#tolkien imagines

[heliads]

LISA YOU DID NOT GIVE ME TIME TO PREPARE FOR THIS!!! However, I already had a few ideas in mind for the next time you opened requests, so:

May I pretty please request a Thorin Oakenshield + gender-neutral reader where the reader is a fairy who comes along on the journey to Erabor because Gandalf thought they needed another magic-user? Reader is a very sweet sunshine who gets along great with all the other party members, but because Thorin doesn’t trust fairies the same way he doesn’t trust elves (because they didn’t assist the dwarves after Erabor fell the first time) he refuses to let them get close to him. However, he does start to get closer to them and develop feelings for them as time goes on, but after the Battle of the Five Armies (where everyone lives, obviously) they can’t find the reader for a while and Thorin is terrified they might be dead. And when they finally find them relatively unharmed Thorin freaks out and confesses his love because he doesn’t want to lose them, and then there’s a very nice fluffy ending??

Of course, if you don’t want to write this, that’s totally cool!! Thanks and I hope you’re doing well!! <3 <3

YESSSS i am ascending to a higher plane thank you for this SUBLIME request

masterlist

The water is wide, the mountains high; no journey worth taking was ever meant to be easy, so you may assume from the first few treacherous days of your travels towards the Lonely Mountain that this quest of yours will be quite worthy indeed. It is not in your nature to spend much time musing on the unhappiness of a time, only to find its merits, but, well, there are far more sources of unhappiness than happiness on this particular journey. 

It would not be too much of a leap for even your optimism to be brought down a notch or two, to say the least. Already, your smiles are lacking a little at the seams; your jokes, not among your finest work.  Patience is stretched thin amongst the company, and the shadow of Erebor is no closer to the tips of your boots than the Shire far behind you.

The Shire was not your home, though, only the starting point. The last member of the company was Bilbo Baggins, your burglar, and he took quite a bit of convincing before he was willing to set a single foot beyond the familiar confines of his home. You’re not sure he was wrong to question the idea of the quest, though, nor if he regrets it already or not. Danger dogs your heels like a bloodhound, plus the rest of the company is nothing like any of the hobbits Bilbo has ever met.

Bilbo Baggins would not be the only one confused by his company, however. As a faerie, you’ve had the opportunity to travel far past the bounds of your city, to meet characters both kind and cruel. The Fae cluster in settlements like elves, but they disperse themselves to the winds, too. Most of you end up tossed to the whims of Fate soon enough, anyway. This was your chance to get to know the world you inhabit, and it appears you’ll get far more of a tasting of it than you ever expected.

It’s not terrible. That should go without saying. You are not unhappy that you are here, nor bitter that you signed the contract to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield when you could have stayed at home to rot. It is a good cause, this, and it will bring you both glory and treasure, should you want it.

The biggest problem, if you were going to be completely honest with yourself, would be that dwarf tasked with managing all of you, Thorin. You get along splendidly with all of the other dwarves, and Gandalf has been a friend of yours ever since you wowed him with a particularly ingenious magic trick when you were small, but for some reason you have never been able to win over Thorin himself.

That is not for lack of trying, not in the slightest. Gandalf was the one who requested that you join the company, certain that having another magic user on their side would not be the worst thing in the world as you passed through dangerous territory and had to take on a dragon later on. You showed up to meet the company with the best and purest of intentions, but Thorin seemed unable to accept the fact that you really wanted to help.

In truth, you don’t think he wanted to accept it. Thorin is displeased with the faeries the same way he’ll never forgive the elves, for the same reasons he’ll glare icily at humans. When Thorin’s kin fell along with Erebor, the faeries didn’t help. Thorin begged for aid, but the faeries did not respond. You’ll never fully know why, nor were you personally responsible for the betrayal, but that does not stop Thorin from treating as if you were the linchpin keeping support from his people.

It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t have to matter. Thorin’s personal feelings are not why you signed onto this quest. You joined because an old friend asked, and because the idea of helping to liberate the dwarves’ homeland from a dragon seemed like a good thing to do and a fascinating way to pass the time. Faeries don’t take things seriously. They never have.

So, you let your caution with Thorin fly away from you on an eagle’s strong wings, and you throw yourself into helping whenever you can. Gandalf is pulled away from the company soon enough for a myriad of causes, and even Thorin can admit that your magical skills come in handy soon enough. You save all of their lives dozens of times over, and you find real friendship in the company while you’re at it. Nothing a little optimism can’t handle.

Some of the nights get long, though, and the warmth of a covert campfire can only keep your tired frame from shivering for so many hours. They say the bones of the Fae are hewn from diamonds, your blood, the eternal nectar of the gods, but at this moment, you want only the mysticism and riches of a good meal and clothes that actually protect you against the chill. The mountains only get colder as you travel through them, and you don’t think you’ll be able to shake the prick of gooseflesh for decades if not centuries.

You’re on watch at the moment, scanning the dark horizon around you for monsters or orcs while the rest of the company rests. You’ll have another hour or two before you have to wake the next guardian– Bilbo, actually, who’s still snoring with the rest– so you should have plenty of time to yourself until then.

You should, at least. You don’t, because someone here is still awake. You had cast a spell on yourself to amplify sound and sight at the start of your watch so you could spot intruders that much more quickly, which is why you’re aware of one heartbeat other than your own that isn’t in the lull of sleep. When you tilt your head to the side just enough, you can make out someone staring in your peripheral vision.

Thorin. Who else? At first, you feel a rush of indignation bubble through your veins. There’s no reason for him to be awake on a night like this. Everyone is exhausted from weeks of hard travel, but he’s forced himself to forgo rest so he can make sure you are actually doing your job. After all this time, he still doesn’t trust you to do watch properly. It’s infuriating.

Sick of pretending like you don’t notice, you turn abruptly to stare him dead in the eyes. You expect Thorin to do something:  address you, maybe, or do something to acknowledge that he’s been caught, but instead he just holds your gaze coolly for a moment longer before turning on his other side. Half an hour later, he’s asleep.

Heroes. You’ll never understand them. The Fae are not the stuff of legends; your people prefer to linger in shadows and sunlight both, existing for themselves and for the glory of magic. Heroes, quest-leaders, warriors, they were never someone you grew up with. They have different motives, ones you don’t understand. They think they need to watch your back just because it’s the right thing to do. It confuses you, makes you believe things that might not be true. You don’t need someone like Thorin messing with your head right now, but he seems perfectly content to do it anyway.

The rest of the night passes without issue. You finish your watch shift without anything impactful, and rouse a deeply annoyed Bilbo to take over after you. Thorin doesn’t trouble you again, and indeed, the next day he seems perfectly content to act as if nothing had ever happened.

No self-respecting faerie would ever let themselves drop a grudge, though, so you manufacture a way of bringing it up before long. The company disperses in a long line, the slower ones trailing behind while Thorin keeps up the charge at the front. You make your way up to him, waiting until everyone else behind you is sufficiently far away so as to not hear a word of the inevitable quarrel, then cast Thorin one sidelong glance.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve been watching me?”

