#Thranduil x OC

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.

▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!

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

The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture. 

Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done. 

You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?

With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings. 

A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages. 

“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you. 

Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person. 

This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound. 

Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.

Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there. 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer’s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort. 

With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead. 

Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.

You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning. 

The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it. 

You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect. 

His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.

“What is your name?” 

You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty. 

“Y/N, my king.”  

He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.

“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”

“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions. 

“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.

“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”

You nodded.

“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.” 

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”

A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone. 

“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.   

“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.

“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more. 

“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it. 

“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know. 

Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach. 

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?

“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror. 

Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.

“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”

A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it. 

“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.” 

He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.

“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.” 

“Herbology happens to be my specialty.” 

Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?

“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?

“Farewell, my lady.” 

He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement. 

And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end. 

✧･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 #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #middle earth imagines #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings imagine #thranduil #thranduil x oc #elf!reader

[gulnarsultan]

🍃İmagine🍃

Thranduil enjoys suddenly kissing your cheeks deeply and then seeing your reactions. Her face turning pink with embarrassment. Try not to stutter. And you try to act like nothing happened.

#thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil x oc #thranduil oropherion #thranduil #lotr fanart #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanart #thranduil imagine #tolkien elves

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Thranduil NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very caring and sweet. Wants to spend a lot of time wrapping his arms around his partner, like a mother koala. Will want to carry his partner to the bath and take his time with a gentle cloth

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, his hands and fingers. He loves how both elegant and powerful they can be. He adorns them with regal looking rings. Loves how they can give his partner both pleasure and pain

On a partner I feel like he loves hips. Great place to grab onto to manoeuvre and hold on tight while he’s fucking hard. Also a great place to anchor you as he holds you, running his fingers from the top of the rib cage all the way to the bottom of the hip and squeezing it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves to cum on his partner and will just look at them covered in cum for a bit while his breathing starts to calm down. He becomes almost amazed at how his partner looks

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’ve seen heaps of people say how he wants to fuck his partner on his throne but I believe he wants to give oral on his throne. Is usually dominant but the almost taboo of having someone else sit on his throne and he be on his knees is something that always feels new and exciting to him

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He had a small handful of experiences with partners before his wife but mainly just one night stands as a sexy young prince. I believe he got all of his experience and talent from his wife. Big hoe with one person sort of thing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style I’d say. Being able to control the pace so much and grab as much of his partner as he’d like. Pulling them up to have them flush against against his chest while he can grab at them too.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not very goofy. Can be cute and sweet while his partner sits on his lap and he plays with them but never really goofy. Usually pretty serious in the heat of the moment but can switch to sweet and soft quickly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very groomed and sparse golden hair

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends. He likes to fuck hard and isn’t usually very romantic in the act but he definitely can be. If his partner needs him in that way he is more than happy to hold them, kiss them and sweet talk them while he makes love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not that often. Barely ever if he’s in a relationship and about once or twice a week if he’s not.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Size and Kingly kink.

If it’s a human partner then there’s definitely a size/dominance kink, wanting to be in charge and dominant.

Would use his power and Royal position to push his dominance further. Making his partner call him ‘my king’ and ‘your highness’ really gets him going

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His throne or his big royal bed. Wants to be left alone with just him and his partner and be able to fuck however he likes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When his adrenaline is raised from either training or battle and he’s finding his partner and fucking them hard.

Seeing his partner wearing formal/regal wear makes him want to reck them, ruining their beautifully done hair and pristine outfit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No weapons, even a paddle. He never wants to make his partner bleed and he wants to be able to properly control the pain he gives, so hand spanking instead of a paddle every time

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to both give and receive.

When he gives he holds his partner down and craves to overstimulate them with his mouth. His partner will never cum only once if he’s giving them oral.

He prefers to sit instead of laying down when receiving. Either on his throne or a big armchair. Loves to look down onto his partner and stroke their hair and talk dirty. He isn’t opposed to face fucking but prefers his partner take their time so he can tease them while they pleasure him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough when he’s fucking but slow and sensual with oral

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

The version of quickies that he likes is dragging his partner away to somewhere quiet and using his fingers and hands to make them cum before going about his day. Sometimes he likes to see how many times he can quickly make them cum between duties.



R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Doesn’t really like to take many risks. He is king and while he likes to degrade his partner at times, he does keep his focus on keeping them safe and away from prying eyes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He will go as many rounds as his partner can take. If he takes a human partner he likes to go until they just pass out from pleasure. Can hold off from cumming for a long time but also doesn’t really have much of a refraction period so he can just keep going and going

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

The only toy he really has are plugs because he likes to bring his partner pleasure himself. Will put the plug in his partner and make them wear it at a fancy event.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loooovvvveeesss to tease. The teasing is done with light touches and whispered words in public. Drive his partner crazy while he acts so innocent and will never be caught in what he’s doing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lots of powerful grunts and looottttsss of dirty talk. He growls pretty loud when he cums but mainly lots of grunts and groans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If his partner is more of a casual thing he’d never be submissive but if he’s in a committed relationship with someone he loves to be taken care of in a submissive position. If his partner is AFAB he will want to get pegged and will want to suck and lick their strap.

In a committed relationship he loves his partner to be a soft dom every now and then. Not often, probably like once or twice a year.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A lot longer then average but pretty average width

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When not in a relationship it’s about average but in a relationship it goes right up. Wanting to fuck like every second day or something.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not that quickly at all. Will always wait until his partner falls asleep and is asleep for about 15-20 minutes before he even tries to drift off

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil imagine #Thranduil x oc #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thranduil fan fiction

[ravensliterature]

Poisoned Arrow

A/N: I know it’s been a minute and I am sorry. I really had a blast writing this one and I hope you like it!

Part II

pairing: Thranduil x Reader

warnings: Mentions of blood, poison, fluff, 

w/c: 1924 (Yeah she is a little long)

Prompt: The reader is Thranduil’s wife and a part of the company. While leaving through the barrels without her husband’s knowledge she get’s hit by the poison arrow. Thranduil is trying to save his wife before it is too late. 

/-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

She had been shot. His queen had been hit with an arrow. Thranduil could see her falling from the sky, falling slowly through the fading blue and bright stars of last night. Her lights, died as she fell to the ground with a yelp. The arrow pierced her leg after she tried to open the gate. His heart seized tight in his chest hearing her cries as he attempted to run to her side, killing any orc in his way. However, he didn't make it in time as she jumped in a barrel following her father down the river.

---

Y/N was the daughter of Thorin but her parentage was elven. When young, Thorin found an elf girl and raised her while living in Erebor. She grew into a beautiful woman and was betrothed to Thranduil for the alliance at a young age by King Thror. However, when the dragon attacked it was all put on pause, and Thorin and his family fled to the Blue Mountains.

Thranduil would not give up on her as he fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her at their announced betrothal. He journeyed himself to find his distant love until seeing her again in the Blue Mountains. He never imagined he’d ever have another chance to meet his beloved again, but when he did... everything changed. Thranduil asked her to marry him again in the hopes that he wasn't alone in his feelings. Apparently, she had loved him as well and agreed but things weren't how they should be. Thorin's hatred for elves had increased and never approved of the betrothal.

The argument with Thorin and Y/N spiraled until she left with Thranduil left without saying goodbye. A year later the wedding came around and Thorin refused to see his daughter marry that elf. He insisted she lives in the Blue Mountains, a place far away where dangers were less likely to come and away from the elf-kind. Shortly, Legolas was born and grew into a handsome man. Their lives were peaceful until years later when Gandalf knocked on their door.

Gandalf told her that he was building a company in the hopes of reclaiming her childhood home. It had been decided that Y/N would join the company and take part in their quest. She wanted nothing more than to go back to Erebor, return her home, and connect with her father like she once had. So, she took her chance and left. Thranduil hated her putting herself in danger but who was he to rob herself of that connection she missed so dearly? --- "Y/N!" Thorin yelled as he ran to her daughter's side.

Y/N's barrel washed up on shore as she used her upper body to crawl herself to more land trying not to put too much pressure on her leg.

"I'm here." She breathed as she looked up at Thorin. The dwarf prince scooped her in his arms holding her close as if afraid someone was going to try something else. Worry and fear were etched over his face and he saw the pain in his daughter's.

"Oin," Thorin exclaimed, "Please look at the leg. The arrow is cut but there still may be fragments inside."

The healer kneeled down next to Y/N looking at her leg. His brow furrowed with concern before he turned back to his friend. "She should be fine but we need to get her to a town with proper equipment. I'm concerned about it getting infected. " He spoke softly. Thorin nodded, helping his daughter stand on her own two feet. She slowly began to walk until she found an arrow pointed at her head.

---

Thranduil glared the orc down as Legolas held a knife towards its neck. He wanted to know what it was doing in his kingdom and why it dared to hurt his wife.  It couldn't be allowed to live but he needed to know.   "In time all foul things come forth," he said as he circled the orc with a sword in his hand. Legolas continued to hold the blade to its neck, "You were tracking the company of thirteen dwarves and an elf. Why?"

Malice and distaste were in his force knowing his father's fears and what it had done to his mother.  This thing was not a creature but a monster sent to destroy them. Its intentions are unknown for all to know. The orc cackled, "Not thirteen, not anymore. The elf, we stuck her with a Morgul shaft. The poisons in her blood. She'll be choking on it soon."

Legolas' grip tightened on the knife causing it to tremble. He needed the orc dead or he'd kill it. A threat against his parents' safety was enough to make him kill it himself. Thranduil's breath left him in a gasp. As anger bubbled in his chest, he felt like he was trying to find air. His son's gaze remained on the orc. It knew exactly what it was talking about, the poison that poisoned the elf.

"You like killing this orc?" Thranduil said lowly, almost too calmly, "You like death? Then let me give it to you!"  he yelled as he pulled out his swords. Legolas watched as his father charged toward the orc. Before he could blink, the blade made contact with the orc's skull. Blood poured from the wound but instead of retreating it rushed forward like a tidal wave. "Legolas, come with me, we must save your mother."

---

Y/N was breathing heavily as she leaned against the wall of Bard's house. Her father forced her to stay behind because of her leg. Of course, he was concerned for his daughter but she felt robbed. She wished to help reclaim her home like the rest of the company. Her cousins, Fili and Kili opted to stay behind and help take care of her until she is ready to go to the mountain. Oin stayed behind as well as did Bofur, but he just missed the boat.

However, the pain had gotten worse and she could tell something was wrong. The leg would wasn't healing as it should and she could see the fear in Oin's eyes each time he examined it even if he didn't tell her.  Y/N was worried. The arrow hadn't hit anything vital, yet it could still become infected and kill her. She chucked to herself softly. Maybe it was best she stayed at home after all.

Her breath was ragged and her head was light.  Her vision swayed slightly as she tried to stay upright, leaning against the wall. She was losing consciousness but she knew that the battle was not over yet. The pain was becoming unbearable and she closed her eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. Finally, her body gave way and she collapsed. "Y/N!" the dwarves yelled as they helped her up. Y/N was writhing in pain as she felt the poison all over her body.  She could feel the heat of the flames searing her flesh and she felt like it was consuming her whole body.

"Put her on the table," Bard said in a frantic tone. They set her gently on the table as she continued to convulse.

