#Anariel

[sotwk]

My gosh this is a very wild guess, but is Anariel the maiden in Rivendell in your WIP "The Only Gold"? [main clues I used: Anariel's birth year (fic must be set after TA 496), you mentioned that it was one of your WIP fics, she lived in Rivendell, golden/blonde hair (based on your face claim), Anariel is close to Arvellas and learned a lot from him (potentially including about the dwarves) and the she-elf in the fic knows Khuzdul

My dear friend, this was not a "wild guess", but rather some Sherlock Holmes level of investigative deduction! XD You are 100% correct! I am so impressed and flattered that you took the time to gather information and piece it together to present your proof! You must be really good at finding Easter Eggs from movie franchises.

Because of the "jumping all over the place" approach I have taken to writing out the SotWK AU of Thranduil's (and Middle-earth's) history, there are clues and Easter Eggs all over my stories about plot details that haven't been revealed yet. Mysteries like: Which Son of Fëanor is Maereth's grandfather? Who are the other First Age canons related/connected to Thranduil's family?

"The Only Gold" is my "Durins Live" fix-it fic, told mostly through the eyes of Fili and, as you have guessed, Anariel. It will run through an AU version of The Hobbit/BotFA events and explore the SotWK AU history and (broken) relationship that actually existed between Mirkwood and Erebor. All 3 Sons of Durin (Thorin, Fili and Kili) will live, but the question is how, and what role will Thranduil's family play in it?

Will Fili and Anariel fall in love and end up finally uniting the two kingdoms and races? (Grandpa Thranduil and Uncle Thorin are fighting over who gets to wring my neck first right now. *nervous laugh*) Honestly, the endgame of their relationship remains very fluid my head. (aka undecided) All I know is destiny foretold by the Elvenqueen herself will push these two beautiful blondes together.

Just a few additional notes about the lovely tidbits you picked up on regarding Anariel:

Her birth year: She is actually as close in age to her Uncle Legolas as Legolas is to his brother Mirion! But yes, Anariel was born about 500 years before the Greenwood started to darken, so she enjoyed some happy centuries of peace with her family.

Her life in Rivendell: Sadly, by the events of The Hobbit, her mother had become estranged from Thranduil, which caused Itarildë and Anariel to leave Mirkwood and reside in Rivendell for a period of time. (Aranion stayed because no one is more loyal to Thranduil than he; what a darling grandson!)

Her relation to Elrond: Anariel is a cousin by blood to Elrond. Elrond's paternal great-grandmother Elenwë is the sister of Elemírë (an OC), Anariel's paternal great-great-grandmother. Thus in the story, Elrond refers to her his "kin".

Her closeness to Arvellas and knowledge of the Dwarven culture: By the Third Age, no other Elf in Middle-earth could surpass Prince Arvellas in his knowledge of the Dwarves. For many centuries, he taught his dear niece nearly everything he knew about the Dwarven race, including Khuzdul. Arvellas foresaw he was not destined to live forever on Middle-earth, so he sought to pass on his knowledge to a worthy successor.

Her golden hair: The beauty of Anariel's golden hair is one to rival Galadriel's, due to her strong Vanyarin inheritance. (I mean, her name is "Daughter of the Sun"!) In the SotWK AU, Glorfindel is 3/4 Vanya, and he married the sister of Elenwë (wife of Turgon), who is full Vanya. I made some rough calculations which reveals Itarildë as 22% Vanya, higher than any canon elf left in Middle-earth in the Third Age, save for Glorfindel himself (if you accept my HC that he's part Vanya). So yes, that's why the Dwarves were stunned and mesmerized by the golden hair of Anariel; it likely carries some "magic" in it. I have a self-indulgent HC that Gloin and Gimli would have had heated debates over whose hair was more beautiful--Galadriel's or Anariel's.

Anyway, apologies for my rambling Anon (and everyone who made it this far)! I have a thousand SotWK headcanons in my head that need to be unloaded sometimes to release the pressure. XD.

Anon, I would really love to give you a prize (as I promised) from the Tumblr Mart, any badge of your choice... but if you're not comfortable revealing yourself, I completely understand. Another option would be sending me another Ask and letting me know of a writer/artist whom you want to support, and I will buy them some KoFi on your behalf. Please let me know! :) Thank you again for participating in my little Guessing Game, and for your wonderful support!

