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lamemaster · 11 months

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The Curse of the Uncursed (Thranduil x Feanorian Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue |

Summary: What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

AN: thank you everyone for your kind words for the last part of this fic. I enjoyed reading every single one of them after long hours of work. That being said, sorry for the delay but here is the last part of this series. I may work on some headcanons about the plot in the future but nothing is set right now. I hope you enjoy this.

Legolas feels the lands of his birth leave him as he watches the shores of Aman greet him. His kingdom, his father, his people, and their memories are all left on the nether shores. All but his friend, Gimli, who stands beside him.

Maybe someday, in some peaceful age, he would welcome his father to these shores. A lungful of grief and a heartful of joy fill him as he finds his grandfather, King Oropher, on the shores.

He embraces his grandfather in the way of men, a way taught by Aragorn. And his grandfather, although taken aback, hugs him back with equal vigor. None of them mention Thranduil. They cannot bring themselves to.

Legolas' eyes wander, looking for someone else. Someone he has never seen, someone he does not remember yet knows. His mother. He looks for you, whose name he has not heard once from his father's lips.

Yet, he knows that you have loved him more than life. And now that he stands on the shores of the land that you live on, Legolas does not see you in the crowd of people welcoming him.

"Her kind is not welcomed on these shores," Oropher speaks, noticing Legolas' wandering eyes. "Not after what they did ages ago."

Hot, seething rage fills Legolas at the hostility he sees in his grandfather's eyes. Was this what his mother faced while bearing him? Such hatred that she had no part in. "Her son is a part of the reason that Arda remains peaceful and the Dark Lord Sauron stays defeated," for the first time, Legolas lets pride and steel of wrath seep into his voice.

"And if these shores cannot welcome my mother, who has been forgiven by the Valar, then I see no reason to be here any longer," with these words, Legolas finds his feet walking away from his grandfather, who does nothing to stop him.

He is aware of Gimli calling for him, but he continues walking as his Dwarven friend complains about emotionally constipated elves. Everything feels too unfair. Why did his mother face such hostility when she did nothing wrong? How sad must she have been with how everyone treated her? And he…he wasn't there for her.

Guilt builds in his heart, and the streets of Alqualonde blur as tears cloud his eyes. He wants to leave so badly. He wants his mother. He wants to comfort her and take away her pain. He wants to reassure her and make her smile.

Legolas bumps into a figure, and a warm voice greets him. "And here I thought I would welcome my grandnephew with smiles," a voice he does not remember. A golden-haired and silver-eyed elf smiles at Legolas.

Atandil, or "Friend of Men," King of Nargothrond, Finrod, beams at Legolas.

"Yonya, your pacing would help little. I recommend you sit and wait. That Findarto is pretty good with his words. He would definitely charm your son into coming here," Celegorm comments, perched on a chaise as he observes you pacing around the room.

His own anxiety is well-hidden behind his cocky exterior. You turn to look at your father, "Do not talk like that about Uncle," you warm him. It had taken decades of your work to mend the broken ties between the Finweans. Your father and Uncle Finrod had been one of the toughest ones to work with.

Your heart races as you imagine your son somewhere on the shores of Aman. So close, yet so far. Only your respect for the Teleri holds you back from rushing to the shores that would bear your son's ship.

Your son, who played a big part in the destruction of the rings once forged by your cousin, Celebrimbor. "I will definitely brag about my grandson to that Curufin. Let him know the actual hero of Arda," you shake your head at your father's obnoxious words. You would have to make sure that he truly does not offend your uncle or Celebrimbor, who seems to be recovering well.

What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

As Celegorm's words linger in the air, your pacing slows, and you reluctantly settle into a nearby chair. The room is filled with a mix of anticipation and unease, and your mind drifts to the memories of your son, Legolas, whom you have never met in person. It has always been a painful void in your heart, knowing that you couldn't be there for him in his formative years.

