#legolas filled prompt

[legolasghosty]

HELLO MY LOVE!!

10. for platonic Alex and Flynn please 👀

Hello my love, I am so so sorry for how long this took!!!! I have no excuse unless you count college. But here it is now!!!! I hope you like it!!!

Alex and Flynn had a funny kind of friendship. They'd first met when they got paired up in a middle school lab class. However, their first impressions of each other were formed months earlier when Flynn and her parents moved in across the street from Alex's house.

Alex's parents had taken one look at the lesbian couple unloading boxes at the old Murphy house and told Alex to stay away. Alex hadn't had the same aversion to their new neighbors as his parents, but he'd been too afraid of crossing them to actually go say hello. But he watched them sometimes.

Not in a creepy way. He promised. They just seemed so happy, the two of them and their kid. It made him feel a little less alone. Maybe it was possible to be happy being the way he was. That little family had managed it after all.

Regardless, he and Flynn didn't actually meet till September. There may have been an argument and some splashed sugar water during that first conversation. But after that, they got along surprisingly well. They didn't really hang out when they weren't at school though. They both had other friends. And Alex's parents were less than thrilled the one time they saw the pair walking home from school together. So they were lab partners and writing buddies and co-sufferers in math. It was simple and it worked.

It wasn't till high school that they really became proper friends though. Julie and Luke met and hit it off, and soon their friend groups were a big tangle of inside jokes and movie nights at Julie's and one big table at lunch. Alex and Flynn got closer, combining their snarky senses of humor against their friends and whining about how pretty their respective crushes were.

And after Alex came out at home, it didn't really matter who his friends were. His parents couldn't exactly resent him more. So he and Flynn started walking home together. No reason not to. Sometimes they walked in near silence. Sometimes one of them would ramble on and on while the other listened. Sometimes they talked about deep stuff like trauma and what happened when people died. Sometimes they joked around about whatever horrible concoction Luke had created for lunch that day. It didn't matter much. They were friends. They walked home together.

But then Alex turned 18. And well... his parents didn't exactly kick him out, per se, but Alex knew he was supposed to leave. Julie's dad, Ray, had already offered him the Molina guest room at least through graduation, so Alex spent his birthday packing up and moving out of his parents' house. At least it was a Saturday, so he didn't have to worry about school. All of his friends chipped in to help him pack and move everything over.

It was for the best. Alex knew that. But it was hard to think that way when he and Flynn were standing at the intersection of Birch and 13th Monday afternoon, where they'd always turned left together to walk home.

"So, I guess I'm going this way?" Alex said after a minute. Julie was already halfway down the block, unaware of the situation.

"Yeah," Flynn agreed quietly, glancing between Alex and her own route home. The route that wasn't Alex's anymore. "And I'm going that way."

They both stood there for a long moment, both unsure as to what to say. This was good, that Alex was out of the Mercer house. But what did they do now that they couldn't walk all the way home together? What did people do to say goodbye this early?

More than anything, Alex wanted her to know that nothing had changed. They were still friends, he would still be there for them at 2 am when they drank too many sodas and started rambling about her girlfriend. She would still smack him upside the head for letting people walk all over him. They would still talk about everything and nothing and anything in between. But how did he say that?

"Text me when you get home?" Flynn said suddenly, grinning.

Alex jumped, startled out of his thoughts, but then returned their smirk. "Definitely, you too," he responded. "No dying on the way home."

Flynn rolled their eyes and laughed. "As if you could get rid of me that easily, Mercer," she snarked, tossing her braids back over their shoulder. They paused for a second, then added, "So is this how we work now?" in a softer tone.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I guess so. Doesn't change us though, right?"

"Right," Flynn said, smiling. Years of friendship allowed Alex to pick up the traces of relief in their eyes. "See ya around then," she said, waving as she headed for her house.

"See ya," Alex echoed as he turned to follow Julie. He smiled as he walked away from the corner. He and Flynn would be alright. They'd been friends for ages, they could manage not walking home together. It might just take some work. They could do that.

#legolas tag #legolas filled prompt #geez what's going on here? #The thoughts were all there #but the way they came out was not what I was expecting #oh well at least I hit the prompt I think? #Flynn and Alex would be besties your honor #they gay panic and snark together #and fully lay into each other about being gay disasters over their respective partners #also Alex's parents frigging suck #them kicking him out was not my plan here #but that's what happened #screw them #tw homophobia #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #jatp #alex mercer #flynn taylor #flynn jatp #hurt/comfort #I think? #i don't know what this thing is #hopefully the fiance likes it!!! #I'm so sorry again for how long this took!!!!!

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

I don't think pancakes are gonna fix this. I need ice cream too, for the band/whoever you want!

okay full disclosure, i'm a little bit terrified to post this. I've never done this ship before 🙈 or this trope/plot device... but. due to the typical people at fault for the fics that enter my brain... (*ahem* @narcissusbrokenmirror and unnamed party who DOESN'T DO TUMBLR) it exists. and meant I finally had something to write that fit this prompt! (and there's a little treat in here for you) I hope someone likes it 😅 a part II is also planned. just... later.

“Heeeeeey Lukey, you’re up early,” Reggie exclaims from in front of his electric griddle. He’s been busy making pancakes for their weekly band brunch. “Where’ve you been?”

Luke stares, unseeing, as he moves through the motions of removing his shoes by the door. He’d just gotten back home after running out unexpectedly a few hours earlier. Only Willie had been awake early enough to see him off.

“Luke?” Reggie calls back out from the kitchen.

Luke doesn’t answer. He just rounds the doorway into Reggie’s sightline. 

Reggie looks up from pouring the next batch of pancakes, almost dropping the bowl when he catches sight of Luke’s face. It’s very nearly expressionless and entirely unlike Luke.

He recovers quickly and sets the bowl  gently on the counter before bounding over to Luke. 

“Luke? Buddy?” Reggie asks, trying to catch Luke’s gaze. “What happened?”

Luke opens and closes his mouth, trying to speak but can’t manage to make sound.

“Alex! Willie?” Reggie calls desperately, raising his voice loudly enough to ensure they hear him.

They both appear almost instantly.

“What’s-” Alex starts to ask before catching sight of Luke and cutting himself off. 

“Something’s wrong,” Reggie cries, panic edging into his voice. 

Alex runs a hand through his hair as he gulps in a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Let’s…” he looks around the kitchen and then back out to the living room. “Let’s get him sitting down somewhere.” 

Alex and Reggie each grab one of Luke’s arms and try to steer him toward the couch. 

Reggie suddenly drops the arm he’d been holding and turns back toward the kitchen. “Shit! The-”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” Willie assures him, picking up the flipper. They gesture back toward Luke. “You take care of Luke, I’ll finish these.”

Reggie sends them a small grateful smile and grabs back hold of Luke. He helps Alex guide Luke to the couch where they gently set him down.

Reggie kneels in front of Luke, trying again to catch his gaze. When he fails, he sets a hand on each of Luke’s knees. The contact seems to jolt Luke back to reality, at least slightly. 

Alex sits next to him on the sofa. Luke leans into his side and Alex wraps an arm around Luke’s shoulders.

“I got you. We’ve got you. You’re okay,” Alex murmurs softly. 

Luke’s eyes go glassy as he settles back into the present, soaking in the comforting presence of his best friends. 

Reggie decides to try again. “What’s going on?”

Luke raises his eyes to meet Reggie’s. “Carrie’s pregnant.”

Reggie jumps back in surprise while Alex’s brow furrows. 

“Carrie… Like Carrie Wilson,” Alex confirms. 

Luke nods. 

“Why…? Luke…” Alex pulls back slightly and turns so he can face Luke. “Luke, why would that affect you?”

Luke looks up at Alex with sad eyes. 

Reggie’s eyes widen in understanding. “Luke! When? Carrie?! How?” he stammers through his shock.

Luke takes a deep breath and pulls himself fully away from Alex. He clasps his hands together and stares at them to  avoid looking at Alex or Reggie. “The night of  the Billboards,” he explains.

“You and Carrie?” Reggie asks again, disbelief still present in his voice.

Luke nods. 

“How? I mean. It’s Carrie. And you. I just…”

“I know. It just… happened.”

“And you never told us?” Alex chimes in, betrayed.

Luke shakes his head. 

“Okay. Don’t think we won’t be revisiting that later. But. Is she okay? Does she know what she wants to do? Do you know what you want her to do?”

Another shake of Luke’s head. He collapses back into Alex. 

Reggie climbs up to wrap his arms around both of them. “You know we’ve got you, right? No matter what,” he murmurs.

Luke nods into Alex’s chest. 

Reggie’s thighs start burning from how he’s perched for their little huddle. He’s just about to pull away when they hear the apartment door open and close. 

“Julie,” Reggie whispers. As always, she’s perfectly on time for brunch.

The three of them pull apart. “Do you want her to know?” Alex asks sincerely.

Luke’s mouth opens in an attempt to answer but his efforts are stalled as they hear Willie call out from the kitchen, very obviously warning them of Julie’s arrival. “They’re in the living room.”

The guys don’t speak as they watch the doorway for Julie. 

Julie enters the room and immediately stops. She takes in their state and her face scrunches up in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, slow and wary. 

Alex and Reggie both turn to Luke, waiting to follow his lead. He looks up at Reggie with wide, pleading eyes. 

Reggie furrows his brow in silent question. At Luke’s slight nod, he turns back to Julie. “Carrie’s pregnant,” he tells her, rushing through the pair of words as if it’ll make it easier to say. And hear.

“Okaaaaay,” she counters slowly. 

“It’s Luke’s,” he adds just as quickly. 

Julie turns wide, disbelieving eyes on Luke. “Really?”

He nods. 

“Shit.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment before she breaks it. “Are you okay?”

Luke’s eyes fill with tears and he shakes his head. 

Julie walks over to the couch and shoves Luke and Alex over to make room. She wedges herself between Luke and the arm of the sofa.  Julie takes Luke’s hand and gently strokes the back of it with her thumb. “Tell me about it?” she offers.

“There’s nothing to tell, really. We were both pissed at how the Billboards went, hooked up, never spoke about it again. Until…”

“Yeah,” Julie softly responds, saving him from having to finish the sentence. 

“There’s a uh… lot of details missing there, Luke,” Reggie chimes in. 

Alex swats Reggie’s shoulder with the back of his hand. 

Reggie rubs his shoulder and glares at Alex. “That are totally none of our business,” he adds hastily.

“It was so… stupid!” Luke exclaims. He pulls his hand back from Julie. He scrubs at his face before running his hands up into his hair. He leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, supporting his face in his hands.

“Hey,” Julie counters gently, pulling his hands away from his head. “Hey, I think we all did some pretty stupid shit that night.”

“We did?!” Reggie squeaks.

“We did,” Julie confirms. She averts her gaze but the blush rising up her face is unmistakable. 

Reggie narrows his eyes at her. “What stupid shit did Julie do?”

“We’re not talking about me right now.”

“Hm. Well, maybe knowing Julie’s stupid shit will make Luke feel better,” Reggie counters, looking pointedly at Luke. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Julie says, drawing out the ‘yeah’ to make her doubt clear.

Luke lifts his gaze up, trying to catch hers. He narrows his eyes. “What did you do, Julie?”

“I… really don’t think you want to know. Forget I said anything.”

Luke cocks his head and looks at her sideways. “You know that’s not gonna happen.”

Julie stands. She turns toward them and then back away, uncertainty lacing every movement. 

“Julie?” Alex tries. “Jules, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not that bad if I keep it to myself,” she murmurs.

Luke lets out a good-humoured scoff, “It’s not like you hooked up with Bobby or something.”

Julie stops in her tracks. Her eyes widen and she gapes at them. 

Luke’s expression shifts to mimic hers. “You hooked up with Bobby?!” He exclaims, disbelieving and angry.

Alex sets a calming hand on Luke’s knee. Luke brushes it off. 

Alex quickly glares at Luke before redirecting his attention to Julie, “Okay well, you’re not pregnant too, right?”

