#mirkwood rising | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewickedspinster · 16 days

Text

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

#thranduil x reader #lotr #the hobbit #the silmarillion #fanfic #f!reader #please be kind this is my first fic

196 notes · View notes

7soulstars · 2 months

Text

My Incorrect Universe #97

*At Avengers HQ*

Loki: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time.

Bucky, cracking his knuckles: manslaughter it is.

Me, spritzing them with a water spray bottle: hey! no! bad!

*meanwhile in Mirkwood*

Me: I can't believe you tried to assassinate Thorin!

Thranduil: Well, 'assassinate' implies it was politically motivated. I tried killing him because he is a dick, so technically I tried to murder him

Me: ohhhh

Elrond, his blood pressure rising: THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY BETTER-

*me whenever Loki and Bucky misbehave*:

153 notes · View notes

sachiko1309 · 4 months

Text

You shall have me

Summary: After a long and draining day, Legolas takes care of his girl in the most pleasurable way he knows...

Word count: 3048

Warnings: smut with some plot, oral, rougher sex, Dom! Legolas, sub! reader, mentioning of poly, Legolas being a tease. This contains adult content. Minors DNI!!

This is part of a fanfiction I write on Wattpad. Its called "the prophecy of the elven warrior" A fanfiction dealing with Visha the main character drawn between the Commander of the marchwardens and the prince of Mirkwood. Feel free to check it out, as I am almost finished with updating it. 😉🥰

He took me out of Haldirs arms, pulling me into a tight hug. “God, how I missed doing that all day.” He mumbled into my hair and I instantly relaxed against his chest, taking in his soft floral sent, that was so different to Haldirs strong sent of pine. Behind me, I could hear Haldir move around, seeing him vanish out of the door out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was his way of giving me and Legolas some well needed privacy.

The ellon holding me, immediately picked me up and pressed me against the wall. Out of reflex, I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders. Legolas narrowed his eyes, as desire slowly pushed itself to the front. I swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that had grown dark with need. When I ran my tongue over my lips, I heard him groan. "And?" I asked, heat pooling in my stomach. "What else did you miss?"

Legolas dipped his head, his lips just above my collar bone. "You." He whispered. Hot breaths fanning over my skin made me close my eyes and whimper out in lust, goosebumps rising all over my skin. "I want you." He repeated, his voice a low grumble against my skin.

I swallowed hard, as he pressed up against me, the feeling of his hard cock straining against his pants making my breathing go rigid. His hands let go of my waist; his lips skimming up to my ear. A sound rose from the back of my throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and desire washed over me again, and I grabbed onto Legolas collar, saying: "And you shall have me, however you wish to have me."

He pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. After the next inhale, his lips crushed onto mine. I was pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. His kisses were deep, drugging me senseless. His tongue, all warm, luscious, and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of my mouth. Whimpering helplessly, I looped my arms around his neck. My body already throbbing and aching, arousal pooling between my thighs, and he had just started kissing me.

There was no need to be hurried like those times in the middle of the night, when I helped him sneak into Haldir and my bedroom. His mouth devoured mine, leaving me breathless, and him oblivious to me working frantically on his clothes. “Slowly meleth.” He groaned when he felt his vest coming undone. “Slowly.”

Legolas grabbed my wrists to stop me. “Slowly.” He pulled away just enough, his mouth barely hovering over my lips. “Let’s make tonight count, hmmm?” His eyes had grown dark and dangerous. “How…” I started, but his warm breath fanning over my skin made reel up in need. Like Haldir, he was able to make me go weak in the knees just by the way he touched me, and he knew it. “How slow are we talking about?” I was finally able to press out.

“Very slow.” He whispered before dragging my face in for a kiss. “So slow…” He savored the lusciousness of his words. “…that by the time I’m done with you, you won't have an ounce of strength left in that beautiful body of yours.” He wore a wicked grin on his face, walking us over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He gently laid me down, hovering over me before pressing a searing kiss to my cheek, just as gentle as when he laid me down.

“I’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, nin iell.” He gingerly kissed me, fiddling with the strings of my dress. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Normally he wasn’t the one to demand things from me, leaving the rougher part to Haldir. But it seemed the more time we spent together, the bolder he got. Finally, ablet to loosen my dress enough, he shuffled it up my body, pulling it over my head.

“Fuck.” he breathed. “Feels like you’re trying to kill me, meleth.” Keeping his place between my legs, his arms trailed up my chest, playing with my tits. “So fucking gorgeous…” Placing my hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue, I sighed “Legolas…” Head thrown back. I could swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty blues into the abyss of his lust.

Moving from his place between my legs to help me remove my underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. Once he was settled back between my thighs again, I could feel his hands gripping them tightly. “Such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, little one.” His face was so close to my center, his breath fanned against my skin with every word he said. “Can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.” Littering my thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to my core.

“I haven’t.” I breathed out, my voice audibly shaking at his actions. He just tutted at my words. “I had to wait nearly 3000 years for you to step into my life. Only to then see you being married to another man. Forced to sneak around everyone’s back, only to be with you.”

My hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize my need for him. “Please, Legolas…”

“Please what, melui iell?” He mocked coyly.

“You know what.” My hips began to rise from the sofa, searching for some relief.

“Uh uh.” He moved his head further from where I wanted it the most. “I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“I… can you… I want you to eat me out, please?” Squeezing my eyes shut, not being able to look at him, as he finally connected his lips with my center. “Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Holy shit, melethron!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my pussy. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “By Valar, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “That sweet pussy of yours hooked me the moment I had my first taste. And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.”

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” His finger found the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My pussy pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger.

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the sofa, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Legolas!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over my all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and ha to pull him away.

“I need you.” I said timidly, my gaze on the floor. “I need you inside of me.” It was weird telling him what I needed, having never spoken to him during sex other than the occasional begging, but it made me feel brave and…sexy. Legolas let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"Do you need me, too?" I asked, my hand fingering the hem of his tunic. Where was this braveness coming from? I slipped my hand underneath his clothes, gently shoving the fabric down his shoulders. He got the hint, getting up from his knees and undressing himself, making a show for me to watch. He was tall and lean, like most elves were. His fair skin, scattered with scars from the many fights he had been in, giving his soft appearance a slight hint of roughness, that had me reeling in desire.

"You sound so needy.” He growled, watching me intently as I laid there, spreading my legs for him. "Is it me that's gotten you like this? Or your husband?" He shook his head, a cocky grin appearing on his lips. And I whined at his words when he included Haldir. "You are such a slut." He grinned, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me across the sofa to have more space to settle between my legs. But he didn’t. Standing next to me, he looked down with a smirk.

"I am more than ready to fuck you in front of him, too, if you want me to." He said, his voice a tad gentler. "I would fuck you in my father’s throne room to claim you." A hot shiver ran down my spine and fluttered inside my core. "I would have fucked my cum so deep inside you, until you are a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have you walk back here. Nothing more than a ripped dress covering you, barely doing anything to keep your modesty, all while my cum runs down your thigh."

I winced at his word, closing my legs in embarrassment. Did he really mean that? "Legolas…" I started, "…that’s…" I was cut off with a loud moan pushing through my lips as he inserted two fingers. His fingers curled once more, and with it, my toes. "This pussy belongs to me." He pumped his fingers inside of me, slowly crawling on top of me. "Your pussy belongs to me."

Without a warning, his fingers abandoned my needy core, and taking their place was his cock. The thickness stretching me out, as the head of his penis pressed against my puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out once more. His hands gripped my hips in a bruising hold, his thrusts just as rough. I cried out each time he filled me up. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. He had never fucked me like this before, and I relished in it. Relished in the way Legolas balls slapped against me with a wet snap. Relished in the way he made a mess of me; my wetness being smeared around between us.

"I belong to you." I whimpered, back arching and hands gripped his biceps, as my nails dug into his flesh. Legolas thrusts faltered and he finally looked at me. He pulled me flush to his chest, my bare breasts against him. Gripping my chin and looking deep into my eyes. "Say it again."

"I'm yours, Legolas. Body and soul." I repeated, my voice slightly muffled by his fingers gripping my chin hard. Picking up his pace again, he let go of my face, grabbing both of my hands and burying them beneath his fingers.

Like a ravenous predator, his eyes meet mine. A pleasure visible inside of them, that was beyond my wildest dreams, the high I so desperately yearned for just a tad too far to reach. “Please.” I whimpered, finally completely pushed over the edge and into submission. His previously slow pace got replaced by a more moderate one that had me gasping for air. The searing heat returning, yet this time it is more than welcomed, much like his cock, leaving not a spot untouched in its way.

“Legolas…” I whispered, not able to do much more than moan or plead his name. My head hung back, lips parted and back arching as I gave myself into his hands. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, showing how much this affected him as well. It was the sound of his voice, growling my name followed by a string of elvish curses, that dragged me towards my release in fast steps.

“My prince…” I breathed out, loud enough to catch his attention. “More…” Arching my back against his chest, unable to fight his strong hold that held me in place as he pounded into me mercilessly. “M-More, please” I rasped.

His response was letting go of one hand and grabbing ahold of my hips, as he kept on driving himself in as deep as possible, knocking the air straight out of my lungs, leaving me clutching onto his shoulder and hand. “It’s as if you are trying to send me over the edge.” His voice was low, unsteady. A mere shadow of its usual self. “My pretty petal, so eager to be ruined.” I was unable to even process his words. All I could sense was him, so I shrieked, when he let go of me and roughly manhandled my legs upwards.

With knees now brought to my chest, I could do nothing but claw at the pillows, as his strong hold kept me in place. The feeling of his cock more prominent than ever, as blind spots were slowly taking over my vision.

“Legolas!” I yelped, but my train of thought got interrupted by another thrust.

“This is what you requested, is it not?”

A mewl ripped from my throat, a series of pants and gasps filling the room before my jaw was in his grasp once more; forcing my gaze upon him. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, is it not?”

Not being able to do much more than gape, I parted my lips, staring into baby blue hues now wild and firm, boring into my soul. Even though I stared at him, I could not focus on anything, all my attention on the snapping of his hips, the feeling of his tip touching that one bundle of nerves that made me cry out in desperation. “Th-There - There!”

My words were jumbled and slurred; my brain drunk from the bliss overtaking my body one tidal wave after another. I bucked my hips, frantic for that sensation to grow stronger. “Here?’’ He drove into my core again, prompting my eyes to fall back into my head. The only word I was able to say being his name and hushed pleads, interrupted by countless gasps, and mewls.

A familiar feeling started to rise within the pit of my stomach, sending all my senses into overload. It was blistering, devastating, and I was unsure how much longer I could hold on. With Legolas fingers now capturing my clit between his thumb and forefinger, combined with the heat of his kisses on my neck and shoulder, it was beyond what I could have ever asked for.

Searing, hot, like a rapid, undying fire my body started burning. With eyes barely opening I tried to warn him, yet my core did it for me. Walls clamping down, earning a curse in his mother tongue, as fresh, red marks now stained the skin of my hips.

“C-Can’t - I can’t.” I cried out, but he cut me off with his lips, dragging me into a kiss full of passion. Hunger, vigor, intense and demanding, that’s what crossed my mind as he kissed me. “Come, my princess.” His voice almost drowning in the hurdled cry that left my mouth after he parted from the kiss. “Come for me.”

It’s all I needed to hear, to finally shatter around him. My vision turning blurry, as a violent jerk overtaking my body, all the nerves tensed and contracted in pure bliss. It was blinding and fierce, and in a fervid moment, I arched my back, finally releasing the blistering heat inside of my body with a cry of his name. Surely heard by all elves of Mirkwood.

Trembling, that was all I could do. My frame hit the sheets, head spinning, as I was gasping for air. And I barely even noticed Legolas being brought to his own release a shuddering growl of my name falling from his lips. The once fervent snaps melting into nothing but a few bucks until he steadily came to a stop.

Once more, my swollen lips were captured by his own, slower, gentler this time, but still as passionate as ever. Unable to come up with much resistance, I merely hummed and leaned into him; sighing as his length retreated from my core, leaving behind an empty feeling.

