#(but with adar it’s like…peers almost?)

[qhostqizmo]

The Warden's Office

ugghh my head is pounding i need to get to sleep but why not have just One variant idea Ammy!! for funsies!!

based on an au

Ignoring the outcries of her family, Essätha stepped into the jailhouse; mindful of the crumbling door hanging by only a single hinge. Her eyes; originally upon the floor to watch her step, move upward.

She freezes.

Oh, by Jubaeta’s light.

Everywhere her eyes land, there is destruction. From the furniture to the paperwork to the décor and walls, there is soot and scorch marks. Her gaze fleets around, taking in the decay of the building from the assault as well as weathering now freely entering the space. There is so little left, it feels hollow.

She steps further inside, listening to the wood creak beneath her boots. It appeared as though someone had went through the space a bit; a layer of cloudy dust and ash now floating around. Some of the debris field appeared freshly rearranged, and there was a stash of weapons now placed in a singular point. Many of them looked damaged from the fire that had happened from whatever sort of magic the assailant had used.

Her golden visage shifts about as she moves further in. There was a strange odor in the space, and her nose wrinkles. Reaching up to wave around her nose and mouth, the scales glimmer almost pearlescent along her arm as her hair stands on-end. It was almost an animalistic response to the scents surrounding her; setting her on edge.

Pushing her hair back better to tuck behind her ears, her gaze lands on the melted area of the floor where liquid was lightly bubbling. What was that?

“Adar? Warden Barhomin?”

“Lady Essatha, please come back outside!”

With the broken door and hole in the ceiling, Essie could early make out her head housekeeper Abagail’s fearful shouting. She ignored it, moving deeper into the space. The heavy door that lead to the actual prison cells was closed; presumably locked behind them. She steps over, following the obvious foot-traffic path just in case to pull on the handle.

It didn���t budge.

Frowning, the noblewoman turns around to examine the rest of the space. There was blood everywhere; turned brown as it oxidized.

Her throat jumps; swallowing heavily.

Outside, the thump of someone either on the steps or upon the ramp echoes, making her jump.

“Essie, get back in here before I have to drag you out!” Solace cries out, exasperated. “Abagail is about ready to have a heart attack.”

Opening and closing her mouth, she lets out a hiss of frustration. “Sadris? Adar? Ward-”

Thump.

The noblewoman’s eyes move towards the sound as she jumps. Pressing a hand over her now-racing heartbeat, she looks around the room.

“Sadris?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It was close; definitely not outside. The sorceress follows the sound of footsteps, moving around the rubble as slowly and carefully as she could.

The Warden’s office…? By why weren’t they answering her?

She hesitates as she approaches the door. Her eyes naturally are drawn down, spotting the strange symbol just outside the door.

Crafting an uncertain noise in the back of her throat, Essätha goes to kneel down beside it to examine it. Whatever the sigil was, it was carved into the wood floor paneling. What in the world? She’d never seen anything like this before.

Reaching out, her fingertips skim the mark. How unusual-

Suddenly, the door to the office thrusts open.

Startled, Essätha falls back on her side.

The blade pierces through her thigh and she shrieks; terror suddenly blinding her actions. The moment the sword pulls free she pushes off; scrambling backwards. Her whale-eyed wide golden eyes shoot up to see a hooded figure; their eyes barely peering out from beneath black garb.

“Essätha?!”

The voice sounds too far away, and the attacker is fast. They swing again before she can even react, and the sword slices across her chest.

She still hadn’t had time to raise a hand to attack when they thrust a second weapon forward for a third time from their other hand. This one spears through her; piercing through flesh.

Wheezing in pain and shock, she flings her hand out; a wash of poisonous gas erupting from her palm as she whispers hoarsely in Ancient Draconic.

Though the individual flinches, they make not a sound; they hardly react. Blood drips from their face, now burned by poison, and they bring the sword down again.

“DAD?”

Terror made the whites of her eyes like saucers. She coughed; tasting blood.

“Essie?!” “ADAR!? FATHER PLEASE-”

Blood splattered over her attire as they yanked their sword free and plunged it into her again.

By Jubaeta, is this how she was going to die?

