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lamemaster · 9 months ago

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Guard the Oak

Request: I would like to request Mablung for 'Spin The Wheel ' event. 🌹🥺

Pairing: Malbung x Reader

Genre: Prison au

AN: Annon thanks for requesting! ISTG Beleg won't leave me alone today. I hope you enjoy this (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

"Not that I mind," you spoke into the silent company of the most handsome elves you'd ever seen. "But these bindings are a bit too tight, even for my twisted tastes."

They looked back at you, confusion etched on their beautiful faces. Your attempt at humor, laced with a hint of nervousness, seemed to fly right over their heads. Very silvery, well-braided heads, you noted, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tightness of the ropes.

The most captivating of them all was their magnificent Captain, or whatever his title was – something your mangled Elvish failed to accurately translate. He exuded an aura of authority, his gaze sharp and assessing. The other Elf beside you, perhaps another captain of some sort, seemed slightly less intimidating.

"A bit excessive, isn't it?" you decided to try striking up a conversation, piecing together whatever Elvish phrases you could remember. "Two captains for a petty theft?"

"He's a Captain," the one you presumed to be less high-ranking, Beleg, pointed towards the other Elf, "I am a Marchwarden." Not that the distinction held much meaning to you at the moment.

"As for the theft," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "felling trees from our sacred woods is hardly a 'little' thing." His smile faded, replaced by a seriousness that mirrored the Captain's.

You winced internally.

“It‘s just trees.” You shrug "They grow back, right? They're made to be used."

Malbung scoffed, a sound that surprised you coming from his usually stoic face. And then he proceeded to rock your world by replying in perfect Westeros, "Then that must justify every ill action of evil. For men are birthed to die."

Your jaw dropped. This uptight Elf not only understood your mangled Elvish, but he spoke Westron fluently as well? "Ha!" you finally managed, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. "So the Elf speaks the tongue of Men. And speaks it well enough to compare us to trees!"

"I wouldn't dare wrong trees like that," he replied smoothly, his expression unreadable. As if on cue, a branch snagged on the elaborate braid in his hair, tugging playfully. For a split second, a look of exasperation flickered in his eyes before he schooled his features back into their usual stoicism.

"Pfft," you broke out in laughter. "I would be concerned if orcs started making furniture out of men." Your laughter echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the ancient trees.

Beleg, next to you, seemed most put off by the Men as furniture comment. He shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowing.

"So you are a woodworker?" he asked tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked at your own immature glee. "You could say that."

Malbung watched as you settled in your cell, humming a tune that was more cheerful than the situation warranted. You'd managed to barter your way down from imprisonment to a week of– planting saplings to replace the "borrowed" branches. It wasn't ideal, but it beat a cold stone floor.

"A week for a majestic oak," Malbung declared, a hint of amusement in his voice despite himself.

"And will you be overseeing the punishment, Captain?" you asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Yes," he replied, his gaze meeting yours for a beat longer than necessary.

You leaned forward, a playful glint in your eyes. "Then we shall see each other more often than a week. For I am quite fond of 'borrowing' oaks, especially the ones with captivating Elven captains guarding them."

#silmarillion x reader #Malbung x Reader #what in the hell is happening event #fluff #prison au #Beleg

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sashaofravenlock · 2 years ago

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Continued from X

@thegreatstrongbow

Send “a little close” for our muses to get stuck in a small space together

“I think we are stuck.” It was really a mistake to get her to follow him into the little niche – the perfect hiding place for a game of hide and seek, especially it was against Mablung. Sasha had gone first, smaller than him, and Beleg second. But his foot had slipped, and it was now wedged tightly in a gap in the stone, trapping them both.

“I can’t get my foot out. Fuck.” He squirmed, but it did not help. “Is this a bad time to admit I am claustrophobic?”

“What do you mean we’re stuck?” Panic edged her voice as she wiggled in the tight space beneath him, her body already trembling as she looked up and saw nothing but rock and Beleg. Why had she agreed to leave the kingdom or play a game in the forest? Obviously she was just going to ruin it for them all.

“Maybe I can help pull it out?” Sasha tried to reach for his foot but her fingertips only grazed his ankle. “Do you think Mablung will find us soon?”

