#thranduil headcannon

[earthlybeam]

Hii, if your requests are open may I please request something a bit bittersweet but with a good ending? Sort of?? With Legolas , Thranduil and Haldir (and/or anyone else you'd prefer more!)Something like them and the reader being separated in war/battle and them thinking the other is gone but then they reunite after a long time and it's tears and happiness and all that soft stuff. Bonus points if the reader is also mortal/human

A bittersweet tale with a heartwarming ending—featuring Legolas, Thranduil, Haldir and bonus character Elrond love him too much. 🫶❤️‍🩹

So Imagine the reader you a mortal (gender is up to you as non state) , and the elves being separated during a fierce battle or war. Both sides believe the other is lost, the grief of separation weighing heavy on them. Yet, after an agonizingly long time, fate intervenes. Against all odds, they reunite in a moment filled with overwhelming relief, tears, and joy. It’s a tender celebration of love enduring through loss, hardship, and the passage of time. 🫶🥹❤️‍🩹

If anyone else has any requests feel free to ask 🫶

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

𐂂 The Battle of the Five Armies had come and gone, leaving behind scars that no time could ever truly heal. For Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, the toll of loss weighed heavily on his heart. Amidst the chaos—the relentless clash of swords, the anguished cries of the fallen, and the suffocating haze of smoke—he had searched for you. His human love. His heart. His beloved starlight. He had fought against the tide of battle, his mind only on you, but in the confusion and chaos, you had been swept away, lost to the carnage.

In the days that followed, Thranduil himself took to the battlefield, disregarding the pleas of his soldiers to return to safety. His silver armor, once gleaming, was now dulled with blood and ash, his movements precise yet desperate as he turned over fallen bodies, scanned the shattered terrain, and searched through shadowed crevices. When the wind carried no trace of your scent, his heart constricted. When he found only a scrap of your bloodied cloak caught on the jagged rocks of a cliffside, he knew despair.

𐂂 Thranduil did not cry out. Kings did not weep in the presence of their people. He held the torn fabric tightly, the blood staining his palm as he returned to his soldiers with an expression that betrayed nothing. His orders were delivered with icy precision: count the dead, tend to the wounded, prepare for the long journey home. The Woodland Realm must endure, for he was their king, and they needed him to remain steadfast.

𐂂 But that night, in the solitude of his chambers, Thranduil crumbled. He sat on the edge of his ornate bed, your bloodied cloak still clutched in his hand. The walls of his chamber, once grand and filled with life, now seemed to press in around him, cold and suffocating. The emptiness in his chest felt like a wound that would never heal, and his grief clawed at him like a living thing. The silence mocked him, for he knew the sound of your laughter would never fill these halls again.

𐂂 Thranduil had lived for centuries, enduring losses that few could understand. He had stood on the battlefield when his father, Oropher, fell during the War of the Last Alliance, his grief then a sharp and sudden wound. He had watched his beloved wife fade away, claimed by the creeping darkness that plagued the woods. That grief had been a slow, relentless ache. But this? This was different. Your absence was not a wound or an ache—it was an emptiness, a hollow void that had been carved into his very being.

𐂂 He missed you in ways that made his chest tighten and his breath catch. He missed the sound of your voice, so soft and full of warmth, the way it caressed his name when you spoke it. He missed the human lilt in your Sindarin words, a melody that was uniquely yours. He missed the way your laughter would echo through the halls, bright and carefree, a sharp contrast to the somber atmosphere of the palace.

𐂂 He longed for the nights you spent together, tangled in one another’s arms beneath the moonlight. He could still feel the press of your lips against his, kisses so full of passion and fire that they left him breathless. A kiss from you had the power to undo him, to strip away his crown and his burdens until he was not a king but simply a man who adored you. He missed the small, human things you brought into his immortal life. The way you would coax him out of his solemnity with your mischievous smiles and playful demands. One rainy evening, you had dragged him into the gardens, insisting that he join you to dance in the storm. At first, he had resisted, scolding you for risking your health, but when your fingers entwined with his and your laughter rose above the thunder, he had relented. Together, you had spun and swayed beneath the deluge, your hair plastered to your face and your clothes clinging to your skin. In that moment, he had felt something he had not felt in centuries—freedom.

𐂂 Thranduil’s grief was sharpest in the quiet moments, when the absence of your presence was most keenly felt. He missed waking up before the sun just to hold you a little longer, your body warm and soft against his. He missed how your fingers would trace the elegant lines of his face, your touch reverent, as if you were committing him to memory. He missed the ritual of dressing together each morning, your hands brushing as he fastened the clasps of your gown/robe or adjusted the delicate circlet you wore.

𐂂 Evenings in the library were the hardest to endure. The two of you would sit close, a fire crackling softly in the hearth as you read to one another. Your voice, clear and melodic, would weave through the ancient stories, and he would pause every now and then to press a kiss to your temple or trace a finger along your jawline. You had a way of making even the longest nights feel too short. Without you, those evenings felt endless and empty.

𐂂 There were nights when you’d set the books aside, pouring glasses of deep red wine and lingering over its warmth. He’d sit on the floor between your knees, his broad back leaning into your lap, while your fingers deftly braided his hair, weaving intricate patterns as you talked. You’d trade stories, share secrets, laugh until your sides hurt, and unravel the mysteries of one another until the fire burned low.

𐂂 Eventually, you’d settle together on the chaise, his arms wrapped around you, his head tucked into the curve of your neck. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat would lull you into a sense of peace, and you’d wonder how hours could slip by so quickly when they were spent in his arms. Without you, those evenings felt endless and empty—a hollow echo of what they once were.

𐂂 He missed your presence at his side during council meetings, your steady gaze meeting his when the weight of his crown became too heavy. Though you were mortal, you had a wisdom that he cherished, and he often leaned over to murmur in your ear, seeking your insight on matters of politics or war.

𐂂 He missed the sound of your voice. How it could rise in fierce defiance, matching his intensity when you challenged him, or soften into a gentle melody when you spoke of your dreams. You had a way of looking at him that unnerved him at first, piercing through the layers of his arrogance and pride, as if you saw the man beneath the crown. And he had let you see him—a rare gift, one he now regretted giving so freely, for it left him feeling more exposed in your absence.

𐂂 Thranduil carried himself as a king should, his grief hidden behind an unyielding mask. But when he was alone, the cracks in his composure showed. He wandered the halls of his palace late at night, his silver cloak trailing behind him like a shroud. He imagined he could hear your footsteps, the soft echo of your voice calling his name.

𐂂 The gardens, once a place of solace, now only deepened his sorrow. He would kneel by the flowers you had tended, his fingers brushing over their leaves as though he could touch a piece of you. He remembered how you had once knelt beside him, your hands dirtied from planting new blossoms, and how you had laughed when he teased you about your lack of grace.

𐂂 He would sit beneath the ancient trees, staring up at the stars, and wonder if you could see them too, wherever you were. His fingers would stray to the ring he had meant to give you, the one he had carried in his pocket for months, waiting for the perfect moment. That moment would never come.

𐂂 Thranduil’s grief was a testament to the depth of his love. He had lived for centuries, but you had taught him what it truly meant to live. Your absence was a void that no amount of time could fill, and though he remained every inch a thin the walls of his heart, he was simply a man mourning the you who had been his world.

𐂂 Three years had passed in the lonely corridors of his palace, years marked by an unrelenting stillness that clung to the Woodland Realm like a shroud. The celebrations of the victory at the Battle of the Five Armies had long faded into memory, their songs and triumphs reduced to whispers of the past. For Thranduil, there was no solace in victory, no joy in the enduring peace. His thoughts, no matter how he tried to quell them, always wandered back to you.

𐂂 He thought of your laughter, so bright it seemed to illuminate the shadowed halls of his realm. He thought of your touch—soft, grounding, and warm, a balm to his weary spirit. He thought of the way your eyes shone, even in the darkest moments, like stars breaking through a storm-laden sky. But these thoughts were no comfort. They were daggers, sharp and cruel, reminding him of the emptiness that had taken your place.

𐂂 The elves whispered of their king, pitying him. Thranduil, who had endured centuries of loss and seen his kingdom thrive despite it, now seemed diminished. His grief was a weight that bent him in ways his people had never seen. Once proud and untouchable, he had become a man lost in memories, a king trapped in mourning.

The return:

𐂂 Three (or more up to you) years had passed since fate last smiled upon Thranduil. Three years of silence, of searching, of despair. The Woodland Realm had recovered from its battles, but its king had not. His people spoke in hushed tones of his sorrow, how he spent long hours gazing toward the edges of his forest, as though willing you to emerge from the shadows. Yet the forest, which once seemed endless and alive, had remained achingly empty.

𐂂 Then, on an autumn evening when the air was thick with the scent of fallen leaves and the golden hues of the forest began to fade into dusk, hope returned. A scout came to the palace, his face grave but his icy blue eyes bright with news. A figure—a lone, weary traveler—had been seen wandering the edges of the forest. The description matched you.

𐂂 Thranduil needed no further confirmation. Without so much as a word, he swept from the council chambers, the echo of his departure leaving the room stunned in silence. Mounting his great elk, he rode out into the deepening twilight, his silver armor catching the last remnants of the sun. The colors of autumn blurred around him as the wind tore at his hair, but he paid no mind to anything except the direction the scout had pointed.

𐂂 He pushed his elk harder than he ever had before, the urgency in his heart an unfamiliar but undeniable ache. As the shadows lengthened and the forest grew darker, Thranduil urged his mount deeper into the woods. The only sounds were the rhythmic beat of hooves against the forest floor and the faint rustle of leaves. It was then, when all seemed still and silent, that he heard it. A voice. Faint, carried by the wind like a song drifting through the trees. It was fragile, almost unreal, but it was unmistakably yours. “Thranduil.”

𐂂 His hands tightened on the reins, his heart stuttering in his chest. Could it be? The voice that had haunted his dreams, the name spoken in a way only you could, both familiar and utterly sacred? Fear warred with hope. What if it was a trick? An echo of his grief? Yet deep in his heart, he knew it could only be you. Urging his elk onward, Thranduil rode toward the sound, his sharp eyes scanning the darkening forest. The trees seemed to bend and shift as though guiding him forward, and at last, the forest opened into a small clearing bathed in the soft glow of twilight.

𐂂 And there you stood. The Sight of You. The world seemed to stop. Time itself held its breath as Thranduil dismounted, his cloak swirling around him in a cascade of silver and forest green. He moved forward slowly, his steps hesitant, as though afraid that the vision of you might dissolve into mist. But you were real. Time had touched you, softening the youthful glow of your face, marking you with lines that spoke of trials endured and years spent apart. Yet you were unmistakably, gloriously you.

𐂂 You turned at the sound of his approach, your eyes widening with shock and disbelief. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then, as though the earth itself shifted beneath your feet, you ran to him. Thranduil caught you in his arms, lifting you from the ground as though to anchor you to him, to banish the years of emptiness that had carved their mark into his soul. His grip was unrelenting, his hands clutching at you, trembling as they mapped the reality of your form.

𐂂 “Thranduil, my love,” you whispered, your voice breaking as your hands framed his face, tracing the sharp angles of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw. Your touch was desperate, needing to confirm that he was real, that this was not another cruel dream.

𐂂 “You… you are here,” he murmured, his voice cracking with disbelief. His icy-blue eyes brimmed with emotion as his hands rose to cradle your face, his long fingers trembling against your skin. “Alive.” He traced the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, as though committing every inch of you to memory. A shuddering breath escaped him, and his composure—the centuries of restraint he had so carefully mastered—crumbled in the wake of your presence.

𐂂 Then, unable to hold back any longer, he kissed you. It was a kiss that spoke of years lost and love enduring. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation, as though he could pour every ounce of his grief, his longing, his unyielding devotion into that single moment. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. For the first time in centuries, Thranduil wept.

𐂂 Tears slid silently down his pale cheeks, unchecked and unashamed, as he rested his forehead against yours. His breath came in uneven bursts, and his voice was thick with emotion as he whispered, “I thought I had lost you. I searched every shadow, every corner of this forest. I found nothing. I thought…” His voice faltered. “I thought you were gone.”

𐂂 Your hands tightened on his cloak, clutching at the rich fabric as though to anchor him to you. “I told you, my king,” you said, your voice trembling but steady with conviction. “It would take more than a war to keep me from you.” Your words broke the last of his resolve. He let out a sound—half a laugh, half a sob—and pulled you closer. “You never stopped hoping,” he murmured, his tone one of wonder. “I never stopped,” you confirmed, tears shimmering in your eyes.

𐂂 For a long moment, there were no more words, only the silence of the forest and the quiet communion of two souls reunited. The weight of the years, the pain of your separation, melted away, leaving only the undeniable truth of your love.

𐂂 When Thranduil finally led you back to the Woodland Realm, his people watched in awe. Their king, who for centuries had been distant and untouchable, now radiated a warmth they had never seen before. It was as though you had brought life back to him, restoring a light that had been long extinguished. Though the years apart had changed you both, your love endured—fragile in its mortality, yet unyielding in its depth. And for Thranduil, who had carried the weight of loss for so long, you were his salvation.

Aftermath:

𐂂 Thranduil had always known what it meant to love a mortal. He had known it from the moment his heart first stirred for you, from the way your smile softened the edges of his carefully guarded world. He had known it when you walked beside him through the gardens of the Woodland Realm, your steps so light yet leaving an indelible mark upon his soul. And he had known it when he held you for the first time after your return, the warmth of your presence a bittersweet reminder of how fleeting your time together would be.

𐂂 He no longer let the weight of his duties keep him from your side if you needed him he try get their as fast as he can. Every stolen moment was precious, every shared glance and quiet word a treasure. He found himself lingering in the small, human routines of life that he had once dismissed. He would rise before dawn to watch you sleep, the soft rise and fall of your chest a melody that soothed his ancient heart. He would sit beside you in the evenings, reading to you in the lilting tones of Sindarin, the stories of old taking on a new significance with you nestled against him.

𐂂 Yet, beneath the surface of his newfound joy, a shadow lingered. He could not ignore the truth of your mortality. It was a quiet ache that never left him, a silent countdown that ticked away in the back of his mind. He knew there would come a day when your hand would no longer be there to hold, when your laughter would no longer fill the halls of his palace. And though he was no stranger to loss, the thought of losing you—his love, his heart—was a wound he could not bear to dwell upon.

𐂂 On days when your mortal strength faltered—when the weariness of your journey or the limitations of your human frame caught up to you—he would lift you into his arms without hesitation. His steps remained graceful and unhurried, as though carrying you was the most natural thing in the world. You protested at first, laughing softly at the indignity of being treated like a child, but his calm, unwavering expression silenced you. “You are mine to protect,” he would say simply, his voice gentle but firm. “Let me carry you.” And so you would rest against him, your head on his shoulder, as he bore you through the forest. The warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his steps became a comfort you cherished deeply.

𐂂 The evenings were your favorite time. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars emerged one by one, you and Thranduil would retreat to the quiet solace of his private gardens. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers and the hum of life, a testament to the harmony he had nurtured in his realm.

