#King Thranduil

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy. 

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left. 

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect. 

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention. 

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone. 

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize. 

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp. 

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable. 

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair. 

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance. 

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years. 

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found. 

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you. 

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care. 

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough. 

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.” 

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash. 

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror. 

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser. 

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit. 

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.” 

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding. 

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

[thewulf]

Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#legolas x reader #legolas x gimli #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #legolas greenleaf #gimli #legolas #the lord of the rings #legolas x oc #legolas fanfiction #legolas and gimli #legolas fluff #legolas fic #legolas thranduilion #legolas lotr #legolas au #legolas and thranduil #king thranduil #legolas imagine #legolas one shot #legolas oneshot #legolas tharanduilion fluff #king thranduil platonic reader #the fellowship #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #lotr #hobbits #lotr x reader #lotr x you

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter six

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,9k

❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭

general m.list + series m.list

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

CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE

It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.

It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.

While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.

They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.

Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.

Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.

Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.

Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.

You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.

He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.

You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.

Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.

The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.

He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.

"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."

"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"

"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"

"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"

It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.

"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"

No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.

Love could really change a person.

"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"

"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.

"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."

"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."

"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.

Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.

Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.

"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"

The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.

Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.

It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.

After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.

Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.

"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."

"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.

You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."

"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."

"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.

It had been exactly like that.

"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).

Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.

Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.

Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.

You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.

"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.

"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."

Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."

"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"

"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.

You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.

"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"

"But–"

"No no, no buts."

"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."

You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.

Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.

Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.

"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.

It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.

"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."

"I hate you so much."

As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.

So unfair they had fun while you suffered.

The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.

There were creaks and echoes everywhere.

Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.

It came out of nowhere.

The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.

It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.

There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.

"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.

"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.

"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."

"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.

He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.

You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.

"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes?"

"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:

"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."

"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."

Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.

You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"

"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.

"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."

You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"

Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.

"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.

Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.

"Legolas, since when?"

"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.

"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"

"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.

"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:

"Y'know my mother left him, right?"

As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"

"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."

You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.

"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."

The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.

"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"

Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."

You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.

"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."

"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."

"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."

While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.

Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.

He could've simply had a bad day at work.

"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.

Under the blankets, you were wired.

You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.

Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?

As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.

The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.

"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.

The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.

He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.

"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"

"Stay?"

The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.

"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."

You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.

He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.

For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.

He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.

Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.

"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"

The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.

"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.

"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.

Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.

He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.

"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.

It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.

"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.

"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."

The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.

Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.

"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."

"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.

"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."

"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."

"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.

He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.

"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.

"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."

There was a pause as the words sunk in.

Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.

The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.

"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."

You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."

"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."

Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.

The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"

He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."

"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.

"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.

A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."

"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.

"Mhm, must be the age."

Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."

If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.

Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.

"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."

Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.

"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."

"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?

You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.

There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.

It was so weird, your lips curled.

Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.

"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"

"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.

Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.

You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.

"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"

"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.

"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil #thranduil oropherion

[majestickingofmirkwood]

"Such is the nature of evil. Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads. A shadow that grows in the dark. A sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was. So will it always be. In time all foul things come forth."

#king thranduil #thranduil #mirkwood #elven king #majestic #white hair #elf #lee pace #elves #the hobbit #the hobbit desolation of smaug #the hobbit battle of the five armies #thorin oakenshield #fili and kili #orlando bloom #Frodo #golum

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 161- Cat Scratch Fever

Summary: A black cat crosses Josie's path bringing more bad luck to the Dorwinion castle. Narcisse is off kilter. Charles and Francis unite but not in agreement over their mother. Mary feels deep guilt of her knowledge. Francis gets under Josie's skin. She and Lola speak more about Narcisse's past. A cut won't heal. Bash has a scary story to tell. Josie panics over a possible resurrection.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, censored gif, sexual references, murder mentions

Chapter characters: Josie, Narcisse, Charles, Francis, Mary, Lola, Bash

Chapter word count: 8,447

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

When you got to Stephane's chambers, all was quiet after you knocked well over three times and called to him. Odd it seemed, considering the guard had told you Narcisse said it was urgent, so now you became concerned.

"Stephane?!" you loudly called to him one more time and wriggled the locked door handle.

Suddenly, you saw a shadow moving rapidly pacing about under the door and heard Stephane's charcoal gray magical Maine Coon cat Merlin, crying and clawing at the door. The crying swiftly then turned into a low emitted growl as if something were frightening him.

"Merlin sweety? What's wrong?" you asked as you bent down and placed your fingers under the door so you could scratch his chin, but he wanted no part of it. Instead, he began to hiss.

Something was wrong. Merlin was no "pussy" per se. In fact, he was quite the bad ass like all cats believed they were, so the scaredy cat persona was completely out of character for the long locked beauty of a beast.

"Alright honey. I'm coming in." you warned and gave the door handle an electric zap with a single twirl of your finger.

The latch made a loud click and then you cautiously pushed the creaking door open.

"MROWWW!!!" Merlin screeched and sped out of the room so fast, you almost tripped over him.

The room was dimly lit with all the curtains closed and on the sofa laid a sprawled out sleeping Stephane with one hand clutching an empty goblet over his stomach and the other hand grazing the floor with dried blood all over it.

Gasping, you quickly made your way to him, finding yourself crunching over a broken and bloodied shards of a mirror upon the floor. Kneeling down beside him, your widened eyes studied his chest to make sure he was breathing, which he was but it had a low raspy sound to it that reminded you of a....tiger's growl?? and he reeked of whiskey. Believing he was just snoring and intoxicated, you studied him over some more, especially his injured hand as you gently picked it up by his wrist so that you wouldn't shock him.

Angling his hand about to assess it, you noticed his gold ring, the one he always fidgeted with when he was anxious or lying. You had never paid much attention to the details of the ring before but now you could see it bore two gemstones, side by side as one piece that reminded you of the yin and yang symbol, for one stone was a black onyx and the other was a white moonstone. You knew that yin was of darkness and yang was of light. Could that be what the ring symbolized?

Moving your eyes on to his knuckles, they were all tore up so it was apparent that he had punched the mirror, but why was the question? Your hunch was the combination of the booze and his anger at you stemming from Haldir's spontaneous lip lock that he witnessed and possibly even something to do with Catherine's eldest son making an unannounced arrival that Stephane had clearly been upset about.

In that moment, Stephane had been dreaming. It was the day you first came to Dorwinion and he found you his red clover field searching for Haldir's gifted dreamcatcher you had dropped in the colossal cluster. At least he thought it was you as he viewed your long wavy scarlet strands from behind. Upon the woman's turning around, he found himself uttering the same words of shock that exited his lips that day and it wasn't the only shock he got.

"It is....you."

"Here kitty kitty kitty. Miss me? I've sure missed you. It's time to wake up once again, just as I had awoken the beast once before." Caroline cackled, forming her wicked grin and then clutched his hand, sending a burning jolt of juice through him, much like the one you and he experienced that day when your hands touched.

Feeling bad about his hand, you softly laid your hand over his wounds to heal him and in doing so, the electric current that you and he shared when your hands touched, shot right through both of you, startling him awake. But it wasn't Narcisse that you awakened.

Towering over your cowered body as you laid upon the floor in sheer terror, was a snarling and salivating beastly black panther with razor fangs as white as pearls and eyes that burned of the sun...and gusting from his roaring lungs was a fiery breath not of peppermint, but of black pepper.

"AHHH CHOOO!" you uncontrollably sneezed, spraying out a mist of sparkling silver water droplets into the ferocious feline's face.

He roared in pain and swung his paws in a frenzy at his eyes, giving you enough time to run and hide behind Stephane's liquor bar to try and rationally think of what to do, for this colossal cat was Narcisse and you didn't want to hurt him with your magic if you didn't have to, although it seemed you accidentally already had.

You were planted in a panic against the wooden bar, holding as still as you could as your frantic eyes scoured the darkness for movement and your ears searched for sound. Surely the beast would find you by sniffing you out, especially now that you noticed the palm of your hand had been scratched by the creature's claws and was bleeding. What in the hell was happening?? You knew nothing of his shapeshifting power. How the fuck did Narcisse transform into a giant fucking black cat before your very eyes and WHY?????

Your shallow breaths ceased as you heard grunting and groaning and then all went quiet again. As you prepared to counter attack in the least harmful way possible, you were grabbed by the arm and swiftly pulled to your feet by a sweating Stephane.

"Are you alright Jo???" he panted, steadying himself on the bar as you gaped at him in a frightful confusion.

"I...I...uh...umm...yes. I..think I should be asking YOU that??"

Narcisse glanced around, seemingly disoriented. "I...I don't feel so well."

He began to lean and fall, but you caught him and assisted him back to the sofa.

"What...what did you do to me??" he groaned and plopped onto his back, rubbing his eyes similarly to how the elephantine ebony cat had done.

"I...I don't..know?? I..I didn't mean to do anything. Lie still. I'll get you a wet rag soaked in healing water."

You cleaned your hand in the water which seemed to have ceased the bleeding, then quickly came back and sat beside him, forcing his rebelling hands away by his wrists in order not to shock him again and then laid the cool cloth over his inflamed eyes.

Narcisse made a frown as he licked his lips. "Silverbane. I can taste it. You sprayed me with fucking silverbane."

"W..what? I..how? and...I thought you were immune to poison??"

"Well apparently I am not to yours which you seem to have as a built in defense mechanism. I really wish you'd get your magical shit together Jo." he blindly griped with gritted teeth as he held the rag firmly over his eyes.

"But...even I can be hurt by Silverbane?? So how do I...oh wait..." you gasped. "It's just like Garrett. He can be hurt by fire, but yet he has fire power inside of him....and at Lestat's...I....I almost forgot....I had somehow conjured up Silverbane from thin air and blew it at my mother when she had almost depleted all of Garrett's blood."

"And yet once again, we are back to the vicious vampire." Stephane snarled as he snapped the rag to the floor with a huff and sat up.

He was somewhat right, you supposed. There you were, referencing Garrett after what you could describe as a cruel and vicious vision he sent you only moments earlier in your chambers. Even so, what you recalled was all still very relevant which would never matter to Stephane.

"You speak to me about being vicious after I just watched you turn into a very large vicious cat???? No wonder Merlin hightailed his ass out of here. Even he was afraid....and...so were you, for my safety. I can only assume that this is what was so urgent? What the hell is going on Stephane???"

"What's going on is that I'm a bit incapacitated at the moment which you seemed to have forgotten." he defensively deflected in which you immediately pointed out.

"Stop deflecting. Here. Let me heal you and...."

"No! Do not touch me Jo. A bath in the healing waters will do just fine." Narcisse barked as he abruptly scooted away from your extended hand.

"Ok, then at least let me help you."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking a bath...alone. Don't you have some place better to be? Like say...Mirkwood?"

Narcisse rose and headed for his bar to pour another drink, for his nerves were now unbearable after what had happened.

You flung to your feet and followed him. "YOU asked me to come here to your room...and now you want me to leave...and...for good?? What, kicking Haldir out wasn't pleasurable enough for you??? You want me to travel with my child when Harker is stalking all of us???" you reeled with stinging wet eyes.

Stephane's eyes refrained from yours as he knocked his drink back and poured another. Of course he didn't want you to go but his pride wasn't about to let you know that.

"Oh it was quite pleasurable to send the Lorien sprite packing. You have Legolas now since I see I now have more unwanted guests in my castle. He will keep you and Leean safe on your travels."

Narcisse turned without so much of a glance at you and walked to the other side of the sitting room with you once again following.

"You heartless son of a bitch! Have you forgotten why I am even here???! I need that book to stop Jareth!!"

An angry tear jetted down your cheek as you sharply blinked from Stephane's aggressive advance into your face.

"Heartless??!!!!! After ALL I have done for you and your company! All of the kindness I have offered you that I have never given to anyone else! Sleeping in my bed right after I confessed I was in love with you and I even pathetically allowed myself to shed tears at your feet over the fear of losing you. You also allowed me to love that little girl. YOU are the one who has forgotten! ALL you care about are the elves and that fucking vampire. You played me well Josephine. Beat me at my own past games of using someone for pleasures of the flesh. I can see I was right when I had once told you that you were a worthy opponent because no other has ever possessed the ability to make me feel less than I was and I can see no possible means of recovery from it. But I guess I have no one to blame except myself for letting my defenses down and letting you in, allowing you to see me bare in more ways than just my skin. Do you remember when I told you that?? That if you and I were to dive into those waters, that is what you would see? But the thing is...you don't see me! And you never will. I will never make that mistake again. I opened my heart to you. I told you things I would never tell a single soul. I threw you the grandest of birthday parties to make you feel better and because you hadn't had one since you were a child. I risked my life and men for you! I have even saved you from yourself! And for what?? To watch you kiss both Haldir and Garrett. Maybe, instead of standing here tearing my own self worth to shreds, I need to realize that I am not less just because I was much more than your inexperienced little hands could handle."

"Please...please stop Stephane. This was never about who you are. I know I hurt you and I am so very sorry, but I swear I never used you. I genuinely care for you, ALL of you and appreciate all you have done for me and Leann, or I would already be running after what I had just witnessed. I don't want to lose you too. Why can't we just please sit down and talk about this...really talk and listen and stop trying to hurt each other?? Let me try to fix this."

Narcisse knew that he had already scraped the bottom of the barrel with all he had just said and now he knew he must go even lower. You just weren't safe with him anymore.

"Because I have come to see it is no longer worth it. You...are not worth it and never were. It IS very much about who I am. It's about who everyone is because no one is your precious King or even Garrett, for they are all you speak of. No one else is good enough for you. I will not let you have me without the madness that makes me. If our demons cannot dance, neither can we." he growled with cold eyes and walked away again.

This time you did not follow, but stood there with a gaping mouth as many tears now fell.

Pouring himself more of the liquid courage to help him proceed in ripping both of your hearts out some more in order to push you away, Stephane drank it down, hesitating to turn and face you, for he could feel your tears and to see it would break him, so he remained a coward and faced the bar, then reluctantly began to continue on about Catherine.

"I called you here to inform you in person about Catherine so you wouldn't be blindsided by her release. Is that what a heartless person would do?"

"Catherine's....re...lease??" you stammered. "Wh...why on earth would you do such a thing????"

"I do believe that is none of your business. My castle, my rules and it's about time people start respecting that. I told you what you needed to know, now what you need to do is pack up your daughter and go back home with Legolas after this night."

"Are...are you insane??? Not only is Harker out there but so are Jareth's orcs! They attacked Legolas and Aragorn and almost killed the man who is travelling with them!"

"Insane? I have been called much worse, although I am sure many would be inclined to agree with you. Now, you can take your opinion and run along. I have a much needed bath awaiting before entertaining the enemies."

