#ic ┆ you started this; you will forgive me if i finish it ( thranduil )

[aithorin]

Chasing You - Thranduil x Reader

Plot: Imagine overhearing Thranduil’s conversation with Tauriel and running away

A/N-This fic is also posted on AO3 under the same username. I will insert a link to it below. However, this is also a slightly different version as I’ve made a couple of edits. I’ll post the updated version eventually on AO3, but for now this is the only edited version. Also, some of the lines in this are from the movies, so as a disclaimer, I do not own any recognizable content.

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823933

Slight NSFW Warning!

The hooves of your horse thundered in your ear as you pushed it to gallop quickly throughout Mirkwood. All around, the sickened trees passed in a blur, and yet somehow they still managed to loom over you, mocking your troubles with their height. You hunched closer to your horse, looking for comfort, and threaded your fingers throughout its mane. The wind burned at your eyes, causing tears of a completely different kind to well. They mingled with the ones symbolic of your heartbreak, mixing so thoroughly that they became indistinguishable from one another. The wind pulled at both, tugging at them as they trekked down your face. The tears disappeared into the air behind you, the wind having successfully stolen them.

So distracted by your thoughts, you didn’t even notice how the wind had prematurely dried the tear tracks along your face, pinching the skin slightly underneath. All you could focus on was Thranduil. Just the thought of his name sent a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, blurring your vision even more. Moments from your relationship flashed through your mind, and confusion merged with your hurt. You just didn’t understand. All this time he had seemed so genuine. To find out it was all a farce so suddenly only made your anguish sharper. There were no suspicions at all; you had been happy, and you thought that he had been happy too. But as a sob escaped your mouth, you realized that maybe some things weren’t meant to be. Echoes of the conversation you had accidently heard rang throughout your mind, and agony grappled at your heart as you thought about Thranduil’s betrayal.

------------------

Having finished your chores for the day, you hurried toward the throne room hoping to catch a moment alone with Thranduil. It was difficult to spend time with him considering your relationship was a secret, so every spare moment you had to sneak with him was precious. As you passed by a corridor, muffled voices floated through the air causing your footsteps to slow to a halt. Curious, you crept towards the sound, excitement filling you as you recognized Thranduil’s voice. It was perfect! You’d just wait for him to finish and then maybe you could spend a few moments together. But as the muffled noise turned into clear voices, your excitement quickly diminished as a deep hurt took root within your heart.

“Legolas said you fought well today… he has grown very fond of you.” Thranduil’s deep baritone resonated throughout the room.

A few moments passed before Tauriel stammered, “I assure you my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a captain of the guard.”

“Perhaps he did once...now I’m not so sure.” Thranduil sneered.

“I do not think…  you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly silvan elf.” Tauriel stuttered back.

“No, you’re right. I would not.” Thranduil declared, “Still… he cares about you. Do not give him hope where there is none”

At his words, a gasp left your mouth as your heart plummeted. Both of their heads snapped in your direction, but by then you had already turned and fled down the hall. Tears welled in your eyes as you began to understand the meaning behind his words. You were no different than Tauriel. In fact, you were inferior to her being that your station in life was that of a maid. If Legolas couldn’t pledge himself to the esteemed captain of the guard, then there was no hope that Thranduil would ever truly pledge himself to you either. All this time, you were nothing more than a fling to Thranduil, maybe even less. Did he see your feelings as a game, something to be toyed with? The conviction with which Thranduil spoke his words told you more than you ever needed to know. It was obvious he didn’t share in any of the things you felt. A choke escaped your throat as you realized your relationship was nothing but a lie.

Fleeing from the corridor, you ran to the comfort of your room. The door to your chambers creaked open, and light from the hall seeped through to illuminate it. As you stepped inside, you looked slowly around the room. Nothing seemed right anymore. You felt as though you were suffocating, and with a sudden clarity you knew what you had to do. You had to leave. The thought of staying in Mirkwood made you nauseous. Having to stay and look at Thranduil everyday, knowing that he never cared about you, would only break your heart over and over again. Leaving was the only way you had any hope of moving on. You quickly gathered what meager belongings you had, and hurried towards the stables. Climbing on top of the nearest horse, you saddled your pack and took off without a backward glance.

---------------

The trees of Mirkwood continued to whiz by, the tears continuously spilling from your eyes creating a distorted view of your surroundings. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

‘How could he do this to me? I loved him! I gave him everything. My heart, my mind, my trust, my body, everything, and yet in the end he didn’t care at all. It was nothing but a game to him.’ A choked, bitter laugh escaped through the sobs erupting from your throat. Everything just hurt; your heart felt tight, a huge lump in your throat made it difficult to breathe, and your eyes were swollen and tired from crying.

Why, why would he do this to you! You never thought he could be so cruel. Lost in the river of your despair, you failed to notice the sound of legs scurrying across the forest floor until it was too late.

A rustle of leaves sounded to your left before a giant spider leapt from behind the brush causing your horse to rear up in fright. The sudden change in gravity threw you from its back, causing your backside to hit the floor with a hard thud, knocking the breath from you. Letting out a wheeze as you attempted to regain your breath, you looked up just in time to see your horse let out a loud whine before bolting back in the direction you came. By then, the giant spider had turned its attention towards you and moved with a speed that surprised even your elven senses. You scurried back on all fours in terror, the dead leaves crunching beneath your hands. All too soon though, your path became blocked by one of the towering, ill trees that resided in the forest. Still, your arms flailed as you tried to get away, but the spider continued to advance, slowly trapping you in your place. Your breath started to quicken, and terrified gasps resounded throughout the forest. This was it. You were going to die in the forest alone, with the knowledge that no one had ever really loved you. A few stray tears escaped your eyes as you realized just how pathetic you really were. By now the spider loomed above you, its pincers poised above you, ready to strike. Ominous hisses spewed from its mouth, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unwilling to watch it deliver the killing blow. Having accepted your fate, your body relaxed, and you waited for the world you knew to be no more.

-----------------

“I want the watch doubled at our borders. All roads. All rivers. Nothing moves but I hear of it. No one enters this kingdom and no one leaves it.” Thranduil ordered, an unspoken warning in his tone, before walking away with a swish of his cloak.

No sooner had he left the throne room was he stopped by a servant.

“Forgive the intrusion my lord, but I couldn’t help overhearing your order and…” The elleth hesitated.

“Out with it, you insolent child! I don’t have all day! You’ve already overstepped your boundaries, don’t push them anymore.” Thranduil said, his patience growing thin.

“Well,” she began, “it’s just...I’m worried about (Y/N). When I stopped by our shared room all of her belongings were gone. I think she went into the forest, but she hasn’t come back. Will she be able to get back into the kingdom with your order?”

At the mention of your name, Thranduil’s blood turned ice cold in his veins. Where could you have possibly gone, and with all of your belongings too? You wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and you knew better than to go into the forest alone. You weren’t trained in the art of combat, and there were too many dangers that lurked in the forest these days. Thranduil’s mind became laced with panic as he ran through all of the possible things that could have happened to you. Were you lost? Injured? Dead? At that last thought, Thranduil swallowed as a hard lump of fear developed in his throat. He had to find you. Now.

He turned to look at the elleth, the cool facade on his face betraying none of the inward worry that he held.

“As king it is my duty to see to the safety and wellbeing of all that dwell within my kingdom. As such, I will personally see to it that (Y/N) is brought back home safe and unharmed.”

At his words, the elleth visibly relaxed. “Thank you my lord. You are most generous and kind.” With a nod of her head, the elleth bowed her head before walking away to return to her duties.

