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lillianofliterature · 11 months

Note

If your requests are open, and you are comfortable with it, could you maybe please do a King Thranduil x reader one-shot where reader has cancer and it is like angsty?

the toll of sickness | thranduil x reader

a/n: Anon, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to provide all the angsty venting and comfort I could for you in this! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do this right by you. I hope this helps soothe whatever parts of you need soothing today. I don’t know anon’s/anyone’s specific diagnosis or symptoms, so I’m doing my best to remain respectful and widely general with the topic of cancer. I took inspiration from my own experiences with the mental/emotional toll of long-term chronic illness to supply a plot to resolve, I hope that’s okay (and still relatable). <3

The reader is implied feminine in this as they are referred to as lady/queen, but otherwise, I did my best to keep it gender-neutral with descriptions.

This could also be interpreted as a reader with chronic illness.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK. GIF EDIT IS MINE.

summary: after a long day of tiresome treatments and the heaviness of your thoughts, you retreat to your chambers to seek the comfort of your husband’s arms.

warnings: mentions of cancer (the reader has cancer), mentions of cancer treatments and symptoms (including needles), medical exhaustion, nonsexual nudity and nonsexual bathing, open discussions of symptoms, fear of death

word count: 6.1k

music: As Long As We Both Shall Live by Bear McCreary

elvish translations: melamin = my love, melda = my dear/beloved

“I think we will conclude here for today, my lady.”

The head healer’s voice drew your wayward attention back to his prim features. His thin lips spread into a smile as he gently unstrapped the tight leather band above your inner elbow, releasing the tension from your skin. The long syringe with its glass barrel was gently pulled from the blue vein that the pressure had highlighted. You rubbed your arm subconsciously as he set aside the supplies for cleaning, hoping the motion would rid your flesh of the awful sensation of being probed.

You blinked away your muddled thoughts. Briefly, you worried that perhaps he had been talking to you long before you’d heard his assessment to end the treatments for the evening. If you had, you were grateful to find no resentment in his gaze for your absentminded silence.

He softly closed his collection of books that had been displayed around a table on the wall adjacent to your cushioned cot in the infirmary. With a bottle of herbal salve, he applied a generous portion to the inner curve of your elbow, satiating any irritation from his needles. The cool gel of the aloe soothed the itchy redness, while the lavender masked the sterile scent of the medications and intensely bitter herbs.

You glanced up from the healer’s gentle efforts, trying on your best smile. “Thank you for your diligence today, Sudryl. It is very much appreciated.”

He bowed his head as he clasped your hand between his palms, “It is always a pleasure to tend to you, my queen. We will resume tomorrow morning if it suits your schedule?”

“My schedule is always free for your remedies. Thranduil has made sure to take over many of my duties so we may focus on my treatment.”

Sudryl smiled once more as he helped you stand from the cot, draping your silken robe over your bare arms as he did so. “The king is very wise, your majesty. I know you detest this period of healing you’re undergoing, but you mustn't mistake rest for idleness. Your people desire greatly for your full recovery, myself included. In order to achieve that, your rest is crucial.”

You didn’t know what to say. Rest was crucial, you knew that. As were the innumerable treatments and remedies being applied and adjusted every day.

But didn’t anyone understand that you were tired of all of this? Exhausted by more than just the cancer and its seemingly endless repercussions that it presented almost daily. Worn down by more than just needles and salves and bitter syrups that lingered in your throat.

You missed feeling well-rested when you woke up in the mornings after a long sleep—you missed having the energy to spend your days fulfilling your duties as a queen, as a servant to her people. You missed the days in which every activity was not dictated or measured by searing pain or groggy fatigue. You were tired of wrestling with your body just to exist comfortably.

But it’s your duty to get better, they keep telling you.

It’s what everyone’s hoping for, your majesty.

Do your best to rest and eat well, my lady.

Don’t give up hope, Queen (Y/n). You are blessed among our kin!

The people have been petitioning their prayers to the Valar fervently, your grace.

They were supposed to be words of encouragement spoken to invigorate your fighting spirit, to ignite that spark of determination that was starting to flicker these last few months. But these endless strains of hope and enlightenment had started to weigh heavily upon your shoulders like a milkmaid’s yoke, and with every well-intentioned word and chorus of song another stone was dropped into the buckets you carried.

The pressure to recover for the sake of others was beginning to feel like too much—the toll of the sickness itself was enough for one to worry about, was it not? Not only did you feel this fearsome desperation to recover for your own sake, for your own life, but also the need of a thousand other voices begging for a show of strength you didn’t feel tangible anymore.

The summoning of one of your servants outside the infirmary doors reminded you that the hour to retire for supper was nearing presently. You felt your posture deflate as it dawned on you that you couldn’t yet retire for the day. Although your extravagant evening meals were one of the few constants that motivated you to follow your days through until nightfall, your hunger had dispersed in the last few days. Being seated at a stiff table dressed with rich delicacies and savory wines sounded nothing short of torture at the moment, even with the promise of dessert.

The servant curtseyed in the broad doorway as Sudryl led you across the room. You couldn’t help but tense as your legs tremored from the sudden activity. A long exhale slipped through your pursed lips.

“My queen,” She rose gracefully, her hands folding together at her waist. “Your supper with the king is nearly prepared. He will be present in the dining hall shortly as soon as his meeting has concluded. I was advised to escort you there safely.”

Clutching onto Sudryl’s forearm, you hesitated to address the messenger. You couldn’t help the expression of distaste that twisted your face. The thought of food was not the only thing that churned your stomach at that moment; the prospect of being walked through your own palace as though you were an invalid, incapable of making it there of your own merit, as though every pair of eyes in this forest need offer you their due pity, bothered you even more than the risk of losing your supper to the toilet.

Knowing you couldn’t send her away under Sudryl’s watchful eye (for surely there would be further inquiries as a result of such an unnecessary dismissal), you managed to nod in thanks to her before turning to him. The head healer’s smile was brimming with empathy. You tried not to feel offended by his pitying compassion. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek reverently, bidding you a respectful farewell until the morning.

You turned from him and followed the servant into the winding halls. Gaze following the eroded pathway of the massive tree roots beneath your sore feet, you bided the seconds until you were both too far to be noticed by any superior voices that might challenge your decision-making. When your footsteps halted, she turned to face you.

Her brows raised, she asked, “My lady? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m alright,” You waved her worries aside with the vague gesture of your hand. “But I can manage the walk to the dining hall from here.”

Her brows drew together in an expression of confusion. You straightened your back—had she seen through your polite fib? Was it that obvious you had no intentions of eating this evening? Or was just she not used to being given conflicting commands between two monarchs?

“—On my own. I can make it there on my own.”

Her lips parted in protest as she recalled what you assumed were very clear orders from your husband only minutes prior. Stretching your hand out to gently touch her shoulder, you reassured her it would be alright. “I will explain to the king myself that I demanded to be left alone. No trouble will come to you, I promise. You will not lose your position.”

“But my lady, I—it is my duty is to ensure your safe arrival. Are you sure you don’t—?”

The irritation that swelled within you wasn’t her fault, you hastily reminded yourself. You bit back the frustrated sigh you wanted to release, tightening your polite smile. Reasoning with another person about what you wanted to do and why you wanted to do it was the last thing you presently wanted to deal with. Desperate to detach yourself from her and anyone else lingering about, you decided to be straightforward. No beating around the bush.

“I value your persistence, young one, but I would very much like to retire early tonight. You may inform my husband that I’ll be taking my meal in our chambers if you must.”

“Understood, your majesty. I shall inform the king. Have a good evening.” She dipped into an impulsive curtsy, quickly trailing back to the chancellery to relay your decision.

You didn’t even wait for her to pass beyond the long hall ahead before you turned in the opposite direction. Your private chambers weren’t too far from the infirmary, thankfully. However, it still took some resolve on your behalf to encourage your depleted energy through corridors and foyers all the way back to your comfortable bed. The silver silk of your robe billowed around your feet with every step, giving your eyes something other than walls of stone and root to follow.

You were sure your husband wouldn’t be taking the present news about your wellbeing all that agreeably. You could see it clearly in your mind—the disheveled, anxious worry in his eyes that he masked behind a wall of solemn regality. But you could always see what he was thinking. He wouldn’t like the fact that your treatments were taking more and more of a toll on your already wearisome state. He would like it even less when he found out you would soon be dismissing supper altogether.

His concern wasn’t for himself, of course. It was for you—it was always for you.

He wanted desperately for you to be able to enjoy your meals in the glittering brilliance of the dining hall, unperturbed by fatigue and nausea. He wanted you to be able to take those strolls through the forest gardens that you adored so much without the sore discomfort in your bones. He wanted you to relish in your life and its unrivaled importance. And most of all, he wanted desperately to take this lingering sickness away; he wished he had been born with a skill for healing like some of his kin.

But all he could give you were the promises of an unsure future and the enlistment of his most skilled associates and all relevant resources that could be found about your condition. And some part of you—some sad, twisted part of you—felt a rush of guilt that so much commotion and worry was being circulated about the kingdom on your behalf. And that guilt only made the whole affair all the more frustrating and maddening. These days, everything inflamed your anger. This whole tumultuous ordeal seemed to be unraveling more than just your physical state.

You knew it was ridiculous to feel responsible in some way for what was happening to you. You hadn’t chosen this, you hadn’t brought it on yourself—you most certainly didn’t deserve it. No one with cancer ever does. But reasoning with your inner turmoil was like wrestling a wild boar in the mud; there was never any true resolve without the cost of more anxieties, more wounds, more gashes in your soul. And the more you tried to gain a grip on yourself, the less grounded you became, the more it all slipped through your fingers.

The click of the door was a chime of resolve as you leaned against the tall wooden frame from within the calm confines of your spacious bedroom. Sliding out of your supple leather flats and letting your robe slump to your elbows, you took the first deep breath you had been able to control since earlier that morning. The king-sized bed frame creaked subtly as you lowered yourself onto the fluffed silken duvet. Ever so gradually, you felt the weight of the vertical world begin to reprieve from your muscles like steam rushing upwards from a boiling pot.

