#legolas x oc
OK BOOKMERGENCY YALL
I AM TRYING TO FIND A REALLY GOOD BOOK THAT I READ ON WATTPAD, IT WAS AN OC X LEGOLAS STORY AND IT WAS SO GOOD BUT I CANT REMEMBER THE TITLE OR THE AUTHOR, AND I WANT TO REREAD AND COMMENT AND SHIT AND I DONT KNOW WHERE TO START AHHHHHHHH so yeah please help I remember it had a really horrible photoshopped cover, and something in the title was to serve, to protect, and something else and I CANT REMEMBER and it broke me it was such a good read im gonna check ao3 but idk if it was on there so if anyone knows what im talking about pleaase let me know.
INFO: it was about this chick who somehow got into middle earth, she was a police officer and there were faeries in her world, so she thought she got taken by one of them and punched legolas in the nose, that was one of the first scenes. If anyone finds that familiar please let me know bcs I am desperate.
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New Cover for TLLOTS
I decided that, as I re-write/edit my fanfic, it is time for new cover art! So, as I am almost done....lo and behold—here it is!!!
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TLLOTS Characters: Arryin, Legolas, Belanor, Beyla, Rowan, Faelynor, Razela, Edyrm, Miliel Aredhel, Thranduil, Halafarin (left to right)
made with artbreeder.com
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What do you prefer: OC fics or x-reader fics? Reblog with it in the tags
trying to figure out what is more popular nowadays just to settle my curiosity ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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if anyone here has read/enjoyed my fics , I just wanted to post my ENTIRE drafts to let you know what’s coming next (I can’t promise I’ll get around to all of these, but if there’s any you want me to prioritize , just let me know)
in no specific order
Legolas Greenleaf (LOTR) - based more off of the movies than the books. oc is half elf half sorceress and she goes on Bilbo’s adventure .. eventually meeting Legolas in mirkwood and then fighting with him in the battle of five armies. after the battle, she finds him again and begs him to take her with him because she doesn’t want to go back to her old life again. they go on a bunch of adventures. oc is besties w aragorn.
Lemony Snicket (ASOUE) - as in his entity as a character in the series, not the author himself (more the tv show than the books even though the books were my ENTIRE childhood) ((the author’s actual name is daniel handler and he’s a lovely person)) anyways,
my advice for you first and foremost is to never fall in love with a writer
especially if that writer is a prominent member of a secret organization
especially especially if said writer is committed to uncovering and documenting the sad lives of three orphans, the children of a past lover who has died tragically
my name is odessa denouement and I am begging you to put this book down and go read something more pleasant, such as the littlest elf or a story that doesn't involve pain, suffering, and a general lack of morals
odessa and lemony meet when their VFD missions overlap and they’re forced into a number of highly dangerous situations together. features a tragic ending.
Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood (HP) - because we all know they were in love. probably their last years of hogwarts into the second war. focuses a lot on percy going to the dark side. probably pretty angsty.
Will Turner (POTC)- oc is Jack Sparrow’s daughter. she’s super cool. raised by pirates. best parental relationship I’ve ever written (I usually go for the really shitty parent trope, but this time their relationship is rlly soft and makes me happy) anyways, she falls in love with will turner and it’s hot.
Beatrice and Phillipa (HP) - cute lesbians in gryffindor (golden trio era). should probably read my bill weasley series first because it’s a spinoff. would probably be their fifth year to sometime around the end of the war. main focus would be bea’s shift to the dark side.
FP Jones (Riverdale) - gotta preface this one with the fact that I hate riverdale as much as the next guy (sorry riverdale fans) I mean . the show’s insane. BUT FP is what got me through it. so this is the story of him and jughead’s mom in the 80s , then there’s a time jump to the first or second season. going to be short but cute.
Steven Hyde (that 70s show) - NOT played by d*nny m*sterson. anyways, oc moves to point place from nyc with her mom (who kinda sucks -yes, we’re back to the shitty parent trope-) falls for hyde and it’s rly angsty. at some point she lives in hyde’s old house but i’m not sure exactly when bc idk what season I want to start the season on. she’s also best friends with jackie because I’m in love with jackie.
Regulus and Marlene (HP) - umm so to be completely honest I don’t know what the plan was for this one. the only thing it says in the draft is “marlene is a slytherin”. I think I was high when I made it. but I feel like there’s some sort of potential there so we’ll see what happens.
Remus Lupin (HP) - either wolfstar or a slytherin oc or maybe regulus I don’t know. I have some ideas for scenes, but no specific people or genders or really any details at all. I just know I’m in love with remus and want to write about him and his sweaters.
Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad) - oc and jesse keep meeting by chance. first it’s because she’s staying at his parent’s house out of necessity (ep 2), then it’s because she’s Jane’s roommate, then it’s at Jane’s funeral. they keep saying they’re parting ways. that they’ll never see each other again, but it doesn’t work. one way or another, they’ll end up together.
Minerva McGonagall and Pomona Sprout (HP) - one of my fav ships ever. would start in their sixth year and there would be a few major time jumps over the course of the story. very soft relationship.
Peter Parker (MCU) - oc has powers over the elements. recruited to the avengers by tony stark. in the process of said transition, hydra attacks her family and oc is filled with rage. throughout the story, she lives with different members of the avengers (she moves around a lot) and she and peter have a friends to lovers sort of thing.
Daniel Desario (Freaks and Geeks) - charlotte’s been friends with the freaks since she was a kid. she’s been on-again-off-again dating nick since middle school, she has mixed feelings about kim, ken is her favorite person ever, and she is hopelessly in love with Daniel. when lindsay comes into the picture and things shift dramatically, charlotte finally has the chance to shoot her shot.
Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - word for word what I have in my drafts:
ummmmm so we've got a main character named ummmmmm sophie or phoebe or something and shes like blonde and short and only three months older than reid and sup super smart like with math and science and stuff and she graduated early and has a doctorate and is smart and stuff but doesnt really tell anyone and looks kinda sloppy and has a really relaxed attitude and we love her - she almost dropped out of high school because she was bored but then agent gideon was like dude come on ill give u a job (or something?)
oh and her parents and little brother died in a fire when she was eight only her older brother survived and they are super close she loves him so much but she has some trauma from constantly being sent to foster homes where nodbody wanted to keep her bc shes difficult and also like watching her parents die so she has a HUGE fear of fire and an irrational fear of big dogs
ANYWAYS starts off with her at her house and she's just hangin she has a cat and she's making herself dinner and she's one of those super cute single bi girls who likes her plants and her music and her science bookstore
friends in college story (an original work) - okay so I wanna go to film school (I want to be a screenwriter) and this is an original script I’ve been working on but I might adapt parts of it to a story. basically it’s like a dark academia sitcom where a bunch of liberal, progressive kids go to this rural, ultra-christian college for different reasons and find each other and become the ELITE friend group. obviously it would have a better name than the “friends in college story” although now it’s sort of growing on me
the new tragedy (an original work) - “sometimes i need to remind myself that you existed. You were real, you were so real. your hair was real, your crooked smile was real. the way you couldnt talk in the morning before you’d had your coffee, or how you could never get to sleep at night without an episode of whatever show you were obsessing over in the moment. oh my god. you were real.
she looked like death. the guy, not the concept. sallow skin and dark, sunken eyes that absorbed all of the light and trapped it, holding it hostage and never letting it out. when she smiled, the light poured all over her, like she was taking a shower in it. when she frowned, she looked like a storm cloud. I loved her. I loved her so much.
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hiii Maia! Do you have any Legolas/OC fics that you could recommend ?
hi lovely anon!!!
i haven’t actually gotten around to reading either of these yet, but they’re on the list and i’m very excited to get around to them!
The Last Light of the Star by the always fabulous @entishramblings featuring her OC Arryin
Perfect Secrets by the wonderful @guardianofrivendell with her OC Mira!
I’m so excited to read these and I feel super confident in recommending them because these are two of my favorite writers!
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TLLOTS UPDATE [Legolas/OC]:
Chapter 27: Midnight Excursions w/o Trousers & A Much Worse Experience than a Knee to the Balls
do I still have two more finals? Yes. Did I do this instead? Yes.
tllots tag list: @bathewithsatan @wanderingmerlin @elvish-sky @ellies-iced-coffee
If you want to be added to the taglist just lmk!
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Hello ! Why Minase hates Legolas ? Something happened between them ?
Legolas never did anything to Minasel personally, but it’s what he did to her parents that makes her hate him. He admits that he tried to split up her parents and even stopped Tauriel from going with the dwarves to Erebor, when she was asked by Kili to come with him in this specific scene.
As we know, Tauriel went with Legolas to Gundabad, where, on the trip there, Tauriel found out she was pregnant. She wanted to tell Kili when she saw him again, but then he was killed in battle, so Kili never got to find out. This was something that always bothered Minasel, because she doesn’t know if her parents really loved each other or if her father would actually be happy that he was going to be a dad.
So, Minasel has a grudge against Legolas because he tried to split up her parents and because he is the reason her father never found out about her.
However, Minasel and Legolas do reach an understanding in my fanfic and open up to one another!
Thank you for the ask! ❤️
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WHOMST IS THIS OC BAKER BOY ELF I SEE YOU SPEAKING ABOUT!???! DO TELL!!
GAH YES I LOVE MY SOFT BAKER ELF BOY!!
He is one of my most favourite OC’s, because he is quite literally a cinnamon roll.
(him on the top left, not my art but my faceclaim, as found on Pinterest with no other link)
His name is “Oranor” (it means “Sunday” in Elvish—the day he was begetted on)
He’s from another one of my main stories, “Phony Matrimony”
Basically, he’s about the elven equivalent of 18 years old, and developed a strong childhood crush on Legolas after the war against Sauron, upon seeing him ride to Aragorn’s coronation atop a white steed (very swoon-worthy for a 6 year old gay-to-be)
When Legolas took over Ithilien, I headcanon he built his town in Emyn Arnen—a canon place which looks like the Shire, but more yellow.
(Emyn Arnen, Ithilien)
He’s a baker’s boy (originally born in mirkwood) who Legolas regularly orders from, and the story follows one big lie that Oranor accidentally orchestrated with his scheming older brother.
So, his parents perished in the war, so he and his brother are both taken in by their aunt, Bronwe.
His older brother, Remmirath (means “constellation”), is an...eccentric “El Dorado” type of fellow, always chasing one big adventure after another, or selling snake oil as “cures” to people—a total charlatan.
Remmi comes back one day to find his little brother heartbroken over Legolas being forced to choose a Sindar-blooded partner soon by Thranduil (Oranor himself is just a lowly silvan), and sees an opportunity to be set for life.
The brothers are both naturally brunette, but Remmi returns as a blonde, explaining that he found this “amazing flower” which can change your hair colour for a short amount of time (like polyjuice potion, but just for your hair), depending on which hued flower you pick.
After being coerced (Remmirath just wants his brother to marry a royal so he can mooch off of them both), Oranor agrees to take the flower and turn blonde, as to convince Legolas and Thranduil that he, “Alfirin” (his new alias, quite literally means “white flower”), is actually Glorfindel’s illegitimate son, making him of noble blood, and consequently allowed to marry Legolas.
Big antics ensue with a “suitor competition”, as Thranduil calls in potential elves for Legolas to court, and now Oranor, under the guise of the blonde “Alfirin” has to make Legolas fall in love with him.
However, Legolas has actually been in love with the simple baker’s boy all along, and isn’t interested in any of the suitors, until “Alfirin” starts to remind him of Oranor, who has mysteriously skipped town.
An extract of chapter 2 underneath the cut!
I’ll get around to posting the story eventually lol
Also don’t mind Legolas being a little bit scandalous, he’s doing it to piss his father off (and rightfully so, too)
Blowing a stray strand of his fringe out from his eyes, Oranor readied himself under his breath. Readjusting the crate underarm, he shifted his weight to one hip.
Muttering quietly to himself, the young elf further pushed the letter down behind the sticky buns. “You can do this, Oran. He will never know it’s you unless you reveal so to him. Don’t be a coward, for once in your life, don’t be just a little baker’s boy. All you have to do is—”
Halting his nervous tongue, Oranor heard voices on the other side of the door. They sounded heated and tense, clearly two males.
It was only with quite some strain on Oranor’s elven ears, that he recognised both Thranduil and Legolas’ voices.
The Elvenking was here, in Emyn Arnen?
Frightened out of his idea immediately, but still curious, Oranor pressed his ear flat against the wood, and listened closely.
“I ask this of you because I care about you, Legolas!”
“Ada, please! You only wish for me to court so you can have an heir begotten for you!”
“That is NOT true, and I resent your thoughts regarding so! Just study the list of names, Legolas. Some are male, too! I know you and your preferences.”
“My preference is to NOT get married right now! Especially to your presumptuous list! I’ll be sailing soon after Aragorn’s departure from our world, so what does it matter, Ada?”
“You will be lonely by yourself overseas! I want to ensure my son is spoken for before he goes.”
“Your son is speaking; you’re just not listening.”
“I could be a lot meaner, Legolas. I am allowing you to choose whom you marry freely, so long as they’re from my list. There are many names on there! You will see—love will find you swiftly.”
There was a short silence on the other side of the door, and Oranor imagined it was his usually reserved lord taking a moment to roll his eyes at his father. Once those few seconds had passed, Thranduil spoke up again—sterner this time, too.