Thranduil turned to the nearest guard. “You,” he said, “Ready my elk. We leave at once.”

“Yes my lord.”

---------------

Thranduil raced through the forest, looking for any sign of a trail. Suddenly, a lone horse came barreling in their direction, rearing in a panic. The small group of guards he had with him leaped in front to calm it down.

Grabbing its reins, Thranduil inspected the horse, noticing a pack saddled to its back. Peering inside, he saw your possessions and his expression turned grim. Without a word, he swung back onto his elk and charged down the path the horse came from.

Galloping along the path, Thranduil prayed that you were okay. He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to you. Meeting you had breathed new life into him. For the first time since his wife died, he actually felt happy, something his own son couldn’t even provide him. Every beat of his heart was dedicated solely to you, and if you were to be taken from him like his wife was, he didn’t think he would ever be able to recover.

Deep in the forest now, Thranduil was beginning to doubt that he’d be able to find you when he heard noises coming from off the path. The hiss of a spider, leaves crackling as someone scrambled. His eyes widened as he realized a spider was attacking someone. Jumping from his elk, Thranduil’s footsteps pounded as he ran, and the sound of metal scraping could be heard as he drew his sword. Bursting into a clearing, he saw a giant spider above someone, poised to kill whoever was trapped. As the spider went in for the killing blow so did Thranduil. Fortunately, Thranduil was faster, and blood spurted as he drove his sword into the spider’s back. The spider howled in pain, limbs flailing as the life slowly drained from it along with its blood. All too soon, the spider dropped dead, and Thranduil hurried to push it off of whoever was trapped beneath it.

Rolling the spider’s body to the side, Thranduil was met with the sight of you curled tightly, hugging your knees to your chest with your eyes clenched shut. Dried tear tracks painted your cheeks, and visible tremors shook your body. Thranduil kneeled next to you as a big weight lifted from his chest. You were alive! Scared and shaken but alive. He had made it to your side in time, albeit he was cutting it a bit close.

Right in front of you, Thranduil slowly reached out to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. At his touch, you jumped and started to shake even harder, your eyes still shut tight.

“Meleth nin,” he spoke softly, “Open your eyes. I am here, and you are safe.”

------------------

“Meleth nin” you heard a soft voice whisper, “Open your eyes. I am here, and you are safe.”

At the sound of his voice, you wanted to let out a sob. It sounded just like him, but you knew that it couldn’t be Thranduil. There was no way that Thranduil was in front of you. He was back at the palace, most likely atop his throne, while you were here, probably bleeding out from a spider bite. That was it you reasoned. You had been bitten by the spider, and now you were going delirious from its venom before you died. It was the only explanation. He didn’t love you. You didn’t want to open your eyes. If you did the illusion would be shattered. At least this way you could pretend that you wouldn’t die alone, and that your love was here.

But when his hand started to shake your shoulder, the possibility that maybe he actually was here started to seem more like a reality. You reluctantly opened your eyes to see his cerulean ones staring into yours, deep with concern. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him, but with the threat of death looming over you gone, you remembered why you left in the first place. You snatched your wandering arms back and lowered your eyes as more tears suddenly welled in your eyes. ‘He isn’t mine’, you reminded yourself, ‘he never was’. Having him be so close yet at the same time so far made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“Melamin, are you alright? I was so worried I had lost you.” Thranduil whispered.

Deciding to ignore the endearment, you chose to answer the way your relationship now demanded. That of a respectful servant addressing her king. Still looking down at your feet, you replied meekly, “Yes, your majesty. Thank you for rescuing me. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

At your words, his eyes squinted ever so slightly in confusion. Why were you talking to him like that, as though you were just another one of his subjects? Something else was wrong. You couldn’t even look at him. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the few guards surrounding the clearing leaving just the two of you.

“What is wrong meleth nin? Why can’t you look at me?”

The continued endearments caused the sob that had been stuck in your throat to escape. Why did he insist on continuing the game? Was it not enough that he had taken your heart? Must he continue to squeeze it as well? How spiteful could he be to insist on calling you that?

“Please,” you whispered “Do not continue to jest. My heart cannot take it.”

Thranduil grabbed your hands and with the sudden movement, you finally tilted your head to meet his gaze. Seeing your heartbroken face, he felt his own heart twinge within his chest. He could feel you slipping away and with every passing minute he feared that he would not be able to get you back. “I don’t understand,” he pleaded, “Whatever it is that I have done, tell me, and I will not rest until I have eased your mind.”

His words made your head droop in despair. So he was going to continue to feign ignorance until he could break your heart and see your expression for himself. His insisted cruelty caused the first seeds of anger to break through the dam of your heartbreak. Thranduil might have shattered your heart, but you’d be damned before you’d let him see the effects. You’d get through this conversation, and then part from Mirkwood and put this chapter of your life behind you.

With your newfound determination, you looked at him with your face hard and eyes steely. “Do not think me so naive that I will continue to play along with your game, my lord. You may have fooled me once, but I refuse to let you do so again. You can cease your act of mocking love and concern. Please, just go back to the palace and have a laugh about the foolish maid who believed that a king could ever possibly care for her, and I will be on my way.”

Thranduil stared at you in bewilderment. Where was all of this coming from? Just this morning, everything was fine, and in that short time you now doubted his love for you. What could have possibly happened?

“Whoever has planted this seed of doubt in your mind will wish that they had never opened their mouth,” Thranduil swore gravelly, “I do not know what has caused this skepticism, but know that my feelings for you are honest and true.” He lifted your hands enclosed in his to place a soft kiss upon them.

Looking into his eyes, you were tempted to believe him. He seemed so earnest, but the words that he spoke earlier rang through your mind, “Do not give him hope where there is none”, and your temptations were banished. You let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. YOU were the one who made your feelings toward me clear as day, no one else. If you cannot bring yourself to be honest about anything else, then at least take responsibility for revealing your true feelings about me.”

“I do not know what you speak of!” Letting go of you, he stood from the forest floor and began to circle the clearing in frustration. “Care to enlighten me?”

Crossing your arms, you stood with him. “I heard you. Earlier, in the corridor with Tauriel. With it, the veil from my eyes was lifted, and I am now able to see this relationship for what it is: a complete and utter lie.”

He spun around to face you. “That had absolutely nothing to do with you! It was about Legolas. It, in no way, concerned how I feel about you.”

“It had everything to do with me.” you spoke softly. “If the prince is not allowed to pledge himself to Tauriel, the esteemed captain of the guard, where does that leave me? I am a servant my lord, the lowest of the low, and if the prince cannot be with someone who is far above my own station, why would the king of all people do any different?”

You turned to face him, and saw a guilt stricken look cross into Thranduil’s eyes as he realized the implication of his words.

“Forgive me Meleth. I did not realize the severity of my words when I spoke.” He apologized. He crossed the clearing to stand in front of you. Gently grabbing your shoulders, he looked deep into your eyes, “My feelings for you are earnest and unchanging. You have reminded me what happiness looks like. When you came into my life, I saw glimmers of light that I had not seen since my wife died. The first time I looked into your eyes, my heart thawed and began to beat within my chest again. You are the one who has breathed life back into me.”

Shrugging his hands off, you turned away from him.  “Be that as it may, you must believe it someplace deep inside otherwise you would not have spoken as you did. If it really was a mistake, then you would not care if Tauriel and Legolas were together, but you do.”

