#Aníron cover

[krathia7]

【WEINA】Aníron【Synthesizer V Cover】

#youtube

[aquitainequeen]

Come this December, The Fellowship of the Ring will be twenty years old. Gawd.

A few fond memories of going to see this film:

The queue to get in, which snaked all the way around the cinema foyer, and we waited so long I had eaten most of my popcorn before we even got into the screen.

My mother falling asleep during the opening battle. Yes, even when Sauron was batting Elves and Men left and right with his mace, like he was at Wimbledon.

Being full of wonder at how beautiful New Zealand is.

Clinging to my seat for fear I’d fall, when the camera shot down the side of the Tower of Orthanc to the goblin mines below, complete with the hammers banging piano strings on the soundtrack.

Curling up in my seat in horror at the sight and sound of the Nazgûl sniffing.

Embarking upon a life long love affair with Enya singing Aníron, while Aragorn and Arwen whispered at each other.

Getting irritated when Frodo stole Merry’s bit about ‘speak friend and enter’ at the Doors of Moria.

Muttering ‘get off the bridge get off the bridge now’ even though I’d read the book and knew what was coming.

Thinking for quite a long time that Galadriel was a villain, again even though I’d read the book! She was very unnerving.

Whispering to my mother about whether they used CGI or actually built the massive statues for the Argonath. Miniatures never even crossed our minds. 

The whole cinema cheering when Aragorn cut off Lurtz’s head!!!

I knew it was coming, but still crying and sobbing and wiping my nose the whole time during Boromir’s death scene...only to realise too late that my nose had started bleeding at some point.

The groans when Frodo and Sam set off down the hill and the screen faded to black, knowing we’d have to wait a whole year for the story to continue. We still applauded, though.

Walking out into the cinema foyer with a headache from all my crying, an uncomfortably full bladder, and my face covered in dried blood. God knows what the people passing by thought was going on in that screen.

(I think I also got a glimpse of the Star Wars: Episode II poster, and immediately decided not to see it purely because I thought Attack of the Clones was one of the stupidest film titles I’d ever heard.)

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #lotr #fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings

[wickednerdery]

Title: Scent Author: @wickednerdery​​ Fandom: Tolkien/The Hobbit Pairing/character: Thranduil/Reader Rating: FRM Summary: “Men do not smell as you do...” Notes: This started as a random one-shot called Taste, but now has grown into what’ll likely be a short (smut) series based on the 5 senses, haha! I’ve used Elvish in this, all translations are at the end. It gets a “Read More” cut because it’s NSFW and long (but hopefully worth it), lol!

I stepped out into the chilled morning air, inhaled the scent of dewy grass, and began my run. I ran every day, that would not change with celebration or foreign lands. I did it to keep up with my adopted people and I did it because I enjoyed it. The rush of passing trees, the soft thud of my boots into the mud, the racing of my heart as I pushed myself as hard and fast as my human body allowed.  

I took care in my path, avoided The Halls and did not venture too far from the palace lest I run into the creatures that lived, fed, in the darkest parts of Mirkwood. I had heard horrid stories, I did not wish to become part of one.

As I completed the first half of my circuit my thoughts turned to the night before. The way King Thranduil had examined, played with, me as if I were some new thing to be discovered. Cool hands transversing the peaks and valleys of my body, hot mouth devouring my taste, and skilled tongue delving deep into my cunt. How I felt; how he made me feel…undone.

I forced the thoughts, the pleasure and desire, aside to complete the task at hand.

The music that lulled me to sleep the night prior had picked up tempo once more and gave me the inspiration to carry myself back to the guest quarters. Once in my room I locked the door and began to undo the front lace of my bodice, stripping it off and taking the deeper breath I required.

“You did not return to the festivities.” His voice wafted into my ears from behind. “Amman?”

I found myself in need of another deep breath. “I hadn’t the strength. The journey here was long, I had much wine, and...” I’d been left unable stand with his indulgence of me.


“And?”

He wanted to hear it; for me to say it aloud. I could feel his eyes as hid my blush in the removal of muddied boots. “And you had me.”