"We need something to put her head on so she doesn't hit the table!" Oin shouted. The others quickly searched for anything that could possibly stop the venomous poison. They found only herbs that had been used long ago and they were useless. The poison was spreading through her veins faster than anyone had realized and it was eating away at her life. Oin examined the wound more closely. It had turned a black color and it could be seen going through her veins. This wasn't a normal poison.

"I need kingsfoil! Where is it?" Oin exclaimed to Bard. The Fili, Kili, and Bofur looked around in confusion at the mention of a plant, but they didn't have any of it. Only Oin owned the plants. "Kingsfoil? It's a weed. We feed it to the pigs!" Bard replied in confusion. "Pigs, I got it!" was heard as Bofur zoomed out the door. Y/N struggled for air. Every breath hurt her throat as she coughed painfully. The poison in her body was beginning to eat away at her life. She was dying. That was the last thought that went through her mind before another wave of pain hit her.

Suddenly everything except for Y/N went quiet as footsteps could be heard on the roof. The roof broke and a dark figure jumped down from above, landing right next to Bard's daughter and stabbing the orc in reaction. The young girl grabbed the orc and then fled as more fell through the ceiling. Fighting ensued as they tried to defend the girls and a table-ridden Y/N.

---

Thranduil and Legolas ran through the town of Dale in the hopes of finding Y/N and the dwarves. However, they stopped in their tracks when they saw orcs running on the ceilings above the water town.  They both knew immediately where they were going. Thranduil ordered Legolas to stay behind while he went to search for his mother, "Stay safe my child, leave none alive."

With that being said, Thranduil continued to run at his pace faster than before. Thranduil continued to run until he heard fighting in one of the homes.  With his guard up and weapons, he approached it in the hope that his wife was still alive. Upon approaching the door, he noticed the familiar scent of blood. His heart sunk in his chest realizing she might be... He opened the door to find three orcs surrounding her, the dwarves, and the humans as they were struggling to defend themselves.  One of the orcs was about to strike Y/N when Thranduil shot his bow sending the arrow right into its skull. He then took out his sword slashing any orc in sight.

Thranduil rushed to her side and caressed her cheek in the hope of seeing the life in her eyes, "My darling Y/N, open your eyes." She weakly shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Nin Meleth..." "Do not speak my love." He brushed some hair away from her sweaty forehead. Bofur ran through the door tired and sweaty, with one hand on his knee and the other presenting the king's foil. Thranduil took the foil from him and began to prepare it, "She needs elvish medicine if we don't heal her leg... She doesn't have much time left." Thranduil soaked the leaves and pressed them onto her wound and began saying an elvish incantation, almost sounding more like a prayer. He looked down at her face and he saw her brows become unfurrowed and appeared to relax. Y/N looked up at him with those beautiful eyes that always filled his heart with love. He could see the pain go away and with that also the poison from her body. He bandaged the wound and held her hand. Tears escaped his eyes as she smiled up at him. His heart swelled with joy as he brought his face closer to hers and kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her forever and every moment in between. It was as though their lips touched for eternity. "Father," said a soft voice breaking the two of them apart.  Their foreheads rested together and a small chuckle passed through Thranduil. "Oh, no. We've been caught by our own son."

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#thrandiul #thrandaddy #lord of the rings #the hobbit #thranduil x reader #thranduil x wife #thranduil x you #thranduil x oc #battle #mirkwood #thranduil fluff #elves #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #reader #hobbit #injury #injured

[agathne]

SERIES MASTERLIST | THERE'S MILLIONS OF ME DARLING

"King Thranduil of Mirkwood was known for his bountiful reign - but no one speaks of his Queen. Only those with a sharp memory can remember their love - how it almost destroyed the very realm."

Thranduil and Legolas are sent to the past where the Elvenqueen is still alive - the only problem is; she can't remember them. In which, Legolas is the very reason he exists.

Chapter One: A River of Stars Chapter Two: Cirdan the Shipwright Chapter Three: Brightest of Mornings Chapter Four: She Left You a Son Chapter Five: A Mother's Embrace Chapter Six: Thranduil of Greenwood

AU's

The Moon - Elrond walks in when his daughter is about to lock lips with Thranduil.

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

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 14

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

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care ofRadagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700​​​ @jinlizz-dragondrama​​​ @firelightinferno​​ @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala​​​ @smalltownbigheart​ @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth, @0chemicalwaste0, @deadunicorn159, @silvercobra​ a/n: the way this took so long you've probably all forgotten all about it ashahgdahdj ​​

The rabbits pulled the sleigh through the darkening forest with ease. They moved as if they knew exactly where to go, avoiding every trip hazard on the forest floor. This was normal for them but you could also tell this was not the first time they had taken Radagast to the Elvenking's Halls. You had never ventured this way yourself, always wary of crossing paths with other elves on the road. Radagast did not always speak to you of his short journeys, and he often stayed closer to home generally, but even if he had you likely wouldn't have thought anything of it. A wizard's mind was often sought out, after all.

It was late morning by the time you reached your destination.

The Halls of Thranduil were grand, located next to the Elven settlements around the Mountains. Soon enough, the king would move his palace and his people more north, further across the river. For now, they remained where his father had first led them from Amon Lanc, after the threat of Sauron first began to grow. There were rumours (that had reached you through an owl friend) that the Elvenking had reached out to Dwarves to inquire about assistance with bringing his people underground into some sort of cave system.

This sounded like the worst thing ever to you and you hoped that you would be long gone by then... if by some miracle you did not end up actually having to marry this man.

The elves from the first settlement all had their eyes fixed on the wizard's sleigh as he urged the rabbits onward towards the palace. It was incredibly uncomfortable - you had spent practically your whole life not being perceived at all and all these eyes on you at once, from something other than forest animals, made you feel slightly uneasy.

"Here we are, child." Radagast's voice pulled you back from your thoughts and you turned to look around him, as the great hall of the king came into view.

It was very tall, though not as tall as the trees that surrounded it. It was also beautiful and had clearly been built with something close to love and you thought suddenly what a shame it is that it would be abandoned when the elves finally moved on.

There was not much time to stand and admire your new surroundings, however, as Radagast took your arm to help you off the sleigh and then ushered you inside and past the guards like a stowaway. The curious eyes all turned away once the palace doors were shut but all the elves would surely whisper, trying to decide who you were. They knew the wizard but none knew of any elves he might travel with.

"Welcome, my lady." A voice drew your attention from gazing around at the grandeur of the entrance hall.

"Ah! Feren!" Radagast huffed as the door to the hall closed behind you both with a thump, making you feel very trapped suddenly. The wizard's eyes did a quick scan of those standing in the front of him and then they snapped back to Feren. "Where is the king?"

"I am afraid the king is not here. He had to take care of an urgent matter in the forest." Feren explained, his tone soft though a little regretful.

Radagast's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Not here?" He exclaimed, suddenly seeming as if the worst catastrophe in the world had happened. "Not here! He glanced at you incredulously. "He's not here!" His attention turned back to Feren, who looked startled. "But this is important. Our coming was known in advance, ooh... this is just like Th-"

"Uncle!" You cut him off with a sigh, feeling drained.

Radagast glanced at you and seemed to relax. "Right. Yes, yes... I'm sorry."

It took you a moment to realise the silence had stretched out longer than you had expected and when you glanced back up again, you saw that the elves were staring at you. Feren and the two others, the ladies standing just behind him. Three curious pairs of eyes were trained upon you, as if fascinated by hearing you speak. Feren knew exactly who you were, of course, for he had been informed but to the women, the maids, you were just a strange elleth from somewhere in the forest that the king had brought to stay in his own personal hall, and that made you a curiosity.

Unnerved, you shifted uncomfortably, and eventually sort of shuffled behind Radagast's shoulder as a means of attempting to hide.

Feren blinked and looked away, feeling guilty. He felt bad for making you uncomfortable, you could see it in his eyes, and noticing that did make you feel a little better.

"Come." Feren said, speaking to Radagast again. "The King will return by early evening. We are to show the lady to her room."

You trailed silently behind Radagast and Feren, who spoke fairly amicably as they walked the hall together. The maids took up the rear and, while you knew this wasn't the case, you felt as if you were being herded and prevented from fleeing. You looked around a little more as you walked, having never seen anything like it. The muted colours of the decor made you feel almost like you were still out in the deep woods in autumn. Almost.

"Here we are!" Feren announced cheerfully, stopping outside a large door.

You took a moment to react, your attention having been caught by the large portrait on the wall just outside the door. In an intricate golden frame sat the image of a blond haired male elf with piercing eyes. His hair was quite an icy shade of blond (though not quite as pale as Thranduil's, you noted to yourself), down past his shoulders, and braided very intricately. A large crown sat upon his head, set with gemstones the same colour as the frame.

'Oropher', was inked at the bottom of the image in large looping letters. The Elvenking's father, you realised. As you stared at his face, you couldn't help but think of Lindon, and Gil-Galad, and all you had learned about that fateful day...

It was then that your brain registered Feren's voice and you turned your head. Everyone was staring at you again and your cheeks started to flush the softest shade of pink as you hurriedly stepped towards the door he was now holding open. Radagast ushered you inside and you looked around at your new prison.

It was beautiful, truly. Larger than Radagast's entire cottage. It was too much, you decided, but it was where you were stuck for the time being, and it could certainly be worse. You didn't say anything else and Feren almost seemed disappointed, as if he had wanted to hear you speak again.

"Well, uh." He said, slightly flustered, glancing at Radagast before looking back at you. Then he gave you a little bow that made you stare at him like he'd just snapped a rabbit's neck in front of you. You frowned until you realised why he'd done it.

You were royalty.

Oh.

"I will leave you to settle in." He continued, as if not noticing your surprise. "The king will return before nightfall. He is most... eager to meet you." It was a small lie on Feren's part. When Thranduil had left the hall that morning, just before your arrival, he had seemed anything but eager. In fact, he seemed almost to be dreading it but Feren decided it was best to keep that to himself.

You turned and walked further into the room, looking around at the decor and furniture and all the space. It was far too big, too grand, but you realised this was the sort of thing you would have been born into as well. You would probably have grown up in a palace like this. You simply could not imagine it.

Feren and Radagast stood for a few moments longer, mumbling at the door together but you paid no mind. Feren soon left and Radagast tried to help you settle in with your things but you had no desire to unpack your bag. You did not want to feel like you were moving in, like you were staying here, though of course that's exactly what was happening.

You denied the help of the maids too and, eventually, they all left you alone with your thoughts. You were still so overwhelmed from all you had learned the previous day, and how quickly everything had changed. You poked around the room for a while and then you moved to sit glumly by the large window. The position of the room in the tower gave you the view of one of the settlements below but that was not what drew your gaze.

Instead, you stared longingly out over the forest, thinking of your home, your woodland friends... and Thranduil, who would be expecting to meet you in the clearing soon, but you would not come.

The clearing was quiet as Thranduil stood there, fingers stroking over his elk's fur as he waited patiently.

Another hour of standing there was when the impatience crept in.

Where were you?! It was well past the agreed upon meeting time. The sun was high in the sky by now. It was the beginning of a beautiful day but he could not bring himself to really enjoy it. Thranduil was aware that by now the girl - the princess - would be at his halls. He would have to return after meeting your uncle and he would have to try and keep the wizard from pushing any talk of marriage.

He had made his decision already. He would marry only one woman. You.

...if you ever showed up!

"Where is she?" Thranduil muttered to his elk as another half hour passed by. He could not linger out here for much longer. He had duties to attend to. He had a realm to rule, people to protect, an Enchantress to drive out.

