#lotr elves x reader

[0chemicalwaste0]

We Will Meet Again

(Haldir x reader)

-Part 1-

request thanks to the lovely @SierraSama from Wattpad. Anyway this is her request and enjoy. "Could you possibly do a Haldir imagine in which the reader is injured when she arrives in Lóthorien with the fellowship and he helps her back on her feet?"

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 951

'So help me if we live to see another day I'm going to kill Mithrandir.' I thought to myself. Why? You may ask, well I, along with the Fellowship, were currently in Moria in a bit of a conundrum. You see my friends and I were having to run for our lives away from thousands upon thousands of goblins. Not to mention the fact we had to escape from a Balrog as well. Gimli had thought it would have been a wonderful idea to traverse through the abandoned mines. A few loud noises later; curtsy of Pippin, the group and I were dashing through the old halls to the nearest exit as quick as possible. And at the current moment, I was holding up the rear of the group to make sure none of the hobbits were left behind and to let some steam off while shooting goblins in the head with my arrows. And I'm not guilty to say I imagined their heads to be Gandalf's. Then running across a narrow bridge with Gandalf staying behind to make sure everyone makes it safely across, the Balrog made his appearance. For the first time in my immortal life I saw Mithrandir afraid for his life and ours. He started to make his way over to the center of the bridge. Raising his sword and staff saying " You shall not pass!" Then slamming the butt of his staff to the ground braking the bridge beneath the beast. We let out a sigh of relief too soon, because a fiery whip rapped itself around Gandalf's leg and pulled him until only his head and arms were visible over the edge of the broken bridge. Looking to us with sadness and slight fear, "Fly you fools," was his last words before releasing his grip and falling to the chasm below. I screamed in heartbreak along with Frodo, standing there in disbelief of losing a close friend and a father figure to Frodo. Boromir grabbed Frodo and slowly walked backwards with a sword in hand to protect him and himself. Looking in my direction Boromir yelled. " (Y/N)! We need to go!" I broke out of my stupor and made my way to the exit, but before I could make it fully through I felt a sharp pain in my right side from the back. I looked down to see a poorly made arrow stuck in my flesh. Standing behind the wall separating the orcs from their target to pull the arrow out. I looked at the tip of the arrowhead to see a dark substance. 'Poison.' I thought to myself then throwing the object to the side. I tore a piece of my tunic underneath my cloak and rapped it over my wound. Making sure that it was out of sight I ran out of the Mines to finally feel the sun on my (S/C) skin and feel a light breeze ruffle my (H/L), (H/C)hair. For a moment I felt better until reality set in. 'Mithrandir is gone.' I told myself. I look at the others and realized they knew this too. I felt a signal tear run down my face and drop to the ground below.

We had been traveling for about half a day and I could feel myself losing strength quickly. Everything was fuzzy around the edges of my vision, I could feel vertigo starting to set in. I could hear Gimli talking to the hobbits ahead of me but it was muffled by the sound of blood pumping in my sensitive ears. Suddenly the Fellowship had stopped. I looked up and tried to focus my sight. That's when I saw him. He looked like he was one of the Valar descending from the halls of Mandos. He was beautiful in my eyes. Perfect blonde hair in warrior braids running down to his shoulders. I thought I was dreaming, but to soon was I pulled from my revery. I felt a sharp pain over the flesh that was pierced by that foul arrow. Everyone looked to me in confusion and worry once I opened my cloak to look at my wound only to see that blood coated most of my right side. Dark spots started to set in when the blonde elf walked over to me with concern in his baby blue eyes. I realized he was speaking to me, but I could not hear him. Then I felt myself lose balance and start to fall, but before I could hit the hard ground beneath me the elf caught me and was yelling to his men and to the Fellowship asking what happened. They didn't know because I didn't tell them. I wouldn't want them to worry. Soon an elf brought a horse over to us, the beautiful blue eyed elf lifted me up bridal style, put me on the horse, and hopped on behind me. He pulled me in to his chest so I didn't put strain on my wound or fall. While one hand carefully slid around my waist and the other grabbed the rains of the horse. Then every thing fell into darkness with my head leaned into the chest of my savior. I hoped I would live long enough to know his name.

[demigoddessqueens]

Arwen A-Z NSFW

Tags - 18 +, smut, NSFW

A/N - this was from an ask I got a whole back, that’s going to be attached to another CV one

A - Aftercare

SUPER into aftercare and body worship

B - Bodypart

Your arms because she feels most secure and safe in them

C - cum

I’d get the feeling that she’d be ok with it, and wouldn’t mind a mess

D - dirty secret

If someone were to accidentally walk in on you both, she wouldn’t care 😉

E - experience

Arwen Most likely had a past flame before you

F - favorite position

Kinda leaning into the intimacy, anything where your arms and legs wrap around her

G - goofy

There may be some goofy moments before/after love-making, just to ease into it

H - hair

Seems natural that elven nobility would be well-groomed

I - intimacy

Queen of intimacy! It goes a long way

J - Jack off/masturbate

Arwen simply may or may not have time for it, or it may be looked down on by elven nobility, but it serves more as a relief

K - kink

Maybe some light hair pulling or if you can, placing her hands above her head

L - location

If it’s not a secret hideaway, most likely in her chambers, complete with luxury silk and beds

M - motivation

With or without the immortality, Arwen wants as long as happy a life she is afforded with you

N - no

Will never do anything that harms or puts you at risk

O - oral

LOVES to give and receive!!

P - pace

Likes to go slow and sensual to feel every moment with you

Q - quickie

Not exactly her favorite, as it takes away some of the intimacy she craves

R - risk

Kinda similar to “wild card”, albeit Arwen likes to lean a bit more into the trading side

S - stamina

Arwen likes to take her slow, sweet time so I’d imagine a good 2-3 rounds with TONS of aftercare

T - toys

Idk if toys would be a thing here but I’d imagine strap-on’s in a modern AU

U - unfair

Bit of a slight fem dom here and there

V - volume

Fairly tries to keep quiet, but blushed one time at a surprise yelp should anyone hear them

W - wild card

There was that one time she initiated in the garden, less anyone almost walk in on you both

Y - yearning

The idea of a long, happy life with you keeps in Arwen’s heart

Z - zzz 💤

Wont fall asleep automatically, but take the time to admire you for a while

[n0tamused]

"Maedhros, also called Maedhros the Tall, was a prince of the Ñoldor, eldest of the seven Sons of Fëanor, and head of the House of Fëanor following the death of his father in Middle-earth. He was highly renowned for his skills as a warrior and diplomat. For centuries, he led his House against the forces of Morgoth, but the Oath that he and his six brothers had sworn to recover the Silmarils constrained him and ultimately brought his demise."

I planned to post this some time later but I really can't, I really like how this turned out for something I expected to only be a coloured sketch at best. But here we are.

This is for @sh1-n0bu 💕 Hope you like it pooks!🙏

[gulnarsultan]

Thranduil: I believe in free will. Everyone has the freedom to make their own choices.

Fairy Reader: So I can leave with the dwarves?

Thranduil: No, dear.

Fairy Reader: But you just said that.

Thranduil: I meant everyone but you.

Fairy Reader: That's not fair.😠

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy. 

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left. 

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect. 

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention. 

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone. 

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize. 

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp. 

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable. 

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair. 

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance. 

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years. 

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found. 

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you. 

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care. 

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough. 

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.” 

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash. 

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror. 

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser. 

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit. 

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.” 

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding. 