It took a moment for him to gather his composure, but soon he got up, he was making a run for the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up. At least that’s what I assumed; my head still too fogged up to really comprehend anything beyond the tingly feeling inside my body. Within seconds, he was back, kissing every part of my body he could reach while cleaning me up. “Rest.” It was a quiet whisper. “You did so well, meleth nin.” He sighed, pressing a peck to my mouth. “But for now, rest.”

I could feel him picking me up and carrying me through the room. The next thing I noticed was being sat down on a soft surface and a second warm body cuddling behind me. The smell of pine filled my nose and I immediately relaxed. “Haldir…” I whimpered, trying to turn around, but he firmly held me in place. “Shh, nin iell. Its alright. Sleep now. We are here.” Closing my eyes, I registered Legolas climbing into the bed as well. Cuddling into his side, I fell asleep, Haldir pressed against my back.

#fem reader #smut #legolas smut #legolas x reader #legolas #lotr #legolas greenleaf

237 notes · View notes

blueberrypancakesworld · 5 months

Text

The king's toy - Thranduil x fem!reader

warning : smutish, use of wine, possesive, some degradation, obsession

Summary : The Elven King Thranduil, ruler of Mirkwood and his pretty toy. A human woman, no more than a second of beauty in the king's infinite life. But with every second they spend together, he consumes her more and more. In the end, she had no choice but to obey her king.

Info : So Thranduil or the Hobbit mini phase you could say has taken hold of me after I saw some scenes with my mother this morning. So have this little slightly more dark thing for the elven king

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°,,From this day forward, you are nin múl," said the king of the mirkwood. He looked down at her from the high throne made of deer antlers and wood. She was his beautiful human wife, actually a traveling singer in a group from different parts of the world. But with money, precious stones and the command of a king, her "companions" were worth more than her. Now she knelt before him, her gaze undecided and fearful, knowing that she belonged to him. But this fact, this absurdity, frightened her even more. His gaze let her know that he would bring her to so much more.

°He had not called her my slave for nothing. She quickly learned not to disobey his orders. His guards, his own son, had recaptured her from the forest within a few hours. No matter how many times she was carried away, the ropes closed around her body, precisely encircling and yet holding her tight. Her pleas were met with a pitying look from the prince. ,,Don't struggle...it makes it easier," he said to her as he brought her into the throne room. The rope on her hands was loosened slightly by Legolas, but she would not get out of the hall.

°,,Again and again! Understand at last that you belong to me," he demanded, gesturing to his son. She did not see the hesitant look as he knew what this would mean. But another look was not necessary as he gave his father his well-formed staff and disappeared with a dismissive look. The footsteps faded and it seemed dead silent between them. ,,Please, Your Majesty, let me-just let me go," she tried, wincing as the wood of the staff settled under her chin. He forced her to look at him and she flinched as his cold fingers laid on her cheeks.

°In the time she had been here, she had quickly learned that he was not purely interested in the physical. No, there was the night when he lost himself in her, wanted to hear the sounds she made, wanted to let everyone hear them. He took her body as he wanted, used her as he wanted and yet his eyes flashed in the mirror again and again when he took her. But just when their eyes met in the mirror, she saw his obsession as he pulled her close, his hands exploring her crown. He saw her beauty, the thought of holding her in his hands and having her for himself.

°Another thing besides the punishments from the blows with his staff, sword or hand was his emotionality. When he looked at her he was calm and almost happy, but when she used her talent to play the harp she was better than the elves. She was Thranduil's personal songbird, playing for him while the king looked at her, read a book or hummed along. It was the only time she blossomed and felt at ease when she played the harp. But it was then that she felt the pitying gaze of Legolas. But her father saw it too.

°He saw his son looking at the pretty creature. He imagined that he also wanted to give her something. Love and devotion. Something the king could not allow. Under other circumstances, he would have let his son have fun with it. But those would have been different circumstances. Now it was different and perhaps it was the rise of evil, the dwarves, the dragon and the ring. Maybe it was the loss of his wife, the emotions or it was all together that made him become so obsessive.

°She only became even more his perfect favorite, his pretty star in matching clothes. Initially white hip dresses with bright gemstones, robes and blouses that hid her body underneath. Only visible to the king in his bedroom when the wine flowed over her, wetting her skin and turning the white a dark red. It was a favorite of the king to kiss and lick the sweetly tart wine from her bed with the finest steel. Forged to leave her in place. Until at some point it went so far that her body was covered with the most necessary. Silver threads threaded with diamonds barely covered her nipples, a simple crown of wood with white roses on her head and a white, almost transparent fabric wrapped around her midriff. Her fingers were adorned with precious rings, gifts from her king.

°Whenever she saw him, she was nestled against his leg on the throne. Playing the harp, her gaze blank and evasive, resigning herself to her life was the harp that kept her alive. Before he pulled her onto his throne whether there were guests in the room or not. Who was to stop him for he was the king of mirkwood and his actions were right and proper. His son would not have the opportunity to mess with his diamond and everyone else would be honored to be in his presence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@tinfairies

#the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #hobbit movies #legolas greenleaf

162 notes · View notes

sotwk · 4 months

Text

Historical Event in the SotWK AU:

The (Non)Involvement of Thranduil in the Sack of Erebor

Could Thranduil have helped kill Smaug and save Erebor?

Disclaimer: The content in this post is mostly headcanon created for the SotWK AU, founded on canon details from the books and movies.

Context: Timeline of Thranduil's History in the Third Age

c. TA 1000-2000 - Thranduil, his family, and their people spend one thousand years fighting and enduring against the rise of Dol Guldur and the darkness and evil creatures that have infested and overrun the southern regions of Greenwood the Great.

Alas, by TA 2000:

Nearly all the woodlands south of the Old Forest Road had been abandoned.

The Woodland Realm's population had been reduced to nearly half of the great number it reached during the Golden Age of Thranduil's rule.

Many Silvans were killed by the onslaught of spiders, orcs, and other dark creatures or poisoned by the sick forest itself (air, water, food). A few even faded from grief and despair, which never before happened to the resilient Silvans.

The Silvans' famously high birthing rate dropped to nearly zero, leading to a "lost generation" and fears of gradual extinction.

TA 2063 - Crown Prince Mirion dies in direct combat against the Necromancer, resulting in Thranduil's vengeful razing of the fortress (SotWK HC), and the Council of the Wise's investigation (through Gandalf), all of which forces Sauron to abandon Dol Guldur. This begins the period known as the Watchful Peace.

During the 400 years of the Watchful Peace, the Silvans regain hope and courage, and with that, their ability and desire to have children again.

TA 2210 - Thorin I abandons Erebor to join his kin in the Grey Mountains in TA 2210. The Lonely Mountain is abandoned for three-hundred and eighty years.

TA 2460 - The Watchful Peace ends. Sauron returns with increased strength to Dol Guldur.

TA 2509 - Princess Itarildë’s mother, Nimeithel (oc), dies trying to defend her cousin Celebrían from the Orcs. Lady Celebrían sails to the Undying Lands the following year, and Queen Maereth is devastated by the loss of her two dearest friends.

TA 2589 - When their halls in the Grey Mountains come under attack by Cold-drakes, Prince Arvellas dies attempting to aid the Dwarves (defying his father's orders for the only time in his life). Dáin I and younger brother Frór are both slain, and Thrór inherits the kingship.

TA 2590 - King Thrór returns to Erebor with the Arkenstone to re-establish the Kingdom under the Mountain. Thrór's younger brother Grór leads others to the Iron Hills.

TA 2601 - Prince Turhir leaves Mirkwood, unable to cope with the trauma and guilt over his brothers' deaths. (Further details withheld to avoid fic spoilers.) His departure strains Thranduil and Maereth's marriage in a way it has never suffered before.

TA 2746 - Thorin (Oakenshield) is born in Erebor. Maereth sends gifts to honor the birth of the new prince, in an attempt to heal the friendship with the House of Durin that was broken after Arvellas's death. The gifts are accepted, but the rekindled friendship remains tenuous, especially since Thranduil has lost his desire to remain allies with the Dwarves he holds responsible for Arvellas's death.

TA 2760 - The continuing strain on their marriage forces Maereth and Thranduil to agree they need time apart. Maereth leaves Mirkwood to reside in Imladris for several years. (This is the only separation they have in the 2,900 years of their marriage.)

TA 2765 - Thranduil (trying to prove to his willingness for peace with the Dwarves again, as Maereth wants of him) commissions the jewel-smiths of Erebor to make a necklace from the White Gems of Lasgalen. However, when he comes to claim the finished necklace, he is turned away by Thrór, who (under the influence of dragon-sickness) claims that the gems were ill-begotten treasure from Khazad-dûm, and belonged to the Durins by birthright. Thranduil holds in his anger at the insult and does not press the matter, not wishing to completely sever the alliance that means so much to his wife.

TA 2770 - Smaug lays waste to the town of Dale and captures Erebor with all of its treasure.

tldr: Thranduil was not at his best when Smaug came to attack Erebor. He had many problems of his own, and he had very legitimate grievances against Thrór and his kin.

Unfortunately, Thrór was never forthcoming with his grandson, Thorin, about the deep history between the Durins and Thranduil's family, so as far as Thorin and his people believed, the Elvenking and his family just "lacked all honor". Nothing could have been further from the truth.

How did Thranduil react upon hearing of the attack?

The Elvenqueen was still in Imladris during the attack, and was therefore not present to give Thranduil council. Because of their separation, Maereth's mind was closed off to Thranduil's, and so she could not be reached through ósanwe. The younger princes, Gelir and Legolas, lacked the ability to telepathically communicate across that great a distance.

It was Gelir and Legolas who pushed their father to ride out with their army to help the Dwarves. Even though the bitterness of Arvellas's death still remained, Thranduil heeded his sons.

They had a solid plan to kill Smaug.

Thranduil had fought against fire-breathing dragons during the War of Wrath, and he knew what it would take to kill one: nothing short of a hero's self-sacrifice.

There was one weapon in Mirkwood that was surely powerful enough to pierce dragon hide and flesh: the great broadsword (or claymore) of the late Crown Prince Mirion.

Mirion's sword was forged by the prince himself (he was the best bladesmith in the realm), and was made from a special steel sourced from Khazad-dûm centuries before its fall. (Thranduil's sword was made from this same steel, which was also crafted by Mirion and given to his father as a gift.)

The sword was so large and heavy, only three people were known to be able to wield it: Mirion, Thranduil, and Turhir. Only Mirion had the strength and sufficient practice to wield it single-handed when needed.

Therefore, any attack using the sword would have to be carried out by the Elvenking himself.

For reference, Mirion's broadsword is about as massive as "Ice", Ned Stark's Valyrian sword from Game of Thrones.

In order to defeat Smaug, Thranduil's strategy would have been to attack the dragon himself with the sword. Gelir, Legolas, and the rest of his army would provide enough diversion to allow the Elvenking to get close without being burned by dragonfire.

What actually happened during the attack?

Thranduil was gripped by indecision and did not act as soon as he received the news of Smaug's descent. He already knew that any action they take against the dragon would mean loss of life for his people, and that made him hesitate, which caused some delay.

But he DID gather his army, his last two sons (who refused to be left behind), and marched out with the intention of engaging.

However, once Thranduil saw with his own eyes he fiery wrath of Smaug and the destruction he was capable of, and sensed the dragon's greed and evilness, the reality of the situation and the weight of old memories crashed down on him full force.

He remembered how he almost died from dragonfire, how painful those burns were, and how long it took him to recover from the physical and emotional scars. (And he only survived due to Valinor-level healing!) Did he want his soldiers to suffer the same, even if they survived?

He remembered that he had already lost one son (Arvellas) to dragons, who gave his life to help these same Dwarves, and received little gratitude for it in return. Was he ready to risk his last two sons?

And lastly, Thranduil realized, with almost full certainly, that killing Smaug would cost him his life. Was he ready to leave his wife a widow, his sons fatherless, and grandson saddled with the burden of kingship in such dark times?

The answer to all those questions was NO. So he made the difficult decision to turn back.

Thranduil's real mistake (that you can fault him for. Maybe.)

