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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

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WHOMST IS THIS OC BAKER BOY ELF I SEE YOU SPEAKING ABOUT!???! DO TELL!!

~vaya

GAH YES I LOVE MY SOFT BAKER ELF BOY!!

He is one of my most favourite OC’s, because he is quite literally a cinnamon roll.

(him on the top left, not my art but my faceclaim, as found on Pinterest with no other link)

His name is “Oranor” (it means “Sunday” in Elvish—the day he was begetted on)

He’s from another one of my main stories, “Phony Matrimony”

Basically, he’s about the elven equivalent of 18 years old, and developed a strong childhood crush on Legolas after the war against Sauron, upon seeing him ride to Aragorn’s coronation atop a white steed (very swoon-worthy for a 6 year old gay-to-be)

When Legolas took over Ithilien, I headcanon he built his town in Emyn Arnen—a canon place which looks like the Shire, but more yellow.

(Emyn Arnen, Ithilien)

He’s a baker’s boy (originally born in mirkwood) who Legolas regularly orders from, and the story follows one big lie that Oranor accidentally orchestrated with his scheming older brother.

So, his parents perished in the war, so he and his brother are both taken in by their aunt, Bronwe.

His older brother, Remmirath (means “constellation”), is an...eccentric “El Dorado” type of fellow, always chasing one big adventure after another, or selling snake oil as “cures” to people—a total charlatan.

Remmi comes back one day to find his little brother heartbroken over Legolas being forced to choose a Sindar-blooded partner soon by Thranduil (Oranor himself is just a lowly silvan), and sees an opportunity to be set for life.

The brothers are both naturally brunette, but Remmi returns as a blonde, explaining that he found this “amazing flower” which can change your hair colour for a short amount of time (like polyjuice potion, but just for your hair), depending on which hued flower you pick.

After being coerced (Remmirath just wants his brother to marry a royal so he can mooch off of them both), Oranor agrees to take the flower and turn blonde, as to convince Legolas and Thranduil that he, “Alfirin” (his new alias, quite literally means “white flower”), is actually Glorfindel’s illegitimate son, making him of noble blood, and consequently allowed to marry Legolas.

Big antics ensue with a “suitor competition”, as Thranduil calls in potential elves for Legolas to court, and now Oranor, under the guise of the blonde “Alfirin” has to make Legolas fall in love with him.

However, Legolas has actually been in love with the simple baker’s boy all along, and isn’t interested in any of the suitors, until “Alfirin” starts to remind him of Oranor, who has mysteriously skipped town.

An extract of chapter 2 underneath the cut!

I’ll get around to posting the story eventually lol

Also don’t mind Legolas being a little bit scandalous, he’s doing it to piss his father off (and rightfully so, too)

🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖

Blowing a stray strand of his fringe out from his eyes, Oranor readied himself under his breath. Readjusting the crate underarm, he shifted his weight to one hip.

Muttering quietly to himself, the young elf further pushed the letter down behind the sticky buns. “You can do this, Oran. He will never know it’s you unless you reveal so to him. Don’t be a coward, for once in your life, don’t be just a little baker’s boy. All you have to do is—”

Halting his nervous tongue, Oranor heard voices on the other side of the door. They sounded heated and tense, clearly two males.

It was only with quite some strain on Oranor’s elven ears, that he recognised both Thranduil and Legolas’ voices.

The Elvenking was here, in Emyn Arnen?

Frightened out of his idea immediately, but still curious, Oranor pressed his ear flat against the wood, and listened closely.

“I ask this of you because I care about you, Legolas!”

“Ada, please! You only wish for me to court so you can have an heir begotten for you!”

“That is NOT true, and I resent your thoughts regarding so! Just study the list of names, Legolas. Some are male, too! I know you and your preferences.”

“My preference is to NOT get married right now! Especially to your presumptuous list! I’ll be sailing soon after Aragorn’s departure from our world, so what does it matter, Ada?”

“You will be lonely by yourself overseas! I want to ensure my son is spoken for before he goes.”

“Your son is speaking; you’re just not listening.”

“I could be a lot meaner, Legolas. I am allowing you to choose whom you marry freely, so long as they’re from my list. There are many names on there! You will see—love will find you swiftly.”

