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thewulf · 8 months ago

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Only You || Legolas

Summary: Request: Can you do a elf reader x Legolas where he's finally home in mirkwood after the quest? Maybe Gimli is with him and he's like 'i see why you always talked about the lassie.' or something funny that exposes Legolas for how much he really likes her. He then confeses and asks to court her or something sweet pleaseee?? My fav fluff writer! Thank u!

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words and sweet as heck request. Really love this one. I didn't edit it too heavily so please be wary of general writing mistakes! Hope you all enjoy my fav elf imagine :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9k +

TW: Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

You had finally gotten a free evening to yourself after training for the better part of every evening for the last year with your father, Girdirion. He had been training you relentlessly after Legolas had left of the quest his father, King Thranduil, had sent him off on. That was over a year ago. You hadn’t heard much other than they had made it to Minas Tirith a few months ago.

Your father suddenly saw you as defenseless without your longtime friend at your side. Being the kings most trusted advisor, he had been trained for centuries and was a formidable fighter. It wasn’t until after Legolas had left that you had realized how serious the threat to middle earth was. Your father must had realized it too as he worked you to the bone, training you at every chance he could.

It was only after King Thranduil received word that the ring had been destroyed and his son was heading home did things begin to change. Your father still made you train but it wasn’t at every waking moment any longer. Tonight, was one of those nights that he had given you off as he had meetings to attend to with the king.

Time felt too slow as you waited for Legolas to return. He promised he would. You knew he would. He was all the way across middle earth, but you just couldn’t seem to wait any longer. You longed for you best friend, who meant much more to you than just a best friend, to come home.

As soon as you settled on your bed to begin reading the novel you had been meaning to finish there was a quick knock at your door. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour after dinner. Begrudgingly, you set the book down just as you had gotten comfortable and made your way over to the door.

When you opened the door you scrunched your face in confusion, “Father? What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the king?”

He nodded, “I was. Then we got interrupted. There is somebody here I think you may want to see.” His smile let you know exactly what you were thinking. Legolas was home. He was back in Mirkwood after nearly a year and a half away. Sure, it wasn’t that long of a time for you in the scheme of your lifetime but it did feel like the longest year of your nearly two thousand years in middle earth.

“Legolas?” You tore out of your room not waiting for his response as you made your way to the throne room. You heard your fathers deep laughter behind you before he jogged to catch up with your lighter than air pace.

Once he caught up to you he had that knowing smile on his face. He had watched the two of you dance around the obvious feelings each other had. You never thought you were good enough to be with the kings son. He never thought you were interested in that way. But to everybody on the outside looking in it was rather obvious the two of you were destined to be together. Even if it was taking longer than expected. A thousand years longer than expected. See, King Thranduil and your father had agreed they would bless the union between the two of you should it come naturally. But neither had the heart to force it. He and your father knew as good as anybody these things had to find their way on their own, naturally. Even if it drove the two elder Ellon’s mad.

“Indeed, your elf has made it home.” He spoke as the two of you walked, much faster than normal, towards the kings room.

Before you opened the massive wood doors you turned to him with a sly smile and a hint of a blush dotting the apples of your cheeks, “My elf?”

Your father raised his eyebrows at you, “Go on then.” He pushed you forward ignoring your question.

When you pushed open the doors you couldn’t find the familiar blonde hair of your best friend. Even as you walked closer to the throne you looked all around the hall and only spotted King Thranduil who was giving you the same smirk your father just did. What were they up to? Where was Legolas? And why was the king looking at you like he knows something you didn’t?

“I apologize my king.” You bowed unsure of what else to do. When you turned to see if your father had followed you in you were left biting your lip seeing the door closed without him in the room. What was he up to? “My father said…”

Thranduil put his hand up pausing you right in your tracks, “Legolas is out in the gardens with a dwarf. A dwarf!” He sounded more frustrated than excited to his son after the time away.

But you cracked a smile instead. That was so him. He was anything and everything his father was not. The two of them could not have more different personalities. Your best friend was the one to push boundaries no elves would or could do seeing that his father was the king, “A dwarf you say? That sounds like him.”

Thranduil studied your happier than he’s seen you in an entire year expression full well knowing it was because Legolas was back from his grand quest. Thranduil rose from his throne before walking down to you. Having to look up to him because he was so tall all you could do was wait on his word.

He pointed his hand towards the entrance to the kings private gardens, “Go, you audience is rather impatiently waiting on you.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating towards the door you had originally come in, likely to go find your father. Not wasting anymore time you made a beeline towards the doors that led to the private gardens you so rarely got to enjoy. He must have deemed it enough of a special occasion to grant access to not only you, but a dwarf as well. You knew Legolas was behind that as well. He was the only one to get the king to agree to something he might not want to do.

For the second time in a few moments, you threw open the heavy wooden doors leading out to the gardens. It did not take you long to hear the pair before you saw them. You paused hoping to catch just a brief moment between the two of them before you made your presence completely known. As you suspected the dwarf had Legolas distracted from hearing you walk out.

“Look at ya lad. Pacin’ like a horse.” The unfamiliar voice chuckled. You had a feeling the dwarf poked fun at the ellon more often than not.

You just knew he was rolling his eyes, the beautiful blonde prince he was, “I am not Gimli.”

But the dwarf just kept laughing, “Ya’ weren’t even this nervous when we rode up to the Black Gate.”

“Would you quiet down dwarf. She will be out momentarily.” That sounded just like the elf that had left a year and a half prior. It was almost too easy to get him worked up and the dwarf called Gimli certainly enjoyed playing into it.

“The little lassie has you this nervous huh?” You? You made him nervous?

Legolas let out a huff, “Gimli!” And you knew that was your queue to help spare the ellon from his friend who seemed relentless. You already liked Gimli from the sounds of it. You shut the door behind you louder than necessary to signal your arrival.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forward suddenly terribly nervous after those comments. What was Gimli playing on? Why would he be nervous to see you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up on feelings as you buried those away centuries ago. Your crush for the ellon grew slowly the first thousand or so years you knew him. Truly organic in the best way possible. Childhood friends to training partners to friends then best friends after it all. Once your training to become a healer had completed you had a sneaking suspicion all his injuries in the field were so he could come see you after some time away. He would only request you. Straight refusing the other healers help when offered. He would wait for you.

But then it just stayed like that. You thought it could grow into something more, but it dawned on you over the next few centuries his father had a say in who he courts and marries. Why would King Thranduil allow his son to court you of all elves? Sure, your father was his most trusted advisor, but you were no political gain in marriage. So you did what you did best, buried the feelings deep and bottled it all up.

The two of them quieted quickly hearing the door close. When you turned the corner you finally spotted your prince after far too long apart paired with an adorably red-headed dwarf who was staring right at you. You however were staring straight at Legolas as your small smile turned into a massive one. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing right there in front of you after too long. The longest either have you had spent apart from each other.

“Legolas.” You grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. It was when he gave you a big squeeze back that you simply just melted into the ellon completely forgetting you had an audience yourselves.

“Aye lad! You left out the detail of your Y/N being quite the beauty.” Gimli spoke up from beside you breaking the trance the two of you seemed to be under. You giggled once you pulled away from him seeing the look of horror cross his face at his friends comments.

You turned to the dwarf feeling the nerves wash away. You had the advantage here as Gimli seemed to want to torture your friend, “Hello. It is lovely to meet you. I am Y/N. Daughter of Girdirion, King Thranduil’s advisor.”

He pointed at you before narrowing his eyes at you, “Do you hate dwarves as much as his father does?”

You shook your head, “Hardly. You are actually the first dwarf I am meeting. I do not get away often.” You knelt down making yourself level with him, “You are much cuter than made out to be.” That earned a few stumbling words and a rather mighty blush to the warrior who seemed to have nothing but words. You managed to render him speechless.

This earned a snicker from your favorite ellon, “Elf got your tongue there Gimli?”

That comment must have meant war between the two of them. The dwarf cocked his eyes up to his friend, shook his head then turned back to you who was now back to standing instead of crouching, “Lady Y/N. It is lovely to finally meet you too. I feel as though I already know ya lassie.” He grinned knowing exactly what he was about to do.

You looked at Legolas with curiosity framing your face before returning your attention back to Gimli, “Do you?”

“Aye.” He nodded, “Legolas here would never shut up about ye. Y/N this. Y/N that. Y/N would love this. Y/N would hate that.”

You knew your cheeks were surely aflame with embarrassment just as Legolas’ were, “We have spent quite some time together over the years.”

But Gimli wouldn’t have that, “I think it has something to do with you lassie. The way you look. The way you dress. The way you seem to occupy his every thought.”

“That is enough.” Legolas finally chimed in giving his friend a hard stare telling him to get the hell out. But that only egged the red head on further. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them before Gimli relented.

He bowed his head, “My lady.”

Echoing his actions you responded, “Gimli.” Before turning your attention back to the prince. Your eyes finally were able to scan his features. Not a hair seemed out of place. He was exactly as you remembered.

“Welcome home.” You gave him your biggest smile feeling like you could finally relax after seeing him alive and well.

He wasted no more time before pulling you into a second bone crushing hug. He had never been so forward causing you to let out a slight stutter in surprise of his actions. It was the last thing you had expected from him. But then again, who knew what he went through out there. Legolas was a strong warrior, but you knew how deeply this could impact anybody who had to go through it.

“I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear not letting his arms go from around you. He had no clue how his words were affecting you in that moment. Suddenly you felt that stupid little crush, that was surely love at this point, bubbling up from the depths of your heart that you had long since locked away.

When he pulled away after a few moments he took the time to look you over just as you had moments prior. He didn’t drop his hands from around your waist though, simply holding you loosely in his embrace. You had never felt his eyes or his hands on you heavily before or that you had noticed in the past, “I have missed you beyond words Legolas. I have spent a year and a half filled with the dread of the thought you may never come home. Seeing you here is the greatest gift Eru Ilúvatar could have bequeathed.”

It was then that Legolas knew just how deep your feelings ran for him just as they had run for you. He too had spent the better part of a thousand years being absolutely in love with you, his favorite elf, but making no indication of it. For he thought you may have eyes for someone else. He could not risk losing you in the event you said ‘no’ to his request to court you. But by the way you were looking at him he knew that was wrong. Your love laced eyes could not break away from his gorgeous blue ones.

He knew he needed to take the next step with you. Gimli was right. His dwarf friend spent the better part of the journey home convincing him he needed to ask the question he had been dying to ask you. He wanted to court you. Spend the rest of his middle earth life and the next one with you. He had never been so sure of that. The thought of courting another elleth felt wrong. It was you. It was always going to be you.

“Gimli was not lying, my lady.” Even though it came out as a whisper your ears could pick it up with no problem.

That shocked you. Was he admitting the same thing that you were? Did he have feelings for you too? “Pardon?”

He grinned seeing your dumb struck face, “You do in fact occupy my every thought. You are the reason I am here now. I fought for middle earth, yes. But for you more. Thinking of your smile pulled me out of the darkest of times

Your lips parted in utter shock at his admission, “Legolas, I…” You were at a loss for words as you processed his confession to you. Your heart was giving you away completely though as it beat faster than it ever had before.

He continued seeing as you were rendered speechless, “It was only ever you. It was only every going to be you, my love. You are my very best friend Y/N. I would never want to continue this life with somebody who was not you. It is only you. It will only ever be you.” He paused finding the courage to say what had been on the tip of his tongue for centuries, “I love you.”

Your jaw might have been on the floor at this point, “You love me?”

He nodded with a nervous expression, “More than you will ever know.”

That was all you needed before you walked forward, butting yourself right against his chest, “That is a relief my prince. As I love you too. More than you will ever know.”

Euphoria. The truest form of euphoria pulsed through your body as you too admitted what had always been so hard to admit.

His expression melted to that of pure elation. Gently he placed his hands under your chin, cupping your face so carefully, “May I begin to court you, my love?”

“I would be so honored Legolas.” Your head was turned up as you looked into his eyes for likely the millionth time. It was different this time. Charged with love and lust. Like you were looking at a new Legolas. One that you could get to know at a much deeper level.

He brushed his thumb over your lips sending shivers racking throughout your body, “Only you. Only ever you.”

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elfy-elf-imagines · 10 months ago

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Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary:��A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy.

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left.

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect.

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention.

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone.

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize.

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable.

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair.

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance.

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years.

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found.

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you.

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care.

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough.

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.”

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own.

“I thought it looked nice.”

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash.

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror.

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser.

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?”

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit.

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.”

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding.

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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fantasyworld4ever · 7 months ago

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Thranduil NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Gentle and sweet. He’d caress you and assure you he loved you and that you were absolutely perfect. Maybe just a little smug though

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your waist, he loves to rest his hand on your waist as it is a subtle motion and he’s able to comfort you without it being seen as “overly affectionate” as he is a king.

His hands, he loves to see how much pleasure he can give you just from his fingers alone and he enjoys the way you tremble beneath his touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He WILL cum inside you. He doesn’t want a drop to be wasted. He’ll last a few rounds, at least 3 rounds but he can go longer if you wish it. His cum is a milky white and there’s a LOT of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves when you ask for gentle and tender sex. He feels honored you feel that safe with him to allow him that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. He had a wife so he obviously knows what to do. He knows exactly what to do to get you begging for more.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He loves to look at you as he fucks you. Loves to wrap his hand around your throat and watch as you come undone beneath him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious. He wants to make sure you realize that he’s present and there for you. He can be goofy at times but he is mainly serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hairless everywhere (except for his head ofc, he loves his elegant, long hair)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Praise. Just praise. He loves to praise you. “Look how good you’re taking me.” “You’re so beautiful like this” “You feel so good, Meleth. You take me so well.”

He’ll degrade you as well, a smirk on his face as he does so, knowing you love it. “Such a pretty little slut for me, only good for this.” “That’s it. Such a good whore for your king, hmm?”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t do it often. He doesn’t like to unless you’re watching then he’ll gladly do it. However, unless he’s away on a long trip (war etc.) he won’t do anything.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves to degrade you. He definitely has a bit of a choking kink, watching you submit completely to him really gets him going.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves to take you on his throne, gives him a bit of a thrill to see you lain across his throne, moaning as he thrusts into you.

His chambers would be his top place though. He loves the privacy of his room, it creates a certain intimate atmosphere unable to be found elsewhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Piss him off. Challenge him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never share you. Never. Not once in a million years.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, he loves to please you and watching as you lose yourself beneath his tongue increases his smugness.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and hard. He’ll grip your hips so tight until there’s bruising the next morning. He wants to hear you scream his name. He wants everyone to knows who you belong to.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not fond of it. He wants to pay proper attention to you. But, if you really want to, he’ll do it, for you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Open to experimenting as long as he isn’t the one in submission.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Quite long. He’s a warrior, what do you expect? He does love to drag out the foreplay though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t like them. He wants to be the only one pleasing you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not too much of a tease as he doesn’t have the patience for it nor does he particularly see the appeal in teasing for too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud. Just loud. Moans, growls, everything.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he’s away for a long time, he’ll write you letters detailing every single thing he dreams of doing to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Larger than average length with a nice thick girth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not too horny but if you ask he’s immediately in the mood for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always makes sure you fall asleep first. No exceptions.

{As always requests are always open! Hope ya’ll enjoyed!!}

#requests #lotr #the hobbit #thranduil #x reader #thranduil x reader #smutty #smut #oneshot

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plussizefantasia · 1 month ago

Note

Hey! Can I get a Thorin x f!reader where the company doesn’t believe in her because of her size and the fact that she’s a woman and then she totally kicks ass and doesn’t care what they think. And he totally regrets ever doubting her? Fluff ending if you can please!!

You Saved Me

Thorin x Warrior!reader

WC: ~3k

warnings: violence, death, it's essentially a botfa re-write so...

a/n: thank you for the request, this was entirely written in a burst of passion at midnight so if they're are any typos I'm sorry, let me know and I'll fix them <3

You were a feared warrior, one with skills you’d been honing since you could walk. Your parents had been killed by an orc pack when you were but a baby and you were taken in by the rangers who found you crying by the bodies of your loved ones. Almost a year ago you were sent a letter by that blasted grey wizard, an invitation, or maybe a plea you weren't sure anymore. Join a company of dwarves on their quest, and keep them safe. That is all he asked of you.

