#Thrandui

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Ship: Thorin x Elf!Reader

Trope: Childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Length: 3 376 words.

Warnings: Injuries, violence, guilt, guilt trip. Thorin being Thorin, Thranduil being Thranduil. Angst with a happy ending.

Note: @sorisooyaa I have something for you. I made a thing. I don't know what to make of it. But I have made a thing. Tags - if I forgot someone sorry and please tell me so I can not forget you next time: @heilith @sotwk @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

Vocabulary point: Nethig = Sister, little sister (diminutive) - Sindarin

You were here to help.

Of course, you had come to help.

The battle of Erebor would be known as the one where great elven and dwarven warriors perished. It would still be an understatement before any of the gods who listened. The Durin line barely survived by the skin of their teeth. If you had not been there to prevent the massacre... Thorin stopped the thought there, fearing what it would bring to mind.

You, whom he had known since he was a mere child, your parents and his - if not in agreement - cordial to one another. At the time, you knew Erebor's halls almost as well as he did, despite having grown in the shadows of the Greenwood. Often, you would meet, in secret, away from the prying eyes of both your families, running away, chasing dragons and seeking battles made out of air.

Now, he wished for these times to come back.

The dwarven king owed you his life and the life of his nephews.

That was why he was at your side, watching until you woke up. If you were to wake up.

Why was he waiting? He knew not. Or, he knew as he had known for years, yet stopped himself from hoping you would know too. He was not the young dwarf he once was, careless with his words and promises, careless in his affections. The sovereign he had become could not make foolish choices as Kili had the luxury of making. Nevertheless, the hope in him would not die, not until you gave him an answer to a question he would not dare ask.

You were there. You were there when his grandfather had refused your brother and your people what was owed to them. The look of confusion and disappointment on your face had not left his thoughts in all those years. Where the regret and sorrow as you followed your brother away from the dragon’s massacre felt like a heavy scar, this first betrayal was still bleeding through the walls of his mind more vivid than it had ever been.

For since the battle, you would not wake. And he would not sleep.

Maybe, this was his atonement for not having intervened sooner in the feud between the elves and his people. Maybe it was punishment for not having told you, as a child, what those feelings were, leaving you blindsided for the rest of your life.

His breath came to a halt when you stirred in your sleep. His surroundings were dark, only lightened by the moonlight shining in the room. Everything was so pale, the sheets, your gown, the light. He felt sick for a moment, in pain with each breath. Thorin was sitting in the most uncomfortable seat he had ever been in, his back hunched over, elbows on his knees, rubbing at his face to erase the deep sleep in his bones.

Thranduil opened the door. His eyes racked over the dwarf’s figure. The deep circles under his eyes and the hollow of his cheeks were clear indicators of his state. Your brother would have been blind not to see your injuries’ effect on Thorin.

Despite what people knew of him, the elven king was not as heartless as he seemed. He had sustained many injuries over the years, many terrifying experiences, and too many meaningless deaths. His heart was a closed sanctuary now, only opened for those he trusted. Even if he was not trusting Thorin, he trusted you. You, who had sought him out all those moons ago, trying to stop a raging war between your families. He had refused to listen and what it had cost him would never be counted accurately. The elf was old and weary of war. He wanted this to end, almost as much as you did. When you were playing in Erebor’s halls, he was with his guardian, resenting you for not having to attend all those boring meetings nor being with him when he had to learn all those awful words in Khuzdul. No. You had learned with a friend. The ultimate betrayal for him was that you were allowed to. No one saw the harm in the shenanigans you orchestrated. You were children, what was the harm? Only when you grew, beautiful as a newborn star, people started talking. He dismissed them all in public. Chastised you in private. “Behave as you were born”, those were his words. It was then that Thranduil had known. It was too late for you. You had fallen for him, having known him for so long. His stubbornness familiar to your equally stubborn mind, the wits of his tongue matching your own, your secret kisses shared in the mistrusted shadows of the woods or the corridors of the dwarven city. You would not let him go. But, soon, even Thorin dismissed you, in favour of dwarf women more suited to be by his side. Your heart was misplaced. Lost with someone who had no use for it.

After that, heartbroken and deep into your mind, you let yourself perish to the brink of death. Thranduil’s wife and son became your only solace, throwing yourself into the family life you yearned for, but could not have for yourself. With your brother, you would not talk of love for the prince. Only a “misplaced trust” as if it was enough to describe what it was you were left with.

That “misplaced trust” was all that was needed for Thranduil to care.

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

His face barely rose to meet the elven king’s eyes, falling back again in an impolite manner, now familiar between the two.

“It’s you.”

The elf had a hard time not snapping at him. But even he knew, the pain he was in. Your brother kissed your brow in slow motion. Nothing moved in the air, as he was adjusting your pillow, smoothing your sheets, sitting down next to you, eyes lost on your face. The room reeked of balms and healing herbs. Thorin ran a hand over his face once more, the stiff figure in front of him immobile and solemn. 

“I remember.”

The sound of his voice was barely above a whisper, yet it took up all the space in the room. He had that effect, your brother. You used to be so proud of him when you were little. Trying to get his affection every time you could. He wondered if you would still look at him that way.

“When you were young. Both running around in our legs, trying to get some attention, only to run away just as easily.”

Thranduil might have seen a soft smile appear on Thorin’s tear-stained cheeks if the darkness was not so thick. He did not see.

