#Galion x reader

[earthlybeam]

You Slapping their Butt and Calling them “Dummy Thick” in Front of Everyone:

how would the elves react to this?

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Legolas, Meludir, feren, galion, elros version’s are below.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

𖧧 The Fellowship had seen many strange things in their time together, but nothing—nothing—had prepared them for the audacity of what you just did. You stood there, your hand having just smacked the princely posterior of Legolas Greenleaf backside, your voice echoing through the room with an exclamation that would forever haunt (or amuse) the Fellowship “Dummy thick.”

𖧧 Legolas froze as if turned to stone. His bow, usually held with unmatched grace, slipped slightly in his hand. The tips of his ears, often a stoic and noble feature, flushed a delicate pink that crept rapidly down his neck. His sharp eyes darted to you, then to Aragorn, then to everyone else, as if searching for guidance on what to do next. But no help came—Aragorn was covering his mouth, Boromir looked like he was physically restraining a laugh, and the hobbits…well, Merry and Pippin had already collapsed into wheezing fits of laughter. Sam looked scandalized, and Frodo was blinking rapidly, clearly wondering if he had misheard.

𖧧 Legolas blinked at you, his lips parting slightly in shock. Then, as though realizing he was still in the middle of a room full of people, he straightened his posture and said in a voice that was much louder than necessary: “I am unsure what you mean by this… designation.” The attempt at regal composure was there, but it was entirely undermined by the way his voice cracked slightly at the word “designation.”

𖧧 The Fellowship’s Reaction Boromir completely lost his composure, slapping a hand to his knee and laughing so hard that Gimli had to smack him on the back to keep him from choking. Aragorn was trying desperately to stay calm, but even he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped as he muttered, “Dummy thick? By the Valar…” Gandalf sighed, clearly debating whether or not this moment would be worth recording in the annals of history. The hobbits were no help at all. Merry was doubled over, clutching Pippin, who had tears streaming down his face from laughing too hard. Even Sam, who tried to maintain some sense of decorum, couldn’t help the small, strangled giggle that escaped.

𖧧 Legolas turned to you, his face now composed but his voice uncharacteristically stiff. “Mellon,” he began, carefully measured, “I… I am flattered by your appreciation, but perhaps we could discuss such matters in private?” His attempt at regaining dignity was thoroughly ruined when Gimli snorted and said, “Aye, laddie, flattered, were you? Your face is redder than an orc’s behind in a smithy.”

𖧧 Legolas glared at the dwarf, but his usual sharp retort seemed to fail him. Instead, he looked back at you, his eyes a mixture of exasperation and… something else. Was it amusement? Embarrassment? Curiosity? It was hard to say, but one thing was clear: you had thoroughly thrown the prince off his game.

𖧧 Later, in Private When the two of you were alone, Legolas’ composure finally cracked. He buried his face in his hands and groaned softly. “Why, Mellon? Why would you say such a thing… in front of everyone?”

𖧧 But despite his words, there was no true anger in his voice—just the faintest hint of a laugh. When he finally lowered his hands, his eyes were sparkling with a reluctant, albeit slightly mortified, humor.

𖧧 “I suppose it was… bold of you,” he admitted with a soft sigh. “But next time, perhaps you could warn me before proclaiming such… thoughts in public?”

𖧧 And though his voice was still tinged with embarrassment, you couldn’t miss the small smile that tugged at his lips. He might never live it down, but deep down, some part of him admired your audacity—and maybe even found it endearing.

💛𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓻

𑁍 Meludir, the shy and bubbly young scout of Mirkwood, would be utterly scandalized the moment your hand made contact with his backside. He’d freeze in place, his big doe eyes going impossibly wide, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson that spread all the way to the tips of his pointy ears.

𑁍 “W-what—?!” he’d stammer, his voice cracking slightly in sheer mortification. The room would erupt into stunned silence, the other elves pausing mid-conversation or activity to stare at the two of you. Several of his fellow scouts would exchange bewildered glances, while a few bolder ones might stifle laughter behind their hands. Somewhere in the crowd, a mischievous elf would mutter, “Dummy thick?” under their breath, setting off a chain of poorly suppressed giggles.

𑁍 Meludir, meanwhile, would be too overwhelmed to process any of it. His hands would flap helplessly at his sides as he spun to face you, his expression a chaotic mix of disbelief, embarrassment, and outright panic. “Y-you can’t just say that! Or—or do that! In front of everyone!” he’d squeak, his voice pitching higher with each word. His gaze would dart around the room, as if searching for a way to escape the situation without further humiliation.

𑁍 Despite his mortification, there’d be a flicker of confusion in his wide eyes, as if wondering, Did they mean it? Am I…?”If Thranduil or another superior were present, Meludir’s distress would only deepen, his hands shooting up to his face to cover his burning cheeks. “I—I think I need to go scout something! Right now! Immediately!” he’d blurt, trying to flee the room with all the grace of a startled deer.

𑁍 But, of course, being Meludir, he’d probably trip over his own feet or run into a doorframe on his way out, adding another layer of mortification to his plight. Later, after he’d had time to calm down, he’d likely find you and glare at you with all the intensity his soft features could muster (not much).

𑁍 “Why would you do that to me? In front of everyone!” he’d whine, puffing out his cheeks in a pout. “That was so mean!” He’d pause, biting his lip before adding shyly, “But… do you really think I’m… you know…?” His voice would drop to a whisper. “…Dummy thick?” It would take a while to live down the incident, but deep down, Meludir would secretly appreciate your playful affection—though he’d be sure to check over his shoulder any time he heard you coming, just in case.

🤎𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷

➷ Feren, ever the dutiful and disciplined captain of the Mirkwood Guard, would completely short-circuit at your audacious display. The slap would echo through the training grounds, the sound drawing the attention of every guard under his command, sparking a wave of silence. His entire body would go rigid, his tall frame frozen in disbelief, the tips of his ears turning a telltale shade of red.

➷ His dark eyes, wide with shock, would dart toward you, his lips slightly parted as though searching for the words to respond—but none would come. For someone as eloquent as Feren, the sheer scandal of being referred to as “dummy thick” in public would leave him utterly speechless. His comrades, meanwhile, would exchange uncertain glances, unsure whether to intervene or laugh. A few braver ones might let a snicker slip before quickly stifling it.

➷ If Thranduil or other dignitaries were present, Feren would die a thousand deaths in that moment. He’d immediately bow his head, mortified, attempting to salvage what little of his dignity remained. If he could, he’d likely bark a command to dismiss the gathering of elves, all while refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

➷ Once the crowd dispersed, Feren would turn to you, his hands balled into fists at his sides—not out of anger, but sheer embarrassment. His voice, normally steady and commanding, would falter slightly as he addressed you. “Mellon” he’d say, his tone a mix of exasperation and bewilderment. “Do you… realize what you’ve just done?”

➷ His shy nature would make it almost impossible for him to directly confront the “dummy thick” comment, but the slap would linger in his mind. He’d glance around to ensure no one else could hear before stepping closer, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. “Was that… truly necessary? In front of everyone?” His face would still be flushed, and though his words seemed stern, there’d be a flicker of something softer in his expression—an embarrassed fondness for your boldness.

➷ If you laughed or teased him further, Feren would sigh deeply, running a hand over his face as if trying to compose himself. But he couldn’t stay irritated for long. His shy nature would resurface as he looked away, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You are going to be the end of me,” he’d mutter under his breath, though there’d be no real anger in his tone. Later, in private, he might even laugh to himself, shaking his head in disbelief that you managed to catch him so off-guard.

➷ When you were alone together, Feren would still be blushing, but he’d finally relax enough to address the situation. He’d sit beside you, his demeanor more composed but his ears still a little red. “You really have no sense of restraint, do you?” he’d ask, his tone tinged with reluctant amusement. “I’m lucky Thranduil didn’t witness that… or I’d never hear the end of it.”

➷ If you teased him further or apologized sweetly, he’d shake his head, a soft chuckle escaping him despite himself. Leaning closer, he’d let his guard down completely, brushing a hand against yours. “You make my life… interesting,” he’d admit, his voice low and affectionate. “Though, next time, perhaps you could be a little less bold. My pride might not survive it.”

🧡𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓼

ꄗ Elros would freeze mid-action, the keyring in his hand jangling faintly as silence descended upon the dungeons. The other guards would gape, their faces ranging from shock to barely-concealed laughter. Elros, the steadfast and disciplined captain, was not accustomed to being the target of such… unconventional attention, let alone in front of his subordinates.

ꄗ His face would turn a bright shade of red, and for a moment, he’d struggle to compose himself, torn between his natural sense of duty and the utterly baffling situation unfolding. His gaze would snap to you, wide-eyed, and his voice would come out in a stammer. “M-Mellon—what are you doing?!”

ꄗ The guards, no longer able to contain themselves, would likely burst into laughter or hurriedly excuse themselves to avoid Elros’s mortified wrath. Elros would whirl around, glaring daggers at his comrades as they retreated, leaving him alone with you.

ꄗ Once the others had dispersed, Elros would fix you with a look somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He’d cross his arms over his chest, still blushing furiously. “You have some nerve, don’t you?” he’d mutter, though there’s a flicker of amusement behind his indignation. “Dummy thick? Is that how you choose to address me—in front of the guards?”

ꄗ Despite his scolding tone, there’s a clear note of flustered warmth. While Elros is a disciplined and responsible figure, he’s also deeply forgiving and good-natured, especially toward someone he holds dear. “Do you have any idea how much I’ll hear about this later?” he’d say with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. But then, his expression would soften, and he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. “Just—don’t pull a stunt like that when I’m on duty, alright? I’ll let it slide this time, but only because it’s you.”

ꄗ When he’s alone, Elros would sit in his quarters, still red in the face as he replayed the incident in his mind. Despite himself, a small chuckle would escape his lips as he muttered under his breath: “Dummy thick… What in Arda possessed you to come up with that?” Though flustered, he’d also be secretly pleased by your boldness and the lightheartedness you bring to his otherwise serious role. Deep down, he’d admire your audacity, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

ꄗ Elros might even let a smirk creep across his face the next time he sees you, though he’d shake his head as if to scold you again: “You’re lucky I’ve a soft spot for you, mellon. Just—try not to make me the talk of the Woodland Realm next time, alright?”

❤️𝓖𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓷

𖦹 The room is lively with the sound of clinking goblets and quiet conversations. Galion, in his usual laid-back manner, is strolling through the hall, holding a glass of Thranduil’s finest vintage when it happens. Your hand connects with his backside in a resonant smack that echoes throughout the hall. The words “dummy thick” tumble from your lips with unrestrained boldness.

𖦹 For a moment, Galion freezes, wine glass poised mid-air, as though his brain is struggling to process the audacity of what just transpired. Slowly, he turns to look at you, his expression a delightful cocktail of astonishment, mild affront, and a flicker of amusement he can’t quite hide. “Dummy thick, you say?” he repeats, his tone low and laced with incredulous humor. His eyebrows rise as if to silently ask, “Did you really just do that?”

𖦹 The other elves, initially stunned into silence, exchange a mix of horrified and amused glances. A few stifled chuckles escape from the more free-spirited among them. Someone mutters, “By the stars…” Galion recovers quickly, his easygoing nature saving him from the sheer embarrassment that might have overwhelmed another elf in his position. With a casual yet pointed gesture, he takes a long sip of wine, clearly weighing his response. Finally, he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

𖦹 “If you must grope me, meleth, at least make sure I’ve had a full glass of wine beforehand,” he quips with a sly grin, his eyes twinkling with mischievous mirth. As the initial shock fades, Galion adopts a playful tone, more amused than offended. Turning to the rest of the room, he raises his glass in a mock toast, his carefree demeanor diffusing much of the tension. “To bold declarations and even bolder actions,” he says smoothly, shooting you a glance that’s equal parts exasperated and entertained.

𖦹 In Private Later, when the crowd has dispersed and it’s just the two of you, Galion confronts you again—though “confront” might be too strong a word for his gentle chiding. “You’ve quite the nerve, calling me such names in front of everyone,” he remarks, though there’s no true malice in his tone. “Do you know how long it’s going to take me to live that down?”

𖦹 His smirk, however, betrays him. “Still… I suppose it’s flattering, in a peculiar way. Dummy thick, hmm? Perhaps I’ll add it to my titles. ‘Galion, Keeper of Wine and Bearer of Thickness.’ What do you think?”

𖦹 Galion’s easygoing charm ensures that he’d ultimately laugh it off, but he wouldn’t let you forget your daring act for a long while, teasing you at every opportunity. And perhaps, just perhaps, he’d find a way to return the favor when you least expect it.

I’m working on other elven characters like haldir, Gil-galad, círdan.

So keep an eye out for my posts 🫶💚🍃

[thewulf]

With You? Always || Legolas

Summary: This was supposed to be a request but I took it in a very fluffy direction. Like no angst. Just teasing and reuniting with Legolas after the events of LOTR. Hope you guys enjoy!

A/N: Thank you for the cutest request anon even tho I didn't follow it! I had too much fun writing this one. It's so much fun to write these LOTR imagines. Thank you guys for sending them in!

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k +

TW: Insecurity, angsty, fluffy

“King Thranduil suspects he will be back by nightfall.” Your father spoke breaking you from the trance you had seemed to be in. Your eyes were scanning the emptying kingdom among you. Just like the Elves of Rivendell the Elves of Mirkwood took to the sea’s too, many more than you suspected would leave so quickly. You were yet to get the calling. You were sure your father had felt it just as your mother did so long ago. But he had a duty to the king as his head guard, and he wanted to be around for you and your life milestones, “His elk can sense Legolas but a few hours away.”

You let out a small gasp with glee, “The Elvenking is hardly ever wrong.” Your eyes upturned into the smile that had now graced your usually withdrawn face since he had left here almost two years ago. You hardly lived your thousands of years without Legolas in tow. It’d been well over a year since he set off to destroy the ring. Being that you had lived thousands it should have been quick, but it felt like more than a century since you had spotted Legolas’s nearly silver, blonde hair.

“Indeed, my daughter. It is unwise to not listen to the king.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating from your room and heading to his chambers to get ready for dinner. Leaving you to be with your thoughts. Quickly you got ready making sure to take extra care of you appearance just in case he had arrived early enough for it. It would be rather obvious of your intentions for you had been rather careless since he had been gone. You found no point to go above and beyond since you knew your eyes only landed on Legolas. No one else stood a chance even if they tried.

Sliding on your finest evening attire that wasn’t too over the top you set off for dinner. You scanned the castles dining hall for any sight of him but only slumped when you came up short not finding his normally intricately braided blonde hair.

It wasn’t often Elves could be snuck up on but when your eyes were desperately searching for the one that had been on your mind nonstop it was rather easy to sneak up on you, “He has yet to arrive my lady.”

You jumped turning to the elf standing beside you, “Galion! Where did you come from?” You placed a hand over your rapidly beating and rather startled heart that felt like it got caught doing something it shouldn’t have been.

“From across the room.” He smiled giving you a bow, “I was hardly being quiet.” He gave you an answer you weren’t really looking for.

You nodded quickly looking away, “Right. Thank you Galion. I was searching for my father.” It was an obvious lie and even he knew that for he knew of the feelings between the two elves. It had been painfully obvious for centuries. Even King Thrandruil was growing tired of son not courting you. He had long since accepted you as an extended member of his family. He had practically raised you alongside Legolas. He was eager to see the two of you together before he set sail. He had wanted to rejoin his wife and was growing impatient to Legolas’s growing timidness to asking you the question.

Galion nodded knowing you were lying through your teeth. Being the kings longtime advisor, he had known you just as well as the king and your father did. He knew all your little quirks. One being that you couldn’t lie to save your life, “Right my lady. He’s in the corner with the king.” Galion pointed to the two elves sitting there snickering about something.

Ever since the Kingdom of Mirkwood received word from Legolas that he was safe, and the ring had been destroyed the usually stoic king that hid away made himself more present and smiled far more often than you remembered. You were excited to catch glimpses of the old king you’d grown to see as a second father. Ever since Legolas’s mom and his wife has passed the king has grown cold. But now that there was finally some good news and hope he was becoming more of his old self.

Your thanked Galion before making your way your father. You weren’t planning on eating with him especially not that you learned that he was eating with the king. It’s not that you didn’t like them. No, you loved your king. It’s that he seemed to know of your longing feelings of his son no matter how well you tried to hide it. He always found a way to bring Legolas up and embarrass you in the process. Surely he would show no mercy due to your father sitting next to him.

“King Thranduil, Father.” You bowed before the two elves with utmost reverence. You knew how precious your spot in the Kingdom of Mirkwood was. If your father wasn’t who he was you would be nothing but a peasant elf the king could care less about. You tried your hardest not to take it for granted.

Before your father could speak the king did instead, “You look rather put together tonight Y/N. Special occasion?” He asked with a hint of smirk on his face. And that was why you were trying your hardest to avoid said king who was beginning to antagonize your efforts.

“None that I am aware of.” You spoke another obvious lie. Your father watched in amusement as your usually cool demeanor crumbled over the look the king was giving you. He too was not dumb. All of Mirkwood would have to be blind had they not known you and Legolas were to be bound together. It was just the two of you who seemed to lack the awareness.

His eyes looked over your outfit before replying, “My son’s favorite color is red. It is most uncommon to wear that color here, no?” He waved his hands before him showing that nearly elf was either in green, gray, or beige.

“Is it?” You tried to play dumb feeling utterly nervous under his looming gaze. How had he managed to make you feel so silly was beyond even you. Because he was right. Red wasn’t so common for greens were usually the chosen Mirkwood shades.

His stoic expression broke with an innocent smile, “Indeed it is. He will like this dress on you Lady Y/N.” Your father cracked a grin from beside the king seeing your dumb expression. He too was tired of watching you pine from afar and wanted to see you happy and in good hands before he departed.

You coughed trying to think of anything to say to him. You eyed your father for help, but he simply shrugged leaving you high and dry. He was enjoying this interrogation far too much, “Oh, my king, this is not meant for Legolas…”

He held a hand up to you letting you know to quiet, “Be that as it may. Which is a lie. He will be most happy to see you even more so in that dress.” You dared not disagree with the elf as he was in a chipper mood. Surely his sons return had something to do with it.

“Aye.” Your father agreed which earned a laugh from the normally stoic king. Were they drunk? They had to be. But you didn’t see any wine on the table nor smelled any alcohol on their breath. So, they were just enjoying seeing you squirm? You’d have a word with your father after it was all set and done.

The kings gaze softened seeing you truly so dumbfounded at his conclusion, “He will be here within the hour Lady Y/N. Take a stroll in my private garden after dinner. Galion will escort you after supper. I will see to it that he meets you out there after his arrival.”

You gulped. Was King Thranduil trying to get the two of you together? It seemed as if you were not as sneaky as you thought yourself to be, “Oh, I would not want to impose my king.”

“I insist.” And that was that. He had you escorted through his chambers to the garden even you had yet to see. It was small but truly, one of them most beautiful spaces you’d ever had the pleasure of stepping into. You walked around admiring the roses and flowers that seemed endless as they tangled with the grass and trees. You had sensed why he had kept it to himself after all of these years.

“My father was right. You are a vision Lady Y/N.” The familiar voice of the man you loved snapped you out of the trance the dancing roses captured you in. For the second time that night you had been snuck up on. Most unlike you.

Your face broke into a smile seeing the blonde elf in person finally, “Is red really your favorite color?” You asked not fully believing the king.

He bowed to you, “It’s been over a year, almost two and that’s the first thing you ask me?”

“It is. Is that an issue my prince?” You gave him a dramatic bow in return. That was just one of the many things he had grown to adore about you. You never really gave care in the world of his title. To you he was always just Legolas your friend. For he hadn’t a clue of how you felt about him.

“Hardly. Indeed, red is my most cherished color. This color precisely.” He stepped closer to you grabbing at the extra fabric on your arm. If your heart could simultaneously stop and explode all at once that was what was occurring. He was so close so suddenly. Was Legolas flirting with you?

“Well,” You cleared your throat trying your best to respond to him as your brain tried its best to keep up with him, “Hopefully I wear it all right.” You joked around trying to shift the growing tension between the two of you.

His hands did not drop from your arm as his eyes snapped up to yours, “My lady, you wear it finer than any elf in this kingdom and all kingdoms beyond.”

What was he doing? Your face paled before your cheeks exploded with color. You were usually so good at hiding emotion such as this but his outright honestly instead of the joking he would normally play in had taken you off your guard.

He smirked now knowing his father’s push was really all he needed. You would not blush so had you no feelings for him. He did not wish to ruin the grand friendship he had with you for it was the most cherished thing in his life. For in his mind, you had no feelings for him.

“Oh, thank you Legolas.” He noticed you flexing your hands. He had long since learned that was your tell for being unsettled. He’d often caught you doing the same before an attack would commence or when you had a terrible feeling of something.

