#Thranduil Fan fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

middleearthpixie · 1 year ago

Note

Hellooo, I love your work, and I would love to request something! If you don't end up writing it, that is completely fine. Please don't feel obligated to!

I'm not sure if you write for Kili, so if you do not, Thorin would be perfectly fine!

But imagine when the company is in Mirkwood and they are sitting in the cells. They are visited by (what they believe to be) a Dwarrowdam, while she is beardless, she is Dwarven in size and has long hair with a few braids in it (They consider her to be like Kili, relatively ugly for Dwarven standards). They get excited when she talks to them, but she doesn't seem to know anything of dwarves culture.

When the guards come, they ask her to hide, which she does not, and is thus greated by the Guards as their Princess, Legolas little Sister. They company realises they've met Thranduils Daughter, who might look a little dwarven but is an elf through and through, with long pointed ears, ethereal seemingly glowing long hair, and royal blood.

How it end is up to you! I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care <333

Hi there, Nonny!

Thank you so much for this and for your patience! 💜

I don't write for Kíli and probably couldn't do him justice if I tried, so I wrote for Thorin, since he is my first dwarf love. :)

Anyway, I hope you like it.

The Escape

Summary: Thorin and his Company have found themselves imprisoned in Mirkwood, only to have help from one of the most unlikeliest of elves...

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Carys Greenleaf

Characters: Thorin, Carys Greenleaf, Thorin’s Company, Thranduíl, Legolas, Bilbo Baggins

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k

***

“Did he offer you a deal?”

Thorin bobbed his head, a hint of triumph surging through him as he replied, “He did. And I told him ish kakfê ai-‘d-dûr-rugnal! Him and all his kin!”

“Well, that’s that, then.”

“I will not bargain with elves,” Thorin told him flatly, moving to the far side of the cell. Of course, calling it the far side was a bit disingenuous, as the cell itself was too small to actually have sides. Small. Damp. With cots of woven tree branches that had poked through the packed earthen walls. There was barely enough room for him and Balin, and Balin was one of the smaller dwarves. Thank Mahal he wasn't locked away with Bombur.

Thorin peered through the iron bars that made up the cell door. Across from them, Bombur and Bifur were crammed into one cell together, and Bifur couldn't be seen behind his cousin. Thorin just knew he was there, for every now and again, Bifur muttered something in khuzdul.

“Without a bargain,” Balin was saying, “we are not getting out of here, you know.”

Thorin shook his head, moving away from the door to sink onto the edge of the roughly woven bunk. It was rough and uneven, and he couldn't imagine getting a peaceful night’s sleep on it, even if his mind wasn't already weighted down with their situation and the fact they were quickly running out of time to make it to the Lonely Mountain before the last light of Durin’s Day.

Still, he had his principles and bargaining with elves violated every one of them. Especially bargaining with Mirkwood elves. Out of the question entirely. “We will find our way out. Our burglar is still among the missing, remember.”

“True, but we don't know where he is, or if he is even within the palace,” Balin pointed out, sinking onto the bunk across from Thorin’s. The cell was so narrow, if he reached out, Thorin would be able to touch Balin. Thank Mahal small spaces didn't trouble him, since it looked as though they might be there for some time.

Best not to think about that.

“Are you thirsty?”

Thorin jumped at the unexpected voice that floated through the bars and when he looked over to see who their visitor might be, he couldn't help but stare. How was it possible a dwarrowdam walked freely in Mirkwood, of all places? And not only a dwarrowdam, but one of the oddest looking women he’d ever seen, with her shimmering, white-blonde hair sleek as it spilled over her shoulders. He would have thought her to be an elf, were it not for her diminutive size (she was shorter than even Balin, and that was saying something,) and the fact that her face was completely devoid of any hair whatsoever. Her pale skin almost glowed in its bareness, making her wide eyes seemed even wider and incredibly dark. But then his gaze alit on the braids woven into that otherwise sleek golden fall. Two on the left side of her head and one on the right, each adorned with small silver ornaments of some sort. An outcast, no doubt, and probably some sort of elf-servant, which sent a rush of pity for her surging through him.

“We want nothing from the likes of you,” he told her bluntly. “Leave us.”

She stepped closer and he realized then that her eyes were not dark at all. Instead, they were blue. A deep blue the color of the perfect sapphires that were once mined in Erebor. Deep blue and just as sparkling. Those beautiful eyes held his as she replied, “Stubborn fool. Think you anyone else will pass by and offer you water or anything, for that matter?”

“I deal with no dwarf who serves an elven master,” he told her flatly. “So take yourself off, and leave us be.”

“Thorin,” Balin’s voice was low with both warning and scolding, “there is no need to be rude to the girl.”

Thorin glared at him. “Mind yourself, Balin. We need nothing from the likes of her.”

She remained where she stood, unfazed by his dismissal. “Are you always one to cut off his nose to spite his face?”

“Begone with you, unless you’ve come to release us.”

“I couldn’t do that if I wanted to,” came her pert reply, “as Thranduíl would be furious with me and I’d rather avoid that, it’s all the same to you, dwarf.”

He held her stare as he debated about whether or not to scold her again. But when she held his stare without flinching or looking away, he relented with a muffled sigh. He was cutting off his nose to spite his face and in all honesty, he would gladly kill for a sip of anything liquid at the moment. “Very well. I beg your pardon. Water would be appreciated.”

“There,” she bobbed her head, “was that so difficult?”

Thorin felt Balin step up behind him, and he looked over at the older dwarf as Balin asked, “Who are you, lass? What clan do you claim as yours?”’

“Clan?” Her blue eyes clouded with confusion as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“Whom do you call husband? I assume he’s the one what wove those into your hair.”

