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lamemaster · 1 year

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Origins of Love (Thranduil x Reader)

Thranduil finds himself seated in an aloof corner of his library. A book chosen for the night and his wineglass next to him. Another day of his life as the King had come to an end.

Another day that he spent detesting the act of existence. Maybe...if he were better he would treasure life. He would look for his son who has been gone for months. But he is not the elf he once was. Weariness lays heavy on his shoulders.

Sighing he picks up the book only for a withered page to fall in his lap. Its edges folded yet, time had preserved it. Curious Thranduil flipped it open.

--------------------------------------------------

To the King of Greenwood the Great,

How does one come to love? I have always wondered about this question. Is it the strings of fate that pull two people or is the will of those people that bring them together in bond so special?

Reading books and listening to tales I thought maybe it was the beauty of thought and face that nurtured love. Some argued that it was the alignment of stars. While others contended that it was the matching of interests that led to it. Gods, fate, looks, personality. All seemed right but wrong at the same time.

I looked for love for so long. I knocked at all the doors others claimed to find it from. But all failed.

Even the open seas of Lindon promised the same confinement of my own mind and heart.

However, soon the answer came to me like a prancing doe in your thick forest. A haughty Sinda with the most curt replies to even the most pleasant greetings was the answer.

I found that it could lead to an attraction of virtues, faith, fate, or beauty but love stems from vices. It slithers in like a vicious snake and crouches in the heart. And despite the venom, the heart can't help but beat.

Love comes with the acceptance of a person despite their vices. And I have accepted you for all of yours. Your excessive drinking, your scathing remarks, and your prevalent tendencies to be obnoxious at the most unwarranted times.

These and other vices have failed to stop me from loving you. Such has been the case for ages. Instead, these vices fashion themselves into your infamous parties, your hilarious wit that I adore, your glorious cloaks that make me unable to look away from you.

Thranduil I am in love with you and your flaws. So much in love that I can't fathom any wrong in you.

Dragon burns or outward beauty matters little to me. I yearn for you and all of you not a figment of the past. I urge you to allow me to meet you and tell you how much I am in love with you in front of you while I hold your hand.

Let me be a part of your grief. Let me be a part of healing.

Waiting for You,

-------------------------------------------------

Thranduil's hands tremble as he barely holds on to the letter. Your letter from so long ago when he just became the King of Greenwood. After he had returned burned from the external flames of the dragon and continued burning ire the of his father's loss.

He had locked himself away from a world crueler than ever. He had done that uncaring of you. He isolated himself but in doing so he alienated you.

The letter had gone unread in his anguish. Buried in the pages of an unread book. He had kept you waiting for so long and you waited until life left you.

So, alone, the King of once Greenwood the Great, which is now Mirkwood, waits. He waits for a day he can meet you on the shores untouched by sorrow.

#tolkien #tolkien elves #elves #sindar #the silmarillion #lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x wife #angst #romance #letters #drabble #one shot

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weepylucifer · 2 months

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What i also love about dunmeshi is that there is a hobbit who's divorced. Tolkien, known catholic, would spin in his grave (<- good).

#posts by me #he haaated divorce he thought it shouldn't be allowed. i read that in his letters 😂#dungeon meshi #oh sorry a half-foot. tolkien estate kills you if you say the word hobbit

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lathalea · 5 months

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THAUC23: Scattered Through Time

This is a story written by @joyfullynervouscreator and yours truly for this years' THAUC event organized by @fellowshipofthefics. Enjoy!

Moodboard by Lathalea

Scattered Through Time

Relationships: Dís/Dís's Wife Rating: G Warnings: bring tissues Author's notes: Time is merciless. It devours every single thing it meets on its way… almost. Somehow, a handful of memories remained. Once, they formed a kaleidoscope of life, full of shapes and colours. Now, they resemble a handful of stained glass pieces scattered on the bleak fabric of the past.

These are the letters between Dís, daughter of Thràin, and her beloved wife, Víli.

