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anaveragebibliophile · 2 years

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You Are Welcome

Thranduil x OC x Baby!Legolas

Summary: In celebration of the Enderi season, Queen Älva and King Thranduil host a feast for all of their friends, hobbits and dwarves alike. Come along and figure out how their paths collided, what preconceived notions are still lingering, and why they continue to love one another so unconditionally.

“Darling, I am so delighted that we get to host the dwarves in celebration of the Enderi season,” Älva, the Queen of Mirkwood, said. “I have a strong inkling that they are going to revel in its incomparable history and exquisite food. What’s more, they will get to see how Legolas has grown. Oh, what a wonderful day this will be.”

King Thranduil, sitting atop their bed with their son sleeping in his arms, smiled in response to his wife’s unfiltered, unabashed joy. “I, too, am delighted, sweetheart. The dwarves and I have truly become the best of friends. I regret those years where we were nothing but cool towards one another. Without a doubt, I have enjoyed their company tremendously.”

It was no secret that the king and the dwarves–King Thorin Oakenshield in particular–didn’t get along for centuries. While the King of Mirkwood believed his adversaries to be nothing but corrupt and blind with a golden greed, the Dwarves of Erebor believed King Thranduil to be wicked, vile, haughty, and severely entitled to assets and properties that weren’t his to begin with. Exhibit A, The Lonely Mountain. With those stereotypes perpetuated over the years, they could do nothing more but fight, argue, and continue to allow the distrust to fester. That is, until she came into the picture.

Älva, a simple she-elf of Rivendell, ended up connecting with the dwarves first. On a mission to reclaim their long-lost kingdom, she decided to accompany them after they witnessed her archery skills against Bolg in Lake Town. Practically begging her to tag along on their journey, she found it very difficult to say no. In all honesty, how could she say no to those sweet faces?

She hadn’t met Thran until they ended up cornered in the Mirkwood Forest a few weeks later. Unfortunately, they had gotten lost but still believed that they could withstand an army of thousands of trained, angry, and lethal elven soldiers. Let’s just say that that was Kili’s idea, not anyone else’s. Maybe Thorin’s too, if we’re going to be honest here. Yet, that ended pretty quickly when they realized how unmatched they were in the grand scheme of things.

As luck would have it, Älva managed to convince the king to let them go free. She was quite persuasive, he would say years down the line. Not only that, but she was just gorgeous–long, curly, honey blonde hair with big, round, teal eyes. And a dimpled smile that just took his breath away. He couldn’t bare to see that woman shed a single tear or pout in dissatisfaction. At that point, he knew he was a goner.

A few years later, they married with a lavish ceremony in Mirkwood. It took a long time for Älva to convince her husband-to-be to invite some of her longtime comrades. Even after the Battle of the Five Armies had ceased, tensions remained high. King Thranduil wasn’t quite ready to forgive nor forget what happened at the mountain just yet. However, Älva usually got what she wanted, and this time remained no different. One kiss and he was saying yes to everything under the sun. Consequently, they were invited. But it all seemed to work out.

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“Your Majesties, King Thorin is here with Master Baggins and his comrades. They await your presence in the throne room,” Tauriel said, smiling widely upon receiving entry into the chambers of her king and queen.

Cradling her son in her arms and snuggling him into her chest, the queen responded. “Thank you very much, Tauriel. We will be down shortly.”

Bowing in turn, the Captain of the Guard exited.

“Do we have everything, my love?” Thran asked, his upper lip curving at his two most favorite people in all of Middle Earth.

“I believe so. If you could just grab this little leaf’s blanket, then we should be ready for the celebration to commence.”

Quickly grabbing his son’s blanket from the ivory rocking chair near the window, he placed a hand on his wife’s back and guided her towards the throne room where their guests awaited.

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As Thran and Älva walked into the regal, authoritative space that perpetually demanded most of their attention as governors of this fine kingdom, they were splendidly surprised to find that it no longer felt that way. Probably because several grinning baffoons were joking amongst themselves, laughing, and hugging each other in spite of all the soldiers keeping prudent, acute eyes on them all. In their minds, a possible shot to the leg would do nothing to inhibit this reunion.

It was Bilbo who noticed them approaching first.

“Everyone,” he started, “calm down. They’re here. Oh, and they’ve brought the elfling, so you must stop the nonsense.”

“Hello to you as well, Bilbo,” Älva said. “I can assure you that this little guy won’t make a fuss. He sleeps through quite a bit. When he’s ready to wake up, he will.”

At that, Legolas, wrapped up against his mother’s chest, peeked one eye open only to close it again. Obviously, he was still tired and determined to get some much needed rest. Not even this boisterous group was going to stop him.

While their little leaf was resting, Thorin and Thran shook hands, Älva stepping in after to give him a quick hug. While she was wrapped around his chest, Erebor’s king was able to take a long look at the little elf that had everyone wrapped around his finger, including him.

