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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

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Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

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

Word Count: 1.8k

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

A/N: For @firelightinferno

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

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While tracking, he lost something precious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Found you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I found you, my star.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

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

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

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

“Thranduil—”

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

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

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

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

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

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

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madwomansapologist · 8 months

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peach + thranduil

peach — at what point did they understood that their lover was the one?

⤷ with: thranduil

You see, love for elves is such a serious matter. Attraction, lust, desire: those are shallow things. Shallow, ephemeral, mutable things. When and elve love, it's forever. Not even death can shattered this bond.

Thranduil went throught a lot. He saw Mordor, a part of him was buried there and will never grow back again. Thranduil veiled his father, and took care of his responsibilities. Thranduil led his people against Sauron's attempts to regain power. Meanwhile his realm was attacked and explored, he saw other leaders daring to say that Sauron was dead.

Thranduil became stronger, mostly because he didn't had another choice. Thranduil became wiser, because his people needed a good king. Thranduil became wary, because no one would help his realm but himself. But Thranduil didn't became heartless. Not at all.

At first, Thranduil sees you in paralel to him. You are stronger, but in a way different from his. Wiser, but different than him. And less wary. Less careful. Thranduil lived long enough to understand himself. He fell in love. And knowing that, he wouldn't act on this love.

Thranduil wouldn't court you. Would try to not think about you. To get away from you. Thranduil needs to understand if his feeling is truly. If it's something that will last. Mostly, if it's something he can control or that will control him. Thranduil isn't heartless, but his wary make it look like he is.

But what make his heart skip a beat is your honesty. The second you speak whatever is on your mind, act respecting your heart's desires, make sure to honest to yourself: Thranduil is whipped. To able to see who you really are, not affraid that you're hidden something, made him undertood something.

His grief and wary is tremendous, but his love for you is bigger than his fear. Thranduil have been alone for such a long time. It feels nice to be alone with you.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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vilentia · 10 months

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Shattered Love

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Thranduil's world shatters when he loses his beloved wife, plunging him into heartbreak and sorrow.

Warnings: death, grief, violence, loss

****

Thranduil's heart felt heavy as he stood on the balcony of his grand halls, gazing out into the darkened forest. The moon's pale light cast an ethereal glow upon his sorrowful face, highlighting the lines of anguish etched into his features. The air was heavy with a haunting silence, broken only by the distant howls of the wind.

His mind was haunted by memories of you, his beloved wife, whose absence now gnawed at his soul. The weight of loss seemed unbearable as he recalled the fateful day when everything changed.

- start of the throwback-

"Please, my love, stay within the safety of our chambers," Thranduil pleaded, his voice tinged with worry. "I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you."

But you were determined to stand beside him, to fight alongside him in the face of encroaching danger. The battle drums echoed through the forest, signaling the impending doom that awaited them. Thranduil, ever the protector, wanted nothing more than to shield you from harm. Yet, against his wishes, you insisted on joining the battle.

As the clash of swords and the screams of warriors filled the air, Thranduil fought with unmatched valor, his heart gripped by both fear and determination. With each fallen foe, his eyes searched desperately for your figure, praying that you were safe. But fate can be cruel, and tragedy struck when he needed you most.

A piercing cry tore through the chaos, causing Thranduil's heart to stop. Time seemed to slow as he turned, his eyes widening with dread, and the world around him faded into insignificance. There, amidst the wreckage of the battlefield, he saw you crumpled on the ground, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of their enemies.

A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he raced to your side, his movements fueled by desperation and disbelief. His hands trembled as he knelt beside you, his fingers brushing against your ashen cheek. His gaze traveled over the wounds that marred your delicate form, each injury an agonizing testament to the violence that had consumed their world.

"No, no! Please, my love, stay with me," Thranduil pleaded, his voice a broken whisper that barely carried above the din of battle. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the dirt and blood that stained his skin. His voice cracked with anguish, raw and filled with an inconsolable grief.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his grip on you tightening as if he could will life back into your fragile body. His hands trembled as he traced the contours of your face, memorizing every curve and crevice. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a desperate attempt to share his breath, to infuse you with his own life force.

But you were gone, stolen from him by the merciless hands of fate. The battle around him faded into a blur, his senses numbed by the magnitude of his loss. The once vibrant forest now held only shadows and echoes of a love that was torn away too soon. Thranduil's anguished cries mixed with the sorrowful howls of the wind, merging into a haunting lament that echoed through the desolation.

He clung to your lifeless body, his tears mingling with the earth beneath them. In that moment, the weight of his grief threatened to consume him entirely. His heart shattered, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. And as the world continued to spin, unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded, Thranduil remained locked in that moment of unbearable sorrow, forever haunted by the memory of a love that had been wrenched from his grasp.

- end of throwback-

Thranduil's grief never truly faded, even as years passed. The wounds remained fresh, and the weight of loss burdened his heart each day. He had built a façade of strength, concealing the depths of his pain from the world. But in the solitude of his chambers, where the echoes of the past lingered, he allowed himself to release the anguish he had held within.

Alone amidst the flickering candlelight, Thranduil finally succumbed to his sorrow. His regal composure shattered as he sank to his knees, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. A guttural cry escaped his lips, tearing through the stillness of the room.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice choked with grief. "Every moment, I miss you."

The tears flowed freely, cascading down his face and wetting the cold stone beneath him. It was a release, a catharsis he had denied himself for far too long. The pain surged through him, tearing at his soul, but he allowed it to consume him, for in that pain, he found solace.

In the depths of his anguish, he held onto the memories of your love, cherishing them as a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost. He allowed himself to mourn the life they could have had, the dreams they could have shared.

As the tears subsided, a weary calm settled upon Thranduil. He rose from the floor, his face marked by a raw vulnerability that few had ever witnessed. He knew that he would forever carry the ache of your absence, but he also understood that life must go on.

With a newfound determination, Thranduil wiped away his tears, his eyes now harboring a flicker of resilience. He would honor your memory by protecting his people and ruling with wisdom and compassion, just as you would have wished.

And so, he stepped out of his chambers, his regal demeanor intact once more, masking the grief that lay just beneath the surface. But deep in his heart, he knew that your love would forever guide him, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounded him.

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coopsgirl · 9 months

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Thranduil Fic Masterlist

The Darkening Forest: Set in the Woodland Realm around the year 1050 of the Third Age as Greenwood the Great begins to turn into Mirkwood. King Thranduil meets a young elven woman and his life will never be the same. AO3 link

Words: 34,506

From a Far Away Shore: Set at the beginning of the Third Age just after the victory against Sauron by the alliance of elves and men, Thranduil has just become king after the death of his father Oropher in battle. He gets help from a most unexpected source as he tries to fill his father's shoes and guide his people back to peace and prosperity. AO3 link

Words: 56,048

The Shadow and the Sunrise: Ranyare, a member of the original eldar who awoke on the shores of Lake Cuiviénen, has survived into the Third Age and has lived hidden away from others in Fangorn Forest. Forced to come out of hiding, she meets the elves of Lothlórien and Greenwood. Much to her surprise, she and Thranduil become friends and together they will work through their pain and traumas to finally find peace and love. AO3 link

Words: 22,447

All fics are completed and safe for work. I hope you will enjoy them!

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thran-duils · 10 months

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Seduce & Destroy (P. 9)

Title: Seduce & Destroy (Part Nine) Summary: A mother is desperate to save her daughter from being married off to the Master of the Town or worse, sold to the brothel for her father to be able to afford drink and rent when he is failing at bringing in money for the household. The mother finds a witch deep in the ancient woods willing to take a sharp cost to bestow safety on the daughter. If it truly ends up as safety… that is yet to be seen. Pairing: Dark!Thranduil x Fem!Human Reader Words: 1,609 Warnings (more may be added): Non-con, magical manipulation, mental abuse Author’s Note: Okay, so after a huuuuuge mental block with writing in general over the course of the last 10 months and especially this story because I couldn’t decide or really picture the direction, I’ve got it. I promise more Hebe and reader content (magic related, not sexulaly, lol) next chapter!

Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

(the watermark for the thranduil photo is still on there - this pic was found on pinterest and i was unable to find a link to the artist)

<><><>

Thranduil was drunk. That much was clear. The king loved his wine, that was for certain. And there were many nights where you knew he had drunk his fill. But tonight was something else entirely. You did not think it possible to imbibe as many goblets as he had and the fact he was still standing astounded you. He was full in his celebration of the New Year.

He was looser, his laughter hearty. It was a thing to behold – him sounding genuine in his laughter. You were unsure if you should feel touched by the sight of the generally tepid king so jovial or if you should keep your distance. Not that you could wander far, especially with the guard. He spoke of past parties’ memories with his court, warm memories, and you listened.