“No!” Thranduil protested, “I did not realize how selfish I was being when I spoke with Tauriel. If Legolas wishes to be with her so be it. I do not care.” Turning you back around, he gently cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “How could I care if it would cost me you?” He whispered.

Staring into his eyes filled with nothing but love, you felt the weight on your chest slowly begin to lift for the first time in hours. Perhaps there was hope after all. Yet as your overwhelming emotions faded, your mind began to clear, leaving nothing but logic and the cold sting of reality as you reconsidered his earlier words. Casting your eyes to the ground, you said, “As much as it pains me to say it, it does not really matter whether you care or not. In many ways, the words you spoke held nothing but the truth. It’s foolish to believe that we can ever truly be together. I am a maid, and you are a king. This relationship has no future for you surely cannot pledge yourself to me. The people would never accept me as queen.”

Crossing your arms, you turned your back so that he would not be able to see the tears welling in your eyes. “We aren’t even truly together right now. We ignore each other around the presence of others, stealing hidden moments in the dead of night. Do you know how painful it is? To see you look at me so coldly, so uncaringly, in the light of day, yet share in the warmth of your embrace at night. It’s exhausting. Do you have any idea how much it makes my heart ache? All I want is the freedom to speak to you, comfort you, touch you, whenever I wish, but our relationship forbids it! I can’t even send you a simple smile when I pass you in the halls! Too often, I can see the stress of a wasted council meeting etched on your face, and I yearn to soothe you and share in your troubles but I cannot. I did not lie when I said your conversation with Tauriel lifted a veil from my eyes, but I can see that it's different from what I originally thought. I think it would be best for us to part ways right here, and that way we can both move on. Elves are immortal. If I left now, I would be but a flicker on the line that is your life. I’m sure it would not be too hard to forget me and our relationship.” you mumbled quietly.

Thranduil’s gaze turned fiery. “Do what you will. But know this, should you choose to leave this forest do not think for one second that I will ever forget you. Ten, a hundred, even thousands of years from now, I will ache for you every second of every day. Not once will you ever leave my mind.”

His gaze softened, “Please… come home, and I promise we will truly be together, no more sneaking around. I am not ashamed to be with you; we will walk the halls together and share in each other’s troubles as you wish.”

“But your advisors and the people-”

His eyes flashed, “Speak no more of it. Love has slipped from my grasp once before, and I refuse to allow it to again. I am the king of this realm, and if I wish to be with you then the people will have to accept it.”

Hearing his words, you wanted nothing more than to accept, but your doubt and insecurity still lingered near the surface. How could you accept when you knew that you would only hold him back? The people would not be happy, and it would lead to unrest in the kingdom. How could you be that selfish? You couldn’t tear apart an entire kingdom for your own happiness. To make matters worse you wouldn’t even be able to help Thranduil bring about peace. You were a servant for crying out loud; you knew nothing about diplomacy!

As an internal war waged within you, Thranduil noticed the doubt in your eyes holding you back. He could sense that you lied upon a threshold and with one little push, you would surrender your doubts and come back to him. Determined to give you that final push, he glided towards you. Lost within your mind, you didn’t even notice that he had started to move until he had pressed himself against your back. The feel of his hard chest against your back brought an immediate halt to the worries swirling within you. Time came to a complete standstill, and you held your breath in anticipation, nervous yet also excited to see what he would do.

Achingly slow, he lifted a hand to gently brush your hair back, baring your neck. With the back of his hand, he started to tenderly trace a path along the curve of your neck. The hand continued downward, skimming the curve of your breasts to reach its resting place on your belly. Your eyes fluttered closed again in appreciation, and without even realizing, you leaned slightly into him, unconsciously craving to be closer. He bent down, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Tell me Melamin, what troubles you so?”

You shivered as the heat of his breath hit your neck. As he started to pepper your jawline in featherlight kisses, your mind became clouded, but you still managed to share your doubts with him. “I still worry… of the people’s reaction… to our relationship.” you whispered.

Thranduil hummed in response and raised his hand to caress the other side of your jaw. He pressed himself even closer to you and with it a fire that only he could sate ignited within you. “Tell me, does it feel like I care for their reaction? Let go meleth, and I promise you everything will be fine.”

With that, he used his hand to tilt you toward him and leaned down to capture you in a kiss. It started sweet but soon an overwhelming need took over you. The kiss was transformed into a battle of passion, and you turned around to fully face him. Your hands trailed all over Thranduil’s body, sliding up his chest to eventually twist themselves into his hair. With a soft tug, you pulled him even closer to deepen the kiss. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t care. At that moment, all that mattered was him. With every second that passed, your doubts slowly melted away as thoughts of Thranduil consumed your mind. All you could focus on was the feel of his lips and his hands gliding over your hips. You wanted nothing more than to drown in the river of his love.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you opened your eyes to gaze into his. Seeing the love and adoration he held for you in them, you allowed yourself to be drawn into the torrent, and you let go.

-----------------------

Afterwards, as you lay cuddled together on the forest floor, Thranduil reached down to entwine your hands together. Resting his head against your shoulder, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of the way and asked once again, “Come home, meleth nin?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you replied, “Yes.”

[luna-redamancy]

Thorin x Reader- Could Have, Could Be

Word Count: 1238

Warnings: Character death, sadness,

Note: I was balling my eyes out the entire time I was writing this, I hope you all enjoy.

“You?” Thorin began, shock filling his sickly veiled eyes, his expression wild and almost that of a scared animal in a corner.

Fearful, wronged, shocked, ready to attack.

“You dare betray the King!” He shouted, the crown on his head showing just how ‘magnificent’ his words were as you bit your tongue, staring at the Company around him in battle armor. The Elves held their place below the barricaded entrance, waiting for their King’s command as they watched the Dwarven King with unease.

“I didn’t do it to betray you, Thorin, I did it to save you…” You talked lowly, even Thranduil had to strain his ears to hear you. “You are not the Dwarf you were in the Shire! You’ve changed, that stone…. That stone corrupted your mind and your heart,” You spat back at him with equal agitation, your voice laced with sadness as you recalled all the moments he treated his fellow Company like dirt because he was now ‘The King’.

“A king without regard to his people is a king I will not stand beside.” You finished, taking the silver bead out of your hair and slamming it to the ground, the sound echoing like dragons roar. Before anyone could say anything else, you made your way to the side of the barricade, using the rope Bilbo left and made your way to Gandalf, not letting him have the chance of throwing you over it in anger.

You didn’t betray him, but you knew that if he knew Bilbo did, it would be the end of the Company. You were just a magic user to them,  you didn’t mean much to them, you told yourself to take away the pain of seeing their faces of shock and hurt that you would take away the king’s jewel in hope for peace.

The wind howled past your eardrums as you ran up the snowy landscape, your boots almost slipping on the ice several times as you felt your heart beating rapidly, threatening to burst out of your chest. The last thing you recalled hearing, ‘Thorin’s badly wounded, he may not make it.’

If there was one thing you were, it was loyal. You would not sit by while he died. The memories of Thorin throughout the journey passed through you like a movie rewinding and pressing start back at the beginning. How he accepted your opinion over Gandalf, how he treated you with respect and kindness like you were his own kin. How he began to trust you and tell you stories late at night beneath the stars about how great Erebor was, and how happy he was you were with him to experience it again.

Blinking back the tears in your eyes, you caught sight of Bilbo leaning over something brown, narrowing your eyes you bit back a gasp.

That was Thorin on the ground.

