#lotr fluff

[gloomwitchwrites]

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

[er-osion]

Flower Crowns

pairing: Legolas x gn!Reader

summary: Legolas and reader are enjoying a calm moment on the journey to Mordor, reader makes a flower crown for Legolas and the elf must bear the teasing of his friend [‘Y/n’ used]

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, fluff

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You and Legolas sat in a meadow a few paces from where the Fellowship had set up camp. The sunlight was warm and wrapped around the two of you like a blanket. The green grass was soft and dotted with bright flowers all across the rolling hills. Very few were the times when the Fellowship was able to sit back and take a moment to breath and rest on the journey to Mordor. The hours of sun were spent walking, and occasionally running, on the track to Mount Doom. The majority of your moments of rest were at night, when it was time to sleep. But sleep was not the same as resting during the day. Thus, you and Legolas were very thankful for this short moment you got to spend calmly in the sun.

You look over at Legolas, who sat close to you. The blonde elf was gazing out across the meadow without much focus, mind surely wandering somewhere else. There was a ghost of a smile on his pale pink lips. The question of how soft his lips must feel suddenly popped into your head and you had to look away in embarrassment at the thought. You had met the elf prince at the Council of Elrond, and for the duration of the journey this far, you’d grown closer. Legolas was definitely the member of the Fellowship you spent the most time with. You deeply enjoyed the conversations you two had, but you equally enjoyed the ability to have comfortable silence with him. In all honesty, you’re starting to think you might be crushing on the Woodland prince. You’re not sure how to make any advances— or if you even should— but you know you want to spend more time with Legolas, and you know you want to be closer. And so here you are, sitting only inches apart from the elf, sharing a comfortable silence under the golden light of the sun. You’re looking at your surroundings and taking in the many wildflowers around you, when suddenly an idea strikes. You begin gathering a bouquet of these flowers with long stems to serve your plan.

Legolas noticed the sudden movement from his side. His attention was pulled from the beauty of the nature around him to the beauty of you. He cocked his head in confusion at your gathering of flowers, but said nothing and watched as you collected the colorful sprouts. Legolas watched softly as you settled back into your spot next to him, and he took your moment of distraction as a chance to inch a little closer to you.

“What are you doing, mellon nin?” Legolas asked curiously as he eyed your collection of wildflowers.

“You will have to see, mellon nin.” You replied coyly. Legolas let out a quiet chuckle at your response. But he did indeed watch as you began making something out of the flowers. Legolas watched, entranced, by how your fingers expertly braided the stems to connect each flower in your pile. You worked in silence, concentrating on not breaking the stems or the band of flowers that was becoming your crown. While you focused on your craft, Legolas focused on you. He admired your expression as you concentrated on the task at hand, your features were pleasant to say the least. He felt a little guilty, friends should not be having these thoughts of each other. Friends should not be admiring one another in a way that is more than platonic, yet here he is. Greedily, Legolas basks in your presence and he can’t tell if it’s the afternoon sun or your company that’s making him feel warm. He’s not sure what the stirring inside his stomach is, or the fluttering in his chest, but he’s become aware of the fact he’s only subject to such things when he’s around you.

It took you a few minutes, but eventually you finished your flower crown to much satisfaction. The bright colors popped under the sunlight, and it seemed fit for one of the fairies your mother used to tell you stories about. You smiled happily at your work. Legolas now was able to conclude what your project had been.

“It’s lovely. I did not know you were able to make such fine things out of flowers.” Legolas said with unfiltered admiration.

“Well then, now you know. My talents do not lie only in combat, I have many other skills as well.” You replied with a proud smirk, finally meeting his glowing eyes.

“I envy your craftsmanship.”

“Do you not know how to make flower crowns, Legolas?”

“I’m embarrassed to admit, I do not. It’s ironic—now that I think about it— that a Woodland prince does not know how to make a crown out of flowers.” Legolas looked down at his fingers and picked softly at the skin. “But yours is truly beautiful.”

A bold idea suddenly popped into your head, and a devious smile spread on your lips. You turned suddenly to face Legolas and then gently set your flower crown atop his head. The bright flowers lay perfectly on his silky golden hair. Your breath stuttered as you looked at the ellon, he truly seemed to be something out of a fairytale.

“There, a beautiful crown befitting a beautiful prince.” You meant to say that more as a tease, but your tone ended up a little too sincere than you’d wanted. Legolas’s eyes widened in shock at your forward comment and rose coloring began to dust his sharp cheeks. He opened his mouth to quip something back but shut it after failing to come up with a response and quickly averted eye contact with evident embarrassment.

“I-” Legolas cleared his throat and tried to start saying something but was interrupted when Aragorn’s approaching voice rang throughout your clearing.

“Pretty crown, Legolas. Though, I wasn’t aware it was custom for Mirkwood elves to bring their tiaras with them on life threatening journeys.” Aragorn walked up to stand in front of you and Legolas, wearing a teasing smirk and a raised eyebrow. Legolas let out a dry laugh and rolled his eyes while Aragorn continued, turning to you. “I take it you made this, Y/n.”

“You couldn’t tell by its outstanding appearance?” You responded sarcastically with a grin to match the ranger’s.

“I could tell by the fact that our favorite elven prince is wearing something only you could convince him to wear.” You began to laugh at Aragorn’s comment but then picked up on the underlying seriousness of his statement. There was something in your friend’s tone that was a little too genuine and it made your laugh die out rather fast in your throat. Thankfully you were saved from an awkward silence when you heard Merry and Pippin calling for you from the camp.

“Y/N!! Y/NNN! C’mere!! We need you to settle something, we need your help!!” You heard a loud rustling from where they were and then more shouting and you easily assumed the two hobbits were now roughhousing. You chuckled under your breath and began to get up from your comfortable spot in the grass. Legolas watched you get up with a saddened look that you didn’t notice.

“Apologies, it seems I’m needed elsewhere.” You turned and took your leave, heading back toward the camp to help Merry and Pippin settle their dispute.

Aragorn and Legolas watched you leave, and the elf’s longing gaze did not go unnoticed by the ranger. The Dunédain had the tack to wait until you had disappeared from sight before commenting on his friend’s apparent more-than-platonic watch over you.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” Aragorn said slyly, walking closer to his friend.

“It’s a nice day.” Legolas deflected with a growing blush.

“A very nice day for you, considering how close you were sitting next to Y/n.”

“Oh, shut it. Don’t you have hobbits to be fretting over?”

“Don’t you have a friend who makes flower crowns for you to be fretting over?”

“It was a one off thing, you’re making a bigger deal out of it than it is. And correct your tone, Y/n is a friend, nothing more.”

“Oh, and friends often make each other flower crowns and gaze at one another longingly?”

“Aragornnn.” Legolas groaned in exasperation and got up from his sitting position, being careful to keep the flower crown from falling off his head. He would be incredibly sad if something were to happen to the crown. Aragorn chuckled under his breath and walked beside Legolas as they began trekking back toward camp.

“Maybe you’ll just have to learn how to make flower crowns as well, so you can return the favor.” Aragorn suggested with a hint of playfulness.

“…I think, after all of this is done, I’ll give Y/n a far more substantial crown.” Legolas muttered with a small self-satisfied smile. The ranger’s eyebrows raised in surprise at his friend’s confidence, but internally he looked forward to seeing such a day take place.

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sindarin translations:

mellon nin - my friend

[thewulf]

Until the Morning Light || Aragorn

Summary: Request - I wanted to see if I could request an Aragorn x reader. You don’t have to write anything! No pressure <3 It is a bit cheesy, so…Maybe something where they started having strong feelings for each other during their travels to destroy the ring and are so desperately longing after the other, just that they never confess and even the encouragement of the fellowship doesn’t help... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just adore this man! Thank you for the request always!!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: Violence, orc violence, death, blood, crying, angst, Battle of Helm's Deep, lotr warnings

Born under the vast skies of Rohan you grew up amidst the rolling plains and the echoing calls of horses. From a young age you were not just a child of the land but its protector, honing your skills with a blade as well as you could listen to the whispers of the earth. Your heart was fiercely loyal and brave and tempered by the tender tales of your mother. She bestowed upon you a rare gift, a deep connection with nature that allowed you to sense and communicate with the world around you in ways few others could.

This unique ability was distinct from the innate affinity that elves hold with the forests and rivers. Unlike the elves whose communion often involves a harmonious coexistence and a capability to influence nature’s growth and health your gift did not extend to bending the will of the woods or the waters. Instead, it manifested as an intimate understanding. An almost magical perception that let you hear the secrets of leaves rustling in the wind and feel the subtle shifts of the earth beneath your feet. It was a communion, but of a different kind. A silent dialogue that did not seek to alter but to understand and empathize, providing guidance and comfort where it was most needed.

Such a profound connection to nature brought with it a heightened awareness of the creeping darkness that threatened to engulf Middle earth. The very land you communicated with now echoed with the distress of encroaching evil. A warning you felt deep in your bones. It was during this time of growing shadows that tragedy struck your life profoundly. You lost a beloved family member to the dark forces spreading across the land. An event that shattered the peace of your world but also forged a new resolve within you. Carrying the weight of this loss, you vowed with a heart heavy yet unyielding to protect your homeland and its people. This vow was sacred and resolute. It sharpened your resolve as much as your blade and became the echo of your every step on the path of the Fellowship.

It was during these turbulent times that Gandalf the Grey came to your village. The wise wizard saw in you not just a skilled warrior but a unique spirit whose abilities were as rare as they were needed. With words as compelling as the winds of your homeland he requested your presence in the Fellowship. "Middle-earth needs hearts like yours," he said. His eyes twinkling with a mixture of seriousness and kindness.

Thus, with a heart full of resolve and a spirit called to a greater cause, you joined the Fellowship. Not just to honor your vow but to fulfill a destiny that seemed written in the very leaves of the trees you so loved. As you set out from Rohan the wind seemed to carry whispers of encouragement and the land itself seemed to nod in approval. Its daughter now a guardian in its most desperate hour.

Upon your arrival at the rendezvous point where the Fellowship was gathering you were immediately aware of the intense gazes of many. Their eyes scrutinizing every new face—evaluating, assessing. Yet, when you first met Aragorn his gaze was different. It was calm, welcoming, devoid of any judgment that demanded you prove your worth. He seemed to see right through the facade that others often expected you to wear. The mask of a warrior constantly proving herself. Instead, Aragorn acknowledged your capabilities as if they were as clear to him as the daylight.

As you both shared the duties of setting up camp that first evening Aragorn asked you about your journey from Rohan. His genuine interest was refreshing, and soon you found yourself teaching him about the unique properties of the athelas plant found in your homeland. Its healing powers far greater when used with the right incantations. A secret you had kept closely guarded. To your surprise he not only listened intently but also shared his own knowledge creating a beautiful exchange of wisdom.

As the journey progressed Aragorn often sought your company for the watch shifts. During these quiet hours under the vast, starlit sky, you both would sit by the fire. The crackling flames casting flickering shadows on your faces. It was here in the solitude of the night that you shared stories of your pasts. You spoke of your family in Rohan. Of the laughter and tears of your childhood and the deep connection you felt with the land.

Aragorn, in turn, shared tales of his travels. The burdens he carried and the hopes he harbored for peace in middle earth. These exchanges that were filled with laughter and sometimes a comfortable silence laid a strong foundation for your growing affection. There was an ease between you. A mutual respect that flourished without the need for words making each shared moment a treasure.

One evening deep into the journey after a particularly taxing day when tensions within the Fellowship seemed to strain the very air around you Aragorn noticed your weariness. Without a word he took up your watch insisting you rest. "We all have our strengths," he said softly with a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Tonight, let me watch over you." It was a simple act. But in that moment his kindness felt soothing to your soul. It solidified a bond that was quickly becoming as vital as the quest itself.

These moments under the stars with Aragorn where you didn't have to prove yourself but were simply accepted were what you cherished most. They were reminders that in the looming shadow of war there existed moments of peace and deep, unspoken understanding.

Aragorn's presence became a constant in your days and you found yourself increasingly seeking his company. Whether strategizing for the next leg of the journey or sharing a quiet moment away from the rest of the group his steady demeanor brought a comforting consistency to the unpredictable days. After a particularly fierce skirmish against a roving band of orcs you sustained a slight wound. Aragorn was quick to your side. His fingers skilled and gentle as he tended to the injury. His touch was always gentle and careful. It sparked an unfamiliar warmth in your chest. His concerned eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip.

As Aragorn wrapped your wound Legolas strolled over with an amused twinkle in his eye. "I see our esteemed leader has found yet another calling… nursing the wounded with such tender care," he commented lightly. His gaze flickering between you and Aragorn with a knowing smile. Aragorn responded with a dismissive grunt. His cheeks tinged with a faint blush, but his eyes remained warm and soft as they met yours again.

Gimli has overheard the exchange and joined in with a hearty laugh. "Ah, but it's a good thing we have Aragorn for both fighting and mending. Saves us calling for Elrond every time someone gets a scratch!" he boomed before clapping Aragorn on the back with such force that it drew a surprised smile from the usually reserved ranger.

This playful banter brought a light-hearted moment to the group easing the tension of the long journey. Later that evening as you sat by the campfire the teasing continued. Gimli’s loud snoring eventually became the subject of jest, and you all shared a hearty laugh. Emboldened by the relaxed atmosphere you nearly confessed your growing feelings to Aragorn. But just as you gathered your courage he turned contemplative, his gaze lost to the horizon.

"I sometimes wonder what lies ahead for all of us," he said softly. A distant look in his eyes. "The weight of this quest, it's much to bear—for all of us." His words were heavy with the burden of leadership and the uncertainty of the future, and they momentarily stalled your confession.

Despite this the bond between you only deepened, strengthened by each shared challenge and quiet moment of understanding. Legolas and Gimli’s lighthearted teasing served as a gentle reminder of the friendship and affection that blossomed even in the darkest of times, adding a touch of warmth to the journey's cold nights.

As you and the Fellowship arrive at Helm's Deep the air is thick with the weight of impending conflict. The massive stone walls of the fortress loom over you, their stark, gray surfaces a harsh reminder of the battle that awaits. Shadows stretch long across the ground as the sun dips below the horizon casting an ominous glow that barely penetrates the gathering dusk.

Around you, soldiers move with a sense of urgency. Their faces set in grim determination. The clanging of armor and the sharp ring of sword against stone fill your ears. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Despite the hustle and bustle a heavy silence hangs over the assembled troops, each person lost in their own thoughts of the coming night. The air is cool and carries a hint of moisture. The breeze whispering through the battlements as if in mourning for lives yet to be lost.

In all of this your gaze finds Aragorn. His expression is one of resolve marked by the burdens of leadership and the knowledge of what everyone is fighting for. His presence is a steady force amid the chaos, and you feel a strange mixture of comfort and unease as you stand beside him knowing the challenge that lies ahead.

In the midst of this anxious bustle your childhood friend, a charismatic warrior named Ealdred from your village, unexpectedly arrives to aid in the battle. His arrival brings a sudden surge of warmth to the cold stone surroundings of Helm's Deep. As soon as Ealdred sees you his face lights up with a wide, infectious smile and he strides over with open arms.

His greeting is loud and joyous in the subdued murmurs of the assembling warriors. "Ah, if it isn’t the bravest shield-maiden of Rohan!" he exclaims while enveloping you in a hearty hug that lifts you slightly off your feet. The familiarity and comfort of his embrace, reminiscent of your shared past filled with training and childhood adventures, momentarily lift your spirits.

Laughter rolls easily from Ealdred as he sets you down. His presence a stark contrast to the tense air around. "I told myself I wouldn't miss a chance to fight alongside you again," he chuckles before clapping you on the shoulder with a warrior's camaraderie. The sincerity in his voice and the joy in his eyes are a balm to the unease that has been gnawing at you since your arrival at the fortress.

From a short distance away, Aragorn watches this reunion unfold with a complex whirl of emotions. He notices the brightness in your smile. A glow he has seldom seen during the long and perilous journey. Your eyes sparkle with laughter, reflecting a happiness that stirs a pang in his heart. The ease of your interaction with Ealdred, the way your body leans slightly towards him in familiarity and comfort, does not escape Aragorn’s keen observation.

Each laugh shared between you and Ealdred, each nostalgic look exchanged, seems to draw a line of subtle tension through Aragorn. He tries to focus on the preparations at hand, but his gaze involuntarily drifts back to you. The way Ealdred's hand lingers on your back, the warm, open smiles, the apparent joy of your reunion… it all fans a flame of jealousy that Aragorn struggles to suppress.

Though he attempts to dismiss these feelings as trivial they gnaw at him with an intensity that surprises him. The sight of your unabashed happiness with someone else plants seeds of doubt and worry that even the din of the oncoming storm cannot drown. The moment crystallizes something crucial within him. The realization of how deep his feelings for you have grown and how much he fears the possibility of not being the one who brings such joy to your eyes.

As you and Ealdred laugh over shared memories such as recalling the escapades of your youth in Rohan, his arm casually drapes around your shoulders in a brotherly gesture. The familiarity and ease between you two are evident. But to an observer like Aragorn each laugh, and touch seem to whisper of something more.

From his vantage point Aragorn watches the interaction his chest tightening inexplicably with each passing moment. The way Ealdred looks at you with such open admiration and joy, ignites a flame of jealousy in Aragorn’s heart that he can neither quench nor fully understand. His grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. A subconscious echo of the turmoil brewing within him.

Ealdred, ever observant, catches the intensity of Aragorn's gaze from across the way. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans closer to you, lowering his voice so only you can hear. "I believe the great ranger isn't just watching out for danger, you know," he teases nodding subtly towards Aragorn. "The way he looks at you... it’s as if he’s trying to will you to notice him. Quite the admirer, our King-to-be, wouldn’t you say?"

Your eyes widen slightly. The comment catching you off-guard. For a moment you're lost in thought considering Ealdred's words. You glance over at Aragorn observing his now averted gaze, the stoic mask momentarily fallen, revealing a hint of vulnerability. The idea of Aragorn, a king, having such feelings for you seems almost unfathomable. Yet the possibility stirs a flutter of excitement deep within.