You had tried, you really had tried to keep them safe but when those blasted dwarves took one look at you and decided that there wasn't any possible way you knew anything about fighting, it became difficult. You had several moments where all you wanted to do was clobber them over the head, but you refrained.

The whole journey was wrought with their endless need to remind you that you were a woman, a bigger one at that. They must’ve thought you hadn’t noticed or something of that nature, for surely they wouldn’t keep bringing it up if not to hurt you on purpose. They never forgot to tell you how much they thought you were soft, incapable, fragile.

You’d shown them time and time again that this wasn't the case, incapacitating two of the trolls when they were all tied up in sacks ready to be cooked for dinner. You were defending Ori when you were discovered by the warg scouts before your arrival at Rivendell. You were the first to join ranks and fend off the hundreds of bloodthirsty goblins in Goblin-town. Not to mention how you risked your life for Thorin’s when Azog attacked. You had run in with no weapon, just pure adrenaline and a need to save your leader.Not that you would ever tell him that. Tell any of them that.

Thorin was certainly one of a kind. He was undoubtedly cold, it was his nature, he had lost too much in too short a time to be willing to open himself up to others. Especially when the ‘others’ consisted of a woman ranger he hadn’t wanted on the quest in the first place. You understood though, you too had lost too much.

You wouldn't say that he warmed up to you, but it didn’t seem like he hated you as much as he did in the beginning. You had even caught him smiling once or twice when you cuffed Fili and Kili over the head at their cheeky remarks about your size.

Over and over again you’ve defended these idiotic men, and yet nothing changed, they still had no faith. Most of them treated you horribly not that you think they noticed. It was hard to ignore their callousness when it came to you, especially compared to the warmth they shared with one another. There were several nights when their words became too much and you had to stray from camp in order to let the tears fall out of sight. But you had promised Gandalf that you would protect them, and if that meant staying even when it was obvious you weren't wanted, then that is what you’d do.

It wasn’t until Thorin, overtaken with his dragon sickness had cast you out that you had finally decided you were done. Done with dwarves, done with being underestimated and belittled at every moment.

“You will never be good enough, you are a burden to all those around you, a burden I no longer wish to be saddled with!” He had yelled from his position on the ramparts as you descended from the same rope that the hobbit had used just moments before.

Thorin had never been cruel, aloof maybe, but never cruel. You knew deep down that it was his addled mind that allowed this cruelty to spew from his mouth. Thorin may not have known you loved him, but you had thought the two of you had reached a sort of understanding, a mutual bond forged by the danger you’d overcome together. Apparently not.

You joined Gandalf’s side as he spoke to Thorin. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling back at the King Under the Mountain. It wasn't until you heard Thorin’s reply that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“I will have war!” He yelled.

“You will have death!” You had screamed back “You will have death for you and your kin if you do not stop this foolishness Oakenshield!” With that, you turned and headed back towards the gates of Dale. If there really was to be a war you would be needed, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

You heard the horns of war in the distance and shook your head. Foolish dwarves doing foolish things. You kept running towards Dale hoping to be of some use.

Arriving at the old armory, you pulled out an old steel sword, one dating back to before the fall of the city. It wasn’t as good as the eleven blades that the elves of Mirkwood confiscated when you were captured, but it was well-balanced. The hilt was wrapped in old black leather, well worn and rough against your skin.

You didn’t have time to sift for a better weapon, so you took the sword and ran. Bursting out onto the street your eyes scanned for danger. You took in all the rubble, some new and some old from the dragon attack years ago. The screaming of a group of people made you cease your reminiscing and run towards them.

Taking down several enemies as you run, you finally round the corner into the main square. Landing your sight on Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. Bain doing his very best to defend his sisters. You run forward without hesitation and trade blows with the monster in front of you, taking him down in no time at all.

“Are you all alright?” You ask rushing towards the girls and helping them down from the cart they had used as a hiding spot.

“We’re fine ma’am” Tilda responds in a shaky voice

“You all were very brave, but now it's time to head to the hall where everyone else is. Take cover, the battlefield is not safe for children I assure you.”

“But-” Bain had cut in.

“No, Bain, I know what your Da has asked of you but I’m telling you to take cover.”

He hesitated but nodded and took his sisters towards the main hall where the rest of the women and children were hiding.

You continue to take down the orcs and their armies as you run toward the main battlefield.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You hear your name being called, rotating quickly your eyes fall on the hobbit who had become very dear to you over the course of the Journey.

“Bilbo, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” You rushed out

“No. No, I’m fine it’s Thorin.”

“Thorin? What’s happened with Thorin where is he?” Your questioning picked up in intensity.

“The Pale Orc is atop Ravenhill, and Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili have all gone to kill him.” The Hobbit responded just as rushed.

Without another word, you grab the back of the Hobbit’s coat and drag him behind you. Your eyes quickly scan the horizon, taking inventory of anything that could get you to the top of the Mountain quickly. You spot Lord Dain, on his royal ram, and make a plan in your head.

Hobbit still in your grasp you sprint across the field towards the Dwarf Lord,

“Lord Dain! I need your ram.”

“W-What?!” He sputters.

“I am not asking.” You huff out a frustrated breath and use the hand not currently gripping your friend to shove the dwarf off of his steed, quickly taking his place and beginning your trek to the mountain. Sending a quick prayer to whatever being there might be to keep your love safe. Just long enough for you to kill him yourself.

Once you are sure he won’t fall off you let go of your hold on Bilbo and scan the ground flying past you for any more weapons you could use.

Seeing a discarded elven bow and quiver ahead of you, you steer the ram towards it and scoop it off the ground and into your grasp. Five Arrows, you’ll have to use them wisely, but it’s better than nothing.

You look towards Ravenhill, watching as the dwarves you have reluctantly come to care for dismount their own steed. Pushing your heels into the sides of your own ram you pray to any gods out there that you’ll make it in time.

You meet a few obstacles on your journey, the occasional orc arrow to be deflected, and even a troll who had fallen right in front of you. Nevertheless, in no time at all you reach the peak and search for the men you came to aid.

You only see Thorin and Dwalin as they fight their way through hordes of creatures of the dark. You leap into the fray and call out to the two warriors

“Where are the princes?”

“They’ve gone to search the structure.”

A yell coming from the tower quickly puts that thought to rest. You slash down the last monster before you quickly shift to see a sight that you’ll have a hard time forgetting. The pale orc holds Fili in his grasp. You immediately grasp your bow and nock an arrow.

The pale orc is too absorbed in his victory speech to notice you pulling back the string. With a deep breath, you let an arrow loose and send a quick prayer that it hits its target. Not a second later you hear a deep grunt and see that your aim is true. The arrow lodged itself deep into the meat of the arm holding the dwarf prince. He drops Fili in surprise and your eyes widen in fear. However, it is short-lived as Fili pulls a dagger out of nowhere and wedges into the stone of the tower, slowing his descent.

Four arrows left.

Azog staggers back and he catches himself on the wall behind him. His eyes find yours and you try not to shudder at the rage within him. This is a benefit you tell yourself. An angry enemy is a distracted enemy. His rage will be his downfall, you’ll make sure of it.

Fili lets go of the dagger and drops the rest of the distance, landing on his feet and quickly running to your side. Moments later, Kili runs from the tower and practically lunges for his brother.

“You idiot Fee.” The brother's embrace is hard and you’re a little worried they’ll suffocate each other. Eventually, Kili lets go and turns to you, “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies Kili. Gandalf asked me to protect you, and that’s what I’ve done.”

“Still, I underestimated you, I won’t do it again.” You nod at the prince and clap a hand on his shoulder.

“I have to go help your uncle, don’t follow me, and whatever you do don’t split up. You’re stronger together.”

“Aye.” They both reply and send a single nod your way.

You clutch your bow and scan your surroundings, a trail of black blood and a broken arrow stem point the way to the Pale Orc’s location.

“Fili, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra dagger would you?” You turn and ask. He smirks and opens his coat.

“Take your pick Lass.”

After grabbing two matching daggers from Fili you begin jogging towards the frozen waterfall. You are single-minded in your task, ignoring the shouts of battle from below and the wails of the dying. You cannot let yourself get distracted. Distraction means death and you can’t help anyone when you’re dead.

You come upon a scene that you’d only ever had nightmares about. Thorin and Azog facing off on a barren plane. Neither is holding back and you force yourself to push past the terror that grips your heart. As you run towards your king you begin releasing arrows one after the other.

Four. Three. Two. One. None.

Each arrow pierces the flesh of the monster pushing him back and back. Blow after blow sends him staggering and gives Thorin the advantage. He swings his sword and slashes at the beast. But Azog does not fall.

He yells. He stands and he starts returning blows. They are sloppy, his mace has no aim. It doesn’t need to, the force he puts behind it means he really only has to land one blow.

You can’t run fast enough to cover the distance, especially not on the ice. Nevertheless, you keep pushing. Your legs burn and so do your lungs but you keep going. You race against time and fate to reach the dwarf you love.

Thorin falls. The orc closes in. You run.

And run, and run, and run.

You don’t notice the battle cry that rips from your body, but the orc does.

He looks up and a sneer crosses his face.

You get closer.

You pull your daggers.

The orc stands.

You take a running jump.

Azog runs.

You smile.

This is foolish. You understand that, not even you as skilled as you are could take down a beast such as this. But you’ll try because you made two promises. One to Gandalf, that you would keep the company safe. And another to yourself, that if you survived this you would stop being afraid, you would tell Thorin you love him and…

Your daggers land in the Pale Orc’s shoulder blades. You hold on for dear life. His roar of pain nearly deafens you but you hold on still. Ripping one blade from his body you jab it at his neck. He grabs the back of your coat and pulls you away, you scratch him but nothing more. He lifts you into the air and looks into your eyes. The rage is still there, along with smugness, bloodlust, curiosity, and then - shock. His grip loosens and you fall to the ground.

You scramble away from him, grasping the ice with shaking hands. You stand and turn. Azog is still, frozen in time. Except now, there is a sword piercing his chest. Right where his heart should be, protrudes a sword you know very well.

Azog grips the blade and looks at you, then falls. He doesn’t get up.

Behind him stands Thorin, looking mightier than you’ve ever seen him. His hair is a mess and there is blood on his face and hands. Yet he’s never looked better. You run towards him and throw yourself into his arms. A laugh escapes you and you let yourself feel for a moment. Feel grateful, and scared and everything you’ve been holding back for the past few days.

Thorin’s grip on you is strong and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he guides them up and down your back.

“You saved me.” His deep timber pulls you from your thoughts. “Why?”

“I made a promise to Gan-”

“No, you fulfilled your pledge to the Wizard the moment we made it to the mountain, yet you stayed. Why?” Thorin pulls his chest away from yours and attempts to catch your gaze with his.

“Is this really the time?” You ask.

“When else?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Perhaps after the battle is over?” You fully pull away from him then.

Thorin pauses, perhaps like you, he had briefly forgotten the battle warring on below you in a moment of joy. But he nods to you and walks back toward the lifeless body of your foe. He rips his sword out of the body. He flips Azog onto his back so his lifeless eyes gaze emptily at the sky. Thorin turns to you, “Perhaps you should look away.” he addresses you.

You simply raise an eyebrow at him. He nods and grasps the sword firmly. From one moment to the next Thorin separates Azog’s head from his body. He takes hold of it and walks towards the edge of the frozen lake, which looks out onto the field below.

He lets out a mighty shout and hoists the fallen orc’s head into the air. Shrieks echo from below and the enemy begins to retreat.

You’ve won.

Thorin drops his head and turns to face you, a rare smile graces his face and for the first time since you met him, it truly seems like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, for at least a moment.

It takes you three seconds to get in front of him, one second to grab ahold of his head, and another to kiss him. Five seconds, five seconds of bravery that you will probably never be able to muster again.

Thorin kisses you back with fervor, gripping you as through he thought you might fade away. Eventually, the need for air separates you.

“That is why I saved you,” you whisper into the space between you, “because a life without you in it is one I do not wish to bear.”

“You’ll never have to.” is his reply before his mouth is on you again. Where the first kiss was full of passion, a burst of adrenaline between two people. This one is slow, like Thorin is savoring the moment like he is trying to memorize what it is like to have you. The moment is bliss, it's everything you wanted and thought you couldn’t have.

And then it is ruined. A sharp whistle and laugh from across the lake separates the two of you once more. You turn and see Fili and Kili, holding each other and worse for wear but alive and smiling which you’ll take as a win.

The boys make their way towards you, Thorin never releases his hold on your waist.

“Is it over?” Fili asks.

‘It is now.” Thorin responds.

“Now what?” Kili pops up. Scanning the area around him.

‘We live.” Is your simple reply. Like Kili, you take a moment to look around you. And you really like what you see.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #requests open #requests wanted #thorin oneshot #thorin and company #thorin x reader #thorin oakensheild x plus size reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit thorin #thorin #thorin oakenshield #botfa au #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #thank you for the request!

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runesandramblings · 1 year ago

Text

The Heir

Word Count: 2200

Pairings: Thorin x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Your pregnancy creates questions over the line of succession.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen your toes.

As you waddled, quite literally, down the stone corridors of Erebor you realized you could not remember the last time you’d been able to see your feet. Sometime around the middle of your pregnancy it felt as though your stomach had doubled in size overnight, and you’d only grown since then. Dwarves were small, of course, but hobbits were even smaller and you supposed that was why your belly protruded far enough out that you felt it could tip you over at any moment.

“(Y/N), what might I ask are you doing out of bed?”

You turned slowly around, carefully as to not lose your balance, to find Bilbo standing behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest as he gave you a knowing, reprimanding look.

“You should be resting. Didn’t Oin order you to bed until the baby comes?”

Oh Bilbo, ever the worrier. Yes, Oin technically had asked you to remain in bed until you gave birth. Mostly due to your small size and the fact that you were now two days past his original estimation of your due date. But you’d grown restless. There was nothing to do, besides read, and you’d exhausted every book that Ori had been kind enough to bring you. There was also a big decision ahead to be made, and you couldn’t stop troubling yourself over it.

“Has he made an announcement?” You asked quietly.

Bilbo’s frown only deepened as he shook his head.

“No, I don’t believe he has.”

That did nothing to ease the anxious pit in your stomach. Your child could come any day now, and Thorin had still not announced what would become of the line of succession. You felt your heart torn in two directions as you thought of both Fili and your unborn son or daughter. Of course, you wanted your child to have a place in the line. But you also did not want to take away the birthright Fili had held since he himself was a baby. Thorin had never anticipated he would one day take back the mountain. He’d also never anticipated falling in love and finally marrying, after all these years. Fili had held the title of heir for over 80 years now, and it didn’t feel right to take that away.

“Ghivashel.”

You looked up to see Thorin strolling toward you, followed closely by Kili and Fili on either side. Both nodded, bowing their heads to you out of respect. Kili met your gaze with a smile as he lifted his head. You frowned as Fili forced a smile, but would not look you in the eye. The decision that lay ahead had forced a rift between the two of you. It pained you deeply. You’d grown incredibly close to Kili and Fili both on the journey to Erebor, and as your nephews by marriage your relationship had remained close in the years that followed. But the news of your pregnancy had raised the same question in Fili’s mind as it had the rest of the mountain: who would be the heir to the throne?

You couldn’t blame him for worrying. He was not upset with you, as he’d told you numerous times over your pregnancy. But the closer your due date grew, the more distant he became. You knew it was weighing heavily on his mind, as it was yours.

Both brothers excused themselves as they continued down the corridor, leaving you and Thorin to speak privately. Somewhat privately, that was, as you could still feel Bilbo lingering behind you. Ever your protector, as he had been for years.

“What are you doing out of bed? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Thorin placed his hand tenderly on your belly as he spoke.

You rested your hand on top of his as you also looked down at your bump. In spite of the questions, the doubts, and the decisions left to be made, you couldn’t wait to meet your little one. Watching Thorin prepare for the birth of your child had reminded you of all the reasons you fell in love. As crass and cold as he often came off to those who didn’t know him well, you knew there was a hidden soft side underneath. The caring, gentle man that you’d grown to know and love over the course of the journey to Erebor.

