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intoxicated-chan · 5 months

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Since you're requests are open👉👈 I was wondering if I could request a fluff one-shot with legolas? Legolas and his spouse welcoming their first child into the world? Like they went on an adventure, halfway through reader falls pregnant and instead of turning back they (he) built their dream home and started their life together. Just a domestic, fluffy fic.

𝐎𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

Summary ➳ What was supposed to be an adventure turned into a chase until you and Legolas went to Rivendell to relax and to reveal some good news.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Love Story” by Indila. Hello! I’m not sure if this is what you wanted, so please don’t be afraid to ask me. I’m working on things slowly since I don’t want to rush which is why it took awhile to post. P.s I might make a pt 2 where it’s just the reader, Legolas and their little family. Credits to @/saradika for the lotr banner!!

Word Count ➳1.6k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, light sexual content, hickies, established relationship, mentions of violence, Thranduil is kinda jerk, pregnancy, mentions of multiple pregnancies…

You awoke to the cold breeze gazing at your exposed back, you took a moment to move slowly as you were still sore from the night before. The thick blanket rested on your lower half, leaving the rest of you exposed to the elements.

You turn your head to the right, the sound of carving wood caught your attention, and the sound coming from Legolas. His legs were crossed as sat on a tree stump. His eyes narrowed slightly, taking a few seconds to check his progress or to see any mistakes before he continued.

Even though he seemed focused, his face was relaxed, his hair braided back to keep it out of his face, and he was dressed in a thin tunic and trousers. Legolas looked in your direction when you moved, the leaves crunching under you as you wrapped the blanket around your exposed body.

“Sleep well?” Legolas sneered, staring at the hickey on your neck that was barely covered.

“Ha-Ha.” You rolled your eyes as you moved closer to him, sitting at the fire that he made. “What’s that?” You questioned, looking at the wood in his hands.

You reached for it only for him to pull it away from your grasp. “It’s a surprise.” Legolas tucked the wood away and into his bag, setting his daggers to the side.

“You seemed to be having lots of surprises, care to tell me why?” You laid your head on his lap, feeling his hand run through your hair.

“It’s still a surprise.” Legolas chuckled at your playful scoff. “We should continue to move, that is if we wish to avoid my father’s men.”

You let out a muffled whine. “He isn’t going to stop, is he?” Legolas shakes his head. You pull the blanket tighter. “I hope we head somewhere warm. I despise the cold… Perhaps we could visit Rivendell, I’m sure Lord Elrond would be happy to see you.”

“But my father wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Since when did you consider your father’s opinion?”

“I’m… Not quite sure.” You moved your head off his lap when he began to stand. “But let us visit Lord Elrond, I would like a break from sleeping on the ground.”

You too stood. “To Rivendell then.” When you turned to grab your items, his arms wrapped around you to pull you into his chest.

“Lord Elrond isn’t in a hurry, I’m sure he could wait a few more weeks.” Legolas nuzzled into your neck.

“It seems to me that you’re just dying to get caught by your father.” You laughed, feeling his breath tickle you.

“Just a couple more minutes.”

“I can assure you that Thranduil wouldn’t dare march an army into Rivendell, let alone demand his own son return to Mirkwood without said son putting up a fight.” Elrond spoke to Legolas, they both stood on a balcony that overlooked you and Arwen.

Elrond could try all he wanted to calm Legolas’s thoughts of his father doing something drastic but he could see how Legolas looks at you. “...He wouldn’t dare to hurt her. He may be cold but he’s not a monster.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Legolas admitted. He could sound convincing to anyone but Elrond can sense the tension in his voice. “But he’d do anything to scare her off. He never spoke of anything when I chose to spend my life with her and marry her, even Tauriel didn’t know. It seems that he has a problem with it now.”

“Give it time, soon Thranduil’s eyes will open and he’ll see how happy his son is.”

You and Arwen left Elrond and Legolas to talk. You walked with her around Rivendell, arm in arm, listening to each other’s stories and catching up. “And how’s Aragorn? I heard that he’s going by Strider now.”

“I am saddened that he chose to leave Rivendell all those years ago but… What do they say?” Arwen asked you.

“Made it work, you mean?”

“Yes.” If Arwen’s smile couldn’t get any bigger… “But it makes me wonder, what are you and Legolas doing in Rivendell? Did something happen in Mirkwood?”

“No, no- I mean, ever since Legolas chose me to be with me, it was like a sudden change in his father. It’s hard for me to accept that Thranduil is his father. I don’t even know that being pregnant will change his mind.”

“One shouldn’t think like that, plaguing your mind with-” Arwen froze in her tracks and looked you directly in your eyes. “You’re with child? A babe? Does Legolas know?”

You stop as well. “I was thinking I’d tell him tonight. But unsure how, he’s already stressed with his father’s men following us. How am I supposed to tell him that I’m pregnant?”

“Approach him carefully about it, sit by the waterfall and reminisce about anything and everything.” Awren pulls her arm back, only for her to fix your hair and clothes. “It doesn’t have to be over the finest dinner or intimacy. It will be perfect with just the two of you.”

“I sometimes believe that I do not deserve you Arwen.”

“I will always be here if you need me, you are my friend.” Arwen takes you by the hand and leads you to Rivendell’s infirmary. “Come, we must make sure the babe is alright.”

Legolas received word from Arwen that you wished to meet to discuss an important matter. Arwen sounded excited but it made Legolas go into a panic for some reason. It felt like hours when he was looking for you, yet it was only a few minutes later when he found you sitting next to a stream.

“There you are, I was beginning to believe that you were planning something.” Legolas came closer, taking a seat beside you. “I know that look, you have something to tell me. If you do not wish to discuss it then do force yourself.”

“No, I… I need to say it. It’s just been a grueling time going from one place and to another. But I cannot say that the journey didn’t have some ups as well. Especially that time a bird startled you, causing you to fall into the water.” You giggled.

“If my memory serves me right, it wasn’t the bird but in fact you. You came from behind and pushed me.” Legolas corrected.

“Not very graceful, is it?”

“Lord Elrond said we could remain here for as long as we like. But like you said, we could head South, find some place to relax for once.”

“Wouldn’t your father find us?”

“Most likely but he wouldn’t risk going too far from his borders and put a chance into his men’s lives.”

“Well… It doesn’t matter where we decide to retire, as long as our child is safe.”

Your words took a matter of minutes to hit Legolas. His eyes widened. “A-Are you certain? For how long?” He grinned, ear to ear as he placed a hand on your stomach.

“About six weeks, maybe seven.” Your hand comes to clasps his hand tightly. “I meant what I said, it doesn’t matter where we go. It would be a home to me.”

“First an adventure, then chased by my father’s men, and now a child. Quite a journey it has been, but I wouldn’t ask for anything else.” Legolas puts his forehead against yours, his other hand feeling the braids in your hair.

You let Legolas choose where to settle, it was perfect. It was a small forest, and where he chose, there was a spacious land with a pond and stream not far. It wasn’t long before you both started planning and then building.

“Shouldn’t it be quite bigger?” Legolas questioned, standing where you were to look at the nearly finished wooden house. “In case of future children?”

You smack his shoulder. “One at a time, Legolas. One at a time.” You smiled. “We could add more rooms later on. Perhaps a second floor and a fireplace? I rather not freeze during the winter.”

“One at a time.” Legolas horribly mimicked your voice, getting another slap to the shoulder. His hands come over to your obvious baby bump. “Thought of any names yet?”

“I was hoping you’d have any.”

“How about Elwyn for a boy and Siofra for a girl?”

“I like the sound of them.” You looked back at the house. “What is left?”

“I just have to make sure it doesn’t collapse on us and head into the closest town to search for herbs and such. It shouldn’t be a long trip.”

Legolas took your hand to lead you into the home, it would need some decorations as it felt bare but it was perfect nonetheless. “It feels like yesterday when you asked me to join you on another adventure. Or when you proposed and married me.”