An argument could be made that even if Thranduil didn't want to directly engage with Smaug, he could still have sent his army to shield the Dwarves of Erebor and the people of Dale and help them get to safety. Less civilian lives could have been lost.

They didn't have to completely turn around and go home. They could have still tried to to something--as his sons (especially Gelir) would argue later on.

However, at that point, Thranduil choked on his reluctance to risk anything any further, after everything his family and kingdom had already been through. His sons were especially chomping at the bit to slay the dragon, and things could have easily gotten out of hand if they stepped into the same field as Smaug.

By retreating completely, Thranduil eliminated all risk.

And yes, the bitterness of Thrór's treatment (those damn jewels), and the way Arvellas's death was handled (the Durins never properly honored the prince's sacrifice) still lingered. It certainly factored in the decision to (selfishly?) leave the Dwarves to their fate.

Thranduil HAD warned Thrór "of what his greed would summon", especially after the fatal attack of the cold-drakes on the Grey Mountains. And Thrór certainly did not listen.

What was fair, then? How much responsibility still fell on Thranduil to help the Durins, given all these facts?

Aid was delivered in the aftermath; but the Dwarves considered it "too little, too late".

When Smaug had finally locked himself up in Erebor with his precious treasure, Thranduil did send out aid to the refugees of both Erebor and Dale. When Elvenqueen Maereth finally returned from Imladris, she spearheaded this effort.

Mind you, it's not like Mirkwood was swimming in excess resources at this time. But they still gave whatever they could to the thousands displaced, including medical aid, food and clothing, and even temporary shelter.

The men of Dale accepted the aid and help in finding new dwellings, including resettling in Esgaroth.

The Dwarves accepted the Elves' aid, but only to some extent.

Thrór wanted Thranduil to prove his allegiance by helping them to force Smaug out of the mountain, which of course Thranduil flatly refused to do.

The proud and angry Durins therefore declared him and his people faithless, and chose to move south to Dunland, instead of accepting Maereth's offer to help them rebuild near Mirkwood.

The Elvenqueen's final attempt to reconcile her family and people with the House of Durin would be during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs (TA 2793). However, her tragic death only worsened the divide between Thranduil and the House of Durin; we see this in Thorin's anger during his capture in the events of The Hobbit.

It all ends happily.

Healing and reconciliation would finally be achieved a century and a half later, during the Battle of Five Armies (TA 2941), where the Elves of Mirkwood play a role in saving the lives of King Thorin and his nephews. Once Erebor is reclaimed by the Durins, the two kingdoms become fierce allies and remain so for the rest of their histories.

(Yes, the SotWK AU is proud to be a Durins Live AU. <3 )

This HC post was written in response to an Anonymous request for a "Family Historical Event" submitted back in July 2023.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @acornsandoaktrees @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @quickslvxrr @spacecluster @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

83 notes · View notes

rynneer · 1 month

Text

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

“I’m not sure I like this idea,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest against the hallway’s chill. The light from mid-morning sunbeams slowly fades to the flickering orange light of torches as you get closer to the core of the mountain.

“The worst he can do is say no,” Tauriel replies coolly. For someone so out of place in the realm of dwarves, she walks with extraordinary confidence, towering over everyone—especially you.

Fíli and Kíli exchange skeptical looks, but remain silent.

You, however, do not. “You don’t know Thorin.”

“That is true,” she hums, “but I know kings.” Tauriel hardly pauses as you approach the large, double doors leading to the war room.

Kíli shoots out an arm to block her from entering. “Us first,” he insists. “He won’t exactly be thrilled to see you.”

The hinges creak in protest as he swings open the heavy door, interrupting Thorin mid-sentence. The king sits at the head of a long table, flanked by two empty seats, normally occupied by his heirs. The rest of the chairs are filled by Balin, Dwalin, and a handful of elves. The guests’ eyes narrow curiously, but when you step into the room, they duck their heads to whisper amongst themselves. Fíli puts an arm around your waist, standing as tall as he can and glowering at them.

“Kíli, you are late,” Thorin scolds. “Fíli, Y/N, I believe I made it clear that you have… other duties today.” He pointedly ignores Tauriel.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Highness,” Tauriel says smoothly, her voice all business. “May we speak in private? It is an urgent matter.”

Thorin continues to pretend she’s not there, clearing his throat and gesturing for Kíli to sit. “As I was saying–”

But she will not be ignored. “It is of particular importance to your princess,” she presses.

All heads in the room turn to you. Fíli winces and tightens his arm around you. Even Thorin appears momentarily stunned by her interruption, but he quickly regains his composure and fixes the elf with a glare.

“You are excused,” he hisses. “We–”

“Your Highness–” she tries to interject again.

“Do not interrupt me!” the king snaps. He rises from his seat, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You are an escort, nothing more. You are not welcome at the negotiating table.”

“Thorin, please,” you say softly. You press against Fíli, making yourself as small and vulnerable-looking as possible. The act works—Thorin softens just the tiniest bit.

His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, glancing back at the elvish delegates. They eye the king with suspicion. “Everyone out,” he says at last. His teeth are clenched so hard you’re surprised they don’t crumble.

“There is tea waiting in the great hall,” Balin offers, a bit more diplomatically. He ushers the delegation from the room and gives you a tiny nod as he passes.

“Sit,” Thorin growls.

You drop into a chair instantly at his command, already wary of his anger. Fíli takes his seat and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. But you grip it tightly, not letting him pull away. He resists for a second, then lets his hand relax in yours and brushes his thumb over the back of it.

“What do you want?”

You jump slightly when Thorin addresses you.

“We have a proposal–”

“I did not ask you,” Thorin cuts Tauriel off brusquely, still looking at you.

It’s quiet for a moment as you open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say. “Tauriel has a plan,” you finally offer.

“Hear her out, please,” Kíli jumps in. His leg bounces beneath the table, making ripples on the surfaces of abandoned glasses of wine. “She thinks she knows how to cure Y/N.”

His phrasing makes you wince, and Fíli squeezes your hand again.

“Nonsense,” Thorin scoffs. “There’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing that you should know about,” he adds when Tauriel arches an eyebrow. “Unless someone has been speaking of things they should not.”

Everyone turns to Kíli, who suddenly looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. He gives you a helpless shrug, hands raised in surrender.

“Thorin, please,” Fíli urges quietly. “This is Y/N that we are talking about. Our Y/N.”

A vein throbs in Thorin’s temple, but he looks at Tauriel for the first time since she entered. “Get on with it, then.”

She dips her head. “Whatever ails her is not a physical problem, it’s magic borne of Mirkwood. That’s something dwarves simply cannot address.” Thorin bristles, but she raises a hand before he can speak. “I’ve no doubt that you have skilled healers, but she needs more than herbs and rest. Let her return to Mirkwood with me, and we will do everything we can to restore her memory.”

Hope rises in your chest as Thorin studies the elf maiden. “Why are you offering this? What do you stand to gain from helping?” His tone is laced with suspicion, but less anger than before.

“I’ve a certain… admiration for the for kingdom of Erebor after all it has endured.” Her eyes flicker briefly to Kíli, who absentmindedly fiddles with his belt. “I would be glad to see its princess well once again.”

“Can you swear that your efforts will be successful? That she will return whole and unharmed with her memories intact?”

But that hope dies as Tauriel hesitates. “I cannot,” she admits at last.

“No.” Thorin rises from the table, taking his mantle from the back of his chair and heading for the door.

“No?!” you repeat incredulously. You’re on your feet before you even know it, hands curled into fists at your side. Fíli moves to grab your wrist, but you dodge his hand. “This is our best chance to–”

“No!” He turns on his heel to face you again. There’s a shadow across his face, brows knitted in a furious glare. “It is too much to risk without a guarantee of success. That is final.”

“Fine!” you snap, crossing your arms. Your headache pulses even harder behind your eyes. “I’ll go anyway!”

“Careful, Y/N…” Kíli whispers. He’s risen as well, knuckles white as they grip the back of his chair.

“Then you can stay there,” Thorin thunders. His stormy eyes move to his nephews. “And if either of you set foot outside our lands, you can keep going all the way back to Ered Luin. Now, get out.”

“Uncle–”

“Out, Fíli! All of you!”

You snort, glaring at Thorin and pulling Fíli up from the table by his wrist. “Come on,” you grumble. “I’m not going to keep arguing with a stone wall.” You storm from the room, dragging Fíli with you and doing your best to slam the oversized door—right in poor Kíli’s face. He pushes it open behind you, nearly stumbling as Tauriel breezes past him.

“Pack your things for a journey,” she says briskly, her long strides quickly putting distance between you and the angry king. “All of you. We leave at midnight.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Fíli hisses. “You heard Thorin—he’ll have our heads!”

“If he even lets us back in,” Kíli mutters.

“Thorin can… what is that phrase you use, Y/N?”

“‘Get fucked?’” you offer.

“Yes, that.”

“This is a bad idea,” Fíli reminds the group for the hundredth time. But even as he voices his concerns, he still busies himself with tacking up the ponies and arranging the bags. “If Thorin or Amad catch us, we’re as good as dead.”

“With how loud you’re talking, they can probably hear you from their chambers.” You shift from one foot to the other, shivering. August in the mountains means pleasantly warm days, but the northern cold refuses to be forgotten, bringing frigid nights. Without missing a beat, Fíli sheds his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. You give him a quick smile.

A warm, fuzzy snout nudges your shoulder. You turn to find a black and white pony stretching its neck over the door of its stall, sniffing your pack hopefully. It nickers softly when you lift your hand to stroke its nose.

“That one’s yours,” Kíli says, leaning against the stable’s door. Tauriel and his pony already wait outside, the animal pawing impatiently at the ground. “You named him Domino, and refused to tell us what that means.”

“Domino?” You smile as you fit the bridle on him. “Perfect.” He follows you outside obediently, still nudging your bag in hopes of finding treats. Fíli comes to your rescue once again with a handful of sugar cubes swiped from the kitchen. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Trying to steal my pony’s heart?”

“Aye.” Fíli winks and swings himself up onto his mount. “And I’m coming for yours next.” But his face turns serious as he glances up at the moon, full over your heads. Wisps of clouds tickle its edges, threatening to block out its light. “We should go. If we make good pace, it shouldn’t be more than a few weeks’ travel.”

You sigh and climb up on your own pony. Next to Tauriel’s horse, you’re reminded once again how small you are. Inside the mountain, it’s easier to ignore. Everything is dwarf-sized. You-sized. But outside, the world does not cater to your diminished stature.

“A few weeks’ travel to where?” A voice from behind startles you from your thoughts. Fíli freezes next to you.

You turn around slowly, feeling like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. Dís folds her arms and taps her foot as she waits for an answer. There’s something tucked under her arm, but you can’t quite make it out.

“Nowhere,” Kíli responds quickly. “Nowhere at all.” He gives his mother the most innocent look he can muster, but it’s pointless. Every pony is laden with at least one travel pack.

Fíli purses his lips tightly. “We’re going to get help for Y/N,” he admits through gritted teeth. He raises his chin defiantly, as if expecting resistance. “Thorin won’t listen. We’re taking matters into our own hands.”

Dís shakes her head in disappointment. Your heart sinks as she steps forward and tugs Fíli’s coat down from your shoulders. The journey, over before it even began.

“Not dressed like that, you’re not.” She returns the coat to Fíli and unfolds the bundle under her arm. It unfurls into a thick, forest green cloak. “I was saving this for an anniversary gift, but you’ll be needing it if you don’t want to freeze at night,” she explains as she hands it to you. She squeezes your hand. “Come back safe. I’ll stall Thorin as best I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, wrapping the cloak around you.

“Fíli is right, we must be off,” Tauriel snaps her reins and sets off down the packed earth road. The boys fall in behind her.

“And Kíli?” Dís calls after them.

He halts his pony with a tug of the reins and turns in his saddle with a sigh. “Yes, Amad?”

“Hurry up and propose to the elf.” She slaps the haunches of your pony, sending you lurching forward into the night.

Fíli did not like it.

He couldn’t tell if it was day or night. He couldn’t see the path ahead—if there even was one. He couldn’t hear whatever Thorin was saying.