“No!” Julie assures them. “I mean, probably. I don’t think so… No. No, I can’t be. I’m not.”

“Are you and Bobby like… together?” Luke asks slowly. 

Julie shakes her head. “No. No, it was just… We got lost in the chaos of everything that night. I swear. It only happened the once,” she pauses to consider before continuing, “Well, the one night.”

Luke’s face twists up in disgust, “Ew. Gross. I do not want to know. You’re right. I don’t feel better.” He groans. “But at least I didn’t hook up with… him.” Luke’s expression contorts into a final  grimace.

Alex sighs, “Okay, can we get back to the issue at hand?”

“Pancakes?” Reggie exclaims hopefully. 

“No, Reggie. Not pancakes.”

“Pancakes fix everything,” Reggie mumbles. “Sue me for trying to help. Though… they’re probably cold by now…”

“I don't think pancakes are gonna fix this… We need ice cream too,” Luke murmurs. 

Reggie jumps up and bounds toward the kitchen. “Willie! Willie, we need to dig out the ice cream to have with our pancakes! It’s an emergency. What kinds do we have?” He trips over his feet in his enthusiasm, just barely managing to recover before face planting on the floor. 

Alex, Luke, and Julie shake their heads fondly as they watch him leave. 

Julie turns back around to Luke. She crouches in front of him and takes his hands. “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Let’s just… never talk about it again please?”

Julie nods her agreement. “You bet. Are you going to be okay?”

“No, but we’ll figure it out. We always do, right?”

Julie smiles up at him. “Right.”

“And we’re all here with and for you,” Alex confirms. He puts his hand on Luke’s back. “All of it. No matter what.”

Luke directs a sad smile at Alex. “Thanks, man.”

Alex nods once in acknowledgement. “Should we go see what kind of mess those two have managed to create in the last three minutes?”

Luke and Julie cough out matching laughs. Julie stands, pulling Luke up with her. She squeezes his hands twice before letting one go and pulling him toward the kitchen.

#thank you! #carrie POV to come at a later date #which is actually the POV this was MEANT to be but noooooo Luke decided HE needed comfort and Reggie decided HE needed to make pancakes #carrie x luke #kind of #background #bobby x julie #<- just for legolas #but also me and narcy #luke patterson #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfic #prompt fill #nobodys fics #answered ask

[esculentevil]

(Thorinduil AU) Dragon Born

Technically a fill for this prompt I found on the hobbit kink meme (it’s probably too short tho): "Legolas is the son of Thranduil and Thorin, however Thranduil didn't know he was pregnant yet when he turned his back on the dwarves when Smaug attacked." I’ve had a similar idea, myself, and decided to do it here even if it’s not a full match (another reason it’s only a technical fill...).

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆💎AO3/Pillowfort🌲☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆

During the interrogation in the Elvenking’s throne room, Thorin and Thranduil flirt angrily until they’re right in each other’s faces, glaring heatedly at each other.

However, before things can go any farther (and irrevocably scar Thorin’s co. and Thranduil’s guards), Thranduil rips off his crown just as a very young elfling descends upon his head screaming: “No! MINE Ada! Bad dwarf! Bad dwarf!”

This elfling is Legolas, Thranduil’s son, and he glares adorably angrily at Thorin as the bad dwarf accuses jealously woundedly hatefully his father of... well, Thranduil cuts him off but it’s clear to all but Legolas that it’s infidelity--upon HIM--when the leading dwarf clearly asks: “Was this before or after the dragon?”

To which Duil replies: “DURING the dragon. ... I had found out only hours before and I made to tell you in Erebor--after gathering a small contingency, of course, because I expected Thror to declare war--but... Smaug had made it there first; and the back-up I brought with me was only intended to protect me from Thror long enough for me to return to the forest should it come to that; a dragon... there would have been no standing up to that--especially as it was already IN the mountain--and I had already promised myself that I would not abandon him--would not LEAVE him--as my own father was forced to do with me: I will not die in battle, or anything at all, if it means that my son will be left alone; not for you; not for anybody; and most assuredly not for a DRAGON I WARNED YOU OF.”

#legolas #thranduil #thorin #thorinduil #thoranduil #thorin/thranduil #thorin x thranduil #the hobbit #mywriting #fanfiction #fanfic #tolkienfanficrecs #alternate universe #DragonBornAU #prompt fill #hobbit kink meme #I might add to this; I just wanted it out of my drafts before AO3 kills it

[laneynoir]

Heyyy :)

I was wondering if you could do “How long has it been since someone hugged you?” From the writing prompts, but with Y/n asking Legolas that? Cuz I thought that would be fitting ig.

I love youuu <33

I adore this idea! And of course, I've never tried to write a wedding scene before, so please don't shoot me (or do, that's your choice.)

"A month!" The cry of Gimli is met with an amused expression from the king. "Near an entire month yet you've kept us here, under no clear pretense! Only now to tell us that this elven lass is to be your bride?" Here does Gimli pause, looking to Arwen. "You are a lass? I thought Legolas was for the first week of our journy, your braids are so odd."

Laughter as soft and glowing as the stars flows from the Lady Undómiel. "Yes Lord Gimli, I seem to remember your father, Gloin, making the same mistake. Worry not though, you have not insulted me any more than you did my grandmother when you asked her favour."

"Well I for one," You break in before Gimli can start another speech on the grace of Galadriel. "Would like to be the first to offer you both congratulations. My heart sings that you should finaly be wed, I can think of no better a reward in peacetime for what you hace done for our world."

Legolas echoes your words. "Indeed, I can think of none more deserving of this union, prehaps Lord Elrond has finally decided you worthy of the sceptre of Annúminnas?" The jest is taken goodnaturedly by Aragorn, who responds with a false groan. However the comment perplexes the residant Hobbits, and it is Pippin who asks what on earth 'and you minnes' is.

A lovely smirk on her face, Arwen supplies. "When he was young, and first come to Imladrís, Aragorn was given the heirlooms of his house, save the Sceptre of Annúminnas which my father withheld until Aragorn should earn it. This supplied my brothers with a bet: for which could Aragorn earn first? Arwen or The 'shiney stick'? My father learned of this bet before, and with some vindictive pleasure enssured that Aragorn should gain both at once."

The laughter of the fellowship causes no embarrassment for the Man, he has eyes only for his beloved. "All true words, though I am afraid still that I will never truly earn your love, but I will spend the rest of my days trying."

After the others who are there offer their congradulations, Sam asks a question which has obviously been bothering him. "Begging you pardon, but who do you have making the cake? Strider hasn't introduced us to any of his family, and I was curious."

Aragorn frowns. "The... Cake? I suppose one of the cooks will provide a cake." Four gasps of horror, and one of laughter (from you) resound at the statement. "I beg your pardon, it seems we've reached a cultural differance yet again. Samwise, would you tell us of this tradition?"

Despite the faint blush on his cheeks, Sam agrees. "Cakes are very important at wedding sir! Why the very though of not having one is horrible. When a couple is joined in matrimony, the youger parent of the younger partner bakes the cake. At the wedding, the couple slices the cake which is colored on the inside, and if a bit of the blue is on the spoon, the first child will be a girl, if it's red, then the babe will be a boy."

Aragorn smiles kindly at the hobbit. "It would surly be a shame to skip such a delightful tradition, though my blood family no longer lives. If it is I would ask you to fill the task?"

Sam's face lights up in pride and delight. "It would be an honour, I promise that no pastry will ever rival the wedding cake of the first restored rulers of Gondor!"

~

The entire city seems to have accepted invitations for the wedding; people of all ages crowd around the the palace gardens (which, true to his word, Legolas has assisted in whiping into shape).Vines of deep greens creep down contrasting white stone arches, life on cold rock, hope in an empty place.

Aragorn stands under one such arch, dressed in royal garb that has caused at least two of his new subjects to swoon. His face shows nothing but calm content- at least on the surface. However to the eye of one who has traveled for high on a year with the man, and lived for his youth in Imladrís, you can see the stress in his eye.

Standing on the side of Aragorns honour guests, you send him what you hope is a comforting and encouraging smile. He inclines his head just the slightest amount, acknowledging you. His attention shifts rapidly however as a string of clear music flows from the hands of the twin elven minstrels.

As one, the congregation of men, elves, hobbits, a wizard, and dwarves alike turn to the opening in the garden wall that separates the high garden feom the battlements.

Framed against the ivy, the light of early dusk adds an ethereal effect to the Evenstar; Arwen. The dress she wears is simple at first glance, a simple white gown with green trimmings. The waves of fabric seem to float around her; her steps are so light they seem nonexistent, she takes Aragorn's hand after steping onto the slightly raised platform.

The ceremony is short, but breathtakingly beautiful. A satin cloth so pure it glows is wrapped around the Royal couple's hands. Eyes locked on the other, they resite there vows, words so heartfelt that very few eye stay dry, and when they seal the union with a passionate kiss that has a watery-eyed Elrond grimacing, the applause is deafening.

Your hands sting with how hard you clap, and you pause, eyes drawn to Legolas beside you. He wears his soft smile, the one that just barely turns the corners of his lips up, yet still makes your heart shudder. Still though, there seems to be an indescribable light in his eye, that hints at somthing hidden behind the facade of content grace and joy he usually keeps.

Curious, you stick close to your elven friend throughout the reception, and as the toasts pass, and the dancing has moved away from the consistent expectation of nobles asking gor a dance, you withdraw to a more secluded area of the brightly lit room. Your eyes wander over the sea of elegantly dressed people, searching as always for the light presance that holds your heart.

"Do you look for someone, Y/n?"

You jolt at the voice, turning happily to Legolas. "Indeed, my prince, though ive found him now." He smiles, but it looks almost... Strained. Sipping on the rosehip wine in your hand you look over the elf. He meets your gaze with the same calm as usual- at least on the surface.

Looking closer you notice the delicate crease in his brow, faint and noticeable as a small ripple on a clear, calm lake. His fingertips tap together, one after the other, each touching once, before he appears to catch himself, and the movement stops, leaving the hands tense.

His actions, and lack thereof, remind you of those before a battle, however legolas even usually did not exhibit such, not even before the throes of Mordor were washed upon you all.

"Legolas," you ask, hesitantly, "what bothers you?"

His eyes widen a moment, before his expression softens. "Nothing of any great importance. Only... I find the sounds and smells of such a large gathering almost suffocating." He says this as if it were a crime, and he were addmiting to such before a council. "Especially after so long of traveling, I have become unacustomed to life in court, and thus the stress which acompanys."

The knowledge that Legolas has been in discomfort for some time, as it draws near midnight, sets a feeling of dismay in your stomach. Straightening yourself resolutely, your snatch up his hand and weave yourself among the outskirts of the crowd.

Through an ornate door you pull Legolas into a small garden, and while the sound of sparse minsterals can be heard, the sound of talking fades into the background. "Better?" You ask, peering at Legolas.

He nods, but you have no time to admire the light in his bearing before he is bowed over your hand. "May I have this dance?"

The question startled you, but you quickly affirm your acceptance, allowing him to pull you closer, and the soft instrumental tune provides a leisurely beat to step with. You meet his eyes, and a mist covers them, so doing the natural thing you remove your hands from Legolas' own, you wrap him in an embrace.

When he stiffens, you make to pull back, but instead he tightens his grip in a way that you can feel the muckes beneath his tunic, his head nestles into the crook of your neck.

Running a hand along his spine in what you hope is an appropriately comforting motion, you feel the damp of his eyes drip onto your skin. "Oh Legolas," You trail off a deapseated sorrow filling your very soul at the inability to know what brings such display to the usually strong and lighthearted elf. "How long has it been since someone hugged you?”

"I- don't..."

At the words you gently pull him to the ground, a movement which is slightly hindered by his unwillingness to release you. When you reach a half sitting, half kneeling position, he draws back slightly. "I apologize, I-" you cut him off with a fingertip to the lips.

