#scout of Mirkwood

[earthlybeam]

🎄🎁Merry Christmas everyone🎉✨

✨🌻💛 𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓻 💛🌻✨

how would the elves react to this?

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Meludir Version below. (reader/you are his lover). Featuring what I wrote below is: Building a Snowman (With a Twist), Snowball Fight, Sledging Adventure, Snow Angel.

💛𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓻

Building a Snowman(With a Twist):

𑁍 The snow lay thick across the clearing, sparkling like crushed diamonds in the soft afternoon light. Meludir was kneeling beside the nearly completed snowman, his golden-brown hair catching the faint sunlight as he leaned forward, carefully smoothing out the middle section of the snow figure. His gloved hands moved with a quiet precision, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This has to be perfect,” he murmured, half to himself. His voice was soft, thoughtful, the kind of tone he used when completely immersed in something. “It’s not just any snowman—it’s our snowman.” You watched him fondly, amused by the intensity with which he approached even the simplest tasks. Meludir always took everything so seriously, even building a snowman. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and a faint dusting of snow clung to his tunic, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

𑁍 He leaned back on his heels and glanced at you, his expression earnest. “Do you think it needs anything else?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his wide eyes full of curiosity. You pretended to consider, biting back a mischievous grin. “Hmm… something’s missing,” you said, reaching into the small satchel you’d brought. From it, you pulled the final piece—the carrot. “Oh!” Meludir’s face lit up, his expression bright and full of boyish excitement. “The nose!” He reached out for the carrot, but before he could take it, you leaned forward, your grin widening. Without a word, you stuck the carrot firmly into the lower snowball. Not where the nose was supposed to go—but somewhere much… lower.

𑁍 For a heartbeat, there was silence. Meludir froze, his outstretched hand hanging in the air. His mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. Slowly, his eyes widened, and a bright flush of red spread across his cheeks, so vivid it rivaled the color of the carrot. “Wh-what are you doing?!” he stammered, his voice rising in pitch as his gaze darted from the snowman to you. His hands flailed uselessly in the air as if he couldn’t decide whether to remove the carrot or cover his face in mortification. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Laughter burst out of you, loud and uncontrollable, echoing through the clearing. Doubling over, you clutched your sides as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “Relax, Meludir,” you managed between fits of laughter. “It’s just a joke!”

𑁍 “A joke?!” he sputtered, his face still an alarming shade of red. He glanced around the clearing, his movements frantic, as though expecting Thranduil himself to emerge from the trees at any moment. “This is highly inappropriate!” he hissed. “What if someone sees this? They’ll think we’re… we’re…” “Creative?” you supplied, still grinning. Meludir groaned, burying his face in his gloved hands. “No, they’ll think we’re insane! Or indecent!” He peeked through his fingers, his mortification battling with the beginnings of a reluctant smile. “What if king Thranduil walked by?” You shrugged, smirking. “Then he’d probably be impressed with your attention to detail.”

𑁍 That did it. Despite himself, Meludir let out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking as he tried to smother it. He shook his head, his long hair brushing against the snow as he muttered, “This is going to get me in trouble. I just know it.” Finally, he stood and took a step back to inspect the snowman, still shaking his head. His lips twitched, and then, to your delight, he broke into a full laugh, the sound bright and infectious. “Well,” he said, crossing his arms and regarding the snowman with mock seriousness, “it’s… anatomically accurate, at least.”

𑁍 “Exactly!” you said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. “We’re just honoring nature.” Meludir groaned again, but his laughter betrayed him. “You’re impossible,” he said, leaning into you slightly. You smiled, brushing a bit of snow from his hair. “You love it.” He glanced at you then, his eyes softening, his flushed cheeks still tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I suppose I do,” he said quietly, his voice warm. Then, with a tenderness that caught you off guard, he leaned forward and nuzzled his cold nose gently against yours.

𑁍 “It’s a good thing I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Your breath caught at his words, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. The snowman, the cold, the laughter—it all faded, leaving only Meludir’s shy, radiant smile and the warmth of his affection. You grinned back at him, your heart full. “It’s a good thing I love you, too.” And as you stood there in the snow, arm in arm, the absurdity of the situation only made the moment that much sweeter. For all his embarrassment, you knew Meludir would treasure this memory—your snowman, your laughter, and most of all, you—for years to come.

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Snowball Fight:

𑁍 The snow lay thick and glistening across the forest floor, the pale light of a winter sun filtering through the bare branches above. You and Meludir had been out since morning, your breath fogging in the cold air as you worked to pile snow for yet another snowman. His soft laughter had rung through the clearing earlier as he tried—and failed—to craft the perfect face for your last attempt, the carrot nose falling off every time he stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Maybe this one will actually look less terrifying,” he teased, scooping another handful of snow into the growing pile. His voice was warm and light, contrasting the chill that surrounded you. You grinned, already planning to tease him back when something cold and soft hit your back. You froze, feeling the icy dampness seep through your cloak. Slowly, you turned to find Meludir standing several paces away, snow clinging to his gloved fingers. His eyes widened in mock innocence, but the barely-suppressed smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

𑁍 “Meludir,” you said, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “Did you just throw a snowball at me?” His lips parted, and for a moment, he looked like a startled deer. Then, as though realizing escape was his only option, he bolted, giggling like a child caught stealing sweets. “It was an accident!” he called over his shoulder, his voice lilting with laughter. “An accident, huh?” you muttered, already scooping up a handful of snow. Packing it into a firm sphere, you took off after him, your boots crunching in the snow as you pursued the nimble elf. Meludir was fast—frustratingly fast—and his smaller frame allowed him to dart through the trees with ease. He twisted and turned, his golden-brown hair catching in the winter light as he glanced back at you, his face lit with joy. “You’ll never catch me!” he taunted, his voice light and teasing, before vanishing behind a large evergreen.

𑁍 “Oh, we’ll see about that,” you muttered, determination flaring in your chest. You followed his tracks through the snow, weaving between the trees and ducking under low-hanging branches. Despite his speed, Meludir’s laughter gave him away, echoing faintly through the forest. Eventually, you spotted him crouched behind a tree, his shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles as he peeked out to see if you were still chasing him. Grinning, you crept closer, moving as quietly as the snow would allow. When you were within range, you launched your snowball with all the precision you could muster. It sailed through the air and hit him squarely in the chest, exploding in a puff of white. Meludir let out a dramatic gasp, stumbling back as he clutched at his chest. “You got me!” he cried, falling backward into the snow with exaggerated flair. His eyes squeezed shut, and his limbs sprawled out as though he’d been struck down in battle.

𑁍 You couldn’t help but laugh as you walked up to him, hands on your hips. “Is that it? That’s all it takes to take down one of Mirkwood’s scouts?” One of his eyes peeked open, a sly smile spreading across his face. “You caught me off guard,” he protested, his voice dripping with mock indignation. “Otherwise, I would have—” Before he could finish, you pounced, tackling him into the snow. He let out a startled squeak, his laughter bubbling up as you pinned him beneath you. Snow clung to his cloak and tangled in his hair, and his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold—and perhaps from something else. You grinned down at him, brushing a clump of snow from his forehead. “I win,” you declared smugly, leaning closer to make your triumph perfectly clear. Meludir’s wide eyes locked onto yours, his breath catching as a rare silence settled between you. But it lasted only a moment before his expression shifted, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Do you?” he asked softly, his voice lilting with challenge. And before you could react, his hands darted to the ground, scooping up two handfuls of snow. With a laugh that was equal parts triumphant and apologetic, he smushed the cold snow against your cheeks, leaving you gasping and laughing in surprise.

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Sledging Adventure:

𑁍 The sun hung low over the wintry landscape, its golden light glinting off the snow-covered hills. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint scent of pine. You stood at the top of the hill, the wooden sledge resting at your feet, and beside you, Meludir shifted nervously, his gaze darting between the steep slope ahead and the sledge. “Are you absolutely certain about this?” he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his breath puffed in soft clouds in the chilly air. His usual confidence seemed to have abandoned him, leaving him looking adorably uncertain. “Of course I’m sure!” you replied cheerfully, giving the sledge an encouraging pat. “It’ll be fun.”

𑁍 Meludir arched an eyebrow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You and I clearly have very different definitions of ‘fun.’ This looks like a disaster waiting to happen.” He gestured toward the hill, as if to highlight every potential peril along the slope. You couldn’t help but laugh at his cautious nature. “Come on, Meludir. Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll love it, I promise.” He sighed heavily, clearly unconvinced, but eventually relented. “Fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his golden-brown hair. “But if this ends with me face-first in the snow, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

𑁍 “Noted,” you said with a grin. “Now, come on.” Reluctantly, Meludir climbed onto the sledge, settling himself at the front. His movements were stiff, his posture tense as he gripped the sides tightly. When you slid onto the sledge behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist for balance, he stiffened even more. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things.”

𑁍 “Because you trust me,” you replied with a laugh, giving him a playful squeeze. “And because deep down, you know I’m right.” Meludir rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “If we don’t survive this, I’m haunting you.” Before he could change his mind, you gave the sledge a firm push, and it tipped over the edge of the hill. The world seemed to lurch as the two of you began your rapid descent, the sledge skimming over the snow with alarming speed. Meludir let out a startled yelp, his hands clutching the sides of the sledge as if his life depended on it. “This is not fun!” he shouted over the rush of the wind. But as the sledge picked up speed, his fear began to melt away. His grip loosened slightly, and a tentative laugh escaped his lips. “Okay, maybe it’s a little fun!” he admitted, his voice rising with excitement.

𑁍 You tightened your hold on him, grinning ear to ear as the wind whipped past you. “Told you!” For a few blissful moments, it was nothing but laughter and the exhilaration of the ride. But then, you spotted something ahead—a massive tree standing directly in your path. Your heart skipped a beat as the sledge wobbled slightly on the uneven terrain. “Uh… Meludir?” you called out, your voice tinged with panic. “What?” he replied, craning his neck to look back at you. The movement made the sledge wobble even more. “Steer!” His eyes widened. “I don’t know how to steer!”

𑁍 “Lean to the side! Quick!” But it was too late. The sledge hurtled forward, and with a bone-jarring thud, it collided with the tree trunk, coming to an abrupt halt. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the soft creak of branches overhead. And then, with a gentle whoosh, a massive pile of snow dislodged from the tree above, tumbling down in a cold, powdery avalanche. It landed squarely on top of you both, burying you in a chilly mound. You were the first to emerge, laughing as you shook the snow from your hair and cloak. “Meludir? Are you okay?” you called out, looking around for him.

𑁍 A muffled groan came from somewhere beneath the snow, and a moment later, Meludir’s head popped up. His face was flushed, his hair covered in white, and his expression was one of pure exasperation. He blinked at you, clearly dazed, before finally speaking. “Well,” he said dryly, brushing snow from his tunic, “that went exactly as planned.” You burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself. His mock-serious tone only made it funnier, and after a moment, Meludir joined in, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled despite himself. “At least we didn’t hit the tree too hard,” you said between giggles.

𑁍 Meludir shot you a mock glare, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Next time, you steer.” “Deal,” you replied with a grin, leaning forward to press a kiss to his snow-dusted cheek. Despite the collision, neither of you could stop smiling as you pulled the sledge out of the snow and began the trek back up the hill. The promise of another ride—and another adventure—hung in the air, the day’s laughter warming you against the winter chill.

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Snow Angel:

𑁍 The snow blanketed the forest floor in an unbroken sheet of white, soft and untouched except for the tracks the two of you had left behind. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees, but here, in this little clearing, the world felt still and serene. Meludir lay sprawled beside you in the snow, his golden-brown hair splayed out around his head like a halo, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold. His breath came in visible puffs as he giggled softly, his laughter breathless and light, like the tinkling of bells. “Are you sure this is how you’re supposed to do it?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you with those wide, expressive eyes. “It feels ridiculous.”

𑁍 “Yes, this is how you do it,” you said with a grin, waving your arms and legs through the snow in wide, sweeping arcs. “Come on, Meludir, just try it. You’re overthinking it again.” He sighed theatrically, as though the task of making a snow angel was some monumental undertaking. “Fine, but if I look ridiculous, it’s your fault.” You laughed as he began to move, tentatively at first, his arms and legs shifting in awkward motions. His brow furrowed with concentration, but the corners of his lips twitched upward despite himself. Within moments, he was giggling again, the sound filling the air as he finally gave in to the silliness of it. “There,” he said, stopping suddenly and sitting up. “It’s done.” You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at his snow angel, and he groaned, burying his face in his gloved hands. “It’s terrible,” he muttered, peeking through his fingers. “I think I messed up the wings. They’re crooked.”

𑁍 “They’re fine,” you assured him, though you couldn’t help but smile at his self-critical nature. “It looks perfect to me.” Meludir wasn’t convinced. Sitting cross-legged in the snow, he tilted his head, studying the shape with an intensity that made you bite back a laugh. Then, as if struck by inspiration, he grabbed a nearby stick and leaned over his creation. “What are you doing?” you asked, watching as he began meticulously carving into the snow.

𑁍 “The wings,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. “They’re not symmetrical. They’re supposed to match yours.” His brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue poking out slightly as he adjusted the lines of snow with the precision of an artist. You sat up fully, brushing snow off your gloves as you observed him. “Meludir, they’re snow angels. They don’t have to be perfect.”

𑁍 “They do,” he replied without looking up. “Otherwise, it doesn’t look like they’re together.” A pause hung in the air, and then his movements slowed. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as he added, barely above a whisper, “Now it looks like they’re holding hands.” You blinked, your chest tightening at the soft admission. His eyes were fixed firmly on the snow, as though he couldn’t bring himself to look at you, but the vulnerability in his words was unmistakable. “Like they’re holding hands, huh?” you said, your voice warm as you reached out toward him. Without hesitation, you slid your gloved hand into his.