The elk made a sound in response but Thranduil was not listening. He was suddenly standing very still, his eyes flitting around every inch of the area, peering through the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Was someone here?

Where he would have thought to feel excitement (he was expecting you, after all) he instead felt dread. He had the eeriest feeling that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck had started to stand on end and there was a shiver up his spine.

The birds had also stopped singing, he realised. Where moments ago there had been chatter, now there was dead silence.

Thranduil moved then. If his own instincts had not been enough, the behaviour of the woodland animals confirmed to him that something was amiss.

He turned and jumped up onto the elk and then they were moving, leaving the clearing behing. There was a deep disappointment in his gut as he travelled back towards his palace.

Why had you not shown up? Had you changed your mind? Had your uncle prevented you? Had something bad happened? Thranduil could not even easily find out what was wrong because he knew not where to even start looking for you. His heart felt heavy as he rode back towards the mountains. Would he just never see you again?

Back in the clearing, the figure of the Enchantress stepped out from between the trees, narrowed eyes fixed on the Elvenking's retreating figure. Her lips were turned up in what could only be called a snarl and she was glaring after him with contempt. She too had come here looking for you and instead she had found that Radagast had secreted you away, just like when you were a baby. The fact Thranduil seemed not to realise that you and the princess were one and the same did not fill her with as much amusement as she would have liked.

The fact that he and Radagast had hidden you away behind the walls of Thranduil's palace, when she was so close, angered her. She had hoped that things would not progress quite so quickly now that she had finally found you, and that she might have had another encounter with you here in the clearing you frequented.

Thranduil was lucky to leave here alive, she thought to herself. She ought to have had his head right here!

Still, she thought, there was no fun in that. He would not come out victorious, none of them would. You could not be saved. The curse was in motion and it could not be stopped. It was only a matter of time and if they thought an Elven stronghold could save you, they were mistaken. She could get you anywhere.

A smirk soon replaced the scowl as the Enchantress melted back into the cover of the trees.

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

[shierak-inavva]

spoiler: he does not. not even after 2000 years.

#my ocs #elowen anairiel #thranduil x oc #thranduil #elowen x thranduil #there’s a whole story here but i wanted to get this doodled out #this song has been *haunting* me its so them #again tho ellie’s not legs’ mom yall #tolkien oc

[sotwk]

Not to give you two asks in the one day but I always find it interesting to consider which elves stayed or went to the Undying Lands but sadly most of my 'real life' friends do not have any opinions on Thranduil staying or going. I find the idea of him leaving really interesting (how long does he stay? how easy/hard is it for him to leave? what makes him finally decide to go? how does the rest of middle earth/his people respond?). I think it really makes sense in your au for him to go (not that I know much about it) to be reunited with Maereth and his sons. For me, I've always thought that he would stay because I think he wouldn't necessarily mind living on in a different Middle Earth the way other elves might and also stubbornness. (Also I subscribe to the theory that Legolas's mother is alive and well, which very much changes things).

This is a very long and rambling way of saying that I'm glad to hear your take on Thranduil leaving/staying in Middle Earth because it's a topic that has always interested me and also would you ever write him and Maereth reuniting in the Undying Lands?

SotWK AU Headcanon: Thranduil's Fate in the Undying Lands

A Thranduil headcanon I feel very passionate about yet I feel does not get enough mention in fan writings, is the depth of his suffering and the true extent of his losses during the Third Age.

Certainly, Mirkwood gets a happy ending when it survives the fall of Dol Guldur and is reinvigorated into the new kingdom of Eryn Lasgalen. But it took Thranduil nearly everything he had to get his people there.

Putting aside the deaths of his most beloved wife (grievous enough to cause lesser elves to fade) and two of his sons, the Elvenking battled against Sauron and his minions from TA 1000 to 3019. In the SotWK AU, the death of his wife in TA 2793 meant at that point, he had already lost half of his family, and been forced into underground halls, his once proud people turned into refugees on their own lands.

Yet he always picked himself back up and continued to protect just not Mirkwood, but also their allies in Dale during The Battle of Five Armies. Then, he sent his last remaining son to The Council AND thwarted Sauron's invasions into Mirkwood during the War of the Ring.

Yes, Thranduil is perhaps the most enduring elf in Middle-earth, but centuries of holding fast against corrupting darkness and suffering would be enough to take a toll on anyone. We Thranduil stans like to point out that he did not have the advantage of a Ring of Power. So what powers did he lean on? His own!

By the time the "happy ending" is achieved, Thranduil is just as badly beaten and bruised in spirit as the ringbearer Frodo. Look at it this way: Frodo carried the One Ring for about 18 years (the last year being the Quest) and suffered unspeakable pain as a result, and was never fully-healed again.

Thranduil, whose spirit was tied to Greenwood the Great, used his inner strength and innate "magic" powers to guard it as best as his could and prevent Sauron himself from overwhelming that entire forest for 2,000 years. In my mind, Thranduil turned his very self into a shield to protect the Elves of Mirkwood against the Darkness, to prevent every last one of them from being hauled off to Dol Guldur where they would be corrupted into an orc army. (Which isn't to say this did not happen to some unfortunate Silvans throughout the Third Age.) The point is, the Elves of Mirkwood still had enough quality of life to hold merry feasts in a Valar-forsaken forest, and Thranduil had to have paid a steep price for that. He HAD to have been SO TIRED. But he carried on.

At the start of his rule, young Elvenking Thranduil might have declared he was prepared to live in and rule the Woodland Realm forever. But that was not his destiny.

As that quote we love so well goes:

“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Thranduil needed to retire to the Blessed Realm to achieve healing and rest, just as much as Frodo and Bilbo did. And of course, to reunite with his beloved wife and sons. THAT is his happy ending--in my mind and AU, at least.

How long does he stay?

Thranduil sails on the Last Ship with Celeborn, Círdan and (pardon the spoiler) Gelir, the last of his sons to leave Middle-earth. The date this last ship sails is unidentified in Tolkien canon, but takes place at least after FA 171. Why?

A neat SotWK timeline event for you: In honor of his wife Maereth's love for the Durins and his family's friendship with the Dwarves of Erebor, Thranduil led an army to assist Durin VII in the Retaking of Khazad-dûm. Thranduil and Maereth shared special memories of Khazad-dûm, and Thranduil was actually moved to tears to see those halls finally cleansed of orcs once more.

How easy/hard is it for him to leave? What makes him finally decide to go?

200 or so years was more than enough time for Thranduil to ensure that Eryn Lasgalen was properly re-established under the kingship of his heir, Aranion, son of Mirion. His granddaughter, Anariel, had committed to staying with her brother in Middle-earth and helping him in his rule. The Silvan people were in excellent hands.

Thranduil's daughter-in-law, Itarildë (eager to reunite with Mirion), and his son Turhir, had already sailed to the Undying Lands in FA 61, on the same ship as Samwise Gamgee. Legolas left with Gimli in FA 120.

By the time the Last Ship sailed, Thranduil was more than ready to go and join the rest of his family in Aman.

How does the rest of Middle-earth/his people respond?

The people of Eryn Lasgalen deeply loved Thranduil, and were of course sad to see him leave. But they also knew their King had suffered long enough and missed this wife terribly, and they wished only joy and healing for him, especially after everything he had endured for their sake.

Farewell feasts were certainly held, to allow friends and allies from across Middle-earth--Gondor, Dale, Rohan, the Shire and Khazad-dûm--to pay their respects to the great Elvenking.

I have no specifics, but I know that his departure from Middle-earth was forevermore commemorated in a great annual feast in Eryn Lasgalen.

Would you ever write him and Maereth reuniting in the Undying Lands?

Well, seeing as writing just this headcanon post got me all misty-eyed and punched in the feels, I suppose I could write that reunion story once I'm able to gather the emotional strength for it. XD

Thank you as always for this superb Ask, Ace Reporter @hobbitwrangler! <3

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#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #sotwk oc #thranduil #maereth #tolkien #tolkien elves #middle earth #thranduil x oc #thranduil headcanon #valinor #grey havens

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 5 - PLAYING WITH FIRE

Synopsis: Thranduil fights a dragon, Anarríma is... not happy about it. When he comes home, he is not the same anymore.

Word count: 4.6k

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: smut, battles, death

Additional tags: SMUT, breeding kink, bondage

Link to the chapter overview

Read the end notes for a special announcement!!

You drew up some good faith treaties I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone You said I have to trust more freely But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

The early years of their marriages were happy. Filled with joy and laughter and passion. The people loved their king and queen and Thranduil and Anarríma loved each other. There seemed to be no evil left in the world, only light and happiness. Anarríma often travelled to Lothloríen to visit her parents, and sometimes to Rivendell to see her sister Celebrían and her nephews Elladan and Elrohir.

But recent years were not so kind to them. Reports reached the king and queen, of a gigantic serpent that spewed fire, terrorizing people far up in the north. Thranduil sent out scouts and their worst fears were confirmed. The threat was real and something needed to be done. Queen Anarríma begged her husband to seek council with Elrond in Rivendell and Celeborn and Galadriel in Loríen, but he refused. He had sent word of the threat to Elrond, who had dismissed the reports as human superstition.

After a lengthy and heated discussion, Thranduil convinced his wife that their best course of action was for him to go north with a small party and investigate. Eliminate the threat if it was within his power. The silence between them was tense as Anarríma helped Thranduil put on his armour on the day of his departure. “I will not be gone long, meleth nin,” the king promised. She grunted in response. He had refused to let her come with him. He could not bear it when she was angry with him. “I do not accompany you either when you visit Lothloríen, so there is no reason for you to come with me now. Besides, someone needs to keep this kingdom running.”

She glared up at him. “I am visiting my mother. You are running off to hunt a dragon. That is hardly the same.” Thranduil bit back a remark he would surely have regretted, but Ana shot him a look that told him that she knew what he was about to say. “Thranduil I swear to Ilúvatar if you are comparing my mother to a dragon right now, I will make your life hell!” Thranduil started laughing. He couldn’t help himself. Anarríma’s fist connected with his arm. “Do you think this is funny!? You could die! I could lose you! The entire kingdom could lose you!”

Tears were streaming down her face when Thranduil had finally processed her words. “I will return to you. I swear it.” He wrapped his arms around his reluctant wife and pulled her against his chest. The cold metal of his chest plate did little to comfort her. Nevertheless, she leaned into his embrace. The king ran his hands through her hair and whispered sweet words into her ear as they stood there. A knock interrupted them. “Aran nin, we are ready for departure,” a guard called from outside. Ana pulled away from Thranduil. “Go and kill that dragon,” she grumbled, “and then come back to me.”

Thranduil moved to kiss her on the lips, but she stopped him. “No. You have to earn that privilege.” She turned his face slightly, kissing his left cheek instead before turning away from him. Anarríma could not watch him walk through that door. It did not matter if she looked or not. Thranduil was gone and she had to pick up the pieces. She allowed herself five more minutes before going to the bathroom, splashing her face with some cold water to conceal the fact that she had been crying. Anarríma put on her crown and an ornately embroidered robe and made her way to the throne room. The kingdom would persevere.

Thranduil and his group followed the forest river upwards, making their way towards the Ered Mithrim. They buried the charred remains of the villagers which confirmed that they were on the right track. The hunting party made their way west, crossing the rivers that would merge into the Anduin further south. The weather was good and they were certain that crossing over the Misty Mountains would not give them any trouble. Until they encountered that which they had been hunting for. The dragon.