"Please do not let such words nor guilt fill you," you trace the line of his brow, and see the pink hue in his eye from tears long withheld. "I love you, and any service I may do, or condolence I can offer... All that I have is yours, please do not try to take the privilege of heloing you away."

A choked "Meleth" is all Legolas can reply to the declaration, but the intent is visable, so you pull him closer, and run the silk soft hairs of his head through your fingers.

For you meant it, anything for him is well worth doing, and you would be colder than the stone in a creek before you could even think about galting your care.

#lotr #legolas x reader #arwen x aragorn #legolas #my fic #i still cant tag things #hug time #sad boi elf

[tolkienocweek]

Tolkien OC Week

A fandom event for OCs and underdeveloped characters in Tolkien's world!

This event celebrates both characters of Tolkien's world and our own characters that need more love, by creating and reblogging all kind of fanworks, like fanfiction, fanart, fanvideos, fancrafts, headcanons, playlists, edits, moodboards etc.

The event is modded by @yellow-faerie, @elamarth-calmagol and @stormxpadme and will take place between 21st August - 27th August 2023 for the third year running.

NSFW text entries are allowed and we’ll tag them accordingly when we reblog them, but please put them behind a “read more”.

We'll also be tracking the tag #tolkienocweek during this week!

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Event schedule for 2023:

Day 1 (21st August): Family members

Tolkien often neglects to mention the family members of major characters: for example, leaving both Celebrimbor and Fili and Kili with only one named parent. In others cases, such as Bilbo's family tree, he gives a name and nothing else. Share a character who fills in a gap in a family tree, or create a speculative family member, such as siblings for Legolas.

Day 2 (22nd August): The Bad Guys

Share an OC who belongs to the wrong side of the story, whether they're knowingly evil, misguided, or just doing their job. Maybe they're an orc or a balrog, an unrepentant kinslayer, a Southron or Easterling soldier, or one of the hobbits who worked with Saruman in the Shire. Explore their life and point of view and why they went down the path they did.

Day 3 (23rd August): Diversity

Share an OC who adds diversity to Tolkien’s world, whether it is their race, gender, disability, neurodiversity, sexual orientation, or another characteristic.

Day 4 (24th August): Forgotten Characters

As Tolkien created his stories, he abandoned some characters, such as Eriol the Mariner, and changed major characteristics of others, such as the idea that Erestor was a half-elven relative of Elrond. Other characters, such as the Dunedain chieftains fostered by Elrond before Aragorn, are forgotten by the fandom. Create a fanwork focusing on one of these forgotten characters or characterizations.

Day 5 (25th August): Shipping

Share an OC that you ship with a canon character. It could be a marriage, queerplatonic relationship, or one-night stand, canon compliant or AU, or any other sort of ship you want!

Day 6 (26th August): Alternate Universes

Share an OC who couldn’t be part of the canonical story, such as Boromir's child in an "everyone lives" scenario, a roommate or professor in a college AU, or a dimension-hopping "tenth walker".

Day 7 (27th August): Freeform

Did you have someone who doesn’t fit any prompts, or too many characters for one of them? Today, share any OC that you want.

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Since we want to celebrate creations about neglected characters all year long, the mods will occasionally reblog posts and fancreations about OCs and underdeveloped characters. If you would like to see your post on our blog, you're very welcome to tag tolkienocweek. Since tumblr's tagging system is often being faulty, don't hesitate to message us, too!

We are looking forward to see and share all the awesome work you come up with!

#lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #hobbit #lotr films #hobbit films #silm #the silm #silmarillion #tolkien #oc #original characters #tolkienocweek

[knight-of-flowerss]

Prompts: “tell me what is behind your back”

Summary: The reader has been Legolas’ nanny for what felt like centuries now, even though he was a man grown, he refused to have you stop being his nanny. But, when he left with Tauriel he left you a note that was hidden underneath his pillow in his chambers. You go to burn it but there is a visitor standing in the door way, awaiting your response for what you are doing in the elvish princes’ chambers.

Warnings: fluff, angst(Legolas’ mother), gets a little- suggestive -near the end.

Pairings: Thranduil x Reader, Platonic! Legolas x Reader

Masterlist

You: red

Thranduil: blue

Legolas: green

Burning desire

Thranduil X Elf!Nanny!Reader

Legolas had always been fond of you, ever since he was a young princeling, you never knew why he favoured you over the over two nannies that accompanied him. So he spent the most time with you than the other nannies, hell, he even spent more time in your presence than he did in his own fathers.

As the boy got older he finally realised why he enjoyed your company so much, you were the mother he never had.

You were kind but strict when necessary, polite but always stood your ground when someone had whispered some obscurities about the prince or his parents. But most of all, you treated him like a person. Not a prince, not a child, just Legolas.

****************************************

Legolas felt that he was betraying you when he ran after Tauriel who disappeared into the woods. He got about a mile from the door and realised that if he was going to leave, he had to give you an explanation.

****************************************

Your hand smooths his sheets out, stuffing the edges in between the mattresses and bed frame. You hands next go to fluff the large pillows, starting on the right side, you do both pillows and order them neatly.

You walk around the bed and reach for the under pillow. You raise it up to Fluff and notice an envelope nearly falling off the edge.

Your delicate fingers pick up the paper and place it on the bedside table while you finish the princes’ bed.

Reaching for the envelope, you go to put it in his draw on his bedside table when you notice your name written on the front.

Eyebrows furrowed and lips frowned, you peel off the wax and take out the piece of paper. It read:

Dear Y/N

I regret to inform you that I have left with Tauriel and sadly, don’t think I will be returning. I have a small box underneath my bed filled to the brim with golden pieces, enough to last you a lifetime, enough to get you on your feet if you wish to leave or find a new job. Please don’t try and find me and do not show this letter to others eyes than your own. Please, as my last wish to you, burn this letter and build a better life for yourself.

Thank you, and all that you’ve done for me.

Love from,

Legolas.

You look at the back of the letter and his guess of where he would be headed was scribbled on the back.

Lake Town.

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You stood in shock, tears threatening to travel downwards from your glossy eyes. You couldn’t believe that they had just let the high born elf leave like that, letting him morph from a respectable young prince to a wreck less young man.

Your feet moved faster than you brain, leading you towards the fireplace in the elf princes’ room. Reaching out, putting the corner of the envelope into the flame. After watching it burn for a while you throw it into the fire. You look to your side and pick up the note from the chair.

You go to put the corner of the page into the flames when a voices perked up.

“What are you doing in my son’s room?”

You whip your head around and hid the paper behind your back.

“My king, I..didn’t expect you to be here..”

“What did you expect then? That no one would notice that you overstayed your stay in my son’s room? No one would notice you lingering by the fire? I know my son cared for you but now that he has left, you have no business prolonging your stay in his chambers.”

His stoic stature took few steps towards you, coming chest to chest with you.

“I’m sorry my King, it was inappropriate for me to be staying in her as long as I have, I shall be leaving now, my King.”

You try to walk past him but a hand flew out and stopped at your chest, pushing you back ever so slightly so your eyes meet.

He was intimidating to say the least, he made you feel like he was a mountain and you were a mouse staring all the way to the top.

“Dear,…. What is behind your back?..”

Your eyes widen, looking away while putting the paper in your right hand, crumpling it up.

“I don’t know what you mean my King.”

Your knuckles went white while trying to hide the evidence of your princes’ whereabouts.

“I will not ask again Y/N. Tell me what is behind your back.”

You gulped, your eyes flickering from Thranduil’s eyes, to the table in the middle of the room, to the fireplace.

Your mind was fighting with you as you stared at the flickering of the flames. Your rational brain was saying no. To not get you imprisoned and to just give up the not the the KING.

‘Do not even think about it, just hand the paper to the King and and beg for forgiveness, atleast you won’t be imprisoned or feel the wrath of the beautiful king.’

Your eyes widen and you realised your impulsive side came through, ‘throw the note into the fireplace, protect your prince, protect your honour. Maybe the King could have mercy on you after finding out why you defied him, but it is very unlikely.’

You turned towards your king as his hand had travelled upwards without you noticing as you were lost in your train of thought.

His slender fingers gripped the underside of your jaw and turned your head towards him. Tipping it back to look at him in the eyes.

“Y/N this is the last time I ask before I forcefully take it out of you sneaky little hands, what. Is. Behind. Your. Back?”

He exhaled through his nose in anger, the air hitting your face. That made you snap. You got out of his grip, turned around and threw the note into the fire, watching it burn in the flames.

A look of shock adorned Thranduil’s face, as his eyes flick between the lick of the flames surrounding the scrumpled paper to your face.

Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed your arm. Spinning you around and pushed you up against the wall. Your head hit the wall and you groaned out in pain.

He dips his head down and through gritted teeth whispered, “What was on that piece of paper dear?”

You were so close to the Elvish King, up close you could appreciate his features a lot more. His sharp jawline, his porcelain skin, his soft and plush lips, his cerulean eyes, so complex, full of stories.

His eyes bored into yours as you subconsciously moved closer, your noses touching eachother and your lips grazing.

You get thrown back onto the wall while he steps back, his hand covering his mouth, squeezing his nose and then landing back at his side as he breathes out of his nose.

You step forward after collecting yourself, staring up at the King as his eyes flicker all around his sons chambers, avoiding your eyes.

When your eyes finally do meet, you are nearly pressed up against him, head tipped back as you stare at his pretty face.

Your hands reach to grasp for his robes, pulling Thranduil down a bit to your level. He moaned out your name in an almost submissive whimper, “Y/N…”

Your lips meet his as he pauses, in shock. Your left hand leaves his extravagant robes to cup his cheek.

When Thranduil finally clocked what was happening, his hands came up to either side of your face, palms on your jawline and fingertips weaving through your hair.

The once innocent kiss quickly turned heated as Thranduil guided you towards the table in the middle of the room, pressing you up against it.

Years of being ignored by the gorgeous elf where quickly overlooked as soon as he bit your bottom lip.

You knew that Legolas would be upset when he finds out about your little affair with his father. Someone who he loved dearly and someone who treated him and anyone he liked like the dirt underneath his shoes.

He would be livid.

But you didn’t care and neither did Thranduil, you both just caved into your

Burning desires.

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@thethreeeyed-raven

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#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil fanfic #fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #legolas

[sotwk]

Greenleaf's Tree (child!Legolas & Thranduil fic)

For the THAUC Event by @fellowshipofthefics

Artwork by event partner @thatonetimetraveller

Summary: Six-year-old Legolas goes on royal progress with Thranduil for the first time and learns more about the sort of king his father truly is.

Event Prompt: "What is Legolas' favorite memory of growing up with Thranduil as his father?"

Word count: 2.8k

Content: Growing up, Family Fluff, Father-Son Bonding, Good Parent Thranduil, Thranduil's kingship, Greenwood the Great, the Golden Age of the Woodland Realm, Pre-Mirkwood/Dol Guldur, Easter Eggs for the SotWK AU

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: Link

Greenleaf’s Tree

Third Age 248 July 10

The Woodland Realm, Greenwood the Great

Legolas was early. Ninniel had tried to warn him; the King’s instructions had been for the prince to be dressed and ready to depart at the main courtyard an hour past sunrise. But the elfling had scarcely slept a wink the previous night (again, against his father’s instructions), and had pounced on his nursemaid to rush through the process of helping him into his brand new clothes, made especially for the occasion. Afterwards he scarfed down a few mouthfuls of his eggs and hash before sprinting through the halls across the awakening palace with a half-eaten bun in his fist. 

The skies were just beginning to lighten in the burgeoning dawn when Legolas descended the grand stone stairway of the palace entrance. He was not the only early arrival! The elfling took a giant leap off the last three steps and skipped towards the tall, imposing figure of the Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm--whose back was turned to him as he conversed with one of the guards in the king’s escort. 

Prince Mirion felt the polite tug on the hem of his tunic and turned his head to look down, down, at the elf-child that barely came up to his hip. “Ah, and there he is! Bright and early, just as I expected!”