Tagging those have historically been interested: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @laneynoir @achromaticerebus @auttumnsayshi @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @lilidurin @beekieboo @albionscastle @jezzibee @g-m-kaye

Interested in more SotWK AU content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

[merilles]

@tolkienocweek Day 4: Gaps and Ghosts | Arwen’s Daughters

Tolkien mentioned that Arwen had daughters, but neither named or numbered them. I personally headcanon that she had two: twins, carrying on the family tradition. They are named Anáriel and Isilriel after Aragorn’s ancestors. Anáriel marries Elfwinë and becomes Queen of Rohan while Isilriel marries Elboron and becomes Lady of Ithilien. They are the delights of the realm, beloved by all the Free Peoples.

[sotwk]

Gonna start including Gabriella Wilde among my celebs to reblog because:

She has officially joined the SotWK fancast as Thranduil's granddaughter, Princess Anariel (daughter of my OC Crown Prince Mirion, not Legolas).

I know I have some Poldark and Three Musketeers fans among my Followers!

She's just so beautiful, I'm obsessed with looking at her and she will light up anyone's dash!

Writer Inspiration. (*shakes fist at "The Only Gold"* Goddammit, I will finish you eventually!)

Gabriella Wilde for Estée Lauder Thailand (x)

[songofdefiance]

thinking about how my rook, neve, and lucanis are basically the "drinking coffee at 2 am to Cope" crew

seriously i really gotta write for this throuple

[greyias]

So, I promised @captainderyn pictures of my old lady elf in LOTRO, although this is like several months later after the big expansion/prelaunch sale weekend when I rolled her up, because I get easily distracted.

Her name is Anariel, a High Elf who was one of the veeeeery first elves to travel to Middle Earth, so there is a small chance she is actually older than dirt because of this. Anyway, she's a war veteran who was once upon a time, so badass she saved Thranduil from giant spiders, rode with Gil-Galad, and routinely just did everything it seemed on the battlefield in the Second Age*. Then she got oopsie stabbed by a Nazgul, and sort of took a three thousand year nap and lost 100 in-game levels???

As you do.

And then she wakes up and Elrond is all "o hai, you slept so long that you forgot how to walk so here's a butter knife to defend yourself** ", and then hands you a "Third Age for Dummies" book because she slept through an entire era and tells his sons to take grandma to the bus stop so she doesn't miss her boat to the Elvish retirement home.

* - This opening sequence actually was pretty nifty to play when I did, as I'd just finished watching the ROP finale, and really played into the feels for all of the characters introduced in that show.

** - I'm paraphrasing. It's been a hot minute and a completely different computer since I played the intro sequence. But I did have a butter knife equipped when I logged in today. So. Um. Thanks for that old buddy?

Then the twins got her to the old elves casino bus and were like "Well, have fun Grandma! I know we said we'd see you off but we're going to do something else. Don't do anything we wouldn't do! And especially don't miss your ship!"

Then she hallucinates a bunch of conversations with dead people, which was sad until suddenly she just started talking to an invisible Elrond who to my admittedly limited Tolkein knowledge is not dead, so maybe her going to Elves Retirement Home isn't such a bad idea? But imaginary Elrond & co said "nah it's boring there, you should go make trouble here"

And then she did.

Some of Grandma Anariel's favorite past-times include:

Getting lost on the map, because wayfinding in that game is stupidly difficult. It's okay though because the game gave me a title for it:

It knows me so well.

She also likes leaping off tall cliffs and hills instead of taking the properly marked paths, and T-posing her way to the ground:

And then limping along painfully for a good long while:

She's also learning modern technology, and is starting to figure out how to take proper selfies

Anyway she was asked to go find an Elf Lord's son, found his bag instead and was like "Um sorry bro?" so now she's off to apparently start a war with the dwarves???

Slow down, Grandma! Middle Earth is clearly not ready for you to have woken up from your nap.

Anyway, I hope you like her @captainderyn. She might wind up burning the whole place down at this rate.

[chthonicbeloved]

           “are you certain that this is your will?” the idea was certain an uncouth one. elves only fell in love once, and his One had been spoken for for centuries now. it would not be fair to anariel, truly, to be wed to him when he did not have the capability to love her back. however, she was well aware of where his heart lay, and he was willing to give her this if it was truly what she wanted.  “i will do as you desire, anariel, if it so brings you comfort.�� 

@arcaneloved​ 

          “i would not be here if it was not my will.” anariel answered as she looked at him. she knew what she was asking and offering. and knew that it was a lot. however it was the only real solution she could come up with at the moment. when he said he would do as she desired if it brought her comfort she let out the breath she had been holding. “please.” she said softly swallowing as she looked at him head cocked slightly.

