#imagine thranduil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Text

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

1K notes · View notes

elfy-elf-imagines · 3 months

Text

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't need--"

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

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

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

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

"Then I am glad we are friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

When would this torment end?

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bit gauche.”

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

“I thought it looked nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?”

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

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

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

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

958 notes · View notes

welikeimagines-andfandoms · 2 months

Text

Imagine some of the elves of Middle Earth find out how easy it is to make you (a human staying in Rivendell) blush and become aroused.

They’re almost amazed how much their sweet words and light touches affect you. They begin to crave your flushed cheeks, the way your breath speeds up and the smell of your arousal. At first they were territorial and wanted you for themselves but now they know it’s better to work together.

At first they didn’t want to have sex with you, not wanting to spoil the seemingly innocent fun, but when Elrond fingers you and tells of how easy it is to make you cum, they all want to learn more.

Thranduil loves how submissive and good you are for him. You do whatever he orders and you look so pretty kneeling between his legs.

Glorfindel is amazed at how much your human body can take and how tight you feel around him. At first he worried he’d hurt you, but he hates the look and sound of disappointment when he holds back from you.

Elrond wants to make you cum again and again and again. He doesn’t care for his own pleasure, he just craves the way you cry out and beg him once you become too simulated.

Haldir loves to toy with you. Although he craves the way your pleasure-filled voice sounds moaning his name, it’s the foreplay and the way he can tease you that he loves the most. Sneaking up on you to hear your surprised sounds and then the way your breath catches at his surprising touches.

Legolas is a lot more playful then his fellow elves and loves the sweet noises you make. He loves to bounce you in his lap and listen to your sweet moans and giggles. He will give you whatever you want because he craves your sweet smile and look of admiration. Loves to feel your soft skin and stare at your pleasure-filled face.

Lindir plays you like a fine instrument, spending hours learning how to make you create certain sounds for him. He uses his fingers, mouth and cock so he can hear all of your sweet sounds. He’s not above begging you to be louder or to sing out for him.

636 notes · View notes

tinfairies · 1 year

Note

Hey so we talked before about hair braiding being intimate to elves. Can we have headcanons of reader just coming up behind them and starts braiding it casually and Legolas and Thranduil reacting to it? I feel they’d be like “wow she’s so forward (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ” 🤣

Thranduil

Of course he knows that this human isn't aware of elvish culture and the significance of braiding.

That doesn't stop him from being a bit surprised, then smug about it.

He would use it as a way to subtly claim his human. Making sure the other elves see them braiding his hair.

He might tell them about what braiding means for elves, but that won't be until he has them firmly in his grasp.

Legolas

Despite what his culture says about braiding, he loves having his hair played with.

He thinks it's cute that this human doesn't know, but is also glad for it. Legolas loves physical affection and he doesn't get much of it from his kind.

Will definitely show the braids off to other elves, boasting about his human's skill.

They will probably find out about what braids mean, but until then Legolas plans to soak up as much attention as he can.

5K notes · View notes

disasterofastory · 8 months

Text

Like a tree (Thranduil x Reader)

Like a tree Thranduil x Reader Warnings: drunk and horny Reader

Summary: You drank too much and your husband takes care of you.

You have to fight with every fiber of your body to open your eyes, and when you do, the world is spinning, and you feel dizzy. You need a few seconds to adjust your sight to the dim lights. The first thing you notice is the soft line of Thranduil's jaw and, a moment later, his hair as it falls all over his broad shoulders. Your fingers curl around the collar of his robe, not that you are afraid he would drop you. His strong arms are secure and steady under your back and knee. Warmth radiates from his body, bundling you into his embrace. "Where are we going?" You hum against his chest. Your words are muffled and disoriented. "You, my dear, are going to sleep." "What?" You scoff, wanting to push yourself away from him, but he doesn't even budge. "I'm fine," you tell him. "Oh, I know you are fine," Thranduil laughs. The deep rumble of his chest goes straight to your chest. The deep sound warms your heart. "But I think you drank a bit too much," he continues. "It seems like I have to talk with the guards again to not challenge you anytime soon." "Did I win?" You ask him. "Yes." "Good."