“I was just checking to see if you’d made a decision, yasthûn. It’s making me restless.”

He shook his head as he turned his gaze from your stomach to look into your eyes.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself over that, my love. You need your rest. I can’t have you going into labor in some obscure corner of the mountain.” He looked behind you to where Bilbo still stood. “Master Baggins, would you escort the queen back to our chambers?” He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I will see you later this evening. Rest.” He said sternly, his serious expression cracking into a smile as he turned to follow in the direction Kili and Fili had gone.

You sighed in defeat as you accepted Bilbo’s outstretched arm. The two of you walked in silence for several minutes as he steered you back towards your rooms.

“Never thought we’d be here.” He said finally, breaking the silence.

“You mean with myself as a queen and you as a royal advisor to a king?” You asked as you waddled along beside him. You hadn’t either.

Bilbo had been your neighbor in Bag End. He had taken notice when you moved in as you were very young and lived alone, and he’d taken it upon himself to look after you. The pair of you had become close friends, often gardening together and exchanging stories over daily tea and cakes for years. On the fateful night of the dwarves' arrival to his home, you’d just so happened to be over for dinner. Gandalf had not anticipated getting two hobbits in the place of one, but he had willingly accepted your offer to join the party. During the journey something had sparked between you and Thorin, and although he was the holdout he eventually confessed his feelings after you’d defeated Smaug. The two of you had married shortly after the battle against Azog and his armies, and the rest was history.

You felt yourself growing tired as you neared your chamber door. It was amazing how such little effort wore you out nowadays. The baby could not come soon enough.

“Thank you, Bilbo.” You said, stopping before your door. “I’m always grateful for you.”

He smiled in return as held it open for you.

“Anything for you, dear friend.”

Your walk that afternoon seemed to have done the trick, and later that same evening you went into labor. Thorin had remained by your side through the entirety of your twelve hour labor, and you’d given birth to a baby girl. After a few days of debate over a name, Dis had actually been the one to help you decide.

“Rosina is such a beautiful name, (Y/N). How did you come up with it?”

Tauriel held your baby girl in her arms, rocking her gently. Oin had instructed you to have no visitors for the first two weeks, with the exception of Dis and Thorin. It was winter, and sickness often spread much more quickly in the cold months. After the ban on visitors had finally been lifted Tauriel had been the first to come and see your daughter, and she’d been spending every afternoon in your chambers since.

You smiled as you watched her with your newborn, wondering when she and Kili would have a little one of their own.

“Rosie is a popular name in Bag End, and I’ve always loved it. Dis altered it into Rosina, actually.”

“Well it’s a perfect fit for a little princess. I think she looks just like you.” She said, beaming down at your infant as she spoke.

The mention of the word princess instantly drew your thoughts back to Thorin, Fili, and the decision still at hand. It was nearing the three week mark since Rosina’s birth, and Thorin had still not made an announcement on his succession.

“I think she looks like Thorin.” You said, trying to turn your thoughts away from troubles that continued to plague you. “Especially when Dis holds her. You can really see the Durin resemblance.”

A gentle knock at the door interrupted your conversation, and after you called out that it was safe to enter Kili stepped into the room.

“My queen.” He greeted, nodding. His grin widened as he turned to Tauriel. “My love. (Y/N), are you feeling well enough to join us? Thorin has an announcement he’d like to make.”

You felt your pulse quicken as you quickly stood from your chair. This was it.

Tauriel offered a reassuring smile as she placed Rosina back in your outstretched arms. She knew as well as Kili did of the tension surrounding the impending decision.

Your heart continued to pound in your chest as you followed Kili down the endless corridors. The walk to Thorin’s meeting space had never felt so long. What had he decided? Would Fili resent you and your daughter forever? Would your child ever take the throne?

You entered the room to find Thorin sat at the head of the table. Fili sat on his right, followed by his wife. Bilbo, Dis, Balin, and a handful of other advisors sat around them, all watching you expectantly as you walked through the door. The seat on Thorin’s left was open, and as you made eye contact he smiled warmly and stood to greet you. You felt all eyes in the room follow you as you moved to stand beside your husband. As you approached he reached out and gently took the baby from you, holding her in one arm as he pulled your seat out with the other. He beamed proudly as he stood at the head of the table, holding her out just far enough for the others to see.

“First things first. Please meet the newest princess under the mountain, my beautiful daughter Rosina.”

The room was filled with happy murmurs and whispered congratulations as the faces around the table exchanged smiles and compliments toward your newborn. You saw Fili smile up at her as well from his seat next to Thorin, though you could see the hint of sadness behind his eyes. Another pang of guilt and worry shot through you.

“I know there have been many questions and concerns over the line of succession in the past months.” He began, rocking your daughter gently as he spoke. “I never expected I would marry, or become a father.

“However, there is no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision in naming Fili as my heir. He has remained my faithful right hand for many years. He’s learned and absorbed everything I’ve had to offer. It is not merely a name that makes a king, and whether or not he is my son by birth he is willing and capable of leading Erebor one day.”

You exchanged a glance across the table with Fili as Thorin continued.

“Therefore, the line of succession will continue as follows. Upon either my death or retirement, Fili will become king under the mountain. But in order to remain fair to my own children, upon Fili’s death or retirement, the line will revert back to my daughter, and any future children she may have.” He paused, looking around the table. “Does this please you all?”

There was a chorus of affirmations and nods from around the table. Thorin turned to his nephew.

“Fili?”

The worried lines that had furrowed his brow for many months now had dissipated. You could see the relief and surprise across the young dwarf’s face.

“I am more than pleased, Uncle.” He said. “You honor me.”

“Fili will make a wonderful king.” You spoke up, smiling across the table. The decision had not been one you’d even stopped to consider, and you were thrilled. Fili would not lose his position, and your daughter would not be snubbed. It was a win for everyone.

Fili beamed back at you in response.

“Rosina will make a wonderful queen one day as well.” As he spoke he gestured to your daughter in Thorin’s arms, indicating he’d like to hold her. As he cradled the baby against his chest you felt your heart swell. Seeing the two of them together filled your mind with so many visions of your future as a family. You could see it now: Fili taking his little cousin under his wing as she grew, he and Kili both teaching her to play pranks on Thorin as they had. Maybe even little ones of their own for her to play with in the future.

“The first queen under the mountain.” Fili continued, smiling from your daughter up to look at you. “She’s going to make history.”

Yasthûn - husband

Ghivashel - my treasure

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #the hobbit oneshot #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit movies #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin x you #Thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin Oakenshield x you #thorin x y/n #king thorin #thorin oneshot #Thorin imagine

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stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 4 months ago

Text

i only pray, don't fall away from me

fandom: The Lord of the Rings

pairing: Elrond Peredhel x Reader

summary: You get injured on patrol outside of Rivendell, as a result of your own inattentiveness. Elrond treats your wound, unaware of your affections for him.

tags/warnings: injury, blood, hurt/comfort, stitches, self-doubt

word count: 1650

As a member of Rivendell’s guard, you are no stranger to injuries. You’ve been shot at, slapped, and stabbed more times than you can count.

So, it’s hardly surprising when an orc blade manages to catch you while you’re out on watch. This time however, it’s your own lack of attention that causes the injury.

Your group is patrolling just beyond the borders of Rivendell, past the protection of Vilya. You ride at the back of the group, keeping your eyes and ears strained for anything out of the ordinary. A strange unease fell over you a while back, but you can’t decide if it’s just natural anxiety from leaving Vilya’s protection.

Before you can mull over it any further, a shout comes from the front of the pack, followed by a strangled growl. Orcs. They have been getting bolder, wandering closer and closer to Rivendell’s borders. You had hoped you wouldn’t run into any today, but that was a tall order.

Spurring your horse onward and into the now intense fray, you rapidly pull your sword and begin to fight. It’s a rather large band of orcs, not quite proficient in their fighting but certainly strong and powerful nonetheless. Already you hear some of your fellow elves grunting in pain as the orcs manage to graze them with their blades.

The battle is quick and dirty, the smell of orc blood thick in the air. As you fell the final orc with a quick jab of your sword, the rest of your comrades gather to clean their own weapons. A few of their flawless faces are specked with blood, but for the most part they seem unharmed. Just as you are about to sheath your own sword once again, a fierce roar sounds from behind you. You attempt to evade the oncoming blade but still, you feel the sharp sting of it against the side of your neck. Immediately, you press a hand to the rapidly bleeding wound, while an elvish arrow pierces the head of the lone orc.

The world spins around you as you hear your comrades calling your name. You wave them off with your free hand, assuring them that everything is fine. “Does anyone have any athelas?” you grunt. Someone hands you a bundle of the plant, and you crush it in your palm without hesitation before pressing it to the wound. The feeling of your blood is warm and slick as it seeps between your fingers. You vaguely register someone asking if the blade had hit your artery, and you manage a weak shake of your head. Your captain suggests heading back to get your wound treated, and you have no fight left in you to argue.

The athelas helps to soothe the sting of the wound, but in such a small quantity, it’s not doing much to slow the bleeding. You keep one hand pressed against your neck, the other on the reins of your horse. The gleaming light of Rivendell comes into view and you feel the gentle embrace of Vilya’s protection around you once again. The warmth of it nearly makes you fall over as your body relaxes. One of the other elves rides up beside you, concern on their face as they hold out a steadying hand. You shake them off and urge your horse on.

The ride is long and painful, mentally more than anything. You’re beating yourself up for missing the final foe, for allowing yourself to be blindsided.

As you step through Rivendell’s gates, you see that a small crowd has already amassed. Your captain and the rest of the company arrived moments before you, and it seems that word has spread quickly. As you dismount, the crowd parts and Lord Elrond steps forward, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Come,” he commands, and you have no choice but to follow as he leads you to the healing halls. You keep your head hung low, shame and embarrassment flooding through you.

As you enter the halls, Elrond turns to look at you inquisitively. “Why do you hide? Your wound is nothing to be ashamed of.”

You hop up onto a tall table. Through the slick of your blood, you can feel your pulse racing rapidly in your neck. “It is not my wound of which I am ashamed,” you murmur.

Elrond tuts and retrieves some healing supplies. The halls are quiet and deserted, which makes you feel even worse. Taking Elrond’s attention like this, when he surely has more important things to do. Elrond returns and stands before you, his voice steady as he reassures, “We all make mistakes. Do not linger on that which you cannot control.”

You try to take his words to heart but there’s a flicker of doubt that remains.

“Let me see,” he urges and gestures for you to remove your hand from the wound.

You withdraw, the cooling effect of the athelas fading as you move away. Immediately, Elrond’s face hardens into that of a healer and his eyes focus on the gash. “You are lucky the blade was not poisoned,” he mutters, still a few feet away as he examines your neck. “This is far too close to your artery for my liking.”

He steps closer, and you unconsciously part your legs to accommodate him within your space. A fierce blush washes over you and you avoid Elrond’s concerned gaze. “Are you feeling feverish?” he questions, attributing your flushed face to your injury.

You swallow thickly and instantly regret the movement as the wound pulses. You wince and rasp out a “no” in response. Elrond’s face softens and he returns his eyes to your neck. He holds a clean, damp rag to the wound to soak up some of the blood. “I’ll have to stitch this,” he says, more to himself than to you. “It will be difficult to heal. The wound will want to reopen with much movement.”

You groan internally at the thought of being removed from patrols while you recover. Your captain will have no qualms about leaving you behind, especially after this incident.

Elrond removes the rag and picks up a suturing needle and thread. You realize all at once how close he is to you, that you can feel his warm breath against your neck as he examines the wound once more. From this distance, you can almost see the twinkle of starlight in his eyes.

You push back the feelings of adoration and infatuation that bubble up within you. All your life you’ve felt… something for the elvish lord, but the discipline of being a warrior has left those thoughts to the wayside. You’ve been treated by Elrond for various wounds before, but never has he been so close. Now, with him standing so near, showering you with such attention, you cannot deny your attraction to him. But this is not the time for such childish feelings – you attempt to control the pervasive thoughts.

Unfortunately, your body is not so easily controlled. Your pulse continues to race, even more so under Elrond’s gentle touch as he stitches the wound. Your skin is flushed and you can’t imagine how red you must be – the tips of your ears feel on fire. Each breath is somewhat of a pant as the adrenaline of your schoolgirl crush courses through you.

Suddenly, one of Elrond’s hands is resting on your abdomen. His fingers splay across the fabric of your clothing, and you can feel the warmth of his palm seeping to your skin. The touch catches you by surprise and you meet his eyes.

“Calm,” he murmurs. “Breathe into my hand. You are in shock, I believe.”

How can he not see? How can he not see that his touch burns like fire, that his proximity only makes things worse in the best way possible? How can be so oblivious to the feelings that, to you, appear all powerful?

Yet, you manage a deep breath and it seems to help. Elrond keeps his hand upon your abdomen for a moment longer, apparently reassuring himself of your safety. His eyes flit back to the wound and he completes the sutures. You focus on the feeling of them tugging at your skin, a sensation which distracts you from the still-burning shadow of his hand.

Finally, Elrond places the needle back down. He secures a large bandage to the side of your neck, covering the gruesome injury. He doesn’t move away, instead bringing his fingers to your wrist to check your pulse. With nothing to distract you now, you have no choice but to feel the warmth of his touch, the electricity.

“Deep breaths, remember,” he reminds you, still attributing your rapid pulse to your injury.

Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so thick.

Sometimes you’re grateful for his obliviousness. It certainly spares you an enormous amount of embarrassment.

“The stitches will need to come out in ten days,” he says, fingers still circling your wrist. His thumb rubs small circles on the back of your hand, and you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. “Come to me immediately if you feel feverish or ill.”

You nod and wait for him to step away, to release your hand. He doesn’t, remaining standing between your legs with his eyes trained on your hand.

“Hîr nin?” you question quietly. The tips of your ears begin to burn again.

He murmurs your name in response, eyes flitting up to meet your briefly. “I hate to see you hurt.” He whispers the words like a secret, like they are just for your ears.

You are silent for a moment as the implications of that statement sink in.

Before you can answer him, he releases your hand and steps away. An admittedly large part of you misses his closeness. “Please do try to be more careful.” With a swish of his robes, he turns and walks away.

#imagines #imagine #one shot #oneshot #oneshots #reading #writing #fiction #reader insert #lord of the rings #the hobbit #elrond #elrond peredhel #elrond x reader #elrond x you #hurt/comfort

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iheartlegolas · 2 years ago

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𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut (MDNI pls), very light breathplay/choking

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 2.9k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: there's no better place to be than in the bedchambers of the elven prince, as he eagerly yearns to give you a night you'll ask him to relive

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫note: it's time ! my first smut to ever be written & shared, thank u all for ur patience, please accept my apologies for posting the preview and then dipping without a trace…lol i largely underestimated my ability to write smut so i truly hope that you enjoy (and that it’s readable) ok ily bye enjoy!

The chill of the autumnal night establishes itself upon your skin, its reluctant air depriving you of warmth as you stifle a shiver that forces its way to your spine. You stand, leaning onto a tree carved into a grand pillar, concealed from the crowd's gaze with a clear view of the crisp sky in front of you. Your head turns to the elves glittering about in the grand hall, their hands holding glasses filled with wine. Elven wine. A sheepish smile finds you, the gilded rim of the glasses delivering memories of your first time of having made the soon to be realised mistake; the consumption of the potent liquid.

Your head snaps back to the stars as recollection inches closer, taste buds reminded of its lightness and sweet taste of berries which proved to be a mere facade. Ignoring the gentle warnings Legolas whispered to you as you were handed a drink, playfully brushing them off as you welcomed the wine into your mouth. The faces of bewilderment and suppressed laughs as you drunkenly clung to the Prince all evening, plastering his neck and face with kisses, speaking incoherent nonsense into his ear, his arms catching you every time with an all too familiar ease as you tripped on air over and over again.

Your eyes are struck by the face of the moon, feeling a shudder come over you. The moon being the only other witness to the night that followed as the Prince ended your attendance to the party prematurely—the moment you began tugging at his tunic, your whispers becoming coherent and too indiscreet for any ear not belonging to him to hear. His hands claimed you once your eager pleas were out of the average Elf's range of sight and sound, his mouth beckoning you to be quiet with his kiss. The warmth of the summer air and its moonlight draping your nude form as you laid atop his discarded tunic, a makeshift bed on the forest floor.