“Still not early enough to beat you,” Legolas chirped, ducking the broad hand that attempted to ruffle his hair. “Good morning, Feren!” he sang out to the young soldier in his brother's company.

Feren's eyebrows rose as he lifted his head from his bow of greeting to the little prince. “His Highness knows my name?”

“Certainly, you are Celuwen's twin! She talks about you a lot and she is ever so nice to me!” Feren’s sister was indeed, in Legolas’s opinion, the nicest of the scribes in the royal library, save for Arvellas, and the only one not to stifle a look of exasperation whenever he would pop into their sacred space to ask about picture books. Celuwen was also the only one who took the time to seek out for him books that contained mostly illustrations, instead of sniffing that “his Highness must take the time to practice his reading!”. 

“Well, now there are two of you going on the Progress for the first time,” Mirion said, clapping his hands on Legolas’s skinny shoulders. “You will both see there is nothing to it, and I believe you shall find it to be the most pleasant, almost relaxing, trip.”

“It is a high honor to finally be appointed, sire,” Feren said stoutly, his chest puffing with pride. “Rest assured that the King and Prince shall have my utmost protection on their travels.”

Mirion smiled. “The promotion is well-deserved, perhaps even delayed in its coming. I have no doubt you are up to the task.” 

It did not take long for the courtyard to fill up with more people. First, seven other soldiers trickled in to complete the escort, and with them their mounts. Then, the rest of Legolas’s brothers arrived, along with several members of the royal court fulfilling their duty to tradition. By the time King Thranduil himself descended the steps with Queen Maereth on his arm, the entire palace staff had assembled at the periphery to see their lord off.

Legolas had said his goodbyes to his family the previous night, so that he could express his emotions in private, especially with his Ammë, in whose embrace he shed some tears. The Progress would not be his first time away from home, but would be his first prolonged time apart from her.

“Do you remember the two things I asked for, my Greenleaf?” the Queen whispered as she bent low to give her youngest one last hug. 

Legolas nodded vigorously. “To always stay near the escort and to take care of Ada!”  He planted a kiss on her fair cheek. “I shall do both, Ammë--I promise!”

The elfling trotted behind his father to the middle of the procession, where Alvar, the great King’s Elk, awaited between his two wary wranglers. “Up you get,” his Ada said, and hoisted him into the special dual seat upon the beast’s broad back. With a billowing swish of his hunter-green cloak, the Elvenking effortlessly leapt into the saddle and circled his arms around his son to take the reins.

The lead rider blew the heralding horn, and as the sound pierced clear through the forest air, their party headed out. Legolas turned back to wave at the gathered crowd until they vanished from his line of sight. As Bar Lasgalen’s ivy-covered walls sank behind the sentry line of ancient oaks, the reality of his adventure ahead firmly sank in, setting off a rush of tingles from head to toes. It would just be him and his Ada on the road, traveling together, for an entire month! 

At only six years of age, he was much younger than any of his brothers had been when they went on their first King's Progress. Legolas knew his parents had gone over many discussions about his readiness for the Crown’s most anticipated summer tradition, ever since he started declaring at the family dinner table that he “will tour with Ada next year”. Apparently none of his brothers had been smart enough to just say that they wanted to go. Now there he was.

Legolas had not expected, however, to be sent on the journey alone with the King, without his mother or even a single brother to act as a buffer between them. Not that he thought one was necessary, but he had never enjoyed such bountiful access to his father before!

“How long until we are there, Ada?” the elfling asked, after holding in the question for what already felt like half the day.  

“We are perhaps an hour away still,” Thranduil responded. “From Rowanhill. Our first stop, if you recall.”

“Yes, I remember!” Legolas drew himself up proudly, confident that he memorized, in order of scheduled visit, the names of all ten Greenwood villages listed on their itinerary. “But there is no mention of Rowanhill at all in my book, so I could not learn anything about it beforehand.”

“Book? What book?”

“It is in my pack…” The child leaned over in the saddle and pointed to the four riders to their rear, whose horses also carried the personal items they had packed for the trip. One gesture from the King, and the guard bearing the prince’s belongings rode forward to allow him to procure the wanted item. 

Legolas flipped through the leather-bound tome while his father peered over his shoulder at the pages filled with colorful illuminations. “Celuwen found this for me,” he explained. “She said it names and describes almost all the towns and villages in the realm--except for Rowanhill and a few others.”

“That is because Rowanhill is younger than even your six summers, ion nin .” Thranduil smiled. “The village was raised only this past year. I shall be seeing it with eyes as fresh as yours.”

The rest of their hour in the saddle passed by much more quickly, as they went over Legolas’s discoveries from the book together. The young prince might not have realized they had reached their destination were it not for the convoy that emerged from the trees to meet them on their trail through the woods. A mixed cluster of Greenwood Elves approached the small procession, all welcoming smiles and low bows before their king. 

“You honor us with your visit, Arathawar,” said the evident leader of the group, who later introduced himself as Narchon. “We are delighted by the opportunity to show you what we have built here.”

Rowanhill itself appeared to be as cheerily unobtrusive as its residents. A few dozen cottages squatted about the slopes of a patchily grassy knoll, but the people milled about the open spaces, with everyone's attention focused on the royal procession's arrival. 

As Thranduil and Legolas dismounted Alvar, a crowd converged around them, while giving a wide berth to the imposing elk-steed. The abrupt intrusion into their space almost frightened Legolas, who had never seen so many people come this close to his father all at once before. But he felt his Ada’s strong hand on his shoulder, keeping him guarded and close to his side, and it eased the elfling’s discomfort. 

Rapid and raucous chatter flew above his head as the Elves of Rowanhill spoke over one another to greet their king and vie for his attention. Legolas wondered at the guard’s lack of intervention, until he caught a glimpse of his father’s face and heard his booming laugh, which made clear what he thought about this behavior. It was vastly different from what Legolas was accustomed to observing at court, where only a few people had appointments and waited to be called forward for their turn to speak before the throne and council. And at the palace court, no one touched the king. 

Gradually, the initial excitement subsided. The village leader Narchon took his place at the king’s right side, and a proper tour of the settlement began. As the grown-ups droned on about household counts and housing, community infrastructures and activities, and many other words Legolas frequently overheard but poorly understood, the young elf’s interest in the conversation dropped to zero. His eyes continued to roam their surroundings, searching for something else to capture his interest. 

There were no other children around, he noted with disappointment. None his age or close to it. This observation might have baffled him had his mother not previously explained that some Greenwood communities had much fewer elfings, and outside their kingdom elf babes could be as rare as dragons. 

Finally, Legolas’s roving eyes landed on a sudden peculiarity. Nestled within a copse of beeches, a thatched building the length of three houses stood apart from the rest of the village structures. Surrounding it, with no identifiable pattern or design, stone figures of varying shapes, sizes, and hues stood out on the grass like a bizarrely decorated garden. 

“Legolas?”

The princeling blinked up at the questioning gaze of his father, surprised to once again have his notice. He had been tailing the adults blindly until the mystery building caused him to stop in his tracks, and that quickly regained their attention. Completely unabashed, he thrust out his arm full-length and pointed. 

“What is over there?”

Narchon stepped forward to answer. “That is our guild hall, Your Highness. It is where we gather to work.”

Legolas pivoted to stare back and forth between the elder elf and the garden of stone curiosities. “Are you an artist?”

“A sculptor, Your Highness. If you would care to be specific.” Narchon beamed. “Sculpting is our trade here at Rowanhill.”

An entire village of sculptors? A grin lit up Legolas’s entire face. The book described village guilds of builders and smiths, of huntsmen and herdsmen, even of cask makers and candle makers. But the only sculptor he ever met had been a Noldorin lord who came all the way from Imladris to deliver a Begetting Day present for the Queen from Lady Celebrian. 

“If you would like, sire, I can arrange for someone to conduct a demonstration for the Prince, and perhaps instruct him in some of our rudiments. It may be an enjoyable diversion for him while you conduct your audiences.”

Legolas froze, realizing just in that moment that he had run straight to the guild hall without seeking pardon or permission, overcome by his desire to view the collection of sculptures up close. There were warriors in heroic poses, eagles in flight, stags in full gallop, and giant insects the size of ponies, many of them painted in lifelike color! But hearing Narchon’s gentle suggestion, and the sight of the adults strolling down the rise to catch up to him, called the elfling back to the reality that he had neglected his manners. 

Peering up guiltily at his father, Legolas was yet again surprised by the absence of disapproval on the King’s face. Rather, Thranduil was studying the stone creations with open interest, and when he caught his son’s eye, the edge of his mouth curled in a smile. 

“That is a marvelous proposal, Narchon. Except I request a demonstration for both Legolas and I.” Thranduil nodded and wagged a finger at the sculpture in front of him, depicting a fish leaping through a curling wave. “I too would like to see how wonders such as these can be wrought.”

With great speed did they hasten to fulfill the King’s request, and in no time at all, father and son were given a workstation inside the sculptors’ hall. Thranduil removed his fine embroidered cloak to instead cover his silver tunic with an apron made from a stiff fabric that resembled a grain sack. It took Legolas several minutes to stop gaping at the strange sight, and he pondered whether this was something his brothers had never seen before, or they just somehow never bothered to share it with him. 

Not one but three of the best guild members volunteered to do a demonstration for them. The royals were then given their own mounds of clay so they might attempt to replicate the completed example--a straightforward representation of a beech tree, just like the ones growing outside the hall and throughout Rowanhill.

Legolas chewed on the tip of his tongue as he thrust his fingers into the soft, cakey brown substance, pulling and pressing and rolling the clay in an effort to mould it into a trunk-like shape. After a while, and only when he was moderately satisfied with his progress, he looked over to check how his father was faring. 

Legolas watched, transfixed, as his father’s large elegant hands glided over the unmistakable likeness of a small tree. Streaks of clay coated his apron and stained his arms all the way up to his elbows, and at closer scrutiny even small splatters of it dotted his taut cheeks and furrowed brow. Legolas could recall seeing only one other time his Ada might be described as looking “dirty”, and it was during a private sparring exercise with eldest brothers. Nothing at all like this situation he had never expected to witness on their public tour. 

“That is very good, Your Highness.” Narchon praised, bending over the workbench to examine the child’s work in progress. “A natural high talent is evident in your labors.”

“Thank you.” Legolas beamed, trying not to look overly pleased with himself. “But how are we to get that bright green color on the leaves?”

“Once your tree is fully moulded to your liking, we will bake it in our ovens and then paint it.”

“Or,” Thranduil spoke suddenly from his side of the table. “We can try something else.” He motioned for Narchon to lean in so he could whisper something in his ear.  

Legolas caught a glimpse of confusion on the sculptor’s face before he turned away to leave the room and retrieve whatever the King had asked him for. He returned promptly with a shallow pot of what looked like a mixture of common soil and mulch, dug straight up from the forest floor. 

“What is that for?” Legolas asked.

“A little test for myself,” the King said, scooping up a fistful of the loose dirt. “To see if I have not forgotten what I have been taught.”

Perched on the very edge of his stool, Legolas watched with bated breath as his father moulded the soil into the slender, yet still leafless branches of his soft clay tree. A deep, melodious humming emanated from the King’s throat, before his lips moved to form words, a song from an ancient language Legolas could not discern. 

As the singing continued, Thranduil slowly moved his hands away from the clay figure. Legolas’s eyes widened as he noticed the branches quiver and shift on their own volition. And then finally, slowly, verdant leaves began to sprout from the dead clay, unfurling and multiplying and growing until they transformed the naked branches into full bowers. 

“Most… extraordinary , Your Grace.” Narchon croaked, amid cries of delight and amazement from the other craftsmen watching in the hall. “Yet with those leaves, we cannot place your sculpture in the fires. The clay will not properly set and will remain fragile.”

“Then it will be fragile,” Thranduil said simply. “But it will be alive. For a time, at least. And in exchange for its mortality it shall bear real green leaves, fitting for Prince Greenleaf’s tree.”