Laughing softly, you shake your head trying to mask your sudden nervousness with humor. "Oh, Ealdred, don't be silly. Aragorn and I—we're just friends," you reply though your voice lacks conviction. "Besides, how could a king ever see anything in someone like me? I’m just a warrior from Rohan. Certainly not a lady of court."

Ealdred gives you a knowing look, his smile suggesting he sees right through your casual dismissal. "Well, even the mightiest kings need true friends and perhaps something more," he murmurs while giving you a playful wink before turning his attention back to the bustling activity around Helm's Deep. “Go to him, I will see you around.” He gives you a push.

As Ealdred walks away you're left with a curious mix of doubt and wonder, pondering his words. The thought lingers in your mind mingling with the echoes of what might be unspoken truths between you and Aragorn. The idea feels both impossible and thrilling, setting your heart racing as you watch Aragorn commanding his men with natural authority. Could there really be more to your friendship? The question hangs in the air, unanswered but increasingly impossible to ignore. Of course, you wanted more but when you learned of his destiny not so long ago you let those thoughts fall away.

Meanwhile, Legolas and Gimli, having observed Aragorn’s unusual demeanor, seize the opportunity for a bit of light-hearted ribbing. "Come now, Aragorn," Legolas chides with a graceful arch of his eyebrow, "your warrior's stare is more intense than any orc's glare we've encountered. And far more directed at our friend than any foe."

Gimli chortles, adding his own gruff commentary. "Lad, you're as subtle as a dwarf in an elf’s dance," he laughs before slapping Aragorn on the back. "Even the blind could see the way you look at her!"

Aragorn was caught between his role as a leader and his personal turmoil and offers only a rare, tight-lipped scowl in response. Though the corners of his mouth twitch, betraying a reluctant amusement at his friends' observations.

Once the teasing subsides Aragorn's gaze drifts back to you, now mingling with a quiet reflection. The light-hearted jests of his companions echo in his mind, stirring a resolve. Perhaps it was time to confront these feelings. To explore the truth behind the glances, the smiles, and the unspoken yearning that had begun to shape his heart. As night falls over Helm's Deep, the looming battle stirs a newfound courage within him. A courage not just to fight enemies, but perhaps to also voice the truth of his heart.

As the day before the battle approaches the air at Helm's Deep grows tense, filled with the weight of impending conflict. Soldiers go about their final preparations. Their movements sharp and focused, while commanders issue last-minute orders with stern expressions. In this bustle, Aragorn finds himself repeatedly glancing your way. His usual calm demeanor overshadowed by a restless concern that has little to do with the battle strategies at hand.

Finally, unable to contain the turmoil stirring within him, Aragorn approaches you. His stride is purposeful yet there's a hesitation in his eyes that you've seldom seen. "I need to speak with you," he says, his voice low, drawing you away from the others under the pretext of discussing the morrow's tactics.

You follow him to a quieter part of the fortress where the sounds of preparation are but distant echoes. As you stand there facing him in the dim light of the torches, Aragorn seems to struggle with his words. His gaze intense and searching.

"A moment ago, I was thinking about our positions for the battle," Aragorn begins, his tone tentative. "But truthfully, that's not why I asked you here." He takes a deep breath. His hands clenching and then relaxing at his sides. "I... I've noticed a distance growing between us while we’ve been here, one that wasn't there before. And I fear," he pauses, his voice tightening, "I fear it might be due to misunderstandings... emotions left unspoken." His admission hangs between you, stark and revealing. The air feels heavier as if charged with the gravity of his words. His eyes never leave yours, seeking, perhaps, a sign of your feelings.

You feel a knot form in your throat. Your own emotions a whirlwind of confusion and revelation. The thought that Aragorn might share even a fraction of the feelings you've struggled to hide sends a shiver through you. But there's also fear—fear of what such an admission means in the face of the darkness that might claim tomorrow.

"Aragorn," you start, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I've also felt something change. But I believed you saw me only as a… friend in battle, nothing more. With the shadow of war over us I thought it best to keep my feelings to myself." Your confession feels like shedding armor you didn't realize you were wearing, leaving you exposed but strangely free.

Aragorn steps closer. His presence enveloping you in a sense of warmth and safety that contradicts the coldness of Helm's Deep. "I have long admired you, more than as a friend," he confesses, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "But I too feared to speak, to disrupt the bond we have with uncertainties of heart. Yet on the eve of such uncertainty… I find that silence is a greater burden than the risk of sorrow."

The distance between you diminishes with his words bridging gaps formed by unspoken doubts. As you look up into Aragorn's eyes, reflecting both the torchlight and his earnestness, you realize that regardless of what the morrow holds, this moment—honest and raw—has changed something fundamental between you. No longer just allies but something deeper. A connection forged not just in the heat of battle but in the vulnerability of shared hearts.

The emotional confrontation beneath the shadowed walls of Helm’s Deep leaves the air between you and Aragorn charged with newfound understanding and fragile hope. As the initial shock of your mutual confessions fades, the reality of the coming dawn—laden with the uncertainty of battle—sets in, lending a poignant urgency to your words and thoughts.

Aragorn’s eyes that reflected a mix of resolve and tenderness, lock with yours. “We stand on the brink of war, a war that may consume us all,” he says, his voice steady despite the turmoil you know roils beneath. “But this moment… this truth between us, cannot be overshadowed by what tonight may bring.”

You nod feeling the weight of every word. His hand was still holding yours. He squeezes gently trying to ground you. “I have carried this in my heart, thinking it unwise to speak, fearing the complications it might bring,” you admit. Your own voice stronger than you feel. “But now, facing the unknown, I see only the folly in silence. My heart, just like yours, cannot bear the burden of what-ifs.”

Aragorn’s face softens. The warrior’s mask yielding to the man beneath. “Then let us make a promise,” he proposes. His gaze searching yours for hesitation. Finding none, he continues, “If we survive this war, if fate grants us passage through this darkness, I promise to explore this path with you. To see where our hearts might lead us, unburdened by duty.”

Moved by his words you feel a resolve awaken within you. “I promise, too,” you respond, the night air around you bearing witness. “To find you again. In a world at peace and discover the depth of what we might become together.”

The pact, sealed with the sincerity of shared heartbeats, seems to carve out a small sanctuary against the chaos of the impending battle. As you both stand together the day turns to night and the distant sounds of the encroaching army grow louder, yet, in this secluded moment, there’s a sense of peace. An oasis of calm before the storm.

Aragorn gently lifts your hand to his lips. His kiss a feather-light promise against your skin. “No matter what comes,” he whispers, his breath warm against your fingers, “know that tonight has changed everything.”

As you part ways to prepare for the night ahead, each step back to your respective duties is reluctant but necessary. The promise of a future, however uncertain, fuels a quiet courage in your heart. A courage not just to fight, but to survive, to return, to begin anew.

The stars overhead that were witnesses to your solemn exchange, twinkle with a hopeful light. They cast a soft glow over Helm’s Deep. In the quiet before the battle, you hold onto the memory of Aragorn’s words, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of tomorrow. A tomorrow where you might explore the uncharted paths of both peace and passion.

And in the quiet before the storm with the world held at bay, it is enough.

As night envelops Helm's Deep, the distant roar of the approaching enemy fills the air. A grim reminder of the battle that lies ahead. The walls were thick with the tension of awaiting warriors and bristle with weapons as the moonlight casts long shadows across the battlements. You take your place among the defenders. The weight of your armor familiar and reassuring against the chill of the morning.

Across the way, Aragorn readies himself for combat. His eyes briefly meeting yours across the crowded space. In that fleeting glance you find a silent exchange of resolve and reassurance. A mutual understanding that whatever the day brings, you are not alone.

The battle erupts with the thunderous sound of orc drums and the clamor of arms. Waves of enemies crash against the fortress's defenses. Each assault more ferocious than the last. Amidst the chaos you find yourself fighting back-to-back with Aragorn. Each move synchronized with an instinctual precision that speaks of your deep connection. His presence by your side is both a comfort and a spur pushing you to fight with a fierceness you hadn't known you possessed.

As you parry and thrust Aragorn covers your flank. His swordplay a seamless dance of deadly grace. Every time an orc breaks through the line threatening to overwhelm you, Aragorn is there, his blade swift and sure. In return you guard his back with equal vigilance, your own combat skills honed by years of training now coupled with a personal drive to protect him at all costs.

From the corner of your eye, you catch brief glimpses of Legolas and Gimli, their unique partnership effective and deadly against the enemy. Despite the severity of the battle, you see Legolas shoot a quick, satisfied glance towards you and Aragorn, a small smirk playing on his lips as he loses another arrow into the horde. Gimli, engaged in a competition of his own with the elf, nonetheless nods approvingly in your direction after cleaving another orc with his axe.

The battle rages on. Each moment a blur of sound, motion, and adrenaline. But within this turmoil your bond with Aragorn becomes your strength. When fatigue begins to claw at your limbs it is his steadfast presence that reignites your resolve. When despair whispers in the shadows of your mind it is the promise of a future together that keeps the darkness at bay.

As the tide of the battle shifts with every orc felled and every moment you and Aragorn continue to stand, the hope for victory grows. It was fueled not just by the strength of arms but by the power of the unity you have forged in the heart of conflict. The knowledge that someone fights beside you not just for the fate of middle earth but for the promise of a shared tomorrow is more potent than any weapon forged by dwarves or elves. Together, you fight not only to protect Helm's Deep but to preserve the future that you vowed to explore. In the heat of battle that promise binds you ever closer. A promise that against all odds you will survive to see what lies beyond the war.

As the echoes of battle fade and the sun begins to rise over the now-quiet walls of Helm’s Deep, the air is filled with the heavy scent of rain and renewal. The fortress, though scarred by the night’s ferocity, stands resilient. A showing of the courage of those who defended it. Among the weary soldiers there’s a palpable sense of relief mixed with sorrow for those lost. A bittersweet victory.

In the aftermath as others tend to the wounded and recount the close calls you find yourself seeking out Aragorn. You find him standing alone looking out over the battlements at the dawning day. His profile etched against the lightening sky. His stance is one of a man who has carried too much, seen too much, yet stands ready to face whatever comes next.

Approaching quietly, you stop beside him, sharing the view in silence. After a moment he looks down at you, his eyes reflecting the myriad emotions of the night. Without a word he takes your hand. His grip firm and warm, anchoring you both in the now.

“Aragorn,” you begin but he shakes his head slightly, asking you to stop.

“Let me speak before the world rushes back in,” he says softly. His gaze holds yours, intense and unwavering. “Last night in the middle of this mess I realized something beyond the fear of losing what is precious. I realized what it means to truly love.”

He pauses, searching your face for understanding. “I have loved before,” he continues, “but never like this. Never with such clarity and raw hope. Last night I fought not just for middle earth but for the chance to see what lies ahead with you.”

Tears gather in your eyes as his words wash over you. Each one landing with the weight and warmth of a cherished caress. He continues as he uses his thumbs to wipe away your shed and unshed tears. “You have given me a reason to fight. A reason to return no matter the odds. And if this battle has taught me anything it is that I want to face whatever comes next. Not as a king. Not as a ranger. But as a man hopelessly in love with you.”

Aragorn's confession was simple yet profound. It stirred something deep within you. A surge of love and commitment that mirrors his own. You step closer diminishing the space between you and rest your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. “And I, too, want nothing more than to face the world with you, Aragorn. To build a life where love is our strength.”

Aragorn begins to speak, his voice low and filled with emotion, confessing his love and the revelation that had come to him amidst the chaos of battle. But as he speaks, something within you stirs. A fierce, overwhelming rush of feeling, amplified by the adrenaline that still courses through your veins.

Before he can finish you close the distance between you were driven by a surge of emotions too powerful to contain. Your hands find his face pulling him down towards you, and your lips meet his in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It's a kiss full of life, of survival, of shared battles and shared dreams. Your bodies press together, each curve and angle molding into the other, as if you could somehow merge into one being united against whatever may come.

Aragorn responds with equal fervor his arms wrapping around you to lift you slightly off the ground deepening the kiss with a passion that mirrors your own. His touch is both a claim and a surrender. A recognition of the bond that has been forged in the heat of battle and sealed in the quiet of dawn.

As you finally part, breathless and hearts pounding, you rest your forehead against his, eyes still closed as you savor the closeness. "I love you," you whisper. The words barely audible but heavy with meaning. "I fought for this, for us."

"And I," Aragorn replies. His breath warm against your lips, "will continue to fight for every day we have together. For a chance to love you as you deserve, fiercely and freely, without the shadow of war."

The promise hangs between you profound and sacred. As you step back still encircled by his arms the world around you seems to awaken. The sounds of the fortress stirring to life, the calls of soldiers and the distant cries of those mourning their fallen. It all fades into the background as you look up at him, seeing not just the warrior or the king but the man who holds your heart.

The sun was now fully above the horizon. It bathes you both in golden light, its rays like a benediction over your newfound commitment. You prepare to face the new day with him. Not just as survivors but as partners bound by love. Each beat of your hearts proof to the battles you’ve endured and the future you will fight for together.

(Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @dnfhascorruptedme 

[doodle-pops]

Haunted Mischief

Elrond x reader

Warnings: 1.8k

Words: none, all fluff and humour

Synopsis: Elrond takes a moment to share how much of a festive prankster he was in his childhood days.

“Most of my childhood days around this time surrounded helping my mother in the kitchen. I had a particular knack for wanting to eat any remnants of cake batter left in the bowl,” you chuckled as the memory resurfaced. You ran off with the bowl to hide under the dining table where the tablecloth was long enough to shield you from the rest of your siblings who came searching for you. “I had to fight off my brothers and sisters so I could have the entire bowl all to myself. They would normally get back at me though.”

A soft, yet hearty laughter echoed beside you from Elrond as you both took a stroll in the woods nearby, a well-deserved break from all his duties. “Sounds like you had quite a hectic childhood.”

“Indeed I did. Though, I was always the butt of all their pranks, especially during the harvest season. They would scare me with silly ghost stories, or dress as ghosts and made me run off to papa crying,” you grinned. There was a faint hint of annoyance laced in your voice as you recalled all the horrors your siblings gave to you, all because you were the youngest. “It caused me to both love and hate the harvest season.”

“Well, you have a justifiable reason, and I fully support it. I for one had my moments…” Elrond teased before silence fell over you both, leaving nothing but the sounds of the leaves crunching under your feet. You could tell he wanted to say more, yet he wasn’t sure if to continue and open up that memory box. By now you had grown accustomed to the silence that fell after statements, especially ones that involved childhood days. While he had promising moments with his captors, there were others better to be left unsaid.

Saying nothing, you two continued your walk, listening to the rustling of the leaves and observing the kaleidoscope of rustic colours swirling through the air. There were unkept piles of leaves at the base of a few oak trees, while the rest was scattered across the forest floor. The scent of rain was still fresh in your nose from the rainfall an hour ago, now mixing with fermented fruits and rotting leaves. While the scent should repulse you, instead, you welcomed it with heartiness and nostalgia.

“I know that my childhood wasn’t the best, however, I surely had wonderful moments with my brother, like you with your siblings.” He was the first to break the silence. You came to a halt and turned to face him, hands in your pockets and widened eyes, encouraging him to continue. “It is not often one speaks of such times.”

“It’s alright Elrond, you don’t have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” you murmured and reached your hand out to touch his arm gingerly.

He gave a slight shake of his head, a small smile—rare—slowly appeared on his lips while his eyes reflected the past. “Not at all, meleth. I have no intentions of reflecting on those, but rather the fond ones. Like yours…”

“Oh!” you quirked up in surprise. “You have enjoyable moments you wish to share with me from your childhood?”

“Many, in fact, but nothing scandalous—just…the mischief of two boys with far too much time on their hands,” he laughed softly, sounding like gentle silver bells chiming in the wind.

You shifted in your spot, back naturally straightening and eager to hear what he had to say. “You and Elros causing ruckus? That is what you are trying to tell me?”

“Indeed,” he smiled and motioned for you two to continue your walk. You both fell into a routine, your footsteps matching each other. “Elros and I, back when we were fostered by Maedhros and Maglor had our…mischief. In some ways, Maedhros and Maglor were like…fathers to us. But in other ways, they were far too serious for their own good. Especially Maedhros, he rarely smiled, you know. Always carrying that weight of his brothers’ deeds, the oath…everything. But Maglor—he was softer. He tried to make things easier for us, and in return, we chose to repay them in kind. Through pranks, of course.”

“Pranks?” you muttered warily, as if needing clarification for what you were hearing. “You two pranked Maedhros and Maglor?”

“More Maedhros than Maglor, he was always the…stiffer of the two,” he chuckled for his expression became conspiratorial as he leaned in closer, sharing his secret with the world. “It was all Elros’s idea from the start though, I was merely forced to tag along. He found an old cloak—dark, frayed at the edges—and convinced me to wear it while he arranged everything else. We waited until evening when the shadows were long and the light was dim, making the castle look even more eerie than usual.”

As he spoke, you felt the world around you shifting to ancient times as though you were transported to witness the event.

“Maglor was in his study, composing something on the harp,” Elrond continued. “And Maedhros…well, he was doing what he often did, pacing and talking to himself in the hall. Elros and I had set up a few…‘traps,’ you could say. Nothing dangerous, of course, just things that would make noise or cause a bit of a fright.”

“Like?” you asked, thoroughly amused by the thought of such a prank in the usually solemn household.

“Simple things,” he explained with a chuckle. “Elros hung a few items—bells, dried leaves—in places where they wouldn’t be expected. And I...well, I was the ‘ghost.’”

You nearly doubled over at the thought. “You, a ghost?”

“Yes,” Elrond said with mock solemnity, “and a very convincing one, or so we thought at the time.”

“And what happened?” you prompted, your smile widening.

Feeling himself building up laughter at the back of his throat, he tried to suppress it for the sake of telling the story. “It went about as well as you’d expect. Maglor barely reacted. He heard the bells and the rustling, but he just sighed and continued with his music, likely assuming it was the wind. Maedhros, however...stopped in the middle of the hall, his brow furrowed, listening intently. I think for a brief moment, he thought something serious was amiss. But then Elros—bless him—couldn’t keep from giggling. Maedhros turned sharply, and there I was, standing in the shadow of a column, draped in that ridiculous old cloak with my arms waving about, attempting to look scary and making terrible eerie noises.”