[silmaranwe]

Shadows at the Gate Halbrand is back after doing whatever he had to do- His time in Mordor not being a part of that story, but surely someday i will focus on it and write it as well. Halbrand returns, Celebrimbor is not letting him in until that sweet, beautiful bastard Halbrand is persuades him. No warnings apply -> My Masterlist

Weeks slipped by, each one stretching longer than the last, and Lothien found herself haunted by the silence that had settled over Eregion since Halbrand's departure. Each dawn she hoped for some sign—a message, a glimpse of him riding back through the gates, anything to relieve the ache of uncertainty gnawing at her heart. But nothing came. Eregion went on as if he had never been there, leaving her with only fragments of memories and his last words echoing ceaselessly in her mind.

Nights were the hardest. She’d lie awake, staring at the darkened ceiling, fingers tracing the delicate lines of her sheets, remembering the way he had held her, the warmth of his hand and the strength in his touch, the way his gaze had softened when he had asked her to trust him. His last words—*wait for me, trust that I will return*—whispered like a ghost, stirring within her a confusion of loyalty and fear.

Sleep, when it came, was fleeting, filled with dreams that left her more exhausted than if she had stayed awake. Images of him, shadowed and distant, flickered through her mind, his face obscured, his figure blending into the haze of battle and ruin. She’d reach for him, only to watch him disappear into the darkness, leaving her alone with a hollow ache that lingered even after waking. She would sit up in bed, fingers pressed to her temples, trying to steady the racing of her heart, trying to shake off the worry that clung to her like a second skin.

During the day, Lothien tried to lose herself in her work, in the simple routines of Eregion, but her gaze would drift to the city gates, to the horizon where he’d vanished, her heart tightening with each passing moment he didn’t return. 

Anariel, ever attuned to Lothien’s quiet worries, tried her best to pull her from the depths of her own thoughts. She was lively, her laughter infectious, and she would coax Lothien into small distractions—a stroll through the gardens, a late evening tea, even a mock archery match, her laughter light and teasing. To her own surprise, Lothien would find herself laughing too, the weight in her chest lifting, if only for a little while.

Anariel’s stories of her own adventures were spun with such bright energy that Lothien would lose herself in them, listening with a smile as her friend spoke of distant forests, the wild songs of rivers, and the rare beauty of the high cliffs they’d once explored together. The hours would drift by easily, and she would almost forget the silence she’d been carrying, almost imagine that things were as they’d always been. For those brief moments, laughter replaced worry, and she felt lighter, steadier, as though she had found a fragment of herself that had been lost.

Lothien’s fingers stilled, the delicate wire slipping from her grasp as her heart pounded at the distant voices filtering through the forge. She could barely make out the words, but the urgency in the tone struck her, stirring a hope she’d nearly forgotten how to feel. Her hand gripped the edge of the workbench, steadying herself, as a flicker of warmth and disbelief rippled through her. It had been weeks—weeks filled with silent fears, empty nights, and Anariel’s gentle words that had worked to keep her from drowning in her worry.

But now… could it be?

Compelled forward, she left the bench, her footsteps swift but hesitant, carrying her through the stone corridors until she reached the gates. She barely noticed the guards exchanging tense whispers or the looks of warning thrown her way, her gaze fixed only on the figure standing just beyond the threshold. Dust clung to his cloak, his frame familiar yet altered by the wear of a long journey, his face cast in shadow under the faint evening light. But she knew him—she’d know him anywhere.

Halbrand.

Her heart raced, the longing and relief crashing over her in equal measure. Before she could stop herself, she stepped past the guards and into the open air, her breath catching as she saw the way he stood—worn but unbroken. She felt the urge to speak, to call his name, but the words faltered as she crossed the distance between them, her body moving of its own accord, her mind still catching up to the reality of his presence.

Without hesitation, she reached him, her arms wrapping around him in a fierce embrace, her fingers clutching at his cloak as though she feared he’d vanish if she let go. His warmth was real, solid beneath her touch, grounding her in a way that made the long, sleepless nights feel like a distant memory. For a moment, all else fell away—her worries, her doubts, the weeks of silence. He was here.

Halbrand exhaled, a tension she hadn’t noticed easing from his posture as he wrapped his arms around her in return. She felt his grip tighten, the faintest tremor in his hand as it rested against her back, and she couldn’t stop the soft sigh of relief that escaped her lips. Pulling back just enough to see his face, her gaze took in the small cuts marring his skin, the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his features.

Her fingers grazed a fresh scrape along his jaw, her worry unmistakable as she asked, voice barely above a whisper, “What happened to you?”

He offered her a faint, weary smile, though his eyes held a glint of amusement, as if to brush off the wounds. “It’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” he murmured, his voice rough yet familiar, a sound she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed.

But Lothien’s brow furrowed, her fingers lingering near the bruises on his hands. “Halbrand… I feared I might never see you again.” Her voice caught, the vulnerability slipping past her resolve, laid bare under the weight of the past few weeks.

