#feren

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

I just love fluff ok and, say it with me, I did this for LoTR 😁 (you can think of the older characters’ as being set when you guys are younger, not during book/film events 😊)

Warnings: conception mentions, some implications of infertility, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms, very long post 😂

Balin

✧ Five years. For five years you had tried. Six you and Balin had been married, happily as anything, but children never came. Your struggles had broken you down, leading you to try all the remedies well-meaning elders and healers alike recommended. Eat more good, strong foods, less of that greasy stuff. Drink this tea, it’s great for women! It’s only a bunch of tiny needles- the pain of birth will be worse anyway. Don’t be so active, let yourself relax for Mahal’s sake, girl! Remedy after remedy, you put your body through it all and put your hands up and prayed. Weeks passed and you had taken ill, attending the healers’ just to get something to ease your nausea, and that was when the questions began. Illness forgotten, you wandered in a grinning daze out of that hall and straight into your husband’s arms. When he chuckled and asked what this was all about, all you could do was snuggle into his chest deeper and whisper “It’s finally happened.”

✧ Such years leant of course to Balin being a bit extra protective of you. You often chastised him, good-naturedly of course, that he hovered so over you, and every time he would simply kiss you and say "That's right".

✧ It brought you both to tears when you began showing, when your condition had persisted long enough to be real, to last beyond the known months of danger. Forehead pressed against yours, your husband held you tightly and warmly for some amount of minutes you did not know, but minded not at all. Balin's words of love and reassurance were as music to your ears.

✧ Hormones confound you some days, pulling you from peace to ruin in mere moments, but Balin is always there with warm arms and wise words, reminding you that whatever you may think, you will never be alone.

✧ The one time during your entire pregnancy that you saw Balin cry was the day you brought home a tiny red coat that looked just like his and showed it to him with pride glowing in your eyes.

✧ He is so calm during all the worst sides of your condition, standing right by you through the good, the bad, and the ugly and dusting and cleaning you off each and every time. "We fought hard for this," he reminds you, "And I'll keep fighting with you every step of the way."

Dwalin

✧ You had wanted children all your life, certainly, and you'd seen Dwalin around them a few times, but what would he say? Your husband was a renowned warrior, hardened in the face of blood and steel and tolerant of no foolishness. But still he went soft as clay when his beloved wife fell into his arms. Thus that night you softened him up but good with all the great food and affection you could muster, so much that you had him remarking what a wonderful home he'd been blessed with. "And would you be willing to share it?" At that, your husband rose from his chair, hands tensing at his sides. "You don't mean-" "I do," you nodded. Without warning, you were swept up into Dwalin's arms, hoisted gently into the air with a giggle. "Just when I thought Mahal couldn't bless me any more! My beautiful wife, with child."

✧ Cue the two of you bickering back and forth like, well, a married couple, about who the child is going to look like. "I'll have 'em look just like you, thanks." "I for one relish in the thought of toting around a miniature Dwalin." "Come now," your husband teases back, running a hand over his shaven, tattooed head, "If they look like you they'll have better hair!"

✧ Dwalin has tiny wooden swords and axes made in time for your little arrivals, ensuring the axes match his to a tee.

✧ He sleeps flush against you now, head leaned against your growing belly and one hand firmly atop it like a lovely little line of defense.

✧ You have him absolutely wrapped around your finger, even more so now. Bat your eyelashes at him and make any request and he melts like butter. You’ll never want long for anything you crave!

✧ Admittedly he knows very little of a woman’s workings, but the moment he hears all your explanations he dubs you as great a warrior as he! “Beautiful as the stars and strong as the mountains to boot! That’s my girl.”

Thorin

✧ He has waited so long for this. So many years of this hanging pressure and yet when he has you by his side, all the feeling of necessity behind trying fades away. You two can simply enjoy life. So when you return to Thorin's side one day, eyes brimming with tears, all you say to him is "It's happened". And with that you see your king, your husband, collapse as if his whole body is sighing, pulling you into him like he needs you to breathe. One hand reaches up to hold the back of your head, gently caressing your hair.

✧ Vows every day that he will protect you both, be the father and husband you deserve, taking your hands in his and then leaning down to address both his queen and your child.

✧ Thorin also assures you that despite what any members of the court say, your new addition will be equally loved and equally worthy of the throne whether you welcome a son or a daughter. "All I wish is a healthy child with their mother's heart." "And their father's good looks," you tease in response, pulling your husband in for a kiss.

✧ You begin stealing his clothes, stating that his tunics are so much more comfortable than your dresses with an innocent bat of your eyelashes that has Thorin relenting every single time, heart rent at the way they begin fitting you tighter.

✧ You see a different side of Thorin in this stage of your marriage, one you’ll never complain about, not when he softens so, gazes down upon you with such love as he hovers over you, kissing your lips, your neck, your belly.

✧ There is no denying that you both glow during this time, pride and joy illuminating Thorin’s features right alongside the radiance of your childbearing state. Everyone stops you to say what a beautiful couple you are and you cannot help the flush of heat that rises to your face as Thorin thanks them and guides you away from the crowd, a protective hand on the small of your back

Oin

✧ Predicts it before you even realize because you’re exhibiting all the telltale symptoms; annoyed as you may be by his insistence that you are with child, what do you know? Oin is right. Oin is, unfortunately, also quite smug about this. Once the initial triumph wears off, though, he’s shouting for joy and crushing you with a hug!

✧ The absolute dream husband to have when you're with child, for he has worked taking care of countless dwarrowdams in your condition. He knows what you need. He understands. And most importantly, he does not judge.

✧ In fact, you two get a kick out of poking fun at the other husbands who roll their eyes at their wives' demands or take shots at their cravings because, frankly, that could never be you. "He doesn't know her body needs more iron!" "I bet he moans and groans about grabbing her a pillow, too."

✧ Having married such a well-known dwarrow, you’ll have all manner of strangers approaching you with congratulations that you reluctantly just accept, correctly assuming they’re patients of Oin’s that he’s proudly blabbed to.

✧ He’s always asking you to guess if you’re having a boy or a girl, insisting that “‘tis the mother’s intuition, after all.”

✧ You insist on remaining on your feet as long as possible, and your husband does not protest, knowing that exercise is good for the baby. That doesn’t mean he won’t be right behind you to catch you if you fall or check on your precious little bump, though, of course.

Gloin

✧ Not so subtle in his so-called 'baby fever', your husband has been going on and on about how his child will be his little flame, the apple of his eye, his world. You have no fear, then, sharing the news, in fact you amuse yourself by dropping your state in conversation like the plainest fact. "I'm glad you've got those new blankets, dear, what with the baby coming in winter and all," you told Gloin, taking a sip of your tea. Deafening is the only word you can use to describe the roar of celebration he gives, wonderfully bone-crushing and teeth-rattling your embrace and kiss.

✧ Tackles you to bed almost every night the first week, covering your cheeks and belly alike with kisses.

✧ Spends that very same time period sharing with absolutely any soul who even remotely listens that he’s going to be a father!

✧ Gloin is very insistent upon your care, even taking it upon himself to make your meals by hand. Which, suffice it to say, is a bit disastrous the first few times but he emerges triumphant in the end and succeeds in filling you with all the hearty things your budding dwarrowling needs!

✧ Being married to a dwarf means you have a husband who absolutely adores the extra pounds you put on and has no qualms about showing you in and out of the bedroom! Even just stopping by the market he’ll be wrapped around you.

✧ Encourages the baby every time they kick, shouting out praise of their strength while you tell him to cool it, all those kicks are going to you!

Bifur

✧ A large part of him thought that he would never be able to experience fatherhood. Not since the injury, and that had happened at such a young age. You cut right through that fear, assured Bifur that he would be an amazing father regardless of if he did some things differently. And that he would soon see, for your family would be growing early the next year.

✧ In all honesty, you feel blessed to have a husband who signs, for your baby will likely be able to communicate early! When you tell Bifur this he breaks out into tears, for what an angel you are to see the beauty in him. Every side of him. He promises to do the same.

✧ And make good on that does he! You will never want for love for even on your illest days Bifur is right by your side, his caresses gentle and speaking volumes of adoration.

✧ Absolutely adores jumping into the bath with you! His excuse being he has to help you and may as well rinse his beard off, but you can see how eager he is to run his hands over your hair and see the way your body relaxes at his cleansing touch. He wants nothing more than to feel useful, needed, and you assure him you cannot do this without him.

✧ Again and again, in fact, on the days when he stands behind you, holding up your burden and cheering you with little jokes and flirtation in Khuzdul even as you are overcome with exhaustion.

✧ Proudly tells everyone who will listen that he’s got a little warrior in there whenever the baby kicks!

Bofur

✧ You hadn’t exactly been trying. You hadn’t exactly been not trying, either. The news comes to you through a haze, muffled by the great rush of other thoughts bombarding your mind and sending your heart beating, but at their heart comes the image of Bofur holding a little one and bouncing them upon his knee and your chest flutters and soars. Your visit is completed all in smiles, and upon returning him to your husband’s questioning about the flu you’ve gone in for, you tell him it likely will not go away until the end of the year. “The end of the year? Why ever that long? I’ve never heard of a flu like that, not even-” “‘tisn’t a flu, my darling,” you smirk at him, “it’s a baby.” “A- you’re- we’re gonna have a-” Bofur is all agape, stepping closer and hovering his hands over your middle like he doesn’t want to grip you in a way that breaks you. “That all right?” You ask, half-teasing, for he has recently confided in you his envy of Bombur’s family. “All right? Song of my heart, I could kiss you!” “Well, what’s stopping you?”

✧ If you thought Bofur was affectionate before, well Mahal be with you, for you haven't seen anything yet! He falls even more in love with your body knowing it's carrying his and your child, hands nearly always holding or roaming you. When you're out and about, your husband usually has a hand at the small of your back, supporting the weight you carry as you walk and running soothingly up and down. Kisses all over your belly in private.

✧ This lends to how quick your husband is to reassure you on days you don't feel so friendly with your body, those times when you'd like nothing more than to shatter the looking-glass. "All I see," Bofur tells you one day, a hand on each of your shoulders as you peer together, "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my lucky eyes upon, and she's not got an easy job. If I were her, I'd be proud of myself. Proud of making a comfortable home for our little one. And if I was her husband, why, I'd take her as she is right here and now! Right nice for me I am her husband, eh?"

✧ “Imagine havin’ a little girl.” Lying side by side, you heard Bofur’s wistful tone and felt a small smile creep onto your lips. “I’ll do her hair up in braids and tie them with ribbons. She’ll have all the pretty things she wants, because I have mine right here,” he adds, turning over to caress your belly and pull your lips into his.

✧ Marrying a toymaker comes with distinct perks: your husband crafts the most magnificent little wheeled contraptions and carven animals for your new addition! He spends hours carving and glazing them, and sometimes you catch him having fallen asleep at his workbench when you struggle to stay in dreamland, covering him up with a spare blanket.

✧ You worry because the baby doesn’t seem to move much, but Oin confirms everything seems to be going fine. “Your wee bairn just got this one’s personality, it seems!” He jokes, stabbing a mock-accusatory finger Bofur’s way.

Bombur

✧ A baker's dozen. For as long as you've known him, that's how many wee ones Bombur purported wanting. Thirteen more than most dwarves have, you always tease him, but in reality every time you see your sweet husband with children and hear him dream of a family your heart leaps. That is why the moment you take his hands and tell him it's come true is special, intimate, a quiet draw in and out of breath that has him sobbing joyously and nuzzling into your embrace with so much love your chest bursts from the flight of it.

✧ Sixth senses never seemed real to you until you became pregnant and it was like Bombur knew what you were craving and was making it before you could even say anything!

✧ Cannot keep away from you. Always wants to be kissing you and cupping your cheeks and holding your hands, just so so sweet!

✧ Bombur is so much more good-natured than you, for all the jokes about how you'll be as big as him soon have you swinging, but he just holds you back and laughs alongside them, saying he's looking forward to it with a twinkle in his eye.

✧ Literally baffled if you ever feel bad about your body; his legitimate confusion alone halfway snaps you out of the sad reverie, and all the following words about your beauty and your husband's appreciation of every inch does the rest.

✧ "You know I'll keep you safe, right? Both of you," he tells you one day, a hand resting upon your bump, "I may not be some great warrior, but Mahal help anyone who comes between us."

Dori

✧ From even before you were actually wed you knew that Dori would be an excellent father. Having taken care of his younger brothers from quite an early age, he had knowledge atop a naturally caring personality you fell for. Gentlemanly Dori waited with you, keeping chaste until after your wedding, but once it is official you know your news could come at any time and you accept that. On your one-year anniversary, in fact, your first gift to Dori is the tiniest bracelet of fine amber beads. “Does this mean…?” As soon as he sees you nod, Dori is taking you in his arms, cradling you gently as if you were made of fine porcelain and thrice as precious.

