#thranduil victorious

[dontfearrr]

Best friends father

Heavily based on best friends brother from victorious lmfao. But this is a very funny request that you can find here

(gif not mine:)

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!reader

Summary: Legolas and Thranduil have no idea of each others roles in your life

Warnings: none

Category: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Word count: 1.6k

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Twisting branches hovered high above her and all around her, whistles of the wind through the trees lingered through her ears like an eerie song sung just for her. She glanced around the path, knowing he was out there somewhere, he played this game with her all the time. However this time she was determined to win it. She felt chills crawl up her spine and she nocked an arrow in the blink of an eye, turning her body and releasing the arrow further up.

He felt the brush of the arrow graze his arm and he knew she had won. He swung from branch to branch and landed in front of her on his two feet, she watched his hair fall down back into place perfectly and she giggled, crossing her arms. “You know what, I'll give that one to you. I'm impressed.” He swung his bow back over his shoulder.

“Legolas it is quite rude to underestimate a lady” She told the white haired elf who stared down at her in amusement. “Sorry…if i'm not mistaken, i've won every single time, until now. So I think it was fair” Legolas joked back, only poking at you playfully.

She’d known Legolas for a good thousand years by now, they met during a trading with Imladris and since then they were glued together at the hip. Best friends some would say but if you asked her, she'd tell you he's some silly dumb ass who doesn't know how to handle his elven wine. 

“You just insist on making sure i know you're better than me.'' She gave him a playful eyeroll and began their walk back to the main palace, knowing they both have duties to tend to. “I assume once we return you'll be going off with your mystery lover?” Legolas teased, knowing lately she'd been quite infatuated and busied with her new asset. He was glad she had finally found someone in her life, he felt like a proud brother. (the irony im so sorry)

“You'd be correct, elf boy. Hopefully he's feeling extra nice today..” She teased, knowing Legolas hated hearing the descriptive details of their relationship. 

Legolas groaned in agony and shook his head at her suggestive and very unnecessary comment. “I have never met a more interesting creature.” He used his index finger to push at her shoulder jokingly as they approached the main gates. She gave him a playful smile and chuckled to herself as the guards let them into the kingdom.

“Farewell my friend, late nightfall?” Legolas spoke as he began to walk in the opposite direction of her, waiting for her reply before he turned around. 

“Late nightfall it is! Don't miss me too much!” 

She bowed to him dramatically and watched him turn around and walk off, she did the same. Only she waited until he was completely out of her sight before she began walking to the palace, her head facing the ground to hide from onlookers. Not that it necessarily mattered, however she wouldn't appreciate it if someone decided to gossip to the prince of her private whereabouts. She made her way down the main hall to the throne room, the guards allowing her through with the command of the king. 

She saw him perched upon his beautiful throne, his autumn crown complimenting his head and his blinding white hair fell down his shoulders perfectly, not one hair out of place. He was always a sight to see no matter how many times she'd see him. 

He caught her scent long before she even entered the throne room, his head positioned downward at the elf that approached him, her sweet presence instantly making his whole body relax from its usual tense state.

 “It is more than a pleasure to see you here, for I have missed you dearly.” his deep voice boomed throughout the entire room as he stood up and began descending from the stairs to meet her at the bottom.

 “It was like trying to swat a fly from your drink trying to get rid of him” she chuckled and met him halfway, looking up at him while his arms wrapped around her waist tenderly, pulling her flush against his body in a warm embrace. He ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing down her hair as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “He seems persistent” he said, a bit jealous of her other companion no matter how many times she would reassure him it's not like that, nor will it ever be.

She just gave him a feigned look of annoyance and brought a hand up to place on his cheek, her thumb caressing his cheekbone gently. “My dear Thranduil, soon you will see the silliness of your jealousy.” she teased him, knowing he hated being called out on his feelings. “Do you insist on making me miserable, my lady?” He gave her a heartfelt smile and placed a hand on her back, gesturing for her to go to the private doors, doors which only the king and prince were allowed to use. They were passages that lead to everything, just quicker and more discrete. 

Every day, Thranduil took her to a new place, slowly showing her every beauty Mirkwood had to offer. His love for her grew every day and only made him want to do anything for her, anything he could. Today he was taking her to the Amaranthine Garden, the specific flora only visible to the royals. He was sure you'd love it for it is one of the few ethereal gardens amongst the elves.

Legolas was speaking with a royal guard, telling them about this morning’s duties, sending him off to go inform the rest. Right before he was about to walk back to the main quarters he was stopped by a messenger who handed him an envelope, he looked on the back seeing it was addressed to Thranduil. He cursed these damned messengers for not just giving it directly to his father, that was something he would also discuss with his father when he gave this to him.

He entered the throne room and found it empty..how strange. He never left his throne around these times unless it was severely important. He searched the room a bit and even called out for him but there was silence. That was until he spotted the private corridors left cracked. He could see the light emitting from the small opening of the door and approached it, he opened it fully but saw no one. Yet he got a whiff of a very familiar scent mixed with his fathers. It made him a little uncomfortable, he was determined to get to the bottom of this, something was up. So down the halls he went, peeking inside every single room, basically sniffing his father out like a dog.

She had her hand around his back and her body pressed into his side while he held her close, showing her the garden and telling her all about the unique plants she'd never seen before. There wasn't a second of this moment where she didn't have a smile on her face as her beloved spoke so gently. 

Thranduil bent down at his knees and carefully picked a beautiful bunch of Rhododendrons, pulling a thread from his pocket and tying the flowers at the stem, holding it out for her. She felt like a princess when she was with him, he treated her with the utmost respect. She took the flowers from him and smiled kindly. “Thranduil you never fail to put a smile on my face, you know that?” She set the flowers in her satchel and placed her hands on his chest.

“I live and breathe to please you meleth nin. I thought it was quite obvious.”

She giggled at this and felt his hands sneak to her waist, caressing her like a teenage boy, until his head snapped in the direction of the door that led back inside. 

“What is my sweet?” she looked at him with quite the confused look until she heard a voice all too familiar.

“Well if it isnt y/n and her mystery lover.” Legolas stood before them with his arms crossed as if he just caught a child sneaking into the cookie jar. 

Her head fell to Thranduil's chest in defeat, knowing she'd been caught red handed. Thranduil however was utterly confused, he hadn't put the pieces together just yet. Legolas approached them and she pulled from Thranduil, meeting Legolas in front of them. She sighed and placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “To be completely fair, you see why i didn't tell you” she joked and looked up to Thranduil. 

“Meet the best friend.” she spoke sheepishly with a weak smile and Thranduil just simply sighed in utter annoyance at this childish situation. “So you were able to keep both of our identities secret from each other, and this is how we find out? You never fail to surprise me little one” He placed a hand on her lower back and gave Legolas an unimpressed look. 

“I think you might find yourself with an arrow in your chest while you sleep tonight” Legolas playfully threatened. “That's if you wish to go blind, you'll find me cosying up with your father in a not so friendly manner.” She shot back, earning a chuckle from Thranduil and a gag from Legolas.

 “I curse you woman.” Legolas turned around to leave them. “And I curse you father, you'll be lucky if you don't find poison in your wine tonight” He said before leaving dramatically, leaving her and Thranduil to laugh amongst themselves. 

“I think that went great!” she tried weakly as Thranduil simply shook his head and continued their walk through the garden.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I belong with my One; Fili x Dúnedain reader

*Author's note*

So this took me a few days to finally get finalized and write down so I hope @futuristicyouthvoid I hope you enjoy this fic. For this fic I've put that instead of Kili getting shot by the Morgul arrow, reader gets shot saving him and ends up getting sick.

Warnings: reader poisoned, near-death experience, some angst and some fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@queen-paladin

___________________________________________________________

So much has happened in such little of time.  First Gandalf offers me a proposition for aiding a company of Dwarves, then we’re being pursued by orcs, then get imprisoned by the Elven king Thranduil.  Now we find ourselves at the mercy of the Men of Laketown.

Thankfully another friend of mine Bard was willing to let us stay the night at his house but of course the Dwarves had to screw it all up by going to the armory to steal the weapons and end up getting caught by the Master of the Lake’s guards.  But by some miracle, we were granted the supplies we needed to get us to Erebor to complete the quest before sunset.  Of course I knew it was because of the Master’s greediness that he agreed to help, he never was a good man.

“You do know we’re one short, where’s Bofur?” Bilbo asked.

“If he’s not here, we leave him behind.” Said Thorin.

“We’ll have to, if we’re to find the door before nightfall. We can’t risk no more delays.” Balin agreed grimly as everyone began piling into the boat.  But as I was just halfway over the plank, I felt a hand stop me.

“Not you.” I turned to see Thorin.

“What?”

“We must travel at speed, you’ll only slow us down.” He told me.

“I’m coming with you all to the Mountain. I promised Gandalf that I would.”

“(Y/n), you have been a big help to me and my kin. The first Ranger to truly stand for our cause. But lately you haven’t been up to par on your health. Stay here and rest, rejoin us when you’re healed.” Just because I’ve been feeling a bit sluggish since the river incident, doesn’t mean I’m helpless.

“Thorin—”

“I will say no more on the matter.” Without another word, Thorin went back onto the boat whilst I had no choice but to sit back down on the docks, feeling a chill suddenly come over me.

“I’ll stay with the lass, my duty lies with the wounded.” Oin said as he voluntarily got off the boat and came up to me.

“Uncle, (Y/n) has done more for this company than any other outsider could’ve done for us. You cannot repay her by leaving her behind.” Fili stepped up for me.

“Fili no.” I told him.

“I will carry her if I must!” Fili argued.

“Fili, one day you will be king and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of a Ranger. Even if she were the only one willing to help us.” As Oin began feeling my forehead for a temperature, I soon watched as Fili stormed off the boat but Thorin stopped him.  “Fili, don’t be a fool. Your place is with the company.”

“My place is with her!” he snapped back at his uncle before taking back his arm and came over to me.

“Why did you do that? I thought you always wanted to see Erebor, you told me so yourself.”

“I’ll have plenty of opportunities to see the kingdom in my lifetime, but your wellbeing is more important to me than all the gold in Erebor.” I felt my cheeks grow warm as I softly thanked him.

“And don’t think it’ll just be Fee that’s gonna help you get back on your feet.” We turned to see Kili had also left the boat.

“Kili, you didn’t have to stay behind too.” Fili said.

“Yeah I could’ve gone but it’s my decision too.” He came up to me and stood on my right side.  “You saved my life back in the Woodland realm, I’ll gladly do everything I can to help you now (Y/n).” I smiled and looked at the brothers.

“You guys truly are the best friends I’ve ever had. Thank you.” They both nodded and as the Laketown band played a victorious fanfare to wish our friends luck, a sudden dizziness overcame me. 

My vision was going in and out of focus and as the crowd cheered as the boat with our friends departed from the docks, I suddenly fell forward, the last thing I heard was Fili’s voice calling my name.

*3rd Person POV*

When (Y/n) had passed out on the dock, Fili cried out (Y/n)’s name as Oin came up and began searching over her body for any trace of an infected wound or trace of blood.  Knowing that she had saved Kili from that arrow back when they were trying to escape the orcs on the river, there must’ve been a wound he might’ve missed before they came across Bard.

“OH, did you miss the boat too?” they soon heard the missing Dwarf, Bofur’s voice say.  But the moment he saw (Y/n) passed out, his concern grew as he asked Kili.  “What happened to her?”

“We don’t know. She just��suddenly passed out.”

“Her fever’s spiking lads. We have to get her help right away!” Oin said.

“Kee, help me out here!” together the brothers lifted her up by her arms while Oin and Bofur got her legs and they walked back towards the Master’s manor to ask for help.  After pushing through the guards, Fili cried out. “Please wait! Please, we need your help. Our friend is sick!”

“Sick? Is it infectious?” the Master exclaimed fearfully as he covered his nose with his handkerchief and fearfully cowered behind Alfrid. “Get back! Alfrid, Alfrid don’t let them come any closer!”

“Please. We need medicine.” Oin pleaded.  Alfrid walked closer as he sneered at them.

“Do I look like an apothecary? Haven’t we given you enough? The Master’s a busy man, he hasn’t got time to worry about sick Rangers! Let alone this one right ‘ere. All she’s ever done for this town is ruin the Master’s good name and turn the people against him.”

“She’s helped these people in their hour of need! Are you willing to let her die because of your own selfish needs?!” Kili demanded.

“None of our concern. She’s not a paying citizen here, therefore she’s not our problem. Now off you pop! Less we use more drastic measures.” With that Alfrid and the Master shut the doors and the guards ordered them away.

After being rejected by the Master, they tried going to other people to see if they could help but all of them were either too scared to go against the Master’s wishes, or didn’t have enough supplies to help aid her as well as their own sick family members.

With no other options left, the Dwarves raced back to Bard’s home.  Knowing of their friendship, they’d hope that at least he could help them.  Bofur knocked on the door frantically and as soon as Bard saw them, he sneered.

“No, I’m done with Dwarves. Go away!” he went to shut the door but Bofur stopped him pleading.