At that point, you couldn’t help but double over, slapping your thighs at the image of a tall, regal Maedhros staring down at a much tinier Elrond, dressed as a poor excuse of a ghost. His wide, childlike eyes looked up at Maedhros through the slits of the cloak while he continued to wave his short arms about.

“Maedhros just looked at me, deadpan, and said, ‘Elrond. Take off the cloak.’” Elrond chuckled, shaking his head. “I think he was more disappointed in how bad the prank was than anything.”

“And Elros?”

“He,” Elrond said with a fond smile, “tried to run. But of course, Maedhros caught him before he’d even made it to the end of the hall. He gave us both a rather stern lecture about not wasting time on ‘childish games.’ But Maglor…” He trailed off, his eyes softening. “Maglor was different. He found it all rather amusing. Later that evening, when Maedhros had gone to bed, he gave us both a pat on the head and said, ‘Perhaps you need to work on your pranks or try something different.’”

“So did you two ever try again,” you wheezed, wiping a tear from your eye.

He paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated adding the other failed attempts they had. Exhaling with an airy laughter, he nodded. “Umm, yes we did, but this time, we had Maglor assisting and providing the ideas. He was rather…enthusiastic about watching his brother grumble and mutter about how everyone was turning on him, even his own brother.”

“And what did you two do this time?” you mused as you kicked up a pile of leaves at your feet.

“Well, after that failed attempt, we had placed a bunch of dried leaves under the sheet of Maedhros’s bed, so when he laid down…well, you can image the effects of lying on dried leaves hidden in your sheets. Got a scolding, not before Maglor came to our rescue and took the blame, stating that it was his idea,” he laughed. “Maedhros was fond of his brother teaming up with us.”

“But we later redid our ghost prank, and better—or so we still thought,” he grimaced. “We gathered old sheets and tied them to sticks, hanging them in the hallways to sway in the wind, and even attempted to make them float by pulling them with thin strings. But we hadn’t accounted for Maedhros’ sharp eyes—he spotted every string we tried to use. Making eerie noises turned out to sound more like a dying person wheezing. It startles us more than our target.”

“Naughty children you two were. Giving your guardians a spooky time,” you laughed and shook your head in disbelief. It was still humorous that the Elrond standing beside you was capable of being a prankster and naughty.

“Once again, he had found the entire ordeal absurd but come to think of it, he appreciated our efforts to lighten the mood even if he would never admit it,” he whispered reflectively with distant look on his face.

You reached over to hold his hand, entwining your fingers with his cold ones—a trait due to the lingering mortal blood in his veins—and squeezing them. “It’s good to know that they allowed you both to be children at heart despite the harshness of the world.”

“I was indeed pleased to have experienced some good during those years. Made me look at them a bit differently.” Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Thank you for listening. It felt nice to share fond memories with someone dear to me.”

“It was lovely, indeed,” you grinned, your smile reaching your eyes to leave a twinkle. Continuing your walk while the leaves drifted down around you in a gentle cascade, the world seemed to slow. The world seemed to slow, the only sounds the rustling of the trees and the soft murmur of the river below.

After a time, you perked up causing Elrond’s attention to drift from the water to you. “Why don’t team up to prank a few of your Lords? I know Erestor and Glorfindel would be spooked the most, and I could do with a genius like you assisting me.”

“Now why would you believe I would do such a thing at a time like now?” you teased. “Pranking is no longer my motive.”

“I’ll bake you all the pumpkin and apple pies you want. I promise,” you begged, lifting your other hand with your pinkie finger. “Pinkie promise, Elrond. It’ll be harmless and not a soul would know it was you.”

He pondered. You could see his eyes drifting past you as he contemplated and weighed his options of enjoying your desserts in exchange for harmless, childish, pranks. Then, with a heavy sigh, he shook his head with a faint smile playing on his lips. “Very well, a few harmless pranks on Glorfindel. It is the season after all, and I have a fond idea in mind…”

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[fckmini]

Hii, im new to your blog and I love your work!! I was wondering if you could do a thranduil x fem elf reader who is the princess of nature so she can control nature etc and they could of met when they were younger and they were arranged to marry and fluffy ending please and thank you :))

I hope you like this @chocotacobread ! thank you SO much for requesting and feel free to send in any more that you have! :) im sorry it took so long!

—————————————————————————

Spring - Thranduil x fem elf! Reader romantic fluff

I’m sorry if its too waffly but i wanted to write something pretty! 

Thranduil x reader relationship - fluff and romance :)

my masterlist is here - please check out some of my other work if you can!

As always please give me some feedback and please send requests <3

this is written as a part 2 to this request!!

mutuals and ppl I think might be interested: @in-darker-dreams @tolkien-fantasy @the-messy-nessie @blairsanne @aceofatook @lilunoakes @shrimpsthings @the-nerd-procrastinator @khazdith @glorfindelridesagain @therealsomajesticdonki @catnip-and-caprice @blairsanne @leafycasper @ur-gucchi-im-crocs @thelifelemonsgaveyou @emptyspace008 @iactuallyshipeveryone @zemosboy @theelfmaiden @i-did-not-mean-to @gossip-guy-of-middle-earth @catnip-and-caprice

—————————————————————————

It was finally spring. Its arrival had always been a cherished event in the Woodland Realm, and this year was no different. A homely warmth seeped into Thranduil's skin, embracing him tenderly. The royal garden, awash with the tender hues of spring, was alive with the soft whisper of cherry blossoms. The sun’s tender touch enlivened soft petals that danced in the wind. They swirled, fluttering gently to the ground like the delicate brush of eyelashes in the morning. The King stood, a spectator to the seasons, his thoughts drifting back in time. 

Many springs ago, this very garden witnessed the first meeting of Thanduil and his beloved wife. It had been an arranged marriage, as is custom for elven royalty. The sun had been gleaming with the same fond brightness as it was now. It cast a golden hue that glittered in the iridescent dew that adorned the grass: nature's pearls. He was waiting with bated breath to meet his betrothed when she floated in. A breath of life. A sigh of sunshine. Ripples of grass blossomed beneath each step she took, leaving a constellation of wildflowers and daisies behind her.  The air was thick with pollen, heavy with the promise of new life. Otherworldly, even amongst elves. Her very essence seemed intertwined with the earth, and the elven king had been entranced from that first moment. 

“Thranduil,” her voice had been soft, melodic, “it is an honour to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” he had replied, bowing with a grace befitting a king, though his heart had skittered like that of a newborn deer. His eyes of starlight met hers, the deep hue of the sun at dawn. Sunshine incarnate, flowers bloomed before her, but none more so than the elven king. Her smile made the world itself seem dim, her laugh was purer than the tinkling of a rushing stream. He had worn his finest robes, plaited his silver, moonlight, hair in traditional braids. Yet, hers was ornate beyond compare, decorated with a rainbow of blooms, as opalescent as an aurora. 

In that moment, two souls had entwined, as is common in elven life-bonds. Once a sapling, their marriage blossomed into a bond that neither could have anticipated. The famously icy temperament of the king thawed beneath her touch and gaze. He melted before her. Their hands, desperate for the nourishing affection of the other, would reach out, hopeful, longing like ancient roots seeking water. The time in his life before her was but a shadow of a memory, too distant and too dark to recall. 

"My King," a loving voice broke his reverie. She approached, eternally radiant, still leaving a trail of blossoming flowers behind her.

"My queen," he replied, his voice thick with warmth and reverence.

She joined him. "It is a beautiful day, is it not?" she asked, her hand slipping into his, fitting perfectly as it always had.

"It is." He replied, their eyes met, twinkling with the same light that had captivated the other all those years ago.

Together, they stood in silence, watching the cherry blossoms continue to dance in the breeze. The soft murmur of spring stirred around them. The garden, once a witness to the beginning of their love, now stands testament to its enduring strength. Its growth, how they had flourished, was much like the nature that his queen so cherished.

As they stood there, enveloped in the beauty of spring, they both knew that their love would continue to bloom, season after season, for all eternity. 

[mlmxreader]

Kill Our Friendship | Legolas x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi can I request “When you've known someone a long time, you just want to kiss them just to see if they're a good kisser. There's nothing wrong with that, right?” With Legolas please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ To perform one small little action will kill a friendship, but maybe that's for the best.

: ̗̀➛ n/a

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You were comfortable as you strolled through the woods with Legolas at your side, all too aware of his hand lingering beside yours, so close that you could almost feel his fingers brush against your own so deftly; it wasn't far now, the small little clearing that sat at the edge of the expansive lake.

There was a small raft waiting for you there, tied to some weeds and some bushes, anchored against the bank. It was made of old wood, but it was sturdy in its frame; it could easily hold you and Legolas without a doubt, and you were excited to show it to him.

After all, you had spent so long crafting it that there was only one person in the world you deemed important enough to see it.

You caved in, linking your fingers with his and swinging your hands back and forth a little bit; it made you smile, especially when he looked at you so softly and so warmly. In his blue eyes was a hidden summertime that never ended, and when he smiled, it seemed as if the seasons were forever stuck there.

Legolas dared to smile, practically skipping along beside you until you tugged him over to the little raft at last. Amongst the expansive lake, it was easy to tell that it went on for miles. The murky dark olive colour calming along with the thick scent of the bushes and trees.

You finally let go of his hand, kneeling down for a moment to untie the raft. Legolas wasn't far behind, helping you to get it onto the water's body; he jumped on it beside you, lying on his back and letting the sun hit his skin.

You lowered yourself down next to him, your temple pressed against his and your hand finding its way to his; fingers interlocking tightly. You could only hum as you smiled, clearing your throat and trying not to show how anxious you really were.

"What do you think?"

Legolas grinned as he closed his eyes. "How did you manage to do this without anyone knowing?"

You shrugged, letting out a quiet laugh. "You aren't the only one who can be so stealthy, you know."

He laughed along for a second before falling into a comfortable silence with you; he rarely got the time to be so close, and he appreciated every single second that he could get.

It was his favourite thing, to be close with you and to actually be there with you whenever it was possible. He loved it, he loved you.

But of course, there was a... certain expectation. Legolas was a Prince, after all, and you were not of royal blood of any kind; but you had been friends for so long, always joined at the hip, that it was impossible to get you away from him and vice versa.

He knew that if he was going to act on his feelings, it would surely bring about the death and ruin of friendship - but when he opened his eyes to see you undressing, it was all too tempting for him to finally admit how he felt.

Your body was the most brilliant thing he had ever seen; every inch of exposed flesh slowly creating a masterpiece until you were left with nothing but your skivvies on. You laid back down, all too aware of his gaze, and awkwardly shifted onto your side; resting your head against your hand and letting your elbow dig into the wood.

"Why are you staying at me like that?"

Legolas shrugged as he met your gaze, swallowing thickly and trying to ignore it all. The racing, heavy pounding of his heart in the cavern of his chest. The little droplets of sweat forming on his palms. The slight shake of his fingers.

"When you've known someone a long time, you just want to kiss them just to see if they're a good kisser. There's nothing wrong with that, right?"

You shook your head, trying not to smile as you swallowed thickly, letting your free hand rest on his chest. "Not at all... I may have wondered myself, here and there..."

His gaze flicked to your mouth for a moment, and he slowly reached out; his thumb just in front of your ear and his fingers desperately clinging behind it as he leaned in slightly. "Shall we find out?"

You nodded, softly whispering "yes" before leaning in yourself; clumsily, Legolas moved to straddle your waist, letting his other hand copy the position of the other as you clung to his shoulders. Finally, he sealed the kiss.

It started out so chaste, but you could not help it; gathering his platinum hair in your hand and tugging it softly. He grinned, kissing you harder and harsher as you eagerly and desperately tried to keep up. But it couldn't last forever, and he pulled away when the need for air started to creep into his chest.

"That was..." he breathed out, nodding. "If it would be alright with you, I'd like to do it again."

You nodded back, trying not to act so fucking eager. "I'd like that, actually."

He smiled, a little relaxed as he pressed his forearms either side of your head and allowed some of the anxious tension to drop from his body. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Can we kill this friendship?" He asked quietly. "And become something else?"

You shrugged, gently playing with his hair as you nodded slowly. "I would like that, actually. Especially if that something else means you'll keep kissing me like that."

Slowly, a grin spread across his face, and he nodded as he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "I'll kiss you like that as many times as you wish, beloved. All you have to do is ask."

"All I have to do is ask?"

"Yes," he breathed out. "Just ask, and I will happily oblige."

"Alright," you agreed. "Legolas, if you'd be so kind... kiss me again, please?"

[autumnshighlady]

Love You For Infinity

Elrond x adopted daughter reader

summary: you’ve been in a depressive episode for weeks, and your thoughts turn dark - luckily, elrond is there to help guide you 

warnings: depression, self harm thoughts, mention of suicide, VERY bad mental health

word count: 3.5k

requests: It’s taken me a year to finish this oneshot due to my mental health. It was a bit difficult to write for reasons I won’t get into, so i apologize for the long wait. If you can relate to the reader in this fic at all, please know that you are not alone, and you are loved <3

IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING WITH THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE AND ARE IN NEED OF HELP PLEASE REACH OUT TO A PROFESSIONAL OR A HOTLINE

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You wandered through the gardens, feeling the warm sunlight soak into your skin. It was a beautiful day – the flowers were in full bloom, their scents filling the spring air, countless colours surrounding you as you made your way down the cobblestone path. The aged moss and lichen draped the marble statues and carvings along the gardens, an ancient beauty contrasted with the new growth. But you could not bring yourself to enjoy the scenery, nor stop to smell the flowers you loved so dearly. For all their vibrance, they seemed dull, muted, despite their bright colours. The glowing sunlight that so many other elves basked in felt too hot, too invasive. The sweet spring scents were choking you, stifling their air in your lungs as you tried to breathe.

            You had once loved wandering through the gardens of Imladris. Now you felt nothing but indifference, the guilt of losing such a joyous area of your life gnawing at your gut. You used to spend hours in these gardens, soaking in the scenery and revelling in the nature around you, content to simply sit on one of the benches or lay down in the grass and let the sounds and scents of the environment wash over your mind.

Now, you could barely stand to walk through the familiar path. Still, it was an improvement, considering it had taken all of your strength to get out of bed this morning. The task alone was daunting, yet you felt no sense of accomplishment. Most days had been like this lately – sleepless nights tossing and turning, yet no motivation to get out of bed when the sun rose, no drive to get yourself ready for the day. Instead you would simply lay there, sheltered in the confines of your room, closing off the rest of the world.

You hated every minute of it. You hated the fact that you felt so useless, the weight of simply getting up being too much to bear. You loathed that no matter how hard you tried, you could not bring yourself to join your friends for breakfast or pick up a good book and read. You hated feeling so weak, so empty – your brain screamed at you to stop wasting away, to get up and do something, anything. But you just could not.

Hours of pondering and crying into your pillow was not enough to figure out why you felt this way. Nothing bad had happened, no traumatic event to set off this episode of pain and depression that felt neverending. You were simply an elf from the Woodland Realm, who had been sent to and raised in Rivendell after the darkness began to creep into what was once Greenwood the Great. You worked as a scholar in the libraries of Imladris, safe within the House of Elrond. You had not seen some violent war, as some of your peers had, nor had you known anyone close to you who died or suffered tragically. Your life was pretty much perfect, your days amounting to reading, art, and simply wandering the grounds – none of which warranting the pain which now seemed to have spread through your entire chest, threatening to cave it in and shatter every piece of you.

You brushed my finger against a rose carelessly, letting your hand wander down from the soft petals to the thorny stalk. You felt a sting of pain, a thorn snagging your pointer finger. Instead of wiping away the blood, you just stood there and dragged your finger further down the thorn, creating a longer red line, content to let droplets of blood spill onto the marble pavement, deep red contrasting with the white floors. At least I could still feel something, you thought bitterly, relishing in the pain slightly. At least you had not gone completely numb.

“My Lady?”

You turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Lord Elrond was standing a few feet behind you, clad in his regal silver robes. He wore no crown, yet still possessed that regal authority that he was so renowned for. You felt your gut twist as you saw the concern flood over his face as you turned your body to face him.

You could see in his eyes he knew something was wrong, but your body gave you away entirely. You knew your eyes looked hollow, framed by dark circles that sucked the life out of your face. Your dress was slightly too big, evidence of the weight you had lost in the past few weeks as you isolated yourself in your room. A sick part of you delighted in it, always having been insecure of your size. Your hair which was usually well-kept and styled hung loosely around your face, knotted and frizzy in some parts as it cascaded down your back.

To cover your shame, you bowed your head in formality. “My Lord Elrond.” You managed to say, staring at the pavement as you inclined your head, eager to get away from his piercing gaze.

Elrond sighed, visibly attempting to soften his gaze. “My dear, must I remind you again that you may simply call me Elrond?”

“My apologies, my Lord.” You mumbled, straightening up and finally meeting his gaze. He did not correct you. Instead, his eyes travelled down to your hand and the blood that still dripped from it.

“You are hurt.” Elrond stated, his eyebrows furrowing. He stepped forward, a gentle hand reaching out as if to assess the wound, but you found yourself stepping back.

“I am alright,” you said quickly, moving your hand back to your side. The blood smeared your midnight-blue robes, but you did not care. “I simply snagged my finger on a thorn. A careless mistake, that’s all.”

Elrond’s eyebrow raised, and dread filled your stomach as you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, or at least he did not buy the too-casual excuse you pulled out of your ass. Your relationship with Elrond had always been relatively close – as close as one can have with an elven Lord of Imladris. When you had arrived in Rivendell as a child, Elrond had ensured you were well cared for. He became involved in your life – often bringing you gifts and trinkets, showing you around the place. Reading to you evolved into him teaching you how to read, sitting at the table with you and his children at dinner. Elrond had taken a special interest in you, always finding a way to make sure you had everything you needed beyond what a normal elven lord would do for their people. Sometimes you wondered if this was due to him losing Celebrían right before you arrived, as if his protective instincts had doubled with wife’s departure to the Undying Lands. He could not spare her from torment, but he could do his best to make sure you never met the same fate. Things changed a bit as you grew older – not wanting to impose on the family he already had before you, you found yourself growing a bit distant. You had no desire to be a burden to him, you were not his blood nor did he raise you, but he still played a paternal role in your life. Even as you began to make a life for yourself in Rivendell, that kindness and care Elrond had shown you as a child prevailed. You and him still had walks in the garden, he still ordered books from other kingdoms he thought may interest you. It was complicated, as he was not your father per say, but he was all you had, and he was important to you. But at the same time, he was still the Lord of the town you had the privilege of residing in and living under.

