#thranduil headcanon

[sotwk]

Hi Naneth! Do you know and/or play D&D? So...I've recently started playing it and got addicted to the game (surprisingly for someone who's always been a bookworm than a gamer hehe), and now I can't help but be curious what would the Thranduillions (maybe bonus Thranduil and his wife?) be like as D&D characters (or what kind of characters would they create and play as during D&D sessions)? Ooooh, now I wonder what a Thranduillion D&D session would look like XD!

Omg it's amazing that you asked me this question, because literally just this morning I was chatting with my sister about her starting to play tabletop D&D with her old college buddies! I said to her, "Man I'm jealous and I wish I could join in, but I would just be so lost and confused and annoying because I'll need everything explained to me multiple times." XD My sister is also trying to get me to play BG3, and although it's really, really tempting, I'm afraid even venturing into that would take up what little free time I have left!

Anyway, going into your question that I LOVE so much, about what the Thranduilions would be like if they had a D&D session. Using my limited knowledge of the actual gameplay, it would go something like this:

The Royal House of Greenwood Plays Dungeons & Dragons

Characters Chosen

Everyone in the family prefers to play Elves but sometimes may choose a Half-Elf, Human, Dwarf, or Halfling. Legolas may dare to try controversial classes (i.e. dragonborn, half-orc), but only when their parents aren't playing.

Mirion: Barbarian. Values Strength.

Turhir: Paladin. Values Constitution.

Arvellas: Wizard. Values Wisdom.

Gelir: Ranger. Values Dexterity.

Legolas: Druid. Values Wisdom.

Thranduil: Rogue. Values Dexterity.

Maereth: Bard. Values Charisma.

How They Would Play

The family likes to run the campaign as a group that quests together, rather than individuals, so they work together as a team.

Arvellas is the Dungeon Master mostly because he wrote the guide books and has by far the most organized brain among the brothers. He's also the calmest, most patient, and can keep his brothers in line in case things descend into chaos.

Legolas was the ringleader who initiated the idea to start/play this game in the first place. He begged and helped Arvellas to create the game books, with Arvellas wrangling Legolas's wild enthusiasm and all-over-the-place ideas into brilliant manuals. Legolas also crafted the dice, miniatures, and game boards himself, and he always has the most elaborately detailed character sheets.

Mirion is not much for this sort of game but is absolutely happy to humor Legolas and spend time with his family. Barely knows what is going on and essentially just follows what Legolas tells him he "has" to do. His character is often first to get injured or in trouble, but he laughs it off. Is eating an unholy amount of snacks the entire time.

Turhir is the tactical genius who thinks of creative ways to solve problems and defeat opponents. Mostly does his thing to keep the quest going and everyone alive, but also gives advice regarding combat tactics when asked. Is quietly the MVP of the campaign.

Gelir is just really annoyed by the concept of dice controlling his fate and blames lousy dice rolls a lot. Protests and argues against the "logic" of difficulty checks. Heckles any of his brothers who "mess up" (in his opinion). Chooses courses of action based on what's flashiest instead of what's wise. (He's much more strategic in real life, but this is a GAME. Plus he likes to mess with Legolas.)

Thranduil picks up on the game super quickly despite having the least experience. Frequently leaves the table to attend to crown business (or grab more wine). Assigns Turhir to play for him in his absence because they have the same mindset. Drinks a crazy amount of wine during the course of the game (it helps him relax) but still does not appear drunk, nor is his gameplay affected.

Maereth never gets into trouble (in the game) because literally everyone is half-focused on protecting her. Eventually she gently removes herself from the game so they can play for real without having to consider her. Helped Legolas make the dice, miniatures, and game boards.

I hope you (and all D&D/BG3 readers) enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for this very fun Ask! <3

For more SotWK AU headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @acornsandoaktrees @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @quickslvxrr @spacecluster @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

Special Moots who are BG3 fans and might be interested tag: @ass-deep-in-demons @kylobith @tolkien-fantasy @creativity-of-death @missiemoosie (I probably missed some.)

