#thranduil small naturals

[pseudohades]

[Barduil Western AU] ➻ in the lake

➻ not fem!ver or genderbent. this is a trans man drawn by a transmasc artist. uncensored on my bsky & ao3. version without filters & some AU info below the cut

(not pictured: the lake) ➻ Thranduil is a trans man in this AU. ➻ Thranduil draws portraits for wanted posters based on witness descriptions. Bard is one such outlaw. ➻ Thranduil is basically smitten by his drawing of Bard. when they meet through a series of mishaps, Thranduil discovers to his dismay that Bard is even more attractive in person, and Thranduil's rendition didn't do him justice. ➻ meanwhile, he's basically been accidentally kidnapped and now they're roughing it in the Rockies together because Bard can't just bring him back to where he's supposed to be without getting swarmed by lawmen. the lines between captive and companion get a little blurred. ➻ ...and there was only one horse. her name is Duchess. she's a Percheron. (I'm sorry horse nerds, I know riding double is bad for the horse, I'm bullshitting this bit. they aren't traveling that far that fast or very often, so it's not constant strain on her. please forgive me.) ➻ Oropher and Thranduil's Fiancé aren't so willing to let him go. they've been trying to track him down since he fled Boston a few years back. Thranduil would rather die than be caught by them; now it's not just Bard who's on the run. ➻ the story mostly takes place in Colorado during the 1880s, which is well before testosterone was isolated and synthesized, but I couldn't resist giving him just a little bit of a tdick, so again you can find that uncensored on my bsky & ao3. ➻ I will probably talk more about this AU and draw for it in the future over on my SFW blog, @plutolichen ➻ Thranduil's moles that I've just decided he has are so important to me.

[frost-queen]

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

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

| Meeting Thranduil

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

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

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

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

| Life at the woodland realm

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

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

| Legolas

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

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

———————————————

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

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

No TWs | GN!Reader | Wordcount : 3.2k (each individual around 190~ words) | Read on Ao3

« 1, 3, 4, 5, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ He wakes up to the smell of cooking food, something not unusual with Sam in the group, except this time it smells more familiar.

✧ Shaking off the sleepiness he sees you crouching over the fire and making a traditional dish of the Dúnedain.

✧ It makes you feel better to see the smile on his face when he recognizes it, and you pretend not to be watching while he tastes it for the first time.

✧ Aragorn compliments the dish, trying not to wake the hobbits up, before thanking you for everything you’ve done on the journey so far.

✧ He apologises for being so mysterious and the fact you didn’t even know of the ring when you started this journey.

✧ “It’s ok.” You reassure him, before smiling, “I’m glad I can do it with friends.”

✧ His mind instantly goes to the hobbits - but when you keep the smile on him he realises it’s about him as well.

✧ The smile on his face doesn’t leave it for the rest of the day (even when he has to make Pippin eat breakfast on the move).

✧ It’s truly an honour for him to be called a friend by you - especially as you only know him as Strider.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ There’s not really a definite point either of you can say if asked when you became friends, because it simply happened.

✧ It had started with him almost always walking over to you, asking to do archery together or to spar - as natural partners.

✧ It kept going when he began to sit next to you during breakfasts, not talking but simply relaxing in each other's company.

✧ The friendship became even stronger when conversation began to happen naturally, and it didn’t feel forced or uneasy.

✧ Soon there were smiles and good conversations almost every day when he comes to sit by your side.

✧ Those smiles continue outside of the breakfast table and into the rest of Rivendell quickly.

✧ Your friendship is truly cemented when he’s the person you look to for anything with partnership, and the you two are people that can most easily make each other smile.

✧ When Legolas finally addresses you with the title of 'mellon nin' there's a small smile on your face, but it's already so natural it doesn't seem like a big deal.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ It’s been almost a month since you were discovered by Bilbo, and since then you’ve visited almost every other day.

✧ You were constantly keeping an eye out - of course - but you needed time for yourself, especially going from rarely interacting with people to a constant companion.

✧ To Frodo’s credit, he’s incredibly perceptive of when you’re too tired for something big, and instead just want to walk together.

✧ It’s on one of these walks, when you're just following him across the Shire, that he suddenly turns around.

✧ “Are… are we friends?”

The question warms your heart, especially when he asks it with such tentative sincerity, and you stop to fully acknowledge it - confirming it.

✧ You don’t miss the slight blush on his cheeks, instead focusing on the wide smile that appears on his face for the rest of the walk (and the subtle glances back to you, almost as if he’s checking you really said what you did).

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Every Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday without fail you’re able to time your day so that you can walk with Sam on his way home from work.

✧ The gesture is small, but you’re lonely otherwise and both of you enjoy each other’s company - using it as a way to relax and tell someone about your day.

✧ Or the flowers currently, or the new pastries Sam’s been trying to make. Whatever catches both of your fancies.

✧ Like always on a Wednesday you wait a little out of Bag End, and like always you smile when Sam sees you and waves.

✧ He always looks forward to seeing you, although each time he comes up to the gate after brushing dirt off his trousers he always has a slight worry you won’t be there. Each time it dissipates as you’re there - waiting and smiling for him.

✧ In the middle of the walk home, he finally plucks up the courage to ask why you keep walking with him.

✧ “Because you’re my friend.”

✧ There’s a seconds wait as Sam processes it, before he assures you that he thinks very highly of you as well.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ You’ve been in the Shire for almost two weeks now, and every day you see Merry - at least for a little while.

✧ Sometimes it’s only briefly, you see him hurrying to get someplace and then notice you and give you a smile and wave.

✧ Most days he fully stops, coming up to you with a grin and asking how your day was - happy to talk with you for as long as you’ll let him.

✧ Walking back to your home, you see him and another hobbit walking home together and call out to him without thinking.

✧ Hearing your voice, Merry instantly turns around and waves back, stopping to wait for you to catch up.

✧ When you approach he asks about your day, and you’re about to start a full conversation before a cough interrupts you.

✧ Seeing the hobbit there, you can feel yourself blush in embarrassment while Merry looks at the two of you.

✧ “I don’t think you two have met. Well, this is Pippin - the best hobbit you’ll find in the Shire. Pippin, this is the new friend I’ve been telling you about!”

✧ He says it with such confidence that you don’t even question it, don’t even stop to ask him if he’s really sure, and instead join the two hobbits on their walk home.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ In all honesty, you were always crush (and then a serious love interest) to Pippin, although he was still honoured when he became your friend.

✧ After a while of training, it’s clear the two of you have bonded more and progressed past just acquaintances.

✧ As he hands you back your dagger, he gives a smile up at you and thanks you for being such a good mentor and having patience with him.

✧ You grin before tilting your head in question, “After all this time we’ve spent together, I think we’re something more than just mentor and mentee.”

✧ “O-oh, really?”

✧ “Yes, I consider you a very good friend, Pippin.”

✧ It’s not exactly what he was hoping for, but in the short time his face falls his grin is quickly put on again - because you’re right.

✧ You two are friends, and right now that’s probably the best outcome he could hope for.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ In the days of military meetings that always happen whenever both captains are in the same place, you spend what is probably too much time with the same two people.

✧ Not that you can complain about either Faramir or Boromir being bad company, just that you still wished for someone new.

✧ When Faramir properly introduces him to you, you’re at a loss to describe the relationship you’ve formed over the last couple of days.

✧ Were you simply two higher ranking officers who had shared ideas? It didn’t seem a good enough descriptor, not encompassing the smiles you two had shared together.

✧ But you also don’t want to assume friendship with the steward’s eldest son, even if you have been friendly with each other. Someone like him would be nice as a military advisor regardless.

✧ It’s Boromir who uses the label for you, saying he should’ve recognised his friend was the same as Faramir’s second-in-command.

✧ Afterwards, when Faramir asks him why you didn’t tell him the two of you are friends, you can only shrug. “It didn’t come up.”

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Both of you knew the way you’d gone about your relationship was exactly… common.

✧ Although you certainly didn’t regret kissing the man (or trying to take it further) it certainly made finding the correct label for the two of you awkward.

✧ Once Faramir had found out your name, and finally had a conversation with you, he knew that he wanted to try this. That he wanted you in a way that was more than friendship.

✧ Still, he insisted that the two of you should at least try to meet each other one more time before you attempted to court - if only because he was worried you’d realise too late you didn’t like him.

✧ In the end, the only time that you ever use that descriptor is when you two are together on that first meeting.