“Bilbo” Thorin rasped, a cough ripping through his throat as he struggled to find the words to say. An apology? A last-minute request for forgiveness for his despicable actions? A farewell? Thorin’s mind was scrambled as the pain in his chest kept growing,  

“I’m glad you’re here..” Thorin rasps out as Bilbo moved to put pressure on the wound. “Shhh.. Don’t speak Thorin, don’t speak,” Bilbo shushed him, tears filling his own eyes as he felt the blood seeping onto his fingers.

“I wish to part from you in friendship,”

“No no no, you aren’t going anywhere Thorin--” Bilbo sucked in a hiccuping breath, “You are going to live!” Bilbo asserted, his tone seeming like he was trying to convince himself rather than convince Thorin.

“Bilbo!” You shouted out, running up to the two, eyes widening at Thorin’s state.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here, Thorin see? You’ll be alright, we’ll get you all fixed up.”

“(Y-Y/N)...” Thorin rasped, his eyes softening upon looking at you.

“Don’t talk Thorin, save your energy,” You muttered at him, dropping to his side and searching through your bag.

“I have to have some of my shifting stones in here, come on…” Your hands fumbled with urgency, the pounding of your heart now banging against your eardrums as you nervously fumbled through your bag.

“(Y/N), I take back all my words and my deeds at the gate… You did what a true One would do, forgive me… I was too blind to see it…” Thorin’s eyes filled with tears as he realized the inevitable fate he got himself into because of his greed.

“I am so sorry…” He breathed out, his chest rising up and down rapidly as he tried to control his breathing.

“I am so sorry to have led both of you into such peril…” A lone tear slipped down Thorin’s cheek. His last memory with you was him damning your name, telling you he wished you were never a part of the company, not holding you and telling you how much he loved you.

Closing your eyes, you pulled your hand out with no shifting stone to be found, one tear slipping from each eye as you looked over to Thorin,

“No, we’re glad to have shared your perils,” You smiled sadly, your hand gripping his, as you prepared yourself to do what you believed was best.

“What’re you doing?” Thorin sniffled, seeing your hands begin to light up as they grabbed hold of his one hand. “No, (Y/n), don’t you dare,” Thorin begged, feeling the pain lift from his chest.

A pained cry left you as you lurched forward, burying your face in his chest. It was already too late.

“No!” Thorin yelled at you, “Stop it, give it back, (Y/n)!” He shouted, hot tears scalding his cheeks as they fell from his eyes, your cries of pain leaving him helpless as you gripped his hand tightly.

“What’s happening?!” Bilbo demanded, not understanding what was going on.

Your cry choked off with a shuddering sigh, looking up to the sky with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I took it away…” You mumbled, blood beginning to bloom on your chest where Thorin was impaled. Your breathing began to grow labored as your eyes glazed over slightly. Losing your ability to hold yourself upright, you laid on Thorin’s chest, your eyes slipping shut as you cried silently.

“What does she mean?!”

“She took my wounds, so I would live…” Thorin choked out, holding you tightly to his chest, sobs wracking his frame as the Company gathered around.

“Thorin…” You began, your voice nothing more than a pathetic whisper, “Be the king we always knew you could be…” You finished, looking up at him one last time, before your eyes fully glazed over, the light draining out of them like clouds filling the sky and hiding the sun, your chest giving one last labored breath before it was no more.

Bilbo moved your bag to hold your hand one last time when suddenly the contents spilled out. At the very bottom was a shifting stone, the one you began looking for only minutes ago.

Bilbo held it up with a pained cry, realizing your death was for nothing. It could’ve been prevented, you could have lived. 

You could have been a mother, you could have been Queen of Erebor. 

But as the cries of the Company caught his ears, Bilbo’s heart broke bit by bit as he realized all you could have been. 

And all that you never would be.

Fin.

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@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck @xxno-wayxx @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18 @raindancer2004

[nerdy-bookworm-1998]

The Royal Artist - part 2

Pairing: (Thranduil x Elf!reader)

Words: 1214

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, uncomfortable reader, Legolas being an asshat

a/n: If you want to be added to my tag list send me an ask

When y/n awoke the next morning, she was unsure of where she was. The bed in which she lay was as warm and soft as her own had been in Imladris, golden curtains hung from the posters in a protective canopy. The room was spacious and held a set of double doors that led out onto a balcony. There were three more doors led out of the room.

She spotted her saddlebag placed next to the armoire, carved from cherry wood. She swiftly climbed out of bed, still dressed in her clothes from the previous day and padded over to the brown leather satchel. After rummaging around for a moment, she produced a leather-bound book and some drawing charcoal.

She proceeds to the open doors and sits down on one of the chairs, flipping open the book to a clean page, she takes the charcoal in hand and starts drawing the view, being certain to get the shading just right.

She had barely set the image down onto the table, her hand stained with gray, and aching from overuse when a masculine voice spoke from the door.

"That is beautiful, you have an extraordinary talent, my dear."

Y/n turned around to see Thranduil leaning against the doorframe, carrying a large breakfast tray laden with food. The mere smell makes her stomach grumble. He sets the tray on the table and takes his seat across from her, a smile illuminating his features.

"I hope you do not mind, but I did not know what you would like, so I asked the kitchen to prepare something of everything." he looks rather shy and a dusting of blush covers his cheeks.

"This looks wonderful, thank you," she replies timidly before serving herself some orange juice, freshly cut fruit, and yogurt. They eat in silence until the food is almost finished.

"May I see some of your artwork?" Thranduil asks, eyeing the discarded sketchbook. "Of course." y/n replies, reaching for the book and handing it to him. He is silent as he ponders each illustration, making her more nervous by the second.

"I know they are not very good, I usually do not share my drawings..." she trails off as she bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "You are utterly right, these are not good, they are exceptional. Looking at each of these make me feel as if I am there, at that moment with you. You have a beautiful gift." he says smiling as he hands the book back. She cannot help the scarlet blush coloring her complexion at his praise.

"Do you only work in charcoal, or do you work in other mediums as well?" he questions, steepling his long, dexterous fingers. "I work in charcoal, watercolors and oil paint. Although lately, I only have time to work in charcoal. I used to do a lot of painting when I was in Imladris..." she trails off, a shadow of sadness crossing her delicate features.

"I see." is all Thranduil says, clearly lost in his own thoughts until a sharp knock comes from the door of the sitting room. Thranduil calls out for them to enter and a female guard with auburn hair enters, giving a formal bow. "Forgive me for the intrusion my lord, but I was sent to inform you that the council is assembled for the meeting that you requested."

"Thank you Tauriel." he turns away from her to look back at y/n. "I am afraid I must go, but I will see you later. Feel free to explore the palace while I'm gone, Tauriel will escort you." he takes her hand, placing a soft kiss on it before departing.

"Hello, my name is Tauriel." the guard says, bowing in greeting. "Hello Tauriel, my name is y/n." she stands, bowing back. After going to the bathroom to wash, y/n walks back into the bedroom to see a simple, yet elegant ice blue dress laid out for her behind the dressing screen. "His majesty thought you might like it," Tauriel explains upon seeing her bewildered expression.

After donning the dress and putting her hair into elvish plaits she and Tauriel exit the chambers. They wander through the halls, with Tauriel showing her where everything is. By noon y/n's feet are aching and she has no idea how she is going to be able to navigate the cavernous halls without a map. The two elves rest on a shaded bench in the expansive gardens when Tauriel reveals "The king is holding a welcoming feast for you this evening. I have never seen him so entranced with someone before. The whole court will be there," she lets out an uncharacteristic giggle and gives a knowing smile.