Link to the whole story:

My gleam of golden treasure,

I found your gift; snuck into my pocket during our final soft goodbye? You have a skilled hand with the chisel, even if you claim it not so, and I can only hope to match the swell of love I felt when I pulled the stone from my pocket with one that my words may pull from you.

I miss you, I love you.

I will return to you.

I swear it.

***

My Princess,

My betrothed,

It is such an honour to address you with these words. I am touching my betrothal braid and can feel the pattern you plaited as if it was today and not six days ago!

And now we are apart and I will not see you for three more days… It feels like an eternity. And to think we are to be wedded in seven months! If you were here with me, in the deep mines, you would laugh and call me “too impatient for my own good”. Yes, yes, good things are worth waiting for — but you are the best one, a true treasure, and I simply cannot wait until the day we become One before Mahal the Creator.

I still cannot believe my happiness. Or... do I dare to write “our happiness”, my Princess? Our. You and me. A daughter of kings from a legendary kingdom, a descendant of Durin himself, and a simple Broadbeam lass from the mines. A story I would not believe from the greatest of bards, and yet… Sometimes I wake up in the morning and wonder if I am dreaming a beautiful dream… I am dreaming of the way you smile when you look at me, so tenderly…

… of the afternoons we spend together, when I listen to you speaking of yet another problem with that latest contract and your clever solution…

… of the way your hair shines in the firelight, or the way your eyes light up when I show you a new block of carving stone…

… of the softness of your lips and the way your hand feels in mine as we walk through the newly constructed corridors of your city… our city.

And of the way you whisper my name.

I love, adore, and worship every single thing about you, Dís. My perfect princess.

If it is indeed a dream, I refuse to open my eyes! The only thing I wish to do is to take you in my arms and hold you close until the end of days, my beloved. My wife-to-be.

Forever yours,

Víli

Read the whole story on AO3.

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed):

@fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @glassgulls @evenstaredits

If your name is crossed out, that means I'm unable to tag you :(

#thauc23 #dís #lady Dís #dis #princess Dís #Dís x oc #Dís x wife #the hobbit #lotr #fanfic #f/f #f/f fanfic #f/f romance #love letters #ori #balin #happy ending

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cornerful · 2 months

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Frodo had felt himself trembling as the first shock of fear passed. Now a great weariness came down on him like a cloud. He could dissemble and resist no longer.

'I was going to find a way into Mordor,' he said faintly. 'I was going to Gorgoroth. I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the gulf of Doom. Gandalf said so. I do not think I shall ever get there.'

Faramir stared at him for a moment in grave astonishment. Then suddenly he caught him as he swayed, and lifting him gently, carried him to the bed and laid him there, and covered him warmly. At once he fell into a deep sleep.

This always moves me, how Faramir is so openly tender to him (and they only met this morning.) That he physically carries him when he can't stand any longer and makes sure he'll sleep warmly. There's no "oh gee...sucks for you wow" *awkward shoulder pat.* There's no self-ashamed, emotionally beaten down worry about being "uncool" or "unmanly" for showing kindness.

Poor Frodo is just exhausted from the weight of the world on his shoulders, and having to hide and hide the nature of his quest, and when he gets an opportunity to tell someone out loud the horrible truth of what he has to do, all of a sudden it's too much for him.

Adrenaline and stress can keep us going through fear and fire and foes for a long time, well past what the body can normally handle. It's when there's an island in the stream, a break, an interlude of safety from ongoing trauma that we collapse. An overtired soul will break eventually under strain, but if it is allowed a reprieve, even a short one, that is when we get some of the sweetest moments of rest.

Faramir says that he should have been chosen in Boromir's place, and that might be true. All the same I'm very glad that it was he that Frodo and Sam met in Ithilien, and not someone less wise.