He runs his hand over the walls of the home. “We shall create new memories here, just us and our children. Forget my father and those who disagree. This house will be filled with warmth, and I will make sure it will remain protected.”

“Remember-” Your cup his face with your hands, running your thumb over his cheeks. “This house is also for us to relax, I believe we will be safe.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop worrying.”

“Good, the babe should be coming in a couple of days. I already have enough things to worry about.”

“That reminds me.” Legolas moved from your grasp and towards his bag where he pulled out the wood that he was carving months ago. He shaped it into a horse. “I wanted to give this to you early but working on the house kept me from finishing it, a gift for the babe.”

“It’s amazing Legolas.” You took it into your hands carefully. “I’m sure they will love it.”

You never thought you’d have this in your life. You never thought you could have any of this, and you would never ask for a change. This is all you need.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #legolas x you #legolas x reader #legolas #legolas greenleaf #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x y/n #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #hobbit x reader

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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The Ménage à trois series

First one-shot - Pleasurable torment

Pairing: Thranduil x Elrond x Fem. Reader

Themes: Smut | Soft | Aftercare | Established Poly relationship

Word count: 2k words

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥

Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog.

"Come, come, my petal, surely you can take all of me into you."

Thranduil smirked as he lay there, all cocky and arrogant. He smirked even more when you had to grab onto his arms while lowering yourself onto him.

"But she listens so well," Elrond purred while he watched. "Does she not?"

"Indeed," Thranduil looked on wolfishly when you mewled. "Aww," he tsked. "Do you need my help, petal?"

As much as it embarrassed you to do so, you had to admit you needed help. Both Thranduil and Elrond had more size than many, and if you were honest with yourself, you liked it when either one of them, or both of them, took control of your body. "Y-yes," you whined pitifully. "P-please, my lord."

Thranduil growled and narrowed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this immensely. "Distract her," he muttered as he sat up and grabbed onto your hips.

Elrond grinned wickedly as he moved to you, kneeling beside you, cupping your chin, and making you face him. His lips grazed the corners of your mouth, his tongue flicking and probing before moving to your lips, forcing them apart. When you hummed and sighed into his mouth, Elrond groaned and deepened his kiss, to try and distract you from what Thranduil was about to do to you.

And how you felt it—his thick cock pressing deep into your throbbing cunt, his rich and deep moans spilling out while his fingers gripped tightly against your waist. Elrond's kisses muffled your whines, your little whimpers, his free hand snaking down to play with your clit. That jolted you even more, and the fire in your belly grew when his tongue danced against yours.

Thranduil kept still, letting you adjust to his size. You squirmed when Elrond kept playing with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You moved, rocking your hips slowly, and then Thranduil grabbed onto them. "Stop," he hissed, digging his fingers into your flesh until you complied. "Do not move, my little petal. Just sit still and keep me warm."

You would have whined had Elrond not opened his mouth over yours again. Thranduil rested against his pillows, content to watch while Elrond had his way with you.

And how he had his way with you, letting go of your chin so he could hook an arm around your waist, holding you tight as he played with your clit, forcefully this time, his mouth muffling even more of your whimpers. "So obedient," he pulled away to croon. "So pliant. I wonder how pliant you could be." Before you could even think of replying, Elrond sought your lips again, moaning ever so deeply when you sighed and melted against him.

Thranduil ran his hands up your torso, making them glide over the warm flesh before reaching up to cup your breasts. You shivered when skilled fingers played with your buds, moaning into Elrond's mouth when little jolts of pain mixed with pleasure flashed through your body. Please, you wanted to say. Please finish me.

Only the words never came. So overcome were you by the pleasures that kept washing over you that you seemed to have lost all control of your tongue. You could feel your walls fluttering again, pulsing around Thranduil's cock. You prayed that they would allow you to orgasm this time, and satisfy your release-starved body. Elrond had other ideas, and as soon as he heard your breath reducing to shallow pants, as soon as he felt your body stiffen, he pulled away, joining Thranduil on his side of the bed.

You panted, your hands splaying against Thranduil's torso as you fought to steady yourself. Your walls still throbbed around his cock, pulling him in deeper and you felt like sobbing a little. The king moaned when he felt it, his own urges finally overcoming him. He could wait no longer. "Ride me, little petal," he ordered, his hands landing firmly on your waist. "Ride your king."

But, before you could start, he had one final order for you. "But you are not to come, yes?" He cooed as you lifted your head and nodded. "Not until we allow you to."

"Yes, my l-lord," you whimpered, bracing yourself as Thranduil let his head fall back into the pillows, his mouth parted in a silent moan.

The pain and pleasure you felt every time his length sank deep into your hole and struck all the right places brought tears to your eyes. Thranduil's hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding onto you, guiding you, and bringing you down harder as his own hips started to slap against the insides of your thighs. You could only throw your head back as you bounced on his cock, your babbles growing more incoherent as they mixed with your moans and pleas.

"Pathetic, little petal," Elrond watched while he pumped his length. He kept his rhythm on a slow, even keel, eager to finish in that pretty little mouth of yours. "Mere moments have passed and already you're begging for his seed. Or is it rather that you want your release?" Elrond tutted and whimpered, his greedy eyes lighting up at the sight of your heaving breasts. "Is that it?"

More tears pooled around your eyes as the sensations you felt grew all too intense. "B-both m-my l-lord," you managed a stuttered answer. "B-both. P-please."

Thranduil forced open his eyes, groaning with delight when he saw your tears. He reared up and forced himself into a seated position, his feet tucked neatly under his calves. "You know you cannot have both at the same time, yes?" He ran his lips over the corners of your eyes, gently lapping at your tears of frustration. Thranduil released his hands and hooked both arms around your waist instead, moaning into your hair when your arms twined around his neck. "You will have to be patient, my pathetic little petal."

You couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Thranduil held you tighter, his cock ramming into you and making you see stars. " 's t-too m-much m-lord," you whined into his shoulder. "It's a-all t-too m-much."

Thranduil merely chuckled when he heard your soft mewls. "Come come, my petal," he cooed into your ear. "Pick up your pace. Let my cock empty itself in that sweet little cunt of yours."

You pulled your head back, your breath getting knocked out of your lungs when Thranduil crushed your lips with his, his tongue licking past your bruised and puffy lips.

His thrusts grew too intense. His embraces grew too intense. His kisses left you senseless, blind to everything but what he was doing to you. You felt it, his body trembling, his breath growing shallow and ragged with each passing second. You used every ounce of willpower you had not to come all over him right then and there. Elrond continued to pump his cock and watch, his mind growing hazy with thoughts of kissing his way all over your breasts.

And Thranduil didn't last for much longer. Mere moments later, he buried himself to the hilt, balls deep, making you cry out as pleasure mixed with little jolts of pain. He groaned long and deep and throaty as his cock spasmed, spilling its contents inside your throbbing walls. He held onto you while his chest heaved and the last of his seed was spent inside of you.

Only it wasn't over. Not yet. Elrond needed to be satiated, as well as you. Thranduil gently laid you down, saying, "Finish him off, petal," He huffed as he struggled for breath. "I will take care of you while you do so."

Elrond took your hand. "Come my petal," he cooed. "And wrap that pretty mouth of yours along my cock."

You made your way over to Elrond, wrapping a hand around his cock when you reached him. You settled into a rhythm that he liked, your hand tightening and releasing, your spine tingling with his moans, and then, when his muscles tightened, you took him into the warmth of your mouth, taking him as far as you could manage, your tongue licking its way against the underside of his cock.

Elrond's breath grew shallow and laboured as you started to bob your head up and down, your cheeks hallowing, and your moans were muffled when he grabbed onto your hair. He wrapped his hands around your locks, holding them out of the way for you. The warmth of your mouth was so sinful, your tongue so luscious as it flicked against his tip before warming the underside of his length, well, it nearly made him cum inside your mouth right then and there. Thranduil sneaked a hand under your belly, to play with your soaked clit, moaning when his fingers grew slick with both your essence and his.