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[sh1-n0bu]

saw the simpsons meme and i just KNOW that a certain elf would be the type to joke like it

legolas or glorfindel, turning to their human s/o with drooped ears, holding up a paper: “are you 🍃ing me?”

[name], said human s/o, used to their dramatic ways: no, i’m not leaving you. we’re staying married until we die or set sail to valinor

legolas or glorfindel, quickly scribbling on the back of the paper before showing it to [name] with wiggling ears: “what a re🍃”

[earthlybeam]

If your requests are open, I was wondering how Elrond, Thranduil, and Cirdan would react to the reader saving their life. Like, the reader takes an arrow for them or something. No pressure!

I truly enjoy writing this below, and I’d be happy to create more if you’d like! Feel free to ask or leave a comment below what character, and I’ll do my best to help.

Character you can pick from that I write for: lindir, haldir, feren, meludir, Galion, elros, elladan, elrohir, Legolas, celeborn, erestor, glrofindel, Gil-galad, Celebrimbor (he a new one I have add) ✨🫶❤️

how would the elves react to this?

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Thranduil, Elrond, Círdan Versions are below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

𐂂 Thranduil Caught in a Spider’s Trap and Falling into a Pit While Thranduil and the reader/you are engaged in battle against a group of hostile giant spider in the depths of Mirkwood and reader/you save him

The darkness of Mirkwood had always been an ever-present threat, but tonight it felt even more suffocating. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, almost nauseating tang of decay. The battle raged around Thranduil and you—swarming spiders, venomous and vile, scuttled across the floor of the forest like dark shadows, their eyes glinting in the moonlight. The vicious creatures had long plagued the ancient woods, their hunger insatiable, their venom deadly. Thranduil’s blade flashed in the dim light as he fought off one of the monstrous arachnids, his movements graceful and deliberate, as always. His skill with a sword was unmatched, every strike a precise decision. Yet, for all his agility and battle-hardened experience, he was not immune to the dangers of the forest. Beneath his feet, the ground suddenly shifted.

The earth trembled, the roots of the ancient trees groaning under the weight of the battle and the forces of nature. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed in alarm as the ground crumbled beneath him. He had little time to react before his booted feet were swallowed by the shifting soil, and he found himself falling. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he plunged downward, the pit opening beneath him like a maw, pulling him further into its depths. The trees above him seemed distant as he plummeted, the foliage that once protected the woodland king now closing in, smothering the light and muffling the sounds of battle above. But it wasn’t just the pit that threatened him. Thranduil’s sharp elven senses picked up the faintest rustling, the quiet skittering sound of something moving in the shadows. He barely had time to react as he twisted mid-fall, catching sight of the massive spider—a hulking creature with glistening, venomous fangs and limbs long enough to span a dozen men. It leapt from a nearby tree with frightening speed, its webbing trailing behind it like a death sentence.

Before he could draw his blade or think of a way out, the spider’s web shot forward, its strands wrapping around his body, gluing him halfway down in the pit. His movements were slowed, his legs pinned, and the sticky threads clung to him like chains. His once-immaculate silver armor was now tangled in the webbing, and Thranduil, struggling against the sticky strands, felt the cold grasp of helplessness for a brief moment. The spiders began to circle, their multi-eyed gaze trained on their prey. Thranduil’s breathing quickened as his thoughts turned to escape. His mind raced with calculations, his thoughts sharp as ever despite the danger. He knew he needed to act swiftly if he were to survive this—he needed to cut through the webbing, but his sword was too far out of reach. The pit was deep, the air thick with the smell of the forest and the acrid scent of spider venom. It was then, as the spiders closed in, that a sudden, unexpected force swept through the pit—you. In a flash, you appeared at the edge of the pit, your form illuminated by the faint glow of the moon above. You leapt into the pit without hesitation, your feet landing soundlessly in the shifting soil as you avoided the webs and debris that littered the area. There was no fear in your movements, no hesitation. You had seen the danger, and in a heartbeat, you had made your decision. Thranduil’s sharp gaze followed your every movement, his mind struggling to reconcile the vulnerability he felt with the awe he couldn’t help but feel for your bravery.

Without wasting a moment, you sprinted toward him, your hands steady as you carefully sliced through the thick webbing with a blade or a sharp object of your own. The spiders hissed and clicked their mandibles, closing in around you both, their large bodies casting ominous shadows across the pit. The tension was palpable—the spiders were relentless, sensing the weakness of their prey, and yet, despite their terrifying size, you didn’t flinch. With a swift motion, you freed Thranduil from the sticky grasp of the webs. His body collapsed forward, his limbs unsteady, but you were there to catch him. The webbing still clung to parts of him, but now it was only a minor hindrance. The king’s eyes met yours as he stood, his chest heaving with effort, his breath shallow, but alive. There was a flicker of disbelief in his gaze as he processed what had just happened. His regal poise had faltered in the face of danger, but the moment he saw you fight off the approaching spiders, his admiration for you grew tenfold. You had protected him, not with hesitation or doubt, but with decisiveness, your every action driven by an unwavering will to keep him safe.

Thranduil moved, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword, the glint of his blade reflecting in the dim light. His stance was shaky, but his resolve was firm. The spiders were not to be underestimated, but he could see the way you handled yourself. You were a force of nature in your own right. As the spiders charged, you stood side by side with him, your weapons raised in defense. Thranduil’s mind quickly shifted back to the task at hand. The pit, the danger—it was all secondary now. Your loyalty to him, your willingness to fight by his side, it made all the difference. His voice, hoarse but steady, broke the tension. “You have my gratitude,” he said, his voice low yet filled with an undeniable warmth. There was no formality in his words, no barriers to his sincerity. It was rare for Thranduil to show such vulnerability, but in that moment, he was truly grateful. He moved with you, fighting back the arachnids with precision and strength. The battle was fierce, but together, you were unstoppable. And as the last of the spiders was slain and the pit began to quiet, the king’s gaze softened toward you once more. He was still breathing heavily, his armor now torn and stained, but his respect for you—his appreciation—was clear in the quiet gaze he held upon you.

“Thank you,” he said again, softer this time, his voice laced with gratitude. “I would not have survived this without you.” And in the depths of Mirkwood, surrounded by the echoing silence of the forest, it was clear that something had shifted. Thranduil had always been a king of stone, his heart a fortress built from centuries of loss and sorrow. But with you by his side, something in him softened, and for the first time in many years, he allowed himself to feel a flicker of connection—something real and enduring, something that went beyond the duty of a king and the loyalty of his subjects. It was something he had not expected. But in the pit, with you fighting by his side, he knew—you were his ally, his protector, and perhaps, in time, something more.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ Avalanche/Rockslide While traveling in the mountains near Rivendell, Elrond is caught in a sudden rockslide. The reader shoves him out of the way or shields him with their body, taking the impact themselves.

The mountain path was narrow, winding precariously along the steep slopes that framed Rivendell in its protective embrace. The air was crisp and sharp with the scent of pine and stone, the faintest hint of snow carried on the wind from the higher peaks. Elrond moved ahead with an ease that belied the dangers of the terrain, his every step deliberate and precise. His deep blue-gray cloak swayed gently as he walked, the fine embroidery of Rivendell’s craftsmanship catching the occasional glint of sunlight filtering through the clouds. This trail was familiar to him—one he had traveled many times in search of solitude or to meet travelers approaching from the wilds. He had always admired the way the mountains framed the valley, the ridges standing like silent sentinels over his home. But today, there was a strange tension in the air, an unspoken unease that made him glance up toward the looming cliffs above. The skies had darkened slightly, the rumble of distant thunder echoing faintly through the peaks.