✧ Caring father-to-be. A little too caring. "If those are too heavy for you, I can carry them!" "They're just books, I'll be alright, Dori." "Oh, don't eat that, you got sick last time." "I haven't been sick in a month!" "That's a lot of steps, should I carry you?" "...Actually, sure."

✧ Always sleeps with his arm wrapped around your middle. No exceptions.

✧ Has every manner of tea and remedy you could desire on hand or otherwise purchases it. Same goes for supplies- Dori even found a ring-shaped cushion for you to lay on! He has your back for any ailment and is often there to make or apply your cure himself. After all, he wouldn't trust anyone else to do it!

✧ You love this dwarf with all your heart. He takes it upon himself to find dwarrowdams willing to let him practice changing diapers on their wee bairns and surprises you with this newfound skill when you return home one day!

✧ Dori’s love of the finer things absolutely carries over into his future fatherhood, as he has the loveliest little velvet clothes made and procures the dearest little bejeweled hairbrush. All in all, both of you amass far more than you need because any time you go out it inevitably devolves into you two clasping your joined hands between each other, gushing over all the wee things, and taking them home!

Nori

✧ He never thought he would get married at all, let alone have a family, but as time goes on the desire to continue his lineage and finally settle down takes hold. Then suddenly there he is desperately trying to seduce you into trying for a little one! It doesn't take long, not with his charm, until the day comes when you teasingly tell him that he got his way. Smirking until the realization takes hold of him, his arms are then snaking around your waist to pull you close.

✧ Always talking about how he's going to teach his little one everything he knows. When pressed about it, responds with such things as fighting and picking locks. His defense? "What if 'e gets stuck somewhere, or-"

✧ Impatient! "When am I gonna be able to feel 'em?" He asks, a hand upon your belly, which has yet to display any changes. "Not for another few months, Nori! I haven't even begun to show!"

✧ Hides things sometimes or puts them up places you can't go just so he can swoop in and help you, saving your day and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he tells you he can handle it, don't you worry your pretty little head.

✧ Nori always teases you when he pours himself a drink. "Bet you'd like some of this, huh? Not for three more months!" He chuckles. Your brows furrow. "Three months? What about when I'm feeding?" "What does tha- oh. Does that really-" "Yes, yes it does." "By the stars, I could have got my baby drunk!"

✧ Talks to the baby quite a bit, especially when he finally can feel the kicks. "Where you running off to, huh?" He chuckles, feeling the flutters against his hand pick up. "That's 'cause of me, isn't it? You hear me? That's right, it's your da. Can you believe it? Me, your da! I'll take good care of you, you hear?"

Ori

✧ "Ori, dear," you implored your husband, "Might you knit something for me?" Looking up from the scarf he'd just finished, Ori's eyes fell upon you and he gave that smile, the special one reserved just for you. "Of course. What would you like?" "A wee pair of booties," you replied, hands clasped and expression dreamy. "Who needs booties?" He asked, head cocked. "We will in the fall," you answered, stepping closer and resting a hand upon his. Ori's jaw dropped. "You... I... We-" Smile widening, you nodded. "I. You. We," you agreed.

✧ Nearly from the first day you know you are with child, Ori is rattling off names. After tossing out a great deal, he finally pauses and gives a sheepish apology. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've thought about this a lot," he confesses with a grin, "I just can't believe it's happening." Your hand joins with his, resting over your little bump. "Neither can I. It's like a dream."

✧ "So," you ask Ori one day, leaning your chin upon the couch where you'd lain, "What should our plan be for when my water breaks?" Your husband's brows furrow. "When your what?" "Oh, no," you mutter. Cue Ori spending his afternoon receiving a great multitude of lessons. What he got for being raised by other dwarf men, you suppose. "That really all happens to you?" He asks, gaping at you as though you came of the Valar themselves. "Yes, it does. Birth is a great deal of work. They don't just run on out, you know!" "Yes, I know. Of course I know." Ori's voice is faint; he excuses himself and you assume it's to faint or be sick, but about an hour later he returns bearing gifts. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through all that." "Sweetheart," you chuckle, cupping his cheek, "You know it takes two, right?" Your sweet husband reddened, but he nodded.

✧ Ori takes on almost all the cleaning himself- you haven't even asked! Finally curiosity gets the better of you and you inquire as to why he's gotten so into housekeeping. "Well, aren't you tired?" He asks simply, innocently, and you wonder how you got so lucky.

✧ He also knits far more than that pair of booties you requested- all three of you will have matching sweaters before your little one has arrived!

✧ Ori's favorite thing in the world is sitting with you in his lap, one hand cradling your growing bump and the other holding a book as you two take turns reading aloud, filling your cozy hollow with the sounds of voices your little one will come to love. The books are hand-drawn, written, and bound by him, of course!

Fili

✧ You two speak of little ones so much it borderline infuriates the others, Kili himself even bursting out in frustration one day at yet another interruption about tiny clothes, "Just get her pregnant already!" "Good idea. See you later," Fili replies, scooping you up and carrying you off bridal-style. "Wait, I- Damn, brother..." In reality, Fili just carried you around the corner and set you down while you two burst out laughing, but about a month later your tries were in fact successful!

✧ Honeyed words were no trouble for your husband before, but now? Praise falls endlessly from his lips. "Never did I think you could get more beautiful, and yet each day you succeed beyond my wildest dreams."

✧ Fili has a near-magical sense for your new struggles of coordination, all but flying to your side to catch your hand or waist whenever you trip or even whenever you must rise up again from your seat!

✧ He loves to tease you, asking what disgusting thing you'll think of him to fix next or joke that he can finally beat you in a fight in this state, but every joke is punctuated by the most loving eyes and gestures that they cannot do a thing but warm your heart and make you chuckle.

✧ Your baby is very active, kicking all the time! "We've definitely got a little Fili in here!" Your husband exclaims with a grin, hand resting atop your belly to feel your little one's exuberant motions. "A strong babe for sure," you sigh, "Much to the pity of my ribs!" "Too bad we aren't having a Kili. Nice and lazy for you." "Hey, I heard that!"

✧ He turns his head, peering over his shoulder at you as you waddle after him, golden hair cascading down. "Care for me to slow down a little?" "I care for you to shut up," you shoot back, crossing your arms and fighting your smile.

Kili

✧ The thought crossed your mind far before it did your husband's. Not that Kili had no desire for children, it was simply that the possibility was all the more yours to consider. It took a visit from your young cousin, who had Kili wrapped around your finger, for the fire to light in your husband's head as well, a smile lighting up his face. "We- we could..." "I know, Kili." You could and you certainly did but a few months later.

✧ "I hope they look just like you." "Me too." Kili pulls his head out of the crook of your neck. "Hey, that is the part where you say 'no, I hope they look like you'!" "I'm doing the work of carrying for how long again? Nine, ten months? Least they can do is resemble me a little," you shoot back with a smirk.

✧ It was Oin who brought the news: "Both babies seem healthy as far as I can tell!" "Both?" You gape. "Both babies?" "'s right," Oin replies, "I know I can't always hear the best, but I haven't been wrong on a heartbeat yet. You can feel 'em." "Guess we did pretty good, eh love?" Kili teases, earning him an elbow to the ribs, but he just shakes his head and tugs you closer against his chest. "Should we make their names confusing as well?" "Don't you think it might get old for them?" "Fili and I switched names plenty of times and we aren't even identical!" You should have known.

✧ Kili takes to sleeping facing you, close enough that sometimes your cheeks brush. Others he slips down lower and you awake with your husband cuddled up to the bump of your belly.

✧ Will come running from any room, anywhere, to feel the babies kick, and also loves tugging along any of his family he can take, too. Childlike wonder fills your husband's eyes every time and pride glistens in his dark eyes when he's brought along his mother, his brother, even his uncle the king!

✧ Never once do you doubt yourself or have one moment of room for insecurity, for Kili still flirts with you as if you were tweens and sneaks all sorts of touches, pecks, and affectionate hands in your hair wherever he can find it! The notion of a baby destroying the romance of your relationship is laughable to you, who married a dwarf that has no shame telling you you're the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth and warm his-and the baby's in a different way-body.

Bilbo

✧ Bilbo's a perceptive hobbit. He knows something's off with you. You don't usually scurry around the way you are like everything has to be perfect. That's his job. "Something the matter? Are you... expecting someone?" Your husband follows you down Bag End's hall as he gives his inquiry, eyebrows shooting up at the look on your face when you turn around. Consternation, resignation, finally a smile. "I was going to tell you after dinner," you answered, "But since you asked it like that, yes I am expecting someone. Our child this spring." At that, it was Bilbo's turn to shift through expressions. Shock, realization, finally a smile.

✧ Nursery shopping has become Bilbo's favorite pastime. Baby Baggins isn't arriving for months and yet your husband is returning from market with all manner of trinkets for the shelves and paper for the walls. You cannot help giggling at his armfuls of supplies and kissing his cheek as you relieve as much of his burden as he allows you to.

✧ So sweet, always helping you dress, pulling on every garment with the utmost of care and even avoiding your reflection on days you feel bad. Quickly kissing each part of your body before he covers it with something he knows will be comfortable.

✧ You'll be eating well whether you like it or not! Bilbo will make you anything under the sun if it means you and Baby Baggins are getting nourishment and he certainly will not have you skimping! Anything that makes you sick simply is not allowed in Bag End at all, end of discussion.

✧ One night, you awake to soft whispers and your heart melts at the sight of Bilbo resting his chin on your growing bump talking to the baby. Not uttering a word, you simply watch, taking in the moment beneath the sheen of tears in your eyes.

✧ "Careful, careful," Bilbo is always telling you, holding your hand and guiding you over the smallest of obstacles, even little puddles and rocks.

Thranduil

✧ He has talked about getting you pregnant before, but speaking of it and doing it are two entirely different things, especially with...well, words of such nature. Thus, you find yourself nervously wringing your hands before your husband as he strokes your face, asking whatever is the matter. At Thranduil's touch, his intense gaze, you fin yourself melting and admitting all, confessing that you are expecting his child. You are certainly not expecting the way his confident smile utterly falters, dissipating in favor of the look of a man near tears. "Truly? A little one of our own?" "Yes," you whisper, finally able to smile as the tension melts from your body, which is soon pulled against the Woodland King's. "Long have I dreamed of this day, my love."

✧ One of his favorite new activities is commissioning you new maternity dresses; you will certainly have plenty to wear if Thranduil has any say about it! In addition, when the time comes of course he requests that you model them for him.

✧ Thranduil loves to sneak up behind you, lightly wrapping his hands about your waist and laying them atop yours, his head resting in the crook of your neck and breathy, pleased laughter warming the skin there.

✧ When you start showing, oh, he loves it. One more sign that you are his, utterly and truly his queen, his beloved, claimed by Thranduil in every sense. He follows your lead, a hand around your waist, letting you shine like the gem he knows you to be. Rarely will you two be seen apart, not when the king can bask in your glow, relish the eyes upon your beautiful form, heavy with his child.

✧ There is one day he catches you in tears and heart tearing he steps to scoop you up against him, cheeks held gently in his elegant hands, which begin to glitter with your tears. "My rings no longer fit," you sob, head falling to his chest. Thranduil holds you close, grip loose as though you might break. "That is not your fault, meleth nîn." "I feel so... so massive." "Who wishes a small dwelling, hm? Piteous thing not to have any comforts. Your body is a host of life, the vessel of a bloodline. Beautiful in all its forms. Never forget that, oh dearest one."

✧ Thranduil is experienced; he knows many little tricks to help you feel better, be they massages or ways to bear your weight. He impresses you with the knowledge he has of the ways of women, understanding your water breaking, dilation, and every complication the healers warn you about and telling you before they even do!

Feren

✧ First to know was neither you nor your husband, but rather your cat, for she had suddenly become your little shadow, following you about your home and taking rest upon your lap as often as she could. "I wonder what it is that got into her," you commented one afternoon, smiling and stroking her back. "Growing up, ours got like this when my mother was carrying my younger sisters. Both times. It was like he could sense it," Feren replied. You both sat in smiling silence for a moment longer before simultaneously straightening, looking each other right in the widening eyes.

✧ Gets a little flustered, frankly. Not so much at your news itself, simply the realization sinking in that he is to be a father. He, Feren, will have a child. He says this out loud several times before suddenly breaking out into a smile. You tease him for going through half his emotions at once, but now the wave of joy has swept him up!

✧ Playfully rolls his eyes and mock-complains every time you remind him that he has to clean up after the cat now! Subsequently adds that he would fetch you the moon if you asked it.

✧ Loves helping you bathe the more difficult your condition makes it, scrubbing your hair with such care and gently massaging your sore feet and ankles as you wash up. Despite your husband's skill in battle, Feren's hands are the most loving and delicate you could ask for.