“Again, I’m not following you. I’m afraid I don't understand at all what you’re asking me.”

“The braids.” Balin gestured to his own woolly white hair. “The man you’ve pledged yourself to, was he killed in battle with these elves? Is that how you came to be indentured to them?”

“Indentured?” She shook her head, the silver ornaments in her braids thunking softly against one another. “I’ve pledged myself to no man. And I am indentured to no one. In fact, I have no idea what you’re going on about at all.”

Thorin wasn't exactly sure how to respond to her. “You don’t understand the significance of your braids?”

“Other than they keep my hair out of my eyes?” She smiled then. “There is no significance and I’ve pledged myself to no man. At least,” a glint came into her pale eyes as she met his, “not yet.”

To his surprise, his cheeks grew hot. She must have noticed it herself, for her smile grew winsome. “You, dwarf, are blushing.”

“Dwarf?” Balin broke in, shaking his head. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but he is no ordinary dwarf. He is—”

“That’ll do, Balin,” Thorin broke in, shaking his head as he glanced over his shoulder at him.

Balin’s eyes widened briefly, then he nodded. “Of course.” And to the girl, he said, “Have you a name?”

“I do, of course. Surely you don't think they simply call out You! and hope I turn around, do you?”

Now it was Balin’s turn to blush and Thorin almost laughed aloud at the rare sight. Clearing his throat, Balin bobbed his head. “Of course not. That would be silly.”

“It would, indeed.” She smiled once more. “I am—”

Footsteps sounded and Kíli hissed, “Someone’s coming!”

Fíli appeared at the door of the cell he shared with his brother. “You should leave, miss. I should hate to see you in trouble.”

“Trouble?” She twisted toward him and Thorin couldn’t help noticing how her hair seemed to come alive, spilling like molten gold over her shoulder. “I’ll have nothing of the sort. Why would I?”

“Princess?” One of the Mirkwood guards appeared, scowling as he addressed the girl. “You should not be down here. It’s not safe.”

“Oh, do I answer to you now?” Her voice remained mild but there was no mistaking the amusement and annoyance threaded through her words. “Because I’m fairly certain I do not.”

“Your father would be displeased, should he know you’ve come down here.”

Princess. Thorin straightened at hearing her addressed this way. This girl was no dwarrowdam after all. Which explained so much, and yet left so many other questions clanging around in his head, beginning with why a princess was wandering about the dungeon, for starters.

“Carys!” A deeper voice rang out along the cells. “What mean you by this?”

“By what? Being here?” She didn't seem at all nervous or afraid as the elf who’d rounded Thorin and his company up in the Mirkwood forest stepped out of the shadows. “Legolas, you didn't even offer them a drop to drink and after battling the spiders, no less. What is the matter with you?”

Thorin almost smiled at the disappointment and scolding in her voice. It served the uppity elf right, to be put in his place. He not only accused Thorin of lies, but of thievery as well, and took it upon himself to relieve Thorin of the same sword Elrond had gifted him not a two months ago.

Thorin looked from Carys to Legolas and almost groaned at the resemblance between them. She was not a dwarf at all, but merely a very small elf. A child, perhaps? He thunked his head against the iron bars. A child would not go against her father’s wishes and free them. The most she would do would be to offer them water. What else could she do?

But if Legolas was chagrined by her words, he hid it well, snorting before he replied, “Why would I do such a thing? And you should not take it upon yourself to—”

“Oh, hush,” she snapped, shaking her head at him. “Don’t be that way. Papa is angry that they dared trespass, and while he’s within his rights to be annoyed, I think imprisoning them is overkill. They were lost in our woods and he had them arrested for it. They’d done nothing to warrant it, you know. Lost is not a crime, unless our laws have changed, which I’m fairly certain they’ve not.”

Legolas’ dark eyes flicked up and Thorin almost smiled as he met the elf’s stare easily. Stepping around his sister, he said, “Do not think I am as soft as she. I care not if you lot are left here long enough to turn to dust.”

“I’ve noticed,” Thorin replied dryly, mindful of Balin’s dark eyes boring into his back at the moment. “Although, I confess, I was not aware being lost was a crime, unless, as she’s pointed out, your laws have changed.”

“You are guilty of more than simply being lost. You took it upon yourself to attempt to hunt one of Thranduíl’s prized deer, and that is a crime in these lands,” Legolas told him, shaking his head. “You are fortunately this cell is all the punishment he’s ordered.”

“I certainly feel fortunate.”

“Thorin, mind yourself,” Balin growled behind him.

Thorin ignored the warning, adding, “We were lost and hungry and thirsty. You would do the same, were you in our boots.”

“I would never be in dwarven boots. I value my feet far too much.” Legolas turned to his sister. “Come. I will have one of the others deal with this lot.”

“I wish to bring them water first. A little kindness won’t hurt, you know.”

“Not now. Let’s go.” He grabbed Carys by the elbow and steered her away, calling over his shoulders, “She will not be back, you know.”

Carys scowled as she glared up at her older brother. “Would it have hurt to give them a sip of water? When did you grow so cold, Legolas, that you would deny anyone a basic necessity such as that?”

“You are too soft, is the problem,” he replied without looking at her. “And you know Father would agree with me.”

She pulled free. “We will see about that.”

“Carys, wait—”

She ignored him, marching ahead of him along the open walkway that led toward her father’s throne room. Although she knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears, she had to try. Thorin Oakenshield and his company had broken no elven laws, save for that attempt to shoot one of Thranduíl’s white deer, and she felt one hundred years in a cell was not exactly a warranted punishment for that. If they’d hit the deer, perhaps, but since he’d missed…

Besides, she’d heard tell of Thorin Oakenshield and had, for some time now, wondered whether or not he actually existed. Now that she’d seen him for herself… well… she was somehow going to convince her father to let him go. What harm had befallen her family from having the dwarves in their forest? Absolutely none.

