#hobbit x oc

[tamurilofrivendell]

Heart of Stone | Chapter 14

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 Read on AO3

pairing: Thranduil x Tamuril (oc) storyline: Tamuril was in love with Haldir but the battle at Helms Deep took  away all hope she had for the future. She struggles with her grief and tensions eventually run high when she shares a moment with Lord Elrond she feels she cannot  come back from and flees Rivendell, hiding herself away in the Elvenking Thranduil’s Halls. chapter summary: Tamuril spends the last rest stop of their journey to Mirkwood in Thranduil’s tent.

"Your Majesty, I... it is not necessary... I would not wish to impose-” Tamuril stammered out as she spun around to face him.

“If it were an imposition.” Thranduil cut her off smoothly, raising a hand slightly as he blinked dispassionately back at her. “Then I would not have bothered to open my mouth.” He said simply, gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned his attention to the space behind her, where Feren still stood. “Assist the lady, please.”

Then he was gone and Tamuril turned back to Feren, doing her best to keep how stunned she was off her face, doubting that she managed it. She could already imagine just how awkward it would be, dancing around the way she had spoken to Thranduil the night before. She had forgotten her place, she already knew this. This was not like when he would visit Rivendell and bestow some off handed remark upon her that she might find herself returning. He was to be her King now, after all, since she had practically forced herself upon his realm... and she needed to begin acting like it.

“I’ll help!” Nessa chimed in, smiling brightly between Feren and Tamuril. Feren offered Tamuril a mildly confused smile and gestured for her to follow as he made after Nessa. With a sigh, Tamuril forced one foot in front of the other and trailed behind them. She really didn’t think that this was a job for three but she didn't linger on it.

Thranduil’s tent was huge. Tamuril thought that it was larger than necessary but she didn’t say it out loud. She reminded herself that she needed to do better about holding her tongue. She was irritable of late, yes, but that was hardly the fault of any of those around her.

“I believe that is you all set, my lady.” Feren said, after helping set her bedroll out in the empty corner, smiling at her as if this were a most normal occurrence. Tamuril felt otherwise but she managed a little smile back at him, watching him take his leave. She kind of wanted to flee again, feeling like a lecture could be on its way to her this night.

Nessa gave her a sympathetic look, reaching out to take her hand briefly. “I’m sure he won’t even want to talk that much.” She said, aware somehow that Tamuril was worrying about disrespecting the King the previous night. “But... you know... if he does. Just...” She paused, looking at Tamuril as Tamuril stared back at her for a beat. “...be nice.”

With those parting words of wisdom, Nessa was gone, leaving Tamuril blinking after her. She gritted her teeth and turned around, surveying the tent. It was much bigger than all the others and she supposed that made sense but she thought it was a little over the top. In the uncomfortable silence that fell over her as she stood there alone, Tamuril crept around the tent, exploring. She was just reaching out to inspect something on a little table when a sudden voice made her jump.

“You know, it is impolite to go looking through other people’s belongings.”

Thranduil.

How did he keep sneaking up on her like that?!

Tamuril spun around on the spot, an embarrassed heat rushing to her cheeks. “I...” She trailed off as she met his eyes and lowered her gaze, having the good grace to look sheepish.

He moved past her, round the other side of the table, and poured himself some wine from the carafe that was set up for him.

Tamuril shuffled away, moving awkwardly over to where she was to sleep for that night, wondering if she would be able to switch off at all with the King’s presence so immediate.

“Would you like some?” Thranduil’s deep voice followed her and when she turned he was watching her intently, one hand gesturing to the wine on the table.

She hesitated for a second, gaze flickering between Thranduil and the table and then she decided that some liquid courage might actually help so she nodded and trailed back over to him. She intended to fetch it herself but Thranduil had already reached out to pour some for her.

“Thank you.” She managed, taking the offered drink from him. She raised it to her lips and had a sip, the drink warming her quite quickly.

“I, uh.” Tamuril started to speak again, as Thranduil moved back around the table and over to a chair near to his own sleeping area, sitting down and lounging gracefully in the seat. He didn’t speak, drinking his wine as he watched her with those intense eyes.

She did her best not to fidget as she continued, gripping the stem of the chalice in her hand like it was a lifeline. “I’m... I wanted to say sorry. About... last night. I...” She wanted to lower her gaze as his own was pinning her in place but she felt that would make her seem as if she didn’t actually mean the words she was speaking. “I should not have spoken to you like that.”

Another silence stretched between the both of them. Thranduil didn’t take his eyes from Tamuril’s, watching her squirm with an amusement that he kept well hidden. He made her suffer for a while more before he simply shrugged and set aside his goblet.

"It is forgiven.” He ignored Tamuril’s surprised expression as he waved a hand slightly, effectively ending the conversation.

His attention drifted elsewhere and Tamuril watched him for a second longer before she turned away, frowning softly, and padded over to where she was to sleep for the night. She couldn’t tell whether or not she felt better for it but at least she had said it. Yet another silence followed in which she gulped down the rest of the wine and set the empty cup to the side.

The two of them didn’t speak again and Tamuril eventually slipped into her bed and lay with her back to him, making herself as small and quiet as she could. She thought she felt eyes on her but she knew she was simply being paranoid so she did her best to just stay still and quiet, trying to drift off to sleep. She heard him move eventually, padding towards his own bed, where she heard some shuffling and then, once more, silence.

Tamuril was running through the grass surrounding Lórien, laughing wildly, fighting against her boots as they sunk beneath the proof of the previous nights blizzard. She could not walk atop the snow but the elf who was chasing her certainly could.

Haldir left barely a footprint behind him as he charged after her, his gentle laughter filling her with a happiness she couldn’t even describe.

Arms caught her round the waist and she squealed, both of their laughter mingling together as Haldir lifted her off the ground and swung her around.

Once he set her down again, she turned to look up at him.

He leaned in to kiss her.

Then the image twisted and changed.

Darkness had fallen and she felt like she was stuck in a swamp, she was moving her legs but she was getting nowhere. A light in the distance suddenly began to spread, lighting up snapshots of the battlefield ahead of her.

Haldir was falling.

There was blood everywhere.

She was screaming but she could not move.

He was too far away.

She could not reach him.

Haldir hit the ground.

He went stll.

“Tamuril...” His voice echoed around her, suffocating her, pulling her down into the depths of despair once more. His warm eyes, now dead and unseeing, swam across her vision.

A different voice suddenly cut through the chaos, trying to reach her. “Tamuril.”

She was still screaming.

“Tamuril.”

Blood. Snow.

“Tamuril!” The voice came again, louder and more demanding, pulling her back with a rush.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped for breath. Her dream bled away, melting back into reality. When she fully refocused, Tamuril found herself staring into intense blue eyes that were all too familiar by this point.

#thranduil x oc #lotr oc #lotr x oc #hobbit x oc #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #hos

[verkomy]

kiss it better 2/2

#verkomy oc mira #mira thimbleberry #hobbit oc #the hobbit oc #tolkien oc #fili #fili durin #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #oc x canon #fanart #my art #verkomy #verkomy 2024

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

I’ve edited this post so you guys get to enjoy the meme instead lol

POV - You're reading my fic:

(FYI this meme I’ve made is based off of my fic which has female MCs <3)

Hope everyone has a nice weekend!

#the hobbit #kili #kili x reader #fili #fili x reader #hobbit x reader #kili x oc #big soup #the hobbit x reader #fili x oc #to the shadows that cry witch #thorins company x reader

[notinusesworld]

Legolas as your boyfriend head cannons!

synopsis: as the title says, g!n reader

a/n: new writer here! looking to improve my writing skills so please feel free to send me some requests. i’m only writing for lotr for the time being, and no smut and no hardcore angst. i’ll do pretty much any short story requests or head cannons otherwise. thank you!

- He’s very gentle, his touches are always very soft and almost never rough

- It’s cannon that elves are very in tune with their emotions and freely show them outwardly, he will constantly tell you how he feels about you and he can seem quite dramatic about it at times

- On the same note, he likes to write poetry and songs about you, extremely cheesy ones but they mean a lot to him

- An enjoyer of things. He just likes things. While out on duty or adventures he likes to just pick up things he finds on the way. Nuts, rocks, leafs, ones that he finds particularly cool and interesting he likes to give to you. And if you don’t give it the appropriate amount of admiration then he will sulk

- He likes flowers, he’s forever picking them and putting them in his hair, he started to it for you too as he began to fall in love with you

- He has a staring problem, he doesn’t seem to understand that it makes people uncomfortable. You’ve caught him staring at you as if in a trance a few times, and he will continue to do so even after you’ve noticed

- If you joined the fellowship of the Ring along side him, then during the whole journey he will make sure you never get separated, especially during battles. He does believe that you’re strong enough to fight for yourself, he just doesn’t want to risk being away from you, or not being able to help incase of an emergency

- He’s very physically affectionate, he likes to hold you any chance he gets, even if it’s just your hand as you walk together. He likes making the most of the time you have together, whether you’re an elf or a mortal, he will do the same and never get tired of it

- He likes to wake you up by peppering your face with kisses

- He likes to talk about you a lot to his friends, while he will talk about pretty much anything that pops into his mind, you seem to be on it the most. He will shower you with praise and talk about how amazing of a partner you are

#legolas #lotr #legolas x reader #legolas imagine #lotr fandom #lotr elves #lotr fanfic #lotr x reader #elf x reader #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x oc #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas x oc #the fellowship of the ring #legolas greenleaf #tolkien

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #richard armitage #thorin x reader #legolasbadass #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #hobbit fic #thorin

[pistachiozombie]

[Bofur x Leanna - Warm Hearts] Rough sketch -> First Render -> Final Render Hopefully I will finish this animation soon♥

#2d Animation #The Hobbit #3d Render #OC x Canon #WIP #Warm Hearts #Bofur x Leanna

[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.

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#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

[marsconer]

writing lord of the rings fanfic is like. *has three versions of how an event goes* *goes into research tangent on folklore and anthropology* * cries about it* it’s what tolkien would have wanted.

#antihero #lord of the rings #tolkien purists dni #tolkien is such a mood #but he’s also rolling in his grave #modern girl in middle earth #the girls should get their perfect nail polished hands on lotr #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr x oc #hobbit #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #gandalf #tolkien not having witches in middle earth feels weirdly gendered motivated #maybe that’s just me #legolas greenleaf #aragorn #gimli #merry and pippin #boromir #oc fanfiction #tolkien never did

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.

▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!

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

The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture. 

Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done. 

You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?

With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings. 

A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages. 

“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you. 

Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person. 

This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound. 

Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.

Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there. 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer’s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort. 

With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead. 

Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.

You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning. 

The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it. 

You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect. 

His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.

“What is your name?” 

You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty. 

“Y/N, my king.”  

He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.

“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”

“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions. 

“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.

“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”

You nodded.

“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.” 

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”

A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone. 

“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.   

“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.

“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more. 

“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it. 

“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know. 

Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach. 

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?

“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror. 

Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.

“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”

A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it. 

“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.” 

He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.

“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.” 

“Herbology happens to be my specialty.” 

Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?

“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?

“Farewell, my lady.” 

He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement. 

And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end. 

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

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

[sotwk]

The Best Gift (Legolas x f!Reader)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir) 

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window. 

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window. 

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.” 

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen. 

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused. 

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.” 

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.” 

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.” 

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless.  But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him. 

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet.  “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck,  you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself. 

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm. 

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path. 

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning. 

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground. 

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home. 

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall. 

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!  

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”. 

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

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#sotwk fanfiction #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas thranduilion #fanfic request #legolas #gelir thranduilion #sotwk oc #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #lotr #the hobbit #lotr fanfic

[gulnarsultan]

🍃İmagine🍃

Thranduil enjoys suddenly kissing your cheeks deeply and then seeing your reactions. Her face turning pink with embarrassment. Try not to stutter. And you try to act like nothing happened.

#thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil x oc #thranduil oropherion #thranduil #lotr fanart #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanart #thranduil imagine #tolkien elves

[tamurilofrivendell]

Heart of Stone | Chapter 15

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Read on AO3

pairing: Thranduil x Tamuril (oc) storyline: Tamuril was in love with Haldir but the battle at Helms Deep took away all hope she had for the future. She struggles with her grief and tensions eventually run high when she shares a moment with Lord Elrond she feels she cannot come back from and flees Rivendell, hiding herself away in the Elvenking Thranduil’s Halls. chapter summary: Tamuril spends the last rest stop of their journey to Mirkwood in Thranduil’s tent (pt.2) & we arrive at the border of the wood. tag: (if you wanted tagged in these as well) @firelightinferno​

It took Tamuril a few seconds to realise that she was crying, and even longer to realise that Thranduil was cradling her face in his hands and watching her eyes rather intently as she snapped back to the moment.

The opening to the King’s tent was then suddenly flung open, the guards drawn by Tamuril’s screams and concerned for their king. Thranduil lifted a hand without taking his gaze from Tamuril’s face, signalling that it was alright. Though they did briefly hesitate, they turned and left dutifully all the same.

Tamuril was taking deep, shuddering breaths, unable to calm herself down or rid her mind of the image from the nightmare. The picture in her mind blended together in a similar way it did in the dream. In her mind’s eye she saw Haldir leaning in to kiss her, his beautiful face alight with joy, but his perfect skin soon melted away as the image morphed with the imaginings her brain had conjured up, bloody and broken.

“Shhh. Thuia.” Breathe. Thranduil soothed, from his place beside her, needing her to come fully back to the present moment quicker than she was.

Many a night - after the death of his wife, after the subsequent wiping out of the Gundabad orcs, after the kiss of the dragon’s breath, after his father’s fall, and after a good many others things - Thranduil had found himself plagued by the nightmares. The violent, bloody, gruesome, grief-enduced nightmares. Sometimes he found that he still was, and maybe that was why he took such little interest in true, deep rest. He did not want to be caught by it - it was outwith his control and caused him to feel weak. Regardless, he recognised it in the distressed girl sitting before him, and he wished that he could make it go away.

He had been unable to find much rest himself, though some part of him had been pleased when he heard the peredhel’s breathing grow softer from across the room as the arms of sleep took her and the anxiety he'd been able to feel emanating off her had ebbed away. He figured that it was their argument that had her feeling such a way - or maybe she was just intimidated by a king. He didn’t know and, truthfully, he didn’t particularly care.

Still, much like it had in Rivendell when he had stood on the other side of the door listening to her cry, his heart had gone out to her.

“Look at me.” He murmured, but when she seemed not to hear him his tone became a little harder. “Tamuril! Look at me.”

Finally, she focused again, blinking her full attention back to his face. A fresh tear fell from her eye and without much thought he brushed it away with his thumb as he looked back at her.

“Th-Thranduil...?” Her voice was quiet as she suddenly realised what had happened.

He ignored the lack of any titles, simply nodding. “Yes.” He continued to softly caress her face, watching her carefully. “You’re alright now.”

As she sat there, focusing on him as he brushed his thumbs over her tears and then dropped his hands to her own, those same thumbs ghosting over the backs of her hands, Tamuril continued to calm down. Her breathing became less shallow and ragged. Her mind started to clear. Her tears dried up.

Soon, she had enough clarity to feel embarrassment. Here she had the King on his knees beside her, drying her tears and tending her as though she were an elfling!

“My King, I... my apologies.” She murmured, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth as she forced the words out.

His mouth briefly pulled into another, small smile before he pulled his hands away and stood in one fluid motion. If she had the wits about her to feel shame and embarrassment then he knew that she was recovered enough for him to take his leave of her.

“Do not apologise for things over which you have no control.” He said simply, moving away from her and back over to where he had been lying in rest before she disturbed him.

Tamuril watched him go, feeling unsure and still a little shaky, but also grateful. It had helped - having him there like that. His touch had been grounding in a way. Sometimes, after those dreams, she would be out of sorts for days. She felt much calmer even now as she sat there, minutes later.

She sighed, the sound regaining his attention for a moment but when he saw no fresh distress he returned his attention back to his own thoughts.

“I dreamed about Haldir.” She said softly then, and he once more lifted his gaze.

He looked at her for a few quiet seconds and then he nodded. “Yes.” That much had not been difficult to ascertain.

Tamuril frowned. “Do you...” She quickly shook her head, pressing her lips together to prevent anything further coming out.

Thranduil frowned ever so slightly, looking at her closely for a long while as he waited for her to finish. She didn’t and Thranduil did not ask, instead simply looking away and allowing silence to fall over the tent once more.

A while later, the sky outside began to lighten.

“Feren!” He called and in immediately he rushed, casting a glance at Tamuril that she was quick to turn from out of sheer embarrassment. His expression said more than words could. The whole camp must have heard her!

“We will depart within the hour.” Thranduil told Feren, who nodded, as eager to be home as his King was.

Tamuril was riding next to Nessa in the middle of the caravan, quiet since they had set off, but not altogether depressed. Nessa found this quite curious, for usually after a nightmare that had her actually screaming aloud Tamuril would be overly distraught for days. Still, Nessa held her tongue, deciding not to draw attention to it in case she made it worse.

Despite Tamuril’s embarrassment, nobody was looking at her anymore. Indeed, only a couple of stares had been sent her way after trailing out of the tent behind Thranduil and the attention she had drawn was soon swiftly moved to fix upon their king as he bid them all to continue on the final leg of their journey. Truthfully, all the elves here knew of Tamuril’s situation and they did not really judge her for it. Many had seen their own loved ones succumb to their grief after various losses in battles and, so, they had some experience with the melancholy so deep it could kill and Tamuril, as far as melancholic elves went, was not quite as ‘bad’ as a lot of them had seen before. One or two wondered if it was due to her peredhel nature but they didn’t dwell on it for very long.

As time passed and she left the nightmare behind her, Tamuril found herself beginning to relax. The mood of the wood elves around her, too, had lightened considerably due to the fact they were coming closer to their home. Their home without the shadow of the enemy lying heavily upon it as it had for so many thousands of years. The Battle Under The Trees had cost them, of course it had, but the darkness that had dwelled within Dol Goldur was no more and Sauron was vanquished. Mirkwood, formerly the Greenwood, was now Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Greenleaves, and they could all finally breathe the fully free air again.

There was much to grieve but there was also much to be grateful for.

As they finally neared the wood itself, the elves who called this place home began to lighten even further. It was a palpable feeling that seemed to spread over the whole group and, soon, a soft chant-like song had been taken up.

“Lasgalen!” “Lasgalen!” “Eglerio Lasgalen!” “Eglerio Aran Thranduil!” Praise Lasgalen! Praise King Thranduil!

Eventually, as Nessa beside her, the joyful cries of the wood elves was too much to ignore and Tamuril's voice rose just a little to join theirs. They seemed to welcome it and, somehow, she found herself feeling oddly at ease as she did so, as she rejoiced with these elves who had finally regained their home, in it's truest form, after all of this darkness.

Tamuril cast her gaze ahead, to the front of the group, where Thranduil sat straight and proud atop his war elk. Just before they all set foot into the wood, he turned his head just a little to scan over his people, full of emotion. Tamuril watched and she could have sworn that he paused his scan when he found her in his peripheral vision, and that the slightest smile had tugged at the corners of his mouth.

#thranduil x oc #lotr x oc #hobbit x oc #lotr oc #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fanfix #haldir x oc

[verkomy]

kiss it better 1/2

#verkomy oc mira #mira thimbleberry #hobbit oc #the hobbit oc #tolkien oc #fili #fili durin #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #oc x canon #comic #fanart #my art #verkomy #verkomy 2024

[imagines--galore]

Legolas 17 pls 🙏🙏🙏 love your work 🩷🩷

Summary: You had always been the one overlooked. The one watching from the shadows. But when he reached his hand out to you, you felt........seen. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance/Angst. None A/N: Alright, so I made the reader sister to Aragorn. Hope thats alright and I hope you like this!

Content.

Contentment radiated from your very soul as you stood in the shadow of the pillar. Watching as your brother took his beloved's hand and led her in the first dance as husband and wife.

The assembled guests burst into applause as the music began, and after a few moments, couples began to take to the dance floor. They all reveled in the joy of the newly married couple.

You continued to watch, head leaning against the cool marble pillar, as you watched your brother and his wife.

Aragorn and Arwen.

King and Queen of Gondor.

Your heart hummed a song of happiness. Happiness for your brother. He deserved this. Deserved more then every moment of this night. This day. And any other that came with Arwen by his side.

Never once had you doubted their love for one another. Even when Aragorn had begun to doubt, you had stayed strong for him. Had never let him let go of that hope, of his love for Arwen.

And it had borne fruit.

They were married now.

By the Valar they were married.

A burst of pure happiness radiated form your chest, prompting you to smile.

"It seems even you cannot refrain from allowing yourself to smile on such an occasion." Came a voice from the other side of the pillar, one full of mirth and a tenderness that was only reserved for you.

Legolas.

Though there was a pillar between the both of you, you could still envision the smile on his lips and the gentleness in his eyes.

"No one can resist. Not tonight." You said, your voice soft as your gaze roamed around the hall where the wedding party was. "Not when they are in the presence of a love so great it shall never burn out."

A soft laugh was his response. "Is that how you see their love?" He asked, always in awe of the way you saw the world. Legolas was always fascinated when it came to looking at the world through your eyes. You always provided a unique perspective for him.

"And how do you see our love?"

The question prompted you to blink in surprise, and very nearly look in his direction. But you stopped.

A sound that was a mixture of a sigh and a giggle, fell from your lips as you spoke softly. "I see our love as something that shall transcend lifetimes." Silence followed your words, and you were sure you had surprised him with your answer.

You closed your eyes as you leaned against the pillar and continued to speak.

"I see our love as bright as the light of the Valar." You felt him move, prompting you to take a step back, so that you were half-concealed within the shadows.

"I see our love as our salvation. Even in the most dire of times, it was our light." You were now standing behind the pillar, still leaning against it, your eyes closed. But you could feel him.

Standing right in front of you.

"I see our love as an entity that saved me from myself."

Finally, you opened your eyes, only to loose breath at finding him standing so close to you. His blue eyes penetrated to the very depths of your soul.

"I see our love as the light that guided me out of the shadows." You continued, your voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to tenderly stroke your cheek with his fingers.

There was a time when even thinking of having someone be in love with you as Legolas was, would have you scorning at the thought. Love had no room in your life. Not when you had promised your mother that you would help Aragorn on his path.

As the heir of Isildur, he had much on his shoulders, and as his sister, you were there to ease the load and help him however you could.

No distractions.

But then you had met Legolas.

And for the first time in your life, you had no clue how you would navigate through the plethora of feelings that awakened within you.

Feelings that had a warmth grow inside you, one you had never felt before. One that continued to grow with each passing day. It had felt so strange, to feel that warmth glow within you, to feel it flicker whenever he would look your way. Or feel it lick along your skin when he would touch you. By accident or purpose, you did not know.

And what had you done to combat those feelings?

You had retreated into the shadows. Had retreated into yourself just because you were afraid. Afraid that these feelings would become real, too real, if either of you said anything out loud.

So you hid. You hid in your shadows, and behind your silence.

You barely spoke to him, barely acknowledged him. And though he kept his distance, Legolas was not one to give up easily. He was sure of his feelings for you long ago.

The elf was never obvious about them, however, his subtlety at conveying the depth of his affection for you were ones you had never missed over the years.

Then again there were times when even your feelings for him could no longer stay within the shadows and would come to light.

                                         ————————–

The first time you had shown signs of the deep affection you felt for the Prince was after a rather harrowing run-in with a band of orcs. You were greatly outnumbered, but still your small group of Rangers stood their ground.

You had only just felled an Orc, adrenaline racing through your body, your eyes already seeking out another opponent.

That was when you saw Legolas.

He had run out of arrows and was now fighting with his two long knives. Two Orcs at once. His entire concentration was on the creatures in front of him, leaving one of the stray Orcs to raise a wicked looking axe, aiming to strike the Prince from behind.

Amidst the chaos around you, your voice screamed his name. Your body acted without thought as you raised your sword and threw it in the direction of Legolas's would-be-killer.

The sword didn't find its mark, but it did knock the Orc off it's feet, giving Legolas time to collect himself and take care of the Orc himself.

The sight of the Orc standing behind Legolas about to strike him haunted you for days. Your sleep was plagued by night terrors, where you were not able to help him, where you watched helplessly as Legolas fell. The light in his eyes slowly dying. That was normally when you forced yourself to awaken.

Your body would tremble, your emotions on the very precipice of a cliff that had no end in sight. Valar! You were loosing your mind. A few nights after the encounter you had a particularly harrowing night terror. Not only had Legolas perished in it, but Aragorn too. As had Arwen, Elrohir, Elladen, Elrond, and so many others that you had grown to love since you knew them.

You had blindly stumbled from your sleeping roll, unaware that Legolas had been the one on watch that night. That he saw you as you stumbled away, saw the tears that ran down your cheeks as you disappeared into a cluster of trees near their camp ground. Worry gnawed at his heart and quickly waking the next person to keep watch, he followed after you.

It was rather easy to find you, since you made no effort to hide yourself. There you were, leaning against a tree, your head buried in your hands as your shoulders shook. In the stillness of the night your sobs echoed clear and the despair and utter sorrow behind those sobs caused a near physical ache to bloom in the Prince's chest.

Unable to stand by and do nothing while you suffered so, he stepped forward reaching out to gently place a hand on your shoulder.

Even before feeling his hand, you knew he was there. It was a strange ability you had. You always knew when Legolas was near. Unbeknownst to you, he shared the very same ability.

At the moment though the rawness of your emotions and the night terror still lingering in your conscious thoughts had you pivoting on your heel and throwing your arms around him in an almost desperate embrace. You clung to him, head buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped around his torso. The sobs began anew and through broken words and whispered phrases you told him of your fears and night terrors.

The moment Legolas felt your arms around him, he had not hesitated in returning the embrace. His hands traced gentle patterns against your back, fingers slowly sliding up to your hair where he began to stroke and play with the soft strands.

Once you had exhausted yourself and had spilled out the reason behind your tears, you slowly fell silent. Your sobs turned to gentle sniffles and slight tremors as you tried to calm yourself. Now that you were somewhat at peace, Legolas took the chance to reassure you with his words.

"You have said your piece Little One, now you must listen to mine."

Little One. He had called you so since he first met you. But the words were never said in a condescending manner. Sure he called you so because of how young you were compared to his elf years, but there was always something endearing about the way he said the words.

You felt a gentle hand tug at your chin. You tilted your head back in response, opening your eyes to finally meet Legolas's ever blue gaze. One that was full of compassion and affection.

"You must not allow the darkness of this world to overcome your good heart Y/n. Not only will the people who love you mourn your loss, but this world will be a much better place if you were to face it with a smile on your face, and light in your heart."

He still held your chin ever so gently, while his other hand continued to play with your hair. "Darkness will come, there is no denying, but all we can do is look past it, look towards tomorrow and hope that we have the people we love with us so that everyday is brighter then the last."

Your eyes were wide, and swimming with unshed tears. But his words, his voice, resonated within you. So much so that you decided then and there to live your life to the extent of which you had denied yourself for so many years.

                                         ————————–

As Isuldir's heir, Aragorn was the one who caught the attention of those who knew who he was. He didn't like it, he never did. But it was inevitable.

He especially hated how people seemed to forget that he had a sister who shared the same blood as he did. You were just as important, he would reassure you, but you had waved him away at that.

"The people need a King, Brother. A symbol of hope. And you are that symbol. Not I. I am merely the shadow that shall stay in the shadows watching you and protecting you."

You had spoken those words years ago, never thinking that someone else would come to stand beside you in the shadows. Someone who would take your hand and help you along your path.

An elf who would become your closest confidant.

A friend who would comfort you whenever you should need it, and whose soul you would soothe in return.

The prince who would fall in love with the princess.

Wearing the silver circlet that shared many similarities to the one he wore, you pushed yourself up to your toes, grasping his shoulders for support, to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you." You spoke softly, the smile upon your lips leaving him breathless as you gazed at him. His hands found yours, grasping them tightly within his as he lifted them to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles of both your hands. "Nay." A shiver ran through your body as you felt the word whispered against your skin.

"It is I who should be thanking you Little One. For loving me and allowing me to love you."

You laughed softly, gently guiding him forward so that your bodies were all but pressed together in the most intimate of embraces. "En melda caun." My beloved Prince. "Since neither of us will accept the other's gratefulness to loving one another, let us simply celebrate it together?" You offered.

A laugh, one full of nothing but joy and happiness of what was to come fell from his lips as he gave a small nod of agreement.

Before closing the last of the distance between the both of you and sealing the promise with a kiss that would chase away the last of the darkness that lingered in your heart.

You were his, and he was yours.

Nothing could part you from one another.

#legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas x oc #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings #the hobbit #hobbit

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Thranduil NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very caring and sweet. Wants to spend a lot of time wrapping his arms around his partner, like a mother koala. Will want to carry his partner to the bath and take his time with a gentle cloth

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, his hands and fingers. He loves how both elegant and powerful they can be. He adorns them with regal looking rings. Loves how they can give his partner both pleasure and pain

On a partner I feel like he loves hips. Great place to grab onto to manoeuvre and hold on tight while he’s fucking hard. Also a great place to anchor you as he holds you, running his fingers from the top of the rib cage all the way to the bottom of the hip and squeezing it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves to cum on his partner and will just look at them covered in cum for a bit while his breathing starts to calm down. He becomes almost amazed at how his partner looks

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’ve seen heaps of people say how he wants to fuck his partner on his throne but I believe he wants to give oral on his throne. Is usually dominant but the almost taboo of having someone else sit on his throne and he be on his knees is something that always feels new and exciting to him

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He had a small handful of experiences with partners before his wife but mainly just one night stands as a sexy young prince. I believe he got all of his experience and talent from his wife. Big hoe with one person sort of thing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style I’d say. Being able to control the pace so much and grab as much of his partner as he’d like. Pulling them up to have them flush against against his chest while he can grab at them too.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not very goofy. Can be cute and sweet while his partner sits on his lap and he plays with them but never really goofy. Usually pretty serious in the heat of the moment but can switch to sweet and soft quickly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very groomed and sparse golden hair

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends. He likes to fuck hard and isn’t usually very romantic in the act but he definitely can be. If his partner needs him in that way he is more than happy to hold them, kiss them and sweet talk them while he makes love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not that often. Barely ever if he’s in a relationship and about once or twice a week if he’s not.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Size and Kingly kink.

If it’s a human partner then there’s definitely a size/dominance kink, wanting to be in charge and dominant.

Would use his power and Royal position to push his dominance further. Making his partner call him ‘my king’ and ‘your highness’ really gets him going

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His throne or his big royal bed. Wants to be left alone with just him and his partner and be able to fuck however he likes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When his adrenaline is raised from either training or battle and he’s finding his partner and fucking them hard.

Seeing his partner wearing formal/regal wear makes him want to reck them, ruining their beautifully done hair and pristine outfit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No weapons, even a paddle. He never wants to make his partner bleed and he wants to be able to properly control the pain he gives, so hand spanking instead of a paddle every time

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to both give and receive.

When he gives he holds his partner down and craves to overstimulate them with his mouth. His partner will never cum only once if he’s giving them oral.

He prefers to sit instead of laying down when receiving. Either on his throne or a big armchair. Loves to look down onto his partner and stroke their hair and talk dirty. He isn’t opposed to face fucking but prefers his partner take their time so he can tease them while they pleasure him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough when he’s fucking but slow and sensual with oral

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

The version of quickies that he likes is dragging his partner away to somewhere quiet and using his fingers and hands to make them cum before going about his day. Sometimes he likes to see how many times he can quickly make them cum between duties.



R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Doesn’t really like to take many risks. He is king and while he likes to degrade his partner at times, he does keep his focus on keeping them safe and away from prying eyes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He will go as many rounds as his partner can take. If he takes a human partner he likes to go until they just pass out from pleasure. Can hold off from cumming for a long time but also doesn’t really have much of a refraction period so he can just keep going and going

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

The only toy he really has are plugs because he likes to bring his partner pleasure himself. Will put the plug in his partner and make them wear it at a fancy event.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loooovvvveeesss to tease. The teasing is done with light touches and whispered words in public. Drive his partner crazy while he acts so innocent and will never be caught in what he’s doing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lots of powerful grunts and looottttsss of dirty talk. He growls pretty loud when he cums but mainly lots of grunts and groans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If his partner is more of a casual thing he’d never be submissive but if he’s in a committed relationship with someone he loves to be taken care of in a submissive position. If his partner is AFAB he will want to get pegged and will want to suck and lick their strap.

In a committed relationship he loves his partner to be a soft dom every now and then. Not often, probably like once or twice a year.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A lot longer then average but pretty average width

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When not in a relationship it’s about average but in a relationship it goes right up. Wanting to fuck like every second day or something.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not that quickly at all. Will always wait until his partner falls asleep and is asleep for about 15-20 minutes before he even tries to drift off

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil imagine #Thranduil x oc #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thranduil fan fiction

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

Just so you guys know this is what is distracting me from opening requests

My friend and I decided that we were going to make hobbit characters out of shortbread and icing and thought we were going to make them look identical to the picture

I made Kili (ofc) and Bilbo which are above

My friend made Legolas and attempted Fili but spiralled into the hello kitty hole

My friend is @opheliasdrowningg so follow her or else *inserts several gun emojis*

Bonus:

#there was an attempt #the hobbit #kili x reader #kili #fili #fili x reader #kili x oc #big soup #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader #fili x oc #bilbo x reader #bilbo #bagginshield #legolas #legolas x reader #shortbread