You tighten the grip on your chalice filled with non alcoholic drink, the aching heat in your core daring to consume you as you recall the way his head dipped in between your thighs, his tongue softer than the moss you clutched. You sigh at his absence, pulling away from the moon's trance as an unavoidable wave of longing claims you, staring into the liquid of your drink. You bring it to your mouth, the brim of the chalice is cool on your lips as you force a swallow and your insides cringe at its lack of something stronger. Then, drinking more as your attempts to not think of him fail, your mind on the tips of his fingers grazing across your back, his eyes resting as his arms held you against his chest, his calmed heartbeat lulling you to sleep. You swallow the final sip, setting the chalice down. Thirst crawls its way back to your mouth.

The overwhelming sensation of sobriety prods at you with the sharpness of a blade.

Your memory becomes clouded with interruption as a gentle pair of arms envelop you from behind. A smile eases onto your lips as his chin rests on your shoulder, smelling traces of wine in his breath. Your shoulders relax as they lean into his embrace, "At last, the Prince has graced me with his presence." You speak with words drenched in playful sarcasm, drawing out a deep chuckle.

"I have been searching for you."

You turn to face him, your eyes failing to resist the temptation to become distracted by the moonlight that comfortably rests upon his porcelain skin. Seconds pass and you finally allow yourself to blink, your lips pursing with accusation, "And it appears you got lost in a wine cellar."

His forehead inches to rest against yours, dwindling your yearning into a distant memory as he hums in response. "I've missed you." He breathes, sliding his hand from your waist to the side of your neck. You lean into his touch, his hand feeling irresistibly soft despite lifetimes of yielding his bow.

"I must insist that you disobey the King's orders the next time he dares to pull you away from me for longer than a fortnight." You brush your lips against his, exchanging breaths. Silence fills the air, freeing you of the sounds of the King's autumnal celebration, harps echoing away from your ears. Your lips meet his—the kiss you’ve been waiting for, warm, soft. An urge strikes you and you depart from him before he grasps the opportunity to light the kiss ablaze, "Unless you'd like me to beg."

A hand slips into the back of your neck, bringing you back to his mouth. You taste berries on his tongue as it enters your mouth. You moan into him, hands flying to grip his shoulders for strength against your weakening knees.

The noise of the guests pull him away, his vision scanning for a pair of eyes lurking, a wandering ear to hear your desires meant only for him. A stream of cheers and refills invades the invisible shield you created for the both of you, proving to be ineffective. You tug at the thick, velvet-like material of his tunic, feeling spoiled as his face turns to yours with concern, albeit realising as he catches your parting lips, sensing your want.

His hand reaches for yours, leading you into the dimly lit forest on a path most familiar. You trail behind him, his quickening pace and strong grip failing to pay any notice to the fallen leaves that stick to the silken material of your dress, the thorns from the bushes tearing almost too easily into the delicate cloth. The path brightens as you near a reentrance to the Elven King's halls, the forest pathway discreetly allowing the quickest way to your destination. Footfalls become more hurried as you smile with glee, a fistful of your dress clenches in your hand to prevent a fall into the moistened ground. You yelp above a tree vein with a mission to bring you to the earth's floor, "Legolas!" You laugh, eyes dashing to him as he falters. His frame towers over you, blending in with the surrounded oaks.

His hand softens into yours as he halts, placing his other onto the side of your neck, a thumb strokes your warmed cheek, "Forgive my eagerness, my starlight."

Your mouth opens in response, only allowing for a gasp to escape as his arms lift you from the ground, carrying on with haste until you are brought to his bedchambers at last. A sharp inhale penetrates you as his lips collide with yours, the shutting of the door reverberating through the room as you allow his hands to untie the cords of your dress, pulling you closer to him as it loosens against your skin. He releases himself from your lips, his kiss drifting to your ear.

His hands move to the sides of your face, "My little star," He whispers, his lips brushing against yours as you shiver, "Will you grant me my desire to please you tonight?"

His hardened length dares to distract you from his words, "Yes," you say, before your breath bids your lungs farewell as the simple act of breathing becomes a foreign concept. Your dress inches off of your shoulders under the command of his careful fingers, an eager gaze following his every move. Goosebumps rise as more of your skin is revealed to him, impatience stirring within your dampening core as he stops to plant kisses along your collarbone. "You cannot rush me into your chambers and undress me so slowly. It is torture." You whine. A deep chuckle vibrates against your neck before his hands grip your dress, pulling. The fine fabric you once adored turns to an unshapely mess as it hits the floor, and a sigh of relief waiting to be freed withdraws from your mouth. Strong arms hoist you up with the haste you crave, his mouth back on yours as he plants you onto the soft covers of the bed. Your hips raise to meet his cock, resulting in a groan and his tongue enters your mouth. His palm grips your thigh, and you watch with half lidded eyes as his mouth leaves yours to venture to your chest. His tongue caresses your breast, a gentle massage that sends your hand flying to his tresses and disturbs the neatness, moaning as his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple. His head rises, a lustful gaze searching for your eyes as they open, fondling your breast with his hand. He flashes you a smile and leaves a hot kiss on your neck, rising from his position above you to sit against the head of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look at him, unsure of why he stopped, mouth opening in question.

"Come."

You lift to your hands and knees, your gaze falling to the outline of his cock as you crawl. His hand grabs your wrist before it reaches and he turns you away from him, your back sinking into his chest. His hand is on your neck as you settle onto him. Your breath becomes uneven, watching his free hand slide down to your core and reach the hem of your undergarment. You help him remove the final piece, entirely exposed as your bare body warms against his attire.

"Tell me, my little star," He whispers into your ear as his fingers find your clit, sliding his tongue across the tip of your ear while you melt deeper into him, "Did you touch yourself while I was away?"

You shudder, feeling his fingers glide across the wetness that gathered in your core, whimpers escaping from your lips as his slickened fingers begin to circle your clit, hips lightly jolting to swallow his touches. You moan, throwing your head back into his chest. His grip tightens around your neck, fingers pressing gently to the sides to coax an answer.

You whimper, the sounds of your wetness brought to your ears, "Yes." You moan, gasping as his pace quickens.

You feel a smile against your skin, writhing against his strong hold, arching as the incomings of an orgasm begins to burn within you—then he stops. Your hand falls to the sheets, a whine forming in your throat.

“Show me.” Legolas says, his voice low, fingers rising from your cunt to rest upon your breast, “Touch yourself.”

You hum softly, turning to face him with a look of question, your cheeks burning with heat at his command. He’s serious—lips curled into a subtle smirk, his eyes exploring the expanse of your shivering body—all while his hand remains wrapped around your neck. Your hand rises, fingers grazing your abdomen, lowering slowly to your aching cunt. A deep inhale enters you as your eyes close, leaning your head back into him as you start to pleasure yourself. Heat overtakes your entire body as it burns against his, soft moans slipping out of your mouth as his words of encouragement—“good girl” “just like that, little dove” “show me how good it feels”—spill into your ear, prompting you to hasten your touches. His hand travels down to your clit in favour of replacing yours, which you gladly retract as it flies to grip the sheets, surrendering under his fingers. A wave of pleasure washes over you, gasping as an orgasm arrives. The Prince is intent on driving you mad with pleasure as he continues circling your delicate pearl, but your trembling hand seizes his wrist, whimpering with a weak effort to bring a pause to his pace, "Legolas."

His fingers settle down into a leisure pace while your heartbeat struggles to calm itself in its enclosure. "Were you not eager for me to pleasure you?" He toys in a deep tone.

"I want you inside of me." You breathe, your grip loosens on his wrist as your muscles remember how to function, the tenseness possessing your body finding relief as his fingers stop. You shift, turning to face him, cheeks heating at the sight of his face. You resist the urge to grind against his lap as you work on removing his attire, straddling him with a timidness that he finds irresistibly adorable. You avoid the wolfish smile tugging at his lips, your mouth watering as his tunic comes undone, unsteady hands reaching to explore his toned chest.

"After all the moments we shared," He inches closer, fingers raising your chin. Your eyes meet his, weakening under his gaze, "You still remain coy as though it was the first time."

Vision blurs from his face to the ceiling as he flips your body to lay against the soft covers of the bed. He rises and stands at the foot of the bed, gaze towering above your splayed form with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. You engage in the act of watching him as he takes the role of undressing himself, staring in awe while your insides flutter as your hand awaits restlessly to feel his cock. His return to you is quick, gratefulness erupting within when his mouth devours you with a fervent kiss. A tongue caresses yours before interruption strikes him with a moan, a sensual stroke of your hand treading dangerously along the length of him. Your fingers curl around him, raising your hips to tease his cock with the wetness of your dripping pussy—but he stops you, restraint apparent on his clenched jaw as he resists the desire to sink his cock into you, dragging his lips to the expanse of your chest, then lowering as his hands stroke your thighs, parting them. You watch as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, reaching to grab hold of his hair. His mouth moves to your core, his warm breath fanning over your cunt. You throw your head back and moan as his tongue licks along your heat, tasting the remnants of your orgasm then trailing up to suckle on your clit. His hand slides up to your breast as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling in upward motions and sending you into bliss. His name releases from your mouth through soft whines, his tongue bringing trembles trickling into your thighs. Your hips roll into his mouth with delicate force, clutching the covers as you moan through the orgasm he brings you. You loosen, laying slack as you take deep breaths, the wondrous exhaustion of being sent to heaven a second time has caught hold of you. He kisses your thigh with tender touches of his hands, then rises to meet you. Your arms wrap around him in embrace, pulling him into a kiss while his cock prods at your thigh. He reaches down to align himself with your core, saturating his length with your wetness. You rock your hips against him as it slides along your slit, whimpering in desperation for him to fill you whole. The head of his cock pushes into your cunt, and a moan leaves his mouth as he buries himself into you, reaching for your hand and enclosing his fingers with yours as he pins it above you. You moan with him as his thrusts grow deeper, pulling him close. A cry escapes your lips and your walls clench around him, raking your nails across his back with quivering lips. You love the familiarity of it all—how he knows every delicate spot to drive into over and over again, the control over your body that he masterfully possesses. His thumb trails across your lower lip as his eyes drink in the sight of you beneath him, your writhing body and nipples brushing against his chest, clinging onto him with your arms while you fill the room with sounds of your pleasure as he pumps in and out of you.

Moments like this are dragged to a wish for eternity as his palm cradles your cheek, his thrusts slowing in an attempt to prolong your bliss—and all you can do is stare into those captivating hues as your vision blurs before your eyes shut. Your mouth parts, soundless save for the shaking of your breaths, a trembling hand reaches for the back of his neck as you shudder into your climax, the walls of your heat convulsing around his girth. "Fill me." A beg cries from your tongue, “Please.” You whimper, cheeks burning.

Your words bring a groan to his lips as his composure crumbles. His cock twitches inside of you, spilling his seed into you, dipping his head down to meet your lips for a kiss—messy, with broken breaths in between, pressing his forehead against yours.

The subtle tremble of your thighs remains as he finally pulls out after a tender moment with his head rested in the crook of your neck. He pulls the covers to your bodies, reaching to bring you closer. You nestle into him and sigh with contentment, cheeks stamped with heat that has finally begun to cool. His fingers graze the expanse of your back under the covers, lips pressing light kisses into your neck. Your eyes close, heavy with sleep, releasing calming breaths that mingle with his as he gazes upon the sight of your face, “Gi melin.” He says and kisses your forehead, resting his chin above your head as sleep claims you.

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ translations

elvish - english

gi melin - i love you

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ taglist: @actualnymph @celestialuna13 @silversword7000 @starbirdfinch @summerannabelle @quackquackmfs @legolaswhore @iaur @straysugzhpe @idk-whatamidoinglmao @desert-fern @suddenlyperson @zealousfartsandwich

(some usernames aren’t able to be tagged so if you joined the taglist and didn’t get tagged pls lmk)

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ did u enjoy?

♡ pls leave a like, comment, or reblog ! ↷　

#legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas smut #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas #legolas fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #legolas thranduilion #legolas oneshot #legolas imagine

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innammoratta · 4 months ago

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Thorin Oakenshield x Reader Pt. I

Concept: Middle Earth/Arda is only one realm among many. The reader is from Earthrealm and was hired to help Thorin's company by Gandalf's invitation. She's a fighter and a member of the Lin Kuei. This is a Mortal Kombat/Hobbit collaboration.

(This is not yet edited, please excuse any mistakes)

* * *

The company had convinced Bard to sail you all to Dale--not without payment of course, which Balin now calculated and counted as everyone chipped in. You surrendered a portion of your currency, placing it on the table in front of Balin, then returned to your sight seeing at the edge of the boat. Your elbows and forearms were perched on the rails and you leaned slightly forward. It was late evening and thick fog rose from the black lakes on which you sailed, offering a covering over the boat. The peaceful atmosphere was a welcome change from the never ending action you were always faced with. In your own realm, you could never imagine such peace. Yes, Arda evidently had a good share of evil beings and bloody battles, but it also had the Shire and Rivendell--beautiful cities and villages untouched by war.

Your own realm had peaceful towns and gorgeous scenery as well, but you never had time to appreciate them. This entire journey with Thorin and his company was the longest you had ever been out in the world,--or a world, rather?--free. You had never experienced the warm sunrise so many days in a row, having lived your whole life in the cold mountains of Tibet. You had never truly witnessed what life was like in every day cities and towns. Places like the Shire... places like Rivendell especially!--these were too good to be true. All your life, you had only known fighting, wars, tournamets.

But what struck you the most was the fellowship you saw within the people in Arda. From the moment you met the Company in Bilbo's home, you found that the warmth of the Dwarves had touched you in a way you felt you had been longing for your entire life. Their two songs, though strange at first, bewildered you the more you thought of them. The company was joined together in joy and in loss, expressing their emotions so freely. You had not been raised to show your emotions. In fact, it was custom, from where you came, to express nothing--but anger, perhaps.

The way they cared for each other, tending to each other's wounds, sharing meals, comforting each other when forlorn and laughing together when merry was all but familiar to you. At first you found their openess overwhelming and frankly exhausting, but you came to appreciate it.

In secret, part of you wanted to be as open and free as they were with their thoughts and hearts. Now, as many members of the company had expressed their utmost admiration for your fighting skills and made effort to take care of you while camped out, you found yourself longing to be a part of them. To share in their joys and share in their sadness, to care for others as they did and be as close as they were. You did not know what it was like to put your trust and confidence in an individual. In your clan, relationships such as these were not allowed. You may rely on your brothers and sisters as a whole, as the Lin Kuei, but never in a personal manner.

You squeezed your fists shut, angry at yourself for having lost the control you once had over your mind and emotions. The longer you were around the Dwarves, the more the intensity of your emotions increased. They had, without knowing, made you more aware of the desires of your heart.

You glanced once again to the table where Balin counted the coins and noticed Kili looking at you. When you met his eyes, he smiled, channeling so much warmth and real, raw emotion to you. He was grateful for your action just a few hours ago, when you had jumped on him to save him from the arrow of an Orc; when you saved his life. It would have been a waste to let him die. The others seemed to love him much.

By your observations, you figured you were supposed to smile back, but you were suddenly overwhelmed with emotions you were incapable of understanding. You did not let yourself feel them, pushing them into a bottle as you had been raised to do. But now it felt as if the bottle was pouring over, unable to contain anything more. You tore your gaze from Kili and tried to distract yourself with the beauty of the lake once again, though unsuccessfully.

"Is something wrong? Were you injured during the attack?" You were surprised to hear Thorin speak casually to you. He had never done so previously. Out of the members of the company, he was the most normal to you. He only spoke when necessary and maintained a calm disposition--though he did let his anger and frustration flow freely. His hostility did not shock you. It was understandable and even quite close to home for you.

You spared him a glance then looked away again, shaking your head. "No, I am fine."

He was unconvinced. It was easy to see you were troubled about something with your clenched fists and rapid, shallow breathing, but he knew better than to intrude. Instead, he thanked you for saving Kili, explaining that he had made a promise to his sister, their mother, to protect them best he could.