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #anon asks #i have the best anons #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #elvenqueen maereth #sotwk ocs #thranduilion #mirion thranduilion #turhir thranduilion #arvellas thranduilion #gelir thranduilion #legolas thranduilion #legolas #legolas greenleaf #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Being Thranduils human wife who is now an old lady headcanon:

- In your age and experience you’ve learnt not to take or put up with crap so you just become sassy as hell which Thranduil loves

- Squishing Legolas’ cheeks and making sure you give him a kiss goodbye

- Look I’m just envisioning an Italian nonna and the grandma from Mulan

- Telling elder elves to shut up when they’re being stupid, what they gonna do? Yell at an old lady? You wish

- Thranduil getting you a real fancy cane if you need one

- He rubs your feet at the end of the day too

- Gimli loves you because you always feed him so well when he visits

- Falling asleep in meetings sometimes. What you gonna do? Be rude to the queen?

- Making Legolas take more food and a blanket you knitted when he goes off on adventures

- Bit of a crazy cat lady. Thranduil tried to stop you in your 60s but he realises he can’t so he just accepts his 20 cat children

- This is a bit angsty but always knowing what to say to Thranduil when he starts to worry about you dying

- Lots of “can’t get rid of me that easy”

- Everyone helping and loving you wherever you go

- Having a great friendship with Gandalf and Galadriel

- Honestly everyone, even Thranduil, are scared of you two together

- Pretty much being a grandma to all the elves

- “Elladan be nice to your brother!” “Yes, Lady y/n. Sorry, Lady Y/N”

- Always having treats in your bag that you slip to younger elves and the hobbits

- Thranduil trying to leave bed when he’s been hurt and you just stare at him until he lays back down

- Both Legolas and Thranduil holding your arm wherever you go

- Shoving people over to hold Aragorn and Arwens babies

- The comfiest elvish dresses and robes ever 👌🏻

- Not being able to ride a horse very well anymore but Thranduil still lifts you up onto the horse and holds you while you gently ride together

- Held in very high regard and respect by all elves and loved dearly by Thranduil

#Thranduil #Thranduil imagine #Thranduil headcanon #Thranduil x reader #lotr #lotr imagine #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine

[caffinated-and-sleepy]

Part 1

Thranduil with a human SO

Meeting Thranduil

- Realistically I don’t think Thranduil would ever let himself get close to a new other half that’s human

- Thranduil would never be ready to watch his significant other die again especially that quickly, after all 50 years is a blink of an eye for an elf

- Throwing what is realistic out the window let’s say he does find a human significant other

- Even then you have to be a VERY intriguing human to catch his eye

- Most likely you met him when he and his guard stopped at Lake Town on the way to Erebor

- He was entranced by how you treated him like a normal person

- It was strange, most mortals trembled before his 7ft tall frame

- Not you, you simply welcomed him to the Inn and left to help clean the bar

- Of course Thranduil didn’t intend to sit at the bar at all considering he could easily drink wine that didn’t taste like piss in Mirkwood

- But he convinces himself he’s just being a good King by going down and checking on his soldiers

- Of course his soldiers were doing well, many of them where testing out how many ales they could hold down they found it was 74 pints

- You were now in front of the bar sweeping and humming a low melody under your breath

- He goes to grab your attention and moves besides you, only for you to crash into him

- Thranduil catches you by the hand and for a minute the two of you simply looked like you were dancing

- “Are you alright?”

- You blush with a sweet smile on your face (me writing this: do it, write the line. NOOOO I CAN’T. Don’t be a wuss do it! IT’S SO GENERIC. DO IT. )

- “Looks like I fell for you.” (I’m sorry) Thranduil is beyond taken aback and processes what you said after he fully pulls you up.

- His response is a strange look and “I’m glad your alright.” and he disappears to his room.

- You don’t see him the next morning either since he and his soldier left for Erebor when dawn broke

- Little did you know the King of Mirkwood had trouble sleeping that night

- When they came back through Lake Town Thranduil was exhausted

- Lacking sleep and arguing with pig-headed dwarves can do a lot to an elf

- After checking back into the inn he finds you working again and decided to once more check on his soldiers

- After glancing over all of them he turns his eyes towards you, he then proceeds to listen in on your conversation with the owner’s nephew; Thaine

- “I don’t get why you’re still here? You could be at home by now.” The boy looked to be turning into a man (18ish)

- You shrugged “I like listening to the elves, Síndarian sounds beautiful! It runs off the tongue with such elegance and it brings about a sense of calm.