Your thoughts turn to the events that shaped his life—the battles fought, the sacrifices made, and the role he played in the destruction of the rings. Pride swells within you, mingled with a bittersweet ache. Legolas, your son, is a beacon of hope in a world plagued by darkness. The knowledge of his accomplishments fills you with immense joy, but it also deepens the yearning to be with him, to hold him in your arms.

You gaze at your father, whose tongue always seems to wander freely, his remarks occasionally straying into offensive territory. The mending of broken ties within the family has required delicate care, and you have worked tirelessly to foster understanding and forgiveness. The last thing you want is for your father's words to undo the progress made.

"Ata, please," you implore gently, your voice tinged with a mixture of weariness and determination.

Your father sighs, his expression softening, "I will welcome my grandson and offer all that we have, but never, in this eternity, will I ever welcome his father," steel of hatred fills your father's jovial voice as he talks about your husband, Thranduil. "He who made you suffer, made you cry, made you pay for wrongs you had no part in, has no place in my heart," your heart shudders as you observe the wrath in your father's eyes.

"He held no mercy for you, not even when you bore his child, not even the decency to let you meet your son," Celegorm gets up from his seat, and his eyes brim with tears as he cups your face in his hands. "He made you suffer for my crimes. He made my daughter go through the worst of fates ever. I cannot forgive that. Not even in this blessed land."

Thranduil remains one subject that your father never switches his views on. Of all the repentance and grief, your husband is a thorn in your father's heart.

You do not speak anything on the topic of your husband. You cannot bring yourself to. Guilt, remorse, and regret make it hard to do so.

As Legolas steps through the magnificent halls of Tirion, his heart beats louder than ever. He cannot bring himself to be awed by the glamour of the city or its palace. All he can do is steel his mind to keep up with his granduncle Finrod's steps.

Yearning greater than the depth of the ocean, the endurance of a mountain, or the vastness of the entire sky seems to fill his every pore.

Anticipation, fear, and joy all crowd his heart. The mother who loved him greater than life,

would she love him still? Would she be pleased to see him as he would be to her? Would she let him be a part of her grief and allow him to share his?

With all these questions plaguing his mind, Legolas finds himself rooted in the spot as he watches Finrod push open the doors that separate his mother and him. Mere wooden doors that seem to be most potent at that moment.

A curtain of long silvery hair and sparkling green eyes, like the beginnings of the spring that Mirkwood was once known for, greets Legolas. You… his mother…

He does not hear the background voices of Finrod or others. Nothing matters in that moment. Legolas feels whole for the first time in his life.

He watches as you rush towards him, your steps hurried, and when in the haste of your movement your feet falter, Legolas finds himself supporting you, catching your arms and holding you.

"Yondo," after a separation so long, Legolas cannot will himself to stop his tears at the first mention of an address from his mother. He does not stop you when, with trembling hands, you cup his face and kiss the top of his head.

Maybe not all the wrongs in the world can be undone, maybe Arda truly can never be unmarred, but it remains beautiful nevertheless. And Legolas believes it to be true at this moment.

Feanor's heart weeps. He has yearned, raged, and lamented for many, but never has a sorrow been so potent as the hurt of his grandchildren.

Since he first caught a glimpse of Celegorm's child from the solitary halls of Mandos, he cannot help but feel endeared towards you, who resemble his mother so much.

Maybe, in those long years, it was your well-being that kept Feanor looking out for the nis growing up in the lands of the Sindar.

Your grief, your joy, your love, all feel too personal to Feanor. Closer than the Silmaril or the pains of his own children. But that means that Feanor witnessed your fall. With an irony stronger than ever, your fate is similar to Miriel's.

Feanor's soul burns with the hatred of a thousand suns for the Sinda who abandoned his granddaughter, who left you alone and cold, yearning for your son. In those moments of despair, even the confines of Mandos's halls tremble at his rage.

This restlessness only grows until he meets you. You, who, even in the grief of your own death, came to console him. In those moments, Feanor's soul cannot help but mellow down at your gentle urging.

So, Feanor spends ages in the desolate halls of Mandos, looking over his family that resides in the blessed realm. And his great-grandson, who fights against the Lieutenant of Morgoth.

