#and then the moment thranduil turns his back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowboybeepboop · 8 months ago

Text

Fields

"Come, let us get you into bed. You need your rest."

Pairing: Thranduil x fem! Human reader

Genre: Romantic smut

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: You’re the King's human lover and you share a special night together.

Warnings: Romantic sex, oral fem receiving, riding him, unprotected sex, p in v sex

a/n: Guys please bear with me, I’m working on some new lotr/th oneshots that shall also be posted soon. As per usual, please let me know if you have any requests and I hope you enjoy.

Thranduil had a quiet moment to himself, laying in a field of flowers as the sun set behind him. He had a look of tranquility on his face as his mind wandered to many different things. He kept his eyes closed. He heard footsteps coming near him, he didn't give a reaction to this though.. he had an idea of who it was.

“You look so peaceful like this,” you hum, lowering to your knees next to his muscular body. You brush his hair from his face, touch light and delicate.

Thranduil didn't move a muscle when you knelt down in the grass beside him. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his eyes still shut for the time being. “I am at peace, for now..” He said before his lips curled into a small smile.

“Until someone decides to ruin it,” he added, opening one of his eyes and looking up at you with a slight teasing tone in the last part.

You press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Shall I leave you alone then?” Thranduil's smile widened into a grin as your soft lips brushed against his.

He chuckled softly as he took your hand, looking up at you with a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t you dare,” he said in a quiet but firm tone.

“Come. Lay with me.” His voice turned more of a request as he tugged on your hand ever so gently, coaxing you to lay down next to him in the flowers.

You press your cheek to his chest, eyes fluttering shut as you listen to his heart. “As you wish my King.”

Thranduil wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest as his hand came up to brush through your hair gently in a soothing manner. He gently took one of your hands in his free one, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His chest rose and fell with each deep breath as the two of you lay there in the grass, just listening to one another's heartbeats. "That's a good girl.." he murmured with a soft, affectionate smile.

You find yourself drifting off to sleep, the warmth and comfort of his body like a lullaby. Thranduil noticed your eyes growing heavy and your breathing starting to slow, it was a sure sign that you were falling asleep.

He carefully wrapped his arms around you, gently rolling onto his side to pull you closer, holding your body flush against his. "It's okay, little one. Rest.." he spoke quietly, one of his hands gently tracing soft patterns down your back as he held you in a protective embrace, the sound of his steady heartbeat in your ear.

“Mm..” your voice is a soft murmur as you cuddle closer to him.

Thranduil smiled as you cuddled closer to him, his arms holding you in a firm yet gentle embrace as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. He gently nuzzled his head against yours, relishing in your warm and softness against him.

"Sleep, my darling," he whispered softly, gently starting to stroke his fingers through your hair as he held you in his arms. Thranduil's chest rose and fell with each quiet breath, finding himself starting to grow just as relaxed as you.

After hours of holding you in his arms, Thranduil felt you shiver slightly as a cold breeze blew through the garden, gently stirring the grass around them. Thranduil's heart ached to see you cold, his arms instinctively holding you tighter in an attempt to keep you warm.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, before carefully pulling you even closer to his chest. "Are you cold, my love?" he murmured quietly, his fingers continuing to glide softly through your hair.

“It is growing cold, Thranduil..” you murmur against his chest, not willing to leave his warm side.

Thranduil gently adjusted his grip on you, pulling you closer against him, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the chill in the air. He lifted one of his hands from your hair, tracing it to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin, before he spoke again.

"We should head inside. You'll freeze out here.." he said in a low, gentle tone, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft kiss.

“Could you carry me..” you bury your face into his chest, shivering against him.

Thranduil felt your body shiver against him once more, and he gently lifted his head off of yours so he could look down at you. He chuckled softly as he heard your request, gently running his hand down your back.

"Of course, darling," he said with a hint of fond amusement. With a slightly playful smirk on his face, he shifted his body, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest.

Thranduil walked through the halls of his palace while carrying you in his arms, his long strides eating up the distance quickly. He could feel you melting against him as he walked, feeling a sense of satisfaction of being able to provide you with warmth and comfort.

Soon enough, he reached your shared room and he pushed the doors open with one hand, stepping inside and lowering you gently onto the bed.

You cuddle into the sheets, your skirt hiked up over your hips, revealing your smooth skin to his gaze.

Thranduil's eyes roamed over your body as you settled onto the bed, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin. His eyes darkened slightly as he took in the sight of you, looking so vulnerable, so delicate, and yet so alluring at the same time.

His own clothes were slightly disheveled, the top of his shirt unbuttoned ever so slightly, adding to the overall rugged appearance. He could feel a familiar heat rise in the pit of his stomach as he looked at you, slowly approaching the bed.

Thranduil's breath caught in his throat as you wrapped your arms around the pillow, your legs slightly parted and revealing even more of your skin to him. He could feel the tension in the air as he watched you, his eyes tracing along the curves of your body, like a predator stalking its prey.

He approached the foot of the bed, slowly crawling onto the mattress behind you, his large form hovering over you as his hands rested on either side of your hips.

“My king..” you murmur, relishing in his touch. Thranduil leaned down, bringing his body close to yours, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned down towards your ear. His breath ghosted across your skin, making you shiver as he gently spoke in a low, deep tone.

"Yes, darling?" he muttered, his hands on your hips, rubbing small, teasing circles against the bare flesh of your skin. He could feel your body heat against his, his own desire growing more and more as he looked down at you.

“You’re trying to seduce me..” you murmur against the plush pillow.

Thranduil chuckled softly, his hands slowly moving up and down your sides, his touch just light enough to tickle. "Is it working?" he spoke in a low, sultry tone, his breath warm against the nape of your neck. He lowered his head, gently nibbling on the exposed skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to taste you.

You moan softly, enjoying the gentleness of his caresses. “Perhaps it is,” Thranduil's lips curled into a small grin as he heard your moan, the sound like music to his ears.

He gently licked and kissed the sensitive skin of your exposed neck, his hands continuing to roam over your body, tracing every curve, every dip and contour of your form.

"Perhaps?" he repeated with a hint of amusement in his voice, his mouth finding its way to your shoulder, gently nipping at the soft flesh. "Only perhaps..?" he teased softly, his thumbs pressing into your hip bones.

“My King..” You gasp, feeling the familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach as he touches you.

Thranduil continued to shower your exposed skin with kisses and nibbling, his eyes roaming over every inch of your body as he continued to touch you intimately. At the sound of your gasp, he let out a low, approving hum against the skin of your neck, his hands slowly moving from your hips, running up along your sides, to your stomach.

"Does it feel good, my darling..?" he murmured quietly, his fingers gently tracing patterns against your skin, leaving little jolts of pleasure in their wake.

“Very good..” you moan, shifting beneath him so you can gaze up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

Thranduil let out a soft, guttural sound of approval as you shifted beneath him, his hands still gently caressing your skin as his eyes met yours. He could feel the heat and desire building between the two of you, the air growing heavier as you looked up at him.

He couldn't deny the effect you had on him; just the sight of you alone was enough to make his heart clench. Thranduil slowly lowered himself down, his body resting fully against yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots softly as your legs wrap around his hips.

Thranduil let out a low growl as you tangled your fingers in his hair, the tug on his scalp sending a wave of pleasure throughout his entire body. He pressed himself down onto you, his hips slotting perfectly in between your legs as you wrapped them around him, trapping him against you.

He couldn't help himself from pressing himself against you, his own desire growing more and more intense as he felt your body against his. Thranduil's lips moved furiously against yours as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth.

Thranduil felt a shudder of pleasure as you parted your lips in submission, his tongue slipping past to explore your mouth as he claimed it for his own. He savored the taste of you, his own lust and hunger fueling his actions as he kissed you like an elf starved.

His hands slid down your body, seeking purchase and finding purchase on your thighs as he pushed them further apart. His own hips rocked against yours, the thin barrier that remained between their bodies slowly becoming an increasing irritant.

Your muffled moans fill his mouth as he grinds against you, sending shivers of pleasure through you. Thranduil swallowed each moan you made as he continued to kiss you, his hips rolling against yours in an almost feral manner.

The friction between you was maddening, only adding more fuel to the fire burning within him. He could feel your body's response to his movements, each shiver and shudder driving him even further to take what he wanted, to claim what was his.

Thranduil broke the kiss, lifting his head so he could look down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed, panting form. "You're mine..." he breathed in a low, possessive tone.

“Always, I’m forever yours my King.” You cup his face, lips parted and cheeks flushed.

Thranduil's heart jumped in his chest at your words, the pure devotion in your voice making his own desires flare even stronger. He leaned into your touch as you cupped his face, his eyes dark and stormy as he looked down at you with a mixture of lust, love, and possessiveness in his gaze.

"You better be," he said in a low, gruff tone, his voice heavy with emotions. "Because I have no intention of letting you go, my darling. Ever."

You smile up at him feeling his fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt. “I shall not leave your side, love.”

With a gentle yet firm tug, Thranduil lifts the dress from your body, the fabric slipping off your skin like silk. He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid bare before him, your curves and contours bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.

His eyes sparkle with hunger and admiration as they rove over your flesh, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. He lets out a soft groan, his desire palpable in the air as his hands move to trace the newly exposed skin, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat wherever they go.

You can feel his arousal pressing into you, the proof of his desire for you unmistakable. His gaze meets yours, filled with a fierce love and a burning need to possess you completely.

With eager, trembling hands, Thranduil tugged at his own clothing, each button and lace coming undone with a sense of urgency. His garments fell away, revealing the sculpted planes of his body, his muscles defined by moonlight and shadows.

His eyes never leaving yours, he reached out to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in a feather-light touch that has you arching your back with a silent plea. He smiles, a smoldering fire in his gaze, and then his hands slid down your body, his fingers hooking into the delicate fabric of your panties.

With a firm, yet gentle pull, he slid them down your legs, baring you fully to him. His arousal grew even more prominent as he took in the sight of your naked body, your legs open and inviting, revealing your slick and swollen folds that begged for his touch.

He leaned back down to kiss you once more, his hand moving to caress the soft, wet warmth between your thighs, his fingers slipping inside you easily, making you gasp into his mouth.

With a soft growl of desire, Thranduil settled himself between your open thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he lowered his head to the juncture of your legs. His mouth watered at the sight of your glistening sex, your arousal like a sweet nectar to him.

He took his time, savoring the moment as he gently parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing the delicate pearl of your clit to the cool air. His tongue darted out, tracing a line from your entrance up to the sensitive bud, tasting you with a hunger that was centuries in the making.

His touch was feather-light, yet firm, as he licked and kissed you with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Each stroke of his tongue against your clit brought forth a new gasp, each nip of his teeth a shiver of delight.

He held your legs wide open, keeping you open to his ministrations as he explored every part of you with his mouth, his teeth grazing against your inner thighs, his tongue delving deep inside you, and his breath fanning the flames of your passion. His hands remained on your hips, keeping you firmly in place as he devoured you, his mouth moving with a rhythm that was both torturously slow and exquisitely perfect.

You could feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to his every touch, your legs trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Your back arches off the bed as needy moans escape your lips, your entire body quivering with the intensity of the pleasure he's giving you. Thranduil's mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit with a precision that speaks of centuries of experience.

His strong hands hold your hips in place as you try to buck against him, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. His teeth graze against your sensitive skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body that make your toes curl and your fingers clutch at the bedsheets. You can feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in your belly as his mouth works its magic.

You're so close, so very close, and he seems to know it as he increases the tempo, his tongue dancing over your clit in a way that has you on the brink. Finally, with one last, firm flick of his tongue, you fall over the edge, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through you.

You're a trembling mess under him, your body wracked with spasms as he continues to kiss and suck, drawing out every last drop of your climax before finally, mercifully, letting you collapse back onto the bed. He watches you with a smug smile, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you, fully sated and utterly his.

With a gentle touch, Thranduil brushed your hair away from your cheeks, his eyes filled with love and concern as he studied your flushed face. "Are you tired, my love?" he asked in a voice that was a blend of tenderness and desire, his breath warm against your skin.

His thumbs traced the outline of your jaw, his gaze lingering on the way your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath you took, your breasts pressing against his chest with each gasp. The question hung in the air, filled with the promise of more intimate moments to come if you weren't too exhausted from the passionate encounter.

As you nod softly in response to Thranduil's question, you reach down and wrap your hand around his thick, aroused length. The velvety skin is hot to the touch, pulsing with the beat of his heart, and your grip tightens slightly, feeling the veins that run along his shaft.

"I'm not too tired to make sure you're satisfied," you murmur against his ear, a hint of mischief in your voice as you start to stroke him, your hand moving in a slow, firm rhythm. Thranduil's eyes close, his breath hitching in his throat as your touch sends waves of pleasure through him.

His hands tighten around your hips in response, pulling you closer as he lets out a low groan of appreciation. His eyes flutter open, meeting yours, and he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection and desire.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice strained with pleasure, as he leans down to kiss you once more, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip before delving back into your mouth.

With a soft whine of anticipation, you position yourself over Thranduil's erect length, the tip nudging against your entrance as you hover for a brief moment. Looking into his eyes, filled with a fiery passion that matches your own, you slowly start to sink down onto him.

The initial stretch is exquisite, his warmth and hardness filling you in a way that feels so right, so perfect. His hands tighten around your waist, guiding you down as he groans into your kiss, feeling the tightness of your body enveloping him inch by inch.

Each breath you take is shallower than the last, each movement of your hips sending shockwaves through both of you. Once you're fully seated on him, you pause, savoring the feeling of fullness before you begin to rock gently, setting a rhythm that's as ancient as the forest itself.

Thranduil's eyes never leave yours, his hands roaming over your skin as if he's trying to memorize every line and curve by touch alone. His breath hitches in his throat with every movement you make, every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

The bond between you, the connection of flesh and soul, is palpable as you move together, lost in a dance that's both fierce and tender, a symphony of love and lust that echoes through the very air of the room.

As you reached up to gently trace the pointed tips of Thranduil's ears with your fingertips, his eyes rolled back in pleasure, his hands guiding the rhythm of your hips as you moved above him. The soft touch was a heady sensation that seemed to resonate through his entire being, making him shiver and his grip on you tighten.