At the mention of their family, you felt the increasingly familiar anxiety form in your stomach. Your heart felt as if it was being crushed within you, and a scoff escaped your lips as you couldn't help but raise a hand to your hair, frustrated.

Next to you, Thorin frowned, confused about your response. "What?" He asked, expectantly.

"I apologize." You shook your head and straightened your posture, trying to shed away your troubled mind. "I only..."

Thorin took his hands off the edge of the boat, replacing them with his elbows as he mirrored your previous stance, leaning over to see you better. "Only what?"

You struggled to find the words, remaining silent for a few moments until making the decision to do as they did: speak their minds with utter honesty. "I am jealous of your family." You refused to make eye contact, eyes still fixed on the obscurity of the fog.

Thorin was dumbfounded, taken completely off guard by such an opinion. A sound escaped him, something between a scoff and a chuckle. "My family? You know next to nothing of them." He spares a quick glance at Kili and Fili. "You've only met my nephews."

You shook your head, turning so that you could look at him, but not in the eyes. "But you have a family... and I can tell from what I've witnessed and have been told that you... care for each other." You scratched at the wood beneath your hands, trying to quell your nerves.

Thorin thought for a moment, bewildered until he realized what you had implied. He wanted to ask a question or maybe offer his condolences, but his words ran dry.

"Look! there it is! The mountain!"

You had gratefully turned your attention to where the dwarves were pointing, but Thorin's eyes darted between you and the mountain as he became torn between the desire to continue talking with you and to relish in the moment he had spent years dreaming of; returning home.

With the arrival on land came more obstacles to overcome. Thorin was focused on sneaking past the guards of Dale, and reaching the safety of Bard's home, but he did not miss the way you stared at Bard and his children when they interacted. There was a deep longing in your eyes, maybe even sadness. However, he put aside his curiosity.

It wasn't until after the company had been discovered and the Master of Laketown had promised his help that Thorin began thinking of what to say to you. While you and the company enjoyed the feast hosted by the Master, Thorin was quiet. As soon as the company began filling up with ale, they became more rowdy than usual, no doubt their spirits having been lifted by being so close to Erebor. Though you quite liked hearing their joy, laughter, and jokes, you were still overwhelmed. You sought peace and quiet elsewhere, excusing yourself from the table.

Through the window, you could see that it was late at night. There was even a slight hint that the moon was out and shining so beautifully. So without thinking, you left the house entirely and walked out into the empty streets. A cool breeze went by, colder because of the water surrounding the premises, but it had nothing on the cold you were used to in the moutains of Tibet

Just a few meters away was a dock, looking across the lake with a view of Erebor, you imagined. It was hard to tell with how dark the lake and everything beyond it was. You walked out onto the edge of the dock and sat down, leaning back onto your palms. You did not notice that Thorin was following not far behind you, as he had been waiting for a moment like this.

Just a few seconds later, heavy footsteps on the dock approached you. "It's only me," Thorin announced as you had been close to drawing your dagger. You said nothing, only watching him as he sat down next to you. "It's dangerous to be alone in town this late."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to defend myself. I am able to do so," you stated, relaxing once again.

"I shall never doubt your skill again. However, I insist that you stay close to the company. We're too close to reaching Erebor to lose a member of the company now." Thorin stared at your face and troubled expression, and while you were still silent, he continued. "I wanted to talk to you. About what you said on the boat." His voice was soft and hesitant. "What happened to your own family?"

He was met with only more silence as you tried to figure out whether you should be honest or wise. The Lin Kuei was very secretive, virtually unknown except by a select few. With courage, you turned your head and looked Thorin in the eyes.

He seemed sincere.

He was a very private person.

He was of good character.

"I will answer your questions, but whatever we discuss must be kept between us in complete confidence." You wanted to be like the dwarves, as open and close as they were. So even though you felt uneasy about revealing your secrets, you thought that perhaps it just took courage to be like them.

Thorin nodded once, slowly, to show that he agreed to your terms.

"I barely knew them," you said in a monotone voice, almost nonchalant. "I have a few faint memories, but that is all. I was taken at too young of an age to remember what my parents looked like. I know I had siblings, but I remember even less about them." You outstretched your legs and sighed.

"Taken?" Thorin asked for clarification. "What do you mean?

"In my clan, the Lin Kuei, children are often born into it, but sometimes they are stolen during childhood or even infancy. Then they are brought to the temple to become acrobats... assassins... fighters and warriors. That is what happened to me."

Thorin had nothing to say, unaware that such a place could even exist. It began to make sense, why you looked at Bard's family with longing and why you confessed to envying Thorin's family. "You are still a part of this... clan? They sound diabolical!" He whisper shouted.

You made no reaction and instead changed the subject. "But... that is why I wanted to help you and your company get back that mountain,"--you motioned to it with the jerk of your head. "Long before I was offered to help on this quest, I entertained the idea of looking for my family. I wanted to know what it was like to have a normal home." You looked into Thorin's eyes, sincerely. "So even though your definition of home is a place and mine is the people, I believe we want the same thing. I will help you get your home, so you may grant your kin normal lives, beginning with your nephews and Gloin's son."

Thorin wanted to thank you, or somehow show his appreciation, but first he needed to know, "Did you not attempt to look for your family?"

A new heaviness itself upon your chest, and you looked away from Thorin. "No," you shook your head, "another member of my clan had attempted to find his family once; he was like me. After a long time, he managed to track them down, but they were killed by a rival clan. Because of the bad blood between us, they may do something similar to mine should I attempt to find them. I don't want to risk my family's life, if they are indeed still alive and well. They don't deserve to lose anyone else."

"You have done much to help us on our quest. Once we have taken back Erebor, I should like to help you reunite with your family." As you looked at Thorin with a shocked expression, he realized it was indeed impulsive of him to promise you help, but you risked your life for his cause, and he endeavored to do the same for you some day.

You smiled for the first time in forever, it felt awkward, but you were touched by Thorin's offer. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do with a normal life even if I had the opportunity to have one. After the life I've lived, I don't believe I'd integrate well into civilization." You stood to your feet, wanting the conversation to come to a conclusion. It had been nice to be open, but it was also exhausting.

Thorin quickly stood as well, facing you and taking a step forward. "The odds never seem to be in our favor. There is a dragon in that mountain at this very moment, the same one who burned my home and murdered and drove all my people away--thousands of people! Yet here we are, 15 of us headed to take it back. Are you not willing to fight for your home as you are helping me do now? Even for just the chance of getting it back?" He had such a passion in his eyes, you admired it. But his attempts to inspire you were in vain.

"And if I found my family... what will I do? Live amongst them?" You wore a bitter smirk. "There is no leaving the Lin Kuei. It is punishable by death." And with that, you began heading back to the rest of the company.

Thorins face softened at yet another piece of shocking information. He was not used to accepting defeat so easily. He would find a way to fight for your freedom.

#thorin oakenshield #Thorin x reader #Thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin x human reader #Thorin Oakenshield x human reader #The Hobbit x reader #The hobbit oneshots #The Company x reader #Thorin's company x reader #The Hobbit

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htchnr · 8 months ago

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♰ drink you dry ༻ THRANDUIL.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist.➻ buy me a coffee! ➻ 1K drabble event!

CW ➻ smut ⋆ piv ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ blood sucking ⋆ wound licking ⋆ MODERN AU! Vampire!Thranduil ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

SUMMARY ➻ edited my old Graves vampire fic to be a Thranduil fic to see how i like Vampire!Thran ... safe to say i will most likely write a full thing for him now .. WC ➻ 0,7K.

you lean against the windowsill, leant forward ever so slightly as you looked out at the dark sky — stars spattered around like a messy painting.

a full body shudder wracked through you when his hands smoothed over the swell of your hips, long and slender fingers dragging up the curve of your waist — then smoothing back down.

his breath is hot against your ear when he leans in to speak, a shivering - "well, hello again sweetheart," - coming from his lips.

you whimper in pleasure as he dips his head down, his long silvery blonde hair cascading over your shoulder, his nose dragging against the soft skin of your throat — breathing in deeply through his nose as he drowns himself in your scent.

"oh how i've missed your pleasurably sweet scent," he breathes, lips brushing against the skin, his hot breath trailing as his lips are slightly parted in pure pleasure.

your breath hitches, your hands moving to cover his that have found purchase on your hips, your smaller hands gripping around his as his lips drag across your throat so euphorically.

oh how you've missed him — missed his large hands, missed his strong yet lean body against yours, missed his sharp teeth scratching down your skin — threatening to sink into your flesh and drink you dry.

he grins against your throat, sharp teeth scraping around in such a pleasuring way — if it was anyone else you'd almost be embarrassed at how wet his teeth got you.

he grins — his teeth pressed against your throat. "you missed me too, huh honey?" he coos, voice low and almost mocking.

though, how could you ever hate him when the endearing names roll off his tongue like sticky sweet honey, just waiting for you to give in and have a taste?

you close your eyes, clenching them tight as you shiver in anticipation — his hands dragging their way up your hips, slowly gliding up your waist — how were you ever meant to resist him?

you whimper, squirming against his hold as he pushes in — his teeth still dragging across your throat as he bottoms out.

moans fill the otherwise silent space of your attic, the erotic sounds spilling out the window and into the stars as he slowly pulls out — only to forcefully push in again.

"i've missed you so much, my dear," he moans — it almost sounded pathetic coming from between his sharp teeth. the chance of him missing you was slim, you knew he had plenty of places he went to drink and let himself go.

your breath catches in your throat as his pace quickens, your brows furrowing as you clenching around him, only getting even more aroused at the sounds he's making against you every time your walls tighten around him.

"are you gonna be a good girl for me?" he pants, his tongue licking a short stripe right over your pulse.

"you gonna let me taste you again? hm?" his sharp teeth threatening to break your soft skin if you move more than an inch.

you clenched around him, involuntarily showing him your answer. though, he knows you'll let him have you anyway.

"you love it, don't you honey?" he moans, savouring the sound of your whimpers as his teeth starting slowly sinking into your flesh — blood starting to slowly drip.

he drags his tongue across the small wounds, his pace having slowed to halt as he moans at the taste of your blood. he groans, leaning in to wrap his lips around the flesh.

you whimper and moan, your walls fluttering around him as you buck your hips against his. you would never admit how good it felt — how down right euphoric it feels as he wraps his lips around your punctured flesh and drinks your blood.

he sinks his teeth in a little deeper — his mind clouded with the taste of you as he seeks more. the obscene moans that are being muffled by your throat as he grinds into you.

you shut your eyes, the wave of euphoria crashing closer and closer the more he drinks. you were sure you could get off on his lips alone.

"oh shit-" you gasp, shaking against him as you orgasm hits you like a tsunami — blinding you with pleasure as you shake in his hold.

"oh just like that, you taste so good sweetheart-" he moans with your blood coating his teeth, bucking into you in a haze, chasing his own pleasure.

it doesn't take long for him to come, buried inside you with his lips wrapped around your wounds. he let's out a long, euphoric groan — painting your walls white.

he leans forward a little, holding you up as he catches his breath. and with that stupid, sharp and bloody grin whispers — "i'll come find you again my dear, you better stay put."

and though you're kind of curious about what would happen you you didn't stay put, you know you could never willingly walk away from him.

you let out a stuttered breath as he pulls out of you, his warm cum dripping down your thighs and onto the old wooden floor. and as if he disappeared with the low howl of the wind — he was gone as quick as he had arrived.

'what if i left?' — who are you even kidding? you'd always find your way back to him.

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️thranduil #*⁀➷ vampire!thranduil.#thranduil x you #thranduil imagine #thranduil oneshot #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #thranduil #vampire thranduil #lotr x you #lotr x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader

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two-white-butterflies · 5 months ago

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★ — cassandra | thranduil

Description: Cassandra: shining upon man, a name bestowed by the mortals that surrounded your husband's kingdom. Being bestowed the gift of foresight, you have seen things in motion - that is until a tragedy happens. One that you did not foresee.

"What is it like to be a prophet? Everywhere Cassandra went she found that she was already there."

Pairing: thranduil/reader. (elrond's daughter)

Genre: angst [major character death]

Warning: I make my own timeline.

There were many things in the darkness that stayed unseen. The darkness plagued your dreams, a tangible darkness that watched in the background beside you as the events unfolded. As a child, the dreams were tame - Elladan breaking your mother's favorite vase or Elrohir scraping his knees while running down the halls.

When you grew older, the dreams turned grim. The tangible darkness that used to watch beside you now became a character of these dreams. It played in your head repeatedly; Greenwood marred by darkness, the elves fleeing to Valinor.

It haunted you.

"My child." Ada places a guiding hand on your shoulder. One of the few elves that shared your burden of foresight. "Darling," he whispered seeing the tears pool on the corners of your eyes.

Despite his gentle nudging, all attempts of reviving you from the drown - the trance does not break. You remain inside your dream. Elrond furrows his eyebrows, sensing fear and sadness in you.

"Does she wake?" Elladan leans on the doorframe.

This has been a common occurrence in the household. When the moon is in clarity, and the members in deep sleep - they get stirred awake by the sound of your tears - by the sound of objects falling from your room. "No," Elrond responds seeing your tight grip on the bedsheet - mumbling curses that he could not fathom.

A sigh escapes the younger twin's mouth.

He takes a step towards the bed, sitting beside the plump pillows that surrounded her body. "You must jump off the boat now," he mumbled, reaching for your clenched fists - opening it slowly. "When the rain comes we'll prepare the barrels, but awaken and enjoy the warmth of the sun." he pleaded.

Out of all the siblings, Elladan admired you the most. His oldest sister who had a gentle disposition and a caring voice. He did not like seeing you in pain; haunted by the inevitable.

Almost instantly, your eyes opened.

Father tries to calm you down but you are haunted. You tried to break free from the haunting, but something prevents you to speak. That tangible darkness that continued to hold you back.

You clawed at your forearm. In disbelief of what's to come.

"Naneth," you managed to whisper out. At the end of the night, you weren't alone in the haunting.

Soon after the prophecy, your father called for all his soldiers to trek the dangerous road that your mother was travelling on. Elladan tried to ask you questions, but there were no words that left your mouth. You tried to speak, tried to open your mouth - but no sound escaped.

'Everywhere Cassandra ran, she found that she was already there.'

A month later, Elladan and Elrohir arrived carrying the shell of your mother. All remnants of self-control leaves your body.

"She'll live. Your father is the greatest healer in all of Arda." your grandsire comforts, you burrow deeper into the sheets.

Celeborn takes a deep breath.

"There are scars that cannot be healed by time." the first time you spoke in months. You turned your body to look at him. Seeing the very same fear, sadness and anger in his eyes.

There were titles bestowed to people with deceased parents. There were titles bestowed to people with deceased lovers. But there were no titles bestowed to those with deceased children, for they shall be title-less and the greatest honors be taken away.

The following day, mother left for the Grey Havens. She left no comforting words or letters, but she kissed your foreheads in the middle of the night and father escorted her to the shores.

"My child," Galadriel smiles warmly, seeing you leaning on the doorframe as she broke her fast with your siblings. "- sit, you must eat." her voice was filled with tenderness.

Then suddenly memories of your mother's imprisonment flash through your eyes - your appetite is ruined for years to come. Galadriel tries to open her mouth again but you run away.

You run away from the dreams that plague your mind.

"Will she be alright?" Arwen inquires. They were used to your terrible dreams, even admired the times that you'd push through with a smile on your face, but this reaction was new to them.

Fleeing and disassociating with reality.

With their mother gone and their oldest sister drowning.

The family was lost too.

Lady Galadriel takes a sip of her tea, watching as her good-son attempts to mask his sorrow. That's what they were all doing, anyways. Hiding their grief because it's much easier than facing the truth, that Celebrian is in the Grey Havens and they are alone.

Alone again.

Alone until they decide to flee; it will be a long time. It will take centuries and thousands of years.

"She must come with me." she breathes.

Elrond's eyebrows merge together. "My daughter must stay here." he argued, not wanting another member of his family to be out of reach.

"She dreamt of her mother. She's seen the atrocities of which Celebrian refuses to speak of - I know that you have experience with this too but her dreams are different, not detached verses of massacres and war but personal deaths. She needs my help, and the love that I bare for her is deep and true. I feel her pain." Galadriel continues. She wanted to protect you. Forever.