- The boy replies “That’s great y/n but I don’t think you should be in the commons alone and I need to head home soon. Mother said to be home before midnight.”

- Looking at the boy you sighed and said “Alright, just let me pack up and tell the customers.”

- Before you say anything to the other elves Thranduil butts in after leaving his eavesdropping corner (I sWeAr I wAs DrOpPiNg No EaVeS sIr!)

- “I can watch over both her and my own men if she wishes to stay.” He looks to you with the slight raise of his eyebrows.

- Looking to Thaine you immediately reply “Absolutely fine with me!” With a wide smile right after.

- Shaking his head with a shrug Thain says goodbye and walks out

- Finally alone with the king you opt to break the silence

- “You do not have to stay if you do not wish to. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your bed.” You almost looked guilty as if second guessing taking Thranduil’s offer

- Thranduil was now also surprised at how genuine you seemed, you a mere mortal was just worried he wasn’t getting enough sleep

- His face betrays him as he shows some sense of curiosity and amusement “It is quite alright, I do not usually sleep much until we arrive back at Mirkwood. I find that sleeping on rocks throw out ones back.”

- You couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp and let slip “So the rumor is true? The dwarves sleep on rocks?!”

- At this point he couldn’t tell if the human was dumb or dense, but he instead went with uneducated

- For the rest of the night you asked questions about the race of dwarves and elves

- The soldiers silently questioned why the King took an interest in a human, but they kept quiet

- Thranduil did his best to answer your questions, at one point he even smirked instead of giving you a blank stare

- The next day Thranduil felt a bit disappointed when leaving, you were the most intriguing human he had met in a while.

- Although something Thranduil didn’t say was that the dwarves didn’t actually sleep on rocks he is just a diva who missed his ultra plush bed in Mirkwood

Why is it kinda giving gen z reader? Nah but I swear it’s like a tradition to randomly post a Thranduil Imagine every few months, my Tolkien Curse. Anyways I hope you enjoyed and please comment, repost and like!

#the hobbit #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil headcanon #lotr x reader #The Tolkien Curse

[the-autistic-vulcan]

Intrigue (Thranduil x F!Reader) @lemonivall

Description: You've always been the wallflower, but he's bothered to notice you

Genre: Fluff

a/n: reader is implied an elf; (e/c) means eye colour; this turned out more like a drabble than a fic (oops)

Your marriage to Thranduil had always been a mystery to you, mainly for the mere fact he chose you.

You, were always subdued and kept to yourself, not engaging in many social exchanges or really getting that much attention and fading into the background. That was until he showed up in your life. He was intrigued by your quiet nature and decided to strike up a conversation with you one night at some gathering he didn't wish to go to.

To be completely honest, you thought he was just there to make it all the more apparent that you were quiet.

But no...he wanted to.

Several years later, after much courting, you married...but, you were still awfully confused of the matter. You sat through the entire after party, sitting in a seat away from all of the chaos and loudness of the party to think everything over.

Why me? You thought, why of all elves did he choose me? You knew you had to talk to him about it...but when?

~ Time Skip ~

It was now your first night together as husband and wife - you were left laying on a, quite literal, Queen-sized bed, silk sheets were soft to the touch, the pillows were perfectly puffed up and the room was dimly lit with your favourite scented candles. You were clad in a beautiful satin nightdress, Thranduil laid with you, kissing up and down your arm with so much love and yearning.

"You look divine, meleth nin." He says between kisses, he makes his way up to your shoulder, then to your neck. He is about to approach your lips when you place a hand over his mouth.

You sit up and turn to face him.

"What's the matter, my queen? Do you not like this?" He asked, his brows furrowed in a concerned manner.

"No, it's not that I don't like it...I just...I don't know." you answer.

He takes his hand and grazes his knuckles on your cheek in a caressing motion. "You can tell me anything, dearest. Anything at all."

You sigh, then finally, you realise you just have to spit it out.

"Why did you choose me?"

He stops and just stares at you, his icy blue eyes piercing into your curious (e/c) ones. He sighs and places your hands in his.

"Why did I choose you? Let's see...you are intriguing to me. Your sociability was not the thing that intrigued me about you, but it was your kind nature once I spoke to you. Your beauty is beyond compare than most I've seen, and your mere presence alone calms me and centres me greatly. Why I chose you is obvious...you intrigue me, meleth nin. I couldn't choose anyone else but you."