And good grief am I glad that Frodo and Sam have each other. On this journey they each have only the other as confidant and true friend, paddle in the stream, reminder of what is good and true 🍀

#it's dangerous to go alone take this *hands a hobbit another hobbit*#I'm so serious though isolation is Not good for your brain #maybe if you're like an elite hermit with the mental health of a well loved child but #anyway behold another of my love letters to tenderness. it's important #lotr newsletter #lotrn307 #yall like my stream metaphor 😎 i am perhaps Overfond of those heh

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xxsircharlesxx · 1 year

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Thorin: *Charges at Azog, proceeding to get knocked down, chewed like a dog toy, and thrown onto the floor, near to visiting Mahals halls*

Bilbo:

#he’s a bean with a letter opener #tell me I’m wrong #it’s literally the same vibes #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #an unexpected journey #the hobbit memes #meme

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southfarthing · 2 years

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I drew the map of middle earth on my sketchbook cover! and I tried to incorporate hobbit lettering for some of the text (art account @goldfarthing )

#sorry about all the watermarks but I've had bad experiences gdjfhfj anyway it's done!!!!!!!!!#this was literally the worst most detailed thing for me to do with my fragile little head #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #lotr art #lotr fanart #tolkien art #tolkien fanart #hobbit lettering #fanart #cartography #oneringnet #mine #my art #lotr: fanart #*lotr

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freshvanillapng · 2 years

Photo

absolutely obsessed with @mandolinearts bagginshield star wars au ‘hearts of stars and wonder’ so i had to draw Them <3

#bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #star wars #bagginshield fanart #thilbo #the hobbit fanart #star wars fanart #i love love love this fic so goddamn much #star wars has been my hyperfixation since forever #and a bagginshield fic for it is like a love letter to my heart #i love this fic so much everyone must read it please and thank you #my art

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kat651 · 5 days

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❤︎“While they all fall in love with her smile she waits for one who will fall in love with her scars.

-The Dreamer”❤︎

This is an reader insert interactive blog //reader friendly //read the rules and follow the guide to allow for proper conduct

The purpose of this blog is to enhance the volume of content for the hobbit and lord of the rings

This blog is ran by me

rules

characters

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blankdblank · 1 year

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Garlic & Clover

Pt one of a mini series that is currently unfinished. Now, for this it might seem a bit hard on the Dwarves, I love them, but sadly this plot bunny was not the kindest on them at the culture habit Dwarves have to not overshare outside their trusted circles and kin. They will make nice in the end, promise. Just have to get there first.

If you wouldn’t mind let me know what you think and if you also want to be tagged or taken off the tags let me know. Stay warm and cozy out there in yoru corner of the world. :)

@theincaprincess, @lilith15000, @devilishminx328, @jesevans, @tigereyesf

...

“She reeks of garlic again,” you could hear the words echo through the stone halls. Not an uncommon occurrence, nor the silent forced grins and greeting nods of the head you mirrored on your way to an invitation only dinner at Oin’s home.

Once one of the bubbliest of the members of the Company, rules and social decorum had you back to those days at your final foster home. The one you were told you had to bear or you would be cast to a group home, the one you could never do or be respectable enough to be kept around when guests came over.

Middle Earth was nothing like the tiny flower bed of clover you had been allowed to grow up in the attic to focus on while you were pretending you didn’t exist. A magical forest like any you hadn’t seen before in your wildest of dreams. And it was there you found what your Gran would have called a sign from the Saints. A four leaf clover on which you wished in a return visit to clear out your things before they would throw them out and found yourself in the middle of a band of Dwarves accompanied by a Hobbit and a Wizard.

“I miss you,” echoed deep down in your very core to your long lost Gran and lost loved ones.

You studied hard and still it was never enough, all the way to a pair of Masters Degrees in Psychology and Linguistics. You hoped it would be enough, sent to live with one of the top Criminal Psychologists in the world and one of the most renowned masters of Dead Languages and forgotten histories contacted for the most essential of rare cases that had them living in infamy. Another notch on their belt. Another trinket to boast about and never touch.

The door opened and you smiled bowing your head to the servant who allowed you in after seeing you had brought the servant you had been forced to hire to act as your morality compass for others to see you were never alone to be improper in public situations. One who kept their distance by the very scent of you.