Narcisse gulped down the last of his bottle, then grabbed a robe and stormed out of the room, leaving you not only reeling at his lack of giving a shit but also wondering where he was even going since his bath was right there in his chambers, so once again, you followed him.

The room you entered consisted of a sizeable stone pool surrounded by dim candlelight and the air scented of floral fragrance, for upon the opaque water floated multiple flower petals. Pink roses if you were to guess.

Stephane stared at you with a scowl and undressed right before your stunned eyes, then scoffed when you promptly turned away upon the removal of his leather pants.

"As if you have never viewed my cock before. Why are you still here??" he griped as he yanked his ring off, then threw that and his robe to the floor.

The Yin and Yang gemstone clanked it's way to your feet. Keeping your back to the very nude Narcisse, you snatched it up.

"Oh stop with the infantile theatrics for once. You know why I'm here. You don't get to drop a bomb on me like that about Catherine and just walk away. I demand to know why you would set her free!!"

You trembled as you could feel him creeping up behind you. It wasn't because you feared him but because of how intimidated you were by his bare form. Not only had you laid your eyes upon the splendid sight of sculpted beauty a few times before, but you had also laid your body on it as well, so why were you so damn nervous??

"YOU will demand nothing of me." he snarled into your ear as he reached around you and swiftly snatched the ring right back out of your hand, but not fast enough to avoid the electrifying current. Gasping in unison with you, Narcisse quickly made his way into the vat of sparkling liquid and sat down to conceal his waxing wood, for the shock had greatly aroused him.

Slowly, you turned to face him once you heard the slosh of his descent beneath the water.

"Well then, I guess Catherine being on the loose is the lesser of two evils with what else has been released!"

"Alright, I'll bite. What do you mean?" he firmly asked while sitting stiffer than the stiffness below him.

"It's what I have been trying to tell you and why I need to find Ashmole. Jareth has done it. He has risen the dead, just like that psychic woman told me at my party or...I should say, like Peter told me in that vision I saw of him and now...he will come for me! I cannot leave here Stephane! Or you would be handing me right to him."

"And just how is it that you know this?"

"How do you not?? You know he has the three page spell to do it, no thanks to my mind altered father and just before I came to you today, I...I had another vision. It was...it was the vampire Kate. I saw her, with a head and all and...with Garrett. My visions are just like my dreams, both of the present and future and they are increasing and if I saw Kate, then many more are out there somewhere, waiting for something, something that I fear will change our lives forever. I fear a war is coming for the winter solstice. An army of the dead. I feel it. Even Legolas senses something sinister in the air."

Narcisse's bright blues gaped at the water in realization that your words were true. Jareth was the reason Rahl had resurrected and in that moment, he saw his denounced dark half reflecting back at him in the ripples, clawing at his soul to fully emerge from the grave...a box bound by 7 iron chains buried deep inside of Stephane's mind where he had cast him out to, but he could feel the chains breaking, one by one as if it were the rapture.

"Ahhh, I see now. That is what has your panties all in a bunch. Once again, it is because of Garrett. You're jealous."

"W...what??? What the hell is wrong with you??!! THAT is all you can speak of after what I just told you?? Not to mention AGAIN that you are releasing Catherine and having some party tonight as if Harker and the dead are not upon us! Oh, and there's the fact that you shapeshifted into a wild cat larger than Blaze! Seriously, what is happening? WHO are you and what have you done with Stephane???"

Stephane's expression was sullen and his gaze soulless, much like the soulless orbs of the animal that preyed upon you moments earlier. A soulless animal he once told you he was not and his words were as icy and cold as his dilated blues.

"The man you speak of no longer exists."

As you stood frozen by his words, he rose from the water. It was a shimmering sight that you now could not remove your eyes from no matter how hard you tried, almost as if magic were being used upon you, breaching your shield.

Narcisse slowly approached you in a most tantalizing manner, the water dripping and glistening over every inch of his masculine form as if he had been slathered in baby oil as his cock gave you it's undivided and full attention.

"I'm a monster. Refume by unfortunate events and given breath by necessity."

You took a staggering step back, unable to breathe. Unable to break the animal magnetism radiating between your bodies until his pupils glowed of the sun once more, followed by a low emitted growl that vibrated through his adam's apple.

Gasping, you stumbled back and found yourself racing out the door and down the hall, constantly glancing behind you, expecting to once again see the melanistic monster with paws measuring the size of both your hands combined, charging after you, but instead, you ran smack dab into Charles as you turned the corner.

"My lady?!! You...you look a fright." the young warlock exclaimed as his arms clutched tightly around your waist.

"I..." you panted and swung your head around to see an empty quiet hall behind you. "I...oh gosh. Well now I am just embarrassed." you softly said as you released Charles while a handful of people he had been speaking with, all stared at you.

"I was just...in a hurry...that's all. I apologize for my clumsiness." you explained, glancing behind you once more.

"Are you sure that is all it is? It would seem as if you believed something were...chasing you?"

His eyes were concerned and confused and you had to wonder if Charles knew of his father's "condition", but you certainly were not going to ask in front of the all the eyes still upon you.

"Oh no, no. I just need to go refresh for this evening's gathering, so I...I will just be on my way now. I'll see you then."

You awkwardly smiled and quickly resumed your path but once you came to the end of the hall, Francis and Mary rounded the corner. As the King and Queen of Lake Town passed you, Francis had slowed his pace to lock his baby blues with yours once again. He also offered you a slight head bow and a subtle smile, then continued on his way to call out to his half brother Charles.

Out of curiosity, you stood by the exit to watch as Charles turned with a sizeable smile.

"Francis." he raved and gave a hand swaying bow to the golden haired King.

Francis skipped the formal greeting altogether and went straight to embrace his little brother as Mary kept her distance and watched as well.

You knew nothing really about Francis but from what you could see, he truly cared for Charles and vice versa.

The two stood and conversed, but not loud enough for you to hear, so after a moment, you turned to leave, only to be startled by Mary.

"Oh..my!" you halted and gasped as your hand planted onto your chest.

"Oh dear, my apologies. Forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you. I am Mary. And you are Queen Josephine of Mirkwood?"

"Y..yes...I.."

"I am sorry we did not have the chance to meet when you and your King were in Lake Town. My King and I were away on business. Luckily I suppose, considering the dragon's destruction. I would like to thank you for your aid in ridding of the foul creature and I...I offer you my...condolences over King Thranduil."

"Thank you." you simply and softly replied as your eyes fell.

Her eyes fell too as she fidgeted with her clasped fingers that laid upon the beaded bodice of her golden gown, that from the waist down, looked as if a thousand ducks had been plucked to assemble it. The girl was most likely no older than you with long waves of dark chocolate hair coordinating with her coffee hues and in them was a pool of true sorrow. Mary knew of the breath that Thranduil still took and may have been aiding her own King in Narcisse's blackmailing, but she was far from content with it. She did it only for the happiness of Francis so his mother could be free, even when she herself knew what Catherine was, for the two always clashed. No one was good enough for Catherine's son, whom Mary deeply loved. And because of that love, she couldn't even imagine what you must be going through.

"A...penny for your thoughts?" you asked the suddenly distant girl who you just realized probably did not even know what a penny was. "Oh...sorry. It's just...modern day currency where I'm from."

Mary's rosy lipped smile grew wide as she giggled. "Oh, I know what it is. My late father-in-law was the greediest man in all of middle earth. He traveled far and wide and had quite the colossal collection of riches, even pennies, which he had mounds of."

Well, that explained to you why Peter ended up there in his search for you and bought the emerald pendant from the abhorrent Alfrid just before Thranduil had captured him. If anyone was a greedy bastard, it was piggish Peter.

"I just...I feel terrible for what you have been through. Word travels far." she continued, then smiled again. "I'll take my penny now."

"Well." you smiled back. "If I come across one again, I will give it to you."

"That would be nice. I know they are not worth much, but to be gifted one from a beautiful Queen would be quite the treasure. It is nice to meet you Josephine. I hope we will see more of each other. I better tend to my husband. He and Charles seem to be in a disagreement of sorts."

You smiled and turned to see and hear the two young men quarreling and you knew exactly what it pertained to. Catherine being released, for Charles was greatly opposed to it and it was quite apparent that Charles had the better head upon his youthful shoulders when it came to her true colors.

"Just ask Josie! She'll tell you!" Charles shouted and motioned for you to come over.

"I do not need to hear her side, for it is not her decision." Francis firmly stated.

"And it is yours?? This is not your castle. It is my father's!"

"And he has agreed to free her. She is our mother Charles. She will not be treated like an animal! Why on earth would you side with the man who destroyed our family??"

Charles scoffed at his brother and quickly turned to you, where you stood hiding slightly behind Mary.

"Is this true?? Did my father agree to release her???" he asked in desperation.

"I...Charles...I'm..sorry. He...has and.."

"Unbelievable!" he snapped and spun back to Francis. "She coerced our sister into using black magic to kill a King vampire, which could have brought a war to our lands that we would surely lose and she also forced her into helping to poison a Lorien elf! And now our sister faces being banished from here with a newborn child!"

"Claude is a grown woman and made her own choices. She was not forced. She will be better off away from here anyways and to return with me to Lake Town, our home Charles! Where you should be as well."

"THIS is my home. I will go nowhere with you, nor will my sister!! You're as mad as our mother! I am going to go have words with my father!"

Charles stormed past you, but you grasped his arm. "Charles, no! I...umm, Narcisse...he's...he's in a bad way at the moment and I would not advise a confrontation. Trust me...please." you pleaded with worried but stern eyes which Charles seemed to understand.

He stiffened up straight and sighed as he lifted his chin to glare at Francis.

"I don't know what you have done to my father, but know this. This is far from over...brother."

Your heart was racing as Charles marched off, for you were praying he would heed your warning about Narcisse. Charles may have been merely 19 years old, but he was hot headed and certainly no push over, just like his father.

Francis turned to you with a smile, showing no sign of shame or regret over the dispute. It was as if it had not even happened.

"My lady. We have not been properly introduced. I am King Francis of Lake Town and I am honored to be in the presence of such beauty."

The audacious blonde bowed down, then took your hand and kissed it right on front of Mary, making you feel terribly awkward and bad for her.

You gently and politely as possible, slipped your hand out of his and forced a smile, when really, all you wanted to do was slap him.

"I...I am Josephine."

"Oh I know exactly who you are. A queen as well. It is such a shame to hear about your King. I suppose now I will have to confer with Legolas for our trades. Or maybe...I shall speak with you instead? I would greatly prefer that. Maybe over some dinner and wine?"

The words going through your mind at that moment were far from queen like. The nerve of this jackass...oh god, Josie, calm down. Breathe. You glanced at Mary, who remained silent with her head hung low, fidgeting again with her hands.

"It is King Legolas and he would be the one to speak business with is usually not discussed over dinner and wine."

The look in his blue eyes told you he was turned on by the way you shut him down.

"We can always skip the business then and just enjoy each other's company. In the meantime, I'll let you ponder on that. Mary...come. I must go see my mother now."

Francis walked off, not even waiting for Mary, so you quickly stopped her.

"I...I am so sorry for that. Please know, I..I would never..."

She softly smiled and took your hand. "It is alright. You are not his first conquest and certainly will not be his last. I..I must go."

As you watched her catch up to Francis, you wondered the same thing that Charles had asked...how did he get Narcisse to free Catherine? Off you then went as well, for you needed to speak to Lola about Stephane's past once more.

Lola was rocking Leean's cradle and singing softly to her when you arrived and you noticed her tears before she quickly turned away to wipe them.

"Lola?? Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes." she proclaimed as she turned with a smile. "Don't mind me. I was just thinking of my mother after we had spoke of her earlier. She used to sing to me and Leean really likes it. Even more so when you do it."

"I am so sorry Lola. I never meant to upset you. I...I miss my mother too. Well, the one I used to know as a child wearing rose colored glasses. Lola, I don't mean to change the subject but...when we spoke of Narcisse earlier, you said there was a time when he was different? Could you elaborate a little more on that because...something is very wrong with him. It's like....it's like there are two of him."

"Yes, that is kind of how he was from what my mother told me. Not kind at all and he dressed much differently. Robes and such, mostly of a scarlet red. Longer hair, dark as coal and his scent was different as well...kind of like..."

"Pepper??" you abruptly interrupted.

"Y...yes? I believe so."

You paced about for a moment in deep thought, fidgeting with your own hand, for it was itching something awful, then you stopped to look at her.

"You're certain it was Narcisse and not a...twin? I know you said before that you did not believe him to have any other brother but Bash, but you were just a child. It's just that... he told me something once that is not adding up now."

"I suppose I cannot be certain. I never saw or knew the Narcisse my mother described and he..."

"He what?" you asked when Lola had paused in thought.

"Well, he...he went by some other name too, I...suppose there could be a twin? If so, he surely never speaks of him. There's only one other person that would most likely know. His brother...Bash."

"Was the name...Lord Rahl??"

"I...yes. Yes, that sounds right. I think it was?"

That is where you would head next, to Bash, for now you were worried that if there was an evil dark twin like Stephane had told you there was, was he the one you had just encountered?? Had he done something with the real Narcisse and taken his place?? Because Lola confirmed the scent of pepper and that is exactly what you smelled. Although Stephane told you that he killed Rahl, it was certainly possible he was brought back by Jareth. OR...were Narcisse and Rahl the same entity? Holy shit.

"Lola..I...I have to go. I..I will see you and Leean tonight for the dinner party and I want you both to stay at Legolas' side. I will find him and send him back here to get you."

As you turned to go refresh, Lola gasped.

"Josie?? Your hand...it's bleeding!"

You also gasped as your eyes gaped at the blood trickling down your fingers.

"Owww, god." you groaned as you quickly squeezed a cloth into your fist, then sat down, for you suddenly felt dizzy and overheated.

"What happened?" Lola asked as she promptly brought you a pitcher of healing water, then sat beside you to help clean the wound.

Not wanting to tell her the whole story just yet until you spoke to Bash, you decided to fib...just a little.

"I..uh...broke a mirror earlier and...cut my hand when I was cleaning it up."

Lola pried open your clenched fist and removed the cloth.

"Oh my. Josie, that's pretty deep and looks...possibly infected."

It did. The gash was slightly blackened around the edges and it burned, and strangely, even more so when Lola patted it with the water soaked cloth.

"Mmmmph." you flinched. "I'm sure it will be fine after I soak it for awhile."

"Maybe you should have the healers look at it? You...you seem a bit pale."

If only Thranduil were here, you thought as tears stung your eyes. He would heal you right up with one touch of his soft magical hand.

"I'm alright. The sight of blood has always made me feel queasy."