With that, she marched into the throne room where she found Thranduíl perched high atop his throne of woven branches, adorned with gilded versions of oak leaves, acorns, maple seeds, and pine cones. He blended with the surroundings in his flowing robes of gold, orange, brown, and red silk that floated about him like a mist. The sunlight that filtered through the treetops reflected off his crown of sticks and twigs, also adorned with gilded acorns and polished stones that in some lights appeared golden, and in others, almost black.

“Papa, a word?”

His eyes were as green as spring leaves after a rainstorm, calm and tranquil as they met hers. “What is it, Carys?”

“The prisoners.”

“If you mean the dwarves, you should simply stop right there,” he replied sternly, “for I will not discuss them.”

“What have they done that is so terrible? They were lost.”

“That does not excuse them their trespasses.”

“They didn't kill the deer, mind you.” She shook her head as she stepped closer. “They did nothing except walk along our paths. They sipped not even a drop of water. Let them go.”

“I will do no such thing and we will not discuss it further. They stay until Thorin Oakenshield is willing to return to me that which is rightfully mine.”

“What?” She cocked her head slightly to stare up at him. “What are you about, Papa? What of yours can these dwarves possibly have?”

Thranduíl shook his head, sending his shimmering blond hair spilling like molten gold over his shoulders. “Never you mind about it. You have my answer. And I’ll not change my mind, so do not even try.”

“But, Papa—”

“No!” His low voice echoed all around them and his robes swished softly as he rose to sweep carefully down the staircase from his throne. “I’ll not settle for any less.”

“You are being impossibly stubborn, do you know this? You make no sense and this is just cruel. They’ve not even been offered so much as sip of water since you locked them away.”

“I needed not make sense to you, daughter, to have my wishes obeyed. Now, you are to stay away from the dungeons. Legolas,” Thranduíl’s pale eyes flicked up over her head, “see your sister to her chambers, please.”

“I can see myself there, thank you.” She spun about and swept out of the throne room through the doorway along the eastern wall, that led to a corridor traveled only by her family. Her rooms were at the far end, and she didn't slow down as she made her way through her chambers and out to the small garden behind them.

Hints of jasmine and honeysuckle hung in the air. If she closed her eyes, Carys could almost see her mother, for those scents would forever be associated with her mother. She had very little memory of her, but for her scent remained burned into Carys’ brain and would remain there. This garden was the only place were honeysuckle grew, as Thranduíl did not know she’d cultivated it. Had he, and Carys had no doubt he’d have ordered it burned. Not out of cruelty, but out of self-preservation, for he’d never gotten over her murder.

Carys was but an infant when it happened and had no memory of her mother aside from the flowers. And she could not even be sure that she linked them because she remember them or because her father told her that her mother’s favorite scent was honeysuckle. It didn't matter. Carys found comfort in the smell, just has her father found sorrow in it.

A low stone wall ringed the garden and as she sank onto it, Carys sighed softly. Thorin and his men did not deserve to be locked away in a dungeon for a crime that was hardly a crime. The longer she sat there, her back against her favorite tree, watching the fireflies as they flashed through the growing darkness, the more strongly she felt they did not deserve this.

The Feast of Starlight, Mereth Nuin Goliath was to begin shortly, and once the wine began flowing, no one would notice if she slipped away from the others. So she joined them all in the Great Hall, and by half-eleven, even her father was well into his cups. As she thought, no one seemed to take notice when she slipped out of the hall and down into the kitchens, where the keys were kept on a hook near the doorway.

The iron ring was cold and far heavier than it looked, and she wrapped her fingers about the numerous equally cold and heavy keys to keep them from clanking together as she descended into the damp depths of the Mirkwood dungeons. That dampness bit into her, the cold made her feet ache through her thin silk slippers, and she wished she’d brought a wrap with her.

But, she’d be up in her chambers and warm again soon enough, and so put her discomfort from her mind. It was temporary and it would pass.

“What time do you suppose it is?” The low male voice floated out from one of the cells.

“It must be nearly dawn by now.”

“We will never make it in time.”

She crept up to Thorin’s cell and softly rattled the keys. “I beg to differ.”

Thorin appeared in the doorway, his eyes pale blue slivers in the soft light afforded by the torches affixed high above them. Those eyes stood out starkly against his long tangle of black har and equally dark, heavy brows. “What are you doing?”

“I do not believe trespassing is deserving of a hundred-year sentence.” She slid the key into the lock and turned to set the tumblers opening. “And so, I’ve come to let you all go. But, you’ll have to move quickly, for it won’t take much for them to notice I’ve gone. They’re drunk, but not dead, you know.”

The door opened noiselessly and a moment later, Thorin stood before her. Up close, he was strikingly handsome. Far more so than she would have ever thought and definitely more so than she’d ever expected. And since he was tall for a dwarf, and she was short for an elf, they were the same height, which meant they stood nearly eye-to-eye.

Those eyes were friendly now, and almost warm as he said, “Princess, thank you.”

“There is no need for that.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sounds of people moving in the kitchens. “We need to move. Now. Follow me.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” A dwarf almost as tall as Thorin and far more menacing-looking, with his balding, tattooed head, growled.

“Why would I trap you when you were already trapped?” She shook her head. “There really is no time for this. Come with me or remain here for the next hundred years. The choice is yours.”