While your nose burned in a now tolerably miserable way behind the servant you strolled through the uncomfortably homey dwelling filled with hearty chatter and laughter. Through the roar of painful pasts you kept a grin in greeting all of these supposed friends who eyed the towel wrapped dish in the basket you bore with both hope and dread. “I brought some boiled potato slices and some oiled veggies. We can never seem to have enough.” You said convincingly with a weak chuckle the others laughed gladly at in ease for not having to relive your first dinner invitation while you convincingly held back the wish to act on this latest crack in your heart.

Four years you had lived here and still to this day the appalled looks on the faces of your supposed friends stabbed at you in a stunning refusal of your chicken pot pies in a try to surprise Thorin at his first meal out of the healing tents.

“I miss you,” again it echoed in your heart while in the taking of your seat at the table as the final guest and around the simple dish of yours free of anything personal to you or your past their clan dishes had every memory with your Gran roaring. Family dishes with hints from around the world that had tears brimming in your downward cast eyes to every bland, bitter or oily to the oddly edge of being burnt while being perfectly moist. Every bite unflattering to the next no matter how you tried it with some of the most lifeless bread you had ever tasted.

Somewhere out of the back of the apartment a soft sound of the twins Dis had given birth to had your free hands clench atop your lap in a faked adjustment of the napkin laid there. Enabling a touch of the ring on your right hand, rose gold and meant to memorialize the husband and child lost long before the pull to this world. A teardrop diamond angled at the tip out of the band that drops into a V, the band topped by small diamonds, an heirloom from your grandmother paired with the newer similarly diamond topped rounded halo band like a crown to hint to your son’s name meaning of King. War had taken the one and an infection set in by injury from an accident took the other who were buried together where you couldn’t visit anymore. Not far away from the joint plot holding the parents you never met.

“I miss you,” pooled into your chest like a slow flood of inescapable melancholy to chase off the thought you had to be cursed to lose all you loved. Not unacceptably long your hands left your lap to adjust to help you finish this meal. Muffled compliments came from those who dared to sample your safe dish while you stomached your small yet un-insulting portion.

Dessert would be next and yet still under thirty you took your required leave to return home, or at least to the four walls you were granted. Down nearer to the markets and workshops where the young lived supervised to protect their morals, even those not of Dwarf blood where you had been given lessons and chances to conform. Not one who understood how badly this hurt. Behind your door your breaths wavered as you glanced at the apron from your Smithing lessons, for which you had to change and get some rest to attend in the morning.

…

“How long do I have to bother with this? The Lass has the patience but in the time to teach her the craft her life would be spent. She’s no metal in her bones.”

Audibly for you at least the crack of the dam was heard and a glance over the shoulder of your teacher the Wood Smith he had been speaking to shifted his gaze with lips parted at the astonishing to them quiver of your lip and instant tears you forced a smile through.

On the verge of buckling to their knees at the unexpected reaction, that had every student and Master in this forge in stunned silence. All watching the folded leather apron you had intended to put on set on the station to your right. And in a frail but determined tone you said, “I am unquestionably thankful for your efforts to teach me, and I cannot put into words how painful it is to know I will never be enough to be worthy of it.”

Straight around you turned and in a flurry of sniffles and wiped away tears that had every Dwarf and namely the Dams stare your way at the unthinkable tearful young female on her way back to her protected quarters. No one had died and so there was clear fault to have stirred such a reaction and since there was no family involved one of the Ruling Clan would have to be sent to investigate.

Not that you would know them personally, as since the moment you met them it was made clear that any in depth information on family or their internal workings beyond the simplest of things such as hunger, exhaustion, or wish to smoke, play music and be merry was not permitted. Only outside of kin signaled and intention of courtship alone. So those degrees you had worked so hard for were all but useless and there was apparently no way to find employment as a therapist here.

All the way to the door you had managed to keep just a few feet ahead of your assigned shadow, and once at it your trembling hands worked the lock to open the heavy stone barrier that after another step through the small opening you said, “I plan on peeling and cooking with garlic. No need to sully your reputation any more by lingering to reek like me. I know you have plans to marry into a good clan. I won’t be leaving again today.”