#thegreatstrongbow #I am totally putting this in the arranged marriage verse because the idea of Beleg and Mablung trying to teach her how to have fun #only for Beleg and her to get stuck and potentially hurt in a confined location sounds hilarious to me

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eomereadig · 1 year ago

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Tag Directory: Tolkien

The Silmarillion

The Lord of The Rings

The Hobbit

Thorin Oakenshield | Bilbo Baggins | Kili | Fili | Thranduil Oropherion

Pairings

Maedhros x Fingon | Glorfindel x Ecthelion | Celebrimbor x Annatar

Other Media

Fanart

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doodlinglisy · 2 years ago

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Winter Dance

Mablung and Beleg for @thegreatstrongbow I hope you will like it! Happy Holidays :) @officialtolkiensecretsanta

#officialtolkiensecretsanta #thank you for organizing this wonderful event #thegreatstrongbow #beleg cuthalion #beleg strongbow #mablung #tolkien art #doriath elves #beleg x mablung #beleg cúthalion #elves of doriath #silmart #silmarillion elves #my art

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i-did-not-mean-to · 11 months ago

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Soulmate & Kiss - Beleg & Mablung

Dear @lycheesodas, long time no see...Nevertheless, I wanted you to know that I think of you often.

Have a little slice of Beleg x Mablung. Lots of love from me!

And that concludes February. A warm thank you to @cilil and @fellowshipofthefics for the amazing prompt lists. It was such fun to write for them!

Words: 1 060

Characters: Beleg x Mablung

Warnings: /

Beleg shifted his weight noiselessly, hoping that the thus produced slight dissonance in the melodious rustling of the leaves would not alert Mablung to his presence.

He was a man of action, everybody knew that, but—at times—he liked to simply lay still against the warm, fertile soil or cradled in the spindly arms of an old tree and soak up the peaceful atmosphere of this blessed forest.

If, by chance, Mablung appeared, doing his daily rounds, Beleg considered that a welcome blessing rather than the expected result of his meticulous, cunning planning.

In his heart of hearts, he was convinced that the stern, taciturn Marchwarden with the radiant smile had been made for him, and he was pursuing his laughably idealistic goal of romantic bliss with devoted, patient determination, seeing and interpreting portents doggedly.

To his profound sorrow, Mablung seemed perfectly oblivious to the immense happiness they could find together, though, and so—as a trained warrior and despite his own mounting impatience—Beleg had decided that he could and would bide his time.

The wind was singing a wistful, longing song that made Beleg’s heart ache with yearning as Mablung looked so utterly kissable as he tilted up his face, eyelids fluttering, as if to investigate an incongruous scent in the air.

In Beleg’s mind, a scene took shape against his will; if he were to leap from his hiding place, he might startle Mablung enough to move in and press a coy kiss onto that pensively puckered mouth.

At once, he discarded that errant thought—his colleague and friend was far too skilled a fighter not to grievously wound anyone who tried to ambush him thus.

Suppressing a whistling sigh, heavy with unspoken desires and dreams, Beleg pressed his cheek against the rough bark of the tree branch and just watched.

For now, it would have to suffice to bathe in Mablung’s noble pulchritude without being espied himself. Mayhap, the day would come when those strong arms and cool lips would be his to claim, but it was far away yet, and Beleg cautioned himself against ruining his most cherished hope by rash, imprudent actions he’d certainly regret.

Still, the forest around him whispered of scenarios so heartbreaking and devastating in their unobtainable perfection that Beleg had to grind his lips to the back of his hand lest he let slip a treacherous whimper—by now, it would indeed have been exceedingly difficult and unbearably embarrassing to explain his spying if he were to be caught by the object of his clandestine longing.

As ever, his boundless enthusiasm and unshakeable faith had led him into a situation from which he wouldn’t be able to untangle himself without great cost to his dignity and pride. Thankfully for Beleg, his heart was strong and undaunted, and so he did not resent his present discomfort if it ultimately would bring him closer to the fulfilment of all his dreams and fantasies.

Mablung’s soul blossomed into light which was translated by nought but the slightest of twitches rippling across his sensual lips.

