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earthlybeam · 1 day ago

Note

Wait, oh my god. If you don’t mind, could you possibly write the oversized tunic prompt for Haldir, Legolas, and/or Thranduil?

Or possibly, their SO in their tunic?

Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The flickering light of the hearth bathed the guest chamber in a warm, golden glow, the shadows of the flames stretching across the polished stone walls and draping the room in quiet intimacy. It was peaceful—until the door opened, revealing the imposing figure of Thranduil. He moved with effortless elegance, his long robes trailing in his wake as his sharp gaze swept over the chamber. For a fleeting moment, his expression was serene, his features carved from ice and marble, betraying nothing. But then his eyes fell on you.

You stood in the doorway, caught in the firelight, the oversized tunic billowing slightly as you shifted under his gaze. The garment—his tunic—hung loosely on you, its fine fabric pooling in some places and clinging in others, betraying the fact that it had not been tailored for you. The neckline dipped low, and the material had slipped off one shoulder, baring the curve of your collarbone and a hint of your skin. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, your every move revealing just how precariously it sat. Though the look was accidental, it carried with it an unintended allure.

Thranduil stopped mid-step, his ice-blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they trailed over you, taking in every detail of your appearance. His expression was unreadable at first, the practiced neutrality of a king who had seen and weathered all things. But then his lips curved into the faintest of smirks, a spark of amusement glinting in his gaze. “Is this…” he began, his voice low and smooth, laced with an almost imperceptible edge, “intentional?”

You froze, your heart stuttering in your chest under the weight of his scrutiny. “Intentional?” you echoed, heat rising to your cheeks. You felt your embarrassment bubbling over, but you did your best to keep your tone even. “You make it sound like I’ve planned this.” You gestured vaguely to the tunic, the sleeves so long that the cuffs nearly swallowed your hands. “I didn’t exactly have many options. My clothes are being washed, and this was the only thing I could find that didn’t reek of travel.”

Thranduil took a measured step forward, the soft sound of his boots against the stone floor echoing faintly. There was something predatory in his movements, though not unkind—a quiet, deliberate grace that left no room for misunderstanding who stood before you. His gaze softened slightly, though his intensity did not waver. “And you thought it wise to wear this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as though the question were for himself as much as it was for you. “My tunic?”

You bristled, a mix of defiance and self-consciousness sparking in your chest. Crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to shield yourself, you tilted your chin up. “It’s not like I expected you to walk in unannounced,” you countered, though your voice wavered slightly under his piercing gaze. “Besides, it’s not that revealing.”

At that, one of his thick brows arched elegantly, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying his disbelief. “Not that revealing?” he repeated, a note of dry humor slipping into his tone. His eyes flicked down briefly, lingering on the exposed curve of your shoulder where the fabric had slipped, then lower, taking in the hem that rested just a little too high for propriety. “It barely clings to you,” he said plainly, though there was something warmer—something almost dangerous—beneath the cool cadence of his voice. “It is… distracting.”

“Distracting?” You scoffed lightly, though your pulse quickened under his steady gaze. You had meant it to sound dismissive, but the nervous edge to your tone gave you away. “You sound offended. Or…” You allowed a playful edge to creep into your voice, though you knew you were treading on thin ice. “Or maybe you’re just jealous that I pull it off better than you.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, your words echoing in the chamber. Then, to your surprise, a deep, rich chuckle escaped him, the sound resonating low in his chest. His smirk deepened, his gaze glinting with what could only be described as admiration. “Brazen,” he murmured, almost to himself, though the amusement in his tone was evident. “Only you would dare to jest with me in this way.”

You took a tentative step forward, emboldened by the flicker of humor in his expression. “Would you rather I cower?” you asked, your voice soft but steady now. “Or apologize for borrowing something clearly too fine for someone like me?” The teasing edge in your tone was deliberate, but underneath it lay something more vulnerable—something unspoken, though not unnoticed.

Thranduil tilted his head, his gaze never wavering as you drew closer. When he spoke, his voice was lower, quieter, as if the moment demanded it. “I would rather you be more aware of what you provoke,” he said, his words measured but weighted with meaning. “For once tempted, I may not so easily let it go.” You blinked, the air in the room seeming to thicken as his words hung between you. He took another step forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. His hand rose slowly, hesitating just for a moment before brushing the edge of the tunic where it had slipped from your shoulder. The gesture was so light, so fleeting, it could almost have been unintentional—but the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

“It is not the garment I mind,” he said softly, his fingers lingering just a moment too long against your bare skin, his gaze locking onto yours with a startling intensity. “It is the thought that others might see you like this. That I might have to share what stands before me now.” Your breath caught, the heat of his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Thranduil,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, “it’s just a tunic.”

His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, though his gaze never softened. “Perhaps to you. But to me, it is far more than that.” His hand fell away as he leaned in, his face mere inches from yours now. His voice dropped lower, barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of a command. “Be more mindful of how you tempt me. You may not like where it leads.” Your heart raced, your words catching in your throat as his meaning settled over you like the heat of the firelight. “Who says I wouldn’t?” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the tension of the moment.