Rest wasn’t a cure for what ailed you, no, but Valar above, sometimes it felt like it.

Since your diagnosis—the terrifying sickness devouring your energy and livelihood from within your own body—nearly every day had been spent in the infirmary or the healer’s sanctuary, remedies administered by the hour, conversations turning tiresome and sour. It had begun to feel like your own home was a prison, the world beyond the palace unreachable, like every action was a strenuous transaction of vitality and exhaustion. Even just walking the gardens that lead into the forest had become inexplicably draining—it left you feeling as though you’d run to Mirkwood’s southern border and back rather than taking a few turns about the courtyard.

But here, on the cloud-like comfort of your private chambers, there was some reprieve from it all. There were no endless strands of questions about your well-being and your comfort and opinions on the tedious details of your health here—only the distant rush of the waterfalls that crashed brazenly into the river moat outside the palace gates. You could hear the chirping of the early summer insects as dusk narrowed on the horizon beyond the open terrace. There was no sterile smell of concentrated alcohol or the pungent gnawing of tart herbs. Instead, there was a faint aroma of lilacs wafting in from the gardens and the scent of your husband’s musk lingering in your bed.

Closing your eyes and rolling onto your lesser-sore side, you sought out the imprint that his body might have left there that morning. But the duvet was creased flat and folded with a chill under your skin. It was curious futility to think his warmth might have lasted after so many long hours away, you knew that; the bed was always plumped and remade in the mornings by your gracious servants. A coldness ran through you, engulfing your skin in little bumps that felt like prickling needles.

Too sore from your aches to unfurl the taut covers from the mattress and too comfortable to retrieve one of your husband’s many fur throws, you recoiled your arm and folded your limbs closer together, curling into a position that would magnify your own body heat. While quietly taking in the environment of your sanctuary, this small peaceful haven that almost made you forget the turmoil your body was enduring, you hardly noticed as you faded into a light slumber. Caught between the ebbing flow of consciousness as it bobbed around the sleepy release of your strained body, wading between thoughts and dreams.

Unaware of the passage of time as you laid there in groggy consciousness, you hardly felt the urge to stir from your position until you felt the back of someone’s hand on your cheek, the brushing aside of your askew (h/c) tendrils. Then you made out the quiet husk of a voice that hovered above you in the dark.

In the dark? Sunset was still a couple of hours away! And after that, dusk would linger still until the light vanished beyond the mountains to the west. Why was it already so dark?

Hadn’t it only been a few fleeting minutes since you’d closed your eyes, listening to the cicadas and savoring the sweetness of the summer flora? Eyebrows pursed, you could hear yourself attempt to answer, but the meticulous reply you’d fabricated in your mind was delivered in heavy vowels that grouped together lazily. Your speech felt like treacle slipping off your tired tongue.

A velvet chuckle reverberated in your perking ears.

“Have I forgotten my native tongue or was that a very poor attempt at Sindarin?”

Thranduil.

Your nose scrunched up as you fought to drain the sleepiness that was working against you so fervently. Before you could stir the tired droopiness from your eyes with eager fists, two gentle hands cupped your cheeks and swept their thumbs over your closed eyes. The motion was akin to a gentle massage, spanning your sore eyelids and dusting across your cheekbones, a cradling of your vulnerable stillness that filled your chest with a fond fervor. The supple tenderness of his lips collided briefly with yours before parting all too quickly.

“Mm?” Your vocabulary hadn’t quite refreshed itself, it seemed. “When d’dju geten?”

Another rumbling chuckle he didn’t bother trying to hide. You pictured his willowy frame standing primly in front of the tall gilded looking glass, unfastening his stuffier robes and tucking his powder–blonde hair behind his pointed ears, or perhaps even tying it back for the night as he often did.

Stars, it felt like there were weights on your shoulders pulling you back against the duvet as you forced yourself to sit up, like the muscles beneath your skin were unraveling at the seams. You rubbed your eyes and shooed your disheveled hair from your peripheral vision, glancing around the dark room for your husband’s silhouette. A flicker of light plumed suddenly in the sconce near the vanity, illuminating his fair features. The match in his hand extinguished with a puff of air from his lips before his pale blue eyes found yours.

“I only just came in,” he reassured you, “I’m afraid I underestimated how much wind some of our advisors have in their lungs, especially when provoked.”

Another votive flickered to life on the other side of the room, another match snuffed out under his breath. The sunlight outside had all but gone in the murky hours you had been asleep. Now that you could take in the mellow darkness of the evening without confusion, some part of you felt distressed about the sudden absence of natural light. The daylight, warm and golden, always brought you a sense of comfort. But now it was dark and grey and the light of the moon was cold, distant, and you hadn't had a chance to prepare yourself for it. Another chill ran across your skin as a more frigid breeze swept in from the open terrace.

“Did Sudryl have a chance to share the news with you before retiring this evening?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you. His lips pursed when he saw your unmoving figure still sitting on the edge of the bed, your back draped in silks, facing away from him. Your slumped posture told him all he needed to know about how you were feeling after your treatments—the exhaustion was palpable in how slow your palm rose to cradle your own forehead, in how shaky you were as you forced yourself up from the bed and took hold of the bedpost.

He was near you in an instant, his strong hands taking gentle hold of your bowed shoulders. There he was, combing the stray hairs on your head down with doting affection, all while the same frustrations were building up inside of you as your sleepiness dissipated.

“You needn’t rise for me, melamin, I am no guest.” He chided gently.

“I know, I just need a bath before we settle in for the night.”

“You’re in no state to manage that tonight, (Y/n)—”

“Thranduil, I haven’t rinsed off the ointments. I smell like the forest—and not in a good way.”

“You smell like an herb garden, fresh and natural, as all things should be.”

“Pungent is more like it,” You quipped, catching the accent of bitter walnuts exuding from your thin robes. It was that old, damp, dingy sort of bitterness that made you want to expel the air from your lungs with a snort when you caught a whiff of it—not the pleasant sort of musk from the gardens.

He laughed again, this time with more relief behind his eyes. Even though he knew you were spent from the day’s strenuous activities, the presence of your humor provided him with some semblance of comfort. And as for your own weary senses, his smooth strain of laughter was more than a consolation for the muted anxiousness that the infirmary always inflicted.

“Then let me help you.”

“Thranduil, I can do it mys—”

“I insist,” He offered decidedly, and you knew well enough from past experience that arguing with him on the matter would prove ineffective.

He gently looped your arm through the curve of his elbow, placing a sweet kiss to your messy hair before turning along with you toward the adjoined bathing chamber. You leaned into him for support and begrudgingly admitted to yourself that he was right—there was no way you could withstand the exertion on your own, at least not tonight. Not while you felt this lethargic, not while your stress levels were causing such tension throughout your body, making everything denser, slower, sluggish.

Once he led you into the warmly lit haven of the spacious chamber, the steam of the hot spring pool seemed to draw you in on its own accord. The walls and their rugged shapes made the flickering yellowness of the torchlight spread longer shadows among its natural angles and divots. The far right wall was connected to the run-off of one of the many springs that stretched like veins throughout the mountain palace—and it was little cavern rooms like this one that reminded you that you were living in the majesty of a low-peaking mountain, not just nestled in the forested density of the Greenwood.

You knelt at the rim of the bathing pool on the soft stone edge, dragging your hand through the clear blue water. The natural warmth of the hot spring invigorated you with a sense of eagerness as you remembered just how soothing these glowing pools always were. A gentle touch to your shoulder lured your attention back to your husband, who with a fond smile, was waiting to help you unravel your robes and underthings. Taking his hand, you were pulled to stand in front of him with the gentlest limits of his strength.

You hardly felt the pressure or the tugging of his lithe fingers as he helped you undress, his touch but a breeze across your sore skin. When you were naked and chilled from the exposure, he guided you into the blue waters and leaned over the pool’s edge to make sure you were steady on the outcropped seat of eroded stonework submerged in the water. As the bubbling warmth enveloped your flesh, your eyes fluttered shut with an involuntary sigh of relief.

There were very rarely things that proved effective for your ceaseless pains—medicines and supplements only lasted so long or relieved so little, and sleep was growing more difficult to manage. But this—the heat bubbling up from the earth, sorted through sediment and mineral—was the most relief you found these days.

When submerged in the hot spring bath, your entire body numbed to its own plague as your bones and muscles absorbed whatever benefits came from the terrain around you. You briefly wondered how you ever managed to get out the last time you soaked like this, with every inch of your flesh basking in the warmth that enveloped you.

You relaxed against the glossy stones, trying to quiet your mind of all the infernal anxieties pressing a weight against your chest. The noise of your thoughts made it difficult to focus fully on the soothing effects of the natural hot spring, tensing and loosening your muscles and posture between every harsh doubt.

With a fresh cloth he brandished from a side table, Thranduil dipped it into the warm bath and began gently scrubbing away the ground athelas mixture. He’d seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bath, submerging his calves into the pool to cradle you between them. The cloth strummed along your chest and stomach as he reached over and behind, where the herbs from Sudryl’s remedies had been infiltrating the cancerous sickness plaguing your organs. You hadn’t meant to show him how weak you felt, how tired you were, how desperately you needed this—but your head fell back to rest against his stomach despite this as the steam curled around you both, dampening your hair and foreheads.

After your rinsing from the spout of a silver pitcher, he coaxed oils and lathered soaps across your flesh, your own fingers clasping onto the pale skin of his forearm or around his leg, refusing to cease contact with him. And although he generously and willingly offered his aide while the healing minerals of that glowing pool of steam soothed you, some venomous voice in the back of your mind tried to feed you strings of doubt and loathing.

He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have had to become my caretaker.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get sick—neither of us was.

He deserves more than this mess I’ve given him. He deserves better than me.

You cleared your throat, trying to silence the growing guilt and shame before that stinging swell of tears could grow any more than they already were.

“What was it you were going to tell me?” You asked after the first of his own sweet-scented oils was being lathered along your arms, turning you about to face him. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Sudryl?”