That evening, y/n is dressed in a midnight blue dress with delicate silver embroidery that hugs her figure, showing off her curves beautifully. Her hair is slightly pinned back with midnight violets and spills down her back in soft waves. There is a light knock on her chamber door before Thranduil enters looking resplendent in garments matching her own with a silver circlet resting atop his head.

"You look gorgeous, my dear, a vision of loveliness" Thranduil sweeps into a low bow, a broad smile pulling at his lips. "Thank you," she giggles. "you look very handsome tonight as well, my king." she gives him a playful smile as his eyes darken infinitesimally before he returns the gesture as he leads her down the hallway and to the banquet hall.

When they arrive, the feast is in full swing with goblets of wine and large platters of food being served, elves playing lively music for the couples dancing across the floor and lanterns casting a golden glow over the entire scene. The night is filled with laughter and dancing.

After a few hours, Thranduil is swept away by one of his advisors about some trading agreement with the dwarves of Erebor and y/n is sitting on a chair, resting for a moment when Legolas approaches and offers his hand. "My lady, may I have this dance?" he asks, even though she would rather be anywhere else, she takes his hand with a forced smile and lets him lead her out to the dancefloor. Placing one hand on her waist and the other holding her hand, he leads her in a sweeping waltz.

"You look lovely this evening, my lady," he whispers in her ear. "Thank you, your highness," she replies stiffly. His hold on her tightens slightly and she winces. "I wish to apologize for my behavior the other night, it was unprincely of me to speak in such a manner before you." he twirls her. "Think nothing of it your highness, it is already forgiven and forgotten." she forces a painful smile, even though she wishes she could crawl out of her skin and hide. "You must understand, I am, shall we say, extremely protective of my father. I will do anything within my power to ensure that he does not come to harm, anything." he hisses as the song comes to an end and he releases her, bowing before walking off.

It was a mistake to come here she thinks to herself before turning and hurrying out the hall, deaf to Thranduil's call of her name.

Tag list(open):

@mcdesij @spiderrrling @interestedbystanderwrites

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @neko-mun-rp​  (  plotted  )

          𝕿𝖍𝖊  𝕰𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌  𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖉  𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖉  in  the  long  mirror  that  tailor  made  to  show  off  his  long  frame.  He  was  admiring  a  new  dress  gifted  to  him  by  his  son.  The  occasion?  Thranduil  wasn't  entirely  sure  but  Legolas  was  ever  the  thoughtful  son.  He  would  gift  his  father  things  often  in  hopes  of  getting  something  out  of  him  other  than  quiet  indifference.

          The  long,  forest  green  dress  swept  the  floor,  hiding  long  legs  in  tights  that  hugged  his  frame.  The  crown  he  wore  was  ornate.  A  brown,  elegantly  jagged  piece  that  sat  high  with  flowers  and  emeralds  woven  into  it.  Blue-grey  eyes  took  one  last  look  at  his  form  before  turning  away  to  retreat  to  the  depths  of  his  library.  He  would  lounge  there  many  a  nights  ---  sometimes  alone.  Sometimes  not  so  much.

          As  he  exited  his  quarters,  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Celebrimbor.  He  offered  a  polite  incline  of  the  head  in  greeting  though  it  was  Cele's  look  that  drew  a  curious  head  tilt.     ❝Is...  something  wrong,  mellon?❞

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  starter.  ||  @easternshadow​

❝Ah,  yes.  Another  old  man  coming  to  grace  me  with  his  presence.  I  hope  this  is  worth  the  time  I  am  taking  to  indulge  your  visit.❞

The  Elvenking  sat  upon  his  throne,  looking  down  upon  the  other  with  his  usual  stoic  expression.  While  he  looked  quite  disinterested,  on  the  inside  he  was  mildly  curious  as  to  why  he  was  here.  Things  were  going  relatively  well  on  all  sides  of  Middle  Earth  so  why  the  impromptu  visit?  He  had  to  know  elves,  especially  the  Sindar  who  served  under  him,  had  no  desire  to  involve  themselves  outside  their  little  box.  If  he  didn’t  know,  he  was  about  to  learn  very  quickly.

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @summerxmelodies​ 

          Every  time  he  visited  Bard,  he ��always  found  himself  resisting  the  urge  to  roll  his  eyes  each  time  he  caught  someone  staring.  Not  that  Thranduil  wasn't  accustomed  to  such  attentions.  He  was  an  elf  and  it  was  only  natural  that  he'd  draw  eyes  everywhere  that  he  went.  Quite  the  diplomatic  advantage  when  necessary,  but  such  was  not  the  case  this  time.  His  visit  to  Dale  was  merely  a  social  visit.  After  having  received  an  invitation,  Thranduil  thought  it  only  polite  to  take  him  up  on  the  offers.  Allies  were  only  as  strong  as  their  bond  and  he  had  every  intention  of  upholding  his  end  of  their  terms.  Still...

          "My  lady,  do  you  not  know  how  rude  it  is  to  stare?"  he  questioned  after  a  while.  "Even  we  elves  grow  tired  of  the  gawking.  I  would  rather  you  engage  me  in  POLITE  CHATTER  than  sit  idly  by  from  afar  and  gawk."  In  other  words,  either  speak  or  dismiss  yourself.  His  look  said  as  much.

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  || @sorcerousorigins​ ||  s.c. 

          ❝And  to  whom  am  I  speaking?❞

The  question  was  posed  lazily,  the  Elvenking  hardly  bothering  to  look  up  from  where  he  lounged  upon  his  throne.  He  was  rather  engrossed  in  his  readings,   an  easy  thing  to  do  now  that  war  had  reached  its  end.  He  was  trying  to,  for  lack  of  a  better  phrase,  open  himself  up  more.  That  is  to  say,  whereas  before  he  spent  little  time  allowing  an  audience  with  himself,  he  was  trying  to  change  that  despite  his  internal  struggles.  Socializing  was  tedious  on  the  best  of  days  for  a  reclusive  elf.  Nevertheless,  the  floor  was  open  to  his  guest,  for  however  long  he  could  stand  it.

[suresha]

Cele to Thran: ❝ It feels like there’s a string around my heart, and it’s connected to you.  everywhere you go you’re just tugging me behind, pulling me towards you. ❞

IT’S  ALL  ABOUT  THE  YEARNING

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @eeveeliciousrp

          It  wasn't  often  that  anyone  was  allowed  within  the  Elvenking's  sleeping  quarters  and  yet  occasionally,  Cele  would  be  the  exception  to  the  rule.  Every  so  often  following  dinner,  Cele  would  be  allowed  to  escort  Thranduil  back  to  his  room  alone.  Rare  was  it  that  the  Elvenking  was  without  a  squadron  of  four  yet  the  fuss  his  guards  made  in  the  beginning  had  lessened.  Thranduil  didn't  know  why,  but  he  also  chose  not  to  question  it.  But  unbeknownst  to  him,  a  certain  prince  had  ordered  them  to  stand  down  following  dinner.  The  only  trouble  the  Elvenking  was  likely  to  get  into  involved  moments  best  shared  alone  with  his  significant  other.  The  guards  frowned  at  such  a  bold  statement  from  Mirkwood's  prince  yet  they  knew  he  spoke  truths.  If  Cele  was  properly  courting  their  king,  they  were  allowed  time  alone.  One  who  yearned  to  court  the  king  would  hardly  mean  him  any  harm.