𑁍 Meludir’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. His lips parted, but no words came out as he stared at your joined hands. Slowly, a small, shy smile spread across his face, lighting up his features in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Now they match us,” you said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. For a moment, Meludir simply looked at you, his blush deepening until the tips of his ears turned pink. Then, his fingers curled around yours, holding on as though he didn’t want to let go. “I like that,” he said quietly, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. The two of you sat there in companionable silence, hand in hand, the snow falling gently around you. The snow angels lay side by side in the clearing, their wings now perfectly symmetrical, their hands just barely touching. It was a small, fleeting moment, but one that you knew you would carry with you forever.

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[mtg-cards-hourly]

Mirkwood Trapper

Under the boughs of Mirkwood, there was deadly strife of Elves and evil beings.

Artist: John Di Giovanni TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[thewulf]

Starlit Promises || Legolas

Summary: Request - Heyy I really like how you write Legolas and also your writing in general so I thought I'd request a Legolas x reader where in reader saves him from an orc attack and got hurt in the process. Hehe that's all have a good day!

A/N: Ahhh I really like this one. Ty Anon for the amazing request as always.

Pairing: Legolas x Elf Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

TW: Orcs, attack, shot with an arrow, poison, angst, sad Legolas

Growing up in the lush, enigmatic depths of Mirkwood had shaped you into the warrior you are today. Side by side with Legolas you had spent countless hours under the tutelage of the same masters learning the arts of combat and stealth. Though your paths within the kingdom's defense forces eventually diverged with Legolas rising to accompany his father on diplomatic missions and you embedding deeper into the scout units you never lost the connection forged in those formative years.

Your friendship with Legolas was based on a foundation of deep respect and a shared love for the vast, mysterious woodland that was your home. Over the years, King Thranduil himself had come to hold you in high regard as he appreciated how you continually challenged and supported his son. Making sure to keep him grounded and focused.

After many seasons apart, duty finally brought you back together. It was a reunion marked by warm smiles and a quick rekindling of your lifelong friendship. Eager to make the most of this reunion you both decided to embark on a patrol through some of the darker much less traveled parts of Mirkwood. These regions were where the trees grew dense, and the shadows lingered. They were known for being unpredictable, yet they offered a serene beauty that was unmatched elsewhere in the kingdom.

As you walked alongside Legolas, your steps silent and your senses alert, you found comfort in the familiar presence of your friend. The air was filled with the sounds of distant waterfalls and the occasional call of a wood pigeon. Conversation flowed easily between you. It was filled with stories of past exploits and shared adventures. It was as if no time had passed at all, and you were just two young elves exploring the woods as you had all those hundreds of years ago.

Yet, the peace of the forest was deceptive and as seasoned warriors both of you remained vigilant. It was a routine patrol on the surface but in Mirkwood with the darkness ever growing one could never be too careful. Little did you know the shadows held more than just the whispers of ancient trees that day.

In the shadow-drenched depths of Mirkwood where the dense canopy stifled even the slightest beam of sunlight you and Legolas moved with the silent grace of seasoned warriors. The forest's deceptive calm should have been your first warning, but you were so engrossed in his presence you didn’t think too much of it. It was a heavy stillness that shrouded the advance of danger. It was in this eerie silence that the ambush was sprung as a large band of orcs burst from their hidden positions among the twisted undergrowth.

In the midst of the intense and chaotic battle with the clash of metal resounding through the ancient trees of Mirkwood a sudden, jarring sound made your heart skip a beat. It was the distinct twang of a bowstring. A sound you’d recognize anywhere amidst the close-quarters combat that it sent a ripple of alarm through you.

You and Legolas were back-to-back and fighting in seamless coordination Legolas's breath hitched audibly, a rare sign of his alarm. His voice was urgent and tinged with a touch of panic as it reached your ears over the din of battle.

"Y/N, the leader, he's aiming for—"

Before he could finish you saw the movement. A shadowy figure at a distance with a notched arrow gleaming with a sinister sheen that could only mean poison. Time seemed to slow as you realized the target was none other than Legolas himself.

With a surge of adrenaline, you acted on pure instinct. "Legolas, down!" you shouted pushing him towards the ground even as you leaped to intercept the flight path of the arrow.

Legolas who was forced down by your push hit the forest floor hard. He turned just in time to see your actions. "No, Y/N!" His voice was laced with horror and desperation as he realized what you were about to do.

The arrow struck and the sound of your grunt of pain was drowned out by Legolas's anguished yell. He scrambled to his feet eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury. "Why would you do this?" he bellowed. His voice cracking with a mix of horror and desperation. His eyes were wide with shock and nearing tears. They searched yours for an answer he could not find in the chaos of his own emotions.

As you staggered from the impact the world began to blur at the edges as the poison was already coursing through your veins. With what strength you had left you managed to whisper, trying to reassure him despite the growing darkness clouding your vision. "Had to... save you. Watch out... he has more..."

Legolas was now beside himself with worry and rage. He turned his attention back to the orc leader with a fierce glare. His usual calm demeanor was shattered by the sight of you injured because of him. He drew his own arrow with a swift, deadly precision that was uncharacteristic but fueled by his tumultuous emotions. "No one harms you and escapes unscathed," he murmured almost to himself as he prepared to return the favor with lethal intent.

What followed was a blur of motion and violence. Legolas moved like a tempest. His arrows finding their marks with lethal precision. Each strike was a blow against his own anguish, a defiance of the fate that had struck you down. The orcs fell one by one. They were no match for the wrath of a prince fighting for the life of a friend he so dearly loved.

As the last of the orcs crumpled to the forest floor, silenced forever, Legolas turned back to where you lay, your face pale and your breaths shallow. He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he gently lifted you into his arms. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The usual whispers of the leaves stilled by the gravity of the moment.

Legolas's steps were swift and sure as he began the urgent journey back to the healers. Each step was a race against the relentless creep of the poison within you. As he moved with his arms secure around you he began to whisper. His voice a soft contrast to the earlier fury that had consumed him.

"Stay with me," he murmured. His words tinged with a desperation he had never known. "You must stay with me." His voice broke as the reality of the situation pressed upon him. The weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm his stoic facade.

The forest blurred past as Legolas with you cradled securely in his arms. He pushed through the undergrowth with an urgency born of sheer desperation. The poison from the orc’s arrow was relentless and with each labored breath you took his heart clenched tighter.

As he hurried his voice was a steady stream of encouragement meant to fortify both your spirits and his own resolve. “You’re so strong. You can fight this,” he urged quietly. His tone gentle yet firm. The dense foliage seemed to part before his determination. The shadows of Mirkwood bending to his will.

“You have to hold on. I need you to hold on,” he continued. His voice only for you. A personal warmth amidst the encroaching darkness of your pain. His words were a lifeline thrown in the hope that your spirit would grasp it and cling to life.

Within his mind a storm of thoughts raged. As he looked down at your face contorted with the effort to stay conscious he was struck by a revelation so profound it rooted itself deep within his soul. I love her, he realized with startling clarity. The thought was both a balm and a torment emerging amidst the terror of possibly losing you. Why did it take the brink of losing her to see how vital she is to me? His heart ached with the weight of his newfound understanding. An understanding that came at such a cruel cost.

Meanwhile, you, despite the searing pain, felt the urgency in his voice and it gave you a focus. A point to anchor your fading strength. You tried to respond. To give him some sign that you heard him. That you were fighting not just for your own life, but for him, for the future you hadn't yet considered might be possible together. Your lips moved slightly as a whisper of sound that was more an exhale of pain than coherent words.

Legolas felt the faint stir of your attempt to speak and it spurred him on. His strides growing even more determined. “Just a little farther,” he promised you, and perhaps himself. “We’re almost there. Stay with me.”

His mind continued to race with thoughts of love and loss, but he kept these revelations locked within choosing instead to flood you with hopeful, encouraging words. Every step was a silent vow. Every heartbeat a silent plea to whatever fates watched over the elves of Mirkwood.

As the gates of the palace finally came into sighta surge of tentative relief washed over him. The guards recognized the dire nature of your condition and rushed to meet him calling for the healers swiftly. Legolas’s arms relinquished you with a reluctance that was palpable. His hands lingering until the last possible moment as he handed you over to their care.

Watching the guards swiftly carry you away Legolas could only stand there for a moment, alone and suddenly bereft. The depth of his emotions swirling chaotically within. Hold on, please hold on, he thought. His heart echoing each word of encouragement he had given you. Now a silent mantra for the both of you.

In the somber halls of the Mirkwood palace, Thranduil arrived, drawn by the urgent whispers of his guards about an incident involving his son and one of his most valued elves. As he entered his eyes found Legolas who stood alone. His posture betraying a mix of shock and despair rarely seen on the prince.

Approaching quietly Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder, his presence immediately steadying. "Legolas, tell me what has happened," he urged. His voice firm yet lined with concern.

Legolas's response was choked. A surge of emotions breaking through his usually composed demeanor. Turning to face his father, tears welled in his eye. It was a terribly rare sight that shook Thranduil to his core. "She... she saved me," Legolas stammered. The words laced with pain and guilt. "An orc aimed a poisoned arrow at me, and she stepped in front. She took the hit herself. It should have been me, Father."

The king's eyes widened in horror as he processed the gravity of the situation. His mind racing with the implications of your selfless act. "Legolas," Thranduil said softly as he guided his son to sit beside him on a nearby bench, an effort to offer comfort amidst the cold stone surroundings. "You must not blame yourself for her bravery. She acted out of loyalty and courage. These are qualities that are to be honored, not lamented."

Legolas wiped at his eyes, struggling to compose himself. "But I love her, Father. And now, I might lose her because I could not protect her," he confessed. The words tumbling out amidst sobs. The admission of his feelings which were spoken aloud for the first time seemed to both relieve and burden him further.

Thranduil was taken aback by the depth of his son’s emotions. He reached out, his own composure tinged with empathy. "My son, love is both a strength and a vulnerability. You must hold onto the hope that she will recover. And should she wake, it is your duty—and your right—to tell her of your feelings."

The king stood, resolute. "I will speak with the healers to ensure that everything possible is being done," he promised. Returning his attention to Legolas, he added, "Stay strong, Legolas. She fought to save you. Now you must be strong for her."

Thranduil placed a reassuring hand on Legolas's shoulder. His gaze intense and commanding. "There is something you can do, Legolas. Go to her," he instructed firmly. "The healers say that even in unconsciousness the presence of someone familiar may be felt. Your presence could provide the strength she needs to fight this poison."

Legolas looked at his father. The determination in Thranduil's voice sparking a flicker of hope within him. "Talk to her, hold her hand, let her feel your presence. Keep her grounded to this world. Your voice, your touch… it may reach her when our medicine cannot."

Rising from the bench with renewed purpose Legolas nodded solemnly. "I will not leave her side," he vowed. The resolve in his voice masking the tremor of his underlying fear.

Thranduil watched as his son strode towards the healers quarters. His posture that of a prince, yet driven by the raw, powerful emotions of an elf in love. "She saved you for a reason, Legolas. Now, give her a reason to return," Thranduil murmured to himself as he watched Legolas disappear behind the delicate curtains that shrouded the healing chambers.

Inside, Legolas approached your side with his heart pounding as he took in your serene yet pained expression. Gingerly, he took your hand in his. The coolness of your skin against his warm palm stirring a mix of emotions within him. Sitting beside you he began to speak his voice soft but clear threading through the quiet hum of the healing ward.

"I'm here just like you've always been there for me. Remember the storms we weathered together? The quiet moments we shared under the stars of our beautiful Mirkwood? Hold onto those memories now as I hold onto your hand. You must come back to us, to me," Legolas whispered. His words a tender plea laced with strength and love.

As he continued to speak he recounted tales of their past adventures and shared dreams. Legolas's presence became a silent, steadfast hope, anchoring you in the fight against the darkness that threatened to claim you.

"Remember the time we chased the fireflies at dusk?" Legolas continued. His voice a soft murmur meant only for you. "We wandered so far that night we almost missed the evening banquet. Your laughter echoed through the woods, brighter even than the lights we chased. I think that was the moment I realized how dear you were to me though I never had the courage to say it. I wish I said it."

He paused. His thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, each memory a pull trying to guide you back. "And then there was the storm. The one that caught us off guard near the northern border. We took shelter under that old oak. The one that's stood for a thousand years. You were so calm, so brave, even as the thunder roared around us. It was more than bravery. It was a peace within you that even the storm couldn't disturb. I truly fell in love with you then."

His voice grew softer, each word laden with emotion. "I've always admired that about you—your strength, your serenity. It's been a constant source of comfort to me, more often than you know." A sigh escaped him, a mixture of admiration and deep-seated fear. "I need that strength now, more than ever. You have to fight through this. I... I can't envision a world without you in it mellon vaer nîn, meleth nîn." He whispered to you.

Legolas's gaze lingered on your face. His eyes tracing the familiar features as if trying to imprint them deeper into his memory. "There are so many things I still want to share with you. The sunrise over the Silverlode. Quiet mornings in the glades. So many adventures yet to be had. I need you to come back to me."

As he continued to speak recalling tales of their past his voice became your lifeline, tethered to the hope of your recovery. With each story he tried to weave you back to consciousness. To draw you away from the shadows that clung too closely.

Hours passed, a silent vigil marked only by the rhythm of his voice and the faint but steady beat of your heart. It was during one such tale as Legolas recounted a particularly daring escapade from their youth that he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. It was slight, nearly imperceptible, but to Legolas, it was as profound as the sun breaking through a week of rain.