“Ah, that,” he nodded in remembrance, “I gather he didn’t mention anything about Lord Elrond to you today?”

“Lord Elrond?” You inquired, lifting your questioning gaze to meet his. “No—no, he didn’t. Has something happened? Something to do with our alliances? Or with that trade treaty we adjusted with Laketown in the spring—”

“No, melamin, nothing of diplomatic proportions—all is still amiable with our kin for the time being,” he reassured. When he glanced up at you, the tranquil hope glittering in his blue eyes soothed the curious worry growing in your mind. He almost seemed excited about something. It tugged the corners of your mouth into a brief smile. “I sent word to him a little more than a month ago now, I suppose, to see what he might be able to do about your condition, to inquire about whether his skill with healing might mend what ails you.”

You swallowed hard over the sudden discomfort of anxiety that rose again like bile in your throat at the mention of more treatment, more guests, more expectations for healing. More, more, more.

“He is to arrive within a week of his latest correspondence, which came this morning. Preparations are being made for his arrival as we speak.”

Unknowingly, your grip had tightened on your husband’s forearm, your nails digging shallow crescents into his skin. The sharp sensation drew his attention downward to your hands, his dark brows furrowing in concern. His fingers winding around yours brought your attention to your vice-like grip, which you promptly loosened.

“What is it, (Y/n)? Does this news not please you?”

The earnestness in his pale eyes pierced your heart, the guilt bubbling up in your mind again. You weren’t sure what worried you most. The prospect of more prodding, more treatments, more attempts that might lead to nowhere; the fuss being made across the realm about your condition, about this peculiar, harsh sickness that was so puzzling to even the brightest minds; or perhaps, most worrisome of all, was the fact that you were no longer able to manage the upkeep of a happy facade. So many people were hoping, praying, supporting, and tending to you.

And somehow, you found that to be the most exhausting part of it all. Not only were you fighting for your own body, for comfort and life, but you were trying to uphold and appease every pair of eyes that was eagerly awaiting your miraculous recovery from something you didn’t even know how to fight. There were so many hopes to meet, so many hearts to comfort on your behalf, and your resolve was quietly crumbling.

Before you could think to soften your words in an attempt to save Thranduil’s optimism, your lips began to move, a sudden impulse of tears gathering in your eyes. “What if there is nothing even Lord Elrond can do to cure this?”

He paused, his eyes searching yours briefly before his damp fingers reached up to caress your cheek. How had he not seen the disparagement growing behind your gaze, darkening the lilt in your voice? Hidden behind humor and mischievous quips, but no less obvious.

“If—if I do not show improvement, our people will lose their resolve. Everyone’s counting on me to get better, to show some store of strength I no longer have and I–I can’t will my body to right itself,” you bore to him, panicked and spent from months of effort, “I cannot give everyone the hope they're seeking from me."

“Oh, melamin,” his chin nestled over your ear as he murmured with such rich affection, pressing your face into the musky homeliness of his neck.

“I know I should be grateful for their support, for their prayers and their offerings, but it’s becoming too much, Thranduil. I don’t have the strength for a kingdom’s worth of miracles.”

“You do not owe anyone but yourself the grace of your strength. Had I known their encouragement had put pressure on you to perform, I would have silenced the lot of them.”

Despite his sincerity, you panicked on. “What if I am never rid of it? What if this is my blight that I must war with for the rest of my life?”

He sombered then, drawing in a deep string of air into his lungs. You could see him wrestling with the reality of your honesty, with the questions you both had been too afraid to speak aloud before now. Gathering himself, he drew you nearer to him, clinging to you with a brief urgency that almost startled you.

“Then we will rise together each day to face it. There will never be a single day that you will have to endure this on your own. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you—that my vow and my diligence will never waver where you are concerned.”

Your tears burned with his words and you worked to force them at bay, his sweetness drawing every sour fear and thought of guilt from your mind and onto your tongue. “I am so sorry for this life I have given you. You didn’t ask for this—you cannot be happy with me—with this-this terrible thing I’ve brought upon us. You deserve so much more, and I can no longer give it to you.”

“You’re apologizing—?” He questioned, his voice quiet in shock.

Your eyes clamped shut, forcing the well of sorrows from your eyes to plummet. Gently, he pulled himself back, repositioning his hands on your upper arms as if to garner your absolute attention.

“(Y/n), this life you have given me has been far more than I have ever deserved and could ever strive to. From the moment we met, you have enriched my life just by your existence alone, much less the many qualities and traits about you I have come to treasure beyond all fortune or success. You have given me everything, a dozen lifetimes over, in the mere centuries we have been together.”

“You cannot have wanted this,” you breathed out, hushed by your own shame.

“No, I did not want you to suffer with something so abysmal, something so beyond my control. Of course I did not want for your pain…but if this is our future, if this is our path together, then I want every minute of it, and I will not settle for a second less. I would upheave the very crest of the world and drown mountains in flame if it meant saving you. And if that makes me selfish or ruthless, then I will be the standard at which devils compare their sins.”

His hands had gradually found their way up to your face, cradling your damp cheeks with a sincerity that made your lip quiver.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

The sight of the tearful waterline reflected in his eyes drew a noise of curt regret from your lungs. Your sob pierced his heart, filling him with a desperation to amend the shame and anxiety plaguing your mind.

“If you truly believe that you are at fault for this sickness, then in turn I must be held responsible for allowing it to happen in the first place. As your husband first, but also as your king.”

“No, no that’s not true! It’s not even reasonable of you to—”

“Then how can it be your fault? How could any of this be on your shoulders? There is no sense in blame, (Y/n). Not here, not with this.”

There was a stillness after his words, a stillness that was meant for rumination, and sealed with his lips against your skin and hair. Your hands rose to rest against his chest, nestling them over the dip of his collarbone as you felt for comfort in the blur of your tears. His silence prompted an answer.

“It’s not my fault,” you replied.

“Say it again.”

“It isn’t my fault,” you echoed, meeting his gaze once more, “just as it isn’t yours.”

And as shocking as it was for you to realize it, you truly believed the words he encouraged from you. This sickness wasn’t your fault. Neither of you could have had any sway with fate or destiny, with whatever had brought this on. And perhaps, it just simply was, with no cause or fault at all. What mattered now was how kind you could be to yourself, how to take one moment of strife and find something in it to hold onto. Moments like this were one of those morsels between the ebbing aches of pain and grief that you could relish and devour again and again.

Thranduil leaned forward, pressing his sweat-laced brow against yours. “Do not ever blame yourself, melamin. Do not let those foul words pass between your lips again.”

You nodded against him, pulling him nearer. “I promise.”

In the long minutes that followed, there was the solace of quiet intimacy as he rinsed through your hair one final time, peppering you with kisses and caresses at every opportunity. He met you with a soft fluffy towel when he led you out of the bath, never allowing a breeze to nip at your damp skin. His touch was featherlight as he patted you dry from head to toe, scrunching your drenched tendrils of (h/c) hair without complaint.

“I’m still so afraid,” you managed the courage to speak aloud, “What if–...what if this sickness claims my life?”

“You will not part this world without me, melda. Not a single breath will leave your lungs without my sharing it, not a single heartbeat will we not share,” he vowed, the absolute belief in his voice making the promise all the richer, “there isn’t a corner in this world or any other that you could wander to that I would not accompany you.”

Your silk nightgown slipped over your outstretched arms swiftly, sliding down your body and into place comfortably. He did up the lace of the collar with efficiency, not missing the chance to playfully tug you closer with the slightest bit of his strength. You planted yourself against his chest, the smile on your lips effortless with his own. The firm warmth of his arms wrapping around you had the same sort of pain-numbing effect as the hot spring, lulling every fretful thought to a close. His somber laugh reverberated again, this time through your bones, bringing an ethereal kind of peace with it.

The pillows of your large four-poster bed were positioned, fluffed, and repositioned. You waited patiently, upon his insistence, as he untucked and pulled the puffy duvet back for you to crawl under. Once comfortably tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, he assumed his place beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress as he settled, mindful that every movement enticed your discomfort.

His body heat made you sleepy as you sank further into the covers, fogging your thoughts with a drowsy anticipation for the release of slumber. You’d waited for this moment all day—it had been the image that had pushed you through the hours of treatment and questions—the moment you could finally burrow against his warmth and drunken yourself with his scent. There was a slight stirring as he reached off to the side to retrieve something on the bedside table.

The fluttering of pages caught your fading attention, pulling your heavy-eyed gaze toward the book in his grasp. “Would you like to continue where we left off?”

You smiled tiredly against his chest, not recalling the events of the book he’d been reading to you for the last few nights. Oftentimes, the first few pages would strike vividly in your imagination, but as his lustrous tone carried on through paragraphs and chapters, the sleepy security that his presence enticed made it impossible to recall anything beyond the thrilling hum of his voice. In all actuality, you were quite sure he didn’t mind if you knew anything at all about the story he was reading aloud. It was enough to hold you and be held.

TAGS: @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra

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vilentia · 10 months

Text

Shattered Love

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Thranduil's world shatters when he loses his beloved wife, plunging him into heartbreak and sorrow.

Warnings: death, grief, violence, loss

****

Thranduil's heart felt heavy as he stood on the balcony of his grand halls, gazing out into the darkened forest. The moon's pale light cast an ethereal glow upon his sorrowful face, highlighting the lines of anguish etched into his features. The air was heavy with a haunting silence, broken only by the distant howls of the wind.

His mind was haunted by memories of you, his beloved wife, whose absence now gnawed at his soul. The weight of loss seemed unbearable as he recalled the fateful day when everything changed.

- start of the throwback-

"Please, my love, stay within the safety of our chambers," Thranduil pleaded, his voice tinged with worry. "I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you."

But you were determined to stand beside him, to fight alongside him in the face of encroaching danger. The battle drums echoed through the forest, signaling the impending doom that awaited them. Thranduil, ever the protector, wanted nothing more than to shield you from harm. Yet, against his wishes, you insisted on joining the battle.