"Hey," you pout, reaching out for your husband when he steps back from you after putting you down on the bed. Your dress is long forgotten on the ground while your nightgown covers your body. The fabric is soft and light, showing off your cleavage and thighs. "Where are you going?" "I'm just going to change my clothes," he laughs at the expression on your face. "I won't go anywhere, I promise." "Oh," you breathe out, a mischievous grin pulls up the corners of your lips. "I can help with that." "I'm sure you could," Thranduil laughs again. He loves the way you look at him even though your eyes are half-closed. Your gaze is heated and full of love as you watch him change his clothes. "I think you shouldn't even bother with clothes," you break the silence again. "And why is that, my wife?" He asks, tugging on the blankets so he can tuck you in. "It's still cold." "Uhm," you groan, turning on your side so you can face him when he lies down next to you. "I can warm you up." Your bare leg slips up on his thighs, brushing his already half-hard cock in the process. Thranduil's muscles tense as he keeps his groan deep in his chest. His large hand lands on your soft skin, stopping your grinding on his erection. "I think we should postpone it, love," he says in a low voice. Your hand is warm on him as your fingers draw small circles on his wide chest. His skin is soft and smooth under your touch. "Why would we do such a thing?" You ask, frowning. "Because I'm drunk? It doesn't matter. I would climb on you like a tree if I were sober too." His laugh comes from deep inside his chest and fills the room with a pleasant rumble. God, you really love his voice. "I love your laugh," you state, creeping closer. "But I love your moans better." "Sleep, Y/N," Thranduil says. His amusement is still clear in his voice. His long fingers curl around your wrist to stop you from slipping inside his pants. "But I'm not that drunk," you argue. "I know," he says, pulling you against his side to be closer to his body. "But I don't want you to fall asleep in the middle." You gasp. "I wouldn't." Thranduil doesn't answer for long minutes as a knowing smirk spreads across his face. When his eyes move up from his hand still on your thigh to your face, he can't help but chuckle again. Your lips are slightly open as you sleep. "Of course not, my love," he hums softly, adjusting you until your head is on his chest and his arms are around you. "We will talk about you climbing me like a tree tomorrow," he adds quietly. His warm breath ghost over your ear, and you hum in agreement.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine

2K notes · View notes

deadlymistletoe · 9 months

Text

An Execution

Pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

Genre: Angst/comfort

Description: When you’re forced to witness an execution performed by the man you love, Legolas shields you from the sight, but Thranduil still has to reassure you later.

Warnings: Beheading (not graphic), mentions of assault.

Word count: 1148

The man leered at you from where he knelt in the middle of the ring of elves.

You took a breath, averting your gaze to somewhere over his soon-to-be-detached head and failed to notice the worried glance from the elf beside you.

Legolas glanced between you, the human who had his father so smitten, and said father. Truth be told, he didn’t think you should be here. Yes, according to the customs you had to be here, seeing as you were the one the man had attacked, but he could also see the faint tremor in your stance, and he hated that you had to see his father in a light you’d never had to see before.

His father was happy, more than he had been in years, because of you, and Legolas was terrified that this would scare you off once and for all, leaving his father heartbroken once again.

When you’d gone to Dale with Thranduil, the man had taken one look at your close proximity to the king and the adoring gaze he looked at you with and seen his chance at revenge against the elves who’d ‘caused’ his sister's death.

It hadn’t been hard for him to corner you when you got separated from the other elves at the marketplace. You’d been drawn to the stall filled with flowers at the edge of the marketplace and he’d taken his chance, convincing you that he had some rare flowers the stall didn't offer in his wife’s garden. No need to mention that he didn’t have a wife.

After that you were just lucky that Thranduil had sent someone to find you, and the bruises that had quickly formed around your throat and your hysteric state were evidence enough for Bard to agree to hand over the man to the elves' justice system.

Those same bruises still stood out against your skin, your dress doing nothing to cover them up. You shivered, although the air was warm, thoughts racing through your head as the man’s sentencing crime was read out.

Were you about to be responsible for someone’s death? Yes, he was a horrible man, and yes, you’d never asked for his execution, but you hadn’t argued against it either. You’d even felt a sick sort of relief at the decision to end the man's life.

Your breathing picked up and you felt your hands begin to sweat as the gleaming sword was handed to Thranduil, your lover stepping towards the man, whose dark, leering eyes were still on you.

This was his own fault, you knew that, Thranduil had drilled it into your head that nothing was your fault for days afterwards. The law of the elves said that harm or assault towards one of their own was met with execution, and while it warmed your heart that the elves of Mirkwood thought of you as one of them, part of you still felt sick. Felt like you were to blame. You’d followed him, hadn’t you? Left those who were to keep you safe behind without a second thought?

