#hobbit ocs

[cutie4560]

Tale of Shail

Ch 1: Will You Join Us?

Thorin Oakensheild and his twelve dwarves traveled to the Shire to recruit their fourteenth member, Master Baggins. An alleged burglar, spoken so highly of by Gandalf the Gray. The simple hobbit was plucked from his comfy and safe dwelling to embark on a journey and reclaim a lost kingdom. Traveling on horseback, the company took the eastern road. The wind blew across the treetops, making the leaves dance. Gandalf rode enjoying the peaceful pace. "Ah good old Toby, care for some my dear Bilbo?" offering his pipe to the hobbit. Bilbo graciously declined the offer as the group came to a sudden halt. Gandalf pulled on his reins, calling up to Thorin, "Why are we stopping now?"

Ignoring the wizard’s question, Thorin commanded “Dwalin, Fili, follow me. The rest of you stay here until we return!" Thorin turned back to the path ahead, eyeing a distant sign of trouble. The remaining company, although confused, obeyed their king’s order. Kili was not as easily swayed. While the others kept to themselves, Kili instead began to gallop towards the three.

“Thorin, what’s this all about then? Our travel has already been delayed by that buttoned up halfing. Now we’re wasting time; chasing squirrels and striking every brushing bush.” Dwalin grumbled.

Thorin answered while pointing to the sky “Best our travel be delayed than ambushed. Look.” His finger followed the trail down showing its origin. "Be on guard, nothing is safe out here." Thorin warned. Dismounting their ponies, the three walked the grounds seeing an open fire with a hen roasting on a spit. Kili secured his pony next to Fili’s. He hid behind shrubs. Fili heard the rustling, turning back all he saw were four horses, nothing unusual. Wait, four? Fili rubbed his eyes then held his growling stomach. He was starting to get hungry and the delicious smell of something roasting wasn’t helping. Concluding that he must be seeing things, Fili returned to his uncle.

Thorin found a full pack amongst the campground. Going through it, he pulled out a pouch with a boar symbol embroidered into the leather “This is from the Iron Hill…” He observed the surroundings. A single tent was pitched. Hanging from a line was a couple of wet tunics. Handing the pouch over to Dwalin, Thorin went to inspect the shelter. The tent's cloth consisted mostly of flimsy patchwork. Pulling back the flap, Thorin peeked in. Inside laid out a tattered sleeping bag, a pile of dirty dented tin dishes, and a pair of black disheveled boots flopped over in the corner.

Dwalin carefully searched through the sack. Flipping it upside down he violently shook out its contents. A sharpening kit, steel pegs, wooden hammer, glass bottles, and small miscellaneous items. Finding nothing of interest Dwalin dropped the sack. He went on exploring the campground.

Over the campfire was a small chicken roasting on a spit. Fili, smacking his lips, followed the scent of cooking meat. The juices dripped, sizzling on the flames. Fili went to pull off a drumstick when he noticed a large weapon leaning against the tree. He squinted to identify an emblem, a boar? Just then A hand grabbed his shoulder. “AHH!” The prince screamed in shock. Turning around Fili saw his younger brother.

Pieces of foliage were in Kili’s hair and clothes. Whipping them off his face dropped from a grin to flushed embarrassment and guilt. He shushed Fili, afraid of being reprimanded by Thorin. “Me shush? You shush!” Fili lowered his tone. Although he was irritated, he didn’t want to attract his uncle's attention or the unknown camper. “By Durin, I could have carved you up, sneaking up on me like that. I-...what are you doing here? Uncle told you to stay back.” He angrily whispered, even fearing Thorin’s wrath for Kili’s sake.

“My skills were no use back there; just tinkers and miners prepping for a snack. I would have cut the bread wrong. Besides, if the three of you found yourselves in trouble I would be here to save you.” Kili argued his case.

“Ha! YOU save ME? Tell me, who helped you up onto your pony this morning?” Fili laughed, tussling his brother’s hair. The two exchanged a few brotherly arm smacks and shoves. Fili wrestled Kili onto the ground. Too focused on the tussle, the brothers neglected their volume. Pinned to the ground Kili laughed, he then soon squealed as Fili snorted and hung a line of drool above his face. Kili closed his eyes and squirmed trying to break loose. When he opened his eyes, Kili saw a figure behind his brother darkened by the morning sun.