His breathing grew ragged, matching the pace of your movements, as you both danced together in the throes of passion. Each brush of your fingers against his sensitive skin sent bolts of pleasure through his body, making him growl low in his throat, his hips rising to meet yours with increasing urgency.

The room was filled with the sweet symphony of your combined sighs and moans, the rustling of the bed, and the occasional clank of his jewelry as his head moved back and forth against the pillow. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, the friction of your skin against his sending sparks of desire through both of you.

Thranduil's eyes remained locked on you, his expression a mix of love, need, and pure animal instinct. The way you touched him was like nothing he had ever felt before you, a tender yet powerful caress that seemed to ignite every nerve ending in his body.

As you continued to ride him, his own movements grew more demanding, his hands moving from your hips to cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples as his hips met yours in a relentless rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through both of you.

Thranduil's eyes widened in pleasure as he felt your inner muscles tighten around him, signaling your approaching climax. His own was building, the pressure inside him growing with each stroke as your bodies moved as one.

With a final, deep thrust, he swelled inside you, filling you completely as he reached his peak. The pleasure was intense, a crescendo of sensation that seemed to consume him entirely. You gasped as your orgasm washed over you, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you.

The bond between you grew stronger, your spirits intertwining as your love and desire for each other reached new heights. Thranduil's eyes squeezed shut, a roar of ecstasy tearing from his throat as he released himself within you, the warmth of his essence mixing with the heat of your passion.

Together, you rode the crest of the wave, your bodies trembling with the force of your shared climax, until finally, you collapsed against him, both spent and utterly content.

Thranduil gently untangled himself from your embrace, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before rising from the bed. His eyes roved over your spent form, a mixture of love and adoration evident in his gaze.

He padded across the room, stepping into the connected bathroom. He turned on the taps of the large, stone bathtub, filling the room with the sound of rushing water and steam. As the tub filled, he added some scented essential oils to the water, creating a relaxing aroma that filled the air.

Once the bath was ready, Thranduil returned to the bedside, his gaze meeting yours. You gaze at him through hooded eyes, reaching for his soft blond hair.

Thranduil's hand found yours, and he gently helped you off the bed. "Come, my love," he murmured, his voice still husky. With steady steps, he led you into the bathroom, the steam from the warm water filling the room.

He helped you into the bathtub, his touch tender and careful as he guided you in. Once you were settled, he called for a servant to change the bedding, his voice carrying out into the hallway.

“Will you join me?” You murmur, sinking into the warmth of the water. Thranduil's eyes darkened as he watched you sink into the warm water, your body enveloped in steam and bubbles.

"Of course," he murmurs in response, his voice rough with desire. "I could never resist joining you." He entered the tub, settling in behind you, his strong legs on either side of you.

Thranduil's hands caressed your wet skin, lovingly trailing over every dip and curve as he gently washed away the remnants of your recent encounter. With each touch and movement, his love and devotion for you shone through, his fingers tracing patterns against your skin that felt like a silent declaration of his love.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his mouth hovering just beside your ear. "Every inch of you is perfect."

“My King…” you murmur, relaxing into his strong chest, your eyes flutter closed.

Thranduil wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him so that your back was flush against his chest. His chin rested on top of your head, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"Yes, my darling?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your stomach.

“You flatter me too much.” You reply, head falling back against his shoulder as you relish in his touch.

Thranduil chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He moved his head down to place a soft kiss on your neck, his mouth skimming along your skin until it reached your ear.

"I cannot flatter you enough," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Every word I say to you is true. You are everything to me, and I will never tire of telling you how beautiful and perfect you are."

“You are beautiful as well, my love.” He washes your body as you lean against him comforted by his warmth.

Thranduil's hands continued their gentle caresses as he washed your body, his touch strong but still impossibly tender. He savored the feeling of your body pressing against his, and he took his time, relishing the moment.

"Your words are sweet," he murmured, his voice low, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "But it is you who brings the true beauty into my life."

Thranduil carefully pulls you out of the water, his hands gentle and strong as he wraps a soft, warm towel around you. He takes his time drying you off, his touch reverent as he caresses each inch of your skin.

Once you are dry, he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers grazing over your sensitive skin in lingering touches. "There," he murmurs, stepping back to admire you. "Perfect."

“Thranduil, my love.” You cup his cheek, kissing his lips gently.

Thranduil's eyes closed at your touch, a low growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest as you kissed him gently. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. He deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a fierce but tender passion.

"My darling," he breathed against your lips. "You undo me with a single touch."

Thranduil's gaze softened as he looked down at you, taking note of the exhaustion in your eyes. "But you’re weary," he observed, lifting a hand to caress your cheek gently.

His thumb traced over your skin in soothing circles, his touch filled with tenderness. "Come, let us get you into bed. You need your rest."

2K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

ao3 // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

For @firelightinferno

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

3K notes · View notes

thatfanficstuff · 29 days ago

Text

In Dreams - Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x reader

warnings: just canon stuff

Every step through Mirkwood dragged at you, the forest path winding in endless turns that led nowhere. The shadows around you seemed to be living things and you once again cursed yourself that you hadn’t tried harder to convince the Company not to travel through its depths regardless of what the wizard said.

“Are you alright, lass?” Dwalin asked.

You answered with a quick shake of your head. “There is only trouble here.”

No sooner had you spoken the words than the spiders attacked. You held your own as well as you could, but you weren’t too proud to admit relief flooded you when the elves came to the rescue. Now, you were being led to the palace and the king. Great. This would go well, you were sure.

“How does an elleth come to be in the company of dwarves?” an elf with long, blond hair asked.

You eyed him a moment before recognizing him as Prince Legolas. You glanced away. “Half.”

“Half?”

“Half-elleth.” You caught his look of surprise as he took in your features which greatly favored your elf father. Fortunately, your life expectancy took after his as well. “And Mithrandir, to answer your question.”

He chuckled. “That answers a lot of questions, actually. And where is the wizard now?”

You sighed in irritation. “Wherever he usually is, I suppose. Which is anywhere but where I need him the most.”

That got laughs from several of the guard and Thorin shot you a narrow-eyed look. “Do you know these elves?”

You smirked at your friend. “No, but I suppose they find my company more pleasurable than yours.”

“Cheeky elf,” Thorin grumbled though his lips twitched in amusement.

As you neared the palace and the inevitable meeting with the Elvenking, the conversation died away. Partly in grim anticipation, and partly in awe as you took in the world around you. The halls of the palace opened before you, carved into the very heart of the wood. Opulent and vast, possessing its own quiet beauty so vastly different to Imladris. Even the dwarves were taken with the halls around them.

“This way,” one of the guard said as he directed the Company down a branching corridor.

Ori stumbled, his eyes locked on the grandeur around him instead of where he was going. You caught him and he nodded his gratitude as you made sure he was steady on his feet. Thorin gave you a nod of thanks as well, though he should know by now you looked out for all of them as if they were your own kin.

Your mind raced as you neared the throne room wondering at the destiny of the Company. What did Thranduil intend to do with all of you? Before you could even guess at an answer, you were led over stone bridges and stairs until stood in a vast chamber. It was a masterpiece of elven design and at its center stood the throne, towering over everything around it. And upon it sat the Elvenking, his presence commanding, his form striking. Long hair like spun silver framed his regal face, and draped over a resplendent silver robe. Upon his brow sat a crown reflecting the branches and boughs of his kingdom. You gasped in surprise, never expecting him to be so beautiful despite the descriptions you’d heard.

His gaze moved over the company, cold and assessing. But when it landed on you, it was no longer indifferent. The chill in his eyes turned into something else, something that made your pulse race and your skin prickle. Something deep and intense that lingered far longer than it should but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Finally, his focus shifted to the leader of your group. “Thorin, son of Thrain. I did not expect to see you here again.”

“Nor would you have to had your guard allowed us to continue on our way,” Thorin replied, defiance in every word. “What is your business with us?”

The king stood, every movement elegant and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Thorin. “Your presence is…unfortunate.” He paused and his gaze slid back to you with unsettling focus. “You trespass, yet I am merciful.”

“Merciful?” Dwalin spat. “To us?”

Thranduil’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I offer you freedom. You may go, all of you.” A pause, a beat of silence, then, “provided you leave the elleth behind.”

You sucked in a breath as every eye turned to you. The words hung heavy in the air. Seeing they surprised you as much as any of them, Thorin’s response was instant and fierce. “No. She is one of us. You cannot have her.”

The Elvenking’s laugh was a beautiful, bitter sound. “So loyal.” His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “Would you rather rot in my dungeons?”

When you started to protest, a hand grasping yours quieted you. Dwalin pulled you back with a shake of his head. “Leave it,” he hissed.

Thorin’s gaze moved between the two of you before he looked at Thranduil once more. “Better to rot than to break faith with a friend.”

Thranduil arched a brow before nodding slowly. His face was unreadable though a flicker of something flashed in his eyes. He was calm, controlled, yet his interest in you remained unwavering. “Then to my dungeons you shall go,” he declared, gesturing to his guards. “We shall see how long loyalty keeps you warm.”

And that was the last you saw of the dwarves for many weeks.

While Thranduil held true to his word and had the dwarves placed in his dungeons, you were led to an opulent room with a comfortable bed. You were dressed as befit a proper elleth and more than once you joined the king for a meal where little was said beyond your pleas for him to release your friends with promises you would remain behind. For his part, Thranduil always seemed to be watching you, waiting for something and seemed utterly disappointed when it didn’t happen.

Most of your time was spent alone as you waited for something to change. You read. Paced. Laid in a bed you seldom slept in. Days flew by, each one much the same as the one before. Until the day you heard a commotion in the hall outside your room. Before you could ask the guard what was going on, the door swung open.

Thranduil stood framed in the opening, his composure cracked, his mask gone. It was a shock to see him so unguarded, so vulnerable, and even more of a shock to see the relief that washed over him when his eyes found you.

“You’re still here,” he said in a breath. “Did you know of their plans to escape?” The question an accusation and a plea.

You met his gaze steadily, unflinching. “How could I? You haven’t allowed me to see them, let alone speak to them, since the day we were captured.” Your words were bitter, short. Filled with the resentment you couldn’t help but feel at the thought they’d left you behind, though you knew they’d had little choice.

He searched your face looking for deception and found none. “I should have known,” he muttered to himself. He took a step closer and hesitated as a thousand emotions flashed across his face. Then, as quickly as he came, he turned away. The silence rushed back in to fill the space he left behind, but it was somehow even lonelier than it was before.

You didn’t see the king again until he announced you would accompany him on his journey to the mountain to reclaim from the dwarves what rightfully belongs to the elves. He ordered you placed in one of the wagons, afraid if given your own mount you’d disappear like your companions. Two of his guard rode beside the wagon to ensure you stayed where you belonged, their presence watchful and silent.

When you saw Thranduil, it was always at the end of the day when you were led to his tent to dine and find your rest on the cot he had placed on the opposite side from his own. Or early in the morning when you both rose, broke your fast and prepared for the day’s journey. His gaze followed you as the guards led you away until you were gone from his sight before going to find his own mount.

You didn’t understand your purpose. Why he brought you. He could have easily left you in Mirkwood. Or perhaps he meant to trade you for whatever treasure he believed Thorin would keep from the elves. Despite your friendship, you found it unlikely Thorin would make that deal.

Finally, on the last night before you made camp in the shadow of the mountain, you could take it no longer. “I don’t know why you brought me,” you confessed, hoping for answers.

And for a moment, you thought you’d get them. But he only studied you, eyes deep as the skies above your head, his expression unreadable. “You will, in time,” he said at last. Another beat passed. Two. “Stay close to my guards when we reach the mountain.”

The camp beyond your tent laid quiet. “Why?” you ask, the word meaning so much more than it seemed. Why did he want you to? What did he know? Why did he care?

“There will be danger.” He answered only the obvious, sidestepping your unspoken plea. “I would not see you harmed.”

You nodded in frustration. He looked at you a long moment. Studied you as if you were something precious, something he was afraid to lose. Finally, you turned away, faced the wall of the tent and pretended to sleep.

Thranduil had left you guarded in his tent since you’d arrived at the final destination, your promise to remain with his guard apparently not enough for him to allow you to roam beyond the flaps of your temporary home. You’d made your displeasure known by refusing to speak to him so you’d received no more answers to your many questions. And now you were afraid you’d never get the chance.

The world went from ordinary to chaos in an instant and you now found yourself engulfed in battle. A cacophony of screams and steel surrounded you as you fought, swift and sure. Yet it was never enough as orcs crashed around you. There was no sky, no ground, no respite. Only bodies, blood and blades. You weren’t certain when you’d become separated from the guards, if they even still lived, but now you fought alone, growing weary and desperate.

Orcs were everywhere. An unending flood of enemies. Their blades crashed against yours until you shoved them away with the desperate grace possessed by your father’s people. You sliced, stabbed, cut them down any way you could. You fought with everything you were, but you could not fight them all.

An orc charged toward you, monstrous, larger than the others. Time slowed, stretched as his weapon arced above you, prepared to deliver the fatal blow.

Then Thranduil was there. He moved like light, like the wind, and intercepted the blow meant for you. His swords flashed, lethal and precise as he dispatched the orc. As he saved your life. You stared uncomprehending as your world narrowed to the figure before you. To the king who fought like a man possessed.

“Why?” you pled even as you spun to stop another blade, to end another life. “Why risk yourself for me?”

His eyes met yours briefly in the chaos. “I have dreamed of you,” he finally confessed. “My entire life, you have haunted me.”

You could not breathe. Could not think. His words crashed over you, more devastating than any blow you’d yet taken in the battle. You were his soulmate? It was impossible. You would have known.

“Have you not seen me?” he asked, his voice heavy with yearning, as you fought side by side.

You shook your head, unable to do more. You had no answer for him. No truth that would make sense of his claim.

“You are my dream.” His voice broke as surely as his heart. “My curse. My constant.”

As he slayed the last orc in the group that had charged the two of you, there was a brief lull. He turned you to face him, hands on your arms as he studied you.

“I had never seen your face before that day in the throne room,” you managed, the words a confession, an apology.