For a moment, he froze, his gaze sharpening as if searching your expression for the truth behind your words. His hand, which had fallen to his side, tightened into a loose fist as though reining himself in. Then, slowly, he straightened, the icy mask of the elven king sliding back into place with practiced ease. “Be ready for supper,” he said, his voice cool and composed once more, though his words carried an undeniable weight. “And wear something less… distracting.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel, his robes sweeping behind him as he disappeared into the hallway, leaving you standing there, breathless and warm, the echo of his touch still lingering on your shoulder.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

The quiet chambers of Mirkwood were bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the hearth, the light casting golden shadows on the stone walls. The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest beyond the balcony. Legolas stepped through the carved wooden door with his usual Elven grace, the gentle creak of the hinges the only sound that broke the stillness. His sharp eyes, gleaming with the light of the fire, immediately sought you out.

You stood in the center of the room, hesitant, your fingers brushing nervously at the hem of the oversized tunic you wore. It was one of his—a garment you’d found folded neatly atop the guest bed, clean and soft but unmistakably his. The loose fabric hung down past your knees, its neckline slipping off one shoulder to expose more skin than you were comfortable with. The tunic billowed lightly with your every shift, and though it covered you, the way it clung in places and revealed too much in others made you feel distinctly… vulnerable.

Legolas froze mid-step, his crystalline blue gaze locking on you as if you’d stolen all the air from the room. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first, his expression flickering between surprise, concern, and something far more unreadable. He tilted his head just so, as though trying to make sense of the sight before him. “Is… is that my tunic?” His voice, usually steady and serene, carried a hint of bewilderment, the faintest quirk of his brow betraying his confusion.

You shrugged, trying to feign indifference but failing miserably under his piercing gaze. “I didn’t really have anything else to wear,” you explained, your voice quieter than usual. “My clothes were still drying from the river, and this was here, so…” You gestured vaguely to yourself, feeling the heat creep up your neck and cheeks. “It’s fine, right?”

Legolas stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. The flickering light of the fire danced in his eyes as they roved over you—not with judgment, but with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He stopped just short of you, his tall frame towering yet somehow gentle in its proximity. “It is not… improper,” he said carefully, though the faint flush blooming at the tips of his ears betrayed him. “Though I must admit…” He paused, as if searching for the right words, his gaze drifting to the exposed curve of your shoulder. “It is… revealing.”

You laughed softly, a nervous edge to the sound as you pulled the loose fabric back up your shoulder. “Revealing? Says the elf who walks around in robes with slits up to—” You stopped yourself with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. “I think your standards for modesty are a little… flexible.”

His lips parted in a soft exhale, and you swore you saw the faintest twitch of amusement tug at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his voice low, almost teasing. “But when it is you wearing my tunic…” He trailed off, his words hanging in the air like a string plucked on a harp. “When it’s me, what?” you challenged gently, meeting his gaze, though your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “Do I wear it poorly? Should I have asked for something less ‘revealing,’ your highness?” You added the last part with a playful lilt, trying to ease the tension that had settled between you.

“No,” he said swiftly, too swiftly, his tone softening immediately after. “No, it is not that. It is…” His hands twitched at his sides as if unsure whether to reach for you. “It suits you. Better than I expected.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Better than you expected?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’ve been parading around in your clothes for weeks.”

“Have you?” he countered, his voice dipping into something teasing, his sharp gaze briefly flicking over you again. The faintest ghost of a smile played on his lips now, though his posture remained composed, regal. “No!” you said, shaking your head. “I just—” You sighed, gesturing helplessly at the tunic. “It was either this or sitting around freezing in a damp shirt. And it’s not like anyone else is here to see me.” You hesitated, catching the way his eyes softened. “Except you, apparently.”

Legolas tilted his head, his expression gentling further, the faint blush on his cheeks lingering. “I would not fault you for choosing comfort,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “Though…” He reached out, his fingers grazing the fabric where it pooled loosely over your wrist. “I must admit, I am unused to seeing you so… unguarded.” “Unguarded?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping you. “I’m wearing your tunic, not armor.”

“It is not the tunic,” he said, his gaze steady and earnest. “It is… you.” His fingers brushed against your wrist again, feather-light but enough to make your breath hitch. “You wear it with a grace I did not know my garments could possess.” You blinked up at him, momentarily speechless, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that you think I look ridiculous.” He smiled then, soft and genuine, the kind of smile that could break down even the strongest walls.

“Ridiculous?” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “No, Mellon nîn or shall I say meleth nǐn.” The Elvish slipped from his lips like a melody, and though you didn’t know the meaning, it made your heart ache in the best way. “Far from it.” And for a moment, as he stood there in the firelight, his fingers lingering near yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever be able to look at that tunic the same way again.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

The quiet serenity of the guest chambers of Lothlórien is broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth. The golden light dances on the smooth, pale walls, casting flickering shadows that shift as if alive. Outside, the faint hum of the Elven woods persists, a sound so subtle and ancient it feels as though it could weave dreams.

Haldir steps in, his presence commanding yet measured, as always. His silver hair gleams in the firelight, and his sharp, discerning gaze immediately sweeps the room before settling on you. He stops short, and for a moment, the mask of stoicism that is his constant companion falters. His eyes widen, just slightly, betraying his initial surprise.

You stand there, clothed only in one of his tunics, which hangs loosely around you, brushing against your knees. The neckline dips further than you expected, the fabric slipping off one shoulder to reveal your skin beneath. The garment is clearly oversized, its looseness making it far more revealing than you intended. You shift awkwardly under his gaze, both self-conscious and oddly amused by the rare moment of silence from the Marchwarden.