“Elrond,” you called from behind, your voice carrying over the whisper of the wind. “Do you think we should move faster? This weather… it feels strange.” He paused, turning to look at you. His dark hair framed his face, and for a moment, the concern in his sharp gaze was evident. He studied the rocks above and then the path ahead, his instincts honed by centuries of experience. “The mountains are prone to shifts,” he said, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of caution. “We will tread carefully, but there is no need to rush. Fear clouds the mind and invites missteps.” His words were meant to reassure, and as always, his composure gave you a sense of security. But just as you were about to reply, a low, ominous rumble rolled through the mountains. It started softly, a vibration you felt in the soles of your boots, before growing into a deep, resounding groan that seemed to echo all around you. The very earth beneath you shuddered.

“Elrond—” you started, your voice edged with alarm, but he had already turned sharply, his eyes darting upward. The cliffs above you began to shift, a cascade of loose stones tumbling down the slope. Then came the unmistakable sound of cracking rock, loud and jarring. A section of the mountainside gave way, and in an instant, boulders and debris began to hurtle downward, crashing against the slopes with terrifying speed. The ground quaked beneath your feet as the rockslide roared to life. “Elrond, move!” you shouted, your body already reacting before you had time to think. Elrond’s eyes snapped to you, wide with alarm—but he hesitated, looking back toward the path, clearly calculating the best way to evade the deadly rush of stone. That moment of hesitation was enough to make your decision for you. Without a second thought, you lunged toward him, shoving him hard toward the edge of the path, where the rocks seemed less likely to strike.

The force of your push sent him stumbling out of harm’s way, but it left you exposed. The world seemed to blur as the avalanche of rock and debris thundered down. You felt the sharp, jarring impact of stone against your back and shoulders, the force of it knocking the air from your lungs. Pain exploded through you as a heavy boulder clipped your side, sending you sprawling to the ground. Dust and grit filled the air, making it hard to breathe, hard to see. Through the chaos, you vaguely registered Elrond’s voice, sharp and commanding, cutting through the din. “No!” It wasn’t the composed tone you were used to—it was raw, laced with a fear you had never heard from him before.You tried to push yourself up, but the weight of the rocks pressing against you made it nearly impossible. Your limbs felt heavy, your vision swimming as the world began to quiet, the deafening roar of the rockslide fading into an eerie stillness. The pain was overwhelming, but even through the haze, you could feel someone pulling at the stones, hands firm yet careful as they worked to free you.

“Elrond…” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I am here,” he said, his tone steady but trembling at the edges. “Do not move.” His hands, so skilled and steady, worked with a precision born of centuries of healing as he cleared the debris from your body. The weight was gradually lifted, but the damage had already been done. You could see the flicker of anguish in his eyes as he assessed your injuries, his composure cracking ever so slightly. “You should have let me take the fall,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion as he crouched beside you. His hands moved over you with practiced care, pressing gently against your ribs, checking for fractures. “This is my fault—I should have seen the signs. I should have—” His voice broke, but he forced himself to focus, his hands glowing faintly with Elvish healing light as he worked to stabilize you. “You’re… too important to lose,” you whispered, your voice weak but firm despite the pain. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

Elrond’s movements stilled for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. The look in his eyes was devastating—an ocean of guilt, gratitude, and something deeper, something he would never allow himself to say aloud. “And what of you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You would trade your life for mine so easily?” You managed a faint, lopsided smile. “Not easily. But it was worth it.” His jaw tightened, and he returned to his work, his hands moving with renewed urgency. “You will not leave me,” he said, the words quiet but filled with an unshakable resolve. “Not like this. I will not allow it.”

You felt the warmth of his healing light spreading through you, dulling the sharp edges of the pain. Still, you could see the strain on his face, the way his usually steady hands trembled slightly as he poured his energy into saving you. It wasn’t just the physical wounds he was trying to heal—there was something breaking inside him, something he couldn’t hide. As the pain began to subside, you reached up weakly, your fingers brushing against his hand. “Elrond,” you murmured. “It’s not your fault.” He looked at you, his expression fierce and unguarded. “Perhaps not,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “But it is my responsibility to protect you—and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “You saved me.” He shook his head, his composure faltering further as he cupped your hand in his own. “And you saved me. At too great a cost.” The silence between you was filled with the distant sound of falling stones and the soft rush of wind through the mountains. As Elrond worked tirelessly to tend to your wounds, his touch gentle and his brow furrowed in concentration, you realized that the walls he had so carefully built around himself had cracked—if only for a moment. And in that moment, the weight of his heart was laid bare.

🌊 𝓬í𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷

𓇼 Tides of Sacrifice While sailing across a storm-ravaged sea, Círdan, the ancient mariner, is thrown overboard by a violent wave. The reader/you rushes to save him, braving the treacherous waters and risking their own life to pull him back from the brink of death.

The wind roared like a living beast, tearing at the sails and lashing the ship with relentless fury. The sea, dark and churning, rose in great swells that battered the hull as if determined to drag the vessel into its depths. Amid the chaos, Círdan moved across the deck with the sure-footed grace of one who had spent long ages upon the seas, his grey hair whipping wildly in the storm’s fury. Yet even the oldest mariner can be caught off guard when the sea is angry. A sudden, violent lurch of the ship sent crates tumbling, ropes snapping like serpents. Círdan reached for the rail to steady himself, but the slick wood betrayed him. His footing gave way beneath him. For the first time in countless years, his balance failed. Time seemed to slow as his ancient form fell, his outstretched hand just grazing the railing before he vanished overboard into the merciless sea.

The sound of the splash was swallowed almost instantly by the howling storm, yet it echoed in your ears, sharp as a blade. For a moment, panic seized the deck. The crew shouted his name, their voices carried away by the wind, but no sign of him rose from the waves. The great Círdan—ancient, wise, and revered—had been claimed by the raging sea. Without thought, without hesitation, you flung yourself over the side. The shock of the icy water hit you like a thousand knives, stealing your breath and smothering the sounds of the storm. The sea was alive, pulling and twisting around you, trying to drag you into its embrace. Salt stung your eyes as you dove deeper, the world a murky whirl of gray and black, but you forced yourself to focus. Somewhere below, Círdan was sinking into the deep.

At last, through the gloom, you caught a glimpse of him. His silver hair floated around his face like a halo, his limbs weighed down by the heavy robes he wore. He was still conscious, though weakened, his movements sluggish as the current tugged at him. Gritting your teeth, you kicked hard, fighting the pull of the waves until your fingers closed around his arm. He turned his head toward you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something deeper—a silent plea not for himself, but for you. The sea is no place for mortals, and he knew this better than anyone. Yet you did not let go. Bracing yourself against the cold and your screaming lungs, you pulled him upward, stroke by stroke, until at last the surface shattered around you both, and you gasped for air.

The storm raged on, but the ship was there, its lights faint beacons through the downpour. Voices called out as ropes were lowered, hands reaching to haul you back aboard. Círdan, though shivering and pale, was heavier than you imagined, but you held on, your arms trembling as the crew helped drag him to safety. Once both of you were sprawled on the deck, the world seemed to steady itself. The sea still roared, the wind still screamed, but the focus of all eyes was on Círdan and you. You coughed, water spilling from your lungs as you lay gasping, too tired to move. Beside you, Círdan slowly sat up, his movements deliberate, as though the weight of what had just occurred pressed upon him more than the storm or the cold ever could.

