almost pop out of his skull as he stared incredulously at his hand.
"What did you do?" He glanced at her in shock, looking incredibly comical. His pale pink lips opened to reveal perfect pearly white teeth. Cute.
"A word of thanks would suffice." Harry sniffed. He stared at her blankly, and before she knew it the bottle of healing potion is in his hands. Damn elves and their speed!
"Essence of Dittany?" He read the label out loud with a frown. "Heals wounds, grows flesh, and destroys dark magic?" Ah screw it! He could take the bloody bottle! She would just use this chance to disappear! He would never let her go at this rate. She snapped open her pouch and flung her invisibility cloak over her head. She raced away, taking the chance to spell feather light charms on her feet, leaving behind a confused elf prince with a bottle of healing potion.
- (._.)- Thranduil
As usual, when the herbs and medicines wear off, Thranduil would find himself writhing in his bed in agony. Thranduil gave a silent scream, his mouth stretched wide open in agony. The pain blinding him, overflowing his senses. He could feel the licks of dragon fire on his skin, burning his body and sending him clawing at his flesh.
He swallowed thickly, biting down on his teeth hard to prevent a shriek from escaping his lips. The pain was so bad, tears were welling up at the corner of his eyes, sweat slathered thickly on his clammy skin. He could not take it anymore. He reached down desperately for his soul mark. Not caring how obscene he must look groping his ass.
The touch of a soul mark brought happiness and pleasure, dulling pain. Plus, he had heard from others that his soulmate would be able to feel it if he touched it, and he would be able to feel her touch in return. He gripped his soul mark, and almost sighed in relief at the influx of pleasure that coursed through his veins. How he wished he had the mark years ago. At least the pain of his burn scars would be more bearable.
The flames cooking his skin was still there, the dark magic clawing and digging holes in his skin. But just thinking of his soulmate, just touching his soul mark, distracted him from all of it. Then, he felt it. A warm heat that filled his heart, calming him down, giving his happiness. A warm surge that felt ten times different from his usual prods of the mark. It travelled up his body, warming his skin. It felt like drinking warm soup on a cold day or snuggling with someone during winter. He could almost feel the ghost of fingers stroking his cheek tenderly, softly, so filled with love. His soulmate had responded.
He gave another agonizing moan, sweat trickling from his brow at the sudden wave of pain. His face felt as if someone had shoved a sword through his skin and was repeatedly slashing at his cheek over and over again. However, his heart felt full, so full with love. His soulmate was there. She was alive. She was real and she was his.
"Ada! (Father!)" His beloved son, Legolas, entered his chambers approaching his bed. Amidst the pain, Thranduil dazedly wondered if his soulmate would disapprove of his son. It would break his heart if he had to choose between the two. He could distinctly hear his son speaking to the healer in a hurried tone, sounding almost exasperated. They were arguing, his son wanted the healer to hurry up and give him a dose of pain relieving herbs.
Thranduil knew it was no use. The dark magic that ate at his skin grew stronger by the day and the herbs or the magic of the healers were growingly useless. His healers had to use larger and larger doses. However, they could not use too much on him in fear of overdose. Hence, he had to withstand the pain for hours on end. He bit back a scream, clawing his fingers into the bed sheets, his back arching upwards. His people did not know of his pain, only his son and their private healers. It was not good for his enemies to know of his weaknesses.
"Ada." He could feel his son's cool fingers in his hair. "I…Met someone today. She gave me medicine. The healer tested it for any irregularities and I have actually tested it myself. It is a little-how should I put it-different but safe. Would you like to try it Ada?"
Thranduil cracked open his eyelids, gritting his teeth through the burning fire. He nodded to his son, wincing in pain. He felt so utterly useless, even just opening his eyes hurt so badly. At this rate he would never be able to survive a day without pain-
Cool liquid. Soothing, cold icy numbness touched the skin of his wounded, scarred cheeks. It trickled down his jaw, leaving a slightly warm tingly aftermath. That area was suddenly blissful lacking of the horrible pain. He could barely stop a moan in relief. Heavenly relief, it felt so good without the pain. So good that he could almost feel the skin slowly piecing themselves together-
Thranduil's eyes snapped open, and he sat up staring at his son. Legolas was staring at him in shock, the empty bottle hanging limply from his fingers. Thranduil reached his fingers up to stroke his face, the bottom half of his left cheek was still as scarred as ever, the ruined muscles felt disgusting under his fingers. He raised his hand higher, moving to his temples where he knew were those ghastly holes lay. Wait. He could actually feel the touch of his fingertips. The warmth that seeped from the pads of his fingertips.
His fingers trembled as he stroked the patch of new skin, soft and smooth, just like how it was before he met that stupid dragon. His breath came out in ragged pants, his chest heaving from shock. There was no dark magic in that area. It was simply gone. Just gone.
"Ada! Your face!" Legolas gasped in disbelief. Thranduil turned to look at the mirror, his eyes widening in disbelief. The skin on that area was repaired, the same milky complexion as the skin on the other side of his face. It was fixed. How could this be? His face was supposed to be so utterly destroyed, magic could not even repair it.
"Who gave you the medicine?" He gripped his son's wrist tightly. Thranduil stared at his son, his voice shaking slightly. His chest felt tight, he didn't know what he was feeling. It felt as if he were drowning, yet he felt so light, so incredibly light. He never thought that healing his face would be possible.
"A girl. A human girl. She was trespassing on our lands." Legolas begun to speak. Thranduil looked at him shaking with emotions.
"Find her!" He commanded, his voice filled with emotion. Finally there was a cure. A cure for his pain. Finally. "Tell the guards to search our lands! Find her and bring her to me!"
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I'll be posting Chapter 2 soon. In the meantime, favourite and follow to motivate me? :)
If you appreciate my work, and would love to help me...Buy me a coffee?:)