He swallowed before drawing you closer and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The gesture, so filled with emotion, with longing, stole the breath from your lungs. “Be careful.” He whispered the plea then he was gone, leaving you with the echoes of his confession.

When you next saw Thranduil, he rode astride a great white elk, a beast that you had seen only in your dreams until that moment. The image seized you, an echo of all the dreams you’d ever had of the soulmate you thought you’d never find. The battle raged around you as the pieces fell into place. He cut through the enemy lines, regal and relentless. The motions the very ones that had danced in your mind since before you could remember. His twin blades flashed with deadly precision as the majestic beast carried him forward with grace and fury. He was your vision brought to life. Everything you never let yourself hope to find. You lost sight of him again as you turned back to the relentless horde, more determined than ever to survive.

It seemed like days before the chaos calmed and the battle ended. The elves swept across the field, ending the few orcs that still breathed and moving their brethren that needed to the healing tents. You’d fought to save the Company. The Durins were injured but breathing. You’d done the duty charged to you by the grey wizard and now you sought your reward.

You spotted him at last, his form unmistakable as he dismounted from the great elk and issued commands. You ran through the chaos, closing the distance in a blur. You didn’t give him a chance to brace before throwing your arms around his neck, clinging to him, afraid he’d disappear if you let go.

He stiffened in surprise as you collided with him but then his body relaxed in your hold. One arm wrapped around your waist as the other hand found the back of your head to keep you held tightly against him.

You pulled back just enough to see his eyes, just enough to lose yourself in the wonder you saw there. He studied you, searching for the reason, for what had changed between you.

“I never saw your face,” you explained, your words tumbling in your joy as you smiled. “I only saw a regal form upon a white elk. I have found you.”

His expression transformed as confusion gave way to realization. To a joy that mirrored your own. “I had given up hope.” His voice was raw with emotion.

“But I had not. And I am so glad it is you.” You laugh through your tears, filled with the joy that can only come from finding your soulmate. Finding the one destined to be your perfect match.

His arms encircled you, holding you as if he could not bear to let you go. The world faded until there was only him, only you. And it was everything you had ever let yourself hope for.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #hobbit fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #soulmate au

254 notes · View notes

tamurilofrivendell · 1 year ago

Text

Crush | Legolas x Reader

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Summary: Reader is a royal guard who Legolas becomes enamoured by.

Word count: 2,990

requested by anonymous (happy (late, I'm sorry) birthday, I hope this was okay for you)

tags: @coopsgirl @birbixo0912 @desert-fern @ancient-rime @silverose365 @lady-of-imladris @asianbutnotjapanese @deadlymistletoe @thewulf @whiteladyofithilien

It was a recent change, you becoming a royal guard. Once an opening had become available, of course, you lunged at it. You had wanted for a very long time to attain such a position and thankfully your ambition and your skills had not gone unnoticed. You got what you wanted and soon settled straight into the role. Some days your duties seemed endless but you felt like you were protecting your home, helping to defend the realm you so loved, and it made even the most exhausting of days worth it.

This particular day, you were following the king himself around as he went from place to place tending to various different things. Usually Feren himself would have accompanied Thranduil, however he was away from the halls at a nearby settlement and you had been plucked from the rest to be the guard who went with the king this day and you did not think you could be more excited and more eager to not mess up.

It was a long afternoon.

You had gone to a meeting about various boring politics which you had zoned in and out of as you stood at the back of the room behind his chair. Then he'd trailed around various rooms checking on the armoury, the production of various things you didn't expect him to care much about such as cloth and flour, and also to the cellar to check on the wine stores. Now, you were walking away from the orchard, where the Orchardist had given a very unnecessarily in-depth talk about his apples and the large yield of the trees. He'd seemed exceptionally proud, which was nice, but he talked a lot longer than was necessary when it came to something like fruit.

"I think... he certainly knows an awful lot about apples." Thranduil mused as the two of you stepped onto the path. "And now I, too, certainly know an awful lot more than necessary about apples."

You stifled a laugh, not wishing to be rude but truthfully you had been bored stiff the entire time. Thranduil had not looked anything but attentive while you'd been fighting to keep your expression neutral, but he just had more practice than you did.

"It is good that our stores will not run low any time soon." You replied as diplomatically as you could, though the king caught the deeper feelings in your tone and he smirked a little in amusement.

"Indeed." It was, after all, a good thing that the trees produced such large quantities. Not just the apples, either. It meant their crop continued to thrive and they would not starve if he needed to close the gates for any reason. Not that he anticipated anything. "Anyway, I think I will be alright to return to my chambers alone, thank you. You may go."

"As you wish." You nodded, falling out of step with him and watching as he swept away and disappeared round the corner back into the part of the building that led to his private quarters. You stayed where you were for a moment, wondering what to do now, and then you turned around to head back to your own chamber. Perhaps a bath would be a nice idea after such a long day of trudging around and being on your feet.

As you turned, your eyes fell upon another figure a short distance away, sitting underneath a large tree in the courtyard with a bow between his fingers. Prince Legolas seemed to have already been looking at you when your gaze was drawn to him and you blinked, a bit taken aback by that fact. A beat passed and then you stepped towards his direction but his eyes immediately dropped to the bow in his hand as he went back to cleaning it, acting as if you no longer existed. Oh. He must not need anything after all then. You'd thought maybe he recognised your role when you'd been walking with his father but... no matter, you decided, turning away and heading away back down the path.

What you didn't see was the way Legolas' eyes flickered back up to watch your retreat. He had been sitting out here for about an hour now, taking his time while cleaning his bow and enjoying the mild weather. The bow had once belonged to his mother and he took more care of it than he did with his others. He had noticed his father coming through but he had not wanted to draw much attention to himself, the older elf had looked quite worn out. It wouldn't show to anyone else of course but to Legolas it was clear. He almost hadn't paid you any attention at first. When he had, he'd done a double take.

She's beautiful, was his immediate thought, something which brought a faint blush to his cheeks and so he was glad that nobody was paying too much attention to him. You'd made his father smile too, he noticed that, which only raised your merit in his eyes. After a few moments, when you were out of sight, he looked down again and went back to his bow. Interesting.

Three days later, you were one of the guards standing somewhere below the throne, keeping a careful watch while the king went through the rigmarole of people coming before him in audience to ask him for things or bring forward suggestions for his court and the realm.

Legolas walked into the room just as the last elf was escorted out. He strode right up the walkway towards the throne, intent on reaching his father to give him an appraisal of the forest beyond. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered towards where you stood... and he paused, coming to a stop altogether.

"Legolas." His father's deep voice shook him from his trance after a moment and he blinked up at Thranduil, who was looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

Legolas shook his head, clearing his throat as he forced one foot in front of the other. "Ah... yes." He muttered, willing his cheeks not to flush, which luckily they did not. He launched into a rundown of what he'd seen in the forest and you could only stare at him for a long moment, confused at the prince's unusual behaviour, before you turned your eyes away, focusing them on the entrance to the throne room.

He was gone again quicker than you would have imagined but he stole another glance over his shoulder on his way out, eyes settling on you once again, just for the briefest of seconds, before he disappeared.

As you stared at the space in the doorway he had just occupied, you heard the sound of a snort being smothered from somewhere behind you. Turning, you looked up at Thranduil, who cleared his throat and looked stoic as ever but something about him almost looked amused. A glint in his eyes maybe?

"That is all, you may go." Was all he said as he rose, descended the steps and vanished just as his son had, leaving you staring after him as well. After standing frozen for a long moment, blinking in confusion, you left the room and decided to just put it from your mind. You must be imagining things.

The next two weeks passed in much the same manner. Legolas kept seeing you around everywhere he went as if you were haunting him. It was strange, he thought, that he'd gone so long without a glimpse and then suddenly you were everywhere. He thought he must just be an idiot. Overthinking it. You had not shown any interest and he felt like a bit of a weasel staring at you the way he had. Besides, he did not have time for anything, did he? He had things to do. He was a prince of the realm and he had duties...

...however, his mind did not let him rest. It tormented him with the image of you and eventually he decided he had to just say something, get it out of his system, and then he could go back to the way things were.

So, a day later, he approached you.

You had the day off and you were still trying to figure out how to spend it. You didn't feel like reading, you didn't feel like training, you didn't feel like doing much of anything but you were so bored that wandering around in the halls was driving you a bit mad.

"You look lost." Came a voice from behind and when you turned you saw Legolas standing there. You were startled, not answering immediately because it was the first time he had ever actually spoken to you.

"Mh?" Was your first very clever response, which made your face redden and, in turn, made him laugh. "I mean... uh..." You continued, scrambling to form actual words. He was smiling at you, kindly yes, but it was clear he was amused.

After another moment you laughed as well and the tension seemed to evaporate. "I am bored." You admitted.

"I see." Legolas chuckled, nodding as he turned his head to look around. The realm was quiet today, the halls barely occupied. "I was actually going to go into the forest." He turned his gaze back to your face, telling himself not to get lost in your eyes. "If... if you wanted to join me."

You couldn't be certain but it seemed as if the prince had stammered over his words a little. As much as you had not spent a lot of time around him, from what you'd seen that seemed unusual. A beat passed and then you smiled, nodding. "I'd like that."

His small, almost bashful, smile was enough to send your heart fluttering in your chest as he turned and gestured with his head for you to follow.

The forest was quiet too but in a different way than the halls. There it had felt a little suffocating in your boredom. Here it was peaceful. The change of scenery seemed to do your mind some good... though perhaps the company had something to do with it too.

Legolas was funny, you came to realise, once you got past his quiet, sometimes almost shy-seeming demeanour. He was charming... handsome, but that was not something you only found out today, no you'd thought that for quite some time already.

He took you on a mini tour of his favourite spots and then you both found yourself sitting up in a tree above a small pond, just talking. Getting to know Legolas made your heart stir in a way you would not have imagined. There was something about him, the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, the intent look on his face as he listened to your responses as if he truly did not want to miss a single word, that had your stomach in knots and your eyes glued to his face.

You met him again the next day, and then the next. It became routine that the two of you would spend time together during time off from your duties. You even started sparring together in the training grounds and Legolas seemed impressed by your skill with a blade. You went on walks through the forest. You talked about your lives. He became such a close friend that it was a wonder to you that you had ever not had him in your life in this capacity at all.

One day, while you were both sitting by the river in the afternoon sun, you noticed that he was a little quieter than normal.

"Is everything alright?" You asked him outright after a moment of studying the way the tiniest bit of tension had crept onto his brow where usually there was nothing.

Legolas blinked, turning his eyes from the flowing water to your face. "Hm?" He asked, as if he had not even heard you.

"I asked if everything was alright." You repeated.

Legolas shook his head in response, contradicting himself when his response was a simple: "Oh. Yes, everything is fine."

You did not buy it. A beat passed in which you just stared at him with a raised eyebrow and he shifted under your gaze before letting out a sigh.

"Alright, I confess. There is... something on my mind." He said.

"What?" You asked, watching him glance down at the stick in his hands that he had been fiddling with for a time now. "Legolas." You prompted after a moment.

Legolas swallowed, as if nervous, though you could not understand why he would need to be that way around you. Until he spoke, of course.

"I have been thinking a lot lately." He said, his voice soft, gaze on the river before he gathered the courage to turn his face to look at you once more. "About us."

Us. It was like a magic word that sent a shiver through you as you stared back at him. Did he mean... as in...? You swallowed now, feeling your own nerves rise. "Us?" You asked in a way that urged him to continue.

Legolas nodded slowly, blue eyes studying your face closely. "Yes. Us." He repeated, wishing he had planned out what he wished to say in his mind, but of course he had not planned this moment with you today at all. He had not intended for his thoughts to become visible. "You see, I..." He glanced down, breaking the stick in half before discarding the pieces and looking back up at your face, the one that had plagued his thoughts since that first day he saw you with his father.

In that moment, he decided to just say it. All of it. Just tell you because somehow keeping it inside unspoken was worse. "I like you very much. As... more than just a friend."

The world almost seemed as if it stopped for a moment. A second where everything just froze, your gaze locked with his. Was this actually happening or were you still asleep and this was all some trick of the mind? "What?" Not what you'd wanted to say but it's what came out of your mouth.

Legolas, unfortunately, took this as a bad sign and he looked away again, clearing his throat as a slight crease returned to the space between his eyebrows. "I... I just mean that..." He went quiet.

"No, no..." You said quickly, shaking your head. Damn it! "I meant... well, since when?" You had not dared to think that the prince's interest in you would be anything but platonic. He had never shown any interest in you beyond that!

However, as you thought about it now, yes he had. In the way he spent almost all of his free time with you. The way he listened so closely and intently to every single thing you said, hanging off your every word. The smiles, the lingering glances. The time he'd picked a flower from the forest floor and tucked it behind your ear without saying a thing but the look in his eyes that you'd ignored had said more than any words ever could.

You'd turned a blind eye.

"I like you very much too." You managed. "More than a friend."

Legolas blinked in a way that made him look completely stunned, quickly turning his face back so he could look at you. He was quiet for a moment and then a smile started to spread over his face. "You do?"

You nodded quickly, desperate now not to make him think any longer that you had absolutely no interest. "Of course, yes, I... I was just surprised to hear you say it, I didn't think-"

"I thought I was quite obvious." Legolas half mumbled, chuckling as his cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Oh, you were." You joked, laughing softly. "But... I think... I was not paying attention."

A small, comfortable silence passed between the pair of you as Legolas kept his eyes on your face and you forced yourself not to look away either. His smile widened.

"Then..." He continued after a moment. "If I asked if I could... court you-"

"Yes!" The word flew from your mouth before he could fully finish his sentence, causing colour to creep into your own cheeks as you watched him chuckle with amusement at your eagerness.

"In that case," the prince said, standing up and offering you his hand to help you to your feet. "Tomorrow, we begin properly." His minds eye filled with images of a picnic in a beautiful spot, of getting to know you better than he already did but this time in the capacity he most wished... maybe a kiss, but he would not get too ahead of himself.

"But I have duties." You said, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you up onto your feet, your heart racing at the contact as it always seemed to do, an extra thrill of excitement in it this time. "I stand the throne room tomorrow."

Legolas paused and then waved his hand, turning to lead you back down the trail towards the halls once more. "Leave that to me." He was determined to spend the whole day with you, to begin this courtship properly.