Instead, the elven king grabbed your hand, ever so cold, between his own seizing your fingers, growing accustomed to your unresponsiveness. All those hours spent in silence by your side had made him weary. The loss of his wife was an everlasting memory at the back of his mind, as he was praying to anyone who would listen for your recovery. Not again his mind would say. Not her his heart would scream. 

And maybe it worked somehow, after all those days, all those weeks, because then you opened your eyes.

The light was faint. You could make out parts of the walls and ceilings. It was home. A breath of relief left you, making your chest ache. You winced, eyelids shut close, brows furrowed. Your hand was captured in someone else’s, warm, alive. You were alive. Every part of your body was in pain, sharp, akin to the edge of a fine sword twisting your guts and bones. Soon, you could hear a voice. Voices, you realized. You turned towards the tall figure holding your hand. It seemed to be calling your name.

“Nethig?”

Thranduil. His face came to a focus, his forehead meeting yours as you were holding his hand to your chest for dear life. Tears streamed down your face, not being able to stop them in any way.

On the other side of your bed, Thorin had not moved. His mouth agape, he was waiting for you to see him, to look at him. The minutes and murmurs exchanged with your brother were lasting, echoing in his mind. The chuckle escaping your lips was a balm to his undone heart. King, he was, yet he would have been on his knees and given it all up in a heartbeat if it would keep you from crying as you were.

You could not see past your brother and you did not want to. How stupid could you have been to throw yourself and your soldiers into this death trap? For what? An old flame nothing could light again? Thorin’s affections for you were long past, a mere child’s play you took to heart when he did not. The young and everlasting hope in your chest would not die. In the end, it almost had you killed. Deliberately, Thranduil pulled himself away, his protective gaze still on you. His eyes met someone else’s over your shoulder before coming back to your face. He helped you sit up, one movement at a time.

Upon seeing who it was, you started crying again. Not of joy, nor pain. In relief. How your heart could be a trickster. The moment was clear in your mind, despite the anxiety creeping up your spine. The moment you thought he was going to die in front of your eyes. It was without a second thought, you had pierced the chest of the orc before Fili or Kili could be harmed. For Thorin, your heart had lept in your throat as the menace of losing him became more and more obvious, the more the fight went on. The prince you remembered, the one you had loved, was brave beyond any elven or dwarven standards. He still was. You had hesitated, the ever-nagging thought of him being upset upon being defended by you. Until the last minute. When you had jumped from your vantage point, it had been all a blur, the only thing remaining the clear sky above you, the sun on your skin. The edge of the sword had pierced through armour and flesh, close to your heart. As if hurting it more was a feat anyone could accomplish. In a last stroke of luck, elven warriors had flooded the place, while you were still staring at the sky becoming darker and darker with each passing moment. You could hear yells and angry cries, strong arms cradling your head, and a soft, profound, grave voice begging you to stay alive. In your haze, you had thought… you had thought it belonged to him.

The sobs had stopped. Thorin stepped closer to you, his right hand outstretched. His palm touched your cheek sloppily, checking if he was not dreaming. Yet, you were swiftly pulling him away, careful not to touch him for too long. You exchanged a few words with Thranduil, and he stepped away, one final hard stare at the dwarf before leaving the room.

“What are you doing here?”

It was more to yourself than to him that you asked this question, in a hoarse voice you did not recognize. His arm lingered in the air, in your vicinity. How much you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and never let him go again. The harm he had done to you, on the other hand, was too heavy on your heart to let go of.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. The rejection was bitter-sweet. He knew his faults all too well. Against his first instinct, he got up to his feet, grimacing under the weight of his flesh wounds. Seeing you in pain was so much worse than that.

“I…”

Around you, the night lights were shivering, dawn simmering under the cover of the clouds. It was now or never.

“I have something for you.”

A snort escaped you and you coughed. Startled, he approached, but you stopped him with a gesture of your hand.

“If it’s not an apology, I do not want it Thorin.”

There. Plain as day. The look on his face, you never dared to hope he’d show for you. His gaze softened as you mouthed the name you had not spoken of in years. His name. Delightful to hear you say it, if only it had been in different circumstances. Alas, it was not. He had to make the best of this. Even if it killed him. Because a life without you was only worth death, the unmerciful kind, slow and feverish, agonising. He could not bear it anymore.

“I hoped you would agree to listen first and see what to do afterwards. Yet, you stay faithful to yourself.”

His voice resonated in the room even as he claimed the words one after the other, softly, trying not to scare you away. He smiled. One of those precious smiles you came to banish from your mind, year after year, as it plagued your waking hours almost as much as your dreams. You turned your eyes away from him, a heat blooming in your cheeks. Although you could not see his face, you heard him, coming closer to you, sitting near your calves, hands on his knees. He was loud as dwarves are. Sometimes, you dreamt about that noise. Dreamt of him coming home to you. You shook your head a little, the world blurry for a moment before your eyes.

“Could you… would you, at least, look at me?”

His voice was pained, smooth around the edges of his sorrow. He did not recognize that voice as his own. It was the voice of heartbreak. A sweet relief came over him when you finally looked at him.

It was short-lived. Your face, he remembered. Ever-lasting as the poets said. Engraved in his heart, beating erratically with every minute spent in your company. The bruises, the sharp cut going from your cheekbone to your chin. The edge and the indifference. All of that he did not know and wanted to rub off. His hand twitched in his lap, fingers extending into nothingness.