          And  so  this  night  Thran  sat  at  his  vanity,  his  long  hair  flowing  loosely  minus  the  ornate  crown  he  wore  earlier.  Instead,  it  had  been  replaced  by  a  smaller  circlet;  a  silver  one  with  lilac and  white  petals  woven  within  it.  Behind  him  stood  the  one  whom  he  had  promised  himself  to.  Not  'officially'  before  a  court,  but  in  the  Sindarin  tradition  for  the  time  being.  Regardless  of  this  Celebrimbor  did  not  seem  the  least  bit  deterred  by  the  Elvenking's  hesitation  to  put  himself  out  there  so  quickly.  It  was  a  slow  process  but  one  could  say  much  progress  had  been  made.

          Thranduil  allowed  his  eyes  to  close  as  fingers  combed  through  his  hair.  The  feel  of  fingers  brushing  his  scalp  was  a  rare  treat  that  relaxed  him  more  than  he  cared  to  admit.  His  hair  in  general  was  a  sure  fire  way  to  get  under  his  skin  and  so  he  found  himself  letting  the  sensation  relax  perfect  posture  into  something  more  akin  to  'normal'.

          ❝I  take  it  this  feels  good,❞  Cele  muttered  quietly,  dipping  low  enough  to  inquire  quietly  in  his  ear.  Thranduil's  eyes  opened  briefly  staving  off  the  feeling  that  washed  through  him.  He  could  but  nod  as  he  watched  their  reflections  in  the  mirror.  The  brush  cast  aside,  it  was  but  fingers  now  gliding  through  each  strand,  the  silky  smoothness  slipping  between  Cele's  fingers  with  ease.  

          ❝You  know....  It  feels  like  there's  a  string  around  my  heart,  and  it's  connected  to  you.❞  He  stopped  his  combing,  watching  the  king  within  the  mirror.  ❝Everywhere  you  go,  you're  just  tugging  me  behind,  pulling  me  towards  you.❞

          Because  it  wouldn't  be  Cele  if  he  wasn't  finding  new  ways  to  leave  the  Elvenking  at  a  loss  for  words.  Whereas  Thranduil  once  thought  Legolas  was  the  king  at  his  poetics,  it  would  seem  Celebrimbor  might  have  something  to  say  about  that.  Blue-grey  eyes  opened,  watching  the  other  elf.   The  way  Cele  seemed  to  undress  him  with  his  eyes  (  and  not  just  in  THAT  way  )  had  him  averting  his  gaze  to  save  face.

          But  there  would  come  a  light  tug  of  his  hair  and  a  sound  to  leave  Thranduil  that  had  Cele  slowly  moving  to  stand  before  him.  Fingers  slipped  beneath  his  chin  forcing  eye  contact  as  his  now  friend  leaned  close  letting  their  breaths  mingle.  ❝I  believe  I  am  owed  something,  my  lord.  Is  it  too  soon  to  collect?❞

          Thranduil  bit  his  lip  briefly,  his  posture  straightening  a  bit  more  because  by  god,  had  he  truly  allowed  himself  to  slip  so  far?  And  now  here  they  were  with  little  space  between  them  behind  locked  doors.  The  bed  was  mere  steps  away,  but  he  knew  that  wasn't  what  Cele  was  referring  to.  What  he  was  owed  was  something  far  more  simple  than  what  could  occur  in  a  bed  big  enough  to  hold  four  grown  men,  let  alone  two.  Thranduil  never  went  back  on  his  word  but  his  hesitancy  was  warranted  when  he  knew  himself  well.

          It  is  just  a  kiss.  No  harm  could  come  of  it.

          Even  as  he  thought  the  words  as  something  of  encouragement  for  himself,  he  did  not  manage  to  reassure  himself  much  at  all.  Regardless  of  this  fact,  Celebrimbor  had  the  right  idea.  With  no  chance  of  being  intruded  upon,  now  was  the  perfect  time  to  collect  on  the  promise  and  so  Thranduil  nodded,  reaching  up  briefly  to  touch  the  side  of  his  face.  There's  a  moment's  pause  as  he  leans  in,  but  eventually  eyes  close  when  lips  meet;  a  light  press  upon  inviting  lips  that  morphs  into  him  kissing  Cele  properly.  It  is  slow  ---  almost  uncertain  ---  but  it  is  no  less  sweet  as  Thran  pours  himself  into  it  after  all  this  time.

[suresha]

if you are comfortable with early Second Age interactions in Lindon? ❰❰ PIN ❱❱ Elrond pins Thranduil during a fight/training heehee have a feisty feanorian :)

An  Extremely  Self-Indulgent  Meme

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @elerondo

          𝑂𝑛𝑒  𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑  𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟  𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤  𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡  𝑡ℎ𝑒  𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑦  𝐸𝑙𝑓  𝑎𝑛𝑑  𝑠𝑜𝑛  𝑜𝑓  𝑂𝑟𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑒𝑟  𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡  𝑜𝑢𝑡  𝑜𝑓  𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒  𝑖𝑛  𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛.  The  one  thing  that  Thranduil  had  perfected  even  at  the  youngest  of  ages  was  how  to    mask  his  true  feelings.   On  the  inside,  the  elf  felt  many  things  akin  to  what  one  would  describe  as  anxiety  ---and  how  could  he  not?  Finding  himself  in  the  company  of  those  whose  standing     was  far  beyond  his  own    was  enough  to  make  anyone  ---  elf  or  otherwise  ---  feel  anxious.

          Calmly  would  Thranduil  raise  his  sword,  fending  off  another  of  Elrond's  attacks,  but  not  without  cost.  Footing  lost,  he  could  practically  feel  the  smirk  boring  into  him  as  Elrond  twirled  finely  crafted  weaponry.  The  sun  sat  high  with  light  reflecting  from  Elrond's  sword  right  across  the  Sindar's  cool  gaze.  Blue-grey  eyes  were  illuminated  briefly  reflecting  his  own  set  of  intensity.  Feeling  rejuvenated,  it  was  now  Thranduil's  turn  to  go  on  the  offensive,  even  if  it  was  painfully  obvious  Elrond  had  left  the  opening  intentionally.  Feet  carried  him  quickly  across  training  grounds,  onlookers  watching  with  rapt  interest  as  he  swung  hard.  A  low  grunt  slipped  past  his  lips  as  metal  clashed  ferociously.  Blade  met  blade  while  bodies  spun  on  heel  desperate  to  find  an  opening.  The  way  they  moved  appeared  as  the  fiercest  of  dances  though  the  show  would  last  but  so  long.  

          Elrond  was  gifted  at  drawing  his  opponent  inside,  lulling  them  into  a  false  sense  of  security  before  his  whole  fighting  stance  changed.  Those  who  were  watching  quickly  turned  away,  too  chilled  by  the  image  charging  towards  Thranduil  to  bear  witness  to  the  end.  Having  slipped  upon  dirt,  Thranduil  swung  wildly,  but  the  Sindar’s  looser  grip  had  Elrond  freeing  the  weapon  from  his  hand  with  ease.  Elrond's  blade  extended,  and  Thranduil  was  forced  to  walk  backwards  until  he  was  pinned  between  cool  stone  and  the  crown  prince.  Thranduil  cut  his  eyes  towards  his  own  fallen  sword  knowing  that,  should  he  request  to  carry  on,  Elrond  would  allow  it.  He  would  give  him  leave  to  retrieve  the  weapon  and  then  their  fiery  dance  would  begin  anew,  but  Thranduil  knew  better.  He  himself  was  already  panting,  winded  from  this  last  battle.  Plus,  the  look  in  Elrond's  gaze  showed  an  elf  unwilling  to  compromise  if  this  continued.  It  would  be  more  of  the  same,  and  Thranduil  was  simply  no  match  for  the  crown  prince.  