“I am not being unreasonable, Legolas. I only ask two things of you; that you see to yourself being betrothed in the next few months, and that they be of Sindar lineage. There are many to choose from. I won’t hear another word about it—you are still my subject and heir, therefore I have the right to ask this of you.”
Oranor gulped down the nerves that rose in his throat, and made quick moves to retrieve the letter. Hastily, for he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door (most likely Legolas seeking to leave his father’s presence in a furious state), Oranor began to rip the letter in two.
He was blushing madly in humiliation. Of course he could never court Legolas. Legolas was a prince, and Sindar at that. Oranor himself was just a lowly Silvan of bakery origins. It was simply not meant to be.
Perhaps it hadn’t moved past a childish crush after all.
Feeling the tips of his ears turning red, Oranor anxiously glanced between the letter he was tearing in half, as well as the door.
He knew he could not hide both himself and the crate in time, for the angered steps were upon him. Glancing all around, Oranor spun on his heel a few times, as he hastily thought of where to flee and stash the crate.
There was a pot of fern to his right, but before he could throw the crate inside and finish tearing the letter, the door to Legolas’ large reading room opened.
A roaring fireplace soon met Oranor with its warmth, as it fought to fend off the winter snow’s cold, just outside the large windows of light running along one side of the room.
Oranor, shorter than his lord by at least a head, was soon met face-to-face with Legolas. They blinked at each other in shock for a moment, before Thranduil spoke up again.
Oranor peeked over the prince’s soldier, and saw the king rise from the long couch before the fire to chase after his son.
“Legolas, do not be such a child, it is very unbecoming of you to storm away—”
Thranduil, too, was stunned to find someone there. If he didn’t possess all the class in the world, Thranduil perhaps would have been embarrassed over someone having heard his conversation.
Formally, Oranor bowed his head to both Thranduil and Legolas, and greeted them by their respective titles. At the same time, he tucked the one half of the letter he’d managed to rip into his winter cloak’s pocket—partially grateful the rest was hidden down the side of the buns.
At least most of it was unintelligible now.
“Your majesty.” He moved his eyes away from Thranduil’s, and nervously met Legolas’. “My lord.”
“My delivery?” Legolas repeated back, offering a mustered smile to the baker’s boy. He also gave a brief nod down at the buns in gesture.
“Yes, my lord,” Oranor meekly replied, shifting the crate under his arm again, so that he brought it forwards with both hands.
“Amazing timing,” Legolas sincerely commended. He took the order and practically drooled over the scent of cinnamon and icing.
Turning on his heel, and ignoring his unimpressed father, Legolas walked over to the table set before the fire. He placed the crate down promptly, planning on curling up with a good book later on and divulging himself in the treats.
The crate was slightly messy, and icing soon covered the lord’s fingers. Extracting a low, quiet whine from the back of Oranor’s throat, he watched as Legolas licked the icing from his fingers, one by one.
Thranduil caught this, and narrowed his eyes in Oranor’s direction. The younger elf noticed the king’s scrutiny quickly, and averted his eyes from the blonde, who seemed to be cleaning each finger very slowly, almost aware of his audience.
“Legolas,” Thranduil ordered, pausing the lord’s tongue as he looked at his father innocently with blinking eyes. “Pay the baker, and then we shall discuss your betrothal plans further.”
With one finger still in his mouth, Legolas flickered his eyes on over at Oranor. The brunette could’ve sworn he spotted mischief behind the blue, and the slightest of smirks upon his lips.
Oranor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, wishing more than anything to run upstairs in the bakery to his bedroom. It’d been a blessing since his older brother had left on another adventure, for privacy was entirely his in the shared room and bunk beds, and his alone.
“Of course, Ada,” Legolas replied, popping his finger from his mouth. “I was just about to.”
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Sorting through my OC’s everyday based on which personality and scenery I feel like emerging myself into
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Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trauma, Recovery, Eventual Romance, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Anna lives alone near the woods, recovering from trauma in her past. One day, she hears a child crying, and sets about a chain of events that leave her playing host to the Elven King.
New Discord server for chat and fic discussion: https://discord.gg/uzFGdfQ
All are welcome!
New chapter just went up!
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Which is your story with the fireflies?
Hi, thank you for asking! ☀️ It comes from my main Legolas x OC story, which is currently being rewritten on Ao3 here.
It was previously on another site (Quotev), and the chapters are going up one by one after being rewritten, so you can’t find the firefly scene online yet, except for here down below 👇🏻
The scene in question is the first time Bonnie and Legolas fully let their guard down around each other. This is after getting drunk their first night being forced to travel with one another to reach Lake-town, where they’re aiming to complete individual goals regarding Thorin’s Company.
The entire scene can be found below the cut :)
(also, I might make an actual post introducing the story with the cover art and synopsis, etc? I feel like others have done that, and I should too?)
Now giggling and completely drunk on Oin’s moonshine, Bonnie and Legolas fell onto their backs against the green grass and moss.
Dancing had tired them out, as breaths racked their chests—more believable for the human girl than it was for the elf, but her modern music had a different beat, of which he was entirely unfamiliar with.
Regarding said music, the soft tunes of “Southern Nights” by Glen Campbell filled the air, providing a cosy ambience for them both. Bonnie was certainly glad her Sony Walkman had made it with her to Middle-earth, now more than ever.
She briefly wondered how they handled such silence otherwise.
It was intimate underneath the stars and beside the river, perhaps a little too intimate for the two reluctant travel companions. However, at certain points in their impulsive dance, they couldn’t help but secretly thank the orcs for ruining their previous plans.
The constellations above them glittered, like a million diamonds. Their heads were spinning from both the dizzying dance and alcohol, but even then, they couldn’t fight the stupid grins off their faces.
They felt as though they had just spun on the spot for five minutes-straight, as if they were no more than children again. Things felt, for the first time in a long time, easy.
Considering a dragon and war between their two sides was on the near horizon, that was a feat in itself.
Bonnie glanced to her left discreetly, stealing a peek at the happy prince. He was certainly odd, but in an even odder way, he made her feel safe.
Before he could catch her, she looked up at the stars again—listening in closely to his inhales and exhales, the running river, swaying leaves, howling wolves, chirping crickets and Sony Walkman.
Legolas, too, stole a glance at her, considering her greatly. He now knew her secret, and though that answered some questions about her, many more were left.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bonnie remarked after a moment of silence, referencing the stars. “We didn’t have views like this back in Chicago—and if we did, they were usually just helicopters tricking you into thinking they’re God or some shit.”
Bonnie laughed to herself slightly in disbelief over the memory from that Chicago alleyway, nearly a whole year prior. Where had the time gone?
Legolas giggled with her, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny. He liked to laugh with Bonnie, and he couldn’t yet explain why.
Lifting a lazy hand, Legolas dragged it along the sparkling canvas above. “They tell stories. Did you know that?”
“No,” Bonnie replied, sincerely. She folded her hands and rested them on her stomach. “Can you tell me one?”
Legolas pursed his lips to one side in thought, and ran a drunken gaze along the sky. His eyesight, for the first time in his life, wasn’t perfect. He almost revelled in the feeling of the complete and utter lack of control.
“Hmm…” he hummed, and from the close proximity he was laying next to her, Bonnie could feel the vibration of his voice. “Ah, straight above—it is the story of a little elf losing his way from home, but ultimately returning.”
“Pfft,” Bonnie disagreed, waving her own hand. “That ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of tiny little dots, Blondie.”
“No, I’m being quite serious,” Legolas beamed, looking to his side and at her. “Look closer—you can see his little body surrounded by the trees, and over to the right, you can see him walking through them.”
Bonnie complied and followed his hand, smiling the whole while. However, her smile soon steadily ran away, upon catching sight of something else.
Legolas noticed this, and questioned her in a concerned voice, coming up onto his elbows.
“Bonnie? Are you all right?”
Instead of replying, she slowly sat up, and stared at the crowns of leaves above them in unbridled wonder.
There, floating above the city girl, were many fireflies—something she had wished to see her whole life, but never had.
“They’re…they’re—” she had gone to say.
“Fireflies,” Legolas grinned, looking up at the trees now as well.
Parting her lips, and gaping in shock, Bonnie stood upright. The fireflies came down to meet their woodland prince and worldly guest, gently floating by.
She held both hands together, and pressed them in close to her chest, as she turned on the spot slowly. There were so many of them, and more amazing than she ever could have imagined.
“They’re…beautiful,” the usually cocky girl slipped, for once speaking with her guard completely down.
Still only sat up on his elbows, Legolas watched Bonnie move around with studious eyes, a soft smile on his lips. Fireflies all around the prince basked him in a golden glow, as he watched the girl in quite literally a new light.
She grinned at the floating bugs, and reached her fingers out to touch them. He could’ve sworn he saw tears welling up behind her eyes.
Standing up behind Bonnie, he walked forwards, so that he now stood by her side.
“Beautiful is right,” he said, looking down at her with an expression no one had ever seen on him before.
And, for now, it was an expression no one else would see, for Bonnie missed his gentle voice—too caught up in the marvel that was glowing around her.
Understanding that she wanted to interact closer with them, Legolas lifted up a hand, so that one landed on his finger.
She gasped slightly, and responsively moved her eyes in closer, for Legolas had brought it up for her to view.
“Wait! Blondie! You’re an elven prince!” Bonnie suddenly recalled, beaming up at Legolas.
“Last time I checked,” he smirked, almost returning to his bickering ways in Rivendell with her.
Rolling her eyes, but still grinning brightly, Bonnie pressed on—Chicago accent thick. “You can talk to them! Oh, God, ask them something! Or, I don’t know! Talk about whatever you talk to animals about!”
Legolas smiled back in an eye-crinkling manner, and nodded, chuckling slightly. He brought the firefly in close to his nose, and spoke soft Sindarin words to the bug.
Soon, it seemed as though he was caught up in conversation with said firefly, for he responded a few times with warm words she didn’t at all understand.
At one point, he giggled shyly and blushed—looking away from the firefly and down at his feet instead, where he gently tumbled blades of grass over one another.
Noticing this, Bonnie knitted her brows and questioned him with a curious smile. “What did he say?”
As he lifted his eyes and met hers, Bonnie swallowed deeply, for there was a certain glow within them unmatched by the golden bugs all around.
“He said, and I quote,” Legolas began, in almost a whisper, “that ‘despite them all glowing brightly tonight’ and ‘despite the stars beaming down for us’ you, Bonnie, are ‘still the most radiant of all things’, and then I said…”
Bonnie sucked on her lower lip, and tilted her head slightly, trying to catch Legolas’ averting eyes.
“You said…what, Blondie?” Bonnie asked, feeling a slither of hope over something she didn’t quite understand.
Meeting her eyes again, Legolas smiled warmly, and concluded his words.
“I said that I agree.”
The smile steadily ran away from Bonnie’s face, as his words rang around within her mind, like melodic bells.
“Wedding bells,” she knew Bilbo would have said, for once glad he wasn’t around.
However, irregardless, whether it be the alcohol driving her forward, or something more genuine, Bonnie beamed brighter in response to the frog-loving archer.
With a blush creeping along his features, Legolas shyly returned her smile.
And there, as Bonnie’s Sony Walkman played many old songs into the golden air that night by the river and fire, the two previous rivals grew a little bit closer—praying that morning would never come, for they knew what lay ahead in Lake-town.
Everything they felt tonight, alcohol-induced or not, would have to be forgotten by morn, for Thranduil and Thorin would surely forbid what had barely even begun from blooming further.
However, there, amongst the fireflies, they decided that that was their future selves’ problem.
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Ash Pt 12
Side to side in front of the floor length mirror in the Seamstress’ tailoring room you twisted and eyed the deep silver over the torso and bright yellow resembling the leaves in fall in the leaf shaped scales that coated your arms, shoulders and upper chest and back. “What do you think?” Glorfindel asked from the doorway behind you adjusting the glove on his hand in your turn around to look the ruby red and grey armored robe he was donning underneath and additional chest plate and arm braces. “Outside of our forests the trees of the wild are still brightly colored for those that still have their leaves. New buds should be sprouting on each of the flowering trees we pass as well. If you were puzzled about the color.”
“I was curious, I would stick out in seas of green and brown.” You said in a brush of your long braid over your back while the feathered decoration hung freely opposite the chin length side swept portion of curls tucked behind your left ear decorated with small braids and gem beads to help keep them from your face the whole ride. “It is a beautiful color.”
“Yes it is,” he said and gestured his hand to the side that signaled your reach for your bag that was shouldered on the way to the door in a hopping trot off the platform to cross the floor and join the noisy hall with what seemed to be hundreds readying to depart. “Quite stunning on you and I do not doubt that you will certainly stand out at King Thranduil’s side. Nolwe is being dressed by him and will await you at the gates. Are you nervous?” he asked to the fidget of your fingers on the strap of your bag draped across your chest.
“How could I not be. Last time I was out of the forest a dragon came for Dale. No telling what my luck will draw out on a two week trek.”
“You are quite safe with your luck, which is very much the more pleasurable alternative to ours in our old age we have encountered many more foes than a dragon and always when we are in small numbers. Today we are departing with hundreds. Pay no mind to threats. Pathways to Imladris are quite protected.”
“So who are you bunking with?” You asked to try and calm yourself down and had him chuckle at the odd question. “Four beds in my tent apparently.”