“I am incredibly happy you are alive.”

His words were met with pure harshness, almost hostility. Sorrow in your eyes, a headache growing behind your eyelids.

Thorin licked his lips.

“I came here to thank you. Personally.”

A snicker stopped him. You sniffled again, ungracefully wiping your nose in your sleeve, wincing at the effort it took you. His palm felt warm on your knee. You were not one to bet, but if you had to, you would have assured a tattoo of his palm was to appear on your skin at how hot it felt. How right. Still, unnerved, you did not move.

“I came here because… When we thought… When I thought I lost you, I came to realize how much of an imbecile I had been.”

You bowed your head. Biting your lips, your hair hiding the desperation in you. You could not bear it. Could not bear hearing him say the words without meaning them. He had done so before, what was stopping him from doing it again? It would destroy you.

“Stop. Just stop!”

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You did not try to stop them from falling. His hand reached you before you could stop it, meeting your cheek, and wiping away your tears. Stilling your heart in its ribcage, prisoner of his touch, again. His beautiful eyes were worried, brows furrowed, lips pinched together.

“Why are you torturing me so? Telling me what I want to hear? After all those years? Am I just a toy to you?”

You bit your lips harder, drawing blood. Without saying a word, he smoothed the skin there, smearing blood on his fingertips, unbothered merely grateful he could do it at all.

“Never. Amralimê, never.”

He frowned. Only then did you notice how close he was, the word in his mouth settling near your heart, his forehead a breath away from yours. Blue eyes boring into yours, lips parted, his cheek covered by a white and black beard. He had aged, as we all do. How could he still make your heart beat so loud and your stomach flutter so even after all these years? It was uncanny. Impossible. You wanted to take his hands off of your face, gripping his wrists in a vice grip.

He held on, gritting through the pain shooting in his arms, your face cradled in his warmth.

“I have been wrong all this time. I thought I was better off without you. Hoping you would find happiness without this love we did not see coming. But, no one can stop the sun from rising and I could not stop myself from loving you.”

A whimper escaped you when he pulled away, reaching into his coat for a small thing, wrapped in grey cloth, worn with time and travel. Carefully, he grasped your hand putting the itchy material in your palm.

“I should have given you this, at the time. I am giving it to you now. I hope you keep it.”

His words were ringing in your ears as you pulled the package open. Inside was a trinket you recognized immediately. You smiled, half expecting it to be a fever dream.

“A courting bead.”

Clenching your hand around it, you felt the walls around your heart beginning to give. Taking your hand in his, one more time, he pried the cage your fingers made one after the other, relinquishing in the feeling of your fingertips.

“Not exactly.” Giddy with excitement, he leaned close to you, as if in confidence. “It is an engagement bead. I figured we were past the courting steps at this point.

- Are you serious?”

The question had escaped your lips in a bewildered whisper, not quite wanting to believe him. Thorin became self-conscious again, nodding, bashful. He was shy. Thorin Oakenshield had gone soft. The world was going to collapse.

“Why now?

- After this close call with death, I don’t think I have anything more to lose but you.

- What of…?

- The others? I do not care. Not anymore. If you’ll have me, I’ll be there. Whenever you need me. As who you want me to be.”

Without thinking, your hand reached out to his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer. In a familiar gesture, your lips met his. 

Thorin had become tender with the years. Surprised and inhaling sharply, his fingers gripped your gown at the waist, in a desperate attempt at getting you flush against him, your warmth comforting his melting heart through your skin.

The pain shot through you interrupting you both.

“My apologies, I’ll be more careful from now on.”

You smiled against his lips, pushing yourself a little bit further into his embrace.

“I doubt that.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You were rough once. Harsh even. Don’t stop now on my account…”

You bit your lip and saw his pupils darken, a thin line of blue at the edge of it all, holding you down under this lustful stare.

The kiss he gave you next was nothing short of hungry, wild and powerful. You felt the fragility of your body in his hands, even more than you had during the battle. His palms spread a heated river down your waist, straight between your legs. Yet, it would have to wait. Only for a night or two, you thought. If you would restrain yourself. As if reading your thoughts - he had always been good at that - he replied.

“We have all the time in the world for this, now. If you’ll have me.”

He was worried. Still. You could not blame him, after all these years you had spent avoiding him only to find out he felt the same for you as you did for him.

“Yes. We do.”

Your tone left no doubt. Affirmed and self-assured, you knew this would be the beginning of something new. This was a new chapter in a lifetime of stories, you could not wait to find more about.

[lady-of-imladris]

helloooooooo how are you!! dropping some questions because i'm bored 🫡🫡

would you rather go on a picnic and stroll with oropher + wife + baby thranduil for a day or beach day and boat ride with eärendil + elwing + baby elrond and elros?

if you could give thranduil any animal companion aside from an elk, what would it be?

what modern world contraption would you introduce to lotr just for funsies?

what professions do you think some of the elves would have in the modern world?

what do you think trop galadriel and elrond would think if they saw themselves ruling lothlorien and rivendell?