“Where is the hobbit? Is he here?” a dwarf with two jet-black pigtails asked.

“I’ve no idea what hobbit you might be referring to, as I’ve seen none. Now, please,” Carys tried to force as much urgency into her whisper as she could manage, “it will not be long before someone comes into the kitchens and notices this enormous key ring—” she held up the ring in question, jangling it softly for effect—“is missing. And they will know why it is missing. So, if you’d be so kind, please, follow me.”

“Do as she says,” Thorin hissed, then to her surprise, caught her by the elbow as he added, “Please, lead on.”

She did, moving swiftly along the all-too-familiar treads, deeper into the palace, until they reached the bottommost level, where at least two dozen casks stood carefully stacked, waiting to be filled with goods to be sent down the Forest River to Esgaroth and points beyond.

Thorin stared at her in disbelief. “You cannot mean what I think you mean.”

“You will be fine. Trust me. I used to do this myself as a child. It might give you butterflies in your stomach, but that’s the worst that should happen.”

“Thorin, you cannot mean to listen to her!” The dwarf with the pigtails stared in wide-eyed horror. “She’s meaning to drown the lot of us. And we cannot leave without finding Bilbo.”

“Please,” she looked from one dwarf to the next, shaking her head as dust filtered down from the boards above, “someone has noticed and you are almost out of time. Get in the barrels. Otherwise, my efforts will have been in vain and you will find yourselves back in your cells.”

“In with you all,” Thorin whispered sharply. “Waste no more time!”

More dust filtered down around them and the dwarves reluctantly climbed into the barrels, muttering and mumbling the entire time. She ignored them as she met Thorin’s gaze. “You should get in as well. I’ll pull the lever and get you on your way. Hopefully, the current will be swift enough to have whisked you out of reach of the archers, but I will try to stall them as best I can just the same.”

“Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome.” Footsteps thudded dully overhead. “You should go.”

He glanced up. “What will happen to you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never defied my father this way. He will be quite angry, I imagine. But, that certainly won’t be the first time.”

The footsteps grew louder and now her heart beat faster. Thranduíl would be beyond furious with her, really. He might even banish her. She didn't know. She’d seen him banish other elves for lesser offenses, but they were not his daughter, either. Certainly she would not have to fear such a punishment.

At least, she hoped she wouldn’t.

The boards directly over their heads creaked and voices, muffled at first, grew clearer. The seriousness of her actions bit into her then and without hesitation, she said, “Get in now!”

Thorin climbed into a barrel and looked back at her once more. “Thank you again.”

“Think not of it,” she told him, forcing herself to smile as she moved to the lever that wold turn the floor into a ramp. “Safe travels.”

Though kept well-oiled, the dampness still caused rust to form on the giant cogs and they squealed as she pushed against the lever with all of her might. At first, the floor only barely moved and fear bit into her with sharp teeth, urged her to push with more force. The muscles in her back screamed, the ones in her legs burned, but finally, the ramp lowered and one by one, the barrels splashed into the river far below. Another moment later, and they were out of sight.

The ramp clapped shut just as the first guards burst into the chamber, Thranduíl right behind them, his eyes ablaze with utter fury unlike any she’d ever seen. When those eyes fell on her, she stepped back, her stomach twisting into hot knots of fear unlike any she’d ever felt before.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

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#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #Thorin Fic #Romance #thranduil #Mirkwood #DOS

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of-house-atreides · 2 years ago

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This reawakened my obsession with him, I absolutely loved and have read it 3 times already! Would love to read another story similar to this one if anyone’s got any recommendation?

Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36]

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired retelling with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village. Synopsis: When you take your father’s place in the Elvenking’s dungeons, you expect to stay locked down there for the rest of your life. After the king’s son, Legolas, gives you a room to stay in, and your escape attempt ends rather differently than you had hoped, a tentative bond begins to slowly form between you and Thranduil himself. However, the past won’t leave either of you be, as a tormented shadow lies upon his heart and the people from your village inch closer to the Elvenking’s Halls. Things within the Woodland Realm are changing but can you truly melt the heart of the Elvenking? And should it even matter… when he is immortal and you are not?

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fan fic #the hobbit #Thranduil

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rebelliousnerds · 7 months ago

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ATTN: LOTR/Hobbit fic finders

I read a Thranduil/OC fic a while back and now I can’t find it. Honestly don’t remember if I read it on AO3 or fanfiction. What I do remember is that it was set prior to the hobbit and I’m pretty sure the OC was Galadriel and Celeborn’s daughter. I know that’s not a lot to go off of but if anyone knows a fic that might be it please send it my way!

#fic finder #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil x oc #fan fiction

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ladywithaquill · 4 months ago

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A Young King Returns from War

Part 8 of The Birth of A King series is on AO3 for reading.

#thranduil #the hobbit #Battle of Dagorlad #Siege of Barad-dûr #fan fiction #fan fic writer #fanfic on ao3 #ao3

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coopsgirl · 2 years ago

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Here's chapter 1 of my latest fic, The Shadow and the Sunrise. Ranyare, a member of the original eldar who awoke on the shores of Lake Cuiviénen, has survived into the Third Age and has lived hidden away from others in Fangorn Forest. Forced to come out of hiding, she meets the elves of Lothlórien and Greenwood. Much to her surprise, she and Thranduil become friends and together they will work through their pain and traumas to finally find peace and love.

I thought it would be fun to have a character that was one of the first of her kind still alive in the Third Age. Círdan is the oldest known elf in canon in Middle Earth but it seems like he was born to elves at Cuiviénen and was not one of the first generation to awaken fully grown on the shores of the lake. This will only be a few chapters and I hope everyone will enjoy it!

#thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fan fic #the shadow and the sunrise #tolkien tag #tolkien fic #greenwood the great #greenwood elves #fangorn forest #lothlorien #tolkien elves #elvenking #thranduil #lee pace

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kayleighhalliday2203 · 1 year ago

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Chapters: 54/? Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Character(s), Thranduil (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s) Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Original Female Character(s), Original Female Human Character(s), Original Female Elf Character(s) Additional Tags: Harems, Thranduil has a harem, Protective Thranduil, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, bisexual elves, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Threesome - F/F/M, Kissing, Swimming, Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Slow Burn, Like majorly slow burn, Mutual Masturbation, Dry Humping, Masturbation, Loss of Virginity, Spanking Summary:

Two decades after the Battle of the Five Armies, Bard is finally able to repay Thranduil with a kingly gift; a new addition to the Elven-King's harem. Dalla arrives in the Woodland Realm, unsure of what her future holds save that it centers around the Elven-King.

New Discord server for chat and fic discussion https://discord.gg/uzFGdfQ All are welcome!

#new chapter #fan fic #fan fic update #Thranduil #The Hobbit #The Hobbit fan fiction

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annwrites · 3 months ago

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—meet me in the woods

say goodbye to who i was. i ain't never been away so long. don't look back, them days are gone. — thranduil x modernday!reader ; 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.

a/n: while i've listened to bluefax's dramatic audiobook version of the hobbit, listened to phil dragesh's audiobooks of lotr (fellowship twice now), watched all of peter jackson's films multiple times, & seen s1 of trop, i'm not terribly versed in tolkien's lore. as such, i intend to be taking great liberties with this fic in regards to it.

i'm putting this note out there now, bc i know how tolkien's fans can be when it comes to lore accuracy & i'm not going to tolerate being attacked for discrepancies in a fanfic i'm writing for free & for fun. not to mention, first & foremost, for myself.

Thranduil’s nostrils flare and he rests his arms behind his back. “What are you doing out here?”

You jump at the unexpected sound of his voice, gripping the hem of your dress more tightly in your hands.

You settle your feet firmly in the softly flowing current of warm, shimmering water you stand in before you meet his gaze. “Wading.”

“You should be inside,” he spits.

Your brows furrow. “There’s guards,” you say, glancing across the way to a pair of archers, then back to him. “And at least being out here puts me out of your way.”

He takes a small step closer, leaves crunching beneath his tall leather boots. “You’ll do as I command.”

You stare up at him in disbelief.

He loathes your presence, so you come out here as an attempt to diffuse tension—to start instead enjoying your days in this unfamiliar place, away from his insufferable company—and still he’s displeased by your actions.

You step out of the river, climbing up the embankment, dropping your skirts around your bare feet while you blink up at him. “At once, your highness.”

He sneers at you, grabbing you roughly by the arm, pulling you into his chest.

You stare into his eyes, and he into yours, glancing between them and…your lips.

Finally, he releases you with a huff and a shake of his head—long silver hair slipping over his shoulders—marching back into Mirkwood.

He seats himself beside you upon lush green grass, watching as tree branches sway in the wind, birds flitting between them, chirping a musical tune, the scent of damp soil invading his senses.

You remain silent, fighting back tears.

“What is it today?” He asks with exasperation.

You shake your head, looking in another direction.

He rolls his eyes upwards. Difficult girl.

He remains silent, however, waiting for you to answer him.

“I’ve been here for weeks,” you state. “And I still can’t remember…anything. Not where I came from, or how I got here.”

Your chin wobbles. “I don’t even have a name.”

Silence settles into the space between you, hot tears slipping down your soft cheeks while you wrap your shawl more tightly around you.

“Would you like for me to, then?”

You look at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

He reaches up—swallowing thickly when you flinch away from his touch—tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before resting his hand in his lap again. “Name you.”

One day while exploring the woods near your house, you come across an open novel lying atop a rotting tree trunk, weeds sprouting from its pages. Wanting a closer inspection, you lean down, glancing over the faded printed words—something about a place called ‘Mirkwood’ and an elf named Thranduil—before you grip the page’s edge, about to turn it, and an overwhelming feeling comes over you before you blackout entirely.

And when you awake, it’s in a new world, with no knowledge left within you of your previous one. Not even your own name.

You’re quickly discovered by men with pointed ears who bear swords and bows, who begin a swift interrogation as to who you are and how you passed through their boundaries unnoticed.

You plead with them not to hurt you. That you have no idea where you even are—who you are—so they decide to bring you before their king, so as to answer for your crime of trespassing.

A king who immediately finds displeasure at your mortal presence in his home—eager to rid himself of you nigh-immediately—until you beg him not to banish you into an unknown land. To please help you—you’ll do anything he says—you just need to bide your time until your memory returns and then you will be gone, never to return.

With great reluctance, he takes a kernel of pity upon you. But he assures you: his hospitality has its limits, so you best tread carefully.

headcanons:

enemies-to-lovers.

reader’s memory will eventually return, but in random spurts.

when that starts occurring, it actually makes thranduil uneasy, afraid that once it’s been fully restored, she’ll leave him & mirkwood behind.

i know he’s not half-elf, but reader is going to be legolas’ mother.

#annsideas #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n

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fizzyxcustard · 1 year ago

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Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, comparison, angst, sexual references, mutual pining, idiots in love.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you (from the race of Men) but constantly compares his body and features with other men, thinking you find him disgusting." Requested by multiple readers and anons. (THANK YOU!)

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin watched every little interaction that you had with other males, whether they be Dwarves, Men or Elves. He couldn’t help but watch you blush, avert eye contact and use self-soothing gestures, such as touching your face, curling your hair with your fingers, or rubbing your upper arms.