After some prodding as to why Legolas wished to wrangle a day off throne room duty for one of the guards, Thranduil found out about the change in the relationship between you and his son. However, he did not look the slightest bit surprised as he poured some more wine into his cup with a barely concealed smirk.

"I did think it would have taken you a little less time to ask her, my son... but better late than never." Was all he said while Legolas did his utmost not to shift in uncomfortable embarrassment under the amused glint in his father's eye.

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas fanfic #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #lotr fanfic #hobbit fanfic #ugh i'm a little out of practice with legolas and he didn't fully cooperate like I wanted him to #but if I fiddle anymore with this I'll delete it lmao

1K notes · View notes

hoe4almondmilk · 2 months ago

Text

A Gift 🎁

Thranduil/Reader Summary: Thranduil returns from a trip and brings back his queen a most beloved gift. A/N: Can you tell I love writing a soft, domestic Thranduil?

The only sound in the empty chamber you shared with your king was the sound of your footsteps against the stone floor. Anxiously, you paced back and forth, glancing out the window occasionally to see if your King had arrived. He had been gone for a few days now; he was visiting Lothlórien. You understood the importance of his position as ruler of the Woodland Realm, but that didn't make you miss him any less when he was absent.

As you drifted out of your thoughts, a surge of anticipation coursed through you at the sound of his arrival just outside. A bright smile painted your face as you skipped out of the chambers. Your heart raced with excitement as you made your way to meet Thranduil. The nights spent alone had turned your palace walls into a prison of solitude, but reuniting with him ignited a warmth within you that banished those desolate thoughts. Each moment apart felt like an eternity, yet every reunion sparkled like the first light of dawn, illuminating your world once more. You could feel yourself falling in love with him again and again.

You walked out of the entrance of your castle and smiled as you watched Thranduil dismount from his elk, still clad in heavy armor that gleamed brightly in the light. As he sauntered toward you, you raised an eyebrow curiously when you noticed the small burlap sack he held in his hand.

“Did you bring back something from Lothlórien, my Lord?” You asked. Before he answered you, he pulled you by your waist and placed a deep kiss on your lips. He pulled away and stared at you for a moment, soaking up your beauty with those silver orbs of his.

“It is not from Lothlórien, but I found it on my way back. It’s a gift for you," he said, holding up the sack. “Let us come inside, and I will show you, " he answered, his hand still resting on your waist, motioning you to follow him.

Once he removed his armor and settled in a bit, you went to Thranduil’s study. The tan burlap sack began to wiggle the moment Thranduil had placed it onto the wooden table. “Open it, " he instructed. As you began to undo the hemp string that sealed the bag, you slightly flinched the moment you felt the bag move again.

“I hope it is not a spiderling.” You joked as you undid the tight knot. Your nails digging into the hemp, working into the tight spot. You could feel the impatience growing of whatever was trapped inside the strict confinement of the sack.

Thranduil looked at you, almost offended that you would even joke about such a thing. “ I would never.” He watched carefully as you undid the string. “Although it does bite.” He added.

“It bites?” you questioned. You were now very curious about what your king found you on his journey back home. You were just glad it was not a spiderling, though you were joking. You knew your King would never pull such a prank on you.

The moment you pulled out your gift, a gentle gasp escaped your lips, and you softly murmured, "Aww." Thranduil’s lips curved as he watched your face light up.

You pulled out a small kitten. It was a fluffy pewter-colored kitten adorning a smoky tiger pattern with the most beautiful emerald-colored almond eyes. The kitten let out small mews. “Meleth nîn..” you murmured affectionately to Thranduil, your voice barely above a whisper as you pressed the little creature against your cheek, feeling the warmth of its body and the gentle rhythm of its heartbeat. He was very aware of how badly you wanted a pet, how lonely you got in this large palace.

Thranduil knew how deeply you loved Middle Earth’s living creatures, from elk and horses to even small bugs. One of the many things he loved about you was your ability to see the beauty in everything and the importance of every life to you. You thanked your small farm upbringing for that.

Thranduil gently cupped your face with his large hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. His eyes stared deep into yours. “I know how lonely you feel in my absence, " he said to you softly. The weight of his words lingered in the air. “I know that this won't replace me, but I hope you think of it as a piece of me with you when I am gone.” Thranduil moved his hand to stroke the kitten’s small, round head.

“I love it more than you could ever know, my Lord.” you beamed. Getting on your tippy toes and your free hand making its way to his chin to pull him into a deep kiss.

You could feel a rare smile against your lips.

#lotr fanfic #the lord of the rings fanfics #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #thranduil/reader #thranduil x you #thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader

309 notes · View notes

fel-09 · 3 months ago

Note

Hello there! Saw you aren't feeling the best and I hope you get better soon! Could you do-if you are up for it-a Thranduil x Blind!Reader? Reader is new to Mirkwood so they are still learning all the paths and the halls, so they do tend to run into a lot of things often. But they have been blind their entire life, so they are use to this and will not usually ask for help.

The night blazed like a torn scroll, inscribed with ink of fire and blood. The sky trembled with the cries of burning banners, and even the air was thick with ash and death. You ran across the battlefield, through the broken ranks, hearing the clash of swords, the dying gasps, the wails of wounded horses. Chaos consumed everything around you—but you had a purpose.

You remember that moment.

Everything shrank, stilled, as if the war itself had held its breath. Your gaze caught a flash—an unnatural, venomous white light tearing through the darkness, illuminating the battlefield with a dreadful glow. Magic. Too strong, too ancient. It had no scent, no form, but it struck like a blade, severing the very fabric of the world.

You didn’t have time to turn away.

Thunder struck your chest, hurling you backward, blinding you.

Pain didn’t come immediately. First, there was darkness. Thick, sticky, all-encompassing—it filled your eyes, swallowed the colors, devoured the light. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to see even the faintest glimmer, but there was nothing. The world had vanished. Only distant screams, clashing steel, the ragged breathing of a fallen warrior beside you—everything pounded around you, yet it no longer had shape.

You didn’t realize it at first.

Didn’t immediately understand that the world you had known was gone.

Your hands trembled. You touched your face—fingers glided over hot skin, smeared with something thick and sticky. Blood? You couldn’t see. You could no longer… see.

You didn’t scream.

A scream wouldn’t bring your sight back.

You don’t know how much time has passed since the battle. Perhaps days. Perhaps an eternity. Time had become fluid, like a dream with no colors, no shadows, no lines. No horizon.

They found you. Hands lifted you from the ground, careful, as if you were made of porcelain. Voices murmured through the fog of pain, muffled, but you heard them.

“She’s alive… but her eyes…”

“She can’t see anything?”

“Sauron’s curse… or magic turned mad with fury…”

You didn’t answer. What was there to say?

They brought you to Mirkwood.

The wind whispered through the trees, the leaves chimed like delicate bells—but you could not see them. Tall trees, wide staircases, paths winding between roots—everything you knew about Mirkwood, you knew only from the voices around you.

You walked, feeling every rough surface beneath your bare feet, yet every step was terrifying. Not because you feared falling—you had long grown used to pain, to wounds, to the blows of fate. But because even if you fell, you wouldn’t know where you had fallen.

The great hall was silent.

You felt the coolness of stone beneath your feet, heard the distant drip of water. The whispers of elves standing nearby rustled like leaves. But all the attention in the room belonged to one presence.

You couldn’t see him.

But you could feel him.

Thranduil.

You had heard of him. The King of the Woodland Realm, whose eyes were like moonlight, whose steps were silent, whose power was as deep as the oldest roots of the forest. He was here, close, watching you.

You felt it.

“A human,” his voice was low, contemplative. Ice on the surface of water. “They say you fought in the war.”

You nodded.

“And lost your sight,” he did not ask. He stated it.

You nodded again.

Silence settled over the hall.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked.

You didn’t know the answer.

Why were you here? Why were you still alive? Why had the woodland elves, to whom you did not belong, taken you under their protection? You didn’t know. You hadn’t asked.

“I don’t know,” you said.

Thranduil did not respond.

But you felt his gaze again.

You were not an elf. You did not belong in their world. Even if you had your sight, it would be difficult here, among the slender bridges, high staircases, hidden paths. But you couldn’t see.

The first days were filled with bruises. You crashed into columns, knocked over vases, got lost in corridors, stepped past staircases. The elves tried to help, but you refused.

You hated dependence.

Each time someone reached for your arm to guide you, you pulled away. When they left you extra food—more than you needed—you ate only half.

You had always earned everything you had.

But in Mirkwood, you didn’t need to earn anything.

And that was the scariest thing of all.

Thranduil saw it.

Saw how your fists clenched when someone left you new clothes. Saw how you trembled from hunger but refused food unless you were given permission. Saw how your teeth gritted when someone tried to help.

One day, he said:

“You act as if this forest is a cage.”

You raised your head.

“I’m just not used to… receiving something for nothing.”

He was silent for a long moment.

Then he quietly said:

“This world has already taken enough from you. Do not let it take your peace as well.”

You didn’t respond.

But for the first time, you thought about his words.

Thranduil was not one to speak of emotions. He was not given to unnecessary words, nor accustomed to excessive gestures. But he was an elf—and elves feel deeper than they can express.

You didn’t know when something between you changed. It wasn’t sudden. It didn’t happen in a single night. It was gradual. Careful.

At first—small touches.

You had lost your way in the palace corridors again, angry at yourself, unwilling to ask for help. He approached, took your elbow, and guided you in the right direction.

“To the right,” he said.

You tensed—but did not pull away.

Then—his hand in yours.

Before, he had only adjusted your shoulder to turn you in the right direction. But now, more often, he simply took your hand. A light touch, warm, steady. Sometimes, his fingers lingered against yours, just a moment longer than necessary.

You felt that this was more than just help.

And soon, you were certain.

One evening, at dinner, you set your fork down, barely touching your food.

“Something is wrong?” Thranduil’s voice was calm, but you knew he had noticed.

“I just don’t feel like eating,” you lied.

You heard a quiet sound—fabric shifting, the soft clink of metal against wood.

And then—fingers brushed your lips.

You froze.

“Open your mouth,” he said, his voice even.

You pulled back, scandalized.

“What—?”

“You don’t want to eat because you’re afraid of making a mess? Or because you’re not sure you’ll reach the food with your fork?”

You didn’t answer.

Thranduil sighed.

“Fine. Then I will help.”

Before you could protest, his fingers lightly traced your cheek, then pressed a piece of sweet forest fruit to your lips.

You shuddered but, hesitantly, bit into the soft flesh.

Thranduil gave a satisfied nod.

“See? Not so difficult.”

Your face burned.

“This is humiliating.”

“This is care,” he corrected calmly.

After that, he didn’t ask if he could feed you. He simply did. And you had to accept it.

Or maybe… you weren’t against it at all.

Now, he touched you more often.

Subtle movements. His fingers at your wrist when guiding you. A hand at your back when climbing stairs. Sometimes, when walking through the gardens, his touch lingered just a moment longer.

You found yourself liking it.

You had been used to solitude.

But now…

You were alone no longer

#x reader #fem reader #thranduil #thranduil x reader #the lord of the rings #thranduil oropherion #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x oc #thranduil oropherion x reader

201 notes · View notes

earthlybeam · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, I absolutely love how you write! I'd like to suggest mortal reader who takes a liking to some of the more intricate elf braids and hairstyles and asks the elves if they could style readers hair for the first time? With Elrond, Thranduil, and who ever else you'd like to include! Thanks!

Thranduil, Elrond version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The air in the Woodland Realm is thick with the scent of moss and autumn leaves. The flickering candlelight casts golden hues across the stone chamber where you sit, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. Across from you, Thranduil reclines in his carved wooden chair, adorned in flowing silks of deep green and silver, his long, pale fingers tracing idle patterns along the stem of his goblet.

He looks ethereal, as he always does—every movement of his as effortless as wind shifting through the trees. His hair, impossibly smooth and woven into elaborate braids, catches the dim light like spun starlight. You’ve always admired it. More than once, your fingers have itched to touch those braids, to understand their intricate weaves. And now, sitting before him, you find yourself speaking before you can rethink it. “My lord,” you begin hesitantly, voice softer than intended. “Would you… braid my hair?”

There’s a pause. A long one. His silver-blue eyes flick to yours, unreadable. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped. Then, slowly, he sets his goblet aside. “You wish for me to braid your hair?” His tone carries neither mockery nor warmth, just the cool, deliberate cadence of someone weighing a request with great care. You nod. “I’ve always admired Elven braids. But I’ve never had someone weave them into my hair.”

Another pause. Thranduil studies you as if unraveling some hidden meaning behind your words. Then, wordlessly, he extends a hand, fingers curling just slightly—a silent summons. Your breath catches as you move closer, kneeling before him. He shifts, his long, elegant fingers sweeping through your hair in a slow, methodical motion. The touch sends a shiver down your spine—not cold, not warm, just… aware. “Your hair is softer than I expected,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

His fingers move with practiced ease, sectioning your hair, twisting and weaving in a rhythm both foreign and hypnotic. You can feel his breath against the back of your neck, steady and composed. There’s something almost reverent in the way he handles each strand, as if the act itself holds meaning beyond simple aesthetics. “Elven braids carry purpose,” he says quietly, his voice close to your ear. “They mark kinship, allegiance, history. A warrior’s braid is not the same as a royal one. A lover’s braid… differs still.”

Your throat tightens. You want to ask what kind of braid he’s weaving into your hair, but the words catch behind your lips. He finishes with a final, gentle tug, securing the plait with an unseen motion. His hands linger for a moment, fingertips ghosting against your skin, before he finally leans back. “There,” he says, his voice softer now.

You reach up, fingers brushing over the intricate work. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever worn before, elegant and precise. Somehow, though you cannot see it, you know it is not just any braid. It is something his hands crafted, something deliberately chosen. “It suits you,” Thranduil remarks, and when you turn back to him, there’s something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Something thoughtful. Something unreadable. You don’t know what it means yet. But you think, perhaps, he does.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

The halls of Rivendell shimmered in the golden light of the afternoon, casting long, delicate shadows across the carved archways and polished stone. You sat upon a cushioned bench in one of the balconies overlooking a waterfall, watching the cascading mist drift into the air. The elves of Elrond’s house moved gracefully through the corridors, their hair adorned with intricate braids, woven like silver and gold filigree.