As the clash of swords and the screams of warriors filled the air, Thranduil fought with unmatched valor, his heart gripped by both fear and determination. With each fallen foe, his eyes searched desperately for your figure, praying that you were safe. But fate can be cruel, and tragedy struck when he needed you most.

A piercing cry tore through the chaos, causing Thranduil's heart to stop. Time seemed to slow as he turned, his eyes widening with dread, and the world around him faded into insignificance. There, amidst the wreckage of the battlefield, he saw you crumpled on the ground, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of their enemies.

A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he raced to your side, his movements fueled by desperation and disbelief. His hands trembled as he knelt beside you, his fingers brushing against your ashen cheek. His gaze traveled over the wounds that marred your delicate form, each injury an agonizing testament to the violence that had consumed their world.

"No, no! Please, my love, stay with me," Thranduil pleaded, his voice a broken whisper that barely carried above the din of battle. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the dirt and blood that stained his skin. His voice cracked with anguish, raw and filled with an inconsolable grief.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his grip on you tightening as if he could will life back into your fragile body. His hands trembled as he traced the contours of your face, memorizing every curve and crevice. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a desperate attempt to share his breath, to infuse you with his own life force.

But you were gone, stolen from him by the merciless hands of fate. The battle around him faded into a blur, his senses numbed by the magnitude of his loss. The once vibrant forest now held only shadows and echoes of a love that was torn away too soon. Thranduil's anguished cries mixed with the sorrowful howls of the wind, merging into a haunting lament that echoed through the desolation.

He clung to your lifeless body, his tears mingling with the earth beneath them. In that moment, the weight of his grief threatened to consume him entirely. His heart shattered, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. And as the world continued to spin, unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded, Thranduil remained locked in that moment of unbearable sorrow, forever haunted by the memory of a love that had been wrenched from his grasp.

- end of throwback-

Thranduil's grief never truly faded, even as years passed. The wounds remained fresh, and the weight of loss burdened his heart each day. He had built a façade of strength, concealing the depths of his pain from the world. But in the solitude of his chambers, where the echoes of the past lingered, he allowed himself to release the anguish he had held within.

Alone amidst the flickering candlelight, Thranduil finally succumbed to his sorrow. His regal composure shattered as he sank to his knees, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. A guttural cry escaped his lips, tearing through the stillness of the room.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice choked with grief. "Every moment, I miss you."

The tears flowed freely, cascading down his face and wetting the cold stone beneath him. It was a release, a catharsis he had denied himself for far too long. The pain surged through him, tearing at his soul, but he allowed it to consume him, for in that pain, he found solace.

In the depths of his anguish, he held onto the memories of your love, cherishing them as a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost. He allowed himself to mourn the life they could have had, the dreams they could have shared.

As the tears subsided, a weary calm settled upon Thranduil. He rose from the floor, his face marked by a raw vulnerability that few had ever witnessed. He knew that he would forever carry the ache of your absence, but he also understood that life must go on.

With a newfound determination, Thranduil wiped away his tears, his eyes now harboring a flicker of resilience. He would honor your memory by protecting his people and ruling with wisdom and compassion, just as you would have wished.

And so, he stepped out of his chambers, his regal demeanor intact once more, masking the grief that lay just beneath the surface. But deep in his heart, he knew that your love would forever guide him, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounded him.

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cauliflowertree · 1 year

Text

thranduil—to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.

summary: thranduil values you above everything. perhaps above morality.

word count: 0.6k

fanfiction no. 005

the war had come. here you stood before the lonely mountain and its cowardly king, to the left of you his brutish cousin, and behind you an army of orcs. thranduil would not fight, you knew he would not, and you could feel the disdain within you bubble to the surface the closer the army came to the brave, tired and worn men who stood their ground and would fight to their last breath.

"you cannot let them fight this war alone," you seethed, tugging on thranduil's arm.

thranduil turned to you calmly, but disrupted this act of content as he whipped himself from your grasp and said through gritted teeth—“i will not waste elvish blood on a petty dispute between orc and dwarf."

"you and i are both aware this goes far deeper than a petty dispute, far deeper than a promise to end a bloodline. he is coming."

"and he will come regardless of the outcome of this insignificant battle," countered thranduil. "buying time is buying into delusion."

your jaw clenched as you looked at him helplessly. "then you will return alone," you held your head high and unsheathed your sword, heading into the ranks of men.

before thranduil could stop you, he had lost you within the crowd, hesitating too long to truly understand what your words could mean.

you did not see your king as the battle begun, but you saw his impact, his influence, as an army of elves leapt from the ranks of men and thrusted themselves into battle. though you had no time to smile, you were grateful, you were triumphant. perhaps it would be the only battle you won that day.

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

the bloodline had ended. the battle was done. you followed legolas, knowing he was searching for his father. you stood silently, a safe distance away, as father and son said their goodbyes, before approaching thranduil himself. his expression was indecipherable, though stern, but his figure was hunched and it left you wondering what he would say to you.

"you were reckless today," he stated simply.

"i may have been, but i could not leave," you admitted firmly, standing your ground despite disappointing your king.

you could bare to disappoint your king, but to disappoint thranduil was something else entirely. at present, you weren't sure which begrudged you or whether it was the both of them.

"you cannot defy me so openly, so willingly," he scolded you.

"i couldn't live with myself if i had left these people to die, knowing i could have helped in some way," you said softly, pleading with him to understand the reason behind your actions and defiance.

thranduil took an angry step forward, looking down upon you as if you were nothing but a nuisance. "and do you think i could live..." he softened, "if you had perished in this war when i could have done something to prevent it?" he asked tenderly, cupping your face in his pale hand.

leaning into his touch, you felt empathy for the man who had faced great loss and feared its repetition. "i would not leave you that way," you reassured him with sugarcoated lies.

"promises mean little when you have not the power to keep them."

but his resolve dissipated and he sighed softly, pulling you into his chest where he felt you were safest and kissed your forehead gently. he wondered at his ability to go from violence to softness so quickly, but knew that it was simply a necessity of a king in middle earth, where evil ran free and rampant across the lands.

"i do not like to be frightened," he reminded you.

"i will do my best never to make you feel that way again," you promised, genuinely this time.

"thank you, meleth nîn," he whispered in your ear, kissing your lips sweetly and gently when you turned to look up at him.

#thranduil x y/n #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fluff #thranduil imagine #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit fanfiction #middle earth x reader #thranduil blurb #thranduil drabble #king thranduil #thranduil one shot #thranduil of mirkwood #the hobbit #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fandom

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coopsgirl · 9 months

Text

Modern AU Thranduil One Shot - Studying Abroad

Safe for work, 995 words

The study abroad program you were participating in felt like a dream come true. The University of Kent located in Canterbury had proved to be the right school as the campus was lovely and it was a short train trip to London which made it easy to travel around the rest of England from there. You had been invited to a bonfire by some of your classmates and you happily accepted. The crowd grew fairly large by the time the sun had begun to set which during the Summer, was quite late. One man in particular caught your eye. He was very tall, you guessed around 6’5”, and had shaggy, light blonde hair. You were afraid he was going to notice you staring but it was hard to stop as he was so handsome. “You fancy him, don’t you?” your friend Ruby asked as she sat down on the ground beside you. “He’s really cute” you confessed. “He’s rich too. His father is the Earl of Guilford. He’s the eldest so he’ll inherit the title one day.” “Really?! I’ve never met anybody with a title.” “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” “No! I couldn’t. I’m a nobody” you said in protest. Ruby stood up and then took your hands to pull you to your feet as well. “He’s a real sweetheart. Come on!”

You followed behind her nervously as you walked towards him. “Hello! I’m Ruby and I wanted to introduce you to my friend Y/N. She’s studying abroad from America and has never met any of the nobility.” “Oh well, it’s very nice to meet you both. I’m Thranduil” he said with a big smile as he took turns shaking each woman’s hand. “I’ll see you later” Ruby said and then she walked away leaving them alone. “I hope we didn’t bother you” you said apologetically now feeling quite embarrassed as Ruby hadn’t known him any more than you did. “No bother at all. Are you studying at the university here?” “Yes. It’s just for the Summer but so far, I’m having a wonderful time. I’ve always wanted to come to England.” “I’m glad you’re enjoying your visit and I’m glad you were able to come to my party as well.” “This is your party?” you asked as you realized you hadn’t been given much information about the event. “Yes. I graduated from the University of Kent and every Summer I like to hold a party open to all current students, particularly the ones dedicated enough to continue classes through the Summer term” “That’s really nice of you. Is this your property?” “Yes, the manor house is just on the other side of that rise” he said as he pointed to a small green hill behind him. “Thanks again for the party and for not minding talking with me. I should get back to my friends.” “Do you have to?” he asked with a half-smile. You felt the butterflies in your stomach going crazy as you replied, “No, I guess I don’t have to.”

“Would you like to see the house? There’s a beautiful view from just over there” he said looking to the hill. “I’d love to see it.” You could hardly believe your eyes when the large house came into view. “Wow! I can’t imagine living somewhere like that.” “It was built in the 1700s. It takes a lot of work to maintain but it’s a privilege to be responsible for it and make sure it stands for centuries to come.” Thranduil was so proud as he spoke of the home he had been raised in and that he loved dearly. There was a gazebo not far from them and he took her hand in his as they walked towards it. You sat down beside each other and looked out onto the sky where the first stars were beginning to twinkle in the twilight. “I went to Leeds Castle last weekend and that was really fun. It’s beautiful there too.” You really wanted to tell him that he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen with a voice smoother than silk but instead you rambled about the places you’d been. “It is very lovely there…as are you.” You looked up at him with surprise and he quickly spoke again. “I am sorry. That was much too forward.” You felt courage well up inside you as you said, “I don’t mind. I think you’re really cute too.” You could feel your whole face turn red as you thought you sounded silly but the smile he gave you quickly put you at ease.