✧ One of Faramir’s rangers had walked into a room with the two of you, grinning before asking what was going on with you two.

✧ It wasn’t very convincing when you had both said “We’re just friends.” (Especially at the same time).

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Finally releasing your brother from a hug, you stare at Aragorn one more time in disbelief. It’s clear he has more to say, and you need to have words with him as well, but other people deserve to know he’s alive.

✧ Stepping back while watching Legolas arrive, you stumble into someone and turn to apologise before realising who it is. Éowyn.

✧ You still haven’t properly apologised, or seen each other since the yelling, but just as you open your mouth she interrupts you.

✧ “I don’t want your apology. You had no right to say that, but I did not have the right to mourn like I did either.”

✧ Her eyes flicker to Legolas and Arwen’s necklace, “He is not mine to love.”

✧ “You should still have been able to mourn. And I am sorry.”

✧ The silence arrives again, both of you watching the elf and his brother - and you see a different kind of sadness in Éowyn’s eyes. The one many girls make, when they realise he isn’t in love with them.

✧ Sighing, you turn away from him. “I’d like to start over. Us two, I mean.”

✧ At your offer she smiles, holding out a hand to shake. “For a new dawn.”

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ Éomer is impressed by your skill off a horse, and more so in how you deal with the riders you attempt to train (it's quickly apparent how little some of the Rohirrim care about these skills).

✧ Trusting you to handle them, he instead shows his support by watching most sessions - at first with Éowyn, and eventually on his own.

✧ It makes him smile when you start to seek him out in the small crowd you have, trusting that he'll be there.

✧ Seeing Éomer often brightens your day as well, the one consistent smile in your work-place.

✧ As the two of you get more comfortable with each other's company you start offering to walk him back to his - an offer first met by laughter, although now both of you walk that path together.

✧ He's good company, and never fails to put you in good spirits after a bad day - almost determined to keep talking until whatever negativity is on your mind is gone.

✧ Approaching his rooms, you catch Éowyn's eye and she laughs, remarking in some ways the two of you are better friends than she is with either of you.

✧ Even when he reassures her that is not the case, you realise he never denies your friendship either.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Now that he knows who he’s looking for, Bard realises just how much he sees you around Laketown. Usually it’s just standing guard, but sometimes it’s doing something else - whether it’s as simple as giving directions to someone or intervening when patrons get a little too drunk.

✧ It’s admirable work, and thanking you is an easy way to strike up a conversation.

✧ Sometimes he feels bad about praising you just so he can talk with you - but the compliments are genuine.

✧ You begin to look forward to when Bard comes over, not because of the praise but because of the company and the conversation - something that breaks up the monotony of your day.

✧ Although even when your day is busy, it’s still a highlight when he comes to talk to you.

✧ Sometimes the kids come over too - and they’re very sweet as well, sometimes offering you even more baked goods (you’ve been given the same cookie recipes a few times).

✧ The children can tell there’s something special between the two of you, as well, and when Tilda looks up at you she smiles. “I’m glad you’re da’s friend.”

✧ “I’m glad I’m his friend too.”

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Over time, your biweekly meetings with the king begin to feel less and less about work, and about making sure you’re doing your duty as an educator, and more an over-formalised meeting between friends.

✧ The first questions are always about Prince Legolas, of course, but over time the amount of questions dwindle from thirty to only around ten.

✧ Even then his questions still aren’t as formal anymore, and you begin to relax more around the king.

✧ You’re no longer dismissed when you’ve said your peace, and instead invited to stay for longer and sit with him to simply talk.

✧ The two of you never use the label of friends, but when he offers you a glass of elvish wine half way through one of your meet-ups the two of you know what label you’ve achieved.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ As the trials for becoming part of the royal guard approaches, you realise just how much time you’ve spent with Tauriel.

✧ You still have to do your normal duties, of course, and you train with other people - but more days than not you’re spending time with her.

✧ Sometimes most of your day is spent together, and even if it’s mostly training - physical or trying to recite schedules from memory - you still enjoy her company.

✧ A week before the trial, as the both of you are in Mirkwood’s library, you feel Tauriel’s gaze suddenly come upon you. And she asks if the royal guard has always been your dream.

✧ You answer honestly, before asking her the same question - to which she replies it will be an honour, but not her life's goal.

✧ You can tell there’s a deeper meaning to her questioning, however, and ask what she’s truly wondering about.

✧ “If… if only one of us gets into the royal guard, will we still be able to spend time with each other?”

✧ Looking up from the book, you can see her worry. “Of course, I wouldn’t leave a friend behind.”

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ After Lindir shows up with flowers, apologising and telling you he looks forward to seeing more of you, you expect him to come maybe once or twice more before leaving again.

✧ Instead, he begins to come rather regularly, politely waiting until you’ve finished doing whatever you’re doing before asking about your day.

✧ He’s never obtrusive, and asks if you’re sure you’re alright with him doing this about three times every time, but something about his presence just makes you smile.

✧ Lindir even, inadvertently, gives you some opportunities to make more friends - whether he’s dragged them over to you, or talked about you enough that many of the elves can recognise you and know a little about you (it’s hard to miss a human in Rivendell).

✧ Eventually, you’re invited to your first meeting - or party? (it’s hard to tell with some elves) - and you can’t help feeling slightly out of place.

✧ Despite the singing and festivities, the way every elf seems to have a smile on their face and is welcoming, you can’t help feeling out of place.

✧ And then, while you’re tucked into a corner, you notice Lindir come up beside you.

✧ You feel guilty about making him miss out on socialising with his friends, but he reassures you that he’s never been big on large scale social interactions.

✧ Besides, by speaking to you in a corner he is interacting with his friends at this party.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Although you spend a lot of your time in Lothlórien with the Fellowship, you go out and patrol with Haldir when you can.

✧ The second patrol is done mostly in silence, but it isn’t an unwelcoming silence. Away from the stress of the ring and the noise of eight travelling companions, Haldir seems to recognise that silence is currently what you need.

✧ On the third patrol there’s talking again, and he tentatively begins to make small-talk with you about whatever comes to his mind.

✧ It’s easy to make conversation with the elf, and when you're not talking he’s easy to walk in the moonlight with.

✧ Eventually the fellowship realise where you’re going, and Pippin and Merry often come to see you off - dying for something to do.

✧ As he arrives, Pippin looks between the two of you and grins. “Well, have fun on your ‘walk’ with your friend’.”

✧ Haldir glances between you and the hobbit before, in a completely deadpan expression, answering, “We will.”

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ The two of you became friends the day that you met, no questions asked.

✧ It was never officially said between you two, but when you had asked about book recommendations and Elladan’s eyes lit up as he began dragging you everywhere everyone could see what was going on.

✧ You’re good friends with Elrohir too, although he often jokes that you’ve somehow managed to make him into a third-wheel and you aren’t even courting (yet).

✧ The first time ‘friends’ is ever said is when the two of you are reading together and Erestor is sent to check up on Lord Elrond’s sons.

✧ Having never met you before, he enquires into how you know the sons of Elrond.

✧ Elladan doesn’t hesitate when answering, “They’re my best friend!”

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ As half-elven and one of the (soon-to-be) king’s company, Elrohir is easily allowed into places he doesn’t technically have access to.

✧ Namely, the tent of the army's commanders (your tent) as you ride to the Black Gates of Mordor.

✧ It’s a shock to see him suddenly in your tent, although it’s a shock to him to hear steel being drawn when he turns around.

✧ When he tries to reason that he’s technically a commander of the Grey Company (even though you’ve seen Halbarad more often), you can’t help but be a little amused by him.

✧ He seems to sense the weakness, instantly beginning to talk to you - asking about your day, about Gondor, about your brothers.

✧ The two of you sit down just as you realise what he’s doing, but when you open your mouth he interrupts you.

✧ “Have you not seen the coldness out there? You’re one of few using this tent, surely you wouldn’t begrudge its use to a friend?”

✧ “Yes, I would.”

✧ You watch him leave again, but as he turns around he still smiles at you. “You didn’t deny the second part of my statement, at least.”

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A/N : Sorry these scenarios are shorter - and I promise the next scenario will be romantic (when they realise they like you). If you have ideas, please feel free to request.

Also, I've now got a update schedule (bottom of pinned post), and if people want it I'm creating a tag-list. So, if you want to be tagged so you don't miss something, feel free to comment or pm or ask me.