“Haldir,” you start, breaking the tension. “I didn’t expect you so soon. I didn’t have time to… change.” Your voice carries an air of calm, though your heartbeat quickens. His gaze snaps to yours, his usual composure quickly returning, though a faint flush lingers high on his cheekbones. “I see,” he says, his tone carefully even, though there’s a tightness to it that suggests he’s restraining himself. He takes a step closer, his eyes darting—unbidden—back to where the tunic slips off your shoulder, exposing a sliver of collarbone.

“I trust,” he begins, clearing his throat as if to steady himself, “that you are aware how… unconventional this attire is.” His voice is low, calm, but there’s a tension beneath it—a mix of protectiveness and something more hesitant. “Such a sight might… cause distraction to others. Particularly in my halls.”

You arch a brow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, which only causes the tunic to shift further, sliding a bit higher on one leg and baring more of your skin. “Your halls?” you counter, a faint smirk playing on your lips. “And here I thought these were the halls of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.”

Haldir’s lips press into a thin line, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He takes another step closer, his voice softening but losing none of its authority. “You know what I mean. Such…” he gestures vaguely at your attire, clearly uncomfortable even addressing it, “an ensemble is not… fitting.”

You tilt your head, letting the smirk grow. “Oh? And who decides what is fitting, Haldir? You?” There’s a playful lilt to your tone now, and you can see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s torn between exasperation and amusement. “It is… unbecoming,” he insists, though his voice has lost some of its sternness. His gaze flickers once more to the slipping neckline, and he quickly averts his eyes, clearly wrestling with himself. “What if one of my brothers or the sentries had seen you like this?”

You take a step toward him, your bare feet silent on the stone floor, and tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “But they didn’t,” you say, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re the only one who’s seen me like this. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Haldir freezes, his breath hitching at your words. For a moment, the guarded walls he keeps so firmly in place seem to crack, and he looks at you—not as the Marchwarden of Lothlórien, but as Haldir, the Elf who feels so deeply yet shows so little. His lips part slightly, as though he’s about to say something, but no words come.

You take another step closer, your movements deliberate now, emboldened by his reaction. “Haldir,” you say, your voice softening, “you don’t have to pretend to be so composed all the time. It’s just me.”

He exhales sharply, as though your words have pierced through the layers of his restraint. “You test my patience,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks any real bite. There’s something almost tender in the way he looks at you now, his gaze lingering on your face, your eyes, before flicking back to the tunic once more. “You… shouldn’t wear things like this,” he says finally, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Not when you don’t understand what it does to me.”

The confession hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re both silent. Then, a slow, mischievous smile spreads across your face. “Oh,” you say, your tone light but pointed. “And what does it do to you, Haldir?”

He steps closer still, his composure unraveling further with each passing second. The faint flush on his cheeks deepens, and he looks at you as though you’re the most dangerous thing he’s ever encountered. “It makes me forget my duty,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that is something I cannot afford.”

You reach out, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. “Maybe forgetting your duty, just for a moment, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” Haldir’s breath catches again, and for a moment, you think he might close the remaining distance between you. But then, with a deep inhale, he steps back, his usual composure snapping back into place like a shield. “You should change,” he says, his voice firmer now but still soft. “Before someone else sees you.”

You watch him for a moment, the tension still palpable, before nodding. “As you wish, Marchwarden,” you reply, a hint of teasing in your tone. As you turn to gather your clothes, you catch the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips—a smile that’s gone almost as soon as it appears. But the way his eyes linger on you, even as he tries to compose himself, tells you that you’ve left him thoroughly shaken.

#thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil headcanons #Legolas #Legolas x you #Legolas x reader #legolas headcanons #haldir #haldir of lothlórien #haldir x you #haldir headcanons #haldir of lorien #haldir x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

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n0tamused · 2 months ago

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🏹Haldir at Helm's Deep

As promised, from last night. If I had more time/energy I would've colored this too.

Close up under the cut .

Version without the arrow too bc I wanted to see his face.

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craig-parker-cravings · 3 months ago

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Rahl

Haldir

Character comparisons: The red cloaks

#craig parker #darken rahl #legend of the seeker #lots #haldir #lord of the rings #lotr #haldir of lorien #lotr elves #tolkien #the two towers #helms deep

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foedhrass · 1 year ago

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From left to right: a Teleri OC, Aegnor, Amras, Annatar, Caranthir, Gil-galad.

From left to right: Irmo, Eöl, a Nandor OC, Maeglin, a Mirkwood OC, Thranduil

And of course Thingol.

Welcome and thank you to all new followers! The Thingol cloak post brought you here, but I have several more Middle-earth cosplays, most of them own designs for Silmarillion characters.

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elficially-done-with-life · 1 year ago

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Hundred Years Ago

Pairing: Haldir x Reader

Summery: Haldir wants to ask you an important question, but you two are interrupted.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Will we be there soon?" you asked with feigned impatience.

Haldir snorted in amusement: "Can't wait, can you?"

"No." you admitted. You really wished you could see something, but Haldir was very thorough in covering your eyes. "I finally want to know what you are making such a secret about. You even took the day OFF! Until two days ago, I was sure you did not even know how to do that."

"Oh, shut up," you could hear from his voice that he was grinning. Then you felt him gently press his lips to the tip of your ear. "Do not worry, Meleth nîn, we will be right there."