Grabbing the back of Fili's coat collar Dwalin yanked him off Kili. “What are you two idiots doing?!” Dwalin impatiently scolded the boys. “This is no place to be playing around.”

“It was only a bit of fun mister Dwalin.” Kili said, getting up.

Throin rejoins the now three dwarves.“Kili! You were to stay back with the others.” He scolded his nephew. Hearing a noise the hair on Thorin's neck stood up, “Let's get back, something isn't right.”

“Let's go." Dwalin said as the three walked back to the horses.

Fili took the opportunity to nab up a new weapon. His boot stepped on a pile of leaves triggering a hidden net trap.Fili was swept up hanging in a tree. "Fili! Quick cut him down!" Thorin yelled running over, Kili and Dwalin each pulled out a knife sawing at the ropes.

Demonting from their steads the company stretched. Their limbs hurt from riding so many hours straight. Bombur took the opportunity to prepare a small snack. Nobody opposed it. Bofur hopped off his pony, heading to the bushes. Bilbo panicked as Bofur trailed off from the group "Where are you going? Thorin said to stay here." The hobbit interrogated.

"Don't worry, just gonna release a stream before I burst. Been holding it in since that last hill peak." he said, pushing through the low branches of a bush. Bilbo, appalled by the lack of manners, walked away with a scowl. Bofur sighed in relief after relieving himself. Fixing himself Bofur was ready to join the others when something caught his attention. Walking deeper into the woods, he found a stump housing a pile of fresh picked berries placed on a leaf. "Well, well look at this. Someone left Bofur a lil treat." The hungry dwarf popped one in his mouth. "Delicious! Odd it being here, but who am I to argue on an empty stomach." Picking up the leaf, Bofur took the snack to go. Licking berry juice off his fingers Bofur went to head back. Turning the berries flew out of his hand from being startled. A hooded figure stood in front of him. “Where'd you come from? Sorry, were these yours?” He asked. Backing away slowly, Bofur bumped into the stump. Walking around it he received no reply from the stranger. “Listen, just an honest mistake. I can go pick you some more.” He offered. A subtle sound drew his attention down. His foot in a hidden rope loop. “Ugh oh.” He said before being snagged by a snare trap. Bofur got dragged across the ground up into a tree. His hat falling to the ground, Bofur hung upside down. "You made this trap? Mighty talented. Hard to catch dwarves, being that we are so hefty." He awkwardly chuckled. His nervous smile shifted into a worrisome frown as the stranger approached. They drew out a dwarven dagger from behind their lower back. "Coming to cut me some slack, yeah? BOMBUR! BIFUR! ANYBODY HELP!?"

Bofur’s cries for help reached the ears of the company. Without hesitation the group ran to the shouting. Out from the bushes Nori and Gloin came running. Seeing the stranger, Nori ran over and attacked. The sound of metal clanged as the two daggers met. The two struggled, using their body weight to shove the daggers closer. Breaking off, the stranger dodged Nori’s attack. Stumbling back they tripped on their cloak falling to the ground. Gloin went swinging his ax down, but the stranger rolled out of the way. Getting up they punched Nori and back kicked Gloin. Thrown off both men dropped their weapons. As the others joined in, the stranger nabbed Gloin’s weapon. Swinging it around they kept an open perimeter. "CUT ME LOOSE, FOR DURIN SAKE!" Bofur yelled. Balin went for it. Raising the ax the stranger chucked it at Balin, the blade just missed the back of Balin’s heel. Bifur and Dori each grabbed an arm trying to hold the stranger back. Reaching Bofur, Balin fussed at the knot. Throwing themselves onto the floor Dori and Bifur collided heads. Running over the stranger grabbed Balin’s shoulders, tossing him back. In the blink of an eye the stranger was ambushed by Dwalin.

"No one attacks my brother!" Dwalin yelled, pinning down the culprit. Their legs flailed under Dwalin. Yanking off the hood Dwalin revealed a female dwarf. "Durin's name, what’s this?"