“It is wondrous , Ada!” Legolas burst out with a sharp clap of his hands and an un-princely whoop. “It can make a perfect gift for Ammë. She will love it! And won’t she be so surprised?!”

“She will most certainly love it. But as for being surprised,” Thranduil chuckled and swiped the back of his hand across his cheek, leaving yet another smear of dirt on his regal face. “Who do you think taught me this little bit of artistic enchantment?”

“Now…” He lifted another handful of dirt from the pot and held it out to his awestruck son. “If you are ready, I think I would like to pass the knowledge on.”

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[frodo-cinnamonroll]

Staying Close

GIF from @Heather Kouri on Pinterest

Plot/prompt: Prompt 1-3: Y/N is a member of the Fellowship of the Ring. During the journey up Caradhras (one of the Mountains of Moria), one of the hobbits (your choice) is really struggling with the cold. He starts showing signs of hypothermia and Y/N has to help him (possibly with snuggles?) Requested by @almost-gabrielle with Frodo as the main hobbit.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: quite fluffy, hypothermia and its symptoms

_____________________________________

It looked bad. Very bad. It looked like the impersonation of wrath, not as fire, but as ice. The stinging flakes of snow swirled and writhed madly in the merciless wind whose piercing shrieks filled my ears. It seemed that was all I could hear. Nearly every part of me felt numb and the icy talons of the storm clawed at me furiously. I was shivering uncontrollably but I kept on.

Not far away in front of me was a bluish shape of Aragorn’s figure and two hobbits. He was carrying—or attempting to carry—them above the chest-high snow that was only growing taller. I felt like I was going nowhere and quickly losing energy.

How much farther? My mind kept saying. How much farther?

My heart ached for warmth, even a small fire or a single dry blanket. But I had none of those things, so I kept going along. Aragorn and Boromir were shouting at Gandalf over the wind, but I could only hear snippets of what they were saying.

Out of nowhere, there was a sudden crack! of lightning and a bunch of large rocks came hurtling down the mountain right at us. We all leaned up against the mountain and were barely missed by the tumult. 

I felt a hopelessness rising in me of fear that we would never make it out alive. Tears froze on my face as I looked to the front of our line.

"There's a fell voice in the air," Legolas said, peering into the blizzard.

Gandalf shouted, “It's Sauraman!”

I looked up and saw a mountain of snow falling directly towards us. In an instant, what felt like miles of snow landed on top of me and I was surrounded by white. The air around me had vanished and I felt I couldn’t move. I felt helpless. I was trapped.

“No,” I cried. “No. Help! Help me!” But my calls were muffled and my lungs burned.

Then my thoughts turned from me and to Frodo and the other hobbits. How would they survive? A sudden flame was lit within me and I pushed with all my might, struggling to breathe. And there it was! I felt the whipping wind lashing against my hand. It took me a moment to get my grip, but when I did I finally heaved myself out, and, to my relief, saw that the others had done the same. My breaths were gasps and I was even colder, but I was alive.

I looked at Frodo. He seemed even colder than I felt.

“We must get off the mountain!” Boromir shouted. “Make for the Gap of Rohan and make our way down the West Road to my city.”

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn said.

“If we cannot go over the mountain,” Gimli said now, “then let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria.”

“Let the Ring-bearer decide,” Gandalf said so quietly I could barely hear it over the storm.

Frodo looked up and glanced at me, then Sam.

“We cannot stay here!” Boromir shouted. “This will be the death of the hobbits!”

“Frodo,” Gandalf said.

Frodo looked worried and said, “We will go through the Mines.”

“So be it,” Gandalf said.

Everyone turned around with some difficulty and we began our trek back down Caradhras. The snow was quite deep, and I was hardly able to move through it. Legolas led the way and Boromir managed to push his way past and dug through the snow with Merry and Pippin. Aragorn followed, carrying Sam and Frodo. I followed next and Gimli and Gandalf behind me with Bill the Pony in tow. 

After what seemed like hours with the snow hardly letting up, the wind began to die down more and the snow became less deep. Finally, we reached a rocky spot where the snow was quite shallow. There was a shallow cave in the mountain not far ahead to our right. Aragorn and Boromir set the hobbits down and we all paused. I peeked over the edge of the mountain then stepped back quickly, regretting it. The hobbits said nothing and they seemed very tired.

“I think it would be best if we took a rest,” Aragorn said. “Night is falling upon us fast and we won’t be able to see much longer.”

Gandalf nodded and without a word we all made for the cave, our feet dragging. Frodo was in front of me and he was shivering hard. I put a hand on his back and he smiled up at me to the best of his ability. He seemed exhausted and all of the sudden he slipped, landing in the snow. I quickly was at his side and helped him up. He struggled to stand, his eyes heavy. His skin was about as cold as the snow itself.

“You’re freezing,” I said, kneeling and looking in his eyes.

“I . . . I,” Frodo started. “I can’t f-feel . . . I can’t . . . I’m so cold . . .”

I felt a panic rise within me as Frodo swayed where he stood. I didn’t wait and picked him up, carrying him the rest of the short distance. I felt hardly any warmth from Frodo. Gimli started a small fire with the little wood we had packed on Bill. Everyone gathered around and I set Frodo as near to it as I dared. Aragorn looked concerned as he watched. He knelt and placed a hand on Frodo’s forehead.

“He’s cold,” he said, his voice reflecting the worry I felt. “Too cold.”

“He’s freezing,” I said, my voice wavering. I began to unfasten the cloak I wore but Aragorn stopped me.

“You need warmth as well,” he unfastened his cloak instead and wrapped Frodo in it. He then went and grabbed some food where Sam was unpacking it.

“I’m alright . . . I can . . . can,” Frodo said.

“No you are not,” I said. “Listen, I need you to stay as warm as possible. Let me help you.”

Frodo looked at me and nodded. “Thank you,” he managed to say. 

His eyes were heavy and they were slowly closing. I could feel a slight warmth now. I sat back against the stony wall, holding Frodo close. It wasn’t long before Frodo’s head drooped on my shoulder and he relaxed, but was still shivering a little. I looked down at him, a small smile on my face. Very very gently I laid my hand on his head and ran my fingers through his damp hair. Ever so slowly he was growing warmer. Relief swept over me as I watched his sleeping form bundled up in the cloak.

Night fell quickly and I could see nothing beyond what the fire illuminated. Everyone was keeping near the fire. Gimli began to tell stories of Moria and its glory in the days long past. Boromir would interject every now and then and tell tales of Gondor. Sam came over and sat down next to me, looking at Frodo.

“How is he, Y/N?” he whispered.

“Alright,” I said. “He’s warmer now.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“I don’t know what I would do otherwise.”

Time passed, and I could see the foggy light of the moon weakly shining through the snow clouds, but only barely. Merry and Pippin were both asleep now and Gimli was starting to nod off.

Frodo shifted in my arms and his eyes opened. He rubbed them and stretched groggily.

“What is the time?” he whispered as Sam got up to get him some food.

“I cannot say,” I said, brushing the hair from his eyes. “How do you feel?”

Frodo yawned and sat up, still sitting close. “Better, much better.” He looked up at me with those precious eyes of his and my heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

I smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You didn’t have to,” Frodo said, a slight tone of guilt in his voice.

“I wanted to. I want to.”

Frodo was about to say something but to his surprise and my own I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his soft lips. Frodo blinked multiple times, staring blankly as his face turned red. He looked down.

“I—I’m so sorry!” I whispered, feeling terrible. “I don’t know what happened. I just—”

All of the sudden a warmth filled me as Frodo now kissed me back. Then we both sat back blushing furiously but smiling at each other.

“Thank you,” Frodo said. And he smiled broader.

“I . . . Thank you. I now see that trudging through the snow on the side of a perilous mountain was worth it,” I said. “Either way it would have been.”

“I second.”

“Your dinner, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, a grin on his face. Frodo blushed again and took the food. “I’m going to bed . . . lovebirds.”

Frodo opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at me and I giggled. Frodo wrapped us in the cloak and we held each other. We were quite cozy and despite the weather and danger of the journey, I felt happier than I had ever been.

#lord of the rings #frodo baggins #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr fandom #lotr x reader #frodo x reader #lotr fic #gandalf #lotr fellowship #tfotr #lotr movies #lotr au #boromir lotr #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #aragorn #the lord of the rings #legolas #boromir #gimli #hobbits #middle earth #mines of moria

[tathrin]

Please do gimleaf kiss 48: out of habit. Thank you!

Certainly, anon, thank you for asking! Prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox lmao).

The Men of Gondor are careful, cautious people; Gimli cannot blame them for it. They have lived alongside the threat of Mordor for a very long time, and their history is stained with the losses they have suffered to the dread powers of that land. Of course they have learned caution; of course they have learned care.

Gimli respects them for it and more than than, he understands them; for dwarves are careful and cautious too, keeping their own secrets close and allowing change into their hearts and caves only slowly; only once they are certain that they do not let danger in alongside. (And if Gimli chafes at some of that sluggishness these days, well, that is not the fault of the Men of Gondor.) They are right to be cautious, these Men of Gondor...

But they need not be so cautious about this.

"I assure you," Gimli says, not for the first time, "my people know their work well, my good lord." He cannot remember the name of this particular counselor; without proper beards by which to distinguish their lined, thin faces, too many of these Men look far too alike to his dwarven eyes. He has found that simple politeness can usually cover for his lack of recognition, however, and if ever it does not—well, he would like to challenge the Men in front of him to name and identify each dwarf that he has brought with him from Erebor to work their pale white stone.

He suspects they would do an even worse job of it.

"Your gates will stand a thousand years or longer when my people are done with them, and it would take an army twice as large as that which assailed your city three years ago to so much as crack their surface," he tells them. "No one builds doors like the dwarves."

"That is all well and good, Lord Gimli," says another one of these half-bearded, grave-faced Men. "But we need doors that will open, too, not just shut and stay that way. Perhaps dwarven arms would not balk at such a weight as that which your plans show," he says, glancing pointedly at Gimli's strong arms in a way that Gimli thinks is somehow meant to make him feel guilty or ashamed, "but Men are not so endowed, I fear. We—"

"Your pardon," Gimli says, holding up a hand in apologetic interruption. "A moment, if you please."

The flicker of gold and green that Gimli saw out of the corner of his eye resolves into a blur of movement swinging in through the wide window and, as the Council of Builders start and stare, Legolas trots over to their wide table as casually as though he has entered by the door at the far end of the hall and not via a window seven floors above the ground.

"Greetings, my friend," Gimli says, smiling warmly at the nimble elf. "Your meeting with the Healers has gone well, then, I hope?"

"Quite well, thank you Gimli," Legolas says, inclining his head in a regal bow to the slack-jawed Men. "Their garden of medicinal herbs will soon be flourishing, I do not doubt! But I do not mean to interrupt your own discussion..."

"Then have a seat, and we shall get back to it." Gimli pats the bench beside him—the Men sit in chairs, well-carved things of wood and age, but Gimli's shorter stature was ill-suited to the furnishing that filled this conference room; this tall workman's bench raises him to a more comfortable height against their table, and the small stool beside it makes climbing up and down easy on his thick legs—and Legolas folds himself gracefully down upon it, his own legs long enough that the toes of his soft shoes still brush the white stone floor.

"Now," Gimli says, smiling at the flustered Men (they will have to get used to elves eventually, he thinks, his mental voice smug; they have had three years to adapt to what took him mere months!), "where were we?"

"The...the weight of the gate, Lord Gimli," another Man says, picking up the thread when his companion merely gapes back and forth between the elf and the window. "It is too much; you must design something lighter."