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude but I’ve never heard the name Thranduil before, is it a traditional English name.” He chuckled and then answered. “The name was my father’s idea. It is very old and I don’t believe that anyone has used it in centuries. I usually go by Thran.” “It’s a nice name and definitely is unique. Should I ask about your middle name?” you said with a joking tone. “Oh, it’s even worse! It’s Oropherion” he explained and you both laughed. “You’ll have to explain that one to me sometime” you said hinting that you wanted to see him again. “I certainly will” he said and he reached over to hold your hand.

Thran then smiled as he moved a little closer to you and then took both of your hands in his. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed your forehead. When you did not pull away, he looked into your eyes and then his soft lips kissed yours. He let go of your hands to caress your face and neck and you put your arms around his chest and pulled him closer to you. His kisses were gentle and sweet and you could feel yourself becoming a bit lightheaded. A shooting star streaked across the sky above but you were both oblivious to anything going on around you as you were completely lost in each other’s arms.

#lee pace #thranduil #thranduil one shot #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #thranduil x you #tolkien fic #modern au thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff

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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

Text

The Royal Ball | Thranduil x OC Wife

one shot using this prompt

pairing: Thranduil x Caleniel (wife OC)

summary: Caleniel attends a ball with her very good friend Prince Thranduil at the behest of his father Oropher. This is a usual occurrence as Oropher seems to have made her his son’s official ‘fake date’ for these sorts of functions.

A/N: I dunno what this is but it popped into my head when I came across the prompt so I had to entertain it lmao.

Caleniel looked around the elegant ballroom, a cup of sweet wine in her hand. King Oropher was standing at the back of the room talking to his Captain of the Guard, Algar who was Caleniel’s father, and his Butler, the two being who he most trusted. A bunch of council members were milling around trying to get the King’s attention. Caleniel looked around, wondering what was taking Prince Thranduil so long to arrive. He usually would have escorted her to these types of functions but tonight he had had duties that lasted late and she had insisted she was fine with meeting him here. However, she was now bored.

Not long after she’d entertained this thought and had another two sips of the wine, the doors opened and Thranduil made his grand entrance. She smirked slightly as she watched him stride in, head held high, donned in the most glorious robes she had ever seen on him. She swore he had a better clothing collection than she did. His hair fell down his shoulders and across his broad chest, unbound as usual, and he wore an intricate silver circlet on his head.

Caleniel looked around at all the elleths who were eyeing the prince from the side of the room as he entered, batting their long beautiful lashes as she could see them wishing for his attention. If he so much as spared them the minutest of glances, Caleniel knew that they would probably almost faint right on the spot. The idea made her want to roll her eyes. It was absurd and she knew that Thranduil wasn’t the type of ellon to fall for that sort of thing. Thranduil was gorgeous but he was not skin deep. Caleniel knew that he would prefer a partner he could connect with on a deeper level, someone who challenged him, and none of these elves had captured his attention. Still, she wondered when one would... and promptly shoved the thought down viciously, a flash of jealousy flickering through her.

Thranduil’s gaze found her in the crowd and he made a direct beeline towards her, smiling as he came up beside her. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. You look handsome.” Caleniel returned the compliment with a little bow, chuckling. As usual. This, she refused to say out loud, knowing it would only furiously stoke his already huge ego and she often liked to refuse him that satisfaction.

Thranduil got himself some wine, drinking in gulps that had Caleniel eyeing him with amusement. “Are you so bored of my company already that you wish to get blind drunk?”

Thranduil smirked at her, raising his eyebrows as he watched her over the glass. “Mhm. Perhaps.”

Caleniel faked a look of shock and gently smacked his arm. “Rude. You wound me, my lord.”

Oropher was watching, as was Algar. The two of them had been pushing Caleniel and Thranduil together for many years now, though it hadn’t taken much work on their part. Their children had become great friends by themselves, meshing well together, though nothing romantic seemed to have come from it... however, the two fathers saw that the feelings were there. Thranduil and Caleniel were simply dancing around it, as though they didn’t look at each other that way, but it was obvious to almost everyone who saw the two together. For a time now, Oropher had taken to setting the two up for feasts and festivals and the like. He wanted his son to be happy and be with an elleth whom he loved, who would be good for him. Caleniel was a Sindar elf from a good family and the two were close and already worked well together - she was perfect. It was taking longer than he had thought, however, and he wondered if perhaps he had been mistaken. Still, he was patient, he would continue to let this play out and he would allow the pieces to fall where they may.

Caleniel and Thranduil talked and laughed the night away. Thranduil eventually led her to the dance floor and twirled her around as everybody watched. They moved together like a waterfall, perfectly and fluidly in step. Oropher didn’t miss the looks of longing and jealousy from elleth and ellon alike as the couple danced, looking at each other like they were the only two in the room. The music stopped and the food was served, and things began to wind down. After dinner Thranduil pulled Caleniel to a balcony. She was laughing, her cheeks flushed, and all he could think was that she looked so beautiful like that.

The two of them were silent for a while, simply looking up at the stars in the sky above them, and smiling every time they made eye contact. Caleniel eventually glanced over her shoulder as she finished her wine, catching sight of Oropher and her father both turning their heads away, though she could have sworn they had been watching the two of them. She frowned softly, tilting her head in mild confusion. She knew that Oropher tended to insist that she accompanied Thranduil to these events but she had never really been able to figure out why he was so keen on it. Surely he could make it so that his son could dance with any elleth he chose, surely he would want him to some day pick a future queen... she wondered when it would end, when his father would decide it was time, and she couldn’t help the bitter feeling that fluttered in her stomach. She was distantly aware how much it would hurt when it happened and she found herself feeling slightly irked with Oropher for this. “Why is it always us... who has to play a couple?” She mused out loud, not even truly meaning to.

The soft smile on Thranduil’s face twisted into a smirk as he heard her. He had long ago figured out his father’s scheme to get him and Caleniel together properly but he hadn’t been planning to push it. He was content with things continuing as they were for however long they would. He wasn’t truly sure if Caleniel looked at him that way... though he certainly hoped so. Being quite drunk by this point seemed to loosen his tongue as she turned her gaze back up to his own. “Maybe they sense our unresolved sexual tension and want to help out.”

Caleniel’s eyes widened just briefly as she met Thranduil’s gaze, not having expected anything of the sort to pass his lips. Her eyebrows rose as she scanned his face and her lips turned up into a smirk to rival his own. “Is that so?”

“Indeed.” Thranduil’s voice was low as he looked back at her, gaze darkening just slightly. A silence blanketed the two as they stood there, suddenly in a snowglobe of their own making, the party completely forgotten. His gaze briefly dropped to her mouth as her tongue flicked out across her bottom lip. Then he leaned, closing the distance between them, and pulled her into their very first, long overdue, kiss.

From the ballroom, Oropher and Algar raised their glasses in a silent cheer, nudging each other as they grinned in victory. Better late than never.

#thranduil x oc #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #thranduil one shot #thranduil's wife #thranduil #king thranduil #thranduil oropherion

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caffinated-and-sleepy · 11 months

Text

Eyes of a King

Part two of my Thranduil soulmate one shot

Sitting on my bed I listen to the birds outside my window, it’s strange not even just strange, bizarre. I would’ve been in Paris a few days ago, but now I’m in the fictional realm of Mirkwood that isn’t supposed to exist. On top of that, I’m the king's soulmate. I haven’t even seen him since my first day here. Meanwhile, the maids were the only ones that ever talked to besides Gandalf. Who of course has been hanging around Mirkwood. Part of me really wants to go talk to Thranduil or even just look at him again to make sure I’m not in a dream, but whenever I walk around I can never find him, and it seems impolite to enter his chambers. Sighing I hop off my bed and peer out the open windows to my left. From my room, I can see the hustle and bustle of the town below. I’ve thought of going down, but the world still seems too alien for me to go down alone. I don’t want to cause any issues. However, a knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. Contemplating whether to open it or not I ask “Who is it?” A chuckle escapes the person behind the door and I open the door now realizing it is Gandalf. His smile is contagious and a laugh falls from my lips as I greet him “Good Morning Gandalf.”

He bows slightly and replies “It is a good morning indeed my lady.” Gandalf holds out his hand and asks “Would you like to walk with me through the market on this fine morning?” Walking out the door and softly closing it he offers his arm I loop it with mine, giving him a mischievous smile I ask “How many times do I have to tell you just to call me by my name?”

He mirrors my smile and replies “Many more” Shaking my head I question the practicality of my situation. I was basically kidnapped by a fictional character which happens to be illegal and I should be finding a way back home, but my soulmate who won’t even look at me is here. Frick me. I suddenly jump a bit when I hear Gandalf speak “Are you alright my dear?” His brow is creased in worry and his words truly did reflect his concern.

I acknowledge his fretting with a nod and a simple “Of course thank you.” He seemed to know that it was a white lie, but he simply nodded as we start walking through the different vendors. A small gasp escapes my lips as I see a stall with books of all types. Almost in a trance I quickly pull away from Gandalf and ask the vendor “Are there any in English, listo?” Did I add please in Sindarin at the end? Yes. Am I also a nerd who likes learning languages? Also yes. The vendor who I start to examine seemed shocked and now that I was looking at her I realize how beautiful she is. The Elleth who still seemed a bit cautious of me says back in perfect English “Yes a few…” She seems torn on something and I go to ask her about it but she beats me to it “I have never seen you around here, if I would have seen you before I would have known, not many humans come to Mirkwood.”

I was about to answer her when Gandalf seemingly appears beside me “She is my niece and has traveled with me from Dale.” Looking to Gandalf questioning what he was doing I then almost smacked myself, of course, he’s going to lie. I cannot go around saying I’m from another world.

✯✯✯✯✯✯

Huffing I sheepishly ask Gandalf “Could I have a little help?” After having a nice conversation with the elleth (whose name I learned is Älva) showed me a stack of beautiful hand-bound leather books in English. I was about to apologize because I had no money, but then he gave her shillings or something for all of them. He did so while I insisted he didn’t have to, yet he told me that Thranduil gave the money to Gandalf for me!