Thranduil merely guffawed when one of the court wandered off and it was reported back that they had drank themselves sick. Apparently that happened to at least one of the court at celebrations such as this.

Legolas was relaxed, leg swung over his chair, and loosely holding his goblet as he drank. He had not said one bordering on rude comment or sent an unkind glance your way throughout the night. There was no way you would let your guard down around him though; you kept your drinking to a place where you were warm, but the world was not a blur.

The celebration dragged on into the night and the food never seemed to disappear – the servants kept watchful eyes to make sure plates were full. The candles burned bright still, the music swelling and dipping. Some elves had pulled down ropes of the snowdrop and daffodil garlands to weave individual crowns. They danced, although now it seemed harder to keep their footing, but the mood was high.

Despite the energy still thrumming, your eyelids were beginning to become heavy. Thranduil found his seat beside you again and you opened your mouth to speak but he was not paying attention. His glass was empty and before he had a chance to beckon a servant, your hand came to rest on his arm that he had raised. It stalled his movement and his head turned to you. The intoxication was swimming in his eyes.

Leaning towards him, you told him quietly, “This celebration has been grand, and I’ve been pleased to partake. A beautiful party for your people. But I am finding myself fading from the excitement and would like to retire.”

Thranduil’s hand moved to come to brush at your cheek. His tongue peeked between his lips as his eyes trailed over your face before coming to meet your gaze. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and something lit in his expression.

It was then you had a sinking feeling it would still be awhile before you chased sleep.

Standing once more, he turned – a small stumble as he faced you – before holding out his hand to you.

“You’re quite right. The party has been splendid – one of the best. But it is growing late and I do not wish to see you fall asleep in your chair. You should be comfortable. Come.”

Thranduil bid his crowd to continue their jubilee in his absence before leading you away. A gaggle of guards fell in line behind the pair of you to escort you to his chambers.

A hand skirted across your bare shoulders. Twirled up into your hair and skirted down your neck. He was not keeping his hands to himself as you made your way through the halls. Soon his fingers were pulling at your bodice strings, and you tried to walk quicker to get to the stairs leading up to his chambers. He was impatient and you did not want him to continue trying to undo your gown before you were in the privacy of his room. In his state, he seemed to have lost care for propriety.

You did not make it up five steps before he was on you. His movement was swift and pointed much to your shock – his hands swooped you up underneath you and placed you onto the stairs above where he stood. Before you could ask what in the world he was doing, he knelt on the stairs to position himself between your legs. Your eyes bugged, realizing he was meaning to take you outside his chambers. You frantically looked over his shoulder down the hall where the guards had not ascended and had instead taken places against the wall, not paying mind to what was about to transpire. They acted as if they were statues.

Your skin was set alight as his hands dove up your dress and his fingers came into contact with your bare legs. And your cheeks burned knowing that you could so easily be exposed to the guards below if Thranduil happened to move a certain way to give them or anyone else who happened to come into the hall view.

“My lord?” you squeaked, hands coming down to push at your skirts to try to cover yourself again.

“I’m here,” he assured you, slapping your hands away. He trailed kisses up your thigh towards your sex.

Not deterred by his slapping, you tried to push him away again and his fingers dug into your thighs in response, and he came up to catch your mouth with his. When he pulled away again, you were breathless.

“What… what are you doing?” you asked him, voice shaking.

His eyes were dark, and he informed you, “I will taste you. I’ve thought about your sweetness all night. It was not until you asked to retire that I realized I could not wait any longer.”

“My King, you have had much wine. We are not in your chambers—” you tried to reason.

“I can do as I please,” Thranduil cut you off, pushing your skirts further up.

He was coming at you again and it took everything in you to not place your hands on his head through the bunched-up fabric to push him away from you. That would certainly not go over well to accost him in such a manner, especially in front of his guards. You looked towards them again, but they were still standing, staring straight ahead stiffly.

“Please, you must—” you raised your voice towards them to try to plead to them to intervene but squeaked again when Thranduil nipped at your inner thigh, his breath hot. You adjusted, trying to move your sex away from his desperate kisses.

He was not listening. His hands gripped your hips tight, yanking you to his waiting mouth. His tongue lapped up flat and hungry, teasing to dip into you.

“Your grace, we should retire before indulging in the other,” you spoke rushed, still squirming to halt his advance to no avail now with his grip on you. Another lick and his tongue did dip now. Your breath hitched, “What your people will think if they find you and I in the halls engaged in such an intimate act?”

You went ignored and gasped erotically when his tongue delved, licking at your nub. Your neck was burning with embarrassment at the position he was putting you in.

“It is unbecoming!” you snapped, losing your patience. You shifted roughly, using your knee to push his shoulder in a fluid motion. You succeeded in getting his tongue away from you but you had irritated him. He jerked away and his mouth was in a thin line. Your voice was still raised, “You told me I was not to be treated like a whore like my father meant for it to be. Are you going to break your vow?”

The crackle of the torches lighting the hallway and the party far off in the distance were the only sounds beside yours and Thranduil’s heavy breaths as you stared the other down. You had already irked him and you wanted – nay, needed – to stand your ground. It was one thing to have his people know of your affair but to treat you this way? He was far too drunk, and you wondered if he would have shame in the morning. If he would recall it at all.

His gaze was boring into you, threatening you to say anything further. There was no need, you had said what you had wished to – made a very damn good point if you were honest.

A sharp exhale left him, and he stood abruptly, swaying. You braced for him to tumble over onto you at the movement, but he caught himself on the wall.

“Get up,” he ordered. You did so and began to straight out your skirt but he stopped your movement as his large hand grasped your face roughly; you winced at the pressure. “You forget yourself, lóth. You will not raise your voice to me. Ever. Do you understand me? I rule over you, not the other way around.” You nodded and his fingers flexed, eyes searching your face. He seemed satisfied with your answer. “Good.”

Letting go, he told you, “You may continue to my chambers.”

Turning, you hid your hands that were shaking. But thanking the stars above that you would find privacy upstairs and that the guards had witnessed you trying to protect the dignity of their king. You could not imagine what rumors would have swirled about you allowing him to take you apart in public when he was intoxicated as he was.

You hoped that would win some favor amongst the elves and help to continue your assimilation into their society. A bitter win for the night.

Fic tags: @juniperwoodwell @buttercandy16 @tigereyesf @asuni921 @coopsgirl @mjaudrey @miriel-estelwen @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @betty-not-boop @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @darkmystress00

#thranduil x reader #dark thranduil #thranduil fic #dark!thranduil x reader #dark!thranduil #my shit

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queeniesrose · 1 year

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Happy New Year's y'all. Hope you all are having a good day! Each one will be NSFW and apart of the Modern AU series! I will also be having each character's drabble in it's own post!

Master Post

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

New Years - Middle Earth

Thranduil: You heard me. Take. It. Off.

Despite the fact that New Years is typically celebrated with partying and drinking, including Thranduil and yourself partaking in said activities, you decided to do something more lowkey this year. There was a fire going, music playing in the background, and you had a frisky card game out. It was not a surprise that the both of you ended up very horny, bringing out the brattiness in you that you loved to push Thranduil's buttons with.

You were sitting on a chair across from where Thranduil sat; you both were stripped down to your undergarments, and several drinks deep. Picking up a card, you took a slow sip of your drink before reading out the prompt, "Masturbate or remove an article of clothing." You said, Deciding to toy with the tall man, you started to slowly touch yourself. You looked over at him, giving him a languid smile. "You like watching me like this Thran-"

Thranduil cuts you off before you could finish talking, sitting up in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes." he grits out, clenching his fists. His eyes raked over body, the look on his face was almost animalistic. "Now Love, stand up while you're at it. Don't make me repeat myself." He stands up, making his way towards you, watching as you scramble to stand.

As you jolted out of the chair, you started walking backwards, towards the wall. It took you a moment to realize what he was doing. You straightened your back, "You want my clothes off, Thrandy?" You asked, giving him a cocky smile. You tilted your head to the side as you looked up at him, "Is that what you really want?"

Thranduil pushed your back against a wall, he had a mischievous look on his face. He put one hand above you on the wall, before looking you up and down, “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” He commanded, bringing a hand up to your face, lightly tracing the side of your face. He leans in, putting his mouth close to your ear, whispering "Let me see your pretty body, love." He dropped his hand, letting it ghost over your body, before he let it rest right above your cunt.