His ancient face, lined by centuries of wisdom and sorrow, turned toward you. His grey eyes, deep as the sea itself, met yours, holding you there as if trying to fathom the heart that had risked itself for him. “Why?” he asked softly, his voice carrying through the wind, clear as a bell despite its gentleness. The question was not a rebuke but a quiet wonder, spoken by one who rarely found himself surprised. “Why would you risk your life… for one such as I?”

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, though not from the cold. His grip found yours, steadying both of you, anchoring the moment between you. Around you, the crew murmured, relieved and awed, but Círdan’s focus never wavered. For a long moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression one of quiet reverence—an emotion so rarely seen from one as composed as he. “Long have I walked this world. Long have I guided others across treacherous waters. But never… never did I imagine one would turn back for me.” His voice caught, and his brow furrowed as though the weight of your action bore down upon him.

You could see it then—the great depths of Círdan’s heart. He had seen empires rise and fall, kin sail West never to return, and endless battles won and lost. Yet now, in this fleeting moment, he looked at you with something like awe, as though he had glimpsed something precious, a light no shadow could touch. “You gave much,” he murmured, his voice steadying as he gathered himself. “More than I deserved, I think, but still you gave it. And for that, I am in your debt.” Slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet, and though his body trembled from the cold, his bearing held the dignity of the lord he was. He extended a hand to you, pulling you up beside him.

“Acts of courage such as yours shine brighter than the Silmarils,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I have lived through many storms, and I have seen the strength of many hearts. But yours, today, burns brightest of all.” His hand, steady and warm despite the chill, rested briefly on your shoulder. “Know this,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of an oath. “Whatever path lies before you, you shall not walk it alone. Should you ever call upon me, I will come. For you have given me a gift beyond measure—a life returned, when I had thought all debts long paid.”

Círdan turned then, his face lifted to the dark sky, the rain pouring over him. “The sea has taken much from me,” he murmured, almost to himself, “but it will not take my gratitude. Not now, not ever.” And in that moment, despite the cold, despite the storm, a strange warmth settled within you—a knowledge that even in the vastness of this world, even in its ancient, unyielding tides, your act of courage had changed something. For you had saved not just a life, but a legend. And Círdan would never forget.

[chickentenderx]

been reading a lot of Legolas fics recently. I see your Meleth Nîn[my love] and raise you Ithildin Nîn[my starlight] or El Nîn[my star]

[frost-queen]

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers @merlieve,  @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

| Meeting Thranduil

You met Thranduil when the Third age progressed. It was when the Necromancer unknown then but known as Sauron later on claimed the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc to make it into Dol Guldur. Sauron infected the woods with spiders and orcs. The spiders and the orcs expended their reach claiming more and more for them. Infecting the very nature with their filth and death.

All the elves were forced to leave the woods. Those who fought back were brought down. Countless of lost elves filled the sickening woods. You were amongst some elves that were fleeing. The orcs had increased their stench to the part of the woods where you lived. With a few douzen you were. Fleeing for your lives as the orcs hunted you down. The woods had grown iller. Spider cobs were not too much yet in these parts. But a few spiders having expended their webs out to your lands.

Some elves wanted to stay and fight. They barely lasted long as the pack of orcs were too many. Sweeping them down in a matter of seconds. The others fled as fast as they could. Hatred, anger and sorrow grieving your hearts. You were running trying to stay out of the orcs clutches. The orcs attack made you stumble, dropping to the ground. Surrounded by death and darkness. You thought it was over. You thought you were never going to see the undying lands, but then a bright light appeared between the trees. The illumination blinded the orcs sending them back a bit. The light faded as you could see a small group of elves charge for battle. Lead by a High elf.

The orcs never stood a chance. The High elf approached you, helping you up your feet. The moment his eyes met with his, he was struck. Gasping breathlessly at your grace and beauty. The woods no longer having a place for you, he took you in. Thranduil his name was. King of the woodland realm.

| Life at the woodland realm

Thranduil was smitten with you. For the first time in many ages, the so cocky king found beauty in another. He threated you like a guest with the highest honor. Quarters close to his. Thranduil would host parties just to have an excuse to dance with you. He never let any other elf near you. He wanted you for himself. You sometimes dared to tease Thranduil by speaking to other elves, just to see his reaction. You loved how easily jealous he was. He would come over, pull you gently behind him while urging them in a polite way to leave. Sometimes he would lay his robe over your shoulder to hint to others that you were his.

Underneath the moonlight on a summer's day was when you had your first kiss with Thranduil. Forever giving yourself to one another. He married you a month later never wanted to be parted from you ever again. You became queen of the woodland realm. All the elves present adored you for your righteousness and kind heart. Whenever Thranduil dared to lose his temper, you were there to calm him down. Sometimes you would come along with Thranduil and his army in an attempt to reclaim your woods. When Thranduil saw his numbers dim and almost losing you in a battle, he gave up. Not wanting to see his people be slaughtered or see you in danger. For he could not afford to lose you, his brightest star.

| Legolas

Legolas was born with grace. You loved every little detail of him. Thranduil would be careful at first. For he feared to hold such a fragile creature. He feared he might harm it in any way. You would show him he could do no harm. Taking his hand and bringing it up to Legolas for him to touch. His fingers would brush against his cheek making Legolas flutter a laugh. On that Thranduil was sold. Taking his son in his arms and care deeply for him.

As Legolas grew older, Thranduil insisted he had his features from you. Everything about Legolas reminded him of you. With the coming of Legolas was Thranduil more careful. You were no longer aloud out of the woodland realm. Not wanting anything to happen to you or Legolas. You had to admit it felt a bit lonely being unable to see the old woods. Your home that you missed dearly. With each year it grew colder and deader. Plagued by orcs and spiders. Since you had no where else to go, you focused more on Legolas. Teaching him how to defend himself. It was you who introduced Legolas to the bow and arrow. When Legolas was old enough to have his own bow, he would name it after you.

———————————————

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[queenstarlight2]

Lindir and a modern human who thought his name was Lindor like the chocolate for awhile until someone had to tell her she was saying his name wrong 😂

Let's put our listening ears on

word count: 1,035

The morning sun spilled golden light across Rivendell, painting the dew-kissed leaves in shimmering hues. Birds trilled from the treetops, and the cool, sweet air carried with it the fragrance of blossoming wildflowers. You found yourself wandering the grand halls of Elrond’s haven once more, marveling at the beauty that felt as surreal as a dream.

You were adjusting well, or so you liked to believe. Even if waking up in Middle-earth had initially been a shock, Rivendell’s serene beauty and the Elves’ gentle, albeit occasionally amused, company had helped you settle in. It didn’t hurt that Lindir, one of the more graceful and composed Elves, often accompanied you on your walks.

Today was no different. You found Lindir waiting by one of the many bridges that arched over Rivendell’s rivers, his silver hair catching the light, and his expression, as always, a careful mask of tranquility. You greeted him with a wave and an enthusiastic grin.

“Good morning, Lindor!” you called out cheerfully.

His serene expression twitched ever so slightly, but his smile remained. “Good morning to you as well,” he replied, his voice smooth as the river’s song.

The name—Lindor—had become something of a pet nickname. You knew it was a slight mispronunciation of his actual name, but somehow, it had stuck, and Lindir never corrected you. You didn’t think too deeply about it, assuming it was either not important enough to mention or perhaps he found it endearing. Besides, in a place so removed from your world, it was nice to have something familiar, even if it was just a name that reminded you of chocolates.

Together, you wandered down a path that led to a sun-dappled grove, your conversation meandering as effortlessly as the river beside you. Lindir asked questions about your world, his curiosity polite but genuine. You had spoken of cities and cars, of libraries full of books and kitchens full of foods the Elves had never imagined, but somehow, chocolate had yet to come up.