“Älva, Thranduil, he’s gotten so much bigger,” Thorin interjected, slowly moving his thumb across Legolas’ head, making him smile softly in his sleep. “What a handsome young prince. He definitely takes after his father.”

“Thank you, Thorin. What a kind thing to say.”

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Dinner was quite a lively experience. On the menu was a delicious turtle soup, paired with superb elven bread and feywine. And it definitely didn’t disappoint. Even Bilbo, who preferred mini quiches and hobbit hash, was raving about the dish and all of the sides.

“This is exceptional. May I please have the recipe?” he asked through a spoonful of soup.

Thranduil smiled. “Of course, Master Baggins. I will let the kitchen know to send you home with a card that has all the soup’s ingredients written on it.”

Quickly, though, the hobbit’s response was interrupted with a giggle from the king and queen’s son.

“It appears someone’s awake,” the king said, grinning and moving out of his chair to go kneel next to his wife’s.

Legolas, bundled against his mother in a wrap and his blanket, was playing with her long braid and was continuously amused by her attempts to swing it back and forth like a pendulum. It was so hysterical to him, this vacillation of sorts.

“We just have been playing, haven’t we little one?” his wife queried, subsequently kissing her son’s forehead.

Suddenly, her forehead pinched in thought.

“Would you like to have some time with him, Thran? I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.”

Frowning, he responded. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize. You may have as much time as you wish. He’s our child, not just mine.”

“Ada! Ada! A-A-Ada!” Legolas shouted, his little body trying to wiggle around to see one of his favorite people.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ll get you to Ada.”

Pulling him out of his wrap and passing him over to her husband, Älva watched as Legolas snuggled his head into Thran’s neck, getting himself comfortable for the foreseeable future. She also noticed, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, how attentive that man was to their child. He rubbed his back, adjusted his positioning to make him feel safe and loved, and repeatedly kissed his teeny-tiny cheeks, making the elfling giggle and try his hardest to emulate him.

But she wasn’t the only one that noticed this display.

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He was the one to bring it up while they sat side-by-side on the conference room’s balcony. It was just the two of them. Thranduil had gone to put Legolas to bed. He loved bathing him and singing him to sleep. He hadn’t missed out on that special part of the day yet–even when political matters came calling–and didn’t plan on ever starting.

“He’s such a fantastic father, Äl. There’s no doubt.” Thorin said. “He’s gentle, kind, and supportive. Intelligent, helpful, and compassionate. I really misjudged him. I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time back then. I didn’t believe that you were making the right decision, but I see it now. I do. I see the real him that you’ve always spoken so highly of. All of the genuinely wonderful qualities that make him a good husband and a good father. He wouldn’t be someone Legolas adores if he didn’t adore you first.”

All Älva could do was squeeze his hand in gratitude.

“Thank you, Thorin. You have no idea what that means to me and will mean to him.”

“Ahem–”

The queen quickly turned her head, surprised to find her son and husband standing in the doorway to the conference room, both of their gazes never leaving hers. Legolas’ back was against his father’s chest, his legs dangling from the perch that was Thran’s forearm. Intermittently, his Ada would kiss the top of his head, causing his arms to shoot out, making him look like a little starfish. He looked tired and even had the big, bad yawns to prove it.

“What are you two still doing up?” Älva said, preparing to stand.

“We were wondering if you would be willing to join us for a bedtime read before this little leaf heads to bed. The singing isn’t doing much tonight. I think I need some help,” her husband timidly admitted.

Nodding with enthusiasm, she placed her hand on Thorin’s wrist in an effort to gain his attention.

“We will talk tomorrow, yes? Duty calls as I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Until tomorrow then.”

As Thorin settled back into his seat, he couldn’t help but listen to the soft coos that came from Thran and Äl as they quietly asked their son what he would like to read before he headed off into dreamland once again.

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perwaineintsomi · 2 years

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Cause I’m feeling sick this past few weeks, I decided to share this gem incase you feel unwell as well.

#king thranduil #thranduil #legolas #legolas greenleaf #elrond #the hobbit #lotr memes #lotr #jrr tolkien #mirkwood #babylegolas #mirkwoodwine

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thranduil-ypfanfics · 3 years

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Mini Fic: Thranduil x Reader & Jelly Legolas - Little Leaf

Legolas knew in his heart he should be happy for his father. He had found his 2nd chance soul mate in a small little human with unruly curls and angelic features. Legolas couldn’t help but be jealous, he was his father’s first born son.

With determination Legolas made his way to his father’s bed chambers. As he swung the heavy double doors open he noted his father wasn’t inside. Instead he found you curled up in his fathers’ favourite leather chair in front of the fire with a book.

Most of the books in his fathers’ room were Sindarian. Legolas scoffed.

“Can you even read that, child?” You looked up slowly from the middle pages of the heavy book. Legolas thought it looked like one of the ancient books his father normally stored away from guests.