Gandalf gives a hearty chuckle “Of course my lady.”

So with great difficulty, we finally made it up the stairs and as we approached the doors to my room I ask Gandalf “Does he want to see me at all?”

The sadness that had seeped into my voice seemed to shock him for we stood silent for a few moments and Gandalf finally manages to form a few words “Of course he does my dear, but as I’m sure you understand Thranduil was married before you arrived and he did indeed love her.” My heart ached at his words and I croaked out “I know- It’s just.”

His eyes seemed to soften as I turn around “You’re lost my lady, I know you feel as if you do not belong.” Instead of answering I open the door to my room and set down the plethora of books that I held. Why is it me? Taking a shaky breath I look to Gandalf who also set down the books he was carrying. He asks me “Is there anything more I can do to help my lady?” Shaking my head I walk out to my balcony and sit. What am I going to do? Listening to the big doors shut I look to the skyline, there, there was the misty mountains. If I’m correct the dwarves should pass through Mirkwood soon… If they do I will be sure to help them, there is no need for all the bloodshed to occur… Getting and brushing off my dress (the maids insisted I wore one, but I am heavily considering changing into a tunic and trousers) I pick up a book I got, peek out the door, and head down the hall. I distinctly remember someone mentioning a library around here…

Creeping down the hall I jump when I hear a voice “What are you doing here?” Spinning around I see Legolas staring at me glaring.

Suddenly feeling much smaller I manage to speak “So a maid told me about a library and I just got a book and I really would like to see what books the palace has and- oh I’m trailing on I apologize.”

Quickly bowing I start to head right to look for the library when I hear “It’s to the left.” Turning around and bowing again I head to the left hall and slow my walking when I’m out of sight from Legolas. Here and there a maid, butler, or guard passes me, but for the most part, it was quiet. Taking my time I look at the carefully entwined branches, some areas were also stone, and overall it seemed as if nature itself swallowed the castle. The way the wood entwines with the stone and overall structure was breathtaking. Perhaps this architecture is better than Paris’s. Letting out a sigh I finally come to a doorway that smelt like old books and worn leather, knowing it's the Library I walk in book in hand, and see how beautiful it is. The elaborate designs all throughout it are breathtaking. The shelves themselves were made from intricate branches woven together. Brushing my hand over them lightly I finally take time to look at the library as a whole. Its walls were grand, at least 10 meters tall. As I pass by a chair the occupant who seems to be a young elfling was curled up sleeping. Smiling I take their cloak that fell on the floor and drape it over the elfling’s small frame. Looking around more I see a picture of a beautiful elleth hung in the center of the room. From her proud stature and crown, I could tell she was the last Queen. The little jealousy I had was now a burning crackling fire, it seemed so wrong for me to be jealous of the kind and graceful elleth, but I couldn’t help it.

Her soft features made it seem like she understood me as if she was saying “I’m sorry you don’t deserve this.” I hated being envious. Turning away I observe the rest of the room where soft light from the outside cascaded in and cast shadows in the library. The light especially seemed to hit a spot specifically a cozy corner in the room. I walk over to the chair and got closer only to notice someone was in it. That someone being Thranduil. After weighing the pros and cons I walk around the side of the chair to see his usual stern face now peaceful, his eyes were drooping like a child and his crown was off to a side table instead of being perched atop his head. Stepping away from him I instead sit in a nook by the window and begin to read. At first, I read silently, reading about the beginning of Middle Earth. Stealing a glance at Thranduil I made the decision to read aloud, although quietly. A while later I glance at Thranduil again to see an almost invisible smile ghosting his face. Perhaps not all is lost, smiling I feel my own eyelids begin to become droopy as I slowly drift into slumber.

✯✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up I begin to stretch, my back arches as my blanket begins to fall o- wait I didn’t bring a blanket. Now fully awake I grab at the fabric and realize it was actually a robe, a silver robe… A silver robe with actual pieces of silver… Oh my God… He gave me his robe! My mind buzzing I reach for my book and a note falls out. The looping English and signature made my heart flutter.

Thank you for reading - Thranduil

#the hobbit #thranduil #writing #thranduil imagine #thranduil one shot #Tolkienoneshot #middle earth

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takemetothegreenwood · 1 year

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His hands tightened in the back of her hair. "I will take you on this riverbank," he whispered, his voice growing dark. "Do not test me."

#bro I can't be trusted anywhere near thranduil #thranduil #the king of mirkwood #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil one shot #thranduil oropherion #my writing

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elfy-elf-imagines · 3 months

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Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

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

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy.

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left.

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect.

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention.

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone.

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize.

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable.

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair.

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance.

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years.

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found.

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you.

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care.

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough.

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.”

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own.

“I thought it looked nice.”

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash.

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror.

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser.

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?”

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit.

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.”

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding.

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

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

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

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theelvenhaven · 8 months

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Married to Thranduil

Flirting with you while intoxicated

A/N: Thank you @nerdysimpy for the Thranduil idea. Love those bestie privileges. It's my first Thranduil post and I am still getting a feel for his character so forgive me for not making this very long or if it's not wholly ic.

Warnings: NSFWish

****

❁ Thranduil has a really high tolerance for alcohol and rarely indulges himself beyond a glass or two of Dorwinion red.

❁ But there are times where has a bit too much to drink- whether that is in your shared chambers or at a festival.

❁ With the Dorwinion wine being so good and the talk that seems to keep going on and on it's no wonder one glass turns to two, three, four, five and more.

❁ When Thranduil flirts usually it is a bit sophisticated and formal even though you two are married, he likes to try to be poetic and above his station even to his spouse.

❁ He never fails though to make you blush in his complex flirty compliments about how you're his starlight, and how beautiful you are in several different poetic ways.

❁ But when Thranduil has filled his cups and has had a little too much to drink, he becomes a little more blunt and a little less poetic.

❁ At first they still will be suave and a little more on the chaste side of things;

❁ "My starlight, you look ever so ravishing tonight, you're glowing brighter than even the candle light."

❁ "That outfit suits you well, and shows you off perfectly, starlight. Your taste is impeccable."

❁ He will chastely, but no less seductively, offer little touches here or there.

❁ Like brushing your hair out of your face, tracing your jaw as he does so, holding your hand, a hand coming to rest on your knee chastely.

❁ But as he gets more intoxicated the touches become a little more intense and less chaste.

❁ The notes of seduction are definitely known as his hand wanders up higher on your leg, his face flushing a light pink and his lips twitching into a smirk as he eyes you.

❁ Though he is intoxicated, and would want the whole world to know you are his, he doesn't want anyone to overhear any of the flirting he does with you.

❁ So while he holds your thigh, with his thumb gently drawing circles, he leans over to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

❁ Whispering to you all the things he wants to do to you, even if you are in public.

❁ "My starlight it would be positively divine to ravish you right here, I'm aching to feel you."

❁ "You look divine in your outfit, but by Iluvatar I know you look better out of it and laying on our bed bare for me to see."

❁ He'll spend his time teasing you physically, his hidden hand brushing against your most private places but never fully touching you.

❁ Thranduil likes to watch you squirm and see the different expressions, the sounds of your shaky breaths knowing it's all him having that affect on you.

❁ He is also stealing kisses to your lips, not afraid of who it is that might see his loving display of affection for you, emboldened to let propriety fall to the way side.

❁ Nor is he afraid to be steeling kisses on your neck as he brushes your hair away, or nipping at your ear when he leans in close to whisper into it.

❁ Now when the tipsy flirting starts it is a perfect to give into his whims and steal him away for the evening and back to your bed chamber to make love all night long.

❁ But if you continue to let him drink, Thranduil is mostly all bark with no bite as he gets too woozy to be able to do any of lascivious things he's been whispering to you.

❁ On those walks back to your chambers with his arm around your shoulder, holding him up as you two walk back to your bed chambers.

❁ Thranduil will need to be laid down, and e won't bother to undress for the evening but he will coax you into laying down with him at the very least.

❁ He will press soft but sloppy kisses to your face, and pull you in close with him, snuggling close to you.

❁ He loves and adores you and feels so safe and comfortable with you before finally the alcohol wins out and brings him to fall asleep with you tangled in his hold.

****

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

#Thranduil #Thranduil x Reader #Thranduil Oropherion #jrr tolkien #tolkien #the hobbit #the desolation of smaug #an unexpected journey #the battle of the five armies #mirkwood #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #one shot #one shots #headcanon #headcanons

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thewulf · 1 month

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Only You || Legolas

Summary: Request: Can you do a elf reader x Legolas where he's finally home in mirkwood after the quest? Maybe Gimli is with him and he's like 'i see why you always talked about the lassie.' or something funny that exposes Legolas for how much he really likes her. He then confeses and asks to court her or something sweet pleaseee?? My fav fluff writer! Thank u!

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words and sweet as heck request. Really love this one. I didn't edit it too heavily so please be wary of general writing mistakes! Hope you all enjoy my fav elf imagine :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9k +

TW: Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

You had finally gotten a free evening to yourself after training for the better part of every evening for the last year with your father, Girdirion. He had been training you relentlessly after Legolas had left of the quest his father, King Thranduil, had sent him off on. That was over a year ago. You hadn’t heard much other than they had made it to Minas Tirith a few months ago.

Your father suddenly saw you as defenseless without your longtime friend at your side. Being the kings most trusted advisor, he had been trained for centuries and was a formidable fighter. It wasn’t until after Legolas had left that you had realized how serious the threat to middle earth was. Your father must had realized it too as he worked you to the bone, training you at every chance he could.

It was only after King Thranduil received word that the ring had been destroyed and his son was heading home did things begin to change. Your father still made you train but it wasn’t at every waking moment any longer. Tonight, was one of those nights that he had given you off as he had meetings to attend to with the king.

Time felt too slow as you waited for Legolas to return. He promised he would. You knew he would. He was all the way across middle earth, but you just couldn’t seem to wait any longer. You longed for you best friend, who meant much more to you than just a best friend, to come home.

