#feren x hobbit

[earthlybeam]

Hi hi hi!!! I found this blog and I'm so happy!!! I love elves ((especially lindir)) and I was very happy to read everything, you write incredibly beautifully!!!! But I want to make a request, can you write something of Feren with a reader who is a hobbit? Specifically who comes in Thorin's company

how would the elves react to this?

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Feren Versions below (two versions)

✨🏹🤎 𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷 🤎🏹✨

Feren x hobbit reader you

Feren’s Protective Instincts

➷ The dense, shadowed forest of Mirkwood seems to close in around the group. After the chaos of an ambush—spiders emerging from the shadows, and orcs that seemed to spring from the very trees themselves—the company had been forced to fight through the night. Now, as they press forward, the eerie quiet of the forest feels almost more oppressive than the danger of the creatures they’ve already faced. Feren, ever vigilant, notices you lagging behind, your steps heavy, your face pale from the fright of what you’ve encountered. The path ahead seemed endless, the trees of Mirkwood looming like ancient sentinels watching over the small group. Feren kept his eyes forward, alert as ever, scanning the shadows and the underbrush for any sign of movement. His longbow was in hand, though the tension in the air told him that they had seen enough danger for the time being. But something felt… off.

➷ His gaze drifted briefly over his companions, ensuring that the rest of the company was keeping their guard up. Thorin and the others were moving ahead, talking quietly amongst themselves as they planned their next course of action. The air was thick with the faint scent of the forest, but Feren’s attention was drawn to a slight, lingering disturbance behind him. It was you. You had fallen behind, far more than usual. Your hobbit-sized frame had been through too much today—the battle against the spiders, the swift and brutal encounters with the orcs. Though you’d held your ground, Feren could see it now. Your steps were slow, almost hesitant, and your expression was distant, lost in the dark thoughts that no one could truly understand except you. He noticed the way your hands trembled slightly as they gripped the hilt of your sword, your small form dwarfed by the towering trees that seemed to press in from all sides.

➷ The weight of Mirkwood’s oppressive silence was heavy on you, and Feren knew all too well what the forest could do to one’s mind. His heart tightened as he realized you had been shaken more than you let on. He had seen it, the quiet strength you’d shown in battle, but this was different—Mirkwood had a way of wearing down even the strongest of wills. His instincts flared, and without thinking, he altered his path slightly, making his way to you. His feet were silent on the forest floor, a gift from years spent moving through the wilderness. As he neared you, he watched your every move, noticing the way you stumbled slightly as you walked. Your shoulders were slumped, and though you tried to maintain your composure, he could see the cracks beginning to form beneath the surface.

➷ Feren’s eyes narrowed, his brows knitting together with concern, though he said nothing at first. You were still trying to press on, stubborn as ever, but it was clear you were struggling. Finally, when the gap between you had closed enough, he spoke, his voice low and steady. “You should stay closer,” he murmured, careful not to startle you. “Mirkwood is no place for someone as small as you to wander off alone.” The words were more protective than he had intended, but the sense of responsibility he felt for your well-being seemed to overpower any concern he might have had about you finding it patronizing. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, trying to gauge how much you were truly affected by the forest’s haunting hold. You glanced up at him, your expression conflicted, as if torn between the desire to stand tall and prove yourself and the exhaustion that weighed on you. The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but for a brief moment, Feren thought he saw something flicker in your eyes—perhaps a recognition of his sincerity.

➷ As the next stretch of path grew darker, a heavy fog creeping in from the east, Feren stepped closer, his figure now hovering at your side. He moved with quiet grace, the sounds of his footsteps drowned out by the wind rustling in the trees. His presence was calming, though it was still laced with an air of subtle authority. When you faltered again—your step uneven, your breath coming a bit too shallow—he didn’t hesitate. With a quick, almost reflexive movement, Feren reached out, placing a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder. His touch was surprisingly warm, and though it was meant to steady you, it lingered longer than necessary. “Stay close, little one,” he said, his voice low but reassuring. “The shadows are not kind to those who wander too far.”

➷ For a brief second, you could feel his steady presence beside you, grounding you in a way that seemed impossible in this cursed forest. The words, though simple, carried a weight that made the hairs on your neck stand on end—not from fear, but from the quiet strength in his tone. His hand remained there, a constant reminder of his watchful eye, of his unspoken promise to keep you safe, even in this dark, strange place. You nodded silently, feeling the truth in his words. You had always prided yourself on your ability to look after yourself, but in Mirkwood, you were reminded of how fragile you could be in such a perilous world. The comfort of Feren’s presence, the quiet force of his protection, was something you hadn’t expected—but it was something you found you needed more than you cared to admit. Together, you walked through the darkness, Feren’s steps matching yours in a careful rhythm. Even as the wind began to howl and the trees creaked ominously above, you could feel a sense of calm settle over you—knowing that, for now, you were not alone in the shadows.

Feren Observing Your Bravery

➷ The company of Thorin Oakenshield has traveled deep into the heart of Mirkwood, where danger lurks at every turn. The dense trees and tangled underbrush provide little visibility, and the air is thick with the unsettling silence of the forest. A sudden, unexpected attack from a pack of wargs, swift and ferocious, sends the group into battle. The dwarves fight with their usual strength, but in the chaos, you, a hobbit among giants, find yourself surrounded by the snarling creatures. Most would have run, but not you. You stand your ground, poised with a sword that seems far too large for your frame, your feet firm on the ground despite the overwhelming odds.

➷ The first warg burst from the underbrush with a growl, its fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Thorin and his company reacted swiftly, axes raised, shields clashing against the beasts with thunderous sounds. The chaos of battle erupted around Feren, the clash of steel on fur and bone reverberating through the trees. The wargs were fast—too fast—and their jaws were hungry, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent. The company fought valiantly, but Feren couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that they were being overwhelmed. His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, looking for any signs of weakness in the enemy. And that was when his gaze fell upon you. You were not a warrior by nature. No one would expect a hobbit to wield a sword in the thick of battle. And yet, there you were, your stance steady, your eyes focused as a warg lunged at you, snapping its teeth inches from your face. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. Instead, you raised your sword, blocking the beast’s fangs with a sharp clang of steel. Your small frame, normally so unassuming, seemed to hold its ground against the massive creature. You were far from skilled, but you were determined. Your hands gripped the sword tightly, the strain evident in your posture as you pushed against the warg’s weight. In that moment, Feren couldn’t help but feel an unexpected surge of respect for you.

➷ He had seen many brave warriors in his time—dwarves, elves, and men, all with the strength of years of battle behind them. But bravery came in many forms. Your bravery, he realized, was quieter, not born from the fearlessness of a trained fighter but from something else. Something deeper. Without thinking, he moved to your side, slashing at the warg that was closing in on you. The creature howled as his blade struck true, but it was clear the fight was far from over. The beasts were relentless, and there were more of them than you could handle alone. Feren swung his sword again, his movements swift and precise, clearing a path for you. The warg you had been struggling with took a step back, retreating into the darkness. For a brief moment, you stood there, breathless but unshaken, your eyes still fixed on the battlefield, unwilling to let your guard down. Feren couldn’t help but admire how you carried yourself—small, but fierce in a way that few could match.

➷ The battle raged on, and Feren found himself at your side more than once, guarding you as much as fighting. The wargs fell one by one, but Feren’s attention remained on you, watching as you pressed forward, determined not to yield. Your movements were rough and unrefined, but there was a quiet strength behind them. You were outmatched, yes, but you didn’t run. You fought. Finally, when the last of the wargs lay defeated at their feet, the silence of the forest felt deafening. Feren stood among the company, his chest heaving with effort. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the field for any signs of further danger, though the threat seemed to have passed for now. But his gaze once again found you. You were standing slightly apart from the rest of the company, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Your sword was lowered, and you were still trembling from the adrenaline, but you were standing, unbroken. Feren found himself walking toward you, his steps steady and purposeful.

➷ You glanced up as he approached, and for a moment, his eyes met yours—there was something in the way you held yourself that made him pause, a spark of admiration flickering in his chest. “You…” His voice was rough from the battle, but there was a note of surprise in it. “I did not expect such bravery from one so small.” He paused, his eyes studying you for a moment longer, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps… you are more like us than I thought.” You met his gaze, the exhaustion of the battle still evident in your eyes, but there was something else there too. Something that spoke of pride, of determination. Feren couldn’t quite explain it, but in that moment, he saw you differently. You weren’t just a hobbit who had joined the company. You were a warrior in your own right, even if you didn’t see it yet.

➷ Feren took a step closer, the battle now behind them. His voice was softer this time, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to something warmer. “You’ve got more courage in you than most I’ve met. Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t notice.” He offered you a rare, appreciative nod before stepping back, his hand resting briefly on the hilt of his sword. You stood there, your chest still heaving, the weight of the battle hanging in the air between you. But for a moment, you felt something different—respect, not just from Feren, but from yourself too. You had stood your ground when it mattered. And that, you realized, was enough.

[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 😉

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[theelvenhaven]

Kissing the Elves

Mirkwood

Oropher

Oropher's kisses are firm and confident, his lips melding with yours in a controlled and calculating manner. His hand comes to rest under your hair and at the nape of your neck so he can draw you in closer. He tastes lightly of sugar and peaches, and his lips are petal soft against yours despite their firmness.

Thranduil

Thranduil's lips press to yours with fervor and passion, his tongue slipping into your mouth, curling around yours. He is demanding and domineering, and tastes of the finest Dorwinion wine- sweet and bitter. His hand holds your chin firmly in place as he kisses you, demanding you in full and to only be distracted by him.

Legolas

Legolas' kisses are tender and sweet, his lips always moving feather like against yours. Always so gentle and careful as he holds your face, thumbs lovingly stroking your cheeks, his lips pressing softly into yours. He takes his time to kiss you, wanting to savor the way you feel against him.