Thorin actually stumbles while he’s walking, but manages to right himself just in time. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

You weren’t expecting him to outright deny it. This past night hasn’t been the only time you’ve caught his eyes on you. It has happened from the very start of the quest, actually. At first, his gaze was pinned to you like a wanted poster, full of judgment and suspicion. Recently, the hostility has gone down, but that doesn’t make him any less willing to look away. His gaze chases your heels as you clamber over rocks, lingers on your fingers as you fight. All this, and he still wants to act as if nothing has happened.

You scoff. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s discuss last night, then. You keep staying awake during my watch. Why? Do you really trust me that little?”

Thorin shakes his head, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the horizon. “I do trust you.”

This does actually come as a surprise. He hasn’t been able to admit it aloud, likely because that would contradict his whole idea that faeries are selfish creatures who left his people to die in the fall of Erebor, but apparently he’s made an exception for you.

“Then why not let me conduct my watch in peace?” You pry.

Thorin jerks a shoulder up and down once, a taut and tense version of a shrug. “I don’t want any lapse in judgment to injure the people I care about.”

You feel your relatively good mood drop. Thorin lashes out often, most frequently when he’s sure he’s only leading his company towards their imminent destruction, so you shouldn’t take it personally. Kind of hard not to, though.

“So you think I’m blind to attackers and I’ll get everyone killed, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m just worried that there are things out there worse than one of your spells,” Thorin argues, but he doesn’t sound too convincing anymore.

You shove your hands into the pockets on your coat. “You know, I just don’t get it. If you’re this opposed to faeries, why did you ever let Gandalf convince you to let me join your company?”

“I didn’t want to at the start,” Thorin begrudgingly admits, “but that was at the start, like I said. Things are different now.” He pauses, voice heavy with secrets as of yet left unsaid, then adds, “We’re different.”

You think this might be the most honest thing he’s ever shared with you. It makes you feel– a lot, actually. It makes you feel things you have not considered until now. Thorin does trust you and he does have reasons he wants to keep you around. In fact, he might even be counting you among the people he cares about and wants to protect.

You don’t have much time to think about it, not on the road and not even after you reach Erebor and immediately have to contend with an infuriated dragon. Thorin shows you the place after you have a moment of relative peace, pointing out the details his ancestors built into a home that has not been his in quite some time. It is as if he wants you to remember all of it. It is as if he wants it to be yours as well.

Peace does not last forever, it never does. One day, you’re exploring every room and corridor of Thorin’s home beneath the Lonely Mountain, the next, you’re watching army after army pour over the surrounding hills. No one likes power when it isn’t theirs. The thought that Thorin might finally have claim to his ancestral land wasn’t well favored by anyone in the vicinity, apparently.

That only means that you’ll have to fight twice as hard to keep Erebor in the hands of your friends. Even when the elves ride up to your doorstep with the humans, even when the orcs arrive out of nowhere, you stay and fight. Always. That’s what you do for the people you care about.

Thorin had asked once if you were going to leave. He’d posed the question slowly, hesitantly, eyes on any other object in the room except you, but you’d still had the perfect view of the relief on his face when you told him you would stay until it was done. There was still an open question of what you would do when it was over, but surviving a battle of this magnitude was the first crisis to deal with. Anything else could happen later, once everyone made it through alive.

That alone seemed like an impossible task, and by all accounts, it should have been. Never before in your life have you cast so many spells of such strength, saving the lives of your friends and ending those of your enemies all in turn. When it is over, you are covered in blood and ash, utterly exhausted, and injured, but your heart beats, at least, and that is enough.

You were separated from the rest of Thorin’s company during the progress of the battle, drawn out to find the best vantage point from which you could cast your spells. At first, you were going for long distance attacks, lobbing fireballs and extensive charges from a crumbling rooftop, but orcs quickly descended upon you and you were forced to resort to closer quarter magic instead.

Perhaps that is why they thought you were dead. When they could no longer see your spells from across the battlefield, there was no way to tell for sure if you were still alive. You were far away from them, fighting off the last of the enemy, and you didn’t find them for a while.

More specifically, they didn’t find you for a while. Later, you hear that Thorin had been in a sort of frantic haze, going over every rock and stone in his path in an all consuming quest to find you. You weren’t with Fili and Kili, who were immediately folded into the search party, nor were you alongside the other dwarfs. Bard had not seen you. Neither had some of the elves. By all accounts, you were gone. Vanished from sight.

That was the one thing Thorin wanted to hear the least. A body is something you can handle, a final decision. If he could not see you, he assumed you were either dead or about to be, and only his actions could save you. He would run himself ragged trying to find you and stop your death before it happened. He would have forced all the orcs in the land back to the fiery hellhole they came from, fought every monster and defeated every enemy, if it would have stopped a sword from piercing your heart.

And so, when he finally stumbled over a rocky outcropping and saw you calmly casting a spell of healing on one of his cousin’s soldiers. You had turned upon hearing him approach, and the last of Thorin’s terrors left him in one fell swoop. You were alright. He was alright. Everything, although damaged and broken and wholly consumed with ash and blood, would somehow end up okay.

Not much was said. Both of you lacked the words. Too many friends had been lost, not enough saved. Erebor would be protected, though. You swore that oath at the start, back when you joined the company for the first time, and you promise it again now. The Fae will have to wait a little longer to welcome you back. You would like to stick around a for a while.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

tolkien taglist: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes, @crazyhearttragedy

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield oneshot #the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit thorin imagines #the hobbit thorin x reader #the hobbit thorin oneshot #thorin #thorin imagines #thorin x reader #thorin oneshot

[peachyaliien]

Tolkien Masterlist

Main Masterlist: here!

Please do not forget to read my rules here!

💖 = fluff

🧸 = comfort

🍑 = smut (18+ only)

🔥 = angst

🔪 = darkfic (18+ and proceed with caution)

💌 = headcanons

✧˖°.🪐⋆｡°✩

Lord of the Rings:

Aragorn comforting you after a rough day at school (Aragorn x genderneutral!reader) for @tolkien-fantasy 🧸💌

Aragorn and Boromir comforting reader with a sick/dying pet (genderneutral!reader) for @tolkien-fantasy 🧸💌

My Young Warrior (Aragorn x fem!reader) 💖🧸

Aragorn, Sam, Boromir, Merry and Pippin learning about your past abuse (genderneutral!reader) for @tolkien-fantasy 🧸💌  

Aragorn, Arwen and Eomer comforting and reassuring you over health issues (genderneutral!reader) for @tolkien-fantasy 🧸💌

✧˖°.🪐⋆｡°✩

The Hobbit:

Thorin comforting you during a rough time (Thorin x fem!reader) for @fizzyxcustard 🧸💌

#my posts #my writing #my stuffs #masterlist #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien x reader #tolkien headcanons #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr headcanons #the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit headcanons

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Seeing you hurt makes me hurt; Aragorn x teen reader

*Author’s note*

This request comes from @panic-in-the-multiverse​  who wanted an Aragorn x daughter teen reader and so this was born. Now this is the first time I’ve ever written for Aragorn (at least in awhile) so please be nice and be kind (no tolerance for bullying here). So enjoy my lovelies and until the next update.