✧ Your husband has a natural tendency to rise early, so now that your sleep has become more fitful you do find that you have more time to spend together. Your head falling to his shoulder as you whisper to each other, seated as you are upon your bed with blankets draped over your shoulders.

✧ Feren wins your heart time and time again, like the day he lowered you down gently onto the grass of a sunny meadow, basking with you and weaving flowers. He made you a ring, crowned you with a wreath of flowers atop your head, and made another little one to place gently on the curve of your belly, bringing your heart to soar.

Bard

✧ Uncertainty wracks your heart and wrings your hands at the would-be-cheerful news. In fact, you yourself do feel joy, have since your suspicions were confirmed, but would Bard see it the same way? He already has three mouths to feed, three children all old enough to take care of themselves. Will he wish to start it all over so? "What's wrong, love? Your lip is bleeding." So it is. You've practically gnawed the poor thing off in all your stewing. A sigh escapes you. Bard is your husband. No sense in delaying a very necessary conversation. "I know we should have spoken more about it..." You begin, trailing off. At once, Bard senses your reservation and rises to your side, taking hold of your arms; the love in his dark eyes brings a small smile to your lips and relaxes you slightly. "I'm with child, Bard." Almost childlike is the wonder and joy spreading across your face, and before you can say another word you are being pulled into Bard's chest, face snuggling into the fur of his coat.

✧ He knows what to expect, naturally, so Bard is definitely not the type of husband to gripe about your requests, though he does smirk and poke fun if you’re especially outrageous with it or have a funny enough delivery. Then kisses you if you pout about it before fetching what you seek.

✧ Caution overtakes you and your husband as you make to tell his older children the news, particularly you, but your wringing hands relax when you can see the joy in their eyes, particularly the girls! They hope the baby is another girl, hugging you so tight you almost cannot breathe, but you complain not.

✧ Happy is Bard to take on assistance cooking; he knows it can make you sick sometimes and besides, it's a nice excuse to make sure you get all the nutrients you need! You are certainly very lucky in the skill and domesticity of your spouse.

✧ Stands behind you and reaches his arms around you, lifting up the weight you carry and smiling, kissing your neck and cheeks as you relax from your burden.

✧ He also has no qualms about making you rest, down even to physically lifting you up and carrying you to bed if he must!

Beorn

✧ Hesitant as he always would have claimed to be about bringing more Skin-Changers into a world so cruel to them, Beorn feels his nesting instincts kick in very quickly after you become his wife. You see it in the things he gathers, the way your husband moves things such as your blades to higher, safer locations. He is anticipating something. Something you cannot help pulling him aside and asking about, and when your feelings on the subject are made known, well, it is entirely possible you conceived that very night.

✧ Beorn has an almost eerie sense for all the changes taking place in your body. You feel a sharp pain in your back, and without a word your husband is behind you, ushering you down for a massage with some of the oils he's pressed.

✧ The aforementioned nesting instincts manifest early on, your husband carefully blunting corners and tucking away the best blankets so the little one-or ones!- will be nothing but safe and comfortable.

✧ Withdrawn as he could be, Beorn's affection is drawn out by your condition, his big brown eyes soft upon you as he pulls you into his lap, large hands secure about your waist and sliding gently up and down your growing belly.

✧ And grow it does! It seems to get heavier by the day, but that is explained thanks to your husband's exceptional hearing. "Four heartbeats. One is yours. A litter- three are coming!" Spots dance in your vision at that news, but Beorn's smile as he grips your hand brings you back to the light. You could do it with him by your side. "Our little litter."

✧ He attempts to reassure you anytime your anxiety grows. "My dearest flower, I have delivered hundreds of calves and piglets in my day! You will see this through." Reassuring? Perhaps not so much. But in your heightened emotion, that does break you into a wild laughter that does indeed relax you nonetheless.

Want to meet the little ones? Perhaps there will be a Part 2 😉

Taglist: @lokilover476 @kilibaggins @fuckyoumakeart @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🩷

[anittmyer]

I like the headcanon that Legolas is considered weird. Even to other elves. He's a wild child that's connected to the forest in a very deep way. He talks to the trees and isn't too great at talking to other elves, men, dwarves, etc.

As an elfling, many others wanted to be friends with the Greenwood prince, but he was said to be strange, sometimes behave as an animal, and was prone to spacing out, as if staring at something invisible. Certain fabrics or foods would send him into screaming fits.

Legolas was saddened by his lack of friends and grew closer to his father and his father's advisor Feren (Feren is kind of a 'do-everything-guy', he is Thranduil's advisor and Legolas' nanny). And as Legolas grew up, he started to hate how he was and would cry for being so different. That is until he meets Lord Elrond, an elf so similar him. Lord Elrond's twin sons took to Legolas very quickly and they became very close friends, them being used and to their father's behavior meant they understood Legolas and didn't leave him for his eccentric behavior.

. . . . . .

Did I AuADHD code and headcanon Legolas and Elrond? Yes. Yes I did!😊

[hoe4almondmilk]

Acquiescence

Thranduil x Reader x Feren

Warnings: ⛔️MINORS DNI⛔️ SMUT! Language (duh), P in V sex, Voyeurism, Threesome, Double penetration, Rough Sex, Freak nasty sex, Dom/Sub, Master/Pet, MFM, Porn without Plot. Summary: Thranduil wants to reward his loyal guard with a “gift”. Word count: Almost 2.8K a/n: I have no words for this chaotic hot mess of a story haha. Lock me up in horny jail.

Thranduil chuckled as he wiped the excess juices from the strawberry off your pretty lips. “Careful, Pet. We just had this dress made for you, it’s fine silk.” Thranduil said.

“Yes, my Lord.” You giggled as you sat in your master’s lap as he sat on his large throne. “I shall be more careful.”

Your master was in a regular meeting with his head guard, Feren, discussing plans regarding the growing threat of spiders coming from Mirkwood. Feren couldn’t help but stare as he watched Thranduil's large hands roam over your body. One hand occasionally caressed your rear. His eyes watched intently as your lips curled around the fruit you were eating. He observed how the tiny dribble of juice traveled from your mouth further down your chin. His mind imagined the most impure thoughts. All he could think of was what it would be like if it were his seed spilling out of your mouth. 

“Feren?” Thranduil’s voice jolted the guard from his thoughts.

“Yes, my Lord?” Feren replied, and you could hear the panic coating his voice. Feren cursed himself for looking at you so shamelessly. He was usually much better at stealing quick glances at you when Thranduil wasn’t paying attention, or so he thought.   

“Did you hear me?” Thranduil’s cool voice sent a shiver down Feren’s spine. Thranduil smirked, aware that Feren hadn’t heard a single word he said. Thranduil knew where Feren’s eyes were, more specifically, on whom they were fixed on. 

Before Feren could answer, Thranduil let out a chuckle. “Pet, go get ready for dinner.” Thanrduil instructed as he cupped your face. His thumb gently stroking your face. “We have much more to discuss and I don’t want you bored.”

You obediently nodded, “Of course, my lord.” You gave Thranduil a peck on the lips before you got off his lap to leave. “Bye, Feren.” You flashed a smile at the guard as you exited the large throne room. Thranduil waited to hear the slam of the large doors to continue. 

There was a brief moment of silence before Thranduil spoke. “She’s exquisite, isn’t she?” Thranduil stood as he stepped down from his throne. “A mortal whose beauty outshines even an Elleth.” 

“I’m not sure what to say, my lord.” Feren replied nervously. He wondered where Thranduil was going with this. 

“It is fruitless to lie to me, Feren. Considering how long we’ve known each other.” Thranduil said as he sauntered over to Feren. Thranduil’s icy gray eyes met Feren’s as he stood before him. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.” 

“My lord, I am so-” Before Feren could muster an apology, the King interrupted him. 

“I am not angry with you, Feren. Do not apologize.” Thranduil smiled. “You know, I worry about you.” Thranduil spoke as he slowly paced.

Feren let out a chuckle. “My lord, you shouldn’t. Much more important things to worry about.”

“Feren, you have served me since I became King.” Thranduil objected. “I know the sacrifices you have made to do so.” Thranduil understood how consuming a job like this could be. Feren was the best and undertook it without complaints. Thranduil also recognized what Feren had sacrificed to fulfill this role. Feren hadn’t married yet, and with such a taxing job, he wouldn’t have the time to meet an Elleth to marry. “I know the desires you have, Mellon. I see the way you look at her.” Thanduil spoke nearly in a whisper as he stood directly opposite Feren. 

Thranduil was portrayed as cold and heartless; however, while he had his moments, he genuinely cared about his people and their well-being, particularly those who worked for him, like Feren, who gave up their lives to ensure Thranduil and the Elves of Mirkwood remained safe. 

Feren’s heart was pounding against his chest, unsure of where Thranduil was going with all of this. “What are you alluding to, my Lord?” He asked nervously. 

“I’m going to give you a gift you will not be able to deny.” Thranduil smirked.

“My Lord, I-” As Feren prepared to protest, the Elven King interrupted him. 

“You can and you will.” Thranduil retorted.  “You will meet me after dinner in the east wing guest room chambers.” Thranduil said cooly as he dismissed Feren. 

Feren, terrified and also incredibly curious as to what the King meant by all of this, nodded his head before he left. It’s not as if he’s really allowed to disobey Thranduil.  

Thranduil made his way to you before dinner to ask you about his “gift” to Feren. Thranduil knew it would take no convincing to do this for him. He knew you would do anything to please him. Such a good pet you were. 

After dinner, Feren made his way to the guest quarters. The only sound echoing through the hallways was the steady beating of his heart. He knocked firmly on the door until he heard Thranduil's baritone voice inviting him to enter. The room was dimly lit, with the flickering reddish glow of the fireplace as the only source of light. Thranduil sat in a chair facing the bed, and what was on the bed made Feren's heart skip a beat—more specifically, who was on the bed.

You sat on the plush bed in a short babydoll chemise that was sheer enough to leave little to the imagination. Feren could immediately feel the heat rising to his pale cheeks. He quickly looked away, turning back to Thranduil. Thranduil chuckled in his seat, enjoying Feren’s reaction to you. “I told you. She’s exquisite,” said Thranduil. “Feren, (y/n) wants to show you her appreciation for taking such good care of me. Isn’t that right, Pet?” Thranduil asked you. 

Feren looked over at you, nodding gently and offering a soft smile. He then glanced back at Thranduil. “Appreciation?” Feren asked, his mind racing with corrupt thoughts as he considered what the two of you had conjured up. 

Feren would be a liar if he were to say he hadn’t fantasized about you. He fantasized about him taking care of you during the rare occasions when Thranduil left for business and had to leave you behind in the safe sanctuary of the castle. He pictured replacing your fingers that you used to pleasure yourself with his. Feren remembered one night when he came close to kissing you. It was the very first time Thranduil had to leave you; he had to meet Elrond in Rivendell. You had cried the whole night. Feren comforted you, and you hugged him. You had looked up at him with your beautiful, bright eyes. He held your face and wiped away your tears. For a split second, he thought about kissing you. 

Thranduil’s normally bright silver eyes had almost a dark wash over them. “She wants to take care of you the way she does her King. Tonight, I will share her with you, mellon nín.” 

Feren’s eyes widened at Thranduil’s proposition. Thranduil noticed Feren’s shocked look. “You can do whatever you want to her as long as you don’t leave a single mark on her skin or spill your seed into her.” 

Feren nodded as he slowly walked over to you on the bed. One would think this is a setup, but that’s not who Thranduil was. Feren knew that and trusted him. 

You flashed him a coy smile of invitation when he approached the bed. Feren smiled back at you; he cupped your face in his hand. His free hand slowly unlaced the ribbon that held the top of your chemise together. Feren slowly lifted the thin fabric off you. You could feel goosebumps form on your skin as the cool breeze slowly crept onto you. Feren paused for a moment to drink in your form. You stood on your knees to give him a better look at you. His eyes stared at your exposed, now naked body. You could feel your cheeks redden at the attention from both eyes looking at you. “Beautiful, is she not?” Thranduil cooed, almost bragging.

“Very.” Feren chuckled in agreement as he brought both of his large hands up to your chest. His hands began to knead your breasts. You let out a gasp as you felt his fingers toy with your now hardened nipples. You let out a whine as you felt Feren give your lips a kiss and slowly make their way down your neck to your chest. The tall Elf lowered himself so his mouth could attach itself to one of your breasts. You bit your lip as you watched his tongue flicker one of your nipples. Feren stood back up and cupped your face into his hands, and pulled you into a kiss. He hummed softly as your soft lips massaged his. Your lips were plush and silky. Feren had kissed plenty of Elleths in the past, but it didn’t feel like this. You possessed a warmth that seemed to be unique to humans. Feren’s hands moved to your hair and gently fisted themselves into your locks. You moaned as you felt Feren’s tongue enter your mouth, his tongue tangled with yours. You could feel the heat getting warmer as the kiss deepened. You broke the kiss, and your hands immediately went to unlace his trousers. One of Feren’s hands went to pet your head, trying to get your hair out of your face. 