The king had been a young prince during the War of Wrath and yet he had been there to witness Ancalagon the Black. He had seen Elrond’s father Ëarendil kill the beast. The dragon they were dealing with now was obviously much smaller. Still, Thranduil wished that Ëarendil were here now to take this task off his hands. He’d even be grateful for Elrond at that moment. But it was just him and his men. Too few he had brought on this quest. But they had no choice but to kill the beast. The dragon had seen them already.

He dispatched his fastest rider, and dearest friend, Feren to the nearest elven kingdom - Rivendell. “Tell Elrond we need reinforcements. As many soldiers as possible.” He took off fast, stealth was of no use anymore. Thranduil and the rest of his men got into position and drew their weapons. “Goheno nin, Ana. I have no choice,” he whispered under his breath. The king did that, which he had hoped never to do. He drew his swords and approached the dragon.

“What foolish creature dares to disturb me,” the dragon asked calmly, its voice not indicating any plan to attack. “The King of Lasgalen,” Thranduil answered, the voice he was using usually reserved for particularly annoying members of his council. “And what do you want?” The monster was playing with him. “I seek to end you,” he told the dragon truthfully. It threw its enormous head back, roaring with laughter. It was off-putting not only to Thranduil but also to his men. Their king was a fearsome warrior, did the dragon have no sense of self-preservation? Or were they all doomed?

It took the dragon a while to stop laughing. Thranduil just sighed and shrugged. “If you leave the shores of Middle-Earth and vow to never return, I will let you go free,” he offered, hoping the dragon would accept, but knowing that it was highly unlikely. The dragon chuckled dangerously. “Stop playing for time, princeling and attempt what you came to do. You will-” Thranduil did not wait for the dragon to finish his sentence. He gave the archers the command to fire. And a storm of arrows hailed down on the dragon. But none could penetrate its thick skin.

The next hours were spent running, dodging, shooting, slicing and stabbing. Thranduil’s best warriors died. One after the other he lost them all to the fire. The dragon taunted him, made fun of him, called him a fool and weak for daring to defy it. Thranduil did not care. He only had one thought left in his mind. Anarríma. He could not die. He had promised her he would come back. In a last, desperate attempt, Thranduil managed to distract the dragon by redirecting the sun with his swords, causing the glittering stones in the mountains surrounding them to sparkle so brightly the dragon could not look away. The king attacked the dragon from the side, thrusting his sword into its eye, but it was too late for him to move out of the way. The fire burned him.

The world was dark around Thranduil. Dark and hot. So hot it felt freezing cold. He heard someone call his name but whether or not it was real he could not tell. He was floating “Ana,” he whispered, “goheno nin.” And then he was gone.

Feren groaned loudly as he lifted Thranduil onto his horse. “Ana,” he heard the king whisper. Feren huffed a laugh. “If you survive this, my friend, she will kill you.” Elrond had foreseen it all. When Feren had arrived with the message from the king, he had told him that it was out of their power to do anything now and he had sent Feren back to save the injured Thranduil. “Stupid Elrond and his stupid visions,” Feren grumbled and mounted the horse.

The next time Thranduil awoke, everything was too bright. Everything hurt. And Elrond’s face seemed to be floating over him, appearing almost translucent. Then he passed out again. The following week passed in a similar manner. When the king was awake, there was only pain. And when he was asleep there was also pain. But she was there as well, dancing in a meadow in that damned purple dress he loved so much. In his dreams, she laughed and smiled. And she was pregnant. Thranduil smiled in his sleep, making Elrond smile as well as he tended to the king’s wounds. Let him be happy for a while. A bitter awakening waited for the Elvenking.

“Thank you, Galion,” Anarríma yawned as she accepted the letter without looking up from the papers she was looking over. Ruling a kingdom took a lot of work, and Thranduil had been gone for far too long. The queen was working from sunrise to sunset, and on this day, she had not even changed out of her nightgown yet. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly opening the letter from her sister. The soldiers that rushed in, reacting to their queen’s blood-curdling scream only saw a piece of paper, slowly slipping out of Queen Anarríma’s shaking hands. “My Queen?” one of them approached her carefully, “Your majesty, are you hurt?” Ana did not react. Galion, who had come running just after the guards had entered, commanded everyone to leave the room. He knelt down beside his queen. Galion picked up the letter and read it hastily.

“My dearest sister, It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of the incident in the Hithaeglir. The Lord Elrond has foreseen it, too late for us to interfere, and the dragon was too great a threat for such a small force to handle. His Majesty the King has been gravely wounded and he will have to remain in our care for the time being. He has not yet awoken but rest assured, he will recover. As for your soldiers, you have my heartfelt condolences. Lord Feren, beside your husband, is the only survivor of the group. You may wish to come at once, but I beg you, please reconsider. Your most important duty and privilege is, and will always be, to serve your kingdom. I wish you courage and strength in these dark times. Celebrían, Lady of Imladris”

The king was wounded, healing in Rivendell, and Anarríma was here. Galion put the letter back on the desk and decided to forgo all decorum, taking the queen’s hands in his. “Your majesty,” he tried carefully, but her gaze remained fixed on the loose thread on the curtains she had been wanting to cut off for the longest time. The queen shrugged off the butler’s hands and rose from her chair, walking slowly towards the window. She reached out, forcing her hands to stop shaking, and carefully ripped the stray thread away, inspecting it briefly before letting it fall to the ground. “I need the addresses of the families of my husband’s guards,” she commanded Galion without turning around, “and let my maids know that I will need help getting dressed.”

Anarríma thought that it would get easier, but it did not. With every house she visited, it just became harder and harder to tell them that their beloved father, brother, or husband had been slain. Every single stop on her tour was the same. The people were happy, albeit a bit confused, as the queen came to visit them. She told them that their loved one had passed into the Halls of Mandos. They cried. They screamed. They begged for it not to be true. And Ana had to fight against the tears every single time. “I am so sorry,” she told them every time, as if it had been her fault, because to her, it felt like it was. She had sworn to protect those people, and she had failed.

Feren’s mother was the last on her list. Galion had suggested the queen should also bring the good news in person, not only the bad ones. She knocked on the door hesitantly. The Lady Alweth had been like a mother to Thranduil. After his own mother had not been able to care for her son, Feren’s mother had taken over, and she would have loved the king like her own son, had King Oropher not forbidden her from seeing him again after the young prince Thranduil had called her Naneth once. Thranduil had never told Anarríma what had happened to his mother and she did not dare to ask him.

The door opened and Alweth emerged, hair tied back, wearing a flour-covered apron. She smiled widely and bowed her head when she saw the queen. “My queen,” she greeted, “please, come in.” Anarríma walked through the door, holding up her hand, indicating for the guards not to follow. “Sit and say your bit,” Feren’s mother commanded and pushed the queen into a comfortable chair by the fire. “Feren is fine,” Anarríma said and she could see Alweth relax instantly. “And Thranduil?” she asked concerned. Ana sighed and let her head fall back. “He lives.” “And the others?”

Anarríma shook her head and let the tears fall freely. “Gone. All of them gone. How can I expect the people to trust me as their queen if I fail to protect them? I cannot do this anymore Alweth.” Alweth dropped a slice of freshly baked cake in front of the queen. “May I speak freely, your majesty?” Ana looked up at her and nodded. Alweth had visited them often after Oropher’s death and she had become very fond of the “little Lady of Loríen”, as she had called her. Alweth sighed deeply and plopped down on a chair next to the queen inelegantly.

“He left you weeks ago, dear. Has anything burned down? No. The kingdom is safe, and if I had to guess, I would say that you are weeks ahead on Thranduil’s paperwork.” “Spit it out Alweth, you did not ask permission to speak freely for nothing,” Ana mumbled. “To be honest, you look awful. The kingdom is fine, but are you? When have you last eaten, or taken a bath, or even slept?” The queen seemed to shrink back in her chair with every accusation. “And what would the king think of such negligence?”

When Anarríma had returned to the palace, Galion noticed that she was looking better. In truth, he had scheduled the visit with Alweth not only so that Anarríma could deliver the news, but he knew that Alweth would insist to take care of the queen. She even managed to smile at him as he arrived to pick up the letters she had written. Two of them. To the Lord and Lady of Imladris, and to Thranduil. The queen seemed to be in somewhat of a better mood, but the content of the letter to Elrond and Celebrían was brutal. Had Elrond not shrugged off the warning from Thranduil as he did, this whole situation could have been avoided.

“My dearest Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond, I thank you for handling the situation as well as can be expected. If only my husband had notified you of his plans earlier, then you could have sent reinforcements and the whole situation could have been avoided. Please arrange for the bodies of our soldiers to be returned to us at your earliest convenience, their families deserve to bury them in their homes. Queen Anarríma of Lasgalen, Lady of the Woodland Realm”

“Thranduil, Your kingdom is still standing, take your time. You idiot. Ana”

Thranduil chuckled when he read the letter, the entire left side of his face stinging so badly that he groaned loudly. Elrond had healed him to the best of his abilities, but the scars would remain forever and he would never regain vision in his left eye. When the king had first seen his reflection, he had smashed the mirror against the wall and refused to eat, drink, sleep and speak. He was angry. Mostly at himself, but also at the whole world. How could he return home like this? How could any child that he might have with his beautiful wife ever look at him and not be afraid of its own father? He was a monster.

Mithrandir had come up with the solution. Elrond had sent for him, hoping that Thranduil could be healed, but there was no healing for the wounds the dragonfire had caused. Mithrandir had taught Thranduil a simple spell that concealed his injuries. It was hard for the king at first, and holding it up caused his head to hurt. He often lost control over it in the beginning, scaring his young nephews one evening, as he read them a bedtime story. The pain would remain, Elrond had told him. It would improve over time, but he would never fully recover. Within weeks, Thranduil had mastered the spell, easily upholding it without having to pay any attention at all. Yet he hesitated to return home.

His best warriors had died. He blamed himself. Anarríma was alone. He had almost made her a widow. What would have become of their realm? Who would have attempted to take the crown from her, with no heir to the throne? The letters kept coming. His wife had been patient until Elrond had told her the truth. Thranduil was fine. Perfectly healthy. Anarríma’s next letter was less friendly. Thranduil would have to return home. He did not wish to face the consequences of his actions and the wrath of his wife. Just the former was bad enough.

Their reunion in public seemed very affectionate. But Ana knew that Thranduil was hiding something. He refused to go to bed with her, telling her he needed to work and not exiting his office for three days. On the third day, Anarríma threatened Feren until he finally told her the truth. Thranduil was still wounded and would never fully heal. She barged into Thranduil’s office that evening. “My darling, what can I do for you?” He smiled at her. She squinted. His smile looked different. “My love, it has been days since your return.” Thranduil turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.

“You refuse to join me in bed. I have been waiting for you,” Ana said seductively, hoping he would take the hint. “My apologies, I have been quite busy.” She huffed a laugh and threw her arms up in defeat. It was hopeless. The queen walked around the king’s desk, took the papers out of his hands and sat on his lap. “My love, I-” “Shut up,” she interrupted him, reaching between them and opening Thranduil’s pants. “Ana,” he warned her. His cock was hard and he groaned as she ran her hand up and down his shaft. Thranduil grabbed her wrists and rose from his chair, pinning her against his desk. Anarríma saw something flicker across his face, apart from the burning rage and desire.