“You shouldn’t touch things that aren’t yours.” He added sternly. He wasn’t fully comfortable with his fathers’ decision to bring back the dwarves burglar(keeping that occupation). If his father wasn’t going to protect his people, then Legolas would.

Legolas’ face reddened when you looked up at him with caution before looking back at the aged book.

“Today my little leaf decided he’d wear my robes. They completely swallowed him. It was so hard to keep a straight face. I love my troublesome little leaf.”

Legolas gaped at you, he couldn’t believe his ears. Was that his fathers’ journal? And he was in it.

“What’s going on in here?” Flinching at the sudden sound of his father’s voice behind him. Legolas took one look at both occupants and promptly ran from the his father’s bed chambers, his face bright red.

He’d deny it if you asked him though.

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END

#thranduil #The hobbit #hobbit #legolas #Babylegolas #Little leaf #Fluff #fluffme #prompt #prompt me #embarrassed legolas #Embarrassedleaf #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil x you #thranduil/you #Thranduil x y/n #genderneutral #Thranduil imagine #minific

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fortunatelyclevercandy · 8 years

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credit on the pic

#fanart #thranduil #babylegolas

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wunderkind4006-blog · 9 years

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The story in Question.

#thranduil #thranduilOC #babylegolas #au #fanfiction #romance #adventure #drama #family

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anaveragebibliophile · 3 years

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All Will Be Well

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader

Summary: Via Bilbo Baggins, our favorite burglar and hobbit, we begin to get a glimpse into the lives of Mirkwood’s favorite royal family in a time of anxiety, stress, and healing. Who are their people? Who’s willing to go to the ends of Middle Earth for them?

“Good day, I’m looking for Gandalf the Grey. I’ve been told to meet him here at the Kingdom of Mirkwood but can’t seem to find him. Would you be able to direct me?” young Bilbo Baggins asked Tauriel, the captain of the guard.

“Yes, most certainly, Master Baggins. Right this way.”

And off they walked through the castle's thick archways and along its long corridors. And off they walked, with Tauriel greeting fellow comrades and noblemen along the way. And off they walked while passing by the portrait of the royal family: King Thranduil, Queen (y/n), and Prince Legolas (the newest addition to the family).

“So that’s the king and queen,” Bilbo said, unaware that he voiced his thoughts aloud.

“Yes. Two of the most remarkable people I know. King Thranduil is a sensational man. A little stoic, yes. A tad complicated, for sure. But his wife balances him out. She’s truly the marvelous one. Smart as a whip, as beautiful as a goddess, and kinder than even the most generous of men. I hope to be just like her one day.”

“I saw that they have a child with them in the portrait. Did the queen recently have a baby, an elfling?”

“Why yes. About a year ago, in fact. Prince Legolas is the shining star of the Mirkwood realm. We love him to pieces. He’s a doppelgänger of his father but has the demeanor of his mother. Well, now that I think more on the subject, that’s not necessarily true. Exteriorly, Legolas’ mother exudes kindness and peace. However, her husband does as well, he’s just not as open about that side of his character. I’m sure you’ve heard of his more taciturn, icy behaviors, yes?” He nodded and she continued. “ So, I guess you could say that he displays qualities that are similar in both parents, even if Middle Earth isn’t cognizant of that,” Tauriel explained.

Bilbo hummed in response. “Forgive me for being ignorant here, but if this is the king and queen’s kingdom, where exactly are they? I would presume that Gandalf doesn’t control their territory, correct?”

Tauriel’s eyebrows pinched, her reluctance to answer the questions obviously evident. “Well, Master Baggins, the reality is that King Thranduil is indisposed at the moment.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Three days ago, the king woke up with a lightly elevated temperature, a sore throat, and some congestion. And in the beginning, he did not think it was a problem. Honestly, he believed it to be an irritant of some kind.”

“But it wasn’t,” Bilbo interjected.

“Correct. His wife ended up pulling him out of his meetings when she received word of his pale pallor and sickly hue. He has been holed up in bed ever since, Queen (y/n) taking control of his affairs.”

“Now it makes sense. Queen (y/n) is Gandalf’s friend. Of course he’d be willing to help her during this crazy time.”

Tauriel smiled. “He has been wonderful. But that still begs the question, Master Baggins. What are you doing here?”

‘What a good question,’ Bilbo thought.

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“Bilbo Baggins, what a pleasure to see you again,” Gandalf the Gray exclaimed as he embraced his fellow burglar and comrade.

“Hello, Gandalf. It appears you’re doing well.”

“Why yes, my boy. Queen (y/n) has been seeking counsel for the last few days while her husband has been trying to heal. And because of that, I have had the privilege of getting to spend more time with her and her stupendous young elfling. Come now and let me explain what I mean.”

