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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

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Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 25

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu, @honey-wine @accio-boys, @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas @sleepyamygdala, @coopsgirl @penguinlovestowrite

Vermund had made short work of fetching the village healer, practically dragging him to the tavern with a story of how worried for your father’s mental wellbeing he was. The healer had taken one look at him and had one listen to his nonsensical ramblings before he had immediately agreed and, with the help of the townsfolk, your father had been taken to the local infirmary and locked up in one of the locked rooms where they kept the patients who were a danger to themselves and other or were a flight risk. It was not much better than the cell you had traded yourself to free him from in Mirkwood. Still, Vermund walked around as though he had saved the day, head held high and a satisfied smirk on his face.

Two days passed...

...but you still did not return.

Nobody had seen hide nor hair of you and he couldn’t understand where you would have gone for this long, especially with no one knowing your whereabouts. Usually, the village was so on top of everyone else’s personal business that nothing went secret or unknown for long. It struck Vermund as strange indeed and it concerned him.

It did not worry him. It concerned him.

He was concerned that if you did not show back up soon, he would be forced to end up looking elsewhere. Taking another woman in the village as his wife and nobody else in this place was up to his standards... but he would not be wifeless for the rest of his life. Who would cook his meals? Who would do his laundry? Who would keep his home clean? Who would tend to his needs whenever the fancy so took him?

On the morning of the third day, Vermund had had enough. He hadn’t believed for one minute that you were with the King of the Elves but the more time that passed, the more he was willing to entertain the idea. After all, elves were known to kidnap pretty human maidens, were they not?

“Oeric.” Vermund mused, after he had dragged his friend down an alleyway to dodge a trio of irritating sisters who were constantly vying for his attentions. “Do you suppose that the old man might not be... entirely insane, after all?”

Oeric gave Vermund a look, shaking his head. “He’s utterly mad. You saw him.”

“Yes, but...” Vermund hummed, thoughtfully plucking an apple from a nearby tree and then promptly throwing it over his shoulder as though it were trash. “...where else could she be? She would not have left the old man here alone. She always was rather...” He waved a hand in the air, making a face. “...protective of the crazy bastard.” Vermund shrugged, stopping and folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked down his nose at Oeric. “I think it is worth a try. I have looked everywhere.”

“Why not simply take Thora as your wife.” Oeric shrugged, acting as if it were of no consequence.

He wilted under the horrified stare Vermund gave him in return. “Are you as mad as the old man?!” He all but cried. “Have you seen that woman’s nose?! She looks like one of my horses.”

The two men guffawed as they started moving once more, falling in step beside each other as they moved off to hunt in the fields again. “No, I think that we should round up the others and leave for the Elf King’s castle in two days.” Vermund said, nodding very decisively. That was that. Vermund had decided what he wanted to do and everybody else would fall in line.... they always did.

Two days after the queen’s begetting day, the start of Mereth Di a Rhîw Menel - Feast Beneath a Winter Sky - had come, and Myleth roused you early as she had the whole morning planned. She had been flitting around you like a little bird, determined to dress you up like a doll for the event.

It was a little annoying but you stood patiently through it all, letting her pick out the colours and the style of your dress, your hairstyle, jewellery... everything. It seemed to make her happy and that made you happy in turn, as much as you were not used to being poked and prodded and draped in such expensive fabrics. She had a very motherly aura about her and it was comforting as she helped you into your dress and braided your hair very specifically, using red ribbons again as she had already decided. You had no idea whether or not looking a certain way for an elven celebration was necessary so you quite happily just let Myleth do her thing.

“Are you excited, dear?” She asked with a smile as she continued braiding a little section of your hair. She had left most of it down to frame your face, pulling a section back into a little bun near the top of your head, with many intricate little braids wrapped decoratively around the the bun, tied with delicate red ribbons.

“Yes.” You nodded but you were a little anxious and it probably showed on your face.

Myleth smiled kindly at your reflection in the mirror. She finished your hair and gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry so much, my dear. Just have fun.” She paused, stepping back and appraising her handiwork. “You look beautiful.”

Yes, she thought, the king will be most pleased.

Thranduil, too, was being dressed for the ball, though of course he was far more used to being dressed and attended to than you were. Galion was at his side, helping him into his heavy clothing and assisting in fixing his splendid winter crown upon his head.

“If I may speak freely, my lord?” Galion ventured, adjusting the intricate brooch at the front of Thranduil’s tunic.

Thranduil glanced at him, just a little amused. He was certain that Galion already knew that he could practically say whatever it was that he wanted and Thranduil would listen. He highly valued his butler’s opinion and thoughts. “You may.”