The dizziness seemed to have passed, so you took the pitcher into the wash room and filled the sink basin, then held your breath as you submersed your hand. Five seconds was all you could withstand before you had to abruptly withdraw.

"Jesus!" you cringed and then noticed a sizzling effect on the cut of both sight and sound.

"It's like it's fucking holy water. I should be asking YOU Narcisse or whomever you are, what YOU did to me??" you complained under your breath while you angrily wrapped and secured a clean dry cloth around your hand.

"Lola, if Leggy comes back while I'm gone, tell him I went to speak to Bash and that I will be back soon. We can all go to the dinner together. Keep this door locked until then. it is to only be opened for myself or Legolas. If Narcisse happens to show up, you tell him, through the door, that I am not here and that Leean is sleeping so he'll go away."

"Through...the door? Josie...what is going...."

You were out the door and rushing down the hall before she could finish. One way or another, you had to find out the truth because it now seemed that danger not only lurked outside of the castle walls, but still remained inside of them as well.

"Bash!" you loudly whispered against his chamber door as you briskly tapped upon it. "I need to speak to you again. It's urgent."

"It's open." he called to you.

Upon your swift entry, you found Sebastian leaning against the wall by the open balcony doors, looking as if he had seen a ghost. Had he?

"Bash?? Is something wro...."

You froze solid as you came into view of the dead blackbirds scattered about the terrace floor. Slowly, you walked past him with wide eyes to get a better look, praying one of them was not your Freddy, the ridiculous name Garrett had given your crow over his Scooby Doo fetish.

As you visually searched through the feathered carcasses, you soon sighed heavily in relief because they were all too small to be your faithful friend.

"Bash...w..what caused this??"

"Mayhem and death. Birds fall from the sky when evil witches like him are near."

"Him?? Are you speaking of Harker?"

You had only known Bash for merely 2 months, but in that short time, you could tell he was a warlock warrior who feared nothing, not even Harker who had almost killed him...but in that moment, he looked absolutely terrified. And he was, for he had all the answers you sought and although it was a secret to have never escaped his lips, Bash knew this time, he had to tell you and later face the consequences.

"No...my..brother."

"Narcisse...did this?"

"Rahl." he simply stated with a horrified stare into your eyes.

"So....Narcisse does have a twin." you whispered as you clutched your burning hand. "Bash...I...he told me he was dead but...I think this Rahl was one of the many Jareth has conjured back from the dead with that spell and I think he has done something with Stephane!!"

"Twin? There is no twin. My brother Stephane and Rahl are very much one and the same." Bash verified and then glanced at the dead birds. "The only difference is that everything Stephane is, Rahl is the opposite of."

You had to sit down. You knew this was a possibility, but to have it be validated was overwhelming. Stephane had what you would know as...D.I.D. Dissociative Identity Disorder, otherwise known as a split personality or an alter...but who was the true identity? At least now you knew Stephane wasn't being held captive somewhere...or dead.

"So...he...he lied to me..."

"Wouldn't you? Lie about it? It's not something he is proud of, nor did he want it. Rahl has done evil things, like Harker and Jareth. Some he recalls, some he does not and Stephane is ashamed and certainly would not want you of all people to know, in fear of what you would think of him. My brother was never perfect. He had his own bad side when he was crossed. You've seen it. He punishes the evil, but he is not a cold blooded killer like Rahl."

"I...I suppose I understand that, for I was able to talk him out of doing some horrible things and I don't feel I would have succeeded if he did not have goodness in him. I..I'm just trying to process all of this. Referring to one body by two different names. I know it's a real thing, I just have never encountered it."

"Rahl is his second given name, after our father. Our father, who I believed caused the split by making him do despicable things as an adolescent. Stephane wanted to be good...of light. Not dark like our father, but our father expected more from him, being the oldest and he placed a very heavy weight on him to follow in his footsteps and that's exactly what Rahl did."

"He...he told me Rahl had your father killed, by that man Stephane fought and killed in the gambling tournament to the death."

"Yes, but it didn't quite go as planned. That man, Theodore, was his good friend whom he met because of Catherine. He was her husband, King Henry's brother. Rahl tricked Theodore by morphing into Stephane's image and offered him a very large sum of money to kill our father. He was full of greed just like Theo, so he knew he could get him to do it and not have to get his own hands dirty, possibly due to his subconscious, which I think was Stephane trying to fight him. But that quickly changed. Before Theo arrived that night, an argument revealed the our father had killed our mother and despite his blackened heart, Rahl loved our mother, so he killed our father first. Stephane didn't remember it right away. I think the trauma caused the memory lapse and when he did recall the events years later, that's when he set out to kill Theodore and end Rahl himself. As I said, our father did terrible things and made him do the same, but to Stephane, he was still our father whom he did everything to please....and he hated himself for what he had done, although sometimes I wonder if Stephane possibly wanted our father dead too. It would be a lie if I said I did not have similar feelings. I still stood by my brother though, because I knew of the things our father made him do. I tried to help him but I could never get through to him. There was nothing I could do. Rahl was too strong and powerful, even more so than Stephane. I never blamed Stephane for the things he had done. It wasn't his fault. I believed his hand was forced and his mind was ill."

"And he did all this for the crown? Stephane said his father didn't want Rahl to have it."

"He did at one time, but that was before he noticed the new change in him, the good side, the real Stephane, the one before our father's dark influence consumed him at a young age, altering his mind and that's when things went sour. Two others knew about his condition. One being your father Julian who tried to help him. That book you seek, the one Julian has hidden, it has the spell to lock the alter away in his mind and it also has the power to release him. Your father banished Rahl before he hid the book away to keep it out of Jareth's and other evil one's hands....including your mother's....because your mother, Caroline, who was the other with the knowledge of my brother's illness...she's the reason our father was killed."

"Wait...w..wh..what????"

"When Julian took Ashmole from his mother Jadis to undo Jareth's death, Caroline got her hands on it temporarily. When your father unknowingly slept with her twin Carrie, she punished all who knew and kept it from her and that included my brother. She brought the darkness of Rahl out of Stephane to a diabolical head... in a way no one had ever seen and hence, Darken Rahl was born. More wicked than our father could perceive. More wicked than he. Our father believed he would destroy all he had built and he denied him his right to the throne, so Rahl chose to take it, which is why Stephane has never called himself a King. In Rahl's short years of reign, even then he strangely was addressed as Lord Rahl, for again, I believe Stephane was somewhere inside of him, very much aware."

"God...my mother, even dead, still destroys people's lives. I've always known there are many things I don't know about that she's done and I'm sure this is only a fraction of it and...."

It just hit you. Something that you should have realized long before.

"Oh dear god Bash."

He tilted his head and stepped towards you with questioning furrowed brows.

"My lady?"

"My mother! What if Jareth....could he have brought her back as well?? And could she have awoken Rahl again?? She wouldn't need the book, for I am certain she would remember the spell...or...or did Jareth wake him up???"

"I suppose either or both are possible, but I hope for your sake, your mother was not one of the resurrected. I have never met her but her wicked reputation certainly precedes her in all of middle earth."

"Damn it. Why did my father have to go back for those pages?? Harker would never have gotten his hands on them if it weren't for that and my father would not have been converted to darkness. So now, what do we do about all of this without the book?? Because if you know about Rahl, then surely you must know about his animal form, the fucking gigantic jaguar I encountered earlier."

"You saw that?? That means....he is closer to surfacing than I realized."

"I not only saw it, I was scratched and it burns like hell. I tried the healing water, but it intensified the burn." you explained as you held your bandaged and trembling hand out.

Bash tried to hide his growing concern as he took your hand to look it over, but the light tremors in his fingers told on him.

"The water won't help it. It's like adding fuel to the fire. His claws are poisonous and his bite is venomous, both like no other. As I said, Rahl and Stephane are opposites even if they share the same body. Rahl propels poison, Stephane repels it. The Rahl that Stephane created is not the Rahl your mother conjured in the past and the one brought forth now will only be 3 times worse. It's like a pain scale of mild, moderate and severe."

"Third time is definitely not a charm. So what is it going to do to me?? And how do I get rid of it...and is that even possible?? Stephane, he repels poison yes, well, except mine for some reason, possibly because it was not him I cast the silverbane upon??...and his peppermint scent...it heals poison. He healed me from the dark forest and from wolfbane, so can he not heal me??"

"The question is...will he? Unless you can get Stephane to resurface, there is not much time before you will suffer vivid hallucinations and pain, and your powers will be completely useless. You will also be at Rahl's mercy. You will need Delphine, a witch doctor, for she has the only known antidote. She resides near the city. After the party tonight, I will go and try to locate her. She doesn't trust anyone but me."

"Stephane...he...he was still himself...right after he shifted back and realized what happened and what he had done. He was extremely worried for me...but then...his personality quickly began to change and when I last saw him, well...he was definitely not himself."

"The rapid change...It's because of the shift. After the cat appears, he is all Darken Rahl."

"It's my fault. I...I accidentally brought the beast out by shocking him...god...I need Garrett!! He can heal me, I know it. BUT...he is off doing who knows what with his former mate that Jareth revived. Bash, you must be very careful. Her shock is far worse than mine and let's not forget Harker and what he has already done to you. And I know Aragorn, Bard and Gimli went looking for Haldir, but please, if you see him, tell him I'm so sorry and that I miss him."

"I will...Josie...It's not your fault. You couldn't have possibly known. I will find Delphine and I will even be on the lookout for Garrett and the newly remodeled Kate. I will tell him you need him. I do not fear her nor Harker. Stay close to Legolas this evening and I will keep my eye on my brother. You should go now, before he finds you in here again."

After you left, you went back to your room to find a note from Lola on the vanity stating she, Legolas and Leean went to the dining hall to wait for you and that Boromir was anxious to speak with you. You had forgotten all about him and that he had come all the way there to inform you of something quite urgent, almost dying in the process.

You then went to the dresser to find some lace gloves to conceal your hand and as you did so, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Tears instantly formed at the mess you had become. Not on the outside, but the inside. It was a moment when you had felt more alone than you ever had.

You had to turn away, for you feared you would see Garrett again and you didn't need to be reminded, as if you'd ever forget, that he abandoned you and chose to be with a demon summoned from hell. All you had now were Leggy and Lola. All were gone, even Narcisse...even your letter to Thranduil that mysteriously vanished and you really wanted to read it again to feel close to him.

You sat on the bed, lost in the thought of your King, for he is all you truly wanted...and that's when the full blown tears came.

"Thranduil?? My love.." you squeaked. "I...I don't feel you anymore and I'm scared. I'm so scared and I'm lost and...I'm in trouble and I...I just need you...please...somehow, please come back to me...please my King, come ba...."

You loudly gasped and sprung to your feet and your heart paused and dove into your gut when you realized something else. Something horrifying, yet miraculous. Something even you wanted to do once.

Your words then came flooding out of you, choking away your air.

"Oh my god...could Jareth have done it?? Is...Thranduil alive too????"

@redeemer46

#fantasies #fairytales #magic #witches #warlocks #fantasy fanfic #dark fairytales #dark fiction #dark stories #love stories #thranduil and josie #darken rahl #lord rahl #lord narcisse #stephane narcisse #craig parker #thranduil fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil #lee pace #toby regbo #torrance coombs #adelaide kane #mary stuart #spencer macpherson

[thienthaoismyrealname]

drawing in class

#thranduil #king thranduil #thranduil x reader #the hobbit #fan art #my artwork

[sotwk]

Quick shoutout to all the snotty outsiders who call Thranduil's people "less wise, more dangerous" as if they expect the Woodland elves to diplomatically negotiate with the spiders and orcs that have bred and infested their homeland for over a thousand years.

Let's see you give it a try and see how far being "more wise, less dangerous" gets you.

Better yet, how about a "thanks, Mirkwood elves!" for keeping Sauron's resources preoccupied for so long that it took him centuries to rally enough strength to make his move on Middle-earth?

By the way, I don't remember anyone rushing to help the Woodland Realm with their orc and spider problem, even if over the course of two millennia it literally drove an entire people out of their rightful homeland. "Are we not part of this world?", am I right? Yet somehow Thranduil is expected to roll out the red carpet and help Thorin and his crew take back their lost riches--for free?

No wonder he gets cranky with outsiders trying to demand things of him. It's okay though--he looks magnificent doing it.

Looking for more Thranduil content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

Thank you for your support and interest!

#thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #lee pace #the hobbit #the elvenking #lord of the rings

[wild-lavender-rose]

Unusual Punishment

Pairing: Thorin x fem!elf!reader, Thranduil x fem!elf!reader, Kili x fem!elf!reader, Legolas x fem!elf!reader

Category: Preferences/Would Include...

Summary: You come from a kingdom where cutting your hair short is a form of punishment, intended to inflict shame upon the criminal. After being charged with crimes, your hair is cut and you are exiled from your homeland. How will your s/o react? 

Warning: None

Kili-

- Kili would know nothing about your lands or your customs.

- He was fascinated by your short hair from the moment you met and would compliment you often.

- Kili’s eyes would be so confused when you’d respond to this by growing silent or ducking your head in shame.

- When you become comfortable enough to tell him, you expect Kili to question why you were punished or to never mention your hair again.

- Instead, Kili runs his fingers through your hair and presses his forehead against yours, insisting that you truly are the most beautiful elf he has ever known.

- It doesn’t matter what crime you committed or anything else about your past, only that you are his now and he loves you more than life.  

Thorin-

- Thorin would have a guess as to why your hair is short but wouldn’t say a word about it.

- If anyone else mentioned your hair he would bristle, cutting them off with a glare.

- His heart always broke a little when he’d catch you angrily running your hands through your hair again and again, hating the constant reminder of your past life.

- When you told Thorin what happened, he listened quietly, then reminded you that the past was just that, in the past.

- In his world, you are his beloved, the one who was destined to rule by his side.

- And that was all that mattered.

Legolas-

- Legolas could barely conceal his horror when he first saw your short hair.

- His father had told him stories of the strange lands far away with kings who brand criminals so cruelly, however he thought they were just stories.

- It took everything inside him to conceal the pain and hurt he had for you and what had been done to your beautiful hair.  

- He became your protector and your beloved almost instantly, there was nothing that could separate him from your side.

- Legolas cried with you when you told him, gathering you into his arms and whispering, “it’s all right, you’re safe, you’re safe,” over and over again.

- Regardless of what you did to be punished, nothing could ever justify this cruelty in his eyes.

Thranduil-

- When you first appear outside the castle in the middle of a thunderstorm, drenched and shivering, your hair freshly cut with jagged strokes, Thranduil dismisses his advisor’s caution and takes you into his personal care.