“There is no need to be nervous Y/N. It is just me, Legolas.” He hid his smirk away for a softer smile. He held his hands out for you to take.

Slowly you placed your much smaller hands in his, “Indeed. That is what’s making me nervous.” You admitted out loud before your brain could stop you.

“What do you mean?” He turned his head to the side just so as his eyes scanned over your face searching for something, anything.

“You have occupied my thoughts every day since you left.” You spoke quickly before you could decide it would be a bad idea letting him know you had feelings too, “Are you being sincere?”

He stepped forward placing a tentative hand on your hip, “Aye, my lady. I would not lie to you. You look beautiful tonight.”

You placed your hand on his face making sure he really was back, “I missed you Legolas. This had been the longest year of my life. For I did not know years could take so long.”

He tested the waters by bring you closer to him. He fully wrapped an arm around your waist. You thought your heart was going to leap out of his chest as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I survived out there because of you.” His hair tickled your neck, but you could hardly care as you processed this information he had just told you.

“Pardon?” You had asked him to expand on that ever so bold statement.

He brushed your hair behind you ears, “When we wanted to give up, when all hope was lost, when I surely thought this life was over…” He paused seeing the horror in your expression. You must not have known how dangerous the quest truly was. But he continued trying to get to the point, “I thought of you. Coming home to you in Mirkwood kept me going.”

He surely heard how fast your heart was beating now, “I am glad I could provide you the strength to come home to me. For I do not know how I would fare middle earth without you.” This moment in the garden was the most intimate the two of you had ever been with the other. The most truthful too. You would have to thank his father later for the push the both of you needed. He must have been planning to leave soon as he never meddled so obviously before.

“I could not let that happen. I have made sure of that.” He smiled, eyes gazing down lovingly at you. You’d seen the gaze before but told yourself he meant something else. You were mistaken clearly.

“Legolas.” His name slipped out of your mouth so effortlessly. By Eru were you thrilled you could speak his name out loud because he was actually in front of you.

Ignoring your soft plea he asked you, “May I ask you a very important question?”

Your eyes piqued in curiosity as you nodded, “You may.” Wondering whatever he may ask you.

He took your hands in his gently rubbing his thumb along your much softer skin, “I wish to court you. I want to spend the rest of this life together, meleth nin. Would you do me the honor?”

You repeated his words slowly, “Meleth nin…” You repeated back to him before continuing in your disbelief, “For am I dreaming right now Legolas?” You asked not sure if you were truly in reality any longer. For as long as you pined for the blonde elf from afar this was happening faster than you had imagined.

“I certainly hope not, it took me far too long to work up the courage to ask you.” He grinned feeling like he could do anything in the world. His love, you, had said yes to him. He was going to have you as a partner, lover and more for the rest of his life. He could not wait to start the next part of his life with you. A youthful pang of excitement went off in his heart as he felt a new sense of adventure in the near future with you.

You laughed giving his hands a squeeze, “Then it is my greatest honor to accept. May I ask for how long?”

This time it was his turned to blush. It was a rare sight to see the kings son so squirmy in any sense, “Give or take a few hundred years?”

You smiled, “I have you beat then my prince. I had a growing crush nearly a thousand years ago. I thought it would go away so I just buried it deep down. See what good that got me.”

“Half our lives?” His eyes went wide as if he was finally seeing you for the first time.

You nodded you head trying to hide the embarrassment of hiding yourself away, “I suppose it is then half our lives so far. It was when you got back from Minas Tirith with your father. I had missed you far too much for the feelings to be simply friendly.” It wasn’t so bad admitting it to him for it felt more of a relief. He was going to know your truest feelings finally.

He placed his hands on your uppers arms, “I am nothing but a fool. I did not notice.”

You half laughed, half groaned, “I did not give you a chance my prince.”

“Why did you hide away from me?” He asked sincerely as he took a handful of your long straight hair in his hands. He was certainly more comfortable getting more handsy with you after you had accepted his proposal. It was no question to you. He was the only one you would say yes to.

“I am nothing but a Silvan Elf.” You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. When Legolas’s face turned to nothing but confusion you continued, “I heard the king talking, years ago now, about how lowly he view the Silvan elves he presided over. I would never have the approval.”

“What are you talking about meleth nin?” He sounded genuinely confused, “How long ago was that?”

You shrugged, “A long time ago.” You didn’t want to admit it was nearly two thousand years ago you heard his decree. Even by elf standards that was some time ago.

“You know even stubborn kings can change their minds given some time.” He pinched your side lightly letting you know your thoughts were mistaken for the king had all but forced him to tell you this evening.

He held his hand out after he admired you for a moment longer than needed. He could not help it though for he couldn’t believe that you were his, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” You asked curiosity getting the better of you as you placed your hand in his.

He sighed turning back to you with that glimmer in his eye, “We may have an audience on the other side of the door waiting to see if you said yes.”

You let out a hearty laugh, “Unbelievable! Who is there then?” You followed him as he began walking.

“Your father and mine… and Galion” He smiled sheepishly almost afraid to see your reaction.

But your laugh let him know you didn’t mind, “Those meddling older elves. They need to mind their own business.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, that adorable blush forming over his cheeks, “I am thankful for their meddling for I never would have had the courage to ask you my lady.”

You gave his hand a squeeze before you walked through the thick wooden door, “I would have waited another two thousand years for you Legolas.”

He looked down suddenly bashful. You were beginning to adore the far more emotional side of the man you had grown to love truly throughout the centuries. It had made falling even further in love with him a less daunting task. You were more than excited to explore life as a courting couple. You’d make big decisions in this stage of life. How many children did he want? Where did he want to live? Was Thranduil going to give the crown to his son? Would he accept?

“You have always had such a way with words meleth nin.” He brushed the side of your face breaking you away from your thoughts.

You grinned at his kind words, “Meleth nin.” You whispered back to him for the first time. You could get used to calling him that. Your love. Your lover. Your everything.

He put his hand on the door before turning back to you, “Are you ready to deal with them?”

A smile broke out on your face in consideration of his actions, “With you? Always.”

He gave your hand a squeeze before opening the door before both of you. Sure enough not a second later both King Thranduil and your father pounced on the both of you with questions while Galion stood back with a relieved expression on his face. You laughed with utmost glee as Legolas pulled you into his chest shielding you from the questions and answering them all. If this is what it meant to be loved by him then you could surely get used to this.

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[deadlymistletoe]

Fears and Bandages

Pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

Request: @frustrated-kitten asked: I thought maybe I could request a Thranduil x FemReader where she returns with several injuries after fighting a bunch of spiders with Legolas and some other elves? Some small wounds, some more serious, but in the end she survives and everything goes well?

A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted - I was going to make it more angsty but this is what came out and it stuck.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort

Description: Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries. Stitches.

Word count: 1582

Thranduil’s foot tapped against the ground, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his throne. Besides the two guards posted at the entrance to the room, the rest of his subjects were steering clear of him.

He didn’t blame them for avoiding him while he was like this - after all, had it been someone else fidgeting he would have been annoyed himself.

It was rare for the composed elvenking to fidget as he was, to betray any hint of apprehension, but today was the exception.

It was well known that there were two people on this earth that Thranduil would do absolutely anything to keep safe, and it just so happened that both of them had gone headfirst into a dangerous situation.

The first, his only son, Legolas. Since the elf had first looked up at him from his mother’s with those wide blue eyes Thranduil had known that he would do anything for him.

After his wife had died that feeling had only strengthened, as the meaning in his life centered around the elfling who was quickly becoming one of the realm's best archers.

For a long time, nothing had changed, until he met the second person he would come to care about more than he would have thought possible. You.

Thranduil had never even considered that he might love again after his wife passed, but then you’d come into his life and he’d found himself falling faster than should have. And he just knew that he couldn’t lose you too. History couldn’t repeat itself. He wouldn’t let it.

Of course, that was easier said than done since you, much like Legolas, continuously risked your safety to fight the spiders that continued to invade the Greenwood.

Thankfully for him, you’d stepped back from the danger once the two of you fell in love and you took to the role of Thranduil’s consort - soon-to-be-queen, but the latest nest was bigger than usual and the spiders began to get more bold so you’d insisted on joining Legolas for the raid.

So now Thranduil sat, fidgeting like an impatient elfling, waiting for news. 

He felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time - helpless.

Yes, Legolas had promised to make sure you both came back in one piece, but Legolas was also known for saying he was ‘fine’ when he had a gaping wound - Valar forbid he find out what his son’s definition of ‘one piece’ was.

Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to doubt the abilities of you and his son, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but worry. After all, the last time his son had left the palace with a mother-figure, only one of them had come back - granted, that was when Legolas was a child with none of the skills he had now. But still.

He immediately straightened up, movements freezing when Galion ran up the steps leading into the room. “They’re back, my lord.”

Thranduil wasted no time making his way down the steps, Galion rushing to keep up with him as they made their way to the front gates. “Is everyone okay?” Are they okay?

“Everyone’s alive.” Those words were less reassuring than they should be. The mirkwood elves had a habit of using the term ‘alive’ rather loosely.

When he reached the entrance, those gathered around instantly parted for him to make his way towards the glimpse of pale hair he’d noticed through the crowd.

None of the patrol had been completely spared, that was certain, as scratches adorned each of their complexions, the darker blood of the spiders splattered over their uniforms.

Healers had already dispersed amongst the warriors, vials of antidote in hand just in case, and he was relieved to see that Legolas had no obvious signs of injury as he drew closer.

Legolas saw him coming and turned to meet him, voice low as he spoke. “There were more than we expected. We weren’t prepared, a second lot ambushed us after the fight had already started.”

Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a show of affection that still kept a semblance of formality. “You did well.”

He hesitated, not wanting to brush his son off but at the same time needing to see you. Legolas saved him from asking, nodding towards where a healer was bent over a figure on a bench. You, he realized.

“She’s okay.” Legolas murmured. “Just a bit more cut up than the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been on guard to make sure she didn’t injure herself more running off to find you before the healers got to her.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he made his way towards you, Legolas following behind.

It didn’t take long for you to look up at the familiar footsteps, a smile spreading across your lips despite the sting as the healer cleaned up a deep wound across your shoulder.

When the healer took her hands from you to rummage through her supplies you immediately took the chance to push yourself to your feet, moving around her and meeting Thranduil half way, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist as you stumbled slightly.

He smirked slightly looking over your shoulder. “I do believe Lothael is about to scold you for using her distraction to your advantage.”

Your healer, Lothael, had followed you, rolling her eyes. She gave Thranduil a wry look. “Yes, well, I can’t imagine that the king wants his queen-to-be to bleed out on the floor.”

Thranduil’s eyes quickly ran over your wounds, double-checking that you weren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out, and lingering on the deeper ones before looking back at Lothael. “I can take it from here, thank you.”

He knew that technically the healer had more better skills than him in the art, but at the same time, he also knew that the only way to completely reassure himself that you weren’t about to bleed out was if he did it himself - he needed to know that he’d checked and taken care of your wounds with his own hands.

It was only when the two of you had left the view of the other elves, leaving Legolas in charge, that you let yourself lean against the wall with a groan, the pain that had been throbbing in your leg since the adrenaline had worn off on the walk home forcing you to give it a break.

Thranduil, whose hand had been resting on your back, ready to steady you at any moment should you need it, gave you a worried look as you pulled away from him to use the wall as support.

“I’ll be fine,” You muttered, grimacing. “It’s just demanding a rest.”

Thranduil gave you a calculated look, and before you could say anything or even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he swept you off your feet, your arms automatically going around his neck as he carried you bridal-style down the hall.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, a smile crossing his own face at the sound. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at you, a small smile dancing across his lips. “Why, I’m carrying to your chamber’s, my lady. Valar knows you’d collapse halfway there if I didn’t.”

You laughed before quieting down and leaning your head against his chest. “I’m tired, Thranduil.” You murmured, the toll today had taken on your body catching up to you.

He looked at you with a soft look reserved only for you. “I know, Meleth. You can rest soon.”

You sighed, staying silent as he reached your shared chambers and laid you on the bed, letting you sink into the silks and furs that covered the mattress.

You had started to drift off when you suddenly felt something cold seep into one of the deeper wounds, pressure keeping it there. You jerked away from the cold sting, but a hand held you in place, and you felt Thranduil’s silky hair brush against your skin as he lent over you to brush his lips against your forehead.

“I’m just cleaning them.” He murmured. “Relax.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he moved the cloth, a few tears slipping down the side of your face as he continued on to stitch the wound closed.

Your strong facade you’d kept up in the entrance and on the journey home hope had dissipated, as had your energy now that you were with the one you didn’t have to act strong for.

Thranduil whispered apologies and reassurances as he cleaned and bandaged the rest of your wounds with a gentleness that could only come from a lover’s hands, occasionally wiping the tears from your face and running his fingers through your hair at a particularly harsh sting.

It felt like hours later when the last wound was taken care of and you heard the quiet clink as Thranduil set the glass bottle of ointment aside.

He remained seated at your size, gentle fingers brushing over your face and hair as he gazed down at you, his own fears put aside now that he’d tended to you.

You held his gaze, relishing the cool touches until you felt your eyes begin to droop, and the last thing you were aware of was the feather-light lips that brushed against yours and the whispered, “Sleep, Meleth.” as you drifted off, Thranduil’s fingers soothingly carding through your hair.

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[cuffmeinblack]

Hi~ is it okay if I request a Fluffy oneshot of Ominis gaunt x fem Hufflepuff Mc?

Like she’s generally a very soft spoken girl (tho she got sass for days) and maybe Ominis stumbles upon her while she’s singing “Secret Garden- Sleepsong” in the undercroft, because it’s a family lullaby and she’s feeling a little homesick.. (Post good ending, Sebs spending the weekend with Anne & his uncle)

He’s so entranced by her singing.. he ends up making notes on when she seems to go down there to sing, just so he can listen to her.. (also he’s a bit nervous about letting her know, that he knows she can sing. So he’s done all this in secret.)

And maybe sometime later a mean-girl group from the frog choir corners MC, talking shit about how she probably has a trashy voice or something.. Ominis ain’t having that!!

He just blurts out that ACTUALLY she has the voice of a GODDESS!! and they aren’t even worthy enough to listen to a Dogbog snor!

Maybe MC’s a little confident after his little stunt so she gets super flirty~

Seb’s gonna be so confused when he gets back to an unusually flirtatious MC constantly making moves on a VERY flustered Ominis.. 👀 but he’s happy for them at least.. and won a LOT of Galions, but that’s beside the point!

Basically all cute shit.. Ominis deserves SO much Love.. 🥺

Two little words

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Tags: fluff | Hufflepuff reader

1k words

A/: Hello, thank for your request 🖤 I enjoyed writing this from Ominis' point of view. Hope you enjoy.

I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

Ominis knew he wasn't alone as soon he stepped into the Undercroft—he immediately jumped back and pressed himself against the cold stone wall upon hearing the noise. Quite what made him hide, he wasn't sure, only that the moment he had stumbled upon seemed personal and intimate.

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

The voice could only belong to one person, the only other one who knew about the Undercroft besides himself and Sebastian. She sang with a gentle lilt, the melody was sombre and sweet and tinged with sadness. Ominis knew he should either make his presence known or leave, the longer he left it the more awkward his discovery would become, but he found himself unable to move, partially from fear but a greater desire to hear her sing more.

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

The sweet song stopped suddenly and Ominis' gut twisted uncomfortably when he realised why—she was crying. Her breath hitched and she tried to stifle the sobs, breathing deeply and sniffing through her nose. Ominis felt intensely guilty for intruding—he didn't think she would appreciate the intrusion, even though he wanted to comfort her, she had clearly come here for solitude. Regretfully, he felt his way along the wall and back out of the door.

Ominis knew she often roamed the castle or fled into the forest or Hogsmeade, she was hard to keep track of, but he started to notice a pattern to her behaviour. She would receive an owl from her parents every Monday, and that evening she would disappear, walking through the central hall and sneaking off to the Undercroft. The second time he found her, he had intended to confront her and offer his support, but once again found himself distracted and enchanted by her sweet voice. He knew she wouldn't willingly sing in front of him, and he so wanted to listen.

She sang a different song every time he visited, though it was often a sad and slow tune. Ominis thought she must miss her home terribly and wondered about her life away from Hogwarts—a shy and intensely private person, much like Ominis, she didn't often mention her personal life, preferring to devote her conversations to her studies and friends' lives. Every time he heard her sing, standing in the shadows, his heart raced and on more than one occasion he felt wet hot tears sliding down his face.

All good things must come to an end, and for Ominis that was on a Tuesday afternoon a month after he had first heard her sing. He walked across the courtyard on his way to Herbology, his wand held aloft and listening to the chatter surrounding him. His ears heard her voice, now so familiar and comforting, though it was full of hurt and anger.

"There's no need to be so horrible."

"We're just giving you some criticism, if you can't take it then you shouldn't be singing at all," a second voice rang, ugly and rough in comparison.

Ominis followed the conversation.

"Telling me I sound like a banshee isn't criticism, it's needlessly mean. I don't know what your problem is," she said, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

More voices, cruelly laughing. The second voice chimed in again.

"Just give up, you'll never make the choir with your voice."

Ominis leaned against the pillar of an archway, his hands shaking in anger.

"I happen to think she has the voice of an angel, and we can all agree I have much better taste than you," he drawled.

He heard a shuffle as the group found the source of the insult.

"Nobody asked you, Gaunt," the ugly voice said.

"I spend my life listening, and let me tell you that she would be the best thing to happen to your pathetic little choir."

The silence that greeted his retort let him knew he had won the exchange. Several huffs were expelled and he heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Her sweet voice filled his ears, asking a question he didn't want to answer.

"Thank you, Ominis. When have you ever heard me sing?"

Ominis blushed, trying to find words that wouldn't anger or embarrass her.

"I have to confess, I found myself listening as you sang in the Undercroft. I apologise for not showing myself, I should have."

"I thought you must have. Next time…tell me when you're there?" she replied.

"Next time?"

"If you want. I'll see you later, Ominis."

The response surprised him, and he spent the next few hours utterly distracted from his lessons, turning the conversation and his memories of the Undercroft over in his mind. Was it an invitation? Should he turn up next week? He wanted to more than anything, but he worried he had somehow misinterpreted her interest.

That doubt was put to rest by the time he reached the great hall that evening. He followed Sebastian to their usual seat, where she sat waiting. Some of the Slytherins despised that a Hufflepuff often sat at their house table for meals, but they didn't comment anymore lest they find themselves on the receiving end of Ominis' ruthless sharp-witted insults, or the end of Sebastian's wand.

"Hello, you two. Good afternoon?"

"Fantastic, blew myself up in Potions," Sebastian said sarcastically, "You?"

"Not bad, it got better after I saw you, Ominis."

Ominis blushed, the heat rising in his cheeks, smiling bashfully as Sebastian started choking next to him.

"I'm glad. I'm sorry they were so awful," Ominis replied, ignoring the coughing coming from his friend.

"My hero," she said in a breathy voice.

Yes, Ominis often found himself thinking about her singing but those two little words might have been the the most beautiful he had ever heard.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hiiii!

Please, Tauriel X Thranduil

Solstice Feast !!🍂❄️🎄

NSFW/Smutty

Pós BotFA if possible

rough and needy, unresolved sexual tension, submissive and dominant role switching. A little bit of dog style. They're not worried about making babies... Hahhahaha

Fluffy at the end

Galion and Feren are embarrassed

Would that be possible? You are so excited! Forgive me for any mistakes, I am a Brazilian reader. Big hug.🍂🌻

Here you go! I hope you like this!

"Solstice Feast"

Pairing: Thranduil/Tauriel

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Kissing | PIV Sex | Switch aspects | Doggy style | Hair pulling

Wordcount: 1.9K words

Summary: A drink to celebrate the winter equinox and a great victory leads to something else between the Captain of Woodland Realm Guard and her king.

Minors DNI | 18+ | This story can also be found on AO3

“You did well on the battlefield, captain,” Thranduil said. He poured a measure of fine golden wine for himself and another for Tauriel. “And I grieve for your loss. Tell me. Do you truly love the kinsman of Thorin Oakenshield?”

Tauriel accepted her cup and took a sip. “Kíli was a most steadfast and amusing companion,” she confessed, studying Thranduil keenly. The Elvenking was not pleased with the mention of the dwarf’s name. She could perceive it in the way he clenched his jaw and how his hand tightened around the cup it held. It roused her curiosity. “I grew quite fond of him.”

“Fond,” Thranduil said, draining half his cup in two deep swallows, “is not a word I would have expected you to say, certainly not after you wept over the slain dwarf’s body. Come now, captain. Speak true. Do you love the kinsman of Thorin Oakenshield?”

“I do not,” Tauriel said, her curiosity growing after relief flashed in the eyes of the king. “I mourn his death, yes, but I do not love him. Why do you ask such a thing, my king?”