Since Thorin had been crowned King of Erebor, and re-building was underway, many people visited the mountain. Bard came from Esgaroth, often meeting with Thorin in council, to discuss trade deals and assistance in building. Much to Thorin’s distain, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, also came. Again, he joined the council to converse around the subject of trade deals in precious metals and gemstones.

Your relationship with Thorin was entirely built on trust. The two of you had been companions out on the road during the quest to re-take Erebor. He had always valued your opinion, spoke with you in private, and kept you close to him on his council of advisors. Erebor was now your home, despite you being of the race of Men. Your family were all gone, meaning that the Dwarves had now taken that place, welcoming you into the fold and treating you as one of their own.

One morning, council was busy. Neldra, one of the kitchen staff, was on hand with jugs of cold drinks and pots of tea. Then once all the drinks were laid out neatly on intricately laced doilies, she came back with a trolley of fresh pastries.

The smell was divine; you took an inhale and let the scent overtake you. Apple and cinnamon were among the selection: your favourite.

You reached out to take one of the pastries, only to feel another hand graze yours. “I apologise,” a voice came, from the direction of the hand.

It was Bard, from two seats down to your right hand side, who had stretched across to grab one of Neldra’s famous delicacies. “It was no bother,” you replied. “You first.”

“Ladies first. I insist.”

Thorin’s blue eyes studied the scene going on before him. No one else had noticed the exchange between you and Bard. Upon the impact of yours and Bard’s hands, Thorin felt a jolt in his chest. It rose up into his throat, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. The red hot sensation bore into him, feeling as if it were forming a hole straight through him. Upon opening his eyes, Thorin looked at his hands, then glanced across to Bard’s. The man’s hands were broad, but his fingers long and slender. Very much unlike Thorin’s. The Dwarf King’s fingers were short and bulky, with stubby ends. Surely Bard’s hands would have the dexterity and skill to caress your skin, drawing shivers from you. A Dwarf’s hands would be too calloused and thick to evoke any kind of pleasurable sensation upon a woman from the race of Men.

Chatter continued, along with eating and drinking. In that time, Thorin tried his hardest to push the negative thoughts from his mind, and concentrate on the conversation at hand, which involved the realms of Erebor and Esgaroth exchanging skilled workers and apprentices.

Thranduil was also present and merely rolled his eyes as the conversation got underway between Bard and Thorin. The Elven King did not like to waste his time, and being in this council meant that there were stints of time where his input was not needed.

“Would you like another drink?” you asked Thranduil, picking up the nearest china pot of tea.

“I would much prefer wine, but since I’m not within my realm, I would not say no.”

Thorin’s gaze darted over to Thranduil, and then to you. He saw you brush a piece of hair behind your ear, and then look up at the Elven King sat opposite you. Your ears were small, with one golden hoop earring in each lobe. Then Thorin looked at Thranduil’s ears; pointed at the tip, finely structured. They weren’t big, round and sticking out. Thorin’s ears were ugly, and thankfully he could keep them hidden under his long hair. Secretly, he had always imagined you whispering against them, your lips brushing them. It made Thorin shiver.

Once council had concluded, Thorin left the chamber and headed back to the royal wing. Once inside and he stood in front of his full length dress mirror, staring at the protruding ears on the side of his head. Then he studied his large hands, thinking back to Bard’s.

The males from the races of Men and Elves made you blush in a way that Thorin never had. Their bodies were more finely crafted, which complemented yours. They had finer features with smaller noses and brows.

Thorin shifted back and sat on his bed, his hands in his lap. He took one more glance at them, feeling disgusted at what he saw. They would never be good enough for you. None of his body would ever be good enough for you. Everything about him was oversized, not delicate and handsome like Bard and Thranduil. Both of them had lost their wives, and may have wished to re-marry, so they would make better husbands for you.

***

The following day and Thorin was sat in the council room, signing documents. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment.

You walked in, holding a further stack of documents in your hands. “These should be the last ones,” you said, offering a smile.

Thorin looked up at you. No blush on your face to be seen.

“Is everything alright?” you asked. There was something in his eyes, a thoughtfulness. Maybe even a sadness. You sat down in an empty seat next to Thorin. “What’s wrong?” On impulse, you placed your hand on top of his.

Thorin looked at your hands, watching your thumb gently caress his knuckle. How huge his hand looked against yours. But how right it felt, as if the size did not matter, and they were still able to fit together as one.

“There is nothing wrong,” Thorin said, forcing a weak smile. “I hear that Bard is leaving this afternoon. Will you not be wishing him farewell?”

“I barely know him,” you replied. “I’d feel it strange to do so.”

“Would you wish to get to know him?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Surely you find him handsome,” Thorin continued, pulling the new stack of documents over towards him.

“Not really. Can’t say I do. There’s some reason to you asking this, Thorin.”

“Why would I have any reason?”

“There’s always a reason to anything that you ask. I know you enough by now. Talk to me. You’ve always given me more trust than I deserve, and never questioned me liked this before.”

Thorin took a deep inhale and looked at you, dropping his quill. “Who do you find handsome? If not Bard, maybe Thranduil?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ever would you think I’m attracted to King Thranduil?” The whole idea was so comical that you couldn’t help but keep giggling. “It takes….” You couldn’t stop the giggling. “A special….kind of woman….to…..”

Thorin also began to chuckle, watching your face turn red in amusement and delight. His heart somehow felt lighter as he watched you, and that overwhelming love for you rose. It was a love that would allow him to do anything to make you happy. It was a love that would make him sacrifice his very life to keep you safe. It was sacrificial and unconditional.