#The Hobbit #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Middle Earth #Middle Earth x Reader #Tolkien Universe #Reader #Reader Insert #X Reader #Spicy Queenie #Middle Earth Thranduil #Reader x Thranduil #Thranduil x Reader #Thranduil #Thranduil Fic #Thranduil Fanfic #Middle Earth Thranduil x Reader #Queenie's Modern Middle Earth

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wareagleofthemountain · 1 year

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Summer project list! ☀️ Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of these stories. :)

1. What Do You Know of Love? (part 2)

2. You Belong: Thranduil and his wife prepare for the arrival of Legolas

3. Long Story…: Silly little one shot about Orophin and Haldir’s OC wife taking a detour on their way home from escorting Elrond’s sons back to Rivendell.

3. Wild Hearts: Thranduil and his wife spend their day off roaming the woods

So excited to share these with you all!

#fic wip #haldir #orophin #thranduil’s wife #Thranduil fic #thranduilxofc #haldirxofc #the hobbit #lord of the rings #elves

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pinkunicorn1701 · 8 months

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https://www.amazon.co.uk/Heart-Darkness-Trish-Fullerton-ebook/dp/B0CDXDVRB5/?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=CTCAe&content-id=amzn1.sym.b23cb387-9a65-4c5f-8523-6979ddb19d2e&pf_rd_p=b23cb387-9a65-4c5f-8523-6979ddb19d2e&pf_rd_r=8T4QTA5PAJSTS0BABXSN&pd_rd_wg=crj3L&pd_rd_r=bab85e4c-0dcc-4d7f-a08a-2794a3fc6632&ref_=aufs_ap_sc_mbl

Awesome fic. Originally written as a Thranduil fic, but now available as an original on Amazon. So cool! 😎

#thranduil fic #writing

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citrusro · 1 year

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Tolkien Tumblr...

Hello my lovely Tolkien pals! I need help looking for a certain fic...

It was a modern day thranduil and bard, thranduil as a vampire au, It was set in an isolated small town in the mountains and forest, Tauriel and leggy were also vamps and Bard was a mechanic

Those are the only details my friend can remember about it, might anyone know what we’re talking about?

(also just... send me Thranduil fics hehe I haven’t read one in a while)

#Thranduil #Bard the Bowman #LOTR #Lord of the Rings #The Hobbit #fics #tolkien #tolkien fic #thranduil fic #king thranduil #writing

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pandoracipriano · 1 year

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"Depois de conseguir abrir caminho, Thranduil cavalgou até Dale para ajudar Bard, mas mesmo de longe ele conseguia ver que as coisas estavam sérias na cidade. Pela ponte ele cavalgou sem perceber orcs escondidos nos escombros perto da entrada, de onde orcs atiraram flechas que acertaram as pernas do alce e ele caiu derrubando o rei no chão. Porém, ele já estava pronto para a queda e soube cair com tanta elegância que logo já havia se recuperado e se erguido e cortado a jugular daquelas criaturas. Ele estava prestes a ir para a parte central da cidade onde parte do exército se encontrava mais concentrado quando avistou a figura feminina de Nyë vir correndo na direção dele. Ela acenou e estava ofegante. -Consegui vir o mais rápido possível – avisou ela, mas o rei não disse nada, apenas a observava aliviado por ela estar bem e ter chegado viva até ali – Temos que ser rápidos, ninguém está nos vendo - começou ela e ele franziu o cenho - Há um caminho seguro para sair daqui, podemos deixar tudo isso para trás e retornar para casa – sorriu ao dizer e segurou no rosto dele. -O que? - indagou ele. -Só nós dois, Thranduil! Vamos embora daqui, deixar tudo para trás. Esquecer os anões e essa disputa tola por Erebor. Eles irão morrer de qualquer forma – falou. Thranduil a encarou, olhando a Nyë a sua frente que sorria ternamente, mas havia algo de errado ali. Ele sabia, ele sentia e conseguia ver. E no momento em que ele percebeu o que era aquele algo errado, seu maxilar trincou e sua mão se ergueu para raspar a espada na garganta dela, mas aquela Nyë se desvencilhou tombando bem a cabeça para trás e recuou com agilidade. E rapidamente atacou o rei, fazendo uma estaca fina e negra sair de seu braço e ir na direção dele. "

#thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fic

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lee-pace-yourself · 2 years

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Come read my Thranduil and Josie stories. Made a few edits as I'm never happy with the final product lol. Working on part 7 now.

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corinthianism · 6 months

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corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) - webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right? (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

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madwomansapologist · 8 months

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Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 5 - Enough is enough

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

fifth chapter synopsis: As the Enemy's actions became more and more clear, Thranduil discovers that there is a traitor among the free people. After an unexpected problem, you have to made a decision. [4K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug.

glossary: Mellon: Friend┆Lossëistar: Ice Mage

Many think that the determining factor in a battle is strength. Others that it is the strategy used. A minority truly believes it’s luck. But those never saw the strongest falling down or the smartest failing to plan, and they never felt that luck was against them. It is so easy to found simple and objective truths when you are far away from the real conflict.

Moonlight spilled through the rotten trees. The gravel crunched under the elk’s paws. His beast, the creature that always protected and obeyed the Elvenking, followed the tracks of the remaining worm. Unhesitating, Thranduil led his little army through the night. And he did it unhurried.

Thranduil could say that they were strong enough to win this chase, and there is a high chance that it would turn out true. Thranduil could say that his strategy is failsafe, and it was in so many occasions. Thranduil could use a deity’s name as a promise of victory. But knowing the truth of real conflict, it would be vile to make those shallow promises.

And Thranduil isn’t a mad king.

He fought for his people, and led them from survival to tranquility. While Elrond argued if the Enemy was alive or not, while Galadriel and Celeborn conserved what they already had, Thranduil was the one to see Mordor, to feel its flames, and survive it.

Protecting Woodland from Sauron’s harassment, Thranduil kept his throne and sanity.

He would never put his people in danger relaying only on such ephemeral things. His soldiers followed him, hunt that worm with him, because they swore to fought for him. They would die for him, just like many did before, but not out of fear: because of honor. They believe on Thranduil’s judgment. They saw him making sacrifices to keep their realm safe and sound. They would do anything Thranduil demanded without questioning.

Exploring the forest, blending with the darkness, they hunted as one. Not a group, not a army, they were one and same. No words were needed for the other to know what to do, and soon that disgusted thing was cornered. No matter how far that wicked monster ran, there was no escape.

Blood dried on Thranduil’s face. He could feel the ferrous taste. Thranduil’s gaze was not that of a king, his movement was not of an elve: at that moment, Thranduil was a hunter. And a experienced one. The long sword on his hand was nothing but a extension of his body. Darkness was an old company, his elk was a trusted ally, and with patience the orc’s snarls grew louder and louder.

The amorphous figure broke away from the shadows. A sound of glass mixed with the snarls, the bad swinging in the orc’s hands gleaming in the moonlight. The desperate run tired him. With his curved body burning in exhaustion, his steps only managed to slow him down. It was almost unfair to fight such a being. What chance did it had of surviving? The only thing separating that monster from the king’s sword were mere seconds.

And that is why Thranduil started this chase. Thranduil saw the strongest unable to stand up, the smartest unable to protect themselves, the luckiest unable to react after a betrayal. He knows what really determines the outcome of any kind of battle. Thranduil knew they had what it takes to win.

There is no need to be faster. To be stronger. And there is no such a thing as a infallible strategy. There is only one thing that separates you from victory. All you need to do is to last longer than your enemy. And Thranduil proved time after time that he and his people will always endure.

No matter what, the Sindars always endure.

The king raised his sword. By swinging his leg against the elk, making it turn at the right moment, he brought it down fiercely. The orc’s arm broke away and black, viscous blood gushed through the cut. But the creature’s proved that his strength was not shallow, as he did not stop wandering.

Thranduil would follow him, at that moment an attack of his bordered on mercy, but something stopped him. A whisper. Something in the dark, something he could almost recognized, tried to lure him. To make him walk near it. Then he noticed. The orc was not wandering: he knew exactly to where he was going. It was not strength, it was determination.

Thranduil stopped his elk, and his army mirrored him.

The determined orc took a few stumbling steps, his gripping on life loosing with time, until the place where the pearly shine no longer reached. And then, when the only thing for him to do was to die, he was snapped up by the darkness. A second before he was there, but in the other the only evidence of him ever living was the bloody arm on the ground.

Enough. Thranduil had done more than enough for Elrond and his realm. No kindness, no moral reward of any kind, would make him led his people into that hungry obscurity. The White Council may not understand it yet, but Woodland knows that the Enemy stands firm. And if Sauron decided to protect his army from Thranduil’s campaign, then Thranduil will travel back to his realm and do the same.

The War is closer, and Woodland will endure it.

The sound of breaking bones brought him back his cautious choice making. A archer broke the cold orc’s fingers to free the bag from it. “It must be precious, my king. He hold it until the end.”