Gimli shakes his head. "There is no need. The stone from which the gates will be hewn will be heavy, yes; but the hinges will be weighted so perfectly that they will be able to be opened with barely any effort at all. Why, a child might open these gates, if he had a sturdy friend to stand beside him!" Gimli reaches for the plans and draws his finger down the section that shows the proposed hinge-design (both functional and elegant, of course, as the Gates of Minas Tirith deserve!). "You see?" He looks up, waiting for the glimmer of recognition to fill the eyes of his audience. "They will be lighter to open than your old ones were, I promise you!"

"Lord Gimli, it is not that we do not believe you," a different Man says, in the tone that Gimli has learned means precisely the opposite. "It is only that we worry for the people of the city..."

"You need not worry," Legolas assures him blithely. "Dwarves are masters of stone to surpass all others, and Gimli would die before he spoke false word. Your gates will be marvels by the time he and his people are done with them!"

Gimli feels his cheeks flush a little at this earnest (and accurate) praise, but the Men of of the Council of Builders seem to be even less keen on the proposed gates now than they were before Legolas spoke. They exchange gimlet-eyed glances while the elf beams at them.

"Your pardon, Lord Legolas," one of them says at last. "While your confidence in your friend is just and honorable, you are...if you will forgive me...a Wood-elf." The smile of the Man's beardless face does not reach his eyes.

Legolas blinks at him. "Why should you need to be forgiven for that?" he asks. "I am a Wood-elf; you are correct!"

"Yes," the man says thinly. "And...well...I mean no offense, you understand, my lord, but...what does a Wood-elf know of stone?"

Legolas blinks again, as Gimli draws in a sharp breath in an attempt to cool his temper. It has the opposite effect; as though he has become a bellows, the embers of his wrath kindle all the hotter as he glares at these Men who would insult his beloved.

"My people's Halls in Mirkwood were built by dwarves," Legolas says. He is speaking slowly now, as though he believes that he is speaking to drunks or fools who need obvious things spelled-out with care. "I have lived within the embrace of dwarven craft for longer than any of you have been alive. I am no stone-shaper myself, no." He shakes his head, his long golden hair gliding like silken sunlight across his shoulders, and Gimli feels his temper ebbing away as his eyes catch and hold upon the sight. "But," Legolas continues, "I have sense enough to recognize skill when I see it, and to trust in the expertise of others when I find myself in an area in which I have none myself."

Gimli bites his lip to restrain a grin. How beautifully done! he thinks. Ahh, his elf has been learning. Three years ago, Legolas would have lost his temper and snarled something unforgivably rude; now, he answers almost as elegantly as Gimli himself might: tidily insulting the entire Council of Builders, but so politely that to rise to the insult they would first have to admit to their own lack of expertise.

Not that they are without all skill, these Men who claim to be the most talented and knowledgeable builders of Minas Tirith; but the skills of stone-shaping that created the White City have atrophied over the long years of Shadow, and there are now no Men in Minas Tirith who can claim even half of Gimli's gift with stone—if there ever were. Men have done great things with stone over their years of waking, it is true; but it is hard for anyone to claim to greater understanding of stone than the dwarves whose very blood pulses with the drumbeats of the earth.

Gimli sits back with a smile. "Well said, my dear," he murmurs, his lips barely moving beneath his beard; only one with the keen ears of an elf would be able to hear the soft words.

His elf turns and beams at him, and Gimli smiles back warmly. He takes Legolas's hand where it rests upon the bench and squeezes it tightly, then turns back to reach again for the gate plans with his other. "Kind words, Legolas, thank you," he says aloud, careful to keep his expression placid now (not that he thinks any of these Men know how to read his face beneath his beard). "And now, gentlemen, if I could draw your attention back to these hinge-schematics here..."

Gimli talks at length, explaining as best he can to Men who have only a rudimentary grasp of the stone-shaping skills upon which his people's plans for their gate rely how the dwarves will weigh and balance the great stone slabs of the gate so that their hinges will swing as easily and soundlessly as any delicate trinket-box; as lightly as elvish feet upon a forest floor. He sees glimmers of understanding begin to kindle in a few eyes and he talks faster, encouraged by the sight.

Legolas slides closer to him on the bench, tilting his head to stare avidly at the drawings that surely mean as little to him as the twittering sounds of his birds do to Gimli, a faint smile on his narrow beardless face. There is much about Legolas that Gimli still does not understand—and much in turn that he knows Legolas does not understand about him—but the understanding that they do have transcends such gaps in knowledge; they understand one another's hearts and souls, and have learned to appreciate the differences between them that they will never fully know. That is what truly matters.

"But what happens if one of the hinges cracks?" a Man asks, his scraggly-bearded face furrowed in concern. "The whole door will shatter under the strain..."

Gimli snorts—a rude response, but he cannot help himself. "A hinge crack!" he exclaims. "Balderdash! Such a thing has never happened, not to any dwarven door ever carved. It would take a battering ram larger than twenty trolls could lift to crack one of these hinges, so smooth will be their pivot and their fit. You might as well crack Andûril upon a twig as one of these hinges!"

He chortles, shaking his head in disbelief at these Men—at this so-called Council of Builders—and Legolas grins beside him and leans down to press a kiss to Gimli's cheek just above his beard. Gimli catches the elf's hand, those spindly twig-like fingers, and without thinking he presses a kiss of his own to the slim knuckles before he lets it go again. Legolas rests his head on Gimli's and they both sigh in contentment—

And then Gimli goes still, realizing that every single member of the Council of Builders is staring at them now.

He feels his cheeks coloring, bright and hot against his beard. "Ah," he says. He clears his throat. "Well. About the bars to lock it, then..."

#(p.s. i still have several more of these sitting in my drafts so if you sent one and i haven't answered yet...i will! Eventually!) #the gates of gondor #gimleaf #gigolas #lotr fanfiction #ask meme #send a kiss meme #my writing #legolas #gimli #minas tirith

[lotr-sesa]

TWO WEEKS until the 2023 Lord of the Rings Secret Santa claiming and posting deadline!

There are now TWO WEEKS left to get those fills in! Claiming will run all the way until the posting deadline on December 31st.

Currently, just over half the prompts have been claimed. Our goal is to make sure every prompter gets at least one of their prompts filled. Have a look and see if you can help us out, or reblog this post as a signal boost. We'd love to see all the prompts filled in honour of the 20th anniversary! ❤️

Here are prompts still waiting for some love:

There's gen prompts for:

Poppy & Nori from Rings of Power

Dain Ironfoot -focused fic

time-travelling Gandalf

Broader ensemble prompts for both Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship, Third Age Dunedain) and The Silmarillion (almost any character).

Romance/pairing (varying ratings) prompts:

Bronwyn/Arondir from Rings of Power (this one an AU prompt)

Legolas/Imrahil (either m/m or gen)

Fingolfin/Maglor (modern AUs possible)

Galadriel/Sauron

Caranthir/Caranthir's Wife/Haleth

Boromir/Faramir

There are also some kinky prompts if that's your cup of tea:

Dom Arwen

two different prompts with bottom Melkor (AU and First Age)

You can find all the prompts HERE, as the prompt meme format doesn't allow for linking to individual prompts. :(

If you are new to the format, AO3 has a helpful FAQ here.

This year's timeline (2023):

Prompt Posting: November 1st to 30th.

Claiming: December 1st to 31st.

Collection Open for Posting: December 1st to 31st.

All Fills Due: December 31st 2023.

The Rules (2023):

You will be able to post up to 2 prompts between November 1st and 30th, and we will do our best to make sure at least one of your prompts is filled.

Your fill is due December 31st 11:59 pm Pacific Time (if you want a countdown timer to fret over, there's one here). Please post it to AO3 (and nowhere else, until January 3rd).

As a matter of fairness, please make your story more than 750 words (1000 is better).

Once claiming has opened, please only claim a prompt if you plan on actually fulfilling your end of the bargain, and please only claim one prompt at a time. After you have completed your fill, you may claim a new one.

Claiming a prompt: use the "Claim" button next to the prompt you want to claim. (You can find open prompts under "Prompts" in the sidebar.) Several people can claim the same prompt. You can also claim a prompt without having submitted any of your own.

It's a good idea to follow us here on Tumblr or join the Dreamwidth community so you can keep track of any admin posts. Have fun -- and spread the word!

#lotr sesa #lord of the rings secret santa #holiday prompt meme #prompt meme #tolkien #the hobbit #the silmarillion #lord of the rings #the rings of power #fanfic #signal boost #ao3 exchange #writing prompts #fic prompts #slash fic #genfic #femslash #angbang #help us out #Two weeks to go #fic exchange

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Wash the dog- Kelvin x Neutral Reader – One Shot

Prompt: Dirty Kelvin need a shower and a gently pat in the head to become a good brave dog.

Tags: Fluffy, nothing too spicy

Almost a month had passed since the helicopter where you were going, together with the rest of your rescue team, had fallen in the middle of the forest of that island infested with cannibals, and each time it became easier for you to accept that you two, the only survivors, may never be rescued. Although you had the slight hope that some new team would arrive. Lost millionaire entrepreneurs, a lost elite team. If someone high up on the base knew how dangerous this place was, they would prepare another rescue mission, but that could take indefinite time. Weeks, months, years or maybe never.

At the moment, you were too busy surviving, gathering resources, exterminating hostiles, keeping Kelvin out of harm's way, so you shook your head, finishing collecting river water in your canteen, looking at your companion, standing next to you, checking the surroundings with his eyes, studying the shadows between ferns and branches.

"Legolas, you look like a meerkat..." You said, to yourself, knowing that he couldn't hear anything, not yet.

There was something that bothered you, and that is that you both stank, you smelled like hell, a mixture of dried blood, own and foreigner, dirt, sweat, mud, mutant entrails and a few other things. The understandable thing being that you had not even taken off your clothes once since you had arrived, and the little water you had touched was by chance, whether it was rain, crossing a river or going into the sea to gather sea turtles.

"Damn" You thought "I should spend some time today to either of us to take a bath... It's starting to get gross, at this point the cannibals must find us by smell... And I don't think it's healthy... If they hurt us, it's going to infect… I'm worried that Kelvin won't let me know if he's feeling bad, I have to focus on him…” You sighed.

You straightened up, moving closer to him, watching his brown eyes now fix on you, as if waiting for something. You guys were already starting to make an internal code of basic signals, but nothing advanced enough to tell him that, so you wrote on the notepad and handed it over to him. He read quickly. “Optimal temperature. Bathe. You stink"

Kelvin looked at you quickly, a slight blush on his cheeks, pointing at himself.

"Yes, you" You nodded, pointing at him, and then made your "I watch" sign.

You saw him nod and look at the river, before he began to take off his gloves and vest, with a certain parsimony full of doubts.

Eventually he was sitting in the river, naked, waist deep in the water, slowly washing himself, his eyes still scanning the surroundings. He was too used to his watchdog role to let down his guard, especially in this situation.

You had not stayed still. Taking advantage of the fact that a few days ago you had found some metal buckets in good condition, you filled a couple with water and left them to heat on the fire and, once they were hot enough, you took them to where he was. You took a relatively clean rag, soaked it in hot water and placed it over his head, making Kelvin jump for a moment, mostly at the thought that he was naked and you were behind him.

You noticed that tension, but he seemed to relax a bit when, with another warm cloth, you helped him wash his neck and back. It wasn't that you thought he couldn't bathe himself, you just wanted to make sure he wasn't hurt, and give him a hand with that.

Although that also made you realize that the soldier had the expected physical condition of someone who, for 30 days, spent half the day chopping wood with an ax and the other half lifting logs that easily weighed twice as much as himself. He had musculature hidden beneath the layers of military clothing, especially noticeable now, in his broad arms, well-rounded back, and firm pecs. You swallowed involuntarily as you acknowledged the fact that Kelvin was physically attractive, not just his face.

You denied to yourself. It was an island infested with horrors and he was not in total control of his faculties, it was not the place or the moment to contemplate that man or to think about his physical attractions.

Although seeing his muscles made you think about the fact that they probably hurt. You were in a lot of pain at the end of the day, so you figured that he, who physically seemed to push himself even harder, would have his muscles cramped and sore all day long, despite the fact that he almost never used the “pain” sign. From time to time you had seen him rub his arms or his neck, silently and secretly.