Haldir had been very secretive for the past few days, sometimes whispering quietly with his brothers, but would stop talking when you were within earshot.

At first you didn't think anything of it, but you were very interested in what they were talking about.

When Haldir took the day off from his duties, you were sure that something was up.

And now he was leading you to a 'mysterious place'. Whether it was really that mysterious you didn't know, but as he covered your eyes you had no idea where you were going.

Suddenly he stopped and said: "Ready?"

"Of course!" you said excitedly and he carefully took his hands away from your eyes, and you couldn't help but notice that they were shaking a little.

It took a while for your eyes to find out where you were.

Spread out on the ground in front of you was a large picnic blanket with a huge basket on top, which, judging by the smell, was filled with all your favourite treats.

You were in a clearing that you knew only too well. "This is where we met for the first time!"

Haldir nodded. "Exactly one hundred years ago."

"What?" you asked in surprise and turned to face him. To your surprise, his cheeks were slightly flushed, which was a little unusual for Haldir.

"Exactly one hundred years ago," he repeated, "we met here for the first time."

"You mean when you nearly shot me with one of your arrows?" you replied, smiling gently. That he had actually thought of that was incredible.

"I thought you were an orc." Haldir only replied. "You were walking around far too close to the borders. Be glad I did not have such a good aim back then," he leaned forward so that you could feel his breath on your lips as he said, "I would not miss my target today."

He was probably expecting you to playfully punch him in the side or come up with a counter-argument, but he had surprised you today, so you wanted to surprise him too.

You quickly leaned forward and before Haldir could react, your lips had already captured his in a gentle kiss.

Haldir returned the kiss and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tighter against him, while the fingertips of his other hand glided over your spine.

Eventually he pulled away from you again and nodded towards the picnic blanket. "How about we sit down and eat something."

The food tasted delicious, and you knew from the first bite you took that Haldir must have made it all himself. It had probably taken ages.

You loved the food your beloved made, but unfortunately you couldn't eat it that often because he always had to work.

"I am really surprised that you remember exactly which day we met. I have to admit that I remember the year but I could not have told you the day," you admitted.

Haldir laughed softly. "I could not either. Orophin still knew. He accompanied me here for the first time because he was finally old enough to learn how to handle a bow and arrow."

You remembered well. Both of Haldir's brothers had been quite young at the time and he had cared for them since the death of their parents. One of the reasons why you had practically helped raise them after you two had become close.

"Then I guess I will have to thank him later," you said playfully and winked at him.

Haldir shrugged his shoulders. "He only provided the date, but I was planning to come here with you anyway." Suddenly his voice became a little quieter, almost uncertain. "I wanted to ask you a really important question."

He swallowed and put his plate aside, then reached for your hand. "Meleth nîn, I- "

But something interrupted him. Just as he was about to get to the question you were dying to know, there was a rustling in a bush not far from you.

Haldir jumped up and stood protectively in front of you. He pulled a knife from his sleeve, which he always had there, whether he was working or not, so that he wouldn't be unarmed in an emergency.

"Who is there?" he asked loudly, his eyes fixed on the bush.

You held your breath.

Then two elves you knew all too well poked their blond heads out of the bush. Orophin and Rùmil.

"You did not ask her!" Rùmil said indignantly and grimaced. "Do you know how uncomfortable it is to hide in a bush? We were here a few minutes before you and now we haven't even seen the big moment."

Haldir put the knife away again and massaged his forehead. "You two really are- "

"Besides, I contributed more than just the date," Orophin said to you with a pompous look, "I also chose the picnic basket! I borrowed it from Lord Celeborn, you have no idea how many he has lying around because he goes on picnics with Lady Galadriel all the time!"

You could hardly stifle your giggles as relief washed over you. For a moment you thought you were going to have to fight an orc or a wild animal.

Orophin and Rumil now climed out from the undergrowth of the bush with some difficulty and went over to you.

"Some stupid root cut me." Rùmil cursed.

"Serves you right." Haldir grumbled, but you could see his eyes immediately moving up and down his brothers body to see if he was seriously injured. Since he apparently wasn't, Haldir gave him an angry look.

Since his brothers obviously realised that they couldn't simply talk their way out of it, they turned to you with a nervous smile. "You are happy to see us, right?"

You gave Haldir a sideways glance before grinning back. "I am always happy to see you. But there are sometimes very inopportune moments, you know?"

They blushed and nodded cautiously.

Haldir rubbed his face with the hand he had just used to massage his temple.

"We will talk about it later," he finally said, turning to his brothers. "Go now."

Slowly, he let himself sink back onto the picnic blanket.

"I am sorry." he whispered, "I do not know if you still- "

You put a hand on his arm and gently pressed your lips to his cheek. "I would love to hear your question."

"We have known each other for a hundred years now," he began nervously, placing his hand under your chin so that you could look each other in the eye. "Would you do me the honour of courting you?"

Excitement rose in you and it took a few seconds before you were even able to form an answer in your head.

You couldn't believe he had actually asked that! No wonder his brothers had made such a fuss.

Meanwhile, Haldir's face looked very strained and only now did you realise that you still hadn't answered him.

A broad grin spread across your face and you said in a voice trembling with excitement: "There is nothing I would enjoy more."

Haldir slowly pulled you close and together you snuggled up on the picnic blanket under the stars.