“You can stop pretending now, I know the truth,” she hissed at him. His hold on her wrists was uncomfortably tight. He released her and took a step back, turning around. “And what is the truth, wife?” Wife. He had never said it like that before. “You are hurt. You will never fully recover.” Thranduil stormed out of his office and started pacing up and down in their bedroom instead. “Sit,” he ordered. Anarríma sat down on the bed and he came to a halt in front of her. “Don’t scream.” Thranduil’s face twitched in pain as he partially let the spell fade away.

“Oh Eru,” Ana gasped in shock as she looked upon her husband’s face, the skin slowly disappearing, revealing the deep wounds in his left cheek. Neither of them knew what to say. Anarríma was crying quietly as she inspected the damage. “You must be in so much pain,” she whispered with a shaky voice. She took his hand into his and slowly pulled him onto the bed next to her. “I want us to change sides on the bed,” the king confessed. “Of course, my love. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” He shook his head and sighed deeply before removing the rest of the spell, revealing his eye. “I told you once that I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last before I go to sleep. I will never regain vision in my left eye, so I need you to be on my right side. Always.”

Thranduil carefully laid down, his head on his wife’s lap. “You killed a dragon,” the queen said quietly and began to run her fingers through Thranduil’s hair. She was afraid to touch him, he knew it. “But at what cost, meleth nin?” The tears that ran down Thranduil’s face hurt him, even with the added layer of protection the spell provided. Elrond had told him that he should try not to cry, but how could he? His men were dead and he was not, and he was glad. “I had a thought,” he tried to broach the subject as gently as possible. His wife nodded at him, telling him to go on. “If I had died, what would have happened to you? To our kingdom? I’m certain our people have accepted you as a ruler but we have no heir. Who would carry on our legacy after you? You could not have remarried after my death.”

He looked up at his wife as she processed his words. He pressed a soft kiss against her stomach over the thin fabric of her nightgown before sitting up. “We will not leave this room until you are pregnant,” he ordered. Anarríma swallowed. “Yes, my king,” she answered him shakily. “That’s my good girl. Now spread your legs, I want to taste you.” She gasped, thinking about all the times she had wrapped her legs around his head. “But what if I hurt you?” When she looked into Thranduil’s eyes, Anarríma fought the urge to back away from him. She had never seen him so full of desire before. “I must simply tie you up so you can’t move,” he stated plainly as if it were the only logical choice.

Anarríma gasped when she felt the silk restraints being pulled tightly around her wrists, thighs and ankles. She could not move in the slightest, however hard she tried. He had pushed her nightgown up to her waist, happily noting that his queen was not wearing any underwear. “You remember our safeword, my love?” Thranduil asked before settling down between Ana’s thighs. She nodded. “Yes.” The king wasted no more time. The queen moaned loudly as she felt his mouth close around her clit and suck it harshly. She had been untouched for months at this point.

Thranduil began thrusting his fingers into his wife hard and fast as he pleasured her with his mouth. When her moans and whimpers became louder and more frequent, and her breathing quickened, he stopped. He chuckled at her sounds of protest and rose from the bed, taking his time to undress, before returning to the bed, slowly stroking his cock. The king removed the restraints and almost ripped his wife’s nightgown as he took it off of her. He pulled her against his naked body in a tight embrace, pushing his hand between them and resting it on her belly. “You will look so good when you are round with our child,” he whispered in her ear, “now get on all fours and spread your legs so I can take you.”

Anarríma obeyed. She desired nothing more than to be fucked by the king until his seed was dripping down her thighs. He took his time, approaching her slowly. The queen inhaled sharply when she felt his hard cock against her entrance. “Please,” she begged him. “Please, what?” The queen took a deep breath in. “Please fuck me, my king. I want you to fill me with your seed.” Thranduil laughed. It sounded cruel. “Your wish is my command, my queen.” Thranduil groaned loudly as he thrust his cock into her wet cunt. He had missed her so much. His pace was brutal and the prospect of impregnating his wife spurred the king on even more.

She gasped as she felt one of his hands against her chest, pulling her up against him, as the other hand found her clit. It did not take long for Anarríma to reach her climax and as she gasped and moaned loudly, legs shaking, unable to control her body, she felt Thranduil’s cock go soft inside her. He held her still for a while, both of them breathing rapidly, as he kissed her shoulders. Ana tried to free herself from his grasp, assuming that it was done, but Thranduil’s arms held her back. “Once more, just to make sure,” he whispered into her ear.

Once more turned into approximately ten more times. Anarríma was sure she would be sore for days after Thranduil had fucked her so thoroughly. He had taken her in every position imaginable, moaning the filthiest words into her ear as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of her, filling her with his seed again and again and again, before they finally collapsed on the mattress. The spell was gone and Thranduil’s scars were clearly visible to her. The queen did not mind. He was still hers. She could feel it inside her body already. Elves knew almost immediately when they were pregnant. Anarríma smiled at Thranduil joyfully. She took his hand and put it over her stomach. “We did it.”

Thranduil smiled as he kissed his wife’s forehead. “You earned it now,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the lips more lovingly than she had ever done before. “By the way, what did Elrond do to that dragon carcass?” she asked casually, as if they had not just spent more hours fucking than most elves did in an entire decade. Thranduil shrugged. “I suppose he burnt it. But Feren saved some of the scales from its stomach. They shine as bright as the stars. I am currently having them made into a crown.” She smiled as she curled up against his side. “All hail our dragon-slaying king,” the queen proclaimed. Thranduil gently cupped her cheek and tilted her head up. “It is for you, my queen.”

Anarríma smiled hesitantly and kissed Thranduil’s neck, before laying her head on his chest. She could not hear his heartbeat from this side. But she did not mind, at least he had returned to her alive. With a crown of dragon scales for her to wear. Thranduil had Galion give him a report of what had happened during his absence. Anarríma was the queen he needed. She was his bravest warrior. He drifted off to sleep, exhausted but happy, as Ana remained awake. The treasure of a dragon was cursed. Was it wise to wear its scales atop her head? A fluttering feeling in her stomach reminded her again that she was pregnant. As if the child had wanted to snap her out of those negative thoughts.

She knew that this child would be her sunshine, that one little green leaf that remained, even when all the other leaves turned brown. “Legolas,” she whispered, as she put one of her hands over her stomach, on top of Thranduil’s. This child would be her ray of light. And times were about to get dark for Lasgalen.

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#lady-of-imladris fics #fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil #thranduil x oc #thranduil smut

[blankdblank]

Flying Buckets

…

“The White Council has spoken…” Thranduil growled out, having been reading the letter that brought him here weeks ago to talk sense into his oldest friends and get aid to move upon his lost peak within the Southern half of his forest. Glorfindel seated along the wall flinched as he did to the pained squeak and thud in response to his hard kick of a bucket through the window opening on the far wall of his suite.

“Always, the face….” A muffled and defeated voice had the pair spring up to race outside and find a petite woman plopped ungracefully on her side clutching her face to a angered flop of her foot down into the tall grass she was weighing down.

“Madam,” the Elf King felt himself sighing in a hard drop to a knee at her side. Blood clear as day from the now broken nose that hindered the already frustrated Dwarf Company of Thorin Oakenshield who were dead set on waiting until their most injury riddled member was right as rain for the continuation of their journey. Of course that was after an internal investigation on where the Princes were at during that time to ensure like a mishap with the ponies the first week had not been behind another bloody nose and facial bruise for her they were glad to be cleared of. Elrond was shouted for and the King himself carried her to aid without care of the stains to his outer robes terrifying so many in his pacing path outside the Healers Wing.

“You owe me,” was mouthed by her to the Elf King who was not blamed by the Company who would have ammunition enough already to despise him for all eternity off past grievances and grudges. The same Elf King who in his entrapped state offered a deal of his own, together they would call for aid from Dain to rid his Southern Woodlands of the Necromancer and then he would gladly aid in march upon the mountain, where they could surely work his lost gems once the arkenstone was recovered into a new trade deal to rekindle the relationship between their kingdoms.

Quietly as she stole a moment to the side of the grand hall being prepped for the coronation in a few weeks time the one to whom the King owed a debt felt his statuesque silent figure come up on her left. Silent as ever with more grace than she could dream to scoff at beside her now sling donning self thanks to another thankfully face bruise free incident one of Dain’s men unintentionally set off. “I believe we have yet to discuss terms of my debt to you.”

Up at him with brilliantly clear eyes she peered at him for another stunning glimpse of the face he’d sooner ache to coat with kisses and murmured sentiments of adoration than ever bring a single speck of a bruise to. “I want one of those head things,” that had his brow tick upwards to the circle of her good hand drawing a sloppy loop around her head. “Like Arwen and Elrond wear,” that gained a nod from him and she added peering back at the hall making his heart sink lower to her words than it ever had when he’d unfortunately caused her harm. “Everyone else has a title, some relation to the King and they all have some fancy bits and bobs they bring up to be wearing at the coronation. I get to go, but family sits with family and, I’m not family.” Up at him she looked after patting her bunched sleeve to her cheek forcing a grin onto her pinkened face, with eyes still glimmering with hint of tears in them. “If you have to you could say I cried and made you feel bad.”

“That is a poor repayment.” An answer that had her look away mid nod in the rejection riddled tone to the answer she assumed to be given so she would not actually become a sobbing mess and actually stir up some real trouble for the Elf King. An uncommon gesture of comfort of a hand on her shoulder blade halted a swivel of her head to search for a quick escape linked to ample hiding places until she would calm down. “The adornment is customary for such an event, consider it granted however many styles you deem to ask for.” Sloppily she sniffled and raised her hand and bunched up sleeve again to hover in front of the lower half of her face and cheeks as best as she could. “For now consider a much more proper form of repayment and do excuse me. On the subject of your seating arrangement, I have to speak to Lord Celeborn on terms of adopting you into his kin.”

“What?!” She squeaked out, turning to find he was gone somehow and was bent on greatly improving the station upon which would grant him a much closer distance to your seat than he could imagine possible at the moment for a Western wilds familiar Ranger.

#Thranduil x reader #Thranduil x oc #Thranduil x female ranger #flying buckets #accidental meeting #lotr #the hobbit #Thranduil #Glorfindel #Celeborn #Elrond #Thorin’s company

[eastofeddie]

The Lay of Oropherion Snippet

Here's a pretty little thing that I've been working on for the better half of four (five?) months and will HOPEFULLY be able to continue because school starts next week and I'm already drowning in schoolwork.

Summary: Second Age, Lindon. A little moment between the Lord Thranduil Oropherion and Elrond Peredhel, Herald to the High King of the Noldor.

Word Count: 1k words, give or take (it's only the first half of the first chapter!)

Warnings: the excessive use of the word "bloom" but other than that, everything's all good!

Reviews are welcomed! It helps a long-suffering writer continue this behemoth of a thing she calls a story!

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Second Age 750

Lindon, in the South Gardens of the Royal Palace

“Never would I have imagined Thranduil Oropherion to be mulling over flowers.”

Thranduil sighed and turned around, not letting go of the little bloom. Elrond Peredhel, herald to the Noldorin king, stood with his arms crossed and that Valar forsaken smile spread across his face.

“Just because you are too cowardly to even glance in Celebrían’s direction does not mean that the rest of us are as well.” Thranduil responded with tact and returned his eyes to the bush in front of him.