"- my daughter was scarred, wounds inflicted upon her soul. I fear that these dreams may happen again, that she may dream of a future that we cannot see - and we'll lose her." she whispered.

Elrond reluctantly agrees with Galadriel's plan.

Your father was right!

Lothlorien filled you with tranquility. A feeling of safety that you've lost to the abyss. It felt like your mother's embrace, caging you and preventing the fall. Lady Galadriel continued monitoring you - keeping the darkness at bay, ensuring that you wouldn't remember your dreams even if they were to happen at night.

Soon after, happiness returned.

One night, while you were sleeping - your dreams were able to seep through the web of your grandmother's enchantment, and you dreamt of an elven-prince.

He was fair in the face, his hair was long and golden. He wore a crown of flowers and his voice was like honey to the ear. His name was Prince Thranduil of Greenwood, and he was to be yours.

(AMON LANC)

"What causes your joy, meleth?" Thranduil wraps his arms around your waist, allowing the moonlight to illuminate your features.

"I remembered something." you hummed, burying your face in his chest. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood invades your nose. You continued inhaling his scent, a scent that reminded you of home. "Pray tell," he whispered - allowing the peace to settle in your chambers. "The birth of our twins," you smiled.

The happiest day of your life. Erynlas and Legolas were born, they were born in the longest summer of Greenwood. Your father told you that it was a good omen, that your children would bring good harvest. The locals of Laketown were quick to send gifts down the river for the elfling, and all was well in Arda.

"I remember your panic-stricken face." you pointed out, he responded with a small chuckle. "I was afraid, but seeing our children brought relief." he admitted.

"We must enjoy it while it lasts. I remember Elladan and Elrohir, they grew up swiftly and my parents were left longing for the days when they were elflings." you continued. "Our children inherited your gentle disposition," he noted.

"- and none of your petulance." you were quick to retort.

"None yet." he smiled, as if knowing something that I didn't.

There was silence between them; the kind of silence that persevered between two people who understood one another.

"You were dreaming, yesterday." he opened his mouth, unable to see your face that was buried in his chest. "Dreaming about what?" you raised an eyebrow, long having forfeited the power of remembering your dreams. "You were mumbling things, kept saying 'no'." he reported, concern was evident in his features.

As much as you tried to remember the dreams, you couldn't.

"Was it your foresight that made you dream such?" he inquired. Your eyebrows merged together, and that familiar tightness on your chest returned. What if something was to happen on your family?

You had to exhaust every possible option to keep them safe. "I-I don't know, but it could've been just a nightmare." you comforted him. You pulled away from his embrace, opting to stare at his face.

"- and if it wasn't then I promise to keep us safe." you promised.

"I promise the same." he vowed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "- but you must rest, for we shall have an early morning tomorrow." he noted, reminding you that you were about to leave Amon Lanc to escape the darkness that wished to take hold of Greenwood.

You awakened in the middle of the night. Lifting the covers off your body, you frowned, not seeing your husband so you decide to tiptoe towards the children's rooms. A groan escapes your mouth, feeling that horrible headache forming at the back of your head. Could this be? This must be another one of your dreams.

Your husband was telling you about the words that escaped your mouth whilst sleeping. Was the truth about to reveal itself?

You walked through the empty hallways, seeing no guards on their post. Peculiar. Your hands danced through the fabric of the tapestries that littered the walls. Weaves of forests and elves.

Even art created by Thranduil.

You entered the Twins' bedroom, seeing them slumber peacefully in their beds. Erynlas, the heir, inherited your husband's features. Her long flowing locks and piercing blue eyes, a copy of your husband.

Legolas, was the same, although he had your eyes and your demeanor. He was always patient, allowing his sister to play with his toys, not shedding a single tear when she grabs it from his hands.

You pressed a kiss to both of their foreheads.

If this was a dream, then why isn't anything happening?

Have your dreams evolved to find a different form? That tangible darkness wasn't watching or standing beside you. The darkness wasn't in this room. Have you found peace?

You shouldn't have spoken too soon, because a second later a dagger was pressed to her neck. "Look what I've found," the human opened his mouth with a chuckle. They were mercenaries. You've seen that crest before, but you couldn't remember where.

"Idiot, the bounty says that we're supposed to kill the prince." the other man rolled his eyes, but the man holding a dagger to your neck chuckled. "I think this ones an elf, a princess methinks." he took a slice of your neck, allowing little blood to trickle down your nightgown.

This scene has already played before, in your dreams, but you couldn't remember it - you couldn't remember until it's already happened. And wherever you went, you found that you were already there. "I wonder how much they'd pay for her head." he pondered.

"The Lurgburz would give us a fortune, but we were sent here to kill an heir. She is not an heir." the other man responded. You wanted to speak, but the darkness prevents you from raising your voice. 'I am an heir too. Lord Elrond's.' but the visions make you mute.

There were tears spilling out of your eyes. You felt weak. Hopeless against them.

"Then let's kill the prince's heir. Much easier than killing the prince. He's a great warrior, I've heard and if his wife's awake. Won't he be awake too?" the man continued holding the dagger on your neck.

"Which means that we have to make this quick." the other man reached for the dagger in his pockets. "Which one's the heir?" the man stared at you, and he'll forever be haunted by that look in your eyes. Red, wide, in fear.

"No," you mumbled watching as the other man stands in the middle of their cribs. "If you don't tell us then we'll kill them both." he threatened and air runs out of your lungs.

"No," you continued to mumble. They found joy in toying with you. They found joy in threatening a creature that was older than them. The other man lifted Erynlas' blankets, seeing a pink nightgown on her body. "This one's the heir," the other man stated.

"We should kill the boy, a boy is more valuable than a girl." the man surmised, forcing his mortal standards unto your elvish ones. "No, not the boy." you whispered - your subconscious knowing something that your conscious mind didn't.

Your subconscious knew that Legolas was the key to Arda's freedom. That he'd be a part of the Fellowship, and thus, he couldn't die. "She speaks," the other man teased, raising his dagger pointing it on your daughter's neck. And the tangible darkness that used to haunt you, that used to watch beside you, became a guiding hand.

Told you to grab Legolas and run.

The man's grip on you softened, he walked towards your daughter's crib. "No, no...." you mumbled, staring at the room once covered with leaves and little toys that you bought from Laketown.

You reluctantly reach for Legolas in his bed. Lifting him off the mattress while he continued his slumber. The darkness told you that Erynlas was born to die, while your son was born to live.

You walked down the stairs, about to return to your chambers but the darkness stops you from doing that. Instead leading you towards King Oropher's chambers. You open his doors - to your surprise they weren't locked tonight.

King Oropher stirs awake, seeing a figure enter his chambers. "Good morrow?" he paused, thinking that it was his handmaidens that had come to wake him. But once his vision turns back to normal, he realizes that it was you - and he sees the tears in your eyes, lips mumbling words that he could not fathom.

He repeats your name, seeing you sit on the floor - rocking your body back and forth. He was about to speak again, but you prevent him from doing so. "They took the heir." you cried out - unable to even speak like a mother, in fear, forced to speak like your perpetrators.

A/N: Made for my own self-indulgence. Inspired by EP1 of HOTDS2.

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thewulf · 6 months ago

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Starlit Promises || Legolas

Summary: Request - Heyy I really like how you write Legolas and also your writing in general so I thought I'd request a Legolas x reader where in reader saves him from an orc attack and got hurt in the process. Hehe that's all have a good day!

A/N: Ahhh I really like this one. Ty Anon for the amazing request as always.

Pairing: Legolas x Elf Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

TW: Orcs, attack, shot with an arrow, poison, angst, sad Legolas

Growing up in the lush, enigmatic depths of Mirkwood had shaped you into the warrior you are today. Side by side with Legolas you had spent countless hours under the tutelage of the same masters learning the arts of combat and stealth. Though your paths within the kingdom's defense forces eventually diverged with Legolas rising to accompany his father on diplomatic missions and you embedding deeper into the scout units you never lost the connection forged in those formative years.

Your friendship with Legolas was based on a foundation of deep respect and a shared love for the vast, mysterious woodland that was your home. Over the years, King Thranduil himself had come to hold you in high regard as he appreciated how you continually challenged and supported his son. Making sure to keep him grounded and focused.

After many seasons apart, duty finally brought you back together. It was a reunion marked by warm smiles and a quick rekindling of your lifelong friendship. Eager to make the most of this reunion you both decided to embark on a patrol through some of the darker much less traveled parts of Mirkwood. These regions were where the trees grew dense, and the shadows lingered. They were known for being unpredictable, yet they offered a serene beauty that was unmatched elsewhere in the kingdom.

As you walked alongside Legolas, your steps silent and your senses alert, you found comfort in the familiar presence of your friend. The air was filled with the sounds of distant waterfalls and the occasional call of a wood pigeon. Conversation flowed easily between you. It was filled with stories of past exploits and shared adventures. It was as if no time had passed at all, and you were just two young elves exploring the woods as you had all those hundreds of years ago.

Yet, the peace of the forest was deceptive and as seasoned warriors both of you remained vigilant. It was a routine patrol on the surface but in Mirkwood with the darkness ever growing one could never be too careful. Little did you know the shadows held more than just the whispers of ancient trees that day.

In the shadow-drenched depths of Mirkwood where the dense canopy stifled even the slightest beam of sunlight you and Legolas moved with the silent grace of seasoned warriors. The forest's deceptive calm should have been your first warning, but you were so engrossed in his presence you didn’t think too much of it. It was a heavy stillness that shrouded the advance of danger. It was in this eerie silence that the ambush was sprung as a large band of orcs burst from their hidden positions among the twisted undergrowth.

In the midst of the intense and chaotic battle with the clash of metal resounding through the ancient trees of Mirkwood a sudden, jarring sound made your heart skip a beat. It was the distinct twang of a bowstring. A sound you’d recognize anywhere amidst the close-quarters combat that it sent a ripple of alarm through you.

You and Legolas were back-to-back and fighting in seamless coordination Legolas's breath hitched audibly, a rare sign of his alarm. His voice was urgent and tinged with a touch of panic as it reached your ears over the din of battle.

"Y/N, the leader, he's aiming for—"

Before he could finish you saw the movement. A shadowy figure at a distance with a notched arrow gleaming with a sinister sheen that could only mean poison. Time seemed to slow as you realized the target was none other than Legolas himself.

With a surge of adrenaline, you acted on pure instinct. "Legolas, down!" you shouted pushing him towards the ground even as you leaped to intercept the flight path of the arrow.

Legolas who was forced down by your push hit the forest floor hard. He turned just in time to see your actions. "No, Y/N!" His voice was laced with horror and desperation as he realized what you were about to do.

The arrow struck and the sound of your grunt of pain was drowned out by Legolas's anguished yell. He scrambled to his feet eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury. "Why would you do this?" he bellowed. His voice cracking with a mix of horror and desperation. His eyes were wide with shock and nearing tears. They searched yours for an answer he could not find in the chaos of his own emotions.

As you staggered from the impact the world began to blur at the edges as the poison was already coursing through your veins. With what strength you had left you managed to whisper, trying to reassure him despite the growing darkness clouding your vision. "Had to... save you. Watch out... he has more..."

Legolas was now beside himself with worry and rage. He turned his attention back to the orc leader with a fierce glare. His usual calm demeanor was shattered by the sight of you injured because of him. He drew his own arrow with a swift, deadly precision that was uncharacteristic but fueled by his tumultuous emotions. "No one harms you and escapes unscathed," he murmured almost to himself as he prepared to return the favor with lethal intent.

What followed was a blur of motion and violence. Legolas moved like a tempest. His arrows finding their marks with lethal precision. Each strike was a blow against his own anguish, a defiance of the fate that had struck you down. The orcs fell one by one. They were no match for the wrath of a prince fighting for the life of a friend he so dearly loved.

As the last of the orcs crumpled to the forest floor, silenced forever, Legolas turned back to where you lay, your face pale and your breaths shallow. He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he gently lifted you into his arms. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The usual whispers of the leaves stilled by the gravity of the moment.

Legolas's steps were swift and sure as he began the urgent journey back to the healers. Each step was a race against the relentless creep of the poison within you. As he moved with his arms secure around you he began to whisper. His voice a soft contrast to the earlier fury that had consumed him.

"Stay with me," he murmured. His words tinged with a desperation he had never known. "You must stay with me." His voice broke as the reality of the situation pressed upon him. The weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm his stoic facade.

The forest blurred past as Legolas with you cradled securely in his arms. He pushed through the undergrowth with an urgency born of sheer desperation. The poison from the orc’s arrow was relentless and with each labored breath you took his heart clenched tighter.

As he hurried his voice was a steady stream of encouragement meant to fortify both your spirits and his own resolve. “You’re so strong. You can fight this,” he urged quietly. His tone gentle yet firm. The dense foliage seemed to part before his determination. The shadows of Mirkwood bending to his will.

“You have to hold on. I need you to hold on,” he continued. His voice only for you. A personal warmth amidst the encroaching darkness of your pain. His words were a lifeline thrown in the hope that your spirit would grasp it and cling to life.

Within his mind a storm of thoughts raged. As he looked down at your face contorted with the effort to stay conscious he was struck by a revelation so profound it rooted itself deep within his soul. I love her, he realized with startling clarity. The thought was both a balm and a torment emerging amidst the terror of possibly losing you. Why did it take the brink of losing her to see how vital she is to me? His heart ached with the weight of his newfound understanding. An understanding that came at such a cruel cost.

Meanwhile, you, despite the searing pain, felt the urgency in his voice and it gave you a focus. A point to anchor your fading strength. You tried to respond. To give him some sign that you heard him. That you were fighting not just for your own life, but for him, for the future you hadn't yet considered might be possible together. Your lips moved slightly as a whisper of sound that was more an exhale of pain than coherent words.

Legolas felt the faint stir of your attempt to speak and it spurred him on. His strides growing even more determined. “Just a little farther,” he promised you, and perhaps himself. “We’re almost there. Stay with me.”

His mind continued to race with thoughts of love and loss, but he kept these revelations locked within choosing instead to flood you with hopeful, encouraging words. Every step was a silent vow. Every heartbeat a silent plea to whatever fates watched over the elves of Mirkwood.

As the gates of the palace finally came into sighta surge of tentative relief washed over him. The guards recognized the dire nature of your condition and rushed to meet him calling for the healers swiftly. Legolas’s arms relinquished you with a reluctance that was palpable. His hands lingering until the last possible moment as he handed you over to their care.

Watching the guards swiftly carry you away Legolas could only stand there for a moment, alone and suddenly bereft. The depth of his emotions swirling chaotically within. Hold on, please hold on, he thought. His heart echoing each word of encouragement he had given you. Now a silent mantra for the both of you.

In the somber halls of the Mirkwood palace, Thranduil arrived, drawn by the urgent whispers of his guards about an incident involving his son and one of his most valued elves. As he entered his eyes found Legolas who stood alone. His posture betraying a mix of shock and despair rarely seen on the prince.

Approaching quietly Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder, his presence immediately steadying. "Legolas, tell me what has happened," he urged. His voice firm yet lined with concern.

Legolas's response was choked. A surge of emotions breaking through his usually composed demeanor. Turning to face his father, tears welled in his eye. It was a terribly rare sight that shook Thranduil to his core. "She... she saved me," Legolas stammered. The words laced with pain and guilt. "An orc aimed a poisoned arrow at me, and she stepped in front. She took the hit herself. It should have been me, Father."

The king's eyes widened in horror as he processed the gravity of the situation. His mind racing with the implications of your selfless act. "Legolas," Thranduil said softly as he guided his son to sit beside him on a nearby bench, an effort to offer comfort amidst the cold stone surroundings. "You must not blame yourself for her bravery. She acted out of loyalty and courage. These are qualities that are to be honored, not lamented."

Legolas wiped at his eyes, struggling to compose himself. "But I love her, Father. And now, I might lose her because I could not protect her," he confessed. The words tumbling out amidst sobs. The admission of his feelings which were spoken aloud for the first time seemed to both relieve and burden him further.

Thranduil was taken aback by the depth of his son’s emotions. He reached out, his own composure tinged with empathy. "My son, love is both a strength and a vulnerability. You must hold onto the hope that she will recover. And should she wake, it is your duty—and your right—to tell her of your feelings."