“You know,” you said, looking up at him, “it’s funny how you Elves don’t seem to get tired. If I didn’t have chocolate in my world, I don’t think I’d have survived college.”

Lindir’s brow furrowed slightly. “Chocolate?” he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. “What is that?”

You blinked. “Wait, really? You don’t have chocolate?”

Before Lindir could respond, another Elf, taller and with a more severe demeanor, approached. It was Erestor, one of Elrond’s advisors and librarian. He paused, eyeing you both with his typical scrutinizing expression, which always made you feel slightly like a wayward child.

“Ah, My lady, Master Lindir,” Erestor greeted, though his gaze lingered on you. “Forgive me, but I have overheard something quite peculiar these past weeks.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Oh? What’s that?”

Erestor’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you felt the weight of an Elven stare that seemed capable of seeing straight through you. “The name by which you address Master Lindir,” he said, his voice precise, “is incorrect. It is not ‘Lindor,’ but Lindir.”

Your cheeks flushed with sudden embarrassment. “Oh no,” you said, your hands flying up to cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you say anything, Lindir?”

Lindir, who looked both amused and faintly embarrassed, shook his head lightly. “I did not wish to embarrass you,” he admitted, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “Besides, you seemed to find some joy in calling me by that name. I did not think it harmful.”

Erestor, however, looked as though he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “And what, pray tell, is this Lindor you have been referring to?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, though you tried to stifle it. “Well, it’s a type of chocolate in my world. A really fancy, melt-in-your-mouth kind of chocolate. The best, really.”

Lindir and Erestor exchanged a look, one of deep Elven confusion, and it only made your laughter harder to contain.

“Chocolate,” Lindir mused, as if tasting the word again might give him insight. “You must explain this… delicacy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, excitement bubbling up at the prospect. “Chocolate is, like, this heavenly, creamy food made from cacao beans, and you can make it into all kinds of things—bars, drinks, desserts. And Lindor chocolates are these little round truffles with a silky filling that just melts when you eat it.”

The Elves stared at you, their expressions frozen somewhere between polite interest and utter incomprehension. Finally, Erestor shook his head, his long hair swaying with the movement. “Your world sounds increasingly bizarre, My Lady,” he declared.

You grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess it is. But seriously, I owe you an apology, Lindir. I’ll get your name right from now on.”

Lindir’s eyes softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “No harm done,” he said gently. “If it is any consolation, the way you say it has a certain charm. But I am pleased to know the story behind this… Lindor chocolate.”

You couldn’t help but smile up at him. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

Erestor looked between the two of you, sighed as though resigning himself to the strangeness that came with having a human guest, and excused himself, muttering something about the peculiarity of mortals. You and Lindir watched him go, and once he was out of earshot, you both burst into laughter.

“He must think I’m hopeless,” you said, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye.

Lindir’s laughter faded into a fond smile. “I think he finds you… perplexing, but in a way that makes this world feel a bit more lively,” he said. “As do I.”

You felt warmth bloom in your chest, and for a moment, the beauty of Rivendell seemed brighter, more vibrant. “Thank you,” you said, feeling a bit shy. “I guess I’ll have to introduce chocolate to Middle-earth one day, won’t I?”

Lindir’s eyes lit up with a playful glint. “I look forward to it,” he replied, “if only to finally understand what could be worthy of my accidental namesake.”

And with that, you continued your walk together, the morning light gilding the leaves, and a new promise of sweet surprises hanging in the air between you.

[0chemicalwaste0]

We Will Meet Again

(Haldir x reader)

-Part 2-

Warnings: None that I can think of

Word Count: 718

When I gained consciousness the first thing that I noticed was how bright it was. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times for my sensitive eyes to adjust. 'A healing ward.' I thought to myself when I finally looked at my surroundings. "Ah, good you are awake my lady, we were afraid you would not live through the night. How are you feeling?" Said an ellon with caramel eyes and light blonde hair, who I assumed was the healer that treated me. "Yes I am well, just a little sore is all." I answered. The ellon walked closer. "Good. I'm just going to check your wound and then you will be able to see your friends." Nodding, I sat up in my cot. "What is your name?" I asked while he handed me a cloth to cover my upper body while he checked my wound. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, my name is Nestaron my lady. And you are (Y/N)." I smiled and nodded my head slightly in greeting. "Nestaron, has the elleth awaken ye-." The healer turned around and greeted the soldier who saved my life. "Haldir, yes as you can see I'm checking the healing progress of her wound now, if you would just give me a moment." I turned slightly to look at the ellon I now knew as Haldir. He was looking at my half naked form in surprise and a hint of embarrassment. "Yes, I-I... I will wait for you outside my lady." He bowed quickly with his eyes to the floor and walked out of the room. I smiled to myself. 'He's cute when he blushes.' I shook my head from those thoughts. I didn't need to be thinking about how he looked.

Once Nestaron did a once over of my wound he let me leave the healing ward. I walked out into the hall to see Haldir leaning against the wall opposite to the doorway I stood in. He looked up at the sound of my light footsteps. "I see you are well?" He asked with a straight face as if what happened earlier had no affect on him. I laughed to myself and answered. "Indeed. I suppose I owe you my thanks for saving my life." The corner of is lips twitched into what I assumed would have been a smile. "There is no need. I simply did my duty as March Warden." I grinned slightly at this. "Well, thank you none the less." He nodded then stretched his right arm out to the right with is palm facing upward toward the exit of the healing ward. "I will take you to your company and then we shall head to Minas Tirith to meet with the Lord and Lady." I walked forward and we began our walk to the rest of the Fellowship.

I could hear Aragon speaking with Legolas when me and Haldir were close to our destination. We turned passed a large tree to see the company resting and conversing about topics unknown to me. I was glad to see my friends again. I realized that I could have died and I would have never seen the people I cared for again. I could not do that to them, we had already lost Gandalf and I would not want to add more grief. My thoughts were interrupted by two small Hobbits. "(Y/N)!!! You’re okay, Pippin yelled, We thought you were dead." Added Merry. I smiled down at the cousins and laughed. "It will take a lot more to get rid of me my friends." Haldir smirked at this from my side. They grinned more and hugged me tighter. Legolas was the next to approach me. He put his hands on my face and placed is forehead against mine. "I am very grateful to see you well melon." With my hands on his wrists I smiled lightly. Legolas was the closest thing I had to a brother and I was very lucky to have him. "Aye I'm happy to see you as well." Without me seeing, Haldir was irked by the close proximity of Legolas, but quickly masked it. 'Why am I suddenly angered by him being close to someone I've just met.' Haldir thought to himself.

𝒯𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹

[multific]

Whatever the Queen Wants

Thranduil x Reader

Summary: On a boring day you have time to walk around, and recall different memories from your past.

You loved taking walks in the woods and your gardens.

Seeing your kingdom bloom and glow just did something to you, it was special.

Spring was your favourite season. Seeing new life everywhere around you made you want to be a mother once again.

You could still recall when your son was born.

Legolas became the center of your world in a simple moment. As soon as the midwife-elf placed him in your arms, it was over.

Both for you and for your husband.

He was the cutest little elfling you have ever seen. Looked just like your husband but behaved just like you.

Even when he was little, you took him out to the gardens on walks, showing him the world. Every single time you looked at all the different rose bushes or hydrangeas all you could see was him as a little elf let's elfling playing amongst them, you just wished you had something to capture that moment with so you would be able to show it to your husband.