He had grown up in this forest, and he could feel every tremulous thread of energy running like invisible rivers through it; consequently, he was eminently aware of Beleg’s presence.

He always was.

Evidently, he would never have been presumptuous enough to expect Beleg to reciprocate the deep, often painful feeling of belonging to another that beleaguered Mablung’s soul. After all, Beleg was a creature of light and joy—he was loved by every living thing he touched, and thus, one could not demand that he keep track of all those connections and bonds that tethered them to his radiance.

Mablung, on the other hand, had the deplorable tendency to overthink his every interaction. Try as he might, he’d not yet found a way to undo or alleviate the gravitational pull that chained him to Beleg in mysterious and not entirely comfortable ways.

Of course, they had known each other for so long, relying on one another in battle and peace alike, that it was hardly surprising that Mablung would be able to pick out the delicate, delightful embroidery of Beleg’s breathing and the smell of his skin from the ever-changing tapestry of the woods.

In the privacy of his own mind, Mablung nevertheless admitted that part of his being might well be seeking these tell-tale signs indefatigably, and he wondered why his friend had not made himself known.

At once, a cold shiver lanced through his heart. Had he displeased Beleg? Mablung was no fool—he knew that he was far from the most winning or engaging of comrades at times, but he had hitherto firmly believed that Beleg was inordinately fond of him.

Had he been mistaken? Had he let himself be blinded and deceived by his shameful, deep-seated hopes and wishes?

Still, he could feel the beckoning call of Beleg’s alluring presence thrum through every fibre of his being, and—no longer able to walk on in sullen silence as if he truly believed himself to be unobserved—he lifted his eyes to the tuft of dense foliage overhead within which he reckoned his friend to be hidden.

As soon as his eyes met that bright, open gaze, flashing like stars from behind lush, green leaves and shapely branches, Mablung threw himself into an impassionate apology, pleading fervently with the slack-jawed beauty to forgive him for whatever trespass of which he judged his devoted friend guilty.

“Oh, you sweet fool!” Beleg exclaimed as he gracefully leapt from his perch to throw his arms around Mablung’s torso in a shameless burst of affection. “I was merely admiring you—I imagined myself to be safe and unnoticed, which was plainly conjecture and delusion.”

Pride and embarrassment oozed from his melodious voice, and Mablung flushed upon hearing so candid a confession.

“You always frown at me so fiercely that I feel quite foolish,” Beleg went on and, placing his hands on Mablung’s shoulders, pulled himself up along that unyielding, paralysed body to reap that kiss he had fantasised about so often. “You darling dimwit,” he cooed. “I am not in the least angry at you!”

“So I surmise,” Mablung mumbled, dazed and delighted beyond words by the sensation of that silken slide of fragrant heat that made the breath stutter and falter in his tight chest. “Prove it!”

@fellowshipofthefics that's it for this month from me!

Thank you for all the support and love!

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Dark Romance Prompts #Sweet and Spicy Bingo #Sweet #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Soulmate #Kiss #Beleg x Mablung #Beleg #Mablung #trees #a kiss #pining

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polutrope · 3 years ago

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Rating: G | No Warnings

Relationship: Beleg/Mablung

Words: 1958

Summary: Mablung visits Beleg on the northern marches to spend some time alone together before the summer festival.

Gift for @lycheesodas for @gatesofsummerexchange

Read on AO3

“I will need you in Menegroth when Melian and I depart for the summer in Neldoreth, so I am glad to grant my Captain leave to visit his own beloved in Dimbar,” Thingol said, with a flicker of warmth in his eyes.

The spirits of the king – of the whole forest – always lifted as the buds of Spring grew plump on bare branches and unfurled their leaves and as Esgalduin’s banks rose to the swelling of the river’s song.

Mablung nodded and extended his open palm in a gesture of gratitude . “Thank you,” he said. “Though, I would clarify that I do not go only–”

“You need not pretend for my benefit,” Thingol said, rising from his seat beneath Hírilorn, a chair of living roots that twined up from the earth before curling down below once again. “I know why you are going and I do not begrudge it.”