Reluctantly, the hobbit acquiesced, mainly because he wasn’t certain they should be inserting themselves into the royal family’s business. After all, if Tauriel was nervous to share that information, how would King Thranduil and Queen (y/n) feel about it getting out and inappropriately disclosed?

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Following the wizard, Bilbo was directed from what seemed to be the likes of a conference room to yet another hallway. However, this hallway seemed to be a bit more friendly, a bit less frosty than those surrounding the throne room. He remembered Gandalf mentioning on a previous visit that this area was strictly reserved for the king and queen, so perhaps that was why the color scheme (pastels) seemed more inviting and the architecture less encompassing.

As they walked past sky blue walls and potted azaleas and stepped around a few miscellaneous toys (which he presumed to be Prince Legolas’), they reached a room at the end of the hall. But the door was cracked open the slightest bit, making Bilbo hesitate to move any closer.

“It’s alright,” Gandalf started. “They will not hear us or even sense our presence. I have perfected the spell for occasions such as this.”

Not bothering to interpret the last sentence, Bilbo focused on the former. “Who won’t?”

“Take a look and find out.”

Sighing, Bilbo slowly moved his body towards the door, his right hip lightly pressing against the wood. Inside the room, King Thranduil was sitting up in the bed, his body supported by myriad pillows. His skin took on a jaundice-like hue while his lips were white (completely absolved of the rosy color they usually take on). He appeared languid, fatigued, yet he was still smiling at what was going on to his right: his wife rocking their child to sleep in an ivory rocking chair by his bedside.

The king coughed roughly into his elbow before speaking. “Is he asleep, darling?” he asked.

“Yes, honey. He’s been out for about five minutes. His little body is all relaxed.”

“Good. I am glad. I feel so terrible for giving this to him. The poor guy barely got any sleep last night.”

“Thran, it’s not your fault. These things happen. Legolas’ fever is down, and he seems to be resting easier. We just need to be patient. He’ll be better in a few days and back to playing with his toys in the garden and relaying his stories to the council,” Queen (y/n) said, trying to relieve her husband of his entirely misplaced guilt. “I think it’s time for you to get some more rest. Hopefully when you both wake up, you’ll feel much better.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Please wake me if anything changes with Legolas,” Thranduil said, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Will do. Now sleep,” the queen gently commanded, her free hand running through her husband’s thick, platinum locks.

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“So this is why you’re really here,” Bilbo said. “The queen had actually taken over all of the king’s affairs, but then the prince became ill as well. That’s why she sent for you.”

“Yes, I have been somewhat secretly handling what the king and queen cannot. They do not want to worry anyone, especially the staff, about Prince Legolas’ condition. He is doing much better than last night and is on the mend, but the knowledge that he was ill at all will send the palace into a panic. He is their pride and joy, after all.”

“What does the palace believe you’re doing here, then?”

“Providing support in a time of need.”

“Although this does make sense, Gandalf, I have to wonder why you sent for me. What can I do here? I’m no wizard, nor am I elvish royalty.”

At this comment, Gandalf’s lips pulled up into a smile. “No, you are neither of those things, Master Baggins. However, you are the perfect candidate for a mission the queen needs you to embark on. Since she cannot depart herself, she asked me to pick someone that I believed would work diligently enough to get the information she covets regarding Gundabad and the orc armies being bred there. Who better than the man who helped the dwarves reclaim the Lonely Mountain. So what do you say, Bilbo? Will you give this a chance?”

“You already know the answer, Gandalf, which is why you brought this opportunity to me. You know I’ve been rather restless and in need of a change. That being said, yes. I find myself honored to be selected to serve the queen. She seems like a remarkable woman. Anything I can do to help her out would be a true pleasure.”

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anaveragebibliophile · 3 years

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He Comes First

Thranduil x Wife!reader x Young!Legolas

Summary: After finding out some exciting news about your and Thranduil’s future as parents, you begin reminiscing on the all the joys and wonders that this life has given you (especially getting to see your husband excel at fatherhood).

PART 1

PART 2:

https://anaveragebibliophile.tumblr.com/post/659269636241637376/cyclical-love

“Are you one-hundred percent certain, Morwen? I know you are an expert at discerning such things, but I cannot help but still feel the uncertainty reverberating through me,” you said, hands gripping your kneecaps as you awaited the healer’s response.

“Yes, my queen. All of the signs are there: the nausea, the subsequent morning sickness, the exhaustion. I am positive that I am correct in my diagnosis.”

“Oh, by the Valar (God),” you responded, your right hand drifting to hold your stomach protectively. “I am with child. Thranduil and I will be welcoming another elfing next fall.”

“Yes, Queen (y/n). When the leaves begin to fall, you will be holding another blessing in your arms.”