I got out my actual laptop to answer these! Your asks are always so amazing, I don't know how you come up with these <3

Okay so I don't think I want to know baby Thranduil. That would make it weird, so I'm choosing Earendil and Elwing and their babies <3

Let's consider some options:

Thranduil and Dogs: could work, dogs are neat, Thrandui would 100% sneak them some food under the table. He'd either have some big intimidating dog like a great dane, or a chihuahua. Golden Retrievers just don't fit his vibe

Thranduil and Cats: He's a bitch, cats are bitches, cats like climbing, I want to climb him, Thranduil is tall and has a very "I want to play with that" crown, They could nap on his lap while he holds court. Only con: his fancy clothes would be covered in cat hair. But I don't think he'd mind. Middle Earth needs more cats

A modern world contraption I would like to introduce to LOTR: Practically speaking, if I lived in middle earth and could bring one modern amenity with me, it would be plumbing. Normal toilets and SHOWERS. That would be 10/10. But TELESCOPES. My answer is Telescopes. I want the elves to be able to look at the stars more closely. I want Elrond to be able to see his father again okay. BRB crying

Professions of elves in the modern world:

Elrond: He'd be a university professor, something like literature! Or maybe a doctor

Legolas: I'm imagining to be the age of an average college student. He'd spend his vacations working as a camp counsellor

Thranduil: Either something really "pretentious" like CEO or he'd make his own wine. I imagine Thranduil as the kind of person where you have no idea how they make their money, but they are rich AF

Feanor: Would take over his father's company

Fingolfin: SHOULD take over his father's company but instead founds his own company that takes off and does way better than Feanor's company

Finarfin: Yoga instructor.

Galadriel: Business Girlboss. Idk what she would do, but she'd wear fancy suits. Maybe editor of Vogue. Something girlboss-y

Celeborn: Cook. House husband. I love him

Arwen: She'd 100% be an influencer, but the nice kind <3

TROP Galadriel and Elrond seeing themselves rule

Galadriel would see Celeborn and be happy she has him back. And I think she'd love ruling her own realm

Elrond would PANIC. Why isn't he living with Gil-Galad anymore?

[writerman]

tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Thank you to @nocompromise-noregrets for tagging me :3

Three ships: Garrett x Aro, Bard x Thrandui, Michael x Hale

Last song: Oh man I am laughing because you all know who I would have been listening to without fail but this playlist has 700 songs on it @mintsatin has seen it and without fail, Coheed was the last song playing. God Send Conspirator by Coheed and Cambria.

Last movie: I have no idea, I very rarely watch movies. I think it was Hook?

Currently reading: Tne book is in the other room but it is another real accounts of hauntings but instead of just Scotland it's the whole of the UK.

Currently watching: Meet, Marry, Murder a true crime thing on Netflix.

Currently consuming: caramel custard doughnut and a diet coke.

Currently craving: As always, fried chicken and a new job that doesn't make me depressed as shit

I dunno who to tag: If we are mutuals and you want to fill this out then this is for you, even if you think it isn't... it is.

[originalqueenhottub]

Hello,

My name is 👑 Queen Crab 🦀 and I'm a Alcoho- Wait... No, No! That's one of the below men(?) (But one would think because of the dumb stuff I post on here... I promise I'm mostly sober when I'm writing on here. Unless I got some magic 🍄 from the elf kingdom recently.) That I'm about to confess about.

A convo came up with friends about what kind of things we fetishize were, while we was out & about. I figured I had the "Normal" ones when discussing those kinds of things.

One character I like came up, and my friend asked me:

"What is it with you and Evil, long white-haired men, who most likely are missing a body part (or minds) that 80% would sadistically destroy you?"

I stared at them, shocked.

Me: "What the?!- I DON'T HAVE THAT BIG OF A THING FOR-"

First off... I don't appreciate being attacked in such an uncalled for manner! SECOND?!-

Hm. Okay... They "Might" have a "Tiny" point 🤏 maybe...

But they aren't ALL evil 🥺 Just misunderstood!

👀 I mean,

Thrandui wasn't evil!

Well, I guess I like men-creatures who literally do not exist in this world. And you know what?! I'm not sorry! Because they are pretty to look at!

[queenmeriadoc]

Hiiiiii <3

I'd like to request a moodboard for Thranduil and Dragon :)

Here you go babe <3

Thrandui x Dragon

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

The Love Behind a Curse

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cGxiTKg

by AlatusReborn

Upon the solstice of the ten thousandth year a star shines on the hour of our meeting, through the son of a land felled by war and flame,the daughter of a land lost to time and sea. Two lands to be reclaimed and reformed by lifted curse and a ripple in time, two to be crowned to rejoin the lands.

The daughter of a house lost to time, fated to love the one who was cursed to live without love. Elerrina could rove to be too much for Thranduil to handle, or maybe hes up for the challenge?

