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gi-nathlam-hi · 1 year

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“completely had to rework my entire understanding/headcannons around their relationship and i don't mind” okay I’m so curious - what was your understanding/headcanons about Elrond and Galadriel’s relationship before TROP?

Oh! Thank you for the ask omg. I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to you because this is such a fun question!

TLDR: I headcannoned them as being basically coworkers who mutually respect that the other person is really wise and levelheaded and knows what they're doing, and have a LOT of issues with each other but they've called a mutual truce for Cel and the kids' benefits. And when things are calm/good they're generally fond of each other and amicable. But I just never imagined them being close or familial the way they are in the show at all.

LONG ASS post under the cut because I can't be normal about trying to explain my own thoughts on things and I ended up clipping parts of my fanfics to hopefully illustrate what I mean lol. **Includes references to kidnap fam, fair warning. So if that's not your thing just be warned that this is VAGUELY pro kidnap-fam (but not like...out and loud kidnap fam apologist material at all. They're just mentioned a lot as a motive for why I see Elrond and Gal's relationship the way that I do).

I just never got the impression that they were ever close in the way that Rings of Power portrays them. I think my thoughts are more easily summed up with some of these snippets:

Elrond never knew quite how to feel when Lady Galadriel visited Imladris. The fact that he was a Fëanorian fosterling and didn’t seem to openly hate either Maedhros or Maglor had always been a point of tension between the two of them-- begrudgingly softened at first by his service to Gil-Galad in Lindon (she had regarded him with marked suspicion then), softened further by long years of strictly political interactions which gradually morphed into a form of friendship, and then at last that friendship had turned familial when he had married Celebrían. But familial relationships could often be far more fraught with unbearable awkwardness than friendships, and so it had, in some ways, been a step backward for the two of them.

A hand closed around that notion the way an eagle might snatch a mouse. Elrond sucked in a breath and shut his mind before the inquiry could actually grasp hold. They had reached the council chamber. Lady Galadriel was already there in her white gown standing at the overlook, staring up at the rising moon and pointedly ignoring him as if she had not just reached for his thoughts the way a small child might reach for an especially enticing piece of candy. Elrond paid her a respectful bow. “My apologies for rushing out so abruptly and for keeping you waiting, my lady.” He stuck with Sindarin, no matter how many times Galadriel always tried to coax him into Quenya. He had a lingering Fëanorian lisp that he had absorbed from his fathers as a child and had never quite been able to rid himself of, much to the amusement of his wife and the chagrin of her parents. She turned to look at him with a nod. The corners of her mouth curled up. “The child?” The question was in Quenya, naturally. He never would understand why, if she disliked his accent so much, she insisted on trying to get him to speak it.

So, basically things aren't necessarily tense between them but they aren't great, either. But they for sure have never disliked each other in my head. There is just a whole lot of baggage. Galadriel still considers him part of her family and loves him and likes to tease him in her own way! Case in point:

Thranduil had hardly spared him a glance through most of breakfast, but now Elrond felt him studying him, squinting. He caught the king’s eye and frowned. “What?” “Are you aware that your ears are bruising? Rather impressive bite mark, I must say.” Elrond flushed red. “I hadn’t noticed.” Thranduil hummed into his teacup. “Blush as prettily as you like. It doesn’t help them blend in any better. You may wish to consider wearing your hair a bit...differently. Though I suppose your wife rather likes the look of her handiwork. No--” he put a hand on Elrond’s arm. “Do not rush out, mellon nín. T’would draw far too much attention. Celebrían!” Celebrían looked up from mid conversation with her mother. Elrond shielded his very pink face in one hand. “You must be more careful with your poor husband. Peredhel skin bruises more easily, I think.” Elrond could just fade from shame. He felt sure Galadriel was hiding a choked laugh in her cup. Celebrían shot Thranduil a knife-sharp glare. Thranduil reclined in his chair with a smug smirk and gave one of Elrond’s uniquely-shaped ears a fond tug. “Oh, stop turning so pink, Peredhel,” Galadriel said. She nudged Celebrían in the shoulder. “You have always liked his ears.” Celebrían let out a cry of pure outrage. “ Amya! Please!” “It was all she could talk about during your betrothal.” When Lindir came running up to the dais with some announcement, Elrond had never been more glad to see him.