Meludir

Meludir's kisses always have an air of playfulness to them, his lips pressing against yours lightly and then firmly. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip to pull soft gasps and giggles from you, he's always smiling into the kiss and his hands rest on your hips. Pulling you into him and swaying along with you.

Feren

He may come off as dutiful and maybe even a little stern but when it comes to kissing you, Feren makes sure to take his sweet time especially if you two are in private. He's not afraid to kiss you sweetly, slowly melding his lips against yours, making sure to be gentle and make sure you know that he loves you.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

[queenstarlight2]

Please do an imagine for Feren; if you need an idea how about the reader being a nymph and helps heal Greenwood so he so yandere because they are perfect in his eyes. btw I love your writing! and I'm so happy your back!! 💕

What a creature (2K)

Feren the military captain, departed with a group of his trust-elven warriors group to investigate a disturbance at the edge of his king’s kingdom.

Upon arrival at the scene, Feren the leader encouraged his trusted elven warrior's group to tread lightly until they figured out what was going on.

As the group approached cautiously, Feren’s elf eyes could make out someone in the distance. Feren signaled for his soldiers to stop while carefully moving ahead toward the stranger alone. As he approached, he was struck by the stranger’s striking beauty seemingly young, delicate appearance.

Feren was taken aback by the stranger's ethereal and otherworldliness, he was captivated by her presence. He couldn't help but approach her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He came to a halt a few feet in front of her before speaking with a soft and gentle tone.

"Who are you?"

As Feren observed the stranger more closely, he noticed a faint aura of otherworldliness surrounding her, and as he turned to his surroundings, he realized she was using magic of some kind to heal the damaged and infected areas of Mirkwood forest. Taken aback by this, Feren couldn't help but take another step back before he spoke again.

"What… What are you doing to my king's forest?"

Feren's expression shifted between caution and awe as he observed the woman's actions. He didn't know if she was friend or foe, but something about her didn't seem threatening, and he was intrigued. He studied her further and noticed that she was much younger than he had first thought, perhaps even younger than he was, but her magic held a certain undeniable power.

As Feren stood before the young girl, his initial caution slowly melted away, replaced by a growing curiosity and fascination. Seeing the magic that she wielded, even to undo some of the damage to his king's precious forest, he also felt a strange sense of attraction towards the girl.

The more he thought about it, the more he found himself entranced by her. He could feel an unfamiliar fluttering in the pit of his stomach and butterflies in his chest as he looked at her.

After a few moments of awkwardly standing there staring at each other, the girl finally spoke up. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and there was a tinge of nervousness in it. The girl nervously played with a strand of her ethereal hair, trying to avoid eye contact with Feren. "I-I'm sorry," she said, her tone gentle. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just trying to heal some of the damage here in the forest."

Feren's initial stiffness melted away as the girl spoke up. He noticed her nervous mannerisms, the way she avoided eye contact and the gentle tone of her voice. Rather than feeling threatened, he found himself oddly enamored. He took a step closer to her, his expression softer and more attentive.

He held up a hand to stop his soldiers from interfering and gestured for them to stay back. He then turned his focus back to the girl. "It's alright," he assured her gently. "You didn't frighten me. I was just… surprised."

He took another step forward, standing directly in front of her now. He couldn't help but find himself captivated by her ethereal beauty. Her gorgeous hair, her delicate features, and the aura of magic surrounding her all seemed to draw him in. Despite her youth, she radiated a power that intrigued him. He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "You're just a young girl. Where did you come from? And how do you have such magic at your disposal?"

The girl's nervousness seemed to slightly ease as Feren spoke to her with a gentle, non-threatening tone. She mustered up the courage to answer his questions, but her voice still held a hint of shyness.

"I-I'm not just a young girl," she replied, her voice soft and delicate. "I'm a nymph. We are… magical beings, connected with nature. My magic allows me to heal and maintain the balance of the forest."

Feren's eyes widened in surprise at her revelation. Nymphs were elusive creatures, living in harmony with nature and possessing powerful magic. For one to be in Mirkwood forest was both intriguing and unexpected. He took another step forward, his tall, muscular frame towering slightly over her petite form. There was a mix of fascination and caution in his expression, as if suddenly aware of the potential power she held. "A nymph…" he repeated, almost incredulously. "I've never met one before."

He took a moment to study her more closely, his gaze roaming over her slight form, the soft features of her face, and the strange markings on her arms. Seeing the magic aura surrounding her, he realized he was in the presence of something extraordinary. Involuntarily, he found himself taking yet another step closer to her. He was now standing mere inches away from her, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. He tried to maintain his composure, but there was something about her that was irresistibly attractive to him…

Feeling drawn to the nymph, Feren couldn't help but find himself wanting her to stay nearby. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he offered a proposition to her, his voice gentle yet firm. "You seem to have a unique power, a connection to the forest itself," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. "Perhaps you could… come back with us? We could provide you with food and lodging in the kingdom of Mirkwood."

As Feren gazed at the nymph before him, he felt his heart skip a beat. The way she stood there, her slight frame and delicate features, the soft magic aura surrounding her… all of it was irresistibly charming to him. Against his will, his eyes involuntarily softened and his expression turned somewhat sentimental as he looked at her. He took in a breath, his heart fluttering in his chest, and fought the urge to reach out and touch her.

As the nymph smiled gently, Feren found himself completely and utterly smitten with her. Her sweet smile and shy demeanor only served to fuel his growing attraction to her. His thoughts began to spin with possessive thoughts, and a hint of obsession started to grow inside of him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving her face as he spoke in a soft, somewhat desperate tone. "Please… will you come with us? I'll make sure you have everything you need, a safe place to stay, anything…"

He took a step closer, closing the remaining distance between them. His eyes searched her face, taking in every delicate feature. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and keep her safe and nearby, where he could protect her and indulge in her presence. His mind was filled with protective and possessive thoughts, a need to have her close and keep her for himself. But he did his best to keep it hidden, maintaining a facade of politeness and restraint.

The moment the nymph agreed to come back to Mirkwood with Feren and his patrol group, his heart practically leaped out of his chest. He couldn't believe his luck, that this incredible creature would now be staying nearby where he could see her every day. As he silently celebrated, his thoughts spiraled into admiration and fixation. He couldn't help but think that she was perfect, a being who could heal Mirkwood forest and his own soul with her mere presence.

As they began the journey back to Mirkwood's kingdom entrance, Feren found himself walking beside the nymph, his eyes often sneaking glances toward her. He couldn't help but be acutely aware of her every move, every sound she made, and every word she said. They walked in silence for a moment before Feren finally spoke up, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "So… um, can I ask your name, little nymph?

She smiled, and spoke kindly to him"I'm afraid my name is a very intimate matter, only for lovers"

The nymph's response left Feren's heart racing. It was a custom that nymphs only give their names to their lovers, a sign of deep intimacy and intimacy. An intimate secret. Feren couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions at that revelation. A part of him wanted to earn the privilege of having her name, to earn her trust and affection. He fought to keep his composure, trying to remain polite as he replied. "I understand… But how shall I address you then?"

The nymph shrugged slightly, her reply both teasing and soft. "You can call me whatever you like," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Feren's mind instantly began to race with possibilities, different pet names and affectionate terms swirling in his head. Each one felt so intimate, so personal… It took all his restraint not to blurt one of them out right then and there.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice as he spoke again. "How about… sweetheart?" he suggested, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue. He glanced at her, waiting for her reaction, hope and anticipation in his eyes.

The nymph chuckled softly, a hint of bashfulness in her voice. "Sweetheart, is it?" she teased, a small smile on her lips. "I suppose it will do, for now at least." Feren let out a quiet exhale, relief and excitement flooding him. As they continued their journey and finally reached the halls of Mirkwood, he couldn't stop stealing glances at her, her every word and gesture sending a thrill through his body.

As time passed, the nymph's magic worked its wonders, slowly healing the infected areas of Mirkwood forest. Feren couldn't help but witness her incredible abilities, further fueling his admiration and fascination for her. With each passing day, Feren found himself falling more and more in love with the nymph. His thoughts were increasingly consumed by her, his heart swelling with an irrational yet intense affection. He yearned for her presence, for her smile, for her touch… For her to be his and his alone.

He began to make subtle changes to ensure her safety and comfort. He assigned his most trusted guards to discreetly watch over her and keep her from harm. He also made sure to frequently check in on her, his presence never far away. He took every opportunity to talk to her, to listen to her, to soak in her presence. His thoughts became increasingly possessive, his infatuation spiraling into an obsessive need to keep her close. The thought of her being with someone else, of her leaving Mirkwood… was unbearable to him.

As his infatuation continued to grow, Feren knew that he wanted to make the nymph's heart his. He began to slowly court her, using any opportunity he had to impress her and show her his affection. He would take her on secret walks through a part of the forest that was especially beautiful at night, he would bring her gifts like rare flowers and shiny stones, and he would engage in long conversations with her, learning everything there was to know about her.

He was never pushy or demanding, though. He knew that winning her affection would take time, and he was patient with her. He was happy just being around her, observing her, listening to her soft voice. But he was also acutely aware of his desires, of the possessive need that burned within him to claim her as his own.

As the days passed, Feren's patience was rewarded one evening when the nymph finally told him her name. The act was a sacred one, signifying her acceptance of him as a lover. Hearing her name, a feeling of utter elation and triumph washed over him. He repeated her name quietly, as if committing it to memory. He didn't want to forget it, ever. He knew now that he was one step closer to having her heart completely.

As the days turned into weeks and months, Feren and the nymph grew increasingly closer. Their love blossomed, becoming a beautiful bond that only grew stronger with time. Feren had always been protective and possessive of the nymph, but now that she had accepted him as her lover, his feelings only deepened. He vowed to always keep her happy, safe, and by his side. Their love story continued a tale of affection and devotion amidst the lush forests of Mirkwood.

