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The dwarf was odd.

He didn't fit typical standards of dwarven beauty, and he favored neither the axe of the sword. Rather, his weapon of choice was the bow. Paired with his unbraided hair, pitiful excuse of a beard, thin nose, and defined brows, he could almost be described as elvish.

But he was very obviously a dwarf, and that complicated things slightly.

Because Thranduil was very obviously an elf, and one you had a reputation for hating dwarves.

Except this dwarf.

His dwarf.

Kíli, son of Dís, of the line of Durin. Nephew to Thorin Oakenshield.

By all rights, he should be keeping him locked in a cell along with the rest of the company. But that was not the case, instead, he would remain locked up in his personal chambers.

Thranduil was very particular about who was allowed in his rooms, even his own son wasn't permitted access except on very rare occasions. There was no reason to question why he made sure that no servants were entering his bed chambers, nor did he give them a chance to wonder why he would prepare twice the usual amount of food and dine on his own.

Not one word was spoken when he ordered two sets of clothing with very specific measurements from the tailor. None that he heard, anyways. There were always words being spoken behind closed doors.

If there was a certain invisible hobbit who observed these happenings as well as a certain missing dwarf, Thranduil was none the wiser.

What Kíli's thoughts were on the matter, it did not matter. Thranduil wanted him, so Thranduil took him and kept him. They always did say that the elven king was a bit mad.

Despite what one may think, nothing untoward happened between the dwarf and the elf. Thranduil took an odd pleasure in seeing Kíli dressed in traditional elven attire, and even outfitted him with a bow, quiver, and arrows. As the days went by, they started to grow comfortable with the situation. He might not have necessarily enjoyed it, but he knew he could have been treated far worse by the elven king.

Weeks after the initial imprisonment of the company, Kíli found himself faced with a hobbit and a chance to escape. A few days later, he was presented with an elvish dagger and an invitation to a feast.

He declined, when asked why, he offered no explanation. Simply a shake of his head.

It was that night that Bilbo came to him in the middle of the night.

If the other dwarves had anything to say against his rather elvish appearance, circlet and all, they didn't get the chance to object until much later.

And that is how the King of Mirkwood found himself to be alone, once more.