There was no sound to his approach, but he soon chuckled in my ear. “Edain are so delicate, the females especially so.” His hand skimmed my waistline, found its place in the downward slope of my stomach. His fingers spread and I felt myself flicker under his touch. “You’re wet.” The Elvenking pulled back my hair, inhaled my scent. “You smell...” his tongue ran along the curvature of my neck, “taste of hot salt.”


“I’m sweaty.”  His deep moan from last night returned to cause the same shudders of my body. “Surely you’ve smelled the sweat of Men before.”


"Men do not smell as you do, Adaneth.”

“I should bathe.”

“Baw!” The snap made me jump before his hand steadied me against his form. “I wish to enjoy.”

“Enjoy?”

As if in answer teeth grazed shoulder, up neck, then caught and pinched flesh. I let my head fall back into his chest with a groan, arched back as he gave suck. I would be marked, of that I was certain.


“Aran nín,” I moaned as the scent of wildflowers recalled the night before.

From his throat came a deep chuckle that fell into a pleased growl. “Aran nín?” He questioned and I cringed, pulled away - that was not the correct thing to say. I was as composed as any Elf, but with him I lost control of my own self. “If that is the case, perhaps you should kneel for me.”

I turned in his grasp, looked down. “Forgive me, your majesty, I misspoke.”

A finger moved to lift my eyes to his. “I am not your king?”


“You are a great king, but you are not my king.”

“I am king of this land.” His lips struck mine, demanding submission. I gave it willingly, allowing his tongue entrance to my mouth. Golden hair curtained and I quickly fell back into the world that was created between us. By the time I had to break for air I was shaking. “You will kneel.” His amusement darkened with the azure of his eyes.

While I was not experienced with men, I was not so naive as to be unaware why Thranduil would want such a thing both as a king and as a man. I lowered my head, followed by my body, and sank before him. While the wildflowers remained, I also smelled the leather of his boots and britches. I looked up to find a commanding look turn confident..something in it gave me a rush, a desire to undo the great Elvenking as he’d undone me.

Slowly, with a tease to it, my hands began at ankles and rose. They crossed the rough and worn terrain of boots, slid over the smooth leather that covered his knees, legs, and thighs. There was a shift of fabric and his mantle poured to the floor. My fingers brushed the tops of his thighs, there was a soft moan, and I allowed one hand to continue inward.

The next moan was as significant as the growth of his cock against my hand. I looked up, saw eyes storming and mouth ajar. The intensity of it caused a wicked smile to cross my lips as I rubbed, pressed in, to massage his arousal. The heat of it came in waves and the smell of musk began to mix with the wildflowers and leather.

“Shall I?” I asked as my second hand moved up under his long tunic. He gave a single nod; I stripped him to the knees, he removed everything above.

Mouth opened, I looked him over. Wisps of blond caught the sun streaming in, making his chest shimmer. His cock jutted forward in arousal, bobbed slightly under its own length and weight. He was every bit his name...Vigorous Spring.

My first touch was tentative, unsure how to proceed or how he may react. There was a twitch, a low groan, from him that gave me confidence. I took him in hand, ran fingers over the top of his length, and watched him shiver. The rush of his reaction, knowing I could make it whenever I stroked him, pooled between my thighs. This was power; he must have loved last night.

Eyes dove into mine and what was once regal turned ravenous. Without looking away my tongue slid out across the tip of his member. It tasted of the ocean. My hands continued to stroke as I did it again, and again, eliciting rumbling groans from the king. I held him in limbo, allowing him only the pleasure I chose to give him...When he attempted to move closer, to thrust past my lips, I pulled back with a faint laugh. As his frustration built, so did my pleasure.

His hand stretched out, brushed across my hair, before grabbing. Head snapped back I grimaced a moment, but did not look away. Not this time, not anymore. Thranduil bent before me, his eyes stormed and voice thundered. “Baw telio!”

I exhaled only once he released me, watched as he straightened with warning eyes. As high as the thrill in teasing was, I did not dare outright disobey the Elvenking. My hands returned to his length, stroked faster, with more pressure, as I took the first inch of cock into my mouth. It swelled, pulsated, as I breathed in the heady scent of Mirkwood’s ruler: leaves after the first rain of Ethuil, ripened fruit, and the musk of something akin to an elk. The blend intoxicated, made my mouth water, as I took in inch after inch.