The king stood, resolute. "I will speak with the healers to ensure that everything possible is being done," he promised. Returning his attention to Legolas, he added, "Stay strong, Legolas. She fought to save you. Now you must be strong for her."

Thranduil placed a reassuring hand on Legolas's shoulder. His gaze intense and commanding. "There is something you can do, Legolas. Go to her," he instructed firmly. "The healers say that even in unconsciousness the presence of someone familiar may be felt. Your presence could provide the strength she needs to fight this poison."

Legolas looked at his father. The determination in Thranduil's voice sparking a flicker of hope within him. "Talk to her, hold her hand, let her feel your presence. Keep her grounded to this world. Your voice, your touch… it may reach her when our medicine cannot."

Rising from the bench with renewed purpose Legolas nodded solemnly. "I will not leave her side," he vowed. The resolve in his voice masking the tremor of his underlying fear.

Thranduil watched as his son strode towards the healers quarters. His posture that of a prince, yet driven by the raw, powerful emotions of an elf in love. "She saved you for a reason, Legolas. Now, give her a reason to return," Thranduil murmured to himself as he watched Legolas disappear behind the delicate curtains that shrouded the healing chambers.

Inside, Legolas approached your side with his heart pounding as he took in your serene yet pained expression. Gingerly, he took your hand in his. The coolness of your skin against his warm palm stirring a mix of emotions within him. Sitting beside you he began to speak his voice soft but clear threading through the quiet hum of the healing ward.

"I'm here just like you've always been there for me. Remember the storms we weathered together? The quiet moments we shared under the stars of our beautiful Mirkwood? Hold onto those memories now as I hold onto your hand. You must come back to us, to me," Legolas whispered. His words a tender plea laced with strength and love.

As he continued to speak he recounted tales of their past adventures and shared dreams. Legolas's presence became a silent, steadfast hope, anchoring you in the fight against the darkness that threatened to claim you.

"Remember the time we chased the fireflies at dusk?" Legolas continued. His voice a soft murmur meant only for you. "We wandered so far that night we almost missed the evening banquet. Your laughter echoed through the woods, brighter even than the lights we chased. I think that was the moment I realized how dear you were to me though I never had the courage to say it. I wish I said it."

He paused. His thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, each memory a pull trying to guide you back. "And then there was the storm. The one that caught us off guard near the northern border. We took shelter under that old oak. The one that's stood for a thousand years. You were so calm, so brave, even as the thunder roared around us. It was more than bravery. It was a peace within you that even the storm couldn't disturb. I truly fell in love with you then."

His voice grew softer, each word laden with emotion. "I've always admired that about you—your strength, your serenity. It's been a constant source of comfort to me, more often than you know." A sigh escaped him, a mixture of admiration and deep-seated fear. "I need that strength now, more than ever. You have to fight through this. I... I can't envision a world without you in it mellon vaer nîn, meleth nîn." He whispered to you.

Legolas's gaze lingered on your face. His eyes tracing the familiar features as if trying to imprint them deeper into his memory. "There are so many things I still want to share with you. The sunrise over the Silverlode. Quiet mornings in the glades. So many adventures yet to be had. I need you to come back to me."

As he continued to speak recalling tales of their past his voice became your lifeline, tethered to the hope of your recovery. With each story he tried to weave you back to consciousness. To draw you away from the shadows that clung too closely.

Hours passed, a silent vigil marked only by the rhythm of his voice and the faint but steady beat of your heart. It was during one such tale as Legolas recounted a particularly daring escapade from their youth that he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. It was slight, nearly imperceptible, but to Legolas, it was as profound as the sun breaking through a week of rain.

His heart leapt and his words faltered for a moment. "Are you there? Can you hear me?" he asked. His voice a blend of hope and urgency. When there was no further response he settled back with a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. "I'll keep talking… just keep listening. You're not alone." Legolas's resolve hardened, bolstered by the faint sign of your fighting spirit. He continued to talk. Each word a pledge of his presence and protection. His stories a bridge carrying you back from the brink.

The healing ward was bathed in the soft, ethereal light of dawn filtering through the high windows. Legolas sat steadfast by your side with his hand still holding yours as a silent anchor in the hushed space. He continued to speak with his voice a soft, continuous presence in the hushed space continuously recounting tales, and shared dreams. He was weaving a tapestry of memories meant to guide you back.

As he recounted a particularly fond memory of a midsummer festival where you both had danced under the stars until the world seemed nothing more than a swirl of lights and laughter your eyelids began to flutter. It was a slight movement but enough to pause the flow of his words.

Your eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the dim light of the room, focusing with effort on the figure who had not left your side. Legolas watched you carefully. His breath held in a mixture of hope and anxiety. Seeing your eyes finally meet his, a wave of relief and joy washed over him, though he tempered his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm you.

"You're awake," he said softly. His voice a mix of wonder and warmth, his grip on your hand tightening gently.

You managed a weak smile. Your voice barely a whisper but filled with gratitude and warmth. "Legolas..." you breathed, your eyes locking onto his conveying everything you felt but couldn't yet say.

He leaned closer with his forehead nearly touching yours. His eyes were bright with emotion. "You are home," he whispered as his voice trembled slightly. "You're here with me. That is all that matters."

You nodded weakly, your smile widening just a bit. "Home," you agreed softly, the word holding so much more than its simple meaning. It was a promise, a recognition of the bond that had brought you back from the brink.

Legolas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His touch ever so gentle and reverent. "I was so afraid of losing you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your bravery, your sacrifice... I cannot bear the thought of a world without you in it."

Your hand squeezed his lightly. A small gesture but one that conveyed strength and reassurance. "I'm here," you whispered back, the effort taxing but necessary. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"We have so much more to see together. So many more memories to share," Legolas continued with a smile playing on his lips. "I promise from now on every moment will be a testament to the life you fought so hard to return to."

Your smile widened a bit more, your energy still faint but growing with every moment of connection. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," you replied. Your voice was stronger this time, filled with the promise of many tomorrows.

In that quiet evening with the last light painting the world in hues of pink and gold, Legolas and you shared a moment of profound gratitude and love. A bond deepened by trials and now unbreakable by anything that the future might hold.

As your strength slowly returned Legolas took you to a secluded glade one evening. A hidden sanctuary where the world's concerns seemed to dissolve under the brilliance of the starlit sky. The air was cool and carried the sweet scent of blooming night flowers. You both settled on a soft blanket surrounded by the tranquil whisper of the forest.

Looking up at the stars Legolas turned toward you, his blue eyes reflecting the celestial light. He took a deep breath as if preparing to share something significant, and then began to speak. His voice soft yet clear. "I've spent many nights under these stars," he said, "but none felt as profound as tonight, being here with you." He paused giving you a moment to absorb the words. "When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I realized something vital. Just how much you mean to me, how deeply I care about you."

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and joy. The sincerity in his voice and the earnest look in his eyes it was all you had ever hoped for yet never dared to expect. "Legolas, I...," you started your emotions thickening your voice. "I've felt the same way for a long time. But I never thought—"

"That we might have a future together?" Legolas interjected gently. "I know. I've been a fool, letting time pass without speaking my heart. But I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. I love you. More than I can say."

Tears welled in your eyes but not from sadness but from a profound relief and happiness. "I love you too," you replied. Your voice a soft echo of his own declaration. "I always have."

Legolas reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentle touch. "Then let us make a promise tonight," he suggested. His gaze locked with yours, "to never hold back our feelings. To cherish each moment, we have together and to face whatever comes with unity and strength."

You nodded, feeling the weight and warmth of his hand in yours. "I promise," you said. "To all of that."

The night deepened around you, but in the glade, illuminated by starlight, a new chapter of your life together began. It was a promise made not just in words but in the shared glances, the gentle touches, and the quiet commitment to face life's complexities together. With Legolas by your side the future seemed not just a path to walk but a journey to cherish.

The next morning, with the promise of the previous night still fresh and luminous like the dawn Legolas sought his father in the tranquil palace gardens. Dappled sunlight filtered through the ancient trees casting golden patterns on the mossy floor.

"Father," Legolas began with his voice carrying a newfound confidence mixed with joy, "last night under the stars, Y/N and I made a promise. I wish to ask her to let me court her with the intention of marriage."

Thranduil paused with his gaze piercing as he turned to face his son. For a moment his expression was unreadable. Then, a wide, genuine smile transformed his face. "Finally," he exclaimed with a rare chuckle. "You have truly found your path, my son. It is about time."

Legolas smiled, a weight lifting from his shoulders with his father's blessing. Bolstered by this support he planned a special moment to formally begin the courtship. He chose a small, exquisite pendant shaped like a star. An echo of the night that had sealed your shared destiny.

Later that day as you stood in the lush Mirkwood gardens Legolas approached you. The late afternoon sun lit the clearing casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. In his hand he held the delicate star-shaped pendant which sparkled as it caught the light.

"Y/N," he said gently, drawing your attention. His hand extended offering the pendant to you. "Last night, under the starlight, we promised to face whatever comes together. With all my heart, I ask you now, will you let me court you with the hope and intention that one day you will be my wife?"

The moment was overwhelming. More tears sprang to your eyes as the magnitude of what this meant filled you. You had loved Legolas for so long, sometimes fearing your affection was a solitary flame. Now hearing his heartfelt words, confirming that he felt the same, was a relief so profound that sobs of joy escaped you.

"Yes, Legolas," you managed to say between gentle sobs. Your voice thick with emotion as you reached out to take the pendant. "Yes, of course I will."

Legolas stepped closer. His eyes shining with the same emotion. He took the pendant and carefully clasped it around your neck. He cupped your face in his hands wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"This is just the beginning meleth nîn," he whispered. His voice as tender as the touch of the evening breeze. "A promise of a lifetime together, filled with love and understanding."

In that enchanted moment with the beauty of Mirkwood surrounding you and the promise of a future together everything felt utterly perfect. The garden seemed to hold its breath, the leaves whispering in the wind, as if nature itself was acknowledging the depth of your bond. The journey ahead would indeed have challenges but with the strength of your love you knew you could face them with him.

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elfy-elf-imagines · 1 year ago

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To Meet Under the Stars | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~3k

▹ Summary: In light of the stars, Thranduil finds himself entirely enchanted by a mysterious masked woman.

▹ Notes: I love masquerade balls, that is all. Unedited because we die as men.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･��:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The light of starlight was something sacred to the elves.

In the times of old, before the moon and sun had been created, Varda placed the stars in the sky, illuminating the world for the elves to see. For all other races, stars were just light that guided their way at night, but they were so much more for the elves. They held the promise of life unsullied by the evil of Morgoth. A beautiful display of glistening diamonds that held the light of creation. To honor the stars was to honor Varda herself.

Under the canopy of stars, the wood elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the first night of the autumn equinox. The moon was full and high in the sky as lords, ladies, and commoners alike gathered for the party. The echo of minstrels ensured there would be no corner of the kingdom not lit with joy. Dragonflies darted across ponds, and crickets hid in the forest, chirping to the beat of the lute. There were festivities all throughout the kingdom, but the main attraction was the masquerade ball held within the palace of King Thranduil. Only guests of high esteem were invited to dance under the lush canopy in the company of the royal family.

And there you were, with summer in your hair and winter in your eyes. Dancing through the crowd, illuminated in the silver light of the moon, you were the vision of a goddess. A soft halo shone upon your silver-gold hair, pinned in an updo with stray pieces that cascaded down your back. Flowers in purple, blue, and silver hues were placed upon your head like a crown, creating the silhouette of a queen. A silver mask encrusted with enough jewels that it glittered under the light concealed the top half of your face, two holes allowing your eyes to glow in the dark. A grin born of pure ecstasy was outlined by the lipstick on your lips.

No one could recall who you were nor when you’d arrived at the celebration. It was as if you were always there, lying in wait and dancing with the ghosts of the open-roof ballroom. A laugh rivaling the minstrels' songs hung in the air where you stood and followed your every sweeping move.

From the high table, with a glass of wine precariously hanging in his hand, Thranduil watched you. He couldn’t help it. It was as if you were weaving some sort of spell, casting it upon all who watched, paralyzed by your song and enraptured by your dance. You were beautiful, quick as a whip, and light as a feather. Each step seemed calculated and purposeful, yet so loose it could only be natural.

Thranduil couldn’t recall ever meeting you, so certain he’d know your laugh even if he couldn’t see your face. His advisors tried to make idle conversation as Legolas spent his time with the other members of the guard, drinking and laughing. Thranduil couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to listen, intently focused on the way your summer blue dress flowed like water around you. It nearly felt sacrilegious to directly look at something so beautiful, like staring at the face of Varda herself.

“It is a beautiful--” his advisor beside him began to speak, talking so slowly it made Thranduil’s lips curl in slight irritation that was hidden by the goblet he held. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, finding amusement in whatever the elf lord you were speaking with said. It took all his willpower not to roll his eyes as he drank more sweet wine.

The elf lord offered you his hand, which you gracefully accepted. Instead of dancing through the crowds alone, you twirled in the arms of another man. It made Thranduil’s stomach turn in a way it hadn’t for centuries.

You and the elf lord you danced with would flit in and out of his vision, yet the merriment never left your expression, and when the face of your dance partner would face Thranduil, he could see just how enchanted the man was by you. His grip on the goblet tightened, knuckles turning white.

The song seemed endless, drawing out the end of it for as long as possible. Part of Thranduil was tempted to bark at the minstrels to begin a new one in hopes you would once again be left alone, but he didn’t. A king needed to maintain his composure, even if everything inside was screaming not to. It seemed silly to be so taken by a woman whose face he couldn’t even see.

“Have you tried one of these cakes yet? They’re quite--”

“Galion.” Thranduil interrupted the man previously speaking, gaining the attention of his butler. The advisor that had been interrupted scowled yet said nothing else as Galion stepped closer to Thranduil.

“Yes, my king.”

Thranduil pointed at you, Galion’s eyes following his finger. “Who is that?”

His eyes narrowed as Galion leaned closer to try and get a better look at you. Yet not a glint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Did anyone here know who you were?

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with who she is. Would you like me to fetch her, my king?” Galion asked, his attention returned to Thranduil, whose eyes furrowed in mild annoyance.

“That will not be necessary, Galion.” He waved his hand, and Galion returned to his previous seat. It would be easy to bring you to him, he was the king, after all, but he didn’t want your meeting with him to seem forced upon you. He already had enough of a reputation as a cold, unfeeling man; it wouldn’t do any good to give you a reason to believe them.

The song ended, and you stepped away from your partner, lowering into a curtsey that he returned with a bow. Thranduil stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor; he didn’t bother giving a weak excuse for his exit. If he doesn't act soon, you might slip from his fingers. Thranduil took long strides down the platform and disappeared into the sea of elves.

He pushed his way through the crowd, most too lost in the magic of the music to pay their king any mind. He could see you, dancing alone with your eyes shut. The grin on your face was wide, never wavering in the slightest. The distance separating him from you was dwindling, the anticipation making his palm sweaty. The crowd parted, and he could’ve pulled you into his arms if he wanted to.

But as he opened his mouth, you disappeared into the crowd, so preoccupied you never saw him coming. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, his misty eyes searching the crowd for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Had you merely been a figment of his imagination conjured by the trickster spirits rumored to hide in his forest? Perhaps you had been, but Thranduil was determined to comb through the crowd hoping to see you again.

Then, a flit of blue brightened the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing you dart from dance partner to dance partner, now on the other end of the room. A cat-like grin appeared on the edges of his mouth; he’d found you. Once more, he pushed through the crowd, not moving his eyes from you for one second, afraid you’d disappear without a trace if he did.

The crowd would pulse, and you would get closer to him before suddenly spreading out towards the treeline. Thranduil would get close enough to smell your floral perfume, but you'd dart in another direction before he could take your delicate hands in his. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose; you probably hadn’t even noticed him. Your eyes never locked with his that never strayed from you.

But the gods seemed to smile upon him that night, and as the crowd came closer, Thranduil snatched your hand. Your body twisted to face him, the grin on your face never faltering. The perfume you wore was distinctly jasmine, vanilla, and something sweeter, tantalizing enough to bring him closer to you. His hand was rough in comparison to yours, much larger too.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was velvet smooth. Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb as the only one in the crowd without a mask.