Warnings: blood, violence, near-death, fluff, bit of angst.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@peter-parkers-cullen-nerd​

________________________________________________________

Todays the day, I can feel it.  The timing couldn’t be more perfect than this right now.  I was successfully hidden within the trees and right below me was the infamous Strider at the bank of the river refilling his waterskin.  Silently I climbed down the tree and stalked towards him like a wolf on the hunt.  I unhooked my horn and raised it to my lips but before I could blow into it he spoke up without even turning around to face me.

“Don’t even think about it.” I blew out a raspberry and hooked my horn back to my belt and sat down beside him.

“How’d you even know it was me?”

“I’m your father I know everything.” He said. “Now where have you been?”

“I thought you knew everything.” I mocked him.  To which he lowered his hands into the river and splashed me with it.  I let out a shriek at the cold water that hit my face and of course I never take a challenge lying down.  So I reached down with my hands and splashed the water towards Strider who ducked himself inward to avoid as much water getting on his face.

I laughed victoriously and that’s when we ended up spending the next several minutes in a water war with each other.

For those that are curious as to how I’ve come to be in the guardianship of Aragorn (yes I know of his true name. He kept it from me for a good few years though but that’s another story) it all began when I was but a small child.

I don’t remember much of my old home but I remember seeing a white horse on a green flag. But my village was ransacked by the Wild Men, they killed my father right as they came through the door and my mother told me to run and hide.  I did as I was told but I could hear and I remember them seeing her getting dragged off by the Wild Men along with some other women from the village.

I didn’t get very far when I was found by Aragorn.  I had ran as far as the wild plains when I spotted his campsite.  I tried to run but I had tripped and cut my leg pretty badly on the ground, and it was there he healed my leg up and after a while he gave me a choice; he could take me to the capital city of my homeland, or I could travel with him and he could teach me how to fight, hunt, track and heal others.  And I’m sure you know what I ended up choosing.

“Alright. Before we end up draining this river, we best continue on our path to Mirkwood if we are to take our prisoner there in time.” He told me.

“Right.”

“Which by the way you were supposed to keep an eye on him.”

“There’s no need. Ever since we tied him up with the Elvish rope he’s been writhing in agony. Plus I also put a shackle to his foot to ensure he couldn’t escape in case he was faking.”

“You’ve learned.” He teased as we walked back towards our campsite.  When we got back to where we had slept for the evening (after a nonstop 3 days travel ever since catching him), there tied and chained near a tree was the pitiful creature Gollum.  Writhing and hacking on his spit.

“It hurts us! It hurts us! Gollum! Gollum!”

“You’ll be fine stop your complaining.” I snapped as I went over to the tree with the keys and unlocked the shackle from the tree.

“Small girl speaks like nasty goblinses.”

“Call me a goblin one more time and I’ll show you what I can do!” I snapped at him.

“Easy Silent-stalk. Don’t let this creature get in your head.” He called me by my Ranger alias. I earned the name Silent-Stalk by the other Rangers (as well as my dad) when I showed them just how silent I could sneak up on my enemies.  Some would even say that I’ve been gifted with being part Elf since I’m so light on my feet.

“Yes Strider. My apologizes.” Aragorn then walked over and untied Gollum’s rope from the same tree and gave him a small yank, knocking him over to the ground.

“If you wish to keep speaking, it’d be wise to not antagonize my pupil. Next time I won’t be as merciless in letting her unleash her wrath if she deems to do so. Understood?” the creature Gollum panted and looked up at Aragorn with harsh eyes and continued to hack out it’s name.  “Is that understood?”

“Must not answer dirty, stinky Rangerses.” The creature hissed lowly.  We tacked up out horses and we proceeded onward to Mirkwood (and with any luck hopefully by nightfall we would arrive at the Elven Gate if we kept going like this).

As the sun was halfway down the sky, signaling that it was now mid-afternoon (I’d roughly call it about 3-4 o’clock in the afternoon maybe even 5).

“Now remember my child, the Woodland elves of Mirkwood aren’t like the Elves you’ve met in Rivendell and Lórien. It’d be wise to just allow me to do the talking when we are presented to King Thranduil.” Aragorn spoke to me in Elvish.

“Yes ada. But didn’t Legolas once hail from Mirkwood? And he’s not so bad.”

“He did but he left to become his own ellon after the Battle of the Five Armies. His father though now accepting of travelers into his realm still holds suspicions of their reasons for entering his realm.”

“Then it’s fortunate that you had already sent word to him telling us of our arrival with the creature, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed. But keep a sharp eye out. There is still many dangers we must be aware of.” I nodded in understandment and we proceeded onward.  Just like I had said, we soon arrived at the entrance of Mirkwood.

For the first time I took a look at the sickly forest that was once the Greenwood of old and I felt sick to my stomach at looking at it dead.  

Dead leaves scattered everywhere as far as the eye could see, the rich brown trunks were all but non-existent as they were dried up of any nutrients, and were shedding their barks in the most unnatural way you can think of.  And an eternal dark cloud hovering over the forest giving it that ominous feel to it.

“Should we cross it now?” I asked him.  Aragorn got off his horse and entered through the trees and walked around the gate’s entrance.  Moving aside dried up vines and leaves.  “Strider?” I called out to him.

“I think it’d best be wise we cross the forest at dawn. The darkness that lies within these woods are perilous enough, to try and brave them at night would be an impossible task. Not only to the Spiders still remain but rumors have said that orcs have been making their settlement in the Southern borders of this forest.”

I nodded and got off my black stallion and patted his shoulder to which he nickered.  Aragorn walked back towards us and untied Gollum from his stallion.  After he was able to rest, the creature lay there flat on the ground, his face in the dirt sobbing and pleading for us to release them.

“The sooner we’re rid of him the better.” I muttered as I walked over to him.  “At least the Wild men prisoners we’ve captured didn’t complain this much. It’s like trying to wrangle a whining toddler.”

“I understand your anger but you must not lose your patience as well. This creature is pitiful that much is true, but don’t underestimate your opponents.”

“Please. All this thing could do is whine and complain to the point where I’d go mad.”

“So much still to learn.” Aragorn said as he ruffled my head.  “Get a fire going, I’ll set up the bedrolls for the night. As well as manage him.” He gestured to Gollum.  I nodded and proceeded to gather up some firewood and started it up much like Aragorn taught me.

As we made camp for the night and I was boiling up some stew.  I took notice of just how low our rations were getting.

“You think King Thranduil would be willing to spare a couple of carrots, maybe even some taters? We’re just about to spend the last of our rations.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He replied.

“What’s taters precious? What’s taters?” Gollum asked me.  I then turned to him and emphasized.