But mostly, he didn’t like how you hung limply in his arms, head lolling with each step he took. He hefted you closer to his chest, shifting you to better support your head in the crook of his arm. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” There was no response from the woman in his arms. It was almost upsetting, how light you felt. How small you were. You were dwarf-sized, yes, but the proportions were all wrong.

Fíli glanced up to make sure he was still with the Company. Since they’d left the main path, it was becoming harder to keep up. He’d nearly lost them a few… minutes ago? Hours? Days?

After Fíli had caught up—or let them catch up to him, he couldn’t tell—Kíli started to hold onto Fíli’s coat to stay together, like he’d once done as a child. Slowly, they fell to the back of the group.

“Let me carry her for a bit.” Kíli slipped an arm underneath you.

As the younger prince made to take you from Fíli, his blood ran hot. He only held you tighter, pulling away from Kíli. “No,” he growled. “I’m carrying her.”

“Fee, you’ll tire.”

“I won’t!” he snapped. “I have to be there when she wakes up. It has to be me! I…” His sudden burst of ferocity faded away as he looked down at you, leaving behind a hollow feeling in his chest.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think you were dead. Only the slow rise and fall of your chest proved you still lived. In rare moments, your face would twitch, ever so slightly. Holding you like this, your body as limp as a ragdoll, made his stomach feel as if it was filled with stones.

Cold talons of dread gripped his heart. “She will wake up,” Fíli whispered, his soft voice trembling. He looked back up at Kíli for reassurance. “She will. She has to. And I need to be there, it has to be me. I have to tell her… She needs to know…” A lump in his throat kept Fíli from continuing.

Kíli furrowed his brow. He’d never seen his brother look this distressed. As his eyes went back and forth from your face to Fíli’s, it dawned on him. His eyes grew wide. “You’re… Fíli… You’ve fallen in love with her, haven’t you?”

Fíli’s mouth moved silently, as if the words were stuck in his throat. But he didn’t need to answer. His face told Kíli everything he needed to know. The desperation. How his expression softened when he gazed at you. The way he gently cradled you.

“Is she your…?” Kíli didn’t need to finish; the word hung heavily in the air between the brothers. His One.

Amad had explained once how it felt to find her One in their father. She had courted a few other dwarrows, but something always gnawed at the back of her mind. But meeting him, she spoke of a warmth that filled her, how everything just felt right. Fíli had never given it much thought. None of the dams in Ered Luin particularly caught his eye. And besides, Thorin never took a wife. Sometimes a dwarf just doesn’t find their One, or care much about finding them.

But you… Fíli hadn’t felt the instant warmth and security his mother had described when he met you. It crept in slowly as you ate together, rode together, fought together. When you sent him little smiles from across the fire at dinner. When you listened intently as he showed you his blades. When you gripped his arm tightly at the first sign of danger. There was no going back for Fíli, and even though your new size worried him, the way you fit in his arms felt right. It shouldn’t feel right, he knew that. He had never heard of a dwarf finding their One in someone of an entirely different race. And of course, you were even stranger, coming from another world.

“Fee?” Kíli’s voice, unusually gentle, pulled Fíli from his thoughts.

With great effort, Fíli tore his gaze from you and looked his brother in the eye. “I don’t know what else this feeling could be,” he answered simply.

Both princes fell silent as they watched your sleeping face. “This will not be easy,” Kíli said at last.

“I know.”

#fanfiction #fíli #fili x reader #fili x you #kíli #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #dís #everybody lives #it gets angstier before it gets fluffier #protective Fíli #tauriel

49 notes · View notes

agathne · 11 months

Text

the moon | thranduil of mirkwood

Description: Thranduil is caught in the most embarrassing position. In which, Elrond walks in when Thranduil is about to kiss you. [crack fluff]

Pairing: thranduil/elrond's-daughter!reader

Books tell you that falling in love feels like sweaty palms, nervous chills and heart thumping furiously against your chest - but every moment spent with him feels like waves on a beach. It's calm, not judging - you feel safe around him.

"I shall return to Greenwood in a few moons, is there anything that requires my full attention?" he inquired - nuzzling his head deep in the crook of your neck. He smelled like vanilla and cardamom. He was an elf that was older than you - older than your mother, but he is the only one who could relate to you. "(Your Name)," he says firmly this time, sensing that your attention was in another plane.

"I'm sorry," you turned your head in his direction - fingers digging deeper into his golden locks. "I was thinking about missing you, it will be years until we see each other again, Thran. Unless our houses miraculously bond with each other," you breathed - inhaling more of his scent. To others, vanilla may seem cold - but to you - vanilla was the scent of your home.

King Oropher kept to himself, he did not like the race of the Noldor. You couldn't blame him - for half of your blood was responsible for the casualties of his people.

His mother died because of the Noldor's thirst for the gems - but those days were past. They belonged to a bygone age.

"I do not wish to remain this way - I want to be with you. I want you to become half of my soul," you whispered, letting the embrace linger with your words. "I want the very same, melleth." he hummed - breathing in your scent of lavender. "Tell my father," you met his eyes.

"- ask for my hand in marriage, he will not deny you." you say for certain, already seeing the scene play in the back of your mind. "Yes," he responded - unable to fight against something that he too desired. He reaches for your jaw - about to bridge your lips together, but suddenly, someone walks inside your bedroom.

"Adar!" you scream, immediately rising to your feet - falling down the bed in the process. "By the grace of the Valar!" Elrond covered his eyes - unable to gather the powers to look upon his daughter's lover. "I apologize," you lowered your head - helping your lover to his feet.

Elrond takes a step outside of your room, hand around the doorknob. "I will not speak of this. I will pretend to never have seen this and - I will wait in my room for an explaination." he said to himself, closing the door loudly - face red in both anger and embarrassment.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction

360 notes · View notes

tamurilofrivendell · 5 months

Text

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 16

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth @0chemicalwaste0 @deadunicorn159 @silvercobra @thesunschild777

It was dark as you stood beneath the trees. You couldn't really explain what had possessed you to sneak out like that. There had been something... some sort of sound... but as you tried to recall it now, it slipped right out of your memory and left you confused.

It had seemed to come from a large tapestry hanging in the corner of the room, not the door as you had originally assumed. Cautiously, you had inched closer to the tapestry and then peeled it back from the wall, shocked to find another door there. You had felt a little uneasy about opening it, instead wanting to go and find Radagast but the sound... kept your focus turning back so intently towards this door that you had inevitably opened it and stepped into what turned out to be a secret passageway. You'd followed this passageway down, down, down into the dark... and come out, not in a dungeon or outside of the palace as you had originally assumed... but back in your clearing.

It did not make any sense.

The clearing was hours away so how could you be here now when you had just been in the Elvenking's palace? When you turned, there was absolutely no indication of how you had got here. No mysterious door. Just trees and darkness.

Frowning, you walked further into the middle of the clearing. Two steps in you came to a half as a sudden wind picked up around you, whipping your hair up around your face. Something about it felt unnatural and as quickly as it started, it ceased, and you were left standing frozen with your heart pounding in your ears.

"Hello, Lothíriel." A woman's voice sounded from behind you, causing you to spin on your heel, eyes wide with panic.

"Oh!" You exclaimed as you slowly relaxed. You recognised her.

Luithien!

The woman you had met before in this same clearing not that long ago. She had seemed in danger, scared. She'd said someone had been chasing her and you had wondered what happened to her as she had vanished as quickly as she had come.

"You! Are you alright?" You asked, studying her as you took a step towards her. She looked okay. She did not look hurt and she had clearly not been captured.

"Oh, please, I am fine. Do not worry about me." She said sweetly, her expression melting into a look of concern. "What about you?"

You eyed her, not sure what she meant. "What about me?"

"I hear you are being forced to marry that awful king." She said, her face a perfect expression of concern.

You blinked at her. "How...?" How could she possibly know such a thing?

"Oh. The birds, dear. They talk to me, you see. I came back here looking for you and they told me all about it." The Enchantress lied with ease. The birds, in fact, would come nowhere near her but you did not need to know. She had watched and she had learned and she knew that if you thought that the birds trusted her, you were more likely to do so as well.

You relaxed a little and glanced down at the ground, looking unhappy. Yes, you did feel as if you were being forced to marry him even if nobody had really said outright that you would be other than Radagast saying both of your parents had wanted it to be so. "Is he really... so awful?" You asked then, looking back up at her with worry in your eyes.

Her face changed and she looked back at you very gravely indeed, nodding slowly. "I... am afraid so, my dear." She tsk'd softly. "He is a... very, very cruel man."

You could feel your panic rising with each word this woman spoke and you looked around the clearing as if expecting to be set upon. You thought of Thranduil and wished - oh, how you wished - that you had not come so late and that he was still here so you could run away with him. "I do not want to marry him!" You exclaimed, turning back to the woman with wide, fearful eyes. He was truly awful? Cruel? You were starting to get frightened.

"Oh, darling, do not worry!" She came towards you then and she slid an arm around your shoulder and she gave you what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze. "I will help you."

"You... will?"

"Of course I will." She said firmly, giving you a smile. "I can tell you are a kind girl. You do not deserve to marry an evil man. I will help you, Lothíriel, I will take you somewhere safe. I promise."

Your eyes remained on Luithien's face, looking at her with some confusion but unable to fully form a proper thought in your head about most of this. There was something in you now that was urging you to simply just go along with whatever it was that she said, despite the fact that it still made no sense how you had ended up back in the clearing when moments ago you had been so far away, and that you really did not know this woman.

"Alright." You agreed, against your better judgement but this part of you was quiet now, as if it had been tied down and held at bay by some force far stronger than you.

The Enchantress smiled at you kindly but inside she felt victorious. She had you. She had you, finally, in her grasp. You were far from safety and you were under her thrall and you could not fight it. Neither the wizard nor the king would get here in time.

"Come." She said in her soft, melodic voice as she turned and led you from the clearing and through the forest.

"Come on!" Thranduil barked, sounding tense. He sat on the back of a large brown horse, opting not to take his elk straight back out into the forest. The animal needed a rest. He was desperate to find you as quickly as possible but he was not cruel.

Feren behind him was moving too slowly for Thranduil's liking and, after another few seconds of waiting around for him and the wizard, the Elvenking huffed and then spurred the horse on without another word, riding away from the palace grounds, past the settlement, and disappearing into the trees.

Feren and Radagast were left staring after him but Thranduil did not care. He didn't look back, keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead as he rode determinedly through the forest. He did not know how long ago you left, how far you could have gotten, or if you would even know the way home from here and he was slightly worried you might end up lost. As he rode, his eyes flickered every which way, keen elven sight seeking you at every turn.

He could not believe you had been here the whole time! That you were her! It was insanity and yet it was happening. Gil-Galad's daughter had been here in this forest all these years, under his very nose, and he had been none the wiser! He was both angry and elated.

Thranduil's thoughts turned towards the Enchantress as he rode, his expression darkening as she came into his mind. That witch... he should have driven her out fully when he'd first found her here. Of course, he had tried, but he was hard on himself. He should have been stronger. The harm she could do if she found you... it did not bear thinking about.

The curse.

No. No, he could not think like that. He would not think like that. You would be fine, you would be okay. Thranduil would find you and then he would finally tell you the truth of his identity and take you back to the safety of his palace and everything would be fine again.

He had to believe that. He had to.

After a time, the dark tower came into view and your feet stilled, eyes wide as you stared up at it.

What was this place?

"You... live here?" You asked, turning to the woman at your side once more. Her arm was still firmly around your shoulder. It had been done to seem reassuring but it was actually to keep you in place. Not that she expected the slight spell upon your mind to waver but she did want to be safe rather than sorry.

She turned her face to look at you and she smirked slightly. "For now." She said, giving you a tug and leading you further along the path towards the fortress. She hid here, rather than lived here. The elves did not really come near it and it was currently abandoned and she used it as her base.

You had never been this far in your life. You had always stayed around the cottage and the clearing, and down to the river but no further, not really. This did not seem like a very nice place but you were quite helpless to do anything about it as you were ushered up to the heavy doors and then pulled inside.