Walking back to your and Thran’s chambers provided ample time for rumination on this news (because the healer’s quarters were on the other side of the palace). Now, that’s not to say this contemplation was meant to curb any sentiments of regret, resentment, or anger. Not at all. In reality, you couldn’t stop a huge smile from framing your face. You couldn’t help but embrace the elation that was filling every facet of your heart, soul, and mind. Oh, this was a dream come true.

Obviously, the topic of having another child had been discussed between you and your husband many times (usually on fireside date night with goblets of wine and lots of cuddling). And the funny thing was that the prospect had cemented itself more securely over the last few months. Having and caring for another child no longer appeared to be this unattainable desire, but, instead, it filled you and Thran with this rapture, this thrill. And why wouldn’t it really? Legolas was everything you both could have hoped for, so why not try for that relentless feeling of contentment one more time? You’d have to be asinine not to.

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“Ada, Ada are you awake?” Legolas’ melodic voice asked, breaking through the tranquil haze you’d encompassed yourself in.

“There is no need to fret, my little leaf. Ada is just resting his eyes. He is tired,” your husband’s deep baritone responded.

“Of course, Ada, but that is not why I was asking. Would it be alright if I laid on your chest?”

“You already know the answer to that, Legolas. Climb on up, iôn nîn (my son).”

And climb on up he did, at least from what you saw through the little crack in the door. Once your little elfling’s voice alerted you to the fact that your two favorite people in all of Middle Earth were in your chambers, your immediate instinct was to rush and join in on the cuddle session that was so obviously taking place. Yet, somehow, right as you put your hand on the doorknob, it was as if your feet were tethered to the floor. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All because you turned your head. All because of what you were bearing witness to.

Legolas was sprawled starfish-like on his father’s chest, his little face turned into the right side of Thranduil’s neck. You could see the red, depressed sleep lines marring his face from his morning nap (where he and the pillow became great comrades). And even though that was such an adorable sight, what you saw your husband doing made joy spread through your entire heart in such a way that you thought it might implode on you.

Sometimes your little leaf struggled to fall asleep at night. Whether it be because of a nightmare or a fear of separation from his parents no one could truly say. His insomnia was variable at best and inevitable at worst. However, regardless of the circumstances, your and Thran’s mission was to get your son some relief, no matter the cost. And you tried everything you could think of: lullabies, rocking, warm milk, literally anything that the rule book on parenting tells you to attempt, but nothing would make any impact. That is, until your husband changed the game.

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One night in mid-winter, Legolas’ inability to sleep had reached its peak. He hadn’t been feeling well for most of the day--spending most of it snuggled with you in the sitting room or with Thranduil in his office--and by the end of the night had been sporting a pretty nasty fever. He was miserable, plain and simple. You had hoped that the illness would’ve given him the opportunity to give in to his fatigue, to barricade himself in a dream-like state. Wrong. Instead, the infection chose to create a pain in his ear that wouldn’t abate by any means. No question, it made him absolutely hysterical.

Despite this, though, he was most at peace with your husband, the man who spent most of that day with his lips pressed in a thin, white line and his stomach in knots. All he hoped for was his son to be improving, but it didn’t seem like Valar (God) was in the mood to grant that wish. So, he did what he was best at: finding a way to take control of the situation. In this case, the problem was Legolas’ discomfort. The little guy was trying to sleep--on his side, his back, in Thran’s arms, in whatever position his brain could conjure up--but would then proceed to hold his left ear and whimper. Anything he did would cause pain to shoot through him.

“Alright, little leaf,” Thranduil said while rocking his son in his arms for the tenth time that day, “how about we try having you rest on my chest. You might sleep better that way.” And all he got was an almost imperceptible nod from the elfling that was clenching his hand so tight.

Moving over to the bed, he slowly settled himself in the center, making sure not to jostle his son too much. Quietly humming to Legolas, he carefully moved his right hand up and down his spinal column and left lingering kisses on his forehead.

“There we go, iôn nîn (my son),” he said. “Hopefully this helps. Gi melin (I love you).”

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“Darling, you can come in, you know. This is your space too,” your husband’s voice articulated, a hint of mockery and teasing in his tone (all in good fun).

Opening the door all the way, you smiled at the treasures that laid before you. One curled into his father’s chest like an armadillo. The other grinning like a fool at said armadillo.

“My apologies, sweetheart. Once I got here, I couldn’t refrain from letting you have that special one-on-one time with him.”

Your husband’s right cheekbone lifted up to create an off-centered smile of sorts. “How was your appointment with Morwen? Was she able to give you some herbs to aid your sickness?”

“Yes, she was. But that is not the only thing she mentioned to me. About why I am ill anyway.”

“What else is wrong? Whatever it is, it is treatable, yes?” Thranduil queried, his voice getting higher by at least three octaves.

“Yes, honey. It is treatable. I’ll only have to wait about six more months.”

At that, your husband paused, concentration taking over his features. You felt his brain’s agony at the mere thought of analyzing the riddle and attempting to figure it out. Every mechanism was moving to decipher the answer.