Now Legolas was a fully grown up elf, who was more interested in all the different kinds of fighting styles than nature, and also your husband did sometimes had time to spend with you right now he was too busy with his kingly duties, so you were left alone to walk the woods and your gardens.

And that is exactly what you were doing that day. You woke up and somehow amazingly sunny it was that day, so you made your way out to your favorite place in the garden. Your favorite place was where there were these huge hydrangea bushes, all different colors and shapes and sizes you loved every single one of them.

That part of the garden was a present from your husband to you as an anniversary gift. Since he knew how much you adored flowers, he added every single flower that she liked to the garden just to please you.

There were different statues as well in the garden, all of them beautiful.

You left out a long side on your way to your favorite bench. If only you could have the two men who meant so much to you there with you.

You felt so lonely at that moment, it might sound arrogant to some people that the queen was complaining but you really were rather sad that you had to spend such a nice day all alone although you did enjoy every second of it and you did make the best of it, but you still missed both of your boys.

Maybe that's why the idea of having another child was so inviting to you, then you would have finally someone who would need your attention all day long and they would give your attention all day long as well before they grow up. You missed that, you missed having someone who relied on you so much. Legolas it's already too old for him need you in such a way. Even If he did sometimes come over to you asking for your advice it wasn't the same.

When you tried to hint a new baby to your husband but he was too oblivious for your tries or he simply didn’t want to tell you that he did not want another child.

So, you didn’t bring the topic up after that. Although, it did hurt a little bit, you were happy with your life. Even if you felt lonely at times like this, you were happy.

“Naneth,” you heard someone say.

“Oh, Legolas. What are you doing here?” you asked as your son came over to you and sat down next to you.

“You looked lonely, Mother. So, I came to keep you company. Is Father still in a meeting?”

You offered him a kind smile, it warmed your heart that he thought about you.

“He is. But you don’t have to be here, I am not lonely, I have my flowers, you should practice.”

“Nonsense. No training or practice is more important than you, Naneth.”

“Thank you. How was your day?” he always loved to show or talk to you about his training. Ever since he was little he was a quick learner.

“Really good…” then he went on and on about his day. Telling you everything about swords, bows and more.

If you were honest you never truly understood everything he said or referred to but you still listened with a smile. Seeing him be so interested and happy about something warmed your heart.

You listened to everything he had to say. Every single word.

You saw so much of your husband in him. But you were there as well. You still couldn’t believe that you had the privilege to be the mother of this exceptional elf.

“Adar!” said Legolas out of nowhere which made you look the way he was looking. And you saw your husband, walking towards the two of you.

“Nin hén, Nin mel, what are you two doing out here in such an hour?” you failed to notice that the sun started to go down.

“Mother was lonely so I came over to give her some company.” replied Legolas as Thranduil joined you.

“It is getting late, it would be best if we all headed to rest.” you said and both of them agreed. Thranduil guided you towards your chambers after you said your goodbyes to your son.

“We have a wonderful child.” he said as you laid down in bed.

“Indeed, I cannot believe he is so big, I feel like I can still recall holding him as a young elfling.” you let out a long sigh at the happy memory as you felt your husband’s arms move you towards him. “I have been thinking, Nin mel.”

“About?”

“Another child.” Thranduil almost jumped up as you said that.

“A-another?”

“I have been feeling lonely with Legolas leaving us so frequently and with you being in meetings all day. I always wanted a daughter as well, you know that.”

“I do. I know it.”

“It was a silly idea.” you said after his long silence. “Forget it, Thranduil. I’ll be fine.”

“We can have another child. I’m only thinking of ways to ensure it would be a girl.” his confession nearly made you choke on air, then you smiled.

“No need. I would be happy with a boy as well.” you said as you pulled him closer and kissed him.

Thranduil knew, whatever the Queen of Mirkwood wanted, she got it.

Translation:

Naneth – Mother

Adar – Father

Nin hén – My child

Nin mel - My love

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[n0tamused]

a proud elf fucker has come to disturb ur peace bbygurl smug tiktok emoji

so,,,, humans are more openly affectionate and touchy-touchy compared to the elves right? hand holding, smooching ur friends’ forehead or cheeks for good luck or saying goodbye or when showing u have missed each other or an arm around the other’s waist when comfortably sitting beside each other and chatting.

how would the elves react to this? like a human s/o (before courting) who is just generally so,,,,,,, affectionate (i dunno how many characters you would accept pookie but im mainly thinking of thranduil, legolas, feren and lindir for this)

expect me more in ur inbox pookie😚(a threat)

A/n: Come by my door again and I will throw you out (a warm meal awaits you inside). This is more of a ramble than really my usual headcanons that I do for characters. A reminder again - but I am a bit rusty with writing for these characters, so this is me rambling about them so I can explore them better. Unapologetically longer part for Legolas bc he is my bbg. Didn't do Feren for this one, but I hope to add his part on this prompt in the future. Hope you enjoy pookie!

Contents: Thranduil, Legolas, Lindir x GN!Reader (separate), fluff. not proof-read so expect grammar mistakes (very scary)

Words: 1471

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Thranduil

-Listen- Thranduil is hard to reach, he’s a tough nut to crack as one may say, and he is quite distrustful of strangers, but this is not a scenario where you’re a stranger to him, oh no. 

-While you have caught the interest of the elven king and as his knowledge is ever so deep on both elven customs and that of man, he can’t say he has ever indulged in the human customs quite so much. You sort of make him want to indulge in it all. 

-Thranduil is not the one to hastily discard his public image and reputation for the sake of a fleeting touch of fingers or a graze of your lips across his cheek in a farewell bidding, yet seeing you do so with your company with which you travel with makes him think.

-For a mind that has seen so many centuries and so many faces, you have made him feel as if the memories of friends of old and strangers came before his eyes only in preparation to see you. Quite weird, but it is what his mind makes him think. Were you sent to his path for a reason?

-And where do you get your baldness from, to try and touch him so easily? What makes you think that is proper? When have you become so brazen when just yesterday you seemed to struggle with speaking to him formally? 

-He does request your company alone from time to time, walks through the woods and dinnertime especially, and this opens way for more privacy and attempts at intimacy.

-Here, you’d find him more forgiving at accepting your advances

-He is still getting used to the feel which your hands leave behind after gripping his own hand or his arm, or the tug at his sleeve the poke of your fingers at his side - yet he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It’s such a small change in his life, but it feels surreal to experience it all the same when he is so used to the generally the same routine and schedule, especially in his relations with others. 

-At the end of the journey of your outing, he’d return the gestures with one of his own, one a bit more subtle than yours, but he makes sure his kisses on your knuckles linger

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Legolas

-Humans are touchy, yes, Legolas has witnessed much of this displayed affection since he departed Mirkwood for his journeys, but what he felt when he saw all of it wasn’t shock or disgust like some of his peers felt when they saw these “crude and hasty customs” - rather he felt some longing instead, a yearning.

-He craves a close connection too, but he is hopeless in seeking it out in the world of mortals and he is a bit without a clue on how to develop such a closeness with someone. He wasn’t raised in a place where emotions are foreign, but as established before - human and elven customs do differ, and they both perceive emotions and displays of it differently. You can say Legolas fits a bit more into whatever human ways are of expressing emotions. Firm hand holds and tight hugs instead of brush of fingers and longing looks during long periods of courting. Man, Legolas just craves a strong friendship, let alone a relationship

-I think it would be safe to say Legolas is touch-starved in his own right, simply put

-So when you come along, and you both click as companions? He is quite happy to put it lightly. I don’t think there is an adequate term that can summarize his elven giddiness when he simply sees you being openly affectionate with your friends, he feels a sense of belonging since you are not a stranger he observed, but someone he has come to understand too. He knows your name, your story, what you do and don’t like

-Yet this doesn’t prepare him for when you show the same affection to him as well. Suddenly all lectures and elven courting rules and traditions come pouring in his head all within a blink of an eye and it is the first time you have seen him look so taken aback. 