But there is still some underlying tension and I kind of have it in my head that they have a sort of...agree to disagree dynamic when it comes to Maedhros and Maglor, which leads to a LOT of simmering conflict that can bubble up in times of stress. I do like the whole concept of kidnap fam but my feelings on them are really complex...and that's a post for another day. But basically long story short: I think Elrond does consider Mae and Mags to be his dads (more than Earendil. I know that's uh...a VERY contentious headcannon but I stick by it). Galadriel understandably hates this and in my head it's just this GIANT source of conflict for them.

And I think rather than me muddling through trying to explain how I carry this headcannon out when writing their relationship it's better again if I just show you lol:

A commotion buzzed through the corridor outside and Galadriel stormed into the room the very next second, eyes gleaming with fury. Elrond shot to his feet and stepped between her and the lump on the bed. “Stand aside,” she said coldly. “I will not,” Elrond replied, trying to sound much more calm than he felt, drawing himself up to full height. “I apologize, mother-of-my-beloved, but if you would do him harm, you must strike me first.” War waged in her green eyes. Elrond held his breath, and then quietly pleaded: “Please, my lady. He is your kin.” “That mattered little to him or his Oath,” she snarled back. “Or have you forgotten, Eärendilion? Is your memory so short?” The patronym made him flinch. Still, he would not move. “I have forgotten nothing.” “It would not be kinslaying,” she said, stepping to the left. Elrond matched her, still barring her way. She glared at him. “It would be justice.” Despite himself, he felt tears brimming in his eyes. “Look at him!” he hissed. “Look at him and tell me justice has not been paid a thousand times over!” Her gaze passed over Elrond’s head to Maglor, to where he lay broken, bloodied, and very small on the bed, gripped in a sleep that bordered perilously on death. Her expression did not soften. She made another step for him and Elrond barred her way yet again, bowing his head. “I will not fight you,” he murmured. Truly, in his state he could not. “But neither will I let you take his life. We stopped killing our kin a long time ago, please do not start again. Not here. Not in my house. Not now. Please-- look to the future as you have always done. Stop this madness. Let it end.” He could feel her glaring down with him with eyes that burned. The air lay thick between them. Every muscle in his body was tense, ready to throw himself over Maglor if need be-- but Galadriel didn’t move. It felt like hours passed. Galadriel lifted her sword and he half-sprung into action, but she simply slammed it back into its sheath. “You are beloved-of-my-daughter, and I have grown very fond of you. But should evil befall your city, my daughter, or my grandchildren on account of the Fëanorian it will be on your head, and your fate will be the same as his.”

So before TROP, this is kind of what their relationship at its core boils down to. They have a LOT of issues with each other that they have learned to set aside/work past due to a) being coworkers for the greater good of middle earth (bearers of the Three) b) Celebrian's benefit c) Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir's benefit Like, they're fond of each other now. They know each other really well now. But I just never had it in my head that they were at all super chill with each other during the Second Age. It's really funny actually?? TROP's dynamic between Galadriel and Elrond looks a LOT more like how I imagined Gil-Galad and Elrond's relationship before seeing the show! And vice-versa. Just take show!Gil and Elrond's dynamic and apply it to Elrond and Galadriel and that's pretty much how I viewed their dynamic during the Second Age (and during times when they're uh...fighting....for some reason in the Third Age re: the above snippets lol).

That isn't to say that Galadriel necessarily disliked/hated Elrond in my head. She just didn't trust him due to his connection with and unwillingness to let go of Maedhros and Maglor.

If her daughter must be wed, it would be to no one less than the Peredhel. Galadriel had originally envisioned Gil-Galad (queen of the Noldor was Celebrían’s birthright, if Galadriel had anything to say of it—she was just as Noldorin as she was Sindarin, and the granddaughter of Arafinwë and great granddaughter of Finwë, no less), but Gil-Galad was not available. The Peredhel was descended from Melian the Maia and Galadhon on his mother’s side, and could have had the crown himself if he so wished—being descended from Ñolofinwë several generations back. Beyond that he was clever, a strategist, a politician, and in possession of his own realm. He would be able to give Celebrían the standard of living she was accustomed to. The life she deserved. He was pleasant to look at, too (on some days he gave Galadriel goosebumps, for how in the right light beneath certain trees it seemed Lúthien— perhaps even Melian herself—was incarnated before her eyes). And he was kind and gentle, which never hurt. It was almost a waste: he hadn’t a shred of ambition for all his cunning and claim. Then again, neither did Celebrían. Perhaps that was for the best. Ambition had thus far been rather ruinous for the Noldor. It seemed the younger generations had managed to learn from their predecessors’ mistakes.

so....yeah...