You had always admired their artistry—the way their hands wove strands together as if crafting something sacred, something eternal. And so, in a quiet moment, you turned to Elrond, who sat beside you, immersed in a book. “Elrond,” you asked softly, hesitant yet eager. “Would you braid my hair?”

He lifted his gaze from the pages, dark brows rising slightly in surprise. A small, knowing smile played at his lips. “You wish for an elven braid?” You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I see the others wearing them, and they seem… intricate, beautiful. I would like to know what it feels like.”

For a moment, Elrond regarded you, as though measuring the weight of such a request. Then, with a gentle incline of his head, he set his book aside and gestured for you to turn. “Sit before me,” he instructed, his voice low and smooth, carrying an age-old patience. As you obeyed, he reached forward, his hands threading through your hair with a touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers were warm, deliberate, and precise—his movements slow, as if memorizing each strand.

“You have fine hair,” he murmured, his tone contemplative. “Soft… different from that of my kind, but no less lovely.” A comfortable silence settled between you as he worked, gathering sections with practiced ease. The occasional brush of his knuckles against the nape of your neck sent warmth curling through your chest. The sound of the waterfall faded into the background, the moment narrowing down to the steady rhythm of his fingers and the quiet hum of his breath.

“I have braided the hair of my children before,” he admitted after a time, his voice almost wistful. “Arwen, when she was young, would sit just as you are now, though she often wriggled away before I was finished.” You smiled at the thought. “And did you let her?” A soft chuckle rumbled from him. “Not once.”

You felt the final strands being woven into place before his hands stilled. He ran his fingers over the braid, ensuring its hold, before securing it with a delicate silver clasp. Then, with a reverent slowness, he traced the length of his work. “There,” he said, his voice quieter now, as though reluctant to break the moment. “A braid worthy of the elves.”

You reached up, fingers brushing over the intricate weave. It was flawless—each strand woven with such precision and care that it felt less like a hairstyle and more like a piece of art. Turning back to him, you met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, there was something unreadable in his expression—something softened, something ancient and knowing.

“Thank you,” you murmured. He inclined his head, but his eyes lingered on yours, unreadable depths of wisdom and quiet understanding. “It suits you,” he said at last. And the way he said it—so simple, so certain—made your heart flutter like the rustling leaves in the wind.

#thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil simps #thranduil supremacy #Elrond #Elrond x you #Elrond x reader #elrond of rivendell #elrond peredhel x reader #Elrond simps #Elrond supremacy #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

234 notes · View notes

kat651 · 2 years ago

Text

hobbit characters realizing and confessing their love to you.

🤍Kili

He is the kind of guy to fall and fall hard. He first realized that he loved you when he saw you effortlessly take out a massive amount of orcs then just smile smugly at him.

his love only grew until it was too much and he had to tell you so he walked up to you when you were sharpening your sword. “Y/n, I- there’s something I wish to tell you…” he said. “What is it, Kili?”

he led you out of ear shot of the others and looked up so you with fear and hope mixed in his eyes. “Y/n… I love you…” and of corse you’d just have to lean down and kiss him.

🤍Fili

By the time he realized he was falling for you he was already half the way in there was no turning back now. So, he knew he had to tell you before he went mad. Thing is, every time he tried, his words got jumbled and he made a fool out of himself so instead he settled on a dwarfish custom that would express what he wished to say.

he sat next to you and began to weave a braid into your hair. You knew instantly what it meant and turned to kiss his cheek, causing him to blush madly. “Took you long enough,” you whispered softly in his ear.

🤍Thorin

He realized he loved you when he was facing Azog on the frozen lake. (Movie version) he was in his back, Azog hovering over him with a blade inches from his chest. You ran and knocked the pale orc away from Thorin before killing the foul beast. “Thorin! Are you ok, are you hurt?”

he just jumped to his feet and pressed his lips on yours. “You saved my life, y/n…”

🤍Bilbo

he realized he loved you when you, quite literally, walked into his life. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, are you ok?”

he immediately was a blushing mess and by the end of the week he had brought you a bouquet of wild roses.

you received them with a smile and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Bilbo…”

🤍Thranduil

He realized he loved you when he was riding into the city of Dale (movie ver) on his elk. (Which of corse got killed ☹️) he was immediately surrounded by the enemy. An arrow was notched but he noticed a second too late and would have been shot in the chest if you hadn’t thrown yourself into him, pushing him out of the way. But -if done at any other time would have likely gotten you thrown in a cell- unfortunately you now had an arrow in your abdomen.

The last thing you saw was Thranduil catching you before you hit the ground then, black.

when you woke you were in a tent, covered in some sort of silky, highly expensive, fabric. You realized after a moment that it was the king’s silk cape.

you looked over when you heard the rustle of fabric, king Thranduil knelt next to you and you went to sit up but only ended up clutching your side. “Lay down, you need to rest…”

you blushed and looked up at your king. “My lord I-”

you were gently cut off by a kiss to the forehead. “Rest, melith nin, you need it.”

🤍Elrond

he is the strong type he doesn’t confess that he loves you for some time. When he realized it was when he saw you in the garden, helping a baby bird back into its nest. it was such a small act but he found it endearing.

he confessed his feelings on a star lit night. You were out on a walk and the moon was lighting your face so perfectly that he could no longer just watch, he joined you in your walk and by the end of it his lips had met yours more than once.

#Kili #fili #thorin #Bilbo #thranduil #Legolas #Elrond #X reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #bilbo x reader #thrandiul x reader #Legolas x reader #kat651

1K notes · View notes

queenstarlight2 · 1 year ago

Text

A terrible day in heaven

Yandere Elrond and Thranduil (816 words) summery: Elrond and Thranduil agree to share you credits to this post and creator part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

It was a calm and peaceful day in Rivendell, people were drinking tea in the garden, elves were making idle conversation, and the twins were causing trouble. It was a perfectly normal day in Rivendell but for Thranduil and Elrond this day was made for agreement, for an advantage, for a shared desire.

The air in Elrond's private chambers felt thick with tension as Thranduil and Elrond sat on plush couches, gazing into the fire that crackled in the fireplace. The soft light of the flames danced over their faces, casting fleeting shadows on the walls.

Thranduil turned to Elrond and spoke, "She belongs to us, does she not?"

Elrond met Thranduil's gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "Yes, she does. But we must be careful. She is breakable and fragile. We must not scare her away."

Thranduil nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "I know. We cannot rush this, or we risk losing her forever."

But despite his words, the yearning in his eyes betrayed his impatience.

Elrond leaned back against the cushions and ran his hand through his hair, his voice tight with frustration. "But how long can we wait? I feel my desire growing stronger every moment we don't have her in our arms."

Thranduil's eyes darkened, the possessive fire within him burning brighter at Elrond's words. "I feel the same. The thought of her being with someone else, of her heart being claimed by another..."

Thranduil and Elrond both grew quiet as they thought about the object of their desire, the fire in the fireplace casting an almost romantic glow over the room.

Thranduil spoke quietly changing the subject "She is breathtaking. Her beauty is unlike anything I have ever seen in any human. And by elven standards, she would be considered very desirable."

Elrond nodded in agreement, his eyes distant as he recalled her face in his mind. "Yes, she is unlike any other human. There is a grace about her that I cannot describe. And her beauty... it is simply captivating. I find myself drawn to her in a way that I never have been before."

Elrond nodded in agreement, his own need for the girl growing stronger by the day. "Yes, she is. We cannot allow anyone else to have her. We have to make sure she knows that she is meant to be with us."

Elrond's hand ran through his hair again, a nervous habit he had developed in the days since they had first seen the girl. "But how do we convince her? She's young and naïve. What if she doesn’t understand our desires?"

Thranduil nodded agreeing he soon spoke "That is a valid concern. We don't want her to feel manipulated. But we also can't just go up to her and confess our feelings."

Elrond nodded and responded "No, that would likely scare her off. We need to take things slowly. Ease her into the idea of being with both of us."

Thranduil and Elrond sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts before Thranduil spoke up. "We must figure out how this is going to work."

Elrond nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, we need to discuss the terms of our agreement. How we will share her, and what our expectations are."

Thranduil stood up and began pacing the room, his mind racing as he thought about how to approach the situation. Thranduil spoke, "We should make sure she understands that we both care for her and that we will both be an important part of her life.”

Elrond responds to him "Yes, I agree. We should also make sure that she knows that neither of us will try to dominate her or make her choose between us. We both have a claim on her, and she will have a claim on us as well."

Thranduil stopped and faced Elrond, his expression intense. "We must be careful to avoid jealousy between us. We should always be open and communicate clearly with each other about our feelings."

Elrond nodded again, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yes, I agree. But it won't be easy. We are both already possessive of her. The thought of her being with you, when I want her, is already difficult to bear."

Both men were silent for a moment, the weight of their situation heavy in the air. Thranduil finally spoke up, his voice more solemn than before "I think we have covered everything for now. We have agreed to share her and to be careful not to let our jealousy and possessiveness get the best of us. Is there anything else we should discuss?"

Elrond shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "No, I don't think so. We just need to make sure we keep our word and treat her with the love and care she deserves."

With a nod of agreement, the two men rose from their seats and walked to the door.

Thranduil looked at Elrond his voice quiet "Then I think we are done for now. We will talk again soon?" Elrond nodded "Yes, soon."

They left the room, each lost in their thoughts as they both quietly contemplated their plan to share the girl they had both fallen for.

( IM BACKKKKKKKKKKKKKK)

#lotr imagine #the hobbit headcanon #lotr elves #lord of the rings #thranduil #elrond peredhel #the hobbit #elrond x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr headcanons #yandere lotr #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit headcanons

463 notes · View notes

lem0nshark-writes · 3 months ago

Text

"Idiot"

Thranduil x Male Reader

Type: suggestive fluff

Word count: 792

Warnings: cocky reader, flirting, idiot reader, sassy Thranduil (when is he not sassy tho), wound treating

Request: by @unspeakableoftheoscarwildesorr ! 💕 "Me again. Just read this fic and I was wondering if we could see the turns tabled and Thranduil the one being flustered and the reader being the smirking bastard? Again, it’s alright if not. Have a good day x 2!"

A/N: Bit short but I hope you like it!! 💕💕 I dunno if I did your request justice and made Thranduil blushy enough but then again I feel like he's not an overly blushy type hehe But if you don't like it lmk and I can write another one! Have a lovely day! 💕💕

Also Thanos fic coming soon! 👀👀

Along with your fellow elven soldiers of Imladris you were sent by lord Elrond to deal with growing orc problem south to the kingdom of Mirkwood.

Warmly welcomed by their king you all enjoyed your stay, hunted, fought, dined and partied with the hosting wood elves. Each morning bright and early you all went to the south borders chasing, fighting and catching as many orcs as you could and bringing them back to the halls of Mirkwood for interrogation in hopes of getting a glimpse into Sauron's plans. But so far it wasn't much of a success.

This morning, on one of such hunts you had a bright idea to fight a small horde of orcs by yourself, overestimating your skills and catching quite a gash on your side. Your fellow elves were quick to notice the little stunt you pulled and got you out before you could do even more damage to yourself, helping you finish off the remaining orcs.

By returning back to the kingdom you were ushered to the medics but you being you assured everyone you could handle the dripping wound yourself and made your way to a small restroom, getting onto the task, much to their dismay.

"I hear you are refusing care from my medics-" Thranduil's voice mused through the small room as he entered, closing the door behind himself, long lavish robes dragging themselves after him across the dark floor, "Elrond will say I'm not taking good care of my guests-" he eyed you up and down, your naked torso catching him off guard.

"Oh don't worry about lord Elrond, he's used to this," you smirked, hand and needle working a thread through the tender flesh of your side.

"So I hear," Thranduil mocked subtly, eyes staying focused on your bare skin under guise of watching your handiwork. Slight blush creeping its way up his pale cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he thought he played it well, relentlessly keeping a straight unphased face.

You flashed him a grin, not minding the comment one bit as you didn't take it as an insult rather an ode to your adventurous spirit, pausing a moment before musing through a smirk, locking his gaze into your own tauntingly "King Thranduil, I didn't know you were so.. impressionable."

His eyes widened a bit at the unexpected comment, blurting out immediately with an eye roll, "Oh don't flatter yourself idiot. The only thing impressionable about you is your stupidity."

You chuckled at him, swearing you saw his blush worsen as he tried oh so hard to remain graceful and unaffected. You've never seen him this flustered around anyone else, anyone else but you.

But his eyes stayed trained on your hands and how messily they stitched the wound about, blood making a mess out of your side and your hands. Until he had just about enough of that catastrophy and took a dramatic sigh and smacked your hand away from the wound. He grabbed a gauze and doused it in alcohol before dabbing your wound gently with it, cleaning the reddened flesh surprisingly softly.

You sucked in a sharp breath as the liquid stung fiercly but it didn't stop you from smirking at him as the pain slowly subsided, "If you wanted to touch me all you had to do is ask"

"Oh shut it." Thranduil barked tossing the soaked gauze at you softly with a huff and straightening himself before going towards the door, "This is what I get for wanting to help-" he let out dramatically, fake offended making you chuckle.

Before he could leave you smugly let out, "I have something else you might like to touch-" making Thranduil turn his head towards you and roll his eyes with a done glare, going to protest something.

You smirk at him but reach out to the pocket of your coat that sat on a chair beside the table you were sitting on and pull out a valuable diamond encrusted in a tarnished but nevertheless beautiful and intricate silver pendant-like jewlery, seeming of elvish descent and pass it to him, "One of the orcs dropped it, thought you'd be interested."

"..Elvish.." he muttered, examining the precious object under the little light that was coming from the window, mesmerized by the scattering light filtering through.

"Yes, I'll see we catch a couple of the bastards alive and see where they got it from," you gazed at him, happy you brought back something of value to the king.

He smirks at you, "keep that up, if you do I might see you get something you might not be able to resist," he winks at you before elegantly making his way out of the door, leaving you alone and flabbergasted.