-He doesn’t reject your advances however, he’s much more accepting of them than his father, and it is just you and your shared small company, sometimes not even them, that get to see this exchange. He is.. giddy, quite happy.

-It feels fulfilling sharing in the affections, although he is much more reserved than you by quite a lot - he tries though. He’d still absolutely love it if you accepted his proposal of courting, so he can court you properly and as you deserve. Please let him he is on the edge of his seat, he is about to fall off waiting

-Despite what he feels and how human his smiles and expressions have become since you began to pay him this attention, he is patient, he moves at a slower pace than you and he is your grounding rock when you become too hasty

-It is not a rare sight to see him draping his cloak around you, or - at your request - see him sitting next to you huddled under the same cloak or a blanket by the fire. Coziest he has ever been tbh…

-In some summary - your hands are held gently, your brows are kissed tenderly and you are well taken care of with him around

-(Please send me more Legolas thoughts or requests I love my bbg sm)

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Lindir

-Now this one is a little more dense. Denser than the Elven King? I hear you ask, and I say to you - possibly.

-Now, correct me if I am wrong, but he isn’t exactly too old, by elvish standards of course. He is relatively young by their norms, and has spent a lot of his time in Rivendell, serving Lord Elrond

-A very personal headcanon, take it or leave it, but he is even younger than Legolas.

-Anyhow, Lindir is quite dutiful in his work and doesn’t accept it comfortably when new energies are introduced to his environment. He can get quite skittish and tense when things aren’t going according to some mental plan he has set out in his mind, or even worse - if the events aren’t following a plan shared by him and the others. He is very keen on sticking to this familiarity of routine and stagnancy, in some way.

-So, note his surprise when you stick around and worm your way into his daily schedule.

-For a long while he swore to himself up and down how he will never get used to you, perhaps if you grew as old as he then he might, but your life was a flicker in comparison to his own

-He is even more surprised and confused when he sees himself looking for too long at you sharing hugs with your friends, bidding them goodbye and safe travels by kissing them hard on the forehead and trying to..wrestle them? What an odd thing to do to your friends..

-He is more baffled when you attempt to do the same to him. How could you?!

-He is an elf, an elf with standards!

-An elf with standards which you break through anyway since you’re so..infectious. Lindir had the funny thought, although it was a bit unsettling to him at the moment, that he was sick or fading/dying.

-In the days and months following, it took much effort to finally see the fruit of your labor. Lindir was finally, although still slowly, opening up to just spending more time with you instead of going by his strict routine that he played on repeat.

-He doesn’t sit three feet away from you anymore, but rather two and a half.. Not literally, of course, but the distance between you seems like it is miles with the way he sometimes acted in the beginning of these outings with you.

-The distance surely shrinks until he is actually next to you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he traces a small scar there which you claim you earned in your childhood. By elvish standards, humans are nowhere near perfection, but his thoughts have begun to change, and he no longer sees perfection in the standards he was raised with, but rather he sees it in you. Each little thing that separates you from another, and little by little he begins to sow you into his memory.

-He isn’t the best at remembering mortal souls, they all pass by quickly, but you linger and linger and he doesn’t want you to not linger. Linger with him by the fountain, will you? Let him ask you questions to distract himself from the fact your hand embraced his?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[kat651]

elves having sensitive ears (pt 2)

Celeborn:

he slumped into a seat and ran his fingers through his long white hair, pushing it out of his face as he let out a long sigh and looked down at the document in his hands, scanning the content.

Celeborn pushed his hair from his face again and it fell and he sighed, clearly he’d had a long day.

his hair continued to fall in his face, agitating him more and more. You chucked and walked over, pulling his hair out of his face before becoming mesmerized by the softness.

Celeborn glanced at you before looking back at the document. You smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear, causing him to drop the document and grab your wrists gently.

“y/n, the ears of and elf are far more sensitive than you could ever imagine…”

your face heated up. “I’m sorry!”

Celeborn gave you a soft smile. “I never said I didn’t like it…”

Haldir:

you came up behind him as he was sharpening his sword, this was the only time you could ever catch him off his guard.

you pulled the hair from his face and placed a kiss on his cheek.

you watched his lips go into an o shape before he fixed his composure. “I assume your prepared for war then?”

“war? Why are you always so seriou-” next thing you knew you where in his lap, his lips on yours and sword long forgotten.

“if anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down…” he mumbled as he fell onto his back in the soft grass, tour lips still on his.

your arms went around his neck, getting lost on his hair. Your lips left his and blazed a trail up his jaw until you reached his pointed ear, nipping at it playfully. he grabbed the back of your shirt in two fistfuls and let out a whine that he tried to suppress.

you knew instantly that you’d found his weak spot and planed on using it against him when needed.

pt one here

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— Elven Instinct | Legolas Greenleaf *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~2.1k

▹ Summary: When you know, you know. There's no other way to explain it.

▹ Note: I listened to Margaret by Lana on repeat while writing this, 10/10 recommend. Also, unedited because it's 2am and I want to SLEEP.

You’d met Legolas early spring when the winds were still bitter and the frost was beginning to melt. 

The moon was high and the chatter was mellow, the defeat of Sauron still fresh in everyone's memory. He’d been wearing his ceremonial armor and you a white dress. The jewels you wore shimmered like stars and your eyes shone like moonlit water. A human woman from a minor noble house, you never expected catching the eye of the elven prince that helped save the realm.

Legolas’ eyes followed you intently, entranced by your sweet voice and the slight creases around your eyes when you smiled. It had been three times your eyes had met and after the third time, Legolas found the courage to approach, downing his glass and leaving it behind. His hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat, but he’d kick himself later if he didn’t try. The pathway to you seemed miles long, the rest of the crowd blind to Legolas; it was as if a single light was guiding his way to you. His blood rushed and his heart raced; tingles lit his body up.

It was no shock when Legolas was a few feet away. You noticed him approaching, of course, you were entirely too aware of him and his lingering eyes. Liquid courage was found in a glass of wine that was sweet and tarte all at once. The alcohol caused your cheeks to flush but you knew the prince's presence would make them flush brighter. The alcohol would be a good excuse for the blush you’d soon have.

The noise in your mind grew hush once the elven prince stood before you. He smelled warm and fresh, well groomed and oiled with a hint of a woodsy scent. The smoothness of his features were nearly off putting, but the shy grin on his face was anything but unnerving. The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress and Legolas’ hands were clasped in front of him. Nervous and awkward, neither of you were sure how to proceed.

It was silent for a moment, replaced by the fumbling of the two of you speaking over each other. With the realization, the words were cut short and silence fell over the air. Your eyes fell to the floor and your teeth worried your lips while Legolas’ cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. 

“Apologies, my prince--”

“I insist my lady, you first--”

Another bout of silence. Neither of you could remember how casual conversation worked. You peeked at him through your lashes, a small giggle slipping past your lips. It made Legolas ease his stiff posture, melting into the sound of your voice. 

“May I have your name, my lady.” He couldn’t recall being so shy when speaking with a woman. All the confidence age and skill brought was drained from his body; he was an elfling fumbling over his own feet.

“It is Y/N. I would ask for yours, but I believe that question is redundant.”

“Am I so well known?”