“Slowly, Pet. You want him to enjoy this.” Thranduil purred. 

Feren was engrossed in the moment; he almost forgot Thranduil was still watching. You nodded as you pulled Feren’s already hard member out of his trousers. Giving him a couple of smooth strokes before you gave the tip a kiss. Feren moaned at the feeling of your soft lips kissing him there, and slowly feeling himself sink into your warm, wet mouth. His hand, which was tangled in your hair, slowly helped guide you as your head bobbed. “So beautiful.” Feren managed to groan out as he watched your mouth devour his hard cock. He almost burst when you made eye contact with him. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked him off. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the crackling of the fireplace, the guard’s moans and the slurping sound of your mouth on his cock. You moaned as you could feel the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva. He tasted good, although not as good as your master’s seed in your mouth. “Oh, I do not know how much longer I can go if you continue on.” Feren stuttered. You slowly pulled your mouth off of him, sucking up as much of his cock before you let him free with a pop sound. 

You let out a surprised gasp as you felt him immediately push your body down onto the bed as he kissed you once more. Now lie down on your back. You moaned as his mouth slowly trailed down your stomach. Feren pulled you closer to the edge of the bed now as he kneeled on the floor. You let out a moan as you felt him kiss your heat. His tongue swiped across your folds as he began to lap up your wetness. Feren pulled your legs onto his shoulders as he began to tongue fuck you. You cried as you felt his warm tongue enter your pussy. Your head turned to look over at Thranduil. He smiled at you while he rubbed himself through his trousers. 

Thranduil was more than enjoying what he was seeing, and it was absolutely noticeable. There was something about watching someone pleasure you the way he did. Watching someone absolutely worship you. As possessive as he could be, there was absolutely nothing he loved more than seeing you be happy. You deserved that and more. 

You let out a whimper of pleasure when Feren’s mouth attached to your clit and finger fucked you. The sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your wetness fueled him. Hearing you beg for release turned him on even more. You tried to form a sentence begging him for more, but your words were incoherent.

You could hear Thranduil say something to Feren in Elvish. Your Elvish wasn’t good enough to make sense of it. It wasn’t until you felt Feren curl his fingers inside you, hitting your spongy spot, that you realized what they were saying. Noticing how close you were Feren attached his mouth back on your pussy as he tasted your release. You cried out as the pleasure washed over your body. Feren gave you a moment of recovery. He kissed you again before he flipped you over on all fours. You arched your back perfectly for him as you assumed the position. He slowly teased you as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds, before he slowly pushed himself inside you. He let out almost a feral moan as he felt himself be fully engulfed by your tight pussy. He let out a curse in Elvish as he slowly began to thrust into you. His hands were tight on your waist. You cried into the sheets of the bed as you felt his large member slide in and out. He wasn’t as large as your master, but he was still large in size. You should’ve expected it, especially since all of the Elves are so tall. Feren grunted as he began to relentlessly pound into your tight heat, his cock dragged itself into your wet walls. His hips hitting bouncing off of your plump ass created a clapping noise. Your hands fisted into tight balls as you gripped the fabric of the bed, holding on for dear life. You could feel how desperate he was, you could feel his need as he impaled you with his hard cock. You were so lost in pleasure you almost didn’t notice a hand fisting your hair. You felt the hand pull your head up by your hair to see Thranduil standing in front of you on the opposite side of the bed. You looked up at him with wanton eyes as Feren continued to pound into you. 

“Can the King’s sweet pet handle another?” Thranduil cooed as his other hand slowly pumped his hard cock. You nodded as you opened you presented your mouth for fucking to your King. “Good girl.” Thranduil praised as he entered his cock into your mouth. He moaned as he felt your mouth take him with ease. His hand guided your head as he fucked your mouth.

 Feren’s pounding into your pussy helped ricochet as Thranduil fucked your mouth. You felt Feren’s hand sneak over to your cunt and begin to rub your clit again sending you into overdrive. Your moans vibrated off Thranduil’s thick cock. You could feel your strings loosen up again and feel yourself drifting off into oblivion once again. The feel of your cunt convulsing caused Feren’s orgasm to come close as his thrusts in you grew sloppier. Feren quickly pulled out of you and spilled his seed onto the sheets. He laid there for a moment as he caught his breath.

Thranduil pulled himself out of your mouth and picked you up into his arms. Placing a gentle kiss on your lips. He laid you back down on the bed on your back. Feren still next to you. Thranduil laid on top of you. He placed a deep kiss onto your lips before sliding himself into your dripping wet cunt. You moaned at the sensation of him filling you up. Thranduil cupped your face with his hand; he stroked your cheek with every thrust. His silver eyes stared into yours, not breaking eye contact. “Give me one more, Meleth. I know you have one more in you.” He whispered hot and heavy into your ear. He peppered kisses along your jawline. You gave in to the feeling and let go. Your orgasm washing over you one final time. Thranduil continued thrusting into your already overstimulated pussy, as he came closing in on his orgasm. Thranduil grunted your name as he finished inside of you. His hot, white seed filled the deepest part of you. Thranduil placed a deep kiss on your lips, the two of you whispering, "I love you," to each other.  You smiled as you felt Feren plant a couple of kisses on your hand. Thanking you and Thranduil. 

Later that night, your King drew a warm bath for the two of you as he bathed and pampered you. Reminding you how much he loved you.

[jesterbones]

lindir and feren the exact millisecond elrond and thranduil arent in the room

[thranduilswifesblog]

Legolas : lord Elrond, can I and the rest of Mirkwood's peopls stay at imladris for couple days?

Elrond : why?

Feren : King Thranduil played with ouija board and cursed our kingdom

Legolas : My adar doesn't know how to banish spirits, so he just throws salt at random places and yell "DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A FUCKING HOTEL TO YOU?????!!"

Elrond : .....

[earthlybeam]

May I request a Glorfindel or Feren with a modern human stuck in middle earth who can’t sleep with it dark. Like back home they have fairy lights and the tv on low? 😅 sorry if requests are closed arent open or you don’t take them I’m new to your blog 😅

Hey there! No worries, I’m totally happy to take requests, and I’m excited to write this for you! 😊 I love the idea of a modern human stuck in Middle-earth, especially with something as relatable as not being able to sleep in the dark. I’ll make sure to incorporate that longing for the little comforts of home, like the fairy lights and low TV. I’ll also give Glorfindel or Feren some cute moments of confusion with these modern items—they’re bound to be curious about those!

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Glrofindel, Feren Version below

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

Glorfindel x Modern Human (You)

The nights in Rivendell were beautiful, almost unbearably so. The stars shone like scattered diamonds across an inky sky, the air was crisp and cool, and the ever-present sound of waterfalls in the distance gave the valley an ethereal quality. For most, it was a paradise—a place of unparalleled serenity. For you, it was anything but. The stillness pressed against you like a weight. Back home, there was always something—a hum of electricity, the faint murmur of the city outside your window, the comforting glow of your fairy lights strung above your bed. Even the soft murmur of a TV playing low in the background was enough to make the night feel less lonely. Here, in Middle-earth, there was only darkness and silence. And though Rivendell’s tranquility was breathtaking during the day, at night it became overwhelming.

You tossed and turned on the plush elven bedding, the softest sheets you’d ever felt, but it didn’t matter. Sleep refused to come. The room was too quiet, too shadowy, too… unfamiliar. You tried closing your eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around you, but the ache of homesickness gnawed at you. You didn’t belong here. The softest knock pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. It was so gentle you thought you might have imagined it. Sitting up, you called out, “Come in.” The door creaked open to reveal Glorfindel. His golden hair shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the warm concern in his blue eyes was enough to make your chest ache. He stepped into the room with his characteristic grace, carrying a small lantern in one hand and a bundle of books in the other.

“I thought you might need some company,” he said, his voice low but warm. His eyes swept over you, taking in your rumpled blankets and tired expression. “I sensed your unease.” You managed a weak smile, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I guess I’m not really used to this.” You gestured vaguely at the room, at the stillness. “It’s… so different here. Back home, I’d have fairy lights, maybe the TV on… something to make it feel less… lonely. It’s stupid, I know.” Glorfindel’s brows furrowed slightly, his confusion evident. He tilted his head slightly, looking as though he had not quite understood. “Fairy lights?” His voice was tinged with curiosity. “What are these?”

You blinked, suddenly realizing that the things you took for granted in your world didn’t exist in his. “Uh, they’re little lights, like tiny bulbs, that glow softly and are usually hung up to make a room feel cozy. Like… decorative lights. You know, for mood lighting?” He looked puzzled, a frown tugging at his lips. “Lights… for mood?” You sighed, trying to explain. “Yeah, kind of. They’re not like regular lights, they’re just to make things look nice. To make it feel… comforting.” Glorfindel’s expression softened slightly, but he still seemed unsure. “I see,” he said slowly, nodding. Then, his gaze shifted, as though he had remembered something. “And this… television? What is that?”

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, right, of course, you wouldn’t know. Um, it’s a screen, like a big box, where people can watch moving pictures and hear voices. It’s like… entertainment. To make the silence less oppressive.” The look on his face was almost childlike in its confusion. “A box… that shows moving pictures?” You chuckled softly, realizing how odd your world must sound to him. “Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but it’s a huge part of how we pass the time, you know? The TV’s always on in the background, and it helps with the quiet. Kind of like… having company.”

Glorfindel looked down at his hands, processing the information. “I think I understand, though it is a strange concept. Moving pictures… in a box?” His lips quirked into a small smile. “I cannot imagine how something so… small, could hold so much.” You laughed softly. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot more complex than it sounds.” He nodded, clearly intrigued by the idea. “But what if… one does not wish to watch such things? What then?” You shrugged, offering him a small, tired smile. “That’s when I’d just leave it on low—kinda like background noise, if that makes sense. Helps me sleep when I feel weird about the dark.” Glorfindel’s gaze softened, as if he truly understood the undercurrent of your words. He moved closer, setting the lantern on the bedside table, its warm glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. “I may not have these ‘fairy lights’ or this ‘television,’ but I can try to ease your unease, mellon nín.”

Before you could say anything, he reached into his tunic and produced a small, crystalline object. It was beautifully cut, gleaming faintly in the lantern’s glow, and you tilted your head in curiosity. “What’s that?” you asked, wondering what he might be planning next. Glorfindel smiled softly, as though pleased by your curiosity. “A crystal of light,” he explained. “We use them in Rivendell for our festivals, and they help to light our way when the moon is hidden. I thought perhaps it might remind you of your… fairy lights.”

He placed the crystal beside the lantern and then murmured a soft phrase in Sindarin. The crystal began to glow faintly, casting a warm, golden light across the room. It wasn’t bright, but the flickering glow was comforting, like the tiny bulbs of your fairy lights. You stared at it, your heart feeling unexpectedly lighter. “How did you…?” He tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I may not understand your world completely, but I can try to bring some semblance of it here.” Tears pricked at your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, embarrassed by how touched you were. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“There is more,” Glorfindel said, lifting the bundle of books he had brought with him. “You mentioned this ‘television.’ While I cannot provide such a thing, perhaps a story will suffice? A voice, even a humble one, can fill the silence.” You stared at him, incredulous. “You’d really do that?” He chuckled softly, his deep, rich laughter filling the quiet room. “I would. I am in no hurry to sleep, and I find joy in aiding my friends.” Your heart fluttered at his words, and you gave a small, grateful nod. “Alright, then. I’m listening.”

Glorfindel settled into the chair beside your bed, opening the first book—a collection of ancient elven tales, written in both Sindarin and Westron. As he began to read, his voice filled the room—a soothing, melodic tone that wrapped around you like a blanket. The golden glow of the crystal and lantern cast faint shadows on the walls, the light dancing in time with his words. The familiar ache of homesickness began to ebb, replaced by the calm reassurance of his presence. You found yourself focusing less on the strangeness of this world and more on the warmth of Glorfindel’s voice, the subtle inflections and rhythms as he recited the tale of Beren and Lúthien. He read with such care, pausing now and then to glance at you, ensuring you were still comfortable.

The gentle glow of the crystal and the lantern bathed the room in warmth, the shadows no longer pressing in around you. With each word, the familiar ache of homesickness slowly faded away. The sound of his voice, so steady and calming, eased the quiet panic in your chest. As your eyes grew heavier, you caught him murmuring, “Rest well, mellon nín. You are not alone, not while I am here.” For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him. The faint light, the soothing sound of his voice, and the steady presence of the golden-haired elf beside you were enough to finally ease you into sleep. And as you drifted off, you thought, maybe Middle-earth wasn’t so bad after all.