179 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

795 notes · View notes

welikeimagines-andfandoms · 11 months ago

Text

King To The Rescue- Thranduil x Modern!Reader

Summary: Reader accidentally hurts themselves when they trip over and Thranduil comes to save them

Word count: 1, 167

Walking through the forest of the woodland realm filled you with both joy and sadness. Parts of the forest were still lush and green, filled with life and happiness, but unfortunately most parts were taken over by a great poison, leaving the once beautiful lands to be dark and dangerous.

You weren’t sure why you were brought to Middle Earth, both Thranduil and Gandalf had their theories, but both you and Thranduil believe it might have to do with the poison taking over the lands. To better understand it, you decided to walk among it. Thranduil had agreed to let you do so, as long as you didn’t go too far and wander into the spiders.

He had spent over an hour drawing up different maps and explaining where you can and can’t go. Even though you were not of this world and not as wise as the race of elves, Thranduil still was very protective of you, so protective in fact that this was the first time he had let you venture here alone. Every other time you had walked these woods, it had been with either Legolas, Tauriel or 2 or more guards.

You suppose the reason for Thranduils care was because you were chosen to help heal his lands, and he wanted to keep you safe. It would be stupid to think it was any other reason, although you did sometimes fancy it could be.

Perhaps Thranduil wanted to take care of you for more reasons then just to help him. You try to ignore those ideas though. An elvish king having feelings for human of a different world just isn’t how things work, though it’s hard to ignore that it might be true.

Hard to ignore the way he looks at you when he thinks you can’t see, the way you’re able to make him laugh, the way he shuts down anyone who would try to talk poorly about you, mostly it was hard to ignore his touches. The way his hands felt on your hips when you first started learning to ride a horse, and he’d help you on and off. How his eyes seem to linger when brushing a piece of hair out of your face, or even the way he seemed to always offer his hand to help you stand or walk along uneven ground, even when you didn’t need it.

These thoughts of fancy seemed to cloud your head so blindingly, that you didn’t notice the change in terrain, or that there was a giant root coming out of the ground. Before you had time to catch yourself, you felt the earth thud against your chest and a throbbing pain in your ankle.

Gently twisting your body around, you assessed the damage of your ankle. Looking down you see it’s already starting to swell, but despite that, you try to walk on it. There was no patrol out at the moment and you were sure no one would hear you if you did call for help.

With the assistance of the large tree, you begin to stand from the ground. As soon as you put pressure on your ankle however, you realise how bad of a decision that was. A loud yelp leaves you as you once again fall to the ground.

Hitting the ground with your fist in defeat, you decide calling out would be your only option, you could crawl but you’re pretty sure that would just lead to you getting more hurt.

Turning onto your back, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down and smell the lushness of the forest before you. If you were going to call for help, it had to be a good call, and you couldn’t do that if you were hysterical and unfocused.

Opening your eyes again, your calmness helps to push the growing pain aside as you begin to call for help.

“Someone! Help me! I’ve hurt my ankle and I can’t move! Help me!” You shout to the canopy of large trees above you. You’re not sure who will hear, but just hope your message is clear and loud enough.

Closing your eyes and beginning to breathe once again, you prepare yourself to make another call for aid. Luckily, however, as you open your eyes once again, you see none other then the king himself, kneeling beside you with a look of deep worry on his face.

“What trouble have you gotten into now?” He smirks down at you, but his eyes are still filled with worry.

“I tripped over and I’ve hurt my ankle.” You explain, trying not to sound pathetic.

“Ah, so that was the terrible howling I heard. And here I thought the spiders were being hurt, well an elf can dream.” He jokes with you, trying to calm the situation.

“One could only hope. Now I can wait here while you get help to lift me ba-.” Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Thranduils strong hands under your body as he began to lift you from the ground. There’s that touch of his again.

Looking into his face, you expect to see frustration or anger, but you see nothing but care as he stares back at you.

“I’m sorry if I’m too heavy.” You blurt out, not knowing what to say in this moment.

Thranduils rarely seen sweet smile shines onto his face as he looks ahead of him, beginning to take you back to his castle.

“Humans are always so funny. Elves are a lot stronger then the race of men, you feel no heavier then lifting a kitten.” His smile grows as he looks down at you.

Looking into his eyes and feeling his strong arms and hands so sweetly touching you, those thoughts of fancy seem to return with a vengeance.

“Does that mean you’ll feed me milk and scratch behind my ear?” You joke, trying to push your romantic thoughts from your head.

The silly question made Thranduil laugh in a way you’d never seen, it’s like his usual brooding self was washed away with sunlight and star shine.

“Perhaps I might just do that. Let you curl up by the fire and give you a ball of yarn.” He smiles down at you, as you now approach the doors to his kingdom.

Such a joke and such a smile does nothing to calm the feelings that grow in your heart, but you suppose you’ll just have to live with it.

Little do you know however, the image of you cuddled up to Thranduil by his fire as he takes care of you, fill his heart with a similar feeling. He too tries to push them away as he places you on a medical bed and elves begin to help you.

Stepping out of the room he tries to shake his own fancy from his head. How could such a bright and sweet person love an old and bitter elf as himself?

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil imagine #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #modern reader #Thranduil x modern reader

402 notes · View notes

nocturnalnella · 1 month ago

Text

“The King’s Secret”

Pairing : Thranduil x Female Reader.

Warnings : smut 🔞

Note : This is a one-shot - Popular demand as requested on my TikTok : richardsrealm

The corridors of the Woodland Realm were as silent as they were endless, gilded in the soft, cold light of the moon that poured through the lattice of crystal windows. Somewhere deep beneath the ancient stone, laughter rang out in the great halls—wine being spilled, songs being sung—but up here, above it all, in the hidden, gilded corridors reserved for the King alone, the world was a different thing entirely.

You pressed your back to the smooth stone, heart hammering against your ribs as you listened. Footsteps—light, measured—approached, steady as the tide. You knew that gait too well by now. Knew the way his heavy robes brushed against the floor, the faint chime of the rings on his fingers as they moved, restless and impatient.

The first time you had heard them, you had hidden. Now—you waited. A shadow fell across the wall ahead of you, tall and sharp-edged as a blade. You didn’t breathe. You didn’t dare.

And then…

A hand appeared, pale as moonlight, long fingers curling around the corner of the stone where you hid. You lifted your chin, defiant even now, even though you knew what he would find when he turned.

The figure stepped into view, and you felt your chest tighten, your blood spark beneath your skin.

Thranduil. King of the Woodland Realm. The Elvenking. And the man who had—against every law, every oath he had sworn to his people—claimed you in secret.

His silver hair spilled over his shoulders like a river of starlight, his crown abandoned for tonight. His eyes—that terrible, beautiful ice-blue—found you at once, drinking you in as if he had been starved for the sight of you. And for a long, shattering moment, he said nothing. He only looked.

Then he spoke—low and cold, the voice of a king addressing his captive—though you knew better.

“You should not be here,” Thranduil said.

And yet he reached for you, hand sliding to the back of your neck, claiming you in a way no one else ever would. “You told me that last time,” you whispered, breathless.

He smiled then—if it could be called a smile. It was a dangerous thing, a tilting of that perfect mouth that promised ruin and devotion in equal measure.

“You listen poorly,” he murmured, voice a velvet threat against your skin.

And before you could say anything else, he pulled you into him, mouth crashing against yours with the kind of desperate, punishing kiss that only a man burdened with a crown—and a forbidden love—could give.

Your fingers tangled in the rich velvet of his robe, clinging as he backed you into the stone wall with the full weight of his body. The cold of the stone seeped into your back. The heat of him blazed against your front.

Thranduil kissed like he ruled—commandingly, without mercy, without hesitation. But tonight there was something more desperate in him. Something more unguarded. His hands framed your face, almost trembling. His mouth bruised yours, then gentled, then demanded again, as if he could not decide if he wanted to savor or devour you. When he pulled back at last, you were both breathing hard.

“You cannot come to me like this,” Thranduil growled, voice rough with barely restrained fury. “Not when they could see. Not when I—”

He swallowed whatever reckless thing had nearly escaped him. But his fingers curved around your waist, tightening. He would never let you go. Not truly. You knew it. He knew it. The very stones of the Woodland Realm knew it.

Without another word, he caught your wrist in his hand—gentle but unrelenting—and pulled you after him, deeper into the secret corridors. His long strides forced you to keep up, skirts brushing against the stone, heart hammering.

You had been here before, more times than you could count.

Always in secret.

Always at night.

Always at the mercy of a king who could not—would not—love you in the light of day.

He led you to a door hidden behind an embroidered tapestry, the kind no one but he dared move. Thranduil pressed his palm to the wood, and with a sigh of ancient magic, the door yielded. A room meant for no one but him. And now—no one but you.

The door shut behind you with a soft, terrible sound like the closing of a cage. Only then did he turn on you. Only then did the restraint splinter.

Thranduil’s hands slammed against the door on either side of your head, trapping you. His body caged yours, not touching yet—but close. Too close. You could feel the tremble of barely leashed control in him, vibrating through the inches between you.

“You test me,” he hissed, breath hot against your cheek. “Again and again.”

You lifted your chin, defiant even as you shivered. “Then stop me.”

He stared at you as if you had drawn a blade across his skin. And then…

He was on you.

Mouth crushing against yours, savage and devastating, stealing your breath and giving you his in return. His hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper, harder, until you whimpered against his mouth and he growled low in satisfaction.

He kissed you like he was trying to brand you—claim you—make you his in a way that no crown, no throne, no oaths could ever erase.And gods you let him. You wanted him to.

Your hands fumbled at the heavy folds of his robe, desperate for the feel of him, of skin and muscle and sinew under your fingers. Thranduil caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the door.

“Patience,” he whispered darkly. “You will have what you seek.” You struggled against his grip, but it was useless. He held you with effortless strength, body pressing against yours now, the hard line of him unmistakable even through layers of velvet and silk.

“Thranduil—” you gasped. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, sending a violent shiver through you.

“You belong to me,” he said, voice low and guttural. “Do you understand that?”

You nodded, a broken sound escaping you.

“Say it,” he commanded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes—those cold, blazing eyes that only ever softened for you.

“I—I belong to you,” you whispered.

A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth.

“Good,” Thranduil purred. “Then remember it.”

He released your wrists slowly, as though reluctant to give you even that much freedom. His fingers lingered, tracing the delicate skin of your inner wrists, feeling your pulse race for him.

Then, without another word, he gathered you into his arms, sweeping you off your feet as if you weighed nothing. You gasped, clutching the fine fabric at his shoulders. “Thranduil—!”

He silenced you with a look, the barest tilt of his brows, the simmering promise in his gaze.

You will be quiet. You will let me.

He carried you deeper into the room—past the cold stone and the glinting crystal decanters—to the vast bed carved from living wood, the silken sheets shimmering darkly in the faint starlight.

When he laid you down, it was with a reverence that belied the raw hunger in him. He hovered above you for a heartbeat—watching. Always watching. You had the maddening sense that he could drink in the sight of you forever and never be sated.

“You undo me,” he said lowly. A confession dragged from the mouth of a king. Before you could answer—before you could even breathe—his mouth was on you again. This kiss was different. Slower. More dangerous.

It was the kiss of a man who intended to take his time. A king who had made a decision. A lover who knew exactly how to unravel you. His hands moved over you with the same care he might use to handle a rare, dangerous blade. Testing. Teasing. Worshipping. He traced the lines of your body through your clothes, fingertips barely brushing your curves, setting fires along your skin. Every touch was a promise. Every stroke a threat. When his fingers found the fastenings of your gown, he paused.

“Do you yield?” he asked softly, the slightest tilt of mockery in his voice—because he already knew the answer.

You arched beneath him, desperate, aching. “Yes. Yes.” A wicked smirk ghosted his mouth.

“Good.” He undid you slowly, almost lazily, as if daring you to beg.

Layer by layer, he stripped you of every barrier until you lay bare before him, trembling under the heat of his gaze.

And when he finally looked—truly looked—you saw something break in him. Thranduil was a king, yes. A warrior. A force of nature. But in that moment, he was something else too. Yours.

He slid down your body with lethal grace, hands and mouth following, worshipping every inch of exposed skin with slow, devastating kisses. Down your throat. Over your collarbones. Across your ribs. Lower still.

“You are…” he murmured against your belly, voice breaking on the words, “…perfection made flesh.”

You whimpered, reaching for him, but he caught your wrists again, pinning them lightly above your head. “Patience,” he breathed again, so soft, so cruel.

You bit your lip, trying to obey, but every nerve in your body screamed for him. Only him. Thranduil kissed lower still—reverent, punishing. You gasped, back arching off the bed, utterly undone. Only when you were trembling, whimpering, desperate for his touch, did he finally relent.

He shed his own heavy robes with a flick of his hands, and for a moment, you could only stare. He was beautiful. More beautiful than anything mortal hands or minds could have crafted.

The body of a warrior, all lean muscle and ancient scars and impossible grace, crowned by that silver hair that shimmered like captured moonlight. His eyes burned into you—blue fire—and he climbed over you again, caging you with his body. “This,” he rasped, voice almost broken, “is mine.”

He claimed your mouth again, kissing you until you forgot your own name, until you forgot anything but the feel of him—his weight, his heat, his taste. And when he finally entered you—slow, deep, claiming—you cried out, tears springing to your eyes from the sheer overwhelming fullness of him. Thranduil caught your face between his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice ragged. You did. And what you saw there—raw, endless devotion shattered you. He moved inside you slowly at first, with maddening control, dragging pleasure from your body with every thrust. You writhed beneath him, desperate for more, for everything, but he held you pinned, forcing you to feel every unbearable moment.

When he finally let himself go—when the king yielded—it was devastating. He drove into you harder, faster, his mouth never leaving yours, his hands never stopping their worship of your body. You shattered first—whimpering his name against his lips, clinging to him as pleasure tore through you. He followed with a broken sound, burying himself deep, claiming you utterly, body and soul.

For a long time, there was only the sound of breathing—the king and his forbidden lover tangled in the dark, bound together by need, by love unspoken but undeniable. At last, he collapsed beside you, gathering you into his arms. And for once—for once—Thranduil let himself show the truth.

He clung to you as a drowning man clings to driftwood, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in as if you were the only thing anchoring him to this world.

“You are my ruin,” he whispered against your temple. “And my salvation.”