“No, no please! Please! No one will help us. (Y/n) is sick.” Bard opened the door further to see his good friend now sickly pale, strands of her hair stuck to her face from the profuse sweating she was doing, and her breathing was now choked gasps.  “She’s very, very sick.” Even with the grievance he had with the Dwarves for risking the safety of not only his children but the entire town of Dragon fire, he didn’t have the heart to turn his dear friend away.

“Bring her in.” Bard stepped aside and the four dwarves quickly piled in while Bard quickly looked around before shutting the door.  “Put her over there. I’ll see what I have.” Bard went to the back of the house as the Dwarves set her down on the nearby couch.  Fili took her hand between his and squeezed it.

“Hang on (Y/n), we’re all here to help you. Just…..don’t go where I cannot follow.” He whispered to her stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.  Kili watched his older brother and knowing of his feelings towards the Ranger, he couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing that it was because of his carelessness that the woman his brother loved got hurt to save him.

As the night overcame the lake, (Y/n)’s health was gradually becoming worse.  Oin did managed to find a small graze just underneath her elbow.  A graze that came from an orc arrow tipped with poison.  Already the wound (even for as small as it was) had already started to become infected and the poison was spreading fast.

(Y/n) was tossing and turning, panting as her body was glistening with sweat.

“Nothing’s working! Can you not do something!?” demanded Fili who was growing more frantic by the second seeing the woman he came to love be in such agony.

“I need herbs! Something to bring down her fever.” Bard soon came in with some more supplies and began listing them off.

“I have nightshade, feverfew…..”

“No, no there no use to me. Do you have any Kingsfoil?” said Oin but Bard told him.

“No. It’s a weed we feed it to the pigs.”

“Pigs? Weed. Right. Don’t move.” Bofur said before leaving the house.  As Kili was continuing to dab a damp, cool cloth across (Y/n)’s face and neck to ease her of her sweating, a rumble was soon heard coming from the mountain.

“Da?” asked one of Bard’s daughters Sigrid.

“It’s coming from the mountain.” Answered Bard’s son, Bain.  Bard had feared the worst, the dwarves had awoken Smaug the Terrible and soon the prophecy would come to pass, the Lake will shine and burn.

“You should leave us.” Fili said as he walked up to Bard. “Take your children, get out of here.”

“And go where? There’s nowhere to go.” Bard told him in defeat.  Little Tilda stepped in front of her siblings and asked her father fearfully.

“Are we going to die Da?” Bard looked at his youngest child and assured her.

“No darling.”

“The dragon, it’s going to kill us.” Bard then turned towards a beam just above the kitchen and gripped a thin but firm piece of what appeared to be black iron.  He pulled it down from the beam to reveal that it was a Black arrow, the very same black arrow that can only be used to kill the dragon.

“Not if I kill it first.” Bard said determinedly.  He then asked his son to come with him while the girls stayed behind with the Dwarves to help take care of their Aunt.

Time passed and (Y/n)’s fever was getting even worse.  Her breathing was sharp and panicked and she was now starting to writhe in agony.

“Durin’s beard where is Balin with that Kingsfoil!?” Fili demanded.

“I have the right mind to go out and look for him myself!” Kili snapped.

“You can’t leave! With the guards on patrol, they’ll arrest you too and aunt (Y/n) will never get better!” Bain said.  “No one is leaving this house understood!?” hearing the young man take a stand against the Dwarves made them both feel shock and admiration.

“Very well laddie. But I don’t know how long (Y/n) has got left, she’s growing weaker by the second.” Oin said to Bain.

“Tilda, Sigrid, come with me to get more rags and water for aunt Hela.” The siblings soon left while Fili gripped (Y/n)’s hand tighter.

“Fi…….li.” she choked out.

“I’m right beside you (Y/n).” he whispered to her.  Slowly opening her eyes she croaked out.

“Fili…..if anything hap-happens to me—”

“Don’t talk like that (Y/n). We’re going to heal you, Bofur’s probably found the Kingsfoil by now, he’s just probably ducking the guards and taking longer. Please don’t give in now.” He squeezed her hand between his.  “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Suddenly a scream was heard and next thing everyone knew orcs began dropping down from the rooftop or coming in through the front door.  The dwarves grabbed whatever they could to fight off the orcs but there were too many of them, and with the tightly constricted area the house provided, there was hardly any fighting room.

Kili got the children to duck under the table and fought off any orc that tried to come close to them, while Oin and Fili worked together to fend off any orc that came near (Y/n).  When they thought they were done for, help came from both Legolas and Tauriel who had been tracking down the orcs since they left Mirkwood.

As Fili managed to block an orc’s attack with a kitchen knife, (Y/n) had managed to crawl out of the couch and use a fire-poker to stab the orc through its spine.  But she soon let out a cry of agony as she collapsed to the ground, the poison fully starting to overcome her.  Eventually, all the orcs were either killed off or had begun to retreat from the house.

“You killed them all.” Bain said as he and his sisters got out from under the table after all went quiet in the house.

“There are others, Tauriel.” Legolas ordered but Tauriel was hesitant.  As Oin came down beside (Y/n) and felt around her neck to feel her pulse was slowing down, Fili and Kili came down beside her as Oin said fearfully.

“We’re losing her!”

“Tauriel.” Legolas said to her.  She turned back to her prince and said.

“The Ranger has done no harm to us, is there nothing we can do to help her?”

“She is beyond help. I’m sorry, there’s nothing that can be done for her.” Footsteps could soon be heard racing up the stairs and as the two elves prepared for another battle with orcs, they stopped to see that it was Bofur carrying some Athelas in his hand.

“Athelas,” Tauriel exhaled as she took it from him and admired it. “Athelas.”

“What are you doing?” Bofur asked nervously.  Tauriel looked into the room before looking back at him and said.

“I’m going to save her.” Legolas’ eyes briefly narrowed.

“Tauriel…..”

“You may go if you wish Legolas, but I cannot leave the she-ranger to perish in such agony. Not whilst she still clings to life and that I now have her only salvation.” The young prince took a deep breath then exhaled.

“What would you have me do?” the two elves raced back inside and Tauriel ordered.

“I need water fast. Get her on a solid, stable surface. Lay her flat on her back.” Every in the room reacted quickly.  Tilda gave Tauriel the bowl of water for her to mix the Athelas together, whilst Legolas and the Dwarves worked together to get (Y/n) on the table.

She was screaming and writhing in pure agony, her mouth starting to grow black with the poison.

“Where is the wound?” Legolas asked.

“Underneath her left elbow.” Oin said.  Legolas took hold of her left wrist and raised her arm above.  But when she tried to struggle, he was forced to also grab her forearm to pin it down and there he saw it.  The black graze and he could see the infection had fully spread and blackened her entire elbow.

“Hold her down.” Tauriel said.  Kili and Bofur held down her right leg while Bard’s children held down her left.  Fili held (Y/n) by the shoulders and Oin helped Tauriel brew the medicine.  Once it was brewed, Tauriel cut through the sleeve of (Y/n)’s shirt to get a better access to the wound.

The female ranger appearing like a rapid animal, screaming, grunting and thrashing about trying to free herself.  Tauriel took some of the Athelas and began rubbing it onto her hands as she chanted.

“Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth.” She then placed her hands over the ranger’s wound and (Y/n) let out an agonizing scream.  Fili softly shushed her stroking through her hair and whispering in her ear all the while Tauriel kept chanting the spell.

Bit by bit, (Y/n)’s animalistic behavior quietened and then she went still.  Her breathing now soft and not as frantic as it had been.  Fili looked down at her worriedly and Kili asked.

“Will she be alright?”

“Athelas has powerful healing properties. With time and rest, she’ll regain her full strength. A few more minutes and she would’ve been beyond even with the aid of the Athelas.” Responded Tauriel.  The dwarves and Bard’s children breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” Fili said to Tauriel.  She gave him a soft but tight smile as well as a soft nod.  Then both she and Legolas left to deal with the orcs.

After her healing, Fili wrapped up (Y/n)’s wound with some bandages and kept vigil at her side.  Never before had he felt so scared than he had felt at that moment.  Fearing that the woman he had come to become fond of—nay love throughout this quest, he wouldn’t have known what to do had she been lost to him.

“She’ll be alright Fili. She’s strong, she’ll be back on her feet in no time.” His brother tried to assure him.

“I know. But seeing her go through all that pain, all that suffering, and who knows if she even knew she had been hit.”

“Even if she did, she’s got the stubbornness of a Dwarrowdam. Perfect woman for a guy like you.” Fili turned to his brother.  “You may try to have hide it from the others but you can’t hide anything from me Fee. I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at her since Rivendell. You care for her more than just as a friend.” Fili sighed and looked down to her.

“I don’t even know how it happened. But after all that we’ve been through, seeing her in a—domestic way. The way she was with her younger cousin, the way the sunlight seemed to reflect off her hair, and the way her eyes shone like jewels in the dark. Kee……I feel as if she is my One.”

“And you should follow through that brother.”

“But would it work? A dwarf and a human? It’s never been done before?”

“Is that what’s really troubling you? Or is it that you fear she doesn’t feel the same way?” Fili remained quiet.

“This quest has shown me that life is too fragile. And at any moment, any one of us can be taken away by any means. I want to tell her my true feelings but—not now. Not while our lives are still in danger. Perhaps when we reach the mountain, I’ll work up the courage to tell her but I—”

“I understand brother. The turmoil that must’ve been stirring in your heart seeing her on death’s doorstep, if you had confessed your love for her beforehand and it be too late to save her……I can’t imagine the pain that would’ve been.”

“She’s too precious to me.” Fili said as he stroked her cheek with the back of his finger.  “I feel like if she had died tonight, my heart would’ve died with her. My body may have continued to live on but my heart would never be full again.”

“Take comfort now that she’s alive and that she’s recovering. No more darkened thoughts need cloud your mind anymore.” Kili said as he placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, gently shaking it.  Fili turned to his little brother and nodded giving him a soft smile.

“Thank you Kili. I know I’m supposed to be the older brother here but, I’m glad that you were here to be the one to ease my mind.”

“I’m always here for you brother, and I always will be. Together forever right?” he extended his other hand out.

“Together forever little brother.” Fili clasped his other hand with Fili’s as they pressed their foreheads together, drawing in each other’s strength.

*My POV*

 All I remembered was darkness, as well as a voice reaching out for me.  Then a bright light and soon silence.  I don’t remember much after that but I do remember hearing Fili’s voice along with Kili’s.

“This quest has shown me that life is too fragile. And at any moment, any one of us can be taken away by any means. I want to tell her my true feelings but—not now. Not while our lives are still in danger. Perhaps when we reach the mountain, I’ll work up the courage to tell her but I—”

“I understand brother. The turmoil that must’ve been stirring in your heart seeing her on death’s doorstep, if you had confessed your love for her beforehand and it be too late to save her……I can’t imagine the pain that would’ve been.”

“She’s too precious to me.” I felt something graze my cheek with the most gentlest touch.  “I feel like if she had died tonight, my heart would’ve died with her. My body may have continued to live on but my heart would never be full again.”

So did Fili actually feel the same as I have come to feel for him? Oh Fili, I-I love you too. And I do hope that one day I can say that aloud, but for now I was just too weak to even open my eyes.  I soon passed out once again but it wasn’t until the sound of giant wings flying towards us had me opening my eyes.

Smaug was coming for us. And he was out for blood.

[chloesolace]

Midnight Rain - Thranduil x Reader

summary: You are an elven ambassador from Rivendell living in Mirkwood. The realm is currently celebrating a victory in battle over the dwarves when Thranduil asks to have a private word with you. The two of you share history, but his scars scared him into letting you go. A decision he clearly regrets after seeing you dance with your fiancé.

pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst

a/n: Another part of my Swift series, where I write multifandom one shots inspired by Taylor's songs <3 the next series after this will be a Florence + The Machine one. Hope you enjoy this story!

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

My girl was a montage A slow motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke her heart 'cause she was nice

In the dim light of sundown, he watched the woman dance. Her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, and her red lips curved into a bright smile revealing her teeth. Giggles escaped her, the skirts of her dress in her fists so she would not stumble and fall over them as she hopped around in circles. She twirled around her dance partner, one her hand held tightly in his as she looked between him and her footing. Her bare feet moved confidently over the forest floor, soles stained with moss and earth from earlier rain.

He was sitting in his chair, a crown of leaves and twigs sprouting from his head. He could feel the weight of it pressing down even more than it usually did, although he was sure this was merely his imagination. His gaze hardened as he observed the man dancing with the woman, their arms entwined. No one besides him noticed but each time they drew close, the man whispered in her ear, eliciting blushes and giggles.

The glass in his hand shattered. 

“Oh, Your Majesty!” Exclaimed a servant girl next to him, immediately taking the glass out of his hand and cleaning his palm of shards and blood. The cloth she used soaked up the red liquid as the girl placed the shards into a basket nearby. 

Barely glancing at his opened palm, he held it away from his body, allowing her to continue cleaning up the mess he made. Hissing, he pulled it away once she informed him he was clean again. There was still a stain on his palm, but the cuts did not appear deep. He would seek out the palace healer after the festivities ended.