𐂂 You would sit together beneath the spreading branches of an ancient oak, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the space around you. Thranduil often brought a delicate glass of Dorwinion wine for himself and a fragrant tea for you, brewed with herbs from the forest.

𐂂 “I have lived so long,” he said one night, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “Too long, perhaps. And yet, in all that time, I have never felt as I do now.” He turned to you then, his blue eyes bright with a vulnerability few had ever seen. “You have given me something I thought lost to me forever: hope.” You reached for him, your fingers brushing his cheek in a gesture of comfort and devotion. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can,” you promised, your voice soft but resolute.

𐂂 His hand covered yours, his thumb caressing the back of your fingers. “I know your time here is fleeting,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I will not waste the gift of your presence. Every moment with you is a treasure, meleth nín, and I will cherish it until the end of my days.”

𐂂 Though the inevitability of your mortality weighed heavily on him, Thranduil chose to focus on the present. He insisted on celebrating the small joys of life: the laughter you shared over a quiet meal, the way your eyes lit up when he presented you with a token of his affection—a delicate circlet of silver leaves or a rare flower from the depths of the forest.

𐂂 He became fiercely protective of you, ensuring that no harm would ever come near. His guards were instructed to keep watch over you whenever he could not, though he was rarely far from your side. Even Legolas, upon returning to Mirkwood, marveled at the bond between you.

𐂂 “You have done what I thought impossible,” Legolas said to you one day, his tone both teasing and sincere. “You have softened my father’s heart.”“I didn’t do anything,” you replied with a smile. “He was always this way. He just needed a reason to show it.” In the years that followed, Thranduil made good on his vow. He loved you with an intensity that belied his normally reserved nature, his devotion to you a constant in a world ever shifting. And though he knew your time together was but a blink in the span of his immortal life, he found peace in the knowledge that you had returned to him.

Bonus part :

𐂂 Thranduil had planned to propose before the Battle of the Five Armies had changed everything. He had commissioned a ring crafted from mithril and set with a stone as clear as starlight, a design as enduring and timeless as the love he felt for you. It had been hidden away, waiting for the perfect moment. He remembered vividly the day he intended to ask. The two of you had walked through the forest, the world quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of life around you. You had smiled at him, teasing him about his pensive mood, unaware of the question he carried in his heart. But then the drums of war had sounded, and everything had unraveled.

𐂂 After your loss in the chaos of the battle, he had buried the ring deep within the treasure vaults of his palace, unable to look at it without feeling the sharp sting of grief. But now, with you back at his side, the thought of that ring returned to him, a quiet but insistent reminder of what he had almost lost. One evening, as the stars glimmered above and the forest glowed with the soft light of fireflies, Thranduil led you to the same clearing where he had found you again. The air was cool, carrying the scent of autumn and woodsmoke, and the world seemed to hold its breath as he turned to face you.

𐂂 “I meant to do this long ago,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. From the folds of his cloak, he drew out the ring, the mithril catching the faint starlight. “Before the battle… before everything, I wished to ask you something.” You looked up at him, your eyes wide with wonder and tears glistening at their corners. He took your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he knelt before you, his regal composure melting into something infinitely tender.

𐂂 “I know that our time together is fleeting,” he began, his voice low and reverent. “But that is what makes it precious. You have given me a joy I thought I would never feel again, a love that has restored the parts of me I thought lost to the shadows of the past. Will you, for as many days as we are given, be my star, my light, my heart?” When you nodded, tears spilling over as you whispered your answer, he slipped the ring onto your finger and rose, pulling you into an embrace that spoke of a love too vast for words.

From that night onward, Thranduil treated every moment with you as a gift. He ensured that your days together were filled with joy, laughter, and the quiet, unshakable intimacy that defined your bond. The two of you traveled to the farthest reaches of the Woodland Realm, exploring hidden glades and ancient groves. He showed you the secrets of his kingdom, sharing stories that only the trees had witnessed.

𐂂 Yet he also prepared himself for the inevitable. Thranduil, who had faced countless wars and losses, steeled his heart for the day when you would no longer walk beside him. But he made you a promise: when that day came, he would not let his grief consume him. Instead, he would carry your memory like a flame, a guiding light in the endless expanse of his immortal life.

𐂂 And when the time came—years later, in the gentle embrace of a quiet spring—Thranduil held you close as your mortal body surrendered to time. He did not fight the tears that fell, nor the ache that gripped his soul. Instead, he whispered words of love and gratitude, promising that he would find you again, in whatever form the world allowed.

𐂂 For Thranduil, your love was a paradox fragile in its mortality, yet unyielding in its depth. It was a love that defied the constraints of time, enduring not in the years you shared but in the eternal mark it left on his heart. And though he lived on, an immortal king bound to the world, he carried you with him always—a love that transcended even the bounds of eternity.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

𖧧 The battle had been chaos—a maelstrom of blood, steel, and fire. You had been separated in the thick of it, pulled away from Legolas by the tides of war. He had seen you fall, your mortal body collapsing beneath the weight of the enemy’s blows. He had screamed your name, but the battle’s cacophony swallowed his voice. Despite his best efforts to reach you, the press of the enemy and the demands of leadership had dragged him away, forcing him to retreat with his people.

𖧧 Days after the battle, Legolas returned to the site, his heart heavy with dread and hope. The battlefield, once a scene of turmoil, was now eerily silent, save for the whispers of the wind. He searched desperately among the broken bodies and shattered weapons, his eyes scanning every corner, praying to find you—alive or at least at peace.

𖧧 But all that remained was the tattered remnants of your cloak, caught on a jagged stone. His fingers brushed the fabric, trembling with a mixture of grief and disbelief. No sign of your body. He fell to his knees, the weight of the loss sinking deeper than the cold earth beneath him. The battle had taken so much, and now, even your remains seemed to have vanished into the void.

𖧧 Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and yet the memory of your last moments haunted him. He could not forgive himself for failing to save you. Every arrow he loosed, every step he took in the forests of Mirkwood, felt hollow. For an elf who could live forever, the weight of eternity without you loomed unbearably large.

𖧧 The Fellowship, though sympathetic, could only do so much. Aragorn offered quiet support, Gimli shared in the mourning in his own gruff way, and even the hobbits, who knew loss all too well, tried to cheer him with stories. But nothing could ease the ache in Legolas’s heart.

𖧧 Five years passed, and the world around Legolas moved forward, but he remained stuck in the past, as though caught in a never-ending cycle of mourning. The war was over, the Ring destroyed, and Middle-earth had begun to rebuild. Yet, every step Legolas took in the woods of Mirkwood felt hollow. His heart, once full of the song of the trees, had become a silent, aching void. He no longer found joy in the endless beauty of the forests. The trees, once his closest friends, now whispered their sorrow to him as much as they did their solace.

𖧧 He had watched, for centuries, as the seasons changed, but he had never truly understood how fleeting they were until now. The impermanence of life had never struck him so deeply. He had lived through countless ages, witnessed kingdoms rise and fall, seen friends come and go, but none of it had ever hurt like this. The thought of you—the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way you held his hand in yours—was a constant presence in his mind. He longed for you in the quiet moments, in the stillness of the forest, when the noise of the world faded away.

𖧧 The ache was a part of him now, a permanent scar that could not be healed. Legolas missed you more than he ever thought possible. He missed the way you would hum soft songs to him when you thought he wasn’t listening, the way you would laugh at his awkward attempts to fit in with the others, and the way your eyes would light up when you spoke of something that brought you joy. He missed the way you would lay beside him on quiet nights, your head resting on his chest, listening to the heartbeat that was steady and sure while your own was more fleeting, yet so full of life.

𖧧 He missed the softness of your touch, the warmth of your hand in his, the way you would hold him close when the world outside seemed too dark. He missed the feeling of you nestled beside him in the evenings, when the world grew still, and the air was thick with the scent of the forest, the fragrance of pine and earth that he had always loved. You were so different from him, so mortal, and yet so full of life. You had a way of seeing the world with fresh eyes, finding wonder in the simplest things. It was that wonder, that joy you radiated, that had drawn him to you.

𖧧 But now, the world felt empty. The laughter that had once filled the air now echoed hollowly in his memory. The wind, which used to carry the melodies of the forest, now whispered your name in his ear, a constant reminder of what he had lost. Legolas would often wander deep into the heart of Mirkwood, lost in thought, searching for some kind of peace, but he could never find it. He would find solace in the quiet rhythm of the world, in the stillness of the ancient trees, but it was never enough. The trees had always been his companions, but now they felt distant, like they too mourned your absence.

𖧧 His nights were the hardest. Legolas had always been a creature of the day, a warrior and protector, but it was in the quiet of the night that his grief truly took hold. He could not sleep for the thoughts that churned in his mind. He would find himself sitting at the edge of the forest, staring out at the stars, the ones you had once pointed out to him, tracing constellations with your fingers as you shared stories of ancient times. Those memories would bring him some comfort, but they also deepened the ache in his chest. It was as if the stars themselves were now distant, removed from the world that had once been shared by both of you.

𖧧 In the years since the war, Legolas had done everything he could to honor your memory. He had planted trees in your name, hoping they would grow strong and tall, just as you had. He had given himself to the land, using his hands to heal the scars left by battle, to restore what had been lost. But even this work, which once brought him peace, no longer satisfied him. The trees, the rivers, the creatures of the forest—they all reminded him of what he had lost, of the life he could never have with you again.

𖧧 He longed to hear your voice again, to feel the warmth of your hand in his. He wished for nothing more than to see your face once more, to run his fingers through your hair, to kiss you as he had done so many times before. But you were gone, and all that was left was the echo of your presence, lingering in the spaces between his breaths.

𖧧 The grief had become a part of him, woven into the fabric of his existence. And though the passage of time had dulled its sharpness, it had never truly faded. The elves, ever perceptive, could see the change in him. They knew something was missing, though they never spoke of it directly. Even Thranduil, who rarely showed emotion, could not deny the shift in his son. But no one could truly understand the depth of Legolas’s loss. None but him could feel the weight of eternity without you.

𖧧 And yet, amid all the pain, there was a quiet hope, a longing that refused to die. It lived in the quiet moments when Legolas would catch himself smiling at a memory of you, or when he would find a token—perhaps a flower or a small stone—that reminded him of you. It lived in the whispers of the trees, in the soft rustling of leaves that felt like a whisper from your soul. It was the hope that, somehow, one day, fate might be kind enough to return you to him. But until that day came, he would continue his lonely path, living in a world where time moved on, but his heart remained still.

Your return:

𖧧 It was in the quiet solitude of the grove, the sunlight filtering through the new leaves of the saplings that had sprung to life in the wake of war, that Legolas first heard it—a voice that seemed to tear through the thick fog of his sorrow. It was so familiar, so dear, that it sent a chill down his spine.

𖧧 “Legolas?” For a moment, everything around him ceased to exist. His heart stopped in his chest, and the world seemed to tilt. The voice was unmistakable. It was yours. He whirled around, his elven senses alert, searching the trees, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with frantic intensity. And there you were. Standing among the trees, as if time had folded itself, and all the years between that fateful battle and now were nothing but a fleeting dream.

𖧧 You were alive. You were real. His breath caught in his throat. Your form, though unmistakably yours, bore marks of hardship—scars that told stories of the pain you had endured, the battles you had fought, and the life you had fought to cling to. But it was you. The same warmth in your eyes, the same gentle smile that had once lit up his world.

𖧧 For what felt like an eternity, neither of you moved. You stood, frozen in place taking in the sight of one another. Legolas’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat louder than the last, as if it, too, was trying to catch up with the reality unfolding before him.

𖧧 Then, without thinking, without hesitation, he moved. In a single, fluid motion, his legs carried him to you, his arms reaching out and enveloping you in a fierce embrace. His strength was overwhelming, as though he feared that if he loosened his hold, you might slip away again, like some fragile dream. His breath came in ragged gasps, his face buried in your hair, as if he could breathe you back into existence, pulling you close, unwilling to let go.

𖧧 “I thought you were gone,” he whispered, his voice strained and thick with emotion, the words almost strangled by grief and relief. His chest tightened painfully as he spoke, the weight of the years he had spent mourning you pressing on him, only to now find you before him, alive and real. “I saw you fall. I mourned you.” The sound of your voice, trembling but steady, broke through the tension. “I thought I was gone too,” you whispered against his chest, your voice cracking. “I was taken, Legolas. Injured, captured… but I survived. I kept hoping I’d see you again.”

𖧧 Your words were a balm to his soul, though they only deepened the ache in his heart. He could not imagine the pain you must have suffered, the darkness you had endured, separated from him for so long. And yet here you were, standing before him, alive and whole, despite everything.

𖧧 He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His fingers traced the familiar features he had longed for—your jawline, the curve of your lips, the eyes that had haunted his dreams for years. His touch was soft, reverent, as though he feared he might be dreaming again, that this was a fantasy that would vanish as soon as he blinked. His voice, barely a whisper, cracked with emotion.

𖧧 “Meleth nîn, you are here. You are alive.” His gaze locked with yours, his blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. It was rare for him to show such vulnerability, but this was different. You were back. The emptiness in his chest had been filled, but now the overwhelming flood of emotion threatened to break him. “I should have searched harder. I should never have given up—” Before he could speak another word, you gently pressed your fingers to his lips, silencing him. You felt the weight of his guilt, his self-blame, but you needed him to know—truly know—that none of it was his fault.

𖧧 “You didn’t give up,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hands covering his. Your touch was a grounding force, reminding him that this moment was real, that you were truly here. “You thought I was gone, as anyone would had. But now… now we have this.” You said the words with such certainty, such warmth, that it eased the last of his lingering doubts. There was no room for regret in this moment. Only the overwhelming joy of being reunited with the one person he had feared he had lost forever.

𖧧 Legolas leaned in then, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that began gentle, almost tentative, as if he were testing the reality of the moment. His lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant, as though the very touch might dissolve. But then, the floodgates opened, and the years of longing, of pain, of separation poured into the kiss. It deepened, and the gentle touch became an urgent, desperate need to feel you close, to make sure that this moment—this precious moment—was real.

𖧧 His hands moved to your back, pulling you against him, his heart hammering in his chest as if trying to convince him that you were truly there, that this was not a dream. He kissed you as though he could shield you from time itself, as though he could protect you from everything that had kept you apart. He wanted to erase the years of pain and loss, to replace them with the warmth of your embrace and the sweetness of your love. For a long time, neither of you spoke. There were no words necessary. The kiss said it all—the years of grief, the lost time, the quiet hope that had never faded. It was all there, in that one kiss, that one embrace. And in that moment, Legolas felt whole again, as if the missing part of him had finally returned.

𖧧 He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes once more, his chest rising and falling with each breath. There was still so much he wanted to say, but for now, words were unnecessary. Instead, he smiled, a smile that was both bittersweet and full of hope, as though he were daring to believe that this time, you were truly here to stay.