🤎𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷

Feren x Modern Human (You)

You lay in your small room within the heart of Mirkwood, staring up at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling. The air was thick with stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves from the forest outside. The forest, majestic and ancient, seemed to wrap around you, yet the silence it offered pressed heavily upon your chest. There was no hum of the city streets, no distant buzz of electronics, no gentle noise from people milling about that you could hear back home. Here, in Middle-earth, the quiet was all-encompassing, and you found it suffocating.

Back in your world, you would have had the soft glow of fairy lights lining the windows, twinkling like stars in the night. Their gentle shimmer always made you feel safe. Along with the lights, there would be the calming background noise of a TV on low, a comforting hum as you drifted into sleep. But here, there were no lights to chase away the shadows or the comforting sounds of a familiar world. The dark felt oppressive, as though it had weight, and it seemed to stretch endlessly around you.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you turned over in bed, trying to get comfortable. The night seemed impossibly long, the darkness creeping into the corners of the room. Even the soft rustling of the leaves outside, which might have been soothing to someone else, only made you feel more alone. You could almost hear the sound of your own heartbeat as you fidgeted beneath the blanket, tossing and turning in frustration. You couldn’t help but feel out of place, like a small speck lost in the vastness of the world.

As if on cue, a gentle knock sounded on your door, and you froze. The door creaked open slowly, and a tall figure stepped inside, blocking the faint light from the hallway. It was Feren, his silhouette tall and graceful against the dim backdrop of the night. “Y/n?” His voice was soft and steady, though there was a note of concern woven in. “I heard you moving about. Is everything well?” You turned toward him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you. But here, in this strange place, where everything was so different from what you knew, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I… I can’t sleep,” you admitted, sitting up slightly in the bed. “I’m not used to the dark like this. Back home, I always had… lights. You know, like fairy lights? And a bit of noise, like the TV. It’s just too quiet here. I don’t know how to explain it, but I miss that. I miss the little bit of comfort.” Feren raised an elegant brow, his expression puzzled. “Fairy lights?” His voice was tinged with confusion, as if the concept were something from another world entirely. “And… television?”

You chuckled softly, realizing how strange it must sound to him. “Fairy lights are just little glowing lights, like tiny stars you can hang up. They don’t do anything except shine softly to make things feel cozy, to keep the darkness from swallowing everything. And television is… well, it’s like a box that shows moving pictures and makes sounds. It plays stories, music, or sometimes shows that make you feel like you’re not alone.” Feren’s brows furrowed slightly, and you could tell he was trying to piece together what you were saying. “Moving pictures? That sounds wondrous,” he mused, his voice rich with curiosity, “but… strange. And the lights, I think I understand. They chase away the dark, yes?”

You nodded. “Exactly. The lights make the room feel a little more alive. It’s hard to sleep when everything feels so… empty.” Feren looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze softening. “I see. Here, the darkness is not so much a thing to fear as it is a companion to our silence. The night moves with us, like a gentle embrace. The trees sing in the wind, and the creatures of the forest wander beneath the stars. But… I understand now. It is not the same for you. The quiet seems unnatural.” You looked at him, feeling a mixture of relief and gratitude. His willingness to try to understand your discomfort meant more than you could express. “I don’t know how you do it. I just… don’t know how to sleep like this. Without something familiar, without something to hold onto.”

Feren’s eyes softened even further, and he stepped closer to you, his movements graceful and quiet, like the night itself. “Then perhaps I can offer you something from my world,” he said gently. “I do not know of these fairy lights or this ‘television,’ but I know the comfort of the moonlit woods. If you walk with me, in the quiet of the garden, perhaps you will find a peace there. The night may be silent, but it is not without its beauty.”

You hesitated for only a moment, before nodding. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice fragile but willing. “That sounds nice. Just… no sudden noises, okay?” Feren smiled softly, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I will be as quiet as the stars themselves.” He led you out into the night, through the grand, winding halls of the Elven palace, until you reached the garden. The air was cool and crisp, but not uncomfortably so. The ground beneath your feet was soft and damp from the evening dew, the earth rich with the scent of pine and earth. The sky was vast, the moon hanging like a pearl in the heavens, casting long shadows on the ground below. The stars were scattered across the sky, bright and steady.

As the two of you walked, Feren’s presence was a soothing balm against the unsettling silence of the forest. There was no need for the hum of artificial lights, no background noise to fill the space. The soft rustle of leaves in the trees, the occasional croon of distant night birds, the subtle movements of creatures hidden in the underbrush—these were the sounds that filled the air, but they were gentle, almost like whispers. Feren’s steps were as quiet as the breeze, and his calm presence beside you was enough to settle the restlessness gnawing at your mind. Occasionally, his gaze would drift toward you, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, his expression warm and understanding.

As you walked beneath the canopy of trees, you felt a surprising sense of comfort, the darkness no longer oppressive but rather a peaceful, enveloping thing. You didn’t need fairy lights or television in this moment; the stillness of the world around you, the quiet company of Feren, were enough. And as you finally returned to your room, you felt a new sense of peace. Maybe, just maybe, the silence wasn’t so bad after all. Feren lingered by the door, looking at you with a soft smile. “Sleep well, Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice like a promise.

You nodded, feeling your body begin to relax. “Thank you, Feren.” And finally, with the comfort of his presence and the quiet beauty of Middle-earth surrounding you, sleep came—sweet, uninterrupted sleep. I’ve tried to enhance the sensory details while preserving the core emotional beats of the original! I hope this version is just what you were hoping for. Would you like me to adjust anything?

[meluiloth]

Mirkwood Guardians

I’ve noticed that my Mirkwood Elves artwork from a few months ago has gotten a ton of notes (it’s my second most popular post, which I’m so delighted by!!) and while I’m still incredibly proud of that piece, I saw that my artstyle has improved since then; I felt like I could do certain elements - particularly the background and Feren’s face - a lot better, and this piece definitely deserved that effort, so I went ahead and did it! Honestly I’m flabbergasted by the result, everything looks so real and beautiful and full. I can’t even describe how I feel about it. (In fact, I’m actually getting a poster made of this piece so I can hang it on my wall, which I’m super excited about!)

I’ve included a full speed paint of this artwork below, which is the first time I’ve done that, so if you like seeing the proceeds of my art let me know!

[sorcerousundries]

Generated head cannons for each elf

Headcannons generated with this

Thranduil got hit by a bus once

Elrond has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen

Legolas knows the fnaf lore

Arwen is very good at walking in platform heels

If Galadriel likes someone, she will give them a pretty rock

Celeborn has an intense fear of heights

Feren has a very low alcohol tolerance

Haldir needs a nightlight to sleep

Lindir is a very good singer

Tauriel believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover

Glorfindel desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one

Meludir can't sit in a chair properly

[thranduilofsmirkwood]

🆃🅷🅴 🅷🅾🅱🅱🅸🆃 🅼🅴🅼🅴🆂

🅻🅾🆁🅳 🅾🅵 🆃🅷🅴 🆁🅸🅽🅶🆂 🅼🅴🅼🅴🆂

🅾🅻🅳🅸🅴🆂 🅱🆄🆃 🅶🅾🅾🅳🅸🅴🆂

[gnomescarfcomics]

Middle-earth shots of the week

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters' Love Languages

Just realized I did this for LoTR but I don't think I ever did it for The Hobbit, so enjoy 😉 The Five Love Languages are: Gifts, Physical Touch, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, and Acts of Service! Everyone is said to have a primary two 💖

Balin

Words of Affirmation- So many years, wars, songs, evenings spent by the fire with kindred spirits and strangers alike, have granted Balin the gift of words. Situations witnessed and life under the belt. What words offered comfort to Balin he hopes bring some healing to you. To be the one to reassure you is the greatest gift back he can ask for in exchange for those words and experiences. Clearing the clouds of your mind brings forth the shiniest light that is your smile.

Quality Time- All Balin needs from you is the guiding force of your presence, a warm hand and heart to hold. Life's rich experiences are his greatest treasures, and sharing them with you guilds them beyond all worldly value. More than your vast riches or lack thereof Balin is grateful for the constant you are in his life amidst so much strife, a little chip of beauty he could carry over his heart for all his days. Companionship was the most unexpected boon, yet every time you lie beside Balin, he feels more loved than anything!

Dwalin

Acts of Service- Warrior. Provider. These are monikers given to Dwalin again and again. Never were these words empty, though— every day of his life Dwalin rose and fought for himself and others. Those he holds dearest. His actions reveal his love; they are his love, his embodied care in all choices he makes. Not only will he hold you away from harm and jump to your defense in a fight, but Dwalin remembers everything you tell him. Allergic to something? It shall never appear in your sight again. Your favorite flower? Appears in your sight quite frequently, all lined up in a vase!

Physical Touch- Now this is one that tends to shock, but there is a reason Dwalin does not partake in much touch: it holds great meaning for him. Touch is a sign of comfort, of refuge, a feeling he relishes in alongside connection and chooses not to cheapen. Dwarves have no mind showing physical affection to close friends and family, and Dwalin saves much of this until he is certain you’re his One. From that point on, you will frequently notice a protective hand about your waist or rubbing the small of your back. The way he links his arm with yours in crowds or at any sign of competition or threat. You, now, are joined.

Thorin

Words of Affirmation- Stoic of a dwarf as he is, Thorin knows the value of a well-placed word. Does not speak affirmations not well earned. Being his One has earned you praise he thought impossible. Heartbreak just the same when you struggle to see the beauty, the strength that pierces through to his eyes stronger than any sunbeam. Thorin knows no fear in sharing this with you again and again. Even in little moments of frustration, your beloved king seems to have a key to not just your heart, but your mind, which he knows exactly how to put at ease.

Acts of Service- A natural leader, Thorin is constantly surveying his surroundings, persons included. Especially, even. Awareness is never a struggle for him, as he takes note of necessary tasks and does them, often in silence. You feel constantly surprised by his quiet acts of love upon discovering them, like little gifts of ease granted to you and you alone. To be known, they say, is to be loved, and you feel both beneath Thorin’s attentiveness.

Oin

Acts of Service- Oin knows how to take your pain away, yearns to relieve you more than anything. If your back hurts, you might find a little jar of muscle balm waiting for you. After a fight, you're the first one the healer is rushing to to bandage up unless someone's gravely wounded. It's as if Oin can feel the disturbance in the air when something happens to you the way he rushes over to you with any tools to help you, weapons to fight for you, or supplies to heal you. He is well aware how frustrating it can be if his hearing loss impacts your conversations, so if there's a sea he can cross to help you feel his love, then by Mahal, he's crossing it!

Quality Time- All Oin asks for is good music, good company, and maybe a bit of learning! Nothing is more fun than hearing a new story or the latest medical treatment alike. Beyond this, though, your choice to stay by his side through everything is more than fine companionship. It is a conscious move of acceptance despite his flaws, motion he returns wholeheartedly.

Gloin

Gifts- Physical reminders of his love make and preserve their own memories. Gloin loves to be able to decorate you with all the finest things- he knows you're his treasure, but now you look like it! The craftsmanship of his people is well worth celebrating, too, and what better way than to connect you with it in the most literal sense? Dwarven riches have never looked so beautiful. Years have sharpened Gloin's mind, his shrewd senses memorizing every little thing you love. Your favorite flowers make appearances in every bouquet, the dessert you love most ends your special days, your jewelry is always gold or silver, whatever you prefer! To Gloin, frequent gifts are tokens of how often you stroll through his thoughts.

Physical Touch- What better physical reminder of his love than a protective touch? All who witness Gloin by your side will be well aware of his feelings for you! And in private? He can’t keep his hands off you! Every part of you is sacred to him and he shall worship it to the fullest. Your bond is emotional, spiritual, physical— he carries your image in a locket everywhere he goes, gently stroking the painted curve of your cheekbones when he cannot feel the flush of your cheeks for himself, confirm you are real and before him. Much as Gloin must leave for his duties, his people, coming home to you is the highlight of it all and he will hold you in his arms day and night until you both are satisfied.

Bifur

Physical Touch- Language barriers are nothing to Bifur beyond longer strides to remain close to your heart. Physical barriers in your relationship exist only in the form of personal boundaries. The feeling of your hand in his or vice versa not only exerts a grounding force but is your communication- fear as you suddenly reach for his hand, concern as his thumb runs gently over your hand, love when you hold it tight and refuse to let go, and joy when one of you takes the other's suddenly and pulls them closer. Hand contact is everything to you both, the little taps and signs into each other's palms. Beyond that, it's those other small things like the way Bifur grips your hips to signal a steamier mood or the way he teasingly slings an arm over your shoulders that show this quiet dwarf is in his element in your presence.