          Thranduil’s  hands  came  up  as  a  show  of  submissiveness  followed  by  words  he  oft  detested  uttering  due  to  his  own  competitive  nature.

          ❝I  yield,  my  lord.❞

[suresha]

Cele being a hopeless romantic to Thran: ❛ Your eyes hold everything my heart thirsts for. ❜

&. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @neko-mun-rp

          He  did  not  think  he  would  ever  get  used  to  the  compliments  thrown  his  way  by  Cele.  And  it  was  hard  to  know  if  it  was  merely  the  compliments  alone  that  flustered  the  Elvenking  so  or  the  timing  of  them,  which  always  seemed  to  catch  him  off  guard.  Emerging  from  his  bath  and  now  dressed  for  the  evening,  he  would  find  himself  face  to  face  with  Cele.  He  had  no  idea  the  other  would  be  waiting  for  him,  as  he  never  had  to.  Thranduil  was  certain  he  wouldn't  be  assassinated  within  the  hollowed  halls  of  hard,  oak  wood  that  made  up  most  of  Mirkwood.  Nevertheless,  he  supposed  it  was  nice  to  have  someone  care  enough  to  wait  up.

          Thranduil  dropped  his  gaze  momentarily  gathering  himself.  It  takes  a  moment,  but  he  finally  crosses  the  room  to  greet  Cele.  He  offers  a  small  incline  of  the  head  in  greeting,  but  does  not  hold  his  gaze  long.  It's  quite  difficult  when  those  eyes  looked  so  fondly  upon  him  in  a  manner  he  did  not  feel  he  had  earned.

          ❝Are  you  certain?❞  he  asked  quietly,  his  tone  quite  lighthearted  indicating  his  question  was  in  jest  but  just  as  quickly,  the  small  smirk  faded.  He  looked  serious,  and  a  tad  uncertain  of  himself  but  he  quickly  masked  it  by  busying  himself  with  the  various  circlets  laid  out  upon  his  vanity.  ❝You  always  find  ways  to  leave  me  at  a  loss  of  words.  I  never...  quite  know  what  to  say.❞

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @neko-mun-rp​ || s.c.

                      Sleep  alludes  me  so  for  the  time  being,  I  am  having  some  wine.  Did  you  have  need  of  me?

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @drakonig​  ||  s.c.

          𝑰𝒕  𝒘𝒂𝒔  𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝑬𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒕𝒐  𝒃𝒆  𝒔𝒐  𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆  𝒐𝒇  𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔  𝒃𝒖𝒕  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕  𝒐𝒇  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓  𝒘𝒂𝒔  𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕  𝒉𝒆  𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒏'𝒕  𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅  𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒕𝒐  𝒃𝒆  𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏  𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏.  Far  removed  from  Dale,  Thranduil  often  took  it  upon  himself  to  explore  alone,  plagued  by  thoughts  pertaining  to  his  own  future  as  well  as  the  future  of  his  people.  So  much  had  happened  in  the  last  two  years  or  so  with  Middle  Earth  (  in  theory  )  seemingly  somewhat  safer  than  it  used  to  be.  Of  course,  it  would  never  truly  be  safe,  for  remnants  of  the  old  curse  still  remained  leaving  Mirkwood's  transformation  enduring  a  slow  process.  The  spiders  and  other  dark  creatures  kept  Thranduil  on  his  toes.  He  knew  as  king  that  it  was  far  better  to  be  prepared  for  anything  than  to  be  caught  slipping.  And  speaking  of...

          Those  grey-blue  eyes  widened,  his  posture  ever  perfection  as  he  stared  at  the  ground  that  was  seemingly  rumbling.  There  was  a   huff,  the  sound  of  steam  engulfing  him  completely  which  meant  one  of  two  things  (  and  trust  him  ---  he'd  take  the  hot  lava  any  day  over  the   other ).  He  watched,  far  too  shocked  and  petrified  to  move  as  wings  stretched  before  him.  His  ethereal  demeanor  which  always  glistened  perfectly  in  the  sun  was  now  shadowed  by  the  form  lording  over  him  at  the  moment.

          Thranduil  had  no  words,  for  in  the  moment  a  thousand  scenes  flashed  within  ---  all  of  which  involved  his  son  and  the  people  who  were  likely  unaware  of  the  mountain's  inhabitant.  Could  he  fight  a  dragon?  Well,  he  certainly  had  before,  but  did  he  WANT  to?  No,  and  a  quick  touch  of  his  face  where  invisible  scars  lay  were  a  testament  to  that.  He  absolutely     did  not  want     to  fight  and  so  he  made  to  take  a  step  back,  as  if  to  say   he  was  retreating,  until  he  noted  the  eyes.  They  looked  awfully  familiar.  Teeth  soon  bared  and  it  was  then  he  realized  this  was  no  ordinary  dragon.  It  was  HIM.   There  was  no  mistaking  it  and  even  as  Thranduil  gripped  the  sword  concealed  by  long,  regal  sleeves  that  covered  flawless  arms,  he  found  himself  trembling  in  shame  (  though,  many  would  argue  there  WAS  NO  SHAME  TO  BE  HAD  when  staring  into  the  eyes  of  hell.  )

          ❝How...  how  are  you  alive?❞  he  blurted  out.  A  slip  of  the  tongue,  but  an  honest  reaction  given  the  brevity  of  the  situation.  Panic.  He  was  panicking  inside  but  one  would  hardly  know  it  ---  at  least  by  his  expression.

[suresha]

“But when we press the thorn to our breast, we know, we understand…. and still, we do it.” [ Thranduil ]

“The Thorn Birds” sentence starters

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @count-v-dracula

          ❝Your  flair  for  dramatics  nearly  rivals  my  own,  but  I  digress.❞  The  Elvenking  stood,  his  robe  sweeping  the  floor  as  he  moved.  Plucking  a  red  rose  from  a  vase,  he  held  it  in  hand  quite  gently,  being  careful  to  protect  smooth  palms...  for  the  time  being  anyway.  Turning  to  Vlad,  he  walked  slowly,  closing  the  space  between  them.  His  tone  was  soft  as  he  spoke,  though  no  less  icey  as  his  signature  stare.

          ❝Your  words  could   be  an  allegory  for  many  things,  but  I  suppose  you  rather  like  the  idea  of  keeping  people  guessing.  It  is  one  of  your  more  irritating  traits.❞  Thranduil  lifted  the  object  in  question  to  his  nose,  closing  his  eyes  as  elven  senses  became  overwhelmed  by  the  sweet  essence  of  the  flower.  The  rose  was  one  of  Earth's  loveliest  creations  but  to  pluck   one  by  hand  meant  enduring  a  bit  of  pain.  The  tighter  one  held  it,  the  more  pain  one  felt.  Squeeze  hard  enough  and  one  would  find  their  palms  dripping  crimson  as  deep  as  the  petals  above.  The  same  could  be  said  about  the  breast  area.  Cling  to  it  tightly  enough  and  one  might  find  themselves  pricked.