Your body trembled and trembled when a finger slipped into your hole, piercing you and pumping you. Elrond started to gently thrust his hips while your mouth worked his cock, your moans growing as deep as his when he grabbed onto your hair, gently pushing your face down and making you take him even deeper into you. Thranduil inserted a second finger, curling them and stretching your walls, groaning in satisfaction when he felt your walls clench around them. He kept pumping you, inserting a third finger, hitting that sweet spot of yours, and making you draw in a sharp breath while you worked on Elrond's cock. His breath grew shaky, and he moaned deeply, his cock throbbing against your tongue. He pumped your sweet mouth, thrilling when you somehow managed to make your way down to the base of his cock. When you got that first taste of him, you took him as deeply as you could, not stopping until he moaned your name and you felt his warmth spray over your eager tongue. You swallowed all that he gave you, relishing his deep moans and pants. You pulled away, licking your lips, only to find yourself being pulled onto your back.

Thranduil kept his eyes on you, whispering sweet nothings while his fingers kept slipping into your slick heat. Your eyes crunched shut when Elrond placed his greedy mouth over a breast, fondling the other with his hand while he licked and laved, gently nipping at that soft bud and tugging it between his teeth. It felt so good, to submit to your lovers like this, letting them have their way with your body, take their pleasure from you. And they were so, so good to you in every aspect, never making you want for anything in any way.

"That's it, petal," Thranduil murmured when he felt your walls tighten. "Come for us. You know you want to."

You felt like you were pulled under as the world seemed to stop spinning, as your body felt like it had snapped like a coil while your orgasm ripped through you. You nearly sobbed as your body was finally sated, and you heard deep groans from both ellon when you poured onto Thranduil's hand.

The world went quiet while you struggled to steady your breath. After what seemed like an age, you felt yourself being carried, probably by Thranduil. From the subtle scents, you were almost certain you were being lowered into the bath.

The warm, fragrant water was soothing, as was the sponge that glided over your shoulders. "You did so well, my love," Thranduil crooned as he rubbed your aching shoulders.

"We're both so proud of you," murmured Elrond, seating himself on the other side of the tub and picking up your feet, so he could rub them. You managed a sleepy smile but your eyes started to droop, and one of them urged you to rest, saying that they would take care of everything. You don't even feel the rest, of being lifted, of a soft towel gliding over your skin. You didn't feel the soft nightgown being put over you, the brush that whooshed gently through your hair, or the strong arms that carried you to bed. Your eyes fluttered open when Elrond ran a thumb over your cheek. Thranduil held you as he always did, his chest to your back, one leg between yours and an arm slung over your waist. You closed your eyes again, thoroughly loved and content.

#elrond smut #thranduil smut #elrond x reader #thranduil x reader #x reader #reader insert #thranduil imagine #elrond imagine #lotr #the hobbit #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #fan fiction #writeblr

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annoyinglandmagazine · 5 months

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Years Of Imitating Mastery, Have Only Made Me A Better Thief

Summary: There was a look in his eyes, a sorrowful longing that he was more familiar with than he would like to be. He didn’t look like Nimloth, not really. Or Elrond and Celeborn angst for Day 3: Extended Family @tolkienfamilyweek

Celeborn had avoided him thus far; nothing obvious or malicious, he was always perfectly civil, but over time it was hard to ignore that when they brushed past each other their eyes never met, that he always seemed to filter out of a room when the others present grew too thin to act as buffers between them, that he didn’t seem fully at ease when Elrond’s gaze rested on him on the rare occasions they did exchange pleasantries.

It didn’t bother him. It didn’t. He had dealt with far worse rejection than the polite avoidance of some distant relative he’d never known. It wasn’t as if Celeborn seemed to distrust him, he had never seemed wary when Elrond was to lead beside him in battle (which was more than he could say for certain Sindar). Occasionally disapproving to be sure but that could easily fall into the category of people who questioned the ethics of letting someone his age fight at all, which he did not mind on principle considering those people were probably right.

On one occasion he could have sworn he saw him flinch momentarily at the eight pointed star on the hilt of his sword when Elrond had been sharpening it over his knee; he had a right to that of course, they all did. It was no one’s fault, not really, it just was.

He rifled through his journal, leather dyed forest green with thick swathes of creamy paper, different shades, textures and scents betraying the way he’d been clipping things into it once the original piece had run out some 30 years previously. He’d have started using a new one, he could certainly afford to, but this had been the first thing he’d been given for no ostensible reason other than that he may like it (he’d gone with Maglor to gather some supplies and he’d assumed it was a ledger for official matters yet he’d come home to find it resting on his pillow. It had been seven silver coins, he remembered that still). He liked to have some reason to carry it around with him so he could remind himself that for reasons beyond his understanding he had been loved by those who were not meant to be capable of it.

At present he was searching for a particular section, the notes he had accumulated over a few particular Avari dialects, as if the few minutes before he needed to be the picture of composure and a fountain of diplomatic knowledge by the High King’s side would give him anymore conversational skill in some of the only languages he had never heard spoken. Still he could not take his page of verb conjugations into the banquet so best try while he could.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting?’ Elrond stifled a sigh and shut the journal on his desk, resigned to his fate of not understanding everything said in discussions for the first time since he came into Gil Galad’s service.

He turned to meet the gaze of his visitor ‘Not at all, was there something you needed Lord Celeborn?’

Rather than an answer he got another question, he should have been used to it after living with elves so long but it still grated at his edainic sensibilities. ‘Are you content in Lindon?’

Well what was he to make of that? Could it be political somehow, Celeborn and Galadriel had seemed pleased enough with Gil Galad’s position but who could begin to parse the web of complexities of their manoeuvrings? ‘Very, my lord. Gil Galad has been exceedingly welcoming and there is no one more worthy of my loyalty.’ Perhaps a little on the defensive side but not nearly as confrontational as he had the slight reputation for being at times.

He did not seem to take offence, smiling, ever so slightly unsure, and pausing before speaking again in a tone almost too gentle to be heard, ‘I’m glad to hear it. You remind me greatly of your grandmother, you know.’

There was a look in his eyes, a sorrowful longing that he was more familiar with than he would like to be. He didn’t look like Nimloth, not really. He’d seen paintings of her, talked to others who had met her, never had any similarity been apparent or commented on. Everyone always said the same thing, Luthien dominated leaving only the barest trace of anything else to be found by those who saw only what they wished to see. Elrond decided to be kind and turned to compose himself by fixing the braids bound above his head, hair black as a void, thick and wavy, as far as you could get from the smooth curtain of silver depicted on the statues of Celeborn’s long lost cousin.

He was interrupted out of his musings by Celeborn hesitantly moving forward to stand in front of him. ‘I- thought that you might like to have this. I guessed that you might not have many things from Doriath.’ In his outstretched hand was a hair clasp, beautiful in its elegance, emerald green coloured glass shaping interlocking leaves and blossoms.

He spoke, only confirming what Elrond already knew, ‘It was her’s.’ This was all he had of her and he was giving it away to someone he barely knew, someone who had never met the elleth he was clearly mourning deeply.

‘Really, lord Celeborn, I cannot accept-’

He placed it into his hand and gently closed Elrond’s fingers around it as if they were delicate, more delicate than the glass itself, liable to be snapped if handled too roughly. Celeborn had seen him rip an orc’s arm out of it’s socket once. He got the feeling that he had tried to forget that, it would complicate matters, make it harder to pretend he was that pale silver haired girl laughing among the trees and muddying her dresses by playing in the riverbanks trying to drag him along with her with childish pleading. Elrond wished once again that images and snatches did not cross from others to him so naturally. Without the confirmation he could have pretended as well.

‘Please. It is yours by right.’ They stood there for a moment, both uncertain but Celeborn hiding it a great deal better.