And then it all clicked.

“If what you say is true, then that means we are….”

TBC

#thranduil #thrandolas #legolas #babylegolas #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #love #children #pregnancy #marriage #battle of the five armies #desolation of smaug #the fellowship of the ring #thranduil x reader #thranduil x wife

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anaveragebibliophile · 3 years

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All For Him

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader

Summary: Lord Elrond comes to Mirkwood to ask a favor of his oldest friend, Thranduil. However, the stoic, unyielding king isn’t as willing to follow through on the request because of the danger it will put his family in.

Honestly, when you stumbled into your husband’s study that morning, you didn’t expect to feel so puzzled and flabbergasted. You didn’t anticipate Thran’s summons to be anything more than a request for information about Legolas (which you were happy to provide), a question regarding supper, or an idea for date night. So the last person you expected to see was Lord Elrond, the ruler of Rivendell, arguing with his trusted confidant and friend of many eons near the balcony.

“Thran, what’s going on? Is everything alright?” you queried as you stepped into the room, incisors biting into your lower lip.

“Queen (y/n), what a pleasant surprise,” Lord Elrond replied, consequently ending the argument, as he walked over to take your wrist and place a chaste, respectful kiss on the back of your hand. “My sincerest apologies for not seeking you out sooner.”

“That’s quite alright, Elrond. You know that. I too wish I had known you were here earlier, but I unfortunately got sidelined. We took a short walk in the gardens this morning, all three of us, when Legolas ended up tripping on a very small rock. Thranduil and I tried to utilize the open--and what we thought was a safe--space as a way for him to grow more comfortable walking without our help. That strategy worked well for us. Until today. None of us had seen the ant-sized pebble roll over his tiny heel, making him lose his balance and unknowingly place his hand on a grounded bee’s stinger to stabilize himself.”

“My goodness! How is he doing?”

“As well as can be expected. As he got himself up, he whimpered a little bit which isn’t normally like him. Even if he takes a tumble, he’ll usually still maintain his normal demeanor--sweet, timid, and smiley. But once we saw his palm start to swell up, we knew something was wrong. Thran rushed him to the healer, who was more than willing to keep an eye on him. Ever since then, he’s been given herbs to reduce the swelling and irritation at the site of the wound as well as water to keep him hydrated. Thank you for asking.”

Once you finished sharing that traumatizing experience, you looked over to your husband, whose face was devoid of color. Out of the two of you, he had been the most panicked over Legolas’ well-being. ‘Is he breathing?’ he’d asked. ‘What if he has a reaction to the toxins?’ he’d wondered. ‘What if we didn’t get him to the healer’s quarters in time?’ he’d said, voice cracking under all the emotions. Unfortunately, the man is an aggressive worrier who feels the most stress when he’s involved in a situation that’s completely out of his control. His son inadvertently getting stung by a bee? Yeah, definitely an event that drove your husband up a wall.

“He’s doing fine, Thran. He and I cuddled in his rocking chair for about twenty minutes before he fell asleep. Before that though, he did want me to tell you that he loves you,” I said, trying to soothe him as best as I could given the circumstances.

Even though Legolas is still quite young and not fluent in Sindarin yet, he does have a few sentences that he likes to use every now and again. His favorite though is ‘gi melin’, the Sindarian version of ‘I love you’. Anytime he’s reunited with you or Thran, he’ll smile so wide (with his one tooth showing itself off) and almost shout the words out (as if you won’t hear him clearly without that extra pizzaz). Both you and your husband agree that it’s probably the sweetest thing your little leaf has ever done (and Legolas is the epitome of sweet).

“I love him too. More than life. Which is why I cannot allow Sauron’s ring and its company to enter Mirkwood. I am sorry, Elrond, but my answer is final. You will not be able to change my mind on the subject,” your husband said.

“Sauron’s ring? So young Frodo is alive then, is he not? I heard about your daughter saving him from the hands of the Nazgûl but wasn’t sure of its veracity,” you mentioned.

“Yes. He is recovered and wishes to continue on the quest to destroy the ring at Mount Doom. However, we are trying to avoid the company’s traveling in the open at night and are looking for places for them to seek refuge. I am trying to convince Thranduil to offer his kingdom, but it seems that that has been more difficult than I originally presumed. He fears for your safety and Legolas’ too much.”

Speaking of Legolas, a soft knock on the door soon presented you with the little leaf in the arms of his nanny, Elva.

“Legolas, darling, what are you doing up so early?” I asked, my lips perking up into a small grin.

“Ada, Nana!” he blubbered, pointing to us. “Gi melin, gi melin, gi melin.”

“I apologize, Your Majesties. As you can see, the prince woke up a bit early from his nap. All of the maids attempted to keep him occupied in his chambers, but it was no use. He only wanted to see his nostairi (parents),” Elva explained.