The music stopped when he raised his other hand, all eyes falling onto him when he stood from his seat. His blue eyes were resting on the elven girl he had watched earlier, the air thick with anticipation from his people. 

“Do not let the festivities stop. I shall have a private word with the Rivendell ambassador inside. Please, continue,” he said, his deep voice loud and collected. It radiated authority and control, all while he never took his gaze off of you.

You gave your fiancé a short nod and left him alone on the clearing that had turned into a dance floor, just as the musicians to your right resumed playing their instruments. Some of the spectators around watched you as you approached the Elven King, others joined your fiancé in dancing, and the air was once again filled with laughter. 

Thranduil extended an arm for you to take, and you reluctantly wrapped your hand around his biceps, feeling the expensive fabric of his garment on your skin. His scent was clear and familiar; a mixture of musk and wood. 

Neither of you said a word until you found themselves on a terrace, far away from the festivities and the music, which could only be heard if one concentrated very hard. You placed your hands on the railing, your eyes drifting off to the forest in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Thranduil looking at you, his gaze making you feel naked, seen, though never uncomfortably exposed.

“Why did you want to speak with me?” You asked him, knuckles white from your tight grip around the railing. You hoped he didn’t notice your nervousness. He hesitated as if he wasn’t quite sure himself. 

“You have proven to be a valuable asset in keeping an alliance between Rivendell and the Woodland Realm,” he began, his voice lacking emotion, his words sounding practiced and memorized. “I suspect now that you have found a suitable match, you plan to stay?” The words only reluctantly left his lips, and you could feel him tense further.

You clenched your teeth as you stared out into the forest, the sky darkening as dusk slowly began to blend into nightfall. There was a thickness in the air, indicating the imminent arrival of rain.

“Sharion and I have not decided yet,” you said hesitantly, the name of your fiancé now feeling strange on your tongue. You cursed yourself for the momentary feeling of shame that spread through your chest. Yet you had nothing to be ashamed of; Thranduil had turned you down. 

“I see,” replied the Elven King, and you saw him follow your gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He stood straight and tall next to you, silence resting between you. It was almost suffocating until you heard the roar of thunder above you.

You opened your mouth to say something just as he did the same, and it was the first time that evening your eyes met. You stopped yourself from speaking, gesturing for him to proceed instead. With flushed cheeks, you listened and averted your eyes again.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly, the pain in his voice barely audible. Your grip around the railing tightened just as the first raindrop fell onto it. “Please, look at me.”

There was something else in his voice now; he was pleading. When you turned to him you saw the glassiness of his blue eyes, the way his thick brows furrowed and his arched lips pursed as if in agony. 

“I do not know what you want from me, Thranduil,” you whispered, his name on your lips a familiar feeling. You were one of the few who knew about his name, let alone addressed him with it so openly. “I gave you my heart. I wanted to become your wife.” Your eyes momentarily dropped to his lips before locking with his again, your hand gently rising to touch his cheek where you knew he had glamored it. “No matter the scars you bear.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, leaning gently into your touch. You saw his own hand rising, only to fall again as if he was scared to touch you. As if he feared that if he did, you would pull away. 

When he opened his eyes, he inhaled deeply with the greed of someone who had stayed underwater for too long. Underneath your touch, his skin began to fade, replaced by the deep scars you had often seen him stare at in the mirror with disdain in his eyes. 

“I need you,” he whispered, but you only dropped your hand and he let the scars disappear behind his glamor again, eyes marked by rejection. 

“I cannot be with someone who hides himself behind thick curtains of shame, Thranduil.” Next to you, you heard the falling rain quicken in unison with your heartbeat. “Are you ready to draw the curtains back?”

He hesitated and looked away. Now it was you searching his gaze, but stubborn as he was he would not meet it. The silence that followed was answer enough, only disrupted when the heavy rain swallowed it and thunder roared again. You felt as if nature itself was urging him to open himself fully to you, though he ignored its pleas.

“I do not want to fight for a heart that would stay inside its cage when it could be free,” you continued, the words heavy. “A home should not be a battlefield.”

You saw him tense before you turned your back on him, leaving him standing with only the terrace’s roof to shield him from the rain. You began shivering, the feeling of your engagement ring cold against your finger while tears streamed down your cheeks. It was painful breaking one’s own heart, but sometimes it was a necessary pain to bear. 

With a heavy heart, you entered the palace again while the rain swallowed him calling out your name. 

'Cause she was sunshine I was midnight rain She wanted it comfortableI wanted that pain

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

So you know how Mirkwood teamed up Lothlorien during lotr? Imagine after that battle's over one of the mirkwood elves is just like "man, I'm fucking STARVING after all that" then just sits down and cuts a piece from an orc's arm before popping it in their mouth. To the horror and concern of the Lothlorien elves, the elf actually swallows it like it's nothing. Then the rest of the mirkwood army proceeds to follow their lead and do the same thing.

Celeborn looks over at Thranduil like "you seeing this?"

But Thranduil just says with a slightly disappointed tone, "they couldn't even wait to season it. Or at least roast it, like damn- at least set up a fire!"

Thranduil immediately rushes off to order everyone to to set up proper camp and fires, and while some elves do whine about it, they comply bc this might be the last time some of them get to eat orc now that sauron is gone so they gotta savor it.

When asked by celeborn, thranduil replies with: “do you have any idea how hard it is to get supplies when you’ve been under siege, essentially, for millennia? Letting dead orcs rot is a waste of meat and at least this way that bastard can’t use their corpses for whatever necromancer magic he wants. Besides, orcs and spider and wargs routinely want to eat us. I don’t see why we shouldn’t eat them right back.”

Of course some lothloriens complain about it UNTILL some of the silvans from lothlorien join in with their mirkwood brothers and sisters bc, while they’ve relinquished most of their silvan culture under the rule of galadriel, they do still remember that in the past they used to chomp down on orc meat bc why not?

Soon the atmosphere turns almost festive as pots and pans and spices are brought out and fires are started and everyone is celebrating their victory and the silvans are trying to convince the lothloriens to take a piece (some do and some dont). Either way, it’ll certainly be a story that gets passed around once the elves reach valinor. How the silvans turned the tables on sauron by not only defying him but also eating his soldiers right back.

Silvan: wait until we tell them we used to eat balrog during the first age before they became extinct.

Legolas is hundred of miles away and lowkey pissed he couldn’t attend this impromptu party. He also stealthily took some chunks of meat from the orcs after his own battle bc if there’s one thing he learned, it’s that humans don’t react well to perceived canabalism.

[elerondo]

The worst and most inaccurate shade one could throw on Elrond is that degenerate "he didn't even want to be king" and using that to say "Thranduil is better / mightier / Greenwood had it worst". Why is this even a comparison, as though to say Thranduil had any choice in the matter? As though it is a good thing that Thranduil became king?

As though Angmar wasn't a thing in Eriador.

As though all the kings of the Noldor didn't die against Morgoth and Sauron.

If Elrond was king he would also die on the plains of Dagorlad like a Valar forsaken prophecy, and then the last of Feanorian memory, and the valour of Fingolfin's line would have died with him.

As though his own brother - a king - didn't also die and Elros' people later propelled the rise of Sauron, which caused all the mother fucking kings to also die.

Never again would a Feanorian star be bannered in Middle Earth, and Morgoth would have well and truly won against Feanor's kin.

Thus Sauron would have gotten hold of one of the Elven rings, Vilya, the mightiest of the Three.

So no shit, Elrond cannot be king. He chose to serve a king, then the realm, and all the free folks of middle earth.

He played the longest con through all of his PERMANENT LOSSES and you dare trash on that? Why even compare when the elves are all tragic, and Tolkien's main story is the victory of the little people, not the glorfication of war and heroes?

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Part 4

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Minor angst | Soft-ish ending

Warnings: Alcohol use | Weapons use | Injuries | Betting

Wordcount : 2.1k words

Summary: During the feast of Mereth Nuin Giliath, Thranduil tries to apoligize for hurting y/n

Minors DNI

A/n the previous chapters can be found here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Thranduil POV

Mereth Nuin Giliath began as it always did, with evening prayers after the first star for the night was seen.

Thranduil, garbed in silks of pale blue with a crown fashioned to look like glittering stars sitting amidst his hair, walked just behind his father as he led the procession to Varda’s shrine. The lamps had been dimmed, and the candles had been snuffed out. All the windows were opened to the night sky, and starlight slowly flowed in.

It was a somber affair, to be sure, and long and tedious. Still, Thranduil willingly played his role in all that was required of him and conducted himself in a manner befitting a crown prince during the rituals.

Once the solemnity of this affair is over, he reminded himself, the merrymaking can truly begin.

And the solemn affair did come to an end, much to the quiet relief of many involved. Then the elves poured out of the shrine and walked in twos and threes and more, making their way past lofty halls and vaulted ceilings and into the grounds that had been prepared for the evening’s contests.

The braziers had already been lit by the time Thranduil took his place by his father’s side in the gallery while the others took their places on the field. Then he looked around for y/n. The maid was standing behind them all with a pitcher of wine in hand. She startled and turned her gaze toward her feet when she found the prince’s eyes resting on hers. The sleeves of her new livery reached up to her wrists, but he was certain the bruise that had been an inadvertent gift of his was still there.  

“You stare at her, my son,” Oropher remarked, though not harshly. “May I ask why?”

“No reason, father,” Thranduil returned and turned to face the field again, his voice perfectly calm. Deep within, he was haunted by feelings of guilt.

The king studied him keenly for a while. “The maid is quite fetching, I grant you,” he allowed, albeit rather reluctantly. “But do not allow yourself to grow too attached to the likes of her. She is one of them, after all.”

It was Thranduil’s turn to startle. Does he truly think I am drawn to her? He thought. Does he not know what happened?

Feren had assured him—after expressing his disappointment with the prince’s behavior, of course—that no one in the kitchens had been the wiser. Y/n had not uttered a word of what took place in the gardens that day.

“I am not attached to her, my lord,” he replied. And he had to reply. His father was waiting on an answer. “There is no cause for you to worry on that score.”

Oropher, gratified, nodded. Then the master of revels came forth, and the first of the contests began in earnest.

It was a mock battle, and it was fought on soil that had hardened due to a late autumn frost. The elves that took part protected themselves with shields and armor and blunted swords, and yet, more than one fell to the earth, crying out from pain. Cheers and loud gasps followed each blow and each loss, and healers stood nearby to aid those in need of them.  

While elves fought and laughed and cursed out on the field, beneath canopies of green and gold velvet, food and wine flowed freely for those who watched. The stars burned brightly that night, as if the Star-Kindler herself was watching the spectacle taking place beneath the night sky. Thranduil, however, did not savor the magic of the night. He paid little heed to the rousing cheers that greeted those who did well, and the encouragement shouted down to those that fared poorer. He did not see the last warrior stand to accept their victory, the archers that took the field after a series of targets were neatly arranged at the far end of the field, the courtiers who parted with their jewels or the others who readily accepted purses full of gold coins. All he did see was the maid going from noble to noble, pouring wine and clearing dishes whenever it was asked of her, without saying a word in return.  

“Y/n,” Thranduil called softly before he could stop himself. “Wine, if you please.”

She obeyed and came to him. He watched her discretely, how her hands trembled even as she poured more wine for him. Then her sleeve shifted ever so slightly, and the bruise came into view. Thranduil kept his composure. He felt his father’s eyes on him.

“My thanks,” he replied, then turned his attention to the two remaining contestants. Feren and Angon were all that remained of the archers, and the next few moments would decide who would be the victor.

A hush settled upon the field, and the throng went silent. Angon was the first to nock his arrow. He took a deep breath, and then took aim. When he breathed out again, the arrow flew toward its target, and everyone watched, breathless. A soft thud was heard. The arrow nearly found its mark.

“A fraction too far from the center,” Oropher observed to his son. “But I wonder if it is close enough.”

“Feren still has to take a turn, father,” Thranduil replied. “Anything can happen.”  

They waited with bated breath while a herald called Feren to come forth. Thranduil’s steward took his position, nocked his arrow, and breathed in. When he exhaled, the arrow flew true to its aim, and all who had gathered erupted into thunderous applause when the arrow struck the target in the center.

“A pity we did not hold a wager, you and I,” Thranduil smiled, rising.

“A king does not partake in wagers, not even with his son." Oropher’s steely eyes glinted with amusement. “Come. It is time we rewarded the victors and prepared ourselves for the feast.”

While the service of prayers was a somber affair, the feast itself was not. Minstrels walked from table to table strumming harps and playing viols and flutes, while servants brought forth dishes of quail and venison and boar roasted in honey and herbs. There were heaping platters of cheese and pears and wild berries and apples and apricots, with golden flagons of wine and ale and mead for anyone who had a thirst for it. Many of those present ate and drank their fill. Some drank more than they should, and they gathered together in groups of threes and more to sing vulgar tunes that would have made even the bawdiest sailors amongst the Edain blush.

His father saw no harm in such amusements. He would have participated in them as well, had he not been king. More than once, Thranduil caught him drumming his fingers against the table and humming along to songs that caught his particular attention. Then he made his excuses and left the dais, and Thranduil watched while his father stopped by one table or the other to speak with their guests. The prince joined him not long after and waited his turn to be introduced to those he had never met before, unwed maidens in particular.