The lands of once Greenwood the Great now lie overrun by wild vines and overpowering fauna. A forest that was once a kingdom now speaks only of ruins. The elves who once resided there have long left for the shores of Aman.

Only one remains. A fallen king who wears no crown. A king who does not sit on a throne. Instead, he spends ages trapped in a room. No lock, no shackles bind him, but he remains seated by a window.

A window that witnesses changing seasons and the paths of the sun and moon.

The one called Thranduil awaits his redemption or any form of forgiveness. He does so now that he remains free of his role as the king to his people or a father to his son. For now, he remains Thranduil, who once wedded you and Thranduil who once loved you more than his soul.

In those moments of solitude, Thranduil allows himself to read every single one of your letters from long ago. Long ago, when you waited for him in the same room. He grieves as he reads. He allows himself to mourn for the loss of his love, you, your marriage, and his very self.

Maybe the age of elves is over, but Thranduil's repentance stretches long into the eternity of Arda.

#tolkien elves #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x wife #the silmarillion #celegorm #legolas #Legolas' mother #feanorian reader #angst #angst with a hopeful ending

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notholaenas · 1 year

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two batches of six fanarts! ✨ (march, 2023 // january, 2023)

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himemiyaaah · 9 months

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@lotrladiessource | lotr ladies week day 6 | complementary colours + textual ghosts

THE QUEEN OF MIRKWOOD

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agathne · 10 months

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CHAPTER FIVE | THERE'S MILLIONS OF ME DARLING

Description: Thranduil and Legolas are transported to the past - where the late Elvenqueen was still alive - minor hiccup, she doesn't know who they are.

series masterlist | chapter four

"Where are you going, naneth?" the young elfling asked while attempting to bury his head on your skirt. "Off to war, my darling." you reply, kneeling down to his length. Oh, there were millions of things that an elfling was supposed to do with his mother - watching her go to war wasn't one of them.

"And will you return?" he inquired, playing with the silver necklace on his neck. You reach for his chin, lifting his face with a false smile. "The question my elfling is; will you?" you whisper - placing a kiss to his forehead. "I am always here, do not worry." you add, while rising to your full height. "This isn't goodbye, my leaf." you remind with the wave of a hand.

Legolas plays with the same necklace - inching the pendant in between his fingers while the pressure relieved his palms of the itch. He couldn't believe that he was in Lindon - he couldn't believe that he felt alive at the smell of real flowers.

"A silver coin for your thoughts? Legolas." you lean on the pillar beside him - watching as a smile stains his lips.

"I was thinking of my mother," he admitted - refusing to stare at your features, as they were too familiar. "I'm sure that she longs for your return," you comfort - looking up at the balcony above you - seeing the shadow of your Adar and his newfound friend.

"She was taken by war," he informs, feeling his heart drop to the floor. "- I was an elfling then. I wouldn't stop crying for her." he bites the inner corners of his lips. Legolas knew that he was nothing compared to the thousands of children that the war orphaned - nor was he anything out of the ordinary - but his grief was far too strong. He longed for a mother that he knew in the earlier stages of his life.

You place a hand on his shoulder - a silent gesture of comfort. "She waits for you in the shores of Valinor, I'm certain." you comfort again, feeling his posture soften at your words. "I can only hope," he breathed - eyes interlocking with yours. You always told him that he had the same hues as his father's - it was his first time in a thousand years to gaze upon your eyes once more.

"I- this may seem strange," he began - throat threatening to release bile. "What is it mellon?" you frown and he takes another breath. "Can I request your embrace?" he pleaded, and you open your arms - wide and welcoming him.

He has forgotten this feeling.

Thranduil swears to all his subjects that he has no memory of you - that he cannot remember the sound of your voice. He lies to his subjects. At night - he is forced to relive the memory of everything - forced to stare into your eyes, to hear your voice, to see your smile. He often wondered if the memory serves to give him bliss - or the darkest of agonies.