You couldn't help but smile, he meant a lot to you, that's a given, but the fact you mean that much to him meant the world.

"...I didn't think I'd mean that much."

"If you didn't, we wouldn't be in this bed together, would we?" he laughed, earning a chuckle from you. "Now, why don't we continue, that is if you want."

Rest assured, the night was filled with the same passion as his words were. You didn't get a lot of attention, but this changed everything.

#thranduil #thranduil headcanon #thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil x reader #the hobbit #an unexpected journey #the battle of the five armies #desolation of smaug

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello, could you write something about Thranduil if you would like? About how I take care of an elf who was cut short as a punishment and her hair was cut very short, even though she was innocent. This is a trauma for her, because for elves, and especially for elven women, hair is something very important. Of course, if you feel like it.

Since you haven't specified a timeline for when this could have occurred, I took some liberties with the HCs below. I hope you don't mind.

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader

Themes: Angst | Soft

Warnings: Hair loss as a form of punishment | Bullying/Thranduil being a bit of a bully in the beginning.

🌿You were one of the Ñoldor, born years after the Kinslaying at Doriath, but still, you had been tarred with the same brush. You were forced to wander through the land as other elves wanted nothing to do with you and your kin.

🌿Your situation worsened after you found yourself in Greenwood the Great. You were captured after having gotten lost in the forests and brought before Oropher. As a survivor, he refused to believe your pleas of innocence, that you were born during a different time and played no part in the slaughter. He decides to make an example of you and orders your hair to be cut off. This was a horrific experience. Your hair was thick and fell past your waist. You took great care of it, styling it with flowers and what little you had for adornments. All of it was taken from you and you were put to work as a servant in his household.

🌿Oropher's son, Thranduil paid you no mind most of the time. The other times? That was when you saw another side to him. He was not overtly cruel, but he did not hesitate to throw hurtful barbs your way. You kept your head and endured. Having a roof over your head and decent food in your belly was more important, and you didn't know what kind of fate awaited one who insulted a prince of the realm.

🌿Once, during supper, he did go too far and your veneer cracked. You fled the dining room in tears. There was no apology, and you knew better than to expect one. However, the barbs stopped and all you got were icy glares.

🌿This continued until one fine day, evidence of your innocence came to light. Oropher learned you were born years after the Kinslaying and had nothing to do with the tragic events that unfolded in Doriath. The king, not wanting to be seen as unjust, apologized to you in front of his court. As for Thranduil?

🌿Thranduil avoided you, and when he could not do it, he avoided looking at you. It was a reprieve, a welcomed one, and you grabbed onto it with both hands.

🌿Then one day you found yourself being moved to better rooms, given better clothes, a handful of jewels, and even your few adornments. When you asked who was so kind, the servants refused to answer. All you were told was that you were to ask for anything you could ask for and that it would be given to you.

🌿 Despite this change in fortune, you kept to yourself, asking for very little and staying out of everyone's way. You did not trust the elves of Greenwood. Not them or their king or their crown prince. You were, however, all too aware of someone looking at you the whole time whenever you went about your day. When you turn, you'd find Thranduil looking away quickly, his cheeks turning bright pink.

🌿Then he came to you while you were in the gardens. He stumbled over his words, asking about your day, and whether your new accommodations were to your satisfaction. You were polite but cool, and could not get away from him fast enough.

🌿Little gifts would show by your door every morning. Little notes too. One of your gifts was an herbal hair tonic. The note that came with it encouraged you to use it, that it would make your hair grow faster.

🌿Thranduil will seek you out more often now. You kept up a wall, remembering the things he said and how he made you feel. Still, he was a lot kinder to you, introducing you to the other elves, and showing you around Greenwood.

🌿He would later offer to help you with your hair, when he came upon you in the garden, struggling with a braid. Frustrated and left with little choice, you accept his offer, albeit very reluctantly. He would take his time, weaving flowers and ribbons into your hair and telling you stories to keep you entertained.

🌿This too became a ritual, but a pleasant one. The two of you would go off into the gardens, and Thranduil would braid your hair while telling you stories. You find yourself looking forward to spending time with him. You finally open up to him, talking about your family, about your life. He would talk of Doriath, of what life was like under the reign of Thingol and Melian.