Even worried, the Elvenking smirked. “There is nothing precious that he can give to me.”

The archer opened the bag either way, and struggle to see what was there on the dark. Then, when he saw, the elve immediately reach out to his king. Thranduil’s smirk died slowly.

Records of rivers. Counts of Ents. Marking of floods and droughts. Maps and more maps comparing old and recent constructions, studies of walls, notes in ancient, forgotten languages. There were atlases of Gondor, Rivendell, Khazad-dûm, the Shire, Rohan, Erebor, Isengard.

Woodland.

Somehow, those monster were able to study the realms. But how did they do it without being noticed? So many places, so many informations. No. Thranduil knows that they would never be able to do such a thing. All realms were betrayed. There is a spy between the free people. Someone trusted enough to be able to join all this information.

Thranduil do not know for how long that person was able to fool him and the others, but he knows that now they aren’t a person anymore: they are a walking corpse.

“This campaign is over,” Thranduil announced. He guided his army back to the camp, but not before looking one last time to the hungry obscurity. “And so is peace.”

He took the maps out of the muddy bag to observe them, hoping to notice any detail that would show who designed them. But after he took the last one from it, the dirty rag was heavier than it should have.

A pendant. It was heavy and pointed, with three inches of height. The tear shape crystal had a pearly liquid inside it. No. Not a liquid. Thranduil could almost feel the velvet texture of it against his skin. It was snow. In the heat of Rivendell, it had snow inside it. Details of wood circled the crystal, running through it as a black thread of blood.

It was the most exquisite thing Thranduil ever saw.

Back to camp. Thranduil gave new instructions. They would spend the night there, and by the morning will travel back home. The lack of these maps would be enough to disrupt whatever the Enemy’s plan was, and that knowledge was enough to guarantee them a good, and deserved, rest.

They rod to Rivendell in twenty. And in twenty they will came back to Greenwood.

Thranduil went to his tent. He spread the maps out on the table, and analyzed them carefully. Dozen of clandestine, unsigned maps with official informations. Who made them even knew what are the shifts of patrols in Rohan. The orc did not steal that, it was given to him. But by who?

Without an answer, Thranduil sat down to write letters to all leaders. He explained his return to Elrond, warned Saruman and asked him to do the same with the Ents of Isengard, insisted that Galadriel improve the defense of her realm. Thranduil even wrote for the dwarves of Khazad-dûm.

Surrounded by papers, heating the wax to seal the letters, he almost did not heard when a crow entered his tent. Hearing the caws, Thranduil smiled. Apparently, Aerin’s inn do not have carrier-pigeons. Only crows. An easy way for him to know when your letter is the one being delivered.

Thranduil longs for the moment when your letters will be on his hands. As soon as he hears the characteristic caw of crows, his body fills with determination. Everything that happened, from the bad ones to the horrible ones, do not matter anymore. Because he knows that when he reads your careful handwriting and honest words, everything will be all right.

But when he read the content of that letter and saw the picture that your words painted on his mind, a desire made impossible for him to rest. All he did was think, unable to decided if he should do as his heart craves. Because what he read was exactly what Thranduil needed: an excuse to bring you closer to him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Luthien opened the door before you could knock on it. “I wonder if you’re always that punctual,” she leaned against the door frame. “Or if you’re just yearning,” she whispered the last part.

You brought a jar of honey, milk and herbs for tea. “I do not want to waste your time,” not exactly true, not exactly a lie. You gave her your most brilliant smile, but not before you roll your eyes. “Are you busy?”

The healer gave you space to enter her house. You remember when Luthien explained that you were treated on the same table in which you place everything you brought to make a nice tea. She told you that your blood was quite difficult to clean. Her house smell like buttercup, so she was able to clean it.

Luthien filled a teapot with water and took it to the fireplace. “I told you to not bring me food anymore, so you decided to bring me tea?”

“It is my way to thank you. For the nursing, company and discretion. Now stop complaining.”

Luthien sat in front of you, and rested her chin on her hand. “To think it took a warg to make us talk to one another. How’s your shoulder?”

“It is better,” you reassured her. You opened her cabinets, knowing where she keeps her tea-cups and spoons. “It feels heavier, and it leave a gross scar, but only hurts when I try to reach something high. It feels like it’s being ripped apart from me again.”

“Give it time, mellon.” Luthien said that so many times before. She took the teapot away from the flames, and waited until you prepared the tear-cups to fill them. It smelled good. She put a spoon of honey on hers. “Although I know you won’t hear me. You’re not exactly patient.”

“What do you mean by that?” You took a sip of tea. It burned your tongue.

“You are here.” Luthien tried to hide her smirk. “I told you a hundred times that I will carry your letters to you, but you cannot wait. Here you are, waiting for them.”

You concentrated on blowing the tea, ignoring her eyes.

Many do think that words are just representations of thoughts in a way that others can understand. But such a cold perspective can make them forget that words are more than just things to understand. They are feelings. They are knowledge. And their use, or the lack of, matters way more than most people are comfortable in admitting.

Yours. A possessive pronoun, commonly used as a attributive adjective. When it is used, people knows you own something. But it isn’t just that. Yours convey possession. Yours convey pride. Yours convey belonging. A house is just a house, but your house is a home. A word present everywhere, pronounced by everyone, and used before what really matters. It’s so usual, so basic.

But you do not use it so often.

Yes, technically you do own a few things. You saved for two months to buy your pair of boots. And you have your own mount saddle. But you can’t say that the bed where you sleep is yours. You can’t say that the roof over your head is yours. Or the dress on your body. The food digested in your stomach.

When you collapsed on her doorstep, Aerin could have helped you or not. She decided on the first. She made her choice, and she kept deciding on you since then. Aerin gave you clothes, aid, nourishment. Aerin gave you dignity. She gave you all you have. Even the money you used to bought the only things you can call yours came from her.

But how can a letter addressed for your eyes to see and only them not be yours? How can words written for your mind to imagine not be yours? Yours, yours, yours. You can’t help but feel that they belong to you. That they are only yours.

Yours. Such a usual, basic, word. Your house isn’t really yours, your bed isn’t really yours, your food isn’t really yours. But your letters, his letters, mean the word for you.

So maybe this is the reason why you hid them under your mattress. Maybe this is the reason why you did not tell anyone you are still in contact with the Elvenking. Maybe this is the reason why you only read them at midnight, and why you never have a great answer to why suddenly you started to use so much paper. Maybe this is the reason why you are here. You fear that maybe someone else will open them if you are not there to receive them, so you trusted Luthien to that task.

It is not a secret or a sin. You do not hid them because they are wrong, but because they are yours. Only yours. And you have dozens of them. From small ones to multi-pages, about everything and anything in particular. Thranduil always writes back for you. You lost count on how many letters you have under you bed, but it is enough for you to feel something under it when you lay to sleep.

“Fair enough,” you sighed. “I told him about the… incident.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” you took a sip of your tea. It burned your tongue again. “Oh, indeed.”

Lossëistar. A word that mattered more than you were ever comfortable admitting. For fourteen months you heard that word more than your own name, until the moment they felt like the same thing. Until even you stopped using your name. For fourteen months you ignored it, but now you cannot take it anymore. You told people to stop calling you that, only to discover that most of them do not even know your name.

And now, every time someone asks you what your name is, you feel betrayed. How could they not know? How could no one know? Fourteen months. You saved those people countless times. And they don’t even know your name. But the last straw was when Aerin stuttered to call you. She almost said a different name. She realized her mistake, but not before opening her mouth.

You just walked away from her, not even thinking about where you were going to. You just wanted to be alone. You did not realized when you entered the forest, when you found the glaring, when you knelled on the floor. You did not noticed your tears, your fingers deep in the ground, the world shattering around you. You just noticed when you felt the cold.

The first thing you saw was the ground. Darkened, dry, lifeless. Blurs stained your vision. You blinked away the tears to see better, only to realize your vision was not blurred: there were water drops floating in the air. Water taken by force from the dead grass, dead trees, dead flowers. The drops attracted each other, even your tears, forming a floating thin river. And before you could make anything, it turned into snow.

“It never happened like that,” you felt the urge to explain yourself one more time. You told her what happened because you couldn’t keep it yourself any longer. “Without my control.”

Luthien drank the rest of her tea. “Have you ever thought about not wandering alone in forests anymore?”

When you looked up, you saw her smirk. That made you giggle. You took a sip of your tea, finally not burning your tongue. “Apparently nature want m…”

Something knocked on the window. It sounded as if pebbles were being throw at the glass, but Luthien recognized it instantly. She has more experience with birds than you. When you saw her opening the window, the crow flew towards you.