“I am sharing with Elrond’s children as usual. The tents are quite spacious if you are concerned on space.”
“I tend to roll,” you said and he chuckled again.
“We all do. Pay no mind to that. And there are rest sights along the way set up for relief and also bathing quite often so there will be little discomfort there and no threat of an audience while cleaning. We always divide for privacy. Though I cannot promise the waters will be very warm, it is still the cups of spring yet.”
“I am accustomed to cold water.”
“I imagine another memory of your childhood home.” That had you giggle as he chuckled along to the clear humorous note on your slightly grim past of which Legolas had clearly shared more of what he had learned off your ride alone. While in each step your hands smoothed over the mid thigh length flaps that hung over your black pants and matched the grey of your tall boots you had chosen for the travel. Surrounded fully by more and more brightly colored bodies in various states of armored layers they felt comfortable to travel in.
“Good news,” you heard upon reach of the field of readied horses and covered wagons where Thranduil approached with letter in hand in a step from Nolwe’s side a few feet from Tuo who was speaking to his son about his first trip from the forest. “You have received a response from King Thror.”
“Oh, that’s good. I mean we’re leaving, but that’s good so quick a response?”
Lowly he chuckled and broke the seal to your agreeing nod and stepped to your side in Glorfindel’s smirk laced path away to his own waiting steed while you took notice of the yellow and silver robe that matched yours the King was wearing underneath his deep silver cloak contrasting the polished mithril chest plate and arm braces. “King Thror thanks you for the offer of aid in cleansing Moria but wishes to inform you this is a matter he must consult the remainder of his clans in other lands and their Lords who would also profit from the reclamation. Which will take time, however he is writing to warn the matter could take some months in deliberation to weigh the differences in sway to either decision. He hopes, should it take long, that your kind offer, on top of what you have already gifted to them in aid against the Fire Drake that strove to take their home, that time may not encourage a revocation of said offer. And that the offer is not imagined to be anything less than remarkably selfless and one of a foundation of steadfast friendship they will never forget.”
“Is this about that stone? They need permission?”
To himself he chuckled as he folded the letter he placed into his pocket under the end of his robe and offered you a hand to guide you to Nolwe. “Not permission, reinforcements and time to ready his people and kin who would wish to return and to whom he would grant regency to rule in his stead once it is reclaimed.”
Up onto the knot he shifted your hand and helped you up onto Nolwe’s saddle, once secured there his hands rose to ensure the reins were folded safely in your hands and around Nolwe’s head he strolled to her other side awaiting Tuo’s step closer. Gently his hand patted your knee after a check that the stirrups were at a proper length for your comfort, “It is a good sign. Surely by month’s end they will have all agreed and be locked in deliberations as for how to plan who will travel and what jobs they will return to. There will be ample need of the month that mint will have charge of the mines.”
Legolas in burnt orange and golden scaled armor strolled past to his own white steed while saying, “I cannot imagine they will be able to find for a suitable window of time to settle upon a worthy gift for the Dragon let alone this offer.”
“I don’t need a gift.” That had him simply chuckle along with his father who stroked Tuo’s cheek in his approach ready to let the King on his back. “I don’t, Dew Drop when we get to Rivendell you have to write them and say I don’t need a gift.”
In a glance back at you he said in a playful retort to take up the chance to try his own nickname now you have publicly given named his, “Well my Darling Starlight, that is not how the world works. They will decide and send a gift once possible.” Into the stirrup his foot moved and you simply huffed for another chuckle worthy moment in his climb up onto the saddle he settled into. Once in the moment possible his hands were on the reins and he guided Tuo closer to Nolwe, a move aided by the nearly half a foot the Elk had on her to alleviate his antlers being in the way, “You may not need gifts but you however do deserve them. Dwarves give fine gifts, including furs, perhaps several blankets or a fur shawl could be hinted if that would be suitable?”
“You are determined to make this difficult aren’t you?”
Again he chuckled and in a reach over raised your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, “I was about to ask you the same thing. For now, I believe you are ready for an adventure.” Easing your hand back to the other to take hold of the reins under the momentary pat his hands gave yours through an adoring smile that ended in a head nod and his turn forward for Tuo’s advance to his verbal utterance that had you glance down to Nolwe in her step forward knowing full well you hadn’t learned the verbal cues just yet.
Trees for miles stretched and in a stagger beside Tuo, Nolwe trotted in a steady pace with head forward in your glance back to the wagon and rider packed trail behind you. Radagast bubbling with animated chuckles caught up to your side on his rabbit pulled sled and said, “Have a fine journey Queen Jaqiearae. Once you are through feel free to visit my forest of Fangorn anytime, you are always welcome!” Forward his sled raced in your thanks. And then your eyes widened to what you saw as a vast field open and faintly lit to the rising colors of a misty dawn under a hidden archway you passed into an unknown open.
“Whoa,” you muttered to yourself and drew Thranduil’s eye to your glance around.
Once there was room Legolas rode forward to your side and pointed off in the distance to where Radagast was headed, “Fangorn Forest is farther South, beyond Lothlorien which you will catch a hint of once we cross Anduin River.”
“There’s a river out here?”
Thranduil chuckled and said, “We won’t reach that until morning after our breakfast.”
“If it takes a day to get to the river how long to cross it?”
Legolas chuckled out in response, “Just an hour there is a bridge.”
“An hour,” it already took hours to leave the forest after having left after midnight.
Thranduil said, “Just beyond those hills we will reach near midday is a rest area where we will stop for lunch. If you grow tired at all we can move you to the nearest wagon to rest.”
“I should be fine. I could probably outlast you on lack of sleep.”
That had him chuckle and state, “We shall not be testing that theory.”
True enough the hills came. With sight of empty stables hours past a lonely looking cottage and carefully down you were helped to the ground to join others to the doorway in the side of the hill. Through which you smirked in inspecting the internal woven halls to toilets and baths that thanks to Hobbit connections through the years are now safer and hidden under hills along the way between kingdoms.
Back out again once through you stepped and with a look around followed the glint of white blonde hair to find where Thranduil had set up a stool for you beside his at the chosen lunch spot for a cool lunch of fruits and prepped sandwiches and jams on scones for the in between meals.
Eager shifts of the horses and Elk lured the lot of you to clean up and a second chance to help you up was stolen in a brief press of lips to the side of your temple. “I bet by the time we reach the city you’ll be tired of helping me up.”
“Bold lie, who might have given you that impression?” Lord Celeborn asked on his way to his own wagon where he rode with his wife and children on this first leg of the trip.
Elrond answered in a smirk on his own way past, “It is an honor to assist our Ones onto their steeds each and every time. No matter how frequent. A much approved form of affection to tend to the simplest of matters.”
Into the saddle you settled and watched Estel being carried back to the wagons to ride with the twins muttering about the day he could be big enough to ride his own pony with everyone else. You glanced to Thranduil who said through a smirk, “The final distance he rides with one of us out of the wagon. Do not let him fool you. We grant him ample freedoms. Each of our youths are the same. Legolas mastered his own fair share of guilt trips in his time as did I.” That had you giggle to yourself in his climb onto his own saddle to ready the path ahead for the brightly adorned riders.
“Get some rest Nolwe,” you said in a stroke of her head once she was undressed. And softer you added, “I’m sure Dew Drop’s mom misses you very much.” Softly she leaned into another stroke of her face while the eyes of the King and Prince flinched off of you once their stunned stare at the comment ended to your adding, “Such strong legs, ran all day without slowing down, even with me on your back.”
To which Thranduil cut in, “You are nowhere near as heavy as you imagine yourself to be. I could carry you all day and in a few years I would imagine Estel could as well.”
“He’s barely to my knee,” you retorted stirring up chuckles from the men around you in Nolwe’s stroll off for her dinner that left you to take up the stool Thranduil settled out for you beside his again. Fires were lit by the cooks as groups of guards set up watch while the other chosen people in each sleeping group began to assemble the tents. “Should I-,?” you pointed to Legolas in the process of unfolding the supplies of the tent you would share and Thranduil shook his head and settled on the stool beside yours with a scoop of his hand around yours resting atop your knee.
“No, even I have tried to intervene before and have been cast off. Little leaf and Tauriel have a longstanding race for this task.”
Estel however popped up in front of you and with his hands on your knees asked, “Queen Pear? Can we have another story?” His eyes grew wider and before you knew it all the other children had crowded around you for a chuckle worthy reach into your bag to bring out the book that Thranduil released your hand to allow you to open and flip through the book to the tale you had left off at.
Just one story and the meal was served out in dishes that once cleared Thranduil took hold of your bowl and stated, “I will wash these, to grant you time to change.”
You nodded then stood as he did only to ask, “What do you wear? Should it be a just pop your boots on ready to go in the morning? Or..?”
Adoringly his smile bled out and he answered, “Sleep however you are comfortable. Though I sleep in my pants and a tunic when on travels.”
“Simply astonishing,” you teased on your way to the tent drawing a chuckle from him that had him shake his head to his confused but smirking friends around him as to what the joke could mean between you.
Out of your outer robe and boots you sat atop the fainting couch molded cot closest to you to remove your socks as well then stand again. Both socks were tucked back into your bag and near the trunk along the outer wall to keep from stealing someone else’s chosen spot. Barefoot with your comfy tunic and the same pants on display out again you stepped through the front flap where you spotted your sleeping group all in line in wait for a sign that it was safe for them to enter. “Comfortable?” Thranduil asked and you nodded, “Good, were you to change your mind later simply inform us and we will step out. We shall remove our traveling layers and boots as well.”
Legolas said, “You are welcome inside, we will not remove much else beyond our socks.”
Through the flap that Thranduil opened for you again you stepped in and to the side for them to enter. Estel hurried to his favorite spot and Legolas smirked to himself in a move to take up the spot beside him to grant you and his father the other two side by side cots.
Atop your newly designated cot just beyond the wash basin but before a tall chair that was an apparent travel version of Thranduil’s Throne you lowered to sit. Slightly intrigued by the difference of the feel of this cot. The original you had sat on opposite his father’s was now claimed by Legolas was less giving while this one seemed to have an added layer of cushioning and a spare fur blanket folded across the foot of this traveling bed. Clearly it was meant to wean you into long traveling trips and by the trio of pillows Thranduil pulled from the trunk now you had two pillows and he chose the smallest of the three and began to lay his outer layers atop the trunk.
Between the two sets of cots Estel hopped out of his boots and left a line of dropped things in his ready for bed while Legolas opposite the entrance flap wall of tarps from the table there poured himself a glass of water and took a sip mid unbutton of his outer robe. Once through with his drink he passed the remainder to Estel in his trot over to claim a drink himself that enabled the elder Prince to pick up the abandoned clothes the boy returned in a thunk of the empty cup back onto the table to help him gather to plop at the foot of his own cot. Promptly the boy hurried to clamber himself into sleep, with Legolas in his own cot right behind once the boy was properly covered and cuddled up with a pillow.
“Do you require another pillow?” Thranduil asked and your eyes flinched to him in his lower of the chest plate he’d just removed.
“No,” you said and shifted on the cot to unfold the fur to stretch out across the lounge framed cot.
Your eyes however shifted to Estel in his wiggle onto his side to say, “Don’t forget your dogs,”
With a grin you said, “I don’t really need them here,” then added to his reluctant nod from your cut off of his try to ask for one you said, “But you can borrow one if you like.” You said in a rise to your feet to head to the trunk with your things, into the bag you reached and brought out the one he had cuddled with before and took it over to the boy who smiled and hugged it to his chest in your smooth of the blanket over him again. “Sweet dreams.”
A yawn was your response, Legolas however chuckled in asking, “Are you certain we cannot fetch you something.”
“No thank you. If I drink anything else I’ll wake up halfway through the night and no doubt get lost.”
Thranduil, “There are guards on watch who would not allow that.” His eyes followed you back to your cot where you again stretched out and laid back covering the fur that once his robe was removed he moved to help you straighten to your shoulders. All the same still for a moment he lingered there above you and just ever so gently brushed a stray bit of curls behind your ear that had folded up to lay across your brow then simply stepped back to lower and stretch out across his own cot.
His fumble with the folded blanket however was not so graceful, as it had a fold in the middle he ended up kicking apart on its tangle around his foot. The whole thing a telling common place routine and irritant to him. At least until he heard your hushed giggle you tried to muffle in a dip of your lips underneath the fur bunched under your chin, then he simply relented and gave the blanket a good fling upwards to let it fall across his body and right the tangle on its own in his own low chuckle to himself.
Hours was what you could have guessed you lay there unable to sleep, while Thranduil amusingly timed you at just a hair under ten minutes until he heard the clear sign that he could turn his head and see that you had indeed fallen asleep.
Legolas did this on purpose. It was shared and well known you slept alone for over a thousand years. But one day if the momentous wedding was ever to come that would have to change. And his son surely planned to have you on the cot just five inches from his. So close yet with an invisible barrier of honor he would not cross it. No matter how badly he wished to be able to roll over and drape his arms around you and nestle you into his chest again to let you know even in sleep he would shield you with himself if he had to for protection. Even just to fix that same stubborn strand of curls that had seemed to use your sleep to bunch up and cover part of your face again he would wait and endure the taunt of that one zigzag of your face that he couldn’t adore and etch into his mind of this first chance to sleep beside you. Legolas had to have known he wouldn’t be able to sleep had you been placed anywhere else, he would be up all night pacing across the rug coated floor of this tent just to see that you were sleeping soundly.