Aftermath:

𖧧 The elves of Mirkwood were overjoyed to see their prince returned to them, though many of them struggled to understand the depth of the emotions that had taken hold of him. Legolas had always been composed, the epitome of grace and quiet strength, but since your disappearance, a shadow had clouded his spirit. The change in him was not subtle. The elves, who had witnessed centuries of sorrow and joy alike, understood the weight of grief, but even they had never seen such a profound transformation in their prince.

𖧧 It was not just his grief that marked him; it was the overwhelming joy that followed your return. There was a light in his eyes now, a light that had long been missing, and it was this light that brightened the entire Woodland Realm. His once-distant gaze had softened, the sorrow that had bound him now replaced by a quiet, hopeful contentment. The elves were accustomed to the stoic nature of their kind, but Legolas’s transformation was like a beacon of hope, one that spread through the woods like the first light of dawn after a long, dark night. Even the leaves seemed to shimmer more brightly in his presence, as though reflecting his renewed spirit.

𖧧 Though many of the elves had long accepted the sadness of time’s passing, and the inevitable cycle of life and death, there were still those who found themselves cautious about attachment to mortals. They had seen how fleeting the lives of men and women were, how quickly the ones they loved could be lost. The idea that an elf—immortal and bound to the land—might form a bond with someone so transient had always been a subject of quiet discomfort. Yet, they could not deny the bond that had been rekindled between Legolas and you. The joy he now radiated was something none of them had seen in centuries. It was a testament to the power of love, and the elves, for all their wisdom, could not ignore the beauty of such a rare and pure thing.

𖧧 Even Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood, who had always been reserved and cautious with his emotions, could not hide the soft pride in his eyes when he spoke of your return. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the realm in twilight, he sat with Legolas and you beneath the towering trees. His expression, though still composed, betrayed a warmth that few ever saw from the elven king. “My son has been… unrecognizable without you,” Thranduil admitted, his voice low, his gaze resting on Legolas with an unspoken understanding. “Your return is a gift, one I did not dare hope for. In your absence, I feared he would never recover. I see now that I was wrong.” His eyes met yours for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment of the role you had played in bringing the prince back from the edge of despair.

𖧧 Legolas, ever the devoted partner, became almost protective in the days following your reunion. His presence was constant, his devotion unwavering. He rarely let you out of his sight, his gaze always seeking you out, even in a room full of others. His fingers often brushed against yours in passing, a small but deliberate gesture, like an anchor in the ever-shifting tides of life. His touch was a quiet reassurance, a constant reminder that you were still there, that you had returned to him, and he to you.

𖧧 Though the weight of mortality still hung over you like a shadow, it only made the time you spent together more precious. Each moment with you felt like a rare treasure, something he could never take for granted. Legolas began to show you the parts of the forest that he cherished most—hidden glades where the trees seemed to hum with ancient wisdom, sparkling streams that wound through the land like veins of life. He shared with you the quiet, sacred places where he had once wandered alone, his heart heavy with grief, and now filled with love. His heart ached with the knowledge that, as much as he longed to share eternity with you, time was never on his side.

𖧧 Still, despite the knowledge of your eventual passing, he held fast to every second. He cherished each touch, each laugh, and the fleeting moments of joy that seemed to glow more brightly in the presence of the inevitable darkness of mortality. When you walked together beneath the trees, your fingers entwined, he would often smile softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow, knowing that each passing day was one closer to the end of your time together.

𖧧 One night, as the two of you lay together beneath the canopy of stars, the world around you seemed to fade into a dreamlike quiet. The only sounds were the soft rustle of the leaves and the rhythmic pulse of the earth beneath you. Legolas’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, as though he could shield you from the inevitable, protect you from the fragility of your mortal form. He pressed his lips to your forehead, his voice a soft whisper against the cool night air.

𖧧 “I will love you until the end of my days, meleth nîn,” he murmured, his words laced with the depth of his emotion, “and far beyond that.” His voice trembled slightly, as if he, too, feared the passage of time, but in the same breath, he expressed his unwavering resolve to love you for as long as he could. “Even when the days of your life are gone, my love for you will endure, woven into the fabric of time itself.”

𖧧 For an elf like Legolas, eternity had always been a distant horizon—unchanging, inevitable, and timeless. He had always lived with the knowledge that his existence stretched on, forever unmarred by death. But with you by his side, the brevity of your mortal life gave him a new understanding of eternity. Even as the seasons changed and the world around them shifted, the love they shared became a constant. It was as if, in your fleeting moments together, you had given him a glimpse of the infinite. And for Legolas, that was enough.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

➳ The Battle of Helm’s Deep had come to a grueling end. After hours of fighting, the once serene valley had turned into a chaos of cries, clashing steel, and the smell of smoke. Amid the victory, there was sorrow. Haldir had led the Elven warriors with unmatched skill, but the cost was heavy. The loss of comrades, of friends—he had witnessed it all. But there was one more wound, one that cut deeper than the others: the sudden absence of you, his love, the one who had fought at his side.

➳ When the battle raged, Haldir had seen you fall. In the chaotic madness, there had been no time to reach you. The desperate hope that you had merely been knocked unconscious had been the only thing that kept him from succumbing to despair. He had searched the battlefield, and when the fighting ended, he had found no trace of you just the promise ring they both have. (That promise ring haldir had picked up and wore it on a necklace around his neck after that day), The hope had died then, buried with the fallen warriors.

➳ Days passed, and the darkness of grief settled upon him. The laughter of his brothers, the joy of their victory, felt distant to him. He withdrew into himself, ever vigilant, though there was no enemy left to face. The world around him had grown quiet, and the shadows of the past kept whispering in his mind, haunting his every waking moment.

➳ Haldir never spoke of it. Not to Aragorn, not to Legolas, nor even to Galadriel in his thoughts. How could he? To show weakness, to admit that his heart had shattered would have been a betrayal of his duty, of the pride of Lothlórien. So, he carried on, but it was harder now, each day a battle against the emptiness within.

➳ Not even year had done little to ease the ache in Haldir’s chest. The Battle of Helm’s Deep, a triumph for the free peoples of Middle-earth, had left him with a deep, unspoken sorrow, one that haunted his every step. The absence of you, his love, had carved an irreparable wound in him. At first, he had fought to hold on to the belief that you had survived, that perhaps the chaos of the battle had merely swept you away, leaving you battered and bruised but alive. But as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, that hope began to slip through his fingers, like the softest of sands in the wind.

➳ The ring you had given him (promise ring), the one he had promised to wear until the end of his days, had been the only tangible connection he had left to you. That promise had felt like a lifeline in those early days after the battle, as if by keeping it close to his heart, he could somehow keep you with him, even in your absence. But when the cold reality set in and the ring was the only thing he had left to hold on to, it became both a comfort and a torment. He wore it on a chain around his neck, hidden beneath the folds of his tunic, never once letting it out of his sight. It was the last piece of you, the last reminder of the life he had once dreamed of sharing with you. And it ached, pulling at his heart in ways he could not bear to voice.

➳ Each time he touched the necklace, a memory of you would flood his thoughts—the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes would light up when you spoke of dreams and hopes for the future, the way your hand felt in his, warm and steady. He missed the little things, the quiet moments that had meant the most. The way you had always known what he needed without words. How, even in the midst of battle, you had found a way to offer him comfort with a mere glance or a soft touch.

➳ Haldir had always been someone who took pride in his stoic demeanor, in the discipline and duty that had shaped his life. But you had changed him in ways he could never explain. You had brought softness to his heart, a tenderness he had not known he was capable of. And with you gone, that tenderness had hardened into an unyielding shell, keeping the world at arm’s length.

➳ He missed the warmth of your presence, the way you would sit beside him in silence, content just to be in each other’s company. He missed the way your voice would soften when you spoke his name, how your touch would linger in the small gestures—a brush of your fingers across his hand, a fleeting kiss on his cheek. There was a quiet intimacy in those moments that had grounded him, reminding him that no matter how distant or aloof he appeared to others, there was someone who truly understood him, who saw the person behind the warrior. And now, in your absence, the silence felt deafening.

➳ He often found himself standing at the borders of Lothlórien, staring into the vast expanse of the forest that had once felt so alive, so full of purpose. The trees whispered in the wind, their leaves rustling with secrets, but none of those secrets brought him peace. He longed for the sound of your voice in the trees, for the echo of your laughter in the quiet of the forest. The land that had once been a sanctuary now felt like a cage, a place where he could not escape the memories of you.

➳ As he went about his duties, he felt the weight of the years pressing down on him. He had remained steadfast in his commitment to Lothlórien, never faltering, never straying from the path of duty. But deep inside, he wondered what it all meant now. Without you, what was he protecting? Without you by his side, the endless vigilance, the watchful eyes that never let anything slip by, seemed almost pointless. His people, his homeland, they deserved his protection, but so did you. And in failing to protect you, he had lost a part of himself.

➳ His younger brothers—Rúmil and Orophin—had noticed the change in him. They had watched him withdraw, bury his grief beneath a mask of duty and honor. They had seen the way his eyes grew distant, how the fire that once burned so brightly in him now seemed dulled. But they knew him too well to press him, too well to ask what was on his mind. They had seen the way he would glance at the empty places where you used to stand, and the way he would pause, as if listening for your voice in the wind. And in those moments, they said nothing, offering him the silence he so desperately craved.

➳ Six years had passed, and in that time, Haldir had hardened further, the memories of you still fresh in his mind but buried beneath the weight of his responsibilities. The world had moved on, but Haldir had remained rooted in the past. He had not forgotten you—not once. And yet, he had convinced himself that you were gone, that the hope of ever finding you again was a dream too far gone to reach.

The return:

➳ Then, one fateful day, the summons came. The familiar call to return to the borders of Lothlórien, to watch over his people once more. The weight of his memories pressed heavier as he made his way to the edge of the forest. And there, among the trees that had witnessed so much of his pain, he prepared himself for what he thought would be another lonely journey. But fate had other plans.

➳ Haldir would never forget the moment his eyes fell upon you once more. It was as if the world had stopped turning. The forest stood still, the breeze held its breath. And there you were, standing before him, as real and as alive as the day he had lost you. His heart stuttered in his chest, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he might collapse from the weight of the emotions flooding through him. He had never stopped loving you, never stopped longing for this moment.

➳ For the first time in six long years, Haldir felt his heart beat again—not with the cold, unrelenting rhythm of duty, but with the warmth of hope. It was a warmth that had been absent from his life for far too long. It was like waking from a dream he had resigned himself to, the world around him suddenly sharp, vivid, full of possibility. The years of grief, of self-imposed solitude, had worn away at his spirit, leaving him hardened, distant, a shell of the Elven warrior he once was. But now, in that single breath, that fleeting moment when he first saw you, all of that shifted.

➳ His pulse quickened as he stood frozen, eyes locked on you as if you might vanish in an instant. His mind struggled to make sense of the impossible. You were here. Alive. Standing before him. Every ounce of restraint he had built up over the years crumbled in that instant. There had been no signal, no warning—just the quiet approach of your footsteps, the sound that shattered the numb silence of his existence.

➳ He took a step forward, but his legs felt weak. The elation, the disbelief, the agony of the years spent apart—they all surged through him, overwhelming him in a torrent of emotion. His breath caught in his throat. “Y/N…” His voice was barely a whisper, a sound so fragile it could break the very moment in which you both stood. The years of pain seemed to melt away with that single word. It was as though the years of separation, the endless nights of wondering, the grief of not knowing if he would ever see you again, all came rushing back to him in a heartbeat.

➳ Then, as if on instinct, he moved. He didn’t even think. He simply acted, crossing the distance between you in a few swift strides. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with a desperation that had not been part of him in years. His body trembled with the force of his emotions, his hands clutching you with such intensity that it almost hurt—but you didn’t mind. You, too, had lived with this ache, the gnawing emptiness that came with the loss of the one you loved. And now, in this instant, that loss was erased.

➳ Tears welled in his eyes, and though he fought them back, they came anyway—silent, betrayed by the depth of his relief. He let them fall, uncaring for once, for this moment was far more important than any of the self-control he had once so fiercely held on to. The warrior within him, so composed, so unshakeable, had melted into the man who had loved you more than anything. “I thought… I thought I had lost you forever,” he whispered, his voice breaking, as if speaking the truth aloud made it all real in the most painful way.

➳ His arms tightened around you, his hands trembling slightly as they moved to stroke your back, as if grounding himself in the reality that you were truly here. He buried his face in your hair, taking in the scent of you, a scent he had never truly forgotten, even as the years had dragged on. In your arms, he was whole again. “I thought I would never see you again,” he murmured against your skin. “I thought… I thought I was alone in this world.” His words were desperate, a quiet confession of how much he had fallen apart in your absence.

➳ “I’m here, Haldir,” you whispered, your own voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I thought I had lost you too.” You felt the trembling in his body, his silent sobs that shook him to his core, and you pressed yourself closer to him, letting him know that you were real, that you were here, that he was not alone anymore.

➳ He pulled back slightly, enough to look into your eyes, his gaze searching yours for some sign that this wasn’t a dream, that it wasn’t some cruel trick of the mind. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your face, as if he had to remind himself that you were really there. He knew you were real; the warmth of your body in his arms, the steady rhythm of your breath, it all confirmed it—but still, the disbelief lingered in his eyes. “How?” The word came out in a breathless whisper, barely audible, but it held all the confusion, all the questions that had plagued him in the years since your disappearance.

➳ You shook your head softly, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I… I don’t know how. But I survived, Haldir. I survived for you. For this moment.” You took his hand, holding it to your chest, where his heart had always belonged. “And now… now we’re together again. That’s all that matters.” He blinked, his eyes welling up again, and this time he didn’t fight it. The tears spilled freely, tracking down his cheeks, a testament to the weight of his heart’s release. He let you see him—truly see him—unmasked in his vulnerability. The man who had carried the world on his shoulders, the warrior who had fought countless battles, was no longer untouchable. He was simply a man who loved and had nearly lost everything.

➳ His lips trembled as he spoke again, the words thick with emotion. “I feared I would never see you again,” he said, his voice quiet and raw. “You were my heart, Y/N. I feared I had lost you to this war. I feared that the one thing worth fighting for would be taken from me.” His hands cupped your face gently, as though he could keep you with him by sheer force of will. “But here you are. Alive. And I—” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of everything he felt. “I never want to let you go again.”

➳ “I will never leave you, Haldir,” you whispered softly, your voice breaking as you rested your forehead against his. The words felt like a promise, one that neither time nor distance could take away. “Let me heal you now,” you murmured, your hands brushing his cheek gently, wiping away the tears. “Let me be here for you. Let me show you that we can find peace again, together.” For a long moment, the two of you simply stood there, your bodies entwined, hearts beating in unison. The war was over, but in its place, there was a new battle—one of healing, of rebuilding what had been broken. But with each breath, each soft word exchanged between you, the weight of the past began to lift, and the love that had never faded began to blossom once again.

➳ When Haldir finally pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a smile full of quiet promise. “I will never let you go again, meleth nín,” he murmured, his voice steady once more, but with a tenderness that had been missing for so long.