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter four

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,3k

❱ summary: a ride home

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: could he be any more perfect? y'all, tell me if you have some guesses how this will go on🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FOUR: STARS

"Come on, I'll give you a ride."

You whirled around to Thranduil, ready to argue that it was far too late considering he had to work the next morning. You'd imposed on him too much already, the kitchen was in a state that would need a deep cleaning and the boys would certainly sleep in.

"You don't have to," you tried as he passed you and grabbed his coat from the counter. "In fact, you shouldn't–"

Pushing his arms through the coat, Thranduil flipped the collar up and sorted his long hair over his shoulder. He seemed unbothered by your protests and continued to slip into his boots. "I forgot something at work that can't wait anyway, so grab your shoes."

Pursing your lips but swallowing the pouty reply you wanted to throw at him for ordering you around, you slipped into your sneakers, glaring at him while hugging Legolas and Gimli, and then Aragorn Goodbye.

Gimli even dared to wink at you, shoving his elbow into your side with a rumbled: "Fun ride"

Naturally, you punched his arm for that.

Your bag shouldered and the phone that continued to light up with messages shoved deep into it, you followed Thranduil out into the surprisingly cold night.

The gravel path leading to the, well, almost mansion, crunched under your footsteps, filling the silence that you yourself didn't know how to break.

Your last conversation didn't offer much transition to normal small talk, and you didn't want it to.

You wanted to be wrapped up in the warm flirt in his voice, in that heated look that he had thrown you as you'd left him in the hallway.

The nerves of the skin he'd touched still fizzled and ached for him to return his hands onto you, an itch that only he could scratch, a burn for him to sooth.

That though, was most definitely not what you would say right now.

But you didn't want to spend the rest of the way in awkward silence, so you resorted to the manners Thranduil valued. Not only because he worked as a lawyer with a very important –rich, conceited, snobbish– clientele, but because he still held onto the hope that some manners would rub off on Legolas.

"Thank you for offering to drive me." You bit your bottom lip through a smile that has him cracking one as well, soft lips breaking up the stern expression his dark eyebrows sometimes gave him.

"Don't," Thranduil shook his head, the movement sending some of the shorter strands framing his face back over his shoulder, "knowing you're home safe gives me a peace of mind. I wouldn't have been able to sleep if you were waiting on some bus right now."

"Well," your cheeks grew hot, "thank you anyway"

Turning to the road you watched your shadows move in sync, the lights of the house falling through the trees lining the way and flittering on the gravel like scattered fireflies.

You saw how his shadow stepped closer, your hands dangling close enough that one small movement would've led to them brushing against each other. The space was small, easily crossed yet it stayed that way for the rest of the walk.

It wasn't the time.

Not right now; nevertheless how fucking close you had been to kissing him in the hallway.

Arriving at his car, he opened the door of the passenger side, your place, as Legolas had once joked.

He had a point because after Thranduil had first picked you up from the bar, he'd come to your rescue many times, and he helped you to the passenger side first each time, as if he wouldn't allow anything else.

You didn't complain.

Sitting next to him allowed you a perfect view of those sharp cheekbones and cutting jawline that your hands itched to cup and draw your fingers along of. Not only that but whenever the whole group was being driven around, you could enjoy the drive without a shoulder nudging yours or a hand reaching over to open a window.

As you sat down, you took notice of the seat setting, namely how it was perfectly adjusted to you.

If Legolas had ever ridden with his father, you always had to pull forward, because Legolas, in addition to his looks, did, of course, inherited Thranduil's incredibly long and enviable legs to tower over everyone else. A gift he constantly misused to kick you, or to rest his arm on your shoulder.

Once seated in the car, you pressed deeper into the fabric of the seat. Even the headrest was perfectly at your height, so you didn't have to do more than place your bag in the foot well.

As Thranduil's door swung open a gust of chilly air rushed into the already cold car, prompting you to roll your shoulders and hug your torso.

Apart from your shirt, you hadn't brought a jacket, considering it had been warm earlier when you stashed your backpack in the dorm after class.

Thranduil folded himself into his seat, his long legs first, and shamelessly you stared at him as he elegantly lowered himself and tossed his hair over his shoulders before pulling the door shut.

Another flood of cold air.

This time Thranduil noticed how your arms wrapped tighter around yourself and without saying much, he turned slightly and reached behind his seat.

"Here," in the silence of his car, his voice sounded even deeper and the warmth in it was almost enough for you when he'd already put something in your lap. "And don't you dare tell me it's not necessary. Not giving you a choice!" he ordered, a teasing smile taking out all the sterness of his tone.

"Thank you," you breathed, unfolding a navy blue sweater, one that had a white deer stitched over the breastbone, and as soon as you pulled it over your head, the world flimmered at its edges, reducing to just the inside of this car.

"It's not washed, but I promise you it's clean."

Which you couldn't care less about, not even a flying fuck was given toward this precious item of clothing that rocked your world and completely spun it out of its axis.

This was his sweater, his clothing that he gave up for you. This happened in dreams, in books and stories and wishes and hopes– not in the real life.

Maybe this was another thing that separated Thranduil from those Fratboys and overmasculine guys that thought the most romantic thing they could do was pop a mint-gum before smashing their mouths onto yours in slobby kisses.

He has years of experience against their lousy teenager moments.

The sweater smelled so much like him and his house, only much stronger. His scent, rich, full of his perfume and him, took over all your senses. The fabric was so damn soft, so warm, so cozy; you were ready to sink into it and never leave.

Literally, because even sitting down, the waistband bunched up in your lap and you would have had to push the sleeves back, but you made yourself comfortable in the way too big sweater.

Thranduil –most likely unintentionally but who knew– seemed to have decided on torturing you in the cruelest way possible, and maneuvred the car one heel of the palm on the steering wheel, and the other conveniently placed behind your headrest, his head angled so that he could watch through the back window instead of the mirror.

That position, arm outstretched, muscles subtly flexing and his prominent jawline close enough that it could cut your held breath in two, did unexplainable things to you.

If anyone asked you would deny that this movement alone had you blushing and your stomach curling, heat rushing through your body over something so simply yet breathtakingly beautiful and assertive.

He caught your gaze quicker than you could have fixed the blown-wide look on your face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

So he did know.

You laughed softly, "Show off."

His grin became sly. "No idea what you're talking about," he murmured, low and deep and very much a lie.

"Besides, there could've been something behind the car, who knows," he said nonchalantly as he steered the car toward the front gate, the black, tall halves that opened for you at the push of a button.

My ass, something behind the car, you thought and coughed to cover up a laugh.

The mansion grew smaller in the rearview mirror, hedges and tall trees framing the white brick facade and gray shingles until the last of the lit up windows was nothing more than a small dot that disappeared after blinking.

There was something special about driving around at night. The lots in the area where Legolas and Thranduil lived were large, as were the houses and the distance between them, and unlike the city, you were the only ones on the streets.

The night was dark, the sky black, like ink and endlessly stained with countless stars that you couldn't see from your dorm room due to the many skyscrapers and their ever-shining lights. At your place, it was loud and bright, and you leaned back in your seat to watch the sky through the window in front of you.

There was no one else on the road, not this time of night, not in a neighborhood where most didn't even need to work much: no headlights, no cars, no one else but Thranduil and you.

Where that awareness would've brought a subtle panic and anxiety with it a while ago, there was tranquility instead.

All worries about the crush you harbored for Thranduil and how he could find out were replaced, softened up by the memory of his hands on your body, that damn painting burying itself into your back and the sharp edges reminding you that this had been very much real.

This was very much real.

"You're thinking very loudly."

You turned your head, furrowing your brows at Thranduil, "Am not."

He scoffed. "No, darling, you most definitely are. I have never met anyone who is that bad at keeping a straight face." Thranduil switched the lanes, this time checking the mirror and meeting your gaze in it, "Next time we play poker, please remind me to bet on your cards."

Huffing and rolling your eyes you did what any other adult in your position would do, and stuck your tongue out at him. "Maybe I won't play poker with you anymore, how 'bout that?"

"What's your other option? Legolas is good but honestly- the boy would throw his cards away for Aragorn," Thranduil mused and when you laughed he raised his thick eyebrows once, "It's me or Gimli, sweetheart."

You didn't even need to think back to the last poker game you'd played with Gimli, that was too far away and this evening's endless round of Monopoly sufficed generous arguments against him as well. Why you've ever thought it was a great idea to play any competitive game against the most thick-headed people was a mystery on its own.