Sharply however in the blur of time his eyes clenched shut in the deep inhale and turn of your body as if to evade being caught staring should your eyes open. Yet the tap by his foot had his eyes open. And to a grin inducing sight he lifted his head to find you now mostly on your belly with arms tucked around the largest pillow and in a lower of his gaze to find what touched his foot he saw your leg out of your blanket and foot now settled beside his lower leg. Somehow in the turn you went from center of your cot to the very edge and that five inch gap was nothing to your new comfy position now partially across his cot as well. Straight up he sat and in timid glances your way took hold of your leg to lift it just enough to ease the slide of his blanket from underneath it that he settled atop the intruder to ensure at least that even if it kicked him later the barefoot now bridging the gap between you would be warm come morning.
It was just simple contact. Exactly what he seemed to need as in the bend of toes against his leg his eyes shut to your content sigh that your slumbering move had stretched you as far as possible underneath his warm fur he drifted off to sleep and hoped that come morning his slumbering self wouldn’t have pulled your cot closer to enhance the chance of snuggling even more. The very last thought in his head however was one of debate on his lack of a kiss goodnight and if he should try to mend that with a tender kiss good morning.
An unexpected push on his leg however had his eyes blink open to find that to the sound of the first woken to ready the meal from the silent dawn had lured a grumble of a plea for more hours of sleep from the disheveled and comfy fur coated heap on the cot beside him. Unable to help it he chuckled to the sight of the nose and flash of forehead that your same unruly curls, while still tucked back into a braid had loosened and pooled across the face it would appear he was not allowed to wake up to.
Another grumble came, though this time from Estel in his knee top rise with blanket sliding off his back to the rub of his eyes. Again you nestled more into the pillow as the boy seemed to spring to life and with stuffed dog in hand raced over towards the foot of your cots where he froze in stare at the leg blocking his way. Smalls hands patted the leg that stirred a deep inhale from the body attached to it and in a quick dip under the leg from having seen the pale blue eyes on him the boy dipped and hurried to crawl then climb onto the cot with the smiling father of his best friend. Right on top of his chest Estel moved to sit and he said, “You have lost room on your cot.”
“It would appear I have. Not much however. Sleep well?”
Estel nodded his head to Legolas’ literal stretch and collapse off of his cot that woke him and stirred his rise to come and join the younger Prince on his father’s cot. Seated right on his free side with a lean into the chest accustomed to supporting the weight of both bodies for the usual morning chat until given the all clear the meal was underway and the other Lords’ families were awake, as they usually woke the earliest and got earfuls for not having woken the others who begrudgingly took such awakenings. “Perhaps we should get you a bigger cot, Ada. It would appear you are now supporting four.”
Thranduil simply chuckled and said, “Plenty of room.”
Legolas, “Well, one thing for certain, at least our Queen will be well rested for today’s ride. Just beginning the rougher rides.”
“What about muffin pies?” you mumbled through a waking sigh that lured out grins from the men who got to watch your rise from your warm nest to blink the trio into focus. Conversation came to bridge the time from waking to when the food would be ready. And upon notice of what exactly your foot kept pressing against from his cot to yours your leg tucked and you sat up with legs crossed to continue the talk until you could apologize.
The call to eat did come and after the men respectfully stepped behind the diagonally hung tapestry in the back of the tent you now saw as a changing spot for them the each swap out their tunics then tugged on new socks and their boots you were alone with Thranduil.
Across the tent he moved to your side and when you rose he was at your side and right away stole his chance. Just as he had imagined it, a bit more than he had dared before, with palm to your cheek and arm draped around your back into his chest for the rather romantic kiss. As if he hadn’t seen you for days his lips and body melted around yours, perhaps a bit too much for just a few moments behind a tapestry to count for a parting. But the curl of fingers into the tunic at his sides in the break for air gave warning to the slight shift of your head to claim a second kiss of your own. Warning murmurs from outside found him in a shift back with arm loosening its hold to prevent others from finding the pair of you alone in such a state of embrace that would surely rush things along.
Sweetly in a low hum a breath from your lips he spoke, “Take up as much room on my cot as you require.”
“I,” you cracked out only to have the rest of your sentence die in the next kiss he used to break it.
“As much. I will let you change,” the continued hold on his tunic however lured him back again only to freeze in his try to pull back when the fingertips once locked in his tunic rose to glide along his neck towards his ears.
Barely above a whisper he gasped and his hands rose to cradle yours in their pull away, “Sorry,”
“No, no,” he said and drew the cradled hands into his chest with a press of his lips to each. Again he stepped forward to calm you in another kiss and hum, “I will let you change,” he repeated and as if you had pouted or pled again he leaned in for a final chuckle laced kiss he broke in a whisper, “They will come looking if I don’t leave now.” He said more in a plea to himself to release your hands in a reluctant glide of freed fingers and stepped away with kind grin while he coaxed himself out or the tent before he could ruin things.
Not to his waiting friends but towards the hidden baths he went to lock himself in a stall to simply breathe and refocus upon the plan. He had to focus on patience. The plan that now had him burning with lightning coursing underneath his skin to each touch and every kiss. One good morning kiss, one. That was what he promised himself and now he had gone and drawn you flush up against himself and now that his heartbeat had felt yours his chest had begun to ache since his step away. That look in your eyes however once you had touched him, that had him gasp, that silent question if you could be so bold and be allowed to touch him back. Painfully he had to stop, they would have come in, surely they would have seen what he had started at this impossible time. Everyone would wait for you, no matter how long you wished to have been alone but you didn’t deserve that gossip, those stares once you did leave the tent to restart the trek onwards. And possibly never dare to steal a moment again. No, he would wait for Rivendell, there you could drag him about to your whims and keep him wherever you wished for however long and spend the whole time in his arms if you so desired.
Cold and clear the water from the wash basin was used to wet your face to calm you down. The temperature not helping the tingle of those fingers that had you shake them once done with the towel used to dab your face and chin dry left back on its stand. This was madness. “It was just a kiss.” You muttered to yourself, “Then another, then another,” you didn’t get it. “Why couldn’t I stop?” you asked in the path to your bag to fetch a new shirt as it dawned on you. The proof having been from so many epics with great romances laced within them, lust. “Oh no,” you said tugging off your tunic that to the bumps rising across your skin had a second pulled on over your neck with an arm rapidly pushed through to the end of the sleeve, “I’m lusting after Dew Drop.”
The other arm was next and to your pitifully withheld groan outside Arwen and her brothers paused to hear you mutter, “And he knows! He has to know! He’s got a kid, full grown kid for Merlin’s sake.” Now you were pacing and the audience outside your tent had their parents and grandparents watching from near the fire wondering for what they were listening in on. “We’re sharing a tent with his kid and another kid and I’m just over here lusting away-!” Sharp and clear what sounded to be half of a squeak and a gasp reminiscent of a pained yelp from a small animal had everyone, including the now returned Thranduil along with the two Princes who’d followed him and brought him back from the hidden baths, now frozen to look at the tent.
Arwen asked, “Queen Jaqiearae? Are you alright?”
Through a pained tuck of your leg to your chest to grip the throbbing toes in question you replied, “I’m fine. Just my foot.”
Elladan, “Do you require a Healer?”
“No, just walked into the trunk. I’m fine.”
Ellohrir, “Should you change your mind we are a shriek away,” his sister patted the back of her hand on his chest to silence his internal chuckle of amusement and the trio walked to the waiting group where his chuckles could no longer be contained.
Arwen rolled her eyes and Celeborn asked, “You were listening to the Queen’s tent?”
Arwen answered, “She was speaking to herself, softly in a language we couldn’t understand.”
Elladan, “Then she ran into her trunk it seems.”
Legolas, “Perhaps a morning itinerary, or a debate on clothes. This is her first trek.”
Thranduil sighed and said, “Either way perhaps we should think up a travel game for when boredom might strike.”
Right away Ellohrir’s mouth shut to his parents and grandparents saying at once, “No copper petal.” That had the twin huff and take his seat for the game that always ended up near to fist fight level arguments over the detail heightened game of scavenging the oldest quotes possible from tales mentioned.
Thranduil, “Perhaps her second trip we will then entertain a brawl worthy game to not frighten the young Queen from traveling again amongst us.”
Promptly once your foot stopped throbbing socks and boots were added again and once a vest was added over your loose low dipping tunic with the last button and tie secured out you went to sneak a trip through the crowd that pretended it hadn’t heard your mystery of a conversation towards the hidden baths. Though by the time you joined them the group had all seated themselves and watched you step over your designated stool to settle down beside the King who chuckled as you said, “Apparently trunks don’t have to move for me to run into them.”
@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000,
Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore
Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000
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Ash Pt 10
Barks in the middle of a deep dream stirred you to another guest inside your bedroom. One peek however brought the small burrowing Prince to your focus who curled up with hold of one of your dog dolls then was burrowing more in his nest of a hiding spot to the roll of thunder that had you close your eyes and settle back into sleep again. The pair of guards however from the nursery now outside your apartment doors were the only sign for any who would come looking as to where the Prince was now hidden. By the time your breakfast wake up call came the boy was gone with just a folded paper crown that was left on the head of the dog doll he wasn’t clutching the night before.
Softly to yourself you chuckled and imagined next you’d be finding the boy trying to sneak into your library in a means to help himself to some new fairy tales as he had taken a fondness to your stuffed animals. Perhaps you might ask when his birthday was then try to find a pattern to stitch him up a set of his own stuffed animals to keep him safe at night since through the days he seemed to render so many of the Elf Lords helpless when he would go missing. Forest green pants were tucked inside your tall grey boots and socks to prep for anything possible, a grey sweater that hung past your hips with ties in cinched sections to separate the front and back longer sections to help digs into pockets when necessary. Loose down your back your freshly combed curls that held the freshly re-snapped gem beads were returned to their former locations.
“Today Ada?” Thranduil turned to find his son in his closet doorway with two robes in hand locked in choosing between them at the replay of the goodnight you had shared. “Left one, wear the mint for your offer intent of courtship.” Thranduil sighed and Legolas said, “Twice, I saw, twice the both of you kissed again.”
“Little Leaf,” he tried to plea in a shrug into the mint robe over his white tunic and crème pants and boots.
“No other reason for your head to bend that low otherwise.”
“I will offer.”
That had Legolas smile and extend his list, “Now, our ideas for a surprise courtship presentation. I will start with my favorites and one from Glorfindel then name the rest.”
Thranduil sighed feeling a tad bit lost as for how to impress you with this offer, or at least convey that this is a necessary step between the actual start of the public courtship in a system he was more than certain was vastly different to the one you had grown up with. He wanted to be your choice, not to be another obligation by means of wine laced intimacies, of which clearly he now had little control of displaying publicly. And now he merely had to convince you to let him clip in the feather accented chain decorations adorned with traditional small round bells and pendants of protection that also bore your sigils upon them. White, orange and dark grey were the colors chosen for his feathers, each significant and to mark his intentions for a future union paired with polka dotted grey feathers to pay homage in a playful way to your statement of weakness for freckled creatures.
So very badly he wanted this to work. He merely had to ask. Eat, rather, then wait and ask when you would arrive. For now he listened to the jumble of ideas on how to make the begin stage of a courtship with you a memorable one that you might be appreciative and find as memorable for its adoring nature. He just wanted to prove that he would love and cherish you as you ought to be or ought to have been by both family and former spouse. Surely you trusted him, he was your personal secretary and confidant and best friend here. Deeper trust would be gained upon consideration of courtship as far as physical contact would be concerned, but you had to know even in talks of children in the future that would never be rushed, merely near to the end of the courtship steps that followed the marriage ceremony itself. Consummation was never timed out, and the very last thing he would ever consider was to harm you by impatience or enabling a step too far should he imagine you uncertain at all.
He did love you, you are his One yet even before that just brief glimpses of who you truly were had him smitten beyond belief to himself. Intimacies had been made, and now to sustain his honor in your eyes an offer must be made. There would be no time limit, however long you wished to consider him he would proudly wait and then wait some more. He missed you, even just in a break for sleep should you agree to allow him to be yours perhaps at least an agreed upon joint breakfast or daily lunch cold be arranged in alternating schedules surrounding any possible meetings for him or shifts for yourself.
Anxious fidgets to the glasses settled on the table for the clock ended to the sound of the bell above the door that gave a chime to the obvious announcement of the very same woman the Prince had ceased speaking about to say through a wide grin. “I will let our Queen in. Just relax. She will not refuse the offer.”
To the door he went and left his father to listen the greeting at the door which ended to his stating of, “No, I am needed at the archery grounds. Prince Estel requires extra supervision for his lessons.”
“Oh, okay,” was his response and the timid ease of his front door shut left the King in a downward glance mid adoring chuckle to the careful approach of his One. Rather impatiently his feet however carried him from the spot he swore to himself he would wait, “Oh,” you murmured. And against a chance to memorize the adorably wide eyed moment when you saw him in front of you his body drooped to snap right back to how he hoped to say good morning to you.