Only when I risked gagging did I stop, pull back to catch my breath. I continued my mouth’s retreat to suckle at his tip, collect the hot and sticky fluid that weeped, and moaned as the taste hit my tongue. He hissed and pressed forward so that I might devour again. I did. Greedily, with tongue exploring every pulsing vein and hot ridge. What mouth could not take, hands pleasured until Thranduil’s low sounds turned loud.

A hand returned to my hair, gripped once more, but he only encouraged. Pulled me into the soft curls of his groin, pushed into my mouth, as he began to designate the pace. Slow and steady at first, then quickening as gasps turned to grunts. Spit flowed from the sides of my mouth, down my chin, as arousal slickened my cunt and thighs.

With spare hand I explored the smoothness of his body. I let fingernails draw over pale skin, occasionally grip flesh to redness to ensure stability. When my hand found his sack he cursed in pleasure, thrusted so that I gagged. I began to rub, massage, and soon the king seemed to lose the remainder of his controls. The fist in my hair tightened, his pace grew driving as he fucked my mouth. I let him, set the hand once working his length to his hip and held on as his passions took over the both of us.

I gagged hard, nearly tipped back, as his cock shoved its full length nearly down my throat. Wet heat filled my mouth as he shook with a guttural roar; in shock I swallowed what I could and the rest spilled out from between my lips. I felt Thranduil’s hand tremble as he relaxed his hold on me, though he did not fully let go. Neither did I, not even as he shrank and softened against my tongue.

Another moment passed before he released me, his cock slipping out as he stepped back the best he could in his state. He was flushed in a manner I rarely saw, especially in Elves, as he worked to regain composure. He pulled his clothing back up and on as his breathing settled. He seemed neither cross nor pleased.

I stood up, wiped spit and spare cum from my mouth, unsure of what to do or say. Only when I opened my mouth to speak did he.

“You will come to the festivities tonight.”

“Athon.”

A smile bloomed on his face. “Aníron gin mibed.” His brows only arched with expectation.

I nodded and, with hands to cradle my face, his lips pressed into mine. Only when his tongue sought entry did I think to part my lips for him. He could taste himself, I knew it, but the moan suggested he did not mind. Perhaps he enjoyed it as he licked his lips after the kiss broke.

“Gin hannon.” The Elvenking gave me a final kiss on the cheek, then swept out of the room.

I smelled him all over me; I thought to skip my bathing.

I used some Elvish - specifically Sindarin, which is what Thranduil speaks - and I’ll put the meanings of the words at the bottom for those curious. Please don’t attack if I’m wrong on these, I used a few sites and had to try and conjugate stuff myself and I’m not an Elvish expert, lol!  (Also a mantle is basically the cloak or cape that royalty wear.)

Previous Piece: Taste

Next Pieces: Sight, Sound

Tagging: @crazytxgradstudent​ @pinksiamese​ @welcome-to-fangirl-hell​ and @aisling1985​ because I either had a specific discussion about the prior piece or they requested a sequel and, haha, this is it (and I don’t want them to miss it). If you want to be tagged (or untagged) just let me know.

(The gif was found on Google.)

Word Glossary (in order of usage):

Amman? - For what?/Why? Edain - Men, as in the species Adaneth - Woman, as in the female of the species Man Baw! - No!/Don’t!/Do not! Aran nín - translation: My king Baw telio!  - translation: Don’t play! Ethuil - Spring, the first season of the Elvish new year Athon - translation: Yes, I will Aníron gin mibed - translation: I want to kiss you Gin hannon. - translation: Thank you (informal form)

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #elves #elvenking #silmarillion #fanfiction #My writing #not my gifs #smutty smut #mirkwood #come and play with me #lee pace #i'm actually learning elvish writing this now #thranduil thursday

[ara-toa-min-writes]

The Love I Have For You

(Geez if this GIF didn't kill me! Father and son are too cute!)

Chapter  3: Desires

“You won’t be able to catch me! Ai!” Legolas screamed as he saw Eleanor running after him. A wide smile was plastered to her face as she chased the toddler around the garden, her pace slower to allow the child to easily outrun her. The little prince turned around a tree, believing that he had escaped his guardian. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The woman’s sing-song voice called out.