Another shudder ran through you then, but not because of the cold– the sweater provided so much warmth and your cheeks burned from smiling so much, but rather because your mind did in fact remind you of the faithful poker night. The most chaotic one in the history of poker games.

"Oh," you exhaled a deep breath.

Thranduil's head turned and you made a point of looking thoroughly distressed.

"I don't think I'll ever recover from the awful talk I had with Professor Gandalf." Your whole body shudders just like then, transporting you back to the awkward shuffling around, the stuttering and the many, many, many excuses you'd babbled.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Thranduil said and then, tilting his head as you slowly shook your head, he added an unsure: "Right?"

"Thranduil," you stared at him, barely noticing how the corner of his eyes crinkled at his name out of your mouth, "Thranduil– I was piss-drunk and sent my 70.. or hell, 80-something Professor an E-Mail…at three in the morning. With just a winky smiley!" Your voice had taken on a desperate edge at the end, cutting it close to such a high pitch that you fell breathless into the seat.

All the while Thranduils laughter grew and grew until he gasped for air, his one hand swatting dramatically in front of him. "Mhm.. oh yes, I'll never get tired of hearing it," he giggled, a sound that did not fit the first impression most people got of him.

"Yeah you can laugh all you want," you tried to come across as stern though failed miserably at the sight and sound of Thranduil chuckling. He made it impossible to do anything else but smile. "Jeez, thank god the old man found it funny as well. I think I would've died if I'd sent it to Professor Sauron instead. He hates me."

Thranduil opened his mouth, then closed it again.

A bit quieter than you expected he started again after a while: "This may be delusional since my line of work shows me the worst of people, sides you wouldn't think exist, but I think that you are the loveliest woman I've ever met. That Professor must be out of his mind to hate someone as clever, beautiful, and magnificent as you."

Those words, coming out of his mouth shot you straight into the heart, hollowing out that pit in your stomach and filling it endlessly with messy butterflies and fireworks in such an overtaking force you couldn't find it in you to answer.

You knew he liked you, or at least appreciated your presence.

You had felt it earlier, had seen in his eyes that he was interested and oh– that this picture-perfect specimen of a man would look at you like that was more than you could want.

It had been such a far-fetched wish that there would be anything else except this lust that hearing him compliment you, raising you to a pedestal you never dared to dream about, was astounding and unfathomable.

Thankfully, Thranduil put you out of the misery of searching for something equally important to retort.

He reached over to rest his hand on your thigh, calming the slight bouncing you'd fallen into. "I know it's nothing like Legolas poetic words."

The heavy air that had taken hold of you lifted as you let out a breathy laugh. "He's an idiot. Took after you, am I right?" you teased and slightly flicked a finger against the soft skin of his hand.

You didn't know what led to that sudden contact, one he mostly initiated wherelse you didn't dare to act upon more than friendly handshakes or brushing his fingers while passing the butter or salatbowl.

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, "When they grew him in the lab I made sure to tell them to crank the dumbass level high enough as to not let an identical version of myself get loose on the world."

You pretended to frown, sizing him up and down, "Surely they should have added less then."

The disgruntled snort coincided precisely with a playful tap against your thigh, a swift movement you couldn't have defended against. The moment his hand made contact with the outer part of your leg, you heard the smack, felt the entirely harmless and certainly not painful pull, and your jaw dropped as you stared at Thranduil.

"You didn't just do that!"

"What?" Thranduil blinked innocently at you.

"Ohh, how dare you pull off the eyebrow thing."

"What eyebrow thing?"

"You know," you raised a hand and gestured towards his entire face, which now turned back to the street with a far too sly grin. "That thing you do. You raise those thick eyebrows and open your eyes wider like you're patronizing me and act all virtuous at the same time."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said and did exactly what you'd just explained.

You simply glared at him and flicked his thigh as well.

The car turned, departing from the serene country road to navigate through the sparse traffic of the city streets.

Instead of stars, blinkers and billboards now raced past the window, casting their bright lights on you and immersing you in a cascade of brightness that prompted you to blink a few times.

Previously, where it had been just you, Thranduil, and the hum of the engine, you hadn't realized how comforting those few sounds were. As Thranduil drove along the main street, more focused and enveloped in the watercolor hues of the city, you almost asked him to turn around again.

A yawn overtook you just as you wanted to reply to his compliment from before, feeling slightly dazed by the atmosphere, cutting you off just as you said his name.

"Oh god," you mumbled and checked the display for the time, "How can it be two already?" Unconsciously you cuddled the sweater, burring your nose in the seam while fighting another yawn.

Thranduil turned his head and a soft smile played his lips. "Nearly there, sweetheart. When do you have to be up again?"

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your eyes, "Eight? I think… maybe eight thirty if I skip breakfast and rush straight to uni." He tilted his head and you shrugged, "Eight fifteen and a small breakfast?"

Satisfied he nodded. "Better."

It was such a small thing that he cared about, though the heat rushed into your cheeks all the same.

He parked the car right in front of the dorm complex and after peeling yourself out of the comfortable warmth he led you to the main entrance.

Not wanting this night to end, you took your time searching inside your purse for the keys, fumbling around and pushing some mints and loose papers back and forth until you couldn't drag it out any longer, and then some more finding the right one.

Thranduil waited patiently, leaning against the brick wall, the headlights of cars washing his ivory skin silver.

"So," you said as you couldn't drag the goodbye out any longer.

"So," he repeated.

Standing together in the small alcove of the entrance felt more confined with the tension between you, drawing you closer to him.

Tilting your chin towards the ground, you looked up at him through half-closed, weary lids. "Thank you again. For driving... and thank you for what you said. It.. that whole speech, y'know? That means a lot to hear it and like especially from you."

Thranduil smiled. "Anything for you," he whispered.

Then, he withdrew his hand from his coat pocket. Your eyes followed as he approached your face, his fingertips gliding over your temple, following the curve of your eyebrow until he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cupped the back of your neck.

Yielding to the gentle pressure, you let yourself fall into the embrace he pulled you into. His coat cascaded down your sides, brushing against your knees pressed against his, and as he rested his chin on your head, you couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

Even though you stood there, fully clothed in street attire and the entrance of your home, it was as close as you could imagine to falling asleep with him. And you nearly did.

"Goodnight, darling." His words were nothing more than a whisper, rough and muttered into your hairline, but you still beamed, your face pressed against his chest.

"Goodnight, Thranduil."

"Oh, wait–" you stepped back, realizing your still wearing that sweater, hands already on the hem, "here"

Large hands covered yours before you get to pull it off, stopping you with a gently push.

"Keep it. You wear it better than me."

He paused, breathing in and out as if to assure himself that whatever he thought was what he wanted to say. "Keep you thinking of me while you get some sleep."

You're nothing but a blushing mess as you quickly hurried up the staircase to find your roommate on the stairs, typing on her phone and sparing you one lousy "Thanks" that you ignore to rush into the silent apartment.

You didn't even turn on the light in your room but went straight to your window, facing the street. What usually bothered you turned out to be incredibly practical because you could wave to Thranduil one last time.

As always, he had been waiting next to his car, his gaze directed up to your window, and only when he saw you behind the glass did he get in.

However, he didn't continue straight to his firm; his car turned on the street, taking the same direction you came from. Towards his home.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru , @solartoge @12134z03 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @finallyforgotten @lady-of-imladris @123forgottherest

[sesamenom]

Ringlord High King of Everything Elrond, inspired here

(@the-writing-goblin)

I imagine in this situation elrond would have been partially tempted by boromir's declaration, but instead of trying to fight sauron with it (because even in the weirdest crack au i can think of elrond is still too genre-aware to try that) he tried to use it to supercharge his use of vilya and protect everyone.

basically Ringlord!Elrond turned the entirety of Eriador into a mega-gondolin situation: massive walls (courtesy of numenorean/eregion tech) around the regions bordering the north or Mordor, fortresses along the mountain range and several layers of gates along every road in or out. Everybody goes in; nobody goes out; everyone is safe.

and he ended up claiming the kingship to give him more authority in the process - he's High King of the Noldor and Sindar and King of the Edain (given that there are like three half-vanyar in middle-earth, he's more or less king of all children of iluvatar) and so he can have command over the entirety of the West.

and with the help of the Ring, this actually works! but the corruption starts to show eventually

he uses his kinship to Gondor to forcefully drag them into his neo-gondolin-empire-creation so he can ensure none of his great-nephews will ever have to face sauron. he extends the walls to encompass Mirkwood, because he's the high king of the sindar and has a duty to protect thranduil's realm, and unleashes the full might of his melian-lite powers to purge Sauron's Shadow and the spawn of Ungoliant from the now-Greenwood.