[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!}

[rivendell-poet]

trick-or-treat!

feren, please, and a quiet moment

plz & ty

1) so sorry this took so long, darling 2) thank you for introducing me to a new character, just spent a while reading most of their tumblr content so hopefully this isn't too ooc

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « trick-or-treat »

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 113 words | TWs : None

Letting yourself sink into your seat after a long day, you can feel the tension begin to leave your muscles as your body finally realises it can relax. Your book where you’ve left it, you manage to get a few pages in before a drink is placed down almost silently beside you. It’s warm, and from the smell you can tell it’s your favourite. Looking up, you see Feren standing beside you - a cup in his hand as well - and a small smile, “I hope it will be to your liking.”

“I’m sure it will.” Reaching over you have a small sip, and it’s just the comfort you need. “Thank you, my love.”

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @wordbunch / cont. in comments ✧ wish to be tagged?

[sotwk]

treat!

SotWK AU Headcanon and SPOILER:

The last (known) Elvenqueen of Eryn Lasgalen, wife of Crown Prince Aranion, was a Silvan commoner. She and Aranion were crowned by Thranduil just before he sailed for the Blessed Realm.

She is the daughter of....??? Spoilers under the cut. (Although I'm not sure there's a reason to care about spoilers for my AU at this point, since I have never written anything in a linear fashion. LOL.)

Born in TA 1190, Thalawen is the daughter of Feren, Captain of the Mirkwood Kingsguard.

Her mother was grievously wounded and poisoned by a spider while pregnant with her. Although the powers of Elvenqueen Maereth saved both mother and child, Thalawen was born very prematurely: small, weak, and with deformed limbs. It took her entire childhood to fully recover to a healthy state. With centuries of further healing intervention and therapy/training, her limbs regained close to normal use and appearance, but she was left in chronic pain.

Throughout these life challenges, Thalawen remained positive and brave, a rarity during the dark times of Mirkwood's Third Age. She discovered her exceptional talent at sewing and creating specialized cloths. She received commissions to sew wardrobe pieces for members of the Royal Family several times, but she devoted her craft mostly to the creation of clothing for Mirkwood's guards and scouts, using enhanced ("magic") cloth that gave them added protection.

Thalawen's strength and infectiously bright spirit captured the attention of Prince Aranion (son of Crown Prince Mirion and Princess Itarildë) as early as TA 1975, growing their friendship to mutual love. But as much as Thalawen gave Aranion joy and comfort throughout the tragedies and losses endured by his family, the weight of his responsibilities to his grandparents and his new position as Crown Prince (after his father's death), made him reluctant to pursue his own happiness.

SotWK Fancast: Bradley James and Emilia Clarke as Elvenking Aranion and Elvenqueen Thalawen, the last rulers of Eryn Lasgalen.

Eventually, Maereth intervened and encouraged her grandson to build a life and family of his own, and to choose hope in spite of the darkness and despair that engulfed Mirkwood. In TA 2724, Aranion and Thalawen were wed, and she became Crown Princess of the Woodland Realm. Together they served their King and kingdom faithfully and well, and were instrumental in helping the realm endure while Thranduil was incapacitated from grief for nearly an entire century after Maereth's death in TA 2793.

For a long time, despite their best efforts, the couple struggled to conceive a child. In fact, no Elven child was born in the Woodland Realm after Maereth's death until the destruction of Dol Guldur. Thalawen finally give birth to a daughter and new heir in the spring of TA 3020.

tldr: Feren's daughter becomes Queen of Mirkwood/Eryn Lasgalen in the Fourth Age!

(SUPER BELATED) HAPPY HALLOWEEN, @nocturnsworld! THANKS FOR STOPPING BY! *I know you're new to my hot mess blog, so I feel I must deeply apologize for info-dumping on you, but this is really what happens when I get Asks. :)

[ladywithaquill]

Mereth Nuin Giliath

There's a new fan fic on AO3!

The Woodland king throws a mean party. Who doesn't want to join in the festivities? The Feast Under the Stars is a yearly celebration. The main event is a dance with slow and provocative music.

[ivys-library]

Hey there! You've landed on the Rules page. Please read the information below for more information about the blog and before requesting.

If you submit a request, you are automatically agreeing to these rules even if you haven't read them.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ About the Blog ｡✧:˚*:･｡

This is primarily a reader-insert blog but I'm open to writing character x character.

Most pieces are gender neutral, but any NSFW/smut requests are written with a fem!reader.

I have the right to refuse any requests that I choose.

Any moodboards and/or images posted are not intended to display any single nationality, race, or physical appearance and are solely for aesthetic purposes.

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I only accept requests through the ask box, NOT through chats.

Please ensure that your request follows all of the rules explained here. Check my character list below to see who I accept requests for and make sure that your request is complete and makes sense before sending it!!!

Be specific.

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𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 ↬ written story | 300+ words

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*I don't write for OCs but will accept Dear Darling requests for them! If you wish to have the character interact with your OC, please include a short description (less than 100 words) about your OC. This description can be included in the same ask—just put it before the request.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ Character List ｡✧:˚*:･｡

.☘︎ ݁˖ A Court of Thorns and Roses

Azriel, Cassian, Eris, Jurian, Lucien, Nesta, Rhys, Tamlin, Tarquin

.☘︎ ݁˖ Avatar the Last Airbender

Aang, Azula, Katara, Mai, Sokka, Suki, Ty Lee, Zuko

.☘︎ ݁˖ Baldur's Gate 3

Astarion, Dammon, Gale, Halsin, Karlach, Lae'zel, Minthara, Wyll

.☘︎ ݁˖ Gladiator / Gladiator II

Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Marcus Acacius, Maximus

.☘︎ ݁˖ House of the Dragon

Aemond, Alicent, Daemon, Helaena, Jacaerys, Rhaenyra

.☘︎ ݁˖ The Silmarillion / The Hobbit / Lord of the Rings / Rings of Power

✧ Aegnor, Angrod, Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Celegorm, Curufin, Ecthelion, Feanor, Finarfin, Fingolfin, Fingon, Finrod, Galdor, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel, Maedhros, Maeglin, Maglor, Nerdanel, Rog, Turgon ✧ Bard, Bilbo, Feren, Fili, Kili, Lindir, Meludir, Tauriel, Thorin, Thranduil ✧ Aragorn, Arwen, Celeborn, Elrond, Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir, Frodo, Galadriel, Haldir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Sam ✧ Adar, Arondir, Sauron/Annatar

.☘︎ ݁˖ Star Wars

Ahsoka, Anakin, Darth Maul, Din Djarin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Rex

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

The Hidden Realm

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/qmgNC9W

by My_Marvel_Musings

King Thranduil has been engaged in a centuries-old feud with the fae realm, Tir Na Nog. The problem is, none of the other elves believe this realm exists. Until Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel visit for a MidSummer festival and run into the Fae Queen herself, Rhyannon. Who happens to be crashing the festival in a bid to declare open war on the elves. Can a peaceful solution be found?

Words: 980, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

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

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Elrond Peredhel, Thranduil (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Galadriel | Artanis, Celeborn (Tolkien), Gandalf | Mithrandir, Lindir (Tolkien), Erestor (Tolkien), Glorfindel (Tolkien), Feren (Hobbit Movies), Haldir of Lothlórien

Relationships: Elrond x Original Female Character

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/qmgNC9W

[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 🫶💚🍃

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters Meeting Your First Child Together (Wife!Reader)

Part 2 of this post! Time to find out who has daughters or sons first 😁 also requested by anon, but it was already drafted hehe~

Warnings: Blood mentions, birth complications in some (happy endings for all!)

Balin

Knitting was a bit of a struggle those days, you reflected as your elbows ached from bending to keep your needles above the curve of your belly. Balin sat in the armchair at your side, a hand idly drawing circles upon your thigh. Thus, he felt your sudden jerk, rose with you when you all but threw your needles and their work to the side table. "What is it?" He asked. "The chair," you cried out, "It's ruined!" Moisture seeped into the seat of it, a dark stain upon maroon velvet. "We can most likely get that out," Balin comforted you, a hand on yours, "But what is it?" "My water," you answered lowly, dread of realization creeping in on you. "What water?" "My water," you repeated urgently, dragging your husband by the arm, "I am going into labor!"

~

The only thing that got you through your labor was chuckling at Balin's attempts to hide his nerves, which somehow seemed greater than yours. Likely due to the way your body went into a near-primal focus, your every thought channeled not even into pushing your child out, but simply keeping them safe. Safe indeed, for soon a very loud cry pierced your ears. "Mahal," Oin remarked, dark eyes widening as he extended your newly-wrapped babe to you, "He's a strong one!" "He?" You asked. "He is strong!" Balin cried out, pulling you into his chest from where he stood, one hand reaching for your son, who immediately gripped his finger tight. "Oh, he is indeed!" "We did it," you sobbed into your husband's chest. "You did," Balin corrected, "I can't imagine how you endured all that." "All for him," you replied, gazing down at your son, whose eyes squinted open and blinked. Brown, just like his father's.

Dwalin

"Get out of the way! My wife is giving birth! Our child's coming!" All but shoving the crowds as he burst through with you in his arms, one hand wrapped less loosely about you so he could fling it out at offending pedestrians, Dwalin carried you down Erebor's halls all the way to Oin's. "It- It takes a long time, you know! The baby isn't coming right now," you stuttered out, jostled by your husband's brisk pace. "I'll not take my chances," Dwalin replied as he disappeared with you into the doorway.