Acts of Service- Especially if you do not understand Khuzdul, Bifur is unable to speak his love and reassurance to you. Frustrating as it can be, he's been a fighter for years who feels little fear, especially in fighting for you! You can expect not only a dwarf who literally fights for you, but your weapons always clean and sharp as if by magic, notes in Khuzdul that read only the sweetest things, and being given hell if you don't eat! Bifur is anything but silent in the way he loves you.

Bofur

Quality Time- It may not be a secret that Bofur loves attention, but it's a push-and-pull for him. The attention he gets energizes him and amuses others, and at the end of the day smiles are all he wants to see! Your attention fuels him, warms his heart and quiets the voices swirling deep within his mind that question if he truly is making you happy. If you love someone, in Bofur's mind, all you need to do is show them you're with them. Involved. Similarly, you'll see it in the rapt attention he pays you, the light in his eyes and soft sighs of his chest as you pour out your passions with him as your willing and unending vessel. Bofur's favorite memories are of you singing or dancing together or even just that time you laughed yourself to tears over the dumbest thing he'd ever said and he swore he could never be more head over heels.

Physical Touch- Touch with friends is casual; it may seem meaningless or universal from Bofur. Such claims crumble at the base every time his gloved hands surround yours in the cold. Whenever you’re the only lap he throws his legs over even before his brother’s. When he hugs you tightly enough to intertwine your heartbeats and clothing and breath until Bofur becomes a part of you and you him. Upon even the most minute gestures like laying a hand over yours at the fire or slinging an arm over your shoulders while you laugh lies the mantel of your rule of his heart.

Bombur

Quality Time- Good company is valued above all else to the Ur Clan, not gold or a single location or even the finest delicacies. Without loved ones, what meaning does life have? All Bombur needs is time with you, to know you are there by his side. He’s never been a fancy dwarrow. All he desires is a big family, a lot of laughs, and maybe just secretly your undivided attention! The feeling of your eyes on him, of him being the cause of your smile, feels so unreal every time and he can barely get used to it. Doesn’t mean he won’t try, though!

Acts of Service- All his life, Bombur has been a provider. To love someone is to feed them, to keep their home well and inviting, to make a difficult day a bit easier. The relief on your face when you learn he’s drawn you a warm bath, the way your eyes turn up in pleasure at the taste of your hot meal, it all feels like love to him. The warmth of his provisions, Bombur hopes, mirrors the warmth in his heart he holds for you and you alone.

Dori

Quality Time- Chatting with you over tea is Dori’s lifeblood. To see you, to hear you, to catch up on everything be it your worries or the gossip you heard or your favorite fascination for an hour on end! Much as he enjoys the finer things in life, such is nothing to feeling loved as is seeing your eyes locked within his, your reflection in the blue, building a house and a home and a life together. It’s all he wanted to have a companion, a new family outside the one he headed that was just for him. That he chose himself and has the utter privilege of seeing choose him every single day.

Words of Affirmation- Tutting and fretting over you may elicit a laugh or an eyeroll, but as time passes you realize Dori only hovers over those he fears losing. Having lost his parents, he values a vocal presence of guiding; it symbolizes a love powerful enough to drive constant thought as well as action. As much as he voices concerns, he voices his care. He voices his fears and even louder your virtues. Shares as well as he listens over tea or in the kitchen together. Dori wears his heart upon his sleeve and his—surprisingly silver—tongue.

Nori

Physical Touch- Cliché? Corny? Maybe. What else can he say but that he likes the feeling of your skin beneath his? Words were never his strong suit, rather confirmation via his actions, desire and appreciation and sometimes even reverence summoned from his fingertips. In the past, these motions were never drawn out so, but his love for you has Nori relishing in taking his time, in not just enjoying but truly discovering you. Finding the sensations that make you smile, giggle, fluster, or even turn your attention completely to him are joys unmatched. He never thought it possible to so beyond enjoy someone so much before you came along.

Gifts- Ever the sneak, Nori takes great joy in not just presenting you with endless delights, but stowing them cleverly away for you to find throughout your days. Shining as your countenance and presence are, Nori is determined to be the reason that becomes literal, sparing no effort to present you with dwarven metals and gems. Knowing your preferences, if you do not wear jewelry he will not be deterred! You'll be presented with beads or other items for your hair- anything that shows your beloved dwarf has claimed you wholeheartedly. Once Nori finally gives his heart away, he finds himself ready to give everything else away, too, if it goes to you. By his hand on your knee and his family name on your bead, there is to be no doubt of his choice.

Ori

Quality Time- Character exceeds all for Ori, who only wants a kindred soul to enjoy life with. A simple dwarf, he asks not for the greatest skills, only the biggest heart. The fact that you take the time to listen to him, to share, and see him as an equal you choose to spend your time with brings his heart to bursting! That choice makes Ori feel loved more than anything. That you always sit by his side and no one else’s, that it’s him you sit down with for a cuppa and come to first with news, good or bad. Every little moment like that deepens your bond and serves a far greater purpose in Ori’s mind than some others might think.

Gifts- While he may pay little heed to how often you gift him, Ori adores showing his love for you with the many things he makes. Something about creating or finding something that's just perfect for you feels right to him, a way to show that swirling at the back of his mind always is you. Everything you love, everything you need, it is patiently stored by Ori. Your smile, the way you light up upon being surprised, is fuel to the fire of his heart for the whole day and then some!

Fili

Acts of Service- Self-sacrifice is in his nature. Fili is no martyr, his mind simply tunes into the hearts of those around him and bleeds for the many needs he witnesses. You are no different, your every plight falling within Fili’s watchful eyes. Fili has given you the shirt off his back, carried you to safety when injured, even insisted Oin teach him every method to cure your natural aches and pains. Never does he resent your needs, though; no, your needs are his, for your happiness is shared. Difficult tasks for you might be easy for him, so why not bring you joy in the process? What good would he be if he did not make your life better than when he found it? You did the very same to his. Every move he makes reaffirms his conscious decision to make you a part of his life forever.

Words of Affirmation- The glint of the stars, brighter light than the wealth of any mountain, Fili's own heart, and every one of your names shall be all the reason you seek if you question the lengths he goes to for you. Defense of you in any confrontation comes naturally, be it your character, your purpose, or any other unfounded target being aimed upon. Fili voices his thoughts as they rise to his head, uttering wonderfully intrusive praises as he sees how beautiful you look, feels a warm rush of gratitude upon reflecting on how much you mean to him.

Kili

Words of Affirmation- Kili is swift with his words, always armed and ready to unsheathe them for any purpose. They are quick, charming, but with you, romantic. Poetic, even. Statements not just of his love for you, but touting your many qualities as if you hung the stars themselves and tossed them to him as falling meteors glittering down from space. You shine such a light into his life, his eyes, that he simply must reflect it back to you in the form of sharing exactly what he loves about you and why even what you see as your worst qualities deserve redeem. After all, you do the same for him, and you look amazing while you do it! Despite the bravado you may see, Kili gives the love he needs most, and hearing your sweet and heartfelt words has moved him to tears. With you he is no second, he is whole and reminded of your shared claim daily.

Physical Touch- The way Kili’s hands trace your form aligns with his slick words, but the way his body relaxes against yours, his hands seek yours in times of fear, is a sign of something greater. Every touch of his is a silent statement of his complete trust of you, the same trust you see when he lays his forehead against those of his family. Would that you not have provided Kili a shoulder to cry on without judgment, stories unlike none he’d ever heard, laughed at his every joke and made him bellow with his own laughter, he would not feel so safe with you as an extension of himself. A hand resting upon your hip or over yours speaks volumes from Kili.

Bilbo

Quality Time- Silence doesn’t bother Bilbo, at least not with you. From years of awkward attempts to occupy its void comes sweet, sweet relief at the knowledge of your presence with no expectations. He needn’t speak, simply hold you or sit by your side while you both embark on your quiet reading adventures or perhaps do a bit of knitting or crochet. Time has passed such as to ease Bilbo’s worries as to your inner thoughts, your words and actions contradicting any apprehension he has ever held. Unlike most, your presence fuels him rather than exhausting him. How else does he know it’s love?

Acts of Service- Meek as he claims to enjoy his life, Bilbo is a hobbit of action; sitting idly is not his hobby, but his reward. Similarly, in relationships he feels complacency is the enemy and works tirelessly to prove his love and— even as you remind him he needn’t— earn yours. Housekeeping is his everything, so you will soon be used to him sweeping up your dishes into his hands to wash, organizing your things back to the way he knows you like them, repairing torn clothing. After all, neither a Took nor a Baggins leaves their beloved wanting!

Thranduil

Gifts- Lavish is an understatement when describing the Elvenking, the majestic and elegantly adorned figure who had taken you beneath the velvet folds of his affection. The finest clothing is draped over you, gorgeous jewels of your chosen color will rest over your heart, encircle your wrists and fingers. Luxury existing beyond conspicuity, for Thranduil wishes the best in life upon you, especially if you had not been raised with it. His wealth can attain meaning if it improves your life…and marks you as his in the process.

Physical Touch- Thranduil embraces sensuality. The ecstasy of your warmth meeting his. The shivers he feels upon trailing his hands along your hips or spine bring a smile to his lips unfailingly. Beyond that, however, is the physical anchor your contact provides. Tethering him to this plane despite the ephemeral nature of his life, loves prior, connection to his subjects in a time of isolation. You hold him in the more silent moments as well as the loudest moments of love and ravishing, drying tears or simply feeling your joined heartbeats sharing a loving rhythm.

Feren

Acts of Service- Manifestations of this sort come in the form of Feren’s sheer dedication to caring for you. It is his greatest joy to restore your vitality at the end of the day, to gently guide you into a state of relaxation and have a direct hand in your beauty and happiness. Cleaning and taking care of your hair is his favorite; Feren’s hand is nothing but gentle whether he is massaging your scalp and rinsing it or performing any other upkeep like oiling your hair, applying curlers or a bonnet, or braiding or tying it. If anyone knows the feeling of a long day, it is he, and lightening your burden is not just what he would want, it is a weight off his own heart to watch the smile spread across your face.

Gifts- You compare Feren to a crow the way he collects what he sees. Nearly every day your beloved is bringing you some bounty home, be it flowers or chips of crystalline stone he found or even seeds to plant your own garden from the few points of life still glimmering deep in Mirkwood’s heart. Feren’s gifts of nature show you the heart he does not always reveal, the eyes he casts upon not only intruders but the entire woods. He considers every day a promise to you, every token a sign he kept his word to return to you and build your life together piece by beautiful piece.

Bard

Quality Time- He’s lived without money all his life; material possessions are fleeting things with little capacity to craft true joy. Nothing in the world, however, can replace the unique human souls Bard has come to know. Yours beyond included. Bard will sacrifice a few more hours’ work to see the game you’re building with his children, tell others and hold up a hand the moment they interrupt you. When many more years have passed and he goes on to be with his many fathers, Bard will grasp not for any riches, but for your hand before he awaits your joining him.

Acts of Service- It takes a real man to put himself in the place of his words, and Bard will be caught dead before he is a liar to you. Keeping promises is incredibly important to him, so you will have utmost confidence in the things he says he will do being completed. Being with a tradesman means you’ll often find things repaired before you even had a chance to ask Bard about them. Such is his way of showing you never leave his thoughts even amidst work and fatherhood— you are simply your own kind of important!

Beorn

Acts of Service- Words fail him. He speaks directly, spent years alone where words were of little use to him. Sometimes he is rendered silent in your presence, unsure what he could even say or how genuine it would seem. Second nature to him, however, is work. Effort. Effort you are well and beyond worth. A hot drink and breakfast ready for you every morning, flowers left where you'll find them. At the end of a long day, Beorn takes great pleasure in sitting you down, bathing you gently and scrubbing you hair, preparing it for your sleep whatever it needs. Words may fail him, but Beorn's every motion is an ellipse orbiting the sun you've brought to his solitary life.

Quality Time- The more space you occupy in Beorn's life, the more of a fixture you become. Altering his carefully curated routine in the best way, your presence is sheer comfort. Existing side-by-side even in silence returns his energy in a way he never thought possible. Sitting there whittling while you knit, Beorn's heart swells with a warmth of home and family that once felt beyond the realm of possibility. Domesticity is the cornerstone of all he fought and bled for, and despite his former assertions that his cottage was his and his alone, he dreads any day of returning home to it void of your presence.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt @rivendell-poet @rainyobservationblizzard | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

[master-muffinn]

You have a life too

It was a lovely July morning. You were with your boyfriend, hand in hand and walked through the green forest, which was filled with insects and flowers. You two finally had some free time and you chose to spend it together. Talking a little now and then about what the other had done to not miss out on anything important.

