#cop!thranduil

Thranduil blinked blearily at the soft knock on his bedroom door.  He grunted, confused.  It likely wasn’t Legolas.  The lad had no sense of propriety.

The door creaked open and his partner, Bard, shouldered his way in, bearing a silver tray.  He smiled faintly.  “Good.  You’re awake.”

“You’re in my home,” Thranduil rasped, struggling to sit up.  He wheezed, his side pulling as he did.

Bard set the tray down on the dresser and swatted at him.  “Stop it.  You’ll tear the stitches.”  He leaned Thranduil forward, taking most of his weight, as he fluffed the pillows behind him to create a prop.

Startled, Thranduil let him.  He hadn’t expected this.  He barely remembered what had happened.  They had located one of the thieves and then gunfire.  Shot.  He’d been shot.  He turned his head to ask Bard a question, but managed only to take a heady whiff of the man’s cologne.

Sage and smoke.  Like a banked campfire.  His pulse spiked and he shoved at Bard, breaking the man’s hold easily and falling back with a thud.

Bard frowned and sighed.  “You are a prick, Thranduil.  I’m trying to help.”

“I never asked you to,” he grunted.  He rubbed his face hard, hoping it would hide the heat that had appeared.

His partner rolled his eyes and returned to his tray.  He brought it to Thranduil and set it in his lap.  “You’re lucky, it just ripped up your side instead of through it.  Doctor said two days bed rest and you’ll be right as rain.”  He plucked a piece of toast from the tray and chewed it.  “You’re not leaving this house for a few days so we’ll be working from here.”

Thranduil’s hand hovered over the tea cup.  “By whose direction?” he demanded, the tone far less imperious when he could barely speak.

Bard grinned and leaned close.  “Mine.”  He ruffled Thranduil’s hair and moved to the door.  “I’ve made myself comfortable on the couch.  Don’t worry, I promise to set down papers if I need a shit.”

They arrived at the jewelry store, two other squad cars already in attendance.  A small crowd had begun to gather across the street, a few onlookers gesturing and talking quietly.  

“As if they’ve nothing better to do,” Thranduil muttered.  His lip curled in disgust as he shut the car door.  “I assure you there’d be more had a body been found.”

Bard shrugged as he shut his own door.  “Harmless.”

Thranduil gave him a glare.  “Rarely harmless.”

“Are you going to keep sniping at me or can we get to work?”  He smiled serenely at the flare of nostrils.  “I mean, we can stand here and let you blow smoke or we can solve a case.  Up to you.”

The elf drew himself up to his full height and sneered, “You won’t last long here; that attitude will have you shipped back to Esgaroth faster than you can blink.”

Bard blinked as deliberately as could.  Then, made a show of looking around before throwing his hands up in the air.  “Guess you’ll have to try harder.”  He winked and sauntered into the jewelry store, his heart pounding violently.  He wasn’t one for such brazen hostility.  But that elf . . . maybe it was his beauty that fueled the arrogance but whatever the motive, Bard was certain he hated the bastard.

So glad I switched from one hellhole to a new one.  He bit back his irritation and focused instead on his kids.  Life in Dale would be better here.  His . . . notoriety from Esgaroth would be quiet.  High chance it wouldn’t filter past Captain Thorin.  He could put up with an insufferable prick to give his children a better life.

Glass crunched underfoot as soon as he crossed the threshold of the store.  At first glance, it looked as though the inventory had merely been tossed on the floor given the glitter and shine of shards.  Yet, the empty display cases told a different tale.

“Detective?”

He halted and took the hand of the patrolman in front of him.  Dwarf, dark brown hair, smiling eyes.  Durin etched on his nameplate.  

“Durin.  As in Captain Durin?” he asked.

The patrolman grinned.  “Aye, he’s my uncle.  My name’s Kili.”  He gestured for Bard and the now-arrived Thranduil to follow him.  “Every display was broken but not everything was taken.  According to the manager, he said they only took the most expensive out of each case.”

“That takes time,” Thranduil murmured.  He squatted before one of the cases, squinting at the ruined interior.  “Which means, they both researched the premises as well as the stock.  They knew what to take.  The rest of this,” he said, standing straight, “was theatrics.”

Which I’m sure you’re well-versed in, Bard thought.  He turned as another stately elf marched toward them.  “Bloody hell, they’re everywhere,” he muttered, careful to keep his voice low.

“Thranduil,” the elf remarked.  “I am pleased they have put you in charge.”  The elf blinked and focused on Bard.  “I am sorry; you are?”

“Detective Bowman,” Bard replied, extending a hand.  “Thranduil’s partner.”

A twinkle of amused warmth softened the elf’s eyes.  “Ah.  Well then.  My sympathies.”  He lifted a brow at Thranduil’s growl.  “Come, cousin.  I know you; you are a pain in the arse on a good day.”

“Cousin?”

He waved the hand he retrieved from Bard.  “Distant, I suppose.  But yes, cousin.”

Bard arched an eyebrow and looked at Thranduil.  Strangely, his partner refused to meet Bard’s eyes and looked wholly embarrassed.  Well, as embarrassed as an icy git could be.

The elf turned again to Bard and bowed.  “I am Celeborn.  And I am afraid that this is a rather . . . imperative case, Detectives.”  He sighed.  “They have taken the Light of Imladris.”

It took Bard half a breath to sort out what that meant.  He paled.  “You had the royal crown stored here?”

“No one knew it was here; only my staff, this jeweler, and those of the royal court.”  He sighed again.  “I am afraid that your suspects are those who would be most displeased to be questioned.”

Thranduil chuckled sourly.  “Welcome to Dale,” he muttered.

Bard managed to get inside the car before Thranduil set it in gear.  He scowled as he slammed the door and grabbed his seatbelt, snapping it in.  “Was that necessary?”

“I haven’t time for those who waste mine.”  

Bard glowered at the elf’s profile.  Unlike most elves in the police force, Thranduil wore his hair long and unfettered.  A lock of the pale tresses was tucked behind one sharp ear, illustrating the fine jawline and elegant neck.

Naturally, the bastard’s attractive.  He sat back with a grunt and asked, “So, this case?”

“Robbery.  Jewelry store, forced entry, armed.”

“Well, please slow down, Oropherion!  I can’t keep up with the information,” he sniped, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Thranduil snapped his head around, glaring.  “Thorin is mistaken in thinking I need a partner.  Your smart mouth only proves that.”

Smiling, Bard tossed back, “And your attitude proves why he thinks it necessary.”  He might not last long in Dale but at least he’d have fun needling a humorless git like Thranduil.

Thranduil’s gray eyes widened fractionally before he turned back to driving.  He worked his jaw silently before finally remarking, “Alarm went off at one in the morning.  Security guard was conspicuously absent.  Found later bound in the broom closet.”

“Careful, you might strain yourself.”

The elf’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.  “Estimated jewels seized hovers around twelve million.”

Bard blinked at the number.  The hell?  “Seems pricey for a jewelry store.”

“Elven jewelry.  Flagship store of Celeborn Lorien.”

Oh.  Bard pulled a face.  “Poor sod.”