Galadriel and Glorfindel very much see where this is going and are very very worried. galadriel won't let him build walls around lothlorien (because she lives next door to a balrog and knows exactly what happened to gondolin) but celeborn thinks it's a good idea, since after all Doriath wouldn't have fallen if Melian's girdle had still been up. glorfindel tries to talk him out of it but the ring has taken hold

the Ring's power also enhances all his natural weirdness and powers - he has his wings and maia markings permanently activated now, with or without finwean anger. he can fully shapeshift, and he goes from raising waves in the bruinen to raising tsunamis in the great sea.

except the finwean anger seems to be permanently activated now, too, and anyone who harms someone he's deemed under his protection finds themselves the target of a rather ironic vengeance quest. the shapeshifting is looking weird now - his teeth are always sharp now, and his eyes have gone fully inhuman. sometimes he has claws and his wings look more like bats than eagles. and his water powers are more like osse's- he can't calm the waters now (goldberry is the first to notice something's up) and can only stir them into massive ship-sinking storms and tsunamis.

this progresses until he's basically Evil Luthien ruling over a continent-wide Mega-Gondolin, slaughtering orc-hordes before they even reach the white walls and sinking any naval fleet Sauron tries to send around the coast. Everybody is brought in; nobody leaves; everyone is safe...?

he figures out that the dwarven legend of "Durin's Bane" has to be one of the few first age balrogs thats still unaccounted for. and well, it's living right on his border, and he can't risk another fall of gondolin, right? so he leads a small force in there to clear moria, and they shove the balrog off the edge, but it takes one of his captains (except glorfindel) with it (maybe erestor?) and he uses the ring and saves erestor, (and maybe floods the balrog for good measure), and glorfindel is sure he saw elrond's eyes go yellow for a moment.

and even fully corrupted, he knows he can't take the ring directly into mordor. but he can wipe out sauron's armies outside the walls, to protect his kingdom - because turgon's mistake was thinking he was safe even when there were balrogs and dragons and orcs outside, right?

somewhere along the way, arwen realizes what's happening and goes to live with galadriel. one of the twins goes with her; the other stays out of loyalty but eventually follows.

elrond's kingdom has become a cross between doriath and gondolin now, with all the surrounding lands warped by ring-magic to hide it, and layers of stone walls and iron gates preventing anyone from leaving. because everyone is here; nobody leaves; everyone is... safe?

[merovingianprincess]

Hi! Saw you were taking requests about Thranduill. Could you do headcanons about him remarrying and his wife's relationship with little legolas and with being Thranduills 2nd wife?

Ask and you shall receive.

Thranduil did NOT for a second think he would find love again, let alone remarry.

He was intrigued by your humor and beauty immediately.

He won't admit it but he was frightened when he felt the old familiar butterflies in his stomach.

He tried to drink a lot of wine to make them go away. It did not work.

And it didn't help that you were well-liked among the elves, so he constantly heard of your good deeds.

He avoided you like the plague for a while until Mirthandir appeared in a dream and told him to basically man up.

So the next day when he saw you out in the garden, he forced himself to walk over to the bench you were sitting on and talked to you.

And he wished he had done it sooner.

Because he thought your little giggle was cute and you had an interest in politics, not many elleth's he had met did. He also thought you were clever.

Damn it, now he knew he couldn't avoid you anymore.

After a few weeks of 'accidental' *wink* *wink* run-ins, he decided to invite you to a private dinner.

And he was NOT very nice when his staff fucked up the menu he had planned, they didn't get all the ingredients that was needed. So the elaborate dinner he arranged ended up being a stew.

But he was relieved when you arrived and were perfectly happy with what was for dinner.

After dinner, he took you on a moonlight walk through his private gardens and that's where he digested the butterflies and asked you to marry him, he was FUCKING NERVOUS. He was king but his hands almost started shaking.

He was relieved when you turned on your charm and playfully said "well if I must" which he knew meant YES. He almost had to sit down in relief.

He was very taken aback when you initiated the first kiss between the two of you, but thank the gods you did because he had a long fucking day.

He announced your engagement the next morning, not wanting to go through a typical courting process because he was impatient.

You married later in a few weeks in a lavish ceremony which is where you also met the still-small Legolas.

You adored the small elf the moment you met him, he was the mirror image of his father. He was a bit shy around you, nonetheless you didn't try to push or force a relationship on your new stepson, you wanted it to progress naturally.

Thranduil was very affectionate towards you in private. He wasn't a big PDA person but would publicly hold your hand and give you a few sweet kisses here and there.

He was also very protective and a bit paranoid about always keeping you safe. But you understood, after knowing about the death of his first wife.

Thranduil was a wonderful husband, a romantic ellon, who valued his new wife and his son. He often asked for your input on political affairs. And it warmed his heart seeing you with his baby Legolas.

He decided he wanted a second child, with you.

[sonics-atelier]

Marks of Fate: The Acorn and The Harp

For @bagginshieldweek24 Day 3 : Soulmate Marks AU + Dwarf Culture

Summary : Soulmate marks are a blessing from the gods themselves, thorin and bilbo are destined for each other, cue teasing and heartwarming fluff

a/n : Welcome back to another installment of my How Thorin and Bilbo fell in Love series, I hope you enjoy this one <3 ( filli is awesome spread the word )

In the land of Middle-earth, soulmates were marked by unique symbols, destined to find and complete each other. Dwarves, the Children of Mahal, bore these marks with pride, believing them to be gifts from their creator. Hobbits, nurtured by Yavanna, held similar beliefs, though their marks were rarer and often hidden beneath layers of simplicity and routine.

Thorin Oakenshield, the exiled king under the mountain, bore the mark of an acorn above his heart. It was a symbol of growth, strength, and resilience, a connection to the great forests Yavanna loved. He had always believed that his soulmate would come from a race deeply connected to the earth, but life had other plans.

Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of the Shire, had a harp on his wrist. It was a symbol of harmony and music, a nod to the gentle nature of his people. He had never paid much attention to it, dismissing it as an odd birthmark, until his adventure with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield began.

As the journey to reclaim Erebor unfolded, Bilbo found himself drawn to Thorin in ways he couldn't explain. The dwarf king, though stern and proud, had moments of surprising gentleness, and Bilbo felt a connection growing between them. Thorin, for his part, was equally captivated by the hobbit, though he struggled to understand why.

Unbeknownst to them, the gods had already woven their destinies together.

One evening, as the Company made camp near the forest of Mirkwood, Thorin sat by the fire, absently tracing the acorn mark on his chest. Kili and Fili, his mischievous nephews, noticed their uncle's distraction.

"Uncle," Kili teased, "why do you keep touching your chest? Are you hiding something from us?"

Fili smirked, adding, "Maybe he's thinking about his soulmate. What do you think, Kili? Are they a dwarf or an elf?"

“What if it's Thranduil ?” Killi put a hand over his forehead, “Oh the Anguish,being mated to the one who you abhor.”

Thorin glared at his nephews, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "Mind your own business, you two. And for the record, I don't know who they are and I pray to mahal it isnt that stuck up blonde"

Bilbo, sitting nearby, looked up curiously. "What are you talking about?"

Kili grinned, "Our uncle's soulmate mark. Every dwarf has one, you know. It shows us who we're destined to be with."

Fili nodded, "What about you, Bilbo? Do hobbits have soulmate marks?"

Bilbo hesitated, then rolled up his sleeve to reveal the small harp on his wrist. "I suppose we do, though I've never thought much about it."

Thorin's eyes widened as he saw the mark. It felt significant, though he couldn't quite place why. Over the next few days, he found himself watching Bilbo more closely, noticing the way the hobbit's kindness and courage shone through.

. . .

In dwarven culture, courting was a subtle and intricate process, filled with gestures and tokens. Thorin decided to embrace these traditions, hoping to win Bilbo's heart. He started with small gifts: a carefully carved stone, a polished gem, and once, a delicate flower he found growing near the road.

Bilbo, bewildered by the sudden attention, accepted each gift with a puzzled smile. He had no idea what they meant but felt a warmth in his chest whenever Thorin's fingers brushed his. It wasn't until Balin, the wise and kind-hearted dwarf, took pity on him that he began to understand.