"That dwarf there scared mah kill away!" She yelled.

“What is going on here?” Thorin asked, emerging from the brush. His nephews right behind.

"She was going to stab Bofur." Gloin answered, helping Balin up.

Thorin went cutting Bofur free. He dropped to the ground and let out a groan of pain. He caught his breath giving Thorin a thumbs up. “Get him up.” Throin ordered Fili and Kili. The two went, pulling Bofur to his feet. Walking over Thorin held his knife, getting down to her level he pressed the blade against her neck. "Is this true? You tried killing one of my men?"

"No, I was gonna cut 'em loose, and have a friendly talk." She answered him with a sarcastic tone. Thorin put some pressure. Feeling his patience running thin she composed herself, "I just need me rope back, I have no interest in you townies. Now can you let me up?" She asked, looking up at Dwalin. Drawing back the knife Thorin gave Dwalin the okay. Climbing off Dwalin offered a hand. Taking it she was pulled back onto her feet. "Took me hours ta set that trap; I was gonna catch a stag this time ‘round." She said, looking over the tarnished rope.

"You set all these traps yourself? What of the one back at the campsite?" Thorin asked.

"You set those off too?! Gilthok meIf! Haven't wasted enough of me supplies already!" She yelled out in aggravation. Salvaging what she could, the lass stormed off back toward the campsite.

Following not far behind the men went back to their horses. Balin stopped Thorin wishing to discuss more about the she-dwarf. "Balin, you're considering asking that wild lander to join my company?" Thorin asked defensively. "She fought my men, nearly killed one. We know nothing of her intentions being out here."

"All I am saying is the lass has a valuable set of skills, Thorin. Obviously she knows how to survive in the wild. An what do we have? Gloin, the fire maker?" He asked, looking over as she aggressively ate her foal. "You know, as do I. We need all the help we can find” Balin reasoned. Thorin crossed his arms, snubbing the idea. Balin chuckled, giving Thorin's shoulder a pat."You leave it to me." He assured the king walking over to the lass. "Tell me lass what can I call you?"

Looking at the white haired dwarf she tossed a bone at his feet. Taking a thumb she whipped a piece of meat from the corner of her mouth."I'm called Shail."

"Lovely name means radiant warrior, very befitting. A lass like yourself in these lands must be off on a journey. Any thought of where you are going? Maybe to the Blue Mountains, or the Iron Hills in the north?"

"Nowhere specific, the better question is where are you all off to? The Blue Mountains are back thada way. Thirteen of ya traveling to the hills without any merch is abit suspicious. Wouldn't ya agree?" She asked, tossing her scraps away.Dousing the flame she went packing up the site.

"Yes, I'd suppose. Though that is not were we are heading. No, you see we are off to the Lonely Mountain." Balin answered.

Stopping in her tracks, Shail looked in disbelief. "I know of only one dwarf who'd think of traveling back to that mountain." Looking at the stoick black haired dwarf, "Thorin Oakensheild son of Thrain? So the stories are true."

"Yes, they are." Thorin said walking up to her. The same stern look on his face as he toward over her. "Most of these dwarves have never spent a week in the wild, I worry they won't make the journey."

Looking over Thorin's right shoulder to see what characters were in her presents. Shail watched as Bilbo flinched at a horse fly. The strange soft creature blew air and waved the bug away "A week? I'd say before nightfall you lose half of them. Sorry, I don't like traveling with townies anyway."

"Townies?" Kili asked from the back. Thoirn looked over, giving his nephew the stink eye.

"Townies, the folks who live in large packs. All soft and fragile, afraid of messing up your locks." She said tieing off her supplies. "The lot of ya just don't fit in with the wild." Loading it onto her own pony she went examining the members. "Here let's take a look at ya. Come here!" She said tugging at a few of them. "How well can ya see in the dark?" She asked, looking into Fili's eyes. Turning briskly she yelled into Oin's trumpet,"What about yer HEARING!?" The old dwarf flinched and groaned at the verbal assault. "Know how ta handle a weapon? Do ya even have one?" She asked Ori. Tugging his bag she rummaged through it. She pulled out his slingshot, "Well this doesn't seem too handy." Tossing it back she went on. "What about hiding your musk? Let's have a smell." grabbing Dori's arm she took a whiff. "Ugh, you smell just like a townie! You need a good mud bath." She said before being shooed away. "I don't come for free either. So what can the great Thorin Oak-en-sheild offer me?" She asked in a mocking tone.