Promptly to a hand in a short glide along your cheek his lips met yours. No chance to take hold of anything on his chest the brief kiss ended and left you in a silent moment of panic as to how to claim another moment like it. Your fingers however did tangle in his hair and lowly in a chuckle of relief to the tug that halted his retraction again inwards he melted to meet you halfway on a toe top rise and lingered there. And even when your lips did part still blind and tenderly he claimed the chance to hold his forehead to yours for a deliciously close step to the day he could brazenly take you up in his arms without reason of fear or by rules of a dance. He meant to pull back, well his head did and managed enough space to open his eyes with the beginnings of a smirk to the hand from his hair now in a slide up his wrist to melt his hand back to your cheek. What he hoped for as a sign of another plea for a kiss was enough to have him on the cusp of gasping.
To the pool of tears in your eyes and quiver of your lips his eyes took in every inch of the losing battle that just swept on top of you at once, “I like this,” you managed to squeak out in the fall of the first tear. Instantly your eyes clenched and in a momentary lean into his palm and open mouthed it hit him what you must have been repressing all this time. Surely you must have lived amongst creatures like the mortals here who are much more physically expressive of affections and to the sudden drop of three more tears and shake of your head his eyes met yours in their open. Forcefully you breathed out a half hearted chuckle and whispered, “I don’t know why I’m crying…”
One single sniffle broke the dam and from your cheek into your hair his hand moved in his step forward to hold you firmly while the sobs began to flood out. Timid at first in his hold soon enough your arms had laced around his middle and hands fisted in the cloth on his back as if he would dare to let go. He wouldn’t. Not until you had calmed. You didn’t know why you were crying. But in his embrace and the press of his cheek to the top of your head with his eyes clamped shut he felt that same ever present pain, though lessened, still there and breathing gasps that flooded you entirely in its try to overtake you again and spoil your future. The curse was gone but those scars still bled and he knew that battle all too well, the loneliness, the fear, the numbness when the climax of the pain threshold had been topped and doubts. He wouldn’t let go of you, not in this. This was why he wanted to wait, and now this was exactly why he couldn’t for just an offer of intent. For what felt like forever in his arms you wept and wept until the pain subsided and still in tears of embarrassment he held you still cursing each and every person who might have or had harmed you along with each and every year that had been spent inside that prison.
Behind your back your hand moved in his eventual ease back, in full sight of his inquisitive stare that watched a handkerchief be pulled from your back pocket that dabbed across your cheeks. “No apologies,” he said to cut you off. Words that had your eyes on him and he shook his head, “We all have pain. And sudden traps from such. No apologies.”
“I got your shirt wet.” You said and he shook his head. “You can’t say I didn’t. I saw you perfectly dry when I came in.”
“That is a matter of perspective.” Simply to a sniffle you shook your head and folded your handkerchief again in a glance around the hall then up to him again and his offered hand, “I have a question for you, might we sit?”
You nodded in the ease of your hand onto his palm for the stroll into his sitting room, right to your usual chair that he eased out and faced towards his after pocketing the handkerchief again. Curiously you took the seat offered and watched his motion to ease and turn his own chair that he brought in closer to yours to smile and settle into then scoop up your hands off of your lap to cradle and caress to calm his nerves in this. “Our cultures differ, of that we are certain.” You nodded lost for words. “Today however prior to our clock session and the unearthing of the mystery gift from Lord Girion of Dale I wished to express something to you.” You nodded again to the sense he was waiting for a reaction of some sort to keep going in his courage building pause. “I wished to request your consideration to an offer of intent for courtship between yourself and I.”
“So, you, you want to court me?”
“Yes. There are certain steps for our kin, and pray do take to consideration you have all the time in the world to consider my offer. This is how it is done, day to day everything will be to your comfort and upon notice from you of acceptance or refusal matters of custom amongst our courtship can discussed in further detail. Merely,” hastily he wet his lips, “I wish for you to feel safe, and confident in this choice, and this choice is yours. I will always be your One, no matter the choice and I shall always be devoted to your comfort and safety. As long as you need you have it for this weighty period of internal pondering for my placement in your heart and domestic days.” His eyes quickly darted over your face to take in your reaction when your brows scrunched up.
“You think I would turn you down?”
“You have every right to refuse my offer and any other presented to you. All I have is my offer, the power of choice belongs to you and no other. With my offer does come a second request, there is a token of pondering our kin adorn themselves with I might ask if you would accept the chance to display that you are in pondering of an offer of intent?”
“What, sort of token?” you asked and with a grin he brought out a box from beside his drink glass and revealed the feather accented hair decoration. “Oh that’s incredible,”
“Thank you, we craft them ourselves. Normally it is added to the hair. Would you accept it?” You nodded and again he smiled in a lean forward to gently find the right fold of curls to clip and weave the addition into. Eventually on the right side of your head it was secured and to your thanks he said, “No, thank you, I am eternally honored that you would display my token. For now, our clock is waiting.” Again you nodded and he rose to help you turn your chair to face the table then sit in his own rotated chair eager to get back to this test of your pairing that together was being bested and showed to be near completion.
Together all of the loose pieces had worked into small clumps now that at the clear sign from the clock to stop would have to be worked together possibly the following day. “Do you have more meetings?” you asked to break the silence of the topic of what to do next.
“No, oh, your gifts from Dale.” He said in a pop up to his feet for a stroll across the room to a trunk along the wall you didn’t notice earlier. Beside you he settled the trunk and undid the locks to ease the lip open revealing a duo of bound portraits and some more gifts underneath a sealed letter. To your approving nod he broke the seal of the letter and read the eloquent apology dripping with hopes to have a friendship in the future while you choose to humor that forgiveness you rightly had the choice to refuse him.
All the same from the first wrapped portrait your eyes fell on what would be revealed to be the black outline of a tree in the center of a sea of multicolored leaves in hues of red, orange, yellow and few pops of green. “Oh that’s pretty,” you said making the King grin in his own relief that the first of the gifts seemed to please you.
The second portrait of the upper half of an upright bear in a forest with some glowing butterflies, “That’s pretty too.” You said in looking the portrait over he set aside to reach into the trunk and bring out a wrapped bundle that upon unwrapping was a supply of various silks with odd color patterns that had you glance at the King, “Silk?”
“This is Gondorian silk. Quite a gift. Our Seamstresses could layer this for some rather elegant wraps if you wished. Are you pleased with the gifts?”
“They are all rather beautiful. An interesting mix, but I suppose what would you give to a stranger?” Lowly he chuckled and folded the silks back into their wrapping and settled them with the paintings back into the trunk.
“True, I shall gather some parchment and ink to pen your response.” Onto his feet he rose and while he moved you followed for a smirk once he saw that you were at his side upon reach of his desk in his study now stunningly devoid of any papers on the floor. Seated at his desk with quill ready he word for word copied in the bits that you chose and added more to fill in the blanks and fluff up what would be the first draft of the letter.
Amusingly enough for him in this joint venture of aid in a proper answer for such fine gifts on top of the task the simple place you had chosen to sit had him smiling ear to ear. With leg bent on top of the arm of the chair draped against his back to rest with arms settled on his shoulders and one down his chest to point out possible changes then tap anxiously on the pin at his neck. Absently you had found this position and without a word on a request to find this perch he relaxed to the feel of your chin on his shoulder and hair that fell down your side and over the end of his elbow now propped on top of your bent thigh that supported your weight. It wasn’t until the reach for his seal that inside the wooden box that in his lean the position became noticeable when you had to sit up to let his body give the slight lean necessary to reach said wax seal kit. His free hand however halted an entire flight from the spot in its place on your forearm that had slid back to his shoulder and guided in his lean back upright again you back against his back. “Stay comfortable. I shall copy this draft and you may inspect your new seal.”
“I have a seal?” He grinned and from the box removed the silver seal that reminded you in shape of a chess piece for the body that on the bottom you inspected the swan and pear accents tucked into the design. It wasn’t until his fingers had come into your view that you realized he had copied the draft already and required the stamp you brought into their reach. Quite deliberately each fingertip brushed along yours in the trade and once he was certain the ink was dried the presentation of the quill to you had you glance between the letter and his eyes before it clicked and you murmured, “Right, sign.” To himself he smiled and in an easy swivel in his seat the arm that blocked you was now around your hips to help keep you stable in the lean you took forward to sign the bottom of the letter underneath his copy of the runes for your title in their tongue.
Timidly post blow on the signature to dry it back in its stand you left the quill and with ease his hand once you were upright again moved to help its twin fold the letter which using the wax block from the open seal kit was marked from you by the simple press of the seal. Once pulled from the wax however he showed its path back to the box stating, “As your personal secretary for ease I shall keep your seal beside mine in case you might ever have need of it then it shall be found with ease.” You nodded and in the sink of your eyes to the pin on the neck of his robe you had been tapping he asked, “Is something troubling you?”
Promptly you shook your head and said, “That’s quite a, well I don’t know what to call that stone. The pale green one,” you said in a tap of his pin that had his grin ease out again.
“Green quartz, rather rare for this region. A gift from Celebrimbor upon my name day when he first awoke.”
You nodded and asked, “Have you ever seen an opal? Or a pearl? A good bit of my novels mention them, but I’ve never seen one in person.”
“How would you like a trip to our treasury? There we have a full array of gemstones for you to inspect.”
“Well, I can go there? Wouldn’t it be guarded?”
“There is no thievery here. Any gemstones within the treasury are itemized and up for request to any citizen who wishes use of them by inquiry to the Crown Treasurers. The gemstones from your effect on that Dragon however would be requested only to you should any dream to have use of your unique fortune.” You nodded and carefully he rose and helped you up to your feet to join him on the stroll to the distant Treasury in one of the lowest levels of the Palace. Past several respectfully nodding Elves who all once behind you smiled to one another at notice of the accessory in your hair that from a side view had their excited Prince hug Lord Glorfindel tightly to keep him from interfering on whatever activity the King was taking you on.
The shimmer was first what locked you in place and to the feel of fingertips that eased across your back from the torch and crystal lantern lit treasury that could make a dragon weep for joy your eyes flinched to Thranduil who simply gave you a kind grin after himself having come from meager roots to now being the Regal Charge of this vast hoard of all his peoples. “The glimmer free stones are kept closer to the doors, as they are used more commonly in pieces.” From section to section each divided nook of the hoard situated around the supporting pillars and archways gave off a different hue as they housed all of the stones of that kind within the area from which he brought a few choice pieces nearer for your inspection.
Though a section specifically for pearls was divided into the variations of styles and shades they were found in. “Wait,” you said in lifting a silver pearl, “This looks like the beads on my grey velvet dress.”
“It was adorned with silver pearls.”
“I wore pearls? I would have been more careful in it had I known.” You said eyeing the gem to the deepening of his sentimental grin in notice of the approach of Celebrimbor who had heard in the forges that you had come down here. His own grin spreading to curiosity for what reason could be behind the visit. “Don’t you have to kill the animals that make these?”
Thranduil shook his head in a hope to dispel the image surely that played in your head to how they might have been gathered. “No, not at all. Quite gently these can be removed from the clams that grow them. Even on occasion these misshapen ones can be found to be spat out by the younger ones. These come from Lothlorien and the Hobbits there are quite adept at farming these gems for our kin. Celebrimbor can attest to their care, can you not?”
His lifted gaze turned your head to the Lord who nodded his head to you and grinned wider than he thought possible to the sight of the hair ornament you were wearing. “Why yes, quite skilled and caring farmers Hobbits. Even though they have little use of Pearls beyond spoon displays or pen knives we craft here for them still the craft and care of their prized clams are passed from generation to generation.”
“That’s good, they live in a shell, doesn’t seem fair to split them open for what they can grow, or even to eat them. Even lobsters and crabs I could barely tolerate the sight of those fishermen returning with their wagons parading through town like heroes.”
Celebrimbor, “A sentiment shared by many Elves here in Middle Earth. Fish are a different story when caught on rod and reel or very mild nets in overpopulated seasons.” His eyes looked you over and he asked, “You have need of pearls, Your Highness?”
“I, um, sort of.” That had Thranduil’s brow twitch up a moment. “Yesterday on our ride Legolas shared that there’s a Necromancer in your old territory, and I’ve consulted one of my books and I think I might have just the trick to clear them and the spiders and such out.”
Thranduil, “Involving pearls?”
“Yes, I need a pearl in rouge, and a fire opal for the potion.”
Celebrimbor, “Is this a complicated potion?”
“It takes four days to brew, so, yes. Fairly complicated in a degree of time. Most prefer quick potions and effects but to my research those are almost always faulty and require a backup plan to the backup plan when they fail.”
Thranduil said, “Well, as long as you will face no harm we will continue the lesson on gemstones along the way once you have chosen your proper pearl.”
“Well the closer to a gourd shape the better. All my notes confirm gourd over lumps would be best.” You said in a lean forward to the red section of pearls that between shift of your fingers the divided crystal boxes eased closer to you and way for each shape variation until you found what must have been the oddest shaped one in the bunch by the duo’s reckoning. “This should give it a reasonable kick.”
Gestured along the tour continued until in a wide loop of the room to end at the opal section where you chose a half raw uncut fire opal that Thranduil nodded in approval of the choice. “Choose what you require. Might we aid in any other ingredients?”
In a glance up to Celebrimbor you asked, “Is there a metal with tree rings?”
“Yes,” he said in a turn to guide you to the other end of the treasury. There he led you into another hall on the way to another maze of metal hoards where he came to a stop in front of a stack of metal blocks, each with rings and wave patterns on each beside tiered trays of coins and unshaped clumps. “Damascus steel. Is this what you require?”