‘Would you like me to show you how to use it?’ Celeborn smiled at him. It was a nice smile, fond and soft, one you would give a favoured nephew of about ten, not an estranged cousin raised by your worst enemies and trained in all manner of brutal warfare. One he might have given an Elrond raised in the Havens of Sirion, a sweet and naive youth who had never come into being. Is that who Celeborn was choosing to see before him? The perfect Sindarin prince who had died many times since the siege of Sirion, who had perhaps never existed in the first place but who could know now?

Elrond nodded slowly and sank down in front of his mirror obediently; Celeborn gently pulled out the gold pins holding his hair in tight braids about his head and found the brush to slowly smooth out the kinks. Did he breathe easier when the Noldorin patterns were no longer visible or was it just Elrond’s imagination prescribing motives to kindness because that at least was familiar to him. He thought he could feel some satisfaction as the last one unwound; the mark of his ‘captors’ gone from an ellyn Celeborn wished to see as one of his own people.

He found himself wishing for one terrible moment that he could be who Celeborn so clearly wanted, that the complexities could be so easily brushed away with fond and comforting strokes. That maybe if he was Celeborn would stay for a few moments longer; he was gathering his hair in his hands and plaiting pieces of it back from his face patiently, genuinely trying to show him how so he could replicate it. He remembered hearing somewhere that Celeborn and Galadriel had a young daughter and thought fancifully if this was how he was with her. He’d had many families already and it seemed unfair to ache for another when all that he touched burned away in his palm. He wanted nonetheless.

It had been long since he’d felt someone smoothing his hair so gently and the warmth of the gesture made him ache and want to claw desperately and seize at this warmth that seemed so close to genuine affection until he looked up at Celeborn’s face and something in his eyes made the hopeful smile growing on his face falter. He had that far off gaze again, the melancholy one he’d known earlier that told him he was not truly here. He was in Doriath or in Sirion, with Nimloth, Luthien, Elwing or perhaps with a son that belonged to Elrond’s mother and no other.

As a solitary tear slipped past Celeborn’s cheek and was quickly brushed away he decided with a growing weariness that Celeborn needed this more than he did. Elrond was kind above all, a conscious decision for kindness’s sake and a selfish, childish impulse that still believed that if he was more obliging, more helpful, more sweet, more loveable they would stop leaving. One day. When Celeborn was visiting he wore his hair like he’d shown him and dressed in flowing silver, grey and white, certain brooches, necklaces, circlets and weapons left pointedly in his chambers.

He spoke Sindarin perfectly of course, when he sung in it there was no trace of who had taught him to do so. Maglor Feanorian was, rather ironically, entirely forgotten when he sang, no one questioned where he might have learned to manipulate the nature and possibly, some murmured, people around him despite how obvious it should have been that there was one particular bard infamous for using those exact techniques. After all with his ebony waves down to his knees, bright eyes and distinct otherness that could only be Maiarin why should his skill at Song be worth commenting on?

He still smiled brightly when Celeborn kissed his forehead in greeting or complimented and offered advice (generally very good when not affiliated with the Kazhad in any way) on his diplomatic endeavours. The snatches of that girl were never far from Celeborn’s mind when Elrond smiled. Was this all he was, a poor substitute for a thousand different people, a corrupted reflection from a mirror of other people’s regrets? Was it even right to resent it when as Celeborn’s hands had started running through his hair for one moment he’d closed his eyes and wished them to be those of a kinslayer? Even as the warmth he craved lingered in his chest it was replaced with a gnawing emptiness, even greater than before. But Elrond was kind so he smiled as if nothing was amiss.

#Tolkienfamilyweek #silmarillion #tolkien #Lotr #lord of the rings #elrond peredhel #celeborn

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 2 years

Note

HI I don’t know if your request are open so I figured I would send one anyway and then if they were closed you could just ignore it lol

BUT I had this idea and it’s been in my head for days and I don’t feel like writing it myself soooooo

Do you think you can do a one-shot or, yk, whatever you’re comfortable with, for a Legolas x Reader where the reader is kinda like Jaskier? Like they’re dramatic af, are a bard, and isn’t an elf but has somehow just been alive and in peak condition for way longer then they should’ve been? Like Legolas and Reader don’t really get along at first when they met because Reader was traveling with Thorin and Company and stuff and even after he figured out they weren’t bad he was still like “my GOD are they annoying.”

And then Gandalf seeks them out after the fellowship is formed they’re actually super useful bc they know like 10 languages, have traveled almost everywhere, and is actually very good with a sword. Gandalf brings the fellowship to a seemingly random tavern and Legolas just stops bc he recognizes them immediately and is just like “oh my god, PLEASE NOT THEM FU—“

But yk after that they like fall in love and shiz 🙄

SORRY THIS IS LIKE SO SPECIFIC OR UR NOT TAKING REQUEST it’s just I love ur writing, no other lotr blogs I’ve found are taking request, and also you seem to like Jaskier so I figured u might enjoy this a little ?? 😭😭

ANYWAYS EVEN IF YOU DON’T WRITE THIS THANKS FOR READING IT AND I LOVE UR WRITING SM ITS SO GOOD 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Sing Me A River (Legolas x Bard! Reader)

Author’s Note: HELLOOOO, FELLOW DEAR HEART! My requests technically are always open, it’s just a matter of if I ever get around to them lmao. Naturally, I get a lot of requests. Even more naturally, someone requests something and throws the word ‘Jaskier’ in there I’m writing this baby ASAP. Now, this thing grew legs of its own so you’ll probably have to request a part two in the asks so I can get that to you. I just really wanted to put something out tonight, so boom, two-parter. Maybe three. Hey, let’s just see where it goes. Now, believe me when I say I tried to find a gif that wasn’t Jaskier, but apparently if you type in ‘medieval bard lute gif’ into Google images Jaskier is the golden child of the hour. Anywhooooo hope this is what you were going for! I’ll get onto part two soon — you just gotta put it in the asks!

Warnings: Crude jokes made by reader all for the sake of the guts and glory of an epic banger of a song. Mentions adult content. (Bards will be bards).

Synopsis: Like all relevant characters of Middle-earth back in the day, you joined the Company on their Go-Fund-Me campaign to reclaim Erebor. You were a nobody bard back then but the success of your relations with kings and stories of defeating dragons made you a big hit. Speaking of hit, you and Legolas don’t get on. You made one too many hits about him that painted his royal family in a bad light. Oops. Now, Sauron is back and the Fellowship may just need your help. It’s mostly just Gandalf vouching for you, though. Oh, and fangirl Boromir ofc. They find you singing a frankly defamatory song about Legolas in a lively tavern at the height of your fame (you’re essentially One Direction circa 2012 big in Middle-earth in this fic). Tension brews as you’re ultimately asked to join a second Go-Fund-Me campaign.

The evening was late in hour but early of chores, as Gandalf and Elrond poured themselves over maps of Middle-earth. Various members of the newly-formed Fellowship hung about the open-aired room, pondering each other with curious glances.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, wondering who’d prove to be the best travel mate for the next few months. It was as if no one knew what to do with their hands or feet, as they stood about awkwardly.

What was there to talk about, anyway? Economic investments and the rising housing crisis in the wake of the upcoming war? With so many races in the room, it was hard to navigate cultural customs, let alone figure out who was of what social standing based on clothing alone. A prince certainly had no place discussing such mutual matters with a gardener, nor a Captain of Gondor with a ranger.

No, it was best everyone waited until Gandalf and Elrond announced a travel route.

“This would steer you best from the path of both Isengard and its scouts,” Elrond concluded, pointing and dragging one finger down the tattered map.

“That’ll bring us into long-overrun townships,” Gandalf pointed out. “Middle-earth is no longer the safely presumptuous-centric land it used to be. People from all over Arda have now flocked for its resources and previously-thought safety.”

“Secrecy is best bought when surrounded by languages that cannot understand you nor you them,” Elrond countered, raising a brow and looking up at the wizard.

Gandalf raised a hand and scratched at his wiry beard. “No… But perhaps we could benefit from an additional team member for the passage? One who knows, say, ten languages across the seas and land underfoot?”