I do really LOVE what they've done with them in the show though!! So I've sort of adopted it as a secondary viewpoint because I'm so fond of it. So many of the show's interpretations of characters (especially GIL-GALAD) are WILDLY different to how I view them that I kind of have a seperate box in my head now of Rings of Power 'verse as opposed to my usual "canon" 'verse that I tend to keep consistent throughout my work.

Whew! That was a WAY longer answer than I'm sure you wanted lol. Don't ask me questions like this. I can go for hours and hours about my own thoughts on things lol.

#elrond #galadriel #maedhros #maglor #kidnap fam #trop #rings of power #the rings of power #my fics #i guess #lol #someone take tumblr away from me #i need to go to bed

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blankdblank · 5 years

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Blacksmith’s Daughter

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…

Exile had not been kind to the Durins. Where once seas of gold could be easily spotted in a trip to their treasury to remind themselves of their vast wealth now barely a few copper coins could be uncommonly heard jingling in the coin pouches of the Dwarves bustling from job to job where employment could be found to support their families. Yet somehow in all this Fallen Prince Thorin had managed to procure the heart of a Princess of his own. The lone daughter of Noldor Prince Maglor Kanafinwë, Son of Feanor and a Dam that had claimed his own heart. The loss of his wife had hurt him deeply after his brother Maedhros had gone wandering through Middle Earth, nearly breaking him if not for the gift their daughter had been to him, but mostly mortal he knew she too would also be taken from him in time. So when a connection was made he welcomed it at least in the hopes that he might hold another piece of his little girl when he had lost her as well.

A harsh winter fell upon Ered Luin and as expected in the fourth year of his granddaughter’s life an unexpected burial was arranged. A wave of sickness washed through the mountains through a batch of diseased wheat Men had hoped to take control of the territory. Work in the wave of lost Dwarves and Dams freed up a great amount, jobs that could not be turned away. In the crossroads of a terrible decision Thorin chose for your future, back to the safety of Lindon on the edges of the Shire under Maglor’s care you were taken beside the men watching over you. Over time Thorin traveled from your new Elven home between bouts of nonstop work to fund the one day possible goal of returning to what he hoped to pass off to you. A sacrifice of having you near him nightly while away at work, and his kin while he in Lindon with you, was hoped to be well worth the price if he could assure your safety in the future.

Sixty years had found and raced away from you as you grew past Thorin’s height to Maglor’s shoulder nearly. Tall and hairless with pointed ears left you seeming more like a half Elf than a Dwarf leading to a constant slur of back handed compliments and comments in your visits to see your family in Ered Luin. The Durins folded around you grateful to see your Mother in you, as you greatly resembled your grandfather yet held your father’s temperament meshing well with theirs. True Thorin was deemed unattractive by Dwarf standards so you were already used to hearing statements on your appearance and what a poor image of their kin’s lineage you appeared to hold. Time had raced by and word had spread when aid from the Council of Dwarf Lords had refused to aid you in returning home. Alone with your father you returned to Ered Luin after hearing Maglor had returned to his habit of traveling in your long trip in search of your great uncle, freeing up a chance to take another journey of your own.

Off with only 13 Dwarves you traveled to the Shire beside your father, last to arrive the party silenced and the serious matters were discussed while your host questioned his place in this mission until he sat up with you as your kin hummed and sang. Wide eyed he soaked in the tales of what you had seen and accepted your aid in packing and slid the signed contract under Balin’s door and raced off to bed while you sat up with Gandalf to finalize the path ahead as the others slept.

…

Through to Rivendell you rode, crossing paths with a curious Wizard named Radagast, who giddily led you through to the hidden entrance after passing off a sealed letter to you with a swan shaped harp pressed into the wax as the only marker of Maglor having penned it.