“You may, my king,” you curtsied before placing your other hand on his shoulder as his hand found its place on your waist. Wasting no time, the two of you twisted and spun through the crowd in an airy waltz. You had the grace of a swan, maintaining a poised elegance with a child-like grin. Thranduil felt himself falling deeper into whatever spell you had cast.

A witch, that’s what you had to be. There was no other explanation for the hammering of his heart or the delight your touch elicited.

One step back, one step forward, one to the side, and repeat. Another spin, extra flourish added for flavor, and the movements continued. Neither of you spoke, eye to eye, unable to look away from one another. Thranduil found himself counting the flecks in your eyes, convinced they held a thousand little stars in them.

Perhaps you hadn’t been an illusion placed to taunt him but a gift from the Valar themselves.

All too soon, the song ended, and the dance was finished. As he watched you do before, you stepped back from Thranduil and lowered into a sweeping curtsey. He wanted to ask you to stay with him, not only for the night but the rest of eternity, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“It was an honor to dance with you, my king.” Your voice was soft and warm, like the spiced tea he would drink before bed. He wanted your name, to lift the mask you wore and lay his eyes upon your face entirely. He needed to see the face of the woman that would surely haunt his every dream.

Thranduil blinked, and in the brief time, his eyes weren’t on you, you’d disappeared. He half expected for there to be stardust left where your feet had been, but the only proof you’d existed was the imprint of your heels in the grass. His eyes scanned the crowd, twisting his body and craning his head, yet you were nowhere to be seen. But this time, instead of seeing flashes of your dress or silver hair, you were nowhere to be seen. You’d disappeared entirely.

Thranduil stood in the crowd a moment longer, hoping for a glimpse of you before deciding to return to his seat at the table. Perhaps from the high crowd, he could ascertain where you were. Thranduil returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn’t suddenly rushed from the table to dance with you, ignoring the questioning glances from his advisors. His goblet of wine in hand, eyes on the crowd, Thranduil sunk into the music and lost himself in thought. All of them were plagued by you.

And there he stayed as the hours ticked by, seemingly in a trance. No one at the table bothered to strike up a conversation with Thranduil anymore; it was like trying to converse with a brick wall. So they settled in silence, occasionally remarking about the party with the other guests.

“My king,” Galion returned to his side. “The lady you danced with has stepped away to the gardens.” Galion’s tone was even as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Thranduil side-eyed him, noticing the tinge of mirth on Galion’s smile. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, then slowly nodded.

“Perhaps I should ensure our guest is enjoying the festivities.”

Thranduil stepped away from the table and followed the path toward the garden’s you just slipped into. He took long strides to reunite with you sooner. This time he was determined to get your name and to peek beneath the mask you wore.

When he finally stepped into the garden, he saw your back turned to him, fingers dipped in the fountain's water. Your posture was relaxed, hair loose and flowing, no longer pinned in the updo it once was. It flowed like liquid silver, furthering his conspiracy that you were a celestial being born of the gods. Precariously hanging in your hand was the mask you’d been wearing, thumbs rubbing against the ribbon that tied it in your hair. The minstrels were now a distant hum, the flowing water, and the chirp of crickets the only song in the gardens.

He stopped a few steps from you, trying to find the words to say. It’d been so long since he’d been made to feel like a shy elfling, nervous about approaching his first crush. A king should be dignified and confident, but he felt all of that crumble in your presence.

Your ears twitched as Thranduil shifted in his spot, head raising at the sudden intrusion. Slowly, you turned, unsure who to expect would intrude upon your solitude. But of all the people you imagined stepping into the garden, you never anticipated it would be the king. He nearly seemed awkward and unsure in his place, fingers smoothing wrinkles on his robes that weren’t there.

Immediately you lowered into a curtsey, but the king didn’t acknowledge the movement. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. As he looked upon your face, this must’ve been how the first elf to gaze upon the stars felt. The curves and lines of your face were soft and delicate, the vision of beauty. Your eyes seemed even brighter in the dim lighting, an unsure, shy smile curling on your lips.

“My king.”

He remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak.

“If you require to be alone, I can--” You began to walk towards the exit, but as you passed Thranduil, his hand reached out and caught your arm. You turned to face him, uncertain. Thranduil’s hand trailed down your arm and intertwined with yours, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of all the people who desire my presence, yours is the one I desire most.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. You’d been close to the king only hours ago, sharing a dance with him. Yet the privacy of the gardens and the sweetness of his words, it all felt much more intimate.

“Then I shall stay.”

Thranduil’s grin widened as he guided you further into the gardens. The flowers were vibrant and lush, a true testament to the skills of the elves. A canopy of trees diffused the moon's light, reflecting off the fountain and casting a spotlight on you.

“I have a confession.” Thranduil suddenly stopped, eyes intently watching your face, noticing how your lips slightly parted and your eyes glowed with curiosity. “I have found myself quite enchanted with you, my lady. It seems foolish, not knowing your face until this moment and not having your name.”

“It’s Y/N, my king.” You interrupted, a charming smile curling your lips. The hammer of your heart matched the tempo with Thranduil’s.

“Y/N.” He muttered your name quietly, your name on his lips making your stomach curl. Of all the ways you anticipated this night's end, strolling the garden with the king was not what you could’ve predicted in your wildest dreams.

“Y/N. If I may be so bold, I would like for this to not be the last time we meet. I desire more of your company.”

Thranduil stepped closer, the heat he radiated warming your chilled skin. Gossebumnps followed where his hands touched, a shiver rushing down your spine. Subtly you pinched the back of your leg, convinced this was nothing more than a dream. Yet you didn’t wake; this moment was real.

“If I may speak freely, my king?”

Thranduil nodded his head. “Please, you may call me Thranduil. No need for such formalities.”

You tipped your head at him as the smile on your face brightened.

“If I may speak freely, Thranduil.” You corrected, with an almost mischievous lilt to your voice. “I would much desire more of your company as well. I have heard many rumors of your cold and detached demeanor. I’ve heard of how harsh you can be, yet I have seen nothing of that.”

“I’m glad the whispers of the court haven’t scared you away, my lady.”

The smile on your face curled into a teasing smirk, eyes illuminating. “You’ll find it’ll take more than malicious rumors to scare me away.”

Thranduil's finger twirled around a lock of hair that framed your face. He seemed relaxed and more at ease than you'd have imagined.

"A strong will and a fair face, Varda herself must've crafted you."

His words made your face flush red, so deep it was seen in the dim lighting of the garden.

"Pretty words you speak, my king; I'm eager to learn if your words match your heart."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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smallesthobbit · 4 months ago

Text

The Hobbit & The Dwarf {P.II} || Thorin Oakenshield

Synopsis - The Company almost get eaten by Mountain Trolls.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - Part One Here.

Word Count - 2k.

{Caffeinate Me}

It was early in the morning when you awoke. The dwarves were getting ready to leave and there was no sight of Bilbo, he was still fast asleep in his room, blissfully unaware of the carnage that was going on in his home. You had knocked on your brother’s door but hadn’t gauged a response, so, sighing you trudged to the dwarves. “He’s still asleep,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with them. “But he’ll join us when he wakes up.”

“He will,” Gandalf reassured, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing slightly.

The rest of the morning went by quickly as you got ready to leave for your adventure. Eventually you were riding on a pony next to Gandalf, out of Bag End and towards wherever your next destination was. You were talking to Dwalin, chatting about your life as a Hobbit and your life living with your brother when all of a sudden you heard a voice from behind. “Wait for me!” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and spotted Bilbo, running and shouting in the distance, waving a piece of paper above his head. “I signed it!” It being the quest contract that Thorin and Balin had proposed the night before declaring Bilbo would be the official burglar for the adventure.

You all came to a halt on your ponies, turning to face the Hobbit who had finally caught up to the Company. “Bilbo!” Gandalf exclaimed. “I knew you would come.”

“Well, when I realised you had taken my sister,” Bilbo started. “I had no choice but to come.”

“Hey, she willingly came with us,” Fili piped up from near the front, patting his pony on the forehead.

Bilbo frowned, his eyes wandering over to you in disappointment. “That’s besides the point. I had no choice, but I signed your document. I am now your official burglar.” Bilbo smiled widely as he handed Balin the fully signed document.

“Aye, all appears to be in order,” Balin said as he looked over the document carefully. “Welcome aboard Master Baggins.”

“We have one problem,” Gandalf mumbled, looking around at the Company. “We appear to be one pony short. Meaning Bilbo, or Y/N, will have to ride with someone.”

“Oh no!” Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes wide as his hands fiddled inside his pockets. “I appear to have left without my pocket handkerchief! We’ll have to go back.”

“You’ll have to do without a pocket handkerchief laddie,” a dwarf shouted from the front. “Amongst other things.”

“Bilbo can have my pony,” you piped up, ignoring the pocket handkerchief debacle. “I’ll share with someone.”

Gandalf nodded, a small smile of appreciation forming on his face. “Very well. You can ride with Thorin.” Your eyes widened slightly. You hadn’t engaged with Thorin at all since you had met him yesterday evening, so for Gandalf to suggest you ride with him instead of any of the other dwarves came as quite a shock to you.

Gandalf climbed off his horse to help you off your pony before helping Bilbo up. You walked over to Thorin at the front of the Company who was gazing down at you, his eyes boring into your very soul. You cleared your throat and gave him an awkward smile. “Looks like I’m riding with you.”

“Aye,” was all Thorin said as Gandalf helped you onto his pony.

The journey continued for hours, constantly moving at a steady pace throughout the forests and open world. Your hands remained by your side as you fought to stay on Thorin’s pony, when suddenly you hit a bump in the road. To stop yourself from falling off, your arms instinctively wrapped around Thorin’s waist tightly and a squeak left your lips. “Sorry!” You exclaimed.

“It’s fine,” Thorin grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat at the feeling of your arms wrapped around him. Thorin looked around at the space you were at and nodded to himself. “We rest here tonight.”

The other dwarves came to a halt on their ponies just before Thorin’s. Some were complaining that they were wet and hungry, while others were just excited to get some shut eye for the night. Thorin climbed off his pony and held his hand out to help you down. Hesitantly you took it and were pulled off the pony before you even had a chance to gather your thoughts at his larger hand in yours. Oin and Gloin were attempting to get a fire going, but the sticks and surrounding area were too wet from the rain for a spark to light. Then, some of the dwarves started arguing: they were all cold, wet and hungry – you couldn’t exactly blame them. “Wait, is that a light over there?” Kili asked, pointing to a warm glow in the distance.

“It is!” Dwalin exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked at the warm glow.

“We should go over there,” Fili spoke up confidently. Some of the dwarves were for this idea, while some were against it.

“It could be anything,” Bombur said as he furrowed his eyebrows. “It could be anyone.”

“Better than being cold and hungry!” Nori replied, stepping foot in the direction of the glowing light.

“Not so fast,” Thorin said, grabbing Nori by his collar and stopping him dead in his tracks. “We have a burglar with us. Master Baggins, care to find out what that glowing light is for us?”

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he pointed at himself. “M-Me?”

“Yes you,” Thorin said sternly. “Hoot twice like a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl if you find yourself in any trouble and we will do what we can.” And just like that, Thorin pushed Bilbo in the direction of the light. Your eyes widened as you watched your brother disappear into the forest – he had no idea how to hoot like an owl if he got into trouble!

“We can’t let Bilbo go out there,” you said quickly, pointing in the direction he had scurried off in. “Where is Gandalf?” You asked, looking around to find that the wizard had all but disappeared. The dwarves looked around and also took notice that Gandalf had disappeared, some of them shrugged and some of them frowned. You shook your head, shaking the matter off before returning to the real matter at hand. “He’s going to get himself killed out there.”

“You have little faith in your brother,” Thorin pointed out.

You visibly frowned at his comment and shook your head. “It’s not that. We’ve lived a rather sheltered life, we don’t know how to screech like owls if we get into trouble!” Your voice came out in a hiss.

“Maybe Y/N is right,” Balin spoke softly, interrupting Thorin’s train of thought. “Maybe we should go after Bilbo to make sure he’s okay.”

Thorin clenched his jaw before rolling his eyes, sighing. “Fine.” He was beginning to regret bringing these Hobbits along on this quest. And so, the dwarves and yourself trekked off in the direction of Bilbo and the light hoping that your brother hadn’t found himself in any trouble. When you finally reached the light, you quickly came to realise that it was a fire and the wretched smell of flesh and cooked meat filled your nose. You scrunched up your nose and almost gagged. You would have gagged if it wasn’t for Thorin placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking his head, looking at you with a distasteful look. You nodded your head in acknowledgement before turning your attention back to the fire. It was then that you noticed three large figures hunched in the corner, trying to be out of sight while a sack lay on the floor near the fire with Bilbo’s head poking out. You knew these large figures to be mountain trolls and before you could warn the dwarves of their presence, they had all jumped out. One by one, they were all placed inside sacks and discarded to the side by the fire leaving you on your own in the bushes. You panicked as you watched the dwarves, and your brother, be inspected by the trolls as they muttered amongst themselves about the best way to cook them. With a shaky breath you stepped out of the bushes, the rustling of the leaves catching the attention of the trolls.

“Now now now. What do we have ‘ere?” One of the trolls spoke, bending his head down to look at you.

You felt your eyes widen and your body tense up under its gaze. Quickly, you lifted your hands up in a show of defeat and began talking. “You can’t cook them like that!” You said shakily, trying your best to sound as calm as possible.

“Oh? And why not?” Another troll spoke up.

“Yeah, why not? We’re hungry!” The last one retorted, picking its nose.

“I’m a good cook you know,” you said, looking at the dwarves. Their eyes showed confusion at what you were trying to do.

“You can’t reason with them!” Dwalin shouted. “They’re halfwits!”

“I’m just saying you can’t cook them like that,” you said. You were trying your best to think of a way out of this situation unscathed, that your adventure wouldn’t come to an end in the stomach of a mountain troll, when you saw a grey figure in the bushes… Gandalf. You let out a sigh of relief knowing that you were going to be okay when one of the trolls poked your shoulder with its large finger in an attempt to get you to continue talking. “I wouldn’t cook them at all, actually. Dwarves are known to have a rancid taste…”

“You expect us to just let ‘em go?” The first troll spoke.

“Well–” Bilbo started but the first troll turned to face him, flicking him harshly in the stomach and winding your brother.

“I think we’ll take our chances. We’re hungry and are sick of mutton!” The first troll exclaimed.

“Yeah. Hungry we are!”

Just as you were about to speak, to open your mouth and say something about mutton not being the worst thing in Middle-Earth to eat, Gandalf stood on a rock, his staff held high in the air as his voice boomed. “Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” He slammed his staff down on the rock splitting it in half, the sunlight beaming through the cracks and turning the three mountain trolls to stone. You hadn’t even realised that it was almost daybreak, but you were thankful that luck was on your side… and that Gandalf had arrived when he did.

You quickly ran to Bilbo’s side, helping him out of the sack before turning to help the dwarves. When you reached Thorin, he looked at you with eyes of confusion and yet said nothing. You helped him out of his sack and offered your hand to help him up but he simply ignored your kindhearted gesture and stood up on his own. “We almost died!” Kili exclaimed, resting against a tree and wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Aye, we did.”

“And if it wasn’t for Y/N’s quick thinking, you’d all be dead by now,” Gandalf explained, looking at Thorin and nodding slightly. “But where there are trolls, there must be a cave. Come, we must search for it.”

You nodded your head and followed Gandalf, seemingly searching for the cave entrance. As you walked, the majority of the dwarves patted your shoulder and muttered a ‘thank you’ as they walked by; however, when Thorin walked by, he remained silent, his eyes fixed forward on the task at hand. Bilbo trodded up alongside you and smiled. “How did you know Gandalf was going to turn up?” He asked, his eyes scanning the cliffside for the entrance.

“I didn’t,” you respond honestly, smiling awkwardly at your brother. “I’m just glad he did because… I didn’t have a plan to get you out of that.”

You heard Thorin scoff at your comment, clearly listening in on your conversation and your eyebrows furrowed in response. You hadn’t the idea what his problem was: maybe it was just because you and Bilbo were Hobbits and not dwarves. Maybe one day, you’d find out.

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