Thranduil answered you. You do not know why you wrote about what happened to him. You only realized that you did it when the crow disappeared after a cloud. It was to late to change anything, to decide that it was better to kept it to yourself. All you could do was to wait.

You sighed before tearing the seal, and did not breath again until you finished to read its content. When you were done, you folded the letter and put it back in the envelop. You stared at your empty tea-cup, and then rested your face on the cold table.

“What did he say?” Luthien went to reach the letter, but stopped herself. “You didn’t intend on doing anything, It wasn’t your fault. If he thinks so, than he is a stupid king. You did nothing wrong.”

“He said I am powerful,” you murmured. “Naturally powerful. That he can only imagine what I would be able to with a proper education.” You fixed your posture, still glaring at your cup. “He invited me to study in Mirkwood.”

Luthien blinked.

“That’s amazing!” She grabbed your hands, shaking your body. “I’ve heard that the elves from Mirkwood are so in touch with nature, it will be useful for you to understand more about you. And, also, you wouldn’t need to wait for his letters anymore. When will you go?”

“But I,” you looked at her. You couldn’t see her, your mind got lost inside a cacophony. “I… Aerin needs me. And Gandalf will be so worried if I go to another place.”

Luthien hold you tighter. You blinked, not paying attention to her. “You can write a letter explaining everything to him and leave it if me,” she said slowly. “You can go, if you want to.”

“This is… This is a lot. I don’t even know where exactly Mirkwood is. I don’t know anyone there. I don’t know what I would do there. And I… This is too much. Definitely too much.”

“Are you afraid you won’t like it, or that you don’t deserve it?”

“No… I mean, I don’t know.”

“You should go,” Luthien told you one more time. “Think about it, think for however long you need, and then make the right choice. Follow your heart. It already knows the answer.”

After saying goodbye, you returned to the inn glaring at the letter in your hands. Your hand kept thinking, weighing his options, unable to come up with an answer.

On one hand, you had the possibility of answers, of learning, of a reunion. Thranduil. He wanted you next to him. He wanted to help you learn more about yourself. This is your chance of seeing him again. On the other one, you had your duty, your gratitude, everything you know. You entire life, or at least what you remember of it, happened right here.

What should you do? What should you do? What should you do?

Upon arriving at the inn, you held the letter in your hand as if it were your most prized possession. Maybe it was. But how could you know? What if you accept his invitation and it turned into your worst decision? What if you don’t, and you regret it forever? How could you… Gandalf! He’s the smartest person you know. Perhaps, if you wait until his return, you can ask his opinion. He probably will be there soon.

When you entered your room, Aerin surprised you. She was there, sat on your bed, waiting for you. And she had all your letters spread out on your bed. They were all open. “What are you doing here, lady Aerin?”

“What am I doing?” Her scream made you stumble backwards. Aerin pointed at the letters, gesturing towards you. “What are you doing? A king!” Aerin got closer to you. “How can you bother him? This is so disrespectful.”

Oh. She scared you for half a second. You thought she was mad at you, but she is just worried. Aerin don’t know that you both share a friendship. “He was the one who first wrote for me. I wouldn’t do something to embarrass myself, lady Aerin. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“You just embarrassed yourself! Look at all those letters. Can’t you see? The Elvenking pities you.”

You didn’t knew what to say. Why was she being so mean? Even if you were bothering the king, Aerin didn’t need to be so cruel. You swallowed, your throat now aching. “Why are you saying those things?”

“How can you be so naive? The Sindars are dangerous!”

“I heard stories about Mirkwood too,” you tried to argue if her. “But they aren’t truth. The Elvenking isn’t mean. He wouldn’t mock me, or pity me. He’s kind, and brave, and a good friend.”

Aerin sighed. You are talking back. Since he came you changed! How can she protect you, honor Gandalf’s trust, if you are feeding those dreams? She thought you were mad at him. Aerin need you to be there. And Gandalf told her to do everything she can, even if you hate her for it. If you will be safe, then so be it.

“You will stop that,” she grabbed all the letters on your bed. They folded against one another, some even being torn. “No more letters between you both. It’s a order.”

You hid the letters, but you didn’t do anything wrong. You have the right to keep some things just for yourself. You were never disrespectful or needy, you were just talking to your friend. There is no need for a reaction like that.

“I know that you care about me, but I can make my own decisions.”

“I did everything for you,” that hurt Aerin so much. To say such a cruel thing. But she can pretend to be mean and cruel, as long as you stop dreaming and went back to what you were. You changed a lot since the Elvenking, but you can come back to your old self. “You will obey me.”

“No.”

Aerin marched out of your room, taking all of your letters with her. You followed her, tucking the last letter you received into your dress, and went down the stairs. She was practically running from you. “Lady Aerin, can we please sit and talk? There is no need for you to be so worried.”

Ignoring you, Aerin ran to the kitchen. You sighed. Why this is happening? It feels like you committed an crime, but all you did was talk to someone. Aerin was never cruel to you. Why would she started being now? Did she read your letters and thought that Thranduil was as mean as in the stories about him? Aerin saw how good and kind he is, she would not believe on such nonsense.

But when you entered the kitchen, you found that your patience have limits. You are a calm person, you try to be understanding, you really put on an effort to not fight with anyone. When you feel sad, you hide it. When you get mad, you hide it. When you get heartbroken, you hide it.

But Aerin just reached all your limits.

“What have you done?!”

When you get to her, there was no longer anything you could do. The paper were dissolving against the charcoal. All you could do was observe the delicate paper burning, the handwriting fading, all your memories being erased. They were yours, all you could really say was yours, and now they are gone.

Just like your name. Just like your old memories. Just like what you were before.

Gone.

“I am protecting you,” Aerin hissed. “One day you will understand.”

Maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you will understand exactly what she meant by that. Maybe one day you will even thank her for that. But now, right now, there is only one thing you can think about.

You had enough of this place.

[Sixth Chapter]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish

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galadrielspeaks · 2 years

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you guys seemed to enjoy my cringe-fail legolas sexy gimli post so here’s some more of my thoughts ab that dynamic:

-when legolas goes home and announces his engagement to gimli thranduil is shocked but every other elf is like “yeah checks out. that kid’s always been a little weird.”

-gimli goes home to announce his engagement to legolas and every dwarf promptly loses their SHIT at the fact that THE gimli, son of gloin, is betrothed. only to further lose their shit at the fact that it’s to that weird elf prince that they have never heard speak unless to send some sort of diplomatical message for his father but some dwarflings once saw him sobbing in front of a tree in the middle of a rainstorm while gripping a fallen branch.

-thranduil only gives his blessing to the proposal once he realises just how angry all of erebor is that their most eligible bachelor, gimli, the silver-tongued battle ready diplomant and descendant of kings, has been stolen away by thranduils weird tree-hugging naked star gazing hippie son.

#legolas #thranduil #legolas thranduilion #legolas greenleaf #lotr #gigolas #i’m on my cringefail elf bullshit #gimleaf #mirkwood #gimli #gimli son of gloin #tolkein #i genuinely want to write a fic ab this but i’m currently in the process of writing a very Large fic that is taking up most of my time…#maybe i can make some drabbles about them though #who knows!#are kid dwarfs called dwarflings or have i commuted some sort of egregious error here #cringefail legolas

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frost-queen · 3 months

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Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

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

| Meeting Thranduil

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

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

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

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

| Life at the woodland realm

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

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

| Legolas

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

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

———————————————

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elronds-meleth-nin · 1 month

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I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

I heard a song and one of the lines got stuck in my head, so here's a fic. (If you're curious, it was "Figure You Out" by VOILÀ.) No idea why, but Thranduil just felt perfect for this.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Thranduil x Reader

[A/N: This is mostly just fluff, but there's some innuendo, so... 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Elf x Human romance, mutual pining, idiots in love, Thranduil being dramatic, fake betrothal speedrun, Thranduil being soft for one (1) person only, protective Thranduil, Human!Reader has been adopted by elf who had no idea what he was getting into and Thranduil thinks he's an idiot, mild innuendo.

~*~

My mind wandered during my guard shift. Given that nothing ever penetrated this deep into the realm without the king's consent, the risk of allowing my focus to roam among my busy thoughts was minimal. The night air was brisk as I sat on one corner of the king's balcony with my bow laid across my lap.

Normally, the night air was soothing, but at that moment, all I could think about was how different everything would be soon. There would be no more extravagant views of the stars framed by elaborately gilded windows, no more training with my bow, no more front row seats to royal audiences, and - the worst of all - no more late night conversations when King Thranduil grew weary of his work.