The doors shut behind you with a loud, echoing thud that seemed almost to seal your doom. A chill went through you that you could not ignore, yet you almost felt as if you had no real free will to turn and try to push your way back outside. It was almost like you were in a dream.

Dream. Asleep. Forever. Run.

Your mind tried to fight it but it was no good, and the voices were drowned out, pushed away until they were no more than a slight tickle in the back of your head.

The Enchantress let her arm drop from around your shoulders, drawing your full attention once more. She stepped away from you and moved over to a table in the corner of the room. The outside of the fortress itself had been foreboding. Black and tall, dark and dreary, and the inside was no different.

Luithien had said she lived here but it did not look very lived in. The furniture was scarce, the place felt cold, and it just seemed as if this was not somewhere anyone would stay. At least... not anyone good.

You looked up at her again, finding her gaze on you. She looked a little bit different now. Her eyes were not as kind and she was staring at you so intently that it felt uncomfortable. "What is this place?" You asked quietly.

"Have you ever read a map of the area?" She asked in return.

You blinked, a bit thrown by the question but you nodded all the same. "I mean, yes... a while ago."

The Enchantress smiled. "The fortress you stand in now, is built on Amon Lanc."

There was a silence. Amon Lanc. The first thing that came to mind was that King Oropher had once resided here with his people until they had moved, as things began to grow dark. You were kept in seclusion, secrecy, and you had been sheltered beyond belief but that did not mean you knew nothing at all. You knew the history of the forest you lived in, just as you'd known the history of Gil-Galad without knowing who he was to you. Radagast's book collection had been cleverly curated.

As if reading your mind, the Enchantress' smile curved into a smirk. She knew that you'd know everything by now, that you'd have been told of your past and that the kings and even the queens would perhaps be in the forefront of your mind.

"Yes. Oropher." The name fell from her lips with a little bit of disdain, unable to help herself. "He and his folk used to stay here, in the dwellings that now lie abandoned." She hummed, some flicker in her eyes that had not been there before.

She took a step towards you and this time, as she did, you stepped back. She was beginning to unnerve you.

When you moved away from her, she looked surprised for a moment, as if she had not expected it. She stood still and stared at you in silence for a minute, studying you with one thin eyebrow lifted in curiosity, and then her expression turned into mild amusement.

Oh. There was something inside you that was not entirely fooled. That was interesting. So you were perhaps stronger than you looked, were you? No matter. It would just make it more fun, she decided. More amusing when you ultimately fell.

"Something the matter?" She asked innocently and the sweet sound of her voice rang false somewhere in the back of your head.

You stared back at her. "No." But it was a lie and, much to your own frustration, your voice shook just a little. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. What was it?

The Enchantress extended a hand and beckoned you closer. "Come here, Anarórë." The words left her lips as a firm command. "I have something for you."

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #lotr fanfic #sleeping beauty #hobbit fanfic #hobbit fanfiction

110 notes · View notes

coopsgirl · 1 month

Text

This day in Middle Earth history:

April 6, TA 3019 (I missed this one!): Meeting of Celeborn and Thranduil

This is the day of the Elven new year and when they met in Mirkwood, they renamed it Eryn Lasgalen, Wood of Greenleaves as it was now cleansed of Sauron's evil and would begin to heal.

"Thranduil took all the northern region as far as the mountains that rise in the forest for his realm; and Celeborn took all the southern wood below the Narrows, and named it East Lorien; all the wide forest was given to the Beornings and the Woodmen. But after the passing of Galadriel in a few years Celeborn grew weary of his realm and went to Imladris to dwell with the sons of Elrond. In the Greenwood the Silvan elves remained untroubled, but in Lorien there lingered sadly only a few of its former people, and there was no longer light or song in Caras Galadhon."

I love that that Silvan elves stayed in their forest and were happy after it had been polluted and corrupted for two-thousand years. They earned it!

#thranduil #celeborn #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #war of the ring #middle earth #mirkwood #greenwood #wood of green leaves #elvenking #lee pace

37 notes · View notes

bakuliwrites · 2 years

Text

Upon a Forest Throne, Thranduil x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings

Relationship: Thranduil x Reader

Summary: As Thranduil's Queen-to-Be, you worry his subjects will not accept you. So the Elven King takes it upon himself to show you just how worshipped you are.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

The air in the dining hall is stifling. A cacophonous din of voices swirls through the air, weighty and suffocating. Eyes fall on you: some curious, others disdainful.

Interloper, they speak wordlessly, glaring pointedly, Fraud. Thief.

From where you sit at the head of the table, you can sense every guest, every dignitary, trying to feel you out. Attempting to figure out the woman who has claimed their King’s heart, and is soon to claim the throne beside his. Thranduil seems to take no heed of the accusatory glowering and inquisitive gawking. His cool and collected gaze sweeps over his guests before settling on you. You try not to show your discomfort, smiling softly at your betrothed, but the way your hands fidget with the sleeves of your gown betray your growing unease. Thranduil’s dark brows crinkle, his striking azure eyes awash with concern. But before he can say anything to you, he’s interrupted by an attendant furtively whispering something in his ear. He nods in understanding and the attendant scampers off.

“Esteemed guests,” the Elven King’s commanding voice rings through the room, voices falling away to silence, “I invite you to join us in the adjoining salon for after dinner drinks.”

One by one, people rise from their seats, followed by the clink of silverware being abandoned on plates and the scrape of chairs scooting out from the table. You and Thranduil are the last to rise, trailing after your guests as they file into the room next door.

“Meleth nîn,” your voice sounds, barely above a whisper, halting your beloved in his tracks. He looks to you, handsome face scrunched with concern.

“What troubles you?” he hushes, taking this private moment to pass his thumb gently across your cheek.

“Might I have a moment on my own? I’ll join you when I’m finished. I just need a few minutes of quiet,” you request. The crease between Thranduil’s brow deepens. Air falters in your chest, lungs constricting with the anxiety of having to face that whole room staring you down. This is supposed to be a private dinner meant to introduce you to other Elven dignitaries from across Middle Earth. To test to see how you might get along with them as Mirkwood’s Queen-to-Be. Yet, here you are, wanting to escape. The tension is too much to handle. You’ve put on a brave face all night, made small talk with people who obviously don’t want to get to know you, and have been scrutinized like some sort of wretched specimen. You need just a few undisturbed moments to gather yourself before you repeat this all over again.

“You need not ask me for permission,” Thranduil reassures, softly beaming, “Take as much time as you need.”

You slip your hand into his, giving it a small squeeze before you flit through the hallways in search of a more tranquil place. Lost in thought, you allow your feet to carry you where they may. Your steps echo through the grand halls of the palace as you wander aimlessly, mind fixated on the piercing gazes that still seem to prickle along your skin. You find yourself standing before the throne. Swirling tendrils of branches creep their way up the sides and back. Large antlers hang imposingly at the top, mighty and grand. A reminder of the power of the Elf King, himself.

You imagine Thranduil, draped languidly across the throne, his robes spilling over the sides. His subjects look adoringly upon him, admiration and respect in their eyes. And then there’s you. A foreigner and a thief to them. They glare at you from your place beside your soon-to-be husband. Their distaste for you is clear. They’ve made no attempts to hide it. They’d grown used to a kingdom with one ruler. And now here you are, a usurper. Parvenu, you heard one whisper once as you passed them in the hallway. Your sudden fame and status seem hardly fair to them. Earned only because you’ve somehow managed to “bewitch” their King. Though you are an Elf, you are not of Mirkwood, nor are you of any important lineage; and, this troubles them.

“You radiate sorrow tonight, meleth nîn,” Thranduil’s velvety voice sounds from somewhere behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. You whirl around to face him, mouth pursed and brows crinkled.

“I didn’t realize how tragic I must appear,” you return, chuckling ruefully. He smiles softly at you, gracefully ascending the staircase to meet you before his throne.

“Not tragic,” he reassures, his silver-blonde hair cascading down around his shoulders, “But melancholy enough for your betrothed to notice. What troubles your heart?”

“Shouldn’t you be with our guests?” you venture, feeling guilty for taking him away from his royal duties. And knowing his guests must be gossiping about you this very moment, horrified that you would take their King away from them, blaming you for his absence.

“They can wait,” Thranduil responds, cupping your cheek in the warmth of his palm, “I have far more important matters to attend to.”

You allow your eyelids to flutter shut, pressing your cheek further into Thranduil’s touch, comforted by his quiet presence. To many, he is unapproachable, aloof and intimidating. But he has shown you a tenderness and gentility most others are not privy to.

“I fear your subjects do not accept me. And never will,” you breathe, inhaling his familiar scent. Your nose fills with autumn spice and forest rain, settling your racing heart and laying to rest some of your most fretful thoughts.

“Why do you say that?” your betrothed’s even voice inquires. You feel him place his hand on the small of your back and draw you into his chest. You lean your cheek against him, listening to the quiet thrum of his heart.

“I see the way they look at me when I am at your side,” you explain, wanting so desperately to remain locked in his embrace for the remainder of the night, knowing full well that you will eventually have to return to the party, “I’m an intruder to them. Someone who has stolen the affection of their King and used it to rise in their ranks. I sense their disdain for the strange woman who’s dared to promise herself to their royalty and take the throne as her own.”

Thranduil leans back, a stern look cemented firmly on his face. His eyes are serious as they meet yours, filled with their usual regal sheen.

“They will warm to you. Many of them have only known one of their own to sit atop this throne,” he gives a sweeping gesture towards his chair, guiding you up to it, “But as they come to know you, I expect their hostile sentiment to dissipate. And for those that remain disdainful of you- well, their ignorance is truly without end.”

“What if they feel I am not worthy?” you fret, allowing your fingers to graze the end of one knotted arm of the throne, before pulling away as if scalded by it.

“You have proven your worth to me, and more,” Thranduil reasons, gently taking your hand in his and placing it back on the throne. He holds it there for a moment, grasp firm but not too tight, making sure you feel the wood grain beneath your fingertips. Ensuring that you feel that this throne is just as much yours as it is his.

“In time, my people,” he goes on, correcting himself, “-our people will see this. And they will know your worth through your actions. Worry not, meleth nîn. Change is hard for those who have lived long enough to become complacent. They will come to see you as I do.”

“But what if-” you begin, but are silenced when Thranduil lays his lips against yours, swallowing up any protests you are about to unleash. You delight in these private moments with him, when he lets down his guard and shows affection as if no one else is watching. You know there are probably guards around. They trail him through the hallways and now, they trail you, too. Ensuring your safety as the palace's newest resident. You take comfort in knowing that they seem to accept you. It could be through the command of their King, but you sense a genuine interest in your protection from them.

Thranduil pulls back, sweeping aside strands of your hair that have fallen into your eyes. A loving beam tugs at the corners of his thin lips, affection glittering in his blue irises.

“You concern yourself with their opinions far too much,” he chuckles. His look shifts to one more contemplative. He searches your face for something, though you’re unsure of what.

“In some hypothetical world, even if they do not accept you, that will not change how I feel about you,” he finally says. You feel a pang of relief, breathless and free. Your unspoken worry has been recognized, one you never thought to share. One you couldn’t admit, even to yourself. If Thranduil’s people cannot accept me, what if he decides he cannot love me?

Tears bead in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. You cling to Thranduil’s robes, grasping tight at the fabric, afraid to let go.

“Is this what has troubled you all these sleepless nights?” he goes on, running his elegant fingers through your hair, “I feel you beside me, lying awake, staring off into the darkness. I’ve sensed how crestfallen your heart has been. Why did you not tell me?”

“I was afraid,” you admit through shuddering breaths, voice muffled against Thranduil’s chest. He raises your face, tips your chin up so you may look upon him.

“Fear not,” he breathes, voice soft and low, his look consoling, “My love for you lies not in the will of my people. It resides resolutely in the chambers of my heart. The threads of my soul. There will not be a day that passes where I will not adore you.”