"A portion of Erebor's riches shall be yours." Balin answered. He went retrieving a contract from his satchel.

Grabbing the paper, Shail skimmed over it. "So I'd get a bunch of shiny bits?" She asked. Giving a nod Balin was thrown off by the sudden laughter. "I don't need that useless stuff. So I guess you can't offer me anything." Shail went, shoving the parchment onto Balin's chest. "Have fun getting eaten up by that dragon." Parting through the company, a scent caught her attention. Sniffing the air she turned to the large ginger dwarf "Is that a tasty smell?" Bombur held two iced pastry in each hand, nibbling them. "Well you can give it here." She went to snatch it, but Fili got to the sweet first. Tossing it over to his uncle.

Catching it Thorin changed the offer, "I can offer you three meals a day and these so-called tasties." Walking up to her Thorin waved the dessert cake in Shail's face. "Better to have a meal offered than to chase one down. So what do you say? Will you join us?" He asked.

Shail’s eyes followed the treat. "Double my servings on the meals and tasties. I also get first pick on a sleeping area. And you get me close enough to the Iron Hills, where we can depart from one another." She counter offered, holding out a hand. The two shook on it. She was officially a part of the company. Snatching her sweet, Shail went mounting her horse.

#the hobbit #hobbit ocs #hobbit fanfic #oc x ori #oc x fili #thorin company #hobbit movies #fili #ori #nori #thorin #dwalin #dori #bifur #bombur #bofur #oin #gloin #kili #balin #oc #hobbit #hobbit fanfiction #fanfic

[verk0my]

kiss it better 2/2

#verkomy oc mira #mira thimbleberry #hobbit oc #the hobbit oc #tolkien oc #fili #fili durin #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #oc x canon #fanart #my art #verkomy #verkomy 2024

[ylieke]

A small Thranduil commission for one of my subscribers...

#my art #thranduil #the hobbit #hobbit #elves #tolkien elves #tolkein #lotr fanart #lotr oc #hobbit oc #elf oc #silm elves #elf art #original character #fantasy oc #oc drawing #oc art

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

I’ve edited this post so you guys get to enjoy the meme instead lol

POV - You're reading my fic:

(FYI this meme I’ve made is based off of my fic which has female MCs <3)

Hope everyone has a nice weekend!

#the hobbit #kili #kili x reader #fili #fili x reader #hobbit x reader #kili x oc #big soup #the hobbit x reader #fili x oc #to the shadows that cry witch #thorins company x reader

[chardysstuff]

Sketch dumping with my hobbit oc 😁

#digital drawing #drawing #fanart #the hobbit #kili durin #thranduil #thranduil fanart #the hobbit oc #oc

[myceliumelium]

I feel like the third age mirkwood elves deserve some more human inspired looks. I think they deserve to have made good friends with lake town and the dale folk before them.

#art #silmarillion #tolkien #the hobbit #mirkwood #greenwood the great #elves #silvans #lotr elves #thell's ocs

[cemeterything]

probably the funniest thing i ever did as a kid was try to convince anyone who'd listen to me infodump about my favorite media that my ocs were actual canon characters in the story and then if they expressed genuine interest in checking it out i'd panic and be like no you Can't and just never speak to them again

#🐉 #i carpet bombed so many potential friendships like this #worst time was when i convinced my brother that my lotr nazgul oc was legit because tolkein wrote so much lore #that theres no way hed ever think to check. YEARS later unprompted he fucking annihilated me after we #watched one of the hobbit movies when he was like 'tauriel is a made up character just like your wraith girl'

[notinusesworld]

Legolas as your boyfriend head cannons!

synopsis: as the title says, g!n reader

a/n: new writer here! looking to improve my writing skills so please feel free to send me some requests. i’m only writing for lotr for the time being, and no smut and no hardcore angst. i’ll do pretty much any short story requests or head cannons otherwise. thank you!