But then you see a bird and it flies up to you. You automatically hold out your hand for it to sit on. It has a letter for you. You let go of your boyfriend's hand and the bird flies away after you take the letter. 

Dear y/n. Meet me at ‘The Prancing Pony’ on Sunday evening at 7 o'clock.  From your dear friend, Gandalf.

You looked at the letter with disgust and irritation. You knew exactly what this is about. Gandalf had promised a stranger that you would come help them without talking to you about it first and expected you to come without questioning it.

You are smart, wise and a great fighter, but you had a really hard time to say ‘no’ when people ask you for help which back then perhaps was good because it’s the right thing to do, but now it starting to get out of hand and it felt like people took your help for granted. Like, you had a life too!

You looked at your boyfriend who already seemed to know what the letter was about. 

“Gandalf ‘again’?” he said and sighed when you nodded.

You looked back at the letter “I am really tired of Gandalf making promises without talking to me first”

“I know, me too”

You looked back at your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “I really don’t want to go, but I don't know how to tell him! Can you help me come up with a good excuse to not go that Gandalf has no other choice but to accept?!”

He thought for a while, looking around his surroundings like it could maybe help him get any useful ideas. He then put his hand in his pocket and a shy smile came to his lips. He took a step closer to you and looked you straight in the eyes with a loving gaze. 

“I have been thinking about doing this for a while but never had a good opportunity, so maybe this is the best time to do it” 

You move your head to the side and raise an eyebrow not understanding what he meant.

He took out a small box from his pocket, went down with one knee and opened the box with a beautiful ring inside. “Do you want to marry me? We have been together for years now and I can't see myself with anyone else but you! You are like the other half of my heart that I can't live without. I would love nothing more than to have you by my side in the rest of our life!”

You just stood stupidly in shock with your mouth and eyes wide open, but you quickly collected yourself, dropped the letter and threw yourself over him with a big embrace. “I would love to!” You said.

Dear Gandalf. I have to decline your request. You have to ask someone else for help from now on. I will get married soon and I wish to spend all my time and life with my love. From your dear friend, Y/n.

^Bilbo (he knows what you going though lol), Thranduil, Haldir, Celeborn, Feren, Elrond, Thorin, Boromir, Aragorn, Theoden, Bard, Dwalin, Dain, Eomer, Saruman

[fantasyworld4ever]

I would like to uno reverse and ask how the elves (yep, all the LOTR/hobbit elves you write for) would react to their s/o keeping them warm, whether it be with a blanket, an extra cloak, or even magically radiating warmth.

LOTR/THE HOBBIT ELVES REACTING TO THEIR S/O WHO GIVE THEM THEIR COAT/BLANKET WHEN ITS COLD.

Elrond

Istg this poor guy will survive the cold for you

You don’t realize it’s cold but when you look over at Elrond he’s quite literally shivering from cold

You quickly deduce that the poor ellon has stayed out simply because you were

You chuckle fondly, finding it sweet as you drape a coat/blanket over him and he blinks at you in surprise

He tries to protest but you glare at him and he shuts up

Thranduil

No, just no. 

This man will refuse to take your coat

Anyway, he wouldn't even be out in the cold

If he finds it cold, there is no way he’s letting you go out

Legolas

Dude does not get cold

Have you seen him running through those snowy places?

Yeah, he's too jumpy to be cold

He will politely reject your coat if you ask though

Lindir

This poor sweet innocent baby 😭

He won’t wait for you to offer it, he’s gonna just grab it then apologize as he wraps himself in it

Literally freezing

He’ll be okay, he snuggles against you for extra warmth

Haldir

Dude patrols borders, he’s used to it

May actually fall asleep standing up in the cold

You just wrap the blanket around him and he’ll stir slightly

Poor bby, he’s so tired

He’ll hold you tight, swaddling you in the blanket too

Glorfindel

He will snatch your blanket quicker than you can say his name

He’ll apologize but he aint sorry at all

He is COLD.

Let him have the damn blanket xD

Feren

Sweet bby

He won’t say anything even if the air is a bit chilly

He’ll do his best to hide it but you soon realize just how cold he is

“Thank you, meleth.” He’ll smile at you as you drape the blanket over his shoulders but insists you both share it

Figwit

“My lady/lord, it’s cold” He’ll comment on the chilliness of the air as you stroll through the garden

No matter how many times you tell him to call you your name he will insist on using your title in public

When you give him your coat he looks surprised and tries to protest but soon gives in, wrapping it around himself

“Thank you, meleth…” He’ll whisper, his ears red

{Thanks for the request and hope it lives up to your expectations! Apologies for the wait. And as always, my inbox is open!}

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Part 5

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Secondary character has mild panic attack | Brief mentions of bruising

Wordcount: 1.6K words

Summary: Y/n and Nitiel talk while preparing dinner for themselves and the other servants.

Minors DNI

A/n: This is more of a filler chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it.

A/n 2: the previous chapters can be found here Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Y/n POV

The crown prince did not seek her out, but he kept to his promise the few times they did come upon each other. Thranduil was more courteous and respectful, even going so far as to instruct Feren to discreetly see to her welfare.

Feren called on her whenever time permitted, always asking brief questions about how she found life in the palace and how she was being treated by the others. Y/n answered as honestly as she could, and then the crown prince’s steward would take his leave of her before others saw and tongues wagged. One day, he even asked to see the bruise along her wrist. His lips curled in distaste upon seeing it, but he said not a word. Y/n considered it strange but kept her own counsel.  

He called on her again tonight, and he departed only after pressing a glass phial containing a thick, pale ointment into her hands. Nitiel had seen them, and the phial that had been placed on the little table that was used for the cutting of vegetables and herbs and fruits. She swore to guard her tongue.

“Arnica.” She removed the cork and breathed in the scent after Feren took his leave of them. “Comfrey.” She smelled it a second time, and a third. “Yarrow. For bruises.” The cook put the cork back in the phial and regarded y/n with barely disguised curiosity. “You are full elf. Your parents were born in the Blessed Realm, no less. Why would you need such a thing?”

I suppose my secret would not remain a secret for long, y/n told herself. She lifted the sleeve covering her left arm and revealed the still-healing bruise along her wrist. It was now a strange shade of yellow, but y/n considered it an improvement on the black and blue and purple from before.

“This is why,” she replied, sitting down on a chair. 

Nitiel took her hand into hers and hissed softly. “How did you get this?”

“I… I would rather not say.” Y/n thought it would not be wise to reveal what took place between her and the crown prince that day in the gardens. Nitiel had proven herself to be a kindly woman, but y/n believed the revelation could still go badly against her if she said anything. Thranduil was well loved by his father’s people.

“You would rather not say,” Nitiel repeated. She studied y/n keenly, determined to learn more. Then she sighed and let go of her hand, as if she had changed her mind. “Well, this ointment is not going to apply itself. Give that clean cloth to me; we need to get this done before anyone else sees it.”

It did not take them long to apply the ointment and cover it with a thin strip of dressing. They talked while Nitiel went about her task, and they talked while y/n helped her make supper for the servants. The others were away, clearing the dishes in the great feasting hall above them, leaving them alone. The cook had so many questions about life before the War of Wrath, about life in Nargothrond and Himring, and about the sons of Fëanor themselves.

“They say your father had hopes of you marrying one of Lord Fëanor’s unwed sons.” Nitiel dusted flour onto a thin slab of wood and rolled out the dough she had prepared for a wild-berry pie. In the hearth nearby, a stew bubbled away in its copper pot. The pie would be brought to the table much later, but the stew would be served as soon as it was done, along with thin, flat disks of bread and muled wine. Even in the kitchens, everyone ate and drank well. “They say you even met some of them. Pray what were they like?”

Y/n reached for a sharp knife and began to peel new potatoes for the stew. “Lord Maedhros was everything the songs made him out to be,” she began. Peelings fell without a pause onto a kitchen cloth she had laid out on the table. “But he looked so worn, as if the burdens of the oath were beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Lord Maglor looked no different, but his eyes were softer, and kinder. Of the twins, we saw little. They were always abroad, hunting, and had little time for politics or council meetings.”

“Lord Caranthir?” Nitiel asked, crossing to the other side of the kitchen. She reached into a cupboard that had been mounted onto the wall for a pie pan. 

Y/n stopped peeling. “He kept to himself mostly, and he always looked so angry with the world. Lord Curufin, on the other hand, did not keep to himself.” She returned to her task—wild carrots this time. Thin orange flakes fell over thin brown ones, and she found the sound of it all rather soothing. “And his tongue was as deadly as a scorpion’s tail. Many took care to avoid its sting.”

Nitiel shivered. “And Lord Celegorm?”

Y/n stopped again. Out of all the brothers, Celegorm stood out the most in her eyes. Almost as tall as Maedhros and just as fair, he was a maiden’s dream-made flesh. More than one lord’s as well, if the rumors of his many appetites were true.

“Captivating,” she said. “Others would gather around him at many a feast like moths drawn to a flame. He knew how to drink. How to eat. How to laugh. No matter the hardship, Lord Celegorm always knew how to laugh. He was an elf who was as wild and free as the Vala he once served. And he was dangerous. Yes.” She carried the vegetables to a clean bowl of water to wash. “He was dangerous. More dangerous than all of his brothers put together.”

“You make it sound like he was comfortable being drenched in blood and gore.”

“That is the thing. He was.”

“And it is best if the two of you are not heard discussing them.” Angon stood by the open door, his arms crossed, his countenance full of worry. The women were startled. They did not know he was there. Y/n bowed her head out of respect. “Not even here. Not even amongst yourselves,” he continued. “These walls have ears. Do you understand?”

The king, thought y/n, he must have spies everywhere.

And y/n believed the need for hidden eyes and ears may have been due to her. Still, she decided not to dwell on it, for it would only distress her if she did. She smiled and lifted the lid of a glazed jar instead, saying, “Came for more tarts, my lord?”

Angon threw his head back and laughed. “You know me so well.” He joined them and made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair Nitiel pulled out for him. Angon was every inch a warrior, all tall and proud and fierce, and the chair only helped emphasize his great height and size. Today he was garbed in the deep forest green robes he often favored. Nitiel once said the color brought out the green in his eyes. “Yes. I am not ashamed to admit that I have indeed come in search of more sweets. Though I must confess, my fair lady’s kisses are far sweeter.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, my love,” Nitiel countered, blushing. “But I suppose it would serve just this once. Now stay here and make yourself content with what I place in front of you.”

They talked again, this time of Angon and Nitiel’s plans for the future and of Nitiel’s new role, now that she was the wife of a high-born elven lord. There was no queen for her to serve as a lady-in-waiting; Thranduil’s mother, along with many others, departed for the Blessed Realm after the Elder King’s herald, Lord Eönwë, invited them to do so. There was no princess, either. Thranduil had no sisters, or brothers, for that matter. Oropher, Angon said, had decided that Nitiel would aid his own steward until Thranduil took a wife. Then she would serve her as a lady-in-waiting. 

“Father and mother have also come around,” he announced, his eyes filled with a great sense of relief. Marriage without the blessings of either side of the family was always received ungraciously, and this was a good sign. “They agreed to welcome you properly into the family. Three nights from tomorrow, my love. Many of our kin are gathering for a small feast. The king agreed to attend as well, along with the crown prince.”

The pie pan and all that it held shook in Nitiel’s hands. She barely held on to it, saving it from falling and spilling its contents all over the polished stone floor. 

“Oh,” she began, flustered. “Oh dear. Your parents… your kin… all those nobles, the king… his son… Y/n, you must help me. Please. My clothes, my hair… so much… so much…”

Angon was the first to reach her, leaving his seat without so much as a sound. “Sit here, my love,” he said, guiding her to the nearest chair and taking the pan out of her hands. “And breathe.”

“Should I fetch her some wine?” Y/n asked, equally as concerned as he was. Nitiel was pale and was clutching desperately onto his hand while she tried to compose herself.

“Wine is the last thing she needs right now,” Angon returned. He left the pan on the side and began to rub Nitiel’s shoulders. “Fetch her some water, my lady. Or that chamomile tea, if there is any of it left. Nitiel needs a little time to rest. That is all.”

“I will help you,” y/n promised. She prepared a fresh pot of chamomile tea while Angon fussed over his wife. “With your hair, your clothes, everything. Now drink this,” she urged after she came back to them, and pressed a warm cup into Nitiel’s hand. “You will feel much better after.”

tags: @deadlymistletoe@lemonivall@coopsgirl@tigereyesf@thranduilseyebrows​ @cupids-got-me​ @jane0error@asianbutnotjapanese

[thranduilswifesblog]

Thranduil : oh no.... I only have three days to live

Feren : are you dying my lord?!

Thranduil : naah, the doctor just hates me

Elrond : REMEMBER THRANDUIL, I WILL FUCK YOU UP AT SATURDAY!!!