- He knows of distant lands where kings enforce this punishment onto their prisoners, however he did not expect those prisoners to be so beautiful, so helpless.

- Somewhere between nursing you back to health and soothing you through nightmares, Thranduil fell utterly and completely in love.

- He waits until you are stronger to broach the subject of your crimes, growing angry when you reveal that you had been the head of the king’s stables and were punished and exiled when his prized horse fell prey to a sickness you could not cure.

- The only thing stopping Thranduil from going to war is the fact you don’t want him to.

- That, however, does not stop him from cutting off all trade routes going to and from those distant lands.

- It is only fair that the king feel some of the pain that he himself has caused.

Fanfic Masterlist

#lord of the rings #lord of the ring #lord of the rings legolas #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit #the hobbit kili #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit thranduil #the hobbit thorin oakenshield #legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #kili fluff #kili fic #kili x you #kili x reader #kili x y/n #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin x y/n #Thranduil #King Thranduil #Lord Thranduil #thranduil greenleaf #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you

[lillianofliterature]

If your requests are open, and you are comfortable with it, could you maybe please do a King Thranduil x reader one-shot where reader has cancer and it is like angsty?

the toll of sickness | thranduil x reader

a/n: Anon, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to provide all the angsty venting and comfort I could for you in this! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do this right by you. I hope this helps soothe whatever parts of you need soothing today. I don’t know anon’s/anyone’s specific diagnosis or symptoms, so I’m doing my best to remain respectful and widely general with the topic of cancer. I took inspiration from my own experiences with the mental/emotional toll of long-term chronic illness to supply a plot to resolve, I hope that’s okay (and still relatable). <3

The reader is implied feminine in this as they are referred to as lady/queen, but otherwise, I did my best to keep it gender-neutral with descriptions. 

This could also be interpreted as a reader with chronic illness.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK. GIF EDIT IS MINE.

summary: after a long day of tiresome treatments and the heaviness of your thoughts, you retreat to your chambers to seek the comfort of your husband’s arms.

warnings: mentions of cancer (the reader has cancer), mentions of cancer treatments and symptoms (including needles), medical exhaustion, nonsexual nudity and nonsexual bathing, open discussions of symptoms, fear of death

word count: 6.1k

music:  As Long As We Both Shall Live by Bear McCreary

elvish translations: melamin = my love, melda = my dear/beloved

“I think we will conclude here for today, my lady.” 

The head healer’s voice drew your wayward attention back to his prim features. His thin lips spread into a smile as he gently unstrapped the tight leather band above your inner elbow, releasing the tension from your skin. The long syringe with its glass barrel was gently pulled from the blue vein that the pressure had highlighted. You rubbed your arm subconsciously as he set aside the supplies for cleaning, hoping the motion would rid your flesh of the awful sensation of being probed. 

You blinked away your muddled thoughts. Briefly, you worried that perhaps he had been talking to you long before you’d heard his assessment to end the treatments for the evening. If you had, you were grateful to find no resentment in his gaze for your absentminded silence. 

He softly closed his collection of books that had been displayed around a table on the wall adjacent to your cushioned cot in the infirmary. With a bottle of herbal salve, he applied a generous portion to the inner curve of your elbow, satiating any irritation from his needles. The cool gel of the aloe soothed the itchy redness, while the lavender masked the sterile scent of the medications and intensely bitter herbs.  

You glanced up from the healer’s gentle efforts, trying on your best smile. “Thank you for your diligence today, Sudryl. It is very much appreciated.” 

He bowed his head as he clasped your hand between his palms, “It is always a pleasure to tend to you, my queen. We will resume tomorrow morning if it suits your schedule?”

“My schedule is always free for your remedies. Thranduil has made sure to take over many of my duties so we may focus on my treatment.”

Sudryl smiled once more as he helped you stand from the cot, draping your silken robe over your bare arms as he did so. “The king is very wise, your majesty. I know you detest this period of healing you’re undergoing, but you mustn't mistake rest for idleness. Your people desire greatly for your full recovery, myself included. In order to achieve that, your rest is crucial.”

You didn’t know what to say. Rest was crucial, you knew that. As were the innumerable treatments and remedies being applied and adjusted every day. 

But didn’t anyone understand that you were tired of all of this? Exhausted by more than just the cancer and its seemingly endless repercussions that it presented almost daily. Worn down by more than just needles and salves and bitter syrups that lingered in your throat.

You missed feeling well-rested when you woke up in the mornings after a long sleep—you missed having the energy to spend your days fulfilling your duties as a queen, as a servant to her people. You missed the days in which every activity was not dictated or measured by searing pain or groggy fatigue. You were tired of wrestling with your body just to exist comfortably. 

But it’s your duty to get better, they keep telling you. 

It’s what everyone’s hoping for, your majesty. 

Do your best to rest and eat well, my lady. 

Don’t give up hope, Queen (Y/n). You are blessed among our kin!

The people have been petitioning their prayers to the Valar fervently, your grace.

They were supposed to be words of encouragement spoken to invigorate your fighting spirit, to ignite that spark of determination that was starting to flicker these last few months. But these endless strains of hope and enlightenment had started to weigh heavily upon your shoulders like a milkmaid’s yoke, and with every well-intentioned word and chorus of song another stone was dropped into the buckets you carried.

The pressure to recover for the sake of others was beginning to feel like too much—the toll of the sickness itself was enough for one to worry about, was it not? Not only did you feel this fearsome desperation to recover for your own sake, for your own life, but also the need of a thousand other voices begging for a show of strength you didn’t feel tangible anymore. 

The summoning of one of your servants outside the infirmary doors reminded you that the hour to retire for supper was nearing presently. You felt your posture deflate as it dawned on you that you couldn’t yet retire for the day. Although your extravagant evening meals were one of the few constants that motivated you to follow your days through until nightfall, your hunger had dispersed in the last few days. Being seated at a stiff table dressed with rich delicacies and savory wines sounded nothing short of torture at the moment, even with the promise of dessert. 

The servant curtseyed in the broad doorway as Sudryl led you across the room. You couldn’t help but tense as your legs tremored from the sudden activity. A long exhale slipped through your pursed lips.

“My queen,” She rose gracefully, her hands folding together at her waist. “Your supper with the king is nearly prepared. He will be present in the dining hall shortly as soon as his meeting has concluded. I was advised to escort you there safely.”

Clutching onto Sudryl’s forearm, you hesitated to address the messenger. You couldn’t help the expression of distaste that twisted your face. The thought of food was not the only thing that churned your stomach at that moment; the prospect of being walked through your own palace as though you were an invalid, incapable of making it there of your own merit, as though every pair of eyes in this forest need offer you their due pity, bothered you even more than the risk of losing your supper to the toilet. 

Knowing you couldn’t send her away under Sudryl’s watchful eye (for surely there would be further inquiries as a result of such an unnecessary dismissal), you managed to nod in thanks to her before turning to him. The head healer’s smile was brimming with empathy. You tried not to feel offended by his pitying compassion. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek reverently, bidding you a respectful farewell until the morning. 

You turned from him and followed the servant into the winding halls. Gaze following the eroded pathway of the massive tree roots beneath your sore feet, you bided the seconds until you were both too far to be noticed by any superior voices that might challenge your decision-making. When your footsteps halted, she turned to face you.

Her brows raised, she asked, “My lady? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m alright,” You waved her worries aside with the vague gesture of your hand. “But I can manage the walk to the dining hall from here.”

Her brows drew together in an expression of confusion. You straightened your back—had she seen through your polite fib? Was it that obvious you had no intentions of eating this evening? Or was just she not used to being given conflicting commands between two monarchs?

“—On my own. I can make it there on my own.”

Her lips parted in protest as she recalled what you assumed were very clear orders from your husband only minutes prior. Stretching your hand out to gently touch her shoulder, you reassured her it would be alright. “I will explain to the king myself that I demanded to be left alone. No trouble will come to you, I promise. You will not lose your position.” 

“But my lady, I—it is my duty is to ensure your safe arrival. Are you sure you don’t—?”

The irritation that swelled within you wasn’t her fault, you hastily reminded yourself. You bit back the frustrated sigh you wanted to release, tightening your polite smile. Reasoning with another person about what you wanted to do and why you wanted to do it was the last thing you presently wanted to deal with. Desperate to detach yourself from her and anyone else lingering about, you decided to be straightforward. No beating around the bush. 

“I value your persistence, young one, but I would very much like to retire early tonight. You may inform my husband that I’ll be taking my meal in our chambers if you must.”

“Understood, your majesty. I shall inform the king. Have a good evening.” She dipped into an impulsive curtsy, quickly trailing back to the chancellery to relay your decision. 

You didn’t even wait for her to pass beyond the long hall ahead before you turned in the opposite direction. Your private chambers weren’t too far from the infirmary, thankfully. However, it still took some resolve on your behalf to encourage your depleted energy through corridors and foyers all the way back to your comfortable bed. The silver silk of your robe billowed around your feet with every step, giving your eyes something other than walls of stone and root to follow.

You were sure your husband wouldn’t be taking the present news about your wellbeing all that agreeably. You could see it clearly in your mind—the disheveled, anxious worry in his eyes that he masked behind a wall of solemn regality. But you could always see what he was thinking. He wouldn’t like the fact that your treatments were taking more and more of a toll on your already wearisome state. He would like it even less when he found out you would soon be dismissing supper altogether. 

His concern wasn’t for himself, of course. It was for you—it was always for you.

He wanted desperately for you to be able to enjoy your meals in the glittering brilliance of the dining hall, unperturbed by fatigue and nausea. He wanted you to be able to take those strolls through the forest gardens that you adored so much without the sore discomfort in your bones. He wanted you to relish in your life and its unrivaled importance. And most of all, he wanted desperately to take this lingering sickness away; he wished he had been born with a skill for healing like some of his kin.

But all he could give you were the promises of an unsure future and the enlistment of his most skilled associates and all relevant resources that could be found about your condition. And some part of you—some sad, twisted part of you—felt a rush of guilt that so much commotion and worry was being circulated about the kingdom on your behalf. And that guilt only made the whole affair all the more frustrating and maddening. These days, everything inflamed your anger. This whole tumultuous ordeal seemed to be unraveling more than just your physical state. 

You knew it was ridiculous to feel responsible in some way for what was happening to you. You hadn’t chosen this, you hadn’t brought it on yourself—you most certainly didn’t deserve it. No one with cancer ever does. But reasoning with your inner turmoil was like wrestling a wild boar in the mud; there was never any true resolve without the cost of more anxieties, more wounds, more gashes in your soul. And the more you tried to gain a grip on yourself, the less grounded you became, the more it all slipped through your fingers. 

The click of the door was a chime of resolve as you leaned against the tall wooden frame from within the calm confines of your spacious bedroom. Sliding out of your supple leather flats and letting your robe slump to your elbows, you took the first deep breath you had been able to control since earlier that morning. The king-sized bed frame creaked subtly as you lowered yourself onto the fluffed silken duvet. Ever so gradually, you felt the weight of the vertical world begin to reprieve from your muscles like steam rushing upwards from a boiling pot. 

Rest wasn’t a cure for what ailed you, no, but Valar above, sometimes it felt like it. 

Since your diagnosis—the terrifying sickness devouring your energy and livelihood from within your own body—nearly every day had been spent in the infirmary or the healer’s sanctuary, remedies administered by the hour, conversations turning tiresome and sour. It had begun to feel like your own home was a prison, the world beyond the palace unreachable, like every action was a strenuous transaction of vitality and exhaustion. Even just walking the gardens that lead into the forest had become inexplicably draining—it left you feeling as though you’d run to Mirkwood’s southern border and back rather than taking a few turns about the courtyard. 

But here, on the cloud-like comfort of your private chambers, there was some reprieve from it all. There were no endless strands of questions about your well-being and your comfort and opinions on the tedious details of your health here—only the distant rush of the waterfalls that crashed brazenly into the river moat outside the palace gates. You could hear the chirping of the early summer insects as dusk narrowed on the horizon beyond the open terrace. There was no sterile smell of concentrated alcohol or the pungent gnawing of tart herbs. Instead, there was a faint aroma of lilacs wafting in from the gardens and the scent of your husband’s musk lingering in your bed.

Closing your eyes and rolling onto your lesser-sore side, you sought out the imprint that his body might have left there that morning. But the duvet was creased flat and folded with a chill under your skin. It was curious futility to think his warmth might have lasted after so many long hours away, you knew that; the bed was always plumped and remade in the mornings by your gracious servants. A coldness ran through you, engulfing your skin in little bumps that felt like prickling needles. 

Too sore from your aches to unfurl the taut covers from the mattress and too comfortable to retrieve one of your husband’s many fur throws, you recoiled your arm and folded your limbs closer together, curling into a position that would magnify your own body heat. While quietly taking in the environment of your sanctuary, this small peaceful haven that almost made you forget the turmoil your body was enduring, you hardly noticed as you faded into a light slumber. Caught between the ebbing flow of consciousness as it bobbed around the sleepy release of your strained body, wading between thoughts and dreams.

Unaware of the passage of time as you laid there in groggy consciousness, you hardly felt the urge to stir from your position until you felt the back of someone’s hand on your cheek, the brushing aside of your askew (h/c) tendrils. Then you made out the quiet husk of a voice that hovered above you in the dark. 

In the dark? Sunset was still a couple of hours away! And after that, dusk would linger still until the light vanished beyond the mountains to the west. Why was it already so dark?

Hadn’t it only been a few fleeting minutes since you’d closed your eyes, listening to the cicadas and savoring the sweetness of the summer flora? Eyebrows pursed, you could hear yourself attempt to answer, but the meticulous reply you’d fabricated in your mind was delivered in heavy vowels that grouped together lazily. Your speech felt like treacle slipping off your tired tongue. 

A velvet chuckle reverberated in your perking ears. 

“Have I forgotten my native tongue or was that a very poor attempt at Sindarin?”

Thranduil.

Your nose scrunched up as you fought to drain the sleepiness that was working against you so fervently. Before you could stir the tired droopiness from your eyes with eager fists, two gentle hands cupped your cheeks and swept their thumbs over your closed eyes. The motion was akin to a gentle massage, spanning your sore eyelids and dusting across your cheekbones, a cradling of your vulnerable stillness that filled your chest with a fond fervor. The supple tenderness of his lips collided briefly with yours before parting all too quickly. 

“Mm?” Your vocabulary hadn’t quite refreshed itself, it seemed. “When d’dju geten?”

Another rumbling chuckle he didn’t bother trying to hide. You pictured his willowy frame standing primly in front of the tall gilded looking glass, unfastening his stuffier robes and tucking his powder–blonde hair behind his pointed ears, or perhaps even tying it back for the night as he often did. 