You could see the glow in Thorin’s eyes and the smile which curled his lips upwards. He was the one you found handsome, above all others. The intensity in his eyes made butterflies swarm in your stomach. His proud presence caused you to shiver whenever he entered a room. His voice was enough to make your imaginations travel to another place where only the two of you were, locked away in comfort, pursuing wondrous pleasure.

You edged closer to Thorin. “You said you want to know who I find handsome?”

Thorin’s heart was hammering now and he was sure that you would be able to hear it.

“It’s you.” Your voice was a whisper. “It’s always been you. How could it not be you? Why would you ever think I’d be attracted to Bard and Thranduil?”

Thorin closed his eyes in embarrassment. “My features and body are not like theirs.”

“So why would that not make you handsome?”

“My hands…”

“Your hands?” you giggled. This time a blush did hit your cheeks, and it was even more vivid than it had ever been when in the company of any other man. “You have found out my secret.”

“What secret?” Thorin asked, shifting ever so slightly closer to you. He had never wanted you any more than he did in those moments. The very thought that it was him that you found handsome was making his whole being rise, but anticipation was now racing down his spine in shivers.

“I have had a fantasy for some time now, since meeting you, of what you could do to me with those hands,” you said, biting your lip.

Thorin couldn’t hold back any more and moved even closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath was elevated and his eyes were sparkling with so much joy, but slight fear.

His lips crashed against yours and you both groaned upon impact. Within seconds and the kiss had grown deep, your tongues both meeting. You couldn’t help but whimper as Thorin’s lips left yours and trailed down your neck. His beard tickled your skin and then as he grew more impatient, you could feel the tickle become a bristling, sharp sensation. Your hands became lost in his hair as he nuzzled at your neck, groaning and grunting.

Thorin felt your fingertips brush over his ears, and it drew an overwhelming shiver from his very core.

“I love you, Thorin,” you said again. “Now show me what you can do with those hands.”

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @luna-xial @mrsdurin @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindedwriter @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @bookworm-with-coffee

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#Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Female Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader #Reader Insert #Insecurity #Fanfiction

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coopsgirl · 2 years ago

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I've read some of her other stories and they were really fun.

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, Thranduil (The Hobbit) - Fandom Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s) Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Original Female Character(s), Original Characters, Elrond Peredhel, Bolg (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Smaug (Tolkien), Galadriel | Artanis Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hate to Love, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Huge self-esteem issues, Reference to Former Abuse, Heartache, Big Girls Do It Better, Unexpected Pregnancy, Attempted Murder, Murder, Kidnapping, Modern Thranduil, Caring Thranduil, Thranduil Lust, Parent Thranduil, Parents grief, Did I say angst?, End with a Twist, I promise you won’t see it coming, There is a lot of snow and cold in this one Summary:

Jip is a Dutch veterinarian who is looking for a job change in a country that is not her own. She is fleeing from her past and needs a fresh start. However, nothing has prepared her for Thranduil King, who owns a ranch not far from her veterinary clinic in Pendleton, Oregon. He can’t stand her at first, until she shows him that she won’t let herself be bullied by him. Everything changes for both of them from that moment onwards. Unfortunately Jip carries a tonne of insecurities and suffers from a very low self-esteem. Thranduil manages to help her deal with them, though with some difficulty. For the first time in a long time, they both seem to have found the kind of happiness that has been a stranger to them both, until Jip’s past catches up with her and it will cost her and Thranduil dearly. But dealing with the past is not as easy as they think, as they will find out. There will unexpected surprises around many corners and a few twists along the way. Will Jip and Thranduil ever find their ‘happy ever after?’ There is only one way to find out.

_______________________________________________________

This fantastic work isn’t getting the hits and kudos it deserves! Let’s help a writer out and get this shared!

#reblogawriter #thranduil #thranduil fanfiction #modernthranduil #teamthranduil #readandkudo #feelfreetocomment #authorrespondstocomments #keepthefandomalive #thranduil smut #thranduil fan fic #tolkien tag

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miridiums-writing · 2 months ago

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Hey could you write like a Thranduil x y/n thing? I kinda need it right now.

No Escape

Thranduil x reader fan fic

Imagine : If only you didn’t look so similar to his passed wife, maybe you could have made it out of the elven kingdom with the others.

Authors note : im sorry ive been gone so long, im back now though I promise. Ill set up a new masterlist and we can all forget my old works don’t exist because I hate them all.

The forest was so dark, you and the rest of the company trying to navigate through the winding trails. It was all going fine and well until you all realized you were gong in continuous circles. Seeing the same trees, the same oddly shaped rocks over and over that you all realized something was wrong. “lets just set up camp for now and try again tomorrow.” You insisted, noticing the frustration of the others. “Fine,” Thorin conceded. “We get out of here tomorrow though, we have to keep pushing forwards.”

With that you all settled down for the night, you went off to gather some wood for a fire with Bilbo, unsurprisingly your favourite of the company given how down to earth he was, plus the pure entertainment factor he brought to the group at times due to his cushioned upbringing. “Do you think we actually will get out tomorrow?” Bilbo asked, clearly more worried if that could be the case than he let on. “’course we will, we’ve gotten this far haven’t we?” You reassured, patting the top of Bilbo’s head in hopes of calming his anxiety. “I suppose so.” He mused, adding another stick to the bundle you had already gathered. “Exactly,” You said with a warm smile. “Nothing left to bring us down now except the dragon.” Bilbo seemed to grimace at this. “Don’t remind me” He grumbled. You just laughed lightly. “You’re far too negative, always hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. That’s why you’re here, you little burglar.” “I’m not a burglar.” He reminded. “Well, you’re the best we’ve got, maybe when we’re out of this forest I can help train you how to be stealthy.”