Father still clings to the hope of my wedding and producing an heir, Thranduil thought with affection. Ever since he attained the age of majority, his father spoke to him about prospective brides and encouraged him to form friendships with them. And while the prince was ever willing to indulge his father where friendships were concerned, he practiced greater caution when it came to his choice of bride.

I will make my own way when it comes to marriage, Thranduil thought to himself. And after I have finished establishing a household for myself. 

That household was a vast cave system north of Amon Lanc, and the work to make it a suitable home for a crown prince was nearly complete. His father encouraged it, thinking it was high time his son established a proper home for himself.

“Will you stay for the dancing, my lord?” A nobleman inquired of Oropher.

“Alas, my featherbed calls,” Oropher replied in jest. “And I fear that for tonight, I must answer it.”

The others laughed softly, then bowed when the king took his leave of them and retired to his chambers for the night. Thranduil remained. He returned to his seat on the dais, his golden hair limned by the flickering light of clear, amber lamps. Then the music changed, and the singing stopped. The time for dancing had come.

The prince had to leave his place a second time and he joined the others, graciously asking one lady to dance with him before turning to another after the music stopped and partners changed. His eyes widened like anything when Angon finally mustered the courage to ask Nitiel to dance with him in full view of his mother and father, and he quickly turned the other way when the general found him looking and flushed all over.

So it has happened, Thranduil realized after seeing thin bands of silver gleaming around their fingers. He has finally made the lady his wife. But will his mother and father accept his choice?

If Angon’s mother and father were displeased by their son’s brazen act, they did not show it. They simply rose and joined the others in dancing and exchanging pleasantries with their son’s lady. Then he became distracted by the sight of Feren walking toward the few remaining servants that had gathered at one end of the feasting hall. His steward approached y/n and then asked her to dance with him. Perhaps it was out of pity, as many of the others had been asked to dance. Or perhaps, he simply asked out of kindness. Either way, it did not alter the fact that Feren asked the lady to dance with him, and she, after a great deal of reluctance, agreed.

Thranduil gracefully led his own companion on more than one turn around the hall, but his eyes were on Feren and y/n most of the time. The maid proved to be a skilled dancer, and she followed Feren’s steps with great ease. When the music changed, partners changed, and whenever a change took place, Thranduil found y/n dancing with Angon, and then Galion, and then Elros, a wet-behind-the-ears elf who pledged himself to the king’s service only a turn of the moon ago. The elf’s countenance was bruised; he was one of the unfortunate warriors to take a blow to the face during the mock battle.

The music changed again, and this time y/n danced a turn with Amdír. The king of Lórien was a splendid dancer, and he made her laugh more than once. It was the first time Thranduil heard her laugh, and he shivered despite himself. Then, when the music changed for the final time, the prince himself had to dance a turn with y/n.

“My lady,” he bowed, for all eyes were on them now. “Would you do me the honor?”

“I… Of course, my lord,” y/n returned, and she dipped to her knees in a deep curtsy. When the music started, she placed her hand in his, and they danced in a circle around the floor.

While kindness or perhaps pity drove Feren to ask y/n to dance, shame over his own conduct led Thranduil to talk.

“You dance uncommonly well, my lady. Was it your mother who taught you how to dance?”

“My father… my lord. My mother… she said that was how father caught her eye. By how good he was with dancing.”

“I see,” Thranduil commented. “And how do you find life in Amon Lanc, my lady? Is it to your liking?”

Y/n was startled. “I do not understand my lord. Has… has someone said something? Has the king said something?”

She was frightened; it would have been plain to anyone who saw.

“No one has said anything against you,” he said softly in an effort to dispel her fears. “I merely wish to know if you are happy here.”

“I… I suppose I am happier here,” she replied.   

“Good,” Thranduil said. Then he felt her palm against his. It trembled. The hand resting on his other arm shook even as he held her steady. “Are you afraid of me?”

She was quick to shake her head and declare otherwise. Thranduil was not fooled, however, and whispered, “You are afraid of me. And I know my own actions have led you to fear me. Please, allow me to make amends for my behavior.”

“Why?” She asked after a while, in great confusion. “You are the crown prince of this great realm. I am Noldor, and I am the daughter of a kinslayer. Why would you even wish to do such a thing?”

Why indeed. Thranduil did not understand why the notion of asking for forgiveness entered his thoughts, only that it was there and that he would know no peace until he did.

“I do not know myself,” he confessed. “All I do know is that I truly desire to make amends for my behavior from before. Please grant me the opportunity to do so.”

tags: @deadlymistletoe @lemonivall @coopsgirl @tigereyesf @thranduilseyebrows​ @cupids-got-me​ @jane0error @asianbutnotjapanese

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 5 - Enough is enough

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

fifth chapter synopsis: As the Enemy's actions became more and more clear, Thranduil discovers that there is a traitor among the free people. After an unexpected problem, you have to made a decision. [4K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug.

glossary: Mellon: Friend┆Lossëistar: Ice Mage

Many think that the determining factor in a battle is strength. Others that it is strategy. A minority truly believes it is luck. But those never saw the strongest falling down or the smartest failing to plan, and they never felt that luck sided with their enemies. It is so easy to find simple and objective truths when you are far away from the real conflict.

Moonlight spilled through the rotten trees. The gravel crunched under the elk’s paws. His beast, the creature that always protected and obeyed the Elvenking, followed the tracks of the remaining worm. Unhesitating, Thranduil led his little army through the night. And he did it unhurried.

Thranduil could say that they were strong enough to win this chase, and there is a high chance that it would turn out true. Thranduil could say that his strategy is failsafe, and it was in so many occasions. Thranduil could use a deity’s name as a promise of victory. But knowing the truth of real conflict, it would be vile to make those shallow promises. 

And Thranduil is not a mad king.

He fought for his people, and led them from survival to tranquility. While Elrond argued if the Enemy was alive or not, while Galadriel and Celeborn conserved what they already had, Thranduil was the one to see Mordor, to feel its flames, and survive it.

Protecting Woodland from Sauron’s harassment, Thranduil kept his throne and sanity.

He would never put his people in danger relaying only on such ephemeral things. His soldiers followed him, hunt that worm with him, because they swore to fought for him. They would die for him, just like many did before, but not out of fear: because of honor. They believe on Thranduil’s judgment. They saw him making sacrifices to keep their realm safe and sound. They would do anything Thranduil demanded without questioning.

Exploring the forest, blending with the darkness, they hunted as one. Not a group, not a army, they were one and same. No orders were needed, and soon that disgusted thing was cornered. No matter how far that wicked monster ran, he was already dead.

Blood dried on Thranduil’s face. He could feel the ferrous taste. His gaze was not that of a king, Thranduil was only a hunter now. The long sword on his hand was nothing but a extension of his body. The orc’s snarls grew louder and louder.

The amorphous figure broke away from the shadows. A sound of glass mixed with the snarls, the bag swinging in the orc’s hands gleaming in the moonlight. With his curved body burning in exhaustion, his steps only managed to slow him down. It was almost unfair to fight such a being. What chance did it had of surviving?

And that is why Thranduil started this chase. Thranduil saw the strongest unable to stand up, the smartest unable to protect themselves, the luckiest unable to react after a betrayal. He knows what really determines the outcome of any kind of battle. Thranduil knew they had what it takes to win.

There is no need to be faster. To be stronger. And there is no such a thing as a infallible strategy. There is only one thing that separates you from victory. All you need to do is to last longer than your enemy. And Thranduil proved time after time that he and his people will always endure.

No matter what, the Sindars endure.

The king raised his sword. Swinging his leg against the elk, making it turn at the right moment, he brought it down fiercely. The orc’s arm broke away and black, viscous blood gushed through the cut. He continued wandering.

Thranduil would follow him, at that moment an attack of his bordered on mercy, but something stopped him. A whisper. Something in the dark, something he could almost recognized, tried to lure him. The orc was not wandering: he knew exactly where to go.

Thranduil stopped his elk, and his army mirrored him.

The determined orc took a few stumbling steps, his gripping on life loosing with time, until the place where the pearly shine no longer reached. When the only thing left for him was to die, he was snapped up by the darkness. All that was left of him was a cold arm on the ground.

Enough. Thranduil had done more than enough for Elrond and his realm. No kindness, no moral reward of any kind, would make him led his people into that hungry obscurity. The White Council may not understand it yet, but Woodland knows the Enemy stands firm. And if Sauron decided to protect his army from Thranduil’s campaign, then he will travel back to his realm and do the same.

The War is closer, and Woodland will endure it.

The sound of breaking bones brought him back his cautious choice making. An archer broke the cold orc’s fingers to free the bag from it. “It must be precious, my king. He held it until the end.”

He smirked. “There is nothing precious he can give to me.”

The archer opened the bag either way, and struggle to see what was there on the dark. He immediately reach out to his king. Thranduil’s smirk died slowly.

Records of rivers. Counts of Ents. Marking of floods and droughts. Maps and more maps comparing old and recent constructions, studies of walls, notes in ancient, forgotten languages. There were atlases of Gondor, Rivendell, Khazad-dûm, the Shire, Rohan, Erebor, Isengard.

Woodland.

Somehow, those monster were able to study the realms. But how did they do it without being noticed? So many places, so many informations. No. Thranduil knows that they would never be able to do such a thing. All realms were betrayed. There is a spy between the free people. Someone trusted enough to be able to join all this information.

Thranduil do not know for how long that person was able to fool him and the others, but he knows that now they are not a person anymore: they are a walking corpse. 

“This campaign is over,” Thranduil announced. He guided his army back to the camp, but not before looking one last time to the hungry obscurity. “And so is peace.”

He took the maps out of the muddy bag to observe them, hoping to notice any detail that would show who designed them. But after he took the last one from it, the dirty rag was heavier than it should have.

A pendant. It was heavy and pointed, with three inches of height. The tear shape crystal had a pearly liquid inside it. No. Not a liquid. Thranduil could almost feel the velvet texture of it against his skin. It was snow. In the heat of Rivendell, it had snow inside it. Details of wood circled the crystal, running through it as a black thread of blood.

It was the most exquisite thing Thranduil ever saw.

Back to camp, Thranduil gave new instructions. They would spend the night there, and by the morning travel back home. They rod to Rivendell in twenty. And in twenty they will came back to Greenwood.

Thranduil went to his tent. He spread the maps out on the table, and analyzed them carefully. Dozen of clandestine, unsigned maps with official informations. Who made them even knew what are the shifts of patrols in Rohan. The orc did not steal that, it was given to him.

Thranduil sat down to write letters to all leaders. He explained his return to Elrond, warned Saruman and asked him to do the same with the Ents of Isengard, insisted that Galadriel improved the defense of her realm. Thranduil even wrote for the dwarves of Khazad-dûm.

Surrounded by papers, heating the wax to seal the letters, he almost did not heard when a crow entered his tent. Apparently, Aerin’s inn do not have carrier-pigeons. Only crows. An easy way for him to know when your letter is the one being delivered.

Thranduil longs for the moment when your letters will be on his hands. As soon as he hears the characteristic caw of crows, his body fills with determination. Everything that happened, from the bad ones to the horrible ones, do not matter anymore. Because he knows that when he reads your careful handwriting and honest words, everything will be all right.

But when he read the content of that letter and saw the picture that your words painted on his mind, a desire made impossible for him to rest. All he did was think, unable to decided if he should do as his heart craves. Because what he read was exactly what Thranduil needed: an excuse to bring you closer to him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Luthien opened the door before you could knock on it. “I wonder if you are always that punctual,” she leaned against the door frame. “Or just yearning,” she whispered the last part.

You brought a jar of honey, milk and herbs for tea. “I do not want to waste your time,” not exactly true, not exactly lie. You gave her your most brilliant smile, but not before you roll your eyes. “Are you busy?”

The healer gave you space to enter her house. You remember when Luthien explained that you were treated on the same table in which you place everything you brought to make a nice tea. She told you that your blood was quite difficult to clean. Her house smell like buttercup, so she was able to clean it.

Luthien filled a teapot with water and took it to the fireplace. “I told you to not bring me food anymore, so you decided to bring me tea?”

“It is my way to thank you. For the nursing, company and discretion. Now stop complaining.”

Luthien sat in front of you, and rested her chin on her hand. “To think it took a warg to make us talk to one another. How is your shoulder?”

“It is better,” you reassured her. You opened her cabinets, knowing where she keeps her tea-cups and spoons. “It feels heavier, and it has a gross scar, but only hurts when I try to reach something high.”

“Give it time, mellon.” Luthien said that so many times before. She took the teapot away from the flames, and waited until you prepared the tea-cups to fill them. It smelled good. She put a spoon of honey on hers. “Although I know you will not hear me. You are not exactly patient.”

“What do you mean by that?” You took a sip of tea. It burned your tongue.

“You are here,” Luthien tried to hide her smirk. “I told you a hundred times that I will carry your letters to you, but you cannot wait. Here you are, waiting for them.”

You concentrated on blowing the tea, ignoring her eyes.

Many do think that words are just representations of thoughts in a way that others can understand. But such a cold perspective can make them forget that words are more than just things to understand. They are feelings. They are knowledge. And their use, or the lack of, matters way more than most people are comfortable in admitting.