~

"Stars above, why'd ya wait so long?" "Huh?" Your head snapped up from the bed you'd been draped onto, the world fading sharply back to focus amidst the pain. "You either took yer sweet time or else this is an unusually fast labor." Dwalin grinned down at you. "Now is not the time," you shot back, gritting your teeth. In the end, the agonies of labor were over for you in four hours' time. "Unusual all the way around," Oin remarked, settling the mewling babe in your arms, "You two've got yourselves a little girl." "'N she's going to look just like you, too," Dwalin told you, reaching a tattooed hand out to stroke your daughter's cheek and nuzzling against your head.

Thorin

Thorin knew by the way you gripped his arm, swiveled his head to meet your eyes and see your faint nod. Register the fear in your eyes and cup your cheek gently. He was prepared, bringing you a blanket to hold beneath you when your water began to seep through your skirt. Your husband led you by the hand as you waddled with the blanket between your legs all the way to Thorin’s most trusted healer, his old journey’s companion.

~

“You can do this. I have seen firsthand how much you can endure. You were made to do this, my love.” “I know,” you whined, unconcerned how pitiful you sounded for despite being a queen, at that moment you were a woman in pain. Pain that had gone on for hours, burning and tearing through your body. “The head is stuck,” Oin told you. “No,” you breathed. “I’m afraid I may have to widen the opening. Looking up to meet Thorin’s eyes, you simply tightened your grip on his hand, squeezing your eyes shut tight when the healer took up a small blade and letting out a cry of agony as he cut. Finally, though, blessedly, a weight lifted as your little one came free with a sound of confusion. Panting, you gave your husband a weak smile, sitting up a bit further and wincing at the pain, enduring to hold your newborn. “My son. Our son. A new prince is born to Erebor,” Thorin whispered, leaning down to connect your foreheads, warmth pooling even amidst the sweat glistening there, “I cannot take away your pain, but I will do anything in my power to be the best king, husband, and father you both could ask.” “You already are,” you told him, laying your hand over his, which was joined with your son’s.

Oin

"It's time, isn't it?" "How did you know what I was about to say?" You asked him, head cocked. "Because I've seen the signs a thousand times," Oin reminds you, "Now come on. Go get yourself comfortable. I've got everything ready." Patting your shoulder and kissing your cheek, he guides you to your bed and leaves the room, only to return with his supplies. "I'll go put the kettles on." "Why two?" "One to keep me clean 'n one for your tea." Oin had, in fact, told you about the tea he made patients to help with their pain. You nodded. "Of course. I trust my healer." The affection in your husband's eyes matched your own gaze as he disappeared through the door one more time.

~

"Yer doin' great." "I don't feel like I am," you cried. "Shh, I know," Oin soothed, making his way back up to your head to kiss you, "It'll all be over soon, though. Promise. In fact, can you give me one more push?” For all the frustration you may have felt, your husband was both delivering your little one and reassuring you. He was doing amazing for your baby and you could do the same. Whimpering and straining, you pushed until a cry pierced the room. “You did it! A wee thing, too. Oh, oh, love, it’s a girl! We had a girl!” Daughters were all too rare among dwarvenkind. Eyes widening and lips parting, you leaned over to let Oin wipe the sweat from your brow with one newly-cleaned hand after he handed over your daughter. Tears poured from his eyes as he rested his hand over yours that held your daughter’s. “I’ve seen this a thousand times, and yet this is like never before. Thank you for this gift.” Whispering your name, he guided you gently by the chin into a kiss of pure love and gratitude.

Gloin

“Are you alright?” Your husband’s voice was like a buzz beneath the ring of your ears, lightheadedness overtaking you until you felt a hand take yours and heard a louder, firmer call of your name. No anger colored it, just concern that had you finally swinging your head Gloin’s way. Soon as your eyes met his, you nodded faintly and smiled before the spots dancing in your vision won.

~

When you awoke, your brother-in-law was checking your pulse, nodding as you started. “She’s doin’ better,” Oin told Gloin, “Get back up there, she’s going to start pushing.” Shuffling back up from his brother’s side to yours, your husband took your hand, gently smoothing your hair and dabbing cold sweat off your brow with his sleeve. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he told you, and off you went into another haze of pain and encouragement and anticipation. Oin’s cry of victory actually alerted you both to the birth before the baby made a sound, emerging into the air with a small whine of confusion and near annoyance that had you and Gloin chuckling. The baby started crying as Oin checked him over, fussing in your arms as Gloin leaned down to rest his forehead over his new addition’s. “I’m a da. I’ve finally got a son of my own,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Bifur

“Bifur!” Plodding footsteps filled your vision as your husband tore into the room, almost careening into your dresser. Entering the room, his dark eyes widened as he caught side of you folded over, your water leaking onto your shared bed. “The blankets,” you panted, “I’m sorry…” Waving a hand and shaking his head, Bifur dismissed you, removing his gloves to caress your cheek and feel your forehead before he lowered you down and gestured for you to wait. Squeezing your hand when you nodded in agreement, he disappeared out the door in search of Oin.

~

Gasps sounded at your feet as Oin motioned for Bifur to join him and rake up a tool. Muscle memory kept the feeling and warmth of your husband’s hand in yours alive for another moment, but you all but forgot it in the panic of Oin tracing a circle around his neck. The cord was wrapped. Spears of ice pierced your heart as you watched your husband frantically aid the healer, eyes stone in focus and motions deliberate. After what felt like hours, you saw both their chests rest in exhales. “He’s alright,” Oin told you, “Your son will be just fine.” Crying out, you reached out your arms, embracing your husband and then sobbing into the blanket that held your new addition. You could tell by his wisps of black hair, the shape of his nose, that he was going to look just like his father. “Our miracle,” you sobbed to Bifur and Oin, “You are true heroes. Thank you. Our son will have no shortage of great dwarves to look up to.”

Bofur

“Bofur, my labor is beginning.” “Your what?” Wincing, you shuffled forward to clutch your husband by the collar. “Your child is coming, so I suggest you get some help unless you’d like to have a fun adventure with our rug later.” Swallowing, Bofur nodded. “Right. On my way.”

~

“And I’ll never forget the day I met you. When I saw you I thought ‘There’s simply no way she could be real’. Goodness me, if I’m not thinking the very same right now.” Bofur’s hand never left yours and his mouth never stopped moving, even if you were in no state to respond. Contorting with the pain, you cried out as your body gave its all, spending yourself for one last push. “See what I mean? Oin just caught the wee bairn. You’re all done! Just pushed a whole baby out all by yourself. Plain amazing’s what it is.” “And a girl no less!” Oin chimed in, slashing the cord as your daughter began to cry. “Hear that, love? A little dwarrowdam!” Smiling at your husband, you felt a tear slide down and mingle with the sweat glistening upon your cheek. Oin placed her in your arms and Bofur bent over to meet her blinking eyes. “Hello there! It’s me, yer da! I’m the one who’s going to buy you everything you want, alright?” “Not even five minutes old and she already has you wrapped around her finger,” you teased. “Damn right.” Bofur kissed her head, then yours.

Bombur

“Bombur.” “I’m on it.” Your sweet husband needed only a word to rush off across your home, fetching you a pot and holding it beneath you. “What’s this for?” “The water,” he answered, nodding down to where your skirt soaked through. “Oh,” you accepted one of the cold steel handles, “right. That works.” “You ready? I’ll get yer bag too.” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer with a smile.

~

Taking a cloth, your husband wiped the sweat off your forehead gently, patting your cheek affectionately. “Still doing alright?” “Best I can,” you grunted. “Everything look good down there? Well, good as it can,” Bombur amended with a glance down to his old companion, who nodded. Bombur had been asking questions and checking in the whole times, not to mention keeping you as clean and comfortable as could be. Rather that annoy you, it made you smile to see how much he cared. You had a healer, yes, but a nurse also. “Almost here,” he said, “just a few more pushes, eh?” Exhaling sharply, you focused all your might, forcing your muscles harder than you thought possible until a wail pierced the room. “You’ve done it,” Oin congratulated you, crossing the room with a little bundle in hand. Reaching out, Bombur wrapped his hands gently around the little one, lowering your baby down to let you uncover her head, which already had whisps of red hair. "She's beautiful." "'Course she is," Bombur replied, nuzzling into your cheek, "Came out o' you, didn't she?"

Dori

"Love, are you alright?" "Yes." You paused, crumpling and wincing beneath the crash of more pain. "Wait, no. That is to say I've never felt this before. I think my labor has started." No more words were necessary; flitting about your home, Dori fetched blankets and a skin of water and all manner of other supplies. "Will Oin not have all we need?" "Can't be too sure," your husband replied, striding to your side and smoothing your hair before he caressed your face, blue eyes staring into yours, "I want you to be safe, you know. I love you." And what could you say? You loved him, too, for all his quirks and for that big beautiful heart.

~

"Is that normal? That's not normal, is it?" Oin had drawn you a warm bath, lowering you into the water and checking your progress. "What's he doing all this for?" "To relax her," the healer replied to your nervous husband with a shake of his head, "And yes, this happens. 's just a slow labor is all. Some of 'em rush on out and others take their time. I suspect your wee bairn is just in no hurry." No hurry indeed. For all your pains of labor, it was almost 20 hours to the minute before your bath ran red and plaintive cries of confusion drifted into the air, Dori's fretting and even apologizing to you for putting you in this position turning to gripping your hand and all but leaping in anticipation. "You did it," he congratulated you quietly, embracing you without care of the water, sweat, and Mahal knew what else soaked you. "You sure did," Oin agreed, smiling as you accepted your little one, whose face was still red from crying, "She's here." "A daughter," Dori whispered, "A little girl! All my dreams are coming true and it's all thanks to you. How could I ever thank you? You'll never want for anything, neither of you, not love or warmth or all the pretty things you'd ever want."