What little composure you have left shatters with Thranduil’s ardent proclamation of his love for you. His arms envelope you in their warm embrace as you weep shuddering breaths into his chest. He whispers reassurances, hushes your quiet sobs with feather-light kisses peppered across your cheekbones. You need him closer, yearn to show him just how meaningful his words are to you. But your voice catches in your throat, so you do the only thing you can: you press your lips firmly to his, feeling him melt into you as you try so desperately to occupy the very space he inhabits in Middle Earth. His mouth moves fervently against yours, tongue testing your parted lips. You permit him entrance, allow him to graze the underside of your teeth as his hands work to tangle themselves in your hair.

“You are more than worthy of being my wife,” Thranduil utters through shallow breaths in between crashing his lips into yours, “More than ready to be my Queen.”

“My King,” you huff, cheeks blooming with heat, body alight with anticipation, “Are you sure you want to do this here? With all your guests in just the other room?”

He practically snickers. You can feel him grin devilishly against you. You’re nose-to-nose, his brilliant eyes shimmering with impish glee. There’s something breathtakingly sly, dangerous in the most wonderful of ways in them.

“Let them hear,” he whispers, lips tickling the sensitive spot just behind your ear. You can hardly help the pleasured moan that escapes your throat as he trails searing kisses down your neck.

“You deserve to be worshiped as my Queen,” he purrs, breath ghosting along your collarbone. He lifts you into his arms with ease and carries you towards the throne. Gently, he lowers you into it, kneeling before you and slipping off your satin shoes.

“May I?” he asks, his gaze pleading and hungry. You glance around, wondering if the guards are still there, worrying that just about anyone could walk in. Yet, there’s an electric thrill that runs through your veins, an excitement over the thought of Thranduil being so cavalier, so wild and reckless.

“Yes,” you permit, feeling your heart skip a beat as Thranduil presses his lips to the top of one of your feet before trailing more up the length of your leg. With his kisses, he slides his hands up your silken gown, elegant fingers tickling your skin as he reaches higher and higher. Your skirt is bunched around your waist now and you wonder if you ought to just take the whole thing off. Before you can do anything more, Thranduil grasps your thighs and hoists you closer.

“Th-Thranduil!” you yelp before dissolving into bubbly giggles as he nibbles at your inner thighs. He smiles coyly before his fingers start to tug at the ties that hold your undergarments together. They fall away, exposing your heat to the cool air. You shiver at the contact; but, don’t have to suffer for long, for a moment later, Thranduil’s lips meet your clit. He kisses you softly, honoring the sensitive nub with his soft lips. You gasp as he pulls you ever closer, burying himself in your folds. His tongue swipes along them, warm and languid, fingers gripping your thighs as his nose bumps against you.

“Ah, Thranduil,” you moan, your hand tangling in the pristine threads of his golden locks. He hums pleasantly into you, lapping you up as if you are the sweetest succor that has ever graced his tongue. His motions are always so precise, so predetermined. Though he is no less meticulous as he attends to you, Thranduil’s actions today feel so spontaneous. His giving in to pure impulse and passion are certainly enough to show you how deeply he feels for you. To throw caution to the wind, abandon his regal sensibility just to have you right then and there- in the throne room of all places- well, that alone is enough to bring you to ecstasy.

Thranduil’s skilled tongue circles your clit, sending electric tingles through your whole body. He chuckles when you gasp, passes shimmering, mischievous gazes your way when you sigh contentedly. Fingernails tickle the tender flesh of your hips as he kneads and massages. His eyelids flutter shut in satisfaction, icy-blue occasionally peeking through frosted lashes when he deigns to steal a glimpse of your enchantingly flushed face.

“My King,” is all you are able to keen through labored breaths, Thranduil’s tongue darting in and out of your entrance, teasing you terribly.

“You are a vision, meleth nîn,” he whispers before gliding along your folds one last time, “Worthy of sitting upon this throne.”

Thranduil ensnares your lips with his, kisses fervent and astonishingly sloppy. You welcome his vigor, returning his motions with equally impassioned ones. Your hands tug at his silver-gray robes, tossing them to the floor and letting them pool around his feet. He works to quickly undo your gown, discarding it gracefully at his feet as your fingers find their way to his trousers, unlacing them with ease. A throaty gasp escapes his lips as his cock springs free. Swiftly, he lifts you into his arms, twirling the two of you around before settling down into his throne. You straddle him, breasts pressed to his chest, his erection grazing your inner thigh as you position yourself over him.

Thranduil helps lower you onto him, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and ass. As you sink onto his hardened member, you clutch at his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, groaning sinfully as he slips into you. He allows you a moment to adjust to his length before slowly rocking his hips against yours. With each bounce, you feel his tip hit deeper and deeper, sparking a fire deep in your core. You cling to him, tongue tracing the outer shell of his pointed ear, suckling on his earlobe and trailing love-bites down his neck.

“What will my guests think with all your little markings?” he growls teasingly, thrusting deeper into you, “They’ll see you’ve claimed me. And they should know better than to question that. Perhaps I ought to leave a few of my own on you.”

“Please,” you whimper, the fire in your core burning brighter, stomach fluttering with each husky grunt that rumbles through Thranduil’s chest. He lays his lips to your neck and you know he’ll leave more than just a small marking there. Sighing into him, you direct one of his hands to your breast, silently begging him to fondle and massage. He obliges, a merciful King, indeed. You grind your hips into his even harder, your walls quaking with each movement. His cock quivers inside you and you can feel that he’s close.

“Meleth nîn,” you manage to utter, tone desperate and needy, “I’m so very close.”

He pulls away from your neck, savagely smashing his lips into yours as he mercilessly slams his hips upwards. You grip him tight, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip as you feel yourself coming undone.

“My Queen,” Thranduil cries, bucking his hips erratically, spilling into you as he reaches ecstasy.

“My King,” you return, the fire in your core bursting brighter than any star in the sky, filling you with euphoria and warmth. Thranduil spills himself inside you, his essence trickling down your thighs as he gives his last few final, languid pumps. Collapsing into him, you allow yourself a moment to catch your breath. Thranduil keeps you close, arms wrapped protectively around you as you settle your heart. When your breathing, and his, is deep and even, you slowly pull yourself off of him, settling into his lap and snuggling close. You feel empty without him inside you, but fulfilled in this private moment.

“You’ve earned this throne. Claimed it as your own, there’s no doubt about that,” Thranduil murmurs, lips brushing featherlight against your temple, fingers carding gently through your hair, “Heed not the misguided words of the people that doubt you. Know that my trust in you and my love for you is perennial.”

His kiss is firm, conveys a light that brightens with each passing moment. His words are genuine and infallible.

“I promise to do right by your people. And you,” you return, taking his hand in yours and weaving your fingers together.

“I know,” he reassures with a knowing smile, “I have the utmost faith in you.”

The two of you take a few moments to enjoy the vast silence of the throne room. Once echoing with your shared moans, it holds now a quiet peace that you could bask in all night long, were it not for your guests no doubt growing antsy with yours and Thranduil’s absence. As you smooth out your disheveled hair and clothes, Thranduil rises to dress himself. You pass him an impish look.

“Perhaps your guests are right,” you venture, pulling back your hair once again. Thranduil looks to you, perplexed.

“Oh? How so?” he questions, one eyebrow quirking up in confusion as he slips his robes back on. A teasing smile tugs at your lips.

“Perhaps I do encourage poor behavior in their King,” you giggle, brushing aside some of his golden hair just to get a look at the love-bites you’ve left behind on his neck.

“Perhaps you do,” he returns with a grin, taking you by the hand and leading you back towards the party, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#thranduil #the elven king #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #thranduil x reader #spicy #fluff and spice #i think Thranduil is capable of being sweet #and quite mischievous #lemon #minors dni #my fanfiction #my writing #ao3 #dani writes

685 notes · View notes

bluebellhairpin · 1 month

Text

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Summary; You leave the mountain in search of a lost loved one, and find an old foe turned friend. Meanwhile, Kili is left to watch as his family turn foe.

Warnings; Thorin STILL has the dragon-sickness. Reader is female-body-coded, uses she/her pronouns, is called 'Princess', and is Human.

Listening to; 'Willow Tree March' by The Paper Kites - "With your lust and your greed weighing down and you weaken your love and you hold it above your head."

Part 13 || Part 15

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

The mountain looked beautiful from where you were.

Looking back at it from over the ruined Dale was something you decided to skip on your trip up, but you looked a little longer now in the early morning light.

Since Smaug was gone, the direct route back to the lake was through the abandoned city, and as you’d walked through it that night, you were able to take it in a lot more. The heaviness behind the destruction left there was still the same, but there was now some beauty behind it. Sometimes things like this were less destruction, and more a way of clearing a path for rebirth.

Looking down at the city and seeing there were now refugees from Laketown bustling to create a makeshift home there, faintly through from the distance you were at, but still there - it filled you with a bit of hope. One you felt you’d lost during your time in the mountain city. Perhaps Dale no longer had to be a place of ruin.

But despite the pep it gave your step, you knew you couldn’t stay pondering long.

If Fili was still alive - as unbelievable as it was - he might not have long left. So you turned and went back on your way again. Laketown was ahead of you, some parts still smoking, and you could see a lot of it was complete ruins, even from the distance you stood. Hell, you even had the Long Lake to cross just to get to those ruins.

Before you could move more than a few meters, to your right you heard a noise, still faint, but still there. What you saw made your heart both sink and almost beat out of your chest all at once.

Thranduil was coming. The march of soldiers had your hackles rise, and chin sink into the cloak Balin had handed to you before you left - but seeing the antlers of the large elk the elven king rode had you angry more than frightened.

The last thing you needed now was to be taken back to Mirkwood as some locked away princess. So you kept on walking - more like a careful jog over the stones and grass - and kept your head down. It was cold, and stopping to gawk at Dale didn’t help in keeping your blood circulation up - if you were lucky you might get mistaken for someone from Laketown. But the sound of a set of hooves getting louder had you gearing up from a jog to a run.

“Princess!” someone called behind you. It wasn’t Thranduil. “Please wait!”

You slowed slightly, considering turning and giving the unknown person a piece of your mind - however decided against it. You doubted they did anything to justify being the recipient of your sour mood.

“Who are you?” you asked, looking up at the elf as they stopped a distance away - one of Thranduil's guards, if the fancy uniform and out-of-place white horse was anything to go by - who had ridden over to you.

Further behind him was Thranduil. He obviously wasn’t going to make the effort to stray from his path as his soldiers continued to march toward Dale behind him - but honestly you weren’t bothered to stray either. But he was still watching how this conversation would go.

“I am Maether,” he said, beginning to follow you slowly as you started to walk away again, “The King wishes you to join him.”

“I am not joining him, I’m going to Laketown.” you scoffed, stopping as you looked up at the elf, “You can tell him he can help me get there - or leave me alone.”

Maether looked at you, slightly shocked - probably since it’d been a while since someone so directly opposed his pompous lord - before smiling tightly down at you, nodding once.

“As you wish. I’ll tell him you said so.” He rode off, and you kept walking. It wasn’t long until you heard him return with someone else. You felt your eyes roll as you sighed.

“Listen - Maether, wasn’t it?” You said, “I don’t want to go with Thranduil, I need to get to Laketown. Just tell your King that -'' Your words caught in your throat. Having finally turned around you could see that Maether wasn’t there at all. It was Thranduil himself, looking down at you with a smile in his eyes, and a rider less horse beside him.

Enjoyed this chapter so far? Read the rest now over on Archive of Our Own! (Chapter Thriteen Continues Here!)

Feel free to leave kudos, comments or a reblog if you're enjoying the story so far - especially now we're so close to the end. Remember to support your favorite writers! If you liked reading it, reblog it <3

#the girl who knew the end #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit x reader #thorin x you #thorin x fem!reader #the hobbit x you

17 notes · View notes

soralinklokidottirofmirkwood · 10 months

Text

My little kitten: Yandere Dad Thranduil x child neko reader part3.

Age: 8 reader Chan is now a bit older and sheltered after the nanny incident.

You are in your room sitting at your window seat watching as the snow falls down and the guards patrolled the area.

You continued to look at the snow in an oversized f/c tunic with black leggings and barefooted, your hair being down with a few braids in it to keep your hair out of your face with a few stubborn strands out of place, your ears twitching and tail swaying.

As you’re staring out the window you have no idea about a cruel prank set for you by three Ellons.

