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“The human man with the dwarves. Did you know him?”
Elrond smiled faintly, glancing at Lindir as the dwarves walked off to the guest quarters. “No, I do not.”
Lindir arched an eyebrow.
Elrond stared at the retreating back of the human, now ensconced within the circle of dwarves. Mithrandir winked at him as he left and Elrond’s grin widened. “I spotted his mark. That is all.”
“Oooh?”
The sight of the tip of the Mark down the man’s arm had taken him aback for a moment, making his lips twitch in surprise. Now he was trying not to laugh out loud, for fear of making the dwarves more suspicious than they were.
It had been the tip of a river, a babbling spring etched into the man’s arm in black and blue. Elrond had seen beautiful trees along the Mark, dotted along the blue river. Trees that he hadn’t seen in an age or two. Mirkwood trees.
He had seen one word in the Mark, one word in Sindarin that made him almost wish he had not seen the Mark at all. Marks were private among elves, most of them preferring to keep to themselves regardless of whether or not they had found their matched. Dwarves occasionally bared their Mark if they had found their matched soul. Humans were a bawdy lot, most of them baring their Marks for all to see.
This man had been different, keeping most of his Mark covered all except for one little part of it. Perhaps it had been an accident, put on hastily this morning.
“How come you don’t have a staff like Gandalf does?” Kili asked, peering up at him as they started the trek through the mountains.
They’d left Rivendell a few days ago, leaving the beautiful elven oasis that Harry had fallen in love with. The mountains spread out ahead of them, snowy and white and rising above the clouds.
“I…have a wand?” Harry tried, meeting Kili’s eyes thoughtfully, shrugging.
Kili looked at him for a moment as the sun continued to rise above them. “A wand is inferior.”
“Inferior????” Harry echoed, bewilderment clear in his voice.
“You can’t use it as a weapon,” Fili added, poking Harry with the butt end of a dagger from Merlin knows where. Harry had seen Fili pull out multiple weapons from all over his person over the course of their journey. It rather reminded him of Moody.
Harry pulled out the Elder Wand, taking a huge step over a small ditch. “A staff would be nice though. Maybe help with walking. I haven’t walked this far ever, especially on a path with this much incline.”
The wand hummed in his fingers.
“Kili! It’s rude to ask someone why they don’t have a staff!”
Harry turned around to look at Bilbo, grinning at the glare in the Hobbit’s eyes. “It’s fine.”
Bilbo shook his head and huffed. “It is most certainly not. That would be rude in the Shire.”
“You’re not in the Shire,” Dwalin commented, shaking his head as he paused, raising his voice to be heard from the back.
“Wouldn’t it be more rude to ask why I hypothetically had a staff?” Harry tried, raising an eyebrow.
Bilbo blinked and Kili twitched.
Fili walked over and elbowed his brother, rolling his eyes.
Harry snorted in amusement and rubbed his fingers over his covered Mark, feeling the Elder Wand warm in his fingers. Magic rippled through and around him and then the Wand grew.
The Elder Wand grew and grew, increasing in size a little bit until it lengthened to form a Staff. It now fit more thoroughly in his hand and was sturdier. Harry blinked and stared at it, his mouth opening and then closing.
“Now he has a staff.”
“I think my Mark is for an elf,” Harry commented later, after they had escaped the goblins and had gotten ambushed by Azog. After they had flown with the Eagles. They had not lost their packs and that was the only thing that had gone well in the past ten hours.
Thorin froze and all of the rest of the dwarves froze too, stopping right where they stood. Bilbo stood right next to Thorin, his mark uncovered proudly. Bilbo’s Mark was of a mountain and a crown, words in the dwarvish language flowing around.
“An elf?!”
“Our wizard is Marked for an Elf???”
Dwalin glared up at him.
“How dare you be Marked for an elf! The audacity!” Kili shouted, crossing his arms.
“It’s not my fault!” Harry exclaimed back, throwing up his hands as they turned to head into the ugly, dark forest ahead of them. “And since when am I your wizard?”
“Since Gandalf left us, that’s when,” Nori commented, wrinkling his nose. “And you know a few tricks too.”