Elrond’s face quickly fell into disapproval. He moved back from the map as if standing too close to it would conjure up the bard’s presence alone, for said bard certainly dwelled somewhere within it, if the local posters unceremoniously plastered on historical podiums in Rivendell detailing the latest show were proof enough alone.

Legolas noticed this behaviour and kicked himself off the wall. He’d had run-ins with bards before – or, one, at least, and one was certainly enough. He quit twirling a knife in his hands, a gift from his father for his begetday long ago, and paid close attention.

“Ten languages would most certainly aid you, but…” the usually reserved lord made a face of cringe, “must you really bring along your friend? Do you even know where they are?”

Gandalf suddenly looked bashful. He reached into his satchel and removed a flyer. It had your pouty face on it and colourful words detailing where your next show was and the date. “I meant to visit them for one of their shows, before getting side-tracked…”

Elrond tried to not judge his friend, as he glanced up from your poster and back to Gandalf. He raised his brows and sighed, resigning himself to the idea. You had certainly grown in fame over the last few decades since your efforts in fighting the dragon fueled your reputation and songs, and certainly the fame had added to your already eccentric ego.

“Very well, if that is your will, I will support it… Just, don’t invite them back for a concert, please; my sons are still recovering from the last one, as is my winery.”

Gandalf nodded at the lord and smiled. “Nonsense, our bard is of the utmost integrity. I have nothing but faith.”

Legolas looked between the lord and wizard, quirking a brow. He tried to view the poster before it was placed back inside the satchel, but alas Gandalf unknowingly blocked his view.

But then, the prince suddenly recalled you in full detail from the fight against the dragon, and your time spent in the Mirkwood dungeons. You were clearly mortal, and that was many years ago.

Satisfied with the thought, Legolas nodded to himself in reassurance. There was no way you were still alive and kicking. With any luck, you were fast asleep in a chair somewhere, millions of leagues away.

Oh, you were in a chair alright. Except standing on top of it, one foot on the backrest and one on the seat. You certainly weren’t asleep, either, nor was your performance lulling anyone into such a slumber. There would be no lullabies here tonight, good sir.

Instead, on top of the chair, you belted out lyrics to the song you wrote about your time captured in Mirkwood with the Company, using the foot on the backrest to push the chair downwards, where you dramatically landed on the floor and kept on playing around the lively tavern with your lute.

Folks of all nationalities and origins joined in, for how could they not? You knew how to play the song in over ten different languages and were finally onto the Common Speech version. Everyone sung along as you made your way around the floor, illuminated in a thousand different arrays of golden candlelight.

You alluded to the Mirkwood Elves being absolute idiots, to put it lightly. It was only unfortunate that the Fellowship, led by Gandalf, walked in the moment you made a crude innuendo about Legolas’ hair being nearly as pasty as the spider’s webs surrounding his forested home. Something about incest, too.

It wasn’t very nice, but what could you say? You hated the pretentious white-haired family and they you. Perhaps composing a ballad with the dwarves about the elves’ wine-stained teeth in the dungeons planted the seed of distaste in the first place, but alas.

Gimli clapped his hands merrily and tapped his foot. “Oh-ho-ho! ‘Tis a CLASSIC back home! I’ve been meaning to meet the bard from my father’s tales for many years now! What an honourable night. Let us drink to it!”

Pippin nodded faster than light at Gimli and then Merry, speaking before racing off with his cousin and dwarven friend to the bar.

“Aye! We’ve heard this one, too! Even all the way out in the Shire!” Pippin looked up at Legolas, who’d just walked in with Aragorn right behind him. “Funny, I didn’t know there were other white-haired elves such as yourself and your father in Mirkwood, your highness. What are the chances of that!”

Just then, you sung of Legolas by title and name, confirming every crude lyric to be indeed about him towards the end of the song. Something mean about his father, too.

Pippin’s mouth parted and his brows shot up in surprise. He quickly shrugged it off, though – looking up at the elf casually before joining Merry and Gimli by the bar. “Oh, they are singing about you! That makes more sense!”

Legolas furrowed his own brows, looking away from the departing hobbit and across the tavern right as you came to the finale of the song, earning rapturous applause. And then, his eyes grew wide.

Gandalf looked bashful as he stood with Boromir. The captain was grinning at your performance – whistling as you took a dramatic bow as the cheers carried on. Frodo and Sam looked between each other but shared a silent nod, and afterwards, they joined the rest at the bar.

Seething, the prince snapped his gaze up at Gandalf. “THEM? Are you SERIOUS? How could you possibly not tell me?! They are the most arrogant, dim-witted, crude, annoying—”

“Now, now, Legolas,” Gandalf cut in, placing a hand on the swiftly rising elf’s shoulders. “Y/n and yourself may have an… adverse history, but that whole Mirkwood incident was put to rest years ago. If I recall, you both parted ways amicably at the end of the battle. There may have even been a smile, too, if I recall very well!”

“Overjoyed to be rid, as I remember it,” Legolas rolled his eyes, landing them in your direction. You took a sip of ale and felt a gaze, or, glare, lingering in your direction. When you locked eyes with the angry ones of the prince, you widened them for only a moment, before narrowing them and smirking mischievously.

Oh, he didn’t like that.

Hoisting your sloshing ale out to the side, you widened both arms. You were stood atop a tavern table, now pointing in the prince’s direction.

“Oh, my stars! Do my eyes deceive me?” Your naturally loud voice caught the attention of the tavern again, who all no doubt were hoping for an encore. “Ladies and gentleman, if it isn’t the star of the hour! Well, besides me, of course – but no, I should share the limelight; it’s the muse of my song, Legolas of the Woodland Realm!”

Everyone all looked in his direction. Many laughed loudly, some whistled appreciatively, and others who believed the lyrics muttered behind cupped hands to conceal their words and grins.

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t good to bring this much attention to themselves, especially given the circumstances. One look from Aragorn sent up at Gandalf voiced his concern. The wizard nodded back and drew you over with a beckoning hand.

You finished off the rest of your ale and encouraged other bards to pick up the music again. Once the sound of flutes and lutes filled the air, you made your way through the crowd, placing your hand over your heart and responding earnestly to every compliment as you walked past.

"Y/n! I saw you play when I was a child!"

"My niece is a HUGE fan!"

"Do you sing at weddings?!"

And soon enough, you were in front of the trio.

“Gandalf the Grey,” you grinned up, slinging your lute across your back.

He responded warmly, throwing your bard title in as he did so. “You’ve exceeded your previous standing upon the pedestal of fame. Apparently, this song has been heard all over the land.”

At the mention of the song, you turned to Legolas. “Ahh, has it now? Judging by the star-struck expression upon your oddly fine-tuned visage, I’m guessing this is your first time?”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and kept them locked on yours. “First and last time.”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Aw, buddy. Don’t worry. Being a two-thousand-year-old virgin isn’t that weird. Don’t count yourself out just yet.”

His face dropped. “Wha—No! That’s not at all what I—”

“I must say, dear bard,” Boromir cut in, firmly shaking your hand. “My little brother and I have seen you perform in Gondor before, and we are both great admirers of your work. Might I please trouble you for a signature made out to ‘Faramir’? I might not get this opportunity again.”

You shrugged it off coolly. “Yeah, sure! Always happy to meet a fan!”

Legolas stared in horror at the interaction for a moment. “What is happening right now..?”

Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped in. “Y/n, I’m afraid we have not only come for review of your work tonight.”

At that, he looked up at Gandalf urgingly. The wizard sighed and nodded. “Indeed not. Might there be somewhere more private we can talk?”

Briefly looking up from the signature you were writing on a handkerchief, you nodded your head from side to side in thought and pursed your lips, speaking as you wrote. “I’ve got a room here. I’m not sure we’ll all fit, but I suppose we can figure something out."

You sent a wink Legolas’ way, whose face was still frozen somewhere between contemplation, shock, and horror.

“You should be dead,” he decided upon moments later.