Elrond clicked his tongue. It really was an odd sight; for despite not knowing Thranduil for very long (about two hundred years or so), it was not in Thranduil’s nature to contemplate over a bushel of flowers. No, he’d stand in a corner and scowl at whoever dared approached him. It had dawned on Elrond once or twice that Thranduil was simply just as emotionally stunted as his father, as scowling during large events seemed to be a family trait.

But if Elrond let his eyes linger around the room, he’d find the one that seemed to lighten up Thranduil’s mood in an instant.

“Personally, I would go with the red tulips.” Elrond said. “The camellias would overcrowd the salvias and the daffodils too much.”

Thranduil tried not to make any faces at the flower still in his hand. It would be a total waste if he couldn’t do it in front of Elrond himself.

“Tulips, on the other hand, would accentuate the bouquet and is a rather good alternative for red roses; which I’m sure you would give to her at a later date.”

Thranduil stands up from where he was crouching, the little bloom falling from his hand. He raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was going to give her red roses?”

“No one did.” Elrond shook his head. “Except no one expects you to give a bouquet of red roses to the Lady Galadriel, do they?”

Thranduil refused to justify that with an answer.

Elrond stifled a laugh but refused to hide the smile that graced his face. “You do know that daisies are her favorite flower?”

Thranduil walked away from him, unconsciously walking towards the bush of daisies just a little ways away from them. “Yes, I know.”

“And you do know that if Saelon or Lord Cýron saw you giving her flowers, they’d have your head?”

“I know.” Thranduil paid no mind to that bit.

“You do also know, of course, that Síloriel is allergic to daffodils?”

“What?” In his panic, Thranduil began plucking the yellow blooms from the bouquet, not even noticing that Elrond had burst into laughter. He scowled and, quite ludicrously, began to gather up the fallen blooms from the ground. “That was not funny, Elrond.”

“It actually is,” Elrond chuckled still. “If you look at it from my perspective, at least.”

Thranduil rolls his eyes but doesn’t even bother to hide the laugh that escapes form him. Elrond, beneath his kindness and the intelligence that earned him his place at Gil-Galad’s court, had an uncanny knack for taking the piss out of Thranduil. In their circle of friends, Elrond was the only one who could ever get away with (subtly, of course) making a joke out of him without expecting him to throttle him in his sleep. Firstly, because throttling one in one’s sleep is a rather messy business and second because, quite frankly, Thranduil liked Elrond.

“It will take more than a bouquet of flowers to win them over, mellon nin.” Elrond said.

“Yes, but I do not need to win them over,” Thranduil replied, gathering a handful of daisies and adding them to the bouquet. “I only need to win her over.”

“Síloriel’s power over her family is great but even she can only do so much.” Elrond sighed as Thranduil ignored him. “If you asked for my counsel—”

“I do not ask for it.”

“But if you did,” Elrond continued. “I would tell you that her brother would not object to the marriage. Nor will the rest of her kin. But her father...”

Thranduil clenched his jaw.

“Lord Cýron is a man of great ambition. He has many plans for the future of his children.” Elrond said. “But while Saelon’s fate has been sealed, Síloriel’s can still be molded.”

Thranduil furrowed his brow. “You do not mean...”

Among the many perks that come with being Herald to the High King (of which there were few), Elrond often had to sit in on many council meetings with Gil-Galad and his troupe of advisers, Sindar and Noldor alike. The latest topic of conversation that graced the council room was the subject of the King’s marriage. Or lack thereof.

“It is still talk, nothing has been decided yet.” Elrond interjected. “There are a number of maidens that are being considered.”

“But Síloriel is the top choice?”

“She is... a front runner, yes.” Elrond tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “But it does not mean that she will be chosen.”

“No, it is only a matter of whether or not Gil-Galad is foolish enough to ignore his council’s wishes and risk a succession crisis by his refusal to take a bride.” Or to risk war with the Sindar by stealing their prince’s future bride, but Thranduil didn’t say that.

“It is a matter of chance, Thranduil.” Elrond said. “There is a chance that Síloriel will marry Ereinion. There is a chance that she won’t.”

Thranduil closed his eyes as Elrond continued. “It is not a race, mellon, it is a coin in the air that has yet to land. Do not lose hope yet.”

“Why should I lose hope if there wasn’t any in the first place?” Thranduil asked rhetorically.

“Ah, but those are the words of a cynic, my friend.” Elrond smirked. “For the vigorous spring shall blossom in the light of the one who shines. And last I heard--”

Elrond leaned in, as if he were telling a great secret. “The light was just seen in the east gardens.”

As he walked away, Elrond laughed as Thranduil, who looked around to make sure that no one would dare interrupt him again, returned to crouching on the ground and gathering handfuls of daisies.

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Tagging some of my favorite Tolkien writers because I can <3: @sotwk @scyllas-revenge @amethysttribble @cycas @viola-ophelia @entishramblings (i love everything you guys have ever written, they keep me up at night and fuel me to make it through the day)

#thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil x oc #thranduil x reader #elrond #elrond peredhel #lord elrond #lord of the rings #the hobbit #tolkien #riki writes #(finally!)

[gulnarsultan]

Yandere Thranduil getting jealous because the fem human he’s courting is talking with another ellon from Rivendell

Poor Ellon. I hope he's running fast. It's a miracle Ellon got a chance to get close to you since Thranduil didn't leave you alone. Most likely Thranduil has to take a few minutes away from you because of the other guests. While chatting, his eyes find you again. Meanwhile, Ellon is flirting with you. Thranduil feels his blood boiling. He's approaching the two of you in no time. If Thranduil could kill with his gaze, Ellon would have been dead long ago. Thranduil's angry expression makes Ellon afraid. Thranduil pulls you into his arms, showing you who he belongs to. Because Ellon doesn't want to go to the dungeons or die, he immediately understands the message and walks away. Thranduil does not leave you with you throughout the feast. It shows everyone without telling you who you belong to.

#yandere thranduil x reader #yandere thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil x oc #thranduil oropherion #thranduil x y/n #thranduil x reader #yandere hobbit x reader #yandere the hobbit #yandere hobbit #yandere silmarillion x reader #yandere silmarillion #tolkien elves

[ravensliterature]

Poison to My Lips

A/N: Posting again!

pairing: Thranduil x Reader

warnings: Mention of Blood

w/c: 2341 

Prompt: You are a half-elven servant who has fallen in love with the king and entered a secret relationship. How will you both deal when others torment you for your heritage

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Thranduil waited for you in the gardens where you both were to meet in secret. Sitting on a stone bench, he gazed at the roses that bloomed around his feet, the flowers glinted under the moonlight,  making them look like the stars.  He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different. If they could be different. 

The garden doors opened and Thranduil stood as your familiar face stepped out of it. “I have been expecting you here, my love.” 

The smile on his lips faltered, however, when he saw the tears streaming down your face, “What happened? What has upset you so much? Tell me what it is I can do to make it better?” 

You looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, tears running down your cheeks like rivers, “It's nothing, my darling. Some of the fellow maids poured water upon me. It was in jest." 

He frowned slightly, concern lacing his words, “Why did they do such a thing? Surely there must have been an explanation.”

You let out a sigh, “I take it they still do not like a half-elven's presence…” 

Thranduil shook his head. How could people be so cruel? Why would they want to hurt you? His chest tightened knowing your levels of distress. 

“This behavior will not be allowed. Please tell me who has done this." 

You smiled softly up at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “If you insist then I shall tell you, but please do not be too cruel. They are simply ignorant." 

His eyebrows furrowed even more as he held you close. It wasn't fair that anyone would treat you so cruelly. He would do whatever it took to make sure none of them hurt you again. He pulled away and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly.

"Tell me.”

“Liriel and Ariya." 

His eyes widened before narrowing into slits, "I will discuss it with them later. For now, I wish to enjoy my evening with the one dearest to me." 

A smile appeared on your face as your hand found its way to rest against his cheek. “As you wish my King." You bent forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

---

You were walking through the corridors of the palace holding laundry in your arms that needed a good washing.  The halls were dark, only the occasional lantern lit the path in front of you, casting shadows of yourself moving quickly down the halls as you moved from room to room.  As usual, the halls were empty except for a few servants scurrying back and forth as they prepared for the night shift. The sound of voices booming ahead of you alerted you, causing your curiosity to spike. 

The voices were coming from the throne room but Thranduil often wrapped up his duties by this time.  You paused outside of the door and waited patiently, listening carefully to find out what they were discussing. After a while, you heard the voice boom again. "What makes you think this is alright to do in my kingdom?" 

The king demanded.

"But sire-"

"No! This behavior cannot go unchecked." The king snapped, his deep baritone echoing through the hallways, sending chills down your spine. "This goes no further, nor does it ever again. Is that understood?"

"But my king, she..." 

"Silence!"

You froze, clutching the basket tightly in your hands. Your heart hammered wildly, pounding harder as each moment passed without hearing another word. 

"Do not speak about this subject anymore or so help me I will banish you from my sight,"  Thranduil said coldly. "Understand?"

"Yes sire," a female voice mumbled weakly. 

 Footsteps walked your way towards the door and soon after the heavy door slammed open.

Your breath hitched in your throat. There was so much anger contained within those words, the sheer amount of rage and disappointment behind them. You hid behind the large door seeing who would approach. 

Liriel and Ariya. You could feel your heart begin to race, feeling the anxiety and fear bubble inside of you like lava, slowly growing hotter until it exploded inside.

"I can't believe the king would defend that half-breed." Liriel spat, her voice sounding angry, almost disgusted. "She has no place amongst us. She should never be allowed here at all."

You closed your eyes, unable to watch, the heat growing unbearable.

Your breathing grew heavier as tears welled up in your eyes. You wanted to run away but you didn't want to alert them of your presence. 

Ariya scoffed, "I agree but I don't think there is much we can do now. She has somehow managed to bewitch the king, she is dangerous."

You felt sick to the stomach. 

Liriel huffed. "Well, she deserves worse than being cast aside like garbage."

"That may be true but how far are we willing to go to get rid of her?"

The two women continued speaking, leaving you standing there frozen until they eventually walked away.  With a shaky breath, you composed yourself, entering the throne room. 

The two guards were kneeling before Thranduil, their heads bowed low. 

Thranduil spoke softly, "Please leave us."

You stood rooted to the spot, watching as the guards nodded and left the room. Once they were gone, you stepped forward, your eyes meeting Thranduil's.

"My love, what are you doing here?" He asked, his voice laced with worry.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, "I came to see you."

He sighed, "Is that so?"

You nodded, taking a tentative step closer to him, "Of course I did."

Thranduil lifted himself off the throne and made his way down the steps to meet you.  He reached out gently, cupping your cheek, brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

"Are you okay?" He whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly,  "Did something happen today?"

You looked away, your eyes scanning the floor.

"Come, love," he took your hand, leading you to the bench, "tell me what happened."

Your brow furrowed. "Nothing bad." You insisted, looking up at him.

"Just a little tired. Need to find a gown for the Feast of Starlight."  You lied easily.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

You nodded, "Yes. But it isn’t anything important…"

Thranduil leaned forward kissing you lightly. "Nonsense. I will have a dress sent to your chambers."

You blushed faintly, resting your head against his shoulder. A warm glow settled in your chest. Thranduil loved you unconditionally and he was always kind and loving to you. You would not trade him for the world.

He kissed your forehead once more and squeezed your hand. "Go bathe and rest.  I shall see you tonight."