➳ And in that moment, the world outside seemed to fade into nothing. There was no war, no grief, no loss—only the warmth of your presence, the unwavering connection that bound you together, a love that had withstood the tests of time and distance. No matter what came next, Haldir knew he had found you again—and this time, he would never let go. Together, you would face whatever came, knowing that your hearts had finally found their way back to each other.

Aftermath:

➳ In the days that followed, the world for Haldir felt both new and familiar. The reunion with you, the love of his life, had been everything he could have dreamed of and more. Yet, as the days slipped into weeks, there remained a shadow that followed him—a shadow not of war or grief, but of time itself. The realization gnawed at him, a quiet ache in the deepest part of his heart. He had lived for countless ages, seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, watched the world change in ways that few could comprehend. His existence had stretched into eternity, a timeless rhythm, a slow and steady beat of life that allowed him to witness the birth and death of the seasons, the turning of the world on its axis.

➳ But you—his beloved—were different. Time would not wait for you. You would age, you would grow frail, and one day, far too soon, you would slip from this world as quickly as you had come into it. Haldir could no longer ignore this, though he tried. It lingered in the back of his mind as he held you at night, as he kissed you in the early mornings, as he laughed with you over meals. Every moment with you, every touch, every word felt precious. But the love he had for you was colored by an undercurrent of sorrow, one that grew more pronounced with each passing day.

➳ He would not be able to protect you from time. There was no shield against it, no sword to fight it, no battle to win. Time would take you, as it had taken so many before you, and no amount of Elven strength or magic could prevent it. At first, he tried to bury his fears, to hold on to the joy of having you in his arms, of sharing this time together. The two of you found moments of peace amidst the tension that clung to him—walking through the forests of Lothlórien, whispering sweet words to each other as the stars flickered above, listening to the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. You brought color back into his life, warmth where there had only been the cold emptiness of mourning.

➳ But time continued its inexorable march, and with each passing season, Haldir’s heart grew heavier. He could see the subtle changes in you—the faint lines beginning to form at the corners of your eyes, the softening of your youthful skin, the occasional weariness that would settle over you, even when you tried to hide it. He noticed how you moved, no longer as quick and unburdened as you once were, how you laughed less freely, as though each moment of joy was now a little more fragile.

➳ And it was in these moments—when the years seemed to press against his heart—that he would withdraw. He couldn’t help it. The pain of knowing that the love they had shared would someday be cut short by the passage of time was too much to bear. He would wander the forest alone, seeking solace among the trees that had stood for millennia, the ancient trunks whispering secrets of a time long past.

➳ The memory of his brothers, the other Elves of Lothlórien, came to him in quiet moments. He had lived so long with them, shared their experiences, their pain, their joy. But he knew none of them could understand the weight of his loss. They did not have to face the crushing knowledge that one day, the light of his life would fade as the seasons turned. His kin were eternal, as was he, but you—his beloved human—were not. The thought of losing you, of watching you grow old and fade from the world, was a constant ache that he could not escape.

➳ One evening, as the sun dipped behind the distant mountains, casting a soft glow over the forest, he found himself staring at you, lost in thought. You were standing near the water, the light catching your hair as it blew gently in the wind, your back to him. He could see the way you held yourself, strong yet weary, and the thought of someday losing you was unbearable. He stepped forward, quietly, until he stood beside you. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you could feel his presence beside you, the weight of his gaze upon you. Slowly, you reached out, taking his hand in yours, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary; the quiet understanding between you both was enough.

➳ “You’re thinking of it again, aren’t you?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Haldir didn’t answer at first. He didn’t need to. You knew him too well, had seen the way his gaze would wander, the way he would pull away in moments of silence. He had never spoken of his fears, not aloud. But you knew. “I can’t help it,” he murmured finally, his voice thick with the weight of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. “Time is not kind to you, meleth nín. I—”

➳ “I know,” you interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. “I know, Haldir. But don’t let fear steal what we have now.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, filled with both understanding and sorrow. “We can’t stop time. We can’t change what’s to come. But we have this moment. We have today. Let me love you in this moment, and tomorrow, and every day that follows.” Haldir’s heart clenched at your words, the rawness of them cutting through his carefully built defenses. He wanted to hold on to you, to keep you here forever, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Still, your love was the greatest gift he had ever received, and he would not let fear overshadow that gift.

➳ “I will love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Every moment, every heartbeat, I will love you.” And for a while, the fear that had gripped him so tightly began to loosen. He couldn’t change what was to come, but he could choose to live fully in the time they had together. Even as the years slipped away, he would cherish every day with you, every touch, every word, every shared silence. In the end, that was all any of them could do—love as fiercely and fully as they could, until the time they had together ran out. And Haldir, for all his pain, was determined to make every moment with you count.

Bonus as I’m a smitten for Elrond god love the man (love older version Hugo.) 🫶🥰❤️‍🔥

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ The winds of war had long been howling across Middle-earth, and Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, found his heart weighed down with an unbearable burden. Years had passed since you had left to join the free peoples in their fight for survival. Your mortal life called you to the front lines, while Elrond remained behind, bound to his responsibilities in Rivendell—offering counsel, wisdom, and healing to those who sought it. But despite his centuries of knowledge and the depth of his experience, Elrond could not escape the gnawing fear that something terrible would happen to you. Every day that passed brought him closer to the heart-wrenching reality that, sooner or later, he might never see you again.

✶ The day had come when Elrond, alone in his study, When the news came—the dreaded news that your battalion had been lost, that you were presumed dead—he could not have prepared himself for the devastation that followed. The feeling of his heart sinking, of his entire world unraveling, was something Elrond, despite his countless years of wisdom, had never experienced before. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain composed, but in that moment, he felt as though everything within him had shattered. In the silence of Rivendell’s halls, the place that had once been full of life and laughter, now stood cold and empty to him. The absence of your presence left an unbearable void in the very air he breathed. His beloved—his heart—gone forever…Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, felt a heaviness settle deep within his heart. He could no longer ignore the gnawing fear that had consumed him for years—the fear of losing you. The love of his life, his heart, his soul—lost in a war that he could not protect you from.

✶ Every report from the front lines brought a fresh wave of dread, though he clung to the hope that you would return, even as the weight of time pressed down upon him. He had known of your courage, your strength, but no amount of wisdom could prepare him for the moment when the news arrived—your battalion had been lost, the battle you fought in was disastrous, and you were presumed dead. The world seemed to collapse around him as he stood in the silence of Rivendell’s great halls, a place once filled with hope and life, now haunted by the absence of your laughter and love.

✶ He searched for you, though he knew, deep down, that the chances of finding you were slim. He traveled to the battlefield where your battalion had fallen, desperate to find any trace of you, hoping against hope that you had survived, that you might be out there, somewhere. But when he arrived, all he found was your brooch—the one you had stolen from him in jest, a gift he had given you years ago, which you had always worn. Now it was stained by the dirt and blood of the battlefield, and Elrond knew, in that moment, that he had lost you forever. His heart ached with a sorrow so deep it seemed to permeate every fiber of his being. The brooch felt like the final testament to the love they had shared—a love that seemed to have been ripped away from him by fate.

✶ In the three years that followed, though Rivendell remained a haven untouched by the horrors of the outside world, Elrond could not escape the weight of his grief. He threw himself into his duties—leading, guiding, offering counsel to those in need—but nothing could ease the longing that had taken root in his heart. There were moments when he would sit by the river in Rivendell, the waters glistening beneath the stars, and he would think of you. He would remember the way you would sit by his side during the evenings, talking about the future, discussing everything and nothing, always with the same warmth and laughter that had drawn him to you all those years ago.

✶ Elrond never let on how much he missed you, but you had always had an uncanny ability to see through his stoic exterior. You knew when something was wrong—knew when the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear. And you always knew just how to lift his spirits. The best way to cheer Elrond up, you had learned, was to talk to him about the future you both dreamed of. A future together, one free from the pain and loss of the present. He would listen, his face softening as he imagined the life the two of you would share: growing old, discovering new wonders, finding peace in each other’s company. The thought of those days yet to come always made him smile. He would hold your hand, his fingers warm against yours, and for a moment, the burdens of the world would fade away.

✶ When you were sad, Elrond was always there for you, offering his unwavering support. He would make sure you had everything you needed—food, warmth, anything that might ease your discomfort. He would never leave your side until he saw that familiar smile return to your face. You, too, had your own moments of melancholy, but Elrond’s presence, his devotion to you, always helped chase the shadows away.

There were those quiet evenings when Elrond would retreat to his books to escape the stresses of his world. He would sit, absorbed in the words of ancient texts, letting the pages carry him far from the weight of responsibility.

✶ You would leave him to his solitude, knowing that he needed the time to rest his mind. Yet, it was never long before he would beckon you over, silently passing you a book of his own. “Your presence calms me,” he would say, his voice barely above a whisper, though his lips often curled into the smallest of smirks as you would look up, embarrassed by the attention. Those quiet, shared moments were the moments he cherished the most.

✶ Elrond missed those times. He missed the way you could always make him laugh, even on his darkest days. He missed the way your presence could fill the air with warmth and light. But most of all, he missed the simple, quiet comfort of knowing that you were there, just beside him, in a world that seemed to keep shifting and changing.

✶ He missed you with a depth that words could scarcely convey. He missed the sound of your voice, so full of laughter and light, even in the darkest of times. He missed the way you’d always manage to draw him out of himself, coaxing him from the shadows of his responsibilities to enjoy the simple joys of life. There was a day, early in your time together, when you had convinced him to go out into the gardens, despite the pouring rain. At first, he had been reluctant—Elrond, ever the reserved and composed half-elven, did not see the appeal of dancing in the rain. But your eyes, bright with mischief and love, had won him over. “Just one dance, Elrond. I promise, you won’t regret it,” you had said, your voice warm and full of promise. And so, he had relented, allowing you to lead him into the rain-soaked garden, the droplets falling all around you both.

✶ You laughed as you twirled him in the wet grass, and though he had protested at first, soon enough, Elrond had found himself laughing too, lost in the joy of the moment. Of course, you both ended up drenched, shivering from the cold, and neither of you could stop giggling as you tried to dry off afterward. It had been one of those rare, carefree moments in his long life, the kind he cherished the most. But as the days wore on, Elrond found that those simple, shared moments with you became more precious than ever before.

✶ Afterward, he had caught a cold, something that had been all too rare for an elf of his stature. You took great pleasure in teasing him for it, even as you carefully nursed him back to health. You insisted on bringing him hot tea, wrapping him in blankets, and refusing to let him leave his chambers until he had fully recovered. The memory of your gentle care, your laughter as you made him rest, was something Elrond held close to his heart when the darkness of the war began to weigh too heavily on him.

The return:

✶ Then, one evening, as the twilight bathed Rivendell in its soft, golden glow, Elrond found himself walking alone along the banks of the river. The waters of Imladris flowed serenely, a timeless current that had witnessed the rise and fall of ages. The air was cool, fragrant with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the land around him seemed still, as though holding its breath in the presence of the moment. His mind was heavy, filled with the weight of years gone by, years in which you had been absent, lost to the war that ravaged the world. He had spent countless hours contemplating the future, wondering what would become of his people, of his family, and of himself. But more than anything, he had wondered about you.

✶ And yet, every day the gnawing emptiness in his chest seemed to grow deeper. How many times had he walked these very halls, the memories of you so vivid in his mind? How many times had he sat by the hearth, imagining what your voice might sound like in the quiet evenings, the firelight dancing across your face as you spoke of your dreams, your hopes, your future?

✶ Elrond’s footsteps were almost soundless on the stone path, his cloak trailing lightly behind him. He was lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the river that had been a constant companion throughout his long life, when, from the corner of his ear, he heard it. A faint sound, barely perceptible, a soft footfall on the earth. At first, he thought it was the wind—after all, Rivendell had a way of carrying the wind’s whispers through its woods, the rustling of leaves and branches almost sounding like distant voices. But then, it came again. A sound so delicate, yet unmistakable—a footfall, the lightest of steps, as though someone was walking toward him through the quiet dusk.

✶ His heart stuttered in his chest, an unfamiliar jolt of hope coursing through him. “Meleth nín.” The words slipped from his lips before he even realized he had spoken them, a breathless whisper full of longing and disbelief. He had not allowed himself to hope in so long, but now, in the depth of his soul, he knew—he felt—something had changed.

✶ He turned, and there you were. You stood in the soft light of the evening, your form outlined by the fading glow of the sun, the last rays of the day catching the delicate strands of your hair, which seemed to glow like starlight itself. For a long moment, Elrond could only stare, his breath caught in his throat, his entire world shrinking to the vision of you before him. His heart beat in his chest, each pulse like thunder in his ears, a sound that seemed louder than the river itself. There you were, alive, your eyes meeting his with the same warmth, the same strength that had once made him feel as though nothing could touch him. The agony of loss, the years of uncertainty and grief, all of it seemed to vanish in an instant, swept away by the overwhelming flood of joy and disbelief.

✶ His legs nearly gave out beneath him, as if the sheer weight of your return had drained all the strength from him. Without thinking, he crossed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out as though to touch you, to make sure that you were truly there, truly real. He clasped your hands in his, pressing them gently against his chest, as though to prove to himself that the ache in his heart, the longing that had consumed him for so long, was finally coming to an end.

✶ And without a word, Elrond sank to his knees before you, pulling you down to him as if he could not bear the distance between you for a moment longer. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his face buried in the soft fabric of your clothing, your warmth the balm to a wound that had festered for far too long. His tears, long held back, shimmered in his eyes but did not fall. It was as though the weight of all those years, the grief, the fear, the longing—everything—had been too much for him to bear, and now that you were here, it was as though he could not bring himself to release the sorrow, even though he felt a profound relief flood his being.

✶ “My heart…” Elrond’s voice was thick, raw with emotion, trembling with the weight of the years that had passed. His words were soft, barely above a whisper, yet they carried the grief of lifetimes. “I thought I had lost you forever. The ache within me… it has been unbearable.” He shook his head slightly, as though the thought of a world without you in it was simply too much to fathom. “I… I could not bear the thought of losing you. Not again.”

✶ You cupped his face in your hands, your fingers brushing against the dampness on his cheek. His eyes were filled with a sorrow so deep, but they held something else now too: the flicker of hope, the tenderness that had never truly left, no matter how many years had passed. “I am here, Elrond,” you whispered, your voice low and steady, yet filled with a strength that only he could hear. “I’m here, my love. I never stopped thinking of you. I never stopped longing to return to you. The war may have stolen so much, but it never took my heart. It always belonged to you.”

✶ Elrond’s heart swelled at your words, and without thinking, he pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything he had longed to say, everything he had carried with him for all the years of uncertainty and pain. The kiss was full of tenderness, the kind that only time and separation could breed. It was the kiss of a love that had endured the test of time, a love that had never truly faded, no matter the distance or the years apart. He kissed you as though he feared that if he did not hold on tightly enough, you would slip away again.

✶ When the kiss finally broke, Elrond rested his forehead against yours, his breath shallow, his heart racing in his chest. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, as if it too were taking a breath, giving you both this precious, fleeting moment. His voice was firm, yet filled with all the tenderness in the world. “Together,” he whispered, his eyes closed as if to hold on to the moment. “Always together, my love. No more distance between us. I will never let you go again.”