- He’s very gentle, his touches are always very soft and almost never rough

- It’s cannon that elves are very in tune with their emotions and freely show them outwardly, he will constantly tell you how he feels about you and he can seem quite dramatic about it at times

- On the same note, he likes to write poetry and songs about you, extremely cheesy ones but they mean a lot to him

- An enjoyer of things. He just likes things. While out on duty or adventures he likes to just pick up things he finds on the way. Nuts, rocks, leafs, ones that he finds particularly cool and interesting he likes to give to you. And if you don’t give it the appropriate amount of admiration then he will sulk

- He likes flowers, he’s forever picking them and putting them in his hair, he started to it for you too as he began to fall in love with you

- He has a staring problem, he doesn’t seem to understand that it makes people uncomfortable. You’ve caught him staring at you as if in a trance a few times, and he will continue to do so even after you’ve noticed

- If you joined the fellowship of the Ring along side him, then during the whole journey he will make sure you never get separated, especially during battles. He does believe that you’re strong enough to fight for yourself, he just doesn’t want to risk being away from you, or not being able to help incase of an emergency

- He’s very physically affectionate, he likes to hold you any chance he gets, even if it’s just your hand as you walk together. He likes making the most of the time you have together, whether you’re an elf or a mortal, he will do the same and never get tired of it

- He likes to wake you up by peppering your face with kisses

- He likes to talk about you a lot to his friends, while he will talk about pretty much anything that pops into his mind, you seem to be on it the most. He will shower you with praise and talk about how amazing of a partner you are

#legolas #lotr #legolas x reader #legolas imagine #lotr fandom #lotr elves #lotr fanfic #lotr x reader #elf x reader #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x oc #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas x oc #the fellowship of the ring #legolas greenleaf #tolkien

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @glassgulls

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #richard armitage #thorin x reader #legolasbadass #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #hobbit fic #thorin

[mrkida-art]

He is a dwarf with many daughters. He rejoices over this every day

#my art #dwarrowdam #dwarrowdams #this dwarf is an oc who is Thorin's great grandfather on his maternal side #the hobbit #tolkien #lotr #dwarves #the lord of the rings #these are also supposed to be ered mithrin era dwarves #durin's folk #longbeards #the dwarves of ered mithrin #middle earth #lord of the rings #tolkien dwarves

[cutie4560]

Shail daughter of the Ironhills.

#hobbit ocs #oc #cant let go #the hobbit #lotr shitpost #lotr trop #hobbit movies #the hobbit oc

[verk0my]

hobbitses with tails!

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #verkomy oc mira #mira thimbleberry #the hobbit oc #hobbit oc #hobbits with tails #tolkien #lotr #fanart #my art #verkomy #verkomy 2023 #procreate

[pistachiozombie]

[Bofur x Leanna - Warm Hearts] Rough sketch -> First Render -> Final Render Hopefully I will finish this animation soon♥

#2d Animation #The Hobbit #3d Render #OC x Canon #WIP #Warm Hearts #Bofur x Leanna

[thewulf]

Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

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#legolas x reader #legolas x gimli #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #legolas greenleaf #gimli #legolas #the lord of the rings #legolas x oc #legolas fanfiction #legolas and gimli #legolas fluff #legolas fic #legolas thranduilion #legolas lotr #legolas au #legolas and thranduil #king thranduil #legolas imagine #legolas one shot #legolas oneshot #legolas tharanduilion fluff #king thranduil platonic reader #the fellowship #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #lotr #hobbits #lotr x reader #lotr x you

[marsconer]

writing lord of the rings fanfic is like. *has three versions of how an event goes* *goes into research tangent on folklore and anthropology* * cries about it* it’s what tolkien would have wanted.

#antihero #lord of the rings #tolkien purists dni #tolkien is such a mood #but he’s also rolling in his grave #modern girl in middle earth #the girls should get their perfect nail polished hands on lotr #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr x oc #hobbit #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #gandalf #tolkien not having witches in middle earth feels weirdly gendered motivated #maybe that’s just me #legolas greenleaf #aragorn #gimli #merry and pippin #boromir #oc fanfiction #tolkien never did

[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

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