“Po-ta-toes! Boils, mash em, stick em in a stew. Not only do I prefer them mashed but they go good as a nice crispy chip with a big plate of deer meat.” Gollum scoffed and cringed in disgust.  “Even you couldn’t say no to that.”

“Oh yes we coulds.” He whined.  Gods the sooner we’re rid of him the better.  I dipped the spoon into the stew and did a quick taste test.  I looked around the spice sack and dug up some left over basil leaves and sprinkled them into the stew before stirring it up again. I did another taste test and found the stew to be perfect.  “It’s ready.”

I grabbed Aragorn’s bowl and poured the stew into it and he came and took it just as I poured me some into my bowl.

“Grab the extra one and prepare him some.” He whispered to me.  I turned to Gollum and shook my head.

“He won’t take it you know?”

“It’d be a waste if he take him to Thranduil dead from hunger.”

“I say just let him perish.”

“Silent-stalk. You know we all need him alive. Now do as your told.”

“Yes Strider.” As much as I wanted to prove him right and argue all night with him about Gollum ‘picky’ eating, when he used his ‘father’ voice I knew there was no changing his mind. Grumbling under my breath I went ahead and poured some stew in one of the few extra bowls we carry, trudged over to the creature and dumped it at his feet.  “Eat.”

Gollum hissed at me and snarled.

“Nasty bad girlses poison it. She’s trying to poison us! Poison!”

“Please if I wanted to kill you I’d do it with my sword beheading you. Quick, swift and right to the point.” Aragorn glared at me while I rolled my eyes and went back to my stew.

“It’s nasty. No meats! No meats at all! She ruins it! Stupid, fat she-rangers! Gollum, Gollum!”

“You either eat or starve in the Woodland realm. Remember we gave you every opportunity to eat while you were in our charge. Thranduil is not as generous with his prisoners.” Aragorn told Gollum before taking a bit of his stew.  Gollum grumbled before taking the bowl and decided to just play with his food instead of eating it before he tossed it aside.  A good bowl of stew gone to waste.

“I told you he wouldn’t eat.” I muttered as I chewed up a potato piece before swallowing.

“Think you can take charge of watching over him?” he asked me redirecting the conversation.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“I need to look around later tonight to ensure we’re not being followed. You know Sauron’s spies are still trying to find him. For he’s the one creature who knows where the Ring is.”

“Why can’t I go scouting for spies and you stay with him?”

“Because I’m the oldest one out of the two of us and I know what’s best for you.” I softly whined. “It’s just for a few hours, I’ll try to be back as fast as I can, so can you try to keep calm until I return?”

“I can it’s just that he—” I groaned as I briefly looked at Gollum before turning away from him.

“Tomorrow we’ll be rid of him. Take comfort in that.” I softly huffed.  “And if you do a good job, we might head back to Rivendell and I can have the swordsmiths forge you a new sword that you’ve been asking for.”

“In Elvish make?”

“Lord Elrond has told me that if anyone is worthy to wield an Elvish blade, it’s you.” A little bribery eh? Well at least this once I’ll go along with it.

“You swear to me?” I questioned.

“When have I ever broken a promise to you?” never.  He extended his hand out to me and we both shook on it.

When nightfall came; Aragorn had left on his patrol leaving me alone with the creature Gollum. Whilst I was keeping an eye on him, I took out my daggers and examined them and saw they needed a good sharpen. So I grabbed some of my sharpening tools and began to sharpen up my daggers.

It was then I got a bit suspicious about what Gollum was doing.  His back was towards me but he kept reaching over grabbing whatever rock or stick he could reach and was silently muttering to himself.  I pocketed my daggers and silently withdrew my sword and stalked towards him.

Each step was silent and precise as I got closer and closer to the pitiful creature.  I then touched the blade to his neck and whispered darkly.

“Don’t. move.” Gollum stopped his movements but didn’t seem shocked or surprise.  “What are you doing?”

“She’d like to know. Yesssss…..nasty, rude girl would like to know whats we was doing precious? Then let us tell her whats she wants to know.” Suddenly dust and rocks were thrown into my face.  The dust and dirt burned my eyes as I tried to wipe them clean with my sleeve.

It was then I felt myself being tackled by the creature and I felt sharp teeth dig into the junction of where my neck and shoulder met.  The damn creature had bitten me!  I tried to fight back but Gollum managed to pin my arms down and bite down harder.

I screamed louder and that’s when I heard an angry exclaim and the weight was thrown off my body. My neck felt warm and sticky as my vision was starting to go blurry and I kept coughing up blood.

The last thing I saw was the bright silhouette of a figure standing over me and the sounds of Gollum roaring and pleading for his life.

When I awoke the first thing I felt was something soft underneath my back.  I slowly moved my hands around to feel the material around me was satin, or was it silk? I’m always getting this confused.  Anyway the next thing I did was try to open my eyes.

At first it was difficult because all I wanted to do was keep them shut but soon enough after blinking a few times, I managed to get them open.  I looked around to see that I was in a room that almost looked like I was in a cave of stone and wait was it also tree-like?  I also heard the sound of a calming waterfall and that’s when I saw a small fountain just on the other side of the room.

But what caught my attention was Aragorn who was sleeping right at my bedside in a chair holding my hand in both of his.

“Ada.” I softly whispered.  At the sound of my voice, he woke up and his body language showed immediate relief.

“Oh (Y/n), oh my little she-wolf. How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore but—I’m okay.”

“Oh my darling I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with the creature Gollum. I should’ve been there to protect you.” I placed my other hand on top of his and I said.

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you. In the end you came back for me, just like you always do.” His eyes glistening with tears but a solemn smile softly spread across his face.

“I just…..” he reached up and cupped the side of my face.  “When I found you, all those years ago. Never did I think I would be—good enough to protect you. The life of a Ranger is perilous, filled with danger and heartbreak.”

“And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world, even after knowing your true name.”

“But every time I see you hurt, it hurts me. And I feel nothing but self-loathing at the fact that most of the time it is because you are associated with me that you get hurt.”

“And the rest of that time it is because of my clumsiness and inexperience.” I cupped his face, the scruff of his beard softly tickling my palm and fingers.  “You always blame yourself every time I get hurt. But you’re always there to patch me up. It’s always been you to give me comfort whenever the pain was too much. And it’s always been you to give me words of wisdom to help me get back up.”

“I just feared this time would’ve been the last time.”

“But it wasn’t. And even if it was—know that I never would blame you. Nor could I hate you. So don’t keep trying to blame yourself for something that couldn’t be helped. No matter who it was that was watching Gollum.”

“When did you ever get so wise?”

“I learned from the best ada.” He softly smiled and leaned forward and kissed my brow before resting his forehead against mine.

“Pardon me Strider,” a female voice spoke up.  Aragorn separated from me and the red haired she-elf that stood at the door continued, “My King wishes to speak with you about the prisoner you’ve delivered to us.”

“Yes. Thank you Tauriel.”

“And you need not worry about your daughter, I shall check on her wound and see how the healing has progressed.” Dad turned towards me and I nodded softly to him telling him to go.  He pressed another kiss to the crown of my head before finally leaving my room.  “He has not left your side since we brought you here to our realm.” The she-elf Tauriel said.