His heart leapt and his words faltered for a moment. "Are you there? Can you hear me?" he asked. His voice a blend of hope and urgency. When there was no further response he settled back with a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. "I'll keep talking… just keep listening. You're not alone." Legolas's resolve hardened, bolstered by the faint sign of your fighting spirit. He continued to talk. Each word a pledge of his presence and protection. His stories a bridge carrying you back from the brink.

The healing ward was bathed in the soft, ethereal light of dawn filtering through the high windows. Legolas sat steadfast by your side with his hand still holding yours as a silent anchor in the hushed space. He continued to speak with his voice a soft, continuous presence in the hushed space continuously recounting tales, and shared dreams. He was weaving a tapestry of memories meant to guide you back.

As he recounted a particularly fond memory of a midsummer festival where you both had danced under the stars until the world seemed nothing more than a swirl of lights and laughter your eyelids began to flutter. It was a slight movement but enough to pause the flow of his words.

Your eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the dim light of the room, focusing with effort on the figure who had not left your side. Legolas watched you carefully. His breath held in a mixture of hope and anxiety. Seeing your eyes finally meet his, a wave of relief and joy washed over him, though he tempered his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm you.

"You're awake," he said softly. His voice a mix of wonder and warmth, his grip on your hand tightening gently.

You managed a weak smile. Your voice barely a whisper but filled with gratitude and warmth. "Legolas..." you breathed, your eyes locking onto his conveying everything you felt but couldn't yet say.

He leaned closer with his forehead nearly touching yours. His eyes were bright with emotion. "You are home," he whispered as his voice trembled slightly. "You're here with me. That is all that matters."

You nodded weakly, your smile widening just a bit. "Home," you agreed softly, the word holding so much more than its simple meaning. It was a promise, a recognition of the bond that had brought you back from the brink.

Legolas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His touch ever so gentle and reverent. "I was so afraid of losing you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your bravery, your sacrifice... I cannot bear the thought of a world without you in it."

Your hand squeezed his lightly. A small gesture but one that conveyed strength and reassurance. "I'm here," you whispered back, the effort taxing but necessary. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"We have so much more to see together. So many more memories to share," Legolas continued with a smile playing on his lips. "I promise from now on every moment will be a testament to the life you fought so hard to return to."

Your smile widened a bit more, your energy still faint but growing with every moment of connection. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," you replied. Your voice was stronger this time, filled with the promise of many tomorrows.

In that quiet evening with the last light painting the world in hues of pink and gold, Legolas and you shared a moment of profound gratitude and love. A bond deepened by trials and now unbreakable by anything that the future might hold.

As your strength slowly returned Legolas took you to a secluded glade one evening. A hidden sanctuary where the world's concerns seemed to dissolve under the brilliance of the starlit sky. The air was cool and carried the sweet scent of blooming night flowers. You both settled on a soft blanket surrounded by the tranquil whisper of the forest.

Looking up at the stars Legolas turned toward you, his blue eyes reflecting the celestial light. He took a deep breath as if preparing to share something significant, and then began to speak. His voice soft yet clear. "I've spent many nights under these stars," he said, "but none felt as profound as tonight, being here with you." He paused giving you a moment to absorb the words. "When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I realized something vital. Just how much you mean to me, how deeply I care about you."

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and joy. The sincerity in his voice and the earnest look in his eyes it was all you had ever hoped for yet never dared to expect. "Legolas, I...," you started your emotions thickening your voice. "I've felt the same way for a long time. But I never thought—"

"That we might have a future together?" Legolas interjected gently. "I know. I've been a fool, letting time pass without speaking my heart. But I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. I love you. More than I can say."

Tears welled in your eyes but not from sadness but from a profound relief and happiness. "I love you too," you replied. Your voice a soft echo of his own declaration. "I always have."

Legolas reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentle touch. "Then let us make a promise tonight," he suggested. His gaze locked with yours, "to never hold back our feelings. To cherish each moment, we have together and to face whatever comes with unity and strength."

You nodded, feeling the weight and warmth of his hand in yours. "I promise," you said. "To all of that."

The night deepened around you, but in the glade, illuminated by starlight, a new chapter of your life together began. It was a promise made not just in words but in the shared glances, the gentle touches, and the quiet commitment to face life's complexities together. With Legolas by your side the future seemed not just a path to walk but a journey to cherish.

The next morning, with the promise of the previous night still fresh and luminous like the dawn Legolas sought his father in the tranquil palace gardens. Dappled sunlight filtered through the ancient trees casting golden patterns on the mossy floor.

"Father," Legolas began with his voice carrying a newfound confidence mixed with joy, "last night under the stars, Y/N and I made a promise. I wish to ask her to let me court her with the intention of marriage."

Thranduil paused with his gaze piercing as he turned to face his son. For a moment his expression was unreadable. Then, a wide, genuine smile transformed his face. "Finally," he exclaimed with a rare chuckle. "You have truly found your path, my son. It is about time."

Legolas smiled, a weight lifting from his shoulders with his father's blessing. Bolstered by this support he planned a special moment to formally begin the courtship. He chose a small, exquisite pendant shaped like a star. An echo of the night that had sealed your shared destiny.

Later that day as you stood in the lush Mirkwood gardens Legolas approached you. The late afternoon sun lit the clearing casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. In his hand he held the delicate star-shaped pendant which sparkled as it caught the light.

"Y/N," he said gently, drawing your attention. His hand extended offering the pendant to you. "Last night, under the starlight, we promised to face whatever comes together. With all my heart, I ask you now, will you let me court you with the hope and intention that one day you will be my wife?"

The moment was overwhelming. More tears sprang to your eyes as the magnitude of what this meant filled you. You had loved Legolas for so long, sometimes fearing your affection was a solitary flame. Now hearing his heartfelt words, confirming that he felt the same, was a relief so profound that sobs of joy escaped you.

"Yes, Legolas," you managed to say between gentle sobs. Your voice thick with emotion as you reached out to take the pendant. "Yes, of course I will."

Legolas stepped closer. His eyes shining with the same emotion. He took the pendant and carefully clasped it around your neck. He cupped your face in his hands wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"This is just the beginning meleth nîn," he whispered. His voice as tender as the touch of the evening breeze. "A promise of a lifetime together, filled with love and understanding."

In that enchanted moment with the beauty of Mirkwood surrounding you and the promise of a future together everything felt utterly perfect. The garden seemed to hold its breath, the leaves whispering in the wind, as if nature itself was acknowledging the depth of your bond. The journey ahead would indeed have challenges but with the strength of your love you knew you could face them with him.

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[rivendell-poet]

I loved the little sibling headcanons so much! But reading Legolas’s part gave me a small idea for Thranduil because he is such father-coded sometimes.

So what if the same reader always had bandages wound around the entirety of their right eye and some of their right cheek for some secret reason that nobody knows. Thranduil is slightly intrigued by how this human teenager manages to fight so well despite being disadvantaged in sight, and after he grows much closer to them, he asks them about the bandages. And because reader trusts him a lot more than before, they (sort of) hesitantly take off the bandages and reveals how the entire bandaged area was heavily damaged/scarred from dragon fire mostly due to their recklessness a few years back. I think it’d be interesting to see Thranduil’s reaction towards a young human that also suffered from the feared dragon fire. I don’t mind if you write headcanons or a scenario for this :)

Btw sorry if this request was weird 😅 I just think that Thranduil’s character has so much to be explored, especially as we don’t see him interact as much with humans and younglings

Glad you liked the little sibling hcs! I'm always weak for platonic!lotr <3 And please don't worry about your request - I loved it, and I'm only sorry it took me so long to write. Hopefully you enjoy <3

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧-𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenario »

Gender-neutral reader | Wordcount : 1k | TWs : Brief discussion of scaring

✧ When he first meets you, a lone human who has somehow managed to brave Mirkwood, his mind doesn’t pay too much attention to the bandages.

✧ Another human eccentricity.

✧ It’s only after, when the scouts are quick to dole out praise for you - praise that does not come lightly from elves - that he thinks back to them. How you are able to fight remarkably well with something covering your right eye.

✧ Not that it matters to him when he calls for you to be escorted to a room and watched.

✧ Thranduil is a kinder king when not dealing with dwarves and dishonest folk, so has no reason to throw you into the dungeons. He doesn’t fully trust you at first, but that can be left until tomorrow.

✧  Late next morning you are invited to his chambers after eating, and he asks questions of you - why you are in Mirkwood, your age and general motivations. But not your bandages.

✧ Until the very end, when he asks if you would like to see a healer for your injuries.

✧ Your freezing is almost imperceptible to humans, but obvious to an elf. You decline, hands still frozen by your sides, but he lets you go without further issues.

✧ Mirkwood’s palace is a great haven for you - full of scrolls of lore, warriors of the highest skill, and places of respite if it is needed.

✧ When you initially only planned on staying for a day in there, you soon find yourself becoming familiar with your room. And then days turn into weeks, and the rest of Mirkwood becomes more familiar as well.

✧ Once you’ve become more comfortable with the elves you go down to spar, and to your surprise there are some happy to train with you.

✧ Although you are not as skilled as an elf they acknowledge your talent for what it is, impressed.

✧ Whispers spread all the way through Mirkwood, and even the king is reached by them eventually.

✧ Thranduil asks to be kept up to date about you, of course, as you are in his kingdom. Word reaches him that you managed to disarm a guard, and for some reason he feels genuine pride in the news.

✧ As the guard turns to leave, Thranduil asks when you had the bandages removed and by who.

✧ The guard answers that you haven’t.

✧ You’re not blind to the stares at your bandage, but something new has been occurring. There’s even more subtle glances, but less questioning about it. As though your bandage is now something to be observed, and not questioned.

✧ The excitement around it eventually dies down, especially as weeks in Mirkwood become months.

✧ It’s around the first month mark that Thranduil requests to see you again.

✧ Being summoned by the king is nerve-wracking, but once you’ve been around him for a while you become more relaxed.

✧ He doesn’t behave like the rigid, cold but regal king you were expecting. He is still regal, effortlessly so, but there is warmth in his gaze - when he asks you about your day, or compliments your progress.

✧ Some days you don’t even have to tell him about the feat you accomplished, as he already seems to know. But he still listens intently when you explain it, asking questions in just the right places - and always with sincerity.

✧ Over time, you begin to think of him a small bit like a father.

✧ Then one day, he asks you about your bandages. Why you still wear them after so long.

✧ He regrets it when he sees you freeze up, but when he begins to talk you raise a hand to stop.

✧ Hesitantly, you begin to remove the bandages from around you, not looking at him until they’re all of.

✧ As soon as Thranduil can see your face he recognises dragonfire on it. Scars so similar to his own, but on the face of a young human instead of an elven king.

✧ You can see the shock on his face as his eyes seem to sweep every area of the scars and not want to settle back on you. You take a deep breath, beginning to apologise for them.

✧ “There is no need.”

✧ Thranduil interrupts, softly but it stops you instantly. “The wounds you bear show you have survived, that you have faced dragonfire and lived. You… you should not need to be ashamed of them.”

✧ The revelation is surprising, but it makes you smile. You thank him, for being understanding about them - and he responds that he always will be, will always support you.

✧ There’s some deeper meaning to his words, but you cannot quite decipher it.

✧ The rest of your meeting is fairly normal, until the end when he asks questions you did not expect. How it affects you, if you can still see out of that eye - if you are in any pain.

✧ Each question you answer honestly, and any complaint that is raised he instantly tackles - doing his utmost to make sure you are comfortable.

✧ As you leave you turn to bow goodnight, and it looks as if he is about to say something before bidding you goodnight as well.

✧ In the morning you receive a summons to his chambers for later that day.

✧ For the first time you walk to Thranduil’s room without bandages covering your face, but you don’t find yourself afraid of him. Of him judging you.

✧ When you walk in there’s a nervous air. But not from you. From Thranduil.

✧ And he apologises, for not being honest sooner.

✧ You watch as the smooth perfections of his face give way to scars that being to mimic your own.

✧ “I would have told you sooner, if I had known you would understand this pain. I am sorry for not telling you.”

✧ The silence is loud, and then you move closer.

✧ “There is nothing to apologise for.”

A/N : Hopefully you liked it! Sorry if it wasn't as father-coded as you liked, I think I got a bit too deep into lore and setting up the story. But this is the second scenario in a row I've been very interested in expanding, so let me know if there's more interest in this universe!

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 ✧ wish to be tagged?

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a nymph in Mirkwood

(Inspiration from an imagine I once saw and after reading the hobbit. A lovely story and I finally get why the movies got the bad hype. I don't think the movies were bad, but if they had gone with the book version they would have been ten times more interesting)

Warnings: Mentions of sick forest, getting attacked by spiders, poisoned by spiders and Gandalf being a bit of a gremlin, and not helping the elves when they need the help the most.

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

- Your appearance and presence have always perplexed the elves of Mirkwood 

- You just came and decided to live in the most dangerous parts of their woods, where sickness and darkness reigned over everything that lived there. 

- The elves took you for a spy or a lost traveler, so they tried to capture you, yet somehow you always escaped or disappeared before they could even arrive to the scene like you knew they were coming or hiding in the trees. 

- They never even had the chance to look at you since you always wore a hood over your face, so they couldn't even conclude if you were a human or even an elf. You were too tall to be a dwarf, and by chance– one of the scouts managed to catch a glimpse of your hands, which weren’t clawed or covered in rough skin, so you weren’t an orc. 

- When they failed to capture you or find you several times, they decided to leave you be since– capturing you proved to be too much of a challenge and since you didn’t appear to mean any harm to the forest or the animals. On the contrary, you seemed to have a curing effect on the forest. 

- To their surprise and confusion, green healthy grass and wildflowers began to grow in the sickened parts of their woods. The trees gave way to sunlight, making the forest more brighter. The rivers that used to be black and enchanted with terrible spells have loosened their power and become more clear. The air also seemed to taste much sweeter wherever you went. 