When it was already very late, you made your way back.

Haldir carried the basket while you tucked the rolled-up blanket under your arm.

At first he had insisted on carrying both, but when you said you couldn't possibly leave everything to your future husband, he blushed and gave you the picnic blanket.

When you arrived home, all you wanted to do was fall into bed, but when you opened the front door, Haldir's brothers came to meet you.

"Now you are breaking into our house too," he said, but you could tell from the grin on his lips that he didn't hold it against them.

His brothers also seemed to have noticed the grin and with an excited squeal they ran towards you with open arms. "She said yes!"

#haldir x reader #haldir x you #haldir of lothlorien #haldir of lorien #haldir #x reader #tolkien x reader #tolkien #elves x reader #lotr #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr x reader #lord of the rings

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mushroomates · 7 months ago

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Tolkein elves aren't vegan/vegetarian, they made that up for the Hobbit movies. Elves are renowned hunters in the books. They're hunting for meat.

don’t worry!! i’m well aware. you can read my other post on that. in short, i agree!

please keep in mind that a lot of these thoughts are headcanons! while i like to respect the original work, a lot of things are up to interpretation and i like to take that and run with it. (cheese wizard) i am in no way stating that everything i say is factual or is it the only correct interpretation.

with that in mind, a brief summary!

- hunting is great and valid, but there’s less things to hunt bc of sauron

- hunting is now more symbolic and regulated to protect the ecosystem

-they don’t domesticate livestock. they like to live with the earth, not impose on it. there are a few exceptions like horses, but even then, horses are seen as a companion, not a means to travel

-they also don’t farm. i’m sure they grow some things, but i’m talking at the significant level- again, respecting nature. for the same reason.

-this leads to a raw diet. it is both convenient and establishes a deeper bond to middle earth.

are elves, by a rule, vegan? no. are they vegetarian? no. they don’t follow any strict dietary laws, and also are individuals and not just a collective. i’m sure some elves choose to be vegetarian, im sure some elves also choose to eat lots of meat and pride themselves on hunting.

but elves are made up. so i can’t really ask them, and these are just my thoughts.

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windrelyn · 1 year ago

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This year I chose to draw Celeborn and Galadriel.

Happy new year everyone!

The commissions are still open! Visit my Ko-fi for more information!

#tolkien #celeborn #galadriel #elves #lotr #fanart #happy new year #new year #new year 2024 #middle earth #my art #lothlorien #lorien #lord of the rings #silmarillion #silm art

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agentflowerpot · 22 days ago

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What I think their scent, favorite food, dessert, flower, drink, color, season, animal, guilty pleasure, and spiritual animal.

Headcanons: Gil Galad, Celebrimbor, Thranduil, Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Lindir.

Gil~Galad

Scent: He carries the scent of crisp winter air, mingling with the earthy fragrance of ancient wood and the salty tang of the sea. It evokes both the distant chill of the north and the ageless spirit of the Elves, an aura of ancient wisdom and strength.

Favorite Food: He relishes venison roasted over an open fire, a meal that carries with it the essence of the wilds—earthy, smoky, and fit for a king. It is simple yet refined, representing his balance of strength and nobility.

Favorite Dessert: Golden honey cakes, their sweetness balanced with a hint of spice, reflect his deep connection to both the earth and the Elven love for rich, delicate flavors. A treat as elegant and timeless as his reign.

Favorite Flower: White lilies hold a special place in his heart—delicate and pure, they symbolize nobility and purity, embodying the essence of Elven grace and the lasting legacy of the Noldor.

Favorite Drink: He enjoys rich, aged wine from the vineyards of Lindon, its complexity and depth echoing the long history of the Elves. Each sip carries the taste of Elven craftsmanship and the timeless beauty of the land he rules.

Favorite Color: Silver is his chosen hue, the color of stars, regal power, and the quiet nobility of the Elves. It speaks to his high status, his timeless wisdom, and the quiet serenity of his rule.

Favorite Season: Autumn is his favorite season, when the world feels as if it is in a moment of stillness. The changing leaves and the crisp air reflect his deep connection to the passage of time and his quiet contemplation of Middle-earth’s ever-turning cycles.

Favorite Animal: The peacock, with its dazzling plumage, resonates with his sense of majesty, grace, and regal presence. It is an animal that, though rare and striking, moves with a quiet confidence that mirrors Gil-galad’s own commanding yet composed nature.

Guilty Pleasure: Though he is bound by duty, Gil-galad secretly finds solace in spending time in the serene gardens of Lindon, away from his royal responsibilities. In these private moments, he reconnects with the peaceful rhythms of nature, something his kingship often denies him.

Spiritual Animal: The falcon, noble and ever-watchful, is his spiritual animal. Its ability to soar high above, to see the world with clarity and precision, mirrors his own role as a leader who sees both the grand picture and the details of his realm from above, with calm detachment and vigilant responsibility.

Celebrimbor

Scent: Celebrimbor carries the scent of oak—earthy and grounded—mixed with the metallic tang of the forge. His aroma evokes the intimacy of creation, the warmth of a forge at dusk, where the heat of the fire and the coolness of twilight meet.

Favorite Food: He favors Elven bread, soft and light, often paired with honey and fresh fruit. The simplicity of this food, with its sweetness and delicate flavors, mirrors his appreciation for craftsmanship—refined, yet never overwhelming.