🌿He finally apologizes and asks for a chance to earn your forgiveness, for not believing you and treating you with little respect. You finally learn it was Thranduil who had you moved to your new chambers and had your belongings returned to you, and made sure you were looked after.

"Keep braiding my hair," you proposed, wanting him to put in the effort in earning your forgiveness, "And we will see."

#Thranduil #thranduil imagine #thranduil angst #Thranduil x reader #Angst #angst with a happy ending #The silm #the silm imagine #Asks #Requests #x reader #x reader insert #Reader insert request #my headcanons #thranduil headcanon #Writeblr #💫whimsy's headcanon

[merovingianprincess]

Hi! Saw you were taking requests about Thranduill. Could you do headcanons about him remarrying and his wife's relationship with little legolas and with being Thranduills 2nd wife?

Ask and you shall receive.

Thranduil did NOT for a second think he would find love again, let alone remarry.

He was intrigued by your humor and beauty immediately.

He won't admit it but he was frightened when he felt the old familiar butterflies in his stomach.

He tried to drink a lot of wine to make them go away. It did not work.

And it didn't help that you were well-liked among the elves, so he constantly heard of your good deeds.

He avoided you like the plague for a while until Mirthandir appeared in a dream and told him to basically man up.

So the next day when he saw you out in the garden, he forced himself to walk over to the bench you were sitting on and talked to you.

And he wished he had done it sooner.

Because he thought your little giggle was cute and you had an interest in politics, not many elleth's he had met did. He also thought you were clever.

Damn it, now he knew he couldn't avoid you anymore.

After a few weeks of 'accidental' *wink* *wink* run-ins, he decided to invite you to a private dinner.

And he was NOT very nice when his staff fucked up the menu he had planned, they didn't get all the ingredients that was needed. So the elaborate dinner he arranged ended up being a stew.

But he was relieved when you arrived and were perfectly happy with what was for dinner.

After dinner, he took you on a moonlight walk through his private gardens and that's where he digested the butterflies and asked you to marry him, he was FUCKING NERVOUS. He was king but his hands almost started shaking.

He was relieved when you turned on your charm and playfully said "well if I must" which he knew meant YES. He almost had to sit down in relief.

He was very taken aback when you initiated the first kiss between the two of you, but thank the gods you did because he had a long fucking day.

He announced your engagement the next morning, not wanting to go through a typical courting process because he was impatient.

You married later in a few weeks in a lavish ceremony which is where you also met the still-small Legolas.

You adored the small elf the moment you met him, he was the mirror image of his father. He was a bit shy around you, nonetheless you didn't try to push or force a relationship on your new stepson, you wanted it to progress naturally.

Thranduil was very affectionate towards you in private. He wasn't a big PDA person but would publicly hold your hand and give you a few sweet kisses here and there.

He was also very protective and a bit paranoid about always keeping you safe. But you understood, after knowing about the death of his first wife.

Thranduil was a wonderful husband, a romantic ellon, who valued his new wife and his son. He often asked for your input on political affairs. And it warmed his heart seeing you with his baby Legolas.

He decided he wanted a second child, with you.

#thranduil #thranduil imagine #thrandaddy #thranduil fluff #thranduil x you #thranduil headcanon #thrandiul #thranduil x reader

[madwomansapologist]

peach + thranduil

peach — at what point did they understood that their lover was the one?

⤷ with: thranduil

You see, love for elves is such a serious matter. Attraction, lust, desire: those are shallow things. Shallow, ephemeral, mutable things. When and elve love, it's forever. Not even death can shattered this bond.

Thranduil went throught a lot. He saw Mordor, a part of him was buried there and will never grow back again. Thranduil veiled his father, and took care of his responsibilities. Thranduil led his people against Sauron's attempts to regain power. Meanwhile his realm was attacked and explored, he saw other leaders daring to say that Sauron was dead.

Thranduil became stronger, mostly because he didn't had another choice. Thranduil became wiser, because his people needed a good king. Thranduil became wary, because no one would help his realm but himself. But Thranduil didn't became heartless. Not at all.

At first, Thranduil sees you in paralel to him. You are stronger, but in a way different from his. Wiser, but different than him. And less wary. Less careful. Thranduil lived long enough to understand himself. He fell in love. And knowing that, he wouldn't act on this love.