Words: 2255, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Glorfindel (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Elladan (Tolkien), Elrohir (Tolkien), Arwen Undómiel, Gandalf | Mithrandir, Original Orc Character(s), Original Elf Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Lindir (Tolkien), Galion (Tolkien), Thranduil's Wife, House of Elros, Sons of Elrond

Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Asshole Thranduil, Thranduil needs a hug, Slow Burn, original lore, Major Original Character(s), Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Angst, Tragedy, Orcs, Elven Wine, Pining, thranduil cant understand why he cares, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Original prophecy, Mirkwood, Rivendell | Imladris, Thrandui's elk, Protective Elrond, Parent Elrond, elven customs, Sea-longing (Tolkien), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cGxiTKg

[ao3feed-tolkien]

囚

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/B1GQcVC

by The_Four_Leaf_Clover

“Ada……”莱戈拉斯小声地说出这个让他更觉羞耻的称呼，身体却忍不住兴奋了起来。 他从来都只能溺毙在他的君主赐予他的欲海。 这时的莱戈拉斯往往是迷惘的。 他口中叫着“Ada”，却在被父亲以恋人的形式爱抚；他是男人，却如同女人一样在他人身下辗转承欢；他是王子，却履行着王后的义务；他祈求的是如同山般沉默海般博大的父爱，可是父亲给他的却是炽热滚烫的爱情。

Words: 23298, Chapters: 1/1, Language: 中文-普通话 國語

Fandoms: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Thrandui, Aragorn, Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)

Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Thranduil

Additional Tags: Forbidden Love, Wrongful Imprisonment

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/B1GQcVC

[thranduilswifesblog]

This have two book. This is the 1st

And the second

And now Thrandy and legolas's story

This is my first ever fanfict I wrote in 2015 and I posted in 2017

This is from 1 year ago

This is elrond's FF I wrote 1 months ago

And the newest and still on going

His love story with his wife. I literally just made it like one weeks ago 🙈🙈🙈

And don't forget to give me your comments! @legoriel-fan

It tickled my ears when I heard someone says Thranduil is not powerful enough, or he become the elvenking just because his father, Oropher is the 1st.

Did people read the apendix?? According to the apendix Sauron fought the last battles of the third age on several fronts, and the day of the battle of the Pellinor, he also sent orcs armies into Mirkwood and attack Thranduil's kingdom.

Thranduil' army is a badass, and utterly defeated the army of Sauron. Sauron always though Thranduil was enough of is threat that his kingdom was single out for destruction and Thranduil with the silvan elves proved him right.

In movie canon he also defeated the great serpents of the north. And unfortunately cause a permanent scars on his face. And he powerful enough to made out alive and put a charm on his face for a thousands year.

And don't forget he and his father is the survivor from doriath, and he also survive from the battle of the last alliance. Even his father and Gil Galad, the strongest king of the high elves died in that battle.

And he also can feel the present of Bilbo with the one ring. He's not talking with Tauriel, he's talking straight to Bilbo's face. That means he can feel the one ring.

He might be less wise and less powerful than Elrond, despite for being older than him. But he is not a weak elf, he even can protect his kingdom with his own charm and source without the rings of power.

SO FOR PEOPLE WHO SAY HE IS WEAK...

PISS OFF ......

Daughter! @legoriel-fan it''s time to defend your adar

[thorinduil]

Past and Thoughts by Candra

[scrumptiousmiracleprincess]

Здесь у тебя нет влᴀсти, прислужник Моргота. У тебя нет имени. У тебя нет лицᴀ, формы. Возврᴀщᴀйся в пустоту из которой пришёл 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡! 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬! 𝐆𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞!

[beaulahmae]

Excerpt from “An Invincible Summer,” Chapter 50″

Galadriel smiled down at her.  “What my husband means is someone you have yet to meet.”

“Who?”

“Excuse me, for just a moment,” Celeborn stood up straight and went to fetch something just outside the door.  He returned with a basket with a lid, and placed in on the floor in front of the little girl.

“What is it?”

There were scratching sounds coming from the basket, and Sigrid and Bain knelt down on either side of her.  “Open it, Til!” Bain grinned.

She lifted the lid and out popped a little head, with a yip.

“A PUPPY!  OH, IT’S A PUPPY!” Tilda screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped up and down. “Ada!  Da!  I got a puppy!”

It was indeed a puppy, with black ears, a tan coat, and a cute, wrinkled black face.  It looked around the room and began to whine as he tried to jump out of the basket.

“Isn’t it sweet?” Sigrid grinned and laughed.  “Look at the cute little face!”

“Oh…” Tilda plopped on the carpet and lifted the small, squirming pup into her arms.  “You’re so cute…” then she laughed as it began to cover her face with kisses.

“Do you like her?”  Celeborn asked.

“Is it a girl?” Tilda then lifted the squirming bundle, whose corkscrew tail was blur from excitement, and checked. “It’s a girl!”

“Where did you find her?” Thranduil asked.

“You can thank Daeron.  He befriended a young couple from a village called Langhold, whose mother breeds them.  He suggested we buy her for Tilda.” He laughed. “She hardly ever rode in her basket.  Most of us took turns tucking her into our tunics and letting her ride with us.”

“This is perfect.” Bard smiled.  “Tilda's been a bit lost without Esta.”  They looked on, as Tilda stroked her cheek against its soft fur, and cooed over her new little friend.

Sigrid rubbed her sister’s back. “Come on, Til.  Let’s take her outside,” Sigrid grabbed her hand.  “She’s been cooped up in that basket, so let’s let her run around Ada’s garden, yeah?”

“I might as well take Thangon out, too, while we’re at it,” Bain got up.  “Tulë Thangon!”

“NO!” Tilda cried, holding the pup closer.  “Thangon will eat her!”

“He will not, Tithen Pen.” Thranduil promised.  “Still, take him a fair distance away from the girls, Bain.”

“I will, Ada.  See you guys later!”

After they were seated, Thranduil put his arm around Bard’s shoulder, and raised his glass and toasted his guests.

Celeborn also offered a toast.  “Truly, my dear Cousin, it does my heart good to see you in bliss.  Mírelen would be happy for you.”