Almost instantly as Gloin had asked, “Does he mean us insult?!” at Elrond’s Quenya order to prep a meal for the Company Elrond’s eyes shifted to you and his lips parted.

The sight of your shimmering black curls pulled back in a long braid and the purple eyes he had not seen in centuries you lineage was announced at once. Almost breathlessly he bowed his head to you asking in Quenya, “My apologies My Lady, you do bear a certain-.”

A grin eased onto your lips as you stated with a bow of your own head, “It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Elrond. My grandfather Maglor did share quite a few tales of your time together.”

A flinch of a smile eased onto his face asking, “Do you know where he is?”

You shook your head, “Off in search of Maedhros.”

His lips parted as gasps were heard from the Elves on the walkways above listening in, “Maedhros is alive?”

You nodded again, “Though I’ve never met him, unfortunately. I hear he is quite entertaining with tales of his own.”

Elrond chuckled and stepped forward extending his open palm to you with a soft smile, “That he does. It is a pleasure to meet you, if I may, might I take the chance to claim you as my adopted Niece publicly?”

You nodded resting your hand loosely in his feeling his other hand lay over the back of it, “If you wish, I am Jaqiearae Aerasumé, Daughter of Ninglor Magloreon and Thorin Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under the Mountain.”(Aerasumé – Silvermoon of the Evening)

His eyes wandered to Thorin and he chuckled softly and turned guiding you, “Come, you and your kin are welcome here. A meal is being prepared, we should have a change of clothes for you after your stop in the bath house.” Behind you Thorin grinned guiding the others after you towards the warm waters waiting to wash away the grime from the troll hoard you had found the twin long swords from your fallen great uncles Amrod and Amras that they had fashioned a few years prior to their deaths, long believed to be lost.

Alone in the small bath on the other side of the separating wall blocking you from the sight of the men bathing in the larger hot spring you eased into the water and lowered into the water and drew back to sit on the built in bench when you sank to your neck without luck of reaching the bottom. In a glance back you accepted the soap from the Elleth entering to collect your clothes while another left a gown in your size rising out of the water you sat on the edge lathering up and scrubbed yourself clean. The soap was set aside and you reached back opening the clip at the end of your braid to undo it before lowering to the bench again to wet your hair. With eyes closed you massaged your fingers to your scalp through your thick curls before adding the shampoo they supplied you soon to be rinsed out. Warmly the water slid across your neck as you wrung it out and twisted it up into a bun and you leaned your head back relaxing in the warm water.

A click sounded announcing the reentry of another Elleth who moved to your side and sat cross legged on the ground with comb in hand to help comb, dry and rebraid your hair. Behind you she sat tenderly handling your hair after gaining your permission as she shared, “It is quite a blessing to know the Princes are well and have had you to tend to. Was it troubling growing among Dwarves?”

“My kin are very welcoming. There are some who would not be as welcoming, though it is mainly for the loss of Erebor along with our stations. For all common knowledge I am no more than the Daughter of a Blacksmith.”

The Elleth chuckled stating, “Not to our kin, never again, you will be honored as the direct heir to King Finwe, your proper station. Lord Elrond has had it recorded so, Jaqiearae Finweon. Though Lady Galadriel will be stunned to know of another claiming the title from her.” Her eyes lowered to the blue butterfly pendant on your necklace your fingers were stroking absently and she stated, “That is a lovely pendant.”

You grinned eyeing the blue butterfly detailed in Mithril, sapphires and onyx with the two lower ovals on the wings used to hide a gift your grandfather and great uncle had designed for your mother when she was born. In both the top flaps were portraits of your parents and the brothers while the lower half bore gems having fueled the banishment of your kin the brothers swore would see to your protection should you need it. “Thank you, it was my mother’s.”

“I am certain she was a credit to her father, we have a portrait of him here in the Eastern Study.”

With a grin you drew the pendant higher and opened the top flap exposing her portrait freeing a gentle giggle from the Elleth, “I take after her, though I hear I am taller than she was.”

When she readied to start braiding your hair you sat on the edge of the tub trying to relax being tended to this way by someone other than your relatives, once again reminding yourself that as a Princess in their kin’s realms you would no doubt be seen to this way again. Reluctantly you sat stealing another glimpse at the portraits and closed it again and stroked the lower portion as she eyed the slew of scrapes across your back from being thrown by the troll you had freed Bilbo from even under your thick armored shirts. “We have some creams for these wounds of yours.” When she had finished your hair another Elleth had arrived with the cream they both slicked over your back, elbows, knees and shoulders on the wounds covering you from your bumps and jostles on the road so far along with a few older scars from training.