Guilt clawed away at your gut as you realised how even more distant you had become in these past few weeks. You could not recall the last time you had a conversation with Elrond or sat down for dinner with him. Surely, he noticed your absence but did not want to intrude, trusting you to make your own choices and open up if you were ready.

But you were too far gone for that approach, and deep down you knew that he knew it too.

“That is more than a simple thorn prick, little one,” Elrond said, the concern on his face seeping into his voice. “If you will not tell me what happened, at least let me take care of it for you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly shut up. You knew from the look in his eyes he was not going to let this go. You gulped down your nausea that was produced by your stomach, which churned knowing where this conversation was headed.

Arwen had made attempts to get you out of your room lately, none successfully executed. You cried even harder as she softly knocked at your door, her gentle voice ushering you to come out and join her for breakfast. You knew it broke her heart when you did not answer, unable to even crawl out of bed and unlock the door. She and her father knew something was wrong but had waited for you to come forward to them about it.

You guess they had waited long enough.

With your non-bloody hand, you accepted Elrond’s outstretched arm and began to walk with him towards his quarters. He did not hold you close to him as he usually did, as if he was afraid getting too close would scare you off. Instead, you walked in silence, which you appreciated. Other elves bowed their heads at him as you passed, but you kept your eyes to the ground.

Five minutes later, Elrond shut the door to his room, grabbing some herbs, water, and bandages to tend to your wound. The silence prevailed, and you sat down on the bed and let him take your hand. He began wiping the blood off, waiting a few seconds before saying softly, “I am glad to see you in the gardens again. It has been a few weeks since I last recall you spending time there.”

You sat quietly, torn. Part of you wanted to break down in ugly sobs and explain the struggles of the past few weeks, to open the floodgates and let go of every horrible and depressing thing you had felt and thought you had over the last while. But the other part of you screamed at yourself to suppress it, to make yourself go numb, a practice you now excelled at. Deep down you knew you wouldn’t have to make that choice – Elrond could see right through you. You knew that one look into those kind eyes and you would crumble, so you looked at the floor.

“Arwen has not seen you lately either,” Elrond continued gently, beginning to wrap up your hand in soft bandages. “Neither have I, in fact. Are you sick, my dear?”

“I…” Your throat went dry as you tried to speak. Say something, come on, say anything, you screamed at yourself. But no words came out.

After tying the final knot, Elrond looked up. “I can tell that you are unwell. I understand that you are grown now, but you are still my little one, and I wish you would know that you can always turn to me in time of need.”

At his comforting voice, you involuntarily looked up and met his gaze. Seeing those kind, concerned eyes that had watched over you all of these years opened that gate inside of you that you had tried desperately to keep sealed for so long. Like a dam bursting, tears spilled down your cheeks and your body shook with sobs. The world around you stopped turning, leaving you enveloped in a flood of your own pain. Your chest hurt, feeling as if it was filled with cement. You felt lightheaded, gasping for air between sobs.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t keep living like this. You were in so much pain you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t strong enough, it was going to kill you. Everything you felt raging inside of you was all-consuming, your own thoughts so loud and relentless, screaming at you all day and night to the point where you figured only death would release you from them. You were stuck in your own head, and the fight to swim to the surface was too exhausting to bear.

You felt movement, and the space on the bed beside you shifted as Elrond sat down. He wrapped one arm around you, cradling your head with the other and bringing you close to him. “It’s ok,” He murmured, stroking your hair and holding you as you sobbed uncontrollably. “It’s ok, little one. Let it all out.”

And so you did. You let yourself feel everything – the guilt of neglecting your job, the pain in seeing your friends give up their attempts to see you, the hateful thoughts about yourself that clouded your mind telling you that you were deserving of nothing good, all of it. You clung onto Elrond as you cried, feeling so overwhelmed that you may implode. “I can’t… I can’t, I can’t,” You managed to choke out between sobs. “It hurts so much, please make it stop, please make it stop, Ada.”

Ada.

You had never called Elrond ‘father’ before, always using his name or title. You did not want those around you to think you were getting special treatment, or to seem like you were expecting it. Before you could gather your wits and apologise, you felt him hold you tighter.

“It’s ok,” He repeated. “You are safe. You are strong. You can overcome this, but not if it is burning up inside of you. Let it all out, my dear.”

You nodded into his chest, your relentless chants of I can’t fading out as you slowly regained control over your breathing. The raging sea that was storming inside of you calmed down to a simple rocky surface, the weight of everything lifting off of your chest slightly. You stayed there for a few minutes, letting Elrond hold you close as you calmed down.

He had done so much for you, more than you could ever hope to repay him for. Yet here you were, crying like a child despite the perfect, safe life he had worked so hard to provide you with. What a fucking ungrateful brat, you thought to yourself bitterly, allowing yourself a cruel sob.

You managed to peel yourself away from Elrond, sitting upright. You put your head in your hands, wiping away your tears as you took a shaky breath. His hand remained over your shoulder, rubbing in comforting circles. “I am sorry.” He murmured.

You laughed half-heartedly. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be sorry, not you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Elrond said softly, but firmly. “I am sorry because I should have noticed this sooner. I should have noticed that you were hurting and found a way to help before you suffered this much. I failed you.”

You pried your head from your hands and turned to face him, and your heart nearly broke. The noble elven lord looked so sad, so guilt-ridden at the sight before him. An elf who had seen thousands of years of suffering, who had lived through the most brutal wars in Arda’s history, looked more defeated than ever as he looked at you. That guilt churned inside you again as you realised you had caused this. “You have far from failed me, Elrond.” You said quietly. “You have given me everything, more than I could ever ask for. I have no reason to be this sad or act this way.”

Elrond cocked his head, brushing the hair out of your face. “Is that what you truly think?” He asked gently. “That you need a reason to be sad?”

“Uh…yes?” You said, puzzled. “There is nothing in my life that is going wrong, or even remotely horrible. I have not been traumatised by battle or had to run from a sword. My village was never raided by orcs, I have never known hunger nor harsh winters. I truly have nothing to be sad about.”

Elrond paused for a minute, contemplating your words. “Just because you have not fought in war does not mean you have not suffered,” He said. “You are a young elf; you are allowed to feel whatever your heart feels. Circumstance does not spare you from pain or suffering. Things like this are not always the result of war or hardship. Sometimes we hurt for no reason, and no amount of explanation will reassure us nor will it change what we feel in our hearts.”

You sighed, cheeks damp. “It doesn’t make me feel any less ungrateful. I’ve never even been courted. Nobody has ever looked at me like that. All of my friends have been shown that type of affection, except me. I don’t understand what makes them worthy of it and not me.”

“You are young, little one. You have centuries ahead of you to find whatever love you may wish. You’ve only met a fraction of the people who will come to love you. Give yourself time, allow yourself to be comfortable in your own skin. I know it is easier said than done. If you cannot be at peace with yourself, no soul in this world can fill that void for you.”

You swallowed thickly. He was right – you felt like a stranger in your own body. Like the bones and flesh beneath your skin belonged to another. But sitting here with the elf who had been a pillar in your life for as long as you remembered, you began to feel more at ease within yourself. You sniffled, wiping your tears from your face with the back of your hand. Elrond reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at your cheeks gently.

“Someday,” he said softly. “Someone will love you exactly how you deserve to be loved. I did not meet my wife until I was 1759, and even then, I loved her in secret for many a century.”

 Arwen had told you stories of her mother. It always brought a deep sadness to her eyes as she remembered her mother’s grim departure to the Undying Lands. You knew the tale all too well, for talk of the tragedy Elrond had been faced with travelled all the way to the Woodland realm. When you had first arrived in Rivendell, the wound Celebrían’s departure had cut him deep. It took years of you getting to know him before his eyes went from hollow to bright. One day, you had snuck a book from the library on the elves of the First Age. It was then when you stumbled across Elrond’s story, a sad pain in your heart as you read about him and his brother’s early years during the wars and the period that followed.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a few moments. “About your wife. And everything that has happened to you.” You weren’t sure what had prompted you to say that, for you blurted out the words before you could stop and think. Elrond had never discussed his past with you besides the occasional story told in the grand scheme of sharing wisdom and life lessons.

But there was no defensiveness, for Elrond simply put a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you,” was all he said.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being your hitched breath as you calmed your breathing down. A slight weight had been lifted off your shoulders, lessening the crushing feeling in your chest. For weeks, you had feared Elrond finding out about your depressive episode and thinking less of you for it. Deep down, you knew that was illogical, but the thought had haunted you nonetheless.

“I want to help you, my dear,” Elrond said, grabbing your hands and looking at you with all the love and care a father would. “But only if you will have it. If you do not wish for my interference, I understand and will be there if you need me. But I urge you not to walk this path alone.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” you said quietly.

“I cannot change what you feel in your heart and soul. But there are little changes, perhaps, we can make to get you on the right path. If you would like, I shall have our breakfasts delivered to your room, and I may join you for breakfast and then we can go on a walk. It does not have to be long, nor strenuous. Simply something to get you up and moving at the beginning of the day. Once you climb that step, you may find things become much easier.”

Emotion clogged your throat. “You would do that for me?”

Elrond gave you a gentle smile. “For you, anything. I may not have fathered you, but you are my family. And I will move heaven and earth just to make you closer to the stars if that’s what would make you happy.”

[dearsnow]

THE MOON WILL SING

- the moon hums a tune only elvish ears can pick up. (legolas x gn!human!reader, fluff, idk if you guys will be able to understand the symbolism but it makes sense to me…)

word count: 576

a/n - this is my first legolas piece :) it’s not the quality i would like it to be, but i came out of a writing slump not too long ago so 🤷 it is what it is <3 much thanks to @minaturefics for inspiring this 💕

For once, the night is peaceful. The birds are chirping, as are the crickets, and the trees are swaying to their tune. There are creaks and chitters, crackles and buzzes and the occasional snore from the fellowship sleeping so close to you. The forest is alive, and it is the greatest thing you have ever heard. The melody is softer than music and louder than thunder, existing in a sort of beautiful in-between. The world is perfect, you think. Nothing can compare. And, of course, the world gave you the elf sitting quietly next to you.

“Could you not sleep either?” You whisper, not wanting to disturb the woodsy strums filtering through the wildlife around you. Legolas shakes his head.

“It is a heavenly night.” He whispers back. “It is times like these when I can hear the moon sing her quiet song.” His figure is illuminated by starlight, casting his features in an otherworldly glow. In that moment, he looks ethereal. He picks a fallen leaf between his fingers and smoothes it with a gentle touch.

You look up at the sky, and he looks at you. “What is she saying?” You ask. 

He takes a breath, his words forming clouds in the air. “Something joyous in words I cannot begin to understand.” He places the leaf down, grasping your hands in his. “She tells me something, in thought.” He murmurs, looking deep into your eyes. His own are like pools that forever draw you in. “She tells me that I love you like her.”

You are stunned for a moment. You know he likes you, as you do him, but love is another thing entirely. It is something you feel in kind, though you have not found the words to express it until now. You grip his hands back, searching for something to ground you in this moment. All you can find is soft palms and the stars urging you forward. “And I love you like the sun.” You choke out. There is something so beautifully tender in his gaze. “You may ask the sun in the morning, though. I am sure they will say the same.” He laughs gently and quietly, a melodious sound.

“I will be sure to.” He reasons. He reaches out to cup your face in his palms. “You must rest, meleth nin.” His fingers swipe over your cheekbones.

You hesitate. “I would not want to on this comely night, unless you slept as well.” He squints at you, the action just barely visible in the night.

“I need not to, though I will lie with you if that is what you wish.” He smiles. His smile is one you have adored since the moment you met him. You have adored him since the moment you met him, and this midnight interaction is proof enough. There will never be another being so suited to you as he.

“I wish it.” You say quietly, tone hopeful. He nods just once and wraps his arm around you, slowly pulling you down to the plush forest floor. 

You stay like that for a long time, with his touch sending fire through your veins as his breath lulls you to sleep. The swaying forest and the beaming moon look down on you. Though it is too hushed for you to hear, the moon will always sing her song to deaf ears. And, of course, Legolas will always be there to sing it to you.

Taglist (misc): @skeletonfromthecloset

[kazuiislazy]

“There's No Need To Apologise.”

A/N: Reader who basically has a habit of always saying “sorry” after basically everything she thinks she does wrong.

Pairing: Aragorn x reader

You were currently sitting at a tavern, watching others down beers as you sat and observed. You loved drinking, don’t get it wrong- but you didn’t really feel like it. “Could you please help me get some ale?” Aragorn asked. You simply nodded and went off to fill some ale for the ranger.

Walking back, you had tripped over your own steps and spilled some of the ale on the ranger. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” you mumbled. “There’s no need to apologise.” his blue-ish grey eyes meeting yours. “Sorry.” you whispered again. “(Y/N).” You quietly hung your head in silence. He took a deep breath in, before asking, “Look at me, (Y/N).” Fiddling with your fingers, you continued to look down.

“Meleth nîn.” he sighed, lifting your head up at him. “You don’t need to apologise.” You nodded. “Sorry, I know-” He stared at you, shaking his head. “You did it again.” Before you could even open your mouth to apologise, his hands were at your lips. “Again, no need to apologise. Melda, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— Out of the Woods | Maedhros *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst

▹ Words: ~8k

▹ Summary: Thrust into the world of Arda, you find yourself enraptured by the elven lord Maedhros. Yet nothing is ever easy in times of war as your love story unfolds and then unravels.

▹ Notes: Hi, hello, this is about 6k words longer than I intended. Oh well. This is a rewrite of a oneshot I wrote yearsssss ago, but thought it deserved a rewrite. I hope you guys like this because I deleted the original. You have no choice, YOU WILL LIKE THIS MORE. Please tell me you like it, I crave validation. Jk, jk...unless.

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

Golden. 

Glittering and gleaming. 

Opulent in an understated way and all too beautiful to be real. 

It was the only way to describe the lavish keep the armored guards escorted you into. Men with delicately pointed ears and unnatural beauty were both your protectors and jailers as they paraded you through the city. You weren’t familiar with your surroundings, never even heard of it. You feel as though a place as beautiful as this would be pasted on every tourist’s brochure and dream board. And yet there was nothing familiar.

Even the people seemed so different from you.

“You have brought a mortal woman before me; why is that?” his voice boomed as he sat straight back and stiff as a board on a lavish throne. You were speaking with the presiding ruler if the golden crown atop his head was anything to go by. He was tall and regal, only made taller by the raised platform his throne was built upon, his figure looming over you with an intimidating presence. 

His hair was like fire, falling in perfect waves that reached the middle of his back. His skin was porcelain and perfection, clear of any slight imperfections or marks that marred your own. He wore formal attire made from silk, with details of glittering gems that made him look like a sun. The heavy crown resting up his head was made of pure gold and dotted with jewels, each worth more than you’d ever make in a lifetime. But what captured your eyes were his own. Light green, they shone like the reflection of emerald leaves off a crystal clear lake. No poem or ballad could ever capture the beauty he possessed. 

He was ethereal, the poster child for what a king should be. 

One of the guards pushed you forward, and you nearly stumbled to the ground, but you’d caught yourself in time. You looked up at him, not even knowing his name yet and already being enraptured by him. A god, that’s what he has to be. There’s no other way he could look like that.

You must’ve died and now stand at the gates of heaven. In your current situation, the most illogical answer has become the only one that made any sense.

“T-they found me, your grace, in the...woods.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and your face flushed hotly as red stained your face. Did you address him adequately? Was there any correct way to address a literal angel? 

His gaze on you was sharp, making you shrink within yourself. His hair may have been made of fire, but he was entirely crafted from ice. Cold, biting, and bitter, you were surprised your skin wasn’t frostbitten. 

“She was rambling like a mad woman when we found her. Despite that, she seems harmless. We thought it best to present her for your judgment, your grace.” The guard spoke with a smooth and even tone, able to look at the elven man unflinchingly. Does one become accustomed to staring at the sun? They must if the guards can directly look at him.

“And so you deign to bring the mad woman before your lord?”

“Times are strange. She may be a gift from the Valar.”

A hush fell over the onlookers before a flurry of whispers filled the courtroom. The lord returned his attention to you, raising a single, inquisitive brow. He was assessing you, determining if there could be any truth to the guard’s words. It made you squirm under the weight of his eyes. They were too piercing and too invasive. He could see past your soul. Your deepest fears and thoughts were laid before him.

“Perhaps there is some merit to the words my guard speaks,” There was a lilt of amusement in his otherwise smooth, dulce voice. It nearly seemed mocking, the way he looked down on you. He leaned to the left side of his chair with his knuckles tucked under his sharp jaw, momentarily taking a more relaxed posture. Yet his gaze on you didn’t lighten; if anything, it became heavier.

“Have you been sent to us by the Gods?”

The throne room became quiet once more. 

Your heart hammered against your chest, a lump stuck in your throat. All eyes were on you, the undivided attention making you want to curl in on yourself. 

“I don’t know.” You mustered up the strength to speak, attempting to keep the fear drowning you out of your voice. Would he cast you out of the kingdom, leaving you to fend for yourself? You couldn’t survive in the woods alone, but you didn’t want to lie and be heralded as a sign of divine intervention. 

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the room’s walls closing in on you.

All there was to be done was hope he was as kind as fair.

He hummed in response, neither angry nor pleased. There was no grand statement or judgment, instead, he continued to inspect every detail of you. His eyes scanned you up and down in an almost clinical manner like you were a new art exhibit in his favorite museum. He took notice of your odd clothes, maintained teeth, and healthy hair. Strange for a human in these lands to be so… well groomed. Even with the mud that caked your body, you were cleaner than the other humans before you.

“You place me in a strange place. If I send you away, it may anger the Gods, yet if I allow you to stay, I may be dooming the very people who’ve put their belief in me.” He spoke in such a calm tone as if the fate of your life didn’t rest in his long fingers, each embellished with a ring. 