Stars, it felt like there were weights on your shoulders pulling you back against the duvet as you forced yourself to sit up, like the muscles beneath your skin were unraveling at the seams. You rubbed your eyes and shooed your disheveled hair from your peripheral vision, glancing around the dark room for your husband’s silhouette. A flicker of light plumed suddenly in the sconce near the vanity, illuminating his fair features. The match in his hand extinguished with a puff of air from his lips before his pale blue eyes found yours. 

“I only just came in,” he reassured you, “I’m afraid I underestimated how much wind some of our advisors have in their lungs, especially when provoked.”

Another votive flickered to life on the other side of the room, another match snuffed out under his breath. The sunlight outside had all but gone in the murky hours you had been asleep. Now that you could take in the mellow darkness of the evening without confusion, some part of you felt distressed about the sudden absence of natural light. The daylight, warm and golden, always brought you a sense of comfort. But now it was dark and grey and the light of the moon was cold, distant, and you hadn't had a chance to prepare yourself for it. Another chill ran across your skin as a more frigid breeze swept in from the open terrace. 

“Did Sudryl have a chance to share the news with you before retiring this evening?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you. His lips pursed when he saw your unmoving figure still sitting on the edge of the bed, your back draped in silks, facing away from him. Your slumped posture told him all he needed to know about how you were feeling after your treatments—the exhaustion was palpable in how slow your palm rose to cradle your own forehead, in how shaky you were as you forced yourself up from the bed and took hold of the bedpost.

He was near you in an instant, his strong hands taking gentle hold of your bowed shoulders. There he was, combing the stray hairs on your head down with doting affection, all while the same frustrations were building up inside of you as your sleepiness dissipated. 

“You needn’t rise for me, melamin, I am no guest.” He chided gently.

“I know, I just need a bath before we settle in for the night.” 

“You’re in no state to manage that tonight, (Y/n)—”

“Thranduil, I haven’t rinsed off the ointments. I smell like the forest—and not in a good way.”

“You smell like an herb garden, fresh and natural, as all things should be.”

“Pungent is more like it,” You quipped, catching the accent of bitter walnuts exuding from your thin robes. It was that old, damp, dingy sort of bitterness that made you want to expel the air from your lungs with a snort when you caught a whiff of it—not the pleasant sort of musk from the gardens.

He laughed again, this time with more relief behind his eyes. Even though he knew you were spent from the day’s strenuous activities, the presence of your humor provided him with some semblance of comfort. And as for your own weary senses, his smooth strain of laughter was more than a consolation for the muted anxiousness that the infirmary always inflicted. 

“Then let me help you.”

“Thranduil, I can do it mys—”

“I insist,” He offered decidedly, and you knew well enough from past experience that arguing with him on the matter would prove ineffective. 

He gently looped your arm through the curve of his elbow, placing a sweet kiss to your messy hair before turning along with you toward the adjoined bathing chamber. You leaned into him for support and begrudgingly admitted to yourself that he was right—there was no way you could withstand the exertion on your own, at least not tonight. Not while you felt this lethargic, not while your stress levels were causing such tension throughout your body, making everything denser, slower, sluggish.

Once he led you into the warmly lit haven of the spacious chamber, the steam of the hot spring pool seemed to draw you in on its own accord. The walls and their rugged shapes made the flickering yellowness of the torchlight spread longer shadows among its natural angles and divots. The far right wall was connected to the run-off of one of the many springs that stretched like veins throughout the mountain palace—and it was little cavern rooms like this one that reminded you that you were living in the majesty of a low-peaking mountain, not just nestled in the forested density of the Greenwood.

You knelt at the rim of the bathing pool on the soft stone edge, dragging your hand through the clear blue water. The natural warmth of the hot spring invigorated you with a sense of eagerness as you remembered just how soothing these glowing pools always were. A gentle touch to your shoulder lured your attention back to your husband, who with a fond smile, was waiting to help you unravel your robes and underthings. Taking his hand, you were pulled to stand in front of him with the gentlest limits of his strength. 

You hardly felt the pressure or the tugging of his lithe fingers as he helped you undress, his touch but a breeze across your sore skin. When you were naked and chilled from the exposure, he guided you into the blue waters and leaned over the pool’s edge to make sure you were steady on the outcropped seat of eroded stonework submerged in the water. As the bubbling warmth enveloped your flesh, your eyes fluttered shut with an involuntary sigh of relief. 

There were very rarely things that proved effective for your ceaseless pains—medicines and supplements only lasted so long or relieved so little, and sleep was growing more difficult to manage. But this—the heat bubbling up from the earth, sorted through sediment and mineral—was the most relief you found these days. 

When submerged in the hot spring bath, your entire body numbed to its own plague as your bones and muscles absorbed whatever benefits came from the terrain around you. You briefly wondered how you ever managed to get out the last time you soaked like this, with every inch of your flesh basking in the warmth that enveloped you.

You relaxed against the glossy stones, trying to quiet your mind of all the infernal anxieties pressing a weight against your chest. The noise of your thoughts made it difficult to focus fully on the soothing effects of the natural hot spring, tensing and loosening your muscles and posture between every harsh doubt.

With a fresh cloth he brandished from a side table, Thranduil dipped it into the warm bath and began gently scrubbing away the ground athelas mixture. He’d seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bath, submerging his calves into the pool to cradle you between them. The cloth strummed along your chest and stomach as he reached over and behind, where the herbs from Sudryl’s remedies had been infiltrating the cancerous sickness plaguing your organs. You hadn’t meant to show him how weak you felt, how tired you were, how desperately you needed this—but your head fell back to rest against his stomach despite this as the steam curled around you both, dampening your hair and foreheads. 

After your rinsing from the spout of a silver pitcher, he coaxed oils and lathered soaps across your flesh, your own fingers clasping onto the pale skin of his forearm or around his leg, refusing to cease contact with him. And although he generously and willingly offered his aide while the healing minerals of that glowing pool of steam soothed you, some venomous voice in the back of your mind tried to feed you strings of doubt and loathing.

He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have had to become my caretaker.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get sick—neither of us was. 

He deserves more than this mess I’ve given him. He deserves better than me.

You cleared your throat, trying to silence the growing guilt and shame before that stinging swell of tears could grow any more than they already were. 

“What was it you were going to tell me?” You asked after the first of his own sweet-scented oils was being lathered along your arms, turning you about to face him. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Sudryl?”

“Ah, that,” he nodded in remembrance, “I gather he didn’t mention anything about Lord Elrond to you today?”

“Lord Elrond?” You inquired, lifting your questioning gaze to meet his. “No—no, he didn’t. Has something happened? Something to do with our alliances? Or with that trade treaty we adjusted with Laketown in the spring—”

“No, melamin, nothing of diplomatic proportions—all is still amiable with our kin for the time being,” he reassured. When he glanced up at you, the tranquil hope glittering in his blue eyes soothed the curious worry growing in your mind. He almost seemed excited about something. It tugged the corners of your mouth into a brief smile. “I sent word to him a little more than a month ago now, I suppose, to see what he might be able to do about your condition, to inquire about whether his skill with healing might mend what ails you.”

You swallowed hard over the sudden discomfort of anxiety that rose again like bile in your throat at the mention of more treatment, more guests, more expectations for healing. More, more, more. 

“He is to arrive within a week of his latest correspondence, which came this morning. Preparations are being made for his arrival as we speak.” 

Unknowingly, your grip had tightened on your husband’s forearm, your nails digging shallow crescents into his skin. The sharp sensation drew his attention downward to your hands, his dark brows furrowing in concern. His fingers winding around yours brought your attention to your vice-like grip, which you promptly loosened. 

“What is it, (Y/n)? Does this news not please you?” 

The earnestness in his pale eyes pierced your heart, the guilt bubbling up in your mind again. You weren’t sure what worried you most. The prospect of more prodding, more treatments, more attempts that might lead to nowhere; the fuss being made across the realm about your condition, about this peculiar, harsh sickness that was so puzzling to even the brightest minds; or perhaps, most worrisome of all, was the fact that you were no longer able to manage the upkeep of a happy facade. So many people were hoping, praying, supporting, and tending to you. 

And somehow, you found that to be the most exhausting part of it all. Not only were you fighting for your own body, for comfort and life, but you were trying to uphold and appease every pair of eyes that was eagerly awaiting your miraculous recovery from something you didn’t even know how to fight. There were so many hopes to meet, so many hearts to comfort on your behalf, and your resolve was quietly crumbling.

Before you could think to soften your words in an attempt to save Thranduil’s optimism, your lips began to move, a sudden impulse of tears gathering in your eyes. “What if there is nothing even Lord Elrond can do to cure this?”

He paused, his eyes searching yours briefly before his damp fingers reached up to caress your cheek. How had he not seen the disparagement growing behind your gaze, darkening the lilt in your voice? Hidden behind humor and mischievous quips, but no less obvious. 

“If—if I do not show improvement, our people will lose their resolve. Everyone’s counting on me to get better, to show some store of strength I no longer have and I–I can’t will my body to right itself,” you bore to him, panicked and spent from months of effort, “I cannot give everyone the hope they're seeking from me."

“Oh, melamin,” his chin nestled over your ear as he murmured with such rich affection, pressing your face into the musky homeliness of his neck. 

“I know I should be grateful for their support, for their prayers and their offerings, but it’s becoming too much, Thranduil. I don’t have the strength for a kingdom’s worth of miracles.” 

“You do not owe anyone but yourself the grace of your strength. Had I known their encouragement had put pressure on you to perform, I would have silenced the lot of them.” 

Despite his sincerity, you panicked on. “What if I am never rid of it? What if this is my blight that I must war with for the rest of my life?”

He sombered then, drawing in a deep string of air into his lungs. You could see him wrestling with the reality of your honesty, with the questions you both had been too afraid to speak aloud before now. Gathering himself, he drew you nearer to him, clinging to you with a brief urgency that almost startled you. 

“Then we will rise together each day to face it. There will never be a single day that you will have to endure this on your own. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you—that my vow and my diligence will never waver where you are concerned.”

Your tears burned with his words and you worked to force them at bay, his sweetness drawing every sour fear and thought of guilt from your mind and onto your tongue. “I am so sorry for this life I have given you. You didn’t ask for this—you cannot be happy with me—with this-this terrible thing I’ve brought upon us. You deserve so much more, and I can no longer give it to you.”

“You’re apologizing—?” He questioned, his voice quiet in shock. 

Your eyes clamped shut, forcing the well of sorrows from your eyes to plummet. Gently, he pulled himself back, repositioning his hands on your upper arms as if to garner your absolute attention. 

“(Y/n), this life you have given me has been far more than I have ever deserved and could ever strive to. From the moment we met, you have enriched my life just by your existence alone, much less the many qualities and traits about you I have come to treasure beyond all fortune or success. You have given me everything, a dozen lifetimes over, in the mere centuries we have been together.”

“You cannot have wanted this,” you breathed out, hushed by your own shame. 

“No, I did not want you to suffer with something so abysmal, something so beyond my control. Of course I did not want for your pain…but if this is our future, if this is our path together, then I want every minute of it, and I will not settle for a second less. I would upheave the very crest of the world and drown mountains in flame if it meant saving you. And if that makes me selfish or ruthless, then I will be the standard at which devils compare their sins.”

His hands had gradually found their way up to your face, cradling your damp cheeks with a sincerity that made your lip quiver.

“Look at me,” he whispered. 

The sight of the tearful waterline reflected in his eyes drew a noise of curt regret from your lungs. Your sob pierced his heart, filling him with a desperation to amend the shame and anxiety plaguing your mind. 

“If you truly believe that you are at fault for this sickness, then in turn I must be held responsible for allowing it to happen in the first place. As your husband first, but also as your king.”

“No, no that’s not true! It’s not even reasonable of you to—”

“Then how can it be your fault? How could any of this be on your shoulders? There is no sense in blame, (Y/n). Not here, not with this.” 

There was a stillness after his words, a stillness that was meant for rumination, and sealed with his lips against your skin and hair. Your hands rose to rest against his chest, nestling them over the dip of his collarbone as you felt for comfort in the blur of your tears. His silence prompted an answer. 

“It’s not my fault,” you replied. 

“Say it again.”

“It isn’t my fault,” you echoed, meeting his gaze once more, “just as it isn’t yours.”

And as shocking as it was for you to realize it, you truly believed the words he encouraged from you. This sickness wasn’t your fault. Neither of you could have had any sway with fate or destiny, with whatever had brought this on. And perhaps, it just simply was, with no cause or fault at all. What mattered now was how kind you could be to yourself, how to take one moment of strife and find something in it to hold onto. Moments like this were one of those morsels between the ebbing aches of pain and grief that you could relish and devour again and again. 

Thranduil leaned forward, pressing his sweat-laced brow against yours. “Do not ever blame yourself, melamin. Do not let those foul words pass between your lips again.”

You nodded against him, pulling him nearer. “I promise.” 

In the long minutes that followed, there was the solace of quiet intimacy as he rinsed through your hair one final time, peppering you with kisses and caresses at every opportunity. He met you with a soft fluffy towel when he led you out of the bath, never allowing a breeze to nip at your damp skin. His touch was featherlight as he patted you dry from head to toe, scrunching your drenched tendrils of (h/c) hair without complaint. 

“I’m still so afraid,” you managed the courage to speak aloud, “What if–...what if this sickness claims my life?”

“You will not part this world without me, melda. Not a single breath will leave your lungs without my sharing it, not a single heartbeat will we not share,” he vowed, the absolute belief in his voice making the promise all the richer, “there isn’t a corner in this world or any other that you could wander to that I would not accompany you.”

Your silk nightgown slipped over your outstretched arms swiftly, sliding down your body and into place comfortably. He did up the lace of the collar with efficiency, not missing the chance to playfully tug you closer with the slightest bit of his strength. You planted yourself against his chest, the smile on your lips effortless with his own. The firm warmth of his arms wrapping around you had the same sort of pain-numbing effect as the hot spring, lulling every fretful thought to a close. His somber laugh reverberated again, this time through your bones, bringing an ethereal kind of peace with it. 

The pillows of your large four-poster bed were positioned, fluffed, and repositioned. You waited patiently, upon his insistence, as he untucked and pulled the puffy duvet back for you to crawl under. Once comfortably tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, he assumed his place beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress as he settled, mindful that every movement enticed your discomfort. 

His body heat made you sleepy as you sank further into the covers, fogging your thoughts with a drowsy anticipation for the release of slumber. You’d waited for this moment all day—it had been the image that had pushed you through the hours of treatment and questions—the moment you could finally burrow against his warmth and drunken yourself with his scent. There was a slight stirring as he reached off to the side to retrieve something on the bedside table. 