The wounds and scars faded almost instantly and the pair helped you into the fresh under vest and panties covered by the velvet gown lined with a low cut beaded neck revealing your necklace. Your small feet however made finding a pair of matching flats a bit harder leaving you barefoot on the path to the waiting meal. At the tall table you sat beside your father listening to the conversation around you as you enjoyed the meal in front of you and sipped cautiously on the raspberry wine offered to you.

…

Blindly through sheets of rain you followed the line through the frozen Stone Giants after your hushed Valinorian whisper announced you to them. Through to a hidden cave you walked until the floor dropped out and you rolled and crashed heavily into the middle of a kingdom of goblins. On your feet when you released your bags you rose as they grouped around you, in a breaths time you uncovered the hidden stones murmuring in Valinorian, “In the light of the Two Trees, perish.” Extending the pendant in your palm after freeing the chain from around your neck. Without a moment to defend themselves or even blink a blinding light exploded around you sending out massive pulses of wind your kin covered their faces through until the light dimmed through you covering the hidden stones as the shadows of the goblins faded away in the empty kingdom. Awed chuckles sounded behind you while you eased the chain around your neck again and giggled being wrapped in your father’s arms.

Chuckling to yourselves you missed the hiding withered creature’s shadows fading as the golden ring he had bourn developed red cracks and shattered into dust while you found your way through and stashed away more hidden treasures from their hoard in an enchanted chest Radagast had aided you with crafting in Rivendell. Safely to the carrock you were able to travel, and on the edge of morning your hand was tapped pulling you from your sleep. On your feet your father helped you then guided you to the edge of the carrock with a growing grin where his arm extended to the peak in the distance saying in Khuzdul, “There it is, our home.” Weakly you chuckled and hugged him tightly after he rose up to kiss your cheek only to be folded in the arms of the others while they grouped around you sharing in the sight of the finally visible target.

…

On the edges of Mirkwood you peered up at the statues guarding the entrance to the pathway you were meant to take then turned to Bilbo when his hand folded in yours. A soft smile from you calmed his nerves while you walked behind your father. Lowly he hummed as his mind wandered hoping for the best, that you could make it through without being discovered. Between seemingly endless bursts of walking you sat, lounging against your father’s side sharing your hopes and plans for the home your mother never got to see herself. And through the nights you slept against his side under his arm folding your fingers through his admiring the strength in the thick calloused hands of the King who had fought and struggled so hard to see you safely home again.

A skittering above sent you off one way and the men another with Bilbo racing after you, in your attempt to take out the spiders you ducked behind the trunk of a tree when you spotted the Dwarves being wrangled up into line. In the distance you caught a glimpse of your father’s hidden hand signal to lay low in the woods as they were stripped of their weapons and taken to see the Elf King. All until morning you kept watch while Bilbo slept beside you, the rustling of leaves stirred your attention from your lembas bread to the grinning Radagast on his sled distracting you from a Silvan whisper on the breeze, “No doubt those Dwarves will never see the other side of those bars again.” Instantly making your heart plummet to your stomach.

Cheerfully he stated, “You do not look dressed for a feast.”

Your brow rose, “What feast? My kin were just taken.”

Radagast nodded, “Why yes, they were no doubt. That is precisely why you must dress in your finest and be presented to the King yourself, no doubt you can find a way out of this.” His wink silenced your argument and you nodded, shifting your bags closer to you to inspect the gowns Elrond had gifted you, “I believe the lilac one should suffice.”

While you dressed Bilbo also pulled on his finest from Elrond’s Kingdom they had crafted for him, when Radagast had helped you both with your hair, then he sat you on his sled and showed you straight to the front gates. Curiously the Elves on guard eyed you three before the tallest of the pair stated in Sindarin, “We were not aware the King was expecting you Aiwendil.”

The Wizard grinned and he stated, “I was under the impression King Thranduil had extended an indefinite invitation to me.” His hand extended to his side towards you, “After all, had he not I would not have escorted Prince Maglor’s granddaughter and her companion as my guests to witness his great kingdom for themselves.”

