Forever Your King

Snow In Night

This story is a work of fanfiction, and is not endorsed by the originator(s) of the work. All official characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement, offense, or solicitation is intended. This story has been written for entertainment value only. No profit is being made from this writing.

Snow In Night

by MoonofMorrigan

Snow was falling. Wasn't the day they met a year ago just like this? Snow was already thick on the ground and falling then too. He sighed, looking up at the sky. He used his free hand to pull the black coat closer around him. He kept walking. Soon he would be at the bridge. Soon he would see him again. A hint of a smile crossed his lips at the thought, and his pace quickened.

He stopped momentairly under a street lamp, the strong light engulfing his pale features so much that his hair and face nearly glowed, and watched as a car pulled into the drive way of to a popular restaurant across the street. He remembered that he needed to take him there some time - maybe even tonight. He toyed with the box in his pocket that he refused to let go of. He worried for the thousandth time that Bard would never wear it. Except for the gold chain about his neck, Bard was not prone to wearing jewelry.

He looked ahead, continuing to walk again, and bit his lip in anticipation seeing the bridge come into view. His pace quickened as did his heart rate. He checked the time on his watch when he stopped at the crosswalk that led on to the bridge.

They had an argument the day before. It caused Bard to storm out red faced and more upset than Thranduil had ever seen him. Once he got off his pedastel and realized how much of a jerk he had been (always demanding to be the one with not only the last word, but to be right), he apologized in voice mail after voice mail, text after text - to the point of begging for forgiveness. Finally, at about 2 am he received a return text that simply told him to meet him here in a little less than 5 minutes time.

Thranduil had tossed and turned all night. Trying to note that at least Bard was talking to him at that point. Unable to sleep, Thranduil rose early and decided to go out. He resisted the urge to text or call Bard all day, and half of the evening knowing he would either be asleep still, at work, or just otherwise busy. He was always busy. It was part of what the argument had been about. He had passed a jewelers and seen the gift that the box contained in the window. It seemed to just have been placed there especially for Thranduil to find it just for Bard.

Thranduil crossed the road when the sign turned to "walk" and made his way to the middle bench where Thranduil had met Bard a year ago. His face fell when he seen no one there. He looked at his watch. He was not late. He was precisely on time. His sigh was heavy as he looked about him, then over the railing at the snow covered ice of the river below. The park the bridge led to illuminated by the street lamps, it's paths winding out of view into a winter wood. He closed his eyes trying to convince himself that Bard would come. He was just running late. The problem was, even in bad weather, Bard was never late. Thranduil closed his eyes shut, and open again, and sat down on the snow covered bench dejectedly. Did Bard ask him to come here just to make him feel foolish, and stand him up? The idea was absurd. The nonetheless as Thranduil leaned forward, finally letting go of the box in his pocket for the first time since he bought it, and hung his head in his hands.

He was not a crier, but he wanted to do nothing more at the moment. Refusing to give in to the bile coming up in his mouth and the sting in his eyes, he simply closed them and tangled his fingers in his white gold hair.

It was not until Bard stormed out last night that Thranduil realized how much he took him for granted. How much he took for granted in general. On top of it, he did not realize just how deeply he was in love with him. It was just like some old love song that whined about how foolish a person was until they lost it. He was about to stop being manly about it, and start bawling like a baby, when he heard a throat clear above him.