Thanking the king once more, Mablung took his leave and made preparations for the journey to the northern marches. It was not, in truth, only to spend time with Beleg that he was going. It was also an opportunity to offer his encouragement to the wardens who guarded Doriath’s most dangerous border. Beleg would be in Menegroth with him soon enough for the summer festival – but it was always most pleasant to be with his husband among the wild borderlands that reminded them both of the years under the stars when they first met.

The sounds of the waking forest spilled from every glade on the journey through Neldoreth and the night air was cool but soothing, the scents of rose and thyme and damp earth filling his lungs whenever he took his rest. He arrived at the huts of the marchwardens at midday, finding them at their meal in the dappled sunlight under a budding canopy of beech.

“Greetings, Captain, welcome!” said one, jumping up from her seat on a fallen log, and clasped his hand. Mablung returned her greeting and could not hide a little laugh at the ease of the wardens under Beleg’s command.

“Please, sit with us,” she said, waving her fellows aside with a hand and offering a plate of fresh currants and acorns. “We also have nettle tea – Merenor even has a flask of pine liquor that I am sure he’d be willing to share.” She cast a playful glance at the Elf in question, who raised his flask in agreement.

“No, thank you, Merenor,” Mablung said. “Perhaps this evening,” he added, not wanting to appear ungrateful for their hospitality.

“But of course, I am remiss!” the first warden said, clapping a hand against her forehead. “You will no doubt want to recover and rest before–”

Just then, a pair of strong arms descended on Mablung’s shoulders, filthy hands pressing against his chest and yanking him backwards.

“Melethron!” Beleg exclaimed, pulling himself around to plant an enthusiastic kiss to his husband’s cheek. Warm but all-too-boisterous laughter broke out among the wardens. Mablung straightened and gently tried to shrug him off, but Beleg clung to his waist, looking up at him with that devilish grin that he knew full well drove Mablung to distraction.

“Very good, you have outwitted even the Captain of Doriath with your stealth,” Mablung jested for the benefit of their audience, nonetheless casting a warning glance at his husband when he spoke his own title – a reminder that, yes, after all these years he still did not want to be embraced in front of those under his command. Beleg elbowed him in the side as he released him, his face still split into a smile.

“You’ll have to excuse me, my fellow hunters,” Beleg said to the crowd. “It seems my Captain has come all the way to Dimbar to consort with me. You’ll understand that I cannot deny him.”

At that, Beleg turned, dragging him towards his hut by the wrist. Mablung submitted to being led off like a blushing lover, won over as he had been for millennia by the charm of his untamed husband.

Once in the hut, Beleg cast his hunting gear, belt, and quiver onto the floor. Only Belthronding was handled with care as he placed the bow in its place on the wall.

Mablung put down his pack and sat to remove his own travelling gear less hurriedly, scanning the pile of weapons and clothing that Beleg was adding to even now. He clicked his tongue and Beleg’s eyes darted over to him.

“What?” Beleg said. “Now, now, I will have none of that.” He raised his brows and pointed a finger. “This is my home, I will order it as I please.”

“Order it?” Mablung smirked. “I do not think you have ordered it all winter.”

“That’s not true at all!” Beleg extended his arms and strode towards Mablung, taking a seat beside him and pulling off his boots. “You should see the cupboards. I spent the whole winter carving boxes to separate the grains, herbs, nuts, and dried berries. I had clay jars brought in for the pickles and preserves. I even had names engraved on the sides in Cirth. They’re quite impressive, I’ll show–”

Mablung stopped his chattering mouth with a kiss, which Beleg received without hesitation, dropping his boot to the floor to take Mablung’s face in both hands. No doubt he would have continued gladly, but Mablung had other ideas about where to take his husband for their first reunion in nearly a year. He disentangled himself from Beleg’s arms.

“Don’t you want to know what I am doing here?” he asked, tension he didn’t know was there unwinding when he met Beleg’s eyes.

“Oh. I assumed for me,” Beleg said, brushing a calloused thumb over Mablung’s cheek.

“Mm.” Mablung pulled the hand down from his face and examined the lines of his lover’s palm. He considered making up another pretext for his visit, but settled on a simple, “Yes.”

Beleg sprang up lightly and walked over to the cupboards, pulling out many jars and boxes, just as he’d described.