Thranduil wouldn't court you. Would try to not think about you. To get away from you. Thranduil needs to understand if his feeling is truly. If it's something that will last. Mostly, if it's something he can control or that will control him. Thranduil isn't heartless, but his wary make it look like he is.

But what make his heart skip a beat is your honesty. The second you speak whatever is on your mind, act respecting your heart's desires, make sure to honest to yourself: Thranduil is whipped. To able to see who you really are, not affraid that you're hidden something, made him undertood something.

His grief and wary is tremendous, but his love for you is bigger than his fear. Thranduil have been alone for such a long time. It feels nice to be alone with you.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #mwa birthday #ice cream prompts #writing prompts #fic prompt #writing prompt #thranduil fic #thranduil fanfic #thranduil oropherion #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #thranduil imagine #thranduil headcanon #the hobbit #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x reader

[ofstardustanddreaming]

touch starved

headcanon summary: you're touch starved, and aren't sure how to ask for it.

content warnings: none

fandom: the hobbit

character: thranduil x reader

gender neutral reader

you had never been in a situation of a healthy amount of just regular, loving touch from someone. whether it was never being in a relationship, or many relationships that were those who just didn't engage in it. so, whether it was just others choosing not to engage in it, or just never having the ability to, it had left you starved for some touch.

thranduil is a fan of touch and pda, but with his schedule recently, it wasn't often as used to be in your courting. he had fleeting touches, a hand on yours as he debriefs you between meetings, or holding you for a little while during the night as you slept before he woke up and left for the work day.

not to say that you didn't enjoy those touches. you just craved them, yet understood his days were long. you knew you were loved without the touches, seeing the way he looked at you. but that didn't mean you wished for more touch than just his fleeting ones. you longed for longer sessions, being neglected from a sweet touch for so long.

when you heard him enter your room, and looked up hopefully. you were yearning to ask him for longer sessions of just being held, or even holding hands. but you weren't sure how to ask, without seeming like you were wanting to take him from his work, or seeming like you would be needy. you knew those were just insecurities, and thranduil would love nothing more than to cater to you. but sometimes it's just hard to get over the initial anxieties.

when he was changing, he could feel your eyes on him. it was the only thing he could focus on when he came in. he gave you an exhausted smile when he was done, and laid on the bed next to you. he pulled you into his embrace, and you melt into it.

"is there something you wanted to talk about dearest? you've been looking my way like you had a question." he read you like a book. you tense up, unsure how to ask. thranduil could feel it, and was worried something bad was going to happen based on that reaction.

you figure ripping the band-aid off was the best way to do this. "i just feel touch starved lately. i know you're tired lately with work, and i don't want to take you away from it, or be super needy. but could i come to you after our meetings or something to just grab something? sorry if you don't want pda, i can wait until we're together in private if you want but -"

you're cut off with a sweet kiss to your lips. "i'm so sorry my love. i've been failing to give you more than fleeting moments of something you're longing for. i can't imagine how hard you've been craving it. please. bring it to my attention if i'm neglecting that again. work doesn't matter as much as you. come into my meetings if you'd like, anywhere i am, no matter how public. you'll never be a bother for something i love as well."

you can feel tears in your eyes, as he sits up with you next to him, his hands on your face, holding it in a comfortable way. he stares into your eyes to make sure you understand what he says, and you nod. he pulls you in, adding some weight to it, to make sure you could feel the touch like a weighted blanket.

you were thankful the issue had been brought up. a new layer of vulnerability was given between you two, and you gladly took him up on his offer to go get the loving touch you needed and wanted.

#thranduil #thranduil headcanon #thranduil x reader #the hobbit headcanon #the hobbit #thranduil imagine #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.  

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

 I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

 “y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

 His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

[growingingreenwood]

Did Legolas and his friends disappear from home and sneak out into the forest to cause mischief for lengths of time as much as Thranduil did when he was younger and growing up? Your stories about Oropher trying to wrangle his escape artists son always make me laugh btw thanks for writing!

No they didn’t, nowhere even close. For several reasons. 

First and perhaps most importantly, the world that Legolas grew up in is very, very different from the world that Thranduil grew up in. Greenwood is much more dangerous than Doraith ever was, and Legolas and his friends all have the    T r a u m a    to prove it. 

“Sneaking out” the way that Thraduil did was unthinkable. That’s how people die. Quickly. Or even worse, very slowly. 