You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand in return and turning to leave the throne room.

--- 

"Tonight! We celebrate!"  Thranduil yelled to the full ballroom. 

You watched as hundreds of elves danced throughout the ballroom and tables covered in food. You were dressed in a flowing silver gown that Thranduil had picked for you. 

You wore a crown of flowers and small diamonds adorning your hair. The silver jewelry sparkled under the light that shone through the tall windows. The jewels gave off the illusion that you could see stars.

"Y/n!"  Legolas called to you from across the room as he made his way over to you.

He grinned, hugging you tightly, "You look like a star in the sky"

You chuckled lightly, "Thank you. And you look quite handsome as well."

Legolas flushed slightly, a smile playing on his lips. "Truly? I am glad to hear that."

You giggled, "Yes, indeed."

He smiled brightly, "Thank you."

Slowly, he leaned to the side of your face and whispered in your ear. "My father wishes me to inform you that he has made a private evening for the two of you when the feast is over." 

You blushed heavily, "Oh...um...thank you!"

He pecked your cheek teasingly, "Of course, he is quite fond of you. I hope you are both able to provide each other with eternal happiness." 

He then turned on his heel and began making his way through the crowd as you watched him in amusement.  Soon your eyes landed back on Thranduil. He was talking quietly to the nobles of Mirkwood who demanded his attention, occasionally glancing over to where you stood with a subtle longing gaze. 

You smiled to yourself until you spotted Ariya heading toward you, her blonde hair pinned atop her head, a flower necklace around her neck.  She approached you with a bright grin, her blue eyes shining with excitement and two glasses in her hand, "Hello Y/n! How is the feast finding you?"

You shrugged, "Fine, I suppose. What do you need of me?" 

Her eyebrows shot up, "Nothing at all. Well, actually, I wish to apologize." 

Your eyes widened slightly, taken aback. "You would?"

"I have been most unkind to you." Ariya apologized, "And I know you must be hurt."

You shook your head, "No, it is alright. I mean…It did hurt..."

She sighed and sat down on the stone steps beside you, "Nevertheless, please accept my apology and please drink with me."

You stared into her eyes before nodding with a smile, accepting her apology. 

 She slid one glass to you and saved the other for herself.

"Drink up," Ariya said, lifting up her glass.

You nodded, holding your cup up, "To new beginnings."

The two of you drank the alcohol in unison before finishing your glasses. 

"May we enjoy tonight as if it is our last?" 

You nodded, taking another sip of the drink and gazing at Ariya's bright and vibrant blue eyes, "Sounds perfect." 

The night continued for hours and it wasn't long till the party grew in merriment.  Everyone was drunk, dancing to a lively melody and singing songs of victory and celebration.  It was quite beautiful and you couldn't help but smile whenever you caught your lover's eye as he stood amongst the crowd, watching the festivities from afar.

Finally, he made his way toward you.  You smiled as he nodded to you, his eyes saying all the things he wished he could.

"You look very beautiful, Y/N." He murmured whispered to you. 

Your eyes lit up, "You as well, my king."

His eyes gleamed. "How has the feast faired you?" 

You shrugged, "It has been wonderful. Ariya even apologized to me and brought me wine. "

He laughed lightly placing a kiss on your forehead, "Then dance with me and celebrate this news. Let loose for a while and forget everything else." 

You grinned widely and nodded. 

He grabbed your hand and lead you towards the crowd, swaying to the music as he held onto you closely. 

Suddenly Thranduil stopped in his tracks causing you to stumble backward.

"What is it?" You mumbled nervously, staring at him with concern.

His eyes widened with fear, "Blood. There is blood running from your nose." 

You felt a chill run through you as you touched your nose quickly. Your eyes widened in horror when you realized the blood had dripped from your nose and had stained yours. Quickly you wiped it away as your head began to feel light

Thranduil frowned, "Darling, you alright?"

You blinked slowly, "I'm fine.."

Your legs suddenly buckled beneath you and a strong arm wrapped securely around you waist catching you before your head hit the ground.  You let out a small whimper, closing your eyes and feeling tears begin to stream down your cheeks. 

"Stay awake, Y/N." Thranduil urged, "Look at me."

Your vision blurred, "Thran…"

"Y/N!" He yelled, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

You tried focusing your eyes only to see nothing but blackness.

"Don't close your eyes." He commanded urgently.

You felt yourself being hoisted up in his arms.

"I need a healer!" 

---

"Y/N, please wake up."  

Your eyelids fluttered open, blinking multiple times to try and get rid of the dark clouds that threatened to engulf your vision.  You squinted your eyes at the figure above you. As soon as they focused you recognized them as Thranduil. Your eyes widened.

"Where are we?" You asked shakily.

"We're in the healer's room."  He answered softly, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

"What happ-" your words died on your lips when you took in your surroundings.

You were lying in a bed, covered in white sheets, with curtains drawn shut surrounding your bed. 

"Liriel and Ariya poisoned you. I am currently holding them in the cells."  

You looked up at him in shock, "Are you going to kill them?"

He scoffed, shaking his head, "I wish..."

"My son urged me to banish them. He knew you wouldn't have wanted their deaths."   His voice was laced with pain, his jaw clenched tightly.

You swallowed thickly before reaching up to touch his cheek gently. "I am sorry to have scared you, my love"

His eyes filled with sorrow, "You almost died. I almost lost you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, "But I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yes."  He murmured softly, wiping your tears away.

You hummed softly and laid back against the pillows.

Thranduil moved back to lay beside you and placed a tender kiss on your temple. He rested his head against your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You gazed at him thoughtfully until you heard him say: "Marry me." 

You gasped softly.

Your eyes opened wide in disbelief, "What?"

Thranduil opened his eyes and met yours with determination, "Y/N, marry me. Please."

"But-"

He lifted a finger to silence you, "I will not allow anyone to tell me what I can or cannot do. I almost lost you, I intend to enjoy every moment with you I can as my wife."

You bit down on your lip, a nervous chuckle leaving your mouth. 

"I cannot imagine being any happier than I already am now." 

"So will you marry me?" He asked again.

You nodded slowly, biting your lip, trying to hide your growing smile, "...yes."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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#the hobbit #hobbit #the hobbit botfa #Thranduil #thranduil x oc #thranduil x reader #thranduil fluff #thranduil greenleaf #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n #thranduil x servant

[agathne]

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

[tamurilofrivendell]

Where We Go From Here | Thranduil & Calithil

Characters: Thranduil & Calithil (OC daughter) Supporting/Mentioned Characters: Legolas & Caleniel (OC wife) Summary: Calithil’s beloved mother has been killed and, in the weeks that follow, her father finds a little strength through his own grief at various moments to comfort his daughter. Content: Grief. Violence/death etc. Translations: adar (father) // pîn ithil (little moon) // sellig (my daughter) // ionneg (my son) Read on AO3

Shadows danced upon the walls in the flickering candlelight. The chill in the air did nothing to truly affect her phyiscally but Calithil felt it in her bones nonetheless. 

That very night, her beloved mother, Caleniel, Elvenqueen of the Woodland Realm, was slain. It was all Calithil could do to stand there in the throne room, awaiting her father’s return, and not break down into floods of ugly tears. The only thing that kept her from dropping to her knees and weeping in the most un-princess-like fashion imaginable, was her older brother Legolas, standing beside her, gripping her hand in his own.

He was standing as still as a statue, facing the entryway, but she could feel him trembling. 

The word had come back about the fate of the Queen, carried through the forest ahead of the King and his soldiers. Calithil felt as if she had been thrust into a nightmare. Not even five hours ago, she was sitting in the library reading a book of poetry, only mildly worried about her parents’ return journey from Rivendell. It was such a standard thing, so commonplace and routine, that she did not even think that something quite so dreadful could ever happen. Especially not surrounded by so many of their people, their best warriors. All of the details had not yet reached the Woodland Realm and Calithil did not know whether she would prefer to be kept in the dark or not.

Maybe if she learned no more about it then she could pretend as though none of it had actually happened. She could pretend that her mother - her beautiful, strong, loving mother - was alive.

There was a sudden commotion and in strode her father, his pace fast and furious. His face was like thunder but she could see the fresh sorrow shining in his eyes. He would not show it here, not like this, she knew that... and she had to do the same. She squeezed Legolas’ hand tighter, telling herself to be strong and she felt his gentle comforting squeeze in return.

“Father.” Legolas stepped forward then, dropping her hand. Calithil clasped her hands in front of her to avoid fidgeting.

“Calithil.” Thranduil boomed, ignoring Legolas for the moment, not even looking at her. “Leave us.”

Briefly stunned, she blinked back at him. “But adar-” Calithil started, abruptly cut off by her father as he turned his gaze of steel upon her.

“Now.” His voice echoed through the room, hanging heavy in the deafening silence that followed.

Ducking her head just slightly, Calithil’s expression creased into a frown. She glanced at her brother, who blinked back rather helplessly, and then she turned and fled.

“Was that entirely necessary?” Legolas quipped, gritting his teeth as he turned from the door his sister had just retreated through, and back to his father.

Thranduil looked furious but Legolas knew that fury was not due to either of his children but was aimed at the filth that had ambushed the travelling royal cavalcade and taken the life of the King’s treasured wife.

Thranduil turned his gaze to his son, raising a brow. “What?” He asked, as if he had no idea what Legolas was talking about. It was very evident that Thranduil was using a great deal of energy to appear as calm as he was.

Legolas held back a scoff. Emotions were running understandably high and he didn’t want to make things worse for his father... but he was hurting too. His sister was hurting too. They had just lost their mother.

“She worships the ground you walk on, father.” Legolas muttered, watching his father bid his guards to come closer from down the walkway.

“You would prefer your sister be privy to details of the murder of her own mother?” Thranduil wondered, making a big show of his attention being elsewhere but his voice was taking on more malice with each passing second, his composure slipping. He had only wanted to keep it up long enough to get his daughter out of the room and now his grip on it was deteriorating.

“If I am expected to be, surely so can she.” Legolas replied, a rush of grief flooding through him as he thought about his mother being executed. He did not relish knowing the details but he knew that he must. “She is stronger than you give her credit for.”

“Would you wish me to describe to her the length and colour of the knives that plunged so deep into the flesh of your mother’s body that she was immediately beyond any and all help?” Thranduil continued as he rounded on his son, glaring down at him.

The throne room had fallen utterly silent, all eyes upon the King and the Prince. The grief even from the staff was unmistakable.

“Would you wish me to explain to her that it happened so quickly that not even I could reach her in time?” Thranduil continued, tears beginning to collect in his eyes, threatening to fully betray his anguish to everyone in the room... though none of them would think any less of him for it.

“Do you wish, my son, for me to look into the eyes of your sister and tell her that I, her own father, am responsible for her mother’s death?” He snapped finally, the tears spilling down his ivory cheeks. “That your mother was targeted and taken from us simply for being my Queen?”

Legolas said nothing, simply allowed his father to release it all. He already knew that sometimes his father’s more delicate emotions could come out veiled in frustration or anger. His mother had always told him that Thranduil’s bark was far worse than his bite and sometimes all you had to do was wait for the storm to pass all by itself. Legolas had learned the art of this quite well... letting his father feel whatever he was feeling before letting it out in his own way.

He knew that this, right here and now, was about his father’s grief... that it was about his father’s guilt.