Feigning alarm, you looked over your shoulder. “Why? The song really that bad? You hired the world’s worst assassin to take me out and they couldn’t even finish the job?”

Learning how to dance with your words again, Legolas replied straight to the point. “You look the same as you did all those years ago. You’re mortal. You should be dead, or very, very elderly, at the least.”

You blinked back at him. “Was there a question in there somewhere, or…?”

Noticing all the attention you were drawing, Gandalf and Aragorn decided to usher this meeting along elsewhere.

“Ah, Y/n,” Gandalf slid in, smiling tensely as he noticed Legolas’ fingers curl backwards, as if instinctively reaching for his bow. “Perhaps we should continue this upstairs? We have much to discuss, as mentioned before.”

You raked your eyes over the prince’s face for a further few seconds. He all but glared back. You dropped your eyes to his hands, noticing the way they curled the same as the wizard did. Smirking, you looked back up into the prince’s eyes – locking them there as you responded to Gandalf.

“Great idea.”

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wordbunch · 1 year

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reminiscence (RoP! Elrond x reader)

a/n: this was requested! Elrond and reader bonding over the fact that they’re both twins/lost a twin. hope I did it justice, and of course I had to make the ending light-hearted and happy. 😊💖 enjoy and let me know how you liked it! 🎉

“What are you doing here all alone, on such a beautiful night?” you heard a well-known voice inquire behind you. There was a great feast held by the high king Gil-Galad, but you had decided to escape for a little while.

“I just wanted a few quiet moments to myself,” with a somewhat sad smile you turned to face Elrond behind you, with endless kindness in his eyes, and just a tinge of concern.

“I can leave you alone, if you like, my apologies for the interruption” he said in a rush, feeling a bit embarrassed for intruding like that. He put a hand over his heart and was just about to slightly bow in apology, when you closed your fingers gently over his wrist.

“Please, stay,” you urged him, “your company is always more than welcome.” Your statement made his shoulders relaxed a little bit, but he still wondered what was bothering you on such a warm, lovely, happy night. He didn’t think twice before deciding to stay with you on one of the many balconies under the stars - your company was more dear to him than that of anybody else in the royal halls.

“Is something the matter?” he inquired softly, not wanting to push you, but simultaneously wanting to make you feel better. The leaves rustled in a gentle breeze before you decided to speak up.

“In times like these, large gatherings of everyone I know, I just... I find myself missing my sister terribly,” you breathed out, an enormous weight seemingly falling off of your chest. “Wherever she is, I know she is watching over me. But sometimes it is just too difficult to bear.” Elrond’s heart broke just a little bit at your honest words - he knew very well what you were talking about.

“Trust me, I know,” he looked you in the eyes with such empathy that you could have cried right then and there. “The grief simply washes over you sometimes. It is best to just let it do so. At least that is what seems best to me.”

“You do miss Elros, too, at certain times?” you wondered, treading carefully since he didn’t often speak of such feelings to you.

“Naturally. There were times when we only had each other. But we made our choices, and they ended in very different fates,” Elrond confessed, looking down. His hand on the stone railing inched closer to yours, eventually causing your pinky fingers to touch. You didn’t move your hand away from his. “Life leads us on strange paths. However, I do like to believe they all end up exactly where they are meant to. I believe Elros was content with his choices.”

“You speak so beautifully about that,” you replied, eyes now focused on both of your hands that were resting so, so close together, “I wish I could find the words for how I am feeling, but the best I can do is... empty. [sister’s/name] and I have been through so much together. Especially the times when we were getting ready to attend a gathering or dinner were very dear to me,” you trailed off, now looking at the starry sky and blinking away some tears.

“I would love to hear more about that, especially if you think it will help you feel happier. It hurts me to see you hurting, [Y/N],” Elrond finished in a low voice and finally decided to softly grasp your hand. It was chilly, he noted, the night was warm but the breeze was perfectly refreshing.

“We used to braid each other’s hair, and always had arguments about who will wear which garments,” you chuckled, quickly brushing away a stray tear with your free hand. “We discussed who else will be at the gathering, how to attract attention from those who especially interested us... sometimes we’d drink a bit of wine and get so carried away discussing rumors about some guests that we’d almost forget to attend the actual dinner. And then afterwards, we would just talk everything through - who was there, how was the food, did she see anyone looking at me specifically, and the other way round.” You rambled on while Elrond’s gaze was fixated on you. A gentle smile played on his lips as he took in the view.

“You can still create fun memories similar to that, you know your sister would want you to. She would want you to keep having a good time, whenever you get the chance, she would want you to dance to your favorite songs and spend time in front of the mirror spinning around in different clothes to eventually decide which fits you best.”

“I am certain you are right, and I am trying as much as I can to carry on and not let life fly by. But still, sometimes there are nights like these when I just cannot help feeling too much at once.”

“I promise to always be there when that happens,” Elrond confessed in a quiet voice and drew your hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it.

“And I do too, whenever you need to talk about such things,” you smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand.

“Would you like to stay out here for a while, or do you prefer to get back to the dinner party? I will be keeping you company, of course, the whole time.”

“If you will even dance with me, then... maybe” you smirked at the brown-haired elf in front of you, making his eyes go wide. He was not the biggest fan of dancing in front of crowds. You giggled at his reaction.

“Anything that would bring you joy,” he shrugged, accepting your proposition.

“I hope you will not regret agreeing to it!”

____

💖 taglist 💖

@starlady66 @lotrnonsense

#elrond x reader #elrond imagine #elrond fanfiction #elrond headcanons #rop elrond #rings of power x reader #rings of power imagine #trop #the rings of power #rings of power #the rings of power x reader #the rings of power imagine #elrond peredhel #trop elrond #young elrond #from my pocketses

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doodle-pops · 1 year

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Ooo yeah, reactions are back! I love reading your analysis and stories! So beautifully written! Can I ask, what would the elves' reactions be to their s/o body worshipping them? Because we know they deserve it 😌 😏 😉

They all deserve to be smothered in so good loving😏 just push them down and worship them like no tmro.

A bit baffled because its always the other way around. Their brain is slowly working it's way around as you push them down on the bed, already undressing and kissing their body. They want to stop you, their hands are twitching but the pleasure spirals them into endless moans as their hands drop to grip the sheets. Thankful that you're spoiling them, they never thought about being the receiving end with such dedication, "I'm overly thankful for that session my love. Didn't know I needed it, but most grateful." Followed by the request to return the favour.

- Maglor, CARANTHIR, Fingolfin, FINGON, TURGON, FINROD, GLORFINDEL, Elrond, Elrohir

The moment you push them down to worship, they're already settling in the sheets with a content smile upon their faces. It's not that they believe they're deserving of it but more, it's nice to have the tables turned for once. They love the idea of switching up the roles when I comes to pleasure, thus, they'll sit back and let you do hour stuff. With heart eyes. Gentle guidance and where to pleasure them as you roam your hands and lips across their body. "You're so eager to please your lover sweetheart, I appreciate it. We should do this more often."

- FEANOR, CELEGORM, CURUFIN, ECTHELION, EGALMOTH, ANGROD, MAEGLIN

These guys are more hesitant since they are naturally accustomed to worshipping you and never thought about having the table turned. Thus, they aren't too keen on you pleasuring them. But you got to push them down like you life depended on it make it clear "I want to return the favour because you more than deserve it, so be quiet and let me love you." That is going to shut them up. They might probably complain but not in the 'you're not doing it right' but more 'you really don't have to do this, I'm fine'. Shut them up with a blowjob and watch them secretly expect for more.

- MAEDHROS, CELEBRIMBOR, FINARFIN, GALDOR, ROG, Aegnor

#silm smut #reactions #egalmoth x reader #glorfindel x reader #finrod x reader #fingolfin x reader #fingon x reader #turgon x reader #celebrimbor x reader #celegorm x reader #caranthir x reader #maedhros x reader #maglor x reader #feanor x reader #finarfin x reader #elrond x reader #silmarillion imagine #doodlepops responds

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the-elusive-soleil · 5 months

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never wanna see the night

For @tolkienfamilyweek Day 2: Siblings

“Nelyo, what are you doing?”