“How do you know that?” Thorin asked, reaching an arm to curl around Bilbo’s shoulders and pulling him in.
“Lord Elrond said it was in Sindarin that last night,” Harry replied, smiling over at Thorin and Bilbo before sighing. “I think he knows who shares my Mark.”
“Of course he does!” Dwalin exclaimed, his nose wrinkling with dismay. “Elves are a secretive bunch. That’s why we were suspicious when Gandalf steered us over to Rivendell.”
“You showed your Mark to an elf! That’s improper!” Dori complained, scowling up at him.
“I’m not a dwarf. I don’t hold your prejudices. I just wanted to know who the person with my Mark is,” Harry said, heaving a heavy sigh as he held up the Elder Wand-that-was-now-a-staff and let it illuminate the path before them. “My best friend was unable to find anything in my world and we pinpointed it to this world and.”
Bilbo’s eyes narrowed. “Well…we know no one recognized it in Rivendell.”
“Oh, aye, there would have been sappiness,” Dwalin said, coming up to walk beside them. “Humans and their Marks.”
Mirkwood was a nasty looking place, dark and brimming with some ancient power that felt much like a horcrux felt. Every single tree was darkened, digging into the dirt and almost too overgrown, the sap looking almost like blood. There was not a single beam of light in the woods around them, just darkness and evil and. He willed a little more magic into the light from his staff, to keep the darkness and sickness of the forest at bay.
“Oi! Hold on! Sappiness?! You lot are one to talk! I am not--”
Thorin rolled his eyes at Dwalin and then shrugged his shoulders lightly. “May we get back to the quest here?”
Harry snorted, running his fingers through his hair and conjuring Prongs, watching as the familiar patronus leapt from his wand-turned-staff. Prongs threw up his head and pranced around, its antlers huge and shining.
“Lead the way, Prongs.”
Kili and Fili took the lead after Prongs, followed by Nori.
“This forest could really do with a thorough cleaning. Top to bottom. If I was powerful enough--”
Harry stopped, glancing down at Bilbo as he passed, spying the Hobbit’s own Mark. “My Mark is in Sindarin.”
“Hmm?” Thorin glanced up at him, arching an eyebrow.
“My Mark is in Sindarin. I have no idea what the words mean.”
“Aye, that is sometimes how it works,” Thorin remarked quietly, dipping a nod to Bilbo. “He could not understand Khuzdul and yet.”
“The person who bears my Mark probably knows all about me,” Harry offered, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. “Because it is in English, or I suppose the Common Tongue. I know nothing about them and yet they know all about me! Bloody hell! I need--”
“Master Wizard, before you panic, you are powerful enough to cleanse this forest,” Thorin reminded him, giving him a slow once over look that Harry wasn’t all together sure didn’t hold any disapproval. “And whoever bears your Mark will see you for who you are and not judge you.”
Harry sucked in a breath and let it out, meeting Thorin’s eyes. “Thanks.”
“Even if they are a stupid Elf.”
Harry rolled his eyes at Thorin’s derogatory comment and continued on the path, catching up with Fili and Kili.
“Down! Everyone shut your eyes!”
As one all the dwarves and the hobbit fell to the ground, trusting Harry and covering their eyes.
Harry hummed and planted his wand-turned-staff into the ground, yelling out the very familiar spell. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
It wasn’t Prongs that leapt from his wand this time but a great white light, cleansing the woods around them of spiders and webs. Power flooded the area, washing through it with pure intention. The spiders cried out, caught mid attack, frozen in place before vanishing.
Trees lost their sick looking appearance, unfolding from each other and letting light in. Letting the sun in. Spider webs burned up in the bright glow, turning to ash.
Harry breathed for a moment, his heart beating in his chest, almost rising up into his throat. The sound of bows being drawn and nocked echoed in the air as the dwarves opened their eyes and stood back up.
Elves filled the clearing around them, their bodies clothed in armor and various weapons. Knives, bows, spears.
Harry took a step back, standing in front of his company of dwarves. Grumbles and groans echoed from Thorin and Dwalin, with Balin narrowing his eyes.