The light banter between the two is quickly cut off by a very loud thump against the forest floor, almost shaking the ground between the pair of you. You immediately dropped the pile of branches to the moss ground, breaking into a sprint back to the others, you could here them in the distance fighting when you’re path was blocked by the biggest spider you’ve ever seen in your life. It was a large black, hairy thing, immediately trying to shoot webs in your direction to catch you. Adrenalin jumped you into first gear, dodging by a hair at the first shot, and bringing your bow and arrow from your back to aim at the spider, aiming right between the eyes and firing the shot. The shot lands. The spider falls, only for three more to appear in its place. This was not going to be easy.

You reach back grabbing another arrow and letting it fly, hitting each spider as they came with pristine accuracy. Even with such accuracy though from years training, it didn’t seem to be enough. The arrows quickly started to dwindle, before running out. Not having enough time between spiders to scavenge for your arrows, leaving you eventually cornered, and empty handed. Though just as one of the spiders went to launch itself at you it got violently thrown backwards by...an elf?

~~~~~

You couldn’t decide whether you preferred the spiders, or this. Getting dragged, cuffed, towards a rathe impressive looking castle. Not that you’d ever say that allowed, in fear of further angering Thorin who already looked like he was plotting the elves deaths in detail, shouting, swearing and struggling as he went. You kept your head down, not sure what was about to happen, but not wanting to anger the elves, especially after they went out of their way to save their lives. Even if it meant they’d ended up getting dragged to the dungeons. You had graciously been given a cell alone. Given you were the only woman in the group it seemed only fair. You got yourself comfy against the wall, listening to the others chat amongst themselves on what to do, waiting for a quiet moment to bring up what felt like the most important thing to worry about. “Where is Bilbo?” You said, cutting through the whispers. The others immediately went silent at that. He wasn’t among them, you hadn’t seen him since before the spiders. “Maybe he’s doing what he does best, burgling the keys.” Baldin grunted. You just hoped he was right.

All talk of escape was cut off by guards coming down, leading Thorin from his cell to meet the king. When the dungeon door closed behind them all of you sighed. If Thorin was angry, which he was, all hope of doing this civilly was going to be immediately snuffed out by his rage. The wait for Thorin to come back was long, and silent. Talk of escape had died completely as you all waited tensely for him to return. And return he did. His eyebrows furrowed in rage, cursing under his breath as he was pushed back into his cell resulting in a loud bang as his body collided with the floor. No words needed to be spoken for them to know it hadn’t gone well. The already depressing reality hit like a train. Unless a miracle happened. This was it.

~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to banging against the bars of your cell. You were crumpled against the wall, your back strained from the position you’d slept in. “Get up.” The guard said gruffly, starting to poke you with the sheathed sword to fully wake you up. “Get up!” The demanded again, much more aggressively than previously. You slowly started more your cramped body up off of the floor. The cell door opened and two guards immediately grabbed your arms ad started dragging you out of the dungeon to who knows where. The walk was long and winding, it felt like they were taking you on a confusing route on purpose to make sure you didn’t know the way out. Or maybe the halls really were this confusing, who knows. Either way you eventually arrived at a rather impressive looking door. Large green wooden panels made up the door with large tree roots encasing the doors, twirling around the doors handles.

Someone from the other side opened the doors leading to what seemed to be a throne room, with a tall blonde haired man sat on top, a rather dramatic crown upon his head, adorned with gems and jewels to mimic a berry branch. He watched closely as you were dragged in, forced to kneel down in front of him on the ground. His expression seemed to change from mild annoyance to surprise as you got closer. Now kneeled before him, the man stood, towering over you as he stared down at your face, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Oh, it’s you” He said, relief and sadness laced his voice. His legs seemed to give out under him and kneeled down staring at your face with tears in his eyes. “Oh my dear, how I’ve missed you. I though- I thought you died.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as his hand reached for your cheek, fingertips gently grazing your cheek. You stared at him blankly. Not a flicker of recognition behind your eyes as he acted as if you were supposed to know him. Confusion took over his features at your lack of response. “Calatheil? My blossom, why are you acting like you don’t know me?” Now it was your turn to be confused, “That’s not my name, I’m (Y/N).” You said in response. The man went quiet after that, staring holes into the floor. “But you look like her.” He said, his voice firm, like it was a fact. “That doesn’t mean I am her”

The man went silent again for a moment, anger passing over his face before disappearing. “Of course it does,” He said. “You’ve just forgotten is all.” His words were firm and absolute. “Ill just need to remind you, my poor wife” You looked at him as if he was insane. “But I’m not. I am not your wife, I’m sorry. But I’m not... I wanna go back to my cell now.” The man laughed without humour. “Absolutely not, my wife shouldn’t be around such vermin.” “Do you mean the dwarves?” you asked, going on the defensive, they were your friends, were they odd absolutely, but that didn’t mean you loved them any less. “Of course I do! You’ll be going no where near them ever again. Guards, take her to my room, and do not under any circumstances let her get free!” He ordered, standing up from his crouched position and heading back to his thrown. “And bring me Thorin! I may be inclined to allow his freedom under a condition.” You were once again grabbed by guards and dragged out. “No! I’d rather cells, don’t you dare, I’m not your wife! Let me go!” Your shouts died down as you were dragged further away, thrashing in an attempt of any escape, managing to get one arm free only for more guards to hold you, overpowered once more by the numbers. The struggling silenced to Thranduil as the door shut behind you.

#thranduil x yn #thranduil x wife #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #the hobbit x yn #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fan fiction

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