Thranduil used to vanish into a puff of smoke for all intents and purposes, Legolas (if he’s up to no good away from home) doesn't hide WHERE he is, he hides what he’s DOING there. People need to know where you are in case something goes wrong, nobody can help you if they don’t know where you are. 

Second, Thranduil learned from his fathers mistakes and whenever Legoals did want to go out into the forest, Thranduil made sure that it happened in a timely manner. With extremely armed escorts, of course. He worked very hard to not make the forest away from their mountain home a Tantalizing Forbidden Wonderland begging to be explored. There was no need for Legoals to sneak out, generally speaking, because his travel wasn’t hindered. And the escorts kept any mischief from happening. 

Third, Legolas and his friends….. Really are traumatized as all hell. The only reason they all met each other is because (with the exception of Farlen) everybody they knew and their entire families were violently killed on the same day. Several of them heard and saw parts or all of what happened to everybody else. When they were younger they didn't feel safe being too far away from their Designated Adults. 

Fourth and lastly,, they were all significantly more scared of the consequences Ferdan could come up with than Thranduil had EVER been about Orophers punishments. Some things are simply not worth it, and vanishing without a word is definitely one of them. 

Unfortunately, for the residents of Greenwoods mountain home, all that simply added up to meaning all of their chaotic mischievous energy was trapped within the safe borders of the mountain home and its immediate surroundings. For over a century. 

Thanks for reading and reaching out! Im glad you enjoy them, they're also pretty fun to write I wont lie.

#tolkien #thranduil #haleighs greenwood #answered asks #tolkien headcanons #young legolas #legoals headcanons #Greenwood Orophans #thranduil orophorion #mirkwood #legoals thranduilion #thranduil headcanon #legoals headcanon

[queeniesrose]

I am very much a whore for Thranduil, so here are some NSFW headcanons for him.

Master Post

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

NSFW Thranduil: Kinks

For the King himself, he is a bit of an exhibitionist. The thrill of being caught is exciting for him.

Some causal sex while in the throne room where anyone could walk in on you? Hell yeah.

Having his s/o sit on his dick, keeping it warm in the throne room as he goes about some of his duties turns him on.

Teasing him while he’s trying to work will lead to some punishments, although you’d probably think of them more as funishments.

For one funishment, he’d likely have your wrists tied to the bed frame and quickly have you a moaning mess and begging him to let you come/have him fuck you good.

He’d have you using a honorific. And he would use one for you.

He would not hesitate to fuck you when you are bent over his throne.

He is not one to forgo foreplay or aftercare. Your health, consent, and happiness are a priority.

The moment you safeword in an uncomfy situation, he is completely at your beck and call. He will ask what needs to happen for you to be comfortable with the situation in order for it to continue.

#middle earth x reader #middle earth #fanfiction #imagines #reader #reader insert #request #request blog #x reader #headcanons #tolkien universe #thranduil #thranduil X reader #the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #reader X thranduil #thranduil headcanon #thranduil headcanons #middle earth thranduil X reader #middle earth thranduil #spicy queenie

[sotwk]

Anyone else consider that Thranduil purposely allowed Mirkwood to develop a reputation of being a land of backward bumpkins and/or uncouth savages as a self-defense strategy?

If people think Mirkwood elves are unwise/simple/poor, then they will view them as inconsequential and of no value to conquerors or raiders.

If people think Mirkwood elves are dangerous, they would avoid even passing through those lands unnecessarily.

Remember what (movie) Thranduil told Thorin: "I warned your grandfather what his greed would summon. He would not listen…" He knows flaunting the power and wealth of one's realm risks inviting dragons wolves to your door.

He even saw it happen to Kings Thingol and Dior.

After all, Thranduil was raised in Doriath, literally "Land of the Fence", so he learned a thing or two about how to keep a kingdom safe. And he is the sort of wise, compassionate king who would do anything (even sacrifice his pride) to protect his people and their home.

#thranduil #thranduil headcanon #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #the hobbit #tolkien

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

If you told Thranduil about King Henry the 8ths wives he would feel the most intense amount of rage and sadness all at once ever felt

#Thranduil #Thranduil headcanon #Tolkien #Tolkien headcanon #king Henry the 8th #lotr #lotr headcanon #the hobbit #the hobbit headcanon

[lady-of-imladris]

More Mirkwood couple HCs!