“We’d like passage through the forest,” Harry started, looking around at the Mirkwood elves and wondering if one of them was his soulmate. His heart thumped hard at the thought. “Safe passage, if you don’t mind.”
The one that seemed to be in charge stepped forward, his silver hair loose at his back. Fair skin. Long, thick hair. His eyes were glued to Harry, light blue eyes that seemed to spark with knowledge. Or at least the need for more knowledge. Harry knew that look. Harry was quite familiar with that look.
“My father would like to know what a company of dwarves is doing in the wood,” the elf remarked, his bow still drawn and nocked.
“Nothing!” Bofur exclaimed, glaring up at the elf.
“We were just hungry,” Thorin added, shrugging when the elf turned to glare at him instead.
“Yeah, hungry,” Dwalin agreed. “We were hunting.”
“And who would your father be?” Harry asked, curious despite himself as to the identity of the elf in front of them.
“King Thranduil. You are trespassing in his realm.”
“That’s Prince Legolas,” Balin whispered from right behind Harry, nudging him with a finger.
Harry hummed and considered their situation. They did need supplies for the next few days. And. Sting was glowing in Bilbo’s hand, or at least what was visible. Orcrist probably was too.
“Do not harm us and we will come with you,” Harry said, glancing around at the circle of elves.
Rumbles and groans from behind him made him snort.
“More elves?”
“We do not have the time,” Thorin hissed, poking him with the butt of his sword.
Harry turned to meet Thorin’s eyes, sparing a glance at Bilbo who was staring wide eyed at the elves. “We need the supplies. And maybe a place to rest for the night.”
“You have a deal,” Legolas spoke, drawing Harry’s attention back to him.
Legolas stared at him before all the other elves stood down, taking the arrows from their bows. Harry stared back, noting the way Legolas’ gaze stopped on his staff, the way those blue eyes widened.
“Did you not notice Orcrist and Sting are glowing?” Harry glowing, jerking a thumb towards the swords at Thorin and Bilbo’s waists. “We’re being followed.”
Balin and Thorin exchanged glances, both of them sparing a look at the hilt of Thorin’s elven made sword.
Several elves stepped forward with rope in their hands and Harry cleared his throat, stopping Dwalin or anyone else from doing anything rash. “That won’t be necessary.”
“We won’t have dwarves running freely about our kingdom,” one of the elves spoke, disdain clear on his tongue.
“I give you my word that they won’t cause any trouble,” Harry said, throwing up his hands.
Nori muttered in Khuzdul behind them, shaking his head.
Legolas murmured something to the elf guard in their own language and shooed him off. “Very well. Follow us.”
Harry watched as the dwarves reluctantly began to follow Prince Legolas, leaving Bilbo to walk in the center. He stayed where he was, taking up the rear guard, eying the elf that stared at him.
“Doesn’t mean I won’t cause trouble though,” Harry muttered quietly, before following everyone.
“Welcome to the Woodland Realm,” King Thranduil said, tilting his head as he stared at them all. “I am Thranduil, King of this kingdom and you are Thorin Oakenshield, King of the Mountain. King of Nothing.”
Harry hit his forehead with his palm, his eyes wide as he looked around the big hall they were in. It was huge and there were paths all over the place, paths that had no railings as they circled up to the ceiling of the hall. His Mark tingled and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he finally met the Elven King’s pale blue eyes.
The similarity was there, between Thranduil and Legolas. Long silver hair. Pale blue eyes. Beautiful gown that looked wonderfully tailored, thick and protective. A crown of flowers and what looked like twisted antlers. The crown seemed familiar somehow, the way the flowers threaded through the circlet. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, his Mark visualized in his memory. But.
There was a haunted look in Thranduil’s eyes, where there was not in Legolas’. Perhaps Legolas was not that old.
Harry glanced down at his left arm, where his Mark was still covered. He pictured it in his memory, pictured the spring and the trees that dotted the Mark. They’d passed trees that had looked exactly like the ones on his Mark.
“Some may imagine a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. A tempted burglary or something of that ilk. You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule.”
Thranduil stalked down the throne and stairs, his eyes glued to Thorin. Thorin glared right back.