But Galadriel looked closely at the Elvenking, and a smile slowly spread across her features.  “I believe she has said as much to you in person, has she not?”

“You are very perceptive,” Thranduil chuckled.  “Nothing much gets past you, does it?”

“Does she do that a lot?” Bard asked Celeborn.

“She does,” the Lord of Lothlórien grinned, and kissed his wife’s hand.  “I would not have her any other way.” He settled back and made himself comfortable. Now then, tell us this story my wife is obviously referring to.”

“Well, you see, I had hurt my leg pretty badly last year, and Thranduil…”

Later, everyone was getting settled in bed, and Tilda was in her room, arguing with her parents about where the puppy should sleep.  “I want her with me, Da!  Won’t she be sad in her basket by herself?”

“If I let her stay with you, you’ll be playing with her all night instead of sleeping.”

“But I’ll miss her,” She turned her blue eyes full-blast on Bard, but he was adamant.

“She’s still just a baby, Little Bean. What if she crawls around and falls off the bed?  She could get hurt, not to mention she’s liable to poop and pee all over your quilt.  Ada and I will look after her.”

“Tilda,” Thranduil told her. “Your Da is right.  You need your rest, so we will keep her with us.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Tithen Pen.”

Tilda sighed.  “You’ll take good care of her?”

“Promise.” Bard held out the squirmy bundle.  “Give her a kiss.  Now close your eyes, and start thinking about what you want to name her.”

“All right,” she sighed.  “Good night, Da.”

They turned her lamp down low, then closed her door.

“May I hold her now?” Thranduil held out his hands.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten your mitts on her sooner, to be honest,” Bard teased.  “You and babies...”

They went out to the sitting room, and Thranduil set her on the floor, near Thangon, then put his arm around  his Bowman, as they watched the puppy acquaint herself with him.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the small pup, who looked like a tiny version of Thangon, barked at him, to let him know she was here.  Thangon raised his head, and tilted it back and forth, eyeing her closely.

Bard laughed.  “She’s not afraid of him at all is she?”

As if in response, the pup growled and attempted a few authoritative barks, which came out as squeaks.  Her whole heart went into these efforts, as with each little yip, all four paws left the ground.  Thangon’s eyebrows went up and down, and whined, then lowered his nose to give this tiny interloper a sniff.  Not to be outdone, the brave little pug-nosed dog walked closer, and sniffed him right back.

Bard leaned his head on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “I want you to draw this, love.”

“Another scene for our book.” The Elvenking agreed.

[writerman]

Barduil prompt? :) Thran getting badly injured during the BOFA and concealing it from everyone, especially Legolas because he doesn't want to stop him from leaving if it's what he needs. Bard's the only who notices because he's so gone on Thran that he finds himself always seeking Thran out in a room so he sees how he carries himself differently, but Thran denies being hurt even when Bard calls him out on it, but Bard won't let it rest...

Hallo. I am here with a response! It is 4:30am here and I am listening to Shirobon and vibing with my cats.

Please enjoy this, anon!

--------

When Thranduil returned from Ravenhill he was without Legolas but led a grief-stricken Tauriel through the crowds, with her hand clasped tightly in his. 

Bard watched grimly from a doorway, his children huddled into his side exhausted and shaken from the day’s events, unwilling to separate from their father when he gently eased Tilda’s small fingers from their vice-like grip on his bloodsoaked coat, all the while murmuring soft words and promises that he would return as soon as he could. 

When he found Thranduil he was in his private tent, the elf was holding himself up with the edge of the table with a large map sprawled over the majority of the surface, and to be honest, Bard hadn’t expected to be allowed entry. But the guards had ushered him in gently no words passing between them but insistent nudges guided the man into the tent and toward their king.

Upon hearing someone enter Thranduil straightens to his full height but Bard was quick to see the grimace, there and gone in an instant. When he turned to face him Thranduil was impossibly pale, more so than Bard had ever witnessed in the elf before. 

While he hadn’t truly spent much time in the presence of the King, aside from their first initial meetings when agreeing his work with taking barrels on his boat down the river, and of course, when he blazed in on his elk to ‘save the day’ with effortless grace, Bard knew he was absolutely in love with Thranduil. 

His feelings would not ever be addressed not out loud and certainly not with himself in the dark of night when he could not sleep. But it did allow him to be more observant of the elf whenever he might have been in the vicinity. 

“You’re hurt?” Bard took a hesitant step forward but nothing more though he was now close enough that when he reached out to Thranduil his fingertips brushed the cold metal of his breastplate. 

The metal was torn and jagged but his hand was angrily slapped away before he could inspect any closer. 

“The battle is done, there is no need for you to seek me out.” 

“My Lord, you are injured and you need to be attended to.” Bard didn’t want whatever fantasy of Thranduil he had built in his mind to be demolished by the blond while he was railed against the pain he might have been in. 

At this rate, the king would get sick, he was sure of it, yet it seemed there would be nothing he could say to have Thranduil relent and release his grip on his own ego. 

“You think that I would conceal an injury?” Thranduil snapped, the cool exterior he had placed so firmly before him had all but melted away and now he stood tall, imposing and heated with anger blazing in his eyes. “For what reason would I wish to elude healers and those here to attend to me?”

But he had to be lying… 

Eleven armour was excellent but the way it was torn open, Bard just couldn’t ignore it. 