Their eyes shifted to you as you held your calm expression before they opened the gates freeing you to travel inside while a set of Elves arrived to lead his sled inside to the stables and carry your bags behind you through the kingdom after the Elleth guiding you to the King. Around you whispers carried of the recent prisoners until you were at the base of the tall throne for yourself.

Under the streams of moonlight you spotted the Elf King in shimmering white robes over his tan pants and boots, his legs crossed in his aimless lean to the side listening to the attendant reading off the list of details left for the planned celebration. The serious expression on his face and hidden fear in his eyes flashed to your attention when the Elleth escorting you bowed her head announcing Radagast, who neglected to gain a single glance from the King, who was too distracted by his recognizing just who you must belong to.

Radagast smiled and stated, “King Thranduil, I understand you must be overwhelmed by the final details of your celebration but I was hoping to possibly extend my indefinite invitation onto my dear friends here. Maglor Feanorean left charge of his granddaughter Jaqiearae Aerasumé into my care, along with her companion Bilbo Baggins. They have heard my tales of your great lands and wished to witness them for themselves.”

The attendant beside him bowed their head at his final instruction before he straightened up and scanned his icy blue eyes over you again with a curious expression in his eyes wondering why you were here. “Of course.” The silkiness of his low unfaltering tone carried through the hall only making you imagine just how terrifying a shout from him would be. “You and your guests are always welcome in my halls. I am curious, however, I had not heard of any child from the Noldor Prince before.” Again his eyes lowered until he spotted Elrond’s marker stitched into the shoulder of your gown under a beaded flower branching from the vines around the neckline glittering in the moonlight only adding to your glow.

On his feet he walked down the stairs curious if his assumption of your height was true, only to find it was at your place barely to his chest at his place almost a foot taller than Maglor. Peering up at him your eyes locked on his after you nodded your head to him, your unflinching stance and eye contact stirred a warmth in him he could not explain, a surge of comfort and also insecurity for having someone so able to face him openly without fear. Taking Radagast’s silence for your turn to speak you watched the King’s lips part as you stated, “My Naneth was half mortal, passed when I was four. Grandfather has been adamant of my safety.”

Thranduil’s brow rose, “Introductions to fellow Elves would undermine your safety?”

“It is quite a long journey from Lindon.”

He nodded, “True.” After looking you over again he eyed the Council of Elves entering and he motioned his hand to the Elleth that guided you inside, “Elanor will show you to your quarters, a meal will be sent up for you. I hope you find your stay in my halls pleasurable.”

You bowed your heads again and when your eyes met his again you caught it, that same glimpse of fear causing your heart to plummet again knowing this King would never let your kin free. Not with a Dragon in the balance.

Not until you got into the apartment it was that Bilbo chose to say something. Behind the doors when the Elves left your bags he turned to Radagast with his arms shifting at his side asking, “What, exactly are we doing here?”

Radagast grinned moving to his bedroom, “I am going to take a bath. I am certain the King will be along shortly to speak with you further.”

As he turned away he paused at your rhetorical question, “He is never going to free them, is he?”

Radagast turned with a grin and stated, “Perhaps he needs to be shown a brighter light after dwelling so long in darkness.” A tap of his finger to his nose had your eyes lowering in thought when he turned to his room.

Beside you Bilbo whispered to himself disbelievingly, “A brighter light?” He peered up at you, “The Company is behind bars!”

You nodded and met his eyes, “Not for long.”

Bilbo eyed your locket having an assumption of his own of your plan remembering the Goblin Tunnels and nodded, “When do we start?”

Wetting your lips you guided him over to the chairs and stated, “First, he will no doubt arrange a tour, visiting noble and all.”

Bilbo nodded, “Right.”

“And there is three of us, so we can take turns sleuthing about.”

Bilbo nodded extending a finger, “Feign loss of direction when caught.” You nodded, “No doubt we can find a way out of this fortress.”

Wetting your lips you stated, “Maybe.” His brow rose and you added, “What we need to do, the feast is a few weeks away, all we need to do is sneak them out, and then we leave after the feast with everyone else.”

Bilbo drew in a breath, “Yes, perfect. Then they will be none the wiser.”