Galion stepped back and glanced up at him, gaze appraising the king’s outfit for the feast. “I daresay, My King, that the lovely lady will be rather taken with your appearance this day.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, sparing Galion another glance from the corner of his eye. “And why, pray tell, would it affect me what the lady thinks of the way I look?”

Galion tilted his head a little then, giving Thranduil a knowing smile. “No reason at all.” His eyes were shining slightly, however, and Thranduil couldn’t help but return the smile, somewhat amused because he could quite easily tell that Galion knew. That he had gleaned his feelings towards you, whatever they may be. It wasn’t too surprising, he supposed. Other than his son or Feren, Galion was the one who spent the most time around him, the one who knew him better than most.

As Thranduil turned to take one final look at himself in the large mirror, he found that he did not mind in the slightest.

You were a mess of nerves and excitement, the two fighting together throughout your entire body. You weren’t even sure what you were so nervous about. Was it that you did not know the customs? You had been assured it was of no matter and nothing was expected of you. Was it because of Thranduil?

...possible, you admitted to yourself. Still, you did your best to push the thoughts away and followed Myleth towards the grand hall where the festivities were to be held. She pushed open the heavy doors and swept you inside by your elbow. No turning back.

Thranduil was seated at the head of a long table, on a large chair of intricately carven wood, almost like a mini throne. He was speaking with his son, who sat upon his right, but he turned his head when the doors opened.

His gaze fell upon you...

...and everything stopped.

Without even realising that he had done it, Thranduil had risen from his chair.

He was standing with his gaze fixed upon you as Myleth ushered you into the hall. He barely realised she was there. In fact, the rest of the room had entirely seemed to melt away. His son’s voice was not even a whisper to him anymore.

Legolas was staring at his father with deep concern on his face when he finally turned and followed Thranduil’s gaze. A smirk wove its way onto his features when he saw what - or rather who - his father was looking at. Legolas glanced at Galion, who returned his look, and then lowered his head to try and hide his expression.

He need not have bothered. Thranduil was completely entranced as he watched you coming closer. His eyes took in every little detail. Your hair. Your dress. Your face. You could have been Lúthien herself.

Myleth led you to the king’s table and you could only shoot her a confused look. You had been spending a lot of time with him, yes, but you had assumed that at such a function as this, you would have been seated with others. However, you did not complain as she moved to pull out the chair to Thranduil’s left so you could sit next to him.

He got there first, however, still staring at you as if he was completely starstruck. You hadn’t seen such a look on his face before and you could feel yourself flushing furiously as you inclined your head respectfully and took a seat in the chair. Thranduil gently pushed the chair in once you were seated and moved back to his own, finally sitting back down himself.

Legolas coughed to cover a chuckle and the spell was broken.

Thranduil turned to give his son a glare and you quickly lifted a glass of wine to your lips, trying to hide behind it to cover your blush. You glanced between the two of them and suddenly realised that your dress seemed to match with Thranduil’s own outfit.

“You look very lovely.” Thranduil’s deep voice pulled your attention back from studying the fabric covering his broad chest and back up to his face before you had too much time to really focus on it and you smiled at him.

You cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed at the fact it probably looked like you had been staring. “Thank you. You look...” How did one compliment a king? A brief panic shot through you but Myleth’s light touch upon your elbow as she walked away to seat herself with Elros and some others calmed you a little. “Very handsome.” You finished, before glancing at Legolas. “Um. You too, Legolas... very princely indeed.”

Legolas chuckled. “Why thank you, my lady. I have been told that I, how do you humans put it, scrub up rather well.” He beamed happily as it pulled a laugh from you.

Thranduil lazily reached for his chalice, filled with wine, and lifted it to his lips with slightly narrowed eyes. He found he was somewhat disappointed that you had painted both he and Legolas with the same compliment. Though he wasn’t sure why and he decided to simply ignore it.

Still, he could not keep his eyes from you, sneaking glances every so often as the minutes passed. Much to his pleasure, he caught you doing the same, and soon he had turned himself to face you, intent on making the most of your attention this evening.

“Relax.” He murmured, smiling at you knowingly as you fidgeted briefly “You have nothing to worry about.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at the fact he had been able to read you. “I have never attended an event that comes anywhere close to something such as this.” You told him, scanning the elaborately decorated room, and the many heads of the elves who were seated throughout.

Thranduil placed a hand upon your arm. “In that case, little human, this shall certainly be a night to remember.”

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #beauty and the beast

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