Yours. A possessive pronoun, commonly used as a attributive adjective. When it is used, people knows you own something. But not just that. Yours convey possession. Yours convey pride. Yours convey belonging. A house is just a house, but your house is a home. A word present everywhere, pronounced by everyone, and used before what really matters.

But you do not use it so often. 

Yes, technically you do own a few things. You saved for two months to buy your pair of boots. And you have your own mount saddle. But you cannot say that the bed where you sleep is yours. That the roof over your head is yours. Or the dress on your body. The food digested in your stomach. 

When you collapsed on her doorstep, Aerin could have helped you or not. She decided on the first. She made her choice, and she kept deciding on you since then. Aerin gave you clothes, aid, nourishment. Aerin gave you dignity. She gave you all you have. Even the money you used to bought the only things you can call yours came from her.

But how can a letter addressed for your eyes to see and only them not be yours? How can words written for your mind to imagine not be yours? Yours letters, his letters, mean the word for you.

So maybe this is the reason why you hid them under your mattress. Maybe this is the reason why you did not tell anyone you are still in contact with the Elvenking. Maybe this is the reason why you only read them at midnight, and why you never have a great answer to why suddenly you started to use so much paper. Maybe this is the reason why you are here. You fear that maybe someone else will open them if you are not there to receive them, so you trusted Luthien to that task.

It is not a secret or a sin. You do not hid them because they are wrong, but because they are yours. Only yours. And you have dozens of them. From small ones to multi-pages, about everything and anything in particular. Thranduil always writes back for you. You lost count on how many letters you have under you bed, but it is enough for you to feel something under it when you lay to sleep. 

“Fair enough,” you sighed. “I told him about the… incident.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” you took a sip of your tea. It burned your tongue again. “Oh, indeed.”

Lossëistar. A word that mattered more than you were ever comfortable admitting. For fourteen months you heard that word more than your own name, until the moment they felt like the same thing. Until even you stopped using your name. For fourteen months you ignored it, but now you cannot take it anymore. You told people to stop calling you that, only to discover that most of them do not even know your name.

And now, every time someone asks you what your name is, you feel betrayed. How could they not know? How could no one know? Fourteen months. You saved those people countless times. And they do not even know your name. But the last straw was when Aerin stuttered to call you. She almost said a different name. She realized her mistake, but not before opening her mouth. 

Enough is enough.

You just walked away from her, not even thinking about where you were going to. You just wanted to be alone. You did not realized when you entered the forest, when you found the clearing, when you knelled on the floor. You did not noticed your tears, your fingers deep in the ground, the world shattering around you. You just noticed when you felt the cold.

The first thing you saw was the ground. Darkened, dry, lifeless. Blurs stained your vision. You blinked away the tears to see better, only to realize your vision was not blurred: there were water drops floating in the air. Water taken by force from the dead grass, dead trees, dead flowers. The drops attracted each other, even your tears, forming a floating thin river. And before you could make anything, it turned into snow.

“It never happened like that,” you felt the urge to explain yourself one more time. “Without my control.”

Luthien drank the rest of her tea. “Have you ever thought about not wandering alone in forests anymore?” 

When you looked up, you saw her smirk. That made you giggle. You took a sip of your tea, finally not burning your tongue. “Apparently nature wants m…”

Something knocked on the window. It sounded as if pebbles were being throw at the glass, but Luthien recognized it instantly. She has more experience with birds than you. When you saw her opening the window, the crow flew towards you.

Thranduil answered you. You do not know why you wrote about what happened to him. You only realized that you did it when the crow disappeared after a cloud. It was to late to change anything. All you could do was to wait.

You sighed before tearing the seal, and did not breath again until you finished to read its content. When you were done, you folded the letter and put it back in the envelop. You stared at your empty tea-cup.

“What did he say?” Luthien went to reach the letter, but stopped herself. “You did not intend on doing anything, It was not your fault. If he thinks so, than he is a stupid king. You did nothing wrong.”

“He said I am powerful,” you murmured. “Naturally powerful. That he can only imagine what I would be able to with a proper education.” You fixed your posture, still glaring at your cup. “He invited me to study in Mirkwood.”

Luthien blinked.

“That is amazing!” She grabbed your hands, shaking your body. “I heard the elves from Mirkwood are so in touch with nature, it will be useful for you to understand more about you. When will you go?”

“But I,” you looked at her. “I… Aerin needs me. And Gandalf will be so worried if I go to another place.”

Luthien held you tighter. You blinked, not paying attention to her. “You can write a letter explaining everything to him and leave it if me,” she said slowly. “You can go, if you want to.”

“This is… This is a lot. I do not even know where exactly Mirkwood is. I do not know anyone there. What I would do there. And I… This is too much. Definitely too much.”

“Are you afraid you will not like it, or that you do not deserve it?”

“No… I mean, I do not know.”

“You should go,” Luthien told you one more time. “Think about it, think for however long you need, and then make the right choice. Follow your heart. It already knows the answer.”

After saying goodbye, you returned to the inn glaring at the letter in your hands. Your hand kept thinking, weighing his options, unable to come up with an answer. 

On one hand, you had the possibility of answers, of learning, of a reunion. Thranduil. He wanted you next to him. He wanted to help you learn more about yourself. This is your chance of seeing him again. On the other one, you had your duty, your gratitude, everything you know. You entire life, or at least what you remember of it, happened right here.

What should you do? What should you do? What should you do?

Upon arriving at the inn, you held the letter in your hand as if it were your most prized possession. Maybe it was. But how could you know? What if you accept his invitation and it turned into your worst decision? What if you do not, and you regret it forever? How could you… Gandalf! He’s the smartest person you know. Perhaps, if you wait until his return, you can ask his opinion. He probably will be there soon.

When you entered your room, Aerin surprised you. She was there, sat on your bed, waiting for you. And she had all your letters spread out on your bed. “What are you doing here, lady Aerin?”

“What am I doing?” Her scream made you stumble backwards. Aerin pointed at the letters, gesturing towards you. “What are you doing? A king!” Aerin got closer to you. “How can you bother him? This is so disrespectful.”

Oh. She scared you for half a second. You thought she was mad at you, but she is just worried. Aerin do not know that you both share a friendship. “He was the one who first wrote for me. I would not do something to embarrass myself, lady Aerin.”

“You just embarrassed yourself! Look at all those letters. The Elvenking pities you.”

You did not knew what to say. Why was she being so mean? Even if you were bothering the king, Aerin could be a little more calm. You swallowed, your throat now aching. “Why are you saying those things?”

“How can you be so naive? The Sindars are dangerous!”

“I heard stories about Mirkwood too,” you tried to argue if her. “But they are not truth. The Elvenking is not mean. He would not mock me, or pity me. He is kind, and brave, and a good friend.”

Aerin sighed. You are talking back. Since he came you changed! How can she protect you, honor Gandalf’s trust, if you are feeding those dreams? She thought you were mad at him. Aerin needs you to be there. And Gandalf told her to do everything she can, even if you hate her for it. If you will be safe, then so be it. 

“You will stop that,” she grabbed all the letters on your bed. They folded against one another, some even being torn. “No more letters between you both. It is a order.”

You have the right to keep some things just for yourself. You were never disrespectful or needy, you were just talking to your friend. There is no need for a reaction like that. 

“I know you care about me, but I can make my own decisions.”

“I did everything for you,” that hurted Aerin so much. To say such a cruel thing. But she can pretend to be mean and cruel, as long as you stop dreaming and went back to what you were. You changed a lot since the Elvenking, but you can come back to your old self. “You will obey me.” 

“No.”

Aerin marched out of your room, taking all of your letters with her. You followed her down the stairs, tucking the last letter you received into your dress. She was practically running from you. “Lady Aerin, can we please sit and talk? There is no need for you to be so worried.”

Ignoring you, Aerin ran to the kitchen. You sighed. Why this is happening? It feels like you committed an crime, but all you did was talk to someone. Aerin was never cruel to you. Why would she started being now? Did she read your letters and thought that Thranduil was as mean as in the stories about him? Aerin saw how good and kind he is, she would not believe on such nonsense.

But when you entered the kitchen, you found that your patience have limits. You are a calm person, you try to be understanding, you really put on an effort to not fight with anyone. When you feel sad, you hide it. When you get mad, you hide it. When you get heartbroken, you hide it.

But Aerin just reached all your limits.

“What have you done?!”

When you got to her, there was no longer anything you could do. The paper were dissolving against the charcoal. All you could do was observe the delicate paper burning, the handwriting fading, all your memories being erased. They were yours, and now they are gone. 

Just like your name. Just like your old memories. Just like what you were before.

Gone.

“I am protecting you,” Aerin hissed. “One day you will understand.”

Maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you will understand exactly what she meant by that. Maybe one day you will even thank her for that. But for now, right now, there is only one thing you can think about. 

You had enough of this place.

[Sixth Chapter]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[imakemywings]

In the North also there had been war and evil. The realm of Thranduil was invaded, and there was a long battle under the trees and great ruin of fire; but in the end Thranduil had the victory.

-- Mirkwood during the War of the Ring, Lord of the Rings (Appendix B)

[aspenrockymountainhigh]

Thranduil, son of Oropher, was an Elven king who ruled over the Woodland Realm in the Third Age. Though inherently cautious, his army was key to victory in the Battle of Five Armies and he defended his realm against the forces of Sauron in the War of the Ring. He was the father of the Elven prince of Mirkwood, Legolas, who was a member of the Fellowship of the Ring.

[just-some-sad-bitch]

I dont care if bagginshield is a ship of the past, if no one reads this or finds it I DONT CARE I NEED TO WRITE THIS DOWN BULLET POINT STYLE.

Ok so this is an AU where Erebor was never attacked by Smaug, the ring doesn’t exist and dragon sickness is related to like old age and long exposure to gold rather than a curse that haunts the line of Durin.

In this AU, as I said, Smaug didn’t get to Erebor but was taken down in Dale. This results on a disaster to both kingdoms because while dale was dependent of Erebor for trade, gold, etc. Erebor heavily depended on Dale for its food, sure the kingdom had cattle and what not but in the midst of the disaster Erebor begins to suffer.

Thranduil is still an asshole and states that he owes nothing to either men o Dwarf.

So, regent king Thrain strikes a deal with the only kingdom that responds to their call: The Shire

Of corse the shire doesn’t respond out of the goodness of their heart, they are in dire need of protection. It is well known that hobbits are a peaceful race, rarely conflictive and with no actual army, they see no need for it for they have no enemies, however, in the last few years goblins have stationed themselves on the blue mountains and when they see fit, they attack the shire and everyone in it.

So the Thain and King Thrain strike a deal

Erebor will send an army to provide protection against the goblins, possibly chasing them out of the Blue Mountains and getting to keep the new mountain

In return, the shire will build a road that leads directly to Erebor making sure to have a direct way of sending food and supplieas all year round

Both kingdoms sharing their surplus, strong armies and nurturing food

However the deal must be strengthened by more than paper and ink, and so a marriage is in order.

The shire will send the Thains grandson to become the master of agriculture of Erebor and marry the second son of the house of Durin, Frerin the golden

FINALLY with all this convoluted background I present you:

Bilbo arrives after years of building the great road that unites the two kingdoms, he is obvs accompanied by Gandalf the grey and dozens of caravans filled with grain, cattle and rich soil

Waiting for their arrival is the regent king Thrain who took the role from his father Thror after he fell ill to gold sickness. With him were his family

Lady Dis, known for her character, forwardness and cunningness as well as beauty and strength. and her two sons; Fili, heir to the crown eventually and Kili, his younger brother, the pride and joy of the kingdom

Thorin, crown prince of Erebor, strong warrior that fought valiantly against the white orc and in his victory earning the title of Thorin Oakenshield. Loyal to his people above anything else and commited to becoming a great king one day.

And of corse the groom, Frerin who had little to say in the matter of his marriage but couldn’t refuse. You see, his older brother will inherit the great kingdom, such promise cannot be waisted on diplomatic endeavors, and his sister, one of the smartest dwarves to ever walk middle earth had already gifted the line of Durin with two strong heirs. So what was he to do? Refuse the only thing that would allow him to show his valor? Of corse not, he was as much prince as his brother and sister, and if his father commanded he be married to an outsider in order to save the kingdom, he would a thousand times.

What he did not expect however, was having his brother fall head over hills for his betrothal upon first meeting. Of corse no one noticed, everyone was too focused of the arrival of the hobbit, but himself and his sister notice right away how Thorin could not stop looking at that creature as if he was the most beautiful being in all of middle earth

The hobbit, however was fat too focused on the king’s speech, the strange surroundings and his wizard companion to notice

He was mad, but similarly to Frerin, he found himself in a situation that he could not escape, his parents were taken by the awful goblins and if being married off is what he had to do in order to save the shire then he will marry whoever and whatever the Thain asked him to

And that’s it, that’s all I got, sorry if grammas is wonky it’s almost 2:00 am and English is my second language, also I was too lazy to review it over. I would love for this story to develop in a way in which Thorin is trying to woo Bilbo while also trying to not Interfere in the deal. Also Bilbo falling in love with thorin but also feeling guilty because were dwarfs marrying for diplomacy is super common, hobbits usually marry for love and I imagine him feeling guilty for loving Thorin while he is supposed fo be marrying Frerin. Also Frerin and Dis egging them on even though they KNOW they shouldn’t. I just imagine this ending with Thorin proclaiming his undying love for Bilbo and both of them being torn between running away and living together but also knowing they have a duty to their respective kingdoms. Of cors everything would work out in the end but Idk

If someone has a similar fic to this please please please share it with me I AM STARVING. Anyway thanks for reading bye!!!