“I merely wished to know, that is all,” Thranduil said. He finished the remainder of his wine. “And, I confess, I would not have approved of you aligning with one of the Naugrim. They are a doughty race and uncommonly skilled besides, but as the companion of an elven captain of your high standing? I think not.”

Tauriel finished her wine as well. Outside the tent set aside for Thranduil’s own particular use, elves, men, and dwarves ate and drank to celebrate a great victory and honor the winter solstice. Someone had already begun to sing; it would not be long before the others joined, and many sweet voices rose in song. Tauriel did not dwell on that. The king’s declaration captured her attention instead.

“Do you believe Kíli was unworthy of me?”

“Most certainly. There are others, Tauriel. Elves who are truly worthy. You should consider setting your eyes on one of them instead.”

“Other elves?” Tauriel said, unable to help herself. There was far more to what her king was saying, and she was determined to learn it. “I see. Pray tell me, my king, who are these other elves you speak of? Is it Legolas, perhaps?”

Thranduil shook his head. He still clutched his empty cup, his fingers white at the knuckles. Presently, he said, “No, Tauriel. Not my son Legolas.”

“Oh,” Tauriel said, narrowing her eyes to thin slits. Legolas was the Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm, and a fearless warrior besides. He should have been one of the worthy elves Thranduil spoke of. “Then Galion, or Feren. Even Angon might suit, I think. He is quite fierce in battle, and I find only you can surpass him as a warrior.”

The Elvenking made no attempt to conceal his growl of displeasure. Tauriel, now beginning to latch onto the real cause of his conduct, strode to him. She took the cup out of his hand and set hers and his down on the little table in the center. At length, she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “Or perhaps there is someone else. Someone far higher than even them in rank. Is that the truth of it, my king? Is there someone other than them?”

Thranduil took a step toward her. “There is none like that,” he said, lowering his head just enough to smell her hair. The heady scent of cedar filled him with every breath he took. “But I suppose Angon would suit, should you decide to seek him out. Will you do so?”

Liar, Tauriel yearned to say after having perceived Thranduil’s falsehood. Thranduil would not have approved of her seeking Angon; it was plain in his eyes. Nevertheless, she stood still, her body enveloped by Thranduil’s taller, larger form. Then she fought back the welcomed shiver that threatened to arise after he reached out and brushed his hand against her own. She would not yield so easily. Not until he freely spoke of his own feelings.

“Perhaps,” she said with an air of forced indifference, “and perhaps not. Angon may suit me as a companion, but he does not appeal to my desires like he should.”

“Oh?” The king arched a quizzical brow. “What does appeal to your desires?”

“Boldness,” Tauriel began, her breath hitching when strong but gentle fingers laced around her own. “A dash of arrogance. The willingness to take command. Those are the things that appeal to my desires.”

“The willingness to take command, you say,” Thranduil replied, intrigued. “Does this mean you desire to surrender to your companion in every way?”

“I do not mean complete surrender,” Tauriel allowed. “But it would be liberating, would it not, to let another take the lead?”

“Indeed,” Thranduil agreed. “Tauriel,” he murmured, his lips a mere hair’s breadth over her own, “this cannot go beyond the walls of this tent.”

“I understand, my king,” Tauriel returned, her heart aflutter, “but you must tell me why. So far, you have given me no explanation as to why you comport yourself so.”

Thranduil stepped back and looked hard at her. Tauriel, returning his gaze with equal resolve, remained uncowed. Seconds slowly melted into each other as a heavy silence settled between them. Finally, the king crumbled. He sighed and said, “I desire you. I have done so for quite a while. I guarded my tongue because you were... are… too young. Then there was your position to consider and mine. This is my explanation. Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” Tauriel said, gratified that the king did not attempt to deceive her this time. She closed her eyes again when Thranduil drew near, and his presence overwhelmed her. “And, like you said, this cannot go beyond the walls of this tent. The others will not understand.”

“They will not,” Thranduil whispered. He dipped his head and let his lips glide over hers. When the captain of the Wood-elf guard tilted her chin to meet him halfway, he rewarded her with a kiss that left her skin tingling. “Are you agreeable to staying a while and sharing my featherbed before leaving for the solstice feast?”

Tauriel grinned. “I would be a fool to pass up an hour or two of sharing unbridled passion with the king. I will stay.”

Thranduil grinned as well. “That is good then. Now undress yourself and get in the bed.”

Tauriel flushed, but she did as she was commanded to do so. She fumbled with the buttons of her woolen vest, the knots of her tunic, the clasp of her belt, and the laces on her undershirt and her boots. Still, she freed herself of her garments while listening to the king disrobing himself. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, and when she finished and turned to look at him, she found lust and hunger burning bright in his sky-blue eyes.

“In the bed,” Thranduil ordered, though not unkindly, “if you please.”

Tauriel obeyed, her cheeks aflame as Thranduil walked toward her, unclad and unashamed. He pushed her down when he climbed onto the featherbed, and he kissed her anew. There was no tenderness this time in his kiss, only a deep longing to ravage and take. Tauriel grew bold. She let Thranduil kiss her before she suddenly spun him around and moved on top of him. Thranduil laughed triumphantly.

“Do you wish to command me, Tauriel?” He husked, resting his hands on her sides when she straddled him, and her weight settled over his thighs.

“For a little while, my king,” Tauriel said. She took hold of his hands when they moved up in search of her breasts and brought them back to her sides. “No, my king,” she added after a moment. “You cannot touch me anywhere besides where you are touching me now. Later, you may do so, but not now.”

The Elvenking let out a sound of impatience. “I shall do as you say,” he uttered and bit back a groan when Tauriel took his erection to hand. “I will only touch you where you want me to.”

Tauriel nodded in approval. She stroked his cock until it stiffened and twitched against her touch. Then, she moved forward—bracing her hands against his torso to steady herself—and fit his tip against her core. When she slid down onto him, Thranduil forgot all sense of himself. He arched his back when he found himself locked within the welcomed heat of Tauriel’s body, and his fingers dug into her soft flesh, bruising and marring them as she started to move. He opened his eyes, filled with a desire to see, and found himself being greeted by the sight of his length disappearing into her, her chest heaving, and her limbs trembling from the exertion of their lovemaking. He dared not move his hands. He kept them by her waist instead while she brought down her hips and ground against him, again, and again, and again, and her breath turned to ragged gasps. When Tauriel brought down her hips harder and faster than she thought she would, Thranduil cried out his pleasure.

“Hush, my king,” Tauriel warned. “The others will hear you.”

“The others will not hear me,” Thranduil declared with certainty. “They are quite occupied with their singing.”

What he said was indeed true, for the singing was now louder than before, and each word carried through the camp without hindrance. Thranduil decided to take advantage of this. He grabbed Tauriel, flipped her onto her back, and then turned her onto her stomach after he pulled out of her.

“On your hands and knees, Captain,” insisted the king as he made himself comfortable on his knees. “The time has come for me to take the lead.”

Tauriel heeded him, parting her legs and moaning when he slipped inside of her. Her nails dug into the furs beneath her while he thrust steadily and drove her closer and closer to her release.

Someone called from outside the tent. “My king? Are you there?”

Tauriel dropped to her elbows. She bit her lower lip and buried her face in her forearm to try and silence herself. Thranduil, on the other hand, continued without ceasing. “Yes, Feren,” he barked, “but I am occupied. Captain Tauriel and I have much to discuss. I will summon you and Galion some other time.” 

“Of course, my king,” Feren answered. He paused for a moment, and then said, “Galion and I shall await your summons in our tent.”

Tauriel lifted her head not long after. “I am certain he heard.”

“Feren will guard his tongue if he did, as will Galion,” Thranduil panted. He grabbed a fistful of Tauriel’s hair and tugged at it, though not ungently. The act gave rise to fresh sensations that were more powerful than the ones before them. They tore through Tauriel’s veins like trails of fire and brought about an orgasm that overcame her and blinded her to all else. She sobbed out the king’s name while he chased after his release, and she then heard it, him grunting in satisfaction as he withdrew and spilled his seed onto the pelts. Then she collapsed onto her side, weary from what took place, and she took a steadying breath as the world around her grew still.

The weight of the featherbed shifted. “Tauriel,” Thranduil said, brushing his hand over the tousled mess that was her hair. “Are you well?”

“I am well, my king,” Tauriel said. She turned onto her back and found Thranduil seated beside her, watching her. She smiled up at him. “I am just weary by what we did; that is all.”

Thranduil was relieved. “Just so. Stay and rest a while. Later, I will help you dress, and we can join the feast.”

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 23

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan​, @rebleforkicks​, @yjrevolution​, @majahu​, @honey-wine, @accio-boys​, @achromaticerebus​, @solomonssimp​, @tired-ass-show-girl​, @dreamlessnight​, @daddy-long-legolas​, @sleepyamygdala​, @coopsgirl​

Three days passed in a fairly similar, comfortable way. You divided your time between the library, your room, exploring the halls or the gardens, and enjoying the company of those around you. Your main connections were Thranduil, Myleth and Legolas. Elros, Tauriel and Galion were often not too far behind, though Galion was often so busy with the king, being his personal butler. He had a lot to keep him busy even when he was not personally attending to the king himself. Indeed, with the upcoming festival you had found out about, it seemed most everybody was suddenly very busy. The whole kingdom seemed to buzz with activity and excitement.

You found yourself intrigued as you learned what you could about this elven festival. You had learned some of the customs of the elves during your time here and found yourself increasingly curious with each passing moment. Elves were nothing like what the people of your village had always assumed, the horror stories that had been passed down through the generations. The Mirkwood elves being the only ones that your village had come close to in all its years of existence, which was still not very, imagination had easily run wild.

The truth, you had discovered, was far lovelier. You’d found yourself thinking about how you could not wait to tell everyone just how wrong they had been but, of course, it had then hit you that you would never get the chance. You were not leaving these halls. Still, you wondered if perhaps you could bring up the idea of writing your father a letter eventually. You couldn’t see why Thranduil would deny you the joy of letting your father know you were safe and happy. Happy? The word had caught you off guard but you were quick to dismiss it, distracting your mind with a book of Elvish, which you were currently attempting to learn.

You woke one morning and readied yourself for the day ahead. You had been taking most, if not all, of your meals with Thranduil and Legolas now. However many times you found Legolas suspiciously absent, though whenever you would bring it up with him, he would wave it off as having been busy with his princely duties. You accepted it but you were not entirely sure if you believed him. Still, why should he bend the truth with you? You could see no reason, especially about something so trivial.

After dressing, you turned and left your room, trailing down the corridor in the direction of the royal chambers. When you reached the door to the dining room, you slipped inside and were surprised to find nobody there. By now, Thranduil was usually already up and sitting at the table waiting. In fact, usually breakfast was sitting on the table already but today there was nothing. You lingered for a moment, listening, but there seemed to be no noise or movement coming from anywhere. Turning, you left the room again and retreated back down the corridor.

As you walked you spotted Tauriel about to turn a corner ahead of you, looking mildly concerned, and you hurried towards her. “Tauriel!”

She turned at the sound of her name and offered you a smile. “Oh, good morning.” Tauriel said, continuing on. “I am afraid I cannot stop and talk.” She seemed a little scattered.

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay, I was just... wondering if you knew where Thranduil was.” It was out of the ordinary and off schedule so you were, admittedly, a little thrown.

Tauriel’s footsteps faltered then, which you found a little strange because nobody seemed to bat an eye anymore when you referred to the king by name, and she turned to look at you. “Oh. I am afraid I cannot say, My Lady.”

Frowning, you tilted your head and regarded her curiously. “What do you mean?” Surely, as the king, Thranduil’s whereabouts would be rather well known. “Do you mean he has left the halls? Did he slip past the guards? Is he in the forest alone?” You were beginning to feel a slight panic starting to take hold of you as all sorts of scenarios filled your mind. Though you knew Thranduil was a skilled fighter, you could not help your worry.

Tauriel gave you a confused look before she caught your meaning and shook her head quickly. “Oh, no. There is no need for concern, he is quite safe. I mean I simply cannot say.”

Your frown deepened as you blinked back at her. “You cannot?”

She shook her head, turning to start walking once again, eager to get where she was heading. “I am sorry. It is the King’s orders.”

You stopped walking and watched Tauriel’s retreat as she turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Did Thranduil not want to see you? Had you done something wrong? Still frowning, you trailed away down to the dining hall, moving inside and hoping to catch sight of somebody you knew. Myleth immediately saw you from the table she sat at and waved you over. “Oh! I should have come to fetch you, how silly of me.” She shook her head as though she had made some sort of mistake and tapped her fingers against her forehead. “No matter, you are here now. Are you hungry?”

You shook your head at her. You had lost your appetite but you were also confused by what she had said. “But... you know I usually eat with Thranduil, why should you come and fetch me?”

Myleth looked at you. “Oh, dearie, did the King not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You were beginning to get frustrated as the answers you sought continued to linger beyond your grasp.

“That he would not be able to break his fast with you today.” Myleth continued, unperturbed by your irritation. “I am sorry, I assumed he would have informed you and I suppose he probably assumed I would have come to your chamber before you left it. Miscommunications all around.”

You were still confused as Myleth turned to pour herself some tea from the pot on the table. “But... why is he unable to dine with me this morning?” You couldn’t help but ask, needing to know if something was wrong.

“He is unable to dine with you all day, My Lady.” Galion stated as he took his seat across the table, glancing at Myleth only briefly but you caught a secret sort of look pass between them that only frustrated you further.

“Will somebody please tell me exactly what they mean and stop talking in riddles.” You sighed heavily, looking from one to the other. “Have I done something to upset him? Is that it?”

“No!” Myleth was quick to jump in, hastily shaking her head. She had absolutely no desire to let you sit with the idea of the king being upset with you, especially not now she had witnessed just how much the two of you seemed to bring out this light in each other where before only darkness had lingered between you both. “Of course not, no. Oh, dear, do not worry. It is only today. Now, come on, let’s discuss the festival. I think I have found you the perfect dre--”

“Then why?” You cut her off, unable to just let it go. You felt like something was being kept from you and you wanted to know what it was. You glanced at Galion, noticing the warning look he shot Myleth when she turned to him for help.

“Come on.” You said, firmer this time. “Somebody better start talking.”

Myleth sighed and turned to look at you, ignoring Galion’s sound of disapproval. “My dear... it is a difficult day for the King... and for his son.” She murmured and you realised that you had not seen Legolas yet that morning either and it was quite a bit later now.

“In what way?” You asked carefully, looking at Galion who was engrossed in a teacup in front of him, acting like it was the most interesting thing in the world despite the slight scowl that had appeared on his face.

There was a long silence and then Myleth spoke again. “Well, it... it is the Queen’s begetting day, my dear.”

From what you could understand, a begetting day was the day on which someone was conceived which was what the elves tended to celebrate as opposed to actual birthdays. You hadn’t really understood why that would be important until Myleth had vaguely explained the conception and birth rates of the elves and it had started to form a fuller picture.

However, elves lived for so long that they often did not tend to celebrate at all, or at least not every year. However, with the queen... gone... the king had taken to truly taking this day to remember her. Or, more aptly, truly drown in his grief. He would shut himself away in the West Wing and Legolas would go into the forest with his bow, unable to stay in the palace when his father was like this.

The reason for Thranduil’s sudden disappearance on this day was only ever officially known by a select few staff members, who were under orders not to further discuss it, or his whereabouts, with others. Though, of course, rumours would have flown over the years, especially with everybody knowing that the queen was so off limits.

Your footsteps carried you in the direction of the library, intending to shut yourself away for the day as well, but your gaze fell upon that red curtain that concealed the staircase up to the West Wing and before you knew it, you had slipped behind the heavy material and were climbing the stairs.

Your last two visits to these chambers flashed through your mind. One horrible, one not so horrible. You weren’t sure which this would be but you felt as though it didn’t really matter. You were set on this course already and no amount of fighting with your own mind would get you to turn back.

You passed the portrait of the queen once more, looking up at the destroyed image of her as you did. She was so beautiful. She had such kind eyes, you thought. It was a shame that she seemed to have suffered such a horrible fate that nobody could even speak of it. Your curiosity was sky high but you turned your focus towards finding Thranduil, peeking into rooms as you passed. Moving into what was clearly a bedroom, you found an opened drawer of items had been upended, the jewellery and beautiful, intricate headwear all scattered across the floor. Images of Thranduil losing his temper to his grief and sending his wife’s jewels flying across the room in a rage flickered into your mind.

You felt sad.

Turning, you moved to the doors that led out to the balcony. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a blackened rose in the middle of a glass case. Moving over, you ghosted your fingers across the glass with a frown. As you turned your head towards the window, finally catching sight of Thranduil down in the garden, you realised this dead rose was one of the Starfire Roses. More specifically, the one your father had plucked and killed. The one that seemed to have started all of this in the first place. Thranduil had kept it, giving it something of its own little memorial display case.

The sight hurt your heart.

Carefully, you moved towards the doors and pulled them open, slipping out onto the balcony. Thranduil didn’t look up, he simply continued to caress the roses. You could see them moving. Even they seemed sad today.

Biting your lip, you turned and moved carefully down the stairs and began to cross the grass. Your heart was practically in your throat as doubt began to creep in and you started to think that this may not have been a good idea after all. Would Thranduil just be angry with you? Perhaps your coming here uninvited, sticking your nose in where it did not belong, would set the two of you back after coming this far.

“This had better be important.” Thranduil’s tone was cold and he didn’t move, not so much as turning his head at your approach. His attention remained upon the roses. “I was very clear that I wish not to be disturbed.”

You stopped walking, your heart sinking into your toes. “Oh, I... sorry.” A soft frown crossed your features and you turned to make yourself scarce once more.

Thranduil turned around then. “Wait.” He called, looking at you with a frown of his own. His voice was softer now and you turned to face him again. “I thought you were somebody else.” He admitted, having assumed Galion had come to bother him with something. He looked at you for a quiet beat before he held up his hand and gestured for you to join him.

Tentatively, you moved across the garden and took a seat beside him on the little bench that stood beside the Starfire Roses. You glanced down and reached out towards one, watching as it turned its attention to you. Smiling softly, you turned your gaze to Thranduil. He was watching the flowers again. Your smile faded away as he glanced up and met your gaze, attempting to offer you a smile of his own but it fell short and he simply looked... sad. It was the only word you kept coming back to, to describe this entire situation.

“Myleth forgot to tell me you would not be at breakfast...” You told him quietly, not sure what else to say. You didn’t want to overstep and make him feel worse.

Thranduil closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head in a way that made it look like he was feeling guilt or regret. “I am sorry.” He sighed, opening his eyes. “I must admit, it did not cross my mind to tell you.”

“There’s no need for apologies.” You assured him quickly. You understood, how could you not? “I really didn’t mean to bother you, I just... wanted to see if you were alright.”

Thranduil blinked at you for a moment, finding that it surprised him... the fact that you had thought about how he would be doing. That you would want to seek him out, especially considering the way he had acted in the past. He knew that you had both become closer, that you had even gone so far as to call him a friend a few days ago, but he still found himself surprised by it. By the changes that had occured during your time here. By the way you seemed to... care... for someone such as him.

It touched him and Thranduil found himself reaching out for your hand. “Thank you. I...” He turned back to the roses with a sigh, watching them curl towards each other. “I will admit, I find this day to be... especially difficult.”

The two of you lapsed into silence for a few moments. You did your best to ignore the butterflies that the touch of his hand gave you, swallowing down the annoyingly present feelings that you simply could not seem to shake.

“Tell me about her?” You ventured, glancing up at him. You were quick enough to see the brief flicker of surprise flash in his eyes as he turned to look at you again. He covered it fast enough, however, his face becoming the marble mask you had become so accustomed to.

Thranduil was quiet, scanning your face as if he were trying to ascertain whether or not you were being serious. When he found no insincerity in your eyes, his gaze softened slightly.

“Her name was Caleniel...”

Legolas returned from the forest early that evening and set his bow back in its place, moving towards his chamber so that he could bathe and change. He was exhausted, but it was mostly due to the emotional whirlwind his mind had been in for the entire day.

It happened every year and it never got any better. He would wake frustrated and retire in the evening the same way.

This day was always such a dark one in the kingdom, it had been for centuries. Which was saying something when he thought about how generally dark a lot of things in this kingdom had become over these years. Despite every single shred of his mother being removed and forgotten and forbidden to even be discussed, the heavy shadow of her was ever present. Legolas barely remembered her but he remembered his father’s grief. It had been a constant for practically his entire life.

He trudged through the hallways towards the royal chambers. He just wished for this day to finally be over once and for all. It would come again the next year far too quickly. One year was such a drop in the ocean to an elf, it always felt as if no time had passed at all.

Legolas was surprised to find himself waylaid in the corridor by Tauriel. She looked normal at first glance but Legolas could see a slight flush to her cheeks and she looked a little more wide eyed than she usually did. “You have to see this.” She told him, fingers clutching his arm as she pulled him back down the hallway.