The anxiety made your body weigh a thousand pounds. You weren’t even sure your heart was beating, the impulse to check your pulse growing stronger. There was worry in your eyes, creases above your brows that were pulled together tightly. 

Yet you didn’t speak, unable to make your tongue form words. 

“Will you not plead your cause to me?” He leaned forward; both brows pulled upward, an almost challenging smirk pulling on his lips. 

Rendered speechless and playing the fool, you opened and closed your mouth as you tried to remember how to speak. 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning back into his seat, his smirk pulling back into a nearly disappointed frown. 

“Very well. I shall make the decision for you.” 

You prepared to be condemned to the wilds, thrown to the wolves who would surely tear you apart. Head lowered, eyes counting the reflections of sunlight inside the room. Tears threatened to fall, but you forced them away. You would face your imminent death with pride.

“You will stay here.

Gasps of surprise filled the room, followed by mutters of the courtesans. You made no such noise, head snapping up to meet the elven lord’s gaze. There was surprise evident in your wide-eyed gaze. You’d expected the worst, yet that was not what you’d been given. 

“In time, we will learn if the Gods truly sent you to us.”

He nodded at the guards around you, and they helped you stand. Shaking and nervous, the guards held your body up as they guided you from the throne room to what would become your quarters. But over your shoulder, you spared one last glance at the elven lord, his green eyes watching your form disappear. 

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

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar--” You stumbled over the elvish text, unable to translate the rest of the sentence. There was a crease above your furrowed brows and a slight frown on your face. 

It had only been two months since you were unceremoniously dropped here, yet it felt as if no time had passed, but not in a good way. You were like a newborn babe, stumbling in the dark as you attempted to gain your bearings. The faint throb in your head warned you of a headache, encouraging you to put the book down. A warning you didn't heed, you were stubborn, determined to prove you could assimilate. 

The court has been a dizzying experience to get accustomed to. Most courtesans treated you like a curiosity, a pretty bird for them to teach silly words and feed salted crackers. They were nice enough and greeted you with pleasant smiles, but it all felt patronizing. As if you were nothing but a simpleton child, but perhaps that’s just how they viewed you; elves were immortal, after all. Nevertheless, they have treated you kinder than expected, correcting your choppy Quenya with lyrical giggles and coy smiles. 

The giant oak doors swung open, startling you. Looking up, you watched as Maedhros swept through the library. He grabbed a few books from the shelves and went to a table opposite the room. His hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and his clothes were more casual than what he would don at court. Your eyes followed his form, only looking down when he briefly looked up from his book. 

Heat flared to your cheeks, eyes returning to the book before you. You haven’t spoken with him since your initial meeting. He’d never invited conversation, and you were too terrified to do so. Instead, you stole glances at him whenever the moment presented itself, content to daydream about the Maedhros turning his eyes to you. 

He’d say hello, inquiring about your stay in Himring. You’d answer him shyly, looking up at him through your lashes. So enchanted by your beauty and quiet whit as the conversation continued, he’d invite you to take a stroll with him around the gardens and then--

Your daydreams were cut short by the loud thump of a book falling. Turning, you watched as one of the library attendants scurried towards the fallen three or so books. A soft sigh left your mouth, and your attention returned to the book you were struggling through.

Picking up where you left off, you struggled through the same sentence. No matter how many times you re-read it, the translation wasn’t clicking. What did tenn’ mean again? A grunt escaped your mouth, the pulsing headache returning. You shut the book, perhaps harder than necessary, and opted to fiddle with the bracelets you wore. 

Was it even worth struggling through this silly language? Surely you’d return home sooner or later and this grand delusion would be broken.

Yet the longer you’d spent here, the less likely the prospect seemed. You poured over every map and searched every geographical book, and nothing seemed familiar to the home you’d known. 

Lost in your mind, you didn’t hear the scratch of a chair being pushed back nor the light padding of footsteps approaching your table. Only when you felt someone’s presence beside you and red hair loosely hanging did you look up? Maedhros had stood beside you, leaned over to be at eye level with you. His expression was perfectly neutral, not portraying a single thought in his head. Tucked behind his back was his left hand, which he’d lost many years ago. There were whispers in court about how it happened, being hung from a cliff for thirty years. How terrible that must’ve been.

“You seem frustrated.” His common was not as smooth as his elvish, yet speaking a common language with someone was nice. Most of the elves here only spoke their native tongue. 

“It’s nothing, your grace,” you looked away from his gaze that was entirely too invasive. You didn’t want to risk that he really could read your thoughts; you didn’t want him to see how often they lingered on him. 

“Your lie would be convincing if you hadn’t spent the past hour stuck on the same page,” he breezily replied, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. 

Has an hour already passed? 

And how did he know you hadn’t flipped pages? Had he paid that much attention…? 

“Some words are confusing in their translations; no need to be concerned.” You didn’t want him to burden himself with such a silly thing. This wasn’t something a lord needed to concern himself with. There was also a flush of embarrassment creeping up on you. You wanted him to see you as competent and intelligent, not fumbling over simple translations.

“Allow me to offer insight. It is my native tongue, after all.” 

You stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. His expression never wavered, and you couldn’t think of any reason to dissuade him from helping you. Apprehensive, you grabbed the book you’d previously pushed away. There was a light shake in your body from nerves, and you prayed to whatever god there was that Maedhros wouldn’t notice. 

Flipping through the page, more delicate with it than usual to avoid Maedhros thinking you disrespectful, you pause on the last page you’d read. You point at the sentence you were struggling with and push the book toward Maedhros. 

He leaned forward to read the sentence, and you took the opportunity to appreciate his side profile. His facial structure was sharp, with a tall, noble nose and a strong jawline. Pristine and void of imperfections, he was even more beautiful this close up. With each breath taken, the warm, heady cologne was enough to send you into a dizzy spell. It wasn’t fair for one person to be so…perfect. 

He whispered the sentence under his breath, then straightened his posture. As he did, you moved your eyes from his face, looking at the book as if that was where your eyes always were. His eyes met yours as he began to speak. 

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta.”

You mimicked his pronunciation, awkwardly fumbling over the words as you did. The faint whisper of a smile appeared on his lips. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone. 

“Do you know what it means?”

“No, I was having trouble translating.” 

This time he allowed his lips to turn upward into a faint smile, eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the room. 

“It’s no wonder. This is in Sindarin. My understanding is you’ve been learning Quenya.” He reached over and grabbed the book, pulling it closer to him. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Quenya is an older dialect, though many of the Noldar still use it, whereas Sindarin is a newer version of the Eldar language.”

You didn’t respond, simply nodding your head as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. Maedhros closed the book much more gently than you initially did, though he made no move to stand.

“I apologize; I have yet to inquire about your stay here. Have you found the accommodations to your liking?” 

His question was nearly word for word what you fantasized he would say to you. Was he teasing you? Could he truly read your every thought, or was it just a coincidence?

“They’ve been great, better than I could’ve hoped.” You were nervous, so nervous it wasn’t even a joke anymore. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“And how do you find yourself settling in?” He seemed so relaxed and at ease; why can’t you be more like that. 

“I’m getting accustomed, but it’s all so different from the home I knew. I will admit, it is refreshing to speak with someone in a language I am familiar with.” 

Maedhros pauses, slightly tilting his head to the side, something flashing across his face.

“Forgive me; I did not think about how few people share a common language with you.” 

You shook your head once again afraid of accidentally offending him. “It’s no issue; if anything, it forces my Quenyan to improve.” You wanted to be reassuring, to show that you were more than comfortable with your current circumstances. The last thing you needed was the king thinking you were being difficult or ungrateful. 

“But it must be frustrating not being able to convey your thoughts clearly.”

You merely shrugged in response. It was, and sometimes it made you want to scream and break something, but you couldn’t admit that. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful. 

Maedhros hummed in response and pushed his chair back, now standing at full height. 

“I must part from you, but perhaps we could meet here again tomorrow, if only so I may offer my translating abilities.”

A tentative smile appeared on your face, and you nodded in agreement. Maedhros tilted his head in a slight nod and turned, exiting the room with a flourish. 

Only once you were left alone did you let a high and girlish giggle leave your mouth. It echoed in the quiet library, and unbeknownst to you, Maedhros heard it on the other side of the door. 

And so a new tradition began as you and Maedhros met in the library every evening. You’d spend hours with one another, and within the first week, the excuse of studying linguistics had been forgotten. Enraptured in the presence of one another, you were both entirely unaware of the impending war.

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

 You were waiting by the gardens. 

Wearing a new dress, fiddling with the bracelets that adorned your wrists. You were so nervous yet equally excited. Maedhros had broken tradition, and instead of meeting you in the library, he asked to meet you near the gardens. 

Your heart was in your throat; nervous goosebumps were all over your skin. It was truly as if all of your fantasies had come to life. Light footsteps echoed on the marbled flooring, and it made you turn. Maedhros, your intended partner, walked towards you, taking long strides. 

A smile was placed on your lips, and Maedhros matched it. Long ago had he shed the detached demeanor he so often presented to the rest of the world. Instead, he was open with his emotions - both good and bad - allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in a way so few people have witnessed. 

“You came,” he spoke as he closed the distance separating the two of you.

“How could I refuse?” Your smile widened, eyes in the shape of crescent moons. He laughed, low and smooth, offering his arm to you. Your hand wrapped around the crook of his arm, and it fits as if your hand was met for his. 

“Shall we?”

You motioned with your hand towards the gardens. “We shall.”  

The two of you walked in near perfect sync, wandering through the gardens, making quiet conversation with explosive banter. He was not as stern and rigid as he once appeared. With the moonlight reflected in his eyes and the stars making him shine, he seemed more like an innocent child than a hardened warrior burdened with war and trauma. 

You wanted to see this side of him every moment of every day. To see his eyes resemble glass and to hear his hearty chuckle as he threw his head back. Eventually, you gave up the guise of being interested in the flowers, even though they were quite beautiful. All your attention was focused on Maedhros, a sight you were determined to imprint in your brain. 

If you were to wake up tomorrow, back in your old bed, in your old apartment, you’d be happy to remember this moment and this moment only. You’d dedicate the rest of your life to writing poems about him, painting portraits, and writing overly embellished love stories. Anything to commemorate Maedhros and everything you’d wanted with him. Even if he didn’t return your affections quite as fiercely. 

“Tell me about your home. You never speak of it.” 

Your expression fell, your smile dimmed, and your eyes downturned. Home. You hadn’t really thought of it as much. It used to be a constant thought, a thing you wished on every falling star to return to. But now… You couldn’t remember the last time you made that wish. 

“It’s…different.” You fumbled over your words. How do you explain something you yourself hardly understand?

“In what way?” Maedhros pries, wanting to know more information. You’d be flattered in any circumstance or with any different topic. Yet the subject of home was complicated and one you hadn’t dared to broach with anyone.

“In every way.” A breezy laugh escaped your mouth, hoping to distract how tense you suddenly became. 

“I’d like to hear it all if you’d be willing to tell me.” 

“I--” You stuttered over the words, a lump caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Maedhros to bear your entire soul to him, but an inkling of fear gave you pause. Would he deem you a mad woman? Distancing himself and becoming as aloof as he once was.

Yet the two of you had grown so close as of late, and if you’d ever hoped to be more than friends, it would only be fair, to be honest.

“I don’t think I’m from this time.” You began, unsure of the best way to start.

Maedhros stopped, turning to face you. You nearly stumble but manage to catch yourself, meeting Maedhros’ gaze. 

“In what way?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing your hand into a fist. Fortune favors the bold. You have to be bold if you want this.

“I believe when I was dropped here, I was dropped in the past. My world is so different and so much more advanced in terms of technology.”

He gave you a hard stare, not speaking for a few minutes. The moments of silence dragged on, and you were half tempted to flee and never return. Yet your body had become so heavy, and your feet were bolted to the ground. There would be no escape. 

“I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of his own words as he said them. “At the very least, I believe you believe in what you say, and you have given me no reason to distrust you.”

Your breath that had been caught in your throat was suddenly released as your body slackened. The wide grin you previously wore returned to your face, all the worry lines and creases on your face melting away. 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” You were breathless, a weight you hadn’t even realized was weighing you down, relieved from your chest. 

“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt, how confused you were.” His tone was soft and took a somber note, his eyes closer to an emerald green than the light color they previously were. 

“I managed to get by.”

Maedhros nodded, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. 

“Well, please indulge me then, and tell me all the wonders of your home. I’m sure you’ve longed to do as such; you assimilated so quickly, I never would’ve thought you were from a completely different time.” 

You stared at him a moment longer, a breath caught in your throat. Yet this time, it wasn’t from nerves or anxiety; no, the pounding in your chest was for an entirely different reason. It had everything to do with the softness in Maedhros’ eyes as he looked at you. 

And so you indulged his every question and whim, the two of you wrapping around the garden a million times, talking until the moon was at the highest point in the sky, and all was silent. 

You were exhausted, holding back yawns every other sentence, but you pushed through, soaking in the time with Maedhros. Who knew when you’d get another chance? But eventually, he caught on, noticing the droop of your eyes and the lethargic pace you walked with. 

He guided you back to your chambers with all the chivalry gone from your world. You expected him to say farewell and give a single nod, as he always did when parting ways. He did bid you farewell, his smile warm and vibrant, and he did dip his head into a nod. 

But he also placed a kiss on the very edge of your lips before turning and disappearing down the hall. 

Frozen, you stood there for who knew how long, face awestruck and hand resting where his lips previously had been. 

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Time had seemed nothing more than an illusion. 

It seemed to move around you, yet you were the same, unchanged by it. Physically, you may appear the same, yet everything is so entirely…different. Maedhros made quick work of letting you know he intended to court you, and who would you be to deny it. 

All the formalities and technicalities that came with courting royalty was dizzying, but Maedhros was always there to center you. Strolls through the gardens and long evenings in the libraries; it made everything more bearable. It was also worth the stiffness that came with court to see the child-like grin that would light up Maedhros’ face when it was just the two of you. 

But doubt was a terrible thing. 

You constantly feared you wouldn’t live up to not only his expectations, but the expectations of his people. You were a human among elves, and despite not aging, you knew the court talked. Their fascination with you long died out, and anyone who believed you were sent by the Gods was the minority. They hid sharp words behind pretty smiles and musical laughter, but you could see through the fakeness all the same. Their cruel words only helped reinforce the doubts you already had.

And you weren’t the only one weighed down by it.

Maedhros was a far cry from what he used to be. Before the oath, before the torment, and before all the death at the hands of his kin. Could he really be so selfish as to tie you down to him? You were blind to this of course. You knew he suffered from PTSD and trauma, but even as you held him under the light of the moon, you were never aware of just how deep his fears went. 

How when he wept in your arms, it wasn’t only for what he suffered, but what he may suffer when you decide you want better. When you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you. 

His anxiety twisted into something harsh, manifesting as anger rather than sadness. Yet even as he lashed out, you stayed. Your face would remain perfectly passive, seemingly unbothered by it. 

It was another one of those nights.

You both sat on the balcony attached to his chambers, feet dangling over the edge. It was improper for you to be in his bed chambers, especially so late at night, but you couldn’t care about court etiquette at a moment like this. 

Your arms were wrapped around Maedhros, keeping him as close to you as physically possible. His head rested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut as his breathing matched the rhythm of your heart. All was quiet except the occasional sniffle from Maedhros. But after a few moments he was the one to break it. 

He pulled himself away from you, not an inch of his body touching yours. His relaxed posture suddenly seemed so tense and proper; an austere expression falling over his face. The sudden change was enough to give you whiplash, all the worst of your insecurities coming to head.

A moment passed before Maedhros stood, returning to his chambers. Tentatively, you stood, following after him. What made him suddenly change, as if a light had been switched?

He walked across the room, to the decanter holding a red wine. Maedhros took his time pouring it into a crystal glass before bringing it to his lips and nearly downing it all in one drink. He sent it down and refilled the glass, continuing the same pattern. 

The entire time he refused to meet your gaze. Awkwardly you say at the end of his bed, intertwining your fingers in an attempt to distract yourself. It hadn’t worked, all your fears growing the longer Maedhros held the silence. Was it a contest? Was he waiting for you to poke and prod?

“We should dissolve our courtship.” 

If you hadn’t already been sitting, you could’ve fallen to your knees. One simple sentence, that was all it took to make the past years come crumbling to nothing. 

“What?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Why?”

Another glass of wine drank and another glass filled before he dared to answer.

“While I have enjoyed your company, I do not believe us suited to continue any further,” he said. Even still, he refused to meet your eyes. His hand gripped the table he stood before, his grip so tight you were half surprised it didn’t crack under the weight of it. 

“So that’s it.” Your voice was like stone; hard, cold, and unwavering. “You decide to end our courtship, yet you can’t even look me in the eye as you do it.” 

Maedhros didn’t move from his position, you however, stood from the bed. 

All the anger and frustration, needling insecurities and self doubt came bubbling to the surface. You didn’t bother to push it down, or rationalize it so much you can’t even feel anymore. It came together in one chaotic concoction and exploded. 

“Look at me.” You weren’t shouting, but there was force behind your tone. A warning and a threat all in one. Yet Maedhros still kept his back to you. You took three more steps towards him, nearly behind him. 

“I said look at me.” The volume of your voice became louder, the stone facade breaking and cracks of desperation shone through you. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this, you’d thought he loved you the same way you loved him.

Had it all been a mistake, were there signs and clues you’d missed along the way?

Finally Maedhros turned to face you, and within moments all of your anger dissipated. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unshed ones exaggerating his red rimmed eyes. He looked absolutely broken, the worst you’d ever seen him. 

“Why are you doing this?” You dropped the facade of nonchalance. Tears began to well in your eyes, a slight waver in your voice as you spoke.

Still he didn’t speak. 

You closed the distance separating the two of you, grabbing his hand in yours, but he pushed you away. Still you attempted to grab it again and this time he didn’t bother rejecting your touch. 

“Mae please, what is the real reason for this?” You looked up at him like a doe, so wide-eyed and teary. Any shred of conviction he previously held onto crumbled as he looked at your face. 

He thought marrying you would be selfish, but perhaps this was the more selfish option?

“You deserve better. I can’t give you what you deserve.” 

A crease formed on your forehead as your brows furrowed. 