You nodded and said, “I think, one of these coins, not the bigger ones,” you muttered in a shift of your fingers in the toe top stance through the box of various sized coins until you found one that matched up with the size of the end of your thumb. “This one?”
Thranduil again nodded when your eyes met his, “Anything you require.”
You nodded and eyed the coin and Celebrimbor asked, “Does it require shaping?”
“Needs a hole,” his palm within an instant was offered and once the coin was settled there the both of you followed him into the forges. Just the noise alone would have been enough to make you flinch by the Smiths forging new swords and shields and yet after being tucked into Thranduil’s side the first slam of the heavy mallets and tools to shape the sweltering metal the new noises were tolerated.
To his usual forge the Master Smith moved and eased out of his outer robe to be in just his tunic that once the sleeves were rolled up tools were gathered and once the coin was clamped in place a super heated metal press that to his skill with the task melted right through it like butter. Up from the coin he asked, “Big enough?”
With a nod you flinched out a quick grin, “Yes, thank you.”
Thranduil, “Do you require aid the forming of this potion?”
“I have the rest of the ingredients, though I will have to start it tomorrow morning after breakfast. It will need some air, would it be okay if I use one of the empty wing walkways for it?”
“Yes, whatever you need. Is it harmful for others?” Celebrimbor asked.
“To touch, it just needs some ventilation or it can be overpowering.”
@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000,
Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore
Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000
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Part 35 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’. Link to Series Masterlist.
Note: If you wish to be tagged for certain stories, just let me know and I can add you to a tag list!
@kumqu4t @pixierox101 @elvish-sky @ladylouoflothlorien @vicmackeybullshxt @lothloriien @shadowhuntyi @hellonogblogstuff @justfollowtheroad
OC(s) Used: Estel
Word Count: 1,747
Warning(s): Mild naughty talk (I mean, this is BOFUR we’re talking about....) and massive spiders
Translation(s): Mebelkhagâs: Elves (derogatory)
Time dragged within the cursed depths of the forest, and we found ourselves wandering without a clear sense of direction or even the light of the sun to tell us the hour.
Everyone's mind was clouded with the illusions that cloaked this place and it was not uncommon for someone to stumble over nothing but a leaf and almost fall flat on their face. I could hardly think straight; my head feeling as though wool had been shoved within the crevices of my skull. But nothing could block out the regular thrumming of an unknown source.
"We've lost the path!" Bofur called out suddenly, and Thorin lifted his weary head to look up at the front of our troop.
"Find it. All of you, look." He growled, not relinquishing the arm he had wrapped around my shoulders to keep me close by his side. When I moved to follow the rest of our company, Thorin tightened his grip. "Estel, you stay by my side. I do not want you to become hurt or lost." He murmured softly, glancing warily around at the cobweb encrusted trees.
Since when had there been any cobwebs? And why were they of such massive size? Surely there weren't that many spiders within Mirkwood... Unless... No, I refused to believe that a creature that large could exist.
An involuntary shudder ran down my spine at the thought of an over-sized spider. The creatures were already evil enough when small.
Thorin tightened his arm around me again, but this time it wasn't because I was trying to move away. The opposite was true; I tried to move closer to his side in an attempt to draw courage from his broad frame. Suddenly I found myself supporting an extra weight I knew as Thorin and looked up at him in confusion.
His eyes had taken on a glazed, unfocused look and he wobbled on unsteady legs. "Thorin?" I called out quietly, and he shook his head like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.
"This forest..." He muttered, pulling away from me to stumble over to a large vine that hung from a tree limb. "What hour is it?" He called out, voice telling of his inner weariness and confusion.
"I don't know. I don't even know what day it is." Dwalin moaned, looking around in vain for any sign of a way out of here.
Thorin slouched down to sit on the vine, looking out at the endless line of trees. "Is there no end to this accursed forest?!" He rumbled, his voice rising till he was shouting the last words.
I walked over to stand beside Thorin, trying to block out the oversized cobwebs and tiny skittering movements I heard. Panic was beginning to rise within my chest the longer we lingered here. "Thorin, I'm scared." I whispered, saying the words for the first time on this quest.
Not too long afterwards, I got the chance to say them again. Except this time I was watching as colossal, evil, nasty, downright terrifying, (and have I mentioned absolutely gigantic?), spiders picked us off one-by-one and carried their victims off into the heights of the trees.
Thorin had pushed me behind him as he drew his sword in an attempt to fend off the spider intent on eating us for supper. But the illusions of the forest had taken their toll on all of us, and his sword-fighting skills were very unskilled.
"I'm scared." I murmured in a hoarse whisper, clinging tightly to the back of Thorin's coat. "I hate spiders."
But before Thorin could respond or give me any semblance of reassurance, the spider batted aside his sword and wrapped him up like fly in a web. Too late, I let out a scream, turning to try and run away from that spider, only to find myself in the clutches of another.
Stinging pain and blackness was all I knew.
More sharp pain and then a dull ache. Something was tearing at the cobwebs that enveloped me and I pulled away from what I assumed was a spider coming to eat me.
"Estel! Are you alright?" A familiar rough baritone called, and I hesitantly opened my eyes to look up at a cobweb-covered Thorin bending over me; concern written all over his bearded features. "Amrâlimê?"
I struggled upright, wincing at the aches that erupted throughout my body. Thorin helped me to my feet, gave me one last searching look, then found himself attacked by yet another spider.
"Thorin!" I shrieked, fumbling around to try and find my daggers, but my fingers, numbed by the spiders anesthetic, were too clumsy to do the job quickly.
"Dwalin! Kill it! Kill it!" Thorin bellowed as the tattooed Dwarf swung his axe and embedded it within the ugly head of the arachnid. A quick nod sufficed as a 'thank you' before Thorin turned his attentions back to me. "We need to hurry onwards, Estel. We are in no condition to fight many of these beasts."
I nodded mutely, taking a deep breath as Thorin drew his sword and moved to help the rest of our company in killing the spiders.
Then the Wood Elves made their appearance, led by a blond-haired man with quick blue eyes that assessed the situation in a moment and had us surrounded in half of one.
Thorin stared warily up at the arrows aimed at us, while I found myself on the opposite side of the group, at the sides of Bofur and Dori. At a sharp look from Thorin, they pressed closer to me in a none-too-subtle action of 'protecting' me.
For a moment, my attention was drawn away by Kili's conversation with a tall, auburn-haired female who saved him from a spider that had sneaked up on him. He was attempting to make small talk, but the woman wasn't having any of it.
"Search them!" The blond called suddenly, and our group was swarmed by none-too-gentle Elves who rifled through our clothes in search of weapons. As an Elf grabbed hold of me, they let out an exclamation of surprise upon catching sight of my obviously feminine frame.
"There is a female among them!" The woman called out, her words causing the blond to appear by her in an instant.
He looked over me for a long moment before nodding to the woman. "She may be of use later. Dwarf women are scarce. Search her as well, but treat her gently." He murmured in Elvish, leaving the Dwarrows around me to mutter.
Great, now I was going to be used as a bargaining chip.
"What's he saying?" Bofur muttered almost to himself before he appeared to realize something. "Oi, Elf, the lass, she knows the El--"
Thorin let out a hacking cough that cut off the rest of Bofur's sentence. Everyone turned to look at the dark-haired Dwarrow with a variety of expressions ranging from concerned, (me and the rest of the company), to confused and slightly disgusted, (the Elves).
Now having the attention of everyone, Thorin glowered ominously, appearing only to be annoyed at the sudden spotlight through upon him. But I knew better and saw that it was directed towards Bofur.
"What were you saying about your female companion?" The blond Elf questioned, towering over Bofur and staring hard at him. "She knows something?"
For only the second time in my acquaintance of Bofur, he was at a loss for words. Obviously, Thorin hadn't wanted him to say whatever he was going to say, so now Bofur had to think of something else. "I-I was only saying tha' she, she knows only about the excellent way we treat her. I mean, she is the only lass among lads and serves a very useful purpose, if ya know what I mean. She's not used to prison fare." Bofur stumbled out, throwing in a cheeky wink in the end that made the Elf raise an eyebrow over what he was implying.
Thorin grumbled silently, and I was sure that if we weren't surrounded by Elves that would kill us the second we breathed the wrong way, he would have jumped Bofur and throttled him.
The idea was pretty appealing to myself honestly. That and the snickers emanating from certain Company members were annoying me and I could think of no better way to shut those certain people up.
With that conversation out of the way, my captor resumed her search of my person, unbuckling my scabbard and taking it away from me.
I didn't try to protest--it would have been futile--even though it broke my heart to watch the daggers my foster mother had gifted me disappear from my sight. I would never see those blades again.
Swallowing hard, I set my jaw to keep the tears at bay. Looking across the mixture of Dwarves and Elves, I met Thorin's gaze.
His blue eyes were saddened as they locked with mine. I'm sorry, they seemed to say. Thorin knew just how precious those blades were to me.
Elvish words caught my attention then, and I broke eye-contact with Thorin to search for the source.
It happened to be the blond Elf. Hmm... He was rather important it seemed.
"This is an ancient Elvish blade. Forged by my kin." He murmured to himself, looking over Orcrist with an experienced eye. Turning to Thorin he gave him a hard look. "Where did you get this?"
Please try to be polite, Thorin. Just this once.
Thorin lifted his chin the tiniest bit. "It was given to me."
Not what I would have said, and you could've done without the haughty chin-lift, but overall, not bad.
In a flash, the Elf pointed the sword at Thorin's throat. "Not just a thief, but a liar as well." He muttered in disdain, then called to his companions to move out. The female Elf who had searched me gave me a little push to hurry me along, which I tried not to resent too much.
Well, maybe I did resent it just a little bit. Just the tiniest bit.
"...where is Bilbo?" Bofur's soft whisper carried to me as he walked in front of me, and Thorin turned to look around behind us. I realized then that I hadn't seen the Hobbit since he had cut us down from the spiderwebs.
Surely he hadn't gotten EATEN or anything. Right?
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Ash Pt 6
The final day before the feast and tasked to organize the library you had once slept in found the King who simply strolled in and sat down on a chair not far from the shelf you had just started. “Yellow stones are given to intendeds, back in Nunieffe.” His eyes had darted to you from his hands clasped to dangle between his now settled thighs formerly shifting side to side. “Yellow is my favorite color, my question was out of habit, clearly the tradition does not carry on here. I am glad I get to wear a yellow stone that won’t bleed to emerald later.”
“Bleed, your stone changed colors?”
You nodded and said, “So you save money when you are wed it changes.”
“You have a heart that millions would march, clamber and crawl to catch a fraction of devotion to it.” That had your eyes on his revealing the beginning of tears you were on the edge of blinking away from embarrassment. “Title or no title you will be loved by thousands and adored and cherished, and one day should you choose someone worthy of your trust and affections in return it will not be out of cruelty or a trick of chance or malice. Eru our creator has granted each of us a One, the person who we are meant to find, and I have no doubt as he brought you here that someone will prove themselves worthy of a heart such as yours. Because you are so very much the one out of reach from mere fools and villains. Please do not doubt that.”
“You really mean that?”
You whispered and he shifted in his seat to angle his legs and body a bit more towards you, “With every fiber of my being. That is the truth.”
“Thank you, for telling me that,” you said looking to the books again you returned upright again in some means of organizing the titles you could not read at all or decipher any pattern between their order now.
“You are welcome, and not alone. Celeborn and myself our first marriages were arranged by others in means of an intended coup.” That had your eyes on him and he nodded, “My former wife’s father and uncle were plotting along with Celeborn’s and her uncle, with whom she was having an affair. It is all rather complicated and to be honest it was entirely humiliating upon its being uncovered by my people here. I am rather glad only my mother was aware of it as my father had passed on. We were still at war and I was informed upon my return that she had fled to the West while Celeborn’s former wife and her lover were bound and forced to sail under threat of execution.” Your eyes looked over his straight face void of any pain or fear in the simple stating of facts, “Celeborn has since fallen in love and remarried and conceived heirs since. She is half Hobbit as I have mentioned before so there is ample hope to bear many more.”
“And why haven’t you chosen a Hobbit bride then?”
That had him chuckle deep in his throat and he flashed you a playful grin, “I am not so fortunate to have a personality many Hobbits find a handsome trait in a partner. Not many if at all would choose a King. I tend to brood.”
“Now that’s a bold faced lie,” you said spreading his grin in adding, “Maybe it’s the angle they look up at you from.”
“Possibly,” he hummed back playfully.
“Why swans? If you don’t mind my asking, the apartment doors, the crown, the ring?”
“The apartment was by chance that it happened to be empty enough for you to decorate as you wished to. You had a chance to choose between our other apartments, do swans trouble you another could always be crafted for you.”
You shook your head, “Just odd, we had flying boat races when I was growing up and only sons can compete but I had been building one myself to try and bring the prize back home again since the last time my father had raced his ship the Emperor. I don’t think I’ve seen a swan up close in person, books sure enough, cygnets seem adorable enough to want to keep one.”
That had his grin creep out and he hummed, “There is a flower festival in Rivendell as our next holiday, the lot of us could travel there together and that time of year there should be ample swans and little cygnets there for you to admire.” You glanced his way and he said, “All of the Kingdoms are eager to meet you. I warn you now they will take no heavily as a blow and most likely enforce that we move the festival to where you are willing to travel.”