✶ And though the world beyond Rivendell still carried its burdens, though the shadows of war still loomed over Middle-earth, Elrond knew that with you by his side, he could face anything. The love between you had not been lost, not even by the ravages of time and battle. It had only grown stronger, deeper, and as the stars began to glisten overhead, you both knew that your hearts would forever remain united—no matter the storms that might come. The world might change, but your love would endure. Always.

✶ In that quiet, timeless moment, as the stars twinkled above and the river flowed gently at your feet, Elrond felt as though the world had finally returned to balance. The pain of the past, the loss, the war—it was all still there, but it no longer had the power to tear them apart. With you, his heart was whole again. And together, you would face whatever the future held, side by side, forever.

Aftermath:

✶ The days after your reunion were a haze of joy and sorrow, a bittersweet blend of love and inevitability. Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, had lived countless ages, seen kingdoms rise and fall, and had endured the loss of many dear to him. Yet none of it, none of the weight of time and fate, could have prepared him for the agony that would come with the knowledge that your time with him—your mortal life—was limited.

✶ Even now, as he walked through the halls of Rivendell with you by his side, his heart could not fully rid itself of the weight of that truth. The joy of your return, of having you here with him again, was overwhelming, but it was marred by the shadow that always lingered in his thoughts—the shadow of time slipping away. It was always there, lurking, like a dark cloud on the horizon, and despite his efforts to remain present in each moment, it tugged at him, reminding him of the fragility of your existence in a way that no mere mortal could ever understand.

✶ He had known this truth long before you had returned to him. The years had always been numbered for you. He had watched countless mortals come and go, each one touched by the brevity of their lives, and though he had lived with that knowledge, knowing you would one day fade away had never been a burden he had been willing to bear. Your love had been worth the sacrifice, and he had cherished every moment, every second, as if it might be his last with you. But now, as he held you in his arms, that knowledge had become more than just an abstract thought. It was a constant presence, a weight pressing on his chest, that your time was slipping away, and he could not stop it.

✶ The passage of time had always been something Elrond had managed to bear. He was an Elf, and he had known loss and grief before, but to love a mortal—you, the love of his life—was a different kind of agony. It was a cycle of beauty and pain, joy and inevitable sorrow. He would not force you to endure the years of his existence; his love for you was too great to watch you grow old, your body changing, while he remained the same. And yet, to see you face the years that slipped away so swiftly… it tore at him in a way that even the countless wars and losses he had endured had never done.

✶ There were mornings when he would wake beside you, watching the sunlight play across your face, feeling the warmth of your breath against his chest. In those moments, his heart would swell with joy, and he would hold you tighter, as though afraid the very light of dawn might fade before he could hold you in his arms again. But in the quiet moments that followed, in the spaces between, his thoughts would inevitably turn to the future—your future. He knew he could not stop the inevitable. Your time was finite. In the stillness of the night, as you slept beside him, Elrond would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind lost in the torrent of his emotions, knowing that each day with you was one day less.

✶ He had never wished for immortality in the way his brethren had. He had not desired to outlast the world, nor to be untouched by time. But now, as he watched you—his beloved, his heart—grow more tired, more fragile with each passing day, he longed for something he could never have. He wished, more than anything, that he could turn back time, that he could change the rules of fate, and grant you the same immortality that he had been blessed with. But he knew this was impossible. He had known from the start, from the moment he had fallen in love with you, that this was the price he would pay. And yet, knowing it did nothing to ease the ache within him now.

✶ As the years wore on, Elrond tried to focus on the moments, on the love you shared. He lived for the quiet evenings by the fire, the shared laughter, the moments when you would walk together through the gardens, your hand in his, your voice filling the spaces between the rustling leaves. He cherished the mundane, the small, beautiful things that often went unnoticed. He would often find himself gazing at you as you spoke, your voice soothing his restless heart. He would listen to you tell him of your hopes, your dreams, the little things that made up your mortal life, and he would hold onto each word as though it were a treasure.

✶ In the quiet moments when the two of you would sit together, reading, or in deep conversation, Elrond would push the future aside, focusing solely on the present. You spoke of the life you had lived, and of the life you still hoped to live, and you shared your stories of the world, of the beauty you had seen. These moments were everything to him—his heart was full in these precious intervals of time, and he would give anything to stretch those moments, to keep you by his side for just a little longer.

✶ But the inevitable truth would always return, creeping in like a shadow in the corner of his mind. There would be a moment when he would see you—your face pale, your movements slower, your strength fading—and the ache would return, sharp and relentless. It was then that Elrond’s heart would break all over again, as he realized that no matter how much love and care he poured into every moment with you, there would come a day when the passing of time would take you from him.

✶ And yet, despite the pain, despite the grief that clung to every passing day, Elrond never let go of you. He refused to. He held onto you, fiercely and without reservation, because he knew that this love—your love—was worth every moment of suffering that might come. The years might take you, but they could not take away the love you had shared, the memories that had been forged in fire and warmth, and the quiet promise that no matter what, he would always carry a part of you with him.

✶ When the time came—and it would come, as it always did—Elrond would be ready. Not because he had accepted it, but because he loved you, and that love would remain even when the world had moved on. He would hold onto you, always, knowing that every moment spent with you had been worth more than all the centuries he had lived.

✶ And so, he would cherish the time left, every second, every heartbeat, until the inevitable came. Even in his sorrow, he would find peace in the knowledge that he had loved you truly, deeply, without regret. In the end, the love that had bound you together was the truest, most eternal thing in a world full of fleeting moments.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

My hand aches from all the writing I’ve done, but it was completely worth it. It was so deep tears streamed down my face when I was writing like this, so honest and profound, feels like diving into the core of my soul. It’s painful yet beautiful goddamm wish it wasn’t fictional characters love to he their in middle earth. 🫶🥹❤️‍🔥

But enjoy my dearies. 🙏

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

[mushroomates]

who i would let borrow my car in lord of the rings:

boromir- would likely take it to a car wash and fill up the tank for me afterwards. no questions asked and the keys are in his hand before he finishes his sentence.

gimli- would change my tires for me. a bit worried about him off roading but he’d take care of it. it’s extremely likely that he also took it through the car wash but not out of politeness but because he got it caked with dirt and mud while driving.

elrond- i’m willing to bet my life on this man being a reliable driver. he could get negative traffic tickets- as in, the cops pull him over just to tell him how good of a three point turn that was. this man is married to the turn signals.

sam- there might be dirt and dog hair left over for weeks but yeah i’d trust him. he probably just needs the trunk space for a dresser he found on the side of the road.

who in lord of the rings i do not trust with my car:

gollum- yeah obviously he’d drive it into the swamp in .2 seconds. this little fucker does not follow road laws or any laws. the second gollum takes my car i know its over.

gandalf- i do not know how one sends an automotive on a quest but im pretty sure my car is in moria rn and i’m never seeing it again

legolas- has the biggest passenger princess energy i’ve ever seen. would total my car immediately after going diagonal across the highway because he saw a cool tree

thranduil- like father like son. passenger princess who has not been behind the wheel for decades. would guilt trip me into giving him a ride before even asking to borrow my car. gets pulled over for having a whole ass wine bottle in the cupholder.

pippin- there would be peanut butter stuck in the console for months and i’d be finding loose snacks and trinkets in my seats years afterwards. also strikes me as the type to be obsessed with the radio to the point of reckless driving

[sharararararara]

Hello. Please write for more yandere/dark Thranduil.

DARK THRANDUIL HCS

-Say bye to your freedom, because you ain't getting it back honey.

-You have a lover? Too bad, Thranduil killed him.

-You hate him? Don't worry, he will fuck you until you say that you love him(and he knows if you mean it or not.)

-You're a mortal? Don't worry, he will find a way for you to be bound to him forever.

Did someone hurt you? The next morning they're dead.

-The guards looked at you? Looks like their eyes are gone, I wondered what happened?

-You escaped? He has already sent a thousand of his men looking for you(and don't think you can escape again, he will make sure you won't.)

-Buys dresses for you everyday.

-You like something? Looks like he bought it, lucky you.

-He will kiss you every chance he gets.

[runawaymun]

Can you do gender fluid bi flags thranduil?

Here he is!!! Back on my indigenous Sindar agenda hehe :D Thank you SO much for this request, I always love drawing him especially for Pride because I get to design the most fabulous outfits. I used the bi flag colors mostly in the crown, and the genderfluid flag colors in his outfit.

I finished this one on stream so if you'd like to watch me color and render it, here it is.

Pride Request Guidelines

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Ya’ll, i just created some sick ass lore for my au.

So as some of you might have noticed, i have started drawing my ocs and legolas and thranduil, etc, with yellow eyes, and i was like “hmmm, how do i make that unique”

And then i was like: what if they weren’ born with yellow eyes. Instead, elves get yellow eyes when they’ve managed to forcefully seperate themselves from the music, from the song, from Eru’s plan? The ritual to do this is smth they go through as elflings, so most beings only know them as having yellow eyes.

And mind you, yellow eye havers in the au are:

Oropher

Cloudryad

Elya (oropher’s sister)

Thranduil

Miriel

Ingwe

Elwe

Olwe

Elmo

Lasgen

Lirion

Kleoyia

Legolas

And the reason why luthien and feanor, etc, don’t have yellow eyes is bc they didn’t go through the ritual bc their yellow eyed parents were stopped from doing so.

And the thing is, seperating themselves from the Song is a gamble. There’s no garuntee for a happy ending but they do have the power and freedom from Eru to do what they want. They exist outside of the system.

And the reason they don’t tell other elves how to do so is bc 1. If all elves tried to remove themselves from fate it’d get back to the gods and then things would go to shit, and the yellow-havers are just selfish enough to want to keep it for themselves.

And 2, while not being forcefully bound by Eru’s song is nice, and it is absolutely smth they will hapully face the consequences for in order to have, it also means that any protection they have from the gods, from the song, is gone.

Where the valar can’t intervene with elves like feanor, galadirel, elrond, etc, via mind control and forcefully binding them against their will when they’ve done nothing wrong, the valar can do whatever they want with yellow-eyed elves with no fear of intervention from eru or sm other god.

Whether it be by mind controlling and abuse in order to keep control of a kingdom (melian and elwe), binding their powers and physically preventing them from leaving valinor via force field (Ingwe) or havong them assassinated and then keeping them locked up in the halls of mandos far past the time they should be released (Miriel), or even simply being picked up and dropped into whatever hellish situarion for the gods’ amusement and entertainment, these elves might be more free than any other, but they also have no protection from the powers that be.

Yellow eyed elves are the putlaws of Eru’s plan, Eru’s music, and while the elves listed will happily face any and all consequences in order to retain their freedom, it’s not something they would encourage others to get either, bc it’s a very dangerous decision to make.

[clovenly]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍 ; a poem they'd recite to you ── elven edition!

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒: ᵃʳʷᵉⁿ, ᵉˡˡᵃᵈᵃⁿ, ᵉˡʳᵒʰᶦʳ, ᵉˡʳᵒⁿᵈ, ᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵒʳ, ᵍᵃˡᵃᵈʳᶦᵉˡ, ᵍˡᵒʳᶠᶦⁿᵈᵉˡ, ʰᵃˡᵈᶦʳ, ˡᵉᵍᵒˡᵃˢ, ˡᶦⁿᵈᶦʳ, ᵗᵃᵘʳᶦᵉˡ, ᵗʰʳᵃⁿᵈᵘᶦˡ

[ A THING OF BEAUTY ] of noble natures / of the gloomy days / of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways

elrond, galadriel, thranduil

[ LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY] all things by a law devine / in one another's being mingle— / why not i with thine?

erestor, elladan, glorfindel, lindir, legolas

[ HOW DO I LOVE THEE? ] how do i love thee? / let me count the ways / i love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach

arwen, elrohir, haldir, tauriel

[pastanest]

Sausage’s Commissions

on my Masterlist, any character clicked into will have their own post stating whether requests are open/closed for them. if requests are closed, I wanted to still give the opportunity for people who perhaps werent on my blog when that character was posted for regularly, or even people who were and would like more content, to get more specified works from me, if you’d like them!! ♡

there’s no specific price as I dont want to be locked in to writing x amount of words for x amount of money in x amount of time, that’s not the kind of pressure I vibe with, but if you’ve got an idea for a character I no longer write for and have any spare virtual change, drop me a message to discuss the idea, let me know how much you’d be able to send over for it and we can add it to the list! once the funds have received, send an ask through with what we decided and title it with COMMISSION as that’s easiest for me to keep tabs on what I’ve got coming up and I’ll be able to prioritise the commissions in my inbox that way :)

**PSA: the Tumblr tipping system has been shutdown so it would need to be a personal Paypal transaction**

to clarify: this doesnt mean I’ll never write for these characters again without getting paid to do so, there’s always the chance I’ll come back to them for the odd idea, but in terms of specific, catered content, I dont have any plans to return to these characters atm

-> Characters I’ll Accept Commissions For:

The Walking Dead -

Daryl Dixon

Negan

Criminal Minds -

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Lord Of The Rings -

Thranduil

Aragorn

Legolas

Frodo Baggins

Samwise Gamgee

Harry Potter -

Draco Malfoy

Neville Longbottom

George Weasley

—

[recommend-and-reveiw]

Fantastic as always Nana!

🦌 and 💍 for the ask game? *excited giggle* I loooove your headcanons

Hello, dear Callon! Thank you for this ask and for your endless patience! I will combine your two requests of 🦌: "HC about one of Thranduil’s personal likes or dislikes" and 💍: "HC about a family tradition" into one discussion about:

Thranduil and Hunting

Fanart by cudzinec (DeviantArt)

Thranduil has been participating in hunts ever since his youth in Doriath, and received his initial instruction not from his father, but from his uncle (his mother’s brother), the legendary Beleg Cuthalion, Chief Marchwarden of King Thingol.

Thranduil developed an interest in archery from about 10 years old, but only Beleg would agree to take a student so young, headstrong, impulsive, yet extraordinarily gifted under his wing.

Even as a child, Thranduil possessed exceptional physical strength, and could already pull the draw weight of an average Doriath archer.  

Beleg had a special bow designed just for him, measured for a child’s height but with an adult’s draw weight, and trained him using this. 

Thranduil greatly admired his uncle’s famous bow, Belthronding, and hoped to earn it as an inheritance one day. 

Thranduil’s natural-born gifts, which also included horsemanship, keen aim and eyesight, and a relentless pursuit of any chosen target, led to Queen Melian remarking that he would have been a favored companion of Oromë, Huntsman of the Valar, in Aman. This did not exactly please Thranduil’s father, Oropher, who preferred his son not be quite so wild-hearted and adventurous.  

Thranduil was merely 14 years old during the Hunting of Carcharoth, and was very upset at being too young to participate in that great adventure. From that day onward, he insisted on participating in as many hunts as he would be permitted to join. 

As a young hunter, Thranduil was particularly adept at navigating through rough, unfamiliar terrain. He was also fearless at hunting down dangerous predators such as wargs, wolves, wildcats, and bears. 