“Fuck it.” 

Maedhros blinked, stunned by your brash words. For a moment he thought he might’ve misheard, he’d never heard you speak like that. But it would appear he hadn’t misheard you.

“What?”

“I said, fuck it. I love you, and you love me, and god dammit, if you’re not best for me then I don’t want better.”

You moved one of your hands from his, cupping his chin, forcing Maedhros to meet your gaze, an attempt to show the sincerity in every word spoken.

“I love you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Your words hung in the room, imprinted on the floorboards and the walls.

The Maedhros’ lips were on yours. The kiss was quick and fervent, expressing everything he’d never be able to put into words. All the love and fear that clung to him like a shadow; his entire soul was laid before you. It was dizzying - you were drowning at sea, and Maedhros was your only lifeboat. 

You clung to his form, never able to get close enough, one of your hands wrapped around his lithe form while the other reached towards the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. He groaned against your lips and you swallowed the noise, deepening the kiss. 

Closer, closer, you needed to be closer. 

He pulled you just as tight as you were pulling him, just as desperate if not more so than you were. His one arm wrapped around your waist and held you against his body. His scent was intoxicating, that same heady cologne he’d been wearing when you first spoke in the library. Your teeth clacked against his, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You needed him to know that every word you’d said, you’d meant. 

There wasn’t a universe you wanted to exist in without him. 

And while that thought terrified you, you repressed it, opting to deal with it later. 

Maedhros needed to know you were all in, and you’d spent the rest of eternity convincing him if need be. 

At some point he pulled back, the rise of fall of both of your chest and heavy breathing the only sound in the room. 

His hand moved from your waist and into your hair, finger combing through it. There were stars in his eyes that you surely replicated. 

“Forgive me, I was being foolish. I don’t want our courtship to end, you’re the woman I want to marry. I never want to leave your side and I promise to never send you away, I swear it.” 

A smile, small and delicate, lit up your features as you frantically nodded in response. Maedhros huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, muttering elvish endearments against your skin. 

You closed your eyes, basking in his presence and the musical sound of his voice. 

Oh to freeze this moment and live in it forever. 

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 Everything was silent and calm, but not in a way that would be soothing and leave behind a sense of weightlessness. Instead, it was harsh and grating, mile-high walls building up around you as you subconsciously prepared for...something. Anything that would cause a ripple and disturb this illusion that encased you. 

You couldn’t deny it anymore and continue to make excuses for what was so clearly right in front of you. War had brought devastation, and with that came change, and with change came the end of a life you’d built. For so long, Maedhros was able to ignore the Oath he and his brothers had sworn. The Silmarils were forgotten but only for a time. Word had reached Ossiriand that the son of Beren and Luthien had inherited the Silmaril his parents had recovered. 

Maedhros, once noble and as bright as the sun, now appeared worn and haggard, his eyes bearing the weight of a consuming madness. Restlessness gnawed at his soul as his insatiable quest for the Silmarils tightened its grip on his heart. 

It was only a matter of time before the bubble burst, and you could no longer delude yourself into thinking he was still the same man you fell in love with. 

“Maedhros,” you said quietly in hopes of not sparking another argument. “Are you certain this is the wise decision?” 

He turned to you, his eyes stern and calculating. It was a stark difference from the love and warmth they used to be lit by. Instead of looking into the sun, you were staring into a fiery furnace.

“It is my duty, as well as my brothers, to honor the Oath we swore to our father. I have no doubt this is the right course of action.” He sounded so detached when he spoke to you. It was the same way he talked to commanding officers and diplomats, not how he should speak to his wife. Not the way he used to talk to you. 

The fear you’d felt, the drop of your heart each time you looked into his eyes, intensified. He was teetering on the precipice of madness. You bit your lip, mulling over the right words to keep him from falling off the ledge. 

“I understand your quest,” your voice trembled with slight trepidation despite your best efforts to keep it even. “But Maedhros, the toll it’s taking on you…I fear for your well being.” 

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration, impatience, and slight madness evident in his gaze. It made you nearly flinch, but you held your ground. 

“You doubt me?” His voice had an edge so sharp it cut you like a knife. It intensified your anxiety, but you swallowed it, steeling yourself against your nerves. 

“I don’t doubt your intentions, Maedhros,” she replied, her voice steady now, “but I fear for what this obsession is doing to you.” 

Your words seemed to strike a chord within him, his anger momentarily giving way to a flicker of doubt. A moment of clarity within his addled mind. “You think I don’t know the burden I bear?” he murmured, his voice softening now, but the anger still lingered beneath the surface. 

“I know, my love,” you replied, much softer this time. You crossed the room’s threshold, gingerly sweeping your knuckles across his cheek. His eyes flutter shut, momentarily allowing your soothing touch to wash over him. “But I can’t bear to see you suffer like this. Your people need you. I need you. Not just as a leader but as a husband too.”

His eyes opened, and the green within them softened as his anger began to wane. Yet the turmoil was still evident within him. He was a man fighting two wars, one war with the forces of Morgoth and the second war within himself. 

“It’s not easy for me either, and I curse the day I swore that oath.” His confession made the flicker of hope within you get bigger. Perhaps you’d successfully pulled him from the ledge. “But I cannot turn away from my destiny.” 

Just as soon as it appeared, the hope was snuffed out; stubborn and proud, you now cursed what you used to admire about him most. 

“But at what cost, Maedhros? The Oath has led to nothing but tragedy and death. You are losing yourself in this darkness, forsaking all that once mattered. Look around you! Our people suffer, our family crumbles, and still, you are blinded by this madness!” Desperate and pleading, you tried to force him to see reason. 

As if your touch was made of acid, Maedhros pulled away and sidestepped you, a sea separating you from him. The anger returned to his eyes as they hardened once more. The brief moment of vulnerability was gone, and it was difficult to remember if it had ever even been there, to begin with. 

“And for what? For some gems that shine prettily,” you continued; he needed to hear your words, to taste the venom behind them. If he held even an ounce of love for you, he would heed your warning. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost amidst the blaze of anger that threatened to burn the whole world. 

“You know nothing of the weight I carry,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a freshly sharpened sword. “You are my wife, not an advisor; quit constantly questioning me and stand by my side as you were intended to.”

The words caught in your throat faded, replaced with a bitter taste of the last bit of love and hope you held for Maedhros dying. Your eyes fell to the floor; there was nothing left to do. The butterflies he incited within you had turned to ash. Everything the two of you built crumbled, and Maedhros gladly helped, knocking down the pillars it once stood upon. 

The Maedhros you loved was long gone; what stood before you now was a shell of the man he once was.

“If that’s the way you feel.” It was all you uttered before exiting the room, leaving Maedhros in the dimly lit room with nothing but anger and regret. He wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay and reassure you he hadn’t meant it. But the grip of madness was unyielding, and even in the depths of sorrow, it would not relent.

The Silmarils that had once been a beacon of hope now seemed to mock him, and the emptiness in his heart felt like a chasm he could never fill.

In the stillness of the night, as Maedhros lay slumbering, you stole away into vast open fields. Cloaked in the darkness that came with night, you ran, nowhere in particular, just so long as it was as far away from Maedhros. Your heart was heavy with the weight of your decision and the finality of the ending of a love you thought would last forever. Yet the echoes of the argument lingered; his harsh words and austere face were a haunting reminder of what had been lost. 

“It’s better this way,” you told yourself. 

You would carry the memory of Maedhros until your dying day, praying that he might find solace and release from his Oath. But you couldn’t count on it, and you wouldn’t waste your days hoping he’d change. 

“It’s better this way,” you repeated once more.

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

The warm glow of the sun was waning, warning you of the impending cloak of night. 

You stood on the cliffside, staring into the waters below, feet buried in the overgrowth and dirt. The air was cool, and the world was quiet. So serene and perfect that it was hard to believe it was real. You burrowed your feet deeper into the dirt, desperate to ground yourself into reality. 

The mellowness of your surroundings eased the grief within your heart. War was over, and the suffering you’d endured was but a distant dream. Residing in the lands of Aman, you could forget your life had been anything other than something full of beautiful poetic prose. 

Yet it was hard to let go of all of your pain. But as time passed, it became twisted, no longer the stabbing pain of a needle. It poured from you into a melancholia that you would use to paint all your skies a dark blue. It lingered in the edges of your landscape, blurred in the edges and nearly unseen by anyone except for you. 

A soft hum escaped your mouth as you allowed the sound of cascading waves to fall over you. Eyes fluttered shut, the faint mist of water touching your body. 

You only opened your eyes once the sound of footsteps was heard. Your posture stiffened, ears sharpening to hone in on the sounds of the intruder. No one dared to intrude upon you, and if they did, it was preemptively planned, never just a sudden visit. 

Slowly, you turned, but you were still surprised even though you didn’t know what to expect. 

Standing before you, as tall and proud as the day you’d first met, was Maedhros. He was vibrant and real, only a hint of tentative uncertainty marring his neutral expression. He stopped a few paces away, silent as you took him in. Framed by the soft glow of the golden rays of sunlight, he was just as you remembered him, yet with an unmistakable touch of time. 

It wasn’t in the traditional ways of humans; there were no wrinkles and lines imprinted on his face. It was all in the eyes, the centuries of wisdom, pain, and suffering making them heavier than they once were. 

He’d died. You knew that. He cast himself into the fire alongside his brother when he could no longer possess the Silmarils. It was said they burned him upon contact and it was a fate too terrible for him to live. You’d wept for days on end upon learning his fate. 

And yet here he was, as real as the day you’d met. 

“Maedhros.” His name hung in the air as if you were unsure it was truly him. He simply nodded, an affirmation that he was really here, standing before you.  

Silence stretched between the two of you, your eyes locked in a gaze that spoke the words your lips couldn’t find. There was a tempest of emotions within you - joy, relief, curiosity, and a lingering sense of hurt you couldn’t fully let go of. 

And then, like the first rays of sunrise, a smile graced Maedhros’ lips, and it was as if the years spent separated vanished. The arguments disappeared with them, leaving only an overwhelming happiness to see him standing before you. Your strides were sure as you stepped towards Maedhros, and he helped to close the gap, your arms weaving around his body as you embraced him for the first time in years.

He smelled just how you’d remembered, and you buried your face into his chest, determined to remember how his arm felt around your waist. 

“Is it really you?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and delight.

You felt the rumble of Maedhros’ slight laughter as he nodded his head. “ Yes, it’s me, my love.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough that you could see his face but close enough that you could feel the warmth he radiated. “I- I can’t believe it; how is this even possible?” You were nearly out of breath as you spoke, eyes searching for answers within his. 

“A twist of fate, I suppose. I was released from the Halls of Mandos, my time of repentance done.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his grip on you tightening. “I should have listened to you the night that you left. You were right, and I was just to--”

You cut him off by placing a searing kiss on his lips. His words were forgotten, the long speech he’d probably been preparing since the moment you left cut off. There would be an eternity for forgiveness and apologetic words. Right now, you just wanted to remember how his lips had felt on yours.

He melted into the kiss, his lips just as sweet as you’d remembered them to be. The years melted into oblivion; it was just you and Maedhros, with nothing severing the love you held. The kiss was a mixture of vehement remorse and a promise to never forsake the promise of love he’d made to you. Time slowed as the two of you savored the moment, fully immersed in the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and Maedhros stayed tangled in one another. You’d both been given a second chance, something you hadn’t dared to think would be possible. And yet here he was, so intertwined with you it was hard to see where you ended and he began. It was a chance to reignite a love that had never fully died out.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reunited - Haldir X Fem!Reader

Oneshot, word count: 828 Warnings: steam

Your eyes fluttered open to the soft morning light warming your face through the window. Outside, the woods of Lothlorien were waking with the sunrise. You stretched, ready to shake off another night of restless sleep in an empty bed without him. 

It had been months since Haldir had left at Lady Galadriel’s command, riding at the head of five hundred elven warriors to the defense of Rohan. Each passing day took you further from his memory and dimmed the possibility of reunion. A tender bruise was forming on your heart as, moment by moment, the reality of Haldir’s death pressed in on you. 

Eager to rid yourself of the weighty grief that waited for you in the empty bed, you threw off the covers. The cool air chilled you, raising goose pimples on your arms and legs. You reached for the fur-lined robe that Haldir had gifted you on your wedding night - the nights in Lorien are cooler than those of Rivendell, he’d told you - and wrapped it around you. You let your mind briefly imagine it was his arms snaking around your waist, not the sash of the robe, but quickly extinguished the image when that aching bruise in your chest blossomed with pain. 

You took a breath in, steeling yourself for another day. You didn’t let yourself hope for his return any longer; now, you hoped more for another day without news of his death. 

“Come back to bed, my love. There’s a chill without you.”

You froze, every muscle in your body rigid and brittle as if you’d been turned to glass. The breath in your lungs evaporated, leaving your chest feeling treacherously close to caving in on itself. Not real, not real, not real.

When you felt a hand - warm, broad, and strong - grip your waist, your emotions broke out of their dam with a roar. Tears sprang to your eyes in an instant, your body racked with sobs as you buried your face in your hands. Real, real, real.

“Ssh, ssh my love.” Haldir sat up behind you as you pulled the hair off one side of your neck before encircling you with his arms. You whimpered when you felt the warmth of his chest and torso against your back, the soft breeze of his breath on your neck. 

“Haldir.” Your voice cracked on his name as you gripped his arms, tightening his embrace around you as if he were the only thing keeping you from shattering. 

“I must admit, this is not the joyful homecoming that kept me lying awake at night for the last seven months.” His tone was light and playful, and he pressed a few kisses to the soft skin where your neck met your shoulder. 

Something shifted in that moment, and the second wave of repressed emotions leapt through the barriers you’d carefully constructed around them since the moment you’d said goodbye to him. Despite the tears swimming in your eyes, you laughed as you twisted to face him. 

“Haldir,” you said again, cradling his handsome face in your arms. He looked just as you remembered him, although you didn’t miss the pale stripe of a new scar stretching from his cheek down across his jawline and onto his throat. Instinctively, you ran a thumb along the scar. Haldir closed his eyes, nuzzling into your hand and breathing in deeply. 

“Is it really you?” It was the only question you were able to ask. The only one that mattered.

He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours where it burned with an intensity you hadn’t realized you’d forgotten. You melted beneath it, your skin tingling and your heart pirouetting in your chest. He didn’t need to say anything for you to hear his answer: yes, it is really me. 

“It’s really me,” he replied simply, his hands traveling up your back and pulling you tightly against him as if trying to melt away the skin and muscle and bones that separated your two souls. Your hands danced over his face, his jaw, his lips, his hair. Reacquainting themselves with the angles, hollows, and grooves of the man whose image was imprinted on the inside of your heart.

The moment was close to yielding to the needs of two bodies alight with heat and love, but for another few breaths, you let yourself soften into the warmth of the reunion. His forehead connected with yours and you took a synchronized inhale. Around you, the sun bathed the forest in early morning light and the birds sang. The sunlight felt stronger and the birdsong sweeter, but you knew that was just because your heart was once again open to beautiful things now that it was healed.

“About damn time,” you whispered after a few moments. Haldir chuckled wickedly, the sound sending flames dancing up your spine and a molten coil of desire churning in your core as he guided you down onto the bed for a proper welcome home…

[gloomwitchwrites]

Gentle Dark

Haldir x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: romantic tension, yearning, passionate kissing, fade to black, admission of feelings, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 1.3k

On a patrol together, Haldir confronts you about your feelings for him even though you’re promised to another.

A/N: For @childofyuggoth

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

The stars twinkle through the gnarled canopy. White. Bright. Bathing the forest floor with iridescent light. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, savoring the scents of the forest around you. Caras Galadhon dwells behind you, sleeping and silent in the peaceful dark.

You are attuned to every sound in the deep wood, and as you filter through it all, you find nothing out of place or suspicious. But the disturbance of the wood is not of your immediate concern. There are greater trials and closer bodies that seek your attention other than the animals that softly move through the underbrush.

Haldir of Lórien is a beacon in the dark. You sense him before you see him, standing just shy of your right shoulder.

“The night is quiet,” he whispers.

You open your eyes, turn to face him. “It is indeed.”

Haldir’s gaze casually drops to your lips and then back to your eyes. A gentle heat radiates up your body to encompass you in its embrace. You have little control over your body’s reaction to him.

The answering of your flesh when he is in your presence is unfair. It is a cruel joke. You are promised to another, but not one of your choosing. If you had a choice, you would pick Haldir.

Always.

But that is not to be. That is not the path set out before you.

Him standing here next to you, alone in the gentle dark, is agony. The heat of him is so near, so alive that it sends your senses tingling with anticipation. The clashing beat within you is a deafening drum.

Can Haldir hear the racing of your heart? Can he sense your need and your aching tremble?

You hope he can’t, but you also silently hope that he does. What would he do then?

Haldir’s gaze finally leaves you to glance out into the wood. “We should begin the patrol.”

“Of course,” you murmur, inclining your head, allowing Haldir to take the lead.

He returns his gaze to you briefly before taking a step forward to walk between two trees. You follow him at a short distance, watching the distance, keeping a constant pivot. The two of you walk in relative silence, moving like phantoms amongst the towering trees.

At a small clearing, Haldir pauses. You cozy up beside him, a question starting to form on your lips.

“Do you remember this place?” he asks softly, gaze fixated at the center of the clearing. A sharp beam of moonlight illuminates the ground. The flowers glow under its lunar light.

You do know this place. On one of your many patrols with Haldir, he confessed his love in this very clearing. He held your hands in his, kissed your knuckles and each of your fingers. He whispered in a longing of gentle song that soothed your nerves and calmed your soul. In that moment, you didn’t want anyone else, you only wished for him.

But how things change.

“It is etched upon my heart,” you answer truthfully.

Haldir’s silver hair shines like starlight. “I’d like to stay here. My memories of this place are happy ones.”

The two of you have come to this clearing on multiple occasions. It is no coincidence that Haldir’s patrol includes you. He selects you on purpose, and you go with him willingly because you desire the closeness. It will not last forever, not when you’re promised to another.

“We can only linger here for so long,” you remind him.

Haldir sighs heavily, and turns to face you. He has always been stoic. Calm. Even in your presence, even when he whispered gentle words of love to you, Haldir never appeared…desperate.