He held her gaze, his thumb brushing her cheek as though to reassure her without words. “You needn’t have feared, love,” he said softly, his tone a mixture of comfort and quiet promise. “I told you I’d return.” *

“Why can’t you just let him speak to you?” Lothien’s voice held a subtle tremor, yet it was edged with steady resolve as she looked across the forge at Celebrimbor. She had begun the conversation with care, cautious not to press him, but her words had gained strength, mirroring the steadfastness in her gaze as they’d gone back and forth. She couldn’t bring herself to back down now, not with Halbrand standing out in the cold, waiting for a chance to explain.

Celebrimbor’s gaze was fixed on the molten metal in front of him, his hands steady as he worked, but a trace of tension rode in the set of his shoulders. “Galadriel is not one to caution without purpose, Lothien. You know that well.”

“But surely she could be mistaken,” Lothien said, her tone imploring but steady. “If there were truly something to fear-” She took a step forward, her voice softening, her gaze earnest. “Halbrand has shown nothing but loyalty. I don’t see why he should be treated as an enemy.”

Celebrimbor’s hands stilled, and he let out a slow breath, the tool in his hand clinking softly as he set it down. “Lothien,” he began, his voice carefully controlled, but there was an edge to it, something raw. “I understand your faith in him. But the weight of Galadriel’s warning—it isn’t something I can ignore. I bear responsibility for this city, for all who live within it.”

Her expression grew more anguished, and Celebrimbor saw the hurt in her eyes—a wound deeper than he’d intended to inflict. He felt a pang of regret but held firm. “He is-.”

“Enough!” The word slipped out more sharply than he’d intended, and he saw her flinch. Regret flickered in his gaze, startled by his own tone, he softened his voice. "Forgive me," he murmured, his hands preoccupied with the tools on the table, though he wasn’t truly focused on them. "I don’t doubt your sincerity," he added quietly.

“But my answer stands, and I need you to respect it.”

She opened her mouth to protest but then closed it, the dissapointment settling over her features as she took a slow breath. Celebrimbor’s fingers tapped against the edge of the workbench, a quiet, repetitive motion that hinted at his own struggle. He saw Lothien as family, and this decision, though resolute, weighed heavily on him.

“Please- leave me for a moment, will you?” he said, his voice low, a hint of weariness touching his tone.

Lothien inclined her head, the weight of disappointment clear in her gaze, and without another word, she turned to leave. The door closed softly behind her, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. Celebrimbor’s eyes lingered on the spot where she’d stood, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the workbench as his mind churned, thoughts circling, unresolved, around the man waiting at the gates. * Celebrimbor’s hands worked with nimble precision as he and his assistant watched the intricate alloy take shape, pale as stardust, yet impossible to see without the right light. It was ithildin, crafted with a delicate sliver of mithril, and Celebrimbor’s heart swelled with pride.

Lothien stood beside Celebrimbor in the forge, though her mind wandered far beyond its warm, glowing hearth. Her gaze drifted to the open doors, where the cold night air crept in, carrying with it a dampness that signaled the start of rain. She wrapped her arms around herself, glancing toward the far-off gates of Eregion, where she knew Halbrand waited just beyond, his entry denied, lingering on the outskirts of the city he had come to help.

The steady patter of rain intensified, and the thought of him standing out there, exposed to the night’s chill, tugged at her heart. She felt the urge rising in her chest—to bring him a cloak, to reassure him somehow, to tell him that she understood and that he was not alone in his wait. The ache of distance between them settled over her, bittersweet and aching.

She stole a glance at Celebrimbor, who remained intent on the delicate alloy glowing in the moonlight, his focus entirely on the work at hand. But her own thoughts drifted, her gaze once more on the distant gates, a silent wish to leave the warmth of the forge and find him there, braving the cold and rain alone.

Halbrand needed her; she could feel it as surely as she felt her own pulse. And in that moment, standing by Celebrimbor’s side, her longing to be with him was as fierce and resolute as the storm gathering beyond Eregion’s walls.

Celebrimbor sighed, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily upon him as he rose from his workbench. His irritation had grown, yes, but he felt a responsibility, too—a need to face the man who had stirred such unease in Eregion. He set his tools down with deliberate care and brushed his hands off, glancing toward Lothien, who watched him with quiet curiosity.

"I’ll be back shortly," he said, his tone softer than usual, though determination still threaded through his words.

"Where are you going, Lord Celebrimbor?" she asked, concern glinting in her gaze.

Celebrimbor paused, his expression gentling as he looked at her, sensing the quiet worry she carried. "To see about our guest at the gates," he replied, his voice warm, reassuring. "I won’t be long."