“Shall we prepare some things to eat this evening?” Beleg said as he assembled the containers on the counter. “You did intend to take me to that glade with the pool?” He glanced at his husband, biting at the side of an acorn to test its freshness.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he responded to Mablung’s silent question. “It’s an obvious choice, and do not think I have forgotten the position of the stars when we first spent an evening there.”

Of course he’d known. After many long years as lovers on the journey from Cuiviénen, it was in that grove where, having found a land to call home at last, they had called upon Eru to recognise their bond as marriage – and though there had been no Sun or Moon in the sky then by which to count the days, the Elves of Beleriand had still kept time by the cycling of the stars. The years had become much briefer under the light of Anor, but the memory always surfaced more vividly when Spring spread its blanket of colour over the land.

They packed bread, cured meats, berries, and a bottle of the pine liquor, of which the marchwardens in the North seemed to have a much greater share than the other borderlands. Menegroth’s stores were nearly empty, though there was a plentiful supply of wine, as well as Dwarven ale and strong spirits brought in from Belegost for the upcoming festival. Mablung wondered if they were not making the liquor themselves here. But he supposed the stout bowmen of Dimbar had earned it.

“You’re not seriously worrying about supplies of liquor, are you?” Beleg read his thoughts across the thread connecting their minds, smiling wryly as he stuffed his pack. “Thingol has more than enough for weeks of celebrations holed up in those caves. Anyway, since when has festival preparation fallen under the duties of the Captain of Doriath?” Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Beleg leaned over and kissed Mablung’s cheek. “You work too hard,” he said.

The grove was buzzing with bees and white moth wings shimmered in the sunlight. They had built a talan in the trees there many years ago, and they climbed up now, rolling out their blankets in preparation for the evening. Above, the canopy of unfurling leaves was still open to the sky and they would take their rest looking up at Elbereth’s stars and the waxing glow of Ithil.

Mablung hopped down from the tree and dug through his pack, pulling out his carefully-wrapped gift.

“What do you have there?” Beleg was already wading into the creek, and he turned to Mablung with a curious look.

“I had it made for you.” Mablung unfolded the silk from around the book, bound in canvas dyed a rich purple.

“A book?” Beleg cocked an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do with that?” he teased. “You know I prefer listening to reading.”

“I know,” Mablung said. “And I will read it to you every day on the journey back to Menegroth for the festival, if you insist. But I wanted you to have this to enjoy when I am not here.”

“That is sweet.” Beleg returned to examine the book, brushing his hand gently over the cover. “What is it about?”

“It is the story of a great bowman and a warrior,” Mablung said.

Beleg looked up, mouth curled into half a smile. “Oh is it?”

“They live in a beautiful woodland realm, free of danger, but they are restless. One day, they set out alone together to make war on a terrible Enemy.”

“Sounds unlikely.” Beleg’s eyes had that glimmer of starlight as his smile softened and he opened to a page. “Ah, it is in verse!”

“Yes, of course. It can be narrated or sung.”

“Excellent, I will teach the birds to sing it to me. Speaking of which,” Beleg placed the book in his own pack, “I have a gift for you, also.”

He tilted his head up to the trees and whistled, two slow rising notes and then a trill. At once, a thrush came gliding down from the trees and perched on his outstretched hand.

“Pedwin will go with you to Menegroth. She won’t live in the caves of course, but I know you need practice with their language, and she will teach you. Then you can send a message to Dimbar whenever you like.”

The bird flapped her wings and landed on Mablung’s shoulder. She pecked delicately at his neck.

“See, she can even kiss you for me.” Beleg breathed a soft laugh, petting the bird’s head with a fingertip. “Come,” he said, and Pedwin flew off into the trees, “let’s swim. Then you can read to me from that book.”

“I think we had better leave that for bedtime,” Mablung said.

“Why?” Beleg paused midway through lifting his tunic over his head, looking charmingly affronted with both arms twisted to one side, still stuck in the sleeves.

“I fear you’ll fall asleep well before Anor passes down into the West, and we cannot have that.”

“With you reading to me? I would not!” Beleg protested, tossing the tunic onto the grass.