Maglor had thought nothing of it when Maedhros staggered to his feet--he had not truly been able to pay attention at that moment, what with the burning of the jewel in his palm. But now he is paying attention, with his heart pounding in his throat, because Maedhros is--

He is so very close to the edge of that canyon of lava that had interrupted their frantic flight, making them pause long enough to take out the Silmarils and examine them.

Maglor is not sure what he fears--or rather, he knows perfectly well, but he cannot bring himself to put a name to it, although the fear has dogged his steps at least since Doriath, or possibly since the Nirnaeth. He makes himself stand up slowly, and move equally slowly towards Maedhros, both his hands outstretched and the Silmaril abandoned on the ground.

“Come here a little closer to me, Nelyo,” he says quietly. “Just a bit further from the edge. Please.”

“No.”

The single word, hoarse and barely audible, freezes Maglor where he stands. “What do you mean, no?”

“Don’t come closer.” Maedhros won’t look at him, his head hanging low; he’s clutching the Silmaril to himself even though it must be agonizing him. “I can’t--I can’t anymore, Kano. It’s over, and see what we have become in making it so. And what we have lost--our cousins, our brothers, our sons. There is nothing left.”

There is me, Maglor tries to say, there is still me and I still need you, am I not enough, but he is unable to make his voice obey him before Maedhros, on the very edge, shifts his weight and lets himself topple backwards into the fire.

***

“Elros, what have you done?”

His twin does not even have the grace to look shamefaced. Perhaps Elrond should have seen this coming--Elros has been spending more and more time with the Edain of the host as time goes on, and he has taken to dressing in their styles and tying his hair up to look shorter, but he could never have imagined that it was a precursor to something as drastic as this. How could he have guessed? They had never heard of any such choice being imposed upon peredhil before.

Then again, they are at this point the only two peredhil to have lived this long without being killed or ending up in Aman.

Eonwe came and found Elrond earlier in the evening, when he was alone, and sprang the choice on him, and Elrond’s first reaction had been confusion. Why would he have to choose? He has always been both, and been content to let any metaphysical implications wait for when or if he died. But, made to choose, he’d chosen what seemed like the obvious option: elvenhood and immortality, to stay with their foster fathers and someday find their birth parents again, to have time for all the many, many things that had only just become possibilities again with the war over.

Apparently, for Elros, the obvious option had been different.

“How could you have done this?” Elrond continues, his voice rising. He and Elros haven’t yelled at each other since growing out of adolescence; the fact that he’s close to it now is making him feel unfairly childish. “We have never been apart, and now we will be separated when you go to this Isle of Gift, and then someday after that forever--”

“Not forever,” Elros says, in an attempt at reassurance. “They say that someday when the world is remade, elves and Men and all other kindreds will be reunited.”

“It is close enough to forever!” Elrond protests. “And for all that time, there will be nothing. I will be left alone.” His birth father left when he could barely remember, and then later his mother, and now his foster fathers have left him, and now Elros, who was supposed to be the one person who would never leave.

“Elrond.” Elros’ voice is impossibly gentle. He reaches out and takes Elrond’s hands in his. “You will never be alone; you are much too good at gathering people around yourself for that to happen. And--I am sorry it must be this way, I am, but I could not be bound to Arda for eternity. It was different when we thought Arda was all their was, but now that we know what the Gift of Men truly is--that there is more out there? Elrond, there could be anything, and I want to know what it is. I need to.”

Elrond can’t speak, can only grip his twin’s hands as though that will keep him here next to him, here in Arda, after all. But even as he does so, it feels futile: the change of the choice has already come upon Elros, and he swears he can feel his brother already slipping away even as he stands right here.

#tolkienfamilyweek #silmarillion #maglor #maedhros #elrond #elros #brothers #parallels #cw: character death #angst #sadness #sorry guys i really made this one to hurt #soleil writes things #refracted (fanfiction)

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sanisse · 2 years

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An Unusual Request | Thranduil x Lindir

For @medusas-hairband per a bunch of different conversations we’ve been having and a particularly interesting ask they dropped in my inbox. “Thranduil and Lindir. You pointed out they're an explosive duo, so maybe we can put consent play in here? I asked about it some time ago (and am glad you include discussions beforehand, and aftercare!), I thought just now that it could happen in Mirkwood - or on the slopes of the Misty Mountains, if you're feeling adventurous - and oh if Lindir wants to get out bruised. Scratches on his face and hands, small bruises on his hips and backside from the other's grip, bite marks all over; the whole package. Also, I see L wanting to know that the other is T, as some sort of power play.”

This concept really has me no thoughts head empty and has been pinging around like a microsoft screensaver. So I had to get this out on paper. Lindir/Thranduil is such a spicy rarepair and this is such an interesting kink for them.

🚨⚠️ STRONG CONTENT ADVISORY: this fic contains depictions of consent play between two consenting adults that some readers may be sensitive to or find upsetting, meaning there will be consensual dub-con veering into consensual non-con with social power imbalance in play. This fic contains depictions of kink negotiation, setting up of boundaries, use of a safeword, and aftercare. Please stay safe and consume your online content responsibly 🚨⚠️

Spice Level (1-5): 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶 how many warnings can I put on this fic that this is intense & not for the faint of heart.

Pairing: Thranduil/Lindir (background Elrond/Celebrían/Lindir/Thranduil polycule)

Warnings/tags: rough sex, oral sex, impact play, restraints, servant/master dynamics, power imbalance, possessive behavior, praise kink, degradation kink, hair pulling, subspace, *slaps roof of fic*, you can fit so many kinks in this bad boy.

⚠️One last CW for consent play. Please consume this content responsibly⚠️

No Lindirs were harmed in the making of this fic. He’s having the time of his life and he gets loads of aftercare at the end of the fic.

This is quite a bit longer than I normally do but that’s because of the consent-aftercare sandwich necessary for the subject matter.

Minors DNI. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

AO3 link in case anyone wants to read more comfortably or easily bookmark

The thought won’t leave him. He turned it around, considering it over and over again the whole journey to Mirkwood. Thranduil’s hosting the Autumn Equinox festival this year-- and perhaps it’s a bad time, he must be so busy and Lindir would never want to be an imposition. He wouldn’t dream of being an imposition...

But he doesn’t know who else to ask. Thranduil can be a rough, demanding, adventurous lover like so few can. Something tells Lindir that maybe his instinct isn’t too far off. Maybe, just maybe-- he won’t make a fool of himself.

He approaches Thranduil’s chambers when the moon is high. His hands are shaking. The door guard lets him in because they assume that Elrond has sent him on some important errand. They don’t ask why he’s here. Lindir is grateful that he doesn’t have to lie.

Thranduil is standing alone at the mantle of the great fireplace at the far end of the room, silhouetted in red flame, tall as an oak tree. The firelight glints off his hair. He has a wine glass poised in his hand, his body wrapped in one of those black, elegant dressing gowns he so favors. He is so beautiful. Linder always feels like a mouse next to him. Completely undeserving of attention.

When he spots Lindir, there’s a flicker of surprise.

“What does Elrond want with me at this hour of the night?”

Lindir winces, wrings his hands, glances at the door.

“My lord did not send me, my king. I--I came on my own.”

Thranduil waits for him to elaborate and mulls his wine in his glass.

Lindir takes a nervous step forward onto the rug and just as quickly rescinds it. Hazards a glance at the door, considering just leaving. This is so foolish--

“I--” he flushes red. “I must confess that I-- I greatly enjoyed the last time you joined my Lord and my Lady and I in Imladris and-- I should-- I should very much like to do it again. If...it would...if my king would have me.”

The silence that stretches between them is deafening. Thranduil regards him, gaze sharp and curious and almost...

“Sweet thing,” he mutters fondly into his wine glass. He takes another sip. “I do not think you would enjoy my games, Lindir.”