- The elves of Mirkwood began to wonder and conclude if you were a spirit of sorts, wandering and healing the forest with your presence and touch. They desired an answer but couldn't since you always ran away whenever they tried to approach you, even if they did not mean any harm to you. 

- One day, you became more mysterious when they heard delicate singing through the forests. It was pleasant and something they had never heard before. By chance, they managed to capture the sight of you dancing beneath the trees with animals by your side, singing from the core of your heart. 

- It was so joyful that the elves did not dare to disturb you and watched in wonder how even the trees began to move and hum with your voice. 

- Flowers grew along with your steps, and the sickness that once plagued the trees vanished, bringing them back to life and blooming with green leaves. It was now clear to the elves that you were no ordinary wanderer who sang and danced beneath their trees. Even the great spiders that lived above the trees cursed the effects of your song and left somewhere else, emanating great hate toward your presence. It was beyond wonderous. 

- However, you still ran away by the sight of them like a startled deer. You ran faster and swiftly like a fox. Before the elves could even call out to you, you were gone like the wind, leaving no trace of where you could have gone. 

- It confused and deeply saddened the elves since it seemed you were fearful of them. It left them wondering about your coming to their woods and if you had faced terrible things outside. 

- The elves left you be whenever you appeared again to either dance or sing to the forest, healing the sickly woods. 

- Some desired to find you or even take a peek beneath your hood to see your face, but their king ordered not to go after you or disturb you since you had such power over the darkness and the sickness in their woods. 

-One time, when the spiders had overcome a scouting party, a fight ensued, and many were injured. When one of their own was taken by the spiders and nearly killed, you appeared, running fast and with your hand enchanting the trees to protect the elf. 

- The spiders ran away when your voice broke through the air like an arrow, singing power that scared them away. 

- The elves were startled by the display of their trees attacking the spiders before trying to find their own and finding their kin treated by you. 

- You were kneeling beside the wounded elf, softly singing to them. The power of your song allowed flowers to grow around you and heal the elf from the spider’s poison. You waited with the elf till their kin arrived before disappearing into the woods again. 

- For saving one of their own, they felt grateful and gained an answer when they heard the spiders curse your presence and call you ‘a half blood’ and ‘an accursed nymph’ during their escape. They were words they had never heard before till later they learned what they meant when someone decided to investigate. 

- You were a nymph, one of the ancient spirits that were long extinct due to great devastation and darkness thousands of years ago—or a half nymph to be exact since the spiders called you a half-blood. 

- The news were received with great surprise and wonder as not even the oldest of their elves do not remember much of the nymphs, except that they were great caretakers of woods and plants. 

- One day, when the gray wizard Gandalf came for a visit, they learned your name and identity from him. You were a child born out of a union between a nymph and a human, and he had sent you here where you would be safe and more in tune with your nature. 

- He had hoped you would have found a home among them, but he seemed to have overestimated your timid nature since you still avoided contact with the elves. 

- The elves were delighted by the new information, but before they could ask Gandalf for some instructions on how to communicate with you because just like he came, he left with an amused laugh to continue his journey. 

- He simply told them they would find a way or you would eventually come to them yourself. 

- It was troublesome, but they found one way to communicate with you by leaving gifts in the forests. They mostly left fruits and food since you left the gifts you didn’t like untouched. In return, you also leave gifts for them such as herbs and stones they might appreciate. 

- The elves were happy and surprised since your gifts were rare herbs and stones they didn’t think could be found in Mirkwood. They didn’t complain though, and the little gift exchanging turned into a little tradition. 

- The elves sometimes took the chance to sing with you whenever they heard your songs. Sometimes you sang along, and sometimes you simply stopped and ran away. 

- The elves tried leaving letters for you along with the gifts, trying to tell you that you were welcomed to their kingdom if you only came to them. You mostly didn’t answer except one time you replied, telling you preferred living in the woods. 

- The elves of Mirkwood tried many times to get you to come to them, but eventually, they decided to let fate bring you to them when the time came. They did continue their little traditions with you, their strange little neighbor.

[meluiloth]

The Mirkwood Guardians

The Mirkwood Elves have a very intricate and strict system of warriors, all fiercely dedicated to protecting their home, each specializing in one particular aspect. They are all trained on the same basic principles (tracking, combat, teamwork, survival, and some healing) and are all considered a part of the Mirkwood Guardians, but as they advance in their careers, they are sorted into different branches based on their best skills. For example, those that show less of an aptitude for combat have a better chance of earning the position of Scout or Sentinel than they do of becoming a Spiderhunter or a Soldier. These branches are:

Sentinels

Scouts

Spiderhunters

Soldiers

Imperial Guard

Sentinels

The Sentinels of Mirkwood are mainly the border guards, focused on protecting the city; they rarely go beyond the perimeter of the Kingdom, and their sharp eyes are always on the lookout for suspicious characters or activities. Anything that wants to get into inhabited areas needs to go through them first - and that includes strangers. The Sentinels are in charge of letting people in and out of the Kingdom. (Feren is the current captain of the Sentinels).

Scouts

The Scouts of Mirkwood are made up of those who are most familiar with the inner workings of the deep forest; their duties are to patrol the woods and check that all is well, and report any disturbances (or, in recent times, monitor the spread of the disease.) They are the chief hunters and gatherers as well, and most of the food and resources that is brought in is thanks to the Scouts. Though their tasks rely less on combat than on passive observation and ability to navigate the wilderness, they are often at risk of being attacked by Spiders, so the Scouts are required to have a base knowledge of weaponry. (Meludir is the current Captain of the Scouts).

Spiderhunters

The Spiderhunters of Mirkwood are the most agile and deadly fighters in the Elves' arsenal; they know the forest well, and know their way around killing things even better - anytime the Scouts discover a Spider nest, the Spiderhunters are the ones who deal with it. There has been a sharp increase in demand for Spiderhunters as the threat has grown, so training has become more rigorous to compensate. (Tauriel is the current Captain of the Spiderhunters).

Soldiers

The Soldiers of Mirkwood are those who are the most skilled at all-around combat - though in times of need, all Elves in the Guardians are required to participate in whatever battle or war they are fighting. Every Silvan Elf who knows their way around a weapon is a deadly fighter, but most Soldiers are at their most dangerous in open combat, which is something of a rarity among Silvan Elves. (The current Captain of the Soldiers is Legolas, though he is also the head authority of all the Guardians under Thranduil, and he prefers the position of Spiderhunter.)

Imperial Guards

The Imperial Guards of Mirkwood are the fewest in number, but perhaps bear the highest expectations of all the Guardians; their top priority is to guard the royal family of Mirkwood. Where the royals go, they go, and they are also stationed around the Elvenking's Halls for the benefit of citizens as well. They are the elite warriors, and are almost always masters of two or more separate branches of the Guardians. They are the best in the Kingdom, and must take their job very seriously. (They all report directly to the King.)

Though these branches are separate, they are closely connected and very fluid in how they are run; the Silvan Elves are Incredibly good at adapting, learning, and multitasking, so if an Elf starts out being a Scout and then learns they are more suited to being a Soldier, it's an easy change, especially since they all receive the same basic training (for example, my oc Findoron is both a Scout and a Spiderhunter, and simply takes shifts depending on what he is needed for at any particular day). Though there is a very loose hierarchy in the branches, they are all regarded as equally valuable.

The Guardians of Mirkwood are what stands between the Silvan Elves and the growing Darkness, so you can be assured they take their duties very seriously - and despite being smaller in number and less skilled in open combat than the other Elven armies, the Guardians of Mirkwood work like a clock in its prime, as they do everything together and with the survival of their people and their home in mind.

[sotwk]

🌧️ love your work <3

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

“My prince.” Feren spoke again, his forceful tone conflicting with the title he used in deference to the elf-lord he served. “If you will not sleep, you must sustain yourself with something in your belly.”

From "Pain", a Legolas x Reader fic: In the early days of Mirkwood's Darkening, when the Greenwood Elves are still just learning to deal with spiders, Legolas's beloved is badly injured (poisoned!) during a scouting trip. As they wait for help (coming from far away) to arrive, Legolas refuses to leave her side, and here is Feren begging him to eat something.

This WIP has been a bit tricky for me to complete, because I have to nail down my own headcanons regarding Elves' perception of pain, and how they use "magic" to heal grievous injuries, especially ones unfamiliar to them, such as spiders (when they were "new) and other random nasties Dol Guldur started spitting out in those days.

Thank you for the Ask and kind compliment, Anon! <3

[just-an-elf-with-the-socks]

Not that long ago the LotR trilogy was rereleased in theaters for a limited time and I saw them multiple times, three of those being with @ath3alin who watched me take all of these Aralas notes throughout the movies (there’s nothing wrong with canon, it’s just really gay). So I’m gifting them to the internet, you’re welcome.

Fotr:

The scene where Aragorn is singing like a weirdo into space = it was a song that Legolas would sing to him when they were children, and then they would sing it together once Aragorn learned Elvish better. When Frodo asks what woman he sings of, it’s really Legolas, because he misses him

TT:

When the riders of Rohan surround them, the first thing Legolas does is reach for Aragorn so that’s going in a fic at some point

Legolas really just wanted his crush to look cool in literally every moment Aragorn did something he could have done in like two seconds

At least Legolas’ first instinct is to look at Aragorn every time something happens or every time he says something. Like,,this man might as well never be looking anywhere else

“Nobody cares for the woods anymore (That’ll probably be a Thranduil fic somehow, we’ll figure it out)”

I will say, it would be a fun headcanon to have Legolas feel the things the forest does; i.e. their pain, their joy, their sadness. And instead of being weird it’s actually really sweet and Aragorn does find it a bit adorable once he develops feelings for Legolas

Forest scene: Those fuckers are standing ridiculously close to each other. Honestly, I’d like to headcanon that Legolas specifically speaks to Aragorn in Elvish when he’s afraid or nervous

Honestly, Aragorn would be lowkey attracted to the way Legolas absolutely just knocks that guy out with his arm and he doesn’t understand it until later

Let’s be real, Legolas would be so offended when Snake Man smacks Aragorn like that, like “hello, that’s my boyfriend, you’re not my president”

Legolas standing next to Aragorn count: 18

Legolas lowkey being sad not being able to ride beside Aragorn on the way to Helm’s Deep

I genuinely wonder what it would be like if I rewrote the dream sequence. Like, if it was Legolas even though he’s there with him and Aragorn wakes up wishing that the dream were true and, once again, not understanding exactly why he feels that way. Although it does make for a bit of an awkward moment between the two of them in the morning and Legolas is extremely confused

Not sure what to do about the Evenstar, probably just forget about it in the second AU (whatever that would be honestly i have no idea)

Honestly in this second AU i would love to explore whatever the fuck is going on in Mirkwood that Legolas has to deal with and Aragorn realizing that something is fucking with him. Perhaps instead of the Undying Lands scene with Eowyn it’s instead similar to that since we’re speaking about Aragorn staring into the distance

Lowkey Aragorn looking terrified when Legolas just runs off to take out that scout and he’s like “fuck where are you going, don’t go where I can’t follow”

Legolas getting minorly injured in that battle (of the cliff I guess, his face is BROKEN by the way) and doesn’t address it until they find Aragorn and then it genuinely starts to affect him to the point where he finally passes out and everyone is like “FUCK what happened, oh my god he’s hurt”

God Eowyn’s face is nothing compared to Legolas’ when they think Aragorn is dead

Someone would gladly say, I think, “the guy was fucking heartbroken, he wouldn’t rest one fucking second because he knew that’s exactly what you would do and he figured that since he couldn’t save you, this was the least he could do”

The look Legolas gives him when he refuses to rest literally screams “sit the fuck down, I swear to the Valar I’ll kill you myself”

Aragorn: “Why do you hurt? What is your pain? Please, tell me!”

Legolas: “The trees. The Woodland Realm. My…My home. They are dying.”

That whole argument scene, the expressions goddamn

Legolas was definitely helping Aragorn get dressed in his armor what do you mean

Aragorn calling for his husband in the middle of a fight count: 3

Perhaps I’ll headcanon that Legolas does some of the shit he does just to impress Aragorn

RoTK

I imagine Legolas participating in the drinking game with half a desire to impress Aragorn, half a desire to screw with Gimli, and perhaps a hope to attempt to drown his sorrows of unrequited love depending on the story

The scene where Aragorn leaves the others while they sleep, what if he were to speak to Legolas instead of Eowyn

The way they look at each other at exactly the same time is crazy holy shit

It’s a common fandom thought (the one for this ship at least) that Legolas drags Aragorn away from holding the Palantir because he doesn’t want it to hurt him more than it already has (also that Legolas held him in his arms across his chest, that’s fun)

[neechees]

I have this headcanon that, fashion wise, Mirkwood Elves tend to wear corsets/stays for a specific silhouette, but Rivendell & Lorien Elves do not. Men tend to wear corsets that are stiffer (but not restricting) underneath a tunic, but overtop a linen/cotton smock. Women meanwhile tend to wear them as an outer layer to give it a specific look (similar to 17th century Dutch stays), and are especially worn as work wear, and is thus also very popular with Mirkwood scouts/Rangers. Elves of other genders may wear either version, and either style is not restricted by gender but just tends to be more popular with one gender over another.

Mirkwood Elves also tend to favor felting, linen, and silks (traded in from Rhûn & previously, Erebor/Dale) over velvet, which is favored by Elves in Rivendell

[chainsxwsmile]

A younger / teenage Bruce, newly captured by Mordor Orc scouts.

Despite leaving from Mordor in his main story, Bruce originally hails from the wild Olog population in southern Greenwood / Mirkwood, hence his anatomical differences (habit of walking on all fours, sharper incisors, claws instead of nails, etc.).