“That is quite alright, Elva. I have not seen enough of him today. Thank you for bringing him to us,” your husband responded, moving over as Legolas reached out for him, and, once in his arms, began snuggling into his chest. “Hello, iôn nîn. I hope you slept well.”

“How’s his hand, Thran?”

Your husband took your question as an opportunity to lightly pull Legolas’ right arm out from where it was hiding in front of his stomach. “It is still a tad swollen but not too severe.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.”

“Nana, gi melin,” your son whispered behind your husband’s robes.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you responded, lightly running your fingers through his hair and down his back.

Watching the interaction ensue, Thranduil softly smiled down at the two loves of his life. The first one--his wife--who taught him the beauty behind exuding kindness, positivity, and light. The one who guided him back to the meaning of life. And the second one--his son--who embodies all the genuine goodness that his wife bestowed upon him in their early years together. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, but that unknown answer will never prevent him from being grateful.

“Ada, gi melin,” your son quietly hummed as he lifted himself up to kiss Thran’s cheek.

“Iôn nîn, gi melin as well. Very much.”

But then the unthinkable happened. Your little leaf turned his body away from Thranduil to look at Elrond. “Gi melin!” he shouted, a smile creeping up his face (with his lone tooth on display).

“Well, I cannot say I am not shocked,” the lord responded, just as confounded as the rest of the group. Although Legolas was a very empathetic elfling, the reality was that he only shared that sentence with two people: his parents. So his sharing that sentiment with another-- a person he doesn’t spend every day with, let alone see once a month--was very odd, yet exciting in its own way. In your mind, maybe this was a sign that he was feeling more comfortable around his parents’ trusted friends. Maybe he saw the camaraderie in the room and felt soothed by it. Maybe he was no longer experiencing such debilitating episodes of timidity.

“It appears he has taken a strong liking to you, Elrond,” you responded. “And now that you know the depth of his affections, are you truly going to permit an evil, dark presence permeating Mirkwood’s halls?”

He pondered that question in no time at all before saying, “No. I will not be the one to put this child at risk. Perhaps Frodo and his company can stay a few extra days at Rivendell. It really is not a problem.”

At that declaration, you and Thranduil humbly nodded (hiding your smiles as best you could because this was a serious matter after all). “Thank you, my friend. Your concern for our son is much appreciated and will never be forgotten.”

“I know you would have done the same for me had I been in your shoes. Legolas deserves to be safe and comforted in his own kingdom without his parents having to worry about whether the ring will wreak havoc and harm him in the process. Besides, I want to return to Mirkwood in a few months’ time and still be on his list of love.” And everyone, including Legolas, giggled at that.

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anaveragebibliophile · 3 years

Text

More Than Life

Thranduil x Young!Legolas x Wife!reader

Summary: You’ve been summoned to embark on a journey with some old friends to Dol Gudur to fight against the powers of evil. Unfortunately, your husband, Thranduil, is less than pleased upon hearing this news and an argument ensues. Will you and the man you adore make up? Or will it take more than a few kind words for the both of you to fully comprehend the mistakes that have been made?

“Can we see Naneth (Mother) yet, Ada (Father)?” your son asked, his face filled with even more concern than even a grown elf would be capable of displaying.

“Not just yet, iôn nîn (my son). We must give your mother time to recuperate before we say our hellos.”

Unfortunately, the last few hours had been rough, and there wasn’t much your husband could do for you that would make the situation better. You had been summoned by Gandalf to embark on a quest with his motley crew--Gimli, son of Glóin, Radagast The Brown, Bilbo Baggins, and Thorin Oakenshield--to Dol Gudur to inspect the orc packs that had been residing there. Possessing similar cognitive and healing powers to Lady Galadriel, you were a coveted resource for this mission. However, it wasn’t one that Thran was on board with by any means.

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“No, I will not permit this, (y/n). Are you even thinking clearly? This could have catastrophic repercussions,” he had nearly shouted at you one week prior.

“Of course I’m thinking clearly, Thran! And if you were in my position, what would you do? Exactly the same thing I reckon. Don’t you understand? We have a son to think about. A son that deserves to grow up in a world with as few evils as possible.”

“Yes, but not at the expense of his mother’s life,” he deadpanned.

“You may be my king, but I hope that you will not exercise that dominance in your role as my husband. You’ve always supported my decisions, even the most dangerous ones. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Because all of those journeys came before we had a family, a foundation we must protect. Right now, you cannot afford to play the martyr. I need you here, your son needs you here.”

“Well, Thranduil, I’m sorry but I cannot and will not back down from this fight. Not when it could cost me the chance to save the two people I value most in this world.”

So, despite the guilt coursing through you, you departed as planned. Luckily, your husband wasn’t angry enough to avoid being there for the send-off. However, the frown that was found on his face when you looked back on your stallion still confirmed how exasperating and terrifying he found the situation you’d pushed yourself into.