As soon as you settled on your bed to begin reading the novel you had been meaning to finish there was a quick knock at your door. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour after dinner. Begrudgingly, you set the book down just as you had gotten comfortable and made your way over to the door.

When you opened the door you scrunched your face in confusion, “Father? What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the king?”

He nodded, “I was. Then we got interrupted. There is somebody here I think you may want to see.” His smile let you know exactly what you were thinking. Legolas was home. He was back in Mirkwood after nearly a year and a half away. Sure, it wasn’t that long of a time for you in the scheme of your lifetime but it did feel like the longest year of your nearly two thousand years in middle earth.

“Legolas?” You tore out of your room not waiting for his response as you made your way to the throne room. You heard your fathers deep laughter behind you before he jogged to catch up with your lighter than air pace.

Once he caught up to you he had that knowing smile on his face. He had watched the two of you dance around the obvious feelings each other had. You never thought you were good enough to be with the kings son. He never thought you were interested in that way. But to everybody on the outside looking in it was rather obvious the two of you were destined to be together. Even if it was taking longer than expected. A thousand years longer than expected. See, King Thranduil and your father had agreed they would bless the union between the two of you should it come naturally. But neither had the heart to force it. He and your father knew as good as anybody these things had to find their way on their own, naturally. Even if it drove the two elder Ellon’s mad.

“Indeed, your elf has made it home.” He spoke as the two of you walked, much faster than normal, towards the kings room.

Before you opened the massive wood doors you turned to him with a sly smile and a hint of a blush dotting the apples of your cheeks, “My elf?”

Your father raised his eyebrows at you, “Go on then.” He pushed you forward ignoring your question.

When you pushed open the doors you couldn’t find the familiar blonde hair of your best friend. Even as you walked closer to the throne you looked all around the hall and only spotted King Thranduil who was giving you the same smirk your father just did. What were they up to? Where was Legolas? And why was the king looking at you like he knows something you didn’t?

“I apologize my king.” You bowed unsure of what else to do. When you turned to see if your father had followed you in you were left biting your lip seeing the door closed without him in the room. What was he up to? “My father said…”

Thranduil put his hand up pausing you right in your tracks, “Legolas is out in the gardens with a dwarf. A dwarf!” He sounded more frustrated than excited to his son after the time away.

But you cracked a smile instead. That was so him. He was anything and everything his father was not. The two of them could not have more different personalities. Your best friend was the one to push boundaries no elves would or could do seeing that his father was the king, “A dwarf you say? That sounds like him.”

Thranduil studied your happier than he’s seen you in an entire year expression full well knowing it was because Legolas was back from his grand quest. Thranduil rose from his throne before walking down to you. Having to look up to him because he was so tall all you could do was wait on his word.

He pointed his hand towards the entrance to the kings private gardens, “Go, you audience is rather impatiently waiting on you.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating towards the door you had originally come in, likely to go find your father. Not wasting anymore time you made a beeline towards the doors that led to the private gardens you so rarely got to enjoy. He must have deemed it enough of a special occasion to grant access to not only you, but a dwarf as well. You knew Legolas was behind that as well. He was the only one to get the king to agree to something he might not want to do.

For the second time in a few moments, you threw open the heavy wooden doors leading out to the gardens. It did not take you long to hear the pair before you saw them. You paused hoping to catch just a brief moment between the two of them before you made your presence completely known. As you suspected the dwarf had Legolas distracted from hearing you walk out.

“Look at ya lad. Pacin’ like a horse.” The unfamiliar voice chuckled. You had a feeling the dwarf poked fun at the ellon more often than not.

You just knew he was rolling his eyes, the beautiful blonde prince he was, “I am not Gimli.”

But the dwarf just kept laughing, “Ya’ weren’t even this nervous when we rode up to the Black Gate.”

“Would you quiet down dwarf. She will be out momentarily.” That sounded just like the elf that had left a year and a half prior. It was almost too easy to get him worked up and the dwarf called Gimli certainly enjoyed playing into it.

“The little lassie has you this nervous huh?” You? You made him nervous?

Legolas let out a huff, “Gimli!” And you knew that was your queue to help spare the ellon from his friend who seemed relentless. You already liked Gimli from the sounds of it. You shut the door behind you louder than necessary to signal your arrival.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forward suddenly terribly nervous after those comments. What was Gimli playing on? Why would he be nervous to see you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up on feelings as you buried those away centuries ago. Your crush for the ellon grew slowly the first thousand or so years you knew him. Truly organic in the best way possible. Childhood friends to training partners to friends then best friends after it all. Once your training to become a healer had completed you had a sneaking suspicion all his injuries in the field were so he could come see you after some time away. He would only request you. Straight refusing the other healers help when offered. He would wait for you.

But then it just stayed like that. You thought it could grow into something more, but it dawned on you over the next few centuries his father had a say in who he courts and marries. Why would King Thranduil allow his son to court you of all elves? Sure, your father was his most trusted advisor, but you were no political gain in marriage. So you did what you did best, buried the feelings deep and bottled it all up.

The two of them quieted quickly hearing the door close. When you turned the corner you finally spotted your prince after far too long apart paired with an adorably red-headed dwarf who was staring right at you. You however were staring straight at Legolas as your small smile turned into a massive one. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing right there in front of you after too long. The longest either have you had spent apart from each other.

“Legolas.” You grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. It was when he gave you a big squeeze back that you simply just melted into the ellon completely forgetting you had an audience yourselves.

“Aye lad! You left out the detail of your Y/N being quite the beauty.” Gimli spoke up from beside you breaking the trance the two of you seemed to be under. You giggled once you pulled away from him seeing the look of horror cross his face at his friends comments.

You turned to the dwarf feeling the nerves wash away. You had the advantage here as Gimli seemed to want to torture your friend, “Hello. It is lovely to meet you. I am Y/N. Daughter of Girdirion, King Thranduil’s advisor.”

He pointed at you before narrowing his eyes at you, “Do you hate dwarves as much as his father does?”

You shook your head, “Hardly. You are actually the first dwarf I am meeting. I do not get away often.” You knelt down making yourself level with him, “You are much cuter than made out to be.” That earned a few stumbling words and a rather mighty blush to the warrior who seemed to have nothing but words. You managed to render him speechless.

This earned a snicker from your favorite ellon, “Elf got your tongue there Gimli?”

That comment must have meant war between the two of them. The dwarf cocked his eyes up to his friend, shook his head then turned back to you who was now back to standing instead of crouching, “Lady Y/N. It is lovely to finally meet you too. I feel as though I already know ya lassie.” He grinned knowing exactly what he was about to do.

You looked at Legolas with curiosity framing your face before returning your attention back to Gimli, “Do you?”

“Aye.” He nodded, “Legolas here would never shut up about ye. Y/N this. Y/N that. Y/N would love this. Y/N would hate that.”

You knew your cheeks were surely aflame with embarrassment just as Legolas’ were, “We have spent quite some time together over the years.”

But Gimli wouldn’t have that, “I think it has something to do with you lassie. The way you look. The way you dress. The way you seem to occupy his every thought.”

“That is enough.” Legolas finally chimed in giving his friend a hard stare telling him to get the hell out. But that only egged the red head on further. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them before Gimli relented.

He bowed his head, “My lady.”

Echoing his actions you responded, “Gimli.” Before turning your attention back to the prince. Your eyes finally were able to scan his features. Not a hair seemed out of place. He was exactly as you remembered.

“Welcome home.” You gave him your biggest smile feeling like you could finally relax after seeing him alive and well.

He wasted no more time before pulling you into a second bone crushing hug. He had never been so forward causing you to let out a slight stutter in surprise of his actions. It was the last thing you had expected from him. But then again, who knew what he went through out there. Legolas was a strong warrior, but you knew how deeply this could impact anybody who had to go through it.

“I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear not letting his arms go from around you. He had no clue how his words were affecting you in that moment. Suddenly you felt that stupid little crush, that was surely love at this point, bubbling up from the depths of your heart that you had long since locked away.

When he pulled away after a few moments he took the time to look you over just as you had moments prior. He didn’t drop his hands from around your waist though, simply holding you loosely in his embrace. You had never felt his eyes or his hands on you heavily before or that you had noticed in the past, “I have missed you beyond words Legolas. I have spent a year and a half filled with the dread of the thought you may never come home. Seeing you here is the greatest gift Eru Ilúvatar could have bequeathed.”

It was then that Legolas knew just how deep your feelings ran for him just as they had run for you. He too had spent the better part of a thousand years being absolutely in love with you, his favorite elf, but making no indication of it. For he thought you may have eyes for someone else. He could not risk losing you in the event you said ‘no’ to his request to court you. But by the way you were looking at him he knew that was wrong. Your love laced eyes could not break away from his gorgeous blue ones.

He knew he needed to take the next step with you. Gimli was right. His dwarf friend spent the better part of the journey home convincing him he needed to ask the question he had been dying to ask you. He wanted to court you. Spend the rest of his middle earth life and the next one with you. He had never been so sure of that. The thought of courting another elleth felt wrong. It was you. It was always going to be you.

“Gimli was not lying, my lady.” Even though it came out as a whisper your ears could pick it up with no problem.

That shocked you. Was he admitting the same thing that you were? Did he have feelings for you too? “Pardon?”

He grinned seeing your dumb struck face, “You do in fact occupy my every thought. You are the reason I am here now. I fought for middle earth, yes. But for you more. Thinking of your smile pulled me out of the darkest of times

Your lips parted in utter shock at his admission, “Legolas, I…” You were at a loss for words as you processed his confession to you. Your heart was giving you away completely though as it beat faster than it ever had before.

He continued seeing as you were rendered speechless, “It was only ever you. It was only every going to be you, my love. You are my very best friend Y/N. I would never want to continue this life with somebody who was not you. It is only you. It will only ever be you.” He paused finding the courage to say what had been on the tip of his tongue for centuries, “I love you.”

Your jaw might have been on the floor at this point, “You love me?”

He nodded with a nervous expression, “More than you will ever know.”