"You do not understand, Galion." he clawed at his chest, unbuttoning his robe. "I-I cannot remain in Arda - the sea calls for me." he breathed - not understanding why he longed for the Shores of Valinor. "She calls for me." he added. His entire room was in disarray - entire shelves taken down, and paper scattered everywhere. It resembled a pigsty more than the King's bedroom.

"She does not, sire." Galion answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What you feel is longing and grief - but the Queen does not desire to see you this soon." Galion replies - taking another step forward. "She would want you to take care of Prince Legolas - to rebuild the Kingdom that the darkness has destroyed. She wouldn't want you to join her - because she knows that there is a greater destiny for you here." the butler explained, squatting down.

"Adar Elrond can raise my son - he does not deserve a father like me. An ada who allowed his mother to die at the hands of -" Thranduil ranted, unable to utter the name of Sauron. "Thranduil," Galion refers to the King in his elven name - void of any titles. Thranduil. The name he bore when his father was yet to be king.

"Ada!" Legolas yells with tears running down his eyes. The King's door was ajar, leaving enough room for the elfling to enter. "Legolas," he whispered opening his arms to provide his son a deep embrace. "Naneth," he cried while burying his face deep in his father's chest.

Galion and Thranduil exchange a meaningful stare.

"Do not cry, my leaf." he pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead.

Galion was right, he couldn't leave.

Thranduil opened his eyes again, mind floating back to reality. "You used to be older than me," he began with a chuckle - fingers playing with the stem of his goblet. "- and now I am older than you, yet my wisdom does not allow me to grapple the calamity of the situation." he adds, taking another sip of his wine.

"I need to return, Ad-Lord Elrond - we know nothing of what my return has brought. What lesson it stands for." he added - tongue leaking with wisdom of old age. He stands up while dusting his robes.

"If you will excuse me - I wish to pray to the Valar."

next chapter>>

@murder0fcr0ws @cheyxfu @8hgel

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x oc #legolas' mother #thranduil's wife #thranduil x elrond's daughter #thranduil x elrond daughter

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sesamenom · 6 months

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here's some eriador nandor as nomads in the dunland area

(somewhat inspired by cave creature thingol)

i feel like they would favor varda as Lord of Arda over manwe, since without the treelight, their only light source would be the light of her stars + her creations are basically the only ones they're guaranteed to see every day/night.

some groups of the eriador nandor (namely lenwe's group) created glowy starlight tattoos (like a wearable version of feanor's artificial gems) as a dedication to varda (and a convenient light source). and since it's mostly dark except for the starlight, they have purple/sable face paint for war/hunting to enhance the glowy starlight effect. they mostly stop doing this after the rising, though, since the sun/moonlight makes the contrast less effective than regular green/brown camo, and it becomes more of a traditional than practical thing. (maeglin got his color scheme from the sable paint)

eol is one of the former-nomadic-nandor laegrim who migrated sometime in the first age and ended up in nan elmoth (his starlight tattoos eventually faded bc he spent too much time either indoors or in a very dark magic forest and also he was evil so varda stopped recharging him or something)

the rising of the moon and sun + morgoth + men + migration of laegrim leads to an erosion of nandorin nomadic culture (since its a lot harder to wander around mostly-peacefully stargazing when the continent is suddenly full of orcs and men) and by the third age there are like three nandorin nomads left around the southern coastal region

the oldest nandor (born between cuivienen and the rising) are more cave-creature-y, with semi-translucent skin, really big dark blue eyes (like the waters of cuvienen at night), and extra good night vision but worse normal light and color vision. the ones born after the rising have normal skin and eyes, though most of them still have the white/silver teleri hair.