“Exactly. Just a band of crafty Dwarves.”

…

The plan was set, but it was easier said than done. Sure enough the King did arrive after your small meal had been served and cleared away. Steadily he guided you through the majority of his palace and then into his main garden for tea before leaving you in the care of Prince Legolas after his last round on guard duty. He showed you through the archery and training grounds to finish off the list of stops as he showed you to the library and left your side to answer his father’s side.

While you skimmed the titles Bilbo slipped away to follow a pathway the King passed up drawing his attention. Three turns and two doorways later he furrowed his brows hearing through a cutout in a door the King’s voice echoing around him, “Until you see reason you will remain in this cell.” Inching taller he peered through the barred window on the wooden door he spotted Nori in one of the cells below. Wordlessly his eyes locked on the Hobbit’s then dropped in time to glare at the passing King granting Bilbo a warning to slip away.

Three turns later he darted into another winding set of halls only to stop at a distant doorway opening in a vast hall eyeing an odd set of statues and paintings he eyed until a tall redhead entered the hall and froze spotting the out of place guest. Moving closer to him she asked in the common tongue, “Are you lost?”

Bilbo forced a smile and nodded, “Yes, in fact. My Mother told me when I was younger when lost remain in place, help will find you, and here you are.”

She nodded with a curious smile and replied, “I will show you back to the library. Where were you headed?”

Bilbo, “I am not certain, there was this one portrait of a ram I wanted a closer look at.” Quietly she led him to the library again and left him there before finishing her task while Bilbo shared the location with you mentally as well as confirming that Nori had spotted him through the door.

Each day the King would make a point to come and visit you between the Prince’s stops to ensure you were well entertained. But no matter what they did your vague responses left little to aid in their understanding the vast gap of your life yet to be explained as well as why Radagast would be left to your care instead of Elrond. A week seemed to ease by and through those same halls you and Bilbo took turns sneaking food from the kitchens seeing to their hunger and well being between sharing information on your luck in an escape plan for them.

Through the bars your hand fixed in Thorin’s as he smiled up at you sweetly, “Buarndur, no tears.” (Bear) Brushing your cheek with the other hand, “You will find a way.”

You nodded and said, “I think I might have an idea.”

He grinned as Balin next door said, “See, no crack passing your notice, Moonbeam.”

You weakly chuckled and Bofur called across the way, “What’d you find?”

You wet your lips after Thorin brushed another tear from your cheek, “Barrels of wine keep arriving, but there are no empty barrels in sight.”

Dwalin grinned, “Good, use his vice to our advantage.” A set of rhythmic taps from Nori above signaled the end of your daily stop in and you leaned in accepting the kiss on your forehead from Thorin.

Lowly he rumbled, “Take your time Buarndur.”

You nodded and rose then slipped out again wandering through a set of halls spying on the store room you had found their belongings in three days earlier and then at the sound of another approaching guard you darted through a doorway on your right and you hurried down the first set of stairs. The sound of rushing water made you duck lower to peer into the room, with a smirk you watched the stack of barrels being dumped into the water below before the Elf holding the lever left through a door below the steps you were hiding on. When they left you slipped out again when the halls were cleared and returned ready to share the news on your path through the main garden by your apartment only to freeze when you spotted the Elf King waiting at the table there with a tea set.

Raising his eyes to meet yours he asked, “Enjoying your wanderings around the Palace grounds?” Again his eyes scanned over your curious pendant then darted to the Elleth supposedly assigned to tailing you finally appearing at the edge of the gardens with an irritated expression at your having slipped past their attentions yet again, much like Bilbo, who had also slipped past his guard more than once.

“Yes, it is quite lovely.”

“Is this your usual habit? Taking daily walks around Lindon? Cirdan must enjoy catching your path through his gardens.”

You let out a weak chuckle making his brow twitch up, “Cirdan does not have gardens of his own, he lives near the ports overlooking the water. Though he does enjoy my cookies I bring him.”

“Maglor allows such habits?”

“He often joined me, wandering the waters edge.”

Lowering his tea cup he asked after wetting his lips while you claimed a sip, “I was curious, you mentioned your Naneth, where is your Ada?”

You flashed him a weak smile lowering your own teacup, “My Ada is a Smith, travels often for work for long stretches of time.”