And although you believed you were making the right decision in the moment, all of the harsh words, thoughts, and deliberations turned out to be for naught. A few miles away from Dol Gudur--still within the trenches of sickened, dark foliage--your group was blindsided by a miniature army of at least thirty orcs and wargs, all preparing for an attack. ‘Azog The Defiler’ was leading the charge, hoping to create enough chaos to snatch the true prizes: you and Thorin.

A skilled fighter in archery, hand-to-hand combat, and swordsmanship, you had no trouble fending off the less tactful runts. The problem emerged when both of Azog’s wargs cornered you against the back of a deciduous tree (with nowhere to escape to).

“No means of escape means that today is the day the queen’s crun (blood) will be spilt,” he snarled, his companions foaming at the mouth. “And your elfling’s will soon meet the same fate.”

The mention of Legolas was your undoing. Leaping away from the tree’s trunk, your sword lunged for the object closest to you: the alpha of the pack. He wasn’t fast enough and howled as the weapon made contact with his jugular vein. Blood spurted, but you couldn’t have cared less. At that point, the only thing that mattered was making sure that piece of filth never had the opportunity to harm your family.

But that was easier said than done, as the saying goes. Since you were absorbed in your battle with the hound, your vigilance on other matters--Azog matters--failed horribly. Little did you know that he had been behind you the entire time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

And boy did he strike.

What started off as a slow burn in your lower back soon proliferated into a severe blaze that would not abate. It was at that moment you realized something had gone terribly wrong. Looking down, the point of Azog’s sword appeared. It had slashed right through your lower left side, right near your hip.

“Time is up, Lady of The Light. May your king and son continue to live in---ARGH!” Azog shouted as your sword made contact with right side of his face.

“If I’m going down, y-you’re g-g-going down with me,” you managed to blurt out as you succumbed to the darkness.

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“Nin hir (My lord), I’ve been told to let you know that the queen is resting comfortably. The healer gave her a sedative and is waiting in your chambers to discuss further treatment,” an elite elven soldier said.

“Thank you. You are dismissed,” Thranduil replied blandly, masking the trepidity with a chilled air.

“Ada, can I come with you and sit with Naneth? I believe she’d want the company.”

Thranduil’s face displayed half a smile. “Of course, Legolas. Let us go, yes?”

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It was the voices that woke you up. Two voices that you would know anywhere. One of them belonging to the man you vowed to love for the rest of eternity. The other belonging to your closest friend.

“I know we have had our differences, Thorin, but all of that anger and resentment on my end dissipated when you saved one of the most important people in my life. From the deepest parts of my heart, I sincerely thank you for taking the risk. I do not know what would have become of me had I lost her.” Thranduil said.

“Well, that makes two of us. Had Gandalf not been able to free me from Bolg’s grasp at the last minute, I’m not sure I would’ve made it in time to drive Azog away. By the look of his face, it seemed that (y/n) wounded him before she keeled over, but he was quickly gearing up for a second round.”

You didn’t need to imagine what your husband’s countenance looked like at that moment: pinched, hardened, but underneath it all, traumatized. He may be upset with you, and you may have made the wrong decision with the best intentions, but the reality was that most of your husband’s ire stemmed from his naturally protective nature. Permitting you to tag along with the group was one thing, but knowing you weren’t going to be easily accessible to him was within a completely different realm. Without you in sight, your safety was comprised, which was something he never wanted to have to worry about.

“I hope you know that you are welcome at court anytime. Please don’t be a stranger.”

“Yes, Uncle Thorin, please come over. You and I can play with my boat. Well, you, me, and Naneth when she’s feeling better,” your son responded.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, lasdithen (little leaf). I look forward to it,” you whispered.

“Naneth, you’re awake!” Legolas hastily--yet carefully--crawled up from his position at the foot of the bed and snuggled into the crook of your elbow.

And almost as quickly, your husband’s face was looking down on you from the side of the bed. “Darling, we’ve missed you,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine. “Please, never scare us like that again.”

“I’m so sorry, Thran. I made a terrible judgment call. I never meant to worry you or Legolas.”

“Hush now, all is forgiven.”

“But it isn’t,” you continued. “We should’ve discussed the matter more. I never should’ve disregarded your feelings or concerns. Instead, I should’ve listened. I understand that you’re protective. You have been for the entirety of our marriage, but I was just so convinced that you were overreacting.”

“(y/n), we both made mistakes this time. I’m overbearing and I know it. Instead of trying to display your thoughts and opinions in an inferior light, I should have been willing to listen to what you had to say. And for that, I am sorry. Sorry that I made you feel like you had to fight against me rather than with me.”

Slowly lifting your head off the pillow, you managed to kiss your husband’s cheek. “I love you, you know. So much.”

“And I you.”

“And me too!” your son announced.

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around both your men, numb to the physical pain that was threatening to rear its ugly head any moment. “I love you both more than anything. More than life.”

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