He stepped out into the night, accompanied by the guard holding an intricately woven canopy above him. The rain fell in a gentle but steady rhythm, mirroring the quiet determination in Celebrimbor’s heart. He would address Halbrand’s place here, but he’d do so with the clarity and compassion he knew Eregion needed now. 

When he reached the gates he hesitated only a moment before stepping even closer, finding the man standing unwavering at the gate, his gaze calm and expectant, as though he had known Celebrimbor would come. That look, subtle but knowing, struck a nerve. Without preamble, Celebrimbor spoke, his voice firm but measured.

“Your stay here is not welcomed,” he began, his tone resolute. “I cannot waste time with… diversions, nor treat with those who bring doubt to Eregion’s work.”

Halbrand looked at him, his expression unflinching, a flicker of something inscrutable passing over his eyes before he spoke, his tone almost disarmingly measured. “I understand,” he said slowly, nodding as though the prospect of leaving had already crossed his mind. “But before I go… Have you spoken with Galadriel?”

The question stilled Celebrimbor, catching him off guard. He hadn’t spoken with her, though the reminder touched on something raw within him, a doubt he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge. He folded his arms, his shoulders tightening as he answered, “No. Not yet.”

“And what of Gil-galad?” Halbrand pressed, his voice slipping into an undertone that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken history. “Has he said anything about the rings? Whether they… worked?”

There was a faint hitch in Celebrimbor’s stance, a ripple of uncertainty crossing his face, unmasked by the intimacy of the moment. “No… there’s been no word,” he admitted, a sliver of vulnerability slipping into his voice despite himself.

Halbrand leaned forward slightly, his voice softening, threading a subtle touch of understanding into his words. “It seems,” he murmured, “the Elves of Lindon have taken what they needed from both of us, haven’t they? I imagine you know the feeling… of being used, of having your purpose served and then discarded.”

A flicker of resentment sparked in Celebrimbor’s gaze, mingling with a bitterness he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. Gil-galad’s silence struck deeper than he cared to admit, and Halbrand’s words pressed sharply on that unspoken wound. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice careful, guarded.

Halbrand offered a faint, almost sorrowful smile that nonetheless held an edge. He took the reins of his horse into his hands, turning as if to leave. “Then I’ll go, if that’s what you wish,” he said, his voice low, persuasive. 

Celebrimbor’s hesitation flickered across his face, a brief falter in his resolve as resentment gave way to something even stronger: curiosity. The question gnawed at him, the possibility that he was being kept in the dark, that answers lay just within reach.

“Wait!” The word escaped him, sharp in the stillness of the night.

Halbrand paused, a faint smile pulling at his lips as he turned back, the faint gleam of satisfaction lighting his eyes.

“If you know so much,” Celebrimbor said carefully, his voice low and controlled, as though each word might hold a hidden weight, “tell me… did the rings work?”

For a moment, Halbrand only watched him, letting the silence stretch, his gaze probing.

He nodded slowly, his voice soft, sincere. “Yes,” he said simply, watching as the words took root. “The rings saved the tree. They saved Lindon.”

Celebrimbor’s shoulders relaxed imperceptibly, a wave of relief intermingling with a surge of pride. The allure of the rings’ success, the vindication, warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.. “Then… it was not in vain?” he murmured, almost to himself.

Halbrand’s eyes glinted, his expression veiled as he inclined his head in a slow, solemn nod. “No. It was not in vain.”

[mylovelylittleobsessions]

WIP Wednesday

(I know it’s Friday, shush!)

Tagged by @baddybaddyadardaddy and tagging @anariel-the-elrond-apologist and @niennawept

A sneak peek at one of my other longform fics, “Ainur With Filthy Souls”, which will be featuring several of my child Uruk OCs. In this one, Wrûg!

Fighting down the urge to wrap his arms around himself and curl up in a corner somewhere, Adar took a breath to steel himself and looked over the mobilizing army. Archers readied new bows, the blacksmiths added fresh edges to a pile of blades, armor was strengthened, a very short soldier marched past in a too-large helmet and oversized pike— Wait, what? Adar turned on his heel and grabbed the little soldier by the scruff, hoisting them to eye level. “No.” Adar stated emphatically. “Absolutely not.” Wrûg pouted, squirming. “Why not? I wanna fight too!” “The battlefield is no place for a child.” Adar reasoned. “I’m a big boy!” Wrûg argued. “I can stab somebody! Right in the butt!” “Seven winters is not old enough for war.” He set Wrûg on the ground. “My decision is final.” “But I wanna!” “I don’t care.” Adar was losing his patience, which was usually infinite for his youngest children. “But I—” “I SAID NO!” Adar barked. Wrûg’s eyes went wide, then filled to the brim with tears. Adar’s heart ached. He hadn’t meant to take his fears out on the boy. “Wrûg, I’m—” Lip quivering, he snapped his teeth at Adar, kicked him in the shin, and stormed off in a huff. “Ow…” he muttered when Wrûg was well away. Normally, such a display would warrant some punishment, but Adar’s heart just wasn’t in it. Let the boy run home and throw a tantrum; at least he’d be alive to throw it.

[dragon-ashes1485]

Durin and Elrond fic :)

I was shaken by my ankles and this fic fell out of me.

Dedicated to @anariel-the-elrond-apologist

A series of letters between Durin and Elrond after Eregion when Elrond has found Imladris and Durin has found himself King.

No idea how long it'll be lol.

[nanawaffles]

@anariel-the-elrond-apologist i hope you know that in writing a camnir/lindir bro fic I'm now building a whole family and backstory and dammit... I'm doomed. I'm dragging you with me. Any thoughts you think I should involve?

[sotwk]

Can you tell us more about Mirion's wife and children 👀

Hello Anon! I believe this is the second time you've asked me about Crown Prince Mirion and his family, and appreciate your interest so much. 🥰 Mirion is my personal favorite of the OC Thranduilions, so any inquiries about him are dear to me.

I have been keeping the details about Mirion's family under wraps for so long, but I no longer see a good reason to keep them secret, so here we go: some basic headcanon info that will hopefully satisfy your curiosity. 😉

For those who might care: some SotWK AU Spoilers ahead!

SotWK AU Headcanons: Crown Prince Mirion and his "Golden" Family

Although Mirion tragically died in his attempt to free his homeland from the Necromancer (his efforts did drive Sauron out of Dol Guldur for a time and gave Mirkwood four centuries of respite), he left behind a beautiful wife and two children to continue his legacy. His son gave Thranduil a new heir and continued hope for the future of their line and kingdom.

Because Mirion's wife was an Eldar of powerful lineage and incredible strength in her own right, she and their children helped Mirkwood to stay strong and protected through the dangers the realm faced in the Third Age.

And when Thranduil's grandchildren took over the rule of Eryn Lasgalen in the Fourth Age, it ushered in a new Golden Era for the last remaining Kingdom of Elves on Middle-earth.

MIRION'S WIFE - PRINCESS ITARILDË

SotWK Fancast: Teresa Palmer (A Discovery of Witches)

Mirion's wife is Princess Itarildë, an elleth with a rare mix of Noldor-Vanyar-Teleri blood with "royal" lineage on both sides of her family.

Itarildë’s mother is Nimeithel (a SotWK OC), the younger sister of Nimloth and niece of Celeborn.

Nimeithel is featured in my ongoing Thranduil x Maereth series, Sins of Our Fathers. She grew up with Thranduil in Doriath, and was the one who introduced him to Maereth.

Itarildë’s father is Maranwon (SotWK OC), the grandson of Glorfindel and his wife Elemírë (SotWK OC), who was the sister of Elenwë, late wife of King Turgon.

Itarildë has a high Eldar "pedigree" due to her lineage, but that was not what attracted Mirion to her. On the contrary, her noble background nearly caused the Crown Prince to decide against pursing her hand in marriage, despite their deep love for each other.

Before ever meeting Itarildë, Mirion had intended to choose his wife and future Queen among the Silvan elves of Greenwood, out of love for his people and his wish to honor the land's native race. (Something Thranduil was unable to do by marrying a Noldor.)

Mirion agonized over this conflict between his duty and his heart until his parents persuaded him to pursue his own happiness.

Itarildë is older than Mirion by a few decades, born in Lothlorien but raised in Rivendell. Her father died in the War of the Last Alliance fighting alongside his surrogate father, Gil-galad.

She takes after her father's side of the family; she is passionate, joyful, strong-willed, and has a radiant presence that commands and captivates every room she enters. She has a compassionate heart and a determination to effect good changes in the world.

She adores her husband's brothers and counsels and cares for them as an elder sister.

She is a fearless and skilled warrior (what else would you expect from the great-granddaughter of Glorfindel), who more than holds her own whenever she marches into battle alongside the princes.

It is later discovered that something about Itarildë’s presence causes the Spiders of Mirkwood to flee; just looking upon her somehow pains or deters them, and so they never attack her directly.

Mirion's death broke Itarildë and very nearly caused her to fade; she was brought back only by the healing efforts and pleas of her daughter. But her joyful spirit never recovered.

MIRION'S SON - PRINCE ARANION

SotWK Fancast: Bradley James (Merlin)

Aranion is the elder child of Mirion and Itarildë, making him the eldest grandchild of Thranduil and second-in-line to the throne of the Woodland Realm.

Upon Mirion's death, Aranion inherited the title of Crown Prince of Mirkwood. (This responsibility never fell to Legolas, which is why he remained free to travel, join the Fellowship, and and even sail to Valinor as he eventually did.)

After Maereth died, Thranduil became very focused on preparing Aranion for the throne, since he was then resolved to sail for Valinor and rejoin his wife--once the future of Mirkwood and his people had been secured with his grandson in place.

The name Aranion translates to "Son of the King" in Quenya, but the prince was actually named after the plant kingsfoil or athelas, also known as asëa aranion. Kingsfoil did not grow naturally in the Greenwood forest, since it thrived in the Western lands.

However, in the year of Itarildë's pregnancy with Aranion, kingsfoil began to sprout in abundance in the lands surrounding their home.

Although the Mirkwood Elves previously had no use for kingsfoil, later in the Third Age the plant became an vital resource in their healing for wounds inflicted by orcs and other beasts coming from Dol Guldur.

Aranion is utterly devoted to his homeland and the Silvan people of Mirkwood, a sentiment that they reciprocate with fierce love and loyalty. While not as politically-savvy as his forebears, he is a "people's prince", spending most of his days working alongside the common folk of the realm.

Although he is often compared to his great, great-grandfather Glorfindel, Aranion's cheerful, energetic, and light-hearted temperament is actually most similar to that of his uncle Legolas, to whom he was always very close.

The Prince is a fearless and naturally gifted fighter, whose innate talents were enhanced by centuries of intensive instruction and training from the greatest warriors on Middle-earth, including Thranduil and Glorfindel.

As the darkness worsened in the Third Age, Thranduil grew extremely protective of Aranion, increasing to paranoia at the loss of his wife and each of his sons. As decades passed the prince's very existence soon became unknown to outsiders, which was what Thranduil had intended.

By the events of the Hobbit, Aranion was forbidden from traveling outside of Mirkwood, and was not permitted to participate in the Battle of the Five Armies.

MIRION'S DAUGHTER - PRINCESS ANARIEL

SotWK Fancast: Gabriella Wilde (The Three Musketeers, Poldark)

Anariel is the younger child of Mirion and Itarildë and second grandchild of Thranduil and Maereth.

Beautiful and sweet beyond compare, she is very much the darling treasure of not only her grandfather Thranduil, but also of her loving uncles who have doted on her since she was a baby (probably because they never had a little sister of their own).

Unlike her boisterous older brother, Anariel is reserved, introverted, and avoids drawing attention to herself. She prefers to listen rather than speak.

Large crowds and excessive noises make her very uncomfortable, and it is possible she suffers from a mild form of sensory overload.

However, she very much carries the courage and willingness to serve that runs in her family, and devotes herself to the welfare of the people of Mirkwood.

Anariel is highly intelligent, much like her uncle Arvellas. Being a voracious reader and learner herself, she grew especially close to the Scholar Prince and gained knowledge and abilities from him.

She lived in Rivendell for periods of long years throughout the Third Age, during which she was mentored by Lord Elrond himself, and became skilled in the healing arts.

Anariel has actually already appeared in one of my WIP fics, although she was not yet named/identified. The first person to comment and tell me correctly which fic/character I am referring to, will receive a special prize from me from the Tumblr Market!

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Tolkien Headcanon tag list: @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @klytemnestra13 @creativity-of-death @heilith @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @tamurilofrivendell @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @scyllas-revenge @asianbutnotjapanese @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @ratsys @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo

Interested in more SotWK AU content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

[maul-of-shame]

BUCKY- THAT CHAPTER!!!!

THAT DAMN CHAPTER HOW DARE YOU-

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS TO ME–THE NERVE, THE AUDACITY, THE SHEER TALENT?!?! HOW DARE YOU–

I am SHAKING, absolutely CRUSHED, and somehow grinning like an absolute fool! ????😭😭😂😂 😂You’ve got me feeling like I’ve been thrown off a cliff only to be caught mid-air, dusted off, and then YEETED right back down again my dude!!!

THE EMOTIONS??? THE TENSION??? THAT TWIST?! THAT FIRST KISS????? YOU ARE EVIL, BUT LIKE, IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE!! 👏👏😭😂😭

Also I'm so sorry I saw it's been mentioned already in the comments on Archive but-

“_ I hope you’re not thinking of taking that beautiful dress off in here, my lady.”; He remarked, the cheeky glint in his eyes betraying the playful tone of his words. His voice was smooth, but there was an edge of mischief that sent a spark of something into her chest—something warm, something luring. Galadriel froze, mid-motion, her fingers still tangled in the loose tendrils of her hair. She looked up at him sharply, her expression already flushed from the champagne and the intimacy of his words, but now, she felt the heat burn brighter. Her lips parted in shock, her breath quickening as she processed his suggestion, and for a fleeting moment, her mind went there. “_ Excuse me?”; She snapped back, trying to sound indignant, but the blush in her cheeks betrayed her. The playful sassy edge crept back into her voice. “ I’m hardly the sort to strip down in an elevator, Lord Elrond.”

THIS IS TOO FUNNY, please I know it's gonna get dark after but this was such a warm beautiful chapter (yes I cried because of you 😭😭) and genuinely I'm happy you chose to give us this beautiful confession before the Games 🥺🥺🥺 Also this one just straight up broke me:

“_ You’ve changed me, Galadriel.”; He continued, his voice a soft, unsteady murmur as he held her. “ You’ve shown me what it means to be truly brave, to be willing to lose everything for something you believe in.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at her, a faint smile touching his lips. “_ For someone you love.”

I’m here, cackling, crying, and losing my MIND and I cannot wait for next chapter dude!! This is my favorite fic with those two 😭Thank you thank you thank you!!!

_ Anariel

OMG HI???????

I am so beyond thrilled (and low-key cackling) that the chapter hit you like that! Seriously, the rollercoaster of emotions you went through has me grinning like an absolute fool – that’s exactly what I hoped for! From cliff-yeeting feelings to grinning through the pain, you captured it all perfectly!😭💫

And yes, the elevator moment!!🤣🤣🤣 I just had to throw in a bit of cheeky banter before things go off the deep end!!😉🤣

Also, thank you for picking out those lines! Knowing they made you feel all the feels means everything to me – I’m genuinely honored. There’s nothing like knowing the confession had you crying one minute and laughing the next!!!🥹💖

I am honestly speechless (and might be tearing up a little myself) and very much honored you're giving my fic this title!😭 Thank you for reading, for sending this incredible message, and just for being here for the journey! I can’t wait to see what you think of the next chapter!🤍

Also congrats, you're officially my 666th post on here!! XDDD

[grundyscribbling]

Does Huan look like any particular breed of dog in the DoC verse? I can't remember if he has a canon look and I'm curious about your thoughts!

My main thought about Huan is 'really big'. But not drooly. (I know a mastiff. She's a sweetie, but bring a towel if you're going to hang with her, you'll need it...) And clearly he's tough enough and has the temperament to have kept up with Celegorm, Luthien, and now Anariel. I have no idea what that would be in real world dog breeds...maybe a Great Dane?

[songofdefiance]

anyway here's anariel

[starfoam]

Flashback, what was clan life like before the whole breach problem

"Lumi, you're meant to be minding the children!"

"I am!" The aravels had stopped to settle for a few days, and the children were having a wonderful time in the new spot. This stretch of forest was lush with thick green trees for climbing and hiding, and being so far from cities meant they had a chance to play uninterrupted before the clan moved on.

This, of course, meant that Luminous had to keep them from straying too far from camp. Her own sister she wasn't too worried about - Kiana was highly protective of camp at a precious ten years old, and unlikely to stray - but Anariel's twins had just learned to climb trees, but had not figured out how to climb down.

Hence Luminous's situation now, slowly scaling the tree they had climbed together. "Marwen, can you please stand down here and be ready to catch them?"

"Catch them?" Luminous heard a small curse, and smiled to herself. The clan's First was a skilled mage, but she was Lumi's friend first, and Luminous knew Marwen would catch them once she was up there.

Up above, dual voices giggled. Lumi hoisted herself onto a branch.

"Come on, you two, it's not safe up here."

"We're hiding from Fen'Harel!" the oldest said, holding his brother and laughing.

"He can't gobble us up when we're up here!" Lumi shook her head, and reached out a hand.

"Fen'Harel is somewhere far, far away, probably still laughing his teeth out from sealing away the gods. He's not going to gobble you up." She pulled herself onto her knees. 'Come on, the First is down below waiting to catch you so you can go play with the others. Are you ready?"

Each clan could only have three mages, and Marwen was good - so was Lumi. She tossed the first twin onto a cloud of compressed air, and Marwen pulled it down, taking the first of the giggling children to her level. A minute later, the second followed, and Marwen looked up.

"And what about you? Need a lift?"

"...I got it," Lumi said, and Marwen laughed.

Luminous was also terrible at climbing down trees.

She'd be a minute.

[ioashaart]

My character, Anariel, is given a different name in each world. She travels through the worlds, and is also a blacksmith of stars and worlds, watching over fading worlds and new ones. If a world is fading and is about to end its life, she absorbs it and creates a new, endless cycle.