"Master Baggins," Balin said one evening, sitting beside him by the fire, "do you know what those gifts mean?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea. They're lovely, but I'm not sure why Thorin keeps giving them to me."

Balin chuckled. "They're courting gifts. In our culture, when a dwarf is interested in someone, they offer tokens to show their affection and intent. Thorin is trying to woo you."

Bilbo's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! I... I had no idea. What should I do?"

Balin patted his shoulder. "Just be yourself, laddie. And if you feel the same way, perhaps find a way to show him. A small gesture, something personal."

Bilbo nodded, determination growing within him. Over the next few days, he found ways to reciprocate Thorin's gestures. He shared his favorite stories and songs, baked a special treat with the limited ingredients they had, and once, he even found a small, shiny pebble that he knew Thorin would appreciate.

Thorin noticed Bilbo's efforts, his heart swelling with affection. One night, under the stars, he took Bilbo aside, away from the others. "Bilbo," he began, his voice soft, "I have something to tell you."

Bilbo looked up at him, his heart pounding. "Yes, Thorin?"

Thorin took a deep breath, revealing the acorn mark on his chest. "This mark... it's a sign from Mahal. It means we are soulmates, destined to be together. I believe the harp on your wrist is a sign from Yavanna, connecting us through the earth and its music."

Bilbo's eyes filled with wonder as he traced the acorn with his fingers. "I never realized... but it makes sense. I feel it in my heart"

Thorin smiled, his eyes shining. "Then, will you accept my courtship, Bilbo Baggins? Will you stand by my side as we reclaim our home and build a future together?"

Bilbo's heart swelled with joy as he nodded. "Yes, Thorin. I will."

Their bond deepened with each passing day, their love growing stronger as they faced challenges and triumphs together. Kili and Fili, though they still teased, were thrilled for their uncle, knowing he had found his true match.

And so, under the watchful eyes of the gods, Thorin and Bilbo began a new chapter of their lives. Their soulmate marks were not just symbols of their destiny, but the foundation of a love that would endure through all the ages of Middle-earth.

- @sonics-atelier 2024 , do not repost or reuse in any way , shape or form.

[bitchysoulwasteland]

thranduil x asgardian reader

Thranduil watched as you danced around int he corner of the ballroom with your friends. Loki, who had long ago decided he wasn’t needed in the formal festivities had joined your small group, leaving the realm leaders (and his brother) in their thrones above the celebrations.

You all sang and danced, drinks in hand as the music lulled and changed. Thranduil noticed your eyes light up when the song began. You said something to the group and the five of you made your way out of the back entrance of the hall. In other words, the servant entrance.

Thranduil had to do everything in his power to stop himself from excusing himself from the current conversation he was no where near interested in with the other leaders. He instead sat, imagining what you all could possibly be doing and how much better it would have been if he had been nearer to your ages and without his kingship so that he could have joined you in your activities.

You all stood in the Bifrost as you waited for Midguard to appear. Still in your formal dress and heels with an old hoodie thrown on, you walked out of the Bifrost and onto a Midguardian beach. You grabbed Loki’s arm to study yourself as you pulled off your heels and left them on the sand with everyone else’s. A bonfire was lit soon after and Loki used his magic to keep the music flowing.

Waves rolled in the background as the others began to pass out on the sand, one by one until it was just you left, mainly as you had stayed more sober than the others. Loki’s music stopped as he passed out, leaving the sounds of nature. You picked up your shoes and began walking down the beach, no particular destination in mind until a beam of light surrounded you, bringing you back to Asgard. You pulled your hoodie sleeves down and slipped your heels back on before walking out of the Bifrost.

The next day, you were all attending breakfast with the guests of the ball the night before when Thranduil caught your eye. Well, he had done so the night before but you were in a tipsy whirlwind of events that were somewhat a blur and you did t want him to become a blur too. So, instead of sitting with your family, which you were supposed to, you walked over and sat beside Loki, who had left a space between himself and Thranduil for this very reason.

You made a point to sitting between the prince and the king as your grandmother seethed at you, your mother just smiling.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Y/n L/n.” You said turning to Thranduil with a smile.

“Thranduil, and I must say, it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine… you’re the king of Mirkwood.”

ANY IDEAS HOW TO FINISH THIS WILL BE MUCH APPRECIATED

[stxrshxpxd]

🌷 fic friday;

”i enjoy watching you squirm”

young thranduil x reader

love-hate, dagger to throat, sexual tension

Having grown up being force fed a friendship with Thranduil naturally I had grown to hate him. Our parents were close friends and for a long time we were the only children of our age in the vast woods. Bickering and wrestling matches had always been the pillars of our friendship and there were many times we had returned home at sunset with mud and grass stains all over, expecting disappointed stares and sighs.

It was a golden afternoon with the sun hanging low in the sky as summer was breathing its last breaths. The leaves around us had begun shifting colours, making it slightly more difficult to spot the apples we had been sent out to harvest. Thranduil had gotten a hold of a stray one and was carelessly slicing it in his hand with his small, sharp dagger as we walked on down towards the core of the apple tree grove. I glanced as he fed himself the slices and absently toyed with the dagger, hooking his long finger into the bronze hoop at the end of it and swinging it around.

“You’re going to hurt someone,” I stated with a scowl, staring down at his careless hands. Thranduil looked at me, pulled out of his daydreams, and he smiled wolfishly as he secured the dagger in his fist instead.

“Are you scared?” he asked with a curl of the lips and watched me through his dark eyebrows. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried,” I countered, but before I had the chance to lay my dismissive eyes back on him he had shoved me by the waist and caged me in against the massive oak tree behind me, the sticky blade of the dagger pressed to my throat and his height towering over me. The half sliced apple had dropped from his hand in an instant and my lower ribs had taken its place in his large palm.

“Couldn’t I?”

The calm forest around us filled with the sound of my breath falling from my parted lips. Thranduil stared back at me with a smirk as his forehead grazed mine and his fist tightened around the dagger, the blade on the verge of sinking into my skin. His one brow twitched, awaiting my response.

“Fine, do it,” I challenged and raised one of my brows as well. He licked his lips and flashed his playful grin for a second.

“I don’t want to hurt you, mellon nin. I merely enjoy watching you squirm.”

Something burned and tingled inside me at his words but I scoffed again.

“I don’t squirm,” I replied and forcefully shoved him off of me, to which he laughed and sheathed his dagger again.

“At least you’re never bored with me around, darling,” Thranduil said and hooked his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a tight half hug. I smiled viciously up at him and jabbed my finger into the flesh of his side, making him wince and groan and let go of me.

“And you’re never safe,” I joked and took a step to my side, desperately chasing that strange tingling feeling away.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Thranduil x Shy!S/O

- it was your shyness that initially revealed your affection towards him, the King noticed the blush that bloomed in your cheeks after he complimented you, and it was curious to him

- he wondered if you were so shy with others, or whether such shyness was a telltale sign of your affections, and he sought to find out

- he invited you to a ball, and when you arrived, you were of course complimented by many. the King expected this, given that your beauty did not go unnoticated by others

- he was disappointed to see a similar reaction to others compliments, but upon seeing your discomfort at a rather grotesque man complimenting you, the King was fuelled by his rage, and reached your side in an instant

- he concluded that your shyness was a natural response to everyone, but if you were uncomfortable, he now knew what your reaction was, which told him that you were comfortable around him. Thranduil was impressed by his own research

- however, the more time he spent with you, the more shy you became around him, and this was quite confusing to the King. in his mind, surely by spending more time together you would grow more comfortable and confident, not the polar opposite?

- still, he found your shyness very endearing, he was enchanted by your rosy cheeks and shy smiles, and he soon realised that he was subconsciously making any effort to do things deliberately that he knew would make you shy, such as kissing your hand or paying you compliments

- before you were officially courting, Thranduil’s affections remained reserved, but these small exchanges of sweet words and fleeting kisses were enough to fluster you beyond comprehension

- the King dared to dream how much more flustered you would get with further expressions of intimacy, and so, he bore his soul to you

- and sure enough, your shyness increased at the same speed as your level of intimacy with the King

- given how shy you were, Thranduil was not expecting any outwardly spoken expressions of affection from you, but given how much you adored him, you plucked up the courage to confess your heart’s greatest secrets to him

- considering he wasnt expecting this, the Elven King was overjoyed

- and every time after that when you let your heart take control, Thranduil had the same wonderful grin on his face that no other person could place there but you

- and you can bet any money you have that for the rest of eternity, Thranduil will never stop doing things that will make you blush

[saephrond]

@loremastering

In the ancient forest of Mirkwood, Saeph followed the sound of faint, distressed cries for what seemed like hours. Against his better judgement and knowledge of the magicks that protected the peoples of these woods, his care for nature and wildlife had led him to trek afar the moss-laden paths laid before him, seeking to help whatever it was. And, upon the urge to surrender to the notion that perhaps it was only another of Elvenking's elaborately placed charms, he had come upon a baby moose with an injured leg.