Mablung felt a tug on the corners of his lips. Possessed by that playful spark that only his husband could ignite, he lunged at Beleg and tumbled them both into the deep pool. Beleg shrieked, sounding more like to the animals he conversed with than a captain of the marchwardens, and Mablung laughed. The sight of Beleg’s half-shocked, half-beaming expression when he bobbed to the surface, silvery hair clinging to a face spattered with glittering droplets, far outweighed the inconvenience of their soaked clothing.

#gos2022 #gatesofsummer #beleg x mablung #beleg #mablung #my fic

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batsyforyou · 1 year ago

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Mablung General Headcanons

Tags: Alluded to NSFW at the very end, character description, can’t imagine any other tag

Pairing: Mablung x reader

Author’s Note: If y’all know the canon appearance for this elf please let me know, I could not find it to save my life.

Context

a captain and marchwarden servant to King Elu Thingol of Doriath.

Was one of the great captains of the Sindar along with Beleg Cúthalion/Strongbow. It isn't unusual to see him with Beleg when outside Doriath

Acts like an advisor when in the city

Appearance

Waist length dark brown hair with bangs

Gray eyes

Dressed in fine robes and tunics

Long butterfly lashes

Strong jaw and nose

side note: (Adam's apple on men is really attractive, for whatever reason, but the idea of the elves with Adam's apple is even hotter in my brian. Don’t ask me why I have no clue it's literally the most basic thing lol.)

Ideas

Mablung is the type to doubt and hesitate over the idea of getting involved in mortal and elf relationships

So he’ll be kind and respectful towards you but watch from afar

Will be your friend and help you anyway way he can if you talk to him honestly about things

Honesty and truth is super important to him

So he hates liars

If he catches you in a lie just know that whatever trust you built was just shattered by a sonic wave from Black Canary in DC

He will hesitate to trust you again mostly because he feels very betrayed

Major sweet tooth but will die before he admits it

Is a true romantic at heart

Is the kind of person to glare down at you and say “Behave yourself” with an added term of endearment or not

Is definitely the mom friend, packs for everything and gives it he all

Is a perfectionist and feels terrible when he fails to do something

Takes full responsibility for everything he does

Favorite color is the deep blue of the sky

Hobbies

He reads like a lot

His guilty pleasure is to go out and find stories from the world of men

Mostly because elves don’t have fiction stories they only do nonfiction

He loves the steamy romance stories and mysteries

Hunts with the others

And trains often with Beleg and later Túrin

Relationship

Is for sure the type to worship the ground you walk on

Insists on putting your shoes on the mornings so he can kiss your ankles

And loves taking them off for you at night.

Doesn’t matter if you complain that your feet are sweaty and smell gross he’ll rub them anyway

Kisses your hand everytime he sees you in public

When at home he comes up behind you and will either wrap his arms around your waist, grip your hips in his hands, rubs your shoulders, or kiss your temple

I’d say his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation

Is constantly praising you over the simplest of things

You fall first he falls much much harder

In the beginning he can't bring himself to accept it

Is the King of living in Denial River

And will kinda break away from you some without realizing it

He takes the mortal x immortal thing very seriously and is grieving your loss before you even die

“Do you love me?” (Reader)

"Yes, and it's killing me." (Mablung)

“. . . Why?”

“Because I can’t keep you.”

You’ll have to remind him that your not dead yet and can live a happy, while short, life with him

He finds worth in your love and value in your life

If you say something to him expect his ears to be perked and listening

In the beginning when seeking counsel from his friends about his feelings he does let some of the negative responses get it him

But after he decides he can’t live without you it doesn’t matter what the others have said

Your his and he is yours and he will die beside you so he can be buried with you

Is a dominant personality but like a gentleman's dominance if that makes sense?

Adores cuddles but craves to have you in his lap while he reads

He loves it both for naughty reasons and innocent reasons

Loves to lay in your lap while on the couch

Specificity love it when he can push his face into your thighs and just chill with your fingers running through his hair

Would love to have three children some day adopted or not

Overall I think Mablung is a genuinely cool character

Masterlist

#tolkien #silmarillion #the silmarillion #mablung #mablung x reader #doriath

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