You re-dunked the cloths with hot water, resting them on his shoulders, hoping the heat would help with muscle fatigue and instinctively massaged his neck. That's when he took a long sigh of relief and you felt him drop his guard, dangle his arms, really relax, maybe for the first time in a month.

And for a while you just stood there firmly massaging his back, shoulders, neck and arms, half attentive to him, half attentive to any danger, leaving warm cloths on his skin, trying a little to ignore his growling and moaning in quite audible ways every time you squeezed his muscles. He couldn't hear himself, but you could, and that had made your emotions worse.

Eventually you finished your help, pouring the still warm water slowly over his head, listening to him give a gratifying sigh. You gently patted his head, watching him turn slightly to you, smiling and with grateful eyes. You gave him a thumbs up, before taking all his dirty laundry and hauling it back to the base. Later you would wash all of that.

There were too many things on your mind to realize that you hadn't brought him clean clothes or anything to dry off. You only realized it when, a while later, he was standing next to you, naked and still dripping with water, which made you jump out of your seat.

"My God, Kelvin" you exclaimed to yourself, to bring him a large dry cloth, while trying to avoid looking at him. The airhead of him was wiping his face first, not even turning a bit, so your eyes instinctively registered everything possibly recordable. He didn't even move from his place, he stayed by your side, as God had brought him into the world, watching you find clean clothes for him.

Evidently the shower, the warm cloths and the massages had helped him more than he could express, but it was obvious to the eye. Kelvin looked like he had gained extra strength and speed, and even he seemed to sleep like a baby through the night.

The next day, you went to check another part of the island, with him following close behind, in his clean military clothes. Cannibals everywhere, the usual. At the end there were a couple still alive, on the ground. You were finishing killing one, when you saw Kelvin take his own ax and cut off the other's head, as if the neck were a twig, killing him.

You stood still, looking at him, somewhat shocked. It was the first time he had actively participated in killing a cannibal. And you even remembered that, during the fight, he hadn't cowered, or fled like he used to, but rather he had moved like bait, pushing some aside so you could fight with fewer enemies, under better conditions.

The deaf soldier looked at you and made a heart with his hands, smiling. The one that days ago seemed like a scared puppy, now looked like a fighting dog. Something had emboldened him, and you didn't know what. You didn't know that for Kelvin, getting off the island was no longer his priority. You didn't know that his priority now, was you.

#kelvin #sons of the forest kelvin #sotf kelvin #kelvin x reader #one shot #sons of the forest #sotf

[legolasghosty]

Hello again!!!

4. and 12. (and maybe 13.) for Willex please 👀👀👀

Hello my love!!!!!!! Yes of course!!!

Alex could have sworn he only closed his eyes for a second, but suddenly the movie credits were rolling across the big TV in the Molinas' living room. How long had he been asleep?

The room was dark, but he could just make out Luke curled up on the couch with his head in Julie's lap. He was snoring softly. Flynn and Carrie have vanished, probably over in the kitchen raiding the soda stash or something. Reggie and Bobby were now firmly settled in Ray's giant recliner, twisted together and chatting softly. No one seemed to be moving to turn on the next movie, so Alex figured they were all done for the night. Fine by him, he was happy to just go back to sleep here on the loveseat.

He shifted a bit to pull the big, fuzzy blanket further over his shoulders, but then someone groaned in protest. Alex suddenly realized that at some point while he'd been asleep, he'd ended up leaning against a dozing Willie's side.

Not that there was a problem with that. It just caught him off guard is all. It wasn't like he sometimes humored little daydreams of curling up against Willie's back to sleep. Or of randomly pulling him into his lap in the lunchroom. Nope, definitely nothing like that was going on.

Alex rolled his eyes. No one was fooled by that. And they were already dating, he was allowed to want physical contact with his partner. It was just... hard to initiate.

Willie was great at initiating it, at catching Alex's hand as they walked through the halls and pulling him into sweet kisses when they were alone.

Alex was trying to get better at it, but that little voice screaming at him whenever he placed an arm around Willie's shoulders refused to leave him alone. Thank goodness Willie was so understanding about the whole thing.

As if the thought had roused them, a low chuckle filled Alex's ears.

"How come you always end up under my blanket?" Willie mumbled, grinning sleepily up at Alex.

Alex glanced down, realizing that they were in fact under the same blanket. It was huge and blue and soft. It was also the one Willie always claimed for movie nights. And this was like the third time in a row that Alex had ended up at least partially under it by the time everyone passed out in Julie's living room.

"Sorry?" he offered. "It wasn't intentional. I can go back to mine if you want."

"Nah, you're too warm for that," Willie decided, cuddling into his side. "Moving is not allowed."

"You just moved," Alex pointed out.

"Not the point, sir," Willie retorted, poking him in the thigh under the blanket.

"You just moved again," Alex chuckled, adjusting his own position to get more comfortable. "If you're allowed to move then I should be too."

Willie let out a dramatic sigh. "Must you be so difficult?" they teased,

"Yes," Alex chuckled.

"So high maintenance," Willie joked. "It really is hard having a boyfriend who's so smart and funny and pretty and talented." Alex could feel his cheeks flushing at Willie's words.

"You know, I really do a lot of hard work here," Willie continued. Then he gave Alex a mischievous glance. "I really do deserve a kiss. As payment. For.... services rendered or whatever the term is."

A laugh escaped Alex's lips before he could stop it. "You do a lot though," he responded. "You sure one kiss is gonna cover my tab?"

Willie hummed thoughtfully. His eyes were still half closed and his smile was wide and easy. Alex wanted to brush the loose strands of hair off their cheek. And maybe let his hand linger there. And maybe use his hand on their jaw to guide them a bit closer...

"You falling asleep on me?" Willie asked, cutting off Alex's train of thought.

"Huh, no, I'm good," Alex said quickly. "You're just..." He trailed off uncertainly, but Willie nodded for him to continue. "You're unbelievably cute when you're tired," Alex confessed.

He could just see Willie's cheeks darken in the dim light from the windows and the TV. "Dang, I feel like I owe you a kiss now," Willie chuckled after a quiet moment.

Alex glanced around the room. All of their friends were either asleep or occupied. And none of them would mind. So maybe...

"Split the bill and call it even?" Alex suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. He hesitantly lifted a hand and brushed those strands of hair back behind Willie's ear.

"Works for me," Willie breathed, leaning into Alex's touch and placing a hand on his shoulder.

They met in the middle, their mouths fitting together easily in a gentle, familiar kiss. Willie's lips were soft and warm and a bit dry against Alex's. They separated after a moment. Alex took in a shaky breath of Willie's coconut shampoo and the soda they'd all been drinking earlier.

He wanted to kiss Willie again. So he did.

Willie met him happily, hands sliding up to catch the back of Alex's neck. Alex wrapped his free arm around Willie's waist to pull him closer. They both shifted a little bit as they kissed, settling into a more comfortable position. It was slow and lazy and sleepy and perfect.

After a minute, they parted again. Alex focused on slowing his breathing to match the even rise and fall of Willie's chest.

"We should probably go to sleep," he sighed.

"Yeah..." Willie agreed reluctantly. "Don't go anywhere though. You're comfy."

Alex chuckled and they laid down across the couch, snuggled tightly together. "Good night, Willie," Alex mumbled, his eyelids already heavy.

"Good night, Alex," Willie responded.

Alex was glad they didn't mind sharing their blanket with him.

Hehehehhehe hope you enjoyed it!

(Prompts from this list!)

#legolas tag #legolas filled prompt #I wrote a thing! #willex #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #willie jatp #alex mercer #I love them your honor #and Flarrie is definitely out doing silly things and drinking too much soda in the dining room #Julie is reading fanfics since Luke is asleep on her and she's not quite ready to doze off yet #and Bobby and Reggie are having a very serious conversation about what the difference is between a comforter and a duvet. #it's a good time #movie night with the whole gang! #followed by a sleepover always #cause no one has the energy to go home by the time they finish the movie(s) #okay I'll shut up now

[unendingwanderlust]

RATING: G

WARNINGS: None.

RELATIONSHIPS: Gimli/Legolas, Thranduil/Wife

WORD COUNT: 851

SUMMARY: This year, Eryn Lasgalen hosts the Midsummer festivities. Legolas has misplaced his husband among the crowd, and he is not the only one...

NOTES: I finally had time to catch up on my to-read list but AO3 has been down all day. Here's the result. Inspired by fellowshipofthefics's Summer Stories. Prompts used: Summer festival, Ice-cold drinks, Campfire Bonfire. Enjoy!

Whenever Eryn Lasgalen hosts the Midsummer festival, Thranduil pulls out all the stops. Legolas suspects that his father both enjoys the grandiose display and wants to rub it in Thorin’s face that his celebrations are better in every conceivable way.

Hand-painted lanterns hang from boughs, illuminating a path to the gazebo. The music flows like fine wine. Elves, men, and dwarves mingle in conversation, merriment, and dance. Nearby, the bonfire reaches the night sky, filling the air with the aroma of burning wood.

Legolas weaves through the sea of people, making small talk until he finally spots a familiar face.

Thranduil waves him over with a graceful motion. Tonight they match: Legolas adorned his hair with orchids and violets, the same Thranduil chose for his crown.

“Have you seen your mother?” Thranduil takes two goblets of ice cold tea from the table: one jasmine and one hibiscus. The latter finds its way to Legolas. “She had forgotten her pipeweed on the nightstand, but she has been gone since after dessert. I suspect she did not get lost on the way to her own halls.”

Legolas takes a sip. The tea owes its sweetness to a generous spoonful of honey. Whoever had the idea to add mint and raspberries deserves both praise and a raise. His eyes roam in search of his own spouse, but good luck finding a dwarf among the celebrating elves and men. “No. Come to think of it, Gimli disappeared too.”

“I cannot say I saw him since your dance.”

“Maybe they were eaten by spiders,” Legolas grins at the sheer ridiculousness of it. Even if he received news that his mother and husband lost their way beneath the oaks back in the days of the Shadow, he would not worry in the least. Gimli is fearsome with his axe and Laergliriel is a notorious First Age veteran. A few giant spiders would not even make them sweat.

Thranduil snorts. “Your mother. Eaten by spiders.”

“You are right,” Legolas wrinkles his nose. “She is too crisp for their tastes.”

“True. Besides,” Thranduil leans closer in conspiratory fashion and lowers his voice, “rumor has it that every pleat in her dress hides a different weapon.”

“Rumor? She does carry Eryn Lasgalen’s entire armory everywhere she goes. In case of emergency, of course.”

A sweet laugh rings through the night from afar; his mother’s laugh, familiar and beloved. That is one mystery solved.

Laergliriel’s dress, chosen by his father as she never cared for fashion, drapes over her like liquid gold. Her flower crown boasts something very familiar that Legolas cannot place; all he knows is that it is not of elvish make. She balances her smoking pipe between her fingers while her other hand sinks into a pocket.

“I only have Old Toby on me,” she says. “I hope that is all right.”

“More than all right, my lady,” Gimli accepts the proffered leather pouch. “You are my savior.”

There he was all along! Buttercups and forget-me-nots decorate the braids in Gimli’s beard and hair instead of gems tonight. His own flower crown is identical to the ones Legolas received when he was too young to weave his own.

“Am I, now?” Laergliriel replies. “I will try not to remind you every day from now on.”

“Neither lost nor eaten by spiders after all,” Thranduil concludes.

Legolas pretends to pay attention to his own conversation, but that went out of the window as soon as he spotted his husband. Gimli stuffs his pipe and lights it; mundane motions that should not fascinate Legolas nearly as much, and yet they do beneath the magic of Midsummer’s stars.

Laergliriel says something in Khuzdul. Gimli roars his hearty laugh. He moves the conversation forward in the same language until his eyes lock with Legolas’s. The world stops for both of them.