“As I said, and I loathe to repeat my self, there is no reason for you to seek me out, Bowman. Take your leave and reap the benefits of the peace your little village now has. You are wasting your time here.” 

He was right of course he was but it didn’t make sense to Bard. Not with each twist and turn, each movement the elf made that came slower, and his expressions tighter as though gritting his teeth through the pain. 

There wasn’t a chance Bard was going to be able to live with himself if he just left Thranduil this way. Injury or not he had to know- and if he was wrong, which he truly doubted he was, it was fine because Thranduil and he would never meet again. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Bard strode forward and reached up unclasping the breastplate, it clanged dully when it hit the ground. Thranduil began to angrily demand answers but when Bard gently rested a hand to the bloodstained and tattered section of his robes just under his ribs his words were silenced with a hiss. 

“Why would you lie?” Bard didn’t allow the time for an answer as he tore open the robe to expose the skin under it. Angry, red and still weeping blood but it wasn’t deep as far as Bard could tell. 

“You tore my robe.” When Thranduil spoke his words rushed out quietly in a shallow breath, the pain evident now he could no longer lie to the bowman. 

“I’m sure you can have a new one made. It isn’t the end of the world.” Bard stepped away in search of something to clean the wound but found nothing in the lavishly decorated tent. “If your ego allows it maybe you can remove the robe so I can see what I am doing?” As he marched off, he thanks whatever Gods he could that Thranduil hadn’t just strangled the life out of him for his ill manners. 

One of the guards at the entrance of the tent went to fetch clean water and bandages with the express order that he did not mention it was for their king. If anyone asked Bard was the one injured. 

Returning with a bowl of water, cloth and bandages, Bard was happy to find that Thranduil had done as he was asked and removed the robe so that he stood in only his leggings and boots. It was a sight to behold even with the angry wound at his side. 

“Sit down and let me clean this for you.” Thranduil did as he was told, yet again, but he managed to grumble unhappily under his breath as he did so. Bard elected to ignore the whining and instead set the dish of water down on the floor as he knelt down to inspect the wound closely. 

“I don’t think this is a terrible wound but it definitely needs attention,” Bard spoke mostly to himself as he lifted a clean cloth from the water and wrung it out before gently patting the wound only stopping when Thranduil moved away. “Come now, the sooner it is clean the sooner you will feel better. I’ll give you something sweet as a reward if you sit still.” 

“I am not a child, Bowman,” Thranduil replied affronted but Bard could only laugh shaking his head as he once again dabbed at the elf’s skin. 

“You certainly act like one, if you don’t want something sweet, at least tell me what you refused to acknowledge this?” He gestured to the injury as he looked up to Thranduil. The elf refused to return his gaze and instead with his head held high he studied the roof of the tent intently (ha). 

“You have no idea what it is like to be king,” Thranduil paused his expression changing to that of a man with a sudden and surprising thought, “Though, I suppose you shall see soon enough.” 

Bard did not like the sound of that.

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” He tried to ignore the rising worry that settled in his chest as he unrolled a length of fabric to bandage the wound. This was going to be the hardest part seeing as he was now going to have to, essentially, wrap his arms around the elven king to get this done. 

“Well, you are of the line of Girion. The rightful heir of Dale, you will be king of this city.” 

“Aha, no thank you.” Bard’s face was on fire as he pressed his cheek to Thranduil’s ribs to properly bandage the king, who really didn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, he was smirking with undisguised glee near enough when he finally looked down at Bard. 

“Are we done here?” His voice rumbling through Bard’s cheek leaving him utterly speechless for a good few moments. 

Yes, yes they were and Bard was happy to get to his feet and scamper away but it seemed he was the only one with that idea and Thranduil caught him by the wrist pulling back round to face him. 

“You assume you can leave without allowing me to give thanks?” 

“Is it not thanks enough that you will remain healthy?” The answer, of course, was no and that was how Bard ended up in a gloriously warm bath with his back pressed against Thranduil’s chest, completely obliterating all his work to clean and dress the elf’s injuries. 

“Hm, but I think this is a better thank you, don’t you?”

Well, maybe.

[miyucchichan]

This is a fanart I’ve been doing to warm up my hand before drawing for work based on the lovely Fanfic by SusanaRosa “Dribbling mad” in AO3  Chapter 26 “Legolas’s new friend” Very fun to draw!

The common room was full of young elves chattering and laughing, and only about half of them were drunk. Only one of Thranduil’s two sons was drunk. It was clearly Legolas, from his loud voice and exaggerated movements.

That wasn’t particularly worrying to Thranduil. Legolas hadn’t had a chance to truly experience being young and carefree until just recently. That he would go a bit overboard was not exactly a shock. Nor was him having gotten excessively inebriated in the midst of reliable family members and trusted friends troubling to his father.

No, Thranduil was more concerned with the giant shining gray-green snake currently wrapped four times around Legolas’ torso, from the waist on up. The reptile’s triangular head was tenderly cradled in Thranduil’s youngest son’s right elbow, as Legolas addressed it admiringly (if drunkenly).

(...)

Thranduil’s youngest son noticed his presence and beamed happily in his father’s general direction.

“Look, Ada!” Legolas caroled excitedly, “I won the prize!”

(...)

Legolas’ new snake seemed to be happy to coil loosely around Thranduil’s son and stare back at Legolas in a manner which seemed almost as adoring as Legolas’ own expression upon introducing Thranduil to his new . . . pet? In any case, the serpent did not appear to be violent.