He nodded then asked, “Why would Maglor leave you with Aiwendil?”

“It seems an Isitari is the only one to catch on to my paths and guide me back in time for meals.” Blankly his eyes scanned over your face trying to subtly search out any flinch in your façade wondering why fate had brought you into his path right then.

Each night he would pace in his rooms trying to figure out your plans. You had easily slipped past his guards but only for short bursts of time, at first he assumed stopping to relieve yourselves but then it began in places nowhere near proper locations to do so. Bewildered even more he outright refused to send you down to one of those cells as well on uncertainty alone, nothing had been taken or moved to his countless inspections of your entire path. His questioning and those of his son had proven just as fruitful, it truly seemed you were simply here for the celebration. Between that and his unsuccessful convincing of the irritatingly obstinate Dwarves to give up their quest he rarely slept save for a few instances of his dozing off in your sitting room when he was waiting for you to return from your wanderings.

In the middle of your dinner that night you sat beside the King again across from Legolas when mid giggle as they let out joint laughs at the latest in your string of jokes lightening the mood greatly, at least until the double doors opened and a pair of Elves entered the room. Hastily they reached the King’s side and bowed their heads stating outright, “My King, the Dwarves, are gone.”

At once Thranduil peered over you, Bilbo and Radagast at the table then stated, “Search the Palace and our borders and seal the gates. No one enters or leaves lest I hear of it.”

He exhaled with mind racing scanning his eyes over the table before you, clearly lost in his frantic attempt to calm himself as he settled in his mind your mystery was nowhere near a priority right now, at least until his eyes locked with yours. Instantly he felt the same wave of calm wash over him and hoped that somehow you could aid him in his troubles, then you flashed him an innocent smile and asked, “You invited Dwarves?”

He shook his head answering a bit lower than he intended to, “No.” Clearing his throat he added, “No, I did not.”

Your smile inched wider asking, “Do you get many Dwarves through these lands?”

“Not since Smaug drove them out of Erebor. Normally they travel farther South to avoid my lands to reach the Iron Hills.”

“Why not invite them from there? I have it on good authority Dwarves are quite fond of celebrations.”

He raised a brow at you only to peer at Bilbo stating, “Or Hobbits.” His hand shifted in front of his face, “You’ve never seen finer festivity than when a Hobbit is heading it.” He blinked a few times then added, “No doubt yours will be quite extravagant, though Hobbits exude making one feel at home, even miles away from theirs. No doubt Elves seem to have mastered an all out awe inducing affair, which, mind you, is quite nice.”

Against his main instinct to continue panicking he leaned back in his chair and melted back into the conversation with you and the young Hobbit. Learning more on the Shire as he indulged on his wine while you mentally retraced your steps in hiding their belongings a couple days later before remembering how you managed to snatch the right key from a napping Elf’s ring and handed it off to Bilbo for his stop into the dungeon later. One at a time they slipped out following the right path under Bilbo’s watch into the cellar where you timed it perfect for one of the distracted Elves, while Bilbo questioned him about the wine he sampled at the King’s table the night before, pulled the lever freeing the company into the river below.

Bobbing and splashing in the river below in the sealed barrels Thorin’s eyes sunk to the bracelet you had slipped him from his bags and passed to him through Bilbo. One you had made him for his journeys away for work, on the side the raised etching of a peak with a dragon above it inside an oval representing the arkenstone sat one of your silmarils. The incredible gift you trusted him with that bore a special secret, where one sat the wielder of the other could link minds through them to the other wielder.

No matter where you were he could feel you near him still and know you were safe while his deep hums kept you at ease in your time apart. This was certainly an extraordinary circumstance, his having to flee a dungeon and leave you behind with no one but an untrained Hobbit to aid in your escape. The most common question and betting topic in the company was how you had managed to slip past the King in his own Palace unnoticed and not draw any attention or spare guards on them in the week and a half they had been imprisoned.

The barrels eventually bobbed to a stop and at the river’s edge they followed the path to a small set of ruined bridges forming an outpost long since destroyed. They set up camp in chuckling to themselves at your successful plan freeing them to keep going towards home after just a couple more days waiting for you both to join them. All day and night they watched between your messages for your father assuring him of your progress and continued safety, waiting for word on when to be out waiting for you.

Pt 2

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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