Fanart by @chicotfp (Note: Check out all their incredible Thranduil artwork!)

However, the arrival of Túrin Turambar greatly affected the close relationship between uncle and nephew. Much of Beleg’s time and attention redirected to King Thingol’s foster son, which made Thranduil jealous and resentful of the human outsider. 

After receiving news of his beloved uncle’s death, Thranduil (then 37 years old) blamed Turin and the curse he carried with him. He was also angry that Belthronding never returned to Doriath, and believed that Turin had stolen it himself. 

From that time on, Thranduil’s interest in archery fell drastically, and he refocused his training towards swordsmanship instead. He stopped going on hunts completely, and did not return to it until his father took the kingship of the Woodland Realm nearly a thousand years later.

Thranduilion Family Hunting Traditions

Thranduil rediscovered his love for hunting some years after he began living in the Woodland Realm. The vast landscapes between Rhovanion and the Rhun provided bountiful hunting grounds for all kinds of game, and he often rode out with the Silvan hunters on long expeditions. He soon became as familiar with those lands as the native Wood-elves who had lived there since the Awakening. 

Thranduil personally oversaw the training in archery and hunting of his two eldest sons, Crown Prince Mirion and Prince Turhir. By the time Princes Arvellas, Gelir, and Legolas were born, he had delegated this task to the elder brothers, wishing for them to become role models and mentors to their younger siblings.

Although all five sons are skilled at hunting and tracking, Prince Gelir is by far the most naturally gifted, and is often bragged about by the Elvenking as the “greatest huntsman across the realms”.

Prince Turhir is noted for preferring to use various-sized spears instead of bow and arrow as his choice of weapon, for game even as small as squirrels. 

The king and princes would sporadically and spontaneously group up to go on their own recreational hunting trips. Southeastern Greenwood, between the East Bight and the Old Forest Road, was particularly rich with game during the autumn through winter months.

They did not use hunting dogs, local guides, traps, or baiting tactics and relied solely on their own stalking and archery skills. 

Hunting was one of the most favorite bonding activities between father and sons, and amongst the brothers, and involved a lot of playful challenges and bets. 

The Hunting of the Rhûn Lion

Every four years during the summer, from about TA 300-1300, the entire royal family (including the Elvenqueen) would assemble a small party and go on an expedition to hunt the Rhûn Lion, the dangerous and unchallenged apex predator of Rhovanion. The hunt would last for an entire month and was celebratory in nature, involving other games and feasting traditions. It was considered a great honor to be invited to this hunt with the royal family, but rarely was anyone invited more than once, since the intention was for every Greenwood hunter in the kingdom to be given a turn at participating. 

The resulting kills were either taken home by the guest hunters, or gifted to the Northmen residing in the area, who prized the pelts and meat. 

Part of the reason why they culled the Rhûn Lion in particular was to prevent their numbers from overwhelming the populations of wild horses and wild kine that roamed the plains of Rhovanion. The Kine of Araw were a valued species of oxen that legends claim descended from the cattle of the Valar Orome. The Great Horn of Gondor was made from one of the Kine of Araw, by Vorondil, one of Boromir’s ancestors who famously hunted them. (A connection that Legolas and Boromir later bonded over.)

Tolkien Headcanon tag list:

@quickslvxr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette

[wakingupthetrees]

i like to headcannon that legolas' habit of randomly bursting out into song and dance was one thranduil absolutely encouraged when he was younger

and from that I like to imagine baby lego with his ada visiting rivendell and absolutely terrorising elrond

Elrond: now, for this meeting i was hoping we could discuss-

*Tiny legolas bursting out into a song about a bird he saw. Thranduil smirking proudly and not bothering to stop him*

Elrond: oh fuck. there's two of them now

[tarantado-si-viann]

The Elves Reacting To Their S/O Wearing Their Clothes^^

Pronouns: You mostly so it's GN^^

A/n: So, hello! I'm new here on tumblr and I just thought that a nice, maybe warm, headcannon ( is that how you spell it? ) would do good for a first start.,. I'm sorry in advanced if there are spellings that are needed to correct! Also, I was lowbat at the moment so I could only do three huhu. But either way, please enjoy<3

P.S- if you liked this one, do me a favor and reblog, won't you?

LEGOLAS•°`~

• "And what's this I see?"

• Although Legolas didn't mind lending his clothes to other people, you may be the first to amuse him in this state.

• There you were dressed in his casual, green, elven shirt with his double sized elven pants on you.

• "Why, hello there! I don't believe we've met...?" he smirks, rubbing his nose as he circles around you in curiosity. You giggled at his pretending and you played along.

• "Y'know, I haven't seen such a handsome ellon like yourself," you state and punch his arm gently. "You are?"

• For a moment, Legolas doesn't know what to say. In fact, he paces around, brewing the correct words until they lingered on the edge of his tongue.

• "The love of your life."

• You were shocked with his sudden answer and felt a trickling heat that crept onto your face in a flustered blush. You stumbled back while hovering your right palm unto your dusted cheeks in embarassment. Legolas chuckled and pulled you close into his arms.

• "Oh, melleth nin, I adore you so. However, I was truly surprised to see you in my own garmets. What made you think of this adorable nonsense?"

• "I didn't think I'd come up to this as well. You know me, full of surprises. Wait... are you perhaps cross?"

• Legolas kissed your forehead and rubbed circles on your back.

• No, Legolas wasn't cross. He was delighted by this incident that he even offered you to borrow more of his clothes next time. Why would he be cross with the person he loved the most?

• "I am not cross, my love. I am very happy and this just gave me an idea! Why don't we do this together? You wear my clothes again and I'll wear yours. Are you up? We could go surprise everyone here in Mirkwood!"

• A fond smile painted on your lips as you nodded in agreement. "Sure thing."

THRANDUIL•°`~

• "Y/n!" A needy voice echoed down the halls calling your name.

• "Huh?" you flinch on your spot, hurriedly placing king Thranduil's belongings back to where they exactly were minutes ago.

• Although you may had messed up... too much. Why, you didn't even know where to begin.

• "Where do these hangers go? How about the robes, oh! And the brushes as well!" you thought while your hands quickly picked up everything you saw. Hot damn!

• The footsteps grew louder and louder until they finally stopped at Thranduil's room. He was annoyed, no joke.

• The door carefully opened, revealing you caught in the headlights.

• "Y—"

• What were those? WHAT WERE THOSE ON YOU? WAS THAT HIS RED ROBE AND RINGS ON YOUR FINGERS?

• Thranduil was speechless. Unlike his son, he wasn't too keen on lending his spare clothes. But this, this would have to been an exception.

• His irritation disappeared like a bubble in an instant. "Uh... I'm sorry..." you sighed and began to remove everything you had a hard time putting on. What was truly the waste was the small, leaf branch circlet thingy that took you hours to prepare.

• However, Thranduil stopped you, a shy look on his face.

• "N-no... please... ke-keep them... I mean, well, uh... I—"

• You laughed nervously. "Wait what?" He looked so sincere, so that had your mind twisted in confusion and at the same time, gave you a hard time comprehending what he just said, not to mention his stuttering.

• "No... keep them, please. As long as you're happy, my dear."

• You blinked a few times before a happy grin etched on your face. It was a sight to see for Thranduil.

• He walked closer to you and fixed the stray hairs on your face, tucking them under your ears. He hummed in satisfaction before placing a quick kiss on your lips. He then turned back to the door when he didn't notice you followed his heels. "What?" he asked you in the least of annoyance.

• You shook your head and wrapped your left arm around his right one. Giving in, he dare let you roam inside the halls with his vibes radiating off of you.

• But wait...

• Where's the circlet thing????

ELROND•°`~

A/n: oof, that's my father figure^^

" Dear, Y/n! Please slow down!" Lindir called from behind you, dragging his heavy clothes along as his panting grew louder and louder across the halls.

You didn't pay mind to him as you continued to jog towards the council meeting, to which you could already see outside the door.

Lindir, who was too tired to chase after you, leaped into the air, catching you off guard, and grasped the end of your long robes. His body hit hard on the floor which made you shriek in guilt.

"Oh, Lindir! Are you hurt? Where does it hurt??" you worriedly call as you helped him sit up. The ellon wore an irritated expression on his usual bright face which made chills slither down your spine. You knew this wasn't normal, and to Lindir… well…

ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH.

"Y/n! Calm down at once! My lord Elrond will not be pleased when he finds out that you have fitted once more into his fine robes! Not even the mere 'fun' I'd expect from someone as superior as you. Yet, you've decided to do it again, I mean, LOOK AT YOU!!"

This wasn't the kind of critique you had expected from your best friend. Nonetheless, it offended you when you realized you had offended him as well. This poor elf was now injured for your sake. He just didn't want you to be judged and judged so rudely. No, not like the last time you imitated Lord Elrond's attire at one feast. Damn elves.

"I'm sorry, mellon. I'd be careful next time. But… I don't want to take these off yet! Can't we make most of the hard work?" you pleaded, pulling the puppy eyes that seemed to get everyone and literally EVERYONE all of the time.

"Screw this. Be free, Y/n. You are big and old enough to make decisions of your own." he spits with concealed amusement in his tone. To this, you smile, help him stand and leave him alone in the hallways.

"Make Elrond love you hard!" you kept in mind.

The council consisted of several elves including the Sindarin, Legolas, and Elrond who was seated at the edge of the circle of chairs. Gandalf was on one side and a dwarf at the other edge. The rest was occupied by more elves, a hobbit, and two humans, leaving you a rather intentional saved spot beside the Lord of Imladris.

Everyone's eyes laid on you. You had imitated every part of Elrond— his hair, clothes, shoes, and a hand made ringlet that matched his own.

Elrond raised a brow at you, but you could tell that he was delighted with… you. "Ah, well someone's tardy today. Where have you been and what have you been up to?" he asks slyly with a smirk on his face.

"I certainly had brewed some sort of mess back in your chambers. Tut! Well, that's nothing to worry about now, meleth. We should begin this instance!" you smile cheekily, patting his arm, head resting on his shoulder. You had made yourself too comfortable before a meeting. How would you be able to focus now?

"We'll discuss this 'brewed mess' after today's meeting. For now, we will figure out ways to destroy the ring."

•°`~~~~~~♪

This was so dumb.

Feel free to request!

No tags at the moment^^

[earthlybeam]

Elves how would they react to their human s/o being so…human with their ‘odd quirks’ by elven standards

how would the elves react to this?

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Thranduil, Elrond, Gil-galad Versions are below.

Thranduil, being the proud and poised Elven King of Mirkwood, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

𐂂 You grinning mischievously “I made us friendship bracelets!” Thranduil He raises a single, imperious brow, his expression hovering between amused indulgence and mild exasperation. “Bracelets? What purpose do these trinkets serve?” Before he can decline, the metallic click of the handcuffs echoes through the room. He freezes, staring down at his wrist, now bound to yours. His icy blue eyes narrow dangerously. “Is this some sort of mortal jest?” His voice is calm, but there’s a subtle, deadly edge to it. You beam at him. “Now we can really bond!”

𐂂 Thranduil exhales sharply, as though summoning every ounce of patience within him. He tugs lightly at the chain, his gaze flickering between the cuffs and your unapologetic grin. “You dare shackle the King of the Woodland Realm like a… prisoner?” As you shrug cheerfully, his lips press into a thin line, though a flicker of reluctant amusement dances in his eyes. “Fine. But you will remove these before the feast. If my court sees this, I will never hear the end of it.”

Another version

𐂂 You Grinning mischievously, you extend two shiny, interlinked metal cuffs toward Thranduil. “I made us something special—friendship bracelets!” you announce cheerfully. Before he can fully grasp your intent, you deftly clasp one cuff onto his wrist, the audible click resonating through the room. Without hesitation, you secure the other cuff onto your own wrist, binding the two of you together.

𐂂 Thranduil For a moment, the Elven King simply stares at his wrist, his expression frozen in shock. His usual graceful composure wavers as his piercing eyes shift from the unyielding metal band now encircling his wrist to the matching one on yours. Slowly, his gaze lifts to meet yours, his brows arching high in disbelief. “You did… what?” he finally manages, his voice calm but laced with incredulity.

𐂂 When he gives the cuff a light tug, the movement pulls your arm forward, making it abundantly clear that neither of you can stray far from the other. His sharp features twist into a mixture of irritation and exasperation as he leans back in his chair, his hand lifting to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Explain yourself,” he demands, his tone low and commanding, though there’s a flicker of something—perhaps amusement—beneath the sternness.

𐂂 You Smiling innocently, you lift your cuffed wrist with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s symbolic! You know, like how our lives are intertwined now. It’s a human tradition—or… well, maybe I improvised a little.” Thranduil He lets out a long, slow sigh, clearly summoning every ounce of his legendary patience. “Bracelets, you said,” he mutters under his breath. “This is hardly what I would describe as a bracelet. These are shackles fit for a dungeon!” His free hand gestures toward the cuffs as his lips press into a thin line, his irritation palpable.

𐂂 You Trying to stifle a laugh, you grin up at him. “Well, I didn’t think you’d actually wear a regular friendship bracelet… but these? Now you don’t have a choice.” For a long moment, Thranduil says nothing, his keen eyes narrowing as he studies your face. Then, without warning, he gives the cuff on your wrist another firm tug, pulling you closer until you’re nearly nose to nose with him. “And what,” he says, his tone dropping to a dangerously low register, “do you intend to do when I need to address matters of state? Shall I drag you into my throne room before my council as my… ‘symbolic companion’?”

𐂂 Despite his stern words, the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly, betraying his inner struggle to keep a straight face. There’s something undeniably absurd—and, dare he admit it, endearing—about the entire situation. With a sigh of resignation, he leans back in his chair, the faintest smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

𐂂 “Very well,” he says, his voice softening as he casts a sidelong glance at you. “But if you think this means I will tolerate being hauled about on some wild human adventure, you are sorely mistaken.” His gaze lingers on the cuffs, then flicks back to you. “And pray, do not think this will go unpunished. I shall expect a full explanation… after you find the key.” The evening wears on, and though Thranduil maintains a carefully aloof air, his occasional glances and faint smiles betray his growing amusement. For all his bluster, he seems far more entertained than he would ever admit.

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You Burning your tongue on hot food despite claiming it’s “too hot.”

𐂂 You taking a bite “This is too hot. Thranduil He watches you lift the steaming food to your mouth, his expression betraying mild concern. “Then why—” Before he finishes, you yelp and fan your mouth, visibly in pain. His piercing blue eyes widen slightly, though his lips press into a thin, disapproving line. He sets down his goblet deliberately, studying you as though you’ve just confirmed every suspicion he’s ever had about mortal impulsiveness. “You knew it was too hot, meleth nîn, yet you ate it anyway. What were you hoping to achieve?” His tone is cool, bordering on exasperated, but there’s a faint undertone of amusement he can’t quite suppress.

𐂂 You try to respond, only to wince and motion wildly for water. With a resigned sigh, he reaches for a goblet, handing it to you with his usual elegance. “Drink. Slowly, if that is within your capabilities.”