Lindir colors an even darker shade of red. He chews on his lip and ventures: “It is your games that interest me, my king.”

Thranduil eyes him over the rim of his glass, then says: “I would devour you.”

Lindir shivers. Wets his lips and parts them. Takes one emboldened step toward Thranduil. “That is what I came here for. I-- I want--” he swallows. His nostrils flare as he sucks in a sharp breath and then says: “I want to be fucked.”

He thinks he sees Thranduil’s eyes glimmer in the firelight.

“As I recall,” Thranduil begins, “Celebrían fucked you quite thoroughly. Elrond, too. So I cannot imagine that you have waited all this time simply for me to wreck you. So tell me, sweet thing: what is it you are really asking for?”

The question hangs between them. Lindir swallows. He isn’t sure how to ask.

“I--” he wets his lips again: a nervous habit. He shrinks. His voice is small and shy when he goes on. “I--I wish...I wish to be taken.”

A delicious shudder slides down his spine as he says it aloud. Thranduil’s eyes glitter again with something akin to surprise, then fascination. He still waits for Lindir to elaborate.

“I wish to be taken the way...a king--” a significant look cast Thranduil’s way. “Might take a servant.”

Thranduil cocks his head. He sets his wine glass down on the mantlepiece and closes the space between them in three easy strides. He towers over Lindir, a full head and shoulders taller than him, staring down at him. Lindir can feel his breath ghosting across his hair, imagines pressing his palms to the flat, strong planes of Thranduil’s chest. He’s remembering the way Thranduil’s mouth feels dragging down his neck. The sounds he makes when he’s fucking Elrond into their mattress for Celebrían’s amusement. The pure, whipcord power that infuses his every movement. If Lindir’s honest he’s been fantasizing about this for quite some time. He has always had these...unusual desires, but they had never worn a face until now.

Thranduil studies him. He seems to be thinking very hard. Lindir hardly dares to breathe.

“A king might not ask before taking what he wants,” Thranduil says carefully.

All of the air rushes out of Lindir at once. Relief. Excitement. He isn’t sure which. “A king should not have to,” he whispers back. “The servant would know his place. The servant would take whatever he was given, no matter the discomfort. No matter the insults rightfully cast upon him. No matter how humiliating.”

He hopes that Thranduil understands.

That hope is confirmed when Thranduil rumbles a half-feral sound in response. If Lindir isn’t careful, he’s going to get hard from this conversation alone.

Thranduil presses a hand beneath his chin, prompting Lindir to look at him. The expression in his eyes is so intense that Lindir feels he might swallow him whole.

“I am not gentle, Lindir. I can be. But I will not be in this.”

Lindir shivers again. “I am not fragile, my king.”

“Thranduil,” Thranduil insists.

“Thranduil,” Lindir corrects. It feels strange in his mouth.

“In this conversation we are equals, Lindir,” Thranduil says. His voice is stern, firm, still imperious, but there’s a touch of concern to it too. “I would know that you truly want this. I would know that you would tell me if at any time you wished to stop.”

Lindir swallows. Nods frantically. He can hardly believe Thranduil’s even considering this. That Thranduil might want him.

“Shall we use the signal Elrond and Celebrían use?” Thranduil asks.

The set of colors. Lindir is very well acquainted with them. He nods again. “Red to truly stop. Orange to take things a little slower. Green means that I am enjoying myself. In this scenario--” his eyes flick to his shoes. He’s blushing again. “Even if I ask you to stop I-- I don’t want you to. Only if I say red.”

“Elrond would not do this with you,” Thranduil muses.

It isn’t a question. Lindir still nods his agreement. That’s why he’s grateful for this rare constellation the four of them have. Lindir would never ask Elrond for such a thing. He already knows the answer would be no. Even Celebrían would struggle with such a role.

“When?” Thranduil asks.

When? Lindir had been hoping Thranduil would set the time. Lindir is busy, to be sure. Thranduil is infinitely moreso. “Elrond has no need of me in the capacity of a steward tomorrow,” he offers.

The corner of Thranduil’s mouth turns up in a half-smirk. That glimmer is back in his eyes.

“Then you shall hear from me in the afternoon. I shall not give you the exact time now.”

Lindir breathes a sigh of relief. It’s really happening. He can’t believe it’s really happening. “Thank you.”

Thranduil takes his chin between his thumb and forefinger and dips to kiss him. Soft. Dripping with passion. “Until tomorrow, sweet thing.”

True to his word, Thranduil summons Lindir around mid-afternoon. Or rather, the word comes: Elrond has summoned him to Thranduil’s chamber. They’re having a conversation. He wishes Lindir to bring a certain map Elrond had safely packed away in their luggage.

Elrond has no such map. Lindir pretends anyway, grabbing the nearest map he can find and following the guard down the hall to Thranduil’s chamber, his heart thundering away in his chest.

When he is let in, the room is empty save for Thranduil. The door shuts behind Lindir and he hears the bolt slide into place with a click that makes him jump. He’s locked in. The realization hits him with a sharp, twisting chill-- like jumping into an ice-cold lake. He’s shaking, he can hardly contain his excitement.

Thranduil waits. Giving him a chance to back out. Lindir takes a deep breath and fidgets with the map in his hands and says: “Lord Elrond wished for his map. Where is he?”

A slow, wicked smile slides its way across Thranduil’s face which makes Lindir’s heart race. Thranduil starts for him, takes the map from his hands and sets it aside.

“He is not here.”

“Then-- I should--” Lindir falters, thinking of what he would say, if this was not a game. “I should go to him--”

“Stay.”

The command is icy, sharp. All of the warmth has leached out of Thranduil’s expression and instead he simply looks ravenous. Lindir chews on his lip.

“I apologize--” he breathes. “I do not understand.”

Thranduil crowds him right up against the door. Leans down into his space so that their noses almost brush, and hisses: “Elrond wastes you.”

He is so much bigger than him. Barring him easily. If he really tried, he could slip out from between Thranduil and the door. He doesn’t want to try. Instead, he bites back a moan and remembers his character at the last second. Lindir squirms, tries to hotly say: “My king-- I should go-- I shouldn’t be here--”

Thranduil strikes like a snake. Closes his fist around Lindir’s throat. “I think you should. Would you correct your king?”

“No--” Lindir chokes out. He’s starting to ache between his legs. Can’t stop thinking about the way Thranduil’s towering over him. About how it’s going to feel with Thranduil finally pins him down and fucks him. “--I would never dream of it--”

Thranduil pushes Lindir’s head back, exposing his jawline. He nips at it, sending pinpricks of delicious pleasure-pain spiraling down Lindir’s spine. “Such a pretty little thing,” he hisses. “With such pretty little holes. Do you know, I asked Elrond? I am nothing if not considerate of another lord’s things.”

Lindir makes a choked, surprised, horribly aroused noise in the back of his throat. Thranduil watches him. Studies him. Makes sure he hasn’t gone too far. Lindir’s just desperately hanging onto this new piece of the fantasy Thranduil’s spinning for him, shuddering under the hand that’s pinning him to the door by his neck, hopelessly turned on and trying not to turn into jelly.

“Yes,” Thranduil says when Lindir makes no protest. The grin that spreads across his face is wolfish. “He assured me that you know how to serve your betters. You’ve got such a sweet little mouth on you. You know your place.”

Lindir melts.

The thought of Elrond giving him to someone else to use is scrambling his brain. It adds an extra layer to this dynamic, this delicious feeling that he is nothing more than a toy to be batted between greater men. He feels so hot he might combust and Thranduil’s hardly touched him yet.

“Please--” he whispers. He means to ask please fuck me, but that would hardly be in character. Instead, he swallows it back, pretending he was about to ask to be released and then thought better of it, because he is a servant and he would never dare to think for himself.

He’s sinking into that sweet spot he so likes: the spot where things go a little hazy. Where he can stop thinking about all the things he has to do. When he is no longer Lindir with all of his responsibilities and schedules