[sotwk]

SotWK OC Spotlight: Prince Turhir Thranduilion

Born in Third Age 37, the second son and child of Elvenking Thranduil and Elvenqueen Maereth. 

His name means “Victorious Master” in Sindarin. 

Towering at 7 feet, 6 inches, he is not only the tallest member of Thranduil’s family, but he is the tallest of all elves born in the Woodland Realm, in all of its history. (For reference, Thranduil is 7 feet, 3 inches, and the other Thranduilions are all less than 7 feet.)

As a child, Turhir had difficulty making friends with elflings close to his age. Since he was always much bigger and physically stronger, even from infancy, it was hard for him to play normally with them. His size and his more somber nature also made his childhood peers uncomfortable around him--and it was difficult enough to relate to a prince!

As a result, Turhir was rather lonely in childhood and spent most of his time with his mother, his older brother Mirion, and his tutors.

Otherwise, he spent his alone time reading and thus grew up into an avid reader. He especially enjoys narrative poems, and became an eloquent writer and poet himself. 

He is a skilled carpenter and builder who helps construct community buildings in his spare time.

He is a member of the very exclusive guild of Greenwood woodcutters--laborers who fell trees, which is a highly restricted and regulated practice.

Turhir is a horsemaster and was the primary trainer of the arroch breed that existed only in Greenwood (discussed in this post). He had a close relationship with the ancient ancestors of the Rohirrim who once dwelt near Greenwood.

Moodboard credit: @alicent-targaryen (Thank you again!). Fancast for Turhir: Sam Heughan

But the talent Turhir is most famous for, by far, is his battle prowess, which is discussed in this post. Thranduil noticed his son’s martial abilities very early on and persuaded the reluctant Elvenqueen to let their son begin training with Master Trainer Ivenil before he had properly come of age.

Turhir carries the official title of the King’s Champion, and would be called on to fight for the crown and kingdom if single combat is required. 

Although Turhir loves tournaments, especially jousting, his size and skill give him too large an advantage over his opponents. It has been deemed hazardous for him to participate in these types of competitions, so he is usually left only to spectate.

Occasionally, he is able to publicly demonstrate his skills by competing against his own father and brothers in special events limited within the royal family. 

His Royal Highness Turhir’s regency in north-western Greenwood (the province he governs) is seated in Thangail (“shield-fence” in Sindarin), one of the realm’s most recently established cities, built to house the largest military base in the kingdom. 

Turhir is the closest in personality with his father, but Thranduil tends to be hardest on him compared to his other sons. Turhir is thus closer to his mother and is the most protective of her. 

Turhir considers Mirion and Arvellas his closest friends in the world, and witnessing both their deaths nearly drove him to insanity. 

Although he is very noble and good-hearted, Turhir is the most prone to being corrupted by Darkness in his family, and Sauron himself grew aware and took interest in this.  

Much thanks again to @cheryl-of-kangsu for making this request!

So far, Turhir has drawn the least amount of interest among the Thranduilion Princes, which is not necessarily surprising to me, since that's how it would probably be in "real Middle-earth life". You might not like him at first glance, but once you get beneath the layers, there's a lot to admire there. He's an excellent hero for the "enemies to lovers" trope, and is a terrific Mr. Darcy archetype.

Also, I don't write and don't plan to write smut for the Thranduilions, but if there was ever a great leading man for that sort of thing among Thranduil's sons, Turhir would be my endorsed candidate. Just a creator's opinion. ;)

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[ardafanonarch]

Heirlooms of the Númenoreans: Aranrúth and Narsil

Swords of the First Age, Part 2 of 3

[This is a continuation of the response to this ask.]

Aranrúth

Meaning: King’s Ire. Sindarin.

Maker: Unknown. (See discussion.)

Owned/wielded by: Thingol, [Dior?], Elwing, Elros, the Kings of Númenor. (See discussion.)

Fate: Did not survive the downfall of Númenor (Unfinished Tales, ‘A Description of Númenor’, note 2).

Aranrúth. ‘King’s Ire’, the name of Thingol’s sword. Aranrúth survived the ruin of Doriath and was possessed by the Kings of Númenor. Index of The Silmarillion

‘I ask then for a sword of worth,’ said Beleg; ‘for the Orcs come now too thick and close for a bow only, and such blade as I have is no match for their armour.’ ‘Choose from all that I have,’ said Thingol, ‘save only Aranrúth, my own.’ The Silmarillion, ‘Of Túrin Turambar’

Discussion

We do not know who made Aranrúth. We do, however, know that the Sindar’s first weapons were forged by the Dwarves:

Therefore Thingol took thought for arms, which before his people had not needed, and these at first the Naugrim smithied for him; for they were greatly skilled in such work, though none among them surpassed the craftsmen of Nogrod, of whom Telchar the smith was greatest in renown. The Silmarillion, ‘Of the Sindar’

So potentially Aranrúth was forged by Dwarves, perhaps even Telchar.

There is another curious passage about Thingol’s armouries in The Children of Húrin:

Now Thingol had in Menegroth deep armouries filled with great wealth of weapons: metal wrought like fishes' mail and shining like water in the moon; swords and axes, shields and helms, wrought by Telchar himself or by his master Gamil Zirak the old, or by elven-wrights more skilful still. For some things he had received in gift that came out of Valinor and were wrought by Fëanor in his mastery, than whom no craftsman was greater in all the days of the world. The Children of Húrin, ‘The Departure of Túrin’

Dwarven smiths, including Telchar and Gamil Zirak, are mentioned again; but according to this passage, at least, Thingol also possessed Noldorin weaponry, including objects wrought by Fëanor himself!

And, of course, we know Eöl, formerly Thingol’s subject, was a weaponsmith so it’s not like none of the Sindar possessed this skill. We also do not know when it was forged, save that Thingol definitely possessed it by the time Anglachel passed to Beleg. In sum, there are myriad possibilities for the maker of Aranrúth.

Was Aranrúth ever used in combat? Yes: While we do not see Thingol fight much in the Silmarillion, he was involved in combat in the First Battle (The Silmarillion, ‘Of the Sindar’). In an unwritten Canto of Lay of Leithian, Tolkien wrote the outline of a battle between Thingol’s army and Orcs who were searching for Lúthien on the borders of Doriath. It is said that “Thingol himself slays Boldog,” the Orc captain, in their victory (The Lays of Beleriand, The Lay of Leithian, ‘The Unwritten Cantos’ 12). So Thingol did engage in combat, and it’s reasonable to assume Aranrúth was his weapon in these battles.

Unfinished Tales (‘A Description of Númenor’, footnote 2) tells us:

The King’s sword was indeed Aranrúth, the sword of Elu Thingol of Doriath in Beleriand, that had descended to Elros from Elwing his mother.

This is one of those places with frustratingly, and tantalisingly, few details and gaps in the narrative. First of all, we do not know how Aranrúth passed from Thingol to Elwing (presumably via Dior, but not confirmed). Second, we don’t know how Aranrúth was saved from both the sack of Doriath and the sack of Sirion. This is complicated by the fact that Elwing was a child at the time of the former, and Elros her son was a child at the time of the latter. Surely an adult would have been involved in the transportation and transferral of this mighty weapon, but who? This is where you’ll find some interesting possibilities explored by fans: Was Oropher perhaps involved, the Iathren father of Thranduil never written into the Silmarillion? Or Galadriel, whose whereabouts at this time are inconclusive? Did Gil-galad find it in Sirion and pass it on to Elros later? Or did Maglor bring it with him out of Sirion and pass it on to his foster Elros? Up to you! Canon does not tell us.

Finally, all we know of Aranrúth’s fate is that it did not survive the Downfall. But if Ar-Pharazôn had it on him when he went ashore in Valinor, might it have been buried with him?

Narsil

Meaning: Red and White Flame (according to LotR index). Quenya.

Maker: Telchar

Owned/wielded by: Unknown; Elendil, who wielded it in the War of the Last Alliance; shards borne by Isildur, Valandil and his line; reforged as Andúril and wielded by Aragorn in the War of the Ring.

Notable for: cutting the Ring from Sauron’s hand.

Fate: broken in the War of the Last Alliance; shards borne by Elendil’s heirs through the Third Age and eventually reforged as Andúril.

But at the last the siege was so strait that Sauron himself came forth; and he wrestled with Gil-galad and Elendil, and they both were slain, and the sword of Elendil broke under him as he fell. But Sauron also was thrown down, and with the hilt-shard of Narsil Isildur cut the Ruling Ring from the hand of Sauron and took it for his own. The Silmarillion, ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age' 'Here I set it,' he said, 'but I command you not to touch it, nor to permit any other to lay hand on it. In this elvish sheath dwells the Blade that was Broken and has been made again. Telchar first wrought it in the deeps of time. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, ‘Chapter 6: The King of the Golden Hall’

Discussion

Narsil is a fascinating sword of the “First Age” because the only reason we know it even existed that early is Aragorn’s one mention of Telchar in The Two Towers, quoted above. The problem is, Elendil is the first confirmed owner of Narsil — at the end of the Second Age! This leaves over three-and-a-half millennia of history unaccounted for. Nothing in canon tells us how Narsil got from the smithies of Nogrod to Elendil. (Until I did this research, even I was certain that Elros was confirmed to have owned Narsil; not so.)

This mention has led fans to do some imaginative mental gymnastics devising a history for the famous Blade that was Broken. One popular interpretation is that Elros received Narsil from Maedhros, and this is not without basis in canon. For one, we know that Elros was fostered by Maglor and presumably knew Maedhros also (in some versions, it is in fact Maedhros who fosters the half-elven twins). There is also a canonical link between Maedhros and Telchar, recounted in the Narn i hîn Húrin in Unfinished Tales (the story was not reproduced in the Children of Húrin): when Maedhros saves the life of Azaghâl lord of Belegost in an Orc raid on the Dwarf road, Azaghâl gives him the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin — another work of Telchar — as guerdon. Could Azaghâl have given him Narsil at the same time? Of course, there are plenty of other ways Maedhros might have received Narsil besides, this is just one of the more direct links.

There are also countless other ways Narsil could have come to Elendil. Another equally plausible explanation would be that it was one of the weapons in Thingol’s armouries, saved, like Aranrúth, from the sack of Doriath. And we don’t even know that Narsil was ever in Númenor! Could it have been Elrond’s sword, that he gave to his cousin many-times-removed when he came to Middle-earth? There are many, many tantalising possibilities.

Part 1 | Part 3

[coopsgirl]

Thranduil Fic Masterlist

The Darkening Forest: Set in the Woodland Realm around the year 1050 of the Third Age as Greenwood the Great begins to turn into Mirkwood. King Thranduil meets a young elven woman and his life will never be the same. AO3 link

Words: 34,506

From a Far Away Shore: Set at the beginning of the Third Age just after the victory against Sauron by the alliance of elves and men, Thranduil has just become king after the death of his father Oropher in battle. He gets help from a most unexpected source as he tries to fill his father's shoes and guide his people back to peace and prosperity. AO3 link

Words: 56,048

The Shadow and the Sunrise: Ranyare, a member of the original eldar who awoke on the shores of Lake Cuiviénen, has survived into the Third Age and has lived hidden away from others in Fangorn Forest. Forced to come out of hiding, she meets the elves of Lothlórien and Greenwood. Much to her surprise, she and Thranduil become friends and together they will work through their pain and traumas to finally find peace and love. AO3 link

Words: 22,447

All fics are completed and safe for work. I hope you will enjoy them!

[mistergandalf]

ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO: ROUND ONE IS COMPLETE!

Here’s who won:

Thorin Oakenshield vs. Bard the Bowman

Bilbo Baggins vs. Dwalin

Kili vs. Gandalf

Fili vs. Thranduil

Legolas Greenleaf vs. Éomer

Aragorn vs. Éowyn

Elrond Peredhel vs. Elladan & Elrohir

Frodo Baggins vs. Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck

Gimli vs. Peregrin “Pippin” Took

Samwise Gamgee vs. Boromir

Faramir vs. Galadriel

Maedhros vs. Celebrimbor

Maglor vs. Finrod Felagund

Glorfindel vs. Morgoth

Sauron vs. Celegorm

Fingon vs. Fëanor

Looks like the next round is going to be contentious! Hope you’re ready.

And now, for a special announcement…

Did your blorbo lose UNJUSTLY in Round One? Fear not! They shall have their chance to shine! All characters who lose in the primary bracket will get a second chance on the secondary bracket. But if they lose here… welp, guess they’re not cut out for victory…

Rankings to seed this bracket were taken from your votes. Whoever received the most votes (not the highest percentage) was ranked first, and whoever received the least votes was ranked last. Then #1 was paired with #16, #2 with #15, etc.