“You seek that which will bestow upon you the right to rule - the King’s Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure, I understand that. There are gems in that Mountain that I too desire -white gems, of pure starlight. I offer you my help.”
Thorin turned away, glancing down at the rest of the company. Harry met his eyes and then turned to focus on King Thranduil, sucking in a tight breath as his heart skipped a beat.
“I am listening,” Thorin remarked, looking a lot like a king right now, his shoulders broad as he turned back to Thranduil. He was smirking, a quiet, haughty thing.
“I will let you go if you return what’s mine,” Thranduil said, stepping back, back to his throne.
“A favor for a favor?” Thorin questioned, arching an eyebrow suspiciously.
“You have my word, one King to another.”
Thorin’s smirk deepened and he eyed Thranduil with so much disdain that Harry swallowed.
“I would not trust Thranduil, the great ‘king’ to honour his word should the end of all days be upon us. You - who lack all honour, I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once - starving, homeless, seeking your help and you turned your back; you turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us!”
Thorin exclaimed in Khuzul, something that sounded like a curse. He spat onto the floor between them and glared up at Thranduil.
The rest of the company, bar Balin, cheered. Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair, trying not to picture Thorin and his people running from their home, flames licking at their heels from where Smaug had set the mountain on fire.
Thranduil stared at them and then one minute he was by the throne and the next he was right in Thorin’s face, power rippling through his body.
Harry shivered and took a step towards them, protective heat flaring underneath his ribcage. Scars flashed across Thranduil’s left cheek, old things that looked a lot like burn scars. His left eye paled until it turned white.
The gasp that left Harry’s throat was not one that he could have stopped. Thranduil spared him a glance before focusing on Thorin once again.
“Do not talk to me of dragon fire - I know it’s wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the North. I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon; but he would not listen.”
The scars vanished again, replaced with pale healthy skin. Harry twitched at the sight.
“You are just like him. Stay here if you will - and rot! A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an Elf - I am patient, I can wait.”
Harry’s mouth opened and then closed, his fingers digging into the staff that the elves had left him with. The elven guards around them came towards them, spears drawn. “Thorin.”
Thorin glared at Thranduil for another moment before glancing at Harry. “What.”
“What did I tell you when we met…What was I called in my world?”
Thranduil looked between them in askance, arching an eyebrow.
“The Boy Who Lived. What does that have to do with--”
Thranduil froze in front of them both, his eyes now glued on Harry. The Elvenking swallowed visibly, stumbling back a step, all the blood draining from his face.
Harry took a step forwards, his fingers clenching. “Are you…”
He uncovered his Mark, letting the band fall to the floor and feeling Thranduil’s gaze on him and shivering. “Thranduil.”
Thranduil met his eyes and Harry reached out to cup his cheek, making sure to give the elf some time to back off if needed. Thranduil swallowed again, utterly still against Harry’s fingers. He was cold, chilled and it made goosebumps roll up Harry’s skin.
Those pale blue eyes moved to gaze upon the Mark on Harry’s arm, Thranduil’s mouth opening and closing.
“My soulmate, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm.”
Thranduil shivered before finally closing his eyes. “As you are mine, Master of Death.”
Harry let out a strangled noise, something needy and warm. Thranduil leaned into his palm and Harry stilled his fingers, now aware he had been rubbing his thumb over the scars.
“You’re cold,” Harry whispered.
Thranduil’s eyes fluttered underneath his eyelid and Harry sighed, leaning his forehead against the elf’s, hearing a quiet sound come from Thranduil’s throat.
Someone cleared their throat from behind them.
“Well…that explains a lot. I could have sworn I saw Lord Elrond laughing at us the last night we were there.”
Harry snorted at Bofur’s loud words, tracing Thranduil’s cheekbones with a finger, lightly brushing against the elf’s left eye. The eye that he suspected was very blind. Thranduil’s eyes opened at the touch, those pale blue pupils imprinting in Harry’s memory. “I wish I had been there to keep you safe.”
Thranduil sighed against him, his breath falling on Harry’s skin and making him shiver. His heart thundered against his ribs, trying to get out.