#silm #silmarillion #nandor #headcanons #i still dont know how to spell cuivienen? cuiveinen? whatever it is #i imagine legolas of gondolin as one of the old laiquendi born under only the stars bc of his whole cat eyes thing #since the old nandor have worse color vision (bc they get night vision instead) i wonder if their clothes focus more on greytones?#like alternating light and dark layers #with the darkest purple/blue thing on top to make them less visible at night #but they take it off/put on a light layer when they're safe so others can see them easily #i think the brown haired lady will be my design for legolas' mother for now #i was debating making him related somehow to lenwe but i feel like thats too much of 'everyone is related'?#also the more Just Some Guy he is the better #so his mom is half nomadic nandor (grandmas side) and half rhovanion nandor/silvan (grandpas side)

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friendlyneighborhoodplebeian · 10 months

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Remember don’t think about the fact that Thranduil started to mourn Legolas when he found he fell in love with a mortal. Don’t think about the fact that one of the reasons Thranduil was so hesitant to accept Gigolas was because he knew that Gimli would take his son with him when he died. Don’t think about the fact that Legolas died of grief after Gimli died and Thranduil’s worse nightmare came true. Don’t think about the fact that Thranduil lost everyone he loved after Legolas died. Don’t think about the fact that Thranduil is now all alone and the last part of his heart died with Legolas.

#thranduil #Lotr #legolas #gimli #gigolas #i full believe that Thranduil loved Legolas with all his heart #And when Legolas died so did his heart #Just think about the fact that Thranduil lost all his canonical family (Oropher and Legolas)#And family we don’t even know about (mother and wife and maybe sibling or children)#This is of course a headcanon since legolas didn’t die but think of the fact that legolas is still lost to Thranduil #Because for all we know Thranduil never left middle earth like legolas meaning all his family that we know of left him

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msrandonstuff · 3 months

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Damn.... Legolas' family tree is so complex, you know.... I LOVE how Tolkien truly took his time writing more about Mirkwood's royal family.... So much depth in this....

Like... Just look at all the names... It is so easy to get lost in it, you see.... You truly cannot look at it for long or then the amount of names here might as well give you a headache....

#istfg tolkien #he wrote so so much about the noldors #why couldnt he give legolas and his lineage a single thought #like... it wouldn't kill him you know #it wouldn't fucking kill him to tell us. idk. Who Legolas Mother Is. you know....b #I don't think I'd be that hard... or then to just... give us his birth date or some shit #like come on man...#please.....#legolas #thranduil #oropher

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thevalleyisjolly · 6 months

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Dark haired Legolas is something that can be so personal, actually.

#the valley is posting #on a relatively unrelated note; i love how there will be many different interpretations of and reference models for legolas in fanart #but for thranduil we've all just collectively decided that yes; lee pace #i do like blond/silver-haired thranduil so i'm hc-ing that dark-haired legolas takes after his mother #also she's not dead; she just happens to be on a diplomatic mission to the elves in the east who never went west #she comes back after the events of the hobbit to find that in her absence; a dragon destroyed erebor but he's dead now #and also there was a huge battle with five armies and some business with a burglar that snuck around the palace undetected for months-#she passes thranduil a flask of wine she picked up during her travels and goes 'so i saw giant worms east of rhûn'#'PLEASE tell me more about the giant worms; my love'

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legolasghosty · 8 months

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The Tumblr mutuals plus the weird mood swings of my menstrual cycle plus a new med dose have convinced me. I'm gonna try watching Leverage. This should be interesting...

#legolas rambles #leverage #I am...very curious to see what this show is actually like #cause the gif sets I've seen are very confusing #added to the fact that my mother also liked this show a few years back #but... for different reasons from most of my mutuals on here as far as I can tell...#so... wish me luck?

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glorf1ndel · 9 months

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@lotrladiessource's LOTR Ladies Week || Queen of Mirkwood

Jumping in on the last day of LOTR Ladies Week with an edit for Legolas' mother and Thranduil's wife 💜 Face claim is Stevie Nicks!

#lotrladiesweek #lotrladiessource #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas' mother #thranduil's wife #legolas #thranduil

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sallysavestheday · 8 months

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Sindar Week Drabbles! #7

The only OC I write with real comfort is Legolas' mother, and I write her as Nandorin and very powerful, in her own way. To wrap up @sindarweek, here are 100 words of her considering Oropher, a consummate Sindar bureaucrat, as he talks his way into being King of the Greenwood (as an alternative to Noldor expansionism).