Oh, you are too far from home, little one.

He rummaged through his bags for some things and gathered a handful of loose sticks from within the surrounding foliage, placing them next to the wailing animal. Coincidentally, he was travelling the dangerous road south between Felegoth and Caras Galadhon to carry news between King Thranduil and Lord Celeborn, and had acquired many healing ointments and other necessities from the Wood Elves. Kneeling, he placed a gentle hand over the calf's head, speaking soothingly in the Sindarin tongue to damper its cries. The best he could, he examined the injury, set the bone of its twisted leg right, and applied a dressing of herbs and balm.

Cradling the moose in his arms, Saeph hoped beyond hope that he would find the true path again, for he knew just the perfect person to take it to - a friend with a passion for the lives of all cervids in the wild. But the air was thick with dampness that made it difficult to navigate through the tangled underbrush, and the unsettling whirring of weavers in the shadows had disoriented him. He carried it close to his breast for days with no hope for escape, he thought. However long and weary, he was comforted when the trees had grown farther apart from one another and the path had continued without looping. And upon spotting a small settlement in the distance, he knew the dock was not far ahead.

The calf was weak, however, and he had fed it almost all the browse he gathered from a single tree that had not been mangled by darkness on his way. Its eyes, which had at first been fearful, now gleamed even so. And as they found their way to the familiar mellyrn, and the silver and green attire of the Lorien Elves, he sighed in relief. Daerhovan's lodgings, he remembered, were not far and beyond.

But of course…after ascending countless wooden steps, no one was home.

'Birding. Back soon!'

Saeph chuckled through his nostrils and with great care, on a bed of soft leaves and moss, he set the calf into a large basket, and quickly wrote a note:

I found it abandoned in the depths of Mirkwood, its leg broken and in need of care beyond my abilities. I have done my best to feed and comfort it the last few days, but you are the only one I knew to bring it to. I hope that your healing hand and partiality might bring peace to this gentle guy. — Saephrond

He placed the note beside the baby, rubbed its wet nose, and with a heavy heart, whispered a farewell.

[meluiloth]

For Drabble Challenge: Thranduil and squirrels

Thank you for this request! I always love a Mirkwood prompt!

It was not often that Thranduil had the opportunity to leave his court and venture into the forest; he was too busy with protecting and restoring it to actually see it for himself. He might have laughed at the irony at a different time. Now, he only felt the cramped uneasiness as he navigated the dark, unwelcoming labyrinth of withering trees, and the deep heartsickness that came with it; Greenwood had once been a place of beauty and safety, but now it reeked of a curse Thranduil could not control. This was not the home of his childhood; he remembered playing here as a child, hunting quails and finding lizards and insects in the verdant underbrush, but now the forest was silent and still save for the great, spined insects whose only purpose was to feed on the decay of the wood. Thranduil might have wept of despair now, and his eyes were already growing misty, but suddenly a sharp, high noise pierced the air - the trill of a squirrel in the canopy. The King looked up just in time to see a small black squirrel dart from one branch to another, its thick tail flicking impatiently - and in another moment, it was followed by three more, only smaller and clumsier. Thranduil smiled as he watched the mother squirrel led her children through the twisted canopy as naturally as breathing; though they were gone as quickly as they had come, they left behind them the reminder that there was still life in Mirkwood Forest. Perhaps that meant there was still hope.

This is a longer sort of drabble, but I had so much fun writing it!!

[sotwk]

🦌 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

[the-autistic-vulcan]

Connect the Dots (Thranduil x GN!Reader)

Request: HIII I love your blog and saw that your requests were open and i was wondering if you could please write a thranduil x human reader fic where the reader has like acne and is a bit self conscious and he tries to reassure them because he doesn’t want them to feel bad? Thank you so much 🖤🖤

Genre: Fluff

Description: You hated the fact that you had acne, but Thranduil has a little idea to uplift the mood

a/n: i actually love this request so much, like, i have ance scars on my shoulders and back and this just was adorable!

If there's one thing you resent the Elven race for, it was for having stupidly perfect skin.

The skin that elves possessed seemed to look like they were completely made of porcelain and, naturally, as much as the Elves had acknowledged, it was a factor of jealousy amongst other species - even you, out of guilty pleasure, loved to just rip apart the Elves for their perfect features, Thranduil found it amusing enough to not do anything else other than enhance what he had, hence why he would constantly wear these face-framing crowns you loved so much. But sometimes, it wouldn't be funny to you - sometimes it genuinely left you feeling quite...unpleasant.

One day, you're sat in your shared chambers staring at the mirror - you poked your face with a makeshift exfoliator, applied so many creams and steamed your face to the point the moisture in your face was just gone. Nothing was going to make these things go away - these irritating red spots, marks and scabs from popping were not going to go away for good, no matter how hard you tried.

Thranduil walked in, initially looking for his pen - the he saw you. You may have looked like you were completely void of emotion, but he knew better, he was perceptive and he could tell something was up. He noticed you poking at your marks and it hit him like a damn bus.

"Meleth nin? My dear, what is wrong?" He asked, trying to make his tone sound like he was paying no mind to you.

"Nothing...just..." You reply, "...Nothing."

"My love, the way you're looking in the mirror looks like everything but nothing."

He takes your chin in his hand and turns your head to look into his icy blue eyes - he examines your face with such precision, his gaze is so piercing, it could cut the thickest of metal. He then takes the pen he was looking for and begins to draw soft lines over your skin. You begin to squirm around a small bit, but he still manages to hold you in place.

"Stay still, dear, can't mess up." He whispers, placing a peck on your cheek.

When he finished, he put the pen down and turned your face to look at the mirror, and what you saw was beautiful. "See, love," he speaks, "Now they look like the stars - constellations of the Second Age." He kissed you again on your nose, then on your lips.

"Heh, thank you..." You laugh, slightly embarrassed.

"Of course, dear," He replies, " Maybe you should try one of my crowns as well."

Rest assured, whenever you stared too long in the mirror, there was always a pen near by.

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Just a question, based on the last post you made, how many baby daddies does thranduil has and who are they?

No hate our anything I’m just curious.

Np, np!

My Thranduil (whose trans) sleeps around a lot (partially bc he was born at lake cuivinen and before marriage and chastity were really A Thing, and partially bc the silvans genuinely don’t care about one’s sex life as long as it’s consensual) and well, sometimes things happen and he gets pregnant.

He has 4 kids (significantly less than what he could have, but they all have different “spermdonors” as they’re usually referred to as) biologically and 1 adopted.

The eldest is Lasgen, a girl (and head of Mirkwood’s black ops/assassination unit). She was also born at lake cuivinen and Thranduil had her when he was 38 (teen parent) mostly bc at the time the elves were still trying to figure out things like “age of majority” and since thranduil and his sisters were the first elves ever born, no one really knew anything about children, childhood, when they’d be an adult, etc. Basically it’s a mess. She’s also the only one who they know who the sperm donor is (i’m sorry for bombarding you will all this lore of my au).

Her dad is Ingwe’s dad. And ingwe’s dad (Ingen) is a JACKASS who has a habit of ding-dong-ditching. (Knocking elves up and then, when they refuse to sibmit to him when they find out they’re pregnant, he abandons them to find another victim) let me put it like this: Ingen was the OG conservative. And naturally, he’s a shit father.

Which leads us to the next (and only adopted) child: Ingwe, who is 2 months younger than Lasgen. Long story short: Thranduil and his sister (Miriel in this au) basically babysat elflings (mainly the -we’s) and Ingwe’s mother (who’s friends with elwe and olwe’s mom) drops inwe off there, not knowing at first that her husband also knocked up thranduil. Basically: drama. Ingwe’s ma is also a bitch, she follows her husbands lead on everything. So when Ingwe was about 28 he disowned his bio parents and was formally adopted by Thranduil.