“How long was I out?”

“Five days. For a moment we feared that we lost you, but you must be blessed by the Valar themselves to have survived such a wound. Especially with how deep and infected it was.” She said as she came up and sat down in dad’s seat.

“Guess I am.” She then asked me for permission to check my wound (which I gave her).  She applied more Athelas to it as well as some type of salve to it but she said it was growing less infected by the day.

After about a week of recovery, and getting fresh supplies from King Thranduil himself, dad and I packed up our supplies and we left the Woodland realm to wherever the wind took us next.

#aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #aragorn imagines #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fandom #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings fanfic #lotr imagine #lotr imagines #lotr fanfiction #tolkien #tolkien fandom #tolkien fanfic #tolkien imagine #tolkien imagines #tolkien fanfiction #aragorn fanfic #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn fandom

[verk0my]

my mind is a place that I can't escape your ghost

you can get a print here: inprnt!    

#imagine dragons - wrecked #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #fanart #my art #verkomy #verkomy 2023 #procreate #clip studio paint #art #prints

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't need--"

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

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

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

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

"Then I am glad we are friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

When would this torment end?

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bit gauche.”

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

“I thought it looked nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

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

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

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

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

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

[mystery-star]

I know Tolkien didn't mean those thongs but I can't get the picture out of my head now.

#the hobbit #hobbit #thorin #thorin oakenshield #jrr tolkien #tolkien #hobbit book #book #elves #like if anyone who can draw better than be feels inclined to do this let me know #also not to be too bagginshield here #but imagine he WAS wearing underwear-thongs and bilbo sees him like this

[frost-queen]

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

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

| Meeting Thranduil

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

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

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

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

| Life at the woodland realm

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

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

| Legolas

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

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

———————————————

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

#imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #headcanon #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr headcanon #the hobbit headcanons #legolas #lotr legolas #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil imagine #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x y/n #thranduil x elf #mirkwood #tolkien elves #tolkien #middle earth #sauron #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fic

[linddzz]

Latest idea floating around in my head: a twist on the Hob saving Morpheus from the time-out ball, except that's where they first met each other.

Hob's still immortal, it's just that Death was the one who came and gave him the deal of meeting every 100 years

(is this also bc I'd love Death being Hob's centennial buddy? Her being way less reserved and straight up telling him who she is. Her delight at his delighting over life. The rage in him when Eleanor and Robyn die. Death took them and she wouldn't even say anything to him when she did it. Also I'd like to see him just immediately choke and squirm like a bastard as soon as he starts explaining his new shipping business to her in 1789. Yes and hell yes gimme Hobsie and Death as bros.)

So Hob is trying out new stuff again. He's never tried out being a magus and gets himself in as a member of Burgess' order and eventually an acolyte.

And then he's introduced to the "devil" that Burgess keeps in the dungeon. He's to help study up on strengthening the wards around the sphere and all that. And boy is he deeply, super uncomfortable with the sight of this frail man trapped in a cage.

("Don't let his pretty face fool you." Burgess will tell him, "the thing is a demon who would destroy us all if given half a chance."

To be fair, Morpheus does not help his case at all and his expression clearly says "you fuckin bet I will")

And Hob is Hob. So while he's working on studying up on wards (which so happens to involve a lot of careful, detailed study of the wards around the sphere) he's chatting at the thing in it. He complains about the boss, talks about the War, tells the demon about his day while the demon either glares at him or makes a hilariously big show of not paying attention. Sometimes Hob straight up shirks work (with a winking "you won't tell the boss right?") And just reads books.

And he nearly shrieks in surprise when he's reading some new novel called The Hobbit out loud and looks up to find the demon watching and obviously interested. So of course Hob is gonna keep reading him stories and keep studying those binding spells super closely.

And ok that's where I gotta admit the story doesn't have a solid conclusion in my head yet (besides obviously Hob is gonna bust Dream out and then get kissed a LOT) but I do have one bit where Morpheus first talks to him and of course it's just cryptic weird shit. Because Morpheus has started watching this shit-wizard who won't shut the fuck up back and can tell that something is OFF about him.

So just imagine Hob is yammering away about how he thinks the masters kid and the gardener have something going on, and he nearly shits himself when the "demon" presses a hand against the glass and says

"Death has touched you. I see it now. My siblings marks upon you. Is that what you are here for? To report to them? To let them see how low their family has come? So they do know what has come of me then, and they have sent you to chatter away and truly make it clear that they will do nothing."

Hob's just like. "WHAT?? SIBLINGS?! You TALK??! Hang on you know Death???!" But Morpheus already is back to curling in on himself in a furious pissy sulk

#dreamling #fic cooking #i imagine after Dreams outburst theres a lot more talking going on #idk if i have this fleshed out enough to fully write i just liked the idea of Hob reading Tolkien to the thing in the ball #and Morpheus being wooed with stories #the tension is ruined by me knowing that all it took was smearing the circle kdjfkd #maybe Hob purposely falls asleep to let Morpheus get out via his dreams

[notinusesworld]

hello friend! Im so excited to have a new writer in the fandom!

if you are taking requests, (I’m gonna give you a broad one) legolas/reader with cuddles!

I hope you have a great day!

~ @entishramblings // vaya

a/n: thank you so much, i hope you enjoy this

Legolas and cuddles head cannons!

synopsis: as the tittle says, g!n reader

warnings: none! just fluff.

requests are open and encouraged!

- he’s a spooner. he absolutely loves to spoon, he’ll happily be the big spoon but he also likes being spooned, especially if you’re smaller then him

- however he likes cuddling in any position, and he will cuddle you whenever he has the chance to

- if he’s reading, he wants you in his lap, if you’re cooking, he’s hovering over you, if neither of you are doing anything that day, he wants to lay with you in bed

- sometimes when he wants to take a break from his duties, he’ll take you into the forest and sit under a tree, you in-between his legs, back against his chest and he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and play with your hands, he finds it relaxing

- he will give you kisses every so often, wherever he can when you he’s holding you, your face, neck, shoulders, hands, back etc etc

- he likes to hum, and you can feel the vibrations from it though your body whenever he does, kinda has the same effect of a cats purr

- he’s really quiet when he moves, so he likes to surprise you by hugging you from behind when you don’t know he’s there. it still startles you sometimes even though he’s done it millions of times

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr requests #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #tolkien #lotr fanfic #lotr headcanons #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #legolas imagine #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas

[vaporwary]

#the silmarillion #ungoliant #jrr tolkien #spiders tw #tolkien tag #i imagined this and had to manifest it sorry

[heliads]

platonic!aragorn x reader? i requested a bunch of these a while ago and i just adore how you write him. perhaps something in rivendell where the reader is overworking themselves because their productivity is really low so they work longer (bonus points if reader is a writer) and aragorn gets them to relax. ooh and sibling-style banter pls!!!

bonus points?? i didn't realize i was getting points at all this is fantastic

masterlist

Spring is a soothing time, it always has been. Winter is dark and dangerous; the sun sets early and tempers snap quickly, even amongst the elves. Those who claim to only proffer peace can lose it faster than you think. Grey skies spell trouble, early frost kills each and every bloom that thinks itself tenacious enough to come out before its time.