The look on his face now is anything but calm. It is intense—a billowing storm tightly contained.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, startled by the sudden change.

Haldir’s gaze goes to your lips, lingers, and then flicks up to your eyes. “Why do you deny yourself what you want?” he asks.

You swallow and tuck your clenched fist behind your back. Haldir’s directness is too much. He knows that this is not of your own choosing.

“You cannot ask this of me,” you answer, hating yourself for sounding so weak.

Haldir entirely shifts his body in your direction. Taking a step forward, he moves into your space. Your back bumps up against the tree next to you. Haldir places his hand against the trunk next to your head.

You are trapped, but by all the stars in the night sky, you do not care.

His scent is woodsy and clean. You lean in a bit, inhaling, attempting to remember his smell since this might be your last opportunity to do so.

“You stay loyal to him.” Haldir bends at the elbow, pressing in. “And yet you know that he lusts after another.” The center of his brow furrows slightly. “Why not be with someone who will always worship you?”

Him. Him, meaning, your betrothed. The one you’re supposed to be with in the end. The selection made for you. This is an expectation placed upon you.

And Haldir is right. He does not love you. While you intend to be loyal in your upcoming marriage, you also know his heart will yearn for another. But you also yearn for someone else, and Haldir is standing right here, questioning all of this, wanting to know why you won’t pick him.

“Sometimes duty comes before happiness,” you reply softly, gaze cast downward.

“Does it?” he counters quickly.

You keep your face turned toward the ground. Stare at your feet.

The two of you have lain in this clearing, limbs draped over and around each other. There has always been closeness between the two of you. There has always been touching, skin pressed to skin, lips brushing but never fully meeting. Yet, the two of you have never completed the act itself.

That is binding. That is forever.

But you see it in Haldir’s eyes now as you sneak a peek of him. That desperate hunger. The desire to be with one person for the end of your days. It is an arrow through the heart, piercing and sharp and stinging.

You wish to satiated it, to admit to what you want most in this world. Because it is him. It is Haldir that you crave more than anyone else.

“I would be breaking my oath,” you reply softly, finally having the courage to look at him directly.

“Would you?” he asks. “You have made no vow. You have created no bond. The choice is yours. Utterly.” He gestures at himself with his free hand. “And I am right here.”

With a shaking hand, you reach up to cradle his cheek. Haldir turns into your touch, sighing gently, and that snaps your resolve, dissolves it like the winter snows melting in the sun. Haldir must sense the change, because the two of you meet, lips finally joining in what they’ve been longing for.

He tastes perfect. Wonderful. A match made for the ages.

Haldir’s hand upon the tree departs, leaving the bark to encircle your waist, to draw your body against his. You do not resist. You surrender to him, opening like a flower, wanting nothing more than to forget all your fears and sorrows in this little clearing.

The night is long, but it is not forever. For now, the two of you can have this.

Haldir drags you even closer, pressing you firmly against him as he learns the contours of your lips. His hands discover the planes of your body, and yet it’s not enough for him. Haldir is charged like lightening across the sky.

The two of you have been denying these mutual feelings for far too long.

This is a tremor. Earth-shaking. A star bursting into dust.

Haldir guides you to the center of the clearing, easily removing his cloak with one hand. He breaks away a moment to lay it down on the dewy grass, reaching for you the moment it fans out to hold the two of you.

You sink down with him, buckles and straps, and armor disappearing as you go.

It is everything.

It is nothing.

It is all you need in the gentle dark.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[er-osion]

Haldir Headcanons

pairing: Haldir x gn!Reader

summary: relationship headcanons with Haldir of Lórien. [SFW]

word count: 789

warnings: none, fluff

∾∾∘⋅∗⋄⋆⋄∗⋅∘∾∾

- He is such a chill boyfriend.

- He’s the epitome of calm like 99% of the time and it really brings stability to your relationship.

- He seems pretty serious, and he is, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be fun. His humor is definitely dry, but once you get it, you get it and you’re always cracking up because he always makes the right joke at just the right moment.

- He can be pretty quiet so a lot of your time spent together will most likely be in comfortable silence.

- I think he’d prefer to show his love via quality time and words of affirmation. While his words of affirmation may not be spoken very often, they are always heavy with sincerity and very personal to you and your relationship.

- Haldir definitely likes using pet names like “my darling” or “meleth” or “sweetheart” and he uses them quite often, even in public. He also has nicknames for you that come from inside jokes, but he usually saves those for more private company.

- Haldir just loves spending time with you, he doesn’t care so much about what you’re doing, as long as you’re together. He’s happy just sitting quietly at home, doing your own things in the same room, or going out to do an activity. So long as the two of you are together, and you’re happy, he’s happy.

- Haldir likes to see you smile. Just seeing you smile brightens his day and makes him so much happier. He likes to tell you that your smile shines brighter than all the lights in Lothlórien. When he’s coming home from patrol, he’s actually looking forward to seeing your face while you're smiling. There’s something about the light in your face when you’re grinning that makes his heart pick up its pace.

- Haldir isn’t super great at communication though. Being quiet is his nature, and that can include his feelings. It’s kind of a slow start for you in getting him to open up. It still takes effort sometimes too, he just naturally keeps things to himself. This has been a point of some arguments, but both of you dislike fighting and understand what to do to avoid such things. So fortunately, actual arguments are few and far between.

- Haldir doesn’t like PDA. He’s quite professional and private so PDA doesn’t really mix with him. He doesn’t ignore or avoid you in public, just don’t expect big displays of affection because he’s not very comfortable with that. But, if the two of you have spent a lengthy amount of time apart, he’ll hold your hand in public and maybe even give you a chaste forehead kiss because he missed you.

- Haldir is surprisingly passionate, especially after he’s been away from you for a while. His passion can appear a little different though. For example, sometimes he’ll kiss you with desperate fervor and fire, but other times he’ll kiss you slowly and deeply but still with equal passion. His heart is always present in all his actions with you

- Haldir doesn’t drink a lot, but during festivals or other celebrations he’ll sometimes indulge and when he does, all he talks about is you. Haldir will drunkenly ramble about how pretty you are, how intelligent you are, how talented you are, etc etc. Those around him will find it equal parts endearing and annoying. His pale cheeks would be dusted with pink from both alcohol and thoughts of you.

- Haldir would be super happy with getting domestic with you. He loves those simple moments; getting groceries from the market, going shopping for your individual hobbies, doing the laundry, cooking. Haldir loves to be domestic with you.

- Haldir is very attentive to your needs. He may not say it or outwardly express it, but you can tell by his actions. If you’re sad, your favorite snacks will appear out of nowhere. If you ran out of supplies for a hobby or finished a book, new supplies or a new book will show up on your nightstand without a word. Whatever it is you need, Haldir notices and quietly takes care of it. He may not always be able to do it since he’s quite busy as Marchwarden, but when he has the chance, he takes care of all your needs.

- Haldir feels like he’s always falling in love with you. There will be moments when the two of you are together and he’ll just take you in and get that sensation of falling in love all over again. He’ll never get sick of it either, it’s one the greatest joys of his day.

- Haldir loves you so much, it’s a quiet kind of love but it’s strong all the same. He does everything he can to make sure you know that everyday. One of the things he’s proudest of in his life is his relationship with you. He prays to Eru that he’ll be with you until the end of Arda, so long as you’ll have him.

[thewulf]

Together || Aragorn

Summary: Request - So I'd also thought of something with Aragorn where the reader is also an ranger and the group meets her someday on their journey to Mordor as she takes him down unexpectedly as she thinks they're enemies, so she lands on top of him with a sword on his neck and in that moment he falls for her immediately... Read Rest Here

A/N: Okay had a blast writing this one. Happy birthday anon, hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings

Under the canopy of ancient oaks, the dense forest of Eriador hums with the life of creatures both small and menacing. Among them you move silently, cloaked in the hues of earth and leaf. As a ranger of great skill your keen eyes scan the underbrush for signs of your quarry. For days you have been on the trail of a band of orcs. Their clumsy passage through the woods an affront to the quiet sanctity of nature. With every soft step your hand rests near the hilt of your sword. Your long-time trusted companion in the ever-lonely wilds.

As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows through the trees, your pursuit leads you to a clearing where the tracks are fresher. Much more hurried. Crouched behind a bush your eyes narrow upon the sight of figures crossing the distance. It was a mixed company, not of orcs, but of men, an elf, a dwarf, and others you cannot readily identify from your hidden vantage.

Driven by a mix of caution and curiosity you watch them, your mind racing with possibilities. Could these travelers be allied with your foes? Perhaps orchestrating the movements of the orcs for darker purposes? The presence of such diverse races together is unusual, but in these troubled times alliances are formed in desperation.

Deciding that the risk of letting potential enemies pass is too great you prepare an ambush. As the group nears you leap from your cover, swift as a shadow at dusk. Your target was the tall, commanding man at the forefront. Before he could react you tackled him to the ground with your sword at his throat. The shock in his eyes mirrors your own fierce determination. You’d managed to take the entire group by surprise.

"Who are you and why do you travel with such company through these woods?" you demand. Your voice a low whisper against the rustling leaves.

Before the man can reply, a powerful voice booms from behind you, "Peace, Y/N! Lower your weapon. These are friends, not foes!" Your eyes crinkle in confusion with your name that you kept so well hidden spoken so freely.

You turn slightly with your blade still pressed to the man’s throat to see an elderly man with a staff. He was dressed in a long grey cloak. His eyes twinkle with a mix of amusement and stern rebuke. He extends a hand in peace, "Forgive the suddenness of our meeting. I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey. You have nothing to fear from us my dear child."

"How do you know my name?" you snap as the tension raised in your voice. Few knew of your existence as you preferred the solitude of the forest to the company of towns and taverns.

"It is my business to know much that goes on in this world. Especially when it concerns those who could alter its course," Gandalf answers with a calm that seems to weave peace through the air itself leaving you rather confused by his words. Wizards, you could never understand them with their riddles.

With a frown you turn back to disheveled man sneering at him, “Tell your elf to lower his bow and then we can talk.” You pressed the blade into his neck further careful not to draw blood but to show you meant business at the same time.

The man nodded, “Legolas, please.”

The elf in the group with his bow still pointed in your direction now lowers it and steps forward. “We mean no harm to you or your lands. We seek only passage and perhaps some aid. This quest carries great weight." The elf called Legolas spoke right to you.

His words seemed sincere. They carry a sense of shared purpose. While you're still on edge the immediate threat of the group seems to wane. You slowly stand, sheathing your sword with reluctance. The man you had pinned—Aragorn, as Gandalf introduced him—rises, brushing off his cloak, his gaze never leaving yours. A mix of embarrassment and admiration passes between you.

Gandalf steps forward trying to smooth over the tension. "Aragorn leads us on a quest of great importance," he explains. "And from what I see your skills could aid us greatly. What say you, Y/N? Will you join the Fellowship and lend us your strength?"

You hesitate as your duty to your own lands weighing heavily on you. "I cannot abandon my watch. The darkness grows and my lands need protecting."

Aragorn steps forward. His expression earnest. "I understand your duty for I too am sworn to protect the lands of men in the north. But this quest... if we succeed, all lands will be safer, including yours. We need your strength and skill. I ask you not for my sake but for all our sakes."

Looking from Aragorn to Gandalf and Legolas, you're torn. The sincerity in Aragorn's eyes is compelling and there's a resolve there that speaks of his immediate respect and admiration for you. After a long pause, you nod slowly. "For the greater good, then. I will join you. But we must ensure my lands are safeguarded in my absence." It was no easy choice but even you knew you could hardly handle the orcs now… if it got worse there would be no land for you to protect.

"Agreed," Aragorn replies with a smile, a small, knowing curve of his lips. "Together we will protect all our homes. Walk with me and I will explain this further.” And so, you did.

As you walked alongside Aragorn away from the ears of the others except maybe Legolas, his voice takes on a solemn tone. He speaks of a great burden and a journey that began long ago in the quiet shire of the Hobbits.

“A darkness grows in the East under the shadow of Mordor, where the Dark Lord Sauron forges his malice into a single form,” Aragorn begins. “A ring, one of power and despair, lost for ages has resurfaced. It was found by the most unlikely of creatures—a Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins.”

He tells you how the wizard Gandalf uncovered the truth of this simple golden band. It is the One Ring, through which Sauron can conquer all of middle earth. But it is also his one point of vulnerability.

“The Ring must be destroyed,” Aragorn continues, “and that can only be done in the fires of Mount Doom where it was forged.” His gaze meets yours, impressing upon you the gravity of their task. “A Fellowship has been formed. A company sworn to protect Frodo on this perilous path. For without the Ring’s destruction… darkness will consume our lands, leaving no corner of the world untouched by its ruin.”

He pauses allowing the weight of his words to sink in. “This is our quest to see the end of the Ring and the fall of Sauron. And now you are part of this story, part of our hope. For alone we cannot stand, but together we might prevail.”

The immensity of Aragorn's tale seems to echo through the silence around you. As the responsibility and peril of what lies ahead sinks into your heart. "This is... more than I expected," you confess. Your voice betraying a mix of awe and trepidation. Shadows have been a common adversary in your solitary ranger life but the thought of a single ring holding the fate of all life in middle earth is overwhelming in the worst way.

Aragorn watches you with eyes that have seen the weight of the world but still hold a glimmer of hope. "It is a lot to take in," he acknowledges with his voice a steady presence amidst your inner turmoil. "But remember every meaningful journey begins with a single step. We do not choose the times we live in only how we meet them."

His words meant to comfort kindle a spark of resolve within you. "Then we walk this path together," you say finding strength in his unwavering resolve. "I've fought to keep darkness at bay from my corner of the world. Now it seems I shall extend my watch over the wider lands of middle earth."

Aragorn's eyes soften and a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, a rare break from his stoic mask. "With your help I believe we stand a chance. Let us go forward with hope in our hearts and a steadfast will," he says with a firm belief underpinning his words.

As you start to walk back towards the Fellowship Aragorn's tone lightens once more and he casts you a mischievous glance. "And I must say, for someone so adept at navigating these wild lands your skill at catching us unaware is remarkable," he jests. A playful note in his voice. "Even the elf’s keen eyes did not see you coming, which, I assure you, will be a source of friendly jest for many years to come."

The tension that held you moments before unravels into laughter. The absurdity of the situation finally coming forward. "I'll remember to tread lightly next time—or perhaps not," you respond with a chuckle.

From a distance, Legolas, whose elven senses miss little, looks up from his conversation with Gimli. He casts a mockingly indignant glance toward Aragorn. His eyes speaking silent volumes of an 'I heard that.' His feigned glare dissolves into a smile. Acknowledging the jest with the grace and good humor characteristic of the Woodland Prince.

The shared laughter and Legolas' playful acknowledgment bridge the space between you helped to weave the Fellowship closer together in mutual affection. It's a light-hearted interlude, reminding you all that despite the daunting path ahead you are surrounded by companions who will share the burden with unwavering support and moments of joy.

As you all move forward the sun dips below the horizon and the journey of the Fellowship grows richer by one more warrior. In the fading light Aragorn walks beside you, your strides matched. It was a simple silent acknowledgment of the bond beginning to form. Blossoming from the unexpected encounter that could very well shape the fate of all.

The Fellowship continues its perilous journey through Middle earth. The days meld into each other each bringing its own set of challenges and trials. You find your place among these diverse companions. Your skills as a ranger becoming invaluable as you navigate the treacherous terrain. Whether it's finding safe passages through impassable woods or tracking the movements of distant enemies your expertise does not go unnoticed.

Legolas often joins you on scouting missions. His feather light footfalls barely stirring the leaves. Gimli, the dwarf, though gruff, begins sharing tales of the deep mines of Moria with a relish that only grows with your attentive silence. Even Merry and Pippin find ways to lighten your load, often bringing you sweet, wild berries they gather along the way. Aragorn watches all of this with a thoughtful expression often playing across his face. In dangerous moments when shadowy figures loom and the threat of orcs feels ever-present, he stays close. His protectiveness is subtle, a guiding hand at your back, a cautious glance that lingers just a moment too long. You notice the unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day.

As the journey presses onward Aragorn finds himself increasingly drawn to your strength and resilience. He respects your independence, the way you move through the forest, part of its shadow and light, yet he feels a burgeoning desire to protect you. It’s a feeling that stirs deep within him, unbidden yet persistent.

One bitterly cold night as the Fellowship encamps in a secluded glen your turn at watch finds you shivering against the chill. The fire is but a low glow as its warmth insufficient against the piercing cold. You hug your cloak tighter around your shoulders. You hear the soft approach of footsteps too heavy to be of Legolas.

Aragorn appears by your side his face etched with concern. Without a word he drapes his own, heavier cloak around your shoulders. The warmth from the cloak that was still holding the heat of his body, seeps into your chilled bones.

But you shake your head at his actions. "You'll be too cold," you protest trying to shrug off the cloak back onto him.

Aragorn shakes his head gently pushing the cloak back over your shoulders. "I'm used to the cold. I’m from the north you are not," he insists softly. "Keep it. It's more important that you stay warm."

Gratefully you wrap the cloak tighter around you as Aragorn settles beside you. "Tell me of your lands," he says quietly. His voice inviting you to share more than just the cold night air.

"My home," you begin. Your voice warming as you describe the hidden valleys and towering forests of your land, "is secluded and wild, full of ancient trees that seem to touch the sky. There are streams that sparkle with the clearest water you've ever seen and fields of flowers that bloom so vividly they look like a painter's canvas."

Aragorn listens intently. His eyes reflecting a growing fascination. "And the creatures," you continue, "are as varied as the plants. From the smallest bird to the majestic stags that roam freely… each adds to the life of the forest. It's a place where the world feels untouched, preserved from the scars of battle and time."

As you speak, Aragorn's gaze deepens as if he can see the very landscapes you describe. "It sounds beautiful," he murmurs looking straight at you as you spoke so lovingly of your home, "a land worth protecting."

Encouraged by his interest you lean into him, seeking warmth in more than just his cloak. Aragorn wraps an arm around you making sure to pull you closer. In the shelter of his embrace, the cold feels a world away. The moment feels suspended in time, your breaths mingling, hearts beating a steady rhythm.