He was captured at a young age, brought to Mordor, and forced into the fighting pits for food.

// Not sure how happy I am with this. Creative bump in the road tonight

[earthlybeam]

Could you do Galion and Meludir how it would be if you were like Thranduil’s daughter? So the princess of Mirkwood dating (or secretly dating idk) a servant/ guard

how would the elves react to this?

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Galion, Meludir Versions are below.

❤️𝓖𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓷

What they do together (secret dating)

𖦹 Your relationship with Galion is built on the tenderness of shared moments, the weight of secrecy, and the quiet affection that grows in the shadows of Mirkwood’s court. As Thranduil’s trusted butler, Galion is often at the center of palace life, serving your father and managing the household, but when he’s with you, everything else fades into the background. Your bond is a secret you both fiercely protect, and the passion between you smolders quietly, waiting for stolen moments of intimacy.

𖦹 Late-Night Encounters in Hidden Chambers After the palace has fallen silent and the last of the royal guests have retired for the night, you slip away from your chambers to meet Galion in the quiet, forgotten corners of the palace. His room, tucked away from the prying eyes of other servants, becomes your haven. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and you are finally alone. Galion’s fingers brush over your skin with the gentlest touch, and though his expression remains as composed as ever, his eyes—those sharp, intelligent eyes—are full of longing. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s both urgent and tender, as if time itself might stop if you linger long enough.

𖦹 Stolen Kisses in the Gardens When the moon is high, and the palace gardens are bathed in silver light, Galion leads you through the darkened paths, away from the servants and court. The scent of night-blooming flowers fills the air as he draws you close. In the seclusion of a hidden grove, his lips meet yours once more, slower this time, with more intensity. His hands are gentle but firm on your back, holding you close, his breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, “In another life, perhaps…” The words hang in the air, laden with a heavy mix of love and despair.

𖦹 The library is a place of quiet solace, and it’s here where Galion occasionally leaves you small, handwritten notes on scraps of parchment, hidden among the pages of books you’ve borrowed. In the dim candlelight, you sit together between the shelves, pretending to read, but your hearts are focused on one another. When you meet his gaze, you see the flicker of affection that no one else sees. His lips brush your ear as he leans in, whispering softly, “You are the light of my darkened world, but you must never know how deeply I feel.” You hold onto those words like a secret treasure, knowing that, for now, they are all you can have.

𖦹 A Shared Dance in the Quiet of the Palace There are moments when the grand halls of the palace are empty, the music of the night faded into silence. Galion takes your hand, his fingers warm and strong, and leads you to the center of the great ballroom. There’s no audience, no one to watch—just the two of you, dancing in the quiet, with the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. His movements are fluid, graceful, and he pulls you closer, his breath a whisper on your neck as he murmurs, “If only we could dance like this every night, for all to see.” The weight of his words lingers in the stillness, and for a brief moment, it feels as though the entire world belongs to you both.

𖦹 Secret Letters and Tokens of Affection Galion’s love for you is woven into the small, secret tokens he leaves behind—sometimes a carved wooden charm, sometimes a single wildflower from the palace grounds, hidden in your chambers. Each piece is a reminder of him, of the affection that burns so brightly beneath the surface. One evening, he leaves a letter in a book on your desk, written in the finest ink, but his words are filled with such longing that it nearly breaks your heart: “I wish for nothing but to hold you, to love you, as the world spins around us. But here we are, bound by duty and the constraints of a life we never chose.”

𖦹 A Forbidden Touch in the Shadows In the corridors of the palace, amidst the bustle of servants and guards, Galion finds ways to slip his hand into yours for just a moment. No one notices—no one can—because the touch is fleeting, but in that brief instant, you feel the weight of the world shift. His fingers tighten around yours in silent reassurance, the connection between you both undeniable. His touch, though brief, is full of everything unspoken—love, longing, and a quiet promise that no matter how impossible it seems, he will always be there for you.

𖦹 The Pain of Parting Every time you must part, there’s an ache that settles in your chest. As you stand in the shadows, away from the watchful eyes of the palace, Galion brushes his lips against your forehead, his hands cupping your face gently. “I will wait for the day when this secret no longer keeps us apart,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “Until then, we must be patient, my princess. The world does not understand our love, but that does not mean it isn’t real.” The words, though filled with hope, are laced with the bitter knowledge that for now, your love must remain hidden.

𖦹 The Moment of Escape On rare occasions, when the weight of duty and the royal expectations become too heavy, you and Galion manage to escape for just a little while. You slip away from the palace, into the secluded corners of Mirkwood, where the trees offer cover and the sound of the forest becomes the soundtrack to your secret life. In these moments, there is no king, no crown, no responsibility—just the two of you, finding solace in each other’s presence. Galion’s arms are always the place you feel most at home, and when he holds you close, there’s no fear, no looming consequences. Just peace.

Extra

𖦹 Secret Wine Tastings: Galion knows the royal cellars better than anyone, and every now and then, he sneaks a bottle of the finest wine—one your father would never approve of. Late at night, he leads you to a quiet, dimly lit room, away from the court. The rich, deep colors of the wine are reflected in the soft candlelight as Galion pours each glass with careful precision. He teaches you how to distinguish the flavors, and you giggle when you fail to guess the year correctly. As you sip together, the intimacy of the moment deepens, and you forget about the royal expectations. Sometimes, his hand brushes against yours, and the spark that passes between you is undeniable. In these quiet, private moments, you feel more than just his affection—you feel a shared rebellion against the constraints of your life.

𖦹 Late-Night Conversations: When the palace is bathed in the quiet of the night, you meet with Galion in the shadows of the empty halls. The flicker of candlelight illuminates his face as you talk—sometimes about trivial things, like the latest gossip at court, or sometimes about deeper matters. You share your frustrations with him, the weight of your royal duties, and the constant scrutiny of your every move. Galion listens intently, his sharp wit and humor always ready to lighten the mood. He teases you, making you laugh even when you don’t feel like it. His presence is comforting, and in these stolen moments, you can breathe freely. With him, you forget the crown you bear, if only for a little while.

𖦹 Stolen Dances: After the grand feasts, when the courtiers have left and the music fades, Galion finds a way to pull you onto the deserted dance floor. He twirls you playfully, humming an old tune that only the two of you know. His steps are often a bit clumsy, but the joy in his face makes it endearing. You laugh quietly, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders as you sway together in the stillness of the room. These secret dances feel like a world of their own, where the rules don’t apply, and it’s just the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the night. The world may never know, but in that moment, you are free.

𖦹 Letters and Hidden Notes: Galion’s affection is not always expressed with words spoken aloud; sometimes it’s the little gestures that mean the most. He slips small, handwritten notes into your gowns, often when you least expect it. A few lines of a poem, a teasing remark, or an inside joke—each note is a reminder of his presence, even when he’s not near. Occasionally, you find a note tucked between the pages of a book or hidden in a drawer. His writing is neat and precise, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in it that makes your heart flutter. The notes are small treasures, little keepsakes from him, reminders that your bond is still alive, even in the spaces between your meetings.

𖦹 Adventures in the Kitchens: When the palace is quiet and most of the staff have retired for the night, Galion leads you into the kitchens. You two have a secret agreement to make impromptu meals together—chaotic, often ridiculous dishes that leave the cooks shaking their heads the next morning. Flour is thrown, pots clatter, and you laugh until your stomach hurts. Galion’s mischievous grin is always there as you sneak ingredients and create the most unrefined meals. You both are so caught up in the joy of the moment that you forget the palace politics and your royal roles. It’s just the two of you—working side by side, sharing in the simple pleasure of creating something together, even if it’s a culinary disaster.

𖦹 Playful Arguments: No matter how serious your life might be, Galion always finds a way to inject humor into the darkest moments. You find yourselves debating—playfully, of course—about court gossip, wine preferences, or the best way to wear your hair. These debates, often trivial and light-hearted, become the very moments you treasure. In these playful arguments, there’s an underlying affection, a warmth that only the two of you share. Galion is a master of banter, always challenging you to think in different ways. But beneath it all, you can see the care and admiration he holds for you. Even in the midst of conflict, it’s clear that his heart belongs to you.

𖦹 Hidden Keepsakes: Galion is thoughtful, always finding ways to show his affection in small, meaningful ways. He gifts you little tokens of his love—things he’s either found or crafted himself. A carved wooden charm, a small dried flower from the royal gardens, or a delicate necklace made of intricate silver threads. Each keepsake is imbued with his care and thoughtfulness, and they mean the world to you. These small tokens may be hidden in your chambers, tucked away in secret corners of the palace, but they carry the weight of Galion’s love for you. Whenever you see them, your heart swells with the memory of his touch, of the moments shared in secret.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Secret dating - sharing stolen moments

𖦹 The grand library of the Elvenking’s halls was more than just a collection of ancient tomes and scrolls. To many, it was a place of knowledge, a retreat for reflection or study. To you, the princess of Mirkwood, it was a refuge from the weight of expectations and the world outside. A place to breathe freely and escape the constant scrutiny of the court. But it had become something more—a secret sanctuary. You pretended to read, your fingers tracing the ancient script of a dusty book, though your mind was elsewhere, always waiting. The soft rustle of parchment mingled with the distant sounds of the palace, a calm, soothing atmosphere that gave no indication of the thrill growing in your chest. Your eyes skimmed the pages, but all you could focus on was the quiet anticipation, the knowledge that Galion would soon appear. And then, a shift in the air—subtle, barely perceptible. You looked up. Across the room, just beyond the shelves lined with books of history and lore, Galion was there. His figure barely noticeable at first, as always, careful not to draw attention. He was dressed in his usual servant’s attire, his posture as dignified and calm as it had always been, but there was something different now. Something in his eyes, soft and knowing, that spoke to the secret shared between you.

𖦹 He moved slowly, deliberately, his footsteps so quiet that they were almost inaudible against the stone floor. His gaze never left you as he navigated through the labyrinth of bookshelves, eyes dark with longing and care. As he approached, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—slow and restrained, the kind of smile only you were meant to see. You shifted slightly, pretending to adjust your position, your book now nothing but a prop. Your heart beat faster, but you willed yourself to stay composed, the princess you were trained to be. No one could ever know of the bond between you and Galion, not when it was so far beyond what should be. And yet, when he stood before you, it felt as though time had stopped. The world outside faded, leaving just the two of you standing there in the quiet. He leaned in, his presence so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Galion’s hand gently brushed against yours, a casual touch that was anything but. His fingers brushed your skin with the lightest of movements, the contact electrifying and soft. The air between you seemed charged with the quiet excitement of a secret that could never be spoken.

𖦹 A fleeting glance, and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Galion leaned in even closer. His lips, ever so gentle, brushed against yours in a soft, stolen kiss. It was brief but deep, a single moment in time where everything felt real. His lips lingered on yours for the briefest second before he pulled away just enough to look at you, his breath soft and warm against your cheek. “Not a word,” he whispered, his voice low, barely audible against the backdrop of silence. You nodded, your heart fluttering in your chest, a mix of excitement and fear. You both knew this was dangerous, that the king’s halls were full of eyes, but in the library, it felt like a world of your own. Galion’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled back, straightening his posture and giving you a small, knowing smile. His eyes twinkled, and for a moment, you almost forgot the weight of your royal responsibilities, the weight of your title, the weight of your future.

𖦹 The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Galion moved back, blending into the shadows of the shelves, as if he had never been there at all. He knew the importance of discretion, and as much as your heart longed for more, you both understood that the secret was the only thing keeping you safe. You returned to your book, but the warmth of the kiss lingered. The faint taste of wine on his lips, the whisper of his touch—it was all you could think of. But even in your heart, you knew the truth: this was a love that could never be freely spoken, not in the halls of Mirkwood, not in your world. Still, in the quiet corners of the library, you would steal these moments. Small, hidden, fleeting, yet unforgettable.

💛𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓻

What they do together (secret dating)

𑁍 Your connection with Meludir is an intense and quiet passion, one born out of shared moments and whispered words in the shadows. As a scout for Mirkwood, Meludir’s life is one of constant motion, of being on the edges of the kingdom, away from the politics of the court. But when he’s with you, the world outside fades, and all that matters is the closeness between you two, the stolen moments that make your heart ache with longing.

𑁍 Stolen Moments in the Forest’s Embrace Deep within Mirkwood’s heart, where the trees are thick and the world feels like it belongs only to you two, Meludir waits for you. You slip away from the palace, through the dense underbrush, and find him waiting with a faint smile and open arms. The moonlight filters through the branches, bathing the two of you in silvery light. His fingers brush your cheek, and in that instant, the world feels suspended in time. A kiss follows—gentle at first, slow and full of the unspoken affection between you both. In the silence of the forest, where no one can see, you allow yourselves to be free.

𑁍 Quiet Whispered Words Beneath the Trees In these hidden places, Meludir speaks to you with a vulnerability that few ever see. His words are low and filled with longing. “Sometimes,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, “I think of a life where there are no walls between us, no rules to follow.” His voice is soft, his words raw with emotion. “But we live in the shadows, and our love must remain there, for now.” His breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, a reminder of how much you wish the world could be different.

𑁍 Touching Without Words During your secret meetings, there are moments where no words are needed. When you are close, his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in a silent promise. A shared glance is enough to communicate everything: the depth of your feelings, the ache of being apart. His hand brushes against your arm in quiet affection as you walk together, your bodies close, yet still aware of the dangers. The heat between you both builds with every fleeting touch, each one full of passion but masked by the need for secrecy.

