Greensleeves

chapters 1-25

Written for lostfeather1!

I do hope you will like this. I haven't seen any fics with this pairing, and I really hope I'll manage to inspire someone to write more of it!

Special thanks to EbonyKitty552 for correcting everything that I messed up because of my lack of knowledge when it comes to Tolkien's world! I owe her the world! :D :D

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the characters of The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. They belong to their rightful owners. The song featuring in this story is 'At the Ceili' performed by Celtic Woman. I claim no rights to anything.

Warnings: slash, explicit content, Mpreg

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The night sky was alight with the stars, and Mirkwood forest was quiet. Only the night animals moved, while all other beings dreamed. But, in that silence, a lone figure walked the secret paths of the dark forest.

The lone man was clad in a long black cloak, shielding his slight body from the chill of the night, and a hood was pulled low over his head, hiding his features from any eyes that might see him. Delicate shoulders heaved under strain as a long-fingered hand took a hold of a tree to keep the trembling figure standing, but a moment later he fell to his knees, finally overpowered by weakness.

He leaned against the tree and tilted his head back to look at what little dark sky he could see through the thick branches of the forest. The weak light of the Moon caressed pale skin and brightened tired emerald orbs; orbs which carried sadness and pain in their glowing depths. Lush pink lips parted slightly as a sigh rolled off of them.

"So this is how it ends." The breathy whisper was heard by no one, and tired emeralds disappeared behind heavy eyelids.

As he relaxed against the tree, his hands resting tiredly in his lap, his head lolled to the side and a long breath left his lips.

And, in the darkness of the night, a lonely heart gave up hope, not knowing that salvation was just around the corner.

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King Thranduil of Mirkwood wandered his kingdom, unable to sleep. His mind was restless and his heart knew no peace as his light feet carried him further and further away from his Halls. He left his people behind, for they were celebrating the night away, and he could not find it in his heart to join them.

His wanderings were stopped when he stumbled upon a peculiar sight, and his thick eyebrows nearly met when he realized that a stranger had managed to walk into his lands without being noticed. Ever so slowly he approached the still figure, his right hand straying to the dagger attached to his belt, hidden by his long green robe.

When he reached the stranger's side his eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat in his chest, for the man sleeping under the old tree was the most beautiful creature the King of Mirkwood had ever laid eyes upon.

The hood had slipped off of his head to reveal long tresses, so dark that they seemed to have captured the very essence of shadow, for the King has never seen such black color in anything living or dead. The skin, as pale as moonlight, looked soft and unblemished, and black lashes rested lightly upon high cheekbones. Long-fingered, elegant hands rested in the stranger's lap, and shallow strained breaths made his shoulders rise and fall.

Thranduil approached the still figure and knelt beside, raising his left hand to caress the stranger's forehead with a tender touch.

"Born!" (hot) he yelped when he felt the burning skin, frowning when a pained groan left lush lips. Making a quick decision, he gathered the man into his arms, and his frown deepened when he felt how light the body was even by Elven standards. The stranger's head lolled to the side to rest on Thranduil's chest, and the King could almost feel heat rolling off of the body in waves.