The fluttering of pages caught your fading attention, pulling your heavy-eyed gaze toward the book in his grasp. “Would you like to continue where we left off?” 

You smiled tiredly against his chest, not recalling the events of the book he’d been reading to you for the last few nights. Oftentimes, the first few pages would strike vividly in your imagination, but as his lustrous tone carried on through paragraphs and chapters, the sleepy security that his presence enticed made it impossible to recall anything beyond the thrilling hum of his voice. In all actuality, you were quite sure he didn’t mind if you knew anything at all about the story he was reading aloud. It was enough to hold you and be held. 

TAGS:  @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra 

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagines #thranduil imagine #thranduilxreadaer #thranduil oropherion #King Thranduil #thranduil #thranduil one shot #thranduil one-shot #lee pace #lee pace imagine #lee pace x reader #leepacexreader #lee pace imagines #lee pace oneshot #thranduil oneshot #leep pace one-shot #lee pace one shot #reader with cancer #the hobbit reader insert #the lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit #the lord of the rings imagine #the lord of the rings imagines #lotr x reader #thranduil x reader insert #thranduil reader insert

[marianaillust]

Next for my elves book, King Thranduil from The Hobbit!

Now I only have 12 more elves to go before the end of the year...just 12 lol

#Thranduil #illustration #lotr #digital art #king thranduil #the hobbit #lord of the rings #artists on tumblr #art #fantasy art #cavalieredispade #cavalieredispade art

[lee-pace-yourself]

Only elf I want on my shelf

#king thranduil #elf on the shelf #the hobbit #elves #elf #eilf #lee pace #fantasies #fairytales #magic #thranduil #the elvenking #the king of mirkwood #the king of the woodland realm #christmas elf

[elfy-elf-imagines]

To Meet Under the Stars | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~3k

▹ Summary: In light of the stars, Thranduil finds himself entirely enchanted by a mysterious masked woman.

▹ Notes: I love masquerade balls, that is all. Unedited because we die as men.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The light of starlight was something sacred to the elves. 

In the times of old, before the moon and sun had been created, Varda placed the stars in the sky, illuminating the world for the elves to see. For all other races, stars were just light that guided their way at night, but they were so much more for the elves. They held the promise of life unsullied by the evil of Morgoth. A beautiful display of glistening diamonds that held the light of creation. To honor the stars was to honor Varda herself.

Under the canopy of stars, the wood elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the first night of the autumn equinox. The moon was full and high in the sky as lords, ladies, and commoners alike gathered for the party. The echo of minstrels ensured there would be no corner of the kingdom not lit with joy. Dragonflies darted across ponds, and crickets hid in the forest, chirping to the beat of the lute. There were festivities all throughout the kingdom, but the main attraction was the masquerade ball held within the palace of King Thranduil. Only guests of high esteem were invited to dance under the lush canopy in the company of the royal family. 

And there you were, with summer in your hair and winter in your eyes. Dancing through the crowd, illuminated in the silver light of the moon, you were the vision of a goddess. A soft halo shone upon your silver-gold hair, pinned in an updo with stray pieces that cascaded down your back. Flowers in purple, blue, and silver hues were placed upon your head like a crown, creating the silhouette of a queen. A silver mask encrusted with enough jewels that it glittered under the light concealed the top half of your face, two holes allowing your eyes to glow in the dark. A grin born of pure ecstasy was outlined by the lipstick on your lips. 

No one could recall who you were nor when you’d arrived at the celebration. It was as if you were always there, lying in wait and dancing with the ghosts of the open-roof ballroom. A laugh rivaling the minstrels' songs hung in the air where you stood and followed your every sweeping move. 

From the high table, with a glass of wine precariously hanging in his hand, Thranduil watched you. He couldn’t help it. It was as if you were weaving some sort of spell, casting it upon all who watched, paralyzed by your song and enraptured by your dance. You were beautiful, quick as a whip, and light as a feather. Each step seemed calculated and purposeful, yet so loose it could only be natural.

Thranduil couldn’t recall ever meeting you, so certain he’d know your laugh even if he couldn’t see your face. His advisors tried to make idle conversation as Legolas spent his time with the other members of the guard, drinking and laughing. Thranduil couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to listen, intently focused on the way your summer blue dress flowed like water around you. It nearly felt sacrilegious to directly look at something so beautiful, like staring at the face of Varda herself. 

“It is a beautiful--” his advisor beside him began to speak, talking so slowly it made Thranduil’s lips curl in slight irritation that was hidden by the goblet he held. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, finding amusement in whatever the elf lord you were speaking with said. It took all his willpower not to roll his eyes as he drank more sweet wine. 

The elf lord offered you his hand, which you gracefully accepted. Instead of dancing through the crowds alone, you twirled in the arms of another man. It made Thranduil’s stomach turn in a way it hadn’t for centuries. 

You and the elf lord you danced with would flit in and out of his vision, yet the merriment never left your expression, and when the face of your dance partner would face Thranduil, he could see just how enchanted the man was by you. His grip on the goblet tightened, knuckles turning white. 

The song seemed endless, drawing out the end of it for as long as possible. Part of Thranduil was tempted to bark at the minstrels to begin a new one in hopes you would once again be left alone, but he didn’t. A king needed to maintain his composure, even if everything inside was screaming not to. It seemed silly to be so taken by a woman whose face he couldn’t even see. 

“Have you tried one of these cakes yet? They’re quite--” 

“Galion.” Thranduil interrupted the man previously speaking, gaining the attention of his butler. The advisor that had been interrupted scowled yet said nothing else as Galion stepped closer to Thranduil. 

“Yes, my king.”

Thranduil pointed at you, Galion’s eyes following his finger. “Who is that?”

His eyes narrowed as Galion leaned closer to try and get a better look at you. Yet not a glint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Did anyone here know who you were?

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with who she is. Would you like me to fetch her, my king?” Galion asked, his attention returned to Thranduil, whose eyes furrowed in mild annoyance. 

“That will not be necessary, Galion.” He waved his hand, and Galion returned to his previous seat. It would be easy to bring you to him, he was the king, after all, but he didn’t want your meeting with him to seem forced upon you. He already had enough of a reputation as a cold, unfeeling man; it wouldn’t do any good to give you a reason to believe them. 

The song ended, and you stepped away from your partner, lowering into a curtsey that he returned with a bow. Thranduil stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor; he didn’t bother giving a weak excuse for his exit. If he doesn't act soon, you might slip from his fingers. Thranduil took long strides down the platform and disappeared into the sea of elves. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, most too lost in the magic of the music to pay their king any mind. He could see you, dancing alone with your eyes shut. The grin on your face was wide, never wavering in the slightest. The distance separating him from you was dwindling, the anticipation making his palm sweaty. The crowd parted, and he could’ve pulled you into his arms if he wanted to. 

But as he opened his mouth, you disappeared into the crowd, so preoccupied you never saw him coming. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, his misty eyes searching the crowd for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Had you merely been a figment of his imagination conjured by the trickster spirits rumored to hide in his forest? Perhaps you had been, but Thranduil was determined to comb through the crowd hoping to see you again.

Then, a flit of blue brightened the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing you dart from dance partner to dance partner, now on the other end of the room. A cat-like grin appeared on the edges of his mouth; he’d found you. Once more, he pushed through the crowd, not moving his eyes from you for one second, afraid you’d disappear without a trace if he did.

The crowd would pulse, and you would get closer to him before suddenly spreading out towards the treeline. Thranduil would get close enough to smell your floral perfume, but you'd dart in another direction before he could take your delicate hands in his. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose; you probably hadn’t even noticed him. Your eyes never locked with his that never strayed from you.

But the gods seemed to smile upon him that night, and as the crowd came closer, Thranduil snatched your hand. Your body twisted to face him, the grin on your face never faltering. The perfume you wore was distinctly jasmine, vanilla, and something sweeter, tantalizing enough to bring him closer to you. His hand was rough in comparison to yours, much larger too. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was velvet smooth. Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb as the only one in the crowd without a mask. 

“You may, my king,” you curtsied before placing your other hand on his shoulder as his hand found its place on your waist. Wasting no time, the two of you twisted and spun through the crowd in an airy waltz. You had the grace of a swan, maintaining a poised elegance with a child-like grin. Thranduil felt himself falling deeper into whatever spell you had cast. 

A witch, that’s what you had to be. There was no other explanation for the hammering of his heart or the delight your touch elicited. 

One step back, one step forward, one to the side, and repeat. Another spin, extra flourish added for flavor, and the movements continued. Neither of you spoke, eye to eye, unable to look away from one another. Thranduil found himself counting the flecks in your eyes, convinced they held a thousand little stars in them. 

Perhaps you hadn’t been an illusion placed to taunt him but a gift from the Valar themselves. 

All too soon, the song ended, and the dance was finished. As he watched you do before, you stepped back from Thranduil and lowered into a sweeping curtsey. He wanted to ask you to stay with him, not only for the night but the rest of eternity, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“It was an honor to dance with you, my king.” Your voice was soft and warm, like the spiced tea he would drink before bed. He wanted your name, to lift the mask you wore and lay his eyes upon your face entirely. He needed to see the face of the woman that would surely haunt his every dream. 

Thranduil blinked, and in the brief time, his eyes weren’t on you, you’d disappeared. He half expected for there to be stardust left where your feet had been, but the only proof you’d existed was the imprint of your heels in the grass. His eyes scanned the crowd, twisting his body and craning his head, yet you were nowhere to be seen. But this time, instead of seeing flashes of your dress or silver hair, you were nowhere to be seen. You’d disappeared entirely.

Thranduil stood in the crowd a moment longer, hoping for a glimpse of you before deciding to return to his seat at the table. Perhaps from the high crowd, he could ascertain where you were. Thranduil returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn’t suddenly rushed from the table to dance with you, ignoring the questioning glances from his advisors. His goblet of wine in hand, eyes on the crowd, Thranduil sunk into the music and lost himself in thought. All of them were plagued by you. 

And there he stayed as the hours ticked by, seemingly in a trance. No one at the table bothered to strike up a conversation with Thranduil anymore; it was like trying to converse with a brick wall. So they settled in silence, occasionally remarking about the party with the other guests. 

“My king,” Galion returned to his side. “The lady you danced with has stepped away to the gardens.” Galion’s tone was even as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Thranduil side-eyed him, noticing the tinge of mirth on Galion’s smile. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, then slowly nodded. 

“Perhaps I should ensure our guest is enjoying the festivities.” 

Thranduil stepped away from the table and followed the path toward the garden’s you just slipped into. He took long strides to reunite with you sooner. This time he was determined to get your name and to peek beneath the mask you wore. 

When he finally stepped into the garden, he saw your back turned to him, fingers dipped in the fountain's water. Your posture was relaxed, hair loose and flowing, no longer pinned in the updo it once was. It flowed like liquid silver, furthering his conspiracy that you were a celestial being born of the gods. Precariously hanging in your hand was the mask you’d been wearing, thumbs rubbing against the ribbon that tied it in your hair. The minstrels were now a distant hum, the flowing water, and the chirp of crickets the only song in the gardens.

He stopped a few steps from you, trying to find the words to say. It’d been so long since he’d been made to feel like a shy elfling, nervous about approaching his first crush. A king should be dignified and confident, but he felt all of that crumble in your presence. 

Your ears twitched as Thranduil shifted in his spot, head raising at the sudden intrusion. Slowly, you turned, unsure who to expect would intrude upon your solitude. But of all the people you imagined stepping into the garden, you never anticipated it would be the king. He nearly seemed awkward and unsure in his place, fingers smoothing wrinkles on his robes that weren’t there. 

Immediately you lowered into a curtsey, but the king didn’t acknowledge the movement. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. As he looked upon your face, this must’ve been how the first elf to gaze upon the stars felt. The curves and lines of your face were soft and delicate, the vision of beauty. Your eyes seemed even brighter in the dim lighting, an unsure, shy smile curling on your lips.

“My king.”

He remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak. 

“If you require to be alone, I can--” You began to walk towards the exit, but as you passed Thranduil, his hand reached out and caught your arm. You turned to face him, uncertain. Thranduil’s hand trailed down your arm and intertwined with yours, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of all the people who desire my presence, yours is the one I desire most.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. You’d been close to the king only hours ago, sharing a dance with him. Yet the privacy of the gardens and the sweetness of his words, it all felt much more intimate. 

“Then I shall stay.”

Thranduil’s grin widened as he guided you further into the gardens. The flowers were vibrant and lush, a true testament to the skills of the elves. A canopy of trees diffused the moon's light, reflecting off the fountain and casting a spotlight on you. 

“I have a confession.” Thranduil suddenly stopped, eyes intently watching your face, noticing how your lips slightly parted and your eyes glowed with curiosity. “I have found myself quite enchanted with you, my lady. It seems foolish, not knowing your face until this moment and not having your name.”

“It’s Y/N, my king.” You interrupted, a charming smile curling your lips. The hammer of your heart matched the tempo with Thranduil’s. 

“Y/N.” He muttered your name quietly, your name on his lips making your stomach curl. Of all the ways you anticipated this night's end, strolling the garden with the king was not what you could’ve predicted in your wildest dreams.

“Y/N. If I may be so bold, I would like for this to not be the last time we meet. I desire more of your company.” 

Thranduil stepped closer, the heat he radiated warming your chilled skin. Gossebumnps followed where his hands touched, a shiver rushing down your spine. Subtly you pinched the back of your leg, convinced this was nothing more than a dream. Yet you didn’t wake; this moment was real. 

“If I may speak freely, my king?”

Thranduil nodded his head. “Please, you may call me Thranduil. No need for such formalities.”

You tipped your head at him as the smile on your face brightened. 

“If I may speak freely, Thranduil.” You corrected, with an almost mischievous lilt to your voice. “I would much desire more of your company as well. I have heard many rumors of your cold and detached demeanor. I’ve heard of how harsh you can be, yet I have seen nothing of that.”

“I’m glad the whispers of the court haven’t scared you away, my lady.” 

The smile on your face curled into a teasing smirk, eyes illuminating. “You’ll find it’ll take more than malicious rumors to scare me away.”

Thranduil's finger twirled around a lock of hair that framed your face. He seemed relaxed and more at ease than you'd have imagined. 

"A strong will and a fair face, Varda herself must've crafted you."  

His words made your face flush red, so deep it was seen in the dim lighting of the garden. 

"Pretty words you speak, my king; I'm eager to learn if your words match your heart." 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

[thewulf]

Only You || Legolas

Summary: Request: Can you do a elf reader x Legolas where he's finally home in mirkwood after the quest? Maybe Gimli is with him and he's like 'i see why you always talked about the lassie.' or something funny that exposes Legolas for how much he really likes her. He then confeses and asks to court her or something sweet pleaseee?? My fav fluff writer! Thank u!