I'd taken those things for granted. Oh, I hadn't squandered my time once I'd become one of his guards, by any means, but now that I might be forced to give up that position sooner than I'd anticipated, a list of regrets seemed to be cycling endlessly in my mind's eye. One that caused me the most pain was that I would very soon no longer be the recipient of his majesty's secret smirks when something we'd discussed privately occurred in his court.

The sound of a quill scratching away on parchment within the king's study ceased abruptly, but not even the anticipation of a quiet, intimate talk with him could lift my spirits. Not after the news I'd had that morning.

The swish of a cloak being removed was followed by unhurried footsteps toward the balcony, and then he was there beside me. The King of the Woodland Realm stood less than a few feet from me in all his finery, save the little circlet that usually rested upon his brow. He tended not to wear it when he retired to his chambers for the evening, choosing instead to lay it atop a book of poetry which resided permanently on his desk.

"On a lovely, cloudless night such as this, what cause would a newly-engaged lady have to look so forlorn?" The smooth, regal voice of my liege met my ears, and under any other circumstances, I might have scrambled to my feet to bow before him, as was his due. All I could muster, however, was a quiet, sincere apology over my shoulder as I remained seated on the balcony. I could feel his keen, pale blue eyes on me as I set my bow aside and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, dear. Is he that repulsive?"

"Not physically, but...all he seems to see is himself. I am perfectly aware that the betrothal wasn't either of our choices, but he could at least pretend that he's interested when our parents are nowhere to be seen." I was aware that I sounded ungrateful, but just because I was a mortal woman in a realm of Elves didn't mean that I had to like it when I was constantly looked down upon by others.

One of the few people who never gave me the impression that he thought less of me took a seat beside me in robes much too elegant for anything less than a perfectly padded chair to touch.

"Have you spoken with your guardian - apologies, your father - about your fears?" Instead of sounding judgmental, Thranduil's voice held only softness - a rarity, to be sure, but such a tone was more common when he conversed with me than with anyone else. I nodded my head as I recalled the cold aloofness in my adoptive father's voice as he'd dismissed both me and my protests.

"He seemed more concerned with maintaining the status associated with his name than with some silly little mortal's concerns." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, I really did, but the sharp edge that crept in made me cringe a bit. "After all, who am I to complain when he took me in? My life could have been over before it had even truly begun. He could just as easily have left me to die in the ruins of our burning village and adopted an Elfling instead. I...owe him for all that he has done."

One of Thranduil's hands rested lightly on my shoulder, coaxing me to face him. My eyes met his, and his free hand laid over my wrist. The warm weight of his palm covering my pulse made my heart flutter in my chest.

"Is that what he told you?" When I stammered about it being nothing more than the truth, he shook his head while stormclouds gathered in his expression. "What foul words of comfort from one who claims to care for you."

To that, I had no response. Naturally, several statements sprung to the tip of my tongue - defenses for my father's actions - but I swallowed them all down when my king's gaze warned me that he would tolerate no such excuses.

"Remind me, mellon-nin, how long have you served in my guard?"

"Twelve years and a few months, sire."

"And in all of our many conversations, have I ever given you any reason to doubt that I value you as highly as any other in my kingdom? After that first fortnight, when you were terrified of making a mistake, have you ever felt out of place because of your mortality?"

The memory of that fateful night drew a smile to my lips.

"No, mellon-nin. That rather thorough tongue-lashing you meted out made your stance quite clear to all in the palace," I murmured allowing myself the small liberty of turning my hand beneath his and threading our fingers together.

The guards he'd berated for their rudeness and bigotry had practically fled the throne room when he was finished with them. After that night, he'd ordered that whenever I was on duty, I would be assigned to his personal detail.

"Then, what cause have you to believe that I would tolerate anyone treating you so poorly anywhere else in my domain?"

"This is different–"

"How? Enlighten me," the king ordered giving my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Father has the right to demand that I repay him for the time he has spent on me," I hedged, but Thranduil shook his head.

"Just because he raised you, that does not mean that he was unaware of what he was choosing. He may not have known the full extent of the demands made of a parent, but that was not the fault of the innocent babe he rescued." He sounded so calm, so casual about his assertions that I could do no more than blink as he spoke. "I do not expect Legolas to sacrifice his happiness to satisfy some imagined debt incurred at his birth, nor should your guardian make such ludicrous demands of you."

We sat quietly for a moment, side-by-side and hand-in-hand beneath the moonlight before words began flowing from my mouth almost without my consent.

"He's an ass, you know, the man to whom I have been promised. Nothing brings him greater pleasure than a mirror, and nothing strains him more than remembering a preference held by someone other than himself," I murmured feeling as though this confession of my unkind thoughts about the Ellon would give me some measure of comfort beyond another's commiseration. "Six different times he has insisted that he knows my favorite flower, and six times have I received something completely different. He claims that I keep changing my answer, but, truly, I have given the same response every time."

"He chooses not to listen," Thranduil muttered almost to himself.

"Quite correct, aran-nin. He is dismissive...practically ignores me when we are in the same room..."

"Had he been listening, he undoubtedly would have heard your scathingly pointed sighs, not unlike those which you direct toward any who insult your king in the throne room," he teased, and a huff of laughter bubbled out of me. "I shall have you know that I enjoy those little sighs. They convey a great deal about the receiver's lack of intelligence and manners, whilst simultaneously broadcasting that you would like nothing more than to drag them from the gates by the scruff of their neck. Quite effective, do you not agree?"

"Oh, yes, mellon. As I recall, you've allowed me to do just that on several occasions," I said glancing over at him. The answering sparkle in his eyes coupled with the wicked little smirk adorning his lips made my heart thud faster in my chest.

"And I reveled in every second of their humiliation at your beautiful hands," Thranduil practically purred in satisfaction at the memories, but I sobered rather quickly as I recalled the reason I was so down in the first place. He must've seen my smile slip. "Forgive me, I was certain that you enjoyed dragging witless rats from my sight...?"

"I do...rather, I did." The correction was small, but he pounced upon it immediately. The hand that had been on my shoulder grasped my chin and forced me to look back up at him. He didn't need to say a word. The question floated between us unasked, yet requiring an answer. "My betrothed made it clear that he believed a guard was no proper wife. He has demanded that I resign my position here."

More seriously than he had all night, Thranduil gazed into my eyes.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to give up the station you fought so hard to attain for a man who cannot remember even the simplest of things about you?" I shook my head as hot, desperate tears filled my eyes. "Then tell me, what do you want? What desires fill your mind when you allow yourself to dream under cover of darkness?"

I most certainly could not give him the whole truth. I couldn't tell him that over the course of our acquaintance and friendship I had fallen in love with him. Nothing could ever come of my pathetic heartache. I was only a guard. A peasant. Peasants might fall in love with royalty, but they did not end up with them. That was not the way of the world.

"Love," I breathed instead. "I want to be loved for myself, not my father's position. I wish to be cared for and to care for another. I wish to remain a guard, a warrior for the Woodland Realm, and to be accepted as I am, not swept aside. Obviously, I am not without fault, but while I attempt to grow wiser and gain experience, I do not wish to be impeded or judged by someone who could never remember even the most basic facts about me. I...What I want is impossible."

A small, gentle smile crossed the king's lips, and an intense, burning desire to kiss him fought a war within me against my common sense. Thranduil could forgive much, but a lapse in judgment as severe as throwing myself at him? Never.

"Your presence here is proof that nothing is impossible. You are much easier to love than you have allowed yourself to believe." His deep, rumbling voice sounded at once comforting and sensual, which proved quite effective at helping me blink back my tears before they could even begin to fall. "When are you next due to meet with this unworthy cad?"

"Tomorrow. My father has invited both he and his parents to our home for the evening meal as it is my day without a shift." I was surprised at how steady my voice sounded after how vulnerable I'd just been. Strangely, though, I felt no shame in having allowed my friend to see my pain.

King Thranduil nodded his head pensively, brushing his thumb over my chin as he did so - why had he not yet released his grip? Not that I was going to complain, of course. Being this close to him, touching him, speaking with him in confidence...that was as close as I was ever going to get to him, and even that might soon be pulled from my grasp, so I savored every moment that I was afforded.

Neither of us had much more to say. Instead, the Elvenking slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me close enough to his side for me to lay my head on his shoulder. We sat in companionable silence until the time came for the guard change. Bidding me sweet dreams and a safe trip home, Thranduil dropped a soft kiss onto my hand and retreated back inside his rooms.

As usual, the guard who was to replace me gave me a raised eyebrow at my familiarity with someone so far above my station, and, as usual, I ignored him.

Sneaking to the stables on my way out, I plucked an apple from my coat pocket and headed to the gilded gates of the stall holding the king's mount. Slicing the fruit quickly in half with my dagger to delay my return home by a few extra seconds, I cooed gently to the large elk, stroking the soft fur on his muzzle as I offered him the treat.