Skip all the way to the end first age/beginning second age and Thranduil gets pregnant again. No one knows who the other parent is. And, tbh, no one cares.

This child is Lirion. He’s the most stoic of all his siblings, but don’t let the deadpanned face fool you: he’s just as crazy as the rest of em. He’s a scientist who regularly breaks every law of physics he can get his hands on. Very curious with questionable morals

A thousand years later and Kleoyia is born. Again: no idea who the other parent is. The only clue they have is that her pupil is shaped like a diamond, indicating that she’s of ckeoticn’ar descent. This does not make knowing who the daddy is any easier. She’s the head of information gathering. Either through espionage, T&I, or other means. She travels all around middle earth constantly. She also, like her dad, sleeps around a lot. (Lasgen is gay, gay, homosexual, gay and has been married since the age of the trees, Lirion is Ace).

Last, but not least, our favorite: Legolas. He was born 2002 SA. Not a clue who the second parent is. He’s in a polyamorous relationship with his wife, Sukanra, and his husband, Iznake. He’s a fixer. Basically, when there’s smth going on that’s big enough to be important, but too small to have primary focus, he’s sent out to deal with it. Whether it’s diplomatic relations, scouting, battle, it doesn’t matter. He’s the jack of all trades. He also switches regularly between a male and female body.

The reason is bc he had 1 daughter SA 3007, and later on they wanted another kid but Sukanra did not want to give birth again so legolas went “if we can find away for me to be pregnant and give birth safely, i’m willing to do it” (w husband). In short, by the end of the 3rd age, Legolas is the only one of Thranduil’s kids to have kids (though the others do get kids later on down the line)

But yeah, 5 kids in total, 2 who know who the sperm donor is (and it’s a jackass) and 3 who are clueless but also don’t really care.

And all the baby-daddies are still lowkey interested in Thranduil (even jackass, though he’s still an asshat) and finding out that he had their kid and other elves’ kids ruffles their feathers a bit.

But Thranduil’s fine. He’s not that interested in having a partner, so the only reason he’s freaking out a bit is bc it’s a bit awkward to say “hey remember the time we hooked up millenia ago? Well -*plops a full grown elven warrior with a reputation in front of babydaddy* tada!”

Sorry for rambling! This was simply the perfect opportunity to info dump.

[laneynoir]

@legoriel-fan this is the one inspired by that link you tagged me in, so I blame you.

Legolas x reader: Not All Come Back.

Word count: 1279 (pretty short, oops)

He understands.

Finally he understands. What causes his fathers protective nature, the reason for his closing the borders of his kingdom. Why King Thranduil keeps those he cares for so close, so protected.

It has taken this. No arrows fire from Legolas' bow, as foes and friend alike make a barrier between himself and you, you who are locked in combat with a troll that is at least six times the size of yourself.

You take it down, but not without a sickening crack from your leg, broken by a final sweep from the horrid creature's mace.

Legolas cries you name, but despite his elven strength he cannot clear a path to your side. He is forced to pull his daggers free, slaying many, but not enough. Never enough.

You are unbable to stand, and glancing at your leg provides a hopeless sight. Not bothering to stiffle the sound of pain that escapes, you drag yourself against the troll and pull free your belt of knives.

Each throw finds a target, but there are only so many of the weapons, and the enemies are endless. Legolas fights against the tide as you loose the last knife. An orc steps close, jagged dagger in hand and malicious smirk on it's face.

Legolas is pressed in from all sides, silver in his hands flashing on auto pilot, he cannit move.

He can only watch.

The orc stomps on the already shattered leg and your body wrenches in pain. You lash out with a half spear from the ground, the orc dodges to the side, but to late and his side is slashed open.

Ripping the weapon from your grasp, it mimicks the movement, cutting your stomach open. It's other hand still holds the knife, which he applies to your face; slicing from right below your hairline, through your brow and down to your chin.

Back. He's been pushed further away, the tide of battle will not allow him closer, but he needs to, he needs to get to you. The accursed orc kicks you, hitting the wound. You roll a few feet before landing, absolutly still.

The Eagles have come, but Legolas does not notice. The majestic birds however, do notice the sound that next escapes the fair prince's body; it is the sound of a shattered heart, breaking the body.

And Legolas understands.

Suddenly by his side is a red haired windmill of fury and determination. Axe hewing oponents with a will, Gimli shouting in Khuzdul.

When a small area is cleared, the dwarf kneels, Legolas taking only a moment to see the idea. Once he does, he feels enough love for the dwarven race to orchestrating an epic balled in their honor, maybe thirteen of them.

"You are mad," Legolas says placing a foot into the double hold of Gimli's hands. "But bright stars I am as well. Away!"

And on his shout, he is launched into the air. The weight of elves is very little, and coupled with the strength of a dwarf the effort is more than sufficient to send Legolas tweanty feet into the air.

Drawing the bow of Lothlórien the orc falls dead before it can touch you again, the next two orcs follow their fellow to deaths door before Legolas touches the ground, a third joins quickly.

You lie still as a corpse, and for a time he thinks that is all he protects. That is all he can see, your face mangled and bloodied so that he cannt even discern your features, but at last his quick eyes catch the shallow choke of breath. 

Hope renewed -though still shallow- he stand by your body until the ground shakes and the forces of Mordor retreat. Until the Eagles collect the hobbits. Until Aragorn is running to Legolas, and a short while later you also are in the sky.

Though there is little chance that you will live, he sees the dispare in Aragorn's eyes.

He cannot leave.

Four weeks you have laid in the bed in comatose state, no recogniton for anything, the only sighn of life is your now steady heartbeat, and steady rise and fall of your chest.

The wound on your side misty healed, and all cuts and bruises have now faded, but your face...

Wraped in bandage, skin reknit by nothing less than magic and the work of a wizard, an elven lord, and, to Legolas relief, an Elvenking. At the three week mark, Legolas asks if there is a way to wake you preemptively.

"Not that I see. And indeed the pain of healing would be... Highly unfortunate. Unconsciousness is, in this case, a blessing." Legolas nodds wairaly at Elrond's words, but does not look away from you. Elrond sighs and leaves the room.

Elves can go long without sleep, but this is far to long, and though Elrond worries after the moral stansing of such a plan, Thranduil is not above drugging his own son.

"Four weeks Elrond,"

"Yes Thranduil I know, however-"

The king waves a gracefully impatient hand. "Four weeks my son has gone without proper nourishment, and no rest to think of. I will not tolerate my son's ill health because of your stubbornness."

Elrond rubbs his temples, Thranduil's voice carries still the tone of a King, but there is such worry beneath the surface that the effect is somewhat lessened. "Alright, I concede, " at the last Elvenking's smug look Elrond scowls. "I still remember exactly how to do so. After all I've had practice. Your famil2u is rather self destructive under mourning, Mellon"

A tilt of the head. "Your administering the tonic after my Maereth passed is exactly what gives me this idea. Legolas is far to muvh like me for anyone's comfort, and I cannot loose him," the piercing blue eyes make contact with Elrond's, they glisten. "Not to the loss of his love, and especially if there still is hope still."

A short while later, when a caring Sam apears with a cup of tea, Legolas has not the heart to turn him away. Elrond smirks despite himself when Thranduil moves his son over to the cot in the corner, covering him gently.

Though Legolas is decidedly displeased when he wakes, he is eventually convinced to take at least a two-hour rest each day, or the threat of removing him from your side will be carried through.

As fate -and the author- would have it, when Legolas has finally layed his head down to sleep (on his own, no more druging thank you father) he hears a movement from the the bed on which you lay.

He's never moved so quickly as this moment, kneeling beside you he grasps your hand, staring anxiously.

"Legolas?"

He moves his head in a movement of affirmation. "Yes Meleth, it is me."

You sit up, and Legolas startled as you rub your eyes vigorously. "Y/n, don't, you are unjured still!" Your breath has vecome eratic, and worried he calls for the guard outsude the door to fetch Elrond.

He snatches your hands away from your face befire you can open the healing wounds. Whispering your name brings yoyr attention back to him.

"Legolas, I cannot see. I cannot see anything."

His heart stops for a moment, before, "Worry not, it is dark still I'm sure your eyesight will be fine my love. It us only temporary."

Elrond arives, immediately checking over your person. When he places a hand in your forehead, tilting your head back, his face is grave. It is not much larer when he leaves, unable to do anything.

You are permenantly blind.