          ❝Speak  plainly  tonight,  Vlad.  I  did  not  leave  my  bed  just  to  play  guessing  games.❞

[suresha]

❝ Each man lives his own life and pays his own price for living it. ❞ king Fili for king Thranduil. :)

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" sentence starters

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @lilacdreamt  ( King Fili  &  Thranduil  )

          The  relationship  between  himself  and  the  Dwarves  was  cordial  at  best.  Despite  working  together  to  achieve  a  common  goal,  the  Elvenking  still  wasn't  much  for  leaving  the  slowly  transforming  Mirkwood.  However,  despite  his  insistence  on  keeping  to  himself,  he  had  made  small  efforts  to  build  towards  change.  He  allowed  both  Bard  and  the  newly  crowned  Fili,  to  venture  through  his  woods  and  take  provisions  as  needed.  The  last  battle  had  left  much  destruction  in  its  wake.  He  could  hardly  call  himself  an  ally  if  he  was  unable  to  uphold  his  end  of  the  alliance.  Aiding  others  when  needed  was  always  the  first  step.  From  there,  better  relationships  could  be  formed  over  time.  It  seemed  quite  clear  to  an  elf  well  beyond  the  years  of  the  average  dwarf,  that  Fili  had  every  intention  of  bringing  honor  to  his  crown.  Of  course,  Thranduil  was  not  known  for  openly  praising  others  so  freely  and  so  he  would  stay  his  tongue  for  the  time  being.  After  all,  far  be  it  for  him  to  lead  the  evening's  chatter  with  words  that  could  be  mistaken  as  ingenuine,  especially  since  Thranduil's  royal  mask  was  damn  near  impossible  to  discern.

          His  features  remained  stoic  as  they  walked,  his  long,  golden  gown  sweeping  the  ground  as  they  moved  through  the  intricacies  of  his  home.  His  posture  was  perfection,  as  was  the  smooth  stride  that  had  the  shimmery  gown  seemingly  gliding  with  every  step  taken.  With  fresh  Elven  wine  in  hand,  dinner  had  morphed  into  two  men  burdened  by  the  crowns  they  wore  taking  a  refreshing  walk.  Idle  chatter  was  not  something  one  could  expect  from  the  usually  quiet  Elvenking,  but  there  was  something  about  the  moon's  glow  that  cast  a  warmth  about  the  elf,  loosening  him  up  and  making  him  more  agreeable  to  such  things.  His  long,  platinum  hair  seemed  to  illuminate  their  way  as  well;  a  surreal  sight  to  those  unaccustomed  to  being  around  elves.

          ❝Hn.❞  His  tone  is  soft,  and  to  anyone  who  had  never  spoken  to  Thranduil  outside  of  a  public  setting,  his  tone  may  have  come  as  unexpected,  but  was  one  of  many  talents  that  came  with  longevity.  He  knew  how  to  turn  it  on  and  off,  but  right  now,  there  was  no  need  to  be  his  public  persona.  Forming  lasting  bonds  required  a  level  of  vulnerability.  King  Fili  would  not  get  much,  but  enough  to  allude  that  Thranduil  was  on  board  for  whatever  the  future  held  between  their  kingdoms.

          ❝True,  but  some  men  are  oft  tasked  with  the  burden  of  paying  the  price  for  those  who  came  before  them.❞  And  he  was  very  much  speaking  of  himself,  and  how  he  had  to  pick  of  the  pieces  left  behind  by  his  father.  Some  prices  were  more  egregious  than  others,  but  all  the  same,  he  paid  dearly  and  in  some  manner  of  speaking,  was  still  paying.  ❝What  thoughts  warranted  such  words?  Does  something  trouble  you,  your  majesty?❞

[suresha]

🛡️ To Thran

🛡️  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  protects  yours  from  a  fight.  ( add  + reverse  for  your  muse  to  protect  mine. )

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @et-impiis-lethalis​

          It  was  over  in  an  instant.  Thranduil's  sword,  which  often  appeared  as  a  mere  extension  of  himself,  was  swung  quickly,  taking  down  the  orc.  Thranduil  hadn't  seen  any  orcs  near  Mirkwood  since  the  Battle  of  the  Five,  but  Mirkwood  had  yet  to  fully  recover  from  the  curse.  Outside  of  his  home,  there  was  never  any  telling  what  one  might  run  into  and  she  of  all  people  should  have  known  better  than  to  follow  him  outside  of  it.

          ❝You  were  following  me...  and  nearly  got  yourself  killed  just  now.  Care  to  explain why  you  felt  I needed  a  shadow,  Tauriel?❞

[suresha]

🔪  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  kills  to  protect  your  muse. + reverse / Thranduil

🔪  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  kills  to  protect  your  muse. ( + reverse )

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @finire​

          ℋ𝑒  𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓈  𝒽𝑒  𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹  𝒷𝑒  𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒  𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁. Outside  of  Mirkwood  was  the  very  reason  one  could  no  longer  refer  to  his  home  as  the  great  Greenwood.  Sauron's  defeat  was  not  yet  established,  for  were  he  gone  for  good,  the  darkness  would  have  lifted  in  these  lands.  But  outside  of  what  was  formally  the  Greenwood  was  a  forest  so  dangerous,  that  one  needn't  trek  through  it  without  good  reason.

          The  Elvenking  was  stubborn;  beautiful  but  frustrated  beyond  reasons.  His  treks  beyond  the  safety  of  his  woodland  home  were  oft  to  clear  his  head.  Never  did  he  stray  in  all  his  elegance  without  a  sword  though... if  silent  enough,  the  sword  may  never  be  put  to  use.

          Perhaps  he  was  reckless  today.  Perhaps  he  had  been  too  occupied  by  such  troubling  thoughts  that  he  found  himself  the  center  of  attention  and  not  in  the  good  way.  The  sword  he  carried  was  an  extension  of  a  long,  dainty  arm  covered  loosely  by  a  golden  sleeve  of  the  dress  he  wore.  Each  time  he  swung  the  sword,  pale  flesh  glowed  just  as  magnificently  as  the  white  hair  upon  his  head.

          One,  two,  three...  He  swung  his  blade  with  ease  as  cool  steel  sliced  through  the  various  dark  creatures  looking  to  feast  upon  centuries  of  ethereal  beauty.  He  showed  no  fear  in  those  blue  grey  eyes,  moving  swiftly  to  cut  through  each  obstacle  in  his  path.  But  he  was  just  one  man  ---  just  one  elf.  Elvenking  or  not,  even  he  could  become  overwhelmed.  Having  thought  he  slayed  the  last  of  those  cursed  boars  and  spiders,  he  stood  tall,  preparing  to  sheathe  his  sword.  

          But  he  never  saw  him  coming.

          Thranduil  found  his  body  being  pulled  back  against  another  frame,  his  eyes  widening  as  a  blade  was  pressed  against  his  neck.  Whoever  it  was,  held  him  firmly.  There  was  no  breaking  free  until...

          The  man's  grip  suddenly  loosened  and  as  Thranduil  tore  away,  he  looked  back  in  time  to  see  his  attacker  fall  to  the  ground.  There  was  a  blade  in  his  back  and  the  one  who  might  have  been  the  cause  of  it,  standing  at  a  distance  watching  him  from  beneath  a hooded  cloak.  The  sight  frightened  Thranduil  though  he  was  far  too  proud  to  acknowledge  this  fact.  Instead,  he  swallowed  hard,  speaking  only  when  he  felt  his  voice  would  not  betray  him.

          ❝Your  aim...  and  timing  is  much  appreciated.❞  He  paused,  offering  a  stiff  bow.  ❝It  pains  me  to  say  this  but  I  believe  you  have  just  saved  my  life.  To  whom  am  I  indebted  to  from  now  until  he  so  chooses  to  collect  his  fee?❞