𑁍 Secret Kisses in Hidden Places Meludir’s kisses are urgent but tender, filled with the kind of desire that only grows in secrecy. Under the cover of night, you press your lips against his, feeling the heat of his touch and the softness of his mouth. His kisses are a promise, a taste of the life you could have, but one that must remain out of reach for now. His hands hold you tight, as if fearing that letting go will make the moment disappear. Each kiss lingers longer than the last, as though you both are savoring the time you have before you are forced to part.

𑁍 The Comfort of His Arms When the world feels overwhelming, Meludir is your refuge. In the solitude of the forest or a quiet corner of the palace, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as though protecting you from the very kingdom you are bound to rule. There, in the comfort of his embrace, you can finally relax, your worries momentarily forgotten. He holds you tightly, whispering soft assurances into your hair: “No matter the cost, I will always find my way back to you, my princess.”

𑁍 Gifts of Affection On quiet mornings, Meludir leaves small tokens for you—often something he’s found during his travels through the woods. A flower, a carved piece of wood, or a delicate feather—simple things, yet full of meaning. You keep them close, treasures hidden in the deepest part of your chambers, reminders of his love and devotion. In return, you gift him something precious—a piece of jewelry that belonged to your mother, a token that speaks of your own affection, your trust in him, even though the world would never understand.

𑁍 The Silent Vow of Devotion One evening, while hidden in the shadows of the trees, Meludir takes your hands in his and looks into your eyes with an intensity that makes your heart race. “I cannot promise you a life free of struggle,” he says, his voice firm but full of emotion. “But I can promise you this: I will always fight for us, even if it’s in the quietest of ways, even if no one else sees it. You will always be my heart, no matter what happens.” The vow, though unspoken, hangs heavy between you—an unbreakable bond, even if it’s one forged in secrecy.

𑁍 An Unspoken Bond During Patrols On the rare occasions when Meludir is called to guard or patrol near the palace, you steal away to where he is, hidden in the trees or the edges of the garden. Even in the light of day, the mere proximity to him is enough to send your heart racing. As he stands watch, you walk up quietly, and without a word, he pulls you into the shadows of the forest. There, he kisses you with a passion that is both a reminder of the danger you live under and a promise of the love that still burns between you.

𑁍 Shared Dreams of a Future Together When the night is quiet, and you’ve shared a rare moment of peace, you talk about a future where your love is no longer a secret. A future where you can walk through Mirkwood’s forest hand-in-hand without fear, where no title, no royal decree, and no King’s command can keep you apart. “Perhaps one day,” Meludir says, his voice full of hope, “we will no longer have to hide. Perhaps one day, we will be free.”

𑁍 The Heartache of Separation Every time your time together comes to an end, there is a deep ache in your chest. Meludir holds you close, his lips brushing your forehead, whispering a promise: “This will not be the last time.” And while you can’t be sure when or how things will change, there is one truth that remains—your love for him is undeniable, and no matter the constraints of your duties, the bond between you and Meludir can never be broken.

Extra

𑁍 Midnight Meetings in Hidden Glades: The darkness of night is your ally, and under its cover, you sneak away from the palace to meet Meludir. He waits for you in the quietest, most secluded part of the forest, where the moonlight flickers through the thick canopy of trees. When you step into the clearing, Meludir is already there, his eyes gleaming with affection as he pulls you into his arms. The world around you seems to fall away as he whispers promises of love and devotion, his voice low and intimate. “Here, in this quiet place, we are free,” he murmurs, and for a few precious moments, it feels like the entire world belongs to just the two of you.

𑁍 Lingering Touches During Patrols: Meludir’s duties as a scout keep him on the move, but when you visit him under the guise of checking on his patrols, your heart races with anticipation. As you pass him, you press a small token of your affection into his hand—a carved stone, a flower, something small but meaningful. Your fingers linger, a fleeting but electric touch that speaks volumes. You can feel his pulse quicken beneath your fingers, the silent promise of the next time you’ll meet in secret. These brief moments, filled with longing, are enough to sustain you both until you can slip away again.

𑁍 Secret Kisses Among the Trees: The forest is your sanctuary, and in its depths, you steal moments that belong only to you and Meludir. In the shadowed embrace of the trees, he leans in to kiss you, his lips gentle but insistent. The kiss is brief but intense, full of longing and desire. The sound of the wind in the leaves and the soft rustle of branches is all that surrounds you, and for that moment, nothing else matters. These stolen kisses, hidden from the eyes of the world, feel like eternity in his arms. You know that your time together is fleeting, but the connection between you is undeniable, and each kiss fuels the fire of your love.

𑁍 Coded Messages: As a scout, Meludir has learned the art of subtlety, and he uses his skills to send you secret messages. The notes are carefully hidden—tucked into hollowed-out trees, beneath stones, or in places where only you would know to look. The runes are written in an ancient elvish code, a language only the two of you fully understand. Each message is a reminder of the connection between you, a way to stay close even when you cannot meet. The final lines often read something like, “Meet me where the stars touch the water,” a cryptic message that signals when and where your next secret meeting will be.

𑁍 Sharing a Cloak in the Chill of the Night: On colder nights, when the air bites at your skin and the stars shine coldly above, Meludir offers you the warmth of his cloak. As you both sit side by side, watching the sky, his arm slips around you, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body shields you from the chill, but it’s the closeness you crave. The feeling of his heart beating against yours, the soft pressure of his body against yours, fills you with a sense of peace that nothing else can offer. In these moments, when the world feels so vast and the dangers so close, Meludir’s arms are a sanctuary, a promise that no matter what happens, you will always have each other.

𑁍 Carved Tokens of Love: Meludir expresses his love through small, meaningful gestures. He spends hours carving little tokens for you—wooden figures of birds, leaves, or stars, each one imbued with the quiet devotion he feels for you. These small creations are left for you to find when you are apart. They are reminders of his presence, even when you cannot be together. When you find one, you press flowers into his hands in return, each one carefully chosen for its symbolism. “Keep this close until we meet again,” you whisper to him, and he tucks the flowers into his cloak, holding them as if they are the most precious things in the world.

𑁍 Whispered Words of Devotion: As dawn begins to threaten the end of your secret meetings, Meludir holds you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. The weight of the world seems to press down on you both, but for now, in this moment, there is only the love you share. He whispers words of devotion into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “No matter where the world takes us, I will find my way back to you,” he promises, his words steady, a vow that echoes in the stillness of the morning. As you stand there, wrapped in his embrace, you know that despite the risks, despite the dangers, this love will endure. His promise is the thread that ties you together, no matter the distance or time apart.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Secret dating - sharing stolen moments

𑁍 The night had settled over Mirkwood like a blanket, the shadows of the trees stretching long and deep into the heart of the forest. The stars shone faintly through the gaps in the dense canopy above, but the moonlight was pale and distant, casting only soft beams upon the forest floor. The air was crisp, carrying with it the familiar scent of earth, moss, and the promise of rain. Meludir led you through the thick underbrush, his steps sure and light despite the darkness surrounding you. The sounds of the forest seemed to fall silent around him, as if the trees themselves recognized the quiet intensity of the moment. His hand brushed against yours as he guided you forward, fingers slipping between yours in a gesture so familiar and comforting, you could almost forget the world around you.

𑁍 You had always been careful-careful to keep your relationship with Meludir a secret from your father, careful to never let anyone discover the tenderness between the two of you. Being Thranduil's daughter came with its own set of burdens, the weight of expectations heavy on your shoulders, the weight of your father's duty to the kingdom pressing down on every decision you made. But here, with Meludir, none of that mattered. In the solitude of the forest, you could escape the gilded cage of court life, if only for a few stolen moments. The Watchtower loomed ahead of you, an ancient structure long forgotten by most of Mirkwood's people. The stone walls, weathered by centuries of wind and rain, stood against the encroaching darkness like a silent sentinel watching over the land. It was here, away from the prying eyes of the kingdom, that Meludir had brought you countless times before—a sanctuary in the heart of the forest.

𑁍 The door to the tower creaked open, its hinges long neglected, but Meludir's hand was gentle as he ushered you inside. The space was simple, just a small room with a narrow staircase leading to the upper platform, offering a breathtaking view of the sprawling woodland below. The scent of old stone mixed with the fresh, earthy air from the open window, and the soft breeze stirred the loose strands of your hair. As you stepped further inside, you could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken words that hung between you, neither of you daring to speak of the inevitable separation that always came too soon. Meludir's eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of something-something deeper than the usual warmth and affection. There was longing in his gaze, a desperate kind of yearning that mirrored your own. "I shouldn't have brought you here," he murmured, his voice low, rough with emotion. He stepped closer, his hand moving to rest against the stone wall beside you, as if the touch of it could ground him. "This place... it's not safe. If anyone were to find us..." His words trailed off, and you could see the worry in his eyes—the fear that you would be discovered. But you only shook your head, a soft smile curving your lips as you placed a hand on his chest. "I trust you, Meludir. Here, with you... I feel more alive than I ever have. More free than I ever could be in the palace."

𑁍 His gaze softened, and for a moment, he seemed to lose himself in the depths of your eyes. The weight of his responsibility, the danger of being caught, seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet connection between you. His hand rose to your cheek, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin as if memorizing the sensation. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch, the heat of his palm seeping into your skin. “I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to be the reason you lose everything. You're the daughter of the Elvenking. You deserve more than a scout who spends his nights sneaking around in the shadows." His words were a quiet echo of the insecurities that haunted him-his doubts about his worth, his place in your world. But you wouldn't let him go down that path, not now, not when you needed him so desperately. You reached up to take his hand in both of yours, pulling him closer. "I don't care about titles," you whispered, your voice barely a breath against his lips. "I care about you. This— us—it's all that matters to me." The vulnerability in his eyes softened, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was slow at first, tentative, as if each of you were testing the waters of something too precious to lose. But soon, that tenderness was replaced by something more urgent, more consuming, as if the world outside this moment had no claim on either of you.

𑁍 His hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him, the warmth of his body pressing into yours. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and uneven, matching your own, as if your souls had found their rhythm together. The kiss deepened, a dance of lips and breath, a desperate, beautiful connection that both of you had longed for in secret. In the darkness of the tower, time seemed to stretch and bend, the world outside forgotten. The scent of the forest mixed with the heat of the moment, filling your senses as Meludir's hands slid down your back, pulling you closer still, his touch gentle yet insistent, as if he feared this moment would slip away too quickly. You had always felt safe in the forest, but here, in his arms, you felt a kind of peace you had never known. The rest of the world-your father, your duty, the constraints of being the princess of Mirkwood-faded into nothingness. There was only the feeling of his lips against yours, the softness of his touch, and the steady presence of his heart beating in time with your own. And for just a moment, there was no right or wrong, no rules or titles-only Meludir, and the world that seemed to disappear with each kiss.

[hazedwords]

IDEA:

What if there was an elf that has such poor eyesight its equivalent to human eyesight.

Imagine the elf squinting to attempt to make out what’s in the forest, but all they seeing is trees and leaves. ‘Ooh! A flower, my Adar likes those!’ Maybe once in a while.

Imagine the elf was a Mirkwood Elf.

Mirkwood Elf getting into a fight after being made fun of for their eyesight and being sentenced to scouting as a punishment.

Imagine them being so stubborn they signed up for scouting in the night with Legolas’ as the scout party’s captain.

“Mellon, is it just me, or is that big log moving towards us?”

*Sighs for the hundredth time* “It’s a spider, _____.”

[imagines--galore]

Hi! How are you? I saw your request for lotr characters are open, and was wondering if you could write something Legolas x reader. Where the reader is an elf (or maybe a dúnedain). And she and the prince elf had known each other since forever, but over time took separate paths because of their duties. And now after many years they are finally reunited for one last adventure. (It could be to help Frodo destroy to ring, or something entirely diferent).

Thank youuu!!

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance if you squint.

Translation: Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo, Legolas. - A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Legolas.

A/N: Cannot believe I missed this in my ask box. I hope you like this Anon! And I'm so sorry for being so late about it. Also I'm making the reader an elf.

The journey had been long and brutal, yet they had to have speed on their side. There was no time to be lost. The Uruk-Hai would be marching upon Helm's Deep soon. Thank the Valar, the weather had been in your favor. As Helm's Deep came into view, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement settle within you.

It had been so long since you had seen Legolas. Too long in fact. Since the beginning of the Quest for the Ring, you had only just missed him and his companions while you were having your own adventures. You were a mere Ranger of Lothlórien, yet somehow, the Prince of Mirkwood himself had deemed you worthy enough of his friendship. At first you had considered it an honor, but as time had passed, the two of you began to build a relationship built on a trust that ran deep.

You had been most disappointed when you had returned from a scouting trip, only to be told that the Prince had left with his comrades. Despite the urge to go after them, you had stayed. You had a duty to the Woods you called him and the Lord and Lady that ruled over them.

But when Elrond had made that call, calling elves to arm to help man fight against the darkness that had swept across their land, you had been one of the first to volunteer. Had been the first to pack your necessities and filled your quivers with the finest arrows, before shouldering the bow he had gifted you long ago.

It had been years and years since you had been in his presence, and you had realized, quite early on, that you felt his absence greatly. It was surprising to you at first, and yet, as time went by, it had become clear.

You were in love with Legolas. Perhaps had been the moment you had first met him.

But now would not be the time to discuss such matters. They were at war. A battle was to be had, and if the outcome was in their favor, you promised yourself you would act on your feelings and see what he would have to say.

As you and the rest of the elves marched into Helm's Deep, you were made aware of every man looking in your direction, or rather in the general direction of the army. You had barely lifted your head when your eyes caught sight of an achingly familiar head of golden silvery hair. You lowered your gaze once more, hiding your smile.

Haldir, your Captain, greeted King Théoden, and Aragorn thanked him for arriving so timely. You hadn't seen Aragorn in quite some time too, perhaps this would be a reunion for the ages? Aragorn embraced Haldir, as did Legolas, both visibly glad at their coming. You were standing right behind the Captain as the elves shifted in their position to look straight ahead.