The front of the jailhouse door came shuddering open with a bang as Solace lurched inside. She threw a knife; the small blade thunking into the wall nearby the stranger.

They followed through with a third strike of their sword before they even lifted their head. Essätha gurgled; her throat now slick with the metallic taste of blood.

Unlatching something from their hip, they chuck it in the direction of the intruding Tiefling. Essie drops her head back, trying to see what happened, but she only hears the fearful scream of pain and shock.

She attempts to scramble to her feet, turning over.

A heavy foot slams into her spine. Her face hits the floor; blood now pooling from her chin and mouth as she bites her tongue.

There’s more commotion outside; the girls, she assumes.

Pain swears into her neck; flesh flaying.

She hits her side, recoiling and wheezing. Weakly lifting her leg, she thrusts out at his own; trying to dislodge his stance. It does no good.

He goes to swing the blade in a wide arc once more, and barely whiffs past her throat as she jerks to the side.

Oh Gods.

He was trying to behead her.

Recovering from whatever had hit her, Solace comes charging across the room; another dagger in hand. She is quickly grabbed by the wrist; twisted, and shoved aside, cursing as she hits broken debris and falls to the ground.

“F-fuck you,” Essatha rasps. She brings up her hand, weaving a spell’s somatic component into the air when a boot comes up, kicking the side of her head.

She saw stars.

The blade comes up, but she’s dizzy. Her eyes blink heavenward, seeing double.

So this was it. This was how she died.

The sword comes up-

The stranger freezes in place, grunting. Sweat beads on their forehead as they visibly struggle to move at all.

Essätha gags for air. The blood in her esophagus; running into her throat and lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was on fire. Time seemed so slow, suddenly.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Seldë?”

You’re so far away, she wants to say. You sound so distant. Dad? Father? Ada, are you there?

It’s cold.

“Sia hianag, open your eyes for me. Blink for me; anything. Can you hear me?”

Her lips move.

Why was she so tired?

She couldn’t open her eyes.

“We need to get her to the nearest temple, now!”

Oh. Oh she- she didn’t mean to cause a fuss. Just another moment, she could swear she’d be able to lift her eyelids.

It felt like she was floating.

She inhaled sharply; her mind suddenly disconnecting, and then she felt a cold, inky blackness wash over her.

[acornsandoaktrees]

Into Tall Grass (And Webs)

Squirrels Arc

word count: 1.1K

summary: The princes and Tauriel go where they should not.

glossary:

iônnig = my son

adar = father

trigger warnings: spiders, brief claustrophobic themes

Laerion hoisted Legolas up, grunting under little boots on his face until Tauriel had hold of him.

Finding purchase in knitted branches, Laerion climbed up after them until he too perched on a wide bough crowning the hedge.

Dutiful, Tauriel held Legolas' arm so he wouldn't fall as he peered over the edge, eyes wide with vertigo.

Voices approached the screen of wild plants currently hiding the elflings from sight. Their caretaker's intonation was clear and bell-like amongst them.

Laerion dropped to the bed of vegetation on the other side; grass brushed his waist. Fresh dirt showering from her boots, Tauriel kicked up moss clinging to the branches in her clumsied hurry to descend; trusting his elder brother to catch him, Legolas bravely leapt. Feathers in his arms, Laerion bent his knees to set him down.

Legolas' shoulders matched the height of the grass here, tiny ellon almost swallowed by the forest. Laerion had to search for his hand a moment in the dewy depths so as not to lose him entirely. Tauriel ran ahead, batting away obstructing vines.

Cast by the high hidden sun above the canopy, shadows cooled reasonably the spring warmth. Dew still slicked laden branches, drawing dark streaks on the elflings' tunics as they walked. Though the sky was blue and cloudless above their heads, eternal twilight reigned this side of the hedge, everything caught in a fragile quiet just before birdsong wakes. Flowers quivered expectantly; odd things rustled in bushes.

Laerion escorted his charges deeper within the bounds of the forest, ignoring the wariness swirling in his stomach, warning him to be afraid of the unknown.