1. Thranduil has a “Doriath accent” when he speaks Sindaren, an aspect his wife finds funny and adorable. She teases him that he’ll pass on his speech to Legolas (which he absolutely does) and she and him often get into arguments about grammar or how things are pronounced. She’ll do an impression of his accent when he claims he doesn’t have one, only for him to swat her, trying to hold back a laugh, and say, “I don’t sound like that!”

2. She loves his expressive face, and makes a habit of kissing the creases between his brows whenever furrows them. Also, he this lopsided smirk thing because the left side of his is sort of numb from the burn scars. She knows to approach him slowly on his blind side, stroking his arm and uttering a soft greeting so as not to startle him.

3. The first time she witnessed his true furry and prowess in battle, it frightens her and she is reluctant to his touch for a while.

4. She liked to swim in the various ponds in their palace.

5. In their youth, Thranduil, his wife, and Arathorn (Aragorn’s father) were close friends.

OMG YES YES YES

I DON'T KNOW HOW I LOST THIS IN MY ASKS FOR SO LONG BUT YES.

I LOVE YOUR HCs <3

#thranduil headcanon #thranduil #the hobbit headcanons #eagle <3

[the-autistic-vulcan]

Thranduil Hot Takes #1

Request by @lemonivall : Can you do Thranduil with prompt #6, #27, and #29?

6) Hobbies

I like to think his hobbies consist of more hands-on things

One thing I think he'd have an affinity for embroidery - I mean, have you seen this man's robes?

Along with very long and slender fingers, his hands were practically made to handle a needle and thread

one thing he'd totally make for you is a handkerchief with elvish written on it

something like "beloved"

I also like to think he's a bit of a sap, so he definitely sews/crochets flowers for you

but yes, he is a embroidery kind of man - we stan this, we need more of this

27) How they sleep

Considering he is a king, he sleeps with mountains of pillows

I like to think he just brings pillows from the various corners of Middle-Earth he's visited and just sleeps with them

He's also compensating slightly for how lonely he feels

Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he does tuck a pillow into his arms and hug it

His bed is also massive as well

Common sleep positions he enjoys is either spooning or the mountaineer

He is a light sleeper too, so the slightest movement could wake him up

It wouldn't be unusual to sometimes just notice him staring up at the ceiling and just stare

29) How they express love (platonically and/or romantically)

Platonic:

awww, you're friends? you're really lucky then

it is not easy to be friends with him: 1) he's a king, so he is busy, 2) he has a lot of emotional baggage he hasn't been able to filter out yet so be prepared for a storm

he likes giving you head pats - idk, maybe it's just because of how small you are compared to him (bro's like 6'7)

he also shares his personal stories with you - he trusts you enough to hear them

Romantic:

this makes me so soft

like is said in the hobbies section, he is a sap, so expect much affection

he picks you up and hugs you tightly, mainly due to the fact he is super touch starved

this man is also a big kisser - kisses are a bug part of his love language

he loves kissing your nose, cheek and hand - but boy does he love your lips

he also is big on gift giving - one big, lavish gift after the next

#thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #the hobbit #an unexpected journey #desolation of smaug #battle of the five armies #lee pace #mirkwood #middle earth

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

What would Thranduil react to (human)wife!reader that got amnesia/enchanted by 'black magic' and that makes wife!reader being absolutely scared, traumatized and have panic attack when Thranduil around, but she's okay when she with others?

Warnings: mentions of memory loss.

First things first. He will dig around and investigate the cause of your fear of him and him alone. Gandalf or Galadriel will be called upon for this purpose, since Thranduil would first want to rule out supernatural causes for your behavior. 

When they do find out the cause—that someone used dark magic to influence your behavior—he will step aside and let Gandalf/Galadriel do their work. It would be hard for him, as he is the king and he is not used to the role of bystander, watching helplessly while you struggled. After they are successful, Gandalf/Galadriel will leave you in Thranduil's care. Your memories are still hazy, so he takes it upon himself to help you along. We're talking about taking you to the place where the two of you first met, taking you to all of your favourite places, even courting you like he used to. Thranduil is prepared for the possibility that you may never fully recover all of your memories and is willing to take as much time as needed until you fall in love with him again.

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