“I suppose you want the dwarves released. Tis a pity that--”
Harry’s finger hovered over Thranduil’s lips, keeping the words from getting out. Thranduil blinked and sucked in a tight breath, his eyes widening.
“Yes, I want the dwarves released. They are on a deadline. Yes, I will follow them to Erebor and make sure the dragon gets dead smoothly and easily.” Harry paused, tracing his thumb over Thranduil’s cold skin, wanting to see more of the elf, more of his soulmate. “And yes. I will come back. I’m your soulmate after all. I want to know what these words mean.”
He gestured to his own Mark.
“I want to see my Mark on you too,” Harry finished, removing his fingers from Thranduil’s lips.
Thranduil stared at him before glancing behind them, to where the dwarves stood. To where his son stood.
“I had hoped to keep this private,” Thranduil offered, brushing a kiss against Harry’s fingers. “Whenever I met you.”
“You are King,” Harry teased, inhaling sharply at the kiss and sliding his other hand up to curl into Thranduil’s hip. “I think Elrond and Gandalf know already.”
Thranduil’s eyes darkened and his nose wrinkled in dismay. “The Lord of Rivendell. I should have known. Very well. Release them.”
A few relieved groans echoed from behind them.
“Aye, there it is. The sappiness.”
“Oi!” Harry called back, throwing a rude gesture that the dwarves wouldn’t even understand back at them.
Thranduil’s lips twitched, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. “If you intend on taking the dwarves to Erebor…talk to the bargeman at the dock. We elves have a deal with the lord in Laketown.”
Harry nodded, meeting Thranduil’s eyes, his heart thudding against his ribcage hard. “I will be back.”
“And are you a man of your word?”
“I am. I promise.”
“That…is a magnificent animal.”
Thranduil startled, breathing heavily, his swords drawn, one in each hand and spun around to face. His elk bent its head down, ready to mow down yet more orcs and stopped mid motion.
“Hey, it’s alright! It’s just me,” Harry called out, walking towards him, his cloak splattered with blood and dirt. His cheeks were red from exertion, his nostrils flaring and. There were wings at his back, big black things that looked like raven’s wings. Most of the Laketown refugees had avoided Harry like the plague, making signs with their fingers at the sight of him and all his power. It had made anger curl deep in Thranduil’s gut, protective heat flaring wide. Humans could be so small sometimes.
Ravens feathers. Thranduil wiped one of his swords on his armor and sheathed it, tracing his fingers over his own Mark. Over the raven feather that was on his upper arm.
Thranduil shivered and felt goosepimples roll up his arms, hearing his elk snort and rumble. There were thousands of dead orcs around them, as well as one dead dragon right in the middle of the land between Erebor and Dale.
The sun had risen while they were battling Azog’s armies, while the elves and dwarves had bickered.
Thranduil’s cheeks heated at the thought and Harry snorted, stopping in front of him and running his fingers through his hair. Harry had a tight hold on that staff of his, the staff that was etched into his Mark. The staff was near glowing black, shadows piercing through it.
Horns of victory blew all over the valley and a wagon came down from Ravenhill, a banner flapping over it. Thranduil narrowed his eyes and spotted King Thorin Oakenshield and his little Hobbit mate. There were a few other dwarves from Thorin’s company in the wagon as well but that was not Thranduil’s concern.
The dwarves from Dain’s army were picking through the dead orcs, making sure each and every one of them was dead.
“You came here instead, hmm?”
“You were followed,” Thranduil remarked idly, flicking the orc blood off his other sword and sheathing it. “My mate.”
Harry grinned. “I kept your son safe. Or I guess…”
“Our son. Yes. Legolas is young yet.”
A few of the dwarves that had been in Thorin’s company walked up to them, one of them with his nose wrinkling above that beard.
“You fought well,” Harry offered, his eyes lowering and darkening to the two blades at Thranduil’s waist.
Thranduil hummed and took a step closer to Harry, taking in the sight of his mate and liking what he saw. “So did you.”
“Oh, aye, you were talking of sappiness, Dwalin,” one of the dwarves said. “I can’t believe our wizard is Marked for an elf.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Stop calling it sappiness!”