Favorite Dessert: A dish of caramelized figs, warm and fragrant, spiced with a touch of cinnamon. It combines both sweetness and spice, much like his own character—delicate but capable of surprising depth.

Favorite Flower: The Silverleaf, with its delicate and intricate petals, symbolizes the blend of beauty and precision that Celebrimbor values in both his work and the world around him. Its silvery hue reflects his affinity for elegance and refinement.

Favorite Drink: He enjoys a herbal brew that clears the mind, typically something light and refreshing, with notes of mint and thyme. It helps him focus and think clearly, providing clarity before diving into his complex creations.

Favorite Color: Silver, the color of his craft. It shines with a quiet brilliance, much like his work in metal and stone. The reflective hue represents purity, sophistication, and the noble nature of his creations.

Favorite Season: Spring is Celebrimbor’s favorite season, symbolizing the creative renewal of life. Much like the budding flowers and fresh air of spring, it fuels his desire to create, constantly renewing his passion for innovation and artistry.

Favorite Animal: The owl, a creature known for its wisdom and keen observation, mirrors Celebrimbor’s own insightful nature. His quiet, analytical demeanor and ability to perceive things others might miss makes him kin to this nocturnal hunter of knowledge.

Guilty Pleasure: Celebrimbor often loses himself in the designs of new weapons. It’s his secret indulgence—a moment when the pressures of leadership and duty melt away, and he’s consumed by the art of crafting something powerful and beautiful, just for the sake of it.

Spiritual Animal: The phoenix resonates deeply with him. Like the legendary bird, Celebrimbor is reborn from both creation and destruction. His passion for forging, as well as his struggle with Sauron’s betrayal, mirrors the cycle of rising from the ashes to create anew.

Thranduil

Scent: Thranduil carries the scent of pine and fresh dew on the forest floor, a fragrant reminder of his deep connection to Mirkwood’s ancient woods. It’s the smell of tranquility and timelessness, evoking a sense of quiet majesty.

Favorite Food: He enjoys forest mushrooms paired with wild game, a dish that reflects the wild, untamed beauty of his realm. The flavors are earthy and rich, as he appreciates the bounty the forest provides.

Favorite Dessert: Sweet berry tarts, their tangy and delicate flavors satisfy his refined taste for the finest things, while still feeling grounded in the natural sweetness of the world around him.

Favorite Flower: Thranduil favors snowdrops, the delicate flowers that bloom quietly in the coldest months. Their purity and elegance mirror his noble yet reserved nature, and they are a reminder of the strength hidden in quiet beauty.

Favorite Drink: Dorwinion wine is his drink of choice—rich, bold, and refined. The wine’s depth and complexity suit his long-lived nature and his taste for the finer things, reflecting his appreciation for both luxury and tradition.

Favorite Color: Emerald green reflects the vibrant, lush forests of Mirkwood. This deep, rich color symbolizes the strength, mystery, and endless depth of the natural world, mirroring his kingdom and his own regal presence.

Favorite Season: Autumn is his favored season, when the forest is bathed in warm hues of gold and red. It represents a time of change and beauty, much like his own life—a season of reflection and quiet power.

Favorite Animal: The white stag, elusive and proud, represents both grace and strength in the forest. It embodies his own leadership style—majestic, solitary, and deeply connected to the land he rules over.

Guilty Pleasure: Thranduil enjoys his own company more than most, relishing moments of solitude. In these rare moments, he reflects, indulges in his treasures, and experiences peace away from the pressures of his crown.

Spiritual Animal: The lion, powerful and majestic, mirrors his fierce authority and regal presence. Like the lion, Thranduil commands respect and exudes quiet confidence, his strength lying in his measured, controlled nature.

Elrond

Smell: Elrond carries the scent of fresh mountain air, carrying with it a hint of wild herbs and earthy parchment—a blend of nature’s tranquility and the wisdom of his many years.

Favorite Food: His favorite is a hearty stew, simple but satisfying—a meal that represents his practicality and deep connection to the land. It’s both nourishing and comforting, much like his presence in Rivendell.

Favorite Dessert: For something sweet, Elrond enjoys delicate almond cakes—soft and fragrant, with a subtle sweetness that mirrors his gentle yet firm leadership.

Favorite Flower: He favors lavender, its soothing scent and soft purple hue reflecting his calm, patient demeanor, and the peace he brings to his people.

Favorite Drink: A floral herbal tea brewed from the gardens of Rivendell is his drink of choice—light and fragrant, a symbol of his connection to the natural world and the healing qualities he offers.

Favorite Color: The color blue resonates most with Elrond, symbolizing wisdom, peace, and the quiet strength he exudes. It is the color of both the sky and the deep waters—reflective, calm, and enduring.

Favorite Season: Spring is Elrond’s favorite season—a time of renewal, when life begins anew and the world feels calm yet full of potential, much like his own eternal role in Rivendell.

Favorite Animal: The raven holds a special place in his heart—wise, observant, and occasionally brooding. Much like Elrond, the raven is deeply attuned to the world’s mysteries, often seen as a symbol of insight.

Guilty Pleasure: Elrond’s guilty pleasure is losing himself in old scrolls and forgotten histories—the vast knowledge of Middle-earth and its past is something he can never resist, even if it means he spends long hours in solitude.