Every winter you think the cold will never end, that warmth and light will stay dead forever. Every spring, you are reminded of the one truth in this world that everyone seems to forget:  it will get better from here on out. There will, at some point, be a surrender of darkness, and you will heal. We all will, and we will do it together.

You are remembering that now as you walk through the gardens of Rivendell. Stormy nights made the stone and wood structures look cold with gloom, but with the way the sun shines upon them now, you would think yourself in a wholly different place. This is your home, it has been for the last ten years. You were not an elf born, but you came to their city and they welcomed you anyway. Swords can only do so much good. Sometimes poets and scholars are more necessary than guards.

So you found a place tucked away in glen thickets and stone walkways, so you learned to pursue your craft of words and thoughts until a foreign place felt like home and accepted you as one of its own. No life is easy, not while monsters like orcs and trolls still roam the uncharted territories in between cities, but Rivendell is a peaceful life, and it does good by you.

If you cannot find strife in the danger of fighting for your life, however, you will make it yourself. Resting is a difficult thing, even though it shouldn’t be that way. If you rest too long, you start to think, and if you think, you start to realize that you are technically an outsider here, not born within the stone spirals of Rivendell but of some other place, and that means you must prove that you deserve to stay here for longer. Those who stay must have meaning. What, then, could possibly be yours?

You’re a writer, then. Fine. Could your writing compare to those around you? Even the least of the elves still have centuries on you, so much time to hone their craft. By comparison, your scribblings must look juvenile at best. You’re trying, sure, but effort can only get you so far.

You’ll have to catch up on time, then. That’s doable. It should be, at least. You pour hours into the study of manuscripts and texts in the library, force your quill to paper so many times you think you might as well never lift it up. You may not have time as your virtue, but you can force it to work for you anyway.

The problem is getting your brain to cooperate half as well as your hands. Your pattern of frantic writing starts to wear away from you as you attempt to keep up the pattern from dawn until dusk day after day after day. It is exhausting work, but it shouldn’t be– isn’t this writing, what you decided you wanted to do forever? If you were truly gifted at it, this wouldn’t take so much effort, and it certainly wouldn’t drain you the way that it does. Maybe that is another failing, one more thing that separates you from the elves.

You hadn’t realized others were aware of your inner strife until you got a visitor one month after winter ended. He comes with bloodied hands washed clean, armor placed in an unlocked box for quick access, sword still within reach. Peace does not come easily to him either, son of the North, but it does not come easily to anyone. Aragorn might disguise his torment better than you, though. Or so he pretends.

You were not aware that he was stopping by. Perhaps you should have known, if you had spent more time outside of your study instead of unsuccessfully trying to burn through the latest chapter in your work. Regardless of what you could have learned, the result is the same:  your old friend stands in the doorway, shaking his head with mock solemnity even as he fails to hide a grin.

“Y/N, friend, have you ever been able to let yourself enjoy your time here, or must you always suffer yourself to your pages?”

You stand up with a smile and walk over to greet him. “Aragorn, how lovely to see you. What brings you this way?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Tracking business. There are rumors I don’t like about goings-on near Mount Doom, but that’s neither here nor there. Also, I heard that you weren’t doing as well as I would care to imagine.”

You stifle a groan. “You’ve been in contact with Arwen, haven’t you? Tell her she has nothing to worry about.”

“I would if I believed I wasn’t telling her lies,” Aragorn muses, “you seem too tired, my friend. Your brow is lined, your eyes are weary. What is the meaning of this?”

He does not say it angrily, or in any demand for information, just a concern for his friend. It is this and this alone that finally convinces you to open up.

“I need to do it,” you tell him at last, “I need results. I need pages of writing to make up for the fact that I lack the experience of the elves. I may be tired, but I feel like I have to prove that I deserve to be here.”

Aragorn shakes his head, looking surprised. “That cannot be. Who has told you that a person cannot merely live and have that be enough? Not every task must be proven right or proven useful, Y/N. You do not have to outwrite the elves, that truly is impossible. You are here to follow your own path, not theirs.”

You sigh. “It is difficult to not compare my writing with theirs when we live in the same place.”

“I remember that,” Aragorn says thoughtfully, “growing up and learning the way of the sword from elves with many decades already more than me was challenging, but it teaches you things that you would not know from mankind. Do not let them affect you, Y/N, intentionally or not. Only do what you wish to do. That is why you are here, not to do what they can but what you can. That way, they can learn from you as well.”

You run a tired hand across your face. “So you really came all this way to tell me to relax?”

His face splits in a familiar grin. “I figured you would need some advice. Besides, it truly is good to see you. It has been too long since we last spoke.”

You agree with that. “That means you could visit more often, you know, instead of tracking random animals through the wilderness.”

He frowns with pretend indignation. “My tasks are more important than that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you tease, “you never visit long enough to tell me. And when you are here, you spend all your time following a certain Elf-maiden around. It makes for difficult conversation.”

He laughs. “You’re impossible.”

“Of course I am,” you say gleefully, “that’s why we’re friends. Thank you, though, for your words. I do appreciate them.”

“They are true,” he reminds you, “it is okay to rest. It always will be.”

It is a good message, this. Hard to remember and even harder to practice, but still good. You will try to apply its power in the days to come.

lotr tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes

#aragorn #aragorn imagines #aragorn x reader #aragorn oneshot #strider #strider imagines #strider x reader #strider oneshot #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #lotr aragorn #lotr aragorn imagines #lotr aragorn x reader #lotr aragorn oneshot

[artbyleav]

“I can’t just go running off into the blue, I’m a Baggins of Bag-end!”

Martin Freeman did such an excellent job with this role 🥹

(Done with procreate)

#my art #i was having a lot of bilbo feels when i drew this #like can you imagine? just being a dude and suddenly going on an insane quest with a king no less #like he is just a biggins of bag end #and he cant just go running off into the blue #fanart #lord of the rings #bilbo baggins #young bilbo #the hobbit #the hobbit thorin #bagginshield #thilbo #thorin x bilbo #dwarves #tolkien #an unexpected journey

[thestaroffeanor]

Feanor, greatest of the Eldar

#my art #feanor #feanaro #silmarillion #tolkien #i imagine before the whole Morgoth business he had just as much joy in his life as hardship #so have a happy Feanor :)

[multifandomfanfiction]

Moment of Relaxation

TITLE: Moment of Relaxation PAIRING: Legolas/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Legolas and his mate, Lirilla, are on their way to the Wood of the Greenleaves and take a moment to relax.

[A/N - Written for @writer-wednesday. Lirilla is my LOTR OC from an abandoned (at the moment) fic. She is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn of Lothlorien.]