Legolas turned to look behind him. But there was no one there. The toddler barely had time to spin around as he was lifted into the air. The elfling let out another scream, which soon turned to a fit of giggles as Eleanor began to tickle his belly. “Daro! Daro!” He cried, squirming to be released by the woman.

Eleanor lowered the prince to his feet, her own smile and giggles matching his own. “You cheated.” She arched her brow at him. “Did I now? How so?” Legolas pursed his lips, pouting at having lost the game. “I don’t know but you did.” The woman couldn’t help but laugh at his reasoning. “I think not, my prince. No cheating involved. You merely are horrible at tag.”

She knelt before the child and began smoothing back pieces of his hair, watching as his pout deepened. “Would you like to play something else? Or would you like to eat? It is nearly dinner time now, and I’m sure that all this playing has you tired out.” His frown erased itself, instead turning to a small smile. “Will you be able to eat dinner with me tonight?”

Eleanor shook her head. “No, little one. It will be only you and your father.” Like always, she mentally added. While she was a guest technically in this palace, she couldn’t help but feel like a prisoner. She had noted earlier that there were guards stationed all around the garden and two had always followed her whenever she left the room. No one, aside from Túrin, deemed it necessary to speak to her, making the loneliness she felt all the more apparent.

“Don’t feel sad. I can talk to Ada if you want.” Legolas put both of his tiny hands on her cheeks, bringing her back to reality. Eleanor shook her head. “It is quite alright. Come, we should get you inside and cleaned up before you meet your father.” She rose to her feet, holding out her hand for the prince, which he gratefully accepted. Eleanor turned her face up towards the sky. It looks like it will rain tonight, she stated to herself, watching the darkening clouds bring themselves closer and closer to their location. Both of them made their way back into palace as the golden sun started to set behind them. A servant stepped forward, taking the prince from Eleanor to clean him up. His face was saddened as he was escorted away from his friend and to a washroom by the dining area.

The two guards stood stoically behind their charge, watching, waiting for her to make a move. Another day, another hour she thought, making her way slowly to her chambers. Opening the door to her own room, she was pleased to find her maid and friend already there. Túrin laid the tray she had been holding down on the table by the wall. Eleanor’s mouth watered at the sight of the various fruits and cooked food on the platter.

The elf turned to her with a smile. “I thought that you would be famished, seeing as how you have been playing with the prince for many hours now.” Eleanor could only nod her thanks as she strode over to the table and picked up an apple. Biting into the juicy fruit, she let out a small groan. “I take it that this is to your liking.” Túrin chuckled. “I thought that we could continue with your Sindarin lessons after you ate.” Eleanor nodded once more.

Since she had arrived here, she had asked her friend to help her learn the language of her hosts. Every day, for the past week she had been here, her maid dutifully and patiently taught her the difficult language. Already, her pronunciation and overall vocabulary had improved, but her writing still needed some work. Scraps of paper on the table, littered with Tengwar scribbles, were testament to her hard work.

Eleanor finished the apple, setting the core on the plate reserved for her food wastes. Túrin had already begun to set up their lesson materials on her lady’s desk, also setting up an inkwell and two reeds for writing. Smiling, the woman moved to take her seat at the desk. “May I make a request for today’s lesson, Túrin? Can you teach me some terms of endearment?”

The maid gave a knowing smile. “Is this for Prince Legolas, my lady?” At Eleanor’s nod, she continued. “Well, the most common endearment is mellon or friend in your native tongue. You could also uses ionneg, but that is usually reserved for parents. Another would be henig, which means my child.” After each Sindarin word, Túrin wrote the word in Common, with the Tengwar script written underneath this.

The mortal diligently copied each word down on her own paper, using her memory for the script mostly, but having to steal occasional glances at her mentor’s own work for some letters. After about an hour of learning, Túrin excused herself from the room, having other matters to attend to around the palace. Eleanor continued to teach herself, trying to write down words she had heard around the palace. She munched on some grapes that the maid had given her from the platter, her eyes never leaving the paper in front of her. Amidst the pitter-patter of rain against the glass door to her balcony, she heard a soft knock at her door.