The blade was lined up with the man's throat, the man’s eyes drilled into yours and you couldn’t look away.

The blade was pulled back. It swung forwards.

You let out a gasp as arms wrapped around your shoulders, spinning you around so your face was pressed into a green covered shoulder as the sound of metal swung through the air and a dull thud was heard.

Legolas met his father’s eyes over your head as you trembled against him, and saw the gratitude in his father’s eyes.

Gratitude that you hadn’t had to see this side of him.

When Thranduil entered your shared chambers you were in the same place you had been since you had been escorted back hours before.

You were perched in the middle of the bed, knees pulled to your chest. You startled when he moved into your line of vision and he inwardly winced. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

He paused at the end of the bed, thankful that he’d made sure no blood was left on his robe, before he sat down on the edge, holding out a hand to you.

He held his breath, watching as you eyed his hand, the same hand the sword had swung from, before taking it and moving to sit beside him at the end of the bed.

You were both silent for a moment before he spoke, quietly, as if afraid of startling you. “I’m sorry you had to be there for that.”

“It’s okay.” You murmured. “Legolas made sure I didn’t see it.”

“Yes,” He squeezed your hand. “I thanked him for that.” He hesitated before continuing. “He was worried you would want to leave if you saw me like that.”

“Like what?” You murmured. “Like a king doing his duty?”

Thranduil swallowed. “Like a monster.”

You snapped your head around to look at him. Did he honestly think..?

“No,” You hurried to reassure him. “You're not a monster. You were just…”

“Just what?” His piercing eyes met yours and you were unable to look away. “Just ending somebody’s life without a single ounce of sympathy? Because I don’t regret ending that man’s life. I only regret doing it with you there.”

“I don’t expect you to.” You whispered, falling silent again.

Thranduil sighed, bringing your hand up to his mouth to place a lingering kiss on your knuckles. “That man deserved everything he got. It is not your fault that he chose you to take out his anger on, nor that he got caught.”

You swallowed. “He said… he said that he had a sister… that the elves killed her.”

“I know.” He hummed. “It is not the first time I have seen that man. His sister fell into the enchanted river when they were children sneaking out to explore. Legolas’ patrol found them and pulled her out but it was too late. She drowned and he has blamed us ever since.”

“Oh, that’s horrible.” You whispered, feeling a sudden wave of sympathy.

He looked at you sharply. “That does not excuse his actions towards you. There are elves in this kingdom who have lost family because of humans and yet they do not condemn you for being human, do they?”

You sighed. You knew he was right. You leaned against his side. “I know. I just don’t like feeling responsible for someone’s death.”

He turned to press a kiss to your forehead. “You're not. And I don’t care if it takes years, I will prove it to you in every way possible, until it doesn’t even cross your mind.”

“I love you.” You whispered, not knowing what to say. Never before had someone been this dedicated to your feelings.

“And I love you, you silly human.” He murmured back. “Now let me show you how much.”

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

#imagines #the hobbit #female reader #thranduil #legolas #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil x you #platonic legolas x reader #my writing

1K notes · View notes

frost-queen · 3 months

Text

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

| Meeting Thranduil

You met Thranduil when the Third age progressed. It was when the Necromancer unknown then but known as Sauron later on claimed the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc to make it into Dol Guldur. Sauron infected the woods with spiders and orcs. The spiders and the orcs expended their reach claiming more and more for them. Infecting the very nature with their filth and death.

All the elves were forced to leave the woods. Those who fought back were brought down. Countless of lost elves filled the sickening woods. You were amongst some elves that were fleeing. The orcs had increased their stench to the part of the woods where you lived. With a few douzen you were. Fleeing for your lives as the orcs hunted you down. The woods had grown iller. Spider cobs were not too much yet in these parts. But a few spiders having expended their webs out to your lands.

Some elves wanted to stay and fight. They barely lasted long as the pack of orcs were too many. Sweeping them down in a matter of seconds. The others fled as fast as they could. Hatred, anger and sorrow grieving your hearts. You were running trying to stay out of the orcs clutches. The orcs attack made you stumble, dropping to the ground. Surrounded by death and darkness. You thought it was over. You thought you were never going to see the undying lands, but then a bright light appeared between the trees. The illumination blinded the orcs sending them back a bit. The light faded as you could see a small group of elves charge for battle. Lead by a High elf.

The orcs never stood a chance. The High elf approached you, helping you up your feet. The moment his eyes met with his, he was struck. Gasping breathlessly at your grace and beauty. The woods no longer having a place for you, he took you in. Thranduil his name was. King of the woodland realm.

| Life at the woodland realm

Thranduil was smitten with you. For the first time in many ages, the so cocky king found beauty in another. He threated you like a guest with the highest honor. Quarters close to his. Thranduil would host parties just to have an excuse to dance with you. He never let any other elf near you. He wanted you for himself. You sometimes dared to tease Thranduil by speaking to other elves, just to see his reaction. You loved how easily jealous he was. He would come over, pull you gently behind him while urging them in a polite way to leave. Sometimes he would lay his robe over your shoulder to hint to others that you were his.

Underneath the moonlight on a summer's day was when you had your first kiss with Thranduil. Forever giving yourself to one another. He married you a month later never wanted to be parted from you ever again. You became queen of the woodland realm. All the elves present adored you for your righteousness and kind heart. Whenever Thranduil dared to lose his temper, you were there to calm him down. Sometimes you would come along with Thranduil and his army in an attempt to reclaim your woods. When Thranduil saw his numbers dim and almost losing you in a battle, he gave up. Not wanting to see his people be slaughtered or see you in danger. For he could not afford to lose you, his brightest star.

| Legolas

Legolas was born with grace. You loved every little detail of him. Thranduil would be careful at first. For he feared to hold such a fragile creature. He feared he might harm it in any way. You would show him he could do no harm. Taking his hand and bringing it up to Legolas for him to touch. His fingers would brush against his cheek making Legolas flutter a laugh. On that Thranduil was sold. Taking his son in his arms and care deeply for him.

As Legolas grew older, Thranduil insisted he had his features from you. Everything about Legolas reminded him of you. With the coming of Legolas was Thranduil more careful. You were no longer aloud out of the woodland realm. Not wanting anything to happen to you or Legolas. You had to admit it felt a bit lonely being unable to see the old woods. Your home that you missed dearly. With each year it grew colder and deader. Plagued by orcs and spiders. Since you had no where else to go, you focused more on Legolas. Teaching him how to defend himself. It was you who introduced Legolas to the bow and arrow. When Legolas was old enough to have his own bow, he would name it after you.

———————————————

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

410 notes · View notes

thranduil-ypfanfics · 2 years

Text

Imagine the King is lonely and you spend some time with him.

210 notes · View notes

cambion-companion · 1 year

Text

Hugging the Elves (blorbos)

Elrond ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Elrond is a healer, of both body and heart. His home of Rivendell is where those blessed enough to gain entry find refuge for their spirit. Elrond would hug like a father comforting his child, he would wrap you into a secure embrace. He smells like familiar spices and fresh warm cloth as you bury your head against his shoulder. The long sleeves of his robes wrap around your body and offer solace under their weight. He will smile down at you gently, a fond crinkling around his eyes full of wisdom and starlight.

Glorfindel

Sunshine incarnate, Glorfindel's hugs are enthusiastic and don't be surprised if he lifts you into his arms and twirls you around once or twice, especially if he has been on errantry and not seen you for a while. His long golden hair would get in both your faces and he would laugh, bell-like, as he gently brushes it away. He smells of a fresh summer breeze carrying the light scents of flowers and evergreen trees as you press your cheek to his chest. I also see him as being fond of taking your face in his hands, enjoying looking into your eyes and reading your emotions there. When you are in need of comfort be assured Glorfindel will always be ready to offer you a warm embrace as you bask in his glowing presence. His very touch is enough to chase away any creeping darkness from your mind. (yes I am madly in love with him can you not tell)

Arwen

Arwen doesn't hug very many people, so when she opens her arms to you it is a gift indeed. She smells of lilac and midsummer nights spent by the lake under the stars. Her hair is as soft as goose-down and the gossamer of her sleeves slips between your fingers. She holds the back of your head lightly as you lean against her, closing your eyes and enjoying the feel of her chin tucked against your head. Arwen will also peer into your eyes, as they are windows to your soul, and give you a soft understanding smile before engaging you in light conversation and laughter.

Thranduil

(as a brief aside, I do not at all like the characterization of Thranduil in the movies as they turned him into King Thingol of Doriath who is much different in temperament. thus, this will be based on his book self)

Thranduil is regal and guarded, yet he has a warmth about him you have grown accustomed to receiving from the Elves. Like Arwen he does not embrace others readily, but will receive your affection with a broad smile and happy chuckle. His hands placed securely on your upper back as you lean against him, breathing in his scent of juniper berries and pine. This hug will be brief but meaningful and leave you feeling elated and refreshed. He will then invite you to dine with them and perhaps accompany his folk into the forest to dance and frolic to the sound of harpists and singing.

Legolas

Legolas is full of laughter and wit and will accept your hug with joy, squeezing you tight against him as he ruffles your hair about in an affectionate manner. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale the smell of leather and woodsmoke. He will hold you against him for as long as you wish, even rocking you side to side if you remain in his arms for long. When you do pull away Legolas will grasp your forearms and beam at you, making a witty comment, his countenance brightening when you laugh.

Finrod

(Yes, I have to include this golden boy)

The first among Elves to befriend humans, even the first to see them, Finrod has a special place in his heart for his mortal friends. He loves giving and receiving hugs and will wrap you in his arms readily and with reverence. His golden hair tickles your face and he laughs, looking down at you as you scrunch your nose at the sensation. Finrod smells of the ocean winds that form the waves and the carpet of moss that covers forest floors. He is Valinor mixed with Middle Earth, belonging to both and yet neither. There is a sadness to his grip as he brushes a stray hair from your face after you pull away. But as ever with his kin the sadness in his eyes swiftly turns over to mirth and he takes your hand before pulling you along with him to your next adventure.

let me know who else I should write these for!

1K notes · View notes

pastanest · 1 year

Text

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

LOTR Characters - Falling Asleep With Him

Thranduil

The Elven King prefers to sleep with his head on your chest or in the crook of your neck; he tells you that this is because he can only fall asleep when you are running your fingers through his hair, and this is true, but it is not his sole motive for this sleeping position - in his mind, sleeping on top of you provides you with added security against any potential attack. While he isnt paranoid about this, he is protective of you, and if he can provide you with further safety in any circumstance, he will. Thranduil believes that by lying on top of you, any attacker would quite literally have to go through him before they could get to you, and he is by no means against saving your life by sacrificing his own. He would rather you not know this, because if you did, you would not allow him to sleep on top of you ever again, but in truth, your motivations for wanting to sleep on him are the same. Considering he’s around 6’10”, he is considerably taller than you, and his body smothers yours in a way that is beyond comforting. Thranduil enjoys listening to your heartbeat, it soothes him greatly to feel you so close to him, to hear the very essence of your life force, and he has done well to attune himself to the beat of your heart; so much so, that he will often tease you by kissing your neck in order to feel your heart splutter frantically. Elves do not have much of a need for sleep, but this is not to say that they do not enjoy sleeping, and when it comes to the act of slumber, there is no better place to sleep than in the arms of a King who loves you.

Legolas

Physical affection and various forms of intimacy are all unexplored areas for this Elf, and it will be up to you to introduce him to those when the two of you are ready. At first, falling asleep with Legolas is a little awkward, given that he is fully alert and his entire body rigid, because he doesnt quite know what to do with himself. He lies awake, watching your sleeping head rise and fall on his chest with a look of bewildered love in his eyes. After a few hours, he slowly wraps his arms around you, and in your sleep, you smile. Your reaction causes Legolas’ heart to skip a beat, and he is once again unsure of what to do next. He does not sleep that night, instead stays conscious and studies your sleeping movements, trying to learn the habits of your subconscious so that he can adjust himself to them. Over time, Legolas becomes progressively more comfortable, and even manages to fall asleep himself. His movements with you are careful and calculated, never wanting to disturb you or cause you discomfort. Legolas knows how important sleep is in keeping up your strength and preserving your health, so he makes sure you get enough sleep each night, and if anyone’s presence threatens to wake you, Legolas will not hesitate to request their exit in a hushed whisper and perhaps an icy glare if they are deserving of it.

Frodo

Both during and after his adventures, Frodo is plagued by nightmares whenever he closes his eyes, and this has often resorted in him attempting to completely avoid sleep. More times than you can count, you have caught him desperately trying to keep his eyes open, his head lulling into unconsciousness for a fraction of a second before Frodo jerks himself awake again. It was during your time with him on his adventures, shortly after you’d met through the Fellowship requesting your assistance, that you offered your services to him. On the first occasion that you saw him trying to stay awake, you happened to be on watch, making you the only other member of the Fellowship that was awake with him. You recognised his struggle, the cause for his reluctance, and you sat down beside him, causing him to jump in surprise because he had been so focussed on keeping his eyes open that he hadnt seen you move. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into your side, he naturally curled into you, but the poor hobbit was overcome with awkward hesitance. He smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at your comforting gesture, and after a short conversation in which you promised to protect him in the land of dreams, Frodo allowed himself to drift into sleep. From that moment on, you were at his side the moment he showed signs of tiring, and throughout his adventures you were the only being that could calm his tormented soul into a peaceful slumber. He would either be tucked into your side, or resting his head on your chest, whatever position felt most comfortable each night, but always with your arms around him, and always with a soft smile on both of your faces. He wouldnt dare tell you, but from the first night you held him, you have appeared in his dreams and fought off all dark forces that swarmed him, and no existing words could express his gratitude for your existence.

Samwise

Samwise Gamgee’s shyness got the best of him around you for a long time, you merely mentioning the prospect of cuddling was enough to enflame his cheeks and expect a stuttered response, and after a little while you decided that its best not to voice these things with Sam. Instead, you choose to casually initiate them. Whether it be holding his hand while in discussion with others, kissing his cheek whenever you had to leave his side, or resting your head on his shoulder as you sit around a campfire with the Fellowship, your actions without explanation left Sam flustered, but not hesitant, because by surprising him, you showed him that these actions were perfectly alright. This extended to falling asleep with him, too. You started slow, pretending to be asleep and subtly snuggling up to him, just to judge his reaction. Apparently, when you’re asleep the idea of affection is far less daunting to Sam, because he was quick to pull you into his arms and place a kiss on your forehead, and you could feel the smile on his lips. Considering how well that went, you decided to open your eyes and kiss him, revealing that you had been mischeviously pretending to sleep the entire time. Sam chuckled and shook his head as he blushed, but he seemed at ease, and after that his hesitance towards affection all but evaporated into thin air. He will adapt to whatever sleeping position you find most comfortable each evening, but you know that his favourite sleeping positions involve your head on his chest with one of your hands in his hair, and the other held tightly in his hand, and unless either of you are wounded to the extent of that position being uncomfortable for you, you will almost definitely wake up in that position every morning.

Aragorn

The angsty King of romance is slow and tender with you in every area of your relationship (wink wonk), and falling asleep is no exception. Considering the sheer mass of occasions in which you have seen him almost die, it is no surprise that you value the moments spent in his arms, and Aragorn is very aware of this. He has heard your shallow, panicked breaths calm as soon as you feel his arms around you, his kiss on your forehead, his wordless reassurances that remind you he is still there, still breathing with you. No matter how wonderful your day with him as been, once you are in bed with him and the night is silent, you remember the nights you’ve fallen asleep sobbing into the sheets because someone has delivered you the news that Aragorn is dead, dead from some heroic deed, sacrificing his life for another, being the brave knight you knew he was, and that makes it so much harder to disbelieve every time. But every single time, Aragorn has returned to you, and you have felt your heart beat back to life at the sight of him. These memories haunt you, and your wounded heart can only be healed by feeling the beat of his. As a result, you often fall asleep with your palm or ear pressed to his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you into a blissful sleep, his arms holding you tightly against him as his fingertips play with your hair or dance along your back. Sometimes, after long days spent apart, Aragorn will sing you to sleep with the most beautiful songs, some in languages that you dont understand, but all beautiful sounds regardless. Though you’ve never told him for fear of plaguing him with guilt, Aragorn knows your heart is splintered because of him, and he will lie awake every night with you in his arms, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he is certain you are already exploring your unconscious mind, and sometimes, just before he chooses to fall asleep, he will hold you just a little closer to him and kiss the top of your head, a single tear escaping his eyes as they close. A tear being a mixture of sadness for the pain he has caused you and the bliss at being able to hold you again, is the last telltale sign of Aragorn’s consciousness.

#aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #frodo baggins x reader #samwise gamgee x reader #aragorn #legolas #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #imagine #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil

3K notes · View notes

weministertomonsters · 1 month

Text

Imagine This #9 - Elf

After the day you took an arrow for the Fae Commander, he kept you by his side, barely letting you out of his sight. He was angry when you finally woke up from the poison fever.

"I promised to deliver you safely back into your father's hands," he had said, pacing like a wild cat in the healer's tent. "How could you be so foolish?"

After the verbal lashing, he strode away in a flurry of robes and golden hair, barking orders to his men. Now that you were well, by first daylight the camp would be disbanded and the journey continued. The healer who was packing her things away winked at you.

"He doesn't want to show his relief, but he watched over you all night."

You wouldn't have believed her if you hadn't been aware of him at intervals amid your feverish dreams. He had brought you medicinal teas- administered patiently by the spoonful- and stroked your hair and sang to you in Elvish.

"I'm sorry to bring you on this wretched journey," he'd murmured as the cold poison rattled in your bones and he gently held you down, keeping you warm with his body heat.

He had been there for you. He had cared. Now feeling much better, you huddle in your coat and tiptoe over to his tent. Despite the late hour he's still awake, leaning over a map. You reach out and touch his shoulder.

"What is it?" He looks up.

"Thank you."

"Do not mention it," he replies, looking away.

You begin to comb your fingers through his hair, marveling at how silky it is. You'd heard that touching an elf's hair is considered intimate. The sharp breath he takes confirms this but he doesn't ask you to stop.

"Why don't you braid your hair?" You ask. "It gets in the way sometimes."

"I was promised to the battlefield from a young age. A warrior does not need to learn how to braid hair," he replies tersely.

"Isn't this a part of courtship? Correct me if I'm wrong." You say as you skillfully braid his hair.

"Yes. But a warrior-"

"Is promised to the battlefield, yes, you keep reminding me. Don't worry, I'm not trying to court you."

"Ah." His shoulders don't relax so much as they droop.

You tuck the smaller braids behind his pointy ears. "There you go."

He's doing that thing where he stares at you with furrowed eyebrows like you're the last puzzle piece that doesn't fit.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Goodnight." You leave him to his planning and head to your own tent.

The next morning he has picked the braids apart, probably because it'll be too obvious who did them. His hair is slightly wavy now, and you can't help but laugh quietly when you see that.

#exophilia #terato #monster x human #monster lover #monster x reader #elf #inspired by Thranduil from The Hobbit 😭#this is a concept for a *potentially* much larger story #imagine this

255 notes · View notes

welikeimagines-andfandoms · 3 months

Text

How the elves prefer to kiss a short parter

(Elves are said to never really be under 6’4 and I’m thinking partners under 5’4)

Standing on a table

They find it hilarious and makes it easy to kiss you or pick you up if they want to continue the kiss elsewhere. They think it’s even funnier if you still have to go on your tippy toes.

Glorfindel and Lindir

Picking you up

Loves feeling you this close and making you feel safe. They won’t lie, they love that it means they can grab at your thighs and ass.

Haldir and Thranduil

Crouching down/On their knees

They like meeting you down to your level. If they’re on their knees it makes you both laugh but they love it because it makes them feel like they’re worshipping their sweet little love.

Legolas and Meludir

#the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr headcanon #lotr imagine #lord of the rings headcanon #lord of the rings imagine #Glorfindel #Glorfindel x reader #Haldir #Haldir x reader #legolas #legolas x reader #Lindir #Lindir x reader #Meludir #Meludir x reader #Thranduil #Thranduil x reader

588 notes · View notes

thewulf · 11 days

Text

Entwined Realms || Legolas

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

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

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

149 notes · View notes

disasterofastory · 11 months

Text

Leather and dust (Thranduil x Reader)

Leather and dust Thranduil x Reader Warnings: smutty

Summary: Thranduil pays you a visit in the library.

The creak of the heavy doors breaks the silence of the library. It's loud and sharp in the silence. A small gasp leaves your lips as you jump because of the sudden sound. The book almost slips out of your hands, and you tighten your hold at the last moment. Your nails dig into the leather cover.

You know he is here. You can feel it. And hear it. His steps are heavy thuds on the ground. Putting the book back in its original place on the shelf, you try to listen to the rhythmic noise to find out where he may be. A frown appears between your brows as you turn your head left and right. His steps echo between the tall walls. One moment, you are sure he is far away, and the next second, your heart jumps to your throat at his closeness.

Where is he?