You may notice there is a new contender! Yes, Arwen Undómiel has entered the competition! Because of the way I pulled data from AO3, I accidentally eliminated her, and she totally deserves to be here. So to right my wrongs, I have removed Dwalin from the running as he lost by the largest margin. For maximum fairness, she has been paired with Finrod as he was in the very center of the data.

New polls will be posted starting 12pm EDT (GMT -4) tomorrow (or today, if you’re in Europe). I will be posting polls for the primary bracket first, then the secondary bracket the next day. May the best blorbo win!

And now, for some analytics…

Who got the most votes?

Éowyn blew everyone else out of the water with a staggering 1,699 votes to her name. I imagine this is due to the very intense campaigning between her and Aragorn.

Who got the least votes?

Elladan & Elrohir, with 174 votes. You are small but mighty, twin fans!

Which races were the most contentious?

Aragorn vs. Éowyn was the most widely-circulated poll, but Éowyn managed to win by a 1.8% margin.

Maglor vs. Finrod Felagund was pretty contentious, with the results wavering back and forth over the 50% line basically the entire time. Maglor managed to eke out a 0.8% margin of victory!

Fingon vs. Fëanor was the most contentious of them all, with Fëanor winning by a slim margin of 0.4%. This one also went back and forth! As we all know, Silmarillion fans are extremely passionate, and the notes on these posts prove it.

I have more questions!

Cool! Send me an ask and I’ll give you some answers!

That’s it until next time. Best of luck to your blorbos!

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 150- Red

Summary: Another attack takes place. Harker and Josie face off. Josie tends to a severely injured Bash and suffers the consequences. Narcisse receives a message loud and clear. Thranduil strolls down memory lane once more and the Elvenking vows it to be his last. Legolas is deceived. The Elvenking reels in his victory.

*Warnings* Graphic depictions, blood, angst, language, violence, death

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Bash was scouring the borders of the dark forest with another of Narcisse's guard in the hunt for Harker, or whomever else could be involved in the recent slayings and attack on Selene. The icy blue eyed warlock deputy briefly split up from the other warlock to relieve himself when he felt a dark presence.

He turned to see a black cloaked figure standing in the distance, watching him through a bunched up group of trees. There was no time to react, for he was then being impaled through his side with what appeared to be an iron stake that tapered into a V-shaped spear.

"Hello Sebastian Narcisse. Your brother, the King, cannot help you now." a deep British male voice taunted in Bash's ear as blood spilled from his lips before he dropped to the snow covered ground and passed out.

He came to only moments later to then find himself being drug by his feet, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he stared at the sky and the back of the man's cloak covered head. Bash had many powers as Stephane did, but they were now useless in his weakened state. He had been subdued like the venomous sting of a dark forest spider, for he could feel the poison burning through his veins and all he could do was scream in pain and fear, knowing he would soon meet the same fate as the others.

"Amara!!" you shouted as you ran into the forest where you had seen the Seelie Queen watching you, but now she was gone and you feared going into the woods alone when a suspected Harker was now an immediate threat. Any forest area south of the Narcisse's castle was dark, the perfect breeding grounds for evil such as him. It also held one of the portals to Amara's hidden Kingdom.

You weren't going to risk it and figured if she had anything of importance to tell you, she wouldn't have disappeared....but why did she even show herself in the first place?

Your answer to her sudden disappearance was soon known as you heard a man's screams in the distance. Gasping, you ran off to see what was happening without even thinking of the probable imminent danger at hand.

As you came running around a large tree, you tripped over something and fell onto your hands and knees. You turned to see one of the warlock guards, bloodied and unconscious, until you checked him to realize he was dead and you didn't have the pendant to save him.

The screams sounded again, further away, so you dashed off with your knife now in hand to try and help whomever it was.

You skidded to an abrupt stop when you then saw a wide crimson blood trail as red as your scarlet cloak, that traveled off of the snowy pathway, leading into the dark forest. Were you about to meet the big bad wolf?

Quickly and cautiously, you followed it in a slow jog over the slippery foundation, your cloak flowing out behind you.

The screams were getting closer as your heart pounded faster and your steamy breaths more erratic....and then...you saw him through the trees. The big bad wolf also known as Harker. He was standing over a bloody man who you then recognized as Narcisse's brother Bash.

"Harker??!" you shouted in uncertainty to the faceless person as you stood in a firm but frantic stance, for if it was him, it would be the first time you had ever come face to face with the wicked warlock who killed your best friend Sarah.

The figure froze and then slowly lifted and turned his head in your direction. Hands that appeared to be of a man, lifted up and removed the hood, revealing the blonde haired, blue eyed Jonathan Harker you had seen in your visions and dreams.

"Well now, if it isn't little red riding hood. I've waited a long time to finally meet the young white witch who was foreseen to be of great power. A 7th daughter of a witch and a warlock, both 7th born themselves. I did have the pleasure of meeting your friend though...Sarah, although it was not so pleasureful for her. I would have stopped by to see you too, but it was not the right time."

"Get away from him or I'll...." you growled as you completely ignored all that he had just said.

"Or what witch!" Harker snapped and took a few steps towards you. "Powerful you may be, but so am I. I can huff and puff and blow your house down."

"Or this!"

An enormous blue ball of electricity formed in your hand and you cast it at him at meteoric speed.

Harker's eyes widened with no time to react as it hit him square in the chest and catapulted him through the air against a tree.

He stood up with with blood red glowing eyes and dagger like claws began to grow from his fingertips as he formed a wolf like pounce position, but before he could leap, your name was being shouted in the distance, Haldir's voice, and a vast warlock army could be seen charging through the forest.

Harker's had whipped in that direction and he growled, then zipped off at vampire speed. Just like that, he was gone.

"Jo!" Haldir shouted as he rushed up to you while a majority of the guards veered off in pursuit of Harker.

"Haldir! Help me. Bash...we must get him back to the castle so I can heal him."

Haldir gave you a swift nod and motioned to the remaining group of guards. They sped over and picked Bash up, then went running off with him as you and Haldir closely followed.

Once you were all safely inside, Bash was taken to his chambers and laid upon the ground per your command to the guards.

"All of you, go find Narcisse. He could be in danger! He is at the old dungeon on the North side of the forest. Hurry!!"

They obeyed your orders and all raced off while you quickly tended to the ailing blood soaked Bash.

"Sebastian, can you hear me? It's Josie. I am going to help you. You're going to be alright. I promise."

His face cringed up as he began to cry. "It hurts so bad. I..I want to live. I don't want to die."

"Shhh, you're not going to die. But this is going to hurt more. Try to hold still." you warned as you could smell the wreaking wolfsbane seeping out of his blood, instantly triggering your memory of Thranduil's breath when you kissed his belated lips. Harker had obviously tainted the iron spear with it, both a weakening mechanism to a warlock or witch.

You slowly and gently placed your hand over his wound and he instantly screamed out in pain as your light coursed through his body.

Bash passed out from the pain as you fell back, feeling the effects of the wolfsbane from touching his blood and breathing it in.

"Jo! Come now, we need to cleanse your skin." Haldir quickly prompted and lifted you to your feet.

The Marchwarden got you to the wash basin and aided in holding you up with one arm and washing your hands clean with his other hand.

You instantly felt nauseated and rushed to the toilet, then began throwing up what appeared to be blood. The wolfsbane that Thranduil had in his system the night he died had made you very sick too, so much so that Garrett had to use his healing power to draw it out of you, taking it into him...but this, this was far more excessive and overbearing. Harker truly wanted Bash to suffer before he killed him. God you needed Garrett so bad right now, for no one else could take this agony away. He had sacrificed so much for you and now he was just...gone.

Haldir held your hair to the side as he caressed your back, just as Thranduil always had done if you were sick. He tried to use his calming effects on you but you wouldn't let him, for you knew you needed to remain awake and focus on expelling the poison before it killed you. Sure, Haldir had the pendant, but you didn't want to die to live. If it weren't for Leean though, you would gladly surrender to the other side so you could be with your King again.

"Jo, drink the water. All of it." Haldir ordered after you had thrown up all that you could muster.

He handed you a large tin mug full of Mirkwood's healing liquid and you instantly began chugging it. The magic would be enough to get you through the remaining effects considering you drank it immediately after being infected unlike Haldir when he breathed in the poisonous Oleander soup, which required your assistance. The water had even saved Thranduill when he had been struck with Malsin's morgul blade, but it was a longer process considering it had entered directly into his blood stream. If only you could heal yourself, but that seemed to only be that of a vampire power, and even then, it depended on the injury or illness.

A servant was down the hall taking a tray of food to a guest's chambers when she came across a pool of blood leading into one of the of the rooms. As she pushed the door open, the gruesome trail led to a man's body on the floor...another of Narcisse's guards. The woman's scream for help was heard by you and Haldir.

"Help!! Someone's killed a guard!!"

Haldir and you, with his aid, went running to view the horrifying scene.

"Oh...my god...Leean!!"

You raced off, grasping the wall for support, almost falling on your face before Haldir could catch up to you. He swooped you up in his arms and continued on as other guards came in a foot stomping herd through the halls.

Once at your room, you found Lola and Leean safe and sound with Charles.

"Oh thank god. Give me my baby." you cried and went to her, only to be yanked away by Haldir.

"Jo, no. You must not touch her until your body is cleansed of the poison."

"Poison??" Charles and Lola both simultaneously asked with worried eyes.

"Charles, more have been killed. A guard, just now on the floor above and one in the forest earlier." you explained with the little breath you had in you.

"What? In the castle? How is this possible? Where is my father??"

"I...I don't know. I sent guards to go find him after he dealt with your mother. Charles...your uncle Bash was injured badly. I...I healed him and I believe he will be ok. He is resting in his chambers. I need you to go stay with him and lock the door until we find Narcisse."

"But I don't want to leav..."

"Charles GO!.....please. And don't touch him."

The young warlock hesitantly left and shortly after, you turned to Haldir in a panic.

"I...I touched you! and what about the guards that carried Bash...oh my god."

"I will be fine Jo. I'm not feeling any different for I only had contact with your clothing and I am sorry to say, but we cannot be concerned about them right now. Leean, Lola and you are my priority."

You began pacing about, chewing your fingernails as you stared at your sweet innocent sleeping baby, desperately wanting to cuddle her and scared to death for Stephane.

Minutes had passed that seemed like hours and all was silent until you heard a familiar voice shouting in the distance.

"It's Stephane!"

You flung the door open and saw him at the end of the hall with a group of guards, and then he saw you.

"Jo!!"

He came sprinting down the hall and instinctively, you jumped into his arms when he approached.

"Jo, I heard what happened and I just saw Bash. Are you alright my love??" he desperately asked as he went to stroke your face.

You gasped, remembering the poison and jumped back. "No..no don't touch me! The poison...it's in me...but I'm feeling a little better."

"Jesus Jo...you...you saved my brother. I...I have no words. Was it..Harker?"

"Yes...I saw him. We spoke...and we fought and then he took off when Haldir and your guards arrived. Stephane, one of your guards was killed, here inside the castle!"

"I know. I was just informed and..."

"Lord Narcisse!" a guard shouted as he came running up. "There are more...in the dungeon!"

"What? More of my men? Show me."

"Wait, I'm coming too! Haldir, stay with Leean and Lola please."

"Jo, you need to stay here. It is obviously not safe inside." Haldir insisted.

"I will be with Narcisse. I will be fine and I'll be right back. I promise."

"Jo, he's right. You need to stay here." Narcisse agreed with the marchwarden...for once.

"No! I'm coming with you!"

"As you wish. I know there is no reasoning with the stubborn side of you."

The guards followed you and Stephane to the dark dungeons and there on the floor lied three warlock guards, all with a dagger of some sort shoved into their hearts.

You don't know why you did it, but you went over to look at their covered faces as Narcisse stood gaping down at them in the distance, appearing to be in shock.

"S..Stephane...these are the men that helped carry Bash back to safety! My god, what is happening!??"

"Harker is killing all of my guard...and saving me for last." he mumbled as he walked over with a face full of rage and fear combined.

Your eyes sprung up to his. "But...why? All he wants is that Ashmole and no one knows where it is, so what is the point of this??? And you, why does he want you dead??"

"The point is Jo...that it's not about the damn book. This...is personal."

Thranduil sat in his chambers, wine in hand as he gazed around the dreary room filled of your memory. There wasn't a single space of the now colorless corridor that he could not envision you in. The kingly bed and pool were the most devastating to him, along with your wedding rings that he never had the chance to give back to you after he forced you to give them to him in Rivendell when he had lost his memory of you all together.

Thranduil had successfully silenced the Elvenking once more for the time being and he slowly placed his wedding ring on his forefinger, along with the ring you made out of your hair to give him when you both had renewed your vows. He held his hand out in front of him and just gazed at the artifacts as the memories of the wedding flooded his mind.

Everything had been perfect that warm spring day in Mirkwood upon a small wooden bridge that crossed a lagoon as blue as the moonstone ring upon Thranduil's finger. The birds had sang in awe of the magical union as a variety of other forest critters also came to view the private ceremony.