The door was shut in the servant’s mid step a good six feet away and for an awkward moment they paused and waited as if you would change your mind then turned away. Inside however your face scrunched up in a collapse of that façade while you blindly found your way to the kitchen to stress cook.

Even behind tears you could feel your way on muscle memory alone. You knew just what you wanted, what she would make you. A surefire cure for a breaking heart. Garlic bread, lasagna and a ratatouille to go with it on top of several servings of a cake you had baked the day prior in some pretend game you always held as if you could be welcome to stay for dessert and intrude on time to discuss personal things.

“I miss you,” again and again the words were pressed into the dough for the bread and the making of the pasta on a press you had made yourself in now past tense lessons never to be had again. A project that had them scratch their heads along with the other tools you made to help with noodle making and other baking tools. Possibly saltier that usual due to shed tears you missed their falls while you worked the meal together, including the Dwarf loathed garlic.

Dinner wouldn’t do much as you had to eat it alone again except for the knitted pair of otter dolls you had made on your nights in when you got tired of stabbing your fingers in tries to learn embroidery.

Above the front door a small hawk flew through the messenger door that spun behind it to shut again and landed on your raised arm as the minimal counter space was already taken up.

“Hello,” you said. From around its neck you accepted the pouch with the letter inside you brought out with a soft, “Thank you,” small offering of treats and some water on top of your table you carried it to allowed it to rest while you sat down to read the letter from King Thranduil.

*.*.* Thranduil *.*.*

‘King Thranduil,

I know we only met and spoke a couple times but I was wondering if you might be able to possibly offer an official invitation so I might take up your generous request to visit your kingdom?

I understand if the offer has been revoked after all these years, yet Lord Elrond lives too far away to write to conveniently for a response.

Could you still issue an invitation anyways with a symbol of a flower in the corner to show that it is fake to just me so that I can follow Dwarven tradition and have a proper reason to be able to take leave of King Thorin’s Halls?

Either way I shall forever be in your debt.

Yours Sincerely,

Jaqiearae Pear

P.S. If you cannot recall me I am the one who kept you from treading on the ducklings between two of your meetings.’

The words across the page had the King pulled back to that first week when you had stayed in his guest rooms, fully bound and yet as the guards had tried to bring you to him the curious stares up at the architecture and questions had him curious himself and offering much more comfortable rooming for you and the Company. Moonlit snow like white unruly curls to match the deep purple eyes containing silver flecks like mesmerizing constellations on a petite body slightly taller than any Dwarf yet far too short for any race within the East only adding to his prisoner’s alluring mystery.

Just a sudden hand in the center of his chest while his eyes were on a set of pages held him in place. And that same curious stranger with that same curious innocent glowing gaze was behind that hand that held him in place so effortlessly even when both wrists were bound in mithril chains linked to a belt that could be grabbed by a guard if need be. Much unlike the Dwarves confined to their rooms between meals with the King. From your hands downwards his eyes followed yours to the smile worthy sight of a line of ducklings he almost had broken in his distraction in a shortcut through a garden.

“Why would Miss Pear imagine I would rescind my invitation?” he murmured to himself and then promptly moved to his desk to write out a lengthy invitation to be taken as open for as long as you wished.

He had crossed paths with you a few times in Erebor since then, far beyond chance of forgetting you.

The last time after being turned out after a few minutes of a fruitless trade talk when in passing he greeted you kindly and rather boldly you offered him and his group a meal. With your shadowing servant to a delicious yet unfamiliar meal the group spoke of the change of the seasons in the Kingdom to keep the known decorum.

Since that first meeting he knew there was something you wished to say and that was why he allowed you to roam at your whims and keep his best architects enthralled with someone who was hungry to learn everything they could.

With a hawk regrettably two weeks late after returning from a trip to Lothlorien he sent off his reply and hoped the wait had not been taken as a refusal to aid in most likely some time away from the strict lifestyle of the Longbeard Clan compared to that of the Silvans.