Nori

Nori’s arms were snaked around your middle when you jerked forward, pushing his hands away. “For goodness sakes, you could’ve just said you didn’t want to-” “No,” you waved a hand frantically, feeling the gush of liquid trickling out, “My water just broke, Nori. It is time.” “Right now?” “Sorry if it’s inconvenient for you,” you sassed. At that, your husband smiled faintly and shook his head. “Not at all. In fact," he quipped, "I was a bit bored.”

~

“Push!” “What does it look like I’m doing?” Now your ire is focused on Oin, bringing many a snicker forth from Nori. At least until you crush his hand with a steel grip, crying out and falling limply against the sheets on which you lie. “That felt like something. Am I done?” “Almost,” the healer replied, his head popping over the curve of your heaving body, “The other head’s coming out now.” Double-taking between Oin and you, Nori bursts out, “The other head?” “Congratulations,” Oin agrees roughly, hands glistening with blood as he cuts a cord, “You’re a strong one, my friend- you made two at once!” At that, he bursts into a raucous laugh, gingerly transferring each of your sons into Nori’s arms. Bringing them closer, your husband grins like a dwarf showing off his most precious gems. “Look at that, love, two for the price o’ one. Our handsome little lads.”

Ori

Ori had been asking you every day at just about any hint of discomfort if the baby was coming, jumping up before you could tell him no, just a hard kick or your back troubling you again. Thus, the same he had done that day, so caught in the fray of his actions that he failed to think about why you weren't stopping him. At least, that was, until you finally met his eyes with a nod and a nervous smile that sent him pitching sideways. Only, of course, to promptly catch himself and, wide-eyed, take your hand and lead the way.

~

"You sure you want 'im in here?" Oin asked you, peering up with a teasing glint in his eye. "He looks more afraid than you do!" "He is my husband," you replied indignantly, tightening your grip on Ori's hand, "And I am quite certain I would faint too if I saw the head half-stuck right now." "Oh, beyond half," the healer told you, "Couple good pushes and I daresay you'll be done." Hearing Ori's gasp of excitement had your eyes shining with even more determination than the older dwarf's words, and focusing all your might you pushed and pushed until you felt a weight lifted, your body relaxing. "He's out! A little lad, too!" "Hear that?" Ori turned to you, gathering you up into his arms. "We've got a son! Our son is here!" "'N he's a gentle thing," Oin told you, laying him in your arms, "Didn't even fight me." "He's sweet," you gushed at the sight of your son nuzzling into your bare skin and leaning up to kiss your husband's cheek, "Just like his da."

Fili

“I think I’m in labor.” “You think?” Blue eyes wide and golden brows raised, Fili stares incredulously at you. “I feel it. I feel the pain. But where is my water?” Glancing back up, you see your husband inhale sharply, exhale and steady his expression. Truly a king in the making. “Oin will know,” he tells you, urgently but calmly, “Let us go.” Nodding and taking a deep breath of your own, you take his hand and make your way.

~

Labor indeed. All the other signs matched and soon- or far sooner than you had hoped- you are pushing, Fili’s hand firmly clasping yours and his head resting atop your own, braids dangling over you as you pant and work. From your feet, you see the healer’s eyes widen and lips part, rounding in surprise. “Is something wrong?” “No, no,” Oin shakes his head, “This is simply a marvel. Your heir coming in a veiled birth.” Frowning, you immediately ask him what he means. “See for yourself,” he replies, showing you the reason your water had not broken. The baby had emerged still inside the birth sac. “Does that harm them?” Fili asked. “Not at all. This is just a very rare sight. You may not want to watch this part.” Fili took both of your hands in his, leaning his forehead against yours as Oin extricated and cleaned the little one. “A veiled babe and a girl. What are the odds?” Accepting your daughter, you grinned up at Fili. “We have a princess!” “Our little queen in the making,” your husband agreed, caressing your daughter’s cheek as a rear rolled down his, “A true miracle.”

Kili

Poor Kili- you had been sitting on his lap when the break happened. Venturing your name with the utmost caution-and fear of your hormones- your husband asked, “Do you, by chance, need help getting to the lavatory?” Shaking your head even as it was hidden in your hands, you told him, “No. Kili, that was my water. The babies.” “Now?” “Now,” you agreed with a nod. Shooting up from his seat and all but yanking you into his arms, he lifted you bridal-style. “Kili, you’ll get wet!” “Already am. May as well give the babies as much time with Oin as possible.”

~

As much time ad possible being a near-record-speed delivery of three and a half hours. “Impatient little buggers,”Oin teased, tossing aside a red-stained cloth, “But strong little fighters. The sister kicked especially hard!” Chuckling, he lowered the aforementioned girl twin into your husband’s arms, handing you your son. They squirmed considerably less when you held them, both of you loosening your upper garments to hold them against skin. “She gets it from her mother, no doubt,” Kili teased with a wink as if he wasn’t crying, “But the good looks? That’ll be us both. This is all so beautiful. This is the most beautiful thing beyond anyone's imagining. Thank you for being the one to share this with me.”

Bilbo

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" "Yes, Bilbo," you chuckled despite the pain coursing through your body, "All I need right now is to have you with me." "And Matilda," your husband named your neighbor and midwife who was on her way. "And Matilda," you agreed with a faint nod, "Now come here. Please." "Of course, dear," Bilbo agreed, shuffling across the room so quickly you could hear every hard step clattering off the boards.

~

"Is she going to be alright?" "Yes, she's still doing great," Matilda replied with an equal mix of amusement and exasperation at your husband, who leaned over to speak to her and immediately balked at the sight of your body dilated, a head beginning to emerge. "I- I feel a bit faint." "Try being me," you shot back as he returned to your side fully. "You're right," he nodded, fingers curling even tighter around yours for the last pushes. After what felt like ages, Matilda finally called up "Cutting the cord!" Her voice barely rose above the cries. "Hear that?" "I do," you answered Bilbo with a nod, tears welling up in your eyes. "You should be proud," Matilda told you, cleaning up your babe and handing her off to the pair of you, as both of you extended hands simultaneously, "She's beautiful." Bilbo lowered her to where you lie, pushing back the folds of her blanket so her skin could touch yours. Wispy hair curled atop your newborn daughter's head. "I never thought anything could be so beautiful, but here we are," your husband told you, voice barely above an awed whisper, "My girls."

Thranduil

"Thranduil." Your husband smirked at the way you panted his name, glancing upward only for that very expression to melt into horror at your buckling knees. Rushing to grasp your hand, he simply says, "It is time, is it not?" Nodding, you allow him to lead you all the way to the healing chambers, breathing heavily and wincing with each crashing wave of pain.

~

Despite his wide eyes, your husband keeps calm and speaks well the entire birth. "Focus on what is above you," he distracts, golden voice soothing as ever, "What do you see?" "Branches," you breathe, huffing with the force of your latest push, "Lights." "Remember the festival of starlight?" "I daresay that was when we conceived," you grunt, "Remind me to write an edict discontinuing it." At that, Thranduil simply chuckles deeply and winces at the way your voice breaks into tears. "Good," your midwife encourages you, "One more push, My Queen. One more. That is it. Find your strength." Your face contorts in frustration, but you comply, body wracked with one final stab before lying still. "Well?" Thranduil immediately asks. "Is the child healthy?" "Small, but breathing very well. A lovely little princess, My Lord." "My little princess," he all but gasps, head swiveling back your way, "Our daughter is here." A weight falls into his arms, and leaning down Thranduil reveals your little gift to you. Eyes still closed, your daughter wails and reaches for the air with delicate little hands. "Our beautiful woodland princess."

Feren

"Feren." "Yes, my love?" "Feren," you breathe with greater insistence in your loss for words, "I think it is happening." "Right now?" "Yes," you sit up in bed, throwing the blankets off your lap and inhaling sharply. Luckily, you have no need to tell your husband twice; he all but bounds across the bedroom to retrieve your things and find a robe to wrap you in, one hand guiding you up and to the side of the bed. "Breathe, breathe. One moment; I will fetch help." At first, you were reluctant to release his hand, but finally you nodded and let him go. When he returned, a midwife rushed to your side where you squatted and your husband to the other, where he took your hand and immediately winced at your vicelike grip.

~

Both you and Feren were red in the face and streaked with tears before you heard the wail; your husband from the pain of his hand and of hearing and seeing your body, voice, and expression all rent in agony. Every head in the room turned to face the sound, though, pain almost forgotten. With a soft white cloth that quickly reddened, your midwife cleaned the skin of your newborn. Who was, by the looks of it... "A son! My darling, a son is born to us! Our little boy is here." "Let me see," you cried out, reaching your hands for the elfling extended to you and lowering him to the bared skin of your chest. He was beautiful. "Perfect," you sobbed, "He is perfect." "Just like you," Feren adds with a kiss to your forehead.

Bard

The moment you crumpled, Bard took one look at you and nodded solemnly. “One moment,” he told you, rushing back into the house and calling requests to the girls. Through a wave of pain you saw Tilda hand her father the bag you’d packed as he made his way back to your side. You felt your hand clutched tightly again. “We make for the midwife’s.” At that, all you could do was nod. Luckily for you, she lived close enough that you needn’t take a barge, though the increasing difficulty of hurried walking and weaving through crowds of fisherman and sellers almost had you wishing you did. Your husband called to them to move, his wife was in labor, and luckily many of them began to part at that. All too soon another wave of pain came and Bard hoisted you into his arms, carrying you over the raised threshold of the wooden house that was your midwife’s home.

~

Hours. Hours it took, hours that wracked your body and soul as your mind was kept knit only by the grace and care of your husband. The midwife's care as well, of course, but all memory beyond the veil of pain went to the feeling of his hand around yours. Bard's grip, warm and solid right up until the moment cries filled the room. "It's a girl," the older woman breathed from at your feet, "A healthy little girl." "A daughter! Oh," Bard told you, bringing your baby closer, "The girls will be thrilled. And look, see how she looks just like you." Looking down, you pushed aside the blanket from your newborn daughter's head, seeing soft strands of hair the same color as yours. "As I had hoped," your husband added.