Gimli recovers first, shooting him a wink. Legolas catches the glint of white teeth beneath his beard and resists the urge to hide a shy smile in his goblet. His husband is handsome; more handsome than any being on Arda has any right to be. It is no wonder even one look has Legolas’s heart racing.

“And then, a group of oliphaunts stampeded into my throne room. Their leader invited me to waltz with him,” Thranduil deadpans. “One thing led to another and we will be eloping within the next moon.”

Legolas hears the drone of his father’s voice but cannot make out the words. He nods anyway. “Mhm. You are right.”

“Legolas.”

This time, Legolas turns to his father. “Yes?”

Thranduil’s mouth quirks into an amused smirk. “Just go to him.”

Face flushed not due to the summer heat, Legolas picks up a second goblet of hibiscus tea. Gimli used to grumble about how much he hated it until Legolas noticed how quickly the jar emptied and called him out on it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, and I am coming with you because I must remind my wife that she owes me a dance,” Thranduil smooths down the silver satin of his robes. “How is my hair?”

#eden writes #fanfiction #fanfic #fotfics #gimleaf #gigolas #gimli x legolas #legolas #gimli #thranduil #oc: laergliriel

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #24: LotR, but make it half-Maia!Legolas

I honestly thought I was done with Legolas headcanons, but then this one hit me over the head: what if Legolas’ mother was a Maia?

Bear with me:

We are given little-to-no information about Legolas’ background in canon. The only thing we know for sure is that his father, Thranduil, was originally from Doriath and has been ruling Mirkwood since his own father, Oropher, died of his own poor tactical thinking in the War of the Last Alliance.

But what if we know nothing about Legolas' background because no one in Middle Earth has any idea either?

Just imagine it:

After the War of Wrath, Oropher led his people into the Greenwood and established himself as king over the local population. However this came about, "The few Sindar who had come with him were soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their customs and language and taking names of Silvan form and style. Oropher and his household wished to return to a simple existence natural to the Elves before they had been disturbed by the Valar" [x].

I'm not quite sure what Silvan elves got up to before Greenwood became Mirkwood, but I imagine it involved a lot of frolicking and hunting in the woods, and generally living up to the stereotype forest-dwelling immortal spirits at one with nature. And Thranduil, being the prince of this realm, would be naturally be the best of them all.

I imagine this catches the eye of one of the more minor Maiar sometime in the Second Age - a hunter in Oromë's retinue, most likely, but someone in Vána's retinue could possibly work too.

Thranduil strikes up a relationship with this Maia whenever she passes through, because unlike Melian a hunter of Oromë wouldn't be content to stay in one bounded woods when there are things to hunt across Arda and Aman. It is the epitome of a long-distance relationship.

Key to all of this is that Thranduil never tells anyone her identity. Oh, he very obviously is in a relationship and will disappear for weeks at a time throughout the Second Age to be with his wife, but no one ever meets her - or, as they assume she's just some Silvan elf with no interest in being princess or queen, admits to being her.

Thranduil goes off with his father to fight in the War of the Last Alliance. Unlike his father, he lives and returns to the Greenwood as king of his people.

Shortly after he returns, his Maiar wife presents him with baby!Legolas to raise and rejoins Oromë's hunt. Depending on his actual age when given to Thranduil, Legolas may even have some youthful memories of hunts he spent on the back of his mother's horse and/or of hunts in Aman.

Their relationship continues much as before, and though she makes the effort to be more present for Legolas' benefit it's dealer's choice whether she's successful at it. Maybe as a Maia of the hunt she's not good with children and is able to salvage her relationship with her son when he gets old enough to spend all his days hunting too; maybe she's a really good mother despite her frequent absences and the family dynamics just work for everyone. Who knows?

Legolas' mother is only a minor Maia, and so he's not quite as extra as Lúthien. He's noted for being the best hunter of his age - but most assume that's down to genetics, because of his father's legendary skill, and because of a lifetime of practice, because Mirkwood is Mirkwood.

And, honestly, a Mirkwood filled with spiders to hunt is probably all a half-Maia elf could ever want, particularly when their Maia parent is a huntress of Oromë.

The events of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings go as in canon, with the exception of Galadriel saying that she cannot give Legolas a better bow than his mother made for him, and so granting him a different gift. This prompts several questions about Legolas' mother, particularly when Aragorn admits that not even Elrond knows her identity.

The hobbits responsible for The Red Book of Westmarch never learn the truth.

But, as I'm an inveterate Legolas/Gimli stan, Legolas admits the truth to Gimli sometime after that relationship forms - maybe Legolas' mother shows up at some point while they're in Ithilien to check up on her son after the war ends and the truth comes out; maybe it comes out when Legolas is trying to reassure Gimli theirs wouldn't be the most unusual marriage in the family - but no one else ever learns the truth.

It's Legolas' Maia heritage that allows Gimli to sail with him to Aman - either his mother requests it as a boon from the Valar for her son, or something about his ancestry allows him to grant others access.

Bonuses include: 1) Everything that might point to Legolas' Maia heritage is written off as elfish weirdness by non-elves, Silvan weirdness by non-Silvan elves, and Sinda weirdness by Silvan elves; 2) Despite all this, Legolas talks about his mother a lot and so by the breaking of the Fellowship everyone has this idea that his mother is the Greatest Hunter Ever To Live; and 3) the question of just who Thranduil is married to being a big source of betting and speculation for elves, and all the elves the Fellowship encounters try to use them to get the inside track.

And that's it. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #lotr #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #tolkien #legolas x gimli #legolas #thranduil #legolas headcanon #lotr headcanons #tolkien headcanons

[wild-lavender-rose]

Legolas drabble #3

Prompt- “I can’t believe you kept this to yourself all this time…how did nobody notice?” 

     “Easy, easy mel nin.” Legolas eased you back onto the bed while Aragorn ripped open the leg of your pants, exposing the ugly, infected gash on your right thigh.

    “Aragorn, please.” You squirmed against Legolas’s hands on your arms, cringing against the cool air hitting the wound. “Leave me alone, just leave me alone.”

    “Quiet her, Legolas.” Aragorn was gathering the necessary supplies. “I’ll need to clean the wound.”

    “I can’t believe you kept this to yourself all this time,” Legolas’s eyes were filled with pain. “How did nobody notice?”

    “Hold me, mel nin.” You struggled, trying to reach him. “Hold me.”

    “The fever is growing worse.” Aragorn paused long enough to touch Legolas’s shoulder. “This will be painful. You must keep her still. Hold her.”

    That was all Legolas needed, shushing you as he gathered you up into his arms and held you close, his grip tightening as Aragorn began to work and you began to scream.

Fanfic Masterlist  

#legolas #legolas greenleaf #lord of the rings legolas #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #Legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas greenleaf x you #legolas greenleaf x y/n #lord of the rings legolas greenleaf #lotr #lotr legolas #lotr legolas greenleaf #legolas fic #lord of the rings #lord of the ring #lord of the rings fanfiction #prince legolas #Prince Legolas Greenleaf

[hhimring]

Tolkienshortfanworks: a showcase

Showcasing some of the variety of work posted to the tolkienshortfanworks collection on AO3: the most recent pieces by ten authors: spanning ficlets and poetry, serious and humorous pieces, Silmarillion and Lord of the Rings canon, and a range of characters, themes and relationships.

This AO3 collection is for works written for the challenges and prompts  at the tolkienshortfanworks community on Dreamwidth.

Please note: Although I would rec all of these, this is NOT a top ten. For various reasons, it also cannot be a fully representative selection of the challenge responses and does not claim to be so. The order here is simply by date.

In Middle Earth Lived Elves (1931 words) by SonOfMandos Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Maglor (Tolkien), Fëanor (Tolkien), Blue Wizards, Alatar (Tolkien), Pallando (Tolkien), Galadriel (Tolkien), Oromë (Tolkien), Námo | Mandos, Manwë Súlimo Additional Tags: Prompt Fill, Back to Middle Earth, Crossposted from Dreamwidth, Crack Treated Seriously, Attempt at Humor, Fourth Age of Arda (Tolkien), Fëanor isn't too much of a nuisance this time, The blue wizards are, As wizards tend to be, Valar - Freeform, Harad, Valinor, unbeta'ed we die like Fëanor Summary:

“Amateur,” Galadriel muttered behind her teeth.

The Marsh Where the Dead Sleep (465 words) by Narya_Flame Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: Poetry, Horror, The Dead Marshes, Ghosts, children's songs - Freeform Series: Part 32 of The Mathom-house, Part 57 of Nárë a Lindalë Summary:

“They lie in all the pools, pale faces, deep deep under the dark water. I saw them: grim faces and evil, and noble faces and sad. Many faces proud and fair, and weeds in their silver hair. But all foul, all rotting, all dead...”

- 'The Passage of the Marshes' from The Two Towers by J. R. R. Tolkien.

Divine Things Well Envelop'd (918 words) by StarSpray Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Legolas & Gimli Characters: Gimli, Legolas Additional Tags: Fangorn Forest, Trees, Caves, Travel, Post-Canon, Friendship Series: Part 67 of Wisdom of the Evening Star Summary:

Legolas and Gimli pass through Fangorn Forest, and it isn't as bad as Gimli had expected.

Sanctuary Revisited (219 words) by Anerea Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ereinion Gil-galad/Erestor, Erestor & Glorfindel (Tolkien) Characters: Erestor (Tolkien), Glorfindel (Tolkien), Ereinion Gil-galad, Elrond Peredhel, Keiliss - Character Additional Tags: Ficlet, exes who are still friends, very old friends, Friendship, Modern Era, Elrond is still taking photos, Erestor and Glorfindel get a teeny bit nostalgic, Gil-galad ensures he's driving from now on, nineteen pink flamingoes, Reminiscing Summary:

Set in Keiliss' Sanctuary 'verse, where Erestor, Gil-galad, and Elrond road trip around modern day South Africa, looking for a missing Glorfindel. This takes place after they find him but before they return to Europe. I guess he wanted to take them to a special place special he knew, before they left.

Seven Lanterns (70 words) by Zdenka Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eärendil & Elrond Peredhel, Faramir & Boromir Characters: Fëanor, Finrod, Túrin Turambar, Elrond Peredhel, Gilraen (Tolkien), Faramir (Son of Denethor II) Additional Tags: The White Tree of Minas Tirith, Poetry, Lanterne Poem, Implied/Referenced Character Death Summary:

Seven poems in the lantern(e) form about various Tolkien characters.

A Star In The Darkness (887 words) by gabrielseven Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Angrod | Angaráto/Edhellos | Eldalótë Characters: Angrod | Angaráto, Aegnor | Ambaráto, Edhellos | Eldalótë, Original Female Elf Character(s) Summary:

Angrod's hopes for a new life in a strange new land with the object of the Noldor's wrath residing to the north, may not be as easy as he believes.

Beleriand Falling (222 words) by lferion Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Fixed-Length, Challenge Response, Community: fan_flashworks, Apocalypse, Beleriand, First Age, Weather Summary:

Was it the end of the world?

In This Together (222 words) by elennalore Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë/Maedhros | Maitimo Characters: Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Maedhros | Maitimo Additional Tags: Challenge Response, Ficlet, Himring, Secret Relationship, Kissing, Rain, Sea-longing (Tolkien) Summary:

Maedhros and Fingolfin scout the hills near Himring when a sudden change of the weather makes them seek shelter.

Signs of Spring (500 words) by LadyBrooke Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Finwë (Tolkien), Elulindo (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Hope, Cold Weather, Implied Hunger/Starvation Issues, Winter, Angst, Hopeful Ending Summary: Even the coldest winters end in time. Oromë may have left the Elves alone, but hope returns with the first flowers.

A Toast to the First-Day (991 words) by Linaewen Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Boromir (Son of Denethor II), Faramir (Son of Denethor II) Summary: The Men of Gondor stationed at Cair Andros celebrate the coming of the new year.

#IFD2024 #FeedbackFest #fanwork recs #tolkien fandom #long post #international fanworks day