Here the link to read the story if you want:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/232498/chapters/35828997

[princecami]

So cute

[tamurilofrivendell]

Down, down, down... | Thranduil x Reader

Pairing: Thranduil/female human Reader

A/N: Listen. I literally don't even have an excuse for this. I really don't. There's no plot here, not even a vague meandering of one. This is literally just smut. so 🤷🏻‍♀️ consume responsibly lmao

Your soft sighs were like music to his ears as he kissed a line from your navel up to your throat, paying attention to as much of your soft skin as he possibly could. He paused at each of your breasts, tongue flicking against your nipples, taking them into his mouth in turn, rolling them between his teeth. His mouth eventually found yours again, kissing you hard, as his fingers began their exploration back down your body, roaming across the same skin his lips had just worshipped. Again, pausing at your breasts to give them adequate attention, fondling and palming at them until you were completely writhing beneath him. Then his hand continued on its travels.

Down, down, down...

A gasp was pulled from your throat as his hand drifted between your legs and ghosted across your sweet spot. A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat as his lips moved back down to your neck, suckling at your skin. He grinned wickedly as you tilted your head back, panting as a finger moved further, dipping inside of you with painful, teasing slowness.

“Thranduil...” You whined, causing him to groan against your skin. His name on your lips was still one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. He licked at the mark he had left upon your neck and pulled back so he could look at you. He wanted to watch as he pushed deeper inside you. You were so ready for him and his groan mingled with your own as he added another slender finger into your gloriously welcoming heat. He started to move quicker, pumping his two fingers inside you, watching with increasing lust as you bit down on your lip, the sound of your moans that let him know just what he was doing to you almost too much for him to bear.

"You are so beautiful like this." Thranduil told you, committing your every expression to memory. How sinful you looked and how erotic he found you. Then he was moving again, lowering his head.

Down, down, down...

His long white hair tickled your thighs as his mouth found your, tongue flicking over your sensitive nub. Your back arched and he smirked against you, adding a third finger, stretching you even further and revelling in the sounds he pulled from your beautiful lips.

"Good girl..." He hummed against you, causing a deep shiver to cut straight through you, a thick heat pooling in your belly. Your fingers tangled through his silky hair as his fingers and his mouth worked you, faster and faster. Until, suddenly, Thranduil crooked his fingers and hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars. You felt your whole body tense and the pressure inside you built up to an incredible, uncontrollable crescendo. Then you were falling.

Down, down, down...

Panting heavily as Thranduil removed his fingers from you, licking your juices off his long digits as he watched you come down from the orgasm he had bestowed upon you. Valar, he would never tire of such a sight.

However, he was not done, and the night of pleasure was not yet over.

He moved again, barely giving you time to recover, as he lay himself above you once more. His hardened member pressed against your stomach as he captured your mouth in another desperate kiss, his desire written in his every expression and movement. You tasted yourself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth.

"I am going to take you now, my beautiful little mortal." He whispered once he pulled away, kissing down your jaw and your throat.

You could only sigh, still lost in a dizzy high, and he grinned as he moved to properly position himself, lining himself up between your legs. He moved one hand to your chin and took hold of it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Look at me." Was his gentle command and your eyes fluttered open. He wanted to watch as you joined together. With his eyes fixed on your own, Thranduil teased your entrance with his tip, watching your expression as you sucked in a harsh breath, impatient for him. Smirking, he plunged into you, relishing in the vision he saw beneath him. Your eyes practically rolled back as a whimper left your lips, morphing into gasps and moans as Thranduil began to build up the pace. He rocked his hips, thrusting into you until he could no longer contain his own sounds of delight and lust, moaning into your mouth as he captured your lips again with his own.

His hand moved once more, pushing down between your legs while he was still inside you, toying with your still sensitive clit, as Thranduil was determined to bring you to ruin one more time. It was almost too much for you to bear. Both of your moans mixed together with your hot breath as the two of you tumbled closer to the edge.

Down, down, down...

Thranduil pressed his finger down firmly and you came again, crying his name as you tightened around him, and Thranduil followed soon after, grunting against your collarbone as he spilled himself inside you.

The only sound that could be heard in the room for a while afterwards was panting as you and Thranduil came down from your highs. You felt hot and you were trembling as you opened your eyes, curling closer when he rolled into his back and pulled you to him. You peppered kisses across his broad chest and he smiled, running his fingers through your hair until you eventually fell asleep.

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

囚

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2VvMtF0

by The_Four_Leaf_Clover

“Ada……”莱戈拉斯小声地说出这个让他更觉羞耻的称呼，身体却忍不住兴奋了起来。 他从来都只能溺毙在他的君主赐予他的欲海。 这时的莱戈拉斯往往是迷惘的。 他口中叫着“Ada”，却在被父亲以恋人的形式爱抚；他是男人，却如同女人一样在他人身下辗转承欢；他是王子，却履行着王后的义务；他祈求的是如同山般沉默海般博大的父爱，可是父亲给他的却是炽热滚烫的爱情。

Words: 23298, Chapters: 1/1, Language: 中文-普通话 國語

Fandoms: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Thrandui, Aragorn, Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)

Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Thranduil

Additional Tags: Forbidden Love, Wrongful Imprisonment

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2VvMtF0