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Kingdom is a troubling word, for her. It tastes of wars and the West: of dust and metal and the slow drag of bright things into the petrifying dark. What need of such systems have they, who take their orders and their sustenance from the Wood? Thranduil scoffs in bitter agreement: Menegroth’s bloodstained Great Hall is sharp in his memory. But Oropher grins. He opens his mind and shows her what could be: the elegant, cross-hatching structures of strategy, planning and purpose, intersecting with their old ways to shield and serve her people, to help keep the shadows leaning toward light.

#2023 Drabbles #oropher #thranduil #legolas' mother #my fic #sindarweek

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silvantransthranduiltrash · 2 months

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I have since come to the decision about my AUs, that that family will collectively be called the Edireth Family, or House of Edireth (can you guess why?).

And that Oropher was the head of House Edireth in Doriath, who constantly clashed with just about all other houses, partially due to his personality, and partially bc he was one of the only ones who knew and had the power to do smth about the rampant (in my au) corruption that would have destroyed it, even if there weren’t 2 massacres and the sinking of beriliand.

#just to clarify: the curroption of doriath is not Elwe’s fault #it’s the natural consequence of Melian (a corrupt maia) puppetiring and ruiling over the kingdom #Luthien often went to her great uncle oropher’s house when she needed to escape her mother #House Edireth is basically made up of a bunch of elves who’s response to every challenge is ‘hold my wine’#oropher #House of Edireth #4 silvan sibs au #shamelessly pushing my ‘miriel and thranduil are twins agenda’#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr elves #silmarillion #the hobbit #thranduil #legolas #if you’ve unraveled the tags: here’s the spoiler #It’s Edireth bc that’s Therinde spelled backwards with no ‘n’#and it sounds surprisingly plausible as a house name

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arianielqueenofthranduil · 24 days

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Welcome to my creation. I present you, my own interpretation of Thranduil’s Wife, Elven Queen of Mirkwood, Elven Queen Arianiel.

Long post ahead for those people who’ve witness this journey with me.

It’s been 11 years of an unexpected journey ever since I envisioned Thranduil’s wife. I was really insecure about myself: my looks, my body. I nitpicked everything about myself because I am so far from Tolkien’s Elves, but my love for the Mirkwood family surpassed it.

“There is no grave, nor memory.” That was Legolas' line from the movies, but my creativity as a writer and a fan of Thranduil made me write from scratch of what could be the Elven Queen’s background. I roleplayed as her in this Tumblr account to explore more of my original character. Sadly, Thranduil’s wife will forever be nameless as she’s not mentioned to any Tolkien books, but I named her Arianiel in my own headcanon.

This is my passion project, and I won’t accept any flaws in the result, so the planning took some time, obviously, because I needed to build my confidence, money, and find the right people to make this Cosplay possible.

I was really planning to release the Elven Queen at APCC, but they never came back. Now, Cafeterium Chaldeas happened, and I told Ding Parado that I wanted to release the Elven Queen on my birthday. Alas, her talented hand made it possible and surprised me with the result. This was not what we initially planned at the beginning because I had so many things to incorporate in one go, but that’s not going to happen in just one dress. Nevertheless, she surpassed my expectations of what the Elven Queen’s spring dress could be.

Now, with the announcement of Ren Faire, I was so excited about it because I can finally wear the Elven Queen at a convention and geek out about Middle Earth once again. Joining Queen of the Faire was a spur-of-the-moment decision since we’re going on the last day too, so why not try joining?

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be The Elven Queen of Mirkwood once again, Ren Faire PH. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to wear it again aside from our upcoming wedding.

📷 Sir Romeo of Moonstruck Creatives

🪡 Ding of Solibeau

Elven Ears (c) Gerz

Made to Order Lace Front Wig (c) Red

Wig Fix (c) Eri

to my ever supportive Thranduil, Jelz

#thranduil #thranduilswife #elven queen of thranduil #thranduil’s wife #mother of legolas #munpic #munday #elven queen of mirkwood #wife of thranduil

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