𐂂 As you gulp it down, he leans back, one brow arched. “Mortals truly lack self-preservation instincts. I shall have to monitor your meals now, lest you burn yourself into oblivion.” His smirk betrays his fondness.

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You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal)

𐂂 You bursting into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your sides as you snort between hiccups.

𐂂 Thranduil He stops mid-sentence, his refined demeanor frozen in place as he stares at you with a mixture of disbelief and horrified fascination. His elegant brows draw together, and for a moment, he seems genuinely uncertain if you’re choking or… some kind of woodland creature mimicking laughter.

𐂂 “Are you… quite well?” he asks cautiously, his deep voice laced with incredulity. But your hiccups only intensify as you wheeze, your snorts breaking through like a startled piglet. His lips twitch as though caught between a frown and a suppressed smile. He clears his throat, his regal composure teetering. “I fail to see what could be so amusing as to warrant… this display.”

𐂂 You clutch his arm for support, tears streaming down your face as another snort escapes. His icy blue eyes narrow, and he leans back slightly, as if distancing himself from the chaos. “Are humans always this… undignified when amused? Or is this a unique trait of yours?” Still laughing, you manage to hiccup out a garbled apology, but it’s clear you’ve lost all control. Thranduil exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose, though his lips curve into the faintest smirk. “If nothing else, meleth nîn, you have proven to be a source of endless… surprises.”

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

𐂂 You pausing in the doorway, staring blankly around the room with a furrowed brow

𐂂 Thranduil He looks up from his desk, the faint flicker of a candle casting shadows across his regal face. His piercing gaze lands on you as you stand there, motionless and perplexed. “Well? Are you going to say something, or shall I simply guess the reason for this intrusion?”

𐂂 You frowning, scratching your head “I… forgot why I came in here.” For a long moment, Thranduil says nothing. He leans back in his chair, one perfectly arched brow rising higher than you thought possible. He steeples his fingers in front of him, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief. “You entered my chambers… and you don’t recall why?”

𐂂 You nervously laughing “Yeah, I guess I just forgot. It’ll come to me in a second!” His lips press into a thin line, and he releases a soft sigh, one that speaks of centuries of patience worn thin by mortal antics. “You are aware that I rule an entire kingdom, are you not? That my time is valuable?” he remarks dryly, though his voice carries an undertone of exasperated fondness.

𐂂 You grinning sheepishly “I’m sorry, I’ll just—uh—go.” As you turn to leave, he raises a hand, stopping you. “No. Stay.” He gestures to a nearby chair. “Sit there until you remember. Let us not risk you wandering aimlessly and forgetting your way back as well.”

𐂂 You obey, his sarcastic quip making you chuckle nervously. He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mortals,” he mutters softly, returning to his work. “Endlessly baffling. And yet, I find I do not mind nearly as much as I should.”

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

𐂂 As you lie beside Thranduil in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the grand windows of his chambers, you let out a small, frustrated sigh. Carefully, you flip your pillow over, smoothing your hand across the “cool side” before settling your head against it with a satisfied sigh.

𐂂 Thranduil He notices immediately, his keen elven eyes watching every movement, even in the dim light. His brow furrows slightly as he props himself up on one elbow, his silver-blond hair spilling over his shoulder like liquid starlight. “What peculiar ritual is this?” he asks, his voice a soft murmur edged with curiosity.

𐂂 You glancing at him, a bit surprised “It’s… flipping the pillow to the cool side. It feels better. He blinks, his expression a perfect mixture of incredulity and faint amusement. “The cool side of the pillow?” he repeats slowly, as if testing the absurdity of the phrase. “And this… improves your comfort?” You nod earnestly, hugging the pillow closer. “Absolutely. It’s one of life’s little pleasures.”

𐂂 Thranduil’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile threatening his composed facade. “Mortals,” he muses, leaning back against his own array of perfectly arranged pillows. “You are remarkable in your ability to find solace in the most trivial things.”

𐂂 You grinning playfully “Don’t tell me you’ve never done it.” He arches a brow, as if the suggestion alone is preposterous. “I have endured centuries of life, meleth nîn, with pillows precisely as they are. And I assure you, I have managed quite well without this… cooling ritual.”

𐂂 You teasing “You don’t know what you’re missing.” With an air of regal exasperation, he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Perhaps not. But I find your mortal habits endlessly fascinating. If such a small thing brings you joy, I see no harm in it.” As you settle in, he lies back, watching you with a faint, affectionate smirk. “Though, if you attempt to flip my pillow, you will find my patience has limits.”

📜𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Elrond, lord of Riverdell being the proud and poised would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

✶ Elrond watches with a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise as you present the friendship bracelets, his elegant features softening into a rare, genuine smile. “Ah, how thoughtful, meleth nín,” he remarks in his usual, measured tone, admiring the delicate craftsmanship. The idea of bonding in such a simple, yet intimate way seems to resonate with him.

✶ But then, as you reach for the handcuffs, his brow furrows, and he instinctively steps back. “What is this?” His voice, usually calm, carries a hint of bewilderment. The concept is unfamiliar to him—metal handcuffs, a binding that holds his wrist captive to yours in a way that neither aligns with his elven customs nor his understanding of affection. His ancient mind, accustomed to more refined and deliberate forms of connection, pauses for a moment to process.

✶ As the handcuffs click shut, he glances at his bound wrist and then meets your gaze, his eyes soft yet filled with confusion and a flicker of amusement. “This is… certainly unexpected,” he murmurs, adjusting his posture to avoid discomfort. He shifts his focus, feeling the weight of the metal and the subtle tug between you. “I did not know that this was how you humans chose to express your affection,” he adds, his voice laced with a mix of bemusement and fondness. Yet, despite his hesitation, there’s a warmth in his expression as he gently takes your hand, his fingers delicately brushing against your skin. “I admit, this is a new experience for me. But, it seems I shall have to adjust to it, as I always do for you.”

✶ The notion of you choosing to bond him with such an odd but sincere gesture fills him with a surprising sense of tenderness, even if it is, by his standards, rather unconventional. He could never deny your earnestness or the bond you share, even if it comes in the form of metal handcuffs. With a faint, wry smile, Elrond allows himself to soften further, clearly amused. “Shall we walk like this, then?” He asks, his voice steady yet laced with affection, knowing full well this gesture is just another example of the delightful quirks that make your relationship uniquely yours.

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You Burning your tongue on food even though you just said, “This is too hot.”

✶ Elrond sits beside you at the table, his demeanor calm and composed as always, yet there’s a slight glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he watches you eagerly reach for a steaming dish. You’ve made a meal together, and though Elrond typically prefers his food to be perfectly prepared, he appreciates the gesture you’ve made.

✶ You lift a spoonful to your lips, only to immediately flinch. “This is too hot,” you murmur, but despite your own words, you take a bite anyway. Elrond’s sharp eyes catch the slight wince on your face as you quickly pull away, feeling the burn on your tongue.

✶ His brow furrows, concern flickering behind his composed expression. “Meleth nín,” he begins, his voice tinged with both affection and mild reproach, “You knew it was too hot, yet you persisted?” His gaze softens, and his lips curve into a slight smile. “You should have waited, love. Such impulsiveness may not be wise, even for someone as remarkable as you.”

✶ He watches as you try to recover from the burn, unable to stifle the small chuckle that escapes him. The contrast between his measured patience and your impetuousness amuses him, though his worry for your well-being is apparent. Reaching for a napkin, he gently dabs at your lips with it, his touch tender and careful. “Let me care for you,” he offers quietly, his voice soothing.

✶ Elrond, always the one who considers every action with utmost deliberation, finds your momentary lapse in judgment endearing, and though he would never make such a rash decision himself, he cannot help but love the spontaneous, human nature that you display. “Next time,” he says softly, “allow me to help you, so you do not suffer such a simple burn.” He leans in closer, brushing his lips lightly across your forehead, a silent promise that he’ll always be there to care for you, in all your little quirks.

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You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting.

✶ Elrond, ever the dignified and composed elf, is quietly enjoying a moment with you, his keen eyes studying your face as you recount a particularly amusing story. As the words tumble from your lips, the melody of your laughter fills the air, and Elrond finds himself enchanted by the sound—a light, melodic laugh, so full of life and warmth.

✶ But then, in an unexpected twist, your laughter becomes a bit too much for you to control. It starts as a simple chuckle, but before long, you let out a hiccup, followed by another, and then… a snort. Elrond’s eyes widen in surprise, his usually controlled expression giving way to a rare, genuine look of shock. He watches, almost frozen, as you hiccup again, and this time, the sound resembles a pig’s squeal, high-pitched and almost animalistic.

✶ He can hardly believe what he’s witnessing. His mind races for a moment, unsure of how to respond, his elven dignity momentarily shaken by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Yet, as you continue, each hiccup and snort seemingly more ridiculous than the last, a deep, melodious laugh escapes his lips—completely uncharacteristic of him. It’s low and rich, the sound flowing out naturally, filled with both amusement and affection.

✶ “Ah, meleth nín,” he says, his voice both amused and tender, his lips curling into a soft, affectionate smile. “I must admit, I have never known anyone so… charming in their displays of joy.” His voice is filled with adoration as he watches you, utterly captivated by your unrestrained laughter. “It is… an unexpected sound, but one that I find utterly endearing,” he adds, his gaze softening as he watches you struggle to control yourself.

✶ Elrond’s usual calm demeanor returns, though he can’t quite hide the amused sparkle in his eyes. He reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender. “You are quite a wonder, my love,” he says with a quiet, affectionate laugh. “I have seen many strange things in my long life, but none as delightful as this.” His voice is a perfect mixture of warmth and playfulness, the image of his centuries-old wisdom softened by the joy you bring into his world.

✶ Elrond, ever the one to maintain control in most situations, finds himself thoroughly enchanted by the vulnerability you display in this moment—your laughter, so unrestrained, so human, only deepening the bond between you both. “Shall we continue, my sweet troublemaker?” he asks, his tone filled with a soft, affectionate teasing as he watches you try to compose yourself. “I believe I shall need time to recover from such a display of… charm.”

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

✶ Elrond stands by the window, his gaze sweeping over the peaceful valley of Rivendell, his mind occupied with matters of great importance. The stillness of the moment is disrupted as you enter the room, your steps light yet purposeful. However, when you reach the center of the space, a sudden pause overtakes you.

✶ For a moment, you simply stand there, looking around the room as though you were searching for something. The air between you both is filled with a quiet tension as Elrond notices your confusion. His brow furrows slightly, his keen elven senses immediately catching the subtle shift in your demeanor. “Is something troubling you, meleth nín?” he inquires, his voice gentle yet filled with concern. His deep eyes, which have seen so much in the long years of his life, soften as he studies your expression. You stand there, still, seemingly unsure of why you entered the room in the first place.

✶ You blink, slowly processing, and then, with a soft sigh, you murmur, “I’ve forgotten why I came in here.” A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of Elrond’s lips, and for a moment, he can’t help but feel a deep fondness for you. He steps toward you with quiet grace, his long, elegant strides never once faltering. His touch is light as he gently places a hand on your shoulder, an anchor in your moment of confusion.

✶ “It is not the first time,” he says softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding. “Such things happen even to the most diligent of minds. Fear not, my heart. The memory will return, in time.” He watches as your face softens, a hint of amusement returning to your features. His smile deepens as he regards you—your quirks, your humanity, the way you so often forget, yet always seem to be so effortlessly yourself.

✶ “My love,” Elrond continues, his voice laced with a gentle teasing, “it is in these moments I am reminded of the beauty in your simplicity. A thousand years of wisdom may not protect one from forgetting the smallest of details. I, too, have had my share of such lapses in thought.”

✶ He steps closer, his presence enveloping you with calm and reassurance. “Perhaps you were simply drawn in by the peacefulness of this room. Or, mayhap, you were distracted by thoughts of us, as I often am.” His eyes twinkle with a soft affection as he regards you. “Whatever the reason, do not fret. You are in no way alone in this. I, too, have often found myself lost in my thoughts, only to be reminded by a gentle nudge from the world around me.”

✶ He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and full of affection. “Shall we sit for a while, then? If the reason for your visit escapes you, perhaps a moment of rest will bring it back to mind.” As you take a seat beside him, Elrond leans in just slightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch delicate. “Do not worry, melethril nín. Sometimes, it is not the purpose of the visit that matters, but the quiet presence we share in these moments.”

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

✶ Elrond watches quietly from the corner of the room as you prepare for the evening. His long, jet black hair gleams softly in the gentle light of Rivendell’s hearth, his dark eyes following every movement you make with an intensity that betrays his usual calm demeanor. He’s no stranger to the simple acts of daily life—after all, he’s seen countless years pass in Rivendell, where the moments of peace are as precious as gold—but there’s something endearing in the way you go about these small routines.

✶ As you prepare to settle into the bed, he notices your particular attention to the pillow, your hands moving to flip it to the “cool side,” a habit that has become second nature to you. There’s a slight smile on his lips as he observes, his expression softening with fondness. The simple, human gesture is both quaint and deeply charming to him, reminding him of the beautiful uniqueness of your nature, so different from his own.

✶ He watches you with an air of quiet admiration as you finally lay down, the cool side of the pillow now beneath your head. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, a mix of awe and tenderness in his eyes, before he slowly approaches the bed, as if drawn by an invisible force. “Elvish pillows, though soft, do not have the same… comfort,” Elrond muses, his voice low and smooth, with an underlying note of amusement. “I have often wondered about this particular custom of yours, meleth nín.”

✶ He stands at the edge of the bed, his tall form casting a long shadow across the room, his presence as steady and eternal as the stars themselves. There’s a warmth in his eyes now, a tenderness only visible to you as he regards you, the love he feels for you evident in every glance. “Do you find it truly so different from the way we do things?” he asks, taking a seat beside you with a grace only an elf could possess. “I confess, I am fascinated by these small rituals that make you… you.”

✶ His fingers brush lightly against your hair, and there is a deep, quiet reverence in his touch. The cool pillow, the little quirks of your routine—he cherishes these moments, knowing they are part of what makes you human, what makes you his.

✶ “If it pleases you,” Elrond continues, his voice soft but sincere, “I will see if I can find a way to make your pillow more… to your liking. I will take whatever steps I can to ensure your comfort, for that is my duty as your partner.” His eyes search yours for a moment, his hand resting on the pillow now beneath your head. “But perhaps it is not the pillow that brings comfort, but simply the presence of another to share the night with.”

✶ A quiet, affectionate smile spreads across his lips as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “Rest now, melethril nín. You are safe here with me. And if you need to flip the pillow again… you need only ask.”

👑𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

Gil-galad, being the proud and poised elven king of Lindon , would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

🜲 Gil-galad would stand still for a moment, his sharp gaze landing on the metal cuffs now binding you both together. His usual composure would falter for just a second, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His lips might twitch into a barely noticeable smile, though he quickly masked it, his regal demeanor reasserting itself.