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words and sweet as heck request. Really love this one. I didn't edit it too heavily so please be wary of general writing mistakes! Hope you all enjoy my fav elf imagine :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9k +

TW: Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

You had finally gotten a free evening to yourself after training for the better part of every evening for the last year with your father, Girdirion. He had been training you relentlessly after Legolas had left of the quest his father, King Thranduil, had sent him off on. That was over a year ago. You hadn’t heard much other than they had made it to Minas Tirith a few months ago.

Your father suddenly saw you as defenseless without your longtime friend at your side. Being the kings most trusted advisor, he had been trained for centuries and was a formidable fighter. It wasn’t until after Legolas had left that you had realized how serious the threat to middle earth was. Your father must had realized it too as he worked you to the bone, training you at every chance he could.

It was only after King Thranduil received word that the ring had been destroyed and his son was heading home did things begin to change. Your father still made you train but it wasn’t at every waking moment any longer. Tonight, was one of those nights that he had given you off as he had meetings to attend to with the king.

Time felt too slow as you waited for Legolas to return. He promised he would. You knew he would. He was all the way across middle earth, but you just couldn’t seem to wait any longer. You longed for you best friend, who meant much more to you than just a best friend, to come home.

As soon as you settled on your bed to begin reading the novel you had been meaning to finish there was a quick knock at your door. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour after dinner. Begrudgingly, you set the book down just as you had gotten comfortable and made your way over to the door.

When you opened the door you scrunched your face in confusion, “Father? What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the king?”

He nodded, “I was. Then we got interrupted. There is somebody here I think you may want to see.” His smile let you know exactly what you were thinking. Legolas was home. He was back in Mirkwood after nearly a year and a half away. Sure, it wasn’t that long of a time for you in the scheme of your lifetime but it did feel like the longest year of your nearly two thousand years in middle earth.

“Legolas?” You tore out of your room not waiting for his response as you made your way to the throne room. You heard your fathers deep laughter behind you before he jogged to catch up with your lighter than air pace.

Once he caught up to you he had that knowing smile on his face. He had watched the two of you dance around the obvious feelings each other had. You never thought you were good enough to be with the kings son. He never thought you were interested in that way. But to everybody on the outside looking in it was rather obvious the two of you were destined to be together. Even if it was taking longer than expected. A thousand years longer than expected. See, King Thranduil and your father had agreed they would bless the union between the two of you should it come naturally. But neither had the heart to force it. He and your father knew as good as anybody these things had to find their way on their own, naturally. Even if it drove the two elder Ellon’s mad.

“Indeed, your elf has made it home.” He spoke as the two of you walked, much faster than normal, towards the kings room.

Before you opened the massive wood doors you turned to him with a sly smile and a hint of a blush dotting the apples of your cheeks, “My elf?”

Your father raised his eyebrows at you, “Go on then.” He pushed you forward ignoring your question.

When you pushed open the doors you couldn’t find the familiar blonde hair of your best friend. Even as you walked closer to the throne you looked all around the hall and only spotted King Thranduil who was giving you the same smirk your father just did. What were they up to? Where was Legolas? And why was the king looking at you like he knows something you didn’t?

“I apologize my king.” You bowed unsure of what else to do. When you turned to see if your father had followed you in you were left biting your lip seeing the door closed without him in the room. What was he up to? “My father said…”

Thranduil put his hand up pausing you right in your tracks, “Legolas is out in the gardens with a dwarf. A dwarf!” He sounded more frustrated than excited to his son after the time away.

But you cracked a smile instead. That was so him. He was anything and everything his father was not. The two of them could not have more different personalities. Your best friend was the one to push boundaries no elves would or could do seeing that his father was the king, “A dwarf you say? That sounds like him.”

Thranduil studied your happier than he’s seen you in an entire year expression full well knowing it was because Legolas was back from his grand quest. Thranduil rose from his throne before walking down to you. Having to look up to him because he was so tall all you could do was wait on his word.

He pointed his hand towards the entrance to the kings private gardens, “Go, you audience is rather impatiently waiting on you.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating towards the door you had originally come in, likely to go find your father. Not wasting anymore time you made a beeline towards the doors that led to the private gardens you so rarely got to enjoy. He must have deemed it enough of a special occasion to grant access to not only you, but a dwarf as well. You knew Legolas was behind that as well. He was the only one to get the king to agree to something he might not want to do.

For the second time in a few moments, you threw open the heavy wooden doors leading out to the gardens. It did not take you long to hear the pair before you saw them. You paused hoping to catch just a brief moment between the two of them before you made your presence completely known. As you suspected the dwarf had Legolas distracted from hearing you walk out.

“Look at ya lad. Pacin’ like a horse.” The unfamiliar voice chuckled. You had a feeling the dwarf poked fun at the ellon more often than not.

You just knew he was rolling his eyes, the beautiful blonde prince he was, “I am not Gimli.”

But the dwarf just kept laughing, “Ya’ weren’t even this nervous when we rode up to the Black Gate.”

“Would you quiet down dwarf. She will be out momentarily.” That sounded just like the elf that had left a year and a half prior. It was almost too easy to get him worked up and the dwarf called Gimli certainly enjoyed playing into it.

“The little lassie has you this nervous huh?” You? You made him nervous?

Legolas let out a huff, “Gimli!” And you knew that was your queue to help spare the ellon from his friend who seemed relentless. You already liked Gimli from the sounds of it. You shut the door behind you louder than necessary to signal your arrival.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forward suddenly terribly nervous after those comments. What was Gimli playing on? Why would he be nervous to see you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up on feelings as you buried those away centuries ago. Your crush for the ellon grew slowly the first thousand or so years you knew him. Truly organic in the best way possible. Childhood friends to training partners to friends then best friends after it all. Once your training to become a healer had completed you had a sneaking suspicion all his injuries in the field were so he could come see you after some time away. He would only request you. Straight refusing the other healers help when offered. He would wait for you.

But then it just stayed like that. You thought it could grow into something more, but it dawned on you over the next few centuries his father had a say in who he courts and marries. Why would King Thranduil allow his son to court you of all elves? Sure, your father was his most trusted advisor, but you were no political gain in marriage. So you did what you did best, buried the feelings deep and bottled it all up.

The two of them quieted quickly hearing the door close. When you turned the corner you finally spotted your prince after far too long apart paired with an adorably red-headed dwarf who was staring right at you. You however were staring straight at Legolas as your small smile turned into a massive one. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing right there in front of you after too long. The longest either have you had spent apart from each other.

“Legolas.” You grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. It was when he gave you a big squeeze back that you simply just melted into the ellon completely forgetting you had an audience yourselves.

“Aye lad! You left out the detail of your Y/N being quite the beauty.” Gimli spoke up from beside you breaking the trance the two of you seemed to be under. You giggled once you pulled away from him seeing the look of horror cross his face at his friends comments.

You turned to the dwarf feeling the nerves wash away. You had the advantage here as Gimli seemed to want to torture your friend, “Hello. It is lovely to meet you. I am Y/N. Daughter of Girdirion, King Thranduil’s advisor.”

He pointed at you before narrowing his eyes at you, “Do you hate dwarves as much as his father does?”

You shook your head, “Hardly. You are actually the first dwarf I am meeting. I do not get away often.” You knelt down making yourself level with him, “You are much cuter than made out to be.” That earned a few stumbling words and a rather mighty blush to the warrior who seemed to have nothing but words. You managed to render him speechless.

This earned a snicker from your favorite ellon, “Elf got your tongue there Gimli?”

That comment must have meant war between the two of them. The dwarf cocked his eyes up to his friend, shook his head then turned back to you who was now back to standing instead of crouching, “Lady Y/N. It is lovely to finally meet you too. I feel as though I already know ya lassie.” He grinned knowing exactly what he was about to do.

You looked at Legolas with curiosity framing your face before returning your attention back to Gimli, “Do you?”

“Aye.” He nodded, “Legolas here would never shut up about ye. Y/N this. Y/N that. Y/N would love this. Y/N would hate that.”

You knew your cheeks were surely aflame with embarrassment just as Legolas’ were, “We have spent quite some time together over the years.”

But Gimli wouldn’t have that, “I think it has something to do with you lassie. The way you look. The way you dress. The way you seem to occupy his every thought.”

“That is enough.” Legolas finally chimed in giving his friend a hard stare telling him to get the hell out. But that only egged the red head on further. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them before Gimli relented.

He bowed his head, “My lady.”

Echoing his actions you responded, “Gimli.” Before turning your attention back to the prince. Your eyes finally were able to scan his features. Not a hair seemed out of place. He was exactly as you remembered.

“Welcome home.” You gave him your biggest smile feeling like you could finally relax after seeing him alive and well.

He wasted no more time before pulling you into a second bone crushing hug. He had never been so forward causing you to let out a slight stutter in surprise of his actions. It was the last thing you had expected from him. But then again, who knew what he went through out there. Legolas was a strong warrior, but you knew how deeply this could impact anybody who had to go through it.

“I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear not letting his arms go from around you. He had no clue how his words were affecting you in that moment. Suddenly you felt that stupid little crush, that was surely love at this point, bubbling up from the depths of your heart that you had long since locked away.

When he pulled away after a few moments he took the time to look you over just as you had moments prior. He didn’t drop his hands from around your waist though, simply holding you loosely in his embrace. You had never felt his eyes or his hands on you heavily before or that you had noticed in the past, “I have missed you beyond words Legolas. I have spent a year and a half filled with the dread of the thought you may never come home. Seeing you here is the greatest gift Eru Ilúvatar could have bequeathed.”

It was then that Legolas knew just how deep your feelings ran for him just as they had run for you. He too had spent the better part of a thousand years being absolutely in love with you, his favorite elf, but making no indication of it. For he thought you may have eyes for someone else. He could not risk losing you in the event you said ‘no’ to his request to court you. But by the way you were looking at him he knew that was wrong. Your love laced eyes could not break away from his gorgeous blue ones.

He knew he needed to take the next step with you. Gimli was right. His dwarf friend spent the better part of the journey home convincing him he needed to ask the question he had been dying to ask you. He wanted to court you. Spend the rest of his middle earth life and the next one with you. He had never been so sure of that. The thought of courting another elleth felt wrong. It was you. It was always going to be you.

“Gimli was not lying, my lady.” Even though it came out as a whisper your ears could pick it up with no problem.

That shocked you. Was he admitting the same thing that you were? Did he have feelings for you too? “Pardon?”

He grinned seeing your dumb struck face, “You do in fact occupy my every thought. You are the reason I am here now. I fought for middle earth, yes. But for you more. Thinking of your smile pulled me out of the darkest of times

Your lips parted in utter shock at his admission, “Legolas, I…” You were at a loss for words as you processed his confession to you. Your heart was giving you away completely though as it beat faster than it ever had before.

He continued seeing as you were rendered speechless, “It was only ever you. It was only every going to be you, my love. You are my very best friend Y/N. I would never want to continue this life with somebody who was not you. It is only you. It will only ever be you.” He paused finding the courage to say what had been on the tip of his tongue for centuries, “I love you.”

Your jaw might have been on the floor at this point, “You love me?”

He nodded with a nervous expression, “More than you will ever know.”

That was all you needed before you walked forward, butting yourself right against his chest, “That is a relief my prince. As I love you too. More than you will ever know.”

Euphoria. The truest form of euphoria pulsed through your body as you too admitted what had always been so hard to admit.

His expression melted to that of pure elation. Gently he placed his hands under your chin, cupping your face so carefully, “May I begin to court you, my love?”

“I would be so honored Legolas.” Your head was turned up as you looked into his eyes for likely the millionth time. It was different this time. Charged with love and lust. Like you were looking at a new Legolas. One that you could get to know at a much deeper level.

He brushed his thumb over your lips sending shivers racking throughout your body, “Only you. Only ever you.”

Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu

#legolas x reader #legolas x gimli #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #legolas greenleaf #gimli #legolas #the lord of the rings #legolas x oc #legolas fanfiction #legolas and gimli #legolas fluff #legolas fic #legolas thranduilion #legolas lotr #legolas au #legolas and thranduil #king thranduil #legolas imagine #legolas one shot #legolas oneshot #legolas tharanduilion fluff #king thranduil platonic reader #the fellowship #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #lotr #hobbits #lotr x reader #lotr x you

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter seven

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,6k

❱ summary: phone-call interruptions on a lazy sunday morning / defining the word "date"

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: we're halfway through and I'm more in love with this man every word I write

general m.list + series m.list

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

CHAPTER SEVEN: QUESTIONS

You awoke to a low, deep-throated groan right next to your ear; the sound pulling your hazy, sleep-infused mind into reality faster than any alarm could've.

Multiple sensations surged through your body in a matter of seconds, from the heavy arm curled around your middle, a large hand broadened over your stomach, the leisure exhales of breath hitting your neck, and of course, the delicious, if not close to unbearable, heat of another body pressed against your back.

The memory of the conversation in the kitchen, sharing doubts and fears over chocolate cake, was all too clear, as was the movie which had turned out to be much more interesting and enjoyable, when you had a hand to cling onto.

Halfway through the second movie, you had felt the pull of exhaustion that came from a day out swimming, in your bones, and after a while, it had become impossible to fight the – becoming gradually harder and the moments in-between shorter – heaviness of your eyelids fluttering close.

You remembered falling asleep to the giggles of Legolas, the hushed whispers of Aragorn, and the hypnotic and serene rising and falling of Thranduil's chest that became your pillow as you gave up concentrating on the movie and instead focused on his hand in the back of your head, stroking through your hair until your consciousness slipped away.

Before your mind railed off into an overload of thoughts prompted by this, another groan followed the last one, this one blending into a deep inhalation of air.

The muscles of the arm tensed up as you heard a yawn indicating that Thranduil, because this was without a doubt Thranduil, was waking up as well.

Regulating your breath, eyes still closed in an effort to stay in this cozy headspace a little while longer, you listened to the rustling of the blanket, to the tiniest movements of his body and just his breathing, luxuriating in this private moment.

Was there any other sound more comforting than that?

"Gods," his voice rumbled, yes, very much Thranduil, and his hand weighted down on your stomach.

As soon as he noticed, and you felt it in his chest heaving with another breath and his legs moving under the blanket that covered you both, Thranduil slowly pulled the hand out of your shirt.

The feeling of its weight and the size stayed prickling under your skin, even as he shifted, yawning and groaning quietly, to roll his shoulders.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to trail his fingers over your temple, pointer and middle finger drawing circles that moved all across the side of your face that wasn't nestled into the cushion in a feather-like lightness that, when he reached the bow of your lips, tickled just enough for your mouth to twitch into a smile.