"Who's a good boy? Hm? You are! Yes, you are," I praised as he gingerly bit into the first half of the bright red fruit, then the second. He was a gentle giant, in truth. Much of the kingdom supposed that he would be as prickly as his rider, but nothing could be further from reality. Firstly, the king was only short with those who deserved his ire. Secondly, the admittedly imposing elk upon which he rode hadn't a mean bone in his very large body. "Aww, you're never grumpy with me, are you, mellon-nin?"

He chuffed and snuffled, nuzzling gratefully into my caressing fingers as a 'thank you' for his treat. Even he would be a far superior companion for life than the idiot with whom I'd be forced to spend yet another pointless evening the next day...and perhaps the rest of my life.

"Don't worry, mellon, even if he makes me resign, I'll still find a way to sneak in and bring you extra apples." The pleased little snort he gave me drew a giggle from my lips, but I knew that soon the guard patrolling this section of the grounds would be here. I bid goodnight to my tall, fur-covered friend and set off on the path toward home with our secret intact.

Had I so much as bothered to glance back, I would've seen a familiar head of bright blond hair watching as I tugged the hood of my cloak over my head.

When I awoke the next day, it was still early morning. The lateness of my shift usually tired me out well enough that I slept for at least another hour or two, but after a few bleary blinks, I realized that I'd been awakened by voices.

Odd. My adoptive father did not usually entertain guests at this hour. Either something had happened, or today was destined to turn out rather strangely. As he hadn't bothered to come wake me, I gathered that there was no urgency in whatever had transpired. What was not in question, however, was the way my stomach growled as I tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

With a sigh of defeat, I climbed out of bed and dressed, even going so far as to tie my hair back in a quick braid since it looked as though it might rain. Thus, clothed and presentable, I cleaned my teeth and ventured from my bedroom in search of food.

The voices seemed to be coming from my destination, so it seemed as though I would get both sustenance and an answer to my curiosity all at the same time. A fortuitous turn for such a gray morning.

"...ere she is now." I was able to make out my father's voice as I intentionally stepped on the creaky board in the hallway. I wasn't as quiet as an Elf when I walked, but I still didn't like to appear as though I was eavesdropping or sneaking where I shouldn't be. When I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.

There in all his regal, perfectly-groomed glory was King Thranduil, sitting at our tiny wooden table.

What in the name of the Valar was the king doing in our kitchen?

"Aran-nin," I greeted him, bowing slightly less steadily than I might have if I'd been awake for more than a few minutes. A low, velvety chuckle floated around the space.

"Come now, meleth, you know there is no need for such formality," Thranduil crooned giving me a charming, mischievous smile as I straightened again, but that statement alone nearly shattered my poor tired mind.

He'd said 'meleth,' but...that meant 'love.' He'd never called me that before. And I still didn't know why he was in our kitchen.

Glancing between my king and my father, I tried silently to piece together what the hell was going on here. Thranduil must have seen my lack of progress in my eyes, because he continued as if this was all completely normal.

"Come, break your fast. Your guardian has been kind enough to make tea and lay out some provisions for us," he said standing and pulling out the chair directly beside him.

Almost without thinking, I did as he asked, and my heart thudded rapidly in my chest when he seated me as if we were at some lavish feast instead of around our small, wooden table. He acknowledged my hastily-murmured gratitude, then resumed his own seat with his usual flourish. The three of us ate quietly for a few moments, staunchly ignoring the fact that the king was in our tiny kitchen eating with us as casually as if he had always done so.

It was...pleasant. Strange, obviously, but much more enjoyable than my usual solitary morning meal.

"So, meleth-nin, would you like to tell him the good news, or should I?" Thranduil asked, and I looked up at him. Slightly more cognizant than before, I recognized the glint in his eyes that usually accompanied a desire for me to play along with whatever he said next. I could do that.

"I'm quite certain that it would be much more eloquent coming from you," I demurred, and I very pointedly avoided looking across the table at my father's reaction to whatever bit of theater my king had orchestrated. Less than a heartbeat later, I found my free hand firmly in Thranduil's grasp as he looked at my father.

"The betrothal you arranged for your ward is hereby declared invalid by order of the king," he said, and the stunned expression on my father's face was worth every moment of confusion I'd experienced that morning. He took a moment to gather himself before clearing his throat and looking between us in askance.

"If it is not too presumptuous, sire, may I ask why you have done this? Her betrothal to–"

"That engagement was no more than a farce. We meant to announce it earlier, but with how busy I've been attending to my royal duties, I fear I have been remiss." The king cut him off, and the indignation in my father's eyes gave me a sick sort of pleasure. "You see, your ward is not available for the suitor you preferred, because she has already accepted my own marriage proposal."

Oh. So, that was what he had in mind. A faux betrothal. Somehow, that was both intensely flattering and a knife to my chest.

The announcement worked to perfection, though. My father looked as though he'd been punched soundly in the face.

"You...?" He blinked and made a second attempt at speech. "Why would a king want her?"

Thranduil's head tilted in a manner I recognized as indicative of the imminent rise of his temper.

"Why does a king desire anything? Tell me, why should a king not desire a worthy queen for his realm?" He asked, and my father caught up rather rapidly with the realization that he'd said the wrong thing. Thranduil looked back over at me as he lifted my hand to his lips. "Why should an Ellon not marry the one whom he loves?"

Ow. Those were the exact words I'd longed to hear from him for so many years, but to hear them now knowing that they were all an act...

"And why should I not wish to marry the Elf with whom I have grown so close over my many years of guard duty?" How far he intended to carry this fiction, I didn't know, but I could play along for now. I could hide the pain.

"I...Congratulations," my father stammered hesitantly, but he was no longer relevant. Not now.

"Thank you," the king said without taking his eyes off of me. "Meleth, I believe it is time for you to live in the palace. It will be your home once we are married, and if you are prepared, I can take you back with me. My mount is outside."

"Of course, but I shall need a few moments to pack–"

"Nonsense. You needn't do such menial work. You are to be my queen. I have already arranged for your belongings to be brought to you this evening. For now, you need only bring yourself and a riding cloak," he insisted with a warm smile.

"Might it not be simpler, my king, if I were to save you the trouble of taking her with you? I could escort her to the palace myself this evening so that you needn't be burdened by sharing your mount," my father said, and the blush that sent my cheeks burning at the thought of the pair of us riding together atop his elk was automatic. No acting required.

I prayed that Thranduil was unaware of how drastically he affected me, even within my own imagination.

"Bringing my queen to the palace is my responsibility and privilege. And, if you shall forgive me for saying so aloud outside of the solitude of our marital chambers, meleth-nin, I view the opportunity to feel you in my arms with great anticipation," the king said turning my hand over gently and placing a slow, sensual kiss right over my racing pulse. My breath caught in my throat at the hunger in his eyes. His lips lingered a few beats longer than I expected, only pulling away when my father cleared his throat pointedly. "My apologies. In the presence of such beauty, I find that I am transported into the realm of fantasy."

Thranduil's words did not match his expression. He was an Ellon who found vast satisfaction in playing those around him like an orchestra. He wasn't sorry at all.

"As much as I adore seeing you like this, my darling king, I do hope you will be more discreet while holding court," I teased, but his smirk only grew.

"When my queen is so breathtaking? Never." If it wasn't for the disgustingly sexy wink he tossed me, I'd have thought he was laying his act on a bit thick. As it was, though, he seemed to be staying in character quite effortlessly. For my part, I was one shaky breath away from giggling like brainless idiot, or bursting out in tears because of the simple fact that this was all an act.

Ducking my head in what I hoped was a passable semblance of bashfulness, I tried to steady my breathing.

"I...trust that you still plan to give up your position in the guard?" My eyes flicked up and met my father's. There was something in his expression - disbelief, confusion, suspicion - that I couldn't quite place.

His obvious lack of trust after all these years angered me.

With the sweetest smile that I could muster, I tilted my head curiously.

"Not at all. A queen must be willing to fight for - and alongside - her people if she expects them to fight for her in return. Loyalty must be earned; it is not a gift to which one is entitled." Thranduil gave my fingers a gentle, supportive squeeze. "Surely, after your many years as a warrior, you of all people understand how crucial it is to inspire loyalty in those whom you command?"

He couldn't protest. When Thranduil said nothing, giving him neither a change of subject or an opportunity to dodge the question, my father stammered about his question being a foolish one and about the change in suitors being so sudden.

Almost as soon as we stepped outside, the king's elk snuffled happily. He walked over to us, but to my surprise, instead of vying for Thranduil's attention, he made a beeline for me. Without thought, I patted his muzzle and ran my fingers down his neck. Snuffling lower, as if he knew I usually kept his apples in my pockets, he looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mellon, I don't hav–" I was silenced by a large, gentle hand landing on my shoulder.