You got bored of staring at the snow for so long you instantly wanted your father King Thranduil who never EVER lets you out of the palace without him or a few guards.

You walked out of your room in hopes of him being in the throne room unaware of three ellons holding a huge bucket of Ice cold water from one of the water falls of Mirkwood.

As you continued to walk earning waves, bows, curtsies and “Good after noon your highness.” From passing elves, you can hear your father’s voice from the throne room giving orders, happy you made your way towards the throne room when you shrieked from a cold sensation on your body from the bucket of icy water the three Ellons were carrying earning the attention of the elves who were near the throne room to witness the whole thing and gasp of horror from those elves as they see you standing in the middle of the halls in a puddle near the doors that lead to the throne room, shivering with your arms wrapped around yourself to keep yourself warm with the three Ellons laughing and pointing at you while you shivered until the throne room doors slammed open “What in the Valar is going on out here?” Your father’s voice boomed out in the hall making everyone including the three Ellons freeze in terror.

Thranduil's POV:

I was sitting on my throne bored and giving orders to the guards and drinking dorwinion wine from my favorite goblet when I heard a high pitch and familiar shriek from the halls followed by gasp of horror and laughter.

I bursted out of the room to see everyone frozen in terror but what infuriated me was the sight of my kitten standing in the hall shivering and soaked “What in the Valar Is going on out here?” I asked until I heard my child sneezing and coughing.

I ran up to her and scooped her up into my arms, by the Valar she was freezing, I can feel her shivering as I held her closely towards me “Who is responsible for this!?” I asked in rage making people point at three ellons who looked as pale as the snow outside “They were also laughing at the princess as well my lord.” An elleth with brown hair said in disgust. “Guards! Take them to the dungeons.” I said pointing at the three ellons who began speaking on top of each other but I didn’t care and began walking towards the infirmary with my kitten in my arms who is coughing up a storm “let’s get you to the infirmary little one.” I said to Y/N who is still shivering from the cold and clutching at my robes “What were you doing in the halls little one?” I asked as she buried her head into my chest “I wanted you.” She answered melting my heart.

At your bedroom:

I stood by Y/N's bed side as I see her chest rising and falling through her oversized tunic that I helped her changed into after the healers looked her over to find that she had a bad cold and that she needed rest.

After the check up I took her back to her room and helped her get into dry clothes and stood by her side until she fell asleep.

After seeing her puffy eyelids close and hearing her small snores I smiled and rubbed her little ears earning a soft purr from her making me smile and kiss her warm forehead “Daddy will handle those Ellons.” I say walking out of the room, locked the door and called for my best guards to guard the door “Make sure no one bothers my baby while I deal with those ellons.” I said walking to the dungeons hearing a “Yes sir.” From the guards.

I stand in front of the three ellons who are begging me to spare them “Please my King it was just a prank.” One of them said fearfully “Just a prank!? JUST A PRANK!?” I yelled “You’r lucky it was just a cold.” I said angrily “How ever it doesn’t save you from my wrath.” I said raising my sword to the screaming Ellons.

I smirked down at the ellons who now laid past out from shock the moment I raised my sword with urine running down their trousers “When they wake up tell them they’re banished from Mirkwood for life.” I said putting my sword away and walking out of the dungeon “and get some servants to clean up the mess.” I said continuing my trek out the dungeon towards Y/N’s room.

I sit by my kitten on her bed as she ate her soup.

Once she finished she fell straight asleep again making me smile and kiss her head “Note to self have guards with her at all times when she’s in the halls.” I said to myself as I walked out of the room, closing and locking the door and retreating to my room.

The next day no one’s pov:

Thranduil wakes up to the sound of your personal healer screaming.

Worried he got up and put his robe on and burst into your room to see you throwing up into the toilet of your private bathing chamber with your healer gently patting your back and holding your hair “My poor kitten.” Thranduil said until his butler Galion came “Have my schedule clear for the day.” He said walking back to his room to get dressed.

For the whole day Thranduil stayed with you in your chambers and had the healers brew you an elixir that will help you and he had another one made that will give you immortality early when you’re a bit older.

Once your all better Thranduil immediately told you that there will be six guards with you at all times and that your not allowed to leave your room without them.

#platonic #the hobbit #thranduil #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings #yandere #yandad #dad thranduil #child reader #neko reader #middle earth #yandere father

61 notes · View notes

pastanest · 1 year

Text

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

this was partly inspired by this imagine written by @tarynkauai, so be sure to read that one as well, it’s very good!!

Serpents Of The North

A pleasant smile took over your sleeping features as the wind of dreams caresses your hair, and you gaze down upon the familiar view of Middle-earth that only winged creatures are blessed with the sight of. Those creatures, and the lucky exceptions, you think as you roll over onto your back, your conscious body safe in silken sheets while your soul soars through the sky, reaching out a hand and letting white tufts of cloud weave between the gaps of your fingers. In the land of dreams, you feel your eyes flutter closed as you allow bliss to envelope you, the only sound at your ears being the wings of the creature beneath you wading through the wind. A low rumble sounds in the creature’s throat, before it released a roar, and you gasp, your soul returning to your body at the speed of light as you sit bolt upright in silken sheets. The roar of your friend has transformed into the bellows of your elven husband. Frowning, you rise from your bed and wrap yourself in one of your husband’s many robes, neatly tying it at your waist before leaving your chambers and following the sounds of distress that echo down the halls. You get as close as you can to the conversation without being discovered, and lean against the door to listen in. By no means are you a mischievous being, but when the elven King chooses not to wake his Queen before a discussion as aggravating as this one, you must do what is necessary.

“For how many eves has this monster plagued the people of Esgaroth?” Thranduil questions, urgency and impatience dripping from his words.

“It has flown over Lake-town for no longer than three, my Lord, but it has not made an attempt at harming any of the town’s inhabitants, nor has it caused any destruction. These are curious circumstances.” The other voice speaks, one you recognise as a member of the elven royal guard.

“Whether it is curious or not does not change our course! Ready every soldier you can, we make our leave in precisely one hour.” King Thranduil commands, and you assume the guard nods, for he comes marching past you and continues down the hall without seeing you.

Unable to hold your curiosity at bay, you glide around the corner and step through the doorway, to be greeted by the sight of your husband. His back is to you, and he leans against the windowsill, staring out at Mirkwood from the window at the other side of the room. Hearing your footsteps, the King turns, and the moment his eyes land on you, he smiles. In a couple of long strides, your husband is in front of you, caressing the side of your face with one hand as his other holds your waist.

“Good morning, a’maelamin(my beloved). I trust you slept well? You were so lost in dreams that I thought it best not to wake you for such an unimportant discussion.” Thranduil explains himself, his tone far softer and kinder with you than it had been with the guard he was speaking to before.

“My rest was blissful, but it matters not. A discussion that resulted in you calling for soldiers to leave with you for Esgaroth to attack a creature? That does not sound unimportant at all, why do you claim it to be so?” You enquire, using all your strength to keep your curiosity at bay.

The King smiles down at you. “Were you eaves dropping, arwenamin(my lady)? That is not the usual activity of a Queen.” Seeing you raise your eyebrow, Thranduil chuckles, and answers your questions. “Very well. I claim it as such because it should be no concern to you, I do not wish to weigh you down with worry when it is unnecessary. I will return to you before the day is done, that is a promise.”

It is then, your curiosity gets the better of you. “Why do you choose to attack a creature that has done no harm?”

Thranduil’s smile disappears. “A serpent of the North will attack eventually, it is better to be rid of it before it makes that decision.”

Your blood runs cold. “A...A serpent of the North? A dragon flies over Lake-town?!”

Misunderstanding your shock, the King holds your shoulders. “Do not fear, lirimaer(lovely one), nothing will harm you here. You will stay in the safety of the Kingdom, protected by my best guards.”

You shake your head, feeling yourself begin to feel faint. “No, no, no! Not enough time has passed! It cannot be!”

Releasing yourself from the grasp of your husband, you retrieve the pendant that hangs around your neck, from beneath Thranduil’s robe. The stone at the centre has illuminated itself as a green jewel, and all breath escapes you.

“By the stars, in all our years together your necklace has never glowed in such a way, I was foolish to think it was but a round stone! What jewel is that?” Thranduil asks innocently, understandably in awe of the green jewel clutched in your hands. Before you can answer him, however, the room you are in and the castle around it begins to spin, and you fall into darkness.

Whispers of the Elven King’s altercation with a serpent of the North had reached all corners of Middle-earth, even to your small cabin that sat on the outskirts of Mirkwood, facing the town of Esgaroth and it’s people. You did not enjoy the company of many other people, and those people assumed it was because you had no memory of the life you led before arriving at Lake-town. To be truthful, you were not used to spending time with your own species, but that was a secret you chose to keep to yourself, a secret that you hid beneath a lie of amnesia. The towns people were kind enough to offer you refuge, and upon learning your skill with creatures of all kinds, you became the creature expert and healer. You were known by the title of ‘The Whisperer’, because you spoke to creatures in a language as quiet as the wind, a language that was lost among men, but one that creatures instinctively remembered through their ancestors. It was this title that led King Thranduil to your cabin, because his Elk was refusing to eat. He had heard of your miracles, and was willing to go to any lengths to aid his old friend. You had not been expecting a visit from the King, and for that reason, you were not waiting for him inside your home, which resulted in the noble elf having to search for you. He found you crouching by a stream, smiling and laughing as you tickled the stomach of a bear cub. Two other cubs and their mother played absentmindedly in the stream, it was a scene that seemed to make complete sense, despite the conflicting species. You noticed the presence of the King before the bears did, and you smiled at him before gesturing to the bear cub to return to its family.

“Good evening, how may I be of service to you, sir?” You enquired, not recognising him as the Elven King, because you had never met him prior to then, or even seen sketches.

“Good evening. My elk is refusing to feed, and I am told that you have a particular skill in the healing of sick creatures, could you help him?” The King explained, and you nodded, paying close attention to the symptoms he was describing.

“Where is he?” You asked, and The King led you back to your cabin, where his elk was waiting.

The stature of the creature alone was enough to send you into a state of shock, but you had read enough of creatures of these lands to know that an elk such as that could only belong to the Elven King.

“I am sorry that I did not recognise you, your majesty, I am rather unfamiliar with the faces of beings that are not wild creatures.” You apologised, but you couldnt tear your gaze from the elk, who you slowly approached before reaching a hand out to stroke the fur at his neck.

“I could sense your innocence in mistaking me, I know you had no disrespectful intent. But tell me, how is it that you did not recognise me? I do not use this as fuel for my ego, I am simply curious, because no being has failed to recognise me from the moment I was crowned King.” Thranduil enquired, watching as you tended to his beloved elk.

“I arrived at Lake-town with no memory of the life I led before, my only knowledge being how to communicate with creatures. It is...difficult for me to extend my social skills to people of my own kind, but I have an understanding with the creatures. I know little of the culture outside of Lake-town, except for names of people and places. Your name, I know, but your face is not familiar to me.” Your explanation was casual, almost half-hearted, given how many times you had told the story of your past, but also because you were so focussed on communicating with the elk.

You spoke to him, whispering ancient words, and he huffed, before whispering back with a voice so low only you could hear it. Once he had finished responding, you smiled up at the King.

“He wishes for more affection from you, he feels that you do not spend enough time with him, and his bond with you is waning. His resistance to feeding has been an effort to gain your attention, but he assures me he will continue to eat if you meet his request.” You told King Thranduil, and he smiled back at you as he walked to stand with you beside his elk.

“I understand now, thank you. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your memory, I hope that you find a way to recover it.”

He climbed onto his elk effortlessly and glanced down at you, truly admiring your features for the first time. Thranduil noticed a small pendant around your neck, one that held a single black stone, and he told himself he would ask you about it the next time he saw you. His gaze fixed on the material of your dress as your sleeves lifted to stroke the elk and say goodbye. Woven into the fabric were very small dragon patterns, so small that he had not noticed them before, but for the first time, the King saw something relating to a serpent of the North that he found it beautiful.