Every so often, Legolas and Tauriel strayed from him to examine strange plants. Tauriel chatted to the younger about animal tracks visible in the soft earth. Legolas listened intently to her, though sometimes far-off calls or rustling leaves distracted him.

Caving to their questions, Laerion knelt in the grass to see a grounded bee.

Torn wings working furiously, it struggled in a frenzied buzz of noise. Translucent string clung to its body, matting pinstriped fur and stealing the sweet brazen pollen on its legs.

Laerion's heart dropped into his stomach. He tracked the web up into interwoven arcs wound taught over shrubbery; the strange cloying smell hanging in the air explained itself.

"This is far enough."

Tauriel raised her voice to protest. When Laerion rounded on her harshly, she shrunk back, sullen. Eyes watery, Legolas tugged on Laerion's sleeve.

"This isn't home," he whimpered, "I want to go home."

Quietly agreeing with him, Laerion picked him up. "Come, Tauriel."

The fiery-haired elleth sulked, but waded through the wilted grass alongside them nevertheless. Indignant, she kicked a pebble out of her path. It disappeared into wild ferns and rolled away, catching in webs.

>---|-

They descended in a horrible chittering fracas.

>---|-

"Legolas!" Laerion screeched, kicking desperately in blindness. "Tauriel!"

It took him only a moment to realise his limbs were bound, his body entirely cocooned. Spiders hissed and trees cried in his ears. Huge shadows passed over his veiled vision time and time again.

Everywhere; they must've been everywhere. Laerion screamed for the little elfings again, and this time Legolas whimpered in response.

Wriggling in vain attempts to free himself, Laerion clawed blindly at the webbing encasing his body. So tight it hurt to breathe. Strident shrieks in his periphery, huge legs prodded him back and forth.

As long as they focused on him: as long as they left Legolas and Tauriel alone. A sob escaped him. Those sweet children were going to die and he could do nothing.

Catching on his fingertips, thick string stretched then tore. An opening -- a pale crack of grey light. If he could just reach the knife sheathed at his belt...

Muted sunlight burst across his eyes. Starved of the freshness of the forest, Laerion gasped in stale air. He caught a branch as he began to fall, hauling himself up.

Dislodging lingering webs, Laerion threw up his knife just in time to bury it between the many black eyes of the spider charging at him. Its momentum drove it forward still, pincers relaxing, Laerion's heels scraping on brittle bark.

Others crowded him, hissing vile complaints. Branches groaned under their weight as they bore down upon him with awful speed. Large and looming, the air shivered with their fury.

Raising his tiny blade, Laerion managed to draw in a shallow gasp and swung at the closest spider.

It recoiled with a sharp cry: the sound gurgled then died abruptly as its head flew from its body.

Overspilling with dark tar, the lone thorax tipped forward and crashed through low branches.

Singing righteously, many arrows swept through the gathered spiders, falling like rain into their midst.

Dropping one by one, the beasts' furious racket dwindled until all that remained was the dull anticipatory thrum of the sick forest. It was over in seconds.

Wiping clean her sword on satin robes, the Elvenqueen bridged branches to stand before her son.

Above them, Liatan joined the gathered band of elves, holding Legolas to his chest and Tauriel to his side. Both elflings clutched his tunic, faces hidden, webs clinging to their clothes.

Laerion shirked under his mother's glare. Her disappointment stung.

Thalanes extended her hand. In her open palm, the boy placed his bloodied knife.

"Consider yourself lucky," Thalanes said, a storm on the horizon. She turned away, clutching the knife to her chest.

Another elf placed his hand at Laerion's back, herding him after the hunting band towards warmer shadows.

>---|-

Feathers brushing her ears, Alphes reached up to readjust her slipping crown as she peered around the corner.

Earlier, her brothers had stolen away Tauriel while she had been stuck in the hold of her linguistics teacher. When a great fuss arose outside, he had been gone fetching new scrolls from the library, which quite stupidly gave Alphes the opportunity to slip away. They could never trap her for long.

Now, she hovered at a shadowed nook overlooking the throne room, out of sight of guards that would snatch her up and carry her back to her teacher.

"Iônnig."

An ant far below, the prince turned back to face his father.