*.*.* Jaqiearae *.*.*

“There’s no flower,” you whispered to yourself in your own tongue that had the bird’s head cock to the side as you sat mesmerized that the kind King who didn’t spread the distaste for who ruled the Company you were a part of onto yourself. Across your lips a grateful grin eased that at least in all this you might have a glimmer of a friendship somewhere since Gandalf had left you here.

They were supposed to be your friends and you stupidly assumed they might smudge traditional rules to still keep daily meetings. Yet you barely caught a glimpse across the crowded marketplace or the bustling streets of Dale when you were able to shop there as they each had their own roles in the final stages of the rebuild of that ring of the city.

Now you were merely a ward of the King Under the Mountain and nothing more. Not even allowed to be employed or courted until you reached your 50th birthday and set to live off of a set allowance from the Crown as you were laughably also too young to enter into contracts and left out of a slice of the ocean of gold shaped pie.

With a sigh the knock on your door that clearly belonged to your assigned shadow had you on your feet and in a childlike tantrum stomping your way to the door you opened to find her there with a bow of her head, “Miss Pear, Prince Dwalin is here to see you.”

Through the door you stepped and at the set of chairs you were to use when meeting a fellow unmarried person alone you sat down with a cross of your ankles. Ignoring the chill of the marble floors on your bare feet and the wooden seat on your lower thighs your shorts didn’t cover, not even with your oversized flannel you had changed into from the more conservative thick layered shirts and pants supplied to you by the trunk full to keep you like the few other wards well dressed as per order of the King.

Across the small table from you Dwalin bowed his head in return for your flash of a grin and cleared his throat. “Miss Pear, we were made aware of an upsetting earlier today in the forges and we wished to settle any misunderstanding or discomfort any of the Smiths might have caused you.”

You shook your head and said, “They didn’t do anything but state the truth. I’m absolutely useless here.”

His head shook and still holding his far from familiar tone meant solely to absolve this issue on official business alone, “Miss Pear you are a ward-,”

“I am my own person!” you cut him off and his mouth parted, “A fully grown adult being treated like a useless child! You’re supposed to be my friends and I can’t even get any of you supposed friends of mine to even talk about anything of substance or try a single nibble of what foods aren’t remotely Dwarfly to sate your comfort!

I wear your clothes, eat your demanded dishes in monthly dinners, speak your language and none of you even bother to ask me what I might like or feel comfort in!

Well I’m so sorry that you all missed your home so terribly that that you can’t bother to show the least bit of respect to someone in the same boat as you! I can’t ever go home even if I wanted to and none of you have ever missed the chance to spit on my heritage or culture!

So if you don’t mind I have dessert inside and much like the last few years I fully expect to be eating all of it myself to gather strength for my trip to the Greater Greenwood. King Thranduil has issued me an official invitation and I will not do him the disservice of making him wait for my company, something nobody who isn’t paid to do so inside this mountain feels free to accept without a structured invitation!” Up you popped and promptly went inside your room. Slammed the door and huffed your way to your table to angrily eat your way through the cake until you decided to get packing to leave as soon as possible even if it meant using the river that sprouted from this mountain.

*.*.* Durins *.*.*

“We spit on her heritage and culture?!” Thorin just about growled, not out of anger at you but more for how they had slighted someone they had only meant to ever shield from harsher cultures to have been dumped upon. He drew in a breath then asked, “What did she mention about an invitation from Thranduil?”

Right away bylaws of the Wards of the King Under the Mountain were to be brought up to consult each for the majority of requirements and restrictions to see what wiggle room they could make to grant some more comfort where obviously some was lacking. Social constructs however would be hard to broach the topic of as you were still of ward age in their culture. Yet clearly the issue had to be seen to be made as flexible as possible since clearly for some time this pain had been stewing until it bubbled over today.

By the time they made it to your quarters however you would be gone.

#Thranduil x oc #therapist oc #fallen to middle earth #Deprssion #hidden pasts and skills #Dwarf culture #Durins #Erebor #Letters to Kings #healing power of lasagna #the hobbit #LOTR

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