Beorn

“Three babies. Remind me again why it had to be three babies.” “My people commonly-” “I know, I know!” One arm slung over your shoulders and one tightly gripping your waist, Beorn led you from the garden back into the house. “Do you care to lay or to squat?” “Squat,” you panted. Acquiescing your request, your husband releases you at the bedpost once your hands leave his to grip the wood. “Let me boil some water. I will be right back.” Sometimes you wished he would be less serious. This was not one of those times. Calm washed over you at the sheer capability Beorn displayed, the confidence so present or so well affected. Taking a deep breath as a contraction hit, you attempted to mirror his manner.

~

“There was one. How do you feel?” “Lighter,” you groaned in between pushes. “Glad to see you have yet to lose your sense of humor. That one was a boy, my heart. Our firstborn son has arrived.” “A son,” you breathed, wincing as another massive contraction came. “Yes, yes, that is it.” A second cry filled the room, this one a bit quieter than your son’s. “And a daughter. Only one more. Whether you know it, you have the strength.” Finally a third set of cries filled the room, these the loudest by far. “Another son. Two boys and a girl.” Smiling, Beorn gently lowered one of your sons into your arms, the other babes swaddled in each of his. “This one looks like you,” you remarked, smiling at your husband though you did not bother peeling your eyes from your new baby yet. His eyes were well occupied with your daughter anyhow. “And I can tell this one will have her mother’s eyes. Much more beyond that, we can hope. …Hope. For my people after so long.” Eyes falling shut, Beorn let tears of joy and relief flow from his eyes before bringing you and his other son into one massive embrace.

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[asianbutnotjapanese]

Saw a Thranduil edit, searched him up and found the hobbit which was a prequel to the LOTR?!Mind you I was banned from rewatching lotr because I said Arwen was beautiful and my mama didn't like it and I forgot about it tbh.

Anyway saw Thranduil saw Thorin saw Legolas saw Lindir and Feren sadly there was no Arwen.

Started searching for some Thranduil x reader found some writers *cough* @edensrose and @kiatheinsomniac *cough* write for him and Someone named Feanor?

Run a background check on Fefe and saw his sons, as an oldest daughter I fall for the oldest son beeghowtredhead. of course without counting Caranthir and Arafinwe and Celebrimbor.

Read the Silmarillion for Feanor&Co spoiler alert I enjoyed headcanons more than canon. And that's how I ended up getting sucked into middle earth.

Funny thing that I ended up reading the silm,because I was in a time "jackson legolas obsession" and I spend much time in pinterest looking for fan arts,and a lot of pictures of a💫 pretty elf whit red hair💫start to hunt me,I didn't know who the fuck he was,so i looked "red headed elf" ahhaha and there was a picture that said "Maedhros from the silmarillion" and I looked for what was "the silmarillion" and I was like "OH IS A BOOK FROM THE SAME THING THAT THE MOVIES OF LORD OF THE RINGS AND THE HOBBIT,AND THAT PRETTY GUY IS THERE,GONNA READ IT😁👍" (yes I read the silm only because I liked the movies of Jackson and for Mae,the first book of tolkien I read) and then i ended up traumatized,depresed,and leave myself sad for the rest of my life T_T. Story time

So... ahajjs

[a-contemplation-upon-flowers]

Click and Drag: The Lord of the Rings: Your Roommates Edition

Warning: Flashing Images

Please use a browser that's not Google Chrome, otherwise, the GIFs will freeze on the first frame.

How to Play: Click and Drag the image if playing on a laptop or screenshot is playing on a phone.

A/N: Images are not mine. Credits to all artists.

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©a-contemplation-upon-flowers🌻2022. Please do not repost, copy or steal my content and upload them onto other platforms.

[animerina]

Wine For Freedom

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)

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Thranduil x F!Reader, Platonic Bard x Reader

Summary:  The Reader is left with nothing but three bottles of wine after Smaug destroyed Laketown. Stuck in Dale with no plan and no family, she has no idea how she will survive until the Elven King comes to town.

Note: Suggestive material, minors DNI. This started as a one shot and ended up as a full story. You can read the rest on A03.

All Italics are Elvish.

Chapter 1: It Started with a Crate of Wine

I had lived in Laketown all my life, but after the death of my parents, there weren’t many options for me. Many didn’t expect a woman to do more than marry and bear children, but I was determined to make a living for myself. I tried to learn to fish, but the men wouldn’t allow me to do so on their boats with the excuse being it was too much trouble to get a permit from the Master. I couldn’t sew or find anyone willing to teach me in the small town. The only place willing to hire me was the Master's house as a maid and I preferred to stay far away from there.

At a loss of what to do, I had asked Bard if he knew anyone willing to hire me for anything. He mentioned the brewmaster, Jonas, needed help. He had three sons but two were too young to help around the brewery. After much begging, Jonas agreed to let me assist him. He was grateful for the help, and was especially thankful that I was not only a fast learner, but had a knack for the craft. For the past four years, I had been training under the brewmaster in Laketown, not only learning how to make ale, but also wine and liquor alongside him and his sons. Finally, I thought life was going the way it was meant to and I couldn’t have been happier.

After Smaug had destroyed the town, Jonas had tried salvaging what was left of his home. Because of the lack of supplies and space, he had regretfully let me go unsure if he’d ever be able to utilize his trade again. His family had retreated into the remains of Dale with everyone else and left me by the shore. Not knowing what to do, I wandered aimlessly around what remained from Laketown managing to rescue a few bottles of wine that survived and floated to shore. I heard my name being called and looked up from my bottles to see Bard rushing over.

“Oh thank the gods you made it! Are your children alright?” I called out as I rose from my crouched position to meet him.

“Yes, everyone is safe. Are you alright?” He answered. I felt relief at his words knowing Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda were safe.

“Yes, I’m glad to have made it out of there,” I looked over my shoulder at what remained of home. Smoke was still visible from where we stood.

Bard looked down at the shore and saw the wine I saved. Picking up a bottle, he rolled it in his grip. “These are yours?” He questioned.

I nodded. “They survived and floated over. I’m keeping them for now. I could trade them for food. Maybe a blanket.”

Bard’s eyes raked over my soaked and tattered dress and apron with sympathy.

“Don’t worry, you can stay with us,” He decided as he picked up the crate I’d been putting the bottles in.

“I don’t want to be a burden. I can find somewhere-,” I tried to argue, but he would have none of that.

“Y/N, please,” he countered, “You are no burden. We have supplies for tonight and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.” He paused for a moment. “Did Jonas make it?”

I nodded in response. “His whole family, luckily.”

“And you didn’t go with them?” I knew he was genuinely curious because almost everyone knew I had grown close with the family in my time working with him and his children.

“The future is uncertain and he has his family to care for. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself if I have to.” I tried pulling the crate into my own arms but Bard refused to let go.

“You are not a burden,” he repeated. “We’ve holed up in one of the buildings. It still has a roof. Bain and I will salvage what we can. I ask that you stay with my daughters while we’re out.”

“Thank you, Bard,” I relented and followed him to one of the buildings in the middle of Dale.

The next morning, I awoke between Sigrid and Tilda across from Bain still wrapped in his blanket. I sat up and wrapped mine around the girls. Tilda stirred as I stood back from them. I silently cursed. I hadn’t wanted to wake the children, but I desperately needed some fresh air. Everything that had happened seemed like a blur and I needed to plan my next move. I couldn’t stay with Bard’s family forever as much as I adored them. Bard already had enough to bear on his own. I wouldn’t allow him another burden.

“Where are you going?” Sigrid mumbled sleepily. “Da said to stay here.”

“Just outside. I won’t go far,” I promised.

Seemingly accepting my answer, her head lolled back as she fell back into sleep. I smiled down at her as she curled around Tilda’s smaller form and made my way to the door. I slipped outside shading my eyes from the bright sun. The sharp wind bit at my skin causing me to violently shiver. Pulling my coat tighter around me I walked down toward the center of town looking for Bard.

Suddenly, a white horse turned the corner down the tight alleyway and I slammed myself against the wall to avoid being trampled. Gasping for breath, I looked up as the rider, whom I now realized was an elf, stopped right in front of me.

“My apologies,” he nodded his head before continuing down the path, albeit slower. I watched him ride away still shocked that I was nearly run over. Confused as to what an elf was doing in Dale, I rushed to the square and found more elves amidst carts full of food being handed out to chaotic crowd. Pushed from my original spot as the crowd thickened, I made my way up a set of stairs to continue my search for Bard. I spotted him at the forefront of the group speaking to who I assumed was the Elven King who looked absolutely regal and intimidating upon his elk. His eyes were sharp as they glanced over at the crowd eagerly accepting his aide, face remaining neutral in the chaos.

I scrambled back down the steps and waited off to the side trying to get Bard’s attention. After a few minutes, he came to me with a sack of supplies the elves had brought.

“Take these back to the children and stay there.” He had a grim look on his face which made my stomach clench in dread.

“Bard, what’s going on?” My voice conveyed my worry.

He shook his head in frustration. “There may be war, but I am hoping to avoid it if possible. Go back to the house, and tell no one of what we have spoken of. I will be there as soon as I can.”

Still worried, but trusting Bard, I hurried back to his children evading their questions about their father and the elves. Night fell quickly and the children and I sat huddled around a small fire Bain made. I had Tilda in my arms trying to keep her small body warm. I made sure they ate, but saved enough to ration out so they would not go hungry in the ensuing days. I did not know how long the elves would help.

“Y/n, where is Da?” Tilda questioned me as she sat in my lap.

“He’s with the Elven King. Probably still discussing how much longer they’ll aid us.” I spoke confidently even though I was worried about everything. The thought of war lingered in the back of my mind. How much more loss could we take?