"They are only young, and the forest has become perilous. You must be more careful," Thranduil said, rigid. The deep thrum of his voice echoed grandly throughout the cavern.

Laerion dipped into a low bow. "I understand, Adar." Alphes thought his light voice shook just a little. It might've been the hollows of the walls.

[dashesofink]

New Life

Drabble: “Request. Thranduil x Fem!Reader. Giving birth to his child, a girl this time ; a few months after the Battle of the Five Armies. And then, the reader/mother gives the child to Thranduil and he holds her into his arms for the very first time.” @anilynsworld

Pairing: Thranduil x wife!Reader

Word Count: 1258

Warnings: none

Word had spread quickly around the realm of Mirkwood that the King was now father to yet another beautiful child. The handmaidens to the queen were bustling around the halls of Mirkwood, excited grins placed on their faces as the chatter of the news spread like a wildfire. Thranduil stood patiently outside of his queen’s chambers, and even though he had stated he would no longer live within the realm of Mirkwood, Legolas was placed besides his father, his lips pulled into a tight line as his keen eyes stared at the door in front of him.

“Do you think he looks like you, Adar?” Legolas’s voice pierced the thick atmosphere like a hot knife to butter, his father's concentration being broken as he looked up from the floor. Unbeknownst to either of the two Ellon’s, Thranduil’s wife had instead given birth to a beautiful Elleth, her eyes matching that of her father while her thick hair came from her mother. Despite the calm exterior of the king, his insides churned with anxiety and a hint of fear as they both waited to be allowed in.

“We will know soon enough.” Anticipation heavily laced Thranduil’s voice as he clasped his hands together behind his back, and almost as if the Valar knew of his words, the door to your chambers was unlocked and opened to reveal a dark-haired elf. The handmaiden smiled timidly at the two royals in front of her, and she gave a small wave of her hand before stepping back and holding the wooden door open for the two to come in. Thranduil didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he stepped into the room, his chest falling with a heavy sigh as he spotted your figure lying against the headboard of your bed.

“Mell nín, how are you faring?” Thranduil was by your side in an instant, his fingers reaching out to brush aside a strand of hair as his lips found their place against your forehead. Your lips pulled into a loving smile as you looked from him to the bundle in your arms, your fingers gently pulling back the velvet covering to reveal the face of your baby to your husband. Thranduil unintentionally fell to his knees and his eyes widened as he caught sight of his newborn child, his heart racing with excitement and joy as he went to stroke the child’s delicate skin.

The sudden contact of cold fingers against her face caused the child to squirm in your arms, her lips pursing for a moment before she let out a tiny squeal before settling back down into your arms. “We are doing fine, my love.” Your words were soft as you balanced your baby in your arms, but you could see the twitching in Thranduil’s arms and fingers as he looked down to his new child with love, and you set a hand on top of his fingers before you went to hand him your child. “Come, hold your child.” Thranduil allowed you to gently guide the bundle into his arms after he came to sit next to you on the bed, your fingers correcting the position of his arms a few times before you slipped the sleeping child into his caring arms.

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your tired lips at his reaction to the baby, his eyes filled to the brim with a love and a joy you haven’t seen in him since the day of your wedding. You watched as his slim fingers reached down to once again stroke the child’s face, her little hand immediately latching on to her father's fingers as she gurgled in her sleep, to which you smiled at before you looked around the room.

Legolas stood by the door, and though he too was smiling gently at the babe, his features were laced with hesitation. “Tolo, Legolas,” Your hand was outstretched before the Elf, the same smile you had when they walked in gracing your features once more as you waved for him to come forward. “Come see your baby sister.”

“Sister?” Thranduil’s keen ears were quick to pick up your words, his eyes wide with surprise as he looked up to you. You nodded your head ecstatically as Legolas came to stand next to Thranduil, his blue eyes peering down into the resting face of his baby sister. “I-I have a daughter?” His voice was almost a whisper as he spoke. Thranduil has been waiting for months to meet his new child, one which he vowed to protect with his life if need be and to care for as long as he was alive. He was so caught up in thinking that he would have another boy, as he had the first time, the thought of having a daughter completely evaded his mind. But now, as he sat surrounded by his family and as he held his beautiful daughter in his arms, his heart swelled with a love that was not possible when having a son. Though not in a bad way, this love was different.