It was then that Legolas looked from over Hadlir's shoulder. His eyes widened. Your name fell from his lips in a whisper. Despite the fact that you would be breaking a few rules, you glanced at your Captain who smiled and gave a small nod. Stepping forward, you reached up to pull back your hood. A few surprised gasps followed your act, the men having not expected a female to be amongst the elven army. What they didn't realize was that there were just as many females as there were male elves.

"Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo, Legolas." You greeted him in Elvish, eyes wide and hopeful as you smiled at him. Another call of your name, this time louder before he embraced you. A small laugh fell from your lips as you wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, returning the embrace. He picked you up and swung you around once, before setting you back on solid ground.

Neither of you cared that there were so many eyes on you, yet everyone seemed to want to share in your joy. To catch a glimpse of a joyful moment such as two friends reuniting after so long. They were to face the ugliness of battle soon. This would be there last bit of beauty before that. Théoden called for the Captain of his Guard to show the elves where they would be positioned. Aragorn began to speak to Haldir of strategies, prompting you to glance in the direction of your Captain.

"You were never one to shy away from a fight were you?" Legolas asked, with his arms bracing your own, as if to reassure himself that you were still here. That you truly were in front of him. You smiled at him. "And let you have all the fun?" You teased, though you could sense the underlying worry in his eyes. He surged forward to press his lips to your brow, closing his eyes as if in a silent prayer.

"Stay safe my friend. We have much to speak of." He whispered against your skin, prompting you to nod and close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you memorized his scent once more. "That we do Legolas. I shall see you once we have won." You said with conviction. There was not a doubt in your heart that you would loose. Not when you had Legolas at your side.

With a parting glance, and a joining of the hands that lingered until you had to step away from him, you disappeared into the crowd to do get to your station, just as Legolas turned to take care of his own duties.

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

A/N: Hmmmmm should i continue this?

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 4k (each individual around 230~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : Drinking, implied arranged marriage that doesn't happen & isn't between reader and Faramir (Faramir), nothing else

« 1, 2, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ As one of the Dúnedain rangers who looked after the Shire, you had instantly gone to Frodo's side once Gandalf showed up. Although you didn't know the full details of the plan (they hadn't yet trusted you with the secrets of the ring) you agreed to escort them to Bree so they could meet with Gandalf there.

✧ Aragorn noticed you first when you entered The Prancing Pony, carefully herding the hobbits in and making sure that they didn't run off, or get into trouble.

✧ When you look around to try and spot Gandalf he begins to slip into the shadows out of habit, but stops himself and stays easily seen. Aragorn doesn’t know why he lets you see him, but the tension even slightly leaving your eyes seems to make it worth it. Even in the light, you both recognise each other as Dúnedain. 

✧ After Aragorn takes Frodo to a separate room, he barely has time to begin his greetings before you swing open the door with the other hobbits and a sword to his neck demanding you release him.

✧ Normally he’d be intimidated, perhaps on guard with you, but even with a sword to his neck the first feeling he gets is admiration - it’s rare to catch him off guard like you have.

✧ The two of you work well together, even though you're slightly suspicious of him, and when Frodo decides to place his trust in the ranger you give it to him as well.

✧ While setting up the fake hobbits together there's some debate over who will keep watch and eventually both of you stay up together (sitting in a comfortable silence).

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Even if Denethor hadn’t approved of Faramir going to Rivendell, he did allow you to accompany Boromir to the valley. (You had gone because Faramir asked you, saying your job - a ranger who often scouted Mordor - would be valuable, even if he didn’t know why).

✧ When you had finally arrived in Rivendell you didn’t immediately admire the scenery, instead focusing on finally being (truly) clean after over a hundred days of travel.

✧ Once you were happy with yourself you thought it only right to look at the beauty of Rivendell, wandering aimlessly.

✧ It was then, after taking the same turn for the third time, that an elf suddenly appeared with a pitying look and asked if you had ever been to Rivendell before.

✧ Legolas is delighted when you take him up on his offer to show you around (Mirkwood is not exactly the best place to roam) and takes great pleasure in showing you different places.

✧ At almost every turn he asks you which places you’d prefer to see, taking you on a rather haphazard tour (although he doesn’t seem phased by it).

✧ He doesn’t recognise your Gondorian accent at first, but once he does he’s eager to ask more about it and your opinions.

✧ Eventually, as the stars and moon begin to light your walk, you apologise and explain you must be up early in the morning for an important meeting.

✧ Realising you’ll also be at the Council of Elrond, Legolas wishes you a good night’s rest and that he will see you soon.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Gandalf, over the years, employed many people to subtly watch over the Shire - and you were one of them.

✧ Traditionally based in Bree, you had been honoured to be chosen by the grey wizard and kept a close eye on the Baggins family.

✧ Eventually, after being slightly careless the day before, Bilbo manages to find and confront you about your intentions (albeit aided by the one ring).

✧ After learning you're a friend of Gandalf, he quickly invites you in to talk about it over luncheon.

✧ Frodo is surprised when you suddenly appear with his uncle for food, but he accepts it.

✧ The two of you are quick to bond when you talk about your travels - even if most are only a few days away from the Shire.

✧ He's completely enamoured by you - and Bilbo eats quickly to excuse himself and let you two be alone.

✧ You reinforce his ideas of going on one of Bilbo’s grand adventures, and after luncheon is over Frodo asks you to stay so that you may talk some more.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the day pouring over old maps as you tell him the facts you’ve learnt about those places from the wild, while he shares the facts that his beloved books tell him.

✧ When you realise the time you try to excuse yourself, but Bilbo insists you spend the night in a guest room.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Like most of the Shire, you were out in the summer festival - enjoying the field that had been cleared to make way for food, dancing, tents, hobbits sitting about, and more food.

✧ Predictably, your friends had dragged you into dancing, they wanted to as well but were too scared to go alone, and then had left you without partners you knew.

✧ The first few spins had been fun, but eventually you needed to take a break and actually enjoy what else the festival had to offer.

✧ As you stand close to the dancers, a hobbit with darker curly hair (the younger Baggins) comes up to.

✧ You ready yourself to say no to dancing, but instead he asks if you’ll dance with his friend.

✧ The words ‘no’ die in your mouth as you see the hobbit next to him, shy but looking on hopefully at the dancing before casting a glance to you.

✧ “Gladly.”

✧ To your pleasant surprise, he’s a decent dancer, and when you both run out of energy to go again Sam rushes to get you both food and seats.

✧ It’s a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but over the food he’s collected and the cheer in the air you can’t help thinking of just how sweet Samwise already is to you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Being a hobbit from Bree meant you didn’t often travel to the Shire - it was a rather long distance after all - but it was always nice when you did.

✧ Like travelling to the harvest festival for when the crops started to become bountiful, and everything would be freshly picked and perfectly cooked. You could celebrate in Bree, but food based festivals are always better when done by hobbits.

✧ You’re stuck on what stall to eat from first, overwhelmed at all the options, when a young hobbit suddenly taps you on the shoulder and asks if you need help in choosing something.

✧ Deciding to trust the locals you say yes, and it’s rewarded by a large smile from the hobbit before Merry introduces himself then instantly begins to drag you to a further away stall - talking about all the different options, before trying to guess what flavour you’d like.

✧ He gets above five flavours in before stopping, and saying you should choose what you want - not what he thinks.

✧ When you decide, his eyes seem to light up even more as he tells you that’s his favourite too.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the night together, and he eventually asks if you’re from Bree.

✧ You say yes but that you’re staying for a while, to which Merry immediately offers to show you around the Shire - offering a date for tomorrow.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ As one of Elrond’s advisors, you’re aware that something big is going to happen soon. Any elf in Rivendell can feel it, especially when you’re privy to whispers of information such as ‘Sauron’ and ‘the one ring’.

✧ What you aren’t expecting is for this ‘something’ to be in the form of hobbits, one brought by Arwen - and the other three to be brought by Aragorn.

✧ Knowing the Nazgul’s attack on them, you wait on the borders of Rivendell for Isildur’s heir and his company.

✧ When Pippin sees you, almost silhouetted by the falling sun, he believes for a second you might be an angel.

✧ Even when you move to where he can see you (and begin admonishing Aragorn in Elvish) he still can’t shake the feeling that someone like you is too good for him and the hobbits.

✧ He doesn’t realise he’s staring, or blushing, until you come in front of him and gently kneel to check his forehead, asking if he’s ok.

✧ It takes him a second to respond - which probably doesn’t give too much confidence - but you accept his answering, welcoming him to Rivendell.

✧ The place is beautiful, but when you leave them to inform Lord Elrond of their arrival he can’t help thinking the place is already not quite as good.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ It was at times like this, when you’d been called away from the crucial stronghold of Osgiliath because of ‘important meetings’, that you wished the rangers didn’t have to listen to Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, and could instead listen to his younger brother, your actual commander.

✧ This thought was probably shared among a lot of the rangers, but you were the only one brave enough to say it, which is why you were currently in what reminded you suspiciously of a school’s detention room.

✧ Apparently this was a good deterrent, seeing as only you were in here, holding a small slip of paper that says ‘Disrespectful to the Captain of the White Tower’.

✧ The door opens, finally, and you’re just about to express your thanks to them for actually showing up when you realise who it is.

✧ Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, stares back at you just as you realise you’re going to have to tell this man what you did.

✧ Trying to master the art of vanishing from Middle Earth, you can feel yourself blushing when you hand him your write-up slip.

✧ There’s a second of silence before a small laugh escapes him, and he looks at you more directly before asking what you said.

✧ You’re honest about it, and to your surprise he asks you for clarification and follow-ups, actually listening to your suggestions.

✧ In the end, it’s a bell chiming that snaps you out of your discussions and when the two of you get up to leave he opens the door with a smile, wishing you a good day.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ For the last three years, the Lord Steward had tried to find a betrothed for his eldest son, Boromir. For the last three years you had consistently refused to go. This year, however, your parents had finally put their foot down and made you attend the ceremony.

✧ It was a very small chance he’d choose you, and a (hopefully) even smaller chance the engagement would become anything.

✧ But on the chance it would, you decide to do what anyone would do, and get slightly drunk in a tavern to try and hook up with someone.

✧ With incredible wisdom, you had taken up a spot in a dark corner where literally no-one was approaching you.

✧ And then someone does.

✧ You’re shocked he hasn’t already found someone; not many people would turn down the man in front of you.

✧ In the tavern light his grey eyes seem to shine, his hair a gorgeous colour that reminds you of sweet caramel and looks incredibly soft.

✧ Moved, not entirely by the drink, you find yourself going over - saying a comment and trying to smile, laughing at his response.

✧ There’s a second of silence between the two of you and you realise how close you are.

✧ You close the gap, and the two of you are kissing - you’re going back against the wall and your hands reach out to pull him closer - then it stops.

✧ A muttered apology is all you get before he leaves.

✧ And in the morning you’re left with the vague memory of a kiss, a memory of a semi-familiar man, and a hangover.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ As Aragorn’s younger sibling, you’re no stranger to people fawning over your brother. That does not mean, however, it doesn’t amuse you and you don’t tease him incredibly.

✧ You watch Aragorn leave the stables, having just enough time to congratulate him on his new horse, and his new admirer, before said admirer appears.

✧ Although you tease your brother you’re still good to the people who fall for him, and you give a respectful nod to the girl - Éowyn.

✧ She smiles back at you, before her eyes flicker between you and your brother. It’s a tale as old as time, and you sit up slightly straighter.

✧ What you don't expect, however, is for her to compare you in terms of spirit - how both of you seem elven, and noble.

✧ Normally people make a shallower comparison, or just go to you to confirm facts, and it’s refreshing and nice to hear that instead.

✧ You confirm your relation to him, before focusing your attention back on her. That her nature seems noble as well, and that it seems like her uncles.

✧ When she glows at the compliment you smile, and the next few minutes of small talk are pleasant before you’re pulled away.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ You first see Éomer while waiting for his sister to arrive, humming to yourself in the great wooden halls.

✧ To your credit you only jump a little when he appears out of no-where, and on his part he is most apologetic.

✧ From his perspective, he came because he heard the sound of your humming - better than the songs sung over festivals in this hall - and wishes to know from whom it came.

✧ He’s silent at first, scared to move in case he startles you too badly - and not wanting to be loud and disrupt the song.

✧ Hesitantly, he asks who you are - and if you are the friend his sister has spoken so highly of.

✧ When you confirm that is you, he says it’s an honour to meet you and he’s glad you’ve been such a good friend to his sister.

✧ There’s a pause again, and just when you’re about to speak Éowyn appears by your side and ready to go.

✧ As happy as you are to go with her, something in you is regretful you could not spend more time getting to know Éomer.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ In jail for assaulting a counsellor, especially as a guard of Laketown, is not exactly how you expected your Friday shift to go. Still, when you stare at the girl next to you (Sigrid) you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad about doing what you did.

✧ You had simply seen Alfrid towering over her, her being clearly uncomfortable - and you had pulled him off when things got physical. It was bad luck Sigrid had punched him at the same time, landing you both in jail.

✧ The girl seems more apologetic around you being here than her actions, to be honest, and she keeps reassuring you that her dad will come soon to sort things out.

✧ On Bard’s part, the news that his daughter is in jail for punching a counsellor is not what he wanted to hear but he goes out immediately. He’s about to head off when Sigrid tells him about you, and of course Bard realises he needs to get you out as well.

✧ When a drop-dead gorgeous man appears outside your cell, your mind begins to debate the merits of flirting your way out before he introduces himself as Sigrid’s father.