They had been walking for days now. Since elves didn’t experience exhaustion as quickly as they other species of Middle Earth, they were able to go longer between stops.

Lirilla and her husband Legolas were making their way to the Wood of the Greenleaves (the new name for the Greenwood named after Thranduil’s only and beloved son) to visit his father after spending a few months in Rivendell with Lord Elrond.

Legolas and Lirilla split their time between the Elven Kingdoms.

Wood of the Greenleaves because of Legolas’ father King Thranduil, Lothlórien because of Lirilla’s parents Galadriel and Celeborn, and Rivendell because of Lirilla’s brother-in-law Elrond. Through Lirilla all three Elven Kingdoms were united.

Right now, they were venturing across plains and rocks when Lirilla spotted a small rock pond.

It had been weeks since they’d come across a tavern or an inn, so the water looked so good.

Lirlla stopped and took off her boots.

“Lirilla…” Legolas said.

His young mate looked at him. “Legolas, we’ve been traveling for days. Can’t we relax for a moment?”

Legolas sighed, unable to deny her anything. “Fine, but only for a few minutes.” Legolas slipped his boots off and pulled up his linen leggings.

Lirilla undid the ties of her leggings around her ankles and pulled them up before slipping them into the cool water. Lirilla sighed.

“I know this journey has been difficult for you. We could have stayed in Rivendell,” Legolas told her.

“And have my nephews worry over me? No thank you.” As much as she loved Elladan and Elrohir, her nephews were very protective of her to the point where it became annoying. “I will be happy when we arrive in your father’s Kingdom.”

Legolas leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek, running his hand over her Greenleaf braids.

She’d worn them since before they were married, but they carried more meaning now that they were bound together.

“Just a few more days, love. Then you can lay in the clearings and meadows you love so much.” That was often where Legolas found her.

Now that the spiders had been driven out of the wood, he didn’t need to worry about her being on her own.

The sun started to set, so they put their boots back on and found a place to camp for the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few days later, they entered the Wood of the Greenleaves. Although the leaves weren’t green, they were brown.

Autumn had fallen over the forest.

Lirilla loved spending Autumn in her husband’s birthplace.

Summer was spent in Lothlórien and Winter/Spring was spent in Rivendell.

Since spending months on the road with Aragorn before joining the Quest of the One Ring in Rivendell, Lirilla was unable to sit still. So she and Legolas were always on the move.

They walked across the wooden bridge leading to the front doors of the Halls of the Elven King.

The guards opened the doors and they entered. The guards escorted them to Thranduil’s throne.

The Elven King smiled when he saw his son and daughter-in-law. He descended his throne to come stand in front of them.

Legolas nodded to his father. “Ada.”

Thranduil took his son’s face in his hands and kissed his cheeks. “Nin réd. (My son).” Thranduil turned to Lirilla. “Lirilla.” He kissed Lirilla’s cheeks.

“My King.”

“We have known each other for nearly century. You may address me by my name or as Ada.”

“Ada, Lirilla and I would like to rest before the feast tonight,” Legolas said.

“Of course.”

Legolas led Lirilla to their chambers, where Lirilla collapsed on the bed. Legolas pulled off her boots and then her own before joining her on the bed. “Rest, my love.”

“Do you think he will be happy?” Lirilla asked her husband.

“It has been many moons since an elfling roamed these halls. He was beginning to worry.”

Legolas and Lirilla had thought long and hard before deciding to start having elflings. Having elflings meant less traveling.

Legolas kissed his mate’s forehead. “Rest now.”

Lirilla closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with her husband by her side.

Taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

#writer wednesday #legolas greenleaf #legolas/oc #legolas greenleaf imagines #legolas imagines #thranduil imagines #thranduil #tolkien #tolkien imagines #hobbit #hobbit imagines #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagines #LOTR #LOTR imagines

[shady-swan-jones]

- you would make me a tyrant

- i would make you a queen

Concept art by Julien Gauthier

#rings of power #haladriel #if that's not romantic I'm eating my hat #lord of the rings #rop #it's not real we're in his mind and he's showing her a future as he HOPES it will be #the best thing about this is not just the togetherness but that we're seeing how HALBRAND imagines them together as king and queen #if anyone tries to say it wasn't romantic I'm showing them these EXTREMELY COUPLY CANON concept artworks #Tolkien #galadriel #rop spoilers #saurondiel #sauron

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— Elven Instinct | Legolas Greenleaf *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~2.1k

▹ Summary: When you know, you know. There's no other way to explain it.

▹ Note: I listened to Margaret by Lana on repeat while writing this, 10/10 recommend. Also, unedited because it's 2am and I want to SLEEP.

You’d met Legolas early spring when the winds were still bitter and the frost was beginning to melt. 

The moon was high and the chatter was mellow, the defeat of Sauron still fresh in everyone's memory. He’d been wearing his ceremonial armor and you a white dress. The jewels you wore shimmered like stars and your eyes shone like moonlit water. A human woman from a minor noble house, you never expected catching the eye of the elven prince that helped save the realm.

Legolas’ eyes followed you intently, entranced by your sweet voice and the slight creases around your eyes when you smiled. It had been three times your eyes had met and after the third time, Legolas found the courage to approach, downing his glass and leaving it behind. His hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat, but he’d kick himself later if he didn’t try. The pathway to you seemed miles long, the rest of the crowd blind to Legolas; it was as if a single light was guiding his way to you. His blood rushed and his heart raced; tingles lit his body up.

It was no shock when Legolas was a few feet away. You noticed him approaching, of course, you were entirely too aware of him and his lingering eyes. Liquid courage was found in a glass of wine that was sweet and tarte all at once. The alcohol caused your cheeks to flush but you knew the prince's presence would make them flush brighter. The alcohol would be a good excuse for the blush you’d soon have.

The noise in your mind grew hush once the elven prince stood before you. He smelled warm and fresh, well groomed and oiled with a hint of a woodsy scent. The smoothness of his features were nearly off putting, but the shy grin on his face was anything but unnerving. The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress and Legolas’ hands were clasped in front of him. Nervous and awkward, neither of you were sure how to proceed.

It was silent for a moment, replaced by the fumbling of the two of you speaking over each other. With the realization, the words were cut short and silence fell over the air. Your eyes fell to the floor and your teeth worried your lips while Legolas’ cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. 

“Apologies, my prince--”

“I insist my lady, you first--”

Another bout of silence. Neither of you could remember how casual conversation worked. You peeked at him through your lashes, a small giggle slipping past your lips. It made Legolas ease his stiff posture, melting into the sound of your voice. 

“May I have your name, my lady.” He couldn’t recall being so shy when speaking with a woman. All the confidence age and skill brought was drained from his body; he was an elfling fumbling over his own feet.

“It is Y/N. I would ask for yours, but I believe that question is redundant.”

“Am I so well known?”

Your grin widened in a way that would make your mother grimace. 

“One of the heroes who saved Middle Earth and the son of the King of the Woodlands?” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, lips curled into a slight smirk. “I perhaps heard your name a time or two.”