Your grin widened in a way that would make your mother grimace. 

“One of the heroes who saved Middle Earth and the son of the King of the Woodlands?” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, lips curled into a slight smirk. “I perhaps heard your name a time or two.”

Legolas laughed, eyes shut and head slightly tossed back. A stray ray of light hit his head, illuminating him with a halo above his head. “I suppose my reputation does precede me, but I feel like we’re standing on uneven ground. You know more of me than I do of you.”

Some of the nerves that made you feel fluttery and sick began to disappear. His easy and smile and comforting aura felt as same as the childhood nativity you clung to. He put stars in your eyes in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to the other attendees of this party.” 

The half smile on Legolas’ face contorted into a much softer appearance. Eye bright and voice low, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I dare say you are more so memorable.” 

Your lashes fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat. Subtly, you pinched the side of your thigh, sending a prayer of gratitude to whatever god led you to this moment. A shy giggle bubbled from behind your closed lips. Emboldened from the haze the wine created, you leave a feather light touch over Legolas’ shoulder. 

“A bold statement considering you’ve hardly known me a day.”

Legolas smiled at your quick retort, leaning towards your body, his head tilted down to see you better. 

“They say an elves' instincts are never wrong.” 

You raised a single brow in response, a coy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. All thoughts of formality and proprietary thrown out. 

“And your instincts say I’m memorable?” 

Legolas paused for a moment before continuing.

“Well when you know, you know.”

Unsure of how to react, a small bout of laughter left your mouth. The rest of the night was spent with Legolas at your side. Even as nobles singing his praises and vying for the favor of an elven prince, Legolas never strayed too far. With a polite smile and nod of the head, he would quickly dismiss the well-wishers in favor of returning his attention to you. 

The night passed far too quickly, and with the blink of an eye you found yourself in the isolation of your room with your blankets pulled to your chin. Behind your closed eyes, your thoughts and dreams were nothing but Legolas and a life you were certain was too far from your grasp. 

---

The crisp spring air was traded for balmy, long summer nights. The world began to return to normal, all that Mordor and Sauraman destroyed slowly being rebuilt. The coronation of the king was approaching, the heroes of Middle Earth lingering in Gondor, including Legolas.  

 You hadn’t spoken since your first meeting, but he was everywhere you looked. Walks through the city, visits to the Keep, or wandering through the gardens; it didn’t matter where you were, he was everywhere. To his credit, he made it seem as if he was a subject of fate and not the mastermind setting the chess board. 

And the board was currently being reset in a small nook overlooking the city. The queen sat in front of a stone table with a book while the king lingered around the edges, unsure of how to approach. 

“I began to think you were a ghost I’d imagined.” You spoke quietly and wet the tip of your finger. Flick. Your eyes began to scan the new page of your book. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Legolas take the free chair directly across from you. His hands rested on the table, fingers intertwined. 

“Why’s that?” 

A slight smirk appeared on your lips, barely visible over your book. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you shut the book and set it on the table. Eye to eye, you took in Legolas’ appearance. His casual leathers had been traded in for formal attire, a delicate silver circlet resting above his brow. Gods did he look beautiful. 

“You seem to be everywhere I am, yet this is the first time you’ve approached.”

Legolas stared at you a moment; a slight furrow of his brow in response to the tilt of your head and sly grin. “I approached you at the celebration.” 

“The first and only time, if we don’t take this moment into consideration.” 

Legolas narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a grin pulling on his puzzled expression. 

“You seem perfectly capable of starting a conversation and entirely aware of when we were in a room together.” The implication of his words weren’t lost on you, a slight flush betraying your embarrassment. You were entirely too aware of him. 

“And how improper would that be?” You feigned a scandalized appearance, lightly swatting Legolas’ hand. “A minor noble woman approaching an elven prince? My mother would die from the embarrassment that scandal would cause.” 

Legolas laughed; a short and sweet one that made his eyes turn to crescents. There was a flutter in your stomach and a misbeat of your heart. For a moment your eyes glazed over, not aware what Legolas was saying if he was speaking to begin with. He looked entirely too beautiful, his eyes too blue to be natural. Elves were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, but none of the other elves wandering the keep were as beautiful as him.  

“Ahh.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound pulling you from the spell he cast. “How foolish of me to overlook that detail. In the future I will be sure to start all conversations, lest the public get the wrong idea.” 

“A relief to hear you have agreed to stop silently stalking me. And they claim chivalry to be a dying behavior.” You rolled your eyes, the grin on your face dulling any snark in your words. 

Your eyes returned to Legolas, the easy silence hanging over the two of you. The air was calm, sans a nervous fog over Legolas’ eyes. What was there to be worried over? The war was over, Sauron was defeated. You tried to remember what could be a cause of worry, but your mind came up empty. Even the remaining orcs were being hunted down and slain.

“But I’m sure that reassurance isn’t why you’re here.” You broke the silence, Legolas’ attention snapping back towards you. “What worried you?” 

“I am to return home soon.” 

Your mouth was parted, unable to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh.” The word was uttered so quietly you weren’t certain it was actually said. Of course he would go home, he’s a prince with duties to his people. It’s not as if there would be anything to keep him here after the King’s coronation next week. 

“I wish you a safe journey.” 

The tips of your fingers tapped against the smooth stone. 

“You mistake me. It is expected of me to return home shortly after Aragorn’s coronation, but I am unsure if it is what I want to do.” 

A slight furrow of your brows betrayed your confusion, but before you could open your mouth, Legolas continued to speak. 

“We have not spoken nearly as much as I would’ve liked during my stay here, a predicament I understand to be a making of my own, but I--” He cut himself off, eyes lowering to the ground as he shook his head. 

Oh.

The realization came with a bright red hue painting your cheeks. All this time, you never once considered the elven prince had affections for you. Each time you’d been in the same room, same hall, or same street, it never occurred to you he was building the courage to speak with you again. Had your first meeting had such an effect on him? Could he possibly get as fluttery and nervous as you do?

“I would like the chance to get to know you, Lady Y/N, and in time perhaps court you.” 

Like a starstruck idiot, you stared at Legolas with wide eyes and parted lips. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and in the distance there were birds singing, or maybe you’d just imagined that.

Legolas began to drum his fingers against the table, nervous eyes unable to meet yours. You’d been silent for too long, you realized. He may be getting the wrong idea. To assuage whatever fears were building within his head, you reached your hand out and placed it over him. It brought his attention back to you; wide eyed and flushed face he looked ages younger than he really was. 

“I would love for the chance to get to know you beyond the surface level.”

Like dawn brightening the landscape, Legolas’ face lit up. Any petty fears or worries were banished from his expression. He brought his free hand to rest it atop your other free hand. He squeezed your hand three times before pulling them away. After a moment you hear the soft pad of footsteps on the ground. 

A chair skids across the ground as Legolas stood from his seat, outstretching a hand towards you. “Perhaps the lady would grant me a walk through the halls?”

Gently, you stood from your seat, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. 

“Lead the way my prince.”

[7soulstars]

My Incorrect Universe #97

*At Avengers HQ*

Loki: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time.

Bucky, cracking his knuckles: manslaughter it is.

Me, spritzing them with a water spray bottle: hey! no! bad!

*meanwhile in Mirkwood*

Me: I can't believe you tried to assassinate Thorin!

Thranduil: Well, 'assassinate' implies it was politically motivated. I tried killing him because he is a dick, so technically I tried to murder him

Me: ohhhh

Elrond, his blood pressure rising: THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY BETTER-

*me whenever Loki and Bucky misbehave*: