Thranduil's Longest Day
by SkyFire

Rating: PG-13 (Ai! Brief nudity, future hardships!)
Summary: Like the title says: Thranduil's Longest Day. He really should have stayed in bed. *grin*

A/N: Thoughts are in // //.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. *sigh*

Thranduil's Longest Day
by SkyFire

He awoke slowly, languidly. He stretched in the large bed, bare skin sliding easily over the
slick silken sheets even as he blinked sleepily up at the canopy above, a canopy made of layered
sheer green silk cut to mimic leaves and ferns, the posts elaborately carved with the flowing
vines and curves of which the Elves were so fond.

For a long moment he lay there, drowsing in the warmth and softness, not yet willing to admit
that he was awake, that the day had begun.

At last, though, it was time to rise.

With a soft sigh of regret, he pushed aside the thick, down-filled covers, sat up in bed.
Another wide stretch, then he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, brushing aside
the soft bedcurtains as he did. Automatically, he reached for a nearby robe and wrapped himself
in it before making his way to the sunny balcony, the stone floor cool against his bare feet, the
few rugs scattered here and there only slightly sheltering his feet from the chill.

Bright sunlight poured down on the balcony, soaking into the dark stone, which in turn radiated
it, filling the space with warmth from both above and below.

Stepping out into the sunshine, Thranduil rested his hands on the sun-warmed stone railing, his
eyes closed and head thrown back in enjoyment of the warmth and fresh air.

But even through the veils of warmth and contentment, he sensed that something was wrong.
Something was out of place. Something....

His eyes snapped open, narrowing in thought.

//What is not right?// he wondered. //All sounds as it should. The Sun is shining--// He
blinked, considered the angle of the Sun's rays through the trees as something about that last
thought made warning-bells go off in his mind.

The Sun.

Far higher than it should have been.

He had overslept.

A muffled curse escaped him even as he turned and dashed back into his bedchamber, throwing his
robe carelessly aside as he did, barely noticing that it missed the chair he had been halfway
aiming for and fell to the floor to lie in a crumpled heap.

The full bath, sitting in its usual spot in front of the fireplace, caught his eye and he made
his way toward it, pulling his nightshirt smoothly over his head as he went.

Or at least, that was his intention.

In actuality, the nightshirt got caught halfway on its way over his jaw.

Thranduil let out a small sound of disbelief, a sound easily swallowed by the enveloping fabric.
//This can't be happening,// he thought to himself, stumbling a little as he tugged at his
nightshirt, only managing to trap his arms in the fabric over his head. //I haven't gotten
caught in my own clothing since I was an Elfling!//

Anyone coming into the room would have been both shocked and amused at the sight that greeted
them; Thranduil, dignified King of the Mirkwood Elves, stumbling blindly around the room, arms
trapped over his head, naked save for the nightshirt caught around his head and arms.

For a few long moments, he stumbled around, caught. Then with a small growl, he tightened his
grip of the fabric and yanked, ignoring the harsh burning and tugging at his jaw. Protesting,
the nightshirt reluctantly released its hold on his head and arms, doing so with a suddenness
that left him stumbling back in shock at the sudden release and brightness....

...And onto the rug that lay in wait for him.

Not expecting it, still mostly off balance and blinking with the abruptness of his release, he
didn't see the rug until it was too late.

Thranduil cursed aloud as his heel caught the edge of the rug, tripping him and sending small
spikes of pain shooting up his leg. He staggered a few graceless steps backward toward the bath,
arms flailing wildly, nightshirt flying from his grasp. He tried to turn away from the bath, but
momentum worked against him and he felt the cool metal come abruptly up against the back of his
knees, causing his legs to fold involuntarily beneath him.

There was a loud splash as he fell backwards into the full tub, his legs below the knee the only
parts of him not to fall in. Water splashed up into the air, sloshing over the sides of the tub
at his abrupt entry, splashing onto the floor around the burnished copper tub.

Then two strong, slender hands burst out of the water, grabbed hold of the sides of the tub and
pulled him to the surface. His face broke the surface and he gasped for breath, eyes wide at the
shock of his unexpected dunking, water streaming down his face, his hair hanging in a soaked
curtain of gold about his head, neck, and shoulders.

He had standing orders with the palace servants that they were to bring a tub of hot water to his
bedchambers every morning at the dawn hour. Always, as was his custom, he would linger in the hot
water, enjoying the warm, sensuous feel of it on his skin, the steam in the air, going over the
day's schedule as he soaked. The woodsy scent of the bath oils would rise into the air about him,
soaking into his skin at the same time.

He would not be lingering that day.

Apparently he had overslept so long that the usually-steaming hot water had cooled enough to not
only have stopped steaming, but to actually raise gooseflesh all over his body even while it
caused certain important bits of him to draw closer to his body in shock and fear at their
immersion into the frigid liquid.

Shivering in the cold, Thranduil pulled his legs into the tub, went to stand... only to sink back
in with an unhappy sound, the vague memory of an appointment running through his cold-shocked
mind. Unhappily, he reached for soap and washcloth.

//The sacrifices I make for Mirkwood,// he thought as he washed, shivering convulsively all the


*grin* What can I say, besides "poor Thranduil?" ;oP

Click the button down there and leave the plotbunnies and I some reviews! Any ideas you might
have for what *else* could go wrong for Thranduil are appreciated; I know vaguely where I want to
end up with this fic, but not so much the specifics of how I'm supposed to get there. Feedback
helps! Even if I don't use the ideas suggested, they usually get the 'bunnies chewing on
*something*! *grin*