🜲 “Well,” he begins in his smooth, steady voice, “this is certainly a creative gesture, my heart.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his tone, but also a touch of wariness. As a king, he’s accustomed to authority and independence, and the idea of being physically bound, even symbolically, might make him momentarily uncomfortable. He would gently touch the cuffs, his fingers brushing over the metal as though considering the weight of the gesture.

🜲 “You certainly know how to make your affections known,” he continues, his voice softening with tenderness. His noble nature keeps him from fully expressing the sudden warmth that fills his chest, but there’s a soft, almost playful look in his eyes now.

🜲 “You’ve captured me in more ways than one, it seems,” Gil-galad would add, his voice carrying a quiet affection. Despite his usual reserved nature, there’s a vulnerability in his words, showing how deeply he cherishes this bond. Though he stands as a High King, in this moment, he would be tethered to you in a way only love could achieve, silently affirming that, despite his reservations, he was yours.

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You Burning your tongue on food even though you just said, “This is too hot.”

🜲 Gil-galad watches with quiet concern as you burn your tongue, even though you had just warned yourself of the heat. His sharp gaze softens in a rare moment of affection, though his expression remains composed, as is his nature. He immediately shifts into a protective stance, moving closer as you react to the burning sensation. His tone is gentle yet authoritative, a voice that’s both soothing and filled with care.

🜲 “Patience, my moonlight,” he says, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You must learn to heed your own words, for even the most steadfast may falter when it comes to something so simple as food.” He speaks not with reprimand but with quiet amusement, his wisdom guiding his response.

🜲 Gil-galad places a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm but reassuring. “Shall I fetch something to cool it?” he offers, ever the considerate king, despite the situation’s triviality. He watches you closely, his gaze not critical but full of concern for your well-being.

🜲 Though this moment may seem small, to him, it’s a reminder of the care and responsibility he feels for those he holds dear. It’s in these small gestures, these fleeting exchanges, that his true affection for you is made evident. He doesn’t need grand displays; his love is shown in the subtle actions of attentiveness and understanding.

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You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

🜲 Gil-galad stands motionless for a moment, his usually calm and composed demeanor faltering as he watches you laugh with such abandon that it quickly escalates into hiccups and snorting. The sounds are unexpected and unrefined, almost animalistic in their intensity. At first, he blinks in mild surprise, not accustomed to such unrestrained expressions of joy from anyone, let alone his beloved. His brow furrows ever so slightly, as if he’s trying to understand the source of this particular outburst.

🜲 But soon enough, a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and his stern gaze softens with an affectionate warmth that rarely shows. His posture remains regal, but there’s a flicker of something else—an admiration for the raw, unfiltered joy you’re displaying. He never lets go of his dignified nature, but your laughter, full of life and free from restraint, melts something inside of him.

🜲 “You have a way of surprising me, my heart,” he says, his voice smooth and steady, but now tinged with an affectionate amusement. His usual solemnity is touched by a rare playfulness. As your hiccups continue, Gil-galad can’t help but chuckle softly, the sound low and quiet but genuine.

🜲 “You laugh with the sound of a creature most ungraceful, yet I cannot help but admire the joy you bring,” he continues, his voice warm but steady, his tone not mocking but filled with a sense of endearment. His gaze never wavers from you, taking in the beauty of the moment despite its messiness. The High King of the Noldor, usually a symbol of restraint, finds his heart lightened by your unpolished charm.

🜲 Reaching out with a gentleness that contrasts his usual command, he places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly. “Take a moment to breathe, my little flower,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet concern that reveals how much he cares for you in these small, personal moments. Even as you snort or hiccup, his presence is unwavering, calm, and steady. He doesn’t laugh at you, but rather with you, seeing in your laughter a vulnerability and joy that reminds him of what it means to be truly alive.

🜲 When you finally regain control, he would look at you with fondness and say, “No matter how unpolished, your laughter is a treasure to me.” His words are gentle, but they carry the weight of an everlasting love, as deep and sincere as his commitment to his people.

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You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

🜲 Gil-galad watches with quiet curiosity as you stand in the doorway of the room, momentarily frozen, eyes scanning the surroundings as though searching for something you cannot quite place. His sharp elven eyes observe your confusion with a subtle, amused glint, but his expression remains composed, ever the dignified ruler. He knows the feeling all too well—his long life has often required a great deal of focus, and he’s had moments where his mind wandered despite his best efforts.

🜲 For a fleeting second, he stands silently, studying you with a soft, unspoken affection. His voice, when it comes, is warm but gentle, tinged with a hint of mirth that he rarely allows himself to express. “It seems that even the wisest of us are sometimes led astray by the mind, my heart,” he says, his tone calm yet filled with understanding. His words are not mocking but reflect a genuine empathy, for Gil-galad, despite his regal nature, is not unfamiliar with moments of distraction and confusion.

🜲 He steps closer, his movements fluid and dignified, but his eyes betray a tenderness as they meet yours. “Shall I assist you in your search? Perhaps together, we may uncover what was so important that brought you here.” His words are light, though there is a deeper warmth in them that only someone close to him would notice.

🜲 He would never rush you or press you for an answer, but rather, he’d patiently stand by, offering his quiet presence to help you find your footing again. His role as a leader of Elves is never far from his mind, but in this moment, he chooses to focus on your small human struggle. There’s no sense of impatience in him, only a sense of calm encouragement. He might even gently place a hand on your shoulder, a subtle gesture of support, his gaze never wavering, as though he is ready to help you in whatever way you need.

🜲 “Do you often forget what brings you here, my little flower?” he would ask softly, his voice laced with affection and concern. The depth of his care for you is evident, even in the smallest of moments, showing that his love for you transcends any regal distance.

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You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

🜲 Gil-galad watches with a quiet fascination as you flip the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in, his sharp elven gaze observing the small, seemingly insignificant act with a kind of patient reverence. To him, such simple, human gestures hold a deep beauty. The night has fallen, and while his mind is often preoccupied with the burdens of kingship, in these moments, his attention is solely on you. His expression is serene, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he silently admires your ability to find comfort in small things.

🜲 As you settle into bed, he steps closer, his tall, commanding presence as regal as ever, though now softened by the warmth of intimacy. “I see you have found the secret of a peaceful rest,” he says, his voice smooth and calm, a hint of amusement coloring his words. “Such a simple thing, yet it speaks volumes of the care you take for yourself.” His tone carries an affection that contrasts with his usually serious nature, showing a side of him that only you are privy to.

🜲 Gil-galad would pause for a moment, watching the way you relax into the coolness of the pillow, his eyes softening. “In a world where so much is constant and unyielding, it is a comfort to know there are small, simple pleasures to be found,” he continues, his voice gentle but filled with a quiet reverence for the simple joys you bring into his life. He is a King who has borne countless burdens, but watching you find peace in such a small, human act makes him feel grounded in a way he rarely experiences.

🜲 When he finally joins you, his movements are graceful, measured, and yet filled with a quiet tenderness. Gil-galad would lie down beside you, his own pillow perhaps a bit colder than the one you had flipped, but his presence beside you is a warmth of its own. He would take a moment to simply enjoy the tranquility, allowing the weight of the day to slip away in the stillness of the night, only for a brief moment remembering how precious these quiet moments are with you.

🜲 With a final glance at your now-resting form, he might quietly whisper, “The coolness of the night is nothing compared to the warmth you bring to my heart.” His voice is a low murmur, barely more than a soft breath in the quiet of the room, but the depth of his affection is clear. Even in these simplest of moments, his love for you is quietly ever-present.

I’m working on the other characters like , lindir, haldir, feren, meludir, Galion, elros, elladan, elrohir, Legolas, celeborn, erestor, glrofindel, círdan, adar 💚🍃

[msrandonstuff]

I LOVE the idea of Thranduil just dropping these bombs of his past in Elrond and my boy having absolutely no idea how to react to them lol.

I can just imagine Thranduil saying some wild shit he and Luthien got up to, then Elrond looking at Celeborn and him just nodding and adding another time in which they did something equally fucked up together as well lmaoskakkd.

Also, I was going through your posts here and it came to me: when did Elrond realized that Thranduil was just That Old?? And how exactly did he reacted?

Not only Thranduil's father was one of the awakened (and he's pretty much part of Thingol's family), but also that his best friend for a long while was Luthien of all people??? That he saw The Fucking Sun come up on the sky for the first time?? Idk why but I'm sure that whatever reaction he had was the funniest thing for Thranduil to witness for some good time lmaokdjs

Hello lovely, thank you for the ask!! (and all your reviews!!!!!!!) 

To be honest, I don’t think that Elrond, being the avid horder of history that he is, would necessarily be surprised about Thranduil’s actual chronological age (especially because that his Mother and Father in law are also Old As All Hell, in the the case of Celeborn lived in the same city as Thranduil for most of the early days.)

What I DO think shocked Elrond so badly he nearly snorted wine out of his nose on several occasions is the casual comments about exactly what shenanigans Thranduil was up to or otherwise experienced the entire time. And also probably gave him several heart attacks as Thranduil altered his entire perspective on historical events/ people. 

For Example #1 

Elrond: “Celeborn once told me that the only competition that Beleg Cuthalion was ever disqualified from for poor sportsmanship was during a match that was with you.”  Thranduil: “Sounds about right. If I recall correctly, I was also disqualified for poor sportsmanship during that match.”  Elrond: “Wow, you two must have hated each other or something to get so carried away.”  Thranduil: “Not at all. Beleg owed me a favor and so I got him to throw the match so that another could win.” 

Example #2 

Elrond: “I read somewhere that the first sunrise was the most beautiful one, and that nothing will ever come close again.”  Thranduil: “I mean, if you consider going Entirely Blind from the strength of the light with literally zero warning as ‘beautiful’ then, yeah, sure. It's irreplaceable.” 

Example #3 

Thranduil, to mostly Celeborn and Celebrian after another song in the Hall of Fire about how Beautiful and Perfect Luthien was: “Once, Luthien and I stole an entire barrel of wine and tried to see if we could drink it all before either of our fathers found us and at some point she got sick at such a velocity that it launched overtop of the entire dining room table without a single drop touching it.  Thranduil after Elrond nearly choked to death in front of him: “When we went to go clean it up there was an entirely unchewed piece of dried jerky which she had apparently swallowed whole, like some kind of feral Warthog.” 

At least half the stress of each of Thranduil's visits is Elrond's constant anticipation of some truly Unhinged and (previously) Unreported Lore about history's favorite elves being given to him at any moment. 

He’s also never sure when or if Thranduil is making everything up just to get a reaction from him, and Elrond will never know because Thranduil Literally Does Not Care if Elrond believes him or not and therefor refuses to go into any more detail of offer supporting evidence for his claims. Unless of course, the supporting Lore is somehow even more unhinged than the original earth shattering revelation.

[mushroomates]

I need you to know that I Am Obsessed with your headcanons and you are so right. Legolas is lactose intolerant. Gandalf picks fights with birds. why are there no cows in Lothlorien. I need more Legolas hcs pls I crave blorbo content >:3c

more legolas headcanons per request:

cannot spell. have you seen elvish? sindarian or quenya doesn’t matter. dislexic nightmare. with all those dialects? no thank you

had a biting problem as a kid

also had a hitting problem. this was enabled because thuranduil found it hilarious. plus it’s hard to stop kids on a positive feedback loop.

sequence of events: legolas swats someone. thuranduil cracks up. legolas is happy his dad is happy and is receiving attention. repeat.

can only wear one specific type of shoe without losing his shit. is like a dog where he gets all weird and forgets to walk with new things on his feet. he really doesn’t like slippers.

is constantly making bets with other elves. it’s so stupid. he eggs on his dad the most. (bet you can’t shoot an arrow, blindfolded and drunk, and extinguish a candle) (this is how galion shot in the shoulder)

talks in a weird accent because aragorn talks in a weird accent and he thinks that by mimicking it they they can bond :)

skins his food. like, will eat the peel of apple then flesh. will remove the white of a boiled egg methodically before he gets to the yolk. will eat the crust of a pie and then the filling.

eats a sandwich layer by layer.

mimics sounds. if he hears a new noise he will immediately try and replicate it. has gotten really good at that.

can mimic gandalf clearing his throat really, really well. to the point where everyone stops and looks at gandalf expectantly.

loves to try and stick things in gimlis hair unnoticed. almost lost an arm that way.

is very good at pickpocketing. uses this to take things from someone and plant it on someone else. ex: plant gandalfs pipe on pippin.

[sorcerousundries]

Generated head cannons for each elf

Headcannons generated with this

Thranduil got hit by a bus once

Elrond has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen

Legolas knows the fnaf lore

Arwen is very good at walking in platform heels

If Galadriel likes someone, she will give them a pretty rock

Celeborn has an intense fear of heights

Feren has a very low alcohol tolerance

Haldir needs a nightlight to sleep

Lindir is a very good singer

Tauriel believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover

Glorfindel desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one

Meludir can't sit in a chair properly

[estel-elrondion]

I always picture Lord Elrond comforting King Thranduil after the death of his wife (I headcannon her name as Lindariel) hope you like this piece

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Thranduil’s (non-existant) Queen

I strongly headcannon that the silvans were very free in their gender and sexual identities. The basic norm was that everyone is bisexual until proven otherwise, and even then it’s quickly accepted. Furthermore, due to the nature of elven lives (aka being immortal) being polyamorous is rather common, as is sleeping around with no romantic relationship.

(The valar can’t tell them what to do!)

That being said, cheating is still a gigantic no no for them, as is abandoning one partner for another, especially if there is little to no warning or reason.

Anyway, slightly crazy idea, but what if Thranduil was not, in fact, married, and simply had and has a bunch of one night stand/regular bed partners and one day ended up pregnant (read my user name) and that’s how Legolas came about.

Thing is, legolas looks so much like Thranduil that no one knows who the other parent is, and Thranduil roles with it bc hey, at least no custody issues.

Elves outside of greenwood: so what happened to your mom?

Legolas: uuuuhhhhhhhh

Que elaborate tragic story that becomes worse and worse the more legolas retels it.

You can bet your ass legolas has fun with it. His friends pitch in and all of a sudden no one knows what happened to the queen of greenwood (they do not call it mirkwood) except that it’s bad.

Thranduil has no idea that this is going on until elrond brings it up one day.

Elrond: i have not said it before, but my condolences for the loss of your wife. I understand it was quite horrific.

Legolas: *sweating*

Thranduil: *slowly turning towards his son* yes, i miss her dearly *you-are-so-grounded glare at legolas*

And:

Elladan and elrohir: how did you deal with the loss of your mother

Legolas: *hnnnnnnnnnn, i am not qualified for this but i can’t tell THEM that* .... killing orcs has worked for me so far.

Later:

Thranduil: *bursts in the door* LEGOLAS-

Legolas: I PANICKED, OK? LEAVE ME ALONE!

And:

Thranduil, as he goes to check on the mountain and humans after the dragon (book canon): Legolas, this is the 6th time i’ve told you to not be so-

Bard: *wet, grimmy, tired* *walks past as if in slow mo and like a supper model*

Thranduil: -Rrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh

Thranduil: *stares*

Legolas: Ada, No.