“If they’re here to help us, why did they bring weapons?” Bain muttered angrily.

As I was about to respond, Bard walked through the door. He was breathing heavy as if he had run from the elves’ camp to the house.

“Da!” His children ran from their spots, blankets falling onto the floor, as their arms wrapped around him. I could hear Tilda sniffle as she began to cry and so I went over to comfort her.

“Y/n,” Bard interrupted my movements. “Where is the wine?”

I stopped and then walked to the crate pulling the three bottles out.

“They’re here. Do you need them?” I brought them over to him.

“Yes, thank you. King Thranduil loves his drink. He’s run low. I offered him what he had. I’ll return shortly,” he spoke to his children and took the bottles from my arms. They reluctantly let go of him rushing back to grab their blankets they had dropped.

“I know you were planning to barter these,” he whispered to me. “I will repay you for them.”

Shaking my head, I refused. “You’ve already helped me enough. I want nothing in return.”

He smiled warmly in thanks but I felt he’d try to return the favor anyway.

I expected Bard to return later, long after his children drifted off, but I was surprised when not twenty minutes later he was standing in the door way again. Before I could ask him if everything was alright, he gestured for me to follow him outside. I settled his children before heading to the opened door. There was an elf standing outside the house, the same one that nearly ran me down. He was stoic, like earlier, and his presence unnerved me. Bard quickly pulled me over to him so that we were a few steps away from the elf and facing the door. His worried look did nothing to ease my nerves.

“The wine you had. You did make it, correct?” I nodded dumbly. His face didn’t change.

“The King wants to see you,” his voice was hushed. He set his hands on my shoulders and gripped them tightly.

After a beat, I gasped out, “Why?!” I was absolutely terrified. Had I displeased him? The King had to know we were limited in supplies. It was not like we had Dorwinion wine laying around for him. Bard looked behind me before answering as I felt someone step behind me.

“My lady, we must make haste. King Thranduil is not a patient ellon.” The elf said. “I am to take you to him now.”

“Bard?” Nervous I turned back to him silently asking if he was coming as well.

“I have to stay with the children,” he responded. He gently urged me toward the elf. “Feren will escort you there. Don’t worry,” he whispered the last part.

Reluctantly I followed Feren to the elves’ camp that was erected in a field near the ruins of Dale. I realized I must look a mess after the ordeal we’d been through and I spoke my concerns as we approached the largest tent in the center of the camp. I knew King Thranduil must be in there.

“I am not dressed properly,” I looked down at the shredded ends of my dress, stained with dirt and soot. At least I was dry now.

Without turning to me, Feren responded. “King Thranduil knows of the struggles your people have recently faced and is prepared to see you as you are.”

If I could possibly feel worse, I would. Self-consciously, I started rubbing at my face just in case I had any dirt smudged there. Feren noticed, but said nothing.

We stopped at the flap of the tent where two guards were stationed. Feren spoke to them. He put up a hand for me to wait and then entered the tent. I could hear him speak, but could not make out what he was saying. It was probably Sindarin which I couldn’t understand anyway. Someone else responded and the brunette elf opened the flap back and motioned for me to enter.

Walking into the tent, I was taken aback at how ridiculously ornate everything was. All this comfort for a few days away? My mind was so shaken I didn’t realize Feren was announcing me to the King who sat lounging in his chair staring at me amused. I had already seen him from afar, but this close I could see just how handsome and intimidating he was. He was, by far, the most ethereal being I had ever laid eyes on and I felt my heart race just looking at him. The self-conscious feeling returned and I looked down at my feet to hide my reddened cheeks.

“Leave us,” Thranduil waved his hand and Feren bowed before exiting the tent. Unsure of what to say or do, I just stood there in silence afraid of embarrassing myself further.

“Are you the brewmaster of Laketown?” He asked.

“No, your majesty,” I said softly, still unable to look directly at him.

“No?” He hummed to himself. “Have they sent a tavern maid then?” He was insulting me, but what could I say in retaliation to a king? I decided to just answer honestly and plainly while I was in his tent.

“No, your majesty. I was not the brewmaster, but I trained under him.”

“I see, so you did make this wine then?” He gestured to the table next to him where one of the three bottles Bard had taken sat next to an ornate goblet. Thranduil lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. The sight made me swallow hard.

“Is it not to your taste, your majesty? I apologize as this was all the wine we salvaged from the facility.”

He held up his hand to silence me and took another sip, still watching me. “How long have you trained?”

“Four years,” I summoned the courage to look at him. His eyebrows drew together as he examined me and I fought the urge to look away again.

“You worked in a brewery. Can you make ale as well?” He took a long sip of the wine after asking.

“Yes, that is what we mostly brew and I also make a wicked cider.” I smiled fondly remembering the recipe I’d been working on before Smaug burned the town.

“Wicked cider?” Thranduil sounded amused again and I immediately stumbled over a “Yes, your majesty”.

“Anything else?” He set the goblet back down on the table.

“We were a the only brewery so we made all the alcohol for the town. I can make liquor as well out of, well, out of a few things.” I finished hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions. I just wanted him to explain what he wanted me here for. I opened my mouth to ask, but couldn’t manage to get the words out.

He silenced me again when he stood from his pseudo-throne and towered over me. My head tilted up to meet his gaze. Valar, he was tall.

“A brewmaster, a vintner, and a distiller all wrapped in one package, hmm? Quite impressive for such a young girl,” Thranduil teased, tilting his head to the side as he walked around my trembling form. As he came to stand in front of me again, he nodded to himself.

“Bard tells me you are orphaned.” He said it so easily.

I nodded before responding. “I am,” I tried to speak clearly through my nerves.

“No family, no husband, no job,” he drawled. “What ever shall you do?”

Sitting back down, he grabbed his goblet again. After another long sip, he spoke again.

“You know why we are here, do you not?”

“War,” I whispered.

“Indeed, I have come for something that belongs to me and once I have it, we shall return to Mirkwood. You will come with us,” he stated.

I sputtered in disbelief at what just passed through his lips. He smirked at my antics. I was beginning to think he liked making fun of me.

“I am in need of a proper brewmaster and now that Laketown is gone, I will need a vintner as well. You will return to Mirkwood with us,” he paused his explanation. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

I did not know if I would ever feel at home in Mirkwood, but the king was giving me an opportunity I could not pass up. I had no plans and nothing left in Dale so I didn’t hesitate to give him my answer.

“It would be my honor to serve you, King Thranduil,” I lowered my head respectfully.

“Well now that that is settled, you may leave. I will send for you before we ride to Mirkwood,” he stopped to call out in Sindarin. Feren appeared in the entrance of the tent and bowed.

“Feren will escort you back. Do not leave the city, Lady Y/N.” He waved us away and I followed my escort back to the building I was staying in. I thanked the elf as he left and entered the building. The children were asleep, but Bard quickly rose from where he was seated.

“Are you alright?” He was clearly worried.

“Yes, I’m alright,” I began. “King Thranduil has asked me to return to Mirkwood with the elves.”

Bard looked at me in disbelief. I explained everything that had transpired between the king and I as well as my fears of the future in Dale and becoming a burden.

“He is not forcing you to go, is he?”

I shook my head. “No, I swear. He may not have offered the choice, but I want to go,” I explained.

“There are no humans in the forest, Y/N. Will you be alright around all the elves? They rarely tolerate outsiders,” He argued.

Shaking off his doubt, I reassured him that I was happy use my craft. “I just hope the elves like what I make,” I joked.

“King Thranduil seems to,” Bard pulled me deeper into the room so that we could rest. Making my way to where his girls were, I settled down next to them, pulling the extra blanket over myself. I looked over to Bard who was lying next to Bain.

“Goodnight, Bard,” I whispered. “And thank you for everything.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” he whispered back.

_______

The children and I had barely escaped the ensuing chaos of the battle. The girls and I had hid after being saved by Bard. I couldn’t believe we were living through this nightmare. Tilda’s little hangs clung to my dress and I held her tightly in return. Sigrid was pulled up against my side. After what felt like hours, the battle was over and we walked out to see just what carnage it had brought. The girls and I continued on the path towards the building we had been staying in and I was pleased to see it was still standing. After ushering them inside, we sat and waited huddled together.

Not long after, Bard ran through and pulled his children to his chest. Bain was with him and I started to sob into my hands. I was so grateful they had survived. A fire was started and Bard once again left to speak with Thranduil. I stayed up watching over the children, afraid that if I closed my eyes, the orcs would be running through the city again.

When Bard returned, two elves accompanied him. I recognized Feren, but the other was a female I had never seen before. She bowed her head in greeting and handed me a bundle of clothing. As I looked it over, I realized it was travel attire. I nodded my head and silently entered an abandoned part of the building to quickly change into the leggings and tunic. I thought about wrapping my dress back up, but it was so ruined with blood and dirt, I just left it crumpled on the ground and returned to where they waited for me.

“I wish you the best,” Bard said as I approached. He pulled me into a hug and I quickly returned it as I began to tear up. “Thank you for watching over them,” he smiled.

“And thank you for watching over me, King Bard,” I teased so I wouldn’t feel so sad leaving. “I don’t want to wake them. Please tell them I will miss them,” I said, releasing him from my hold. “I wish you and your children all the happiness in the world.”

Feren led me over to the white horse he nearly ran me down with. I placed my foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up into the saddle. I nearly yelped when the elf slid into the seat behind me causing the female elf to snicker as she mounted her bay mare. I wasn’t expecting him, but then again there were only two horses. I felt lucky they weren’t making me walk.

His hands gripped the reins, effectively trapping me between his arms. My body tensed as I felt his chest against my back.

“Again I apologize, my lady,” he spoke as we started back towards the camp. “We lost many horses to the battle.” I felt him lean his head closer to my ear. “And this way, I will be sure not to trample you,” he chuckled softly.