There was a short silence on the other side of the door, and Oranor imagined it was his usually reserved lord taking a moment to roll his eyes at his father. Once those few seconds had passed, Thranduil spoke up again—sterner this time, too.

“I am not being unreasonable, Legolas. I only ask two things of you; that you see to yourself being betrothed in the next few months, and that they be of Sindar lineage. There are many to choose from. I won’t hear another word about it—you are still my subject and heir, therefore I have the right to ask this of you.”

Oranor gulped down the nerves that rose in his throat, and made quick moves to retrieve the letter. Hastily, for he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door (most likely Legolas seeking to leave his father’s presence in a furious state), Oranor began to rip the letter in two.

He was blushing madly in humiliation. Of course he could never court Legolas. Legolas was a prince, and Sindar at that. Oranor himself was just a lowly Silvan of bakery origins. It was simply not meant to be.

Perhaps it hadn’t moved past a childish crush after all.

Feeling the tips of his ears turning red, Oranor anxiously glanced between the letter he was tearing in half, as well as the door.

He knew he could not hide both himself and the crate in time, for the angered steps were upon him. Glancing all around, Oranor spun on his heel a few times, as he hastily thought of where to flee and stash the crate.

There was a pot of fern to his right, but before he could throw the crate inside and finish tearing the letter, the door to Legolas’ large reading room opened.

A roaring fireplace soon met Oranor with its warmth, as it fought to fend off the winter snow’s cold, just outside the large windows of light running along one side of the room.

Oranor, shorter than his lord by at least a head, was soon met face-to-face with Legolas. They blinked at each other in shock for a moment, before Thranduil spoke up again.

Oranor peeked over the prince’s soldier, and saw the king rise from the long couch before the fire to chase after his son.

“Legolas, do not be such a child, it is very unbecoming of you to storm away—”

Thranduil, too, was stunned to find someone there. If he didn’t possess all the class in the world, Thranduil perhaps would have been embarrassed over someone having heard his conversation.

Formally, Oranor bowed his head to both Thranduil and Legolas, and greeted them by their respective titles. At the same time, he tucked the one half of the letter he’d managed to rip into his winter cloak’s pocket—partially grateful the rest was hidden down the side of the buns.

At least most of it was unintelligible now.

“Your majesty.” He moved his eyes away from Thranduil’s, and nervously met Legolas’. “My lord.”

“My delivery?” Legolas repeated back, offering a mustered smile to the baker’s boy. He also gave a brief nod down at the buns in gesture.

“Yes, my lord,” Oranor meekly replied, shifting the crate under his arm again, so that he brought it forwards with both hands.

“Amazing timing,” Legolas sincerely commended. He took the order and practically drooled over the scent of cinnamon and icing.

Turning on his heel, and ignoring his unimpressed father, Legolas walked over to the table set before the fire. He placed the crate down promptly, planning on curling up with a good book later on and divulging himself in the treats.

The crate was slightly messy, and icing soon covered the lord’s fingers. Extracting a low, quiet whine from the back of Oranor’s throat, he watched as Legolas licked the icing from his fingers, one by one.

Thranduil caught this, and narrowed his eyes in Oranor’s direction. The younger elf noticed the king’s scrutiny quickly, and averted his eyes from the blonde, who seemed to be cleaning each finger very slowly, almost aware of his audience.

“Legolas,” Thranduil ordered, pausing the lord’s tongue as he looked at his father innocently with blinking eyes. “Pay the baker, and then we shall discuss your betrothal plans further.”

With one finger still in his mouth, Legolas flickered his eyes on over at Oranor. The brunette could’ve sworn he spotted mischief behind the blue, and the slightest of smirks upon his lips.

Oranor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, wishing more than anything to run upstairs in the bakery to his bedroom. It’d been a blessing since his older brother had left on another adventure, for privacy was entirely his in the shared room and bunk beds, and his alone.

“Of course, Ada,” Legolas replied, popping his finger from his mouth. “I was just about to.”

#lord of the rings #lotrdaily #lotr movies #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #mirkwood #legolas #Ithilien #lotr fanfic #lotr x oc #Legolas x oc

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