Legolas allowed her to lead him but his feet stilled as they came to the staircase up to the West Wing. He shook his head. “Tauriel, I cannot, my father...”

Tauriel shook her head, practically dragging him up the stairs. “Come on.” She urged and his feet allowed him to follow. “He always retires to his own chamber after dinner, you know this... but he did not come and Galion was concerned.” Tauriel pulled him down the corridor in the direction of the large bedroom. “So he came up here to look for him, to see if he needed anything...” Huddled at the window were Galion and Myleth, both turning to look at Tauriel and Legolas with expressions he could not decipher. Legolas was frowning now, too drained for games, just wanting to retire. He could not understand what the fuss was about. If his father wanted to stay up here all night moping then he could do just that.

He came to a stop at the window, taking in the sight of you and his father down in his mother’s garden.

“She went missing during breakfast.” Myleth said to Legolas, watching him for a moment before she glanced back outside to you and the King. Thranduil was talking and you were solemnly hanging off his every word. “She was nowhere to be found but I did not imagine that would have come back up here...”

“Since breakfast?” Legolas could not hide the shock that coloured his tone as he turned his gaze on Myleth. He glanced from her to Galion, who nodded, and then looked back outside. He watched his father talking and you listening. He wondered what you were discussing and probably would have paid a troll’s body weight in gold just to be able to listen in on one single moment.

For all these years, his father had been a black hole of grief and anger. Not one soul had been allowed up here. Not one soul had been allowed to utter his mother’s name or talk about her tragic demise. Not one soul had managed to get his father to simply spare them but one moment on this day.

Until you came.

Now, here his father sat. Talking with you in his mother’s private garden, on this very difficult day, beside her beloved Starfire Roses. He did not look angry. He looked a little sorrowful but the weight that always sat so heavily and obviously on his shoulders this day almost looked, to Legolas, a little lighter than it usually did. He could hardly believe what he was looking at but the scene made his heart soar.

“Come... we should leave.” He said softly, ushering the others out of the room and back down the stairs. As big a turning point as he had just witnessed, Legolas was still fairly sure that his father would not take kindly to all of them lingering at the window like spies this time around.

[animerina]

Wine For Freedom

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)

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Thranduil x F!Reader, Platonic Bard x Reader

Summary:  The Reader is left with nothing but three bottles of wine after Smaug destroyed Laketown. Stuck in Dale with no plan and no family, she has no idea how she will survive until the Elven King comes to town.

Note: Suggestive material, minors DNI. This started as a one shot and ended up as a full story. You can read the rest on A03.

All Italics are Elvish.

Chapter 1: It Started with a Crate of Wine

I had lived in Laketown all my life, but after the death of my parents, there weren’t many options for me. Many didn’t expect a woman to do more than marry and bear children, but I was determined to make a living for myself. I tried to learn to fish, but the men wouldn’t allow me to do so on their boats with the excuse being it was too much trouble to get a permit from the Master. I couldn’t sew or find anyone willing to teach me in the small town. The only place willing to hire me was the Master's house as a maid and I preferred to stay far away from there.

At a loss of what to do, I had asked Bard if he knew anyone willing to hire me for anything. He mentioned the brewmaster, Jonas, needed help. He had three sons but two were too young to help around the brewery. After much begging, Jonas agreed to let me assist him. He was grateful for the help, and was especially thankful that I was not only a fast learner, but had a knack for the craft. For the past four years, I had been training under the brewmaster in Laketown, not only learning how to make ale, but also wine and liquor alongside him and his sons. Finally, I thought life was going the way it was meant to and I couldn’t have been happier.

After Smaug had destroyed the town, Jonas had tried salvaging what was left of his home. Because of the lack of supplies and space, he had regretfully let me go unsure if he’d ever be able to utilize his trade again. His family had retreated into the remains of Dale with everyone else and left me by the shore. Not knowing what to do, I wandered aimlessly around what remained from Laketown managing to rescue a few bottles of wine that survived and floated to shore. I heard my name being called and looked up from my bottles to see Bard rushing over.

“Oh thank the gods you made it! Are your children alright?” I called out as I rose from my crouched position to meet him.

“Yes, everyone is safe. Are you alright?” He answered. I felt relief at his words knowing Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda were safe.

“Yes, I’m glad to have made it out of there,” I looked over my shoulder at what remained of home. Smoke was still visible from where we stood.

Bard looked down at the shore and saw the wine I saved. Picking up a bottle, he rolled it in his grip. “These are yours?” He questioned.

I nodded. “They survived and floated over. I’m keeping them for now. I could trade them for food. Maybe a blanket.”

Bard’s eyes raked over my soaked and tattered dress and apron with sympathy.

“Don’t worry, you can stay with us,” He decided as he picked up the crate I’d been putting the bottles in.

“I don’t want to be a burden. I can find somewhere-,” I tried to argue, but he would have none of that.

“Y/N, please,” he countered, “You are no burden. We have supplies for tonight and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.” He paused for a moment. “Did Jonas make it?”

I nodded in response. “His whole family, luckily.”

“And you didn’t go with them?” I knew he was genuinely curious because almost everyone knew I had grown close with the family in my time working with him and his children.

“The future is uncertain and he has his family to care for. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself if I have to.” I tried pulling the crate into my own arms but Bard refused to let go.

“You are not a burden,” he repeated. “We’ve holed up in one of the buildings. It still has a roof. Bain and I will salvage what we can. I ask that you stay with my daughters while we’re out.”

“Thank you, Bard,” I relented and followed him to one of the buildings in the middle of Dale.

The next morning, I awoke between Sigrid and Tilda across from Bain still wrapped in his blanket. I sat up and wrapped mine around the girls. Tilda stirred as I stood back from them. I silently cursed. I hadn’t wanted to wake the children, but I desperately needed some fresh air. Everything that had happened seemed like a blur and I needed to plan my next move. I couldn’t stay with Bard’s family forever as much as I adored them. Bard already had enough to bear on his own. I wouldn’t allow him another burden.

“Where are you going?” Sigrid mumbled sleepily. “Da said to stay here.”

“Just outside. I won’t go far,” I promised.

Seemingly accepting my answer, her head lolled back as she fell back into sleep. I smiled down at her as she curled around Tilda’s smaller form and made my way to the door. I slipped outside shading my eyes from the bright sun. The sharp wind bit at my skin causing me to violently shiver. Pulling my coat tighter around me I walked down toward the center of town looking for Bard.

Suddenly, a white horse turned the corner down the tight alleyway and I slammed myself against the wall to avoid being trampled. Gasping for breath, I looked up as the rider, whom I now realized was an elf, stopped right in front of me.

“My apologies,” he nodded his head before continuing down the path, albeit slower. I watched him ride away still shocked that I was nearly run over. Confused as to what an elf was doing in Dale, I rushed to the square and found more elves amidst carts full of food being handed out to chaotic crowd. Pushed from my original spot as the crowd thickened, I made my way up a set of stairs to continue my search for Bard. I spotted him at the forefront of the group speaking to who I assumed was the Elven King who looked absolutely regal and intimidating upon his elk. His eyes were sharp as they glanced over at the crowd eagerly accepting his aide, face remaining neutral in the chaos.

I scrambled back down the steps and waited off to the side trying to get Bard’s attention. After a few minutes, he came to me with a sack of supplies the elves had brought.

“Take these back to the children and stay there.” He had a grim look on his face which made my stomach clench in dread.

“Bard, what’s going on?” My voice conveyed my worry.

He shook his head in frustration. “There may be war, but I am hoping to avoid it if possible. Go back to the house, and tell no one of what we have spoken of. I will be there as soon as I can.”

Still worried, but trusting Bard, I hurried back to his children evading their questions about their father and the elves. Night fell quickly and the children and I sat huddled around a small fire Bain made. I had Tilda in my arms trying to keep her small body warm. I made sure they ate, but saved enough to ration out so they would not go hungry in the ensuing days. I did not know how long the elves would help.

“Y/n, where is Da?” Tilda questioned me as she sat in my lap.

“He’s with the Elven King. Probably still discussing how much longer they’ll aid us.” I spoke confidently even though I was worried about everything. The thought of war lingered in the back of my mind. How much more loss could we take?

“If they’re here to help us, why did they bring weapons?” Bain muttered angrily.

As I was about to respond, Bard walked through the door. He was breathing heavy as if he had run from the elves’ camp to the house.

“Da!” His children ran from their spots, blankets falling onto the floor, as their arms wrapped around him. I could hear Tilda sniffle as she began to cry and so I went over to comfort her.

“Y/n,” Bard interrupted my movements. “Where is the wine?”

I stopped and then walked to the crate pulling the three bottles out.

“They’re here. Do you need them?” I brought them over to him.

“Yes, thank you. King Thranduil loves his drink. He’s run low. I offered him what he had. I’ll return shortly,” he spoke to his children and took the bottles from my arms. They reluctantly let go of him rushing back to grab their blankets they had dropped.

“I know you were planning to barter these,” he whispered to me. “I will repay you for them.”

Shaking my head, I refused. “You’ve already helped me enough. I want nothing in return.”

He smiled warmly in thanks but I felt he’d try to return the favor anyway.

I expected Bard to return later, long after his children drifted off, but I was surprised when not twenty minutes later he was standing in the door way again. Before I could ask him if everything was alright, he gestured for me to follow him outside. I settled his children before heading to the opened door. There was an elf standing outside the house, the same one that nearly ran me down. He was stoic, like earlier, and his presence unnerved me. Bard quickly pulled me over to him so that we were a few steps away from the elf and facing the door. His worried look did nothing to ease my nerves.

“The wine you had. You did make it, correct?” I nodded dumbly. His face didn’t change.

“The King wants to see you,” his voice was hushed. He set his hands on my shoulders and gripped them tightly.

After a beat, I gasped out, “Why?!” I was absolutely terrified. Had I displeased him? The King had to know we were limited in supplies. It was not like we had Dorwinion wine laying around for him. Bard looked behind me before answering as I felt someone step behind me.

“My lady, we must make haste. King Thranduil is not a patient ellon.” The elf said. “I am to take you to him now.”

“Bard?” Nervous I turned back to him silently asking if he was coming as well.

“I have to stay with the children,” he responded. He gently urged me toward the elf. “Feren will escort you there. Don’t worry,” he whispered the last part.

Reluctantly I followed Feren to the elves’ camp that was erected in a field near the ruins of Dale. I realized I must look a mess after the ordeal we’d been through and I spoke my concerns as we approached the largest tent in the center of the camp. I knew King Thranduil must be in there.

“I am not dressed properly,” I looked down at the shredded ends of my dress, stained with dirt and soot. At least I was dry now.

Without turning to me, Feren responded. “King Thranduil knows of the struggles your people have recently faced and is prepared to see you as you are.”

If I could possibly feel worse, I would. Self-consciously, I started rubbing at my face just in case I had any dirt smudged there. Feren noticed, but said nothing.

We stopped at the flap of the tent where two guards were stationed. Feren spoke to them. He put up a hand for me to wait and then entered the tent. I could hear him speak, but could not make out what he was saying. It was probably Sindarin which I couldn’t understand anyway. Someone else responded and the brunette elf opened the flap back and motioned for me to enter.

Walking into the tent, I was taken aback at how ridiculously ornate everything was. All this comfort for a few days away? My mind was so shaken I didn’t realize Feren was announcing me to the King who sat lounging in his chair staring at me amused. I had already seen him from afar, but this close I could see just how handsome and intimidating he was. He was, by far, the most ethereal being I had ever laid eyes on and I felt my heart race just looking at him. The self-conscious feeling returned and I looked down at my feet to hide my reddened cheeks.

“Leave us,” Thranduil waved his hand and Feren bowed before exiting the tent. Unsure of what to say or do, I just stood there in silence afraid of embarrassing myself further.

“Are you the brewmaster of Laketown?” He asked.

“No, your majesty,” I said softly, still unable to look directly at him.

“No?” He hummed to himself. “Have they sent a tavern maid then?” He was insulting me, but what could I say in retaliation to a king? I decided to just answer honestly and plainly while I was in his tent.

“No, your majesty. I was not the brewmaster, but I trained under him.”

“I see, so you did make this wine then?” He gestured to the table next to him where one of the three bottles Bard had taken sat next to an ornate goblet. Thranduil lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. The sight made me swallow hard.

“Is it not to your taste, your majesty? I apologize as this was all the wine we salvaged from the facility.”

He held up his hand to silence me and took another sip, still watching me. “How long have you trained?”

“Four years,” I summoned the courage to look at him. His eyebrows drew together as he examined me and I fought the urge to look away again.

“You worked in a brewery. Can you make ale as well?” He took a long sip of the wine after asking.

“Yes, that is what we mostly brew and I also make a wicked cider.” I smiled fondly remembering the recipe I’d been working on before Smaug burned the town.

“Wicked cider?” Thranduil sounded amused again and I immediately stumbled over a “Yes, your majesty”.

“Anything else?” He set the goblet back down on the table.

“We were a the only brewery so we made all the alcohol for the town. I can make liquor as well out of, well, out of a few things.” I finished hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions. I just wanted him to explain what he wanted me here for. I opened my mouth to ask, but couldn’t manage to get the words out.

He silenced me again when he stood from his pseudo-throne and towered over me. My head tilted up to meet his gaze. Valar, he was tall.

“A brewmaster, a vintner, and a distiller all wrapped in one package, hmm? Quite impressive for such a young girl,” Thranduil teased, tilting his head to the side as he walked around my trembling form. As he came to stand in front of me again, he nodded to himself.

“Bard tells me you are orphaned.” He said it so easily.

I nodded before responding. “I am,” I tried to speak clearly through my nerves.

“No family, no husband, no job,” he drawled. “What ever shall you do?”

Sitting back down, he grabbed his goblet again. After another long sip, he spoke again.

“You know why we are here, do you not?”

“War,” I whispered.

“Indeed, I have come for something that belongs to me and once I have it, we shall return to Mirkwood. You will come with us,” he stated.

I sputtered in disbelief at what just passed through his lips. He smirked at my antics. I was beginning to think he liked making fun of me.

“I am in need of a proper brewmaster and now that Laketown is gone, I will need a vintner as well. You will return to Mirkwood with us,” he paused his explanation. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

I did not know if I would ever feel at home in Mirkwood, but the king was giving me an opportunity I could not pass up. I had no plans and nothing left in Dale so I didn’t hesitate to give him my answer.

“It would be my honor to serve you, King Thranduil,” I lowered my head respectfully.

“Well now that that is settled, you may leave. I will send for you before we ride to Mirkwood,” he stopped to call out in Sindarin. Feren appeared in the entrance of the tent and bowed.

“Feren will escort you back. Do not leave the city, Lady Y/N.” He waved us away and I followed my escort back to the building I was staying in. I thanked the elf as he left and entered the building. The children were asleep, but Bard quickly rose from where he was seated.

“Are you alright?” He was clearly worried.

“Yes, I’m alright,” I began. “King Thranduil has asked me to return to Mirkwood with the elves.”

Bard looked at me in disbelief. I explained everything that had transpired between the king and I as well as my fears of the future in Dale and becoming a burden.

“He is not forcing you to go, is he?”

I shook my head. “No, I swear. He may not have offered the choice, but I want to go,” I explained.

“There are no humans in the forest, Y/N. Will you be alright around all the elves? They rarely tolerate outsiders,” He argued.

Shaking off his doubt, I reassured him that I was happy use my craft. “I just hope the elves like what I make,” I joked.

“King Thranduil seems to,” Bard pulled me deeper into the room so that we could rest. Making my way to where his girls were, I settled down next to them, pulling the extra blanket over myself. I looked over to Bard who was lying next to Bain.

“Goodnight, Bard,” I whispered. “And thank you for everything.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” he whispered back.

_______

The children and I had barely escaped the ensuing chaos of the battle. The girls and I had hid after being saved by Bard. I couldn’t believe we were living through this nightmare. Tilda’s little hangs clung to my dress and I held her tightly in return. Sigrid was pulled up against my side. After what felt like hours, the battle was over and we walked out to see just what carnage it had brought. The girls and I continued on the path towards the building we had been staying in and I was pleased to see it was still standing. After ushering them inside, we sat and waited huddled together.

Not long after, Bard ran through and pulled his children to his chest. Bain was with him and I started to sob into my hands. I was so grateful they had survived. A fire was started and Bard once again left to speak with Thranduil. I stayed up watching over the children, afraid that if I closed my eyes, the orcs would be running through the city again.

When Bard returned, two elves accompanied him. I recognized Feren, but the other was a female I had never seen before. She bowed her head in greeting and handed me a bundle of clothing. As I looked it over, I realized it was travel attire. I nodded my head and silently entered an abandoned part of the building to quickly change into the leggings and tunic. I thought about wrapping my dress back up, but it was so ruined with blood and dirt, I just left it crumpled on the ground and returned to where they waited for me.

“I wish you the best,” Bard said as I approached. He pulled me into a hug and I quickly returned it as I began to tear up. “Thank you for watching over them,” he smiled.

“And thank you for watching over me, King Bard,” I teased so I wouldn’t feel so sad leaving. “I don’t want to wake them. Please tell them I will miss them,” I said, releasing him from my hold. “I wish you and your children all the happiness in the world.”

Feren led me over to the white horse he nearly ran me down with. I placed my foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up into the saddle. I nearly yelped when the elf slid into the seat behind me causing the female elf to snicker as she mounted her bay mare. I wasn’t expecting him, but then again there were only two horses. I felt lucky they weren’t making me walk.

His hands gripped the reins, effectively trapping me between his arms. My body tensed as I felt his chest against my back.

“Again I apologize, my lady,” he spoke as we started back towards the camp. “We lost many horses to the battle.” I felt him lean his head closer to my ear. “And this way, I will be sure not to trample you,” he chuckled softly.

Laughing along with him, I relaxed and let him lead on until we reached the camp. The tents were already packed up leaving no trace of the elves. The other elf with us spoke to Feren in Sindarin before riding ahead to catch up to the remaining group ahead. We rode at a slower pace, but caught up eventually nevertheless. I took one last look at Dale and knew I would miss what was left of home, but I couldn’t help but look forward to what awaited me in Mirkwood.

1 year later

Galion, the king’s steward, strolled into the cellar, eyes roaming around the converted brewery for me. My eyes caught his from the top of the tank.

“What can I do for you, Galion?” I called down to him with a smile on my face.

“Good evening, mellon. King Thranduil requests your presence for dinner,” he explained.

Confusion crossed my face as I descended the steps to stand in front of the tall elf. Galion was one of the few elves I interacted with as the impromptu brewmaster Thranduil acquired. It was not that they disliked me, although I was certain some of them were wary of me. Mirkwood elves were not used to humans after all. I tended to hole up in the cellar most of the day, so I rarely saw anyone outside of the palace staff and a handful of guards that patrolled the area.

As if Galion read my mind, he responded with, “He did not say why, but he asked that you be there.”

I shook my head. It was unusual for Thranduil and myself to cross paths in the palace, but I had been invited to dine with him before on several occasions. He seemed lonelier now that the prince had left and I supposed he was starving for company.

I sighed knowing I’d have to go get ready soon if I wanted to be on time. I had just started working on a new recipe and I hated leaving anything unfinished. With another long sigh, I headed toward a shelf that held my more experimental varieties of wine and liquor. My fingers grazed over the labels until I found what I was looking for. I grabbed the dark bottle and handed it to Galion as we started up the stairs.

“Let me know what you think of this one,” I said making my way up to my room. Galion followed beside me.

“Thank you, mellon. I’m sure Elros and I will enjoy it. Is this the one you made with the berries from the gardens?” He rolled the bottle in his hand appreciatively.

I confirmed with a nod. Galion and another elf, Elros, had quickly become my unofficial tasters when I arrived a year ago. Rather, they volunteered for the opportunity without provocation. They approved everything I sent to Thranduil because, as Galion put it, they knew his taste best. The two of them, aside from my maid, Calanthe, were the ones I felt most comfortable around, though Feren wasn’t far behind. I later learned he was not as stoic as he seemed, and enjoyed visiting with him when I got the chance.

Galion left me at my door and I found Calanthe already inside preparing a dress for me from my closet. King Thranduil was generous enough to provide me with a large wardrobe after I settled in. Calanthe had also been assigned to serve me as well as teach me the language, although my lessons were not progressing as fast as anyone hoped.

“There you are,” she smiled at me. “Does this suit you for this evening?” She gestured to the dress laying on my bed.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I ran my fingers over the silky material. The deep red was rich in color and I couldn’t wait to get it on.

“Ah, ah,” Calanthe chided. “Bath first.” She pointed you the adjoining bathroom. I laughed as I followed her directions and saw she had already drawn the bath for me.

After bathing, she helped me pull the red silk on and fix the corset in the back. The sleeves’ seam was opened from the shoulder and closed at the wrist showing the skin of my arms. The corset accented my waist, though it was hard to breathe. I preferred to wear my shorter dresses with tights when I was in the cellar but I supposed that would be inappropriate for dinner with the Elven King.