"Good Morning," Thranduil murmured drowsely, sleep still coating his words and tongue.

You answered in humm, signaling – kind of– verbally you were awake, before turning to your other side, stretching your legs along his.

"Morning," your voice was still raspy as well, but you couldn't be bothered to stand up for a glass of water.

Thranduil in the morning was truly an unfair sight, because how could this man have woken up not a minute ago and his eyes were already sparkling like a cool lake in the mountains and in them a look of pure adoration as they took you in.

Sunlight fell through the windows, indicating it must've been a while since the day started and you couldn't have cared less except that the warmth in those rays shimmered in the air around you, resting their golden touch on Thranduil's hair and he looked– ethereal.

Unreal, almost.

But, to the enjoyment of your heart and singing soul, this was indeed real and Thranduil was here on this sofa, loose strands of hair falling on you as he continued the exploration of your in-awe face.

"You know," he started and lost himself for a second, as his fingers brushed your lips again and you swallowed hard, "I don't remember the last time I slept through the whole night." Chuckling and looking around, he added: "And on this sofa as well."

"Wow, and here I thought you would complain about your back," the smile that came from the soft touches of his fingers bled into your teasing, the corners of his mouth tipping upward at the comment as well.

"Mhm, what's that? Swore I heard you say something about my age but that couldn't be, right?" Thranduil's finger followed the bridge of your nose, flicking the tip in one tap as he raised one eyebrow, "You wouldn't dare on a morning this beautiful and barely after waking up."

"What if I did?"

"Then you are awfully brave for a woman at my mercy."

"Your mercy?" you giggled, fully aware you were going nowhere while his large frame towered over you, "First your back, then this– didn't know you're already that senile."

"Oh, now–" Thranduil playfully sneered, leaning over in such a quick motion that his hair fell on you like a curtain, and his other hand landed on the other side of your face, basically trapping you right where he wanted you, "I assure you my mind is still very much sharp and even if we just woke up, I'll not hesitate to throw you into the pool."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise."

Chocking on your breath, you opened your mouth in another witty reply, though nothing came to mind.

Thranduil sensed that this time you wouldn't bite back and the grin on his face was satisfied, shifting into smugness: "I'll let this pass once because I admittedly am in no rush to get up," the long line of his body fitted perfectly against yours, the weight a comfortable, if not exhilarating, reminder how much taller he was and his knee nudged yours as he slowly lowered himself more, "But know that I've gathered quite a few tricks in my age that go further than that."

"Yeah?"

Unfortunately and it filled you with deep regret, it got no closer than his eyes brushing over your lips, another chance of a kiss passed right in front of your eyes as Thranduil's phone started ringing on the coffee table, breaking the spell of this lazy morning before it could progress further.

With an apologetic look, Thranduil sat up on his folded legs, taking the blanket with him so it hung over his shoulders in a long, fluffy wine-red coat and exposed you to the chilly air.

"Oropherion," he answered the phone, the sleep disappearing almost immediately from his voice to be replaced by an authoritarian and composed tone that bordered on sharp and sent tingles through your stomach while you finally sat up as well.

Thranduil held the phone in one hand, the other gently squeezed your naked ankle.

It was soothing, to simply let him caress your skin as he listened to the person on the other end of the line, his eyes focused on where his fingers moved absentmindedly, and not care that this morning got interrupted by his work.

"Alright, Feren, thank you for calling me. No, of course–" He cast you an apologetic look, "I'll be on my way soon. Prepare a statement for PR ASAP; tell them I want that published before I'm in the office or– yes, that. No, tell Thorin to fuck off and do what I say, that thickheaded man better has his arse up and going right now."

You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle the giggles that bubbled up your flipping stomach, there was something about Thranduil cursing the laziness of his partner of the firm while he was still in the clothes of yesterday, hair –while looking beautifully soft– in disarray and by now you knew he wouldn't leave the house before having his cup of coffee and changing at least twice.

He raised one eyebrow at your antics though it only fueled the giggles further.

This cracked a smile on his face, one he gave into with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Thranduils fingers curled around the phone. "Have the papers on my table in five, the statement out in ten and.. Feren? If Thorin isn't there and on my line in fifteen minutes–"

No more words were needed, Thranduil simply hung up and turned his gaze back onto you.

"You, Miss, are glad that I do not have the time," he said slowly.

You, being who you are, stuck out your tongue at him. "Can't help a girl for wanting a calm Sunday. It's your fault that your firm needs you to hold their hand."

All of a sudden, he tugged sharply on your leg and had you once again below him. He smirked at your surprised yelp. "Tell me," Thranduil started lowly, "what sets you apart from them?"

And while you were catching your breath, staring into his bright eyes, he swiftly stood up and left you there, gaping at him as he strolled through the living room.

"Come on, I'll drop you off on my way."

"Oh, the nerve of this goddamn man!"

How you managed to get ready was unfathomable yet somehow you were in Thranduil's car before Legolas and Aragorn had even woken up, once again dressed in one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts, that were cinched by an elastic hair tie.

The hair tie was his as well. It felt comically domestic as you had helped him prepare a coffee to go, standing next to each other in the kitchen, and he had leaned down, long and agile – cold – fingers tying the shorts up in no hurry.

Falling into the familiar seat in clothes that smelled like him and having the sun beat through the window as he steered the car out of the driveway fueled you enough for the day to make up for the fact he hadn't kissed you again.

Initially, the only sounds were the whir of the engine and Thranduil's tranquil, rhythmic breathing.

Then, he tapped on the dimmed display, and orchestral music filled the air from the speakers:

The Carnival of the Animals, the piece of the swan.

Immediately you turned your head to him. "Oh, I love this piece!"

Thranduil smiled and from your position, you saw the dimple in his cheek.

"I feel the same way," he remarked, his smile tinged with nostalgia. "We used to attend the Philharmonic in town every week. My parents enjoyed these outings, but I never quite connected with the other children over discussions of politics and history. Instead, I'd settle into the seat by the balcony railing, immersing myself in the music as if it were the very air I needed to survive," he told you.

You listened to his voice, probably your favorite sound in the world above the deep cello, both lapping over you in quiet waves and you snuggled into the sweater.

There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be interesting to you, not in that voice of his.

No matter if he lectured you and Legolas on something he heard you talking about, or if he commented on current political situations on weekend breakfasts together, scoffing over something written in the papers.

He could chat about his day, throwing around names of people you didn't know and numbers you didn't understand but you would be listening no matter what.

And at that moment in the car, with his voice dripping like honey and talking with the same grace as the poetry of the classics he was praying, you fell even harder for him.

"I used to have such a deep love for classical music that I pleaded with my father to buy me an instrument, something beyond the recorder we played at school. I'll never forget the moment I unwrapped one of my Christmas presents and found myself holding a violin in my hands; it was one of the most cherished gifts my parents ever gave me." Thranduil glanced at you, his grin widening.

"Now, take a guess at which piece I dedicated a year to studying." He didn't wait for a response, nor did he need to. "I practiced diligently every day until my fingers ached and my neck grew stiff, but every ounce of effort was worth it. After a year of dedication, I had the opportunity to perform at the Philharmonic and showcase 'The Swan' in front of my loved ones."

The image painted itself in your mind; a young Thranduil, in one of his fine suits, his blond hair already long enough to flow down his back like water, on stage playing The Swan while putting the beauty and elegance of the animal to shame.

He would stand straight, engaging as always, his long fingers on the strings of the violin and his eyes resting only on the instrument in his hands.

You had seen often enough with what fondness and gentleness he had examined a good book, to imagine how he would examine this violin, sanctified by him, like his dearest object on earth came easy.

"Do you still play?" you asked, not entirely innocently.

Thranduil hummed softly and shook his head, causing a hint of disappointment to spread through you. "Not anymore, not for a long time. I don't think I'll really start again, either. I'd rather go to the philharmonic, I can get much more involved with the music there."

"I understand that. It must sound fantastic live, all these instruments in their full sound."

With a surprised and curious look, Thranduil turned back to you. "Have you never been to a concert before?"

You screwed up your face, eyebrows together and lips curled. "Does the musical from my ninth-grade class count, where half were bad recorders and the other half were even worse singers? If not, I'll have to say no. Never to a concert that played classical music."

It was true what you said, except for that one –disastrous, it must be said– musical you had never been lucky enough to hear classical music the way it was meant to be heard.

So far, your headphones have always had to suffice.

Thranduil clicked his tongue against his teeth, and you wanted to tease him for this visibly privileged outrage when he gifted you a cheeky grin. "Your education in that aspect has been criminally neglected."

"Want to give me a lesson?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Thranduil, taken aback, swallowed, then caught himself. "Sure," his voice sounded horse, "–what do you want to learn?"

"Everything."

"Everything?" he repeated and you saw the shift back into his usual self, the one that adapted quickly to you taking him by surprise, "That sure is a lot."

You giggled, "Oh, afraid you're not up for it?"

Thranduil's hands curled around the wheel as if the seat he was sitting on wasn't bracing him enough and he needed to hold on to something.

You pushed your hands under your own thighs as well and felt giddy as your nails dug into his sweater.

"You're too sassy for your own good," he breathed out a laugh and threw you a look through the mirror that contradicted the seriousness of that statement.

"In three months, the Carnival of the Animals will be performing right here, at the Philharmonic Hall in the city," Thranduil said. "If you allow me, I would like to take you there."

"Thranduil–," you began, straightening up in the seat, but with a shake of his head, he interrupted you.

"No, I know what you want to say and I want to invite you, love," he said gently yet firmly.

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That is to say that I could see your pretty head immediately worrying about the tickets. You have this offended and defensive look, like when Legolas once asked you to take a cab or when I offered to take you out to dinner with Legolas and me–I realize how hard it can be as a college student not to think about the money, believe me, Legolas refuses my help more than often."

You gnawed on your bottom lip, immediately throwing his words around in your mind.

"However, I'm not asking you to pay for it." Thranduil turned his head to you for a moment at a red light. His blue eyes shone bright and radiant like the clear sunny skies.

"I want to ask you out, take you out, or whatever they call a date these days."

A Date.

Your eyes continued to linger on Thranduil, even though he'd turned his attention back to the road. You couldn't break away from him.

All at once you were aware of how much bigger than the question of cost this conversation was. It was bigger than this car, pressing against the doors and windows, stretching apart like a bubble gum bubble you were just waiting to burst. It was too big for every word that came into your head, and after chewing on them for far too long, the very thing you were trying to prevent flew out.

"Netflix and chill."

"Excuse me?" The horrified look on Thranduil's face was indescribable, a mixture of pure shock and incredulity at what you had said.

You stammered, a little unsure if you really wanted to explain to him what you meant: "Well, nowadays, you don't really date anymore. So not like in the old days with dates to the movies or ice cream or going for a walk. Oh god, um you just meet to watch movies at someone's house, but you don't actually watch movies?"

"I understand the basic principle," You turned onto a bigger street at the most appropriate moment, you could see the slightest hint of blush at the tips of Thranduil's ears.

You took a deep breath and pressed a button to lower the window a little. As soon as the breeze played with your hair, you felt your body relax. "Good.. that's good. Jeez, I don't know if I would have wanted to go into more detail." A short laugh burst out of you while your head was still spinning around his words.

He never even kissed you but such a step as an official date had never come up as well and you somehow didn't believe that would be what Thranduil wanted.

He could have so much, probably even with just a flick of his fingers or a blink of his wonderful curved eyelashes.

Not that you would tell him that. This would probably be one of your worries that would eventually be slurred by drunken tongues on nights when you could let all your walls down and find home in the arms of your best friends.

"Would you allow me then?" asked Thranduil as he guided his car off the highway, and the light of sky-high glass towers reflected on his curious face.

"What?" you couldn't help but tease him "Netflix & Chill? Quite a bold question Mr. Oropherion, don't you think?" Oh how easy it was to fall back into this game with him, the back and forth.

Thranduil extended his hand to your thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

After this morning, your body hummed delightfully at being physically close to him again.

"Well, I have to admit to being more of a fan of the classic courting, but if the lady wants to play by her rules, I'll throw away the tickets to the theater and we can pretend to watch a movie," he said, his voice low and in the same teasing tone.

You almost choked on your next breath, so suddenly your heart stopped, only to continue beating twice as fast in the next moment.

You sought his gaze, and it was infuriating that he kept looking down the road. "You already have tickets?"

Thranduil's hand on your leg didn't stay still, his thumb began to stroke small circles over your skin.

"Of course," he said without really responding. An annoying, self-satisfied grin pulled at his lips, even if he tried to suppress it.

Your voice was breathless as you whispered, "And you would really go with me? To the Philharmonic for a real live concert?"

Thranduil gave a theatrical enough sigh to be able to stand on the stage himself. "Now that you ask, I had tickets for the night when they just set up speakers and run everything through Bluetooth, but if you really want to, we can go listen to the Carnival of the Animals live."

Awkward with your words, which you lacked so often because of him, you simply grabbed his hand and beamed at him.

Thranduil turned his gaze from the red light in front of you and smiled at you. His hand turned, intertwining his long manicured fingers with yours.

"I'll take that as a yes? You'll allow me to take you out on a real date and you won't worry your pretty head about anything, but let me take care of everything?" he picked up, looking at you insistently enough that all your insecurities blurred within the cerulean sea of his eyes.

Instead, you leaned back in your seat, grinning, floating on a cloud of Thranduil's scent, the warmth of his hand in yours.

"But only because you begged me."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x reader

[whiteladyofithilien]

I will say this the scene where Tauriel has the most resonance is the last one she appears in. Her conversation with King Thranduil was the scene where she actually had some pathos and made you feel something for her. And that is due chiefly to the fact that it's playing off Thranduil's backstory (seeing as Tauriel has none because bad writing) and because you know he's lost the love of his life his acknowledgement of her love for Kili being real is more evidence than anything she's shown us hitherto that moment. Plus in this scene the writers are playing on a frequent Tolkienian theme of life and love being worthwhile even if you have to suffer or lose that which you loved. So it makes you feel because it's got a deep theme it's not just wistful stares and stabbing people trying to get to the person you care about which was all the Kili-Tauriel romance had been up to that point (that and one conversation about a rock)

#tolkien #jrr tolkien #lotr #Hobbit thoughts #the hobbit #hobbit #battle of five armies #kili durin #kili #fili and kili #durins line #thorin oakenshield #thorin #tauriel #legolas greenleaf #Legolas #thranduil #king thranduil

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

I thought of Thranduil's chambers when I saw this. Obviously more modern but...

#lee pace #thranduil #king thranduil #the elvenking #the hobbit #fantasies #fairytales #magic #elves