You wake with a start, your eyes snapping open and immediately locking onto the familiar face of Gandalf, sitting at your bedside in your chambers. Thranduil paces at the window a few feet away, too lost in his own thoughts and concerns to acknowledge your sudden consciousness. Gandalf gives you a knowing smile.

“The time has come, you must take the first step to changing the minds of Middle-earth.” The wizard whispers to you, so that his words dont reach the ears of your husband. Of course he knew, Gandalf always knows.

“What am I to do? I have not had enough time!” You express your fear in a hushed whisper.

Gandalf glances over at your husband. “The first card to fall, my dear.”

Thranduil looks to you then, your eyes locking with his as he runs to your side and takes ahold of your hand. Gandalf stands and leaves the room silently, that same knowing smile on his face. It is then, as you stare into the eyes of your loving husband, you understand what you must do.

“Lover, I ask that you accompany me on a journey, and that you will not question my intentions until we arrive there. It can be only us, and it is of the highest importance.” You tell him, and despite his obvious confusion and concern, Thranduil nods, hearing the sincerity in your voice and recognising that whatever is going on, it is not to be taken lightly.

And so, the King instructs his soldiers to wait for his return, and the two of you embark on your journey. Given that it is not far, and you know the way better by foot, you choose to walk, hand in hand, and in complete silence. Thranduil tries to voice his thoughts multiple times during the journey, but each time you are forced to shush him, because you are listening. When you reach the clearing in the forest of Mirkwood, you halt your steps and hold up a hand, signalling for your husband to be still and silent. Closing your eyes, you divert all of your focus to the sounds reaching your ears. You hear a single beat piercing the wind, and you grin, opening your eyes.

“Dirysguul...” You whisper, his name rolling off your tongue in the most familiar way.

Not wasting anymore time, you call out to him. Considering you are not a winged serpent, you cannot replicate the calls they use for each other, and instead, long ago you were taught to sing specific melodies for each winged serpent you met. Your lips part, and you sing the song of your old friend. The sound of wings flapping above you grows louder as the creature overhead circles the clearing, and your husband is quick to grab you by the waist and force you back under the shade of the trees. You almost laugh, if you were in danger of falling victim to dragon fire, trees are the most pitiful form of defence imaginable, but you know that Thranduil’s efforts are out of love and fear for your safety. Harsh thuds shake the ground as the beast lands, its red eyes scouring the line of trees until they lock onto the sight of you. The dragon Dirysguul, one of the fiercest fire breathers known to Middle-earth, with sharp spikes decorating the black plated armour of his scaled skin. He stalks towards you, a fortified shadow with eyes as red as the fires of Mount Doom.

You clutch your glowing pendant close to your chest and take a step towards the dragon, but before you can take another, your husband has knocked you to the ground, and is using his body as a shield for yours.

“YOU WILL NOT HARM HER, BEAST!” The King shouts, and although his words are grand and brave, you can hear the fear within him.

Dirysguul nudges Thranduil off of you with ease, and tilts his head to the side curiously. You stand to your feet and jump up to grab the dragon’s neck, closing your eyes and embracing your old friend.

“It has been too long, Dirysguul.” You sniffle, emotions overcoming you as you feel the familiar sensation of heat produced from beneath the dragon’s scales, you have not felt this in so long.

Letting go of the creature, you drop to the ground, landing on your feet as you always have done when climbing down from a dragon. You turn to face your husband, who is cowering on the floor, staring at you in horror and utter bewilderment.

“Everything is alright, my love. Dirysguul means no harm, he is a friend.” You tell Thranduil in a soft voice as you tread careful steps toward him, reaching out your hands to pull him to his feet. “Come and say hello.”

Still holding the hand of your shocked and silent husband, you lead him over to the gargantuan dragon that casts a shadow over most of the clearing. Dirysguul watches Thranduil curiously as you take the shaking hand you’re still holding and place it on one of the scales at the dragon’s chest.

“Dirysguul was flying over Lake-town looking for me, he means no harm. I knew he would return, he told me he would, I just did not imagine that it would be so soon.” You say, mostly to yourself as you glance up at the face of the grand creature, whose nostrils are both easily bigger than your head.

Looking back at your husband, you notice his expression is still fixed in a state of shock.

You chuckle. “I owe you an explanation, so let’s begin.”

And then, you begin your story. You tell him of your childhood, how you fled your small town of man when it was overrun by orcs. You ran North, as far North as you could, and soon you became lost in a forest. There, you collapsed from exhaustion, and when you awoke, you were flying. Dirysguul had found you, placed you on his back, and rescued you. He flew you to the mountains of the North, where no creature of sense dares to go if they do not wish to die a most painful death. You were adopted into a clan of dragons, of which Dirysguul was the leader, and you were raised alongside his children. They taught you to speak with them in a language that is lost among most creatures, even elves. This is the language you use to communicate with animals, and it is how you could speak to your clan. There were twenty in your clan altogether, and you tell Thranduil stories about each dragon you had grown to love.

“When I reached maturity, we all decided that I should be sent here, to the land of men, elves, dwarves, and all other sentient creatures. I was trusted with the task of changing the minds of the people about dragons. They gave me this pendant containing a special gem from the mountains of the North, it glows whenever a member of my clan is near, and that was to be my indication for when my kin would be returning to meet with the people and introduce themselves, after I had done my part.” You tell Thranduil, and the smile on your face from talking about your past is enough to bring a smile to his, too.

“Why did you keep this from all who have known you? From me?” Your husband questions.

You smile apologetically “When I first arrived at Lake-town, I heard people telling their children tales of fearsome dragons, I saw their children hiding behind each other in fear at the mere mention of a serpent of the North, and I knew that I could not be truthful yet. I hid behind a lie of amnesia to protect my clan from attack, but also to protect the people from being reduced to ash if they were foolish enough to attack.”

The King nods. “I understand, you had a duty to both sides, because both held creatures you cared for. But why have you never mentioned this to me before?”

You stare at the shaded grass beneath your shoes. “I was afraid. I know of your fear, of your anger towards serpents of the North for what they have done to you. I did not want to risk pushing you away. Gandalf made me realise that the first mind I have to change in order for this integration to begin, is yours.“

Thranduil takes ahold of your hands. “A’maelamin(My beloved), you have nothing to fear.”

You lift your gaze to stare into his eyes. “And neither do you, cormlle naa tanya tel’raa(your heart is that of a lion).”

Thranduil smiles down at you. “Amin khiluva Ile a’ gurtha ar’ thar(I will follow you to death and beyond).”

Your eyes widen. “You wish to assist me in this? It will not be an easy task.”

Thranduil laughs slightly. “I am your husband, I have promised to assist you in every area possible until the end of eternity.”

Dirysguul’s whispers ride the wisps of the wind until they reach your ears, and you smile up at your old friend. “I know, Dirys, I happen to like my husband a lot too.”

Thranduil laughs and takes a deep breath, before looking up to meet the glowing red eyes of Dirysguul.

“What say you, winged serpent? Do you wish to meet the inhabitants of Mirkwood?” He calls loudly, trying his best to sound far less afraid than he is.

Dirysguul huffs, a rumble echoing in his chest, and further whispers meeting your ears, causing you to grin.

“He says he will gladly take us back to Mirkwood and meet with the elves.” You translate for your husband, who smiles back at you, until he processes your words.

“He...He will take us back?” Thranduil clarifies, his face draining of colour.

You giggle, nodding at him and dragging him over to the side of the dragon. “Indeed, my King, I think it is time you were taught how to fly!”

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #lord of the rings #x reader #lotr #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

142 notes · View notes

meadowsofmay · 1 year

Text

what's interesting to me about legolas leaving his homeland behind and searching for a ranger on the north is something that actually fully explained their whole dynamic to me at this early morning hour.

big post ahead, brace yourselves.

legolas leaves the battle of the five armies, and essentially, mirkwood being a soldier. half of his life at least he spent training and fighting in a way that soldiers do, that means he knows discipline — he must follow orders, he must control what he is doing and he must control his emotions, he must asses the situation and he must give orders, he must plan, he must care for those under his command, he must make right decisions, he must, must, must...

that's a hard life to live but, given the situation mirkwood had, he made a decision to be a soldier and he served enough to rise in ranks. he had alot of responsibilities that started weighting him down for a reason.

see, he is young (and many headcanon him being one of the youngest among elves) but he didn't have different life and he wants to, he wants to know what's out there besides constant fighting with the same creatures every single day. he wants to learn more about the bigger world he is a part of — and maybe before the end to his little part of the world will eventually come.

he explored his little world enough without restrictions when he was a child, so he justifiably thinks it's time for him to explore what's beyond it. he just didn't have enough of a reason before the battle of the five armies and tauriel thing where he realized he doesn't want to come back to his previous life and wants to learn who he is besides a prince and a soldier.

legolas is conflicted and the only thing thranduil can do in this situation (obviously not being the one who denies his son) is to give him direction (for legolas to have a sense of knowing and for thranduil himself to at least know where in the world his son is). why he knows about aragorn is none of my concern but what is is thranduil knowing about a son of a great man that will probably become even a greater one and thinking that his own son will find a better company by his side.

and legolas does. we can assume that legolas finds strider and his rangers and joines them for a while. he learns how to live in a wild, and even though legolas lived in a woods before that — he lived in a controlled environment. with aragorn there is no control over him. there is companionship. no oaths and pledges, no allegiance. legolas learns to make decisions for his own self and he learns to chose whom he gives his trust. this made the same tasks, say, fighting and going on missions (same things he did as a soldier), appear under different light because they were done with and for different person and cause.

legolas follows aragorn because he develops a sense of trust. and it becomes only stronger over the years they spend on adventures together. aragorn doesn't make him do things, eventually, aragorn doesn't even need to ask. legolas does because he wants to. that's a rare thing among those in the army. you can't just do or not do.

in the wild — legolas has a choice. and he has time to learn.

he learns that aragorn indeed is a great man, the one whom he can rely on and whom he can trust.

he learns that he himself is enough for someone to trust him, that he is good enough, that he did enough. he learns that feelings can be mutual and he has this overflowing desire to be by the side of the person who opened his eyes to those things. he feels inspired.

that's how we get legolas that appeared in the lord of the rings. less stiff, less angsty, less angry, even. through travels with aragorn he finds joy for his soul to feed on, and even though he is still a soldier — he is his own (and maybe aragorn's, shall he ask). and that brings me to my main point that i'll quote myself on:

«...in the 'council of elrond' scene it already felt present. it being the familiarity between aragorn and legolas. the way legolas jumps eagerly to defend an honor of aragorn doesn't really seem to be just he's a king!, but more like he's a fucking king, you moron, how dare you disrespect my friend like that?!!. along with plain respect legolas clearly shows towards aragorn, there's also this genuine reverence/veneration (i'm not sure which word to choose as i'm not native to english language) that legolas has — such reverence that warriors have towards their trusted king whom they're ready to follow, protect and fight for as well as along side with because he trained and went through hardships with them. you don't just develop such an attitude towards a person who doesn't even adresses himself by his given name much. legolas knows who aragorn is and he will stick to it — even if aragorn himself doesn't want to accept the fact.

and from that, the decision legolas makes to follow aragorn on the quest and not much frodo makes sense. he trusts aragorn. he follows aragorn's emotional courage — the way he swears to protect frodo with his life and sword — and does the same.»

i have seen enough to think that legolas has all sorts of adoration towards aragorn. he's ready to follow him like a religiously-in-love general his king, he has a deep respect towards him as a comrade and he definitely trusts him as a friend/soul mate/any other form of intimate relations.

but legolas is still a soldier. he can't fully erase it and, something tell me, doesn't really want to — he is a proud warrior after all. and that only ensures me, that serving aragorn as a warrior is one of the ways for legolas to showcase his love and gratitude to him. that's his acts of service, as in love language, thing taken quite literally because that's what legolas knows best and he's going to utilize it to the fullest.

because he knows that aragorn relies on him, trusts him and not only just in battle. he knows that there's a big future ahead for aragorn and he doesn't urge him forward but walks side by side, waiting patiently when aragorn will be ready.

legolas, basically, found a mutual, meaningful connection and committed to it with a heart of a striving for love being and a soul of a warrior. and i think it's beautiful.

68 notes · View notes