In my king's grasp was a bright, ripe, red apple. The same kind I usually smuggled out of the larder as a treat for my furry friend. He'd already sliced it in half - when had he even found the time?

"Thank you, but how did you...?"

"Nothing happens in my realm but I know of it," he whispered, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my scalp.

Choosing to temporarily ignore the implications of his statement, I accepted the apple and fed it to his elk. After a moment, Thranduil moved nearly soundlessly back toward my father.

"Ah, before I forget, this is for your ward's former suitor," he said pulling an envelope with the royal seal from his pocket. "Please convey to him that if the contents raise more questions than answers, he is most welcome to see the palace healers about his obviously failing memory."

With his cloak swishing behind him, Thranduil swept back over to me and helped me onto his mount's back. Once he was seated behind me with an arm wrapped firmly around my middle, it all sank in.

This might be an act for my father, but this was happening. I was really riding toward the palace with my king's chest pressing against my back. The guards who manned the gate would see us. Any who encountered us would bear witness to the king's act. How far did he mean to take this?

Surely, he wouldn't actually marry me just to get me away from one unsuitable Ellon? And when he did eventually end this ruse, what then? Would I be forced to go home with my tail tucked between my legs?

When we were around the halfway point in our journey - far enough from both my home and the palace that I was certain we wouldn't be observed - I asked if we could stop for a moment. Despite his confusion, Thranduil gave the command, and his elk trotted to a graceful stop. Without waiting for assistance, I slid off the saddle and landed rather hard on my feet.

Ignoring the new ache in my ankles and the ache that the loss of Thranduil's steadying grip left in my chest, I took a few steps and tried to slow my breathing. The sound of my traveling companion landing infinitely more gently than I had met my ears along with a concerned call of my name, but I just shook my head.

"Are you hurt, meleth?" He asked, and I swallowed heavily.

"No, but...my king–"

"You are perfectly allowed to call me by my name. After all, we are betrothed. It would not do for our subjects to see us behaving as if no love exists between us," he said as he patted his elk's neck, and a pang of hurt wound through my heart. Thranduil was saying all the right words, but it was an act. There were no longer any witnesses. There was no longer anyone to watch as my heart broke.

"Why are you doing this?" At the pain in my voice, confusion and concern washed over his features.

"Whatever do you mean?" The Elvenking asked stepping away from his elk's side. His cloak billowed around him, and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees at the sheer majesty of the figure he presented. All it did, though, was reinforce what I already knew: Thranduil was not for me.

"Please, do not misunderstand, I am grateful that you have saved me from such an unfortunate match. However, you needn't spare my feelings by pretending to love me. There is no need to waste your precious time playacting, mellon-nin."

"'Pretending'?" The word escaped him as a harsh, dangerous whisper. Oh dear. I'd seen the king's rage before, but never had his icy fury been turned upon me. Despite the outrage in his tone, his next words were at the same hushed volume as before. "'Playacting'? What do you take me for?"

I could see why Prince Legolas had insisted that raised voices were preferable to the fear that his father's cool, piercing anger inspired. I wasn't afraid, but I was acutely aware of the severity of his emotions. I wasn't intentionally trying to anger him, but I needed him to know how close he'd come to breaking me beyond repair. Before I could answer, he advanced another step and continued.

"And, pray tell, what am I, in your estimation? Cruel? Unforgiving? Demanding? Judgmental?" His eyes flashed with something akin to pain. "Perhaps your censure is not based upon personality, but upon appearance."

The glamour he kept constantly in place over his scar melted away.

"Is this the source of your misgivings? Am I too ugly for you to accept, even as a king?"

"You know that's not true," I snapped, with an edge of warning in my voice, recalling the first time I'd seen him without the glamour.

A few months after my appointment to the king's guard, I was given a jar of pain-dulling ointment by one of the healers to pass on to the king. I'd delivered it, of course, but when I'd been hesitant to leave him, going so far as to ask if he was injured, he'd locked the door and showed me what the fire drakes of the north had done to him. Thranduil admitted later that he'd intended to frighten me that night, but all I'd done was ask if he needed help applying the medicine. Once he realized I thought no less of him for his injury, he'd let me.

Yet he had the gall to stand before me and accuse me of being shallow? Had he learned nothing about me over the years?

"Then answer the question," Thranduil bit out quietly. "What exactly do you take me for?"

"A king," I breathed looking up into his eyes. Confusion mingled with his anger. "Peasants may fall in love with royalty, but they are not offered the luxury of marrying them. Kings do not give lowly guards a second thought, even if they afford them the title of 'friend,' so I will ask you again, sire: Why are you doing this? Why are you acting as though hope abounds for my doomed heart where none has ever existed?"

His brow smoothed, his lips parted a fraction, and his glamour slipped silently back into place as he processed what I'd said. Oh, Valar, what I'd said! I'd confessed to loving the king!

Comprehension melted his anger away into nothingness. Instead, he moved within a single step of me, lifting one of his large, graceful hands to caress my cheek.

"You truly do not know?" I couldn't even bring myself to answer as I leaned into Thranduil's touch. This might be the last chance to do so after what I'd just admitted. He'd dismissed guards in the past for much less severe transgressions. "When we spoke last night, you told me that you desired to be loved - not by the whole of the Woodland Realm as I believe you deserve, but by one person. The Ellon your father chose for you certainly could not do that when remembering something as small as your favorite flower caused him such strain."

Low and gentle, his voice trickled over my ears as smoothly as honey. He...He didn't sound angry, anymore. Why wasn't he enraged that someone like me had dared to cross the more-than-generous boundary of friendship that he'd allowed me?

"My king–"

"Thandruil," he corrected, but there was no real bite to his words despite having to repeat himself again. He never repeated himself, yet this morning alone he'd done so twice. "You adore the blue wildflowers that grow along our western borders, but if you smell them for too long, they make you sneeze. During the summer, you set them on the sill in your room and keep the window open so that you might enjoy them without discomfort."

I blinked in surprise. I could vaguely remember a conversation years ago where I'd mentioned the flowers, but it was such a trivial thing that I was quite certain it would've been forgotten by morning. After all, what I did with flowers had no bearing on the fate of the kingdom.

"You prefer your tea sweet but not overly so. When you believe it might rain, you take the precaution of braiding your hair so that the humidity will not render it impossible to untangle when you return home."

The Elvenking began slowly, allowing each small fact that he'd observed about me to sink in along with the realization that he'd favored me with his attention frequently enough to accrue them.

"Your confidence with daggers is low, but with a bow, you are as bold and graceful as any skilled Elleth warrior. When I express my anger at some wretched fool in my court, you often struggle to suppress your laughter at how close they come to wetting themselves in the throne room - do not deny it. Your body gives you away each and every time."

Had he truly seen so much of me during my service to him?

"When your temper is tested, there is a small line that appears just here," he touched a spot between my brows, "that brings me great consternation. On the one hand, I wish to give you my sword so that you may more easily remove the head of whomever has dared incur your wrath, but on the other, I wish to soothe your frustrations with my words, my lips, my body, whatever you will allow–"

"Thranduil–" His name fell from me as no more than a whisper. The leaves on the trees surrounding the path rustled in the breeze, but the Elvenking could not be stopped.

"Your free time is often spent reading. Once a week before you return home, you sneak out to the stables and feed my elk an extra apple, because you find him sweet-tempered. When you laugh, your eyes sparkle brighter than any star ever could, and you steal the breath from my chest each time you look at me."

My vision blurred, and only when my king's thumbs brushed tears from my cheeks did I realize that I was crying. I'd loved him for so long that this felt as surreal as a dream.

"You said that you wish to be loved, meleth-nin. To answer your question, I am doing this because I can give you exactly what you desire. I could love you with my eyes closed, because I have done so with them open since the day you were assigned to my guard."

Thranduil leaned closer, freezing but a hair's breadth from my lips.

"If you do not feel the same, we can remain friends, but if there is the slightest chance that you could find happiness by my side, then marry me. Be my queen. I am yours." His whispered promise was filled with so much tenderness and hope that my restraint snapped, and I closed the distance between our mouths.

My fingers gripped his robes in an attempt to ground myself, but this heady feeling of being wanted - being loved - robbed me of all coherent thought. There was only the feeling of gentle hands drawing me close by my waist and the nape of my neck. Only soft lips kissing me with the skill of thousands of years' worth of experience. Only a king claiming his queen's heart.

There was only love.

~*~

mellon-nin = my friend

aran-nin = my king

meleth-nin = my love

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #Thranduil x Reader

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