Laughing along with him, I relaxed and let him lead on until we reached the camp. The tents were already packed up leaving no trace of the elves. The other elf with us spoke to Feren in Sindarin before riding ahead to catch up to the remaining group ahead. We rode at a slower pace, but caught up eventually nevertheless. I took one last look at Dale and knew I would miss what was left of home, but I couldn’t help but look forward to what awaited me in Mirkwood.

1 year later

Galion, the king’s steward, strolled into the cellar, eyes roaming around the converted brewery for me. My eyes caught his from the top of the tank.

“What can I do for you, Galion?” I called down to him with a smile on my face.

“Good evening, mellon. King Thranduil requests your presence for dinner,” he explained.

Confusion crossed my face as I descended the steps to stand in front of the tall elf. Galion was one of the few elves I interacted with as the impromptu brewmaster Thranduil acquired. It was not that they disliked me, although I was certain some of them were wary of me. Mirkwood elves were not used to humans after all. I tended to hole up in the cellar most of the day, so I rarely saw anyone outside of the palace staff and a handful of guards that patrolled the area.

As if Galion read my mind, he responded with, “He did not say why, but he asked that you be there.”

I shook my head. It was unusual for Thranduil and myself to cross paths in the palace, but I had been invited to dine with him before on several occasions. He seemed lonelier now that the prince had left and I supposed he was starving for company.

I sighed knowing I’d have to go get ready soon if I wanted to be on time. I had just started working on a new recipe and I hated leaving anything unfinished. With another long sigh, I headed toward a shelf that held my more experimental varieties of wine and liquor. My fingers grazed over the labels until I found what I was looking for. I grabbed the dark bottle and handed it to Galion as we started up the stairs.

“Let me know what you think of this one,” I said making my way up to my room. Galion followed beside me.

“Thank you, mellon. I’m sure Elros and I will enjoy it. Is this the one you made with the berries from the gardens?” He rolled the bottle in his hand appreciatively.

I confirmed with a nod. Galion and another elf, Elros, had quickly become my unofficial tasters when I arrived a year ago. Rather, they volunteered for the opportunity without provocation. They approved everything I sent to Thranduil because, as Galion put it, they knew his taste best. The two of them, aside from my maid, Calanthe, were the ones I felt most comfortable around, though Feren wasn’t far behind. I later learned he was not as stoic as he seemed, and enjoyed visiting with him when I got the chance.

Galion left me at my door and I found Calanthe already inside preparing a dress for me from my closet. King Thranduil was generous enough to provide me with a large wardrobe after I settled in. Calanthe had also been assigned to serve me as well as teach me the language, although my lessons were not progressing as fast as anyone hoped.

“There you are,” she smiled at me. “Does this suit you for this evening?” She gestured to the dress laying on my bed.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I ran my fingers over the silky material. The deep red was rich in color and I couldn’t wait to get it on.

“Ah, ah,” Calanthe chided. “Bath first.” She pointed you the adjoining bathroom. I laughed as I followed her directions and saw she had already drawn the bath for me.

After bathing, she helped me pull the red silk on and fix the corset in the back. The sleeves’ seam was opened from the shoulder and closed at the wrist showing the skin of my arms. The corset accented my waist, though it was hard to breathe. I preferred to wear my shorter dresses with tights when I was in the cellar but I supposed that would be inappropriate for dinner with the Elven King.

She sat me down at the vanity and braided my hair for me since mine never came out nice enough. Even after a year of living with the elves, and practicing on Calanthe’s deep blonde mane, I still hadn’t mastered the skill and was teased for my crooked plaits. Calanthe made two on each side and joined them behind my head.

“I would do something more intricate, but we are going to be late.” She moved so I could rise from the seat.

“You did a beautiful job as always, mellon.” I smiled at her and allowed her to exit the room ahead of me.

The material swept across the floor as I followed Calanthe to the dining room. The guard nodded at us and opened the door for me to enter. Thranduil was already seated at the head of the table dressed in silver robes and a matching circlet rather than his crown. As I approached he gestured for me to join him, a servant pulling the chair next to him for me.

I bowed in greeting. “Good evening, Aran nin. I thank you for inviting me to join you.”

“I was beginning to think you’d declined my invitation.” He teased. One of the servants came and filled my glass with wine as I sat down.

“I apologize, Aran nin. Galion caught me working on a new blend and I was hesitant to leave it,” I explained.

He hummed and sipped at the wine. I did the same and blinked in surprise as it hit my tongue.

“This is-,” I began as I stared at the dark liquid in my glass.

“The wine you gave Galion. Yes, I decided I’d like to be the first to try it. Your skills have definitely bloomed since your time in Laketown.” Another sip and the servant was refilling his glass. I suddenly recalled Bard’s words about him enjoying his drink and smiled as I took another sip.

“I’m sure you have another bottle to give him, though, I think he and Elros could use a break as your tasters. I’d hate for them to enjoy it while they’re on duty.” Thranduil’s words dripped with sarcasm.

I covered my mouth as I giggled. I knew exactly how those dwarves had escaped the dungeons a year prior having heard some of the guards tell the story more than once. The king chucked softly at my own reaction.

“So, King Thranduil, why invite your brewmaster for dinner? I’m sure you are not lacking in good company.” Again, he smiled into his glass.

“I quite enjoy your company,” he drawled out.

“Surely you jest! I was under the impression you tolerate me because of my talent.” I playfully argued. He seemed to be in a good mood today which made me want to indulge his teasing just a bit.

Thranduil scoffed with a smile still gracing his face. “If anyone else spoke to me that way, they’d be in the dungeon. So, little one, I’d say I more than tolerate you despite your behavior. Besides, you are one of the few I can trust to be honest with me.”

“If you ask me for the truth, why should I lie to you?”

“Even if the truth upsets me?”

“I believe if I upset you, I wouldn’t live to see the next day so at least my suffering would be short lived.” I replied with a cheeky smile.

“You are too cruel, Hiril vuin.”

“My apologies, Aran nin.”

Another chuckle left him. He raised a hand and the servants brought out several plates piled with simmered rabbit and various roasted vegetables. I waited for Thranduil to serve himself first before I followed suit. We shared polite conversation over the meal, but I was still curious as to the real reason why he invited me.

“You still haven’t told me the real reason why I am here, my king.”

His face fell momentarily, but he quickly composed himself. After a pause, he answered. “I wanted to speak with you about returning to Dale.”

I nearly dropped my fork at his statement. “You wish for me to return to Dale?” I was in shock.

“Most of the city has been restored. You could have a brewery set up there if you wished. Of course, I would request you still fulfill the palace orders,” he paused to look me in the eyes. “In Dale, you could be around your own people.”

Not knowing how to feel, I tried not to get overwhelmed. Before I could think about what to do or say, I said, “If you wish for me to return to Dale, then simply say so. I did not know my presence was such a bother here.”

I bit my tongue as I finished. I jested about his anger beforehand, but I knew he really did anger easily and I worried of what he’d do now that I’d spoken out like that. His hand found mine on the table, his rings cool against my skin. His thumb ran across my knuckles surprisingly gentle. The touch was surprising, but not unwelcome.

“You misunderstand, Hiril vuin. I do not wish to send you away, but if you wish to be free, know that I will let you go.”

“You would give me that choice?”

“I want to know that you stay because you wish to, not because you feel you must.”

“You saved me. I am indebted to you.” I argued. He had given me a chance at a life for myself. I never thought I’d ever be more than a girl working in a washed out brewery. Here, I had full control of the entire facility. I was free to experiment with my craft and I answered to no one but the king himself. He had given me more freedom than I ever imagined, even if I was a subject of his realm.

His voice interrupted by thoughts. “I free you from your debt. If you wish to leave, I will ensure King Bard has a place for you in Dale. You two were friends, were you not?”

“I want to stay,” I nearly shouted and then caught myself. “I want to stay here in Mirkwood until you tire of me and my skills.”

He stood at my confession. “Come with me,” he commanded. Jumping to my feet, I caught him smile gently at my actions. “Let us take a walk.”

I followed Thranduil out of the dining room and down the adjoining hallway, trying to keep up with his long strides. He was silent, but upon noticing me trying to match his pace, he slowed. I recognized the path we were taking as soon as the hallway split. After a few moments, the two of us were in his throne room at the bottom of the steps.

“Aran nin,” I began, confused as to why he’d bring me here.

“Come, Y/N,” he offered his hand to me and I took it. He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and started ascending to his throne. I followed beside him in silence still trying to reason what we were doing here. We arrived at his throne while I was still deep in thought.

“Sit,” he released my hand as he maneuvered me to face him.

“But that is your throne,” I reasoned.

“I am well aware of what it is. Now as your king, I command you to sit.” His tone was authoritative but his gaze was playful. Shaking my head, I did as I was told and sat down on the polished wood. My hands ran over the smooth material admiring the craftsmanship. I felt intimidated by Thranduil looming over me so I looked behind him at the view from so far up.

“I can see why you like sitting here,” I said trying to fill the silence in the room. “But why am I sitting here?”

“I am rewarding you for your loyalty,” he was leaning over me now. His voice had deepened and I shivered at sound.

“By letting me sit in your throne?” I asked confused. It truly was an honor and I realized I should appreciate the gesture. Before I could explain what I meant, however, I was stopped by Thranduil’s chuckle. His gaze met mine as I watched him take a step closer to the throne, hands trailing up the edges of my dress and pushing it past my thighs. I gaped at him in shock trying to move back but his grip tightened and his dark gaze pinned me in place. He was smirking down at me and I had never felt smaller in my life. I followed his gaze as he sunk to his knees before me and ever so slowly pushed my legs apart.

“You should be grateful, meleth nin, for tonight I kneel before you.”

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