She lifted her eyes towards the noise. Cautiously, she stood from the desk, piling up her papers and making her way to open the door. As soon as the door was opened enough, Eleanor was almost toppled over as a clearly distraught Legolas flung himself around her legs. He pressed his face into her skirt, bunching up the fabric in his tiny fists.

“Legolas, what is wrong? Are you okay?” Quickly, Eleanor lowered herself to her knees, holding onto the child. Her eyes raced over the elfling, searching for any scratches, bruises, anything to make him so upset. His tears fell as he sniffled, his hands still clutched tightly in her skirts. “Did someone hurt you?” Legolas shook his head. “A-Ada had to g-go…” The woman smoothed his hair with one hand, using the other to wipe away his tears with her sleeve.

“Where did he go, little one?”

“H-he didn’t say a-and I don’t l-like the st-storm…” His little sobs caused Eleanor’s heart to clench.

“I am sure he will be fine, Legolas, and the storm is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing it can do can hurt you.”

The prince could only nod, his tears finally slowing. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” Legolas clenched her skirt fabric more, shaking his head furiously. “Well, you can’t stay here with me, little one. It isn’t proper.” Eleanor began, but one look at his widened blue eyes had her heart melting. “Alright, alright. But only for tonight.” The elf toddler beamed brightly. Leading him into her room, Eleanor closed the door behind them just as a loud boom resounded through the room. Legolas covered his pointed ears with his hands, curling up slightly. Eleanor picked up the trembling child, pulling him close to her chest. She rubbed small circles into his back through his night clothes, trying to soothe him.

“Shh shh. It’s alright. I’ve got you, henig. You are safe with me…always.” Without realizing it, Eleanor had begun to hum a song she had heard a few times from her mother when she was a girl, and then sing the tune.

“O môr henion I dhû Ely siriar, êl síla Ai, Aníron Undómiel Tiro, Êl eria e môr I 'lîr en êl luitha 'uren Ai, Aníron.”

The elvish tune was slow, lulling the child in her arms into a peaceful sleep. Eleanor started the song again as she made her way toward her bed. Gently, she laid the child down on the plush mattress and covered him with the blankets. Legolas stirred at the loss of Eleanor’s arms around him and whined a little until she laid down in the bed on the other side of him. The child snuggled in close to her, burying his face in her chest and twirling a strand of her dark hair.

Without realizing it, Eleanor found herself closing her eyes, holding onto the little prince gently as he slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Thranduil arrived back in his palace after dispatching the Orcs that dared cross his borders, he immediately made his way towards his son’s chambers. But the prince was not there. His eyes narrowed at the room around him before he grabbed the nearest guard.

“Where is my son?” The king hissed. What was it with his staff and not keeping an eye on his child, their heir?

The guard bowed quickly. “Goheno nin, arannin. He went to the Lady Eleanor’s rooms. Guards are positioned outside of the room. I assure you that he is quite safe.” Thranduil let out a ‘hmpf’ before turning towards Eleanor’s chambers, intent on seeing the “safety” of his son firsthand.

The guards positioned outside of the woman’s room bowed before their king. Gently, Thranduil knocked on the door, but was met with no answer. After another knock and no other response, he slowly opened the door to the room. The candle light from the hallway illuminated a sliver in the room. As the door widened, so did the sliver until it fell on the child and woman who lay in the bed. Legolas stirred, pushing his head back into Eleanor’s chest to escape the harsh light.

Thranduil stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Silent as the wind, the king made his way to the edge of the bed. Reaching a hand out Thranduil ran his fingers through the ends of his son’s hair, fingertips ghosting across his scalp. “Ollo vae, ionneg. Gi melin.” He bent down and placed a soft kiss atop his son’s head. Legolas smiled against Eleanor, causing Thranduil to smile as well.

His eyes roamed upwards towards the woman holding his child. What makes you special, I wonder, his thoughts shifted quickly. What does Legolas see in you? His fingers twitched, aching to stroke her soft, pale cheek. Her skin looks undoubtedly soft, Thranduil commented. The king shook his head, dislodging such thoughts. He would not succumb to such childish desires, no matter how enticing they may seem. Before he could at upon his impulses, Thranduil turned towards the door. With one last look at the sleeping duo he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eleanor stirred slightly when she felt Legolas burrow himself closer to her chest. Her eyes opened halfway, but the room was too dark to really see anything. She closed her eyes again, but was alerted by the sound of the door opening again. Opening her eyes, she remained unmoving. She only caught a glimpse of a tall silhouette and a flash of silver before she succumbed to sleep once more.

#thranduil #thranduil imagine #thranduil drabble #legolas #legolas greenleaf #little legolas #ara-toa-min #ara-toa-min-writes #Tolkien universe #budding love #parenting #romance #Mirkwood elves #the hobbit #fathers #the love I have for you #chapter 3 #desires

[averil-of-fairlea]

Believe me

From the Drabble Games:  “If you do this,  you will be dead to me” requested by @blondenacho|| Also incorporating this from @imaginexhobbit “Imagine Haldir asking Galadriel and Celeborn for your hand in marriage because they are the ones caring for you since your parents died​ || Betrothal text from Realelvish.net || Drabble games fics || More Elf fics || Fanfiction masterlist

Author’s note: This is depressing. 

You know what Lord Elrond is requesting without even looking at his correspondence. 

As a member of Lothlorien’s band of trusted messengers, you held the letter in your hand as soon as it arrived, felt the heaviness in it. You can just picture some of those weighty words written in Lord Elrond’s elegant handwriting: aid, battle, men, evil.

As the beloved adopted daughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, you know you can use your status to find out exactly what’s inside. Or you can bypass your surrogate parents and pry open the thick parchment. That’s what desperation and anger are telling you to do. Perhaps seeing the actual words will sting less than what you’re imagining.

You quickly dismiss the temptation of impertinence. This is not how you were raised. But because your heart is breaking, you’re about to dismiss your good senses.

“I’m going with you.” 

You make the announcement at the entry of your light-filled home. You haven’t even completely crossed the doorstep.

Haldir, sitting on the ledge overlooking a verdant glen behind the house, waits a full two minutes before answering you.

“You are not.”

Now you step over the threshold.

“I’m a capable warrior, Haldir. You’ve said so yourself. We train together!”

“This kingdom needs you.”

“More than my own husband does?”

“I am a capable warrior as well, meleth nin.”

You can’t stand the ice between you any longer. You run over, sit across from him, and reach for his hands.

“How long before we leave?” you ask.

“I leave in the morning. You are staying.”

The ice is still there. Haldir is trying to make this easier - to stay distant, disconnected. Then the farewell won’t hurt so much. But you’re already hurting. 

You’ve waited literally hundreds of years to be together. Duty, previous conflicts, and betrothals to others that abruptly and tragically ended because of said conflicts kept you at best admirers from afar, and eventually sparring partners. 

The glances and polite nods hid the depth of your unspoken, growing, mutual feelings, until the merrymaking at a kinsman’s wedding feast - and the abundant wine - finally helped bring them forth.

Only a short time passed before Haldir humbly approached your parents for your hand, showing them, and you, complete reverence, beyond even the normal honorable Elven displays.

How you wish for those happier times now. Three hundred years have passed since your vows were spoken before a forest filled with witnesses, and not even the day-to-day swing of wedded life could take away the excitement of love.

Now, you feel as if you hardly know each other, even though Haldir will soon prove to you just how well he knows you.

He looks from the view of the glen to the view of you, his One. The ice breaks, and passion takes over.

You melt into his arms, he melts into you, and the excitement of love returns and replays over the hours that follow.

I’m going with you, I’m going with you, I’m going with you, and you can’t stop me. When you call his name in the throes of ecstasy, this is really what you’re telling him. Part of you hopes he hears it, deep down, and part of you appeals to the Valar that he’s not listening. Maybe you can make it happen. You’ll disguise yourself if you have to - give the group a day’s lead and join them later.

I’m going with you, I’m going with you….

In the wee hours, as you’re still deep in a perfect dream free of war and icy exchanges, he answers you.

You are not.

It still feels like a dream when his lips kiss yours. He leaves another on your forehead.

Then the door shuts, and a new lock clicks. The dream is over. It was over the minute that correspondence arrived. 

“Haldir, NO!” Flipping back the covers, you rush to the door, but you know before you start tugging on the latch that it’s no use.

He tells you it will be opened within an hour by your mother. She will stay with you. She won’t let you leave. They both know you’ll try.

“I can help you and the others fight!” you cry.

He knows you can, he says. He knows you can.

“Then let me out!” 

The warm, secure, content, hopeful person you truly are would never say what comes next.

”If you do this, you will be dead to me.”

You don’t mean that, Haldir says. He knows you’re hurting; he hears you crying. He’s so very sorry.

In Haldir’s next words there is neither ice nor fire, but the simple warmth of an intent he spoke to you long ago. 

“Gi melin, ar aníron gi mestad. Ma innasseg?” I love you, and I want to marry you. What is your will?

“Innen be inneg,” you respond tearfully, your emotions running as high as the day you first said them. My will is like your will. 

“We will be together again, right here, in our home,” he says. “That is now my will. Let it be yours, my love.”

“I did not mean what I said….” Your voice is so hoarse, and you waited so long before saying it, you’re not sure if he heard you. You call his name, but he doesn’t answer. 

Turning your back to the door, you slide down it, not noticing the note he slipped under the door until your trembling hand makes contact.

Believe me.

#haldir #haldirxreader #lotr fanfiction #drabble games fics #drabble games

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

Ni mestathog? (Thranduil x OC)

Hey! One person said they’d like to read my Thranduil smut, and that’s enough for me, so here it it. At the end there’s a list of translations from Sindarin (Elvish) to English.

This is a piece of one of my longer fanfictions which sadly I have abandonned (at least for now) because I can only get obsessive about one fandom at a time, and that’s SPN for me now.

A/N: Elves don’t just have sex for fun, when they do the first time, it’s as a ritual of marriage, so these two elves are already in love. Here ya go! Warnings: Smut and Elvish. 

They laid in bed together, and Alassë was tracing patterns on his chest. His eyes were closed and a small smile played on his lips, as his fingers were twirling her hair. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the black haired elf. “I want you, Alassë.” Thranduil said. “I am yours, my king…” she mumbled, but Thranduil propped himself on his elbow and held her hand. “I mean I want claim you. I want us to be wed.” He watched Alassë’s eyes widen, but then a smile appeared on her face. Immediately she giggled and straddled him. “Take me then, my king,” she whispered seductively as she leaned down to kiss him. Thranduil brushed her hair off her face before cupping it and returning the hungry kiss. Her hands went to the front of his robes, almost tearing them in her haste to get them off. She wanted to feel him, wanted to run her hands over his naked chest and feel his body against her own. Thranduil chuckled as he sat up, granting her what she wanted. His robes came off quickly but when her hands went to his shirt, he stopped her.

“Easy, mell,” he whispered against her lips. “Len aníron…” Alassë clenched her hands in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Please.” She felt him smile as he kissed her again, slowly pulling at the laces on her dark brown dress. “Avo tûs, hír nin…” she whispered and stood up. She watched as the king sat on the edge of the bed, waiting curiously. She stripped out of the dress slowly, then let it fall to the floor, revealing all of her. “Bainon…” she heard the king whisper and she smirked. She had wanted this since the moment she first laid her eyes upon him. “Now let me see you, my beautiful king... “ she sat on his lap as pulled at the laces on the front of his shirt. She knew he wouldn’t stop her, she could see the desire in his eyes as he watched her carefully. He allowed her to slide his white shirt off. She immediately threw it on the floor and kissed the middle of his chest.

“Nin lithiach, hír nin,” she whispered against his defined chest, the muscles those of a fighter. Alassë went slowly at first, kissing him gently, but her kisses soon turned into bites and she left marks on Thranduil’s body. A low groan came from his throat and she lost it. She needed him to take her, and she needed it  now. She knew he wanted it too, for his cock was pressing against her. He slid his hands down her back and lifted her up, turning them around and pushing her down on the bed, gently. But she didn’t want him to be gentle. “Take me, my king.. Please,” she begged, and she could tell he liked it. She wanted to untie his trousers, but he was pinning her arms down into the bed, and used his free hand to palm her breasts. A moan left her lips, signalling to him not to stop. He watched her face carefully as his hand travelled further down, slipping her undergarments off swiftly, but Alassë thought he was moving painfully slow. “I don’t want to hurt you…” he murmured against her neck, kissing it. So caring, she thought. “You won’t,” she moaned as he bit down. She giggled, this she liked. He let go of her arms and she instantly flipped them over, straddling him again. She kissed down his chest and stomach, and took the string on his trousers between her teeth, pulling it off. Thranduil smirked and let her continue. She pulled them off and threw them on the floor before looking at him. He was gorgeous. Her eyes fell on his cock. Impressive. She kissed the tip carefully, never breaking eye contact. Thranduil wanted to force her head down and claim her mouth, but he feared he would hurt her.

“Alassë... “ he groaned and grabbed her hands. He wanted control, wanted to control her. The young elleth grinned as she sat up straight. “What?” “I want to claim you,” Thranduil said through gritted teeth. “So do it.” He turned them over again. “You do not understand,” he kissed her hungrily but before he could continue, she interrupted, “No, you do not understand. I need you, my king, right now. I don’t want gentle, I want you to dominate me. Do it, my beautiful Silvan king… Claim my body, and my heart. Take me.” Her words made Thranduil lose his mind, and he would not be able to control himself much longer, but he still needed to ask the most important question.

“Ni mestathog, Alassë?” “Le mestathon, Thranduil.” He waited no longer as he covered her body with his, grabbing her thighs roughly and spreading them. Then he slowly ran a finger through her folds, feeling her wetness. She shivered, her hips rising, wanting more of his touch. A predatory grin spread across his face. Slowly, he bent down, letting his tongue dart out and taste her sweetness. Alassë almost shot off the bed at the feeling of his hot mouth on her. He teased her mercilessly, holding her down tightly, not letting her move. Then, suddenly, his tongue pushed inside her. She was going to go crazy. She needed more.

“Gen iallon, hír nin,” she begged, almost sobbing. Her pussy was throbbing with the need for release. “You beg for what?” he hummed against her folds. The vibrations of his voice were almost too much, but just as she was about to fall over the edge he backed off. “Please”, she begged, out of breath. “Please, take me.” He immediately shot up, taking her mouth in a brutal kiss, trapping her hands above her head. She felt his cock at her entrance, rubbing up and down. She pushed her hips up to get him to move. She felt his tip breach her and then, with one hard thrust, he pushed all the way inside her. She screamed, both in pleasure and pain, and Thranduil held still, breathing heavily as he observed her. He enjoyed hearing her scream for him, and he began to move, slowly at first, still afraid of hurting her. He kept a slow pace at first, until he heard the she-elf’s breathless cry; “Harder, my king…” He obliged happily, thrusting into her more rapidly, holding onto her hip with one hand, and pinning her down with the other. She loved being at his mercy, begging for him. She felt him bite the tip of her ear and she cried out again, it felt so good it was overwhelming. She wouldn’t last long and they both knew it. Thranduil gripped her hip tighter and growled against her throat as he quickened the pace more.

“My king… Thranduil, my king, I’m-” her loud moan cut her off mid-sentence. “Ídhron cened i chent gîn n'i gellog, mell nin…” he groaned when he felt her walls clench around his cock as she came for him, crying out his name, and he let himself go, spilling his hot seed inside her. Her name fell off his lips as he held her tightly, enjoying the last seconds of their climaxes, before pulling out and collapsing next to her. He heard her giggle breathlessly and she eased into his embrace, kissing his chest again. They recovered next to each other and Thranduil whispered; “Gi melin, Alassë.” But she was asleep. Or so he thought.

Sindarin translation list:

Mell - Dear Len aníron - I want you Hír nin - My king/master Avo tûs - Don’t tease Bainon - So beautiful Nin litiach - You enchant me Ni mestathog? - Will you marry me? Le mestathon - I will marry you Gen iallon - I beg of you Ídhron cened i chent gîn n'i gellog - Look into my eyes when you rejoice

@knjyasu please tell me what you think :)

#Thranduil #Thranduil smut #Thranduil x OC