You turned in his arms, cupping his cheek, feeling the tremor in him. “And you are mine,” you said fiercely. He smiled then—a true smile, rare and blinding.

And in the hidden chambers of the Woodland Realm, where no one could see, the king and his secret lover lay entwined—bound by a love more dangerous, more beautiful, than anything the world could ever understand.

—

You woke to the sensation of silk and skin and the low, steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath your ear. For a moment, you thought it was a dream. That you had imagined it all—the secret meeting, the desperate claiming, the whispered confessions in the dark.

But then Thranduil shifted against you, a long, slow roll of muscle and heat. His arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. You felt the rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath stirred your hair.

Real. So terribly, beautifully real. You blinked up at him through the early morning gloom.

The Elvenking was already awake, watching you.

His silver hair spilled over his bare shoulders, tangling with the sheets. His eyes—those impossible, piercing eyes—were softer now, the sharp edges dulled by sleep and something deeper. Something more dangerous.

He said nothing. Only looked. As if memorizing you. As if daring the world to take you from him.

You shifted slightly, body aching in the most delicious ways. The soreness between your thighs was a reminder of what had passed between you, the claiming, the devotion. And then—you felt it. Hard and hot against your belly.

Thranduil was already aroused. Already needing you again. Heat flushed through you, but before you could move, his hand slid down your back, over the curve of your hip, pulling you closer, grinding his hardness against you with slow, devastating precision. A low sound rumbled from his chest—half growl, half sigh.

“You tempt me beyond reason,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep and desire. You tilted your face up to him, heart pounding. “Then lose your reason.”

For a heartbeat, he only stared—something savage and broken flickering across his perfect face. And then—he gave in. This time, there was no rush. No desperation. Only hunger—slow, consuming, worshipful.

Thranduil rolled you onto your back with aching tenderness, bracing himself above you on one elbow. His free hand wandered down your body, fingertips brushing lightly over every inch of bare skin, relearning you.

He kissed you slowly—languid, deep kisses that left you gasping.

When his mouth trailed down your throat, over the swell of your breasts, you arched into him helplessly. His tongue flicked against one peaked nipple, and he growled in approval when you whimpered, the sound vibrating straight through your core. “Mine,” he breathed against your skin.

He lavished attention on you, mouth worshiping your breasts, your belly, your hips. He nipped and kissed the inside of your thighs until you were trembling, gasping his name.And then he slid lower.

You cried out, hips bucking, as his mouth found you—soft, insistent, relentless. His tongue worked you open, teasing and tasting until you were a writhing mess beneath him.

Thranduil held your hips still, forcing you to take every stroke, every devastating flicker of pleasure. His silver hair spilled over your thighs like a silken curtain, his hands possessive on your hips. You shattered against his mouth, crying out his name, and he only growled in satisfaction, drinking in every tremor of your release.

When you were limp and trembling, he rose over you again, eyes burning. “You are undone,” he murmured, a rare softness in his voice. And then he entered you again.

Slowly. Deeply. As if savoring every inch. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, overwhelmed by the fullness of him, the intimacy of it. Thranduil moved within you with exquisite control, hips rolling in a slow, devastating rhythm. Not rushing. Not punishing.

Simply claiming—again and again and again.

His mouth found yours, and he kissed you between every thrust—whispering words in Elvish you couldn’t understand, but that you felt in your bones. The pleasure built slowly, unbearably, until you were trembling, sobbing into his mouth, begging without words.

And when you shattered again, he followed, burying himself deep, his body tensing above you, a harsh cry ripping from his throat. For a long moment, you lay tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in unison.

Thranduil shifted, gathering you into his arms as if he would never let you go. He pressed soft, reverent kisses to your forehead, your temple, your hair. His hand stroked your back slowly, soothing, grounding.

“You have ruined me,” he whispered, voice breaking. You nuzzled into his chest, tears pricking your eyes at the raw tenderness in him.

“And yet,” you murmured against his skin, “you are still here.”

He laughed—a broken, beautiful sound and tightened his hold on you. “I would burn my kingdom to ash before I let you go,” Thranduil said fiercely. “I would tear the stars from the sky.”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “Then keep me,” you said simply. Something ancient and terrible flickered in his eyes. “I will,” he vowed. And in the hidden chambers of the Woodland Realm, as the first light of morning spilled through the crystal windows, the Elvenking held his secret lover close—and for the first time in an age, he allowed himself to hope.

—

#thranduil #thehobbit #lee pace #king thranduil #the elvenking #tolkien elves #elves

114 notes · View notes

silver-inked-quill · 2 months ago

Text

The one who reads the sky

Words:1k

Summary: reader is a cartographer, an elf from the woodland realm, who Legolas has always looked up to and liked, she joins the fellowship to guide them and help them stay on course. Legolas confesses his feelings.

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x reader

The great shadow of Moria still lay heavy upon the hearts of the Fellowship. “You shall not pass!” had been the last cry of Gandalf the Grey, and though his sacrifice had spared us, it left a wound upon our company deeper than any blade could deliver.

Boromir and stout Gimli had guided the Hobbits from the darkened halls, their faces pale and their spirits broken. I followed in their wake, yet my heart lingered upon those left behind — Aragorn, Isildur’s heir, and Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland Realm. I knew well that the son of Thranduil would not abandon the heir of Elendil, nor would Aragorn forsake the Ring-bearer.

The moments stretched, each heartbeat a tolling bell. I nearly turned back to seek them when at last I beheld them: Aragorn, grim and bloodied, his hand firm about Frodo’s arm, and behind him Legolas, swift as a silver arrow loosed from the string, his fair hair darkened by sweat and shadow.

Legolas called out — though I scarce caught his words — before I turned, fleeing once more toward the light of open air.

Samwise Gamgee was upon me at once, his eyes red-rimmed and frantic.

“Is Frodo safe?” he begged, as though the answer might unmake him.

“They come,” said I, though the truth of my heart was not yet settled. And within a breath, the three arrived, the small company gathering upon a ledge from which the wide world spread beneath us.

The Hobbits wept, clinging to one another, and even proud Boromir’s brow was furrowed with sorrow. Yet it was Legolas who moved past me, his steps swift, his mien strained with an anger born of grief. My shoulder brushed his chest, yet he did not pause.

“Gather your wits,” he cried, his fair voice ringing through the gloom. “We must away.”

“Let them mourn, Elf!” Boromir’s voice thundered.

“We have no time for mourning,” Legolas retorted, the sharpness of his tone cutting the air. Never before had I seen him thus, his immortal composure frayed by loss.

“He is not wrong,” said I quietly, stepping between them. “Yet neither are you. The skies above are yet unknown to me, my lord, and until night’s veil falls, I cannot set our course for Mordor.”

Legolas met my gaze then, a storm brewing in those ancient eyes. He said nothing more but turned away, as though struggling against the swell of his own heart.

Aragorn placed a steady hand upon my shoulder. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low, worn by battle and grief.

“Only my spirit, my lord,” I replied, and he gave a weary nod. “Without you,” he murmured, “we are lost.” And Legolas’s head turned subtly at those words.

Then it was he who came to me, catching my wrist in a hand both strong and trembling. “I saw you falter before the Balrog,” he said, his voice softer now, though strained with emotion. “Are you harmed?”

“I am whole,” I whispered, my hand atop his. A faint twitch of his lips, the ghost of a smile, but no more.

“I shall gather food,” he declared abruptly — a poor guise for his turmoil — and moved away toward a grove.

“Would you have my company, Prince of the Woodland Realm?” I called gently, unwilling to let him bear his grief alone.

He did not turn. “I am no prince to you, cartographer. Do as you will.”

I followed. “And yet you are a prince. And it is my choice to be at your side, as once I was to Éowyn of Rohan. Besides,” I smiled faintly, “until the stars mark our course, my hands are idle.”

“You are of greater value than I now,” he said, his voice low. “You can read the heavens and lead us true. You stayed behind for me and Aragorn, reckless and foolish.”

“I stayed for the Ring-bearer,” I replied evenly. “It matters not who held him at that moment.”

We moved through the hush of the woods, gathering what scant fruit the land would offer. I placed berries in his hand, and he ate them without complaint. “You have a reply for every word I speak,” he observed.

I laughed, though it was a brittle sound. “It is one of the gifts of being a woman.”

“I did not know one could speak thus to their prince,” he murmured, a shadow of mirth in his voice.

I grinned. “As you once said yourself, my knowledge outweighs your title.”

And then — his hand brushed mine. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers entwined with mine, a touch both hesitant and sure.

“You are important to me,” he said at last, his voice scarcely a breath upon the night air. “Not for your wisdom nor your maps, but for what you are.”

My heart stilled, and I could not meet his gaze. “I… I feel as you do,” I confessed, the words catching like a thorn in my throat. “Yet it is but a dream, Legolas. A flame that will burn so long as this war endures, and no longer.”

He lifted my chin with two fingers, his eyes upon me like the light of distant stars. “You speak as though the song of the world is yet written. But I tell you this — war shall pass, as all things do, and though many shall fade, some fires endure.”

I felt the weight of his words settle within me, and though I could not promise him forever, in that moment, I promised him now.

And in the dark beneath the boughs, with grief thick in the air and hope but a flicker, he bent his head and pressed his brow to mine. No kiss, no grand vow — only the solace of another soul in the storm.

And for the first time since Gandalf’s fall, my heart knew peace.

Hey there gentle reader,

I am a 25 year old ignorant person who watched lord of the rings for the first time... Soo please if you have any requests do tell me, anything that would give me a boost to keep writing. (requests are open, either on the comments or the inbox on my profile).

Another thing, your opinion is something i value so please do give me your feedback:)

i hope you are all doing well,

yours,

silvermist

#legolas #fanfiction readers #fanfiction #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #middle earth #aragorn #aragorn fanfic #the fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings requests #fanfiction requests

77 notes · View notes

rivendell-poet · 10 months ago

Note

Hey - I was looking through the masterlist and we're not having a third meeting?

I know it's not my place to beg, but I can't live on that Faramir cliffhanger so please may we have another one?? (Of course take your time if needed/have fun writing. But thanks if you do!!!!)

Aww, thanks anon! Honestly, when I wrote the masterlist I'd already mostly written this so must not have put it on the WIP list (for some reason?). And no fears, I wouldn't (permanently) leave you on a cliff-hanger like that <3

*･༓˚✧❝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 4.1k (each individual around 240~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : Éowyn - set just after Aragorn's 'death' in the Two Tours, unhealthy coping mechanisms

« 1, 2, 3, 4, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ When Frodo leaves your sight, carried ahead by Arwen, Aragorn’s glad that you keep a calm face for the hobbits. But he’s been travelling with you long enough to see your smaller tells and know you’re nervous.

✧ The other hobbits are subdued (for once) yet he watches as you stave their fears, impressed.

✧ As you check through your supplies for the third time that evening, Aragorn finally comes over and gently puts a hand over yours to make you stop.

✧ “You fought well on Weathertop, the rest of the hobbits would have been hurt if you were not there.”

✧ He knows it isn’t much comfort, and he wishes he knew you better to provide something that would help.

✧ Your hands linger there for a second before you pull away to (for the final time) put your supplies back in order. When Aragorn takes his hand from the position it was in it’s slow, as though he’s trying to savour the moment of touch.

✧ But when you both want to keep watch that night he doesn’t stop you, nor does he go to sleep.

✧ The two of you sit in silence again together, this time with solidarity and understanding.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ In preparation you spend a lot of time sparring, mostly with your city’s captain, but some part of you always looks over to where the field archery is set up. (You are a ranger of Ithilien after all, not a swords-person.)

✧ While walking to the training grounds, Legolas notices your mournful looks and quickly comes over - asking if you would be willing to shoot with him.

✧ You accept, fetching your bow and only realising once you’re down there that you’re doing this with an elf.

✧ As the target is set up, you watch carefully as he positions himself before shooting it - noting how elvish techniques differ to yours.

✧ When it’s your turn the world seems to slow down, not even noticing Legolas’s gaze on you, and you only come out when the arrow whistles into the bullseye.

✧ He congratulates you earnestly, and the two of you set up a competition.

✧ You aren’t surprised when you lose to the elf, although it makes you smile whenever he looks at your target to check you’re still tied with him.

✧ At the end of the day, he asks if you’ll train with him again soon and you easily accept.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Sitting almost two hours away from Bag End, when you hear something sneaking up behind you your first thought is an enemy of some kind.

✧ But when you turn around you’re glad you did, as all you can see is Frodo - sheepishly waving at you.

✧ With a grin you beckon for him to come closer, asking what he’s doing all the way out here.

✧ Frodo is honest with his answer, saying that he wanted to see you again - before blushing and adding that he hadn’t gone on a walk around here for a long time.

✧ Not wanting to tease or push him away, you ask about the walk and which places he recommends going on (you imagine hobbit paths will be different to the ones you traverse).

✧ The conversation eventually leads to him showing you a walk, the two of you simply talking again while he picks out paths you normally wouldn’t follow.

✧ When the sun reaches midday, you express worry about him getting home - and when he starts at the time you offer to walk him back.

✧ Along the road you pick apples for him, from the high branches that hobbits traditionally can’t get too, and in return he spots the mushrooms and other foliage you wouldn’t have immediately noticed.

✧ Bilbo doesn’t seem surprised when you knock on the door with Frodo, simply thanking you for taking care of him.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Thankfully, the third time you see Sam he's only walking in the Shire - without any equipment - and you call to him as you run over.

✧ You see him turn immediately, and you can see when he spots you as well (his eyes light up, and the smile on his face widens).

✧ When you make it over to him he gives a small bow and greets you, prompting you to do the same.

✧ The silence is awkward for a second, before he asks if you’d like to see the new flower meadows that have just started shooting up.

✧ Agreeing, he quickly shows you a path you’ve never even seen before, taking you into a small meadow that’s bursting with colour.

✧ Sam’s confident in you looking at the wild flowers and takes a second to glance at you instead, trying to capture the look of wonder in your face.

✧ Once you’ve finished taking it in, he asks what your favourite ones are and tells you the small facts he knows about them.

✧ (Sam loves the sunflowers & daffodils, personally.)