"What the book did to cause that frown?" Another gasp leaves your lips at his words. Your head snaps up where he stands, and your hand slips away from the book's spine to fall next to your body. Your fingers seek out the soft material of your skirt to grab something. "It did nothing, my King," you reply when you find your voice. Thranduil stands a few meters away from you at the end of the shelf. His hands are behind his back. His posture is straight and confident. His whole presence demands respect and obedience. "Then who earned your sour mood, Y/N?" "Oh, nobody," you croak out, clearing your throat. "I just... I was deep in thought." "Do you want to share them with me?" He asks, stepping closer. "Maybe I can ease your worries." "I have no worries, my King," you tell him, shaking your head. "My thoughts don't even deserve to be mentioned." You are lying. Of course, you do. But how could you share your thoughts with the elven king? How could you tell him that he is the reason for your worries? That you barely can breathe in his presence? And you can't look at him without burning? And the little game he has been playing with you for weeks now drives you desperation and madness at the same time? "It's hard to believe that your thoughts don't deserve mentioning," he argues softly. The corners of his lips jerk upward, but Thranduil doesn't let himself smile even though the amusement is clear on his face. Humor glints in his bright blue eyes. Not knowing what to say, you clear your throat again before speaking. "Can I help you with something, my King?" You ask him, trying to be more professional. "The others told me you want to reorganize the library," he says. "Yes," you nod. "Tightening the relations between Lake-town and the dwarves made a mess here. I thought perhaps..." "Why?" He asks, and the sudden question stops you from speaking. "Why does a mortal woman like you with such a short lifespan waste her time here? With old books and languages?" His question hurts for a moment. The frown is back on your face with a small pout. "I..." The wrinkle between your brows deepens as you try to think of your answer. "Maybe that's why." Turning to the books so you don't have to look at him, you continue. "I don't have hundreds and thousands of years to get to know and experience everything. The books and documents... they help. And..." The air gets stuck in your lungs when you feel him moving behind you. His chest touches your back. His whole presence hovers above you and almost pushes you to your knees. "And?" His warm breath fans over the side of your face. It smells like fruits and a hint of the finest elven wine. "And..." You have to force the words out of your tightened throat. "And their smell. It's parchment, dust, leather, and ink. They are comforting." By the time you finish your sentence, your voice becomes a weak whisper. The tip of his nose brush over the curve where your neck and shoulder meet. Your heart stops beating for a long second, and your thighs clench without your control. "That explains it," he hums against your skin. "Explains what, my King?" You ask back, still frozen in place. "Your scent," he says. "Dust, leather, and ink. It haunts me since you are here. I lay in my bed at night, unable to sleep because of you. I can hear you. I can smell you." "Oh." "Do you know what I do then, Y/N?" He asks. His large hands land on your hips. His hold on you is tight and possessive. You can feel the squeeze of his fingers between your legs even though his touch doesn't move away from your sides. "No," you reply. The word leaves your lips panting. "Then ask me, Y/N." His lips brush over your neck as he speaks. "Ask me what I do when I'm unable to free myself from the thoughts of you." "What do you do, my King?" Your question is shaky and breathless. His chest presses against your back some more. You can feel him pressed against your bottom. "I imagine you," he replies. You can barely feel the kisses he hints on the line of your shoulder as he goes up to your neck, but you still know what he is doing. "I close my eyes and imagine you beneath me. You are bare and flushed in front of me. Your lips are red from my kisses, and your legs are open as you wait for me." You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each word that leaves his lips. One of his hands slips down to your skirt, pulling up the fabric with calmness and patience. "I try to imagine how you taste and how you sound as you scream my name and beg for more." "Thranduil." His name slips off your tongue with desperation. Your eyes fall close, and you have to grab one of the shelves to keep your balance. "I imagine this pussy around my cock instead of my hand." His long fingers find their way under your panties easily. His touch glides over your wetness, gathering your juices until he is soaked in your essence. "Open your mouth," Thranduil orders. His voice is quiet but not less commanding. "And suck." Your own taste spreads across your tongue as he pushes two of his fingers between your lips. "Is it as sweet as I imagined?" He asks but doesn't let your answer. When you open your mouth to speak, he pushes deeper until you gag. Saliva drips down your jaw. "I will taste you tonight," the elven king states. "I will feast on your pussy all night until you are as mad with need as I am." But you already are. The world is dizzy around you, and only Thranduil's arm keeps you on your feet. Your pussy aches and throbs for more.

And everything is over before you know it.

"Come to my room tonight," Thranduil says. You feel cold without his warmth behind you. "I will wait for you."

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit smut

2K notes · View notes