That was all you needed before you walked forward, butting yourself right against his chest, “That is a relief my prince. As I love you too. More than you will ever know.”

Euphoria. The truest form of euphoria pulsed through your body as you too admitted what had always been so hard to admit.

His expression melted to that of pure elation. Gently he placed his hands under your chin, cupping your face so carefully, “May I begin to court you, my love?”

“I would be so honored Legolas.” Your head was turned up as you looked into his eyes for likely the millionth time. It was different this time. Charged with love and lust. Like you were looking at a new Legolas. One that you could get to know at a much deeper level.

He brushed his thumb over your lips sending shivers racking throughout your body, “Only you. Only ever you.”

Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu

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coffeekeyboardsss · 2 years

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Lord of the rings romance fics:

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gotranting · 7 months

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I love how there are so many warnings for minors to not interact with smutty stories. I guess it is for the writers to shield themselves in a way.

But come on now. As if most of us didn't read the most filthiest of smut stories when we were 15. Some younger than that probably.

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cauliflowertree · 1 year

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—blurbs

to die by your side is a heavenly way to die

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil imagine #thranduil one shot #thranduil drabble #king thranduil #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil

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coopsgirl · 4 months

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Thoughtful Gifts

Here's a little Thranduil drabble for Christmas

The elfling ran through the trees of Doriath so quickly he did not even notice one of his friends who called out to him as he passed by. All his attention was focused on reaching the potter’s cottage. They would be ready today, just in time for the mid-Winter festivities. He had worked very hard and could hardly wait another minute more to see the finished products. “Good morning Thranduil” the potter said as he opened the door to see the rosy-cheeked lad. “Are they ready?” was all he could say as he followed the tall elf inside and into a room full of shelves. “Indeed they are” he said happily as he pointed to a table against the wall upon which sat a large mug and bowl. With the potter’s help, Thranduil had made these gifts for his parents. “They are perfect” he said inspecting them. He picked up the mug and admired its hues of brown and green intermingled together just as the soil and trees do. The beech leaf design along the handle turned out especially well. Next, he picked up the bowl which was light blue, his mother’s favorite color, decorated with Niphredil blossoms. The potter wrapped them in linen and Thranduil tied a ribbon around each one. He carefully carried them home watching every step as if they were the most precious items in all Beleriand. Just before it was time for the family to leave and join the kingdom in celebration, Oropher gave his son a special gift. It was his first bow and arrow set. Thranduil thanked his parents and then ran to his room and came back holding a sack. “I have gifts for you both as well” he said happily as he put the sack down in his father’s chair by the fire. “I made this for you Nana.” “Thank you ionneg” she said a bit surprised as they had not expected gifts. “You made this?” his mother asked with wide eyes as she admired the beautiful bowl. “The potter helped but I did most of it myself. I thought it would be good for cooking” he said knowing how much his mother loved to bake and how much he loved eating her delicious cakes. “I could not have asked for a better gift” she said as she hugged him and her eyes teared up a bit as the thoughtful gesture from the son she loved so much. “Here is your gift Ada. I made it too.” “I cannot imagine what it might be” Oropher said as he untied the ribbon and unfolded the linen. “A mug!” he said happily as he looked it over. “Remember, when you said that you wished you had a big mug so you could have a proper size cup of tea?” the elfling said with a big, beaming smile. “I do. I did not know you were anywhere around when I said that.” “I was in the other room and I heard it so I made one for you” he said so proudly. Oropher set the mug down then picked up his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug. “I believe we have the most wonderful boy in all of Arda” he said to his wife who whole-heartedly agreed.

#thranduil #oropher #doriath #thranduil one shot #tolkien #young thranduil #elven celebrations #beleriand #merry christmas

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nightfall-writer · 4 months

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Spiders and Confessions

Prince!Thranduil x Reader

Word count: 1.3k (Things Clearing got out of hand)

Warnings: Best Friends to Lovers trope, Sleeping in the same space but not the same bed (they’re scouting together so near a campfire), Violence and a bit of blood warning (killing spiders), Fluff perhaps. If I forgot any please let me know!

“You know, I believe we should’ve brought more people” You breathed out trying to keep up with Thranduil's long strides. You two left early that morning to see if the spottings of spiders and orcs were true. Thranduil believed that as the Prince, he should check it out and save his father from worrying about doing it.

Although he told his father that he was merely checking out how the wild animals were doing and would be back in the morning. “You could’ve stayed behind you know, I could’ve just checked by myself. I’m more than capable” He answered. “And have my Best friend eaten by something, no way! Only you deal with my antics” You scoffed. “Those are rumors, there's no danger besides wild animals in these forests.” He replied. “What if it isn't?” you asked. He turned around quickly and stopped.

“What are you implying? That we can’t keep our forests safe?” He spat. You gave him a look of pure shock, he never snaps at you, and it seems he even notices this. “Sorry, I can see that it’s getting to my father and stressing him. I don’t want to believe that spiders or orcs are here.” He vented. “I don’t blame you, it’s concerning to all of us. None of us want to believe that spiders or orcs are coming into these forests,” you say. “I don’t believe that spiders are coming here. They have no re-” You cut him off by shushing him.

You both look around and hear a slight tapping noise. You both pull out your swords and look around listening carefully. As you turn around in time, you see a giant spider lunging towards you both. You stab it in the head and it screeches as another one comes. You hear a screech behind you realizing that these are after the prince as well. You kill two more and start to kill another one.

Until one comes straight for you and before you can react it smacks you across the clearing right into a tree. You drop your swords from the impact and turn over. You groan in pain and start standing back up realizing your head is now bleeding. You grab one of your daggers and throw it into the spider's skull killing it. You then pick your swords back up and kill the rest of them alongside Thranduil.

You both look around listening intensely to see if you hear any more spiders or anything else coming to get you. As you both decide nothing else is around, you turn around to see if Thranduil is okay but, as you turn around the prince is already in front of you looking at your head. “I’m Fine” you assure him. “Bleeding is hardly fine, when will you ever take care of yourself?” He replies. You start to reply before realizing he is correct. You cannot remember the last time you had even slept properly or took care of yourself after a battle.

“I can take care of myself!” You gasp. “Never said you couldn’t I said you don’t. Now let’s leave here and settle somewhere so I can make sure you’re okay.” He replies. You nod and start following him. You started blushing slightly at the closeness that just happened and hoped he didn’t see it. After walking for about 5 minutes you both decide to settle down in a small clearing with dirt instead of grass. On the way to finding a place to settle you both picked up sticks and rocks to later make a campfire so you both could see.

The cold wasn’t an issue as it was spring in Greenwood. “Hopefully it doesn’t rain” you jest. “Now why would you go and jinx it, if it rains you will be my umbrella now.” He joked. “Says the one who’s taller than me” You snickered. “Shortie” He chuckled. You gasped and smacked his arm. “I may be shorter than you but that still doesn’t mean I cannot Fight you” You added. He started laughing as you joined in. He started to get the fire lit, after it was started he walked over to you and started checking your head wound. “You’re Lucky it's a little wound,” he says as he grabs something out of a pouch on this tunic and puts a band-aid on your head. “What would you do without me” He jokes and you laugh along.

You grabbed both blankets that you and him packed and wrapped them both around you for the softness. “Stop hogging all the blankets.” He chuckled as he went over and grabbed one from you. “Hey, you don’t even need it! You can have the fire if you get cold!” You replied. “Never said I would be using it 'cause I was cold” He shrugged. You groaned and as you both were trying to make the fire a bit bigger, you decided to tease Thranduil. “Do you snore? Please tell me you don’t snore. It would make it impossible to sleep” you jest. “Me? You should be worried about yourself snoring.” He jokes. He starts to mimick you snoring and you both start laughing.

You both talk as the sun sets and hours after, talking about anything and everything. Most of the things you did talk about were total nonsense. “I am going to go to sleep, try not to be too loud, impossible task I know” You joked as you settled to your side of the campfire with Thranduil being on the other. “Ha ha very funny” He replies. You settle down and cover up before the fire becomes a blur and you fall asleep.

Thranduil couldn’t seem to sleep, paranoid that more spiders would come. He couldn’t get out of his head that you could’ve died and he never told you his feelings. His father was aware of his affections but, he wasn’t thrilled it wasn’t someone with a royal title. He let it be realizing Thranduil was stubborn and wouldn’t just let it go. The more Thranduil thought about it, the more he didn’t like the thought of you being too far.

Even if it was across the campfire that made it an obstacle to get across before getting to protect you. He decided to move to that side and just blame him for moving on the campfire dying out. You were woken up by someone poking you. “Hey,” Thranduil says as he's poking you, “Move over”. “What?” You asked as you swatted him away trying to fall back asleep. “Move over” he replied and continued to poke you until you moved over. “Why? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping on the other side?” you questioned. “The fire is dying out and I’m cold.” You were sleepy and didn’t realize that elves can’t be cold. You groaned and shuffled over enough for him to sit down next to you. He was thankful that you didn’t question the cold part as he heard it when he said it.

In the morning, you woke up and noticed Thranduil looking at you. “Morning sleepy head,” He says. “Did you not sleep?” you asked. “Couldn’t, you fell asleep easily though,” he replied. “Sleep is important you know,” you responded. “I am not judging you, you slept like a baby,” he says. You scoff and were about to reply before he added “It was kinda cute”. This caused you to let out a squeak and start blushing. After a few seconds, you hear him chuckle. “Thanks for the teasing,” you say. “It’s called flirting believe it or not” He laughs causing you to blush more. “I’m not that bad am I?” He asked. “Could be better” you chuckled. “Well, perhaps if you go out with me, it will improve.” He says and smirks.

You stare at him in disbelief for a moment before replying, “I do like you Thranduil but, I don't know.” He looks at you for a moment, “Why not? Everyone already believes we are dating” He responds. “What about the king?” You ask, “He’ll be okay with it trust me” he answered. You started smiling and replied “Alright, If I must” You joked.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil #the hobbit #friends to lovers #fluff #one shot #thranduil x you #mirkwood #thranduil oropherion

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