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ The day of the third meeting, even though you know he’s not coming until after second breakfast, you keep looking at the door to see if he’s there - even when you’re just on your first.

✧ When you do hear the knock on the door you’re there almost instantly, curious when you see Merry has a basket in his arms.

✧ He explains that you can stop to have lunch with him while you tour the Shire, as the bits you still have to see make up the majority of the day and therefore you'll miss elevenses. He apologises it’s only pantry food and lots of preservatives, but it’s the gesture that makes you begin to blush.

✧ At almost every stop and interesting feature in Hobbiton he tells you a fact about it, and on the rare occasion he doesn’t have a fact he tells a story.

✧ You get most of the way around the place when the two of you decide to stop and eat on a little grassy hill.

✧ Merry grins when this place is chosen, and tells you this was actually the only one he didn’t have fact or story for - and now he does.

✧ If you want, he can tell you of the amazing meet-up he’s having with a rather lovely hobbit, and the incredible food they’re eating.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Thinking back on the limited time you’d spent together, you should have foreseen that the hobbits would choose to go with the Fellowship for their friend. It makes sense, especially as people with no personal connections such as yourself were going.

✧ You had no objection with the hobbits coming with you - although you were slightly worried about their lack of training.

✧ Therefore, you decided the best way to combat this was to try and teach them how to fight - or at least spar.

✧ Boromir had supported your decision, so the next morning you set out to collect Merry and Pippin and offer to train them. In the end, they were the only two that came to your first meeting (Frodo was still injured and Sam wanted to train with him).

✧ For lack of hobbit-sized weapons, you decided to give Pippin your dagger.

✧ When you place it in Pippin’s hands he is incredibly thankful, and slightly overwhelmed, to be trusted with one of your prized possessions.

✧ At the very start he treats it incredibly carefully, trying not to get it damaged in any way until you make him use it to collide with your sword.

✧ He’s enthusiastic, and tries to pick up moves quickly - although you worry he’s trying too hard too soon - but it makes the sparring more enjoyable (not many elves in Rivendell can keep a smile on their face for all of a match).

✧ In actuality, his main piece of feedback is that he needs to stop staring at his enemy for so long in a battle - although you can’t see him admiring the beauty of an orc in combat.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ When Boromir’s soldiers invite their captain to drink with them, celebrating a recent victory, he agrees to go for the morale of the troops - not because he wants to.

✧ And then he sees you when he gets there, almost glowing in the tavern light, and suddenly he’s thankful he came.

✧ As one of two rangers there you light up when Boromir appears, glad to see someone you know, although he’s quickly swarmed by his troops.

✧ You try not to look too disappointed, and then hit Beregond when he suggests you’re not doing a good job at it.

✧ Boromir, retrieving three ales, makes his way towards where you’re sitting - pretending not to notice the whispers that fly around that their captain is going with the rangers.

✧ One of the ales is pushed towards you, and you smile at him before holding it up as a cheers.

✧ You thank him for sitting with you, and in return he asks after Faramir and how your mission fares.

✧ His knowledge of the missions the rangers are doing is slightly lacking, but you don’t hold it against him.

✧ Instead it makes you smile when he realises there's a gap in his military knowledge, which he instantly asks the two of you about to try and rectify.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Faramir can barely focus on the people he’s supposed to be interviewing for Boromir’s hand, nervous but wanting to see you. But at the same time, he knows he wouldn’t be able to focus at all after so is glad that you’re last.

✧ On one hand, you can’t wait to meet the man you made out with in the tavern. On the other hand, you briefly considered faking your death to not have to talk with the heir to Lord Denethor - who you had drunkenly kissed in a tavern. While trying to avoid marrying his brother.

✧ When the two of you finally meet, the nerves cover the room so completely it’s almost hard to think.

✧ He instantly begins to apologise, telling you the mistake he made - that he’s sorry for anything he did while drunk.

✧ And you interrupt him and tell him to stop before realising what your explanation for forgiving him is. You can feel your face burn as you reassure him the kiss was consensual - that you truly don’t mind (and you’d be glad if he did it again-).

✧ Once you both have said your piece, you realise how loud the silence is.

✧ Tentatively, he tries to renew the conversation about his brother and if you’d be interested in marrying him, to which you flat out refuse.

✧ The hourglass tells you both there’s still time before the meeting is over, and this time you broach the silence.

✧ You’re relieved when you find a topic of mutual interest, and you can feel yourself wanting to kiss him again as he talks to you on one of your favourite topics, clearly so passionate.

It’s not a relief when the time ends, until (as you leave), he speaks up again quietly.

“If we could- I… would be most grateful if I could meet with you again.”

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Your brother is dead. Now that you’re in Helms Deep, you truly have time to process it. Not healthily, as the magnitude of it hits you. Your closest friend is gone, your leader is gone, the heir of-

✧ A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality, stopping the tears that were about to form, and you turn slowly to face whoever it is - having the intention of thanking them to stop your spiral.

✧ Éowyn sees you, standing still and taking ragged breaths, your grief barely contained. When she reaches out with a hand it is her intent to try and comfort you for the loss of family.

✧ Her own grief shines in her eyes, mourning for the loss of someone she didn’t truly know but loved.

✧ Something about it rubs the wrong way, and before you can think your voice is raised at her - yelling. She has no right to mourn someone she’s known for a matter of days, for a supposed lost love who was already in a relationship. And to think that whatever grief she’s going through is anywhere near comparable to yours is insane.

✧ “I would’ve thought you’d be more compassionate about familial death - especially with Théodred.”

✧ She takes in a sharp breath at that, and the anger you held fails you, plunging you back into sadness. You sigh before apologising, stating it wasn’t right of you and that you need to be alone.

✧ Watching you leave, Éowyn still can’t find it in her heart to be truly angry at you (she knows what she’s currently feeling will go), and is only sorry for both of your losses. That you could not help each other.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ When he hears some of his best men complain about being beaten, some beaten easily, Éomer is immediately curious as to who they could be referring to.

✧ He’s surprised but delighted when they tell him your name, and that you’d chosen to specialise in off-horse combat.

✧ Later the same day he heads to where you’re supposed to be, and watches in awe as you wield your sword as though it’s a part of you.

✧ The spar ends with you as the victor, and although there’s clapping all around the loudest by far is his.

✧ You come over to him, and he instantly expresses admiration for your skills - barely realising he hasn’t let you get a word in for almost a minute or two.

✧ Éomer stops as soon as he realises this, but you assure him that it’s ok and you truly take it as a compliment.

✧ Then you offer to spar with him.

✧ He says yes and warns you not to go easy on - a wish you respect. When the fighting is over with his sword flung almost a metre away there’s no grudge or annoyance in his eyes, just even more admiration.

✧ You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone more happy to be beaten up by you.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ It’s night when Bard finally pulls his boat into shelter for the night, trying not to be too annoyed at its emptiness. This is the second night in a row he’s found nothing, and he’s trying not to let it worry him.

✧ On your part, you’re simply sitting around on duty - and steadily freezing as the night sets in - until you see Bard again.

✧ Bored and happy to see him, you wave and call out to him.

✧ He looks up almost instantly, getting out of the boat and going up to you as well to talk.

✧ For the first time, you’re able to have a conversation without the kids involved and it goes well.

✧ The two of you have a similar sense of humour, and the pauses in conversation are small and aren’t uncomfortable.

✧ When you realise just how dark it’s getting you apologise for keeping him but he reassures you it doesn’t matter.

✧ You offer to walk him home, to make up for it, and Bard can’t find it in his heart to stop you.

✧ The walk back is less like an escort and more like a walk between friends, with you still talking and laughing the entire time.

✧ Bard invites you to come over for tea sometime, anytime, and there’s a smile while you agree.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ In your contract, it had been stated you needed to meet with the elvenking once every two weeks - a fact you weren’t entirely sure he was aware of.

✧ Still, it must have been on some contract because the guards approve when you enter the first of King Thranduil’s chambers.

✧ Thranduil is generally quite an organised person, but every now and then something slips his mind. The thing that has slipped his mind these past two weeks was your meeting with him.

✧ The both of you can tell he’s surprised when he sees you, but he handles it with grace as you wonder whether it’s appropriate to apologise.

✧ You decide not too, and he sits down next to you - asking how Legolas has been doing so far.

✧ In the dying firelight, the conversation eventually shifts from his son to the both of you - inquiring as to how you’re doing, and how you ended up here.

✧ When you know the answer to most of the questions he asks you, he ends up answering much more obscure ones - does he prefer bluebells that grow to the east or west? Would he wear sapphires or rubies in a crown?

✧ A guard knocks on the door, eventually, and you both are surprised by the time.

✧ With a bow you leave the room, and he thanks you for entertaining him as you exit.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ After attempting to polish your armour for the third time, you regret not setting a time for this training more than ever.

✧ It’s not helping that every now and then other elves will pass by, giving you a slightly sorrowful look as though you’re a kicked puppy (which you aren’t - you’re just waiting for your sparring partner).

✧ When Tauriel shows up, you can feel the relief and stand to greet her to which she responds in kind.

✧ Instead of going straight into sparring, like you expect, she asks about your day and - when you explain you've mainly been waiting for her - looks rather sheepish, promising to make it up to you with this session.

✧ The two of you begin to spar, evenly matched and therefore trying hard to win with each round.

✧ Neither of you take it personally when the other tries incredibly hard not to lose even when they should’ve yielded earlier. It’s not even a matter of sparring anymore, but a match for your honour.

✧ On the fourth hour in a row you decide that your honour isn’t quite as important anymore, holding up your hand to signal for a stop.

✧ You can hear her laugh - something you didn’t expect - before she explains that was her intention as well.

✧ With the both of you stopping, Tauriel waits for a second to catch her breath before asking if you’ll come to lunch with her. You oblige.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ You’re in one of Rivendell’s healing practices, to observe this time, when you next encounter Lindir.

✧ One of the elves you’ve been working with appears beside you with a grin, stating you’ve got someone waiting outside for you.

✧ Expecting a patient, it’s a surprise when you come face-to-face with Lindir; the elf holds a bunch of flowers in one hand, his other hand tapping nervously against his side.

✧ Relief is in his eyes when he sees you, and he bows before handing you the flowers - explaining they’re a gift from him to show his gratitude, and that he should’ve done something earlier.

✧ The flowers are lovely - clearly of good quality - and when you comment on them you can see him visibly relax.

✧ He’s no longer tapping his fingers, as obviously, and looks more at ease than he was a second again.

✧ Something in your brain tells you to invite him inside so you can talk, but you’re in Rivendell and not your home, so instead you ask if you can meet later to discuss this properly.

✧ Lindir eagerly accepts your offer, quickly writing something off his calendar to put down the first date you suggest.

✧ With a final bow, he bids you a goodnight before shyly adding that he's looking forward to seeing you soon.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ You know you should be grateful for the respite that is Lothlórien, the Fellowship does need the time to recuperate and recover its strength (at least to the extent it can without Gandalf).

✧ But you’ve been a royal guard most of your life, and sitting around without purpose is doing you less good than the rest is helping.

✧ At the start of the second week, after you’ve explored all Lórien has to offer twice, Haldir suddenly makes you the offer of a lifetime.

✧ It’s only a patrol, you and two others walking around to make sure all is well, but for you it’s the lifeline you need.

✧ Haldir hasn’t been around you much, but the light that ignites in your eyes is comforting to him (and beautiful - in its own right).

✧ He enjoys your commentary on the patrol, and for the first time in a long time finds himself willing to laugh and smile if it’s with you.

✧ To him, even the silence with you on patrol is lovely - it’s not uncomfortable but reassuring, and there’s a small smile on your face even with the silence.

✧ Sensing your disappointment when the patrol comes to an end, he makes sure to tell you this offer is an open one for all the time you are here - not just for tonight.

✧ It may not have been what he intended, but when you look at him like he's hung the stars there's no regrets.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ When Elladan wakes up in the library his first thought is to panic - Elrond will send him to Valinor if he finds out what his son’s done (again) - and he looks to try and hide the evidence.

✧ Then he sees you, still asleep next to the open book you two had been talking about.

✧ Still wanting to get rid of the evidence, Elladan begins to take the books back with the softest steps he can, constantly glancing over to you.

✧ He finds himself looking back more than he needs. Something about you is peaceful when you sleep, even when you suddenly start and roll over slightly.

✧ Seeing how high the sun is in the sky, he gently pokes you to wake you up.

✧ You wake up with a cry, trying to bat off whatever’s touching you before you hear Elladan’s soft laughter for the first time. First thing in the morning, it reminds you of bird song.

✧ Elladan sheepishly fills in the details of what happened last night, apologising for keeping you up, but you assure him you don’t mind.

✧ As you're about to leave the library, he turns to ask if his hair is messy from sleep - and it is to your envy that every ebony lock has stayed exactly in place. You also get the sudden urge to ruffle it.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Although Elrohir does stop by the Houses of Healing at the start of the day to try and see you, you’re already gone.

✧ He sees you soon though, on Estel’s war council - trying to decide if Gondor should march on the Black Gates.

✧ When you're announced as Denethor’s child (and acting steward with your brother indisposed), he’s suddenly more grateful you allowed him to force you to go to sleep. Your father would probably have had him put in disciplinary action.

✧ Aragorn is outnumbered at the start of discussion, nobles of Gondor too cowardly to go, until you step in for Gondor - announcing the city will help its rightful king.

✧ At the end of the meeting, with troops ready to be marched, he thinks you really deserve more than the thanks Aragorn’s given you (a kiss instead, his mind helpfully supplies).

✧ Instead of that he goes after you while leaving, positioning himself in front of you and deeply bowing before finally being able to introduce himself to you.

✧ Humouring him, you re-introduce yourself too - although it sounds different when you say it to when the councillor announced you as acting steward of Gondor.

✧ Elrohir talks to you for as long as he can before duty calls, and he watches you go longer than necessary before he goes back to the grey riders.

✧ As he walks, he gently says your name to himself, holding his finger to his lips as if to feel the outline his mouth makes. Repeating it once or twice before realising what he’s doing.

Hopefully you enjoyed this, and thank you so much to all the people who had been reading this all! Here's the request link, have a nice day <3

« first scenario, previous scenario, next scenario, masterlist »

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

222 notes · View notes