Thranduil closed his eyes and saw Legolas escorting you by his arm to give you away since you had no one. It pained him to know now that the son who happily gave you to him, now wanted to take you away from him.

Thranduil saw your tear filled eyes that were as moonstone match to his. He saw your trembling smile and wavy long locks of golden copper lightly blow in the floral breeze. Your sheer white dress formed to your small slender body and flowed around your bare feet as you then stood before him.

He heard his vows, word for word he could recall for he would never forget them, not even by Jareth's wicked doings upon him.

As he sat extremely relaxed in his chair, almost hypnotic while lost in his thoughts, he began to whisper his vows out loud as he saw himself placing the ring upon your finger.

“Life is a never-ending circle. Is it not fitting that a circle shall serve as a symbol of a life lived in never-ending love? By root and seed, by bud and stem. By leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, In the name of the Seldarine, Gods of the Elven people, I, Thranduil Oropherion, take thee, Josephine, to my hand, heart, and my spirit, at the setting of the sun, and the rising of the stars. Nor shall death part us, for in the fullness of time, we shall be born again, at the same time, and in the same place as each other, and we shall meet and know and remember and love again. I love you more than my own life my Queen. And so it is written and so it ever shall be, my Queen bequeathed to me for eternity. I take you by my side as one with my soul and promise to love you always. No other shall ever have my heart.”

He saw your tears and heard your words. “Thranduil, your incredible heartfelt words….I have nothing I can say to match such creative imagination.” 

“My sweet girl. Speak of your heart to me. That is all that matters. There are no rules or expectancy of your words.” he had told you.

“From the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of a prince. I grew up watching all the fairytales on tv and read so many books. By the time I became an adult, my beliefs in that were of reality. I knew that those things weren’t real but just a dream, a wish from the heart. But somewhere in my soul I still believed. My mother, from what I can remember, would read me bedtime stories of these magical entities and she would sing me a song of a man on a great white horse that would ride down and save me, taking me to his castle far away in the heavens. As you know, I went through a very excruciating time, more so after my father died. There was a moment my mind shut down and all I could do was dream of the childhood fairytales. I read the stories night after night and cried myself to sleep calling for you, although not knowing of your true existence, but I still wanted to believe. When I ran off that night into the forest, I never imagined what happened would ever happen. That you or any of this could ever be a reality. And then it was, just like that, in the blink of an eye. I cannot believe how scared I was of you when I first saw you but yet so drawn to you. None of it seemed real. I truly believed I had died and it was some form of an afterlife that I always believed in. But when you first touched me, I knew you were real. You calmed all my fears and two things I was absolutely positive of. First, you were an Elf as you had willingly revealed that to me.. And second, I fell unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you in that moment. I have loved you every day since with every breath I take. I also love you more than my own life my King. And so it is written and so it ever shall be, my King bequeathed to me for eternity. I take you by my side as one with my soul and promise to love you always. No other shall ever have my heart.” 

Liquid pain leaked out of Thranduil's closed racing eyes as he then saw you place his ring upon his finger. It was too much.

His gleaming eyes sprung open and instantly caught sight of something else. There on his desk sat his journal, but he could not bring himself to open it, for he knew he would have to relive more pain far worse than any other. Instead, he took your moonstone pendant off of his neck that he had gifted you that night and held it in his hand, caressing the gem with his thumb.

To his surprise, it lit up like a genie bottle after a few strokes of his warm skin and there, inside the glass, he saw you again with Haldir... rubbing your back, for that was all he could see in the magnified image.

Thranduil's could hear the sound of his own teeth grind as he clenched his jaw. His pupils dilated full on black but all he could see was red.

He immediately remembered Haldir's inebriated words to you at the reception when the Lorien elf had first seen you that evening.

"Lady of light."

It wasn't the words that got under Thranduil's skin, then and even now, but the way Haldir said them and the way he looked at you. Even Legolas had nudged the marchwarden with his elbow for his loose lips and eyeballs. Haldir had always desired you and it would seem to Thranduil that his son's guardian still did, if not even more so now that the King was believed to be dead.

The Elvenking was back in a split second as he scoffed at Elrond's words, that there were others that still mourned him. It did not appear to Thranduil at all that any mourning was in place by either Haldir or you after the two visions he had recently witnessed in your moonstone.

Thranduil tugged the rings from his finger in a rage and wadded them up in his white knuckled fist, along with the pendant. He ripped the desk drawer open and flung them inside where they would remain invisible, then he slammed it shut so hard that the table teetered.

Back to the wine he went, insisting to himself that he would look upon you no more, nor think of you or the memories, but that was the Elvenking's wishes, not his.

A sly curl formed on his lips as he indulged in his wicked as him wine and then the smirk fell sinister as his darkened eyes scoured over Leean's newly set up cradle beside his bed.

"Legolas. I am not angry with you for your unannounced departure of Imladris. I know that you are listening. I can feel it. Might I suggest it would be in your best interest to not turn a deaf ear on my words."

Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli were three days into their journey and nearing the Eastern borders of Mirkwood on Old Forest Road, planning to be at the Celduin River by the day's end. They then would rest for the night and take the River Running at dawn straight down to Dorwinion on boats that were kept in the area for elven use. They had originally planned to take the long route down the Andruin past Lorien and cut over from there, but not only did the woodland realm's path cut their time in half, it also provided them shelter from Jareth's spies, not to mention, Legolas knew the area like the back of his hand. If all went trouble free, they would arrive in Dorwinion in an little as three days.

Legolas came to a halt when he heard his father's voice and was stunned by his calm demeanor, for he expected to be harshly scolded for his disobedience.

"I am here father."

"Good. As I knew you were. I have returned to my halls with Tauriel and...the girl. What is your location?"

"We should arrive in Dorwinion come three sunrises. It is good to hear you have returned safely."

Thranduil heard it in his son's tone that he did not want to disclose his exact whereabouts and that he was less than pleased about the new Mirkwood residents.

"Legolas...my time in Rivendell and here has brought new things to light inside of me. I am in need of your assistance."

Legolas raised a brow and tilted his head in curiosity. "What is it that you ask of me?"

Now Thranduil's brow lifted as he began to pace about his chambers and carry on with his devious plan.

"I have tried to reach Josephine, but unsuccessfully. I am healed my son. Lord Elrond opened my eyes to many things I was suppressing. I have also come into the possession of Josephine's pendant and letter and it has saved me from Jareth's bindings. I am my old self again."

Legolas's other brow now raised with much skepticism.

"I would like to say that this is good news Adar, but if I recall correctly, your old self and what Jareth has turned you in to are not far from one in the same."

Thranduil knew this was not going to be easy, for Legolas knew him better than anyone.

"Yes...that would be true. Let me clarify. I am the old self I was due to the love of my Queen. I want you to inform her that I am alive and then I want you to bring her and my daughter to me."

Thranduil fought to surface as the Elvenking ceased his pacing and pursed both his eyes and lips. Thranduil didn't want you anywhere near him, nor his daughter for that matter, with the state he was in. But the darkness inside of him carried forth with a vengeance, overruling Thranduil's will.

"Father. I would be so inclined to do so..but...if this were to be true, then why is the dhampir in our Kingdom? And Tauriel as well? This will not go over well with Josie. She will not understand..."

"You question me and my words? I have given you an order." The Elvenking snapped, but then quickly realized he had to continue the agonizing charade of Thranduil's love, cringing as he did so.

"My eyes have not held sight of my daughter nor have my arms held her beauty. The same can be said for my Queen. I must reunite with them, for the ache is unbearable. They were wrongfully taken from me and I them. The dhampir remains for I know Josephine blames her and will want the satisfaction of inflicting her wrath upon her. Tauriel as well, now that Josephine knows of her indiscretions, per your doing. I will not deny my Queen that. I also have much to repair for my own misdeeds. I have reclaimed my life and my kingdom, but it is not whole without my family. That includes you as well my son. I ask now as a request and not a demand. Will you bring my family back home?"

Legolas wanted to remain cynical, but one thing in particular changed his mind. He had knew of his father's plans to reclaim his daughter, but that plan did not involve you...and now it did. It was also rare to hear his father speak from his heart. Only you had the ability to bring that out in him and it appeared that you had once more.

"I will do as you have asked and relay your words. Father...this will make Josie so incredibly happy. She has been hurt far too much. I fear her heart cannot take any more pain."

The Elvenking could read between the lines of his son's passive aggressive words warning him not to hurt you again, but he let it slide... for now. It would all be dealt with soon enough, those that have crossed him. But first, he had to make sure you and his daughter were in his grasp.

"Fear not my son. All will be right once more. So it is written and so it ever shall be. Move quickly. The winter solstice nears and will bring nothing good. Time is short."

Legolas continued on his way, not realizing the goblin king's three words that just rolled out of his father's mouth, for he was now overwhelmed with how he was going to bring all this about to you...and with knowing he had lost you for good.

The highly pleased Elvenking stood before his pool, wine in hand with his mind now closed as he spoke out loud.

"Soon my child, I will raise you as I have Legolas and you will take your rightful place in this kingdom as the Princess of Mirkwood, for you are mine and I always reclaim what is mine. I have waited for what seems an eternity. Days more are merely a blink of an eye. I am patient. I can wait."

@redeemer46

[swordoaths]

I'm still having brain rot for this concept of the Wood-elves choosing not to sail and staying in Middle-earth until they fade into the Fae. I've talked quite a bit about this for Thranduil's end, but I want to get a little more into Tauriel's progression throughout the Third and Fourth Age.

I'll start with the Battle of the Five Armies.

First, whilst I throw out a lot in the BOTFA film pertaining to Thranduil's character (i.e. he isn't war mongering as the film suggests), I DO still keep the fight between Tauriel and Thranduil and I DO still keep Thranduil's banishment of Tauriel.

Tauriel's banishment comes from her leaving the Woodland Realm despite Thranduil's orders (which, really, she already left and didn't know about the orders in the first place, but I'll get to that). The fight she has with her King is born out of the very common theme we see over and over again in Middle-earth: will you go beyond your own realm to protect others and, therefore, the world itself, or not? Tauriel makes the choice to leave because her belief is that if she protects other folk and realms, she is also protecting her own kin. Thranduil holds the position to shield his kin, a decision directly related to Thranduil's own grief over the loss of his kin and home over the ages. Book Thranduil is also highly opposed to fighting, hoping instead for reconciliation before it leads to deadly blows, and though Thranduil makes the call for the Elves to be first to charge in the Battle of the Five Armies, he sees the consequence of that (death) and calls back his forces. Tauriel wishes to fight, and both she and Thranduil make these decisions out of their own belief that it is protecting their own.

So when the Battle is over, where does this leave Tauriel? She has defied her King not only in belief and actions, but also right in front of other Elves in the Woodland Guard. And I think there is an opening for reconciliation between the two, for Tauriel's eyes have been opened to Thranduil's grief and why he has made decisions to protect his kin. On the flip side, Thranduil, who knows Sauron has returned, realizes the Woodland Realm cannot be protected without going beyond the forest (just like Oropher realized this in ages past). However, it's still a messy situation.

I had mentioned in an earlier headcanon that Tauriel temporarily leaves the Woodland Realm after the Battle to observe other realms and what shadows or hints of shadows may also be out there. I still think she does. I think she needs to leave for herself. She needs to understand and process the losses of the battle, her place in the world, and if there are signs of darkness rising elsewhere. Though leaving can help her with these things, she also initially believes she has no choice. She knows of her banishment and she knows that defying her King is not going to win her favors. And so, she takes her leave. At first, she spends quite a bit of time helping with the rebuilding of Dale. Only when Dale is recovered does she go elsewhere.

Tauriel remains Out There until the capture of Gollum, in which she takes part. She returns to the Woodland Realm with Aragorn and Gollum, and whilst Aragorn leaves, Tauriel remains. She is granted a return by Thranduil, for he knew that Tauriel was already gone before he had given the orders of lockdown all those years ago. She is reinstated as Captain of the Woodland Guard.

With the knowledge she has gained, she takes part in questioning Gollum, and uses what she has learned to train the Woodland Guard for a War she understands is coming. She fights in the Battle of Dol Guldor, led by Thranduil. Her part in the War of the Ring is a part that abolishes Sauron's attempt to get a foothold in the Northern part of Middle-earth (for if Sauron had that victory in the North, he could have surrounded Gondor in the South at all sides).

In the Fourth Age, as I have previously mentioned, there is a large portion of Wood-elves who stay and fade. This is due largely to the Wood-elves way of life, which is supremely connected to the forest. Tauriel stays, for she is part of a long line of Wood-elves who had rejected the invitation of the Valar. She knows only the love of Middle-earth and has no desire to leave it. Some of the Elves in Lothlórien come to live in the Woodland Realm, also, and Tauriel lives in company with them.

Tauriel will eventually fade into (essentially) an extension of the forest. The forest fae, if you will! She may maintain the outward appearance that we understand her as in the films for pretense only (perhaps to lure you into the forest or to gain trust), but if you were to look at her through a hagstone, she would be nothing more than a conglomeration of the forest--- leaves for hair, bark for limbs, vines and moss for "clothes", etc.