Spiritual Animal: The swan is his spiritual animal, graceful and serene. It represents his nobility, elegance, and inner calm—a creature that glides smoothly, even though its feet are constantly working beneath the surface.

Glorfindel

Scent: Glorfindel smells like the warm, golden sunlight of the plains, blended with the fresh, earthy scent of wild herbs and flowers. His presence carries the invigorating aroma of nature, like a quiet breeze that moves through a meadow in full bloom. There’s a subtle hint of pine and earth that clings to him, especially after he’s been in the wild.

Favorite Food: His favorite food is a hearty lamb roast, tender and juicy, seasoned with fresh rosemary, garlic, and a hint of salt. The flavors are simple but bold, much like Glorfindel himself—strong, comforting, and full of life.

Favorite Dessert: Berry pies with a golden, flaky crust are Glorfindel’s favorite dessert. The sweetness of the berries contrasts perfectly with the rich, buttery crust, providing a balance he appreciates.

Favorite Flower: Glorfindel’s favorite flower is the sunflower, which symbolizes strength, vitality, and light—traits that he values deeply. The towering, golden blooms remind him of the power and beauty of nature, reflecting his own inner light and unwavering courage.

Favorite Drink: He enjoys a strong, dark elven coffee—smooth but intense, much like his presence. The deep, rich flavors of the brew awaken his senses and provide him with the energy needed to face the challenges of leadership and battle.

Favorite Color: Gold is Glorfindel’s favorite color, representing the sun’s warmth, strength, and vitality. It symbolizes his noble nature, his leadership, and his inner light.

Favorite Season: Summer is Glorfindel’s favorite season, filled with warmth, light, and life. It’s a time of abundance and vitality, much like his own exuberant spirit. He feels most connected to the world around him during this season, thriving in the sunlight and the full bloom of nature, as if the world is alive with endless possibilities.

Favorite Animal: A wild, majestic stallion is Glorfindel’s favorite animal, embodying freedom, strength, and grace. The stallion’s untamed spirit and commanding presence mirror Glorfindel’s own noble yet free-spirited nature. He feels a deep bond with these creatures, often riding into battle with the same fierce independence and power.

Guilty Pleasure: Glorfindel’s guilty pleasure is training for hours, often just because he enjoys the challenge. Whether it’s perfecting his swordplay or pushing himself to new physical limits, he finds joy in the act of pushing his body and mind to the edge. It’s a moment of solitude where he can focus solely on himself, away from the burdens of leadership.

Spiritual Animal: His spiritual animal is the lion—majestic, brave, and protective. Much like the lion, Glorfindel exudes confidence and strength, with a natural leadership that commands respect. He is fiercely loyal and protective of those he cares about, much like a lion safeguarding its pride. His courage is unwavering, and his spirit is one of unwavering protection.

Haldir

Smell: Haldir carries the sharp scent of wood and green leaves with him, a reminder of the forests he guards. It’s the fresh, invigorating scent of the wild, mixed with the earthiness of moss and the crispness of the forest floor after rain.

Favorite Food: He favors dried fish, smoked over a crackling fire. It’s simple, yet satisfying, with the smoky flavors of the forest’s edge filling the air—something hearty and practical for a warrior who lives by the rhythms of nature.

Favorite Dessert: Soft, warm berry tarts bring him comfort, the sweetness of the fruit balanced by the buttery pastry. It’s the kind of dessert that reminds him of quiet moments shared with loved ones in the peaceful calm of the woods.

Favorite Flower: Roses are his favorite, their petals delicate yet strong. Like him, they thrive in the face of challenges, their beauty a testament to resilience. He’s drawn to their quiet strength, much like the guardianship he feels for his people.

Favorite Drink: A strong, earthy tea with herbs from his homeland is Haldir’s drink of choice. Its depth of flavor, grounded by roots and leaves, helps center his mind during long hours of watch or when he seeks solitude to reflect on the tasks ahead.

Favorite Color: Forest green, the color of his heart, is the color that defines him. It’s the hue of the woods he loves, where he feels most at home, a blend of peace and power that flows through every aspect of his life.

Favorite Season: Autumn, when the leaves turn gold and the air is crisp, is Haldir’s favorite season. The quiet change of the world around him mirrors his own introspection, and he finds comfort in the calm that the turning of the seasons brings.

Favorite Animal: The fox, clever and agile, represents Haldir’s sharp mind and quick reflexes. It’s a creature that moves silently through the underbrush, ever watchful and quick to adapt—traits he values as a protector of the forest.

Guilty Pleasure: Haldir’s guilty pleasure is taking long walks alone in the woods, reflecting on his thoughts. In these moments, he is away from the burdens of leadership, allowing the quiet of the forest to clear his mind and help him find peace.

Spiritual Animal: The hawk, swift and focused, is his spiritual animal. It represents his sharp gaze and unwavering determination, as well as his ability to navigate through challenges with precision and a clear purpose. The hawk soars above, always keeping watch over all below.

Lindir

Scent: Lindir carries the scent of sweet-scented wood and aged parchment, a reflection of his scholarly nature. The gentle, earthy notes speak of quiet study, timeless wisdom, and the calming presence of Rivendell’s ancient halls.

Favorite Food: A delicate blend of fruit, sweet with a tangy glaze that balances the flavors perfectly. It’s a dish that mirrors his appreciation for simple pleasures with a touch of refinement.