The arrival of a messenger however had him straighten up and ready to accept the letter that the Elleth grinned and passed over to you, “Thank you.” You said eyeing the envelope that rested on top of the books you had in the bend of your arm. Promptly you turned and offered the envelope to the again grinning King. “Fingers crossed it’s not more poetry.”
Softly he chuckled and broke the seal while you added the books to the shelves and shifted on your feet to face him in the ease of the letter inside out and open. “Good news, this is from King Thror, he would not spare a poem for none but his wife Niro, Dwarf tradition unless some sort of competition is afoot.” Subtly he wet his lower lip reading the letter he translated for you in a means of checking if you were feeling well and that they were eternally grateful and in your debt for having bested the beast bent on snatching their home away. “See, all good news. I did receive notice from Lord Girion as well yesterday in a means to thank you and pay his gratitude and apologize for his words. He asked if you might accept a letter to that effect from him or if he has burned that bridge, so to speak. It would appear he was dictating after having shared in a mushroom circle with his friends over a dinner which began a poetry circle resulting in ample letters and drama between clans in Dale and even a couple of confused Dwarves in Erebor.”
“Ah, well that would explain it. No burned bridges,”
“Well your response certainly by his account was the kindest of responses the group did receive, one had an ax thrown through their front window.”
You nodded then accepted the letter that was written in different markings than the one in Dalion and you softly sighed, “There is a great deal of languages I will have to learn isn’t there?”
“There are a great deal of Elves who have been reluctant or lax on learning the written word, we have ample scribes in our kingdom,”
“I am not bothered to translate or dictate your communications. Two letters so far, far from strenuous work. Quite a welcome addition to my duties.”
“You would think a King wouldn’t want more work on top of running a kingdom.”
“One would assume so, but this was a welcome distraction.”
“What exactly do you do all day?” You asked and to himself he chuckled at the blind question as you got to focus on the books again.
“It varies. Checks on import/export reports, levels of our stores and goods produced, reports on weather and news from other kingdoms. News on patrols and word transcribed from Ents and animals on the movements of goblins, trolls and orcs. Then there are internal matters that must be discussed, territories and property rights cases between citizens who wish a neutral ruling in these matters that blend into the rare cases which result in judgments and imprisonment. I also oversee the public celebrations, alongside musical and choral groups and their planned performances I ensure are scheduled to be well enjoyed by as many of our people as possible.” His lips pursed a moment, “Other than numbers of our herds and care of steeds reports I cannot think of more tasks at the moment, past my son and charge of young Estel when he dwells here.”
“That’s not nearly as busy as I had imagined for running a kingdom.”
“I did warn you I am more of a public spokesperson between kingdoms. See, ample time to play your personal secretary. Some of our scribes have gathered learners booklets to gift to you later on. Our languages can be quite extensive to learn in a matter of years.”
“I am quite adept at languages, you may just be surprised.”
“Oh I am infinitely surprised with you, as I should be,” his words accented with a pop of his smile wider in your glance his way that had the corners of your mouth tick upwards again.
Wine was needed. Stunning didn’t come close to the splendorous string of ballrooms connected by garden ballrooms lit by strings of lanterns and crystal lanterns. Two dances was all the King had secured for himself to open the Feast dances post opening speech and the first three courses. Three glasses half the size of his had been emptied by you and mirrored by his full glasses in watch of each interaction across the dance floor with those who you accepted as partners. Sure he had secured another dance five dances from now but every brush of hands or arms in the various touch starved dances left him with fingers tapping to the arm of his chair to mark each brush of skin and lift that kept him from his turn for an up close look at the dazzling Queen who seemed to be having one hell of a time. Just the smile split wide across your face would have been enough to cause a heart to skip. But the spread of a glittering glow on your skin and star speckled bead decorated hair topped with the swan crown also accented by your new jewels and the bright moonlight seemed to leave a wake of Elves in awe of the dark haired Queen who seemed to be infecting every Elf here with her smile and giggles.
Five dances and the bold King now on his feet strode in and with the offer of his hand accepted the smile he was now contracted with to guide the woman of the evening into place. Then he had to let go, for an agitating tease of a dance with only a couple lifts, which even after your wine still had your hands, however gracefully placed, on his shoulders or upper arms as if he could dare to drop you. Spins and woven patterns filled the next four dances accented by arm movements until a break for more stomach lining food was announced and around his elbow the King felt that same hand he’d been stealing brushes of his fingers against in every motion he could. There was something intoxicating about you when you relaxed, when you opened up. And as if starving the King who ensured you were on his free side as his friendship was arguably your strongest basked in the first glimpse of a truly dynamic woman who could command a room by means of a single smirk or playful glance.
Under the moonlight for air to break and steady himself from finishing off another glass of wine that would hinder his efforts of memorizing your debut to this elaborate side of their world. Yet in his lean forward to rest on his knees a sudden giggle had him upright and with a smile to the arrival of his friend who clearly had finished off yet another glass of wine. “I may need to play weakling and sneak off to bed. But do save me some more of that cake, I know there is some more somewhere.” The words were accented by obvious intoxicated giggles, a pleasant sight over the alternative of wine triggered tears. That was what you had said and in the haze somehow that was lost to a maze of a rant all he could do was chuckle and wade through in its evidence of a clear sign that your train of thought was spiraling towards a crash. Once on your feet you had settled on the bench beside him perhaps a tad closer than you would sober with a hint of your weight in a shift to use his white and silver clad self as an anchor.
The song was mentioned along with the dance you had looked to with a somewhat mournful stare to the dance for lovers and couples that included a trade off of a kiss. Not the action but that hint of pain that bubbled to the surface and the King readied to say something, anything, but you stopped him. Brief and unexpected a press of your lips to his, that seemed to be aimed there already in the turn of his head, completely emptied his mind. Then in your pull back from the two second stunner every emptied inch of his head flooded with questions and millions of rationalizations of what happened and thousands of proper things to do at this moment. Yet all he could do was chuckle in a sense of relief to your smiling statement of, “There, a first, no espionage in that for our shared freedom from our captors.”
Right where your hand had just been his moved on his thigh that had been used to anchor you onto your feet again in a rise that had his body up as well right after. “No, no espionage.” He hummed and to your every swayed step by your side without touch his body seemed to be in withdrawal from and screamed for more of it.
Giggled nonsense was his companion to the door that he opened for you to welcome you home and the spine tingling brush of your fingertips down from his wrist over the back of his hand on the door handle had his mouth open when you said, “Two weeks of nothing but freedom. Quite a crime in that. To have such fun and then be left to ourselves again. Enjoy your festivities, kind King, and bravo on guiding me home.”
Again there was nothing to do but chuckle and reply, “Sleep well Queen Jaqiearae.” There was so much more he wanted to say but in the magical twitch of your fingers he saw the buttons on the back of your neck loosen and to the hand that held the front of your gown the image of that bare strip of skin where that strap once was had been replaced by the sight of the door he shut in your stroll into your room. Clearly intoxicated, he kept repeating, nothing concrete could be taken of this trade of intimacy. Yet that kiss and the brush of his now tingling hand troubled the rest of his evening, dreams and wake to a breakfast cart alone that left him with just more plans on how to approach the cusp of courtship forcing contact that you had initiated. Hopefully before the second evening of the feast would begin and he was lost for words at how the next marvel of a gown would drape over your magnificent self.
“Magnificent”, he repeated the word to himself in a questioning mantra as to why he had chosen that word, at least until a tiny head popped out from underneath his breakfast cart to reveal the Prince tired of not being discovered who altered the mentality of the King instantly to focus on the small boy and his playful games.
“Oh no,” you grumbled into your pillow underneath all of your covers as the night rolled back into your mind. Somewhere between the wine and your already awkward social skills around the infuriatingly understanding King, who had been accepting each and every flub that you had thrown right in his face to your own deepening ditch of embarrassment, you had gone and kissed him. As if the headache wasn’t enough from the wine you had been tasting the night before not evenly leveled with food to soak it all up due to the length of time spent dancing the mental memory of that kiss slammed around in your head to remind yourself at how stupid that was to even dare to touch his arm let alone kiss any King let alone this one you were trying to befriend. “I’m gonna have to move, simple as that. I can’t keep living here now.”
To a knock the arrival of a cook with a special drink to aid in relief from any hangover had you poke your head out to the Elf whose eyes shifted to your bare arms and collarbones over the blanket you held to your chest. With a grin you said, “I am in a towel. Apparently I fell asleep after a bath.”
With a grin he came closer and handed you the glass off the tray on his palm, “This will aid in any discomfort you feel, Your Highness.”
“Thank you,” bringing it closer to your lips you asked, “How long does it take to get used to the wine?”
In your sip he replied, “It depends. Grape wine usually takes longer however I find the darker berries are quite agreeable and taste finer upon many palates.” He motioned his hand to the doorway stating, “An undercook is here currently and your breakfast should be completed shortly. We have arranged rotations for these two weeks to aid in the recovery from each night of samplings while you adjust.”
“Thank you.” Upon being alone again you shook your head and finished your drink that did help at least with the effects of the wine but not the mental parade of thoughts on the kingdoms that had been shared with you and which you might prefer to be banished to when the hammer was surely set to drop. For the morning at least pants a tunic and vest were added for what you hoped to be a means of hiding in the forest to continue the plan of where to move next and how to leave gracefully after the two week festivity.
“Ada,” Legolas with a wide smile said in his plop into his chair at their shared breakfast. The King’s eyes shifted to him from his glass of the drink to clear his head from the edge of the wine. “What are your plans today?”
After a deep breath the King looked down to lift his fork to start on the meal the thanked undercook had left once it was all set out across the table for them, “I have a few tasks to oversee then I wished to stop in on Queen Jaqiearae and see how she fared this morning.”
“Good, how do you plan on offering courtship?”
That had the King’s eyes snap up to him again, “Pardon me?”
“The offer of courtship after your moment of intimacy. How do you plan to offer it because Glorfindel and I have been compiling lists of ways that might be quite unique and vary in chance of surprise unless you have already discussed that upon escorting Queen Pear to her bed.”
Open mouthed Thranduil leaned forward into the edge of the table, “You witnessed, who else was with you that has seen us?”
“It was myself and Glorfindel, Estel was hiding in the gardens again as we were in search.”
“No one is to be told.”
Legolas smiled again, “Absolutely not, we would never spoil the surprise.”
“No, Little Leaf, Queen Jaqiearae was under the influence of the wine. There is no grounds for courtship as clearly there was no justifiable right for me to offer to settle a courtship from an accidental intimacy.”
“I saw the both of you Ada, there was no stumble into a lock of lips. There was intent.”
“Wine was involved, but surely, at least you have to present the trunk of your One token.” The King’s lips parted again and he said, “At minimum. You are solidifying into a firm friendship and clearly she did not show he would refuse an offer of even marriage. There is a bond there please do not doubt that, she could be your One! You have to show her your trunk!” Thranduil sighed and he added, “Or I will make sure she finds it.”
“I will bring my trunk into her path. For now there will be no talks of courtship. I will inquire as to her condition and try to ease out any wrinkles this encounter has caused upon our friendship.”
“She is bound to be your One. Simply has to be.” Thranduil from his fork and knife slicing a piece of his food looked up to his son curious of his reasoning for that assumption. “Has to be.”
Atop a raised root you sat with view of a stream that a group of ducks led their ducklings towards a food source farther down out of view. Suddenly a blue jay landed in front of your boot then took off again with a pleased chirp, his absence however turned your head to the sight of the King who had apparently used the bird to track you down. “Hey, ducks.”
With a smirk he turned his head and nodded to the sight of the final family of ducks off towards food, “Yes, near lunchtime they will be back to their nests in our red garden.” Back to you his eyes shifted in the turn of his head asking, “How did you rest?”
“In a towel,” His brow arched up and you said, “Apparently I got out of my gown and then took a bath and went to bed to fall asleep. Maybe I was just tired, odd.”
To himself he chuckled, “I believe we all have had a morning of that nature when first dabbling with wine.” His eyes scanned over you and he asked, “How did you enjoy the opening night of the festivity?” Nerves at a peak to the question that was inching on what the relationship could turn out to be if he couldn’t ease any embarrassment from the kiss.
“It was fun. I certainly danced,” you paused and asked him at the puzzled expression on his face, “I didn’t do anything embarrassing did I?”
His brow arched up and he replied, “No, not that I can recall. Why would you assume you had?” He asked hoping to lure the answer out of you to begin talks of the night.
“I went from dancing to waking up in a towel.” You said and his lips parted in a mental whirl. You didn’t know, the wine had blurred that encounter. Only to bleed into questions of how could you not know, not remember anything. Instantly his chest tightened up in his body’s reaction to the fact that you didn’t remember the moment with him at all his mind could not stop replaying.
“That is quite a gap of time to miss.”
To the prickle of your cheeks you said, “I know we talked and you told me goodnight. You sure I didn’t do anything foolish?”
“No,” he replied uncertain if he was pleased or unhappy with this forgotten moment. “Nothing foolish comes to mind.”
“Did you sleep well?” You asked and his chin rose a moment then lowered in his body’s ease into the realization and try to relax again now he knew he shouldn’t talk about the kiss at all instead of the ploy to calm your nerves as he had prepped to do.