✧ Once you get out he thanks you profusely, as well as apologising for his daughter, but you wave him off with a smile.

✧ Bard can barely believe someone with this much honour still exists in this place, and makes a small note to thank whatever’s out there for having you look after his daughter.

✧ Eventually, you manage to convince him to stop thanking you and to let you go home - although when the man gives you one more piece of sincere praise you can’t find yourself annoyed.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ As you sit at a beautifully carved, uncomfortable desk you realise you’re not as nervous as you probably should be to meet the king.

✧ You’ve seen him before, of course, looking at him when all the elves of Mirkwood are out - or gossiping with the other single elves about what are decidedly fantasies. But you’ve never spoken.

✧ As a private tutor, in written work and fighting, you had jumped at the opportunity to mentor Prince Legolas.

✧ The door opens and you rise to your feet immediately, going into a deep bow.

✧ As Thranduil bids you to rise, you can feel his eyes sweeping over you and looking for any imperfections.

✧ Instead of cowering you meet his gaze, and you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his face before it becomes more serious.

✧ The interview, one of many, is surprisingly pleasant and you find it easy to talk to him.

✧ When you are made to leave, he watches you exit, thinking about saying something before thanking you for your performance and interest in the role.

✧ It’s a small gesture, but to be thanked by the king? It puts a bounce in your step for the rest of the day.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ As the tenth shot in as many minutes hits the target perfectly, you can’t help but wish to use your sword, and against something that isn’t a training dummy.

✧ Elves are known for being archers, and although you’re skilled with a bow it’s easier to stand out with exceptional sword-mastery than exceptional marksmanship.

✧ Then, a voice behind you asks if you want to spar together - an offer almost too good to be true.

✧ Turning around you vaguely recognise the elf in front of you, her hair is distinctive, and you ask if she too is trying to join the royal guard.

✧ Tauriel confirms it, and then the two of you get into position.

✧ There’s something incredibly satisfying about a good match-up and the two of you fight well together.

✧ You’re mostly evenly matched, and it takes a lot of effort to push on the offensive and get her closer to the wall.

✧ Eventually, she wins the first fight. But as you both stand there, catching your breath and smiling at each other, you bear no grudge.

✧ You only ask if she wants a re-match.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Anyone wanting to become a healer knows that the halls of the elves are the best places to go, if you wish to learn, so here you are. Three weeks travel deep into your route to Rivendell.

✧ Whilst riding you can’t help feeling something is off about the place - almost as if you’re being watched - but you chalk it up to elven magic.

✧ Then you see an elf, near the borders and picking some kind of flower. He has long, dark hair and you’re reminded just how ethereal the elves are compared to the race of men.

✧ And then all hell breaks loose.

✧ Just as you’re about to call out in greeting, a small band of orcs come out of the trees - you recognize the monster as what they are, instantly drawing your bow.

✧ Lindir sees the orcs approaching, quickly getting out his dagger while cursing his luck.

✧ As an orcish blade pierces him, blood instantly spilling from his side, he begins to wonder if this could be the end before an arrow suddenly goes though the orcs head.

✧ There’s barely time to react as a horse with a rider gallops past him, holding their hand out and pulling him up before wheeling back around to finish off the last orc.

✧ You barely have time to celebrate your victory when you feel the elf beside you slump into unconsciousness, clearly from the bloodloss.

✧ You wish you could say you entered Rivendell in a better way, rather than with a highly wounded elf at your side, but enter Rivendell like that you do.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had been alerted of people in the woods of Lothlórien by the Lady as soon as they had arrived, and had found them quickly.

✧ He was rather disappointed in how easily his troops went undetected, not even by Isildur’s heir or the elves from a distance.

✧ You had been uneasy as soon as you walked into the woods, convinced something was watching you. As an elf you of course knew of Galadriel’s powers, but whatever you could sense was more imminent.

✧ Then, with the quietest of sounds, you hear bows being drawn and arrows knocked into place.

✧ On instinct you draw your bow at the same time as your prince does, except you're quick enough to fire the arrow.

✧ The second the arrow leaves your bow you recognise the elves, and instantly you attempt to bat the arrow down again - wincing as you knock it just enough off target to miss the lead elf.

✧ As Haldir feels the arrow whistle past him, his first thought is that of admiration - the intensity in your eyes to protect this band of people.

✧ Opening your mouth to apologise, he holds a hand to stop you and congratulate you on your shot before turning to the more serious matters of the Fellowship.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As one of only a handful of elves still in their first century, it’s no wonder that you were eventually introduced to the Sons of Elrond.

✧ It had been in one of Rivendell’s great libraries, and although both looked interested to meet you there was one you were more interested in meeting.

✧ Elrohir had been the one to make introductions first, declaring their names before politely asking yours.

✧ Elladan on the other hand hung back slightly. You were beautiful, a full elf, and something about that made him slightly intimidated.

✧ It wasn’t until you had all sat down and you were looking around the library he realised just how compatible you were.

✧ “What books would you recommend?”

✧ The question is simple, but Elladan immediately latches onto it and begins to ask questions - what genre are you looking for, would you like something sad? Would you like a story or a historical account - and if so from which time period?

✧ He speaks fast enough that his elvish begins to flow together, but you keep up with him just as well.

✧ In almost no time the two of you are off the chairs, and he eagerly leads you to the section you're looking for.

✧ Your eyes widen as you gaze upon the piles of stacked books, neatly organised and in shelves.

✧ From the sidelines Elladan watches eagerly, and for the first time since his brother he feels he has finally found a kindred spirit.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ When Elrohir rides into the Battle of Pelennor Fields with the army of the dead he can practically feel the relief of the soldiers, and wonders if there are many greater feelings in life that this.

✧ Almost two hours later, as the fighting dies down and he begins to look for the wounded he decides there probably aren’t.

✧ He doesn’t realise someone is calling, or at least calling specifically him, until the person yells for the ‘half-elf with the horse’

✧ Elrohir has no idea who the person is, but the fact they don’t refer to him as an elf already makes him love them.

✧ Going over, he sees you crouching beside a clearly wounded soldier - one of their legs incredibly damaged.

✧ Looking up you ask if he can transport them to the Houses of Healing, as not to aggrevate the wound further.

✧ He instantly agrees before hesitantly asking where they are.

✧ Upon seeing the slight despair in your eyes, he holds out the reins of his horse to you.

✧ “Fly swift with him. I’ll keep searching for wounded and sending more up. Return him to me when he’s no longer needed.”

✧ You can hardly believe your luck - but it isn’t for you to question, instead thanking him on behalf of Gondor before going as quickly as you can to the Houses.

Hope you enjoyed! Here are the details about requests, and again thanks for reading!

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[rohirric-hunter]

Hey who wants to hear some very mean observations about the skirmish Strike Against Dannenglor while I'm here

At the beginning of the skirmish, Dundurion says that the prisoners have been held at Dannenglor for "nearly a week:"

Well the Golden Host has been in Mirkwood for three days, max. These people were prisoners before the assault on Mirkwood.

I picked up on this before the Angle was released, but there's some confirmation and a bit more information to be found there: Idhrenfair and Prestadir, the two Rangers from this skirmish, and Himeinior, who is not involved in the skirm but can be found elsewhere in Mirkwood, left Tornhad together most likely before the Player Character went to Angmar, based on the level of the area. They don't say where they're going, but it seems likely that they were headed east to do some sort of scouting or reconnaissance around Dol Guldur. Perhaps the Elves who are in this skirm were from Lothlorien, and assisting with this goal. (They don't mention them, but is this perhaps among the reasons why Celeborn and Galadriel agreed to this foolhardy assault, thoughts of the scouts who had crossed the river some time before, and not sent a message in far too long?) In any event, it seems as if Himeinior was likely a part of their group, and not with the Golden Host, since he was with Prestadir and Idhrenfair before, but he either evaded capture when the others were taken or escaped earlier on his own.

Of the five prisoners you rescue, four of them are at the exits of the fortress, by the gate you come in, by another gate that's closed, and two by the bridge across the ravine -- not exactly where you'd keep prisoners, if you wanted to keep hold of them. It seems extremely likely that the Player Character comes in in the middle of an escape attempt in progress, and one that's not going too well.

IDK, this is just one of those parts of LotRO that is pretty straightforward on the surface, but gets progressively deeper and worse the more you think about it.

[meluiloth]

Unwanted Guardian

For @tolkienocweek day 2: Relationship with Canon Characters

If nothing else, Findoron could at least say that the uniform fit him. His green gloves and pants were both comfortable and flexible, and the supple leather boots made no sound when he hopped a few times to test the fit; he supple leather tunic was carefully embroidered to mimic the flowing pattern of tree-bark. Findoron knew that he would blend in perfectly with the muted browns, greens, and greyes of Mirkwood.

There came a light knock at his door, and once Findoron said, "Come in," his uncle gently pushed open the door to his room, a proud smile spreading on his face. "How does it feel to finally be an official Mirkwood Scout?"

Findoron knew he ought to smile and say something to convey excitement, at least for Feren's sake; but he had never been one to gloss over a situation. "Fine, I suppose - I'm glad that ceremony is over, so I can just get to work. Officially." The fact of the matter was, Findoron had been out in the woods fighting Spiders long before the Mirkwood Guardians deigned to accept him as one of them. "You know it's only because of your connection with the King that I even got the job to begin with."

As expected, Feren's smile fell. "That is not true; for one thing, though I did mention your desire to be a part of the Guardians to King Thranduil (and that was all I did, mind you), I would not have done so if I did not believe you could do it. For another, it is within no one's right or power to either coerce or bully the King of Mirkwood into doing something." He paused to let his words sink in before finishing, "All that to say, you received the position because you earned it, and you should be proud of yourself."

Findoron gave a small smile, grateful for his uncle's adamant defense, but it did not quite reach the root of the issue. "I know I can do the job, Adatheg, but really, no one else wanted me to; they'd rather I didn't exist, because I'm the son of a-"

"Your mother," Feren cut in sternly, "was a kind and loving woman; that I can wholeheartedly attest to. She made some reckless decisions, just as all people do in their lives, but she ought not to be defined by those decisions no matter what they were. It is not right that her actions have become your burden, but do not clasp that burden like a blade. You have done a great thing today, Findoron: you have taken the first step to building your own legacy. Do not scoff at that."

He firmly held Findoron's gaze until the young Silvan nodded. "I suppose you're right," Findoron admitted. "I've made myself impossible to ignore now, haven't I? They'll have to take me seriously whether they want to or not."

"There's my boy," Feren said, giving Findoron the sly grin that so often crossed his own face. "If you cannot beat them, join them, and if you cannot join them, beat them. Now, take that off so you do not stain it before tomorrow - I think this deserves a fine dinner." So saying, he gave his nephew a last pat on the shoulder before leaving him alone.

As he changed, Findoron thought back to his initiation ceremony that afternoon; only the King, Feren, and the rest of the Mirkwood Guardians had attended, but that already made a suitable crowd - and the only one happy to be there was Feren. The rest just watched Findoron as he swore in with the usual begrudging allowance for his presence, their disdain masked by the civility they were obliged to show. Such was the honorable society of Mirkwood.

The worst part, though, had been when Findoron faced the King himself to receive his sword. Despite his uncle being a trusted servant and friend of the King, Findoron rarely saw him in person. Part of that was because Findoron spent all of his time in the forest rather than within the Halls, and the other part was because they couldn't stand each others' presence.

As he held the sword that would be presented to Findoron, King Thranduil looked down at him with a mixture of disdain, pity, and something almost like guilt in his eyes, though his face remained perfectly neutral. Findoron simply stared back at him with a note of defiance - he knew that the King had no idea what to think of him, whether to treat him with the same condescension as the rest of the people (as was clearly his first instinct) - but there was that sense of indebtedness in his manner as well.

In the case of the people, he was ostracized because of the scandal surrounding his parents, but with Thranduil, it was more complicated; after all, Findoron's own mother had died protecting his wife, which no doubt instilled a sense of conflict in the King's heart as to how to treat him. If nothing else, Findoron could find enjoyment in being such a vexation.

The King rested the sheathed sword on Findoron's open palms and said, "May you be swift and strong in duty, for the protection of home, life, and our future."

Findoron dipped into a respectful bow, closing his hands around the sword. "By life or death, I will protect everything this forest stands for," he answered, the practiced words still weighty on his tongue.

This conclusion was met by a round of polite applause, but Findoron was more than happy the whole procedure was over. There was such a sense of barbed pointlessness to it all - he was never judged for himself, but for the actions of his parents, and even on the day where he ought to be recognized for his own deeds, he was branded by the ghost of the past.

His gaze lingered on the King's face for a moment more, and saw the same begrudging respect he himself was feeling reflected in Thranduil's face. They would never understand each other, or likely ever share a smile, but they could recognize the position they each held in society - and acknowledge their common goal.

They both wanted to liberate Mirkwood from the corruption that had taken root in it.

But, Findoron thought to himself, I do not do this in the name of the King, or of his people - I fight for the forest alone, for only the forest loves me.

Continuing my Tolkien Oc Week with Findoron, here is a glimpse into his dynamic with the people of Mirkwood, his uncle Feren (does he count as a canon character? I think so!), and the Elvenking Thranduil. As you can see, Findoron definitely has a hard edge to him - a streak that is an odd mix of rebellious and dutiful. His loyalty lies only to Mirkwood itself, and because Thranduil also acts in the best interest of the forest, Findoron has no trouble swearing fealty to a King he doesn't get along with (for very personal reasons which I will let you guess at but not explicitly state because that would be spoilers to Misfit!)

This piece was actually pretty hard to figure out, but I'm satisfied with the end result, and I hope you are too! As a bonus, I'm including a full-body drawing of Findoron to properly display his Mirkwood Guardian uniform!

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