Favorite Dessert: Lemon cakes, tart but soft, embodying Lindir’s balance of sharp intellect and gentle spirit. Their vibrant flavor lifts the mood, much like his quiet but uplifting presence among friends.

Favorite Flower: White roses, elegant and unpretentious, reflecting his love for simplicity and beauty. The pure, soft petals remind him of peace and clarity.

Favorite Drink: Soft, berry-infused water, refreshing yet light, much like Lindir’s calm and approachable demeanor. It’s a drink that cools the spirit and nourishes the soul.

Favorite Color: Pale blue, cool and serene like a calm river, this color mirrors Lindir’s gentle, composed nature. It reminds him of the quiet moments spent near the water, feeling at peace with the world.

Favorite Season: Spring, a season of renewal and growth. Lindir finds joy in watching the world awaken, much like his own heart, which comes alive with the season’s fresh start.

Favorite Animal: The songbird, delicate and beautiful, a symbol of grace and freedom. Lindir admires its ability to express itself with such simplicity, yet its song can fill the air with meaning and warmth.

Guilty Pleasure: Singing at the top of his lungs when no one’s around. It’s his secret escape, a moment of joy and release where he lets his heart sing freely, without worry or restraint.

Spiritual Animal: The dove, a symbol of peace, grace, and hope. Much like the dove, Lindir is gentle and calm, always striving to bring tranquility to those around him, spreading harmony wherever he goes.

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allbycharles · 2 years ago

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Tall!Galadriel/Small+Buff!Celeborn cuddles

#silmarillion #tolkien #elves #galadriel #celeborn #artanis #teleporno #lorien #lorien elves #noldor #sindar #my headcanons #lotr

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kat651 · 8 months ago

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Hi,

I just reread your self harm elf posts again and was wondering if you would write something similar but with the reader being the one self harming?

Just thought I’d ask since I myself have struggled with this. If not that’s fine but I figured I’d ask

Love your writing so much btw

Elrond:

Elrond had spent the last hour searching for you. It was strange that you were able to do this to him, make him worried beyond what felt reasonable. Rivendell was a safe place. He knew that. But you always managed to make him panic. Always.

Finally he decided to check your room. Occasionally you’d go in there during the day just to get some quiet.

As he opened the door the sight before him caused him to gasp and tears to well up in his eyes. “Meleth, why?” He asked, briskly walking over to you and taking the knife before kneeling in front of you and gently taking your hands. “Why are you hurting yourself?” His eyes were brimmed with tears and his usual strong voice was wavering and choked.

You didn’t answer and it felt like a punch to the gut for him. Elrond stood before lifting you out of the seat and seating you on your bed. “Don’t move I’ll be right back.” He whispered, kissing your cheek before running off.

When Elrond returned he had everything he would need to take care of your wounds. He knelt before you and gently began to clean and wrap your wrists. When he finished he rose and sat next to you. “What’s wrong my love? Why are you doing this?”

You looked up at him for a moment before sighing and hiding your face in his chest. “It’s all too much right now. I can’t take it.” You sobbed.

“I’m here…you don’t have to do this alone.”

Lindir:

You tried to hide it from him. but of course, being the observant person he was, he noticed.

“Love, what happened to your wrist?” He asked, gently grabbing your hand.

You looked away refusing to answer and it broke Lindir’s fraigile heart. He gently cupped your face and placed a kiss on your nose.

You sighed and hugged yourself.

“Hey… look at me…” he whispered, gently tilting your chin up. “I’m not mad. You know that… right?”

You nodded.

Lindir put an arm around you and pulled you out of the room. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thranduil:

When he first saw the cuts on your wrists he panicked. “Y/n, what happened? Why would you- are you ok?!”

For a regal elf lord he sure did panic when it came to you.

Once he calmed down enough he looked at you with sad eyes. “How long? How long have you been doing this and not telling me?”

Of course you didn’t answer which caused him to worry again. “Is it me? Am I the reason?”

You shook your head and he visibly relaxed. “I- ok…I just… I worry. A lot.”

“I know” you said, leaning against him.

Legolas:

Caught.

Legolas had caught you red handed. Quite literally. “Y/n!” He yelled in a panic. Which of course caused tears to well in your eyes.

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed.

Realizing he had caused you to panic, he slowly wrapped you in his arms. “Darling what’s wrong?” He whispered as he subconsciously inspected your wrists before sliding his bag off his shoulder and digging through it with one hand until he located some bandages. “Talk to me sweetheart.” He whispered as he gently wrapped your arms.

Haldir:

When he noticed the scars on your wrists he hesitated to say anything at first. He knew all too well that kind of pain.

After a few days he finally spoke up. “Don’t do it again.” He said, not even looking over.

“Do what?” You asked confused.

Haldir grabbed your hand and slid up your shirt sleeve. “This. Don’t do it.”

You pulled away and looked at your hands.

Haldir sighed. Emotions were hard but he needed to try. He knelt in front of you and gently took your hands. “Look at me…”

You slowly met his gaze and to your surprise there was pain etched in his eyes. “Please don’t hurt yourself. If you want to hurt someone hurt me.”

“What? No!”

Haldir gently took your face in his hands and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Please don’t do this to yourself. I…” he paused and took a breath. “I love you too much to watch you do this… please, if you’re struggling come talk to me. I’ll listen…”

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