Legolas also knew that Thranduil had sent his sister out the way he had as some means of protecting her, much like he always did, but Legolas knew that there was no shielding her from this.

His father loved him deeply, he knew that, but he had always seemed to want to keep an extra blanket of security over his youngest child. Legolas, too, wanted to protect his sister but they could not protect her from everything... especially not this.

“Do not shut her out, adar.” Was all Legolas said once his father was done. He gazed back at Thranduil, eyes full of empathy for him and of sorrow for himself. He stepped forward and placed a comforting hand upon his father’s shoulder. “Do not shut either of us out... you are not to blame and you are not alone.” Then he turned and left the room, retreating to the royal chambers to drown in his own grief.

A week later, Calithil had retreated to one of the lower levels, sitting beside a waterfall that flowed through the underground hall from somewhere above. She held her hand out, letting the water flow over her fingertips. Usually, such a simple thing would bring her a little joy, but not today.

She still felt cold. Two whole weeks without her mother had been hell on middle-earth. How was she supposed to do an eternity this way?

Legolas had gone out into the forest. She had not wanted him to leave her alone here but she knew that this was one way that helped her brother to work through things. It kept his mind distracted and busy. Calithil was not going to deprive him of anything that would take away just a little bit of distress from him.

She sat down upon the ground and sighed, closing her eyes and listening to the water. She didn’t know what to do. She felt so alone. Calithil had seen her father once since that night, at dinner, but he had not come again. She heard he had shut himself away in his chambers and answered to no one and nothing.

So she was surprised, to say the least, when she opened her eyes after sensing another presence, and found Thranduil himself standing there a short distance away. His gaze was fixed on the waterfall, the way the moonlight shone through it from a crack in the vast ceiling.

Calithil did not speak. She did not know what to say. If her father wanted to talk, he would do so. She wondered briefly if he was unhappy to find her here. Perhaps he too had been seeking privacy and peace outside the confines of his room.

She was debating whether or not to take her leave when he finally spoke, turning to look upon his daughter. “I have always enjoyed the solitude of this particular cavern.”

It wasn’t the first thing she expected him to say to her but she just nodded. His words made her wonder if she had been right and that he wished to be alone here. Calithil rose from the ground, inclined her head out of respect, and turned away in the direction of the exit.

“Calithil.” His voice was gentle, tinged with sadness and regret.

Her footsteps stilled and she turned around again, looking back at him. At the broken image of her father. Thranduil stepped towards her slowly, reaching out for her. He gently cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks, looking into her eyes as if he were committing every part of her to memory. For some reason, it broke her heart.

“My little moon.” He murmured, thinking to himself that she was the very image of her mother.

The tears came then as Calithil fell forward, collapsing against her father’s chest as his arms circled her and held her close. He stood there with her for a long while, letting her cry it out in his firm embrace.

“The forest is changing.” Legolas stated, striding into the private royal dining hall and shaking his head, having just returned from his seclusion in the woods.

Thranduil’s mouth pulled into a thin line as he thought about the darkness that had been descending upon his beloved forest. “I am aware.” He said evenly.

“Changing how?” Calithil asked, looking up from the bread she had been picking at. She was not truly hungry but she had just been happy that her father had been leaving his rooms and spending time around her again.

Legolas turned to look at her and opened his mouth as if he were going to answer but he was rather abruptly cut off before he could even get a word out.

“It is nothing for you to concern yourself with.” Thranduil said, his tone leaving no room for discussion as he focused on his wine.

Calithil frowned but she said nothing. She sat for a moment longer in the tense silence that followed before she stood, pushing her chair back with enough force to show that she was frustrated, and then she turned and stalked from the room and away down the hall.

She could hear the soft arguing that sparked up between her brother and father behind her as she went. She heard Legolas saying her name and sighed heavily as she retreated to the royal chambers.

Calithil was tired of her father cutting her out of everything. He had been doing it since the night her mother died and she was growing upset with his back and forth moods and of him keeping her at arms length this way.

Nobody had even really spoken to her of what happened that night. She had had to glean what information she could from various sources around the halls, but all she truly wanted was for her father to talk to her about it.

She just wanted him to talk to her.

Another week had passed and Calithil had slept for three days in her mother’s chambers. Curled upon her mother’s large bed, feeling like a little child again, Calithil could feel those pesky tears once more but she did what she could to keep them at bay. It made her angry... that her mother had been taken from this world in such a brutal way.

Suddenly, the door opened and Calithil sat up, some distant part of her mind telling her that it was her mother, that she was home... but of course that was impossible.

Her father stood in the doorway, tall and imposing as ever, but gazing at her with a grief in his eyes so deep that she could have drowned in it.

She sniffed and lay back down again, squeezing her eyes shut. There was a silence and she half expected him to leave but the bed shifted and when she opened her eyes again, she saw her father sitting beside her, looking down at her with tears shining in his eyes.

“Forgive me, little moon.” He murmured, regret cutting through him like a knife. “I do not mean to be so cold.”

Calithil was quiet for a moment as he brushed his fingers gently through her golden hair. “It’s okay.” She said softly, blinking up at him.

Thranduil shook his head. “No, darling... it is not.” He sighed, shifting to carefully lower himself so that he could lay down beside her. Thranduil studied her face, fingers combing through the ends of her hair as they lay there in silence for a few moments. Calithil’s eyes drifted closed again, feeling like a little elfling but there was a great comfort in it.

“I miss her...” She whispered, unable to help herself, keeping her eyes shut in an attempt to ward of the tears that once more threatened to fall.

Thranduil sucked in a little shaky breath. “I know, pîn ithil, I know.” There was another slightly drawn out silence. Thranduil’s fingers continued to tangle comfortingly through his daughter’s hair. Just before she drifted off into the welcoming embrace of sleep, she heard his voice again. “So do I.”

Four weeks later, Thranduil had done his best to be less distant and more present for his daughter. His wife would not have wanted him to push them away, their beloved children. He knew this, and yet Thranduil still longed to allow himself to drift away into the embrace of complete and utter misery, allow his grief to swallow him whole, pull him down beneath the waves and never surface.

Still, he persevered.

“I can’t do it!” Calithil whined, letting the sword she was holding clatter to the ground with a heavy sigh. “It is too difficult.”

Thranduil, standing before her holding his own sword, gave her a look of disapproval. “You have barely tried, sweetheart. Pick it up and let’s go again.”

She stubbornly shook her head. “No.” He had been making her do this for five days and yet she still simply could not.

Thranduil raised a brow as he eyed his daughter. “Calithil.” His tone was low and there was a dangerous bite in it that she had heard many times before.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do we have to do this anyway!” She complained, staring at him. “What am I going to have to fight in these halls?! Nothing.” She finished, folding her arms in front of her as if the conversation was over.

Thranduil, however, would not concede. He blinked back at his stubborn daughter, her expression the very image of her mother when he had done or said something to affront her.

This thought only spurred him on.

“And what if you are outside of these halls?” He asked, spreading his arms in question. “What then?”

Calithil gave him a funny look, tilting her head as she looked at him. “Ada, I am never outside of these halls without you.”

“And neither was your mother, Cali!” He finally snapped, losing his temper.

Calithil froze and went silent, staring at him for a long moment. Grief and guilt both curled together in her gut as she looked at her father, his face no longer a mask of cool detachment.

She realised, then, that he wanted her to learn the skills to defend herself because he wanted to limit the ways that she could be put in a position to get hurt. Her mother had been a skilled warrior and yet she had still been taken down. What of Calithil? What if she were travelling to Lothlorien with her father’s caravan and they were set upon? Would she have more luck on her side having to sit in the centre, being defended, or would she have more luck being able to wield her own weapon?

Calithil pressed her mouth into a thin line to try and hold back the tears she felt as she was witness to her father’s deeper emotions, and then she bent down to pick the sword back up again.

She nodded. “Show me again.”

Thranduil stood quietly for a moment, watching her with pride, and then he offered her a soft smile, eyes shining as he took up a stance before her.

Legolas and Thranduil were sitting in the family room when Calithil walked in.

Thranduil looked up from his book and followed her movements across the floor. “Where have you been?”

“Sleeping.” Calithil muttered simply, receiving a frown from her father and finally drawing Legolas’ concerned attention.

“You have been doing that a lot.” Legolas said, tilting his head at her.

“And what of it?” Calithil barked back, walking over to the  large chair beside the extravagant fireplace and throwing herself dramatically down upon it.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow as he watched her. She was often the very image of her mother but in this moment she struck him as very much the image of himself. A perfect blend of himself and Caleniel, the both of them were.

“The Eldar do not need to sleep as deeply as you have been, nor the same amount as mere mortals do, Calithil.” Thranduil stated calmly, turning his gaze back down to the book in his lap. “I believe it is time that you return to your meditations. Enough time has passed.” He made a point with his tone, perfectly aware of the reason his daughter had been subjecting herself to such deep sleep so very often, where her dreams and even her senses were far more shut off than was necessary.

Because of her mother’s death. She was doing her best to shut herself off as much as she possibly could.

Legolas frowned, glancing down at his hands briefly, before he looked back up at his sister. “Cali...” He murmured, keeping his gaze on her before she looked up again.

“What?” She asked after a beat.

Legolas stood and moved over to his sister, sitting on the arm of the chair. “You are sleeping your days away. You are still barely eating, do not think we have not noticed.”

She frowned up at her brother. “So what?” She snapped, drawing her father’s gaze once more.

He lifted his head with a frown. “Cali.” He warned, letting her know that her tone was unnecessary.

She sighed, looking down and clasping her hands in her lap. “Sorry...” She whispered.

Thranduil set his book aside and rose from his own chair, graceful as ever, and floated across the room towards his children. He crouched down in front of Calithil’s chair, his hands moving to close over hers.

“Beautiful daughter... look at me.” He said softly, watching her eyes lift to meet his own. There were tears shining in them.

He smiled sadly. “Your mother would not want you to neglect yourself... neither of you.” His gaze lifted to meet his son’s, who he knew was pushing himself to the point of punishing out in the forest. Legolas lowered his gaze guiltily. Thranduil gave another sad little smile and sighed, removing one of his hands from his daughters and reaching out to take one of his son’s.

They sat like that - father, son, daughter - for a while, before Thranduil found the strength to finish what he had been saying.

“She has left this world for the next and, whilst we are allowed to feel sad about that, drowning in such anguish is not acceptable.” He gave Legolas a look to shut him up when he noticed his son opening his mouth to speak. “And I know that I, too, am guilty of this, yes.” He admitted, sighing again.

“Listen to me.” Thranduil continued. “Sellig. Ionneg. We three remain. And we three must endure, we must persevere.” He looked between the two of them, his entire world wrapped up in these two beautiful beings. “And so we shall. Together.”

#thranduil x oc #thranduil fanfic #lotr x oc #the hobbit x oc #legolas x oc #lotr fanfic #thranduil oropherion #thranduil's daughter #thranduil's wife

[shierak-inavva]

if it's only time, then everything else can wait

let it stop a while, let me watch you smile

and stay right here in this place

i don't think i'll be able to draw thranduil this good ever again omg

during their courtship there was so much happening around them but thranduil and elowen always found time to just relax and enjoy one another's company 🥺💛

#my ocs #thranduil #thranduil x oc #elowen anairiel #elowen x thranduil #silmarillion oc #tolkien oc #lotr oc #they’re cute and i have not been very kind to them 😮‍💨 #at some point i’ll talk more about them #but for now here is this for u all