“Yes, fairly well, I usually do not dance in our celebrations beyond a few assigned dances with my eldest friends whose spouses prefer to skip those dances. So I was amply exhausted and able to sleep. I was wondering if I might ask your opinion on something.” You nodded curiously on his fidget of his feet under his weight, “There is a trunk of items I am curious if you might be able to make heads or tails of it.”
“Oh, sure,” you said in a shift of your legs off the root. Promptly his hand snapped up for yours and after a glance at it in pause yours laid on top of it and down you hopped to stroll at his side once his hand lowered to the retraction of yours. Aloofly, or with the impression of that the King managed to hold a steady stream of chatter all the way to his apartment where he took notice of the One trunk that his son had set up in his sitting room beside the table there.
“So you have no clue what is inside of it?” You asked in a glance up at him, “It doesn’t seem to be shaking or making any sort of alerting noise.”
Again your eyes fell to the trunk from his intense stare he couldn’t control while the electric feel of his fingers just a breath from his you had stroked the night before had his entire body in a fight to not just clutch onto it for dear life to feel that sensation again. “No. It does not make a sound or move. However I have had it for some thousands of years and still seem to be stumped on what it might yet construct, as it contains pieces to form something. An aggravating mystery all its own I cannot make heads or tails of.”
“Oh, well then,” you said in a glance around before to the motion of your hands over the table the table cover expanded to its full length and went rigid in a spell that would expand as needed depending on what was inside to the scoot of each chair to make room. “First thing first. Empty the lot.” The wide smile on your face to the adventure had his try for a response lodged in the back of his throat for what seemed to be a groan of sorts that melted into a cough that allowed him excuse to fetch some juice and glasses for the pair of you. The acceptance of which his arm just about fell slack to the glide of fingers along his in your blind, “Thank you.” The numbness from the shock of the touch left his arm in a tingling mess to your sip of the juice, “Mmm, lovely,” you murmured in the lower of the glass that was settled on the table to ease the open of the lid once lock latches were flipped upwards.
The largest piece, an intricately carved and detailed piece of wood was inspected in its three foot entirety until at the notice of a symbol and number had it set down to lift the next that would be added to another pile. “Aha, a pattern,” you said and over your shoulder he hunched with cheek barely an inch from yours and back kept from contact with yours for another jarring experience for the lack of distance for the seemingly touch starved King who now just yearned for more and more. “See,” you said avoiding the knot in your stomach to his closeness to point to the number and symbol, “The pieces have numbers and symbols, so if we match them then we can go by group and find out how they intermingle later.”
“These are from our Doriathian alphabet, actually.” He commented with a nod and around you he strode to grab a piece of his own to inspect them against the trio of piles he added that and each after to existing or new piles. Eventually the table was coated in piles of less than helpful progress of the parts, but progress all the same. He had inspected these pieces century after century and never had those marks been there before.
There was only one explanation, he had to be yours and you his, Ones. Meant to find one another to begin at the creation of this mysterious adventure of a trunk. Heavily his heart would thunder in his chest to the every detail his eyes took in of the adventure thrilled smile on your face. Unknowing. You didn’t know. You couldn’t remember. How could you not remember? Could you feel the same energy in each brush of fingers? Each moment of his being merely a breath away? When he could so easily just angle his head and kiss those same lips that parted for each tempting honey dripped word he clung to. He could, it would be so simple, so easy, you were right there. And looking at him. Ear to ear a smile split across his face in a bashful turn to the trunk to bring out more pieces including another smaller chest and one even smaller than that until it sat empty and he had to look, not stare, to you again.
“Hmm,” from the King who seemed to be nervous about something the more you had pulled out you looked to the medium chest that your brows furrowed in the stubborn latches that refused to rise from the press of your thumbs.
“Ah,” Thranduil said. And in a fumble of a chain from underneath his robe and tunic a chain was produced ended by a mithril glowing antler just over an inch long. That in a move to your side with arms around your shoulders he was able to slide a hidden hatch over to press the antler into the hole there lengthwise it fit perfectly to set off both latches that snapped up by use of the unique key. “Only the key opens that and the smaller,” around you he moved to collect the smaller box he opened the hidden hatch he turned to face you and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have anything that might fit this one? Would you? Only you would.”
“Um,” from his pleading gaze to the hole you looked confused at the meaning until your brows furrowed at the shape that couldn’t be mistaken. Rectangular with what seemed to have a bite taken out of it. “Can’t be,” you murmured in a reach for your enchanted bag that from the side bag you pulled a salve tin that once in your palm the lid was wound off of it for the King to eye various buttons and small keys you had found through the years in an odd collection of mysterious origins. Though from the mix a purple sapphire now glowing on the end of what you had taken as a silver branch matched his key perfectly as a half inch antler on the end of an identical chain that you used to press the stone into the slot that opened the locks. Widely the King smiled to the box with pride at the ultimate proof while instead of putting the necklace away you simply looped it around your neck and put the tin away to bashfully try to focus on the chest in hand.
In his same velvety hum of a voice he stated, “These appear to be securing pegs and wooden screws.”
Curiously you felt around the chest until between your fingers a motor of sorts was lifted, “It’s a clock,” you said and his eyes were on you again with brows lifted in awe of an answer after he had failed all this time alone to have mastered this mystery.
“Yes,” you said lifting the hands you found next also shaped like antlers, “Have to be, these are the hands. Odd,” again you caught his gaze that deeply seemed to be yearning to say something, “You don’t have clocks here, did you buy this from Dale or Erebor?”
“No,” he said with a wet of his lips, “We spoke of those who are destined for each of us yesterday by Eru?”
“Yes, but, the clock?”
“We were destined to meet, you and I. Our kin are granted trunks that only our Ones can aid in opening and constructing.”
“Ah.” You said looking to the chest you set down again uncertain of how to answer only luring him to sit beside you with his chest set beside yours in a lean in to lure your eyes back to his.
“It has been an honor to meet you finally. Among others this is a culture variance I would imagine and for now, perhaps you might kindly assist me in constructing this clock of ours. We have only one moon to do so.”
“Normally death occurs.”
“Yes. However daily slotted times to focus on this and we may yet best it within the final eve of the feast.”
“Doubt it would take that long. I’m fairly good at puzzles.” You said and were grateful for the clock heart that could distract you from whatever parade of doubts and questions was exploding through your mind at the time.
“Ooh, these must be antlers,” he said. And chose the chair beside yours that had scooted forward to be used by you. Cunningly in a special careful and quiet maneuver to steal another inch closer to your side, to be both within chance of stolen casual glance of you and to be near enough to dare risk a brush of fingers or an acceptable graze of elbows in the midst of this yet to be mastered feat.
Master of puzzles indeed, he pondered to himself in his ninth lingered stare at the final snap of the round metal casing around the clock mechanics. The completed marvel now had a face etched with hoof prints glowing at the antler formed hour and scattered glittering elk grazing across the top half of the rotating face that would have a second view for the nighttime hours.
“Round,” he muttered in a rise to his feet now knowing what the round group of pieces must have been called for. In the area you cleared in the magically shuffling piles he lowered the pile and helped you to order each piece in that group to work around the clock casing. Each varied home for wooden pegs or screws he answered to help you form what you inspected to be a barrel to settle oddly beside the half a head he had been able to work together on his own.
“Progress report, barrel clock, and antlers.”
“This is a head I am certain of it. Merely these pieces are particularly obstinate to not want to fit together for me.” He said shifting a trio of pieces you had seen him fighting with earlier before his last break to stare at you.
“Hmm. Maybe it’ll make sense-,” the sound of the warning bell to two hours to the opening of the feast had both your heads turn to the door.
“Ah, yes. It would appear it is time to ready for the feast.”
“Right. Perhaps tonight I might skip the wine.”
“Nonsense you have no reason to skimp on imbibing tonight. Enjoy yourself this feast comes once a year.” He paused then couldn’t help but add, “Unless you have recalled an unwelcome event you would care to not repeat from last night before you were off to bed?”
You simply shook your head and stood leaving the clock on the table in the momentary furrow his brows to the continued uncertainty of just what you might be trying to avoid. “I will see you at the feast I suppose,” you said on the way to the door. “I’ll let you change or whatnot, make sure I don’t interfere with any more of your baths, King Thranduil.”
When you glanced back however he stood with a smile on his face in a nod of his head you mirrored, “You shall see me there, Queen Jaqiearae. I look forward to the masterpiece you shall be donning tonight.”
“Right, I’m sure you’ll look spectacular as always yourself.” You said then left the apartment and the King in a focused purse of his lips on his way to strip and bathe knowing his son would be in soon to question him on the progress of his request.
Under the surface of his hot spring Thranduil could hear the muffled words, “Clock!” and “-knew it!”
To the surface he went after granting the intrusive duo of not just his son but Lord Glorfindel as well to rest with arms on the edge of the spring to hear the latter say, “Congratulations! The Kingdom shall be so pleased to hear of this, the visiting Lords as well, you have found your One at last!”
Legolas smiled, “And now will you hear of our list of courtship surprise proposals? I have a few you may find especially exciting to prepare I thought up myself.”
His smile dimmed as Thranduil flatly stated, “There will be no proposal of courtship for the time being.”
Glorfindel, “Surely, Mellon, Queen Jaqiearae will grow accustomed to our culture fairly quick as she has made herself quite the lively Queen, why last night nearly half the Lords remarked on how she made even the glummest of our kin spark up with glee, yourself included, and they did not even witness your intimacy!” He accentuated with a nod to send his point home only to make the King groan to himself.
Legolas, “We still have kept that point to ourselves, no one knows of it beyond us three.”
“Exactly!” Thranduil stated making their brows arch up to his now tensed shoulders he sank more in the water in a means to hide from their inspecting view.
“Queen Jaqiearae does not even know of the intimacy, so there is no need for courtship proposals or even inklings that one may yet be considered!” The King barked then turned muttering to himself in a sink to his nose that sent a few bubbles out into the spring he now glared at.
“WHAT?!” the pair asked then moved around the spring to be back in his stern view.
Glorfindel, “How could she not know?!”
“I don’t know!” Thranduil replied, “However from the dancing to her doorway for a goodnight her memory is conveniently absent! She has no recollection of having kissed me and I have made no mention of it to spare her the apparent embarrassment the notion of such a gesture made to me without the aid of libations!”
“Whoa,” Glorfindel said with his hand extended. “That is far too harsh,” in a sigh he crouched down with ankles crossing to match the Prince’s in a plop to sit in the now teary eyed King’s view after his sink to his nose again to hold back from the explosion of this uncertain storm that had now brewed inside his chest. “What did you say, about last night? Surely she mentioned something of it.”
Thranduil blew more bubbles from his huff and his mouth surfaced to say, “A towel was mentioned, that even the bath she had apparently taken was forgotten and she fell asleep in her towel.”
Legolas, “Nothing about you?”
“The question was offered as to concerning a possible embarrassing action was taken by herself while she was inebriated to the point of amnesia.”
Glorfindel, “You answered in the negative I presume.”
“I informed her no embarrassing act was committed in a means to goad her from her silence on the topic and yet there is no memory of what happened.”
Legolas, “Then she knows,” That had his father’s eyes on him again in a slightly pained stare, “No, surely. Nothing was embarrassing and yet she still is stunned to silence, either she is processing her own actions or possibly in wait for you to make your intentions known. Perhaps that is her culture, yellow stones for proposals, surely there must be subtle hints or a statement of some sort that may yet be added into conversation casually to settle this matter and assure the Queen that intentions are true towards courtship.”
“Little Leaf, we have discussed the matters of ignorance on one another’s culture, surely still she would not expect me to know proper phrases or gestures such as yellow stones from her lost lands.”
Glorfindel, “I agree with Legolas, the Queen must know,” Thranduil sunk again as his brows drooped in a look forward to ignore the hopeful duo. “And we will prove it to you!”
Before he could turn his head they were on their feet and hurrying to the door, and out in the hall when he could call out, “Do not confront her on this matter!” The front doors to his apartment opened then shut making him grumble again to himself and sink in the water, “Make her flee the kingdom is what they will achieve.”
@devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000
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Cat of the Fellowship: Chapter 18
Chapter 18: As the journey continues, Boromir does something very bad and tries to make amends. Can he survive with only a cat nearby?
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Okay, here me out, Tolkien was mlm (probably bi or pan because he seemed to really love his wife, but idk he could've been gay) but he was so deeply closeted that even he didn't realize. He honest to god intended for Legolas and Gimli to be the perfect platonic friendship because he was so repressed that he didn't even realize that he was making it romantic because "that's how everyone feels about their guy friends, right?"
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Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trauma, Recovery, Eventual Romance, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Anna lives alone near the woods, recovering from trauma in her past. One day, she hears a child crying, and sets about a chain of events that leave her playing host to the Elven King.
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Merula: Do you ever worry about Marie's oblivious crush on Ismelda?
Sabine: If I'm being honest, I'm just glad she's intrested in a real human girl this time.
Merula: What the hell do you mean by that?
Sabine: She says that she used to think she was bisexual because she was into Legolas from The Lord of The Rings. As it turns out she's a lesbian that has a thing for a pretty fictional elf man.
Merula: An elf? Eww.
Sabine: The elves in the books are completely different than real ones.
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