“You do.” You grabbed a hold of Legolas’s hand as you nodded in response, your fingers giving his hand a warm squeeze as you smiled at him kindly. Legolas’s heart churned as he looked to his new sister, and for a moment he felt compelled to stay behind instead of leaving to meet with the Dúnedain, to stay and protect his sister. You could see the contemplation in his eyes, how his heart longed to stay in Mirkwood for the time being instead of going off as he had originally planned, and your fingers once again squeezed his hands to get his attention. “You are welcome to stay with her, Iôn.” You spoke kindly to him, your eyes starting from his face to look back to your daughter as Thranduil continued to gaze down at her. “But I respect your decision to leave if you so chose.”

“They have already been alerted of my coming,” Legolas’s voice was tight with emotion as he looked away from you, but as he felt the warmth of your hand continuing to wrap around his own, he felt a strange peace within him. You gave an understanding nod before you looked away once again, another gurgling noise coming from your daughter pulling your attention away from him. “I will come visit, if I am permitted to do so.”

“Of course you are.” An odd reassuring tone laced Thranduil’s voice as he finally looked away from his daughter to address the prince, his usual cold eyes being warmed at the sight of his daughter. Thranduil stood to his full height, the bundle of new life held securely in his arms as he gave a nod to his son. “My daughter will need her Muindor, will she not?”

Legolas’s eyes widened for a moment, his breath being caught in his throat as he looked away from his father down to the baby in his arms. It felt like a dream, he had to admit, to look down to a baby that was somehow related to him. Never in a thousand years did Legolas believe he would ever have a brother or a sister, but as he looked into the face of the sleeping child, his heart burst with love and a fierce desire for protection suddenly sprouted in his veins as he gave a solid nod. “I suppose she does, yes. As she will need her Adar and Naneth.”

“She will need all of us.”

[arwencuar]

Where My Heart Belongs

an Arwen x Aragorn drabble

The sun was what woke her.

Arwen blinked as the late afternoon rays poured in through the window. She’d slept longer than she’d intended; then again, she’d needed it. Mortality was something to get used to, especially after just having a baby. The former Lady of Rivendell had never felt so tired as she had these past few weeks.

She closed her eyes and stretched, then sat up to peer over the edge of the Elven crib beside her. The tiny Prince of Gondor still slept soundly.

Arwen’s heart leaped. He looked so much like his father, though his slightly pointed ears served as a reminder of a race almost gone from Middle Earth. She placed a kiss on his fuzzy head and stood to look out the widow onto the dazzling white marble of Minas Tirith.

She felt a familiar pain as she thought of her dear Ada. She missed him so! Tears still lined her face at times, and even now, her eyes glistened with them.

But she knew her decision had been right. Aragorn and the little Eldarion were her life now, and despite the place in her heart that would always belong to the Elves, Arwen never regretted her choice to live out her days among the race of Men.

She moved to the waking baby’s bedside and picked him up tenderly, his long white and gold velvet blanket draping like a waterfall in her arms. She held him close and spoke to him softly in her own Elvish tongue.

She carried him out onto the balcony overlooking the White Tree and Pelennor Fields. Aragorn was just returning from a hunting trip, and the sound of his laughter blended with the clip-clop of Brego’s hoofs as he parted ways with his fellow huntsman.

“Thír, ha na-cín adar!” Arwen held the bundled Eldarion up as if to let him witness his father’s return, but the baby’s eyes had closed again. She hurried inside and downstairs to greet her husband, her footsteps quick and soundless with the gracefulness of Elves. She stopped in the doorway of the entrance hall where two servants were assisting the King with his hunting gear.

Aragorn's appearance was not at at kingly. His hair was windswept and damp, and the dirt and sweat on his tanned face made for a rather grimy complexion. He stood now, removing his quiver from over his shoulders.

Arwen felt her heart swell. She loved this man. And if she was honest, this was how she loved him best: rough and trail-hardened, wild as the Northern forests, and rugged as the Eastern moutains.

True, she had married a king… but her heart belonged to a ranger.