Nestled in the safety of Aragorn's arm feels right even if it’s so foreign to you. You stay like that for the remainder of your watch with the warmth of his presence and the cloak combined keeping the night's chill at bay. When dawn paints the sky with hues of pink and gold, you, and Aragorn rise, knowing that while the journey ahead is fraught with peril, the warmth between you will carry you through the darkest times.

As the days stretch and the challenges of your journey with the Fellowship intensify the bond between you and Aragorn deepens with each shared glance and whispered word. The lightness in the air is palpable. Especially when the hobbits, Merry and Pippin, exchange amused looks or giggle softly whenever you and Aragorn share a tender moment.

One cool morning as the camp stirs awake and prepares for the day’s trek, Aragorn approaches you with a shy demeanor that you've come to cherish. In his hand is a small, intricately carved wooden figurine. “I made this for you,” he says presenting it with a modest pride. “It’s a bird from your forest.” The craftsmanship is exquisite. Somehow he captured the spirit of the wilderness you hold dear.

Moved by this thoughtful gesture you examine the figurine closely, the details meticulously rendered. "Thank you, Aragorn. It's beautiful. More beautiful than the bird itself," you say sincerely. At this, a blush creeps across Aragorn’s cheeks. It was a rare sight that makes him seem almost boyish, his usual composed exterior softened by your appreciation. Surprising both him and you, you wrap your arms around him in a quick, heartfelt hug—a rarity for you, as you've never been one to initiate physical touch save for cold nights.

This closeness that has enveloped you both is fortified not just through acts of tenderness but also through the trials that test your resolve. During a perilous trek through a narrow gorge, a sudden crumbling of the path catches Aragorn off-guard. Reacting with the swift instincts of a seasoned ranger you grab his arm and pull him back from the brink of a deadly fall. Eyes locked with a rush of shared relief and unspoken thanks passes between you. "Thank you, Y/N," he breathes out. His hand squeezed yours in a lingering, grateful touch.

This moment cements your mutual reliance and it's not long before it is tested again under more dire circumstances. As the Fellowship faces an overwhelming assault at the gates of an enemy stronghold, the chaos of battle quickly ensues. Amid the clash of steel and shadow you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed. Panic rising in your chest as an orc nearly breaches your guard. In that critical instant Aragorn is there, his presence a calming force. "Stay strong, Y/N. I am here with you," he whispers fiercely. His words cutting through the din of battle making sure to anchor you back to the moment.

Revitalized by his words you fight with renewed vigor, but the battle tests you further. As you engage a formidable orc chieftain his massive blade swings at you with lethal force. You parry, but the strength behind the attack staggers you. Before the orc can strike the final blow, Aragorn intervenes with a desperate shout deflecting the deadly arc just inches from you. Saving your life twice within a matter of a few moments apart. Together you rally, your movements fluid and fierce and with a powerful combination of strikes you bring the towering foe down.

The battle's intensity doesn’t immediately fade, but as it does Aragorn's hand finds your shoulder. His grip was firm and reassuring. His eyes alight with the fire of battle and something deeper meet yours. "With you by my side I believe there is no battle we cannot win," he declares his voice thick with emotion of the battle and nearly losing you. As you and the rest of the Fellowship take a moment to regroup and recover it’s clear that what you and Aragorn share has evolved beyond companionship to something profound. With each step forward towards the dark heart of Mordor your bond strengthens.

As the harsh landscape of Mordor stretches endlessly before you, the air thick with the stench of doom and the ground scarred by countless battles, the Fellowship readies itself for what everyone understands to be the final confrontation. Amid the chaos of preparations and sharpened swords you and Aragorn find a brief respite behind a jutting crag, a momentary shield from the surrounding turmoil.

Aragorn looks at you carefully. His eyes reflecting the storm of emotions raging inside him—hope, fear, determination. “We have come far, haven’t we?” he says softly. Almost lost in the clamor of the encampment.

“Yes, farther than I ever imagined,” you reply feeling the weight of every mile traveled and battle fought in your bones. “And through it all your presence has been my anchor.”

He takes your hand. His touch steady and sure. “And I will remain by your side,” he vows, “through whatever may come. No matter the darkness that lies ahead… we face it together.”

You nod. Your resolve fortified by his words. “Together,” you affirm, squeezing his hand, the word a silent oath between you.

As you both turn to face the battlefield the ominous shadow of Mount Doom looms in the distance. A stark reminder of the task yet unfinished. The air vibrates with the tension of imminent conflict. As the Fellowship lines up ready to engage the enemy forces, the battle begins with a deafening roar.

The clash is brutal. A maelstrom of steel and shadow as both sides pour their fury into each other. Amidst the chaos your focus narrows to the figures around you—Aragorn fighting with the grace and fury of a born leader. His blade a flash of silver in the dim light.

In the middle of it all the ground shakes violently underfoot. A tremor that sends many stumbling. A profound boom rolls across the battlefield echoing from the direction of Mount Doom. The combatants pause, uncertainty halting their movements as all eyes turn towards the source of the disturbance.

As if by a miracle a great light bursts forth from the mountain. A blinding flash that pierces the shadowed sky. The Ring, the source of so much pain and darkness, has been destroyed. You feel a surge of relief so intense it momentarily takes your breath away. Aragorn's face lights up with unrestrained joy as he turns to you, laughter bubbling up from deep within. "They did it! Sam and Frodo did it!" he shouts his laughter mingling with his words. A sound so full of relief and disbelief that it's contagious.

Around you the enemy falters, confusion and fear taking hold as the reality of their defeat sinks in. The forces of darkness begin to retreat, their will broken by the destruction of the Ring. As the battlefield quiets the dawn begins to break casting the first gentle light over a world freed from tyranny. You and Aragorn embrace each of your laughter mixing with tears of joy. The sound a vivid testament to the overwhelming relief of the moment. “We’re really here,” you giggle with utter relief, “it’s truly over!”

Rejoining the Fellowship your laughter continues, shared amongst friends who have become family. Watching the new day unfold the group shares a moment of elation. The shared laughter a release of months of tension and fear. With the shadow of the past dispelled, hope shines anew on the horizon promising a future filled with peace and renewal. Together with Aragorn at your side, you step forward into a world reborn.

As the harsh landscape of Mordor fades into the distance behind you replaced by the rolling hills and lush greenery of Gondor the Fellowship's journey reaches its conclusion in the grand city of Minas Tirith. Here, amidst the grandeur of the White City, the coronation of Aragorn, the rightful king, takes place—a moment of triumph and renewal for all of middle earth.

The first light of dawn paints the spires of Minas Tirith with a golden hue. The city awakens to a day of profound significance. The air is filled with the sounds of celebration; the streets are bustling with citizens and allies from across middle earth all gathered to witness a historic moment. Today Aragorn will be crowned King, an event that promises a new era of peace and prosperity for the realm.

Throughout the city banners flutter in the breeze, their vibrant colors a stark contrast against the white stone of the city. The coronation ceremony itself is nothing short of magnificent, held in the open air where the morning sun casts a regal glow over the assembled crowd. Aragorn stands before them, a figure of strength and hope, his voice resonant as he speaks the oaths of kingship.

After the formalities as the echoes of the last trumpet fade into the cool air, the new King Aragorn is surrounded by well-wishers and dignitaries each eager to pay their respects. But his eyes scan the crowd for only one face – yours. With a smile that speaks of shared secrets and promises kept he excuses himself from the throng and makes his way toward you.

You meet him halfway, your heart swelling with pride and love as you look upon the man who has overcome so much to claim his rightful place. Aragorn’s expression softens when he sees you, all the weight of his new role momentarily forgotten. “There would be no joy in this day if I could not share it with you, my Y/N,” he says. His voice was low, meant for your ears alone. His hands reach out gently cradling your face. “You have been my courage when fear would take me. My light in the darkest of times. And it is my greatest hope that you will stand by my side, not just today, but always, as my queen. Together.”

Your eyes brimming with tears of joy, meet his gaze. All the noise and celebration around you fade into a hushed silence. Overwhelmed by his words your heart answers with a silent nod, affirming your shared future.

Aragorn’s eyes flicker with a mixture of tenderness and passion as he leans in. The world holds its breath as his lips finally meet yours in a kiss that is both a seal of everything past and a promise of everything to come. It is deep and passionate, conveying years of struggle, sorrow, victory, and an unbreakable bond.

As you part with his lips, breathless and flushed, the world comes rushing back. Cheers rise around you as a joyful noise that celebrates not just a king’s coronation but the love and unity that stands as the true foundation of his reign.

Hand in hand you stand by Aragorn as he faces the people of Gondor, now truly his queen in spirit and soon in title. Together you look out over the sea of faces, over a land that, at last, can dream of peace. And in this moment you know that every step, every sacrifice, has led to this perfect beginning.

(Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @dnfhascorruptedme

[doodle-pops]

Bet On It

Elrohir x reader

Request: Elrohir, id love a friend's to lovers trope fic. reader can be also arwen or glorfindel's friend and they keep telling both them and elrohir to fucking confess to eachother but they refuse to because of the classic "I don't want to ruin our friendship,I can't lose them." They think they're subtle with pinning after one another but like everyone can tell they're in love. Casual physical affection, spending way too much time with eachother, "subtle" acts of service, etc. Idiots in love literally. One of them end up confessing after like a sweet moment, just a quiet whisper or a small kiss but it's enough for the other to finally confess too. Just a super fluff moment of them finally freely loving one another! - Anon

Warnings: fluff, mutual pinning, friends to lovers, confession, kissing

Words: 1.9k

Synopsis: You and Elrohir muster the courage to break old ties while recreating new ones as you begin a future together.

Walking up the familiar winding pathway that to the private getaway pavilion at the top, your feet softly padded against the steps until you made three raps to the wooden pillar. Somewhere, you heard the noticeable airy thuds of Elrohir’s feet coming your way eagerly, easily hiding a bag of jittery nerves. Casually the makeshift curtain drew back and revealed his evening radiance, attired in light blues and greys, a single braid to the right and his ebony hair loosely cascading down his back. Such was the simplicity of your dear friend, whom you cherished more than anything else in the world.

Through the momentary welcoming, your eyes dropped from his face to meet his chest, too fearful of giving away too many emotions already. Memories of Lady Arwen’s conversation replayed in your head about making a move otherwise it would be a great loss on your behalf, not before reminding you of her brother’s whereabouts.

Heart beating rapidly in your throat, you curled your toes against your sandals and exhaled. “Elrohir.”

“Y/N,” he greeted just as breathlessly as you. “Please come in. It is a wonderful surprise to have you visit.”

Gingerly you brushed past his shoulders, head dipping and eye falling to the floor as you entered his space. It was, and still is a haven of comfort and peace of mind for you when the world was hard on your shoulders. Now, it felt foreign with the looming messages of what you had planned to execute tonight…hopefully. Taking your time to observe the interior, not much had changed since your last visit, and nor had he finished the upturned book lying haphazardly on his bed.

“You still haven’t finished the Utopia Trilogy?” you laughed as you walked over and flipped the book over, scanning the page. “I thought you were a master at reading.”

Unbeknownst to you, your choice of conversational starter was an ice breaker for Elrohir, for even he was skittish and unsure of how to approach. Thankfully, luck was in the air.

Giving a lazy scratch to the back of his head, he made a guttural sound, almost like a deep whine and stomped over to pry the book gently out of your hands. Placing it back on the shelf, he spun around to purse his lips. “What did I tell you about judging my reading abilities? One does not rush a book, but timelessly enjoy it.”

“If timeless enjoying it means over a year, then by all means, continue,” you snickered and plopped onto his bed, shuffling your sandals off and making yourself comfortable. As easily as the conversation started, the rest flowed once Elrohir noticed the tension dissipating. Following suit, he climbed on the bed, sitting at the foot with his legs crossed and hands in his lap.

His honey-brown eyes flickered from the rumpled bed sheets to your feet to your face and then back at the sheets. “So,” he began quietly, “it’s been a while since we last spoke. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Nothing new with me. Just wandering Imladris like a ghost, visiting the gardens and robbing all the local merchants,” you shrugged, your fingers idly found themselves tracing the mahogany armrest of the chair beside the bed. You were desperately fighting to keep your tone light. “And you? Last I heard, you all went as far as Forodwaith?”

Elrohir nodded with a tight-lip smile as he rocked back and forth. “Sort of. We met with the Dúnedain on the way and hunted some orcs all the way to the borders before turning back to come home—didn’t want to be away for too long. I tend to miss all my favourite people back home,” he explained, leading to you feeling a flush of warmth from his words, your heart beating a little faster prompting you to lift your head and lock eyes with him in the instant. A silent understanding passed between you two, then, with a small almost shy smile, he reached out and gently touched the back of your hand. “I’ve missed our conversations.”

You felt a shiver run through you at the contact, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body. Wanting to duck your head or cover your face, you mustered the courage to withhold eye contact. “It’s good to be here,” you murmured lightly.

“It’s good to have you here,” he corrected.

For a while, the two of you engaged in effortless conversations, your body language morphing from tense to relaxed as your bodies shifted about the bed, slowly getting closer and closer. Discussing a myriad of topics that ranged from his adventures with his brothers and others to his daily duties and past, you covered the profound to the mundane. Topics of books, to your imagination, tales of old, uncharted dreams and future adventures beyond the lands of Middle Earth were thrown around gracefully and turned the evening into nightfall easily. The fullness of the moon rose from behind the clouds, shining glittering strands of light upon you both through the vine-covered canopy, aiding with the ambience.

Throughout your dialoguing, subtle gestures conveyed what words could not. Elrohir’s hand would brush lightly against yours as he passed you a cup of tea, a simple act imbued with unspoken affection. Your fingers would linger on his arm, savouring the warmth and closeness as you shared a moment of laughter over a shared memory. Each touch, though fleeting was charged with meaning, speaking of a connection that ran deeper than a mere friendship. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a dance of intimacy and restraint, each gesture a silent confession of feelings that lay just beneath the surface.

As the evening wore on, the moon dipping behind a cloud and hiding its light, a comfortable silence settles between you. Elrohir glanced at you, his expression contemplative. “Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly.

You couldn’t resist looking at him surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “What brought this on, may I ask?”

He hesitated, his left shoulder bumping against your knees as he looked up from his lying position. The proximity was enough for you to catch a whiff of the mint of his tongue. “I was on a ride this morning with Lord Glorfindel, and he left me questioning myself and other things with his…choice of word,” he breathed and reached out to hold your hand and give it a small swing. “I just wondered what the future would hold for us. You and I, specifically.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the implication of them making your breath catch. Furthermore, the fiddling of his hand with yours increased your heart rate, leaving you occasionally needing to inhale.

The tension that was in the air now, a charged energy which made the room feel smaller and more intimate was sluggishly bringing your heads closer. Elrohir looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. With bated breath, his voice dipped as his fingers intertwined with the hand he was playing with. “There is something I need to tell you, and I hope it doesn’t push you away or ruin things between us,” he said earnestly. “I care about you��more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You stared at him for a long while, your heart pounding like a thunderous stampede of wild beasts. Lady Arwen’s words and teasing replayed in your mind as she told you about her brother crushing you for a long time. It was hard to see when all you saw was friendship and didn’t want to ruin the good you had. Opening your mouth to respond, no sound exited, so you closed it and remained breathless while he nervously held your hand, his thumb soothingly stroking the back of your hand repeatedly. His touch sent shivers down your spine. “I know it might come as a surprise, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”

His confession hung in the air between you, the declaration that seemed to make time stand still. For a moment, you could only bashfully stare at him, the enormity of his words setting over you like a warm embrace. You didn’t know how to explain the urge that came over you when you licked your lips and darted your eyes to his, something he noticed and apprehensively craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, his eyes closing briefly as if to savour the upcoming moment. In return, you closed your eyes when you felt his other hand slide around your neck to cup your nape and pull you closer.

With deliberate anticipation, Elrohir took his time to bridge the gap until his very own teasing antagonised him, forcing him to exhale before his lips collided with yours. A muffled groan from him turned into a grunt when he felt your hands reach out to cradle his neck, fingers scraping against his scalp leaving him shivering. Elrohir felt greedy in the moment as the first continued; years of silently loving you came pouring out in waves of passion and tenderness.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, the world around you seeming to shimmer with newfound brightness. Elrohir’s eyes were soft, filled with a deep, abiding tenderness. “I can’t believe I was a fool for not believing Lord Glorfindel’s words at first,” he muttered, shaking his head with a smile. “I thought you wouldn’t feel the same because we’re just friends.”

“That makes to both of us,” you softly laughed. “I too didn’t believe your sister, but when she told me that both she and Elladan were betting on it, I had to do something about it.”

“Wait,” he cautioned as he sat upright, “my siblings conspired through betting. Come to think of it, Glorfindel did mention something about not wanting to lose a bet…of course.”

Sliding your hand off his neck to return to cradling his hands and playing with his fingers, rocked back and forth due to the overwhelming excitement in your chest. Finally, all your emotions came pouring out and the doubt you both feared was proven wrong. Roaming your eyes over his face, you leaned in, catching him off-guard, to kiss his lips once more, loving the sensation of his soft lips on yours. Fortunately, Elrohir did not mind the distraction you provided, reducing his plotting to deal with his siblings to focus on you before him.

“I’m glad I took the leap of faith and told you my heart,” he whispered through the kiss, cradling your cheeks and leaning in for another.

The two of you sat there for a while, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of your newfound happiness. Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself lying side by side on his bed with his arms wrapped protectively, yet lovingly around you as your conversation about the future returned in delight. There was a sense of peace, a feeling that everything was right with the world now that you had finally confessed your love. All the weight was off your shoulders and replaced with bliss.

“I never want to be apart from you,” he said. “I want to spend every moment with you, to share my life with you.”

Your heart swelled as you looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I would like that as well.”

Leaning in, pleased at your response, his nose bumped against yours as he pecked your lips. “I can’t wait for our future together.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

[live-laugh-legolas]

Send me headcanon/preference requests for the fellowship please

(You can send any requests, but the bulletin notes have just been the easiest for me to write as I’m still just starting out)

This isn’t me asking, this is a demand (jk)

Idk what my boundaries are so just ask anyway, I don’t bite unless you want me to

I can’t promise the writing will be particularly good so set your expectations low lol

:)