She sat me down at the vanity and braided my hair for me since mine never came out nice enough. Even after a year of living with the elves, and practicing on Calanthe’s deep blonde mane, I still hadn’t mastered the skill and was teased for my crooked plaits. Calanthe made two on each side and joined them behind my head.

“I would do something more intricate, but we are going to be late.” She moved so I could rise from the seat.

“You did a beautiful job as always, mellon.” I smiled at her and allowed her to exit the room ahead of me.

The material swept across the floor as I followed Calanthe to the dining room. The guard nodded at us and opened the door for me to enter. Thranduil was already seated at the head of the table dressed in silver robes and a matching circlet rather than his crown. As I approached he gestured for me to join him, a servant pulling the chair next to him for me.

I bowed in greeting. “Good evening, Aran nin. I thank you for inviting me to join you.”

“I was beginning to think you’d declined my invitation.” He teased. One of the servants came and filled my glass with wine as I sat down.

“I apologize, Aran nin. Galion caught me working on a new blend and I was hesitant to leave it,” I explained.

He hummed and sipped at the wine. I did the same and blinked in surprise as it hit my tongue.

“This is-,” I began as I stared at the dark liquid in my glass.

“The wine you gave Galion. Yes, I decided I’d like to be the first to try it. Your skills have definitely bloomed since your time in Laketown.” Another sip and the servant was refilling his glass. I suddenly recalled Bard’s words about him enjoying his drink and smiled as I took another sip.

“I’m sure you have another bottle to give him, though, I think he and Elros could use a break as your tasters. I’d hate for them to enjoy it while they’re on duty.” Thranduil’s words dripped with sarcasm.

I covered my mouth as I giggled. I knew exactly how those dwarves had escaped the dungeons a year prior having heard some of the guards tell the story more than once. The king chucked softly at my own reaction.

“So, King Thranduil, why invite your brewmaster for dinner? I’m sure you are not lacking in good company.” Again, he smiled into his glass.

“I quite enjoy your company,” he drawled out.

“Surely you jest! I was under the impression you tolerate me because of my talent.” I playfully argued. He seemed to be in a good mood today which made me want to indulge his teasing just a bit.

Thranduil scoffed with a smile still gracing his face. “If anyone else spoke to me that way, they’d be in the dungeon. So, little one, I’d say I more than tolerate you despite your behavior. Besides, you are one of the few I can trust to be honest with me.”

“If you ask me for the truth, why should I lie to you?”

“Even if the truth upsets me?”

“I believe if I upset you, I wouldn’t live to see the next day so at least my suffering would be short lived.” I replied with a cheeky smile.

“You are too cruel, Hiril vuin.”

“My apologies, Aran nin.”

Another chuckle left him. He raised a hand and the servants brought out several plates piled with simmered rabbit and various roasted vegetables. I waited for Thranduil to serve himself first before I followed suit. We shared polite conversation over the meal, but I was still curious as to the real reason why he invited me.

“You still haven’t told me the real reason why I am here, my king.”

His face fell momentarily, but he quickly composed himself. After a pause, he answered. “I wanted to speak with you about returning to Dale.”

I nearly dropped my fork at his statement. “You wish for me to return to Dale?” I was in shock.

“Most of the city has been restored. You could have a brewery set up there if you wished. Of course, I would request you still fulfill the palace orders,” he paused to look me in the eyes. “In Dale, you could be around your own people.”

Not knowing how to feel, I tried not to get overwhelmed. Before I could think about what to do or say, I said, “If you wish for me to return to Dale, then simply say so. I did not know my presence was such a bother here.”

I bit my tongue as I finished. I jested about his anger beforehand, but I knew he really did anger easily and I worried of what he’d do now that I’d spoken out like that. His hand found mine on the table, his rings cool against my skin. His thumb ran across my knuckles surprisingly gentle. The touch was surprising, but not unwelcome.

“You misunderstand, Hiril vuin. I do not wish to send you away, but if you wish to be free, know that I will let you go.”

“You would give me that choice?”

“I want to know that you stay because you wish to, not because you feel you must.”

“You saved me. I am indebted to you.” I argued. He had given me a chance at a life for myself. I never thought I’d ever be more than a girl working in a washed out brewery. Here, I had full control of the entire facility. I was free to experiment with my craft and I answered to no one but the king himself. He had given me more freedom than I ever imagined, even if I was a subject of his realm.

His voice interrupted by thoughts. “I free you from your debt. If you wish to leave, I will ensure King Bard has a place for you in Dale. You two were friends, were you not?”

“I want to stay,” I nearly shouted and then caught myself. “I want to stay here in Mirkwood until you tire of me and my skills.”

He stood at my confession. “Come with me,” he commanded. Jumping to my feet, I caught him smile gently at my actions. “Let us take a walk.”

I followed Thranduil out of the dining room and down the adjoining hallway, trying to keep up with his long strides. He was silent, but upon noticing me trying to match his pace, he slowed. I recognized the path we were taking as soon as the hallway split. After a few moments, the two of us were in his throne room at the bottom of the steps.

“Aran nin,” I began, confused as to why he’d bring me here.

“Come, Y/N,” he offered his hand to me and I took it. He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and started ascending to his throne. I followed beside him in silence still trying to reason what we were doing here. We arrived at his throne while I was still deep in thought.

“Sit,” he released my hand as he maneuvered me to face him.

“But that is your throne,” I reasoned.

“I am well aware of what it is. Now as your king, I command you to sit.” His tone was authoritative but his gaze was playful. Shaking my head, I did as I was told and sat down on the polished wood. My hands ran over the smooth material admiring the craftsmanship. I felt intimidated by Thranduil looming over me so I looked behind him at the view from so far up.

“I can see why you like sitting here,” I said trying to fill the silence in the room. “But why am I sitting here?”

“I am rewarding you for your loyalty,” he was leaning over me now. His voice had deepened and I shivered at sound.

“By letting me sit in your throne?” I asked confused. It truly was an honor and I realized I should appreciate the gesture. Before I could explain what I meant, however, I was stopped by Thranduil’s chuckle. His gaze met mine as I watched him take a step closer to the throne, hands trailing up the edges of my dress and pushing it past my thighs. I gaped at him in shock trying to move back but his grip tightened and his dark gaze pinned me in place. He was smirking down at me and I had never felt smaller in my life. I followed his gaze as he sunk to his knees before me and ever so slowly pushed my legs apart.

“You should be grateful, meleth nin, for tonight I kneel before you.”

Tag list: (If you’d like to get added please let me know.)

@velvetmotel20

[coopsgirl]

The elves discover something fearsome near the mountains leading Thranduil to take a company of soldiers to dispatch it while Thalieth displays some interesting and very useful abilities. Thanks for reading!

@catz4ever @edensrose @silmscribbles @badluckmoony

[earthlybeam]

Elves how would they react to their human s/o being so…human with their ‘odd quirks’ by elven standards

how would the elves react to this?

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Feren, Meludir, Galion, Elros versions are below.

🤎𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷

Feren, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

➷ Feren would blink in surprise when you hand him the friendship bracelet, his expression one of gentle curiosity. “Oh, that was very ni—” he begins, but before he can finish, you playfully handcuff the two of you together with metal cuffs, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

➷ His breath catches in surprise, and his cheeks flush a deep shade of red. His long fingers touch the metal lightly, feeling the weight of the cuffs that bind you to him. His heart races slightly—he’s never been in a situation like this, and his first instinct is to withdraw, but he finds himself frozen, unsure of how to react. “You… you want us to stay like this?” he asks, his voice soft, a mix of surprise and mild embarrassment. His gaze darts nervously from your face to the cuff, his mind racing with the realization that he can’t escape. You can’t either.

➷ Despite his nervousness, a small, unsure smile tugs at his lips. His protective nature kicks in, realizing that he’s now in a situation where he must take care of you—though the closeness feels overwhelming. “I suppose… this will make it harder for you to leave my side,” he says, his voice quiet, yet filled with a shy warmth. The idea of being so closely tethered to you makes him both nervous and content, though he’d never admit it outright.

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You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

➷ Feren watches with a gentle smile as you eagerly take a bite of the food he warned you about, the heat still clearly radiating from it. He had said, “This is too hot,” his voice calm and protective, but you didn’t heed his caution.

➷ When you immediately wince and put a hand to your mouth, Feren’s expression shifts to one of concern. His eyes widen, and his lips part in a soft, almost inaudible gasp. “Did you burn your tongue?” he asks, his voice laced with both worry and a trace of amusement at your impulsive nature.

➷ He’s quick to reach for a nearby cup of water, offering it to you with a careful, measured motion. “Here, drink this,” he says, his voice softer now, his usual serious demeanor replaced with tenderness. He can’t help but smile a little at your human stubbornness, even though he feels a mix of frustration and endearment. Elves, with their perfect senses, rarely make such mistakes, and watching you endure the burn is both a learning moment and a reminder of your difference from him.

➷ His fingers hover near your cheek, wanting to comfort you but unsure how to do so. “You should be more careful next time,” he says, his voice warm and understanding, though his eyes are filled with a hint of worry. He doesn’t want to scold you, only to protect you from unnecessary pain.

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You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

➷ Feren sits across from you, watching with a gentle smile as you laugh at something, your amusement filling the air. But then, as your laughter grows louder, something unexpected happens. A sudden hiccup escapes you, followed by a soft snort. Feren freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise. He’s never heard anything like it before, the sound startling him.

➷ His initial reaction is a mix of confusion and fascination. He watches as you try to regain control, but each time you try to stifle your laugh, another hiccup bursts out, followed by another snort. The noise, while odd by Elven standards, has an undeniable charm to it. Feren blinks, his usual calm demeanor shifting as he realizes you’re laughing even harder now, clearly unable to stop.

➷ A small chuckle escapes him, though it’s soft and slightly nervous. He shifts uncomfortably, unsure whether to laugh along or maintain his composure. Slowly, a smile tugs at his lips, and he finds himself letting out a quiet laugh, a sound that surprises even him. “Y/n, are you… are you quite all right?” he asks, trying to hold back the warmth spreading across his face. The snorting is so unlike anything he’s heard from the dignified elves of Mirkwood, and it endears you to him all the more.

➷ His hand instinctively reaches for yours, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as he watches you with affection. “You are truly… unique,” he says with a smile, his voice soft and filled with both amusement and admiration. In that moment, Feren realizes that your quirks, your human imperfections, are what make you even more captivating to him. He doesn’t mind them in the slightest.

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

➷ Feren stands in the hallway, watching you walk into the room with purpose, or so he thinks. But then, you stop, standing still for a moment with a confused expression, your eyes scanning the room as if searching for something. After a moment, you let out a small sigh and shake your head, muttering to yourself, “Why did I come in here again?”

➷ Feren’s brow furrows slightly in concern, though his lips curl into a small, affectionate smile at your absent-mindedness. It’s such a human thing, so different from the sharp, focused precision of elves. He watches you for a few more seconds, his chest tightening with a mixture of tenderness and amusement.

➷ “Did you forget?” he asks softly, his voice a quiet murmur as he steps closer, his long legs carrying him silently toward you. He tilts his head slightly, his golden eyes glimmering with a mixture of curiosity and affection as he studies your face. He’s learned that this is simply part of your nature, a small quirk he’s grown fond of.

➷ “You walked in here for something, didn’t you?” His tone is warm, almost teasing, though there’s a genuine concern behind it. He reaches out, gently touching your arm with his fingertips, his touch soft and reassuring.

➷ “I think you were looking for something,” he says, voice calming and patient. His eyes search your face, hoping to catch a hint of what you were thinking. He might even chuckle softly to himself at how easily you get lost in your own thoughts, finding it both endearing and slightly perplexing. “Should I help you?”

➷ If you give him a smile or laugh it off, he might nod, still not fully understanding but willing to help. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll stay with you until you remember,” he says gently, feeling a sense of warmth spread through him. He realizes that these little moments, these human quirks, are what make you you. And in a strange, protective way, he wouldn’t want you any other way.

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side”before settling in.

➷ Feren watches you from the edge of the bed, his long, graceful frame leaning against the headboard as you fuss with the pillows. He’s never seen anything quite like it. With a small huff of determination, you flip the pillow to the “cool side,” your movements quick and deliberate, as if this is some sort of nightly ritual.

➷ His brows furrow slightly in confusion, his golden eyes following your every move. Elves, as long-lived as they are, have never had the need for such a thing; they find comfort in stillness and the quiet of their surroundings. But you, a human, seem so content with the small action. He watches as you settle back into the pillow with a content sigh, finally resting your head, and for a moment, he’s speechless.

➷ After a moment of quiet observation, he speaks, his voice soft but tinged with curiosity. “Why do you do that?” he asks, his tone gentle, not at all judgmental, just genuinely interested in understanding this strange but endearing habit. “Is the warmth… uncomfortable?”

➷ He shifts slightly, his hands resting at his sides as he waits for your response, still fascinated by the small ritual. The idea of a pillow’s “cool side” is so foreign to him—he’d never thought of the sensation of warmth as something to avoid, not like humans do.

➷ As you explain, Feren listens intently, his eyes softening as he takes in your reasoning. It’s such a simple thing, but to him, it’s another small piece of the puzzle that makes you who you are, human in all your delightful quirks. He smiles a little, his hand reaching to adjust the blankets, making sure you’re comfortable, though he has no true understanding of why you find such a small detail so important.

➷ He might even be intrigued enough to try it himself, flipping his own pillow with a small, thoughtful look on his face. He doesn’t expect to find much difference, but the act of sharing such an odd, human thing with you feels… intimate. “It’s strange,” he admits softly, “but if it helps you sleep, I suppose it’s worth it.” He settles beside you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he watches you with a smile. In his own way, he’s learning to love every tiny difference between your world and his.

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❤️𝓖𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓷

Galion, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

𖦹 Galion would raise an eyebrow, glancing down at the metal cuffs now binding you to him. His face would remain composed, but a subtle amusement would flicker in his eyes as he took in the sight. The Wood-elf butler was no stranger to oddities—after all, he had served in Mirkwood long enough to have seen his share of strange moments—but this? This was certainly a new one.

𖦹 “Ah… how thoughtful of you,” he would say with a slow, measured tone, though his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. He would gently tug at the cuffs, testing their durability, though not so forcefully as to suggest any real frustration. His posture remained relaxed, as always, even with this peculiar situation. “I see you’ve found a rather… creative way to cement our bond, but I must admit, I’m not entirely certain this was what I envisioned when I heard ‘friendship bracelet’.”

𖦹 His voice, though amused, would carry an undertone of diplomacy. As a butler accustomed to handling delicate situations, Galion would give you a gentle, yet pointed, look. “Not quite the elegance of Mirkwood’s customs, but I suppose it’s… charming in its own way.”

𖦹 Though inwardly perplexed by the practicality of it, Galion would respect the gesture, knowing that humans were often driven by different impulses. He���d settle with a sigh, taking a seat as if this minor inconvenience were nothing at all. “Well, it appears we’re to be inseparable for the time being, my friend,” he’d say wryly, casting an amused glance your way. Despite the strange turn of events, his patience would remain unwavering, making it clear that even in the face of human eccentricity, Galion’s loyalty and calm demeanor would never waver.

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You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

𖦹 Galion would watch you take the bite, his keen eyes noticing the slight wince that flickered across your face as the heat of the food caught you off guard. He’d pause for a moment, his expression softening slightly, though there was no judgment in his gaze—just a quiet, amused understanding. As an elf who had lived for centuries, he was no stranger to watching humans struggle with their own peculiarities. He might have even been a little pleased that you were so thoroughly engaged with the meal, despite its obvious burn.

𖦹 “You did warn yourself,” he’d remark with a calm, almost teasing tone, his lips curving into a slight smile as he gently reached for a cloth to help ease the discomfort. He’d offer you a glass of water, his movements precise and composed. “It’s rare for the flames of Mirkwood’s kitchens to be so easily tamed.” His voice would be both soothing and lightly playful, though with the respect one gives to a dear companion who has simply miscalculated.

𖦹 Galion would remain ever the gracious butler, not pushing the matter further but observing you with a quiet kindness. His deep knowledge of the kitchen would tell him that the meal, while hot, was perfectly prepared—it was simply that you had underestimated the heat, something all too common with humans. He wouldn’t criticize, but he’d make a mental note to tone down the spice next time.

𖦹 “You’ve lived and learned,” Galion would say, his smile broadening, “a lesson most of us learn sooner or later.” His tone would remain gentle, not wanting to make you feel foolish, only to remind you that even elves, in their long lives, occasionally misstep, too. With a soft chuckle, he’d go back to attending to his other duties, ever patient and understanding.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

𖦹 Galion would observe you with a bemused, almost curious expression as your laughter grew increasingly uncontrollable, each hiccup and snort slipping out louder than the last. The composed Wood-elf butler, who had spent centuries in the refined courts of Mirkwood, was well-acquainted with grace, dignity, and restraint, all of which your current display seemed to lack.

𖦹 For a moment, he would remain silent, watching you with a soft tilt of his head, his lips barely twitching as he tried to suppress his own amusement. A slight chuckle would escape him despite his best efforts, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a brief instant. “Well,” he would say with a touch of dry humor, his voice tinged with fondness, “that is certainly a unique sound.”

𖦹 Galion, ever the gentleman, would not make you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed, but instead, he would take a step closer with an air of calm assurance. He might smooth his tunic with one hand, the other reaching for a glass of water. “Such enthusiasm for joy… I don’t think I’ve ever quite heard such a… vocal display of it,” he’d remark lightly, offering you the water in an attempt to help settle your breathing.

𖦹 He’d watch you for a moment, his eyes softening in gentle amusement. “It’s rare to see someone so… thoroughly alive in their laughter,” he’d say, his tone uncharacteristically warm as he allowed the moment to pass. Galion’s own laughter, much more controlled, would never break through to the chaotic, free-spirited bursts that came so naturally to you. Still, he found something endearing about it, even if it was far from the dignified composure of Elvenkind.

𖦹 “Perhaps next time, a quieter laugh would suffice,” he might suggest playfully, his voice laced with affectionate teasing. But there would be no malice in his words. Galion was far too diplomatic for that. He’d simply be amused by the stark contrast between your joyous, untamed laughter and the composed, measured ways of his people. For a moment, he might just shake his head in mild wonder, inwardly appreciating the beautiful chaos of human nature.

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

𖦹 Galion would watch you with a quiet, knowing look as you stood in the doorway, a puzzled expression creeping over your face. He had seen this before, of course—elves, with their long lives and sharp minds, were often quick to notice such fleeting lapses in memory. Humans, he’d learned, were not so immune to forgetfulness. But still, there was something almost endearing about how you seemed so momentarily lost in your own thoughts.

𖦹 With a soft sigh, Galion would straighten from his duties, casting a knowing glance in your direction. “It seems your mind has wandered, again,” he would say in his calm, measured tone. Though there would be no hint of judgment, his words would carry a gentle amusement, more out of affectionate understanding than anything else. It was rare for him to express any sort of impatience, especially not with someone who had become so dear to him.

𖦹 After a moment, Galion would approach, his graceful steps quiet on the stone floor. He’d give a slight bow of his head, almost like a silent acknowledgment of the small human imperfection. “I take it there was something important you sought in this room?” he’d ask, his voice light and patient as he guided you back toward your original path.

𖦹 There would be no rush in his movements, only a calm reassurance, as if he had all the time in the world. “You are human, after all,” he would add with a small, teasing smile, though it was clear from his tone that he understood this behavior was not a fault but a quirk of your nature. “Sometimes the mind flits like a butterfly, lost between thoughts and tasks.”

𖦹 If you were still perplexed, Galion would simply stand by you, offering his quiet support until the memory returned. His presence would be calming, never making you feel hurried or foolish. His words, though gentle, would always carry a sense of loyalty and understanding, and perhaps a small, fond smile would play at the corners of his lips.

𖦹 “Well,” he would say after a moment’s pause, “if you recall it, I’m sure it will be quite important. And if not, we’ll find it together.” His tone would be reassuring and patient, the warmth of his understanding in stark contrast to the more urgent, flustered nature that humans often displayed in such moments. To Galion, this simple forgetfulness was nothing more than a fleeting moment, and one that, in the grand scope of time, mattered little. What mattered was that you were there, and that you were not alone.

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

𖦹 Galion would watch with a quiet, amused expression as you flipped the pillow to the “cool side,” an action so deeply human it almost seemed like a ritual. The simple, yet comforting motion would catch his eye, and he’d pause for a moment, observing the subtle care you took in ensuring your rest was as perfect as possible.

𖦹 His brows would furrow ever so slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity in his gaze. For a moment, he would consider the nature of it, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he thought of how different this was from the elves of Mirkwood. Elves, after all, required little in the way of comfort to sleep. They could rest anywhere, on the hard ground or beneath the stars, and still arise as refreshed as the morning sun. But you, with your human need for the simplest comforts—like a cool pillow—had a certain charm about it.

𖦹 “Well now,” he would say softly, his voice as calm and measured as always, though there was an affectionate edge to his words, “I suppose the rest of us must wait for your comfort before we can settle, hm?” His tone would not be mocking but rather playful, a gentle acknowledgment of the little ritual that made you human. Galion might even shift slightly, as though to give you more space, though his eyes would twinkle with amusement at the sight of your determination to find the “cool side.”

𖦹 He would then settle beside you, ever patient and unhurried, as though waiting for the next small, peculiar habit of yours to unfold. “I suppose,” he would continue, “it is a habit we all develop in time, seeking comfort in small things.” With a soft sigh, Galion would make a mental note to perhaps acquire a pillow of his own with such a cooling property, though he’d never admit it aloud. He wouldn’t call attention to it any more than necessary, but his expression would soften further, appreciating the small quirk as part of the intricate and human way you lived.

𖦹 “There,” he’d say at last, his voice warm with fondness, “now we are both ready, I hope.” And despite his usual elegance, a tiny flicker of affection would shine in his eyes as he adjusted his own position, prepared for the simplicity of the moment to pass into the quiet rest that both of you would soon enjoy. Galion, being a creature of patience and grace, would be content simply to be there beside you, whether or not your pillow was perfectly cool.

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💛𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓻

Meludir, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

𑁍 Meludir would blink in surprise as you pull out the handcuffs, his face flushing a deep shade of red. At first, he’d be utterly confused, unsure of what you meant by it, as his thoughts flit between trying to understand the gesture and the overwhelming, sudden proximity. “Uh… what is this?” he might ask, his voice a little shaky, but there’s a lightness in it, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

𑁍 As the cuffs click into place, connecting you both, his heart races a little, unsure whether to laugh or panic. His hand, still trembling slightly from the unexpectedness of the moment, would move to the cuff, inspecting it with a mixture of fascination and wariness. “I… I didn’t think that’s what you meant by friendship,” he’d stammer, a nervous chuckle escaping him as he looks up at you, his cheeks still a bit flushed.

𑁍 Then, his usual shyness starts to kick in. He shifts awkwardly, glancing at you and then looking down, clearly a bit embarrassed by the close connection. “Well, this… this is different,” he mutters, not sure whether he should be uncomfortable or amused. Despite his awkwardness, his mind begins to wander toward the odd, playful nature of the gesture, and his lips curl into a shy smile.

𑁍 “Should we… try to walk like this?” Meludir asks hesitantly, his eyes flicking between you and the cuff. He tries to suppress a small giggle, clearly not used to this type of playfulness, but secretly enjoying the challenge. “I hope you don’t mind… but it’s going to be hard to get anything done like this, I think.”

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You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

𑁍 When you burn your tongue despite warning about the food’s heat, Meludir’s reaction is a mix of concern and gentle teasing. At first, he notices the discomfort in your face and the quick movement to try and cool your mouth. His brow furrows, and his normally calm demeanor shifts to one of worry. “You really shouldn’t have eaten it if it was too hot,” he says softly, his voice tinged with concern, but there’s a slight quiver of embarrassment in it too, as if he regrets not warning you sooner. His hands twitch as though he might reach out to help, but he hesitates, unsure of the best way to assist.

𑁍 Seeing you wince, he starts to mutter under his breath, “Are you alright?” as he shifts awkwardly, his eyes not meeting yours in his discomfort. His usual quietness betrays a sudden rush of empathy. He might instinctively offer you a cup of water, his movements a little more frantic than usual as he tries to think of what to do to ease your pain.

𑁍 Then, noticing your playful attempt to power through it, he gives a small smile, though it’s more out of relief that you’re not too hurt than amusement. “Next time, I’ll remind you to wait,” he says with a soft chuckle, his voice gentle, but there’s a noticeable warmth in his tone. Despite the awkwardness, his care for you is evident. Meludir’s quick to offer some sort of remedy, maybe even asking one of the nearby elves if there’s anything that can soothe your tongue. His nature makes him want to fix things, especially when it comes to you.

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You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

𑁍 When you start laughing so hard that you hiccup or snort like some kind of animal, Meludir is initially startled, his wide eyes flicking to you in surprise. He’s not used to such loud, unrestrained expressions of joy, especially not the odd, pig-like snorts. For a moment, he freezes, unsure of what’s happening, his sensitive ears trying to process the strange sound. His face flushes deeply, a mix of embarrassment for you and bewilderment at the noise. “W-What was that?” he asks, his voice coming out quieter than usual, his brows knitted in concern.

𑁍 But as your laughter continues, his initial shock fades, replaced by a soft, involuntary chuckle of his own. He watches you with a kind of hesitant amusement, his hands fidgeting nervously as he tries to suppress his growing smile. Meludir is no stranger to oddities, but your unrestrained joy makes him feel both slightly out of place and oddly comforted. There’s something endearing about your lack of inhibition, something that makes him smile in spite of himself.

𑁍 As your laughter starts to hiccup again, he can’t help but laugh along, albeit a bit shyly. “I didn’t think you could make such sounds,” he says, his voice quieter but warm with affection. “I didn’t expect that at all.” He’d probably reach out a hand, not knowing whether to comfort you or simply join in the amusement. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes now, a gentle teasing in his tone as he adds, “Are you sure you’re not part pig?”

𑁍 His shyness prevents him from fully understanding how to respond, but he finds the sound of your joy so infectious that he starts giggling with you, his laugh soft but genuine. Meludir might even try to make you laugh harder by mimicking the snorts or hiccups himself, his attempts awkward but filled with a tender sort of camaraderie. Despite his reserved nature, he can’t resist being caught up in the warmth and silliness of the moment, relishing the simple connection between you.

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

𑁍 When you forget why you walked into a room, Meludir watches with a mix of curiosity and concern. He notices the sudden confusion on your face and the way you pause, looking around as if expecting the answer to come to you. His natural instinct to help kicks in immediately, though he’s not entirely sure what to do. “Did you need something?” he asks softly, his voice gentle and filled with quiet concern, his eyes flicking between you and the surroundings. His delicate features show a hint of worry, as he’s not accustomed to seeing someone so flustered.

𑁍 He stands still for a moment, trying to understand what’s happening. The confusion in your expression pulls at his heart, making him instinctively want to fix it, to make sure you’re okay. Meludir, though shy, is a deeply caring person, so he would likely move closer to you, hoping to offer some comfort without being overbearing. “Maybe you should sit for a moment,” he suggests, his hand hovering near your elbow, though he doesn’t want to crowd you.

𑁍 He might gently prod further, trying to help you recall the reason for entering the room. “You were looking for something…?” he asks, his tone thoughtful and soft, as if the answer might come to him too. His eyes would soften as he watches you, genuinely wanting to assist but unsure if he should press you further. His quiet nature would keep him from being too forward, but the longer the pause stretches, the more likely he is to look at you with concern.

𑁍 Eventually, he’d probably chuckle softly, trying to ease the tension between you. “Maybe it will come back to you if we wait a little while,” he says with a gentle smile, his eyes sparkling with a hint of playfulness, though it’s clear he’s more concerned than amused. When the moment finally passes and you remember, he’d offer you a smile of relief, albeit one tinged with quiet embarrassment, as if to say, “I knew you’d remember.”

𑁍 Meludir would likely tease you lightly about it afterward, but with no malice—just a quiet, gentle kind of affection. He’d be the type to forget small things himself, so he’d likely find it endearing, though he wouldn’t admit it right away.

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

𑁍 When you flip the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in, Meludir watches with a mix of curiosity and slight confusion. He’s not used to this particular habit, having lived so long in the serene but steady rhythms of Elven life, where comfort often comes in more subtle forms. He observes you carefully, his eyes following the motion as your fingers smoothly flip the pillow, a small frown furrowing his brow. “Is… it always cooler on that side?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine intrigue, though his tone is hesitant. The concept of flipping a pillow simply to find comfort is a little foreign to him.

𑁍 His own pillow would likely remain untouched, as he’s never had the need for such a ritual, but the more he watches you, the more fascinated he becomes by the little things that make you feel at ease. He tilts his head slightly, his long ears twitching as if trying to understand the process. “I don’t think we do that,” he adds quietly, with a small smile, clearly both entertained and slightly puzzled by the simple act. His natural shyness and reserved nature make him hesitant to do the same, but he might feel the urge to ask if he should try it, out of curiosity.

𑁍 As you settle into bed, he might pause for a moment, still processing the little act of flipping the pillow. The softest smile would tug at the corners of his lips as he thinks, “It’s a small thing, but it seems important to you.” Meludir’s natural inclination is to notice details, especially those that make you happy or bring you comfort. Though he might not fully understand the logic behind it, he’d likely start to appreciate this small, human quirk, finding comfort in the way you ease into sleep with such simple, tender routines.

𑁍 He might even joke gently as he adjusts his own pillow, “If it makes you more comfortable, perhaps I should try it next time.” The words would be said in a teasing, but affectionate tone, a way for him to show he cares about your little habits.

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🧡𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓼

Elros, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

ꄗ Elros watches you with a raised eyebrow as you proudly present the friendship bracelets. His first instinct is one of appreciation for the gesture, and he offers a warm smile, though his elven restraint holds back any overly enthusiastic display. “How thoughtful,” he says, though his voice carries an air of quiet amusement. However, the moment you suggest using handcuffs, Elros’s expression shifts to one of mild confusion.

ꄗ As the metal cuffs click around your wrists, he stands still for a moment, processing the situation. His elven sense of order is briefly rattled by the sudden physical connection. “Are you certain this is the method of ‘bonding’ you seek?” he asks, his voice a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. He feels the cool metal against his own skin, momentarily contemplating the consequences of being physically tethered to a human, especially one as unpredictable as you.

ꄗ Despite the initial shock, Elros’s easygoing nature soon takes over. A smirk tugs at his lips. “Well, this certainly makes things interesting,” he admits, though his tone is not harsh, but rather amused. “I suppose we shall remain close, whether by choice or not.” There’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes, his fingers subtly adjusting the cuffs as if testing their strength. Though puzzled, Elros is not one to judge overly quickly, and instead, he regards this new bond with a wry acceptance, preparing himself for whatever unpredictable turn the day might take next.

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You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

ꄗ Elros watches you with a raised brow, a quiet sense of concern flickering behind his usually composed expression. When you burn your tongue on the food, despite his warning, he exhales sharply, shaking his head with a mix of disbelief and amusement. His keen elven eyes never miss a detail, so he saw the hesitation before you took the bite. “I did warn you,” he says with a hint of a smile, his voice calm, but the warmth in it betrays his soft spot for you.

ꄗ He places a hand on your back, his touch gentle but firm as he leans in slightly, his tone now a little more serious. “You must be more careful. It is not the first time I have told you the food was too hot.” His words are not harsh, but there’s a sense of duty to them, as though he feels responsible for your well-being, even in moments like this.

ꄗ Elros isn’t quick to scold, and instead, he gestures toward the drink he’d set aside, offering it with a slightly teasing smile. “Here, this should help cool your mouth. And next time—perhaps listen a bit closer?” He doesn’t linger on the mistake but continues to watch over you, his protective instincts kicking in. Despite his disciplined nature, Elros has a soft spot for those he cares for, and he would rather help than reprimand, even when it’s clear you’ve ignored his advice.

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You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

ꄗ Elros pauses mid-conversation as your laughter suddenly erupts into loud hiccups and snorts, the unexpected sounds catching him completely off guard. His sharp elven ears pick up every noise, and for a moment, he simply blinks in surprise. There’s a brief flicker of confusion in his eyes, as if trying to comprehend what just happened. He’s used to elven laughter—graceful, melodious—but this? This is something entirely new, something wonderfully human.

ꄗ As you continue to snort like a pig or perhaps a dying animal, Elros can’t help but chuckle softly, a rare, deep rumble that escapes his usual composed demeanor. His lips curl into a fond, amused smile. “By the stars, you sound…” he trails off, still slightly stunned by the absurdity of it, yet his tone is affectionate, even playful. “I did not realize humans could make such noises.”

ꄗ After a moment’s pause, he finds himself unable to suppress his amusement. His serious, disciplined persona seems to slip as he watches you with an entertained gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. “I think I may prefer this kind of laughter to the quiet elven chuckle,” he muses, his voice a little lighter than usual.

ꄗ Still, there’s a protective streak in him as he notices you becoming a bit self-conscious. He reaches out, lightly resting a hand on your shoulder in reassurance. “Do not worry. If this is how humans laugh, then it is a beautiful thing,” he says, his voice warm and sincere. The laughter may have startled him, but it’s also made him appreciate the uniqueness of your nature, and, in some way, he finds it endearing. “Perhaps next time, just… try to keep the snorting to a minimum,” he teases with a wry grin, his tone gentle yet full of affection.

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

ꄗ Elros stands by the door, his sharp eyes noticing the puzzled expression on your face as you enter the room, only to stop and look around, clearly unsure of why you came in. He watches, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. There’s a flicker of amusement, but also a sense of mild confusion, as this is something foreign to him. He has never known an elf to forget their purpose so quickly, and yet here you are, displaying this very human trait.

ꄗ After a moment, he steps closer, his voice calm and gentle as he addresses you. “Did you forget why you entered?” His tone is not mocking but instead full of curiosity, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though he doesn’t fully hide his surprise. He watches your expression carefully, waiting for you to gather your thoughts.

ꄗ When you admit the truth, Elros chuckles softly, his deep voice rich with warmth. “Humans truly are different,” he murmurs, half to himself, before returning his gaze to you with an amused but understanding look. Though his disciplined nature might lean toward thinking logically, he’s learned to accept that not everything in life can be perfectly ordered. He offers a small but reassuring smile, a rare softness in his usually composed demeanor.

ꄗ “It happens to the best of us,” he add, reaching out a hand to gently place on your shoulder, as though offering support. “Perhaps you were distracted by something else.” His eyes twinkle with a mixture of affection and bemusement, his voice lightly teasing. “Shall we try to remember together?” Elros, though an elf of great poise and attention, recognizes the charm in human forgetfulness, and in that moment, he’s not bothered by it. Instead, he is content to share in the slight mystery of it all.

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

ꄗ Elros watches you with quiet curiosity as you flip the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in, your actions smooth and deliberate. For a moment, he stands still, observing with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. Elves, after all, are creatures of grace and poise, often indifferent to such small comforts. The thought of flipping a pillow is foreign to him—such matters of comfort are not something he’s accustomed to focusing on.

ꄗ He tilts his head slightly, as if trying to understand the purpose behind the action. His expression is one of mild puzzlement, but there’s no judgment—only a soft, curious fascination. “Is it truly so uncomfortable on the other side?” he asks, his voice quiet and thoughtful, his gaze studying your every move. His tone isn’t mocking, but rather inquisitive, as though he’s learning something new about the human way of life.

ꄗ Elros stands a little taller, still trying to process this oddity, before he finally allows himself a smile. “I have never thought to do such a thing,” he admits, his voice a touch lighter, his amusement growing as he watches you settle in, clearly content with the pillow’s cool side. “Do humans truly require this level of comfort?” He pauses, his thoughtful expression softening as he realizes that perhaps, in this small act, there is a subtle kind of wisdom.

ꄗ “Perhaps there is more to comfort than I’ve known,” he murmurs, settling beside you with a gentle laugh. He would never have thought to flip his own pillow, but in this moment, he can’t help but find something endearing in your little habit. Despite the difference in their worlds, Elros feels a deep sense of connection to you—a shared moment that feels intimate, even in something as simple as flipping a pillow to the cool side.

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[doodle-pops]

Sleeping With Them - LOTR

Reaction: LOTR x Reader

A/N: So I know in my Masterlist I have only Silmarillion characters I'm writing for and I did say I'll update on more characters I'll be writing for, however, these characters aren't a part of the updated list. While writing the original version of this which is for the Silm characters which will be posted later on, I couldn't help but write one for the LoTR characters. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: For those reading, I don't know if writing for these characters would become common in the future since I'm currently focusing on the Silm, since there's so many blogs that write for them already. I'll take it into thought tho.

Warning: a few swear words, like only one? fluff, humour

The Cuddler – they love the idea for either of you wrapping your arms around each other to fall asleep. Either of your faces pressed into each other necks. The light, soft breathing coming from your lips, while they’re snoring. With both of you curled up against each other your slumber is one of the most peaceful sleeps.

Legolas, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Faramir, Boromir, Lindir, Elrond, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, Meludir

Cuddle to roll away – at the start of the night the both of you are wrapped up in each other’s embrace but by the end of the night, you’ve both drifted apart. Throughout the night one of you will row back into the other’s arms, only to roll away again.

Sam, Boromir, Lindir, Galion, Elros

Sleeps apart – from the start of your sleep to the end, you both lay on different ends of the bed. It’s not the either of you don’t like to cuddle, it’s just that you need space to roll around, so you don’t hit them, and they don’t need to be a victim of your moves.

Frodo, Aragorn, Thranduil, Celeborn, Elros, Erestor

Blanket Thief – you’ll go to sleep with the blanket wrapped heavenly around you and then wake up to the coldness biting your flesh in the middle of the night. When you look around for your blanket, wondering if it grew legs and ran away, you see them wrapped up, snuggling, in it. It’s impossible to yank it off them, so you just lay there in the cold.

Legolas, Frodo, Aragorn, Boromir, Pippin, Thranduil, Elladan, Galion, Erestor

Sleep Talkers– they never stop once they start. They say the most ridiculous stuff ever. Open the cupboard for the sugar to leave, help me find my sheep. The hell. Sometimes you engage in the conversation with them just to hear them say more shit. Surprisingly, the conversation is actually good.

Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Aragorn, Glorfindel, Gimli, Boromir, Lindir, Elladan, Galion

Sleep Fighters– look at this point, I’m sorry for you and I hope you survive the night with at least some sleep cuz you ain’t getting any. Unless you don’t mind sleeping on the floor when they kick you off. You’ll be catching their hands and feet all night, all over. At least take a few pointers from their moves, you might learn something.

Frodo, Pippin, Gimli, Thranduil, Haldir, Elladan

Sleepwalkers – you’ll wake up to someone poking you, asking if you want some sugar in your tea while holding a powder bottle. When you look up, it’s them unconsciously walking about the house picking up items and rearranging them or sometimes, just sitting and staring off at Eru knows what. It quite alarming because you once woke up to them curled up and laughing on the staircase, holding a pot. What was the joke. I don’t even know.

Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Legolas, Lindir, Thranduil, Elrohir, Meludir, Galion

Sleep laughers – so I know this one’s strange but lemme explain, sleep laughing does exist and sadly I’m proof, I used to do it but not anymore. Like me, they’d wake up to themselves laughing from their slumber. We don’t even know what the hell the dream was about. It’s gone from our minds. Just know the dream was funny. It’s scary when you’re sleeping, and you hear laughing coming from next to you. The fuck? Not tonight satan Sauron.

Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Faramir, Glorfindel, Galion

Sleeping on top one another – the comfortable weight of either of your bodies resting on the other lulls you both to sleep gracefully. They enjoy this way of sleep with you. Arms sprawled out on either sides, legs encaged around theirs and they’re snoring lightly. The weight of them on their chest seems to be just right. Pulling the sheets around you two, they’d wrap their arms and drift off to sleep.

Aragorn, Sam, Legolas, Faramir, Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Elrohir, Meludir

Sleeps straight on their back throughout the entire night and doesn’t move – are they dead? Are they crazy? Who the hell sleeps like that the entire night? They look so still. Are they moving? They’re not…breathing? Why aren’t they turning? You thought you were sleeping next to a dead the first time you woke up and turned to look at them. They were in the same spot and position you left them when you both fell asleep.

Frodo, Aragorn, Legolas, Thranduil, Elrond, Haldir, Celeborn, Elrohir, Galion, Elros, Erestor

Heavy sleepers– the house could be burning, the earth could split open and sink the house, the dead could rise, or you could roll them off a cliff and they’d be fast asleep. They’re no hope left for you beside leaving them alone. They’ll wake up when they want to wake up.

Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Boromir, Thranduil, Elladan, Galion

Snorers – you’re doomed from start to end. Have earplugs on standby every night or sleep on the couch. You’re not gonna get sleep at all. They sound like a lawnmower. You can’t sleep through that. Sometimes you wonder if they’re cutting grass in their sleep.

Gimli, Elladan, Elros

Sleeps in weird positions– you and I can’t comprehend half of the positions that they contort they bodies to sleep. Is that even comfortable? It doesn’t look so. Why is their head positioned like that? Do they want to break it? They’re also known to be able to sleep anywhere as well. Don’t be surprised if you wake up to them sleeping on their heads.

Legolas, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Glorfindel, Thranduil, Elrohir

Doesn’t need sleep. Sleep is for the weak – this one is self-explanatory. Sleep? Who’s that? Don’t know them. Never heard of them. Don’t introduce me. I don’t need to go any further.

Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo, Elrond, Haldir, Erestor

I don’t need sleep, I need answers – this one is also self-explanatory. They’re mostly the overthinkers who create and entire scenario or theory and because of this they can’t sleep, so they spend the whole night awake creating more scenarios and theories to answer their problems.

Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Faramir, Boromir, Glorfindel, Elrond, Lindir, Erestor

If I can’t sleep, neither can you or I’ll wake the household – if they can’t sleep, it’s a you problem, seriously. You’re going to have to deal with their problem as well and no, they don’t take your negativity towards their problem lightly or as a response. We’re all in this together.

Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Elrond, Thranduil, Legolas, Elladan, Elros

I can’t sleep, so I’ll drink to sleep – this is truly a quick and easy way to dreamland for them, the only problem is that they have to go through that drunk phase first – which clearly isn’t the best phase for them.

Thranduil, Celeborn, Elrond, Galion

Taglist: @whenloveexists

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[deadlymistletoe]

A Marriage Overridden

Pairing: Thranduil x f!reader

Genre: Angst/romance

Description: Keeping your relationship with Thranduil a secret backfires when your parents arrange a marriage for you. Thankfully, all arranged marriages have to go through the elvenking himself.

Warnings: None? Reader doesn't have the best parents, but nothing physical or too bad overall.

Word count: 1745

The only sound was that of the basket you had been holding clattering to the ground, flowers so lovingly picked spilling out.

You stared between your parents, your eyes pleading with them to announce that this was nothing more than a joke made in bad taste.

They didn’t.

“No. No! You can’t!” You choked out. This couldn’t be happening. You had to have heard wrong… but no, your mother shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“Y/N, this is a good thing. We only want what’s best for you, and nothing can get better than this.” She ignored you as you shook your head, in denial. “Callon is a well respected soldier in the king’s guard, and his parents have agreed that the two of you would make a fine match. You would be respected, and treated well, what more could you want?”

Thranduil. The name was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it back, whether from the shock or the practice of keeping your involvement with the king a secret you weren’t sure.

When you’d first gotten involved with Thranduil, the secrecy had been necessary - it was a new relationship, he was the king - well above your own social status - and neither of you wanted the opinions of the kingdom to influence your relationship. Whether it worked out or not, at least then it could happen naturally without being scrutinized.

As your relationship developed into something more serious, neither of you suggested letting the secrecy stop - this was something that was yours, it belonged to the two of you, and neither of you wanted to burst the little bubble the two of you were in.

Besides - there was just something exciting about that idea of sneaking around, forbidden fruit, so to speak (you still remembered the way your heart had rapidly beat against your chest when the two of you had been abruptly interrupted and you’d had to hide in the large closet of silks while Galion spoke to the king about a delivery of wine of all things.)

You were happy. You were, dare you say it, in love.

And now, when faced with the question of what you could want more than what your parents were offering, an image of the pale-haired ellon surfaced in your mind.

You took a deep breath, looking at your parents. “I can’t marry Callon. Please don’t ask me why, I just can’t.”

Your father frowned. “This could be your only chance. If you can’t give us a proper reason..”

He trailed off and you stuttered, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t reveal the secret you kept so close to your heart. “I don’t love him!”

Your mother laughed lightly. “Oh, my dear Y/N. If that’s all then there’s nothing to be worried about. Your father and I weren’t in love either, but we came to love each other over time. I’m sure it would be the same for you.” She lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “Besides, I’ve heard Callon is very fond of you.”

You scoffed. “I’ve spoken to him once, to ask him to move out of a doorway! How can he be fond of me? He doesn’t even know me!”

Your mother stopped smiling. “That’s enough. This is going ahead whether you like it or not. We can’t let an opportunity like this slide past.”

You felt betrayed as you looked at your parents who had raised you, loved you. “That’s all this is to you? An opportunity? You care more about gaining status than what I want?”

Your father shook his head. “We’re doing this for you. You’ll thank us later. Now make yourself presentable. We’ve scheduled an audience with King Thranuil in order to make the arrangement official.”

~

After you’d locked yourself in your bedroom you leant back against the door. The ‘audience’ with the king was in less than an hour. Your parents had given you no warning so you wouldn’t have time to try to find a way around the arrangement.

You didn’t even have time to find Thranduil and warn him. Oh, no. Sure, the king had the option to decline the arrangement with good reason, but what reason was good enough? Would he risk the aftermath of revealing his relationship with you just for this? What if he thought you wanted this? Asked for it even, and decided not to tell him?

This couldn’t be happening.

But it was. And now you were seated stiffly beside Callon, avoiding Thranduil’s gaze from where he sat across from you on the other side of his desk.

You and Callon’s parents sat on either side of the two of you, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.

It didn’t take Thranduil long to read the document that needed only his signature to be valid.

His eyes moved questionly to you when he finished, and you wondered if you imagined the brief look of confusion and hurt before his expression cleared.

Maybe it was a testament to just how strong your relationship had become, but in the brief moment your eyes locked, you could almost hear him asking you, ‘Is this what you want?’ and you replied with a very slight shake of your head, your eyes clearly sending him your answer. ‘No.’

He didn’t reply, instead turning his attention to the elves who had arranged the marriage and leaned back in his seat with a sigh, “I’m afraid I shall have to override this marriage.”

You let out a silent sigh of relief, wondering just how he was going to justify his decision. After all, it was almost unheard of for the king to interfere with this sort of thing, simply signing off on it without a second thought.

Callon frowned beside you, but you didn’t pay him any mind, instead watching as confusion and slight frustration passed over the faces of the others in the room.

“What?” Your mother stumbled over her words, "Why?” Your father nudged her and she quickly tacked on the words, “Your majesty.”

Thranduil looked almost amused as he answered. “Your daughter is already betrothed. She can hardly be betrothed to two ellon’s at the same time, can she?”

The looks that crossed the faces of your parents would have been comical had it been any other situation. 

Callon’s parents looked at yours in confusion and annoyance, clearly wondering why your parents had agreed to such an arrangement if their daughter was already romantically attached to someone.

Then you did a double take as his words registered.

What?

“To who?”

You narrowed your eyes. Yes, you thought, to whom am I betrothed without knowing it?

He met your eyes with his. “To me.”

Oh. Oh! You felt your heart flutter in your chest, your cheeks heating up before you were knocked back to reality at the reactions of the others in the room.

Shock covered the faces of the other elves in the room, and as you timidly watched the emotions cross your parent’s faces, Callon’s mother spoke up. “It seems that none of us were aware of this development, otherwise we never would have suggested…”

Your mother turned to look at you. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She asked, and you couldn’t tell if she was more angry or hurt that you hadn’t told her.

You searched fruitlessly for an answer, vaguely hearing Callon’s parents leave the room after excusing themselves, when Thranduil’s low voice cut in, answering for you. “I asked her not to. Clearly, I was wrong in doing so, but do not punish your daughter for my misjudgement.”

Your parents stared at Thranduil - who had come around to your side of the desk - for a moment before quickly assuring him that they didn’t blame him, nor would they take it out on you.

Your mother paused on the way out, looking at you. “Are you happy?”

You glanced at Thranduil, watching you carefully before looking back at your mother. “Yes.”

She nodded, glancing between you and Thranduil. “We’ll speak to you later.”

As they left, movement suddenly reminded you that Callon was still here as he stood up, glancing nervously at his king.

Thranduil tilted his head towards the elf. “I do not blame you for the mistakes of others. Go in peace.”

Callon nodded, relieved, and headed for the door but hesitated, looking back at you before leaving. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad our parents weren’t able to go through with it, for my heart too is already taken.”

You gave him a smile as he left, suddenly feeling much more sympathetic towards the ellon.

You turned back to Thranduil, suddenly feeling nervous. What if he only said what he did to override the arrangement? What if he didn’t actually wish to marry you? What would happen now the secret was out?

He didn’t give you much any more time to worry. As soon as you’d turned around his lips landed on yours and you felt yourself relaxing against him. This had to be a good sign, right?

Thranduil pulled back, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he looked at you, voice a mere murmur as he spoke. “I apologize if I was out of line, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Of course, if you don’t wish to marry me you are under no obligation-”

“What?” You cut him off, wondering if you were hearing right.

He frowned before beginning to repeat himself, but you interrupted again. “No, I mean, you weren’t just saying it? You mean if I did wish to marry you…you’d be okay with it?”

He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. “Of course I’d be okay with it. I just didn’t want to assume…getting married would mean telling people about our relationship and I wasn’t sure you’d want that.”

A smile came across your lips. “You should have said something earlier.”

He hummed. “I suppose if I had then we wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like today.”

You giggled before becoming serious again. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. It was too late by the time my parents told me.”

His breath brushed against your ear as he leant closer, pulling you against me. “It’s not your fault,” you felt him smirk against your skin, “but should you wish to make it up to me regardless…”

“Of course.” You breathed as he connected your lips once more.

Everything Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

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[mimilind]

The Librarian and the Elvenking - Part 4

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 1800

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

♕ ✧ ♕

4. The Elvenking

With new books to keep you company, time passed much faster in your confinement. In the morning, when you were deeply engrossed in the Sindarin history book, you were surprised to see Galion walking up to your cell. You had not seen the ginger guard since you were brought here three days ago.

“I have orders to take you to the king.”

You nodded. The request was not wholly unexpected.

When entering the throne room a while later, you instantly recognized it from the art book. The artist had not quite made it justice; it was magnificent, every surface smooth and gleaming, and the sheer size was intimidating. 

Your eyes were drawn to the throne and the ellon who sat there, and you were not surprised when you saw who it was. Ú-eneth really did have a name, and that name was Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm.

He wore much finer clothes now; an elegant robe woven in silver threads, and on his fingers were all the extravagant rings you had seen that first time in Dale. An uncomfortable looking crown rested on his pale hair, constructed of thorny branches and autumn leaves. Underneath it, his face was stern, and he made no sign of recognizing you. 

So this was the game he was playing. You decided to play along, for now – but king or no, you wouldn’t let him bully you. King Thranduil had kept you locked up for no reason at all, and since he obviously had had time to come speak with you incognito, he could have summoned you officially much earlier than this. For some reason he had wanted to delay that – and you thought you knew why, too, and could even pardon it – but before you did, you wanted an apology.

Galion brought you to the foot of the steps leading up to the throne. You bowed politely, and then met the king’s cool gaze. You had to stretch your neck to do so.

“My guards tell me you have trespassed on my land, and even interrupted my people’s feast.”

“I have, my lord, but accidentally, and with no ill intent.” Again you described how the warg had chased you into the forest, forcing you to abandon your library.

As you spoke, the king assumed a thoughtful face. “I see.” He turned to a group of well-dressed elves on his right side; courtiers or advisors presumably. “It seems the librarian is truthful. Can someone bring the items we found when tracking the warg?” 

One of them bowed and left. Meanwhile, the king’s penetrating eyes landed on you again. “Even so, you have trespassed, and the law is firm in such matters. There must be consequences.”

Despite knowing his other, softer side, you felt a twinge of unease. He wouldn’t really punish you, would he?

The courtier returned, carrying a large tray. You couldn’t hold back an excited squeal when you saw what was on it: a stack of your books! They looked no worse for wear.

“I couldn’t carry all of them, but here is a sample,” the courtier said.

You gave the king a wide, happy smile. “You rescued my books! Oh, thank you, Ú-… Uh, my lord.” 

Thranduil’s face remained neutral, but his eyes sparkled. You realized he must have ordered his people to salvage your books as soon as you first told him you had lost them. Every last ounce of intimidation left you then; this was still the ellon you knew, though he had to put up a show for his court. 

And perhaps part of his majesty act was to let you see another side of him – in an answer to your request yesterday. Was he afraid it would turn you against him? If so, he hid it well. 

“This is my decision: in punishment for your trespassing, you shall copy these books for me, so I can add them to the royal library.”

Whispers spread among the assembled. Clearly, the king’s words had surprised them, and you remembered he had said the library had been closed since the queen died. How long ago was that?

“And aye, this means the library will be reopened,” he added.

This produced an excited buzz from the audience, and you were glad of the distraction. Your mind was working hard. As soon as you heard the so-called punishment, you knew Thranduil had racked his brain to come up with something that would appease his court, but not be unpleasant to you. He knew you liked copying books, and in addition it would keep you here a while longer, giving him the opportunity to make amends.

The problem was, you didn’t want to start a friendship with Thranduil on these terms, as a convicted criminal, working off your debt. 

You waited until the bystanders had silenced before speaking. “What if I find your sentence unjust, and refuse it? You know my trespassing was an accident.” 

All eyes turned to you, and the murmurs changed into sounds of annoyance. How dare this Noldorin librarian question the Woodland Law?

“Refuse?” He raised one of his formidable eyebrows. 

You nodded, regarding him closely. 

“Then I would deem your books forfeit and banish you.” His face betrayed no emotions, but his shoulders had grown tense. 

“I see. Well, I shall have to think about this. Can someone take me back to my cell?”

The angry murmurs around you grew louder, and the king’s cheeks colored slightly. You didn’t want to upset him, but you also couldn’t silently accept injustice. If you decided to take his punishment, you would at least make it clear it was not done lightly.

Thranduil gave a curt nod to Galion, who led you out of the room. 

“I’m trying to figure out whether you are very brave, or very stupid,” he said when the tall doors closed behind you. His voice was full of mirth. 

“Probably both.” You sighed. 

“It will work out, I am sure. He likes you.”

“I know,” you conceded. “That’s not where the problem lies.”

♕ ✧ ♕

Back in your cell, you picked up the artbook and distractedly turned its pages while waiting for the visitor you knew would come. It took longer than you had estimated; your friend was obviously quite as stubborn as yourself, but finally, late in the afternoon he entered the jail. He was alone as usual, but unlike before, he wore all his finery except for the crown. It suited him.

“What is it you want me to do?” Thranduil sounded tired.

You put down the book and met him at the barred cell door. “I don’t know.” 

“I thought you would like to copy books,” he said a bit sullenly.

“I would. And I appreciate the effort. It’s just… Not this way.” You tried to catch his gaze. “Thranduil… Why didn’t you tell me who you were from the beginning?”

His eyes flicked to yours before he turned them down. “I always go incognito to Dale. Ever since I fired my butler, I have had to do my wine purchases in person. Remember what I told you about the importance of choosing right? I couldn’t find anyone else I trusted with the task.”

“I bet you didn’t search too hard. You enjoy going out, don’t you?” 

“Perhaps.” He smiled briefly. “Aye.”

“Look. I get that you didn’t want to drop your cover in Dale,” you said. “But when I came here, there was no reason to keep up the pretense.”

“I know.” He colored slightly. “I have treated you unjustly.”

“You have.”

His blush deepened. “I am sorry. I have no excuses at all. It was… purely selfish.”

Your chest filled with a flood of warmth. This. This was what you had needed to hear. Taking one of his hands and pressing it earnestly, you said: “I understand. Apology accepted.”

Finally he met your gaze, obviously a bit surprised to have been let off so easily, but then he squeezed your hand back. “Thank you.”

Looking down at his large hand between yours, you traced his rings with your fingertip. They were beautiful, yet masculine, resembling branches and roots, and one of them was shaped like a rolled up snake.

“You didn’t seem surprised to discover who I was,” he said, leaning his forehead against the cell bars. 

A faint scent of herbs from his soap reached your nostrils. It felt strangely intimate to stand this close, despite the iron separating you. 

“I had guessed,” you replied. “Your hints made it rather obvious after a while.” 

“I wanted to tell you sooner. It was just… I…”

“You don’t have to explain; I really do understand. You wanted to keep what we had… An uncomplicated friendship.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I can read you like an open book,” you teased. 

He snorted. “You never cease to surprise me, that is for sure.” Then he turned serious again and sighed. “Whatever shall I do about you? I don’t want to banish you.”

“Then don’t.” You shrugged. “You could change the law, couldn’t you? You’re the king, after all. There has to be some perks.”

“I would become a laughing stock.” He shook his head, but you could see he was really considering it.

“Maybe pretend the clever librarian charmed you into losing your good sense?” You grinned.

“I would not have to pretend that.” His eyes met yours. This close, they drew you in, making you drown in their blue depths. 

“Sorry to have caused your loss of good sense,” you murmured. 

“Don’t be.” He reached through the bars and softly cupped your cheek.

You gave in. Leaning forward, you let your lips meet his. 

It was a light, tentative kiss, and when you broke it shortly afterwards you wondered how wise it had been. Had you lost your good sense too?

“I am going to release you,” he said. “Let my people laugh all they want.”

But you had another idea. “Nay. Get me my guard. I want to be taken to the king!”

“What?” 

“I have made my decision. Take me to the throne room.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

“Never. Trust me!” 

After a brief hesitation, he gave your knuckles a quick peck. “I trust you.” 

You grinned happily, and when he returned it with one of his rare, dimpled smiles, your chest filled with a cloud of butterflies and your knees went weak. 

“Has anyone told you what an incredibly attractive smile you have?”

He actually laughed at that, a rich, contagious laugh that warmed you inside out. “Not in a long time,” he admitted. “I shall see you soon, then.”

♕ ✧ ♕

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[onthesandsofdreams]

My Heart Is Yours [1/?]

Fandom: The Hobbit (Book-based) Pairing: Thranduil x Fem!Reader Rating: T Summary: “My love,” you said as Thranduil came in earshot. “I am so glad you are home.” Words: 500 Notes: A series of short stories (100 to 500 words) centered around Tolkien Characters x Reader. All sorts of verses. Warnings and/or notes will be the note in the chapter. Note2: My Thranduil's more in line with book Thranduil, but I do love Lee's look as Thranduil.

Read @ AO3

You watched as the army that had left the caves came back, your husband, Thranduil at is head.

Relief washed over you, even if Thranduil was an accomplished warrior, you couldn’t help but to worry about him. You waited for him to dismount and make his way to you. You felt something squeeze your heart when you saw the look on Thranduil’s eyes, their usual spark wasn’t there, and you knew that he had lost elves in whatever it had happened.

“My love,” you said as Thranduil came in earshot. “I am so glad you are home.”

Thranduil took you in his arms and gently kissed you, paying no mind to the rest of the elves who had come outside to welcome the army. He smiled down at you, “I am back, beloved. And have I got a story for you.” He turned to the army, “At easy, we are home. Take your rest.”

You and Thranduil made your way to your shared bedroom, he put his bags down and began to rummage for something, “Close your eyes,” he told you. “I have a surprise for you.”

You closed your eyes and waited, you felt Thranduil’s presence behind you and his arms loosely around you. “Open them,” was whispered on your ear. You gasped, a beautiful necklace of silver and pearls hung in front of you.

“Oh! Thranduil, it’s beautiful!” You exclaimed.

Thranduil chuckled and closed it around your neck, “I am glad you think so, it was a gift given by quite an extraordinary being, a hobbit called Bilbo Baggins.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. He was the one responsible for Thorin’s company’s escape, if you would believe it.”

“No!”

“That is true!” Thranduil laughed and kissed your cheek. “He waited for Galion to fall drunk and that gave him the chance to help Thorin.”

You laughed as you touched the necklace, “How clever!”

“Not only that, he stole the Arkenstone and helped us as much as he could with Thorin. He fought with us, and by that I mean by my side when Sauron’s filth attacked.”

Your face softened and took Thranduil’s hand in yours, “Well then, I hope that Mister Baggins has a blessed life. I cannot imagine Thorin made things easy, and he will have my gratitude for trying to keep you safe.”

Thranduil’s lips curled upwards in a soft smile, “He is a truly wonderful individual, I have named him Elf-friend, and I hope Elbereth always watches over him.” Then he sighed, “I should take a bath, we lost some on the battlefield, and I am of the thought of making a feast in their honor.”

“It would be fitting, I think,” You said. “Come, let me attend to you.”

Thranduil leaned down and kissed your lips, “Very well, thank you beloved. It’s good to come home.”

“It’s good you’re home.”

Together, hand in hand, you both made your way to your private bath. Thranduil will have things to attend, but things could wait a little.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 32

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31]

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan​​ @rebleforkicks​​ @yjrevolution​​ @majahu​​ @honey-wine @accio-boys​​ @achromaticerebus​​ @solomonssimp​​ @tired-ass-show-girl​​  @dreamlessnight​​ @daddy-long-legolas​​ @sleepyamygdala​​ @coopsgirl​​  @penguinlovestowrite​​ @midsommar-nights​​ @whore-of-many-hot-men​​    

When Thranduil had reappeared from the treeline beyond the halls with you in his arms, the relief that fell over the waiting elves was so palpable you could have reached out and touched it. He gently set you back on your feet once you were safely over the threshold, still feeling protective despite the danger being over. The doors were shut, the bodies of the men who had fallen within these halls already disposed of in Thranduil’s absence.

Myleth had come rushing over through the crowd, pulling you into an embrace so tight that it made you wince slightly, however you didn’t say anything. You had last seen her in the great hall for the feast and you had hoped that she (and everyone else, of course) was safe and well.

“Oh, I was so worried when I heard!” She cried, pulling back a little to look at you. Your hair was a mess, the beautiful dress she’d put you in for the festival dirty and slightly torn from catching in brambles, and the red mark on your cheek made her frown. “Oh, dear. Come with me, I’ll have you all fixed up in no time.”

“Actually.” Thranduil’s voice said from behind her, turning from where Legolas and Tauriel stood with Galion and Elros, all discussing the extent of the attack on the realm, damage and loss and such. No elvish blood had been spilled, thankfully, not that Thranduil thought a hundred human men armed with rusty swords and axes would be much of a match for his people. Still, he had to admit, there had been a few decent fighters amongst those from your village.

“I shall be tending to her this eve, Myleth.” Thranduil continued, reaching past her and taking your hand in his own, leaving no room for discussion as he turned and led you away through the crowd and down the hall. He called something in Elvish over his shoulder and Legolas and Tauriel immediately began moving together back towards the gates and out into the night.

“What did you say to them?” You wondered, turning back from where you’d glanced over your shoulder. You had hoped to talk to Tauriel, who you had heard apologising to Thranduil for letting you get taken. None of it had been her fault and you hoped everybody knew that.

“They are going to your village.” Thranduil said, leading you around a corner and towards the stairs that led to his own private rooms. “To release your father from his misfortune and then return here with him.”

Though he wasn’t looking at you directly, Thranduil could see you from the corner of his eye. You turned your gaze upwards, fixing on him in surprise, touched that he would even have remembered your father was in trouble, let alone have him ordered to be brought back here, where you now felt he would be safest. You held his hand just that little bit tighter and his mouth twitched as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Never had you truly looked around Thranduil’s actual bedroom before, and you had been inside only a couple of times so when you realised that was where he had taken you, you were immediately filled with curiosity, looking around as if you would discover all sorts of secrets about him. He led you towards a large chair that stood beside a desk and you sat down, watching him with interest.

Your fear had leveled by now, washed away by the feeling of safety you’d felt the second Thranduil had stepped out into that clearing. Your anger, however, was still bubbling beneath the surface, though dimly. It had nowhere to go but you still could not quite believe this had happened, that they had rushed in here like that with weapons in hand, attacking the elves for no good reason.

They didn’t care about you, you knew that already, and while you’d thought that they might have listened if you’d told them the reality of the situation... it became clear they were only trying to get you back because Vermund had told them to.

Vermund, you thought bitterly. Ugh. That wretch. You found that you were not unhappy with his death in the slightest, nor the manner in which it had come to him. He had brought it upon himself and, it seemed, you had been slightly naive when it came to him and what he was capable of.

Your cheek stung and you blinked yourself out of your thoughts to find Thranduil kneeling on the floor in front of you, his hand near your face. It took you a moment to realise he was putting some kind of sweet-smelling ointment on the mark, so lost were you in his eyes.

He smirked a little, knowingly, and you could have smacked him.

“Do you hurt anywhere else?” He asked you, carefully dabbing something else on your injured lip that immediately seemed to take effect. You marvelled at the magic of it.

You went quiet for a moment as you assessed yourself - your hip were still sore from where you had been thrown to the ground, as was your arm, though they both ached a little from Vermund’s harsh grip. So you nodded and hummed an affirmative.

“Show me. Remove your dress.” Thranduil said then, rising to his feet and turning to find the lid so he could put it back on the jar of ointment he’d pulled from the drawer where he kept his healing items.

You stared at him for a long while before your voice returned to you, albeit in stutters. “Wh--what!” You stammered, a pink flush rapidly joining the quickly fading injury of one cheek to the unblemished skin of the other. “My--?! I... Thranduil...”

Thranduil, who was rummaging around for a different jar, turned to frown at you before he seemed to suddenly remember that it would leave you sitting before him in a state of undress, and he hesitated. “Oh. Uh.” He lowered his gaze, almost shyly. “I apologise.” He cleared his throat. “I will fetch Myleth.”

He turned and strode towards the door. Usually only a few select servants would have the leave to enter his most private domain but he would make an exception. Besides, Myleth was one he knew very well. He had pulled the door open to ask one of the guards to go down to a lower level and return with Myleth but the sound of his name caused him to turn back to you.

He swung the door shut again at once when he saw you were now sliding your dress down past your shoulders. He swallowed and then he moved back over to the desk, making a show of fiddling around so that you felt less watched. When he turned back, you had stilled. You had slipped your arms free of the confines of the dress sleeves and eased it down to your waist where the material bunched. You had a slip on underneath so you supposed it saved you some dignity. However, the fingers of the other hand had hesitated upon removing the garment further, debating whether or not you had the courage. Though your hip ached, you felt as though far too much skin was exposed as it was so you pulled your hand back and held one arm out for him to see.

Thranduil was no fool. He had not missed the fact that you may be concealing another injury from him, however he dutifully moved to look over your arm, frowning at the bruises, the redness, a few nail marks. He had not been joking before. He should very much have liked to possess the ability to reanimate that man’s corpse so that he could have the pleasure of killing him again... and again... and again... and again, if that did not satisfy him.

“Don’t look so angry.” You murmured, watching him. “I am fine.“

Thranduil’s gaze flickered up to your face. “He hurt you.” He stated grimly. “When I came upon that clearing, he was hurting you still. It could have been much worse.”

“But it was not. You stopped him.” You said, your hand moving to settle on top of his own in an attempt to offer him some comfort. “That is all that matters.”

Thranduil glanced down to your hand on his and smiled a little. He moved his fingers and took your hand in his own, sitting there like that for a long moment as he looked back at you. Neither of you spoke but you didn’t really have to. Then he let go of your hand and turned his attention back to your arm, soothing both of them.

His gaze shifted to the side of your dress where he’d caught your fingers lingering before. He quickly averted his gaze but you noticed it all the same and sighed.

He looked up at your face. “Please show me.”

“I am afraid.” You admitted quietly.

Thranduil frowned. “Of me?” He asked out loud by mistake, having intended to keep the thought in his own head. His voice was quiet.

“No!” You cried quickly, shaking your head. “No, of course not!”

Thranduil relaxed just slightly but he still seemed a little troubled. “Then what is wrong?”

“It... it is not as if make a habit of... of dropping my clothes for all and sundry!” You half-snapped out of embarrassment, averting your gaze.

He nodded a little, managing to deduce then that you were feeling self-conscious because you had never been unclothed before another. Not like he, who had servants to help him dress in the many heavy layers he often needed to go around in. Nakedness was not inherenty sexual but to humans he knew that it could often be perceived solely as such. Whether it was their short lifespans that made them so obsessed and unrestrained, he had no idea. “You have nothing to fear. I am not going to look anywhere I should not be looking... I am not going to touch anywhere you have no injury.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment, finding yourself wondering what it would be like if he did. If he did look upon you properly, fully... what would he think? Would it please him?

You could never say such things out loud and there was too much still to discuss and think about before you could even consider such a thing... so you simply shifted in the chair and gently eased the bottom part of your slip out of the dress and upwards, using the rest of the dress to keep certain parts of yourself covered up completely, and allowed him to see your hip. You felt a slight chill at the exposure.

When you looked up at his face, he was frowning again. Deeply. His fingers reached out carefully and he moved them, feather-light, over your skin. When you sucked in a little hiss of a breath, he looked up at you, worried.

He withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt very much?”

Your face flushed because it was not pain that had caused the reaction but the touch of his fingers. You pressed your mouth into a line and shook your head, keeping your gaze locked on your hands in your lap.

Thranduil watched you for a moment, like he was looking for something in your expression, before another of his annoying, knowing smiles appeared on his face and he returned to the matter at hand.

Your hip was definitely the worst injury, already a nasty dark bruise blossoming across your skin. He probed gently with his fingers, testing the skin just around the bruise, and checking for anything deeper. Eventually, he pulled back and picked up the jar of liniment again, applying a generous amount to the area with great care and then he sat back. “It doesn’t appear you have suffered a fracture or anything deeper.” He told you, though you had already been fairly sure it was not overly serious. You just ached. However, thanks to whatever he had used on all of your injuries, the pain had begun to ebb away already.

Thranduil was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before he opened his mouth to speak again. However, you had done the same and your voice came first.

“What did--” You stopped, having heard the beginning of his own sentence.

“No, you go.” He urged gently. Whatever he had been about to say was truly of no importance anyway.

“I just wondered...” You said, shrugging a little. “In the forest... what did you say?” When he looked mildly confused, you continued. “You said, mel... I don’t know, something in Elvish. I didn’t know what it meant.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to look bashful as he lowered his head just slightly. “Melda...” He murmured again, glancing back up at you after a beat.

You nodded. “Yes. Yes, melda... what does it mean?”

He was quiet for but a moment as he looked back at you, his gaze softer than you thought you had ever seen it before. “Beloved.”

Many emotions seemed to well up within you at once then, looking back at him in silence as you committed his expression and his tone to memory. Then, without another word you leaned in to kiss him again, feeling much braver than you would have in the past. His desperate kiss in the woods seemed to have banished any nerves you may have held onto about making such a move yourself.

“I...” You pulled back to say something, watching Thranduil’s eyes open and look up at you with slight concern. The fact he himself looked a little unsure made you feel better somehow and you forced yourself to continue. “I love you, Thranduil.” You saw his eyes widen, heard his sharp intake of breath, and you leaned back in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

For Thranduil’s part, he found himself rendered speechless for a few long seconds. Yes, he had been aware that something much bigger was brewing in between the two of you and had been for a little while, but he had not quite dared to hope that you would love him. You liked him, you found him pleasing to the eye, and you enjoyed his company. That much was incredibly easy to glean. You returned his kisses with ease and he didn’t take it lightly but love? He had not dared to think that the depths of his own feelings might be returned so entirely.

“Gi melin...” Thranduil’s voice, when it finally came, was quieter than you’d ever heard it, full of a tenderness that made you want to cry.

You didn’t need to ask, you could just tell that he was repeating your sentiments back to you in his own tongue. “Gi melin.” You repeated, wanting to say such words to him that you did not take lightly in his own language.

His eyes shone as he pulled you from the chair, gathering you into his arms, and kissing you until you almost felt that you could no longer breathe.

[animerina]

Wine for Freedom-3

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)

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Thranduil x F!Reader

Summary: The Reader is left with nothing but three bottles of wine after Smaug destroys Laketown and somehow becomes Thranduil’s new brewmaster.

Note: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. This started as a one shot and ended up as a full story. You can read the rest on A03.

All Italics are Elvish.

Chapter 3: Accidental Revelations

Meleth nin-my beloved Mellon nin-my friend Melda-Beloved/Dear Û-No/It isn't so Man cerig?-What are you doing? Aran nin-My King Hiril vuin-My Lady

I awoke to knocking on my door. I felt exhausted as if I hadn’t slept and I groaned loudly before telling whoever it was to enter. Calanthe slid inside, but froze when she saw me still laying on the bed.

“Are you alright, mellon nin?”

“I am just tired.”

“So I see. Did you perhaps drink too much?”

“If only,” I muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, mellon nin. Can you help me out of this dress?”

“Of course.”

I stood, turning towards her, and allowing her to undo the laces and pulled it off. I grabbed my robe off the end of the bed and quickly pulled it over myself. I sat on the bed while she went to run a bath.

My mind was spinning when I remembered everything that had happened the night before. I flushed at the thought of seeing him again today, but found I was also excited to see him. I wondered how soon it’d be. Usually I didn’t run into him often, but perhaps he’d make an effort to cross paths with me today.

Calanthe called me over and when I stepped towards her, I inwardly cringed at the slickness between my legs, and hoped she wouldn’t notice. She left the room as I sunk into the tub and sighed, appreciating the hot water.

After exiting the bathroom, Calanthe stopped me with the concerned look across her face.

“Are you certain you are alright?”

“I promise, I am fine.”

“How was your dinner?”

“It was,” I paused for a second longer than I intended. “It was fine. I greatly enjoyed myself.”

“So I heard,”

“What?!” I sputtered out.

“The servants said you two got along quite well.” She said innocently.

“Oh well yes. Well actually he did ask if I wanted to return to Dale, but I said I’d stay if he’d have me.”

“How considerate of him, but I’m glad you will be staying. I do not know how often I would be able to visit Dale if you had decided to go.”

“I like the company here too much,” I cooed at her.

The elleth pulled a knee length dress out from my wardrobe and set it on the bed. She grabbed a short matching robe and black tights and laid them out as well. She went to clean up in the bathroom while I changed into what she had chosen. I preferred shorter dresses and tunics when I planned on working in the cellar. I was lacing my boots up when she returned and motioned for me to follow her to the vanity so she could fix my hair. Her lithe fingers wove between small strands and created a masterpiece with my typically unruly hair. I gently pushed on the braids admiring them in the mirror.

“I will never get over just how talented you are, Calanthe.”

“You honor me with such praise,” she giggled.

Walking down into the cellar, I mentally reviewed the new recipe I had thought of before drifting off. I had made a mulled cider before, but I wanted to try a different flavor for Galion and his quick thinking. Knowing he knew was mortifying, but I was grateful I had his loyalty at least for now. I was so lost in thought, I nearly missed a step. Luckily I was able to catch myself before falling.

“Careful, hiril vuin.”

A surprised scream shot out of me and I fell backwards landing hard on a step. Thranduil’s eyes widened before he tossed his head back and laughed loudly. I realized it was the first time I’d heard a real laugh from him. His normal reaction would have been to politely cover his mouth as he chuckled, but I guessed we were on different terms now. He approached and easily lifted me from the floor, setting me down on my feet. His smirk told me he was biting back a comment. He was wearing a long, deep blue coat embroidered with silver leaves that swept the floor and black plants, attire that was much more casual than what I was used to. Like most days, he wore a crown of branches upon his head.

“You startled me, Aran nin.”

“Hmm, I believe I asked you to call me by my name, Y/N.”

“Forgive me, I wasn’t sure if we were truly alone,” I looked behind me at the stairs. “Thranduil.”

All my anxiousness melted away now that I stood before him again. He was still his smug self, but I found I was enjoying his teasing.

“What are you doing down here anyway? I would think you have duties to attend to.”

“I thought I might sample some of your varieties.” He stepped away from me to browse my shelves. “I need to make sure I’ll enjoy what is served in my halls.”

“You seemed to enjoy the wine last night, but perhaps you’d like to try something different?”

He hummed and I led him over to the small table I had for when Galion and Elros stopped by. I pulled a few bottles and jugs off of the shelf bringing them to where Thranduil sat. Grabbing a small sampling glass, I uncorked a bottle and poured a small amount of wine for him. He sipped it slowly, savoring the flavor before commenting.

“A bit dry for my taste.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his haughtiness.

“However, it is acceptable.”

“And here I thought you’d enjoyed my creations,” I chided.

“Keep pouring.”

He tasted several more wines followed by a mulled cider he thoroughly enjoyed. He pointed at the last bottle, with a cloudy liquid inside. It was much smaller than the rest of the bottles, and had no handwritten tag like many of the ones kept on the shelf.

“And this one, Y/N?”

“It is something I’ve been working on. I finally got the concentration right, though I must admit, it tastes something awful.”

“I didn’t know you were making poison down here,” he said teasingly.

“It tastes awful, but it will get even you drunk in no time. It’s a liquor I had heard of but never had the right ingredients to make it. You’ve been so generous with access to your gardens, I wanted to try to make it for you.”

Without replying, he extended his palm and I placed the bottle in his hand. He eyed me as he hesitantly uncorked it and took the most delicate sip before gagging as it hit the back of his throat.

I couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from my lips as he tried to regain his composure. I gripped my stomach and leaned over in a fit. How can one so regal suddenly look so ridiculous? Thranduil had grown quiet and my laughing ceased as he stood quickly, his chair falling over backwards with how fast he moved. His lithe body towered over me, backing me up until I was against the wall. All his playfulness was gone and I felt my limbs go numb as he glared down at me. I cursed myself for overstepping.

“You dare poison me, woman?” He snarled as his arms caged me in. “That is treason.” The emphasis on the word scared me more. I began to stutter out an apology but his glare silenced me. Narrowed slits held my gaze as he leaned down, lips brushing against my ear, and smugly whispered.

“How should I punish you?”

With all of my might, I pushed him off of me. The nerve of this elf! He chuckled as he stepped back holding his arms up in mock surrender.

“Come now, Y/N, surely you knew I did not mean it.”

“I did not know!” I moved away from the wall and began cleaning up the bottles left on the table. I felt the urge to cry, but fought the feeling down refusing to embarrass myself further. I refused to face him again knowing I would lose my composure if I looked in those blue eyes. Feeling him watching me, I continued picking up the mess I had made ignoring his presence. What was I supposed to say to him now?

“Melda, come,” he said at my back. He turned me to him, looking rightfully apologetic. Brows furrowed, he cupped my face with one hand, holding mine in his other.

“I could never bring myself to raise a hand to you.”

His gentle caress combined with his soft words were making it harder to hold in the tears. Unfortunately, he noticed. He leaned down and pulled me into a soft kiss as he wiped my tears with his thumb. Thranduil’s lips traveled up my cheek, continuing on until he left one last kiss on my forehead.

“You are dear to me. Please believe me when I say that.”

“I do.”

“I am glad.”

Thranduil raised my hand, kissing my knuckles, eyes trained on my own. In turn, I pulled his hand towards me, surprising the both of us, and kissed his ring. Letting go, I stepped away and continued with cleaning up.

“I suppose I should let you get back to whatever it is kings do,” I threw over my shoulder.

“I suppose you are right,” he replied and headed towards the stairs. “I will have Galion fetch you for dinner.

“Surely you will be too busy for me,” I half-heartedly teased.

“Never.” He assured with a small smile.

Watching him start up the stairs left me smiling dumbly as I flitted around the cellar trying to busy myself. I picked up the chair off the floor and sat down, pouring myself some wine from the bottle Thranduil liked the best. I swirled the white wine in the glass admiring the golden hue it gave off. I had infused it with peaches I stole from the kitchen. I smiled at the memory and drank.

I heard footsteps behind me and called out to the person approaching.

“Have you changed your mind, meleth nín?”

“Meleth nín? I did not realize we were so close.”

I nearly fell out of my seat when I heard Elros’s voice instead of Thranduil’s. My face flushed and I turned to face the young elf as he strolled casually into the cellar silently hiding me. He pulled the chair across from me out and sat in it, silently poured himself a glass, leaned back and just stared me down.

“You spoke so freely a moment ago, meleth nín, what stops you now?”

“I thought I said mellon nin. You know my Sindarin is awful.” I chose deflection as the best tactic to escape this mess.

“And I’m a dwarf,” he countered. “Now tell me, was it Galion you were expecting?”

“Galion?! What makes you think I-,” I began but he interrupted me.

“I know it is not me you pine for. Feren is spoken for. Calanthe prefers the company of ellons. Galion is the only other person you enjoy the company of.”

“I am not in love with anyone!” I all but shouted.

“And yet, I believe you are.”

“You are impossible!”

He laughed at my anger and I very badly wanted to pour the rest of the wine on his head. I huffed, cheeks puffing out like a child throwing a fit.

“I will not say,” the elf promised.

“I cannot say. I do not even understand what is brewing between he and I.”

“I did not think Galion was such a complicated ellon.”

“I did not say it was Galion.”

He tilted his head in confusion and awaited an explanation. How could I tell my friend I was playing romantics with the king of all people? But Elros and I were friends. How could I not tell him? Before I could make up my mind, Calanthe entered the cellar, draped in a beautiful light green gown.

“Lady Y/N,” she greeted warmly. “Ah, hello Elros,” she added upon seeing my companion.

“Yes, mellon nin?” I asked, pleased with the momentary distraction.

“I wanted to inform you that King Thranduil has sent a dress for you to wear this evening. It is very lovely.”

Elros gasped in realization.

“Û!” He exclaimed in disbelief.

“Elros,” I pleaded.

“You and that thorny prick? Man cerig?” The elf growled out.

“I fear I am lost,” Calanthe spoke up.

“Alright!” I stood suddenly and ushered Calanthe into my seat before grabbing the bar stool I had in the corner and dragging it to the table. Perching on it, I poured the two more wine and composed myself. I did not plan on telling them all the romantic details, but I would tell them the truth.

“Allow me to start at the beginning.”

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@velvetmotel20 @happycupcakeenthusiast

[coopsgirl]

I am still working on Chapter 10 and it may be another week but it's going to be a really fun turn in the story. Thranduil and Thalieth will be invited to Rivendell/Imaldris and it's going to be a very interesting time. I have a lot I'd like to do with that so the next couple of chapters will probably cover their time there as they meet Elrond and Glorfindel.

If you're new to my blog, here's the link to the full story so far. Thank you for all the likes/comments. I appreciate everyone who has read and enjoyed it!