[earthlybeam]

You Slapping their Butt and Calling them “Dummy Thick” in Front of Everyone:

how would the elves react to this?

↓

↓

↓

Legolas, Meludir, feren, galion, elros version’s are below.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

𖧧 The Fellowship had seen many strange things in their time together, but nothing—nothing—had prepared them for the audacity of what you just did. You stood there, your hand having just smacked the princely posterior of Legolas Greenleaf backside, your voice echoing through the room with an exclamation that would forever haunt (or amuse) the Fellowship “Dummy thick.”

𖧧 Legolas froze as if turned to stone. His bow, usually held with unmatched grace, slipped slightly in his hand. The tips of his ears, often a stoic and noble feature, flushed a delicate pink that crept rapidly down his neck. His sharp eyes darted to you, then to Aragorn, then to everyone else, as if searching for guidance on what to do next. But no help came—Aragorn was covering his mouth, Boromir looked like he was physically restraining a laugh, and the hobbits…well, Merry and Pippin had already collapsed into wheezing fits of laughter. Sam looked scandalized, and Frodo was blinking rapidly, clearly wondering if he had misheard.

𖧧 Legolas blinked at you, his lips parting slightly in shock. Then, as though realizing he was still in the middle of a room full of people, he straightened his posture and said in a voice that was much louder than necessary: “I am unsure what you mean by this… designation.” The attempt at regal composure was there, but it was entirely undermined by the way his voice cracked slightly at the word “designation.”

𖧧 The Fellowship’s Reaction Boromir completely lost his composure, slapping a hand to his knee and laughing so hard that Gimli had to smack him on the back to keep him from choking. Aragorn was trying desperately to stay calm, but even he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped as he muttered, “Dummy thick? By the Valar…” Gandalf sighed, clearly debating whether or not this moment would be worth recording in the annals of history. The hobbits were no help at all. Merry was doubled over, clutching Pippin, who had tears streaming down his face from laughing too hard. Even Sam, who tried to maintain some sense of decorum, couldn’t help the small, strangled giggle that escaped.

𖧧 Legolas turned to you, his face now composed but his voice uncharacteristically stiff. “Mellon,” he began, carefully measured, “I… I am flattered by your appreciation, but perhaps we could discuss such matters in private?” His attempt at regaining dignity was thoroughly ruined when Gimli snorted and said, “Aye, laddie, flattered, were you? Your face is redder than an orc’s behind in a smithy.”

𖧧 Legolas glared at the dwarf, but his usual sharp retort seemed to fail him. Instead, he looked back at you, his eyes a mixture of exasperation and… something else. Was it amusement? Embarrassment? Curiosity? It was hard to say, but one thing was clear: you had thoroughly thrown the prince off his game.

𖧧 Later, in Private When the two of you were alone, Legolas’ composure finally cracked. He buried his face in his hands and groaned softly. “Why, Mellon? Why would you say such a thing… in front of everyone?”

𖧧 But despite his words, there was no true anger in his voice—just the faintest hint of a laugh. When he finally lowered his hands, his eyes were sparkling with a reluctant, albeit slightly mortified, humor.

𖧧 “I suppose it was… bold of you,” he admitted with a soft sigh. “But next time, perhaps you could warn me before proclaiming such… thoughts in public?”

𖧧 And though his voice was still tinged with embarrassment, you couldn’t miss the small smile that tugged at his lips. He might never live it down, but deep down, some part of him admired your audacity—and maybe even found it endearing.

💛𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓻

𑁍 Meludir, the shy and bubbly young scout of Mirkwood, would be utterly scandalized the moment your hand made contact with his backside. He’d freeze in place, his big doe eyes going impossibly wide, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson that spread all the way to the tips of his pointy ears.

𑁍 “W-what—?!” he’d stammer, his voice cracking slightly in sheer mortification. The room would erupt into stunned silence, the other elves pausing mid-conversation or activity to stare at the two of you. Several of his fellow scouts would exchange bewildered glances, while a few bolder ones might stifle laughter behind their hands. Somewhere in the crowd, a mischievous elf would mutter, “Dummy thick?” under their breath, setting off a chain of poorly suppressed giggles.

𑁍 Meludir, meanwhile, would be too overwhelmed to process any of it. His hands would flap helplessly at his sides as he spun to face you, his expression a chaotic mix of disbelief, embarrassment, and outright panic. “Y-you can’t just say that! Or—or do that! In front of everyone!” he’d squeak, his voice pitching higher with each word. His gaze would dart around the room, as if searching for a way to escape the situation without further humiliation.

𑁍 Despite his mortification, there’d be a flicker of confusion in his wide eyes, as if wondering, Did they mean it? Am I…?”If Thranduil or another superior were present, Meludir’s distress would only deepen, his hands shooting up to his face to cover his burning cheeks. “I—I think I need to go scout something! Right now! Immediately!” he’d blurt, trying to flee the room with all the grace of a startled deer.

𑁍 But, of course, being Meludir, he’d probably trip over his own feet or run into a doorframe on his way out, adding another layer of mortification to his plight. Later, after he’d had time to calm down, he’d likely find you and glare at you with all the intensity his soft features could muster (not much).

𑁍 “Why would you do that to me? In front of everyone!” he’d whine, puffing out his cheeks in a pout. “That was so mean!” He’d pause, biting his lip before adding shyly, “But… do you really think I’m… you know…?” His voice would drop to a whisper. “…Dummy thick?” It would take a while to live down the incident, but deep down, Meludir would secretly appreciate your playful affection—though he’d be sure to check over his shoulder any time he heard you coming, just in case.

🤎𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷

➷ Feren, ever the dutiful and disciplined captain of the Mirkwood Guard, would completely short-circuit at your audacious display. The slap would echo through the training grounds, the sound drawing the attention of every guard under his command, sparking a wave of silence. His entire body would go rigid, his tall frame frozen in disbelief, the tips of his ears turning a telltale shade of red.

➷ His dark eyes, wide with shock, would dart toward you, his lips slightly parted as though searching for the words to respond—but none would come. For someone as eloquent as Feren, the sheer scandal of being referred to as “dummy thick” in public would leave him utterly speechless. His comrades, meanwhile, would exchange uncertain glances, unsure whether to intervene or laugh. A few braver ones might let a snicker slip before quickly stifling it.

➷ If Thranduil or other dignitaries were present, Feren would die a thousand deaths in that moment. He’d immediately bow his head, mortified, attempting to salvage what little of his dignity remained. If he could, he’d likely bark a command to dismiss the gathering of elves, all while refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

➷ Once the crowd dispersed, Feren would turn to you, his hands balled into fists at his sides—not out of anger, but sheer embarrassment. His voice, normally steady and commanding, would falter slightly as he addressed you. “Mellon” he’d say, his tone a mix of exasperation and bewilderment. “Do you… realize what you’ve just done?”

➷ His shy nature would make it almost impossible for him to directly confront the “dummy thick” comment, but the slap would linger in his mind. He’d glance around to ensure no one else could hear before stepping closer, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. “Was that… truly necessary? In front of everyone?” His face would still be flushed, and though his words seemed stern, there’d be a flicker of something softer in his expression—an embarrassed fondness for your boldness.

➷ If you laughed or teased him further, Feren would sigh deeply, running a hand over his face as if trying to compose himself. But he couldn’t stay irritated for long. His shy nature would resurface as he looked away, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You are going to be the end of me,” he’d mutter under his breath, though there’d be no real anger in his tone. Later, in private, he might even laugh to himself, shaking his head in disbelief that you managed to catch him so off-guard.

➷ When you were alone together, Feren would still be blushing, but he’d finally relax enough to address the situation. He’d sit beside you, his demeanor more composed but his ears still a little red. “You really have no sense of restraint, do you?” he’d ask, his tone tinged with reluctant amusement. “I’m lucky Thranduil didn’t witness that… or I’d never hear the end of it.”

➷ If you teased him further or apologized sweetly, he’d shake his head, a soft chuckle escaping him despite himself. Leaning closer, he’d let his guard down completely, brushing a hand against yours. “You make my life… interesting,” he’d admit, his voice low and affectionate. “Though, next time, perhaps you could be a little less bold. My pride might not survive it.”

🧡𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓼

ꄗ Elros would freeze mid-action, the keyring in his hand jangling faintly as silence descended upon the dungeons. The other guards would gape, their faces ranging from shock to barely-concealed laughter. Elros, the steadfast and disciplined captain, was not accustomed to being the target of such… unconventional attention, let alone in front of his subordinates.

ꄗ His face would turn a bright shade of red, and for a moment, he’d struggle to compose himself, torn between his natural sense of duty and the utterly baffling situation unfolding. His gaze would snap to you, wide-eyed, and his voice would come out in a stammer. “M-Mellon—what are you doing?!”

ꄗ The guards, no longer able to contain themselves, would likely burst into laughter or hurriedly excuse themselves to avoid Elros’s mortified wrath. Elros would whirl around, glaring daggers at his comrades as they retreated, leaving him alone with you.

ꄗ Once the others had dispersed, Elros would fix you with a look somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He’d cross his arms over his chest, still blushing furiously. “You have some nerve, don’t you?” he’d mutter, though there’s a flicker of amusement behind his indignation. “Dummy thick? Is that how you choose to address me—in front of the guards?”

ꄗ Despite his scolding tone, there’s a clear note of flustered warmth. While Elros is a disciplined and responsible figure, he’s also deeply forgiving and good-natured, especially toward someone he holds dear. “Do you have any idea how much I’ll hear about this later?” he’d say with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. But then, his expression would soften, and he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. “Just—don’t pull a stunt like that when I’m on duty, alright? I’ll let it slide this time, but only because it’s you.”

ꄗ When he’s alone, Elros would sit in his quarters, still red in the face as he replayed the incident in his mind. Despite himself, a small chuckle would escape his lips as he muttered under his breath: “Dummy thick… What in Arda possessed you to come up with that?” Though flustered, he’d also be secretly pleased by your boldness and the lightheartedness you bring to his otherwise serious role. Deep down, he’d admire your audacity, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

ꄗ Elros might even let a smirk creep across his face the next time he sees you, though he’d shake his head as if to scold you again: “You’re lucky I’ve a soft spot for you, mellon. Just—try not to make me the talk of the Woodland Realm next time, alright?”

❤️𝓖𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓷

𖦹 The room is lively with the sound of clinking goblets and quiet conversations. Galion, in his usual laid-back manner, is strolling through the hall, holding a glass of Thranduil’s finest vintage when it happens. Your hand connects with his backside in a resonant smack that echoes throughout the hall. The words “dummy thick” tumble from your lips with unrestrained boldness.

𖦹 For a moment, Galion freezes, wine glass poised mid-air, as though his brain is struggling to process the audacity of what just transpired. Slowly, he turns to look at you, his expression a delightful cocktail of astonishment, mild affront, and a flicker of amusement he can’t quite hide. “Dummy thick, you say?” he repeats, his tone low and laced with incredulous humor. His eyebrows rise as if to silently ask, “Did you really just do that?”

𖦹 The other elves, initially stunned into silence, exchange a mix of horrified and amused glances. A few stifled chuckles escape from the more free-spirited among them. Someone mutters, “By the stars…” Galion recovers quickly, his easygoing nature saving him from the sheer embarrassment that might have overwhelmed another elf in his position. With a casual yet pointed gesture, he takes a long sip of wine, clearly weighing his response. Finally, he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

𖦹 “If you must grope me, meleth, at least make sure I’ve had a full glass of wine beforehand,” he quips with a sly grin, his eyes twinkling with mischievous mirth. As the initial shock fades, Galion adopts a playful tone, more amused than offended. Turning to the rest of the room, he raises his glass in a mock toast, his carefree demeanor diffusing much of the tension. “To bold declarations and even bolder actions,” he says smoothly, shooting you a glance that’s equal parts exasperated and entertained.

𖦹 In Private Later, when the crowd has dispersed and it’s just the two of you, Galion confronts you again—though “confront” might be too strong a word for his gentle chiding. “You’ve quite the nerve, calling me such names in front of everyone,” he remarks, though there’s no true malice in his tone. “Do you know how long it’s going to take me to live that down?”

𖦹 His smirk, however, betrays him. “Still… I suppose it’s flattering, in a peculiar way. Dummy thick, hmm? Perhaps I’ll add it to my titles. ‘Galion, Keeper of Wine and Bearer of Thickness.’ What do you think?”

𖦹 Galion’s easygoing charm ensures that he’d ultimately laugh it off, but he wouldn’t let you forget your daring act for a long while, teasing you at every opportunity. And perhaps, just perhaps, he’d find a way to return the favor when you least expect it.

I’m working on other elven characters like haldir, Gil-galad, círdan.

So keep an eye out for my posts 🫶💚🍃