Legolas laughed, eyes shut and head slightly tossed back. A stray ray of light hit his head, illuminating him with a halo above his head. “I suppose my reputation does precede me, but I feel like we’re standing on uneven ground. You know more of me than I do of you.”

Some of the nerves that made you feel fluttery and sick began to disappear. His easy and smile and comforting aura felt as same as the childhood nativity you clung to. He put stars in your eyes in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to the other attendees of this party.” 

The half smile on Legolas’ face contorted into a much softer appearance. Eye bright and voice low, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I dare say you are more so memorable.” 

Your lashes fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat. Subtly, you pinched the side of your thigh, sending a prayer of gratitude to whatever god led you to this moment. A shy giggle bubbled from behind your closed lips. Emboldened from the haze the wine created, you leave a feather light touch over Legolas’ shoulder. 

“A bold statement considering you’ve hardly known me a day.”

Legolas smiled at your quick retort, leaning towards your body, his head tilted down to see you better. 

“They say an elves' instincts are never wrong.” 

You raised a single brow in response, a coy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. All thoughts of formality and proprietary thrown out. 

“And your instincts say I’m memorable?” 

Legolas paused for a moment before continuing.

“Well when you know, you know.”

Unsure of how to react, a small bout of laughter left your mouth. The rest of the night was spent with Legolas at your side. Even as nobles singing his praises and vying for the favor of an elven prince, Legolas never strayed too far. With a polite smile and nod of the head, he would quickly dismiss the well-wishers in favor of returning his attention to you. 

The night passed far too quickly, and with the blink of an eye you found yourself in the isolation of your room with your blankets pulled to your chin. Behind your closed eyes, your thoughts and dreams were nothing but Legolas and a life you were certain was too far from your grasp. 

---

The crisp spring air was traded for balmy, long summer nights. The world began to return to normal, all that Mordor and Sauraman destroyed slowly being rebuilt. The coronation of the king was approaching, the heroes of Middle Earth lingering in Gondor, including Legolas.  

 You hadn’t spoken since your first meeting, but he was everywhere you looked. Walks through the city, visits to the Keep, or wandering through the gardens; it didn’t matter where you were, he was everywhere. To his credit, he made it seem as if he was a subject of fate and not the mastermind setting the chess board. 

And the board was currently being reset in a small nook overlooking the city. The queen sat in front of a stone table with a book while the king lingered around the edges, unsure of how to approach. 

“I began to think you were a ghost I’d imagined.” You spoke quietly and wet the tip of your finger. Flick. Your eyes began to scan the new page of your book. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Legolas take the free chair directly across from you. His hands rested on the table, fingers intertwined. 

“Why’s that?” 

A slight smirk appeared on your lips, barely visible over your book. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you shut the book and set it on the table. Eye to eye, you took in Legolas’ appearance. His casual leathers had been traded in for formal attire, a delicate silver circlet resting above his brow. Gods did he look beautiful. 

“You seem to be everywhere I am, yet this is the first time you’ve approached.”

Legolas stared at you a moment; a slight furrow of his brow in response to the tilt of your head and sly grin. “I approached you at the celebration.” 

“The first and only time, if we don’t take this moment into consideration.” 

Legolas narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a grin pulling on his puzzled expression. 

“You seem perfectly capable of starting a conversation and entirely aware of when we were in a room together.” The implication of his words weren’t lost on you, a slight flush betraying your embarrassment. You were entirely too aware of him. 

“And how improper would that be?” You feigned a scandalized appearance, lightly swatting Legolas’ hand. “A minor noble woman approaching an elven prince? My mother would die from the embarrassment that scandal would cause.” 

Legolas laughed; a short and sweet one that made his eyes turn to crescents. There was a flutter in your stomach and a misbeat of your heart. For a moment your eyes glazed over, not aware what Legolas was saying if he was speaking to begin with. He looked entirely too beautiful, his eyes too blue to be natural. Elves were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, but none of the other elves wandering the keep were as beautiful as him.  

“Ahh.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound pulling you from the spell he cast. “How foolish of me to overlook that detail. In the future I will be sure to start all conversations, lest the public get the wrong idea.” 

“A relief to hear you have agreed to stop silently stalking me. And they claim chivalry to be a dying behavior.” You rolled your eyes, the grin on your face dulling any snark in your words. 

Your eyes returned to Legolas, the easy silence hanging over the two of you. The air was calm, sans a nervous fog over Legolas’ eyes. What was there to be worried over? The war was over, Sauron was defeated. You tried to remember what could be a cause of worry, but your mind came up empty. Even the remaining orcs were being hunted down and slain.

“But I’m sure that reassurance isn’t why you’re here.” You broke the silence, Legolas’ attention snapping back towards you. “What worried you?” 

“I am to return home soon.” 

Your mouth was parted, unable to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh.” The word was uttered so quietly you weren’t certain it was actually said. Of course he would go home, he’s a prince with duties to his people. It’s not as if there would be anything to keep him here after the King’s coronation next week. 

“I wish you a safe journey.” 

The tips of your fingers tapped against the smooth stone. 

“You mistake me. It is expected of me to return home shortly after Aragorn’s coronation, but I am unsure if it is what I want to do.” 

A slight furrow of your brows betrayed your confusion, but before you could open your mouth, Legolas continued to speak. 

“We have not spoken nearly as much as I would’ve liked during my stay here, a predicament I understand to be a making of my own, but I--” He cut himself off, eyes lowering to the ground as he shook his head. 

Oh.

The realization came with a bright red hue painting your cheeks. All this time, you never once considered the elven prince had affections for you. Each time you’d been in the same room, same hall, or same street, it never occurred to you he was building the courage to speak with you again. Had your first meeting had such an effect on him? Could he possibly get as fluttery and nervous as you do?

“I would like the chance to get to know you, Lady Y/N, and in time perhaps court you.” 

Like a starstruck idiot, you stared at Legolas with wide eyes and parted lips. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and in the distance there were birds singing, or maybe you’d just imagined that.

Legolas began to drum his fingers against the table, nervous eyes unable to meet yours. You’d been silent for too long, you realized. He may be getting the wrong idea. To assuage whatever fears were building within his head, you reached your hand out and placed it over him. It brought his attention back to you; wide eyed and flushed face he looked ages younger than he really was. 

“I would love for the chance to get to know you beyond the surface level.”

Like dawn brightening the landscape, Legolas’ face lit up. Any petty fears or worries were banished from his expression. He brought his free hand to rest it atop your other free hand. He squeezed your hand three times before pulling them away. After a moment you hear the soft pad of footsteps on the ground. 

A chair skids across the ground as Legolas stood from his seat, outstretching a hand towards you. “Perhaps the lady would grant me a walk through the halls?”

Gently, you stood from your seat, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. 

“Lead the way my prince.”

#legolas imagine #legolas x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #legolas #legolas oneshot #legolas greenleaf #tolkien #lotr #middle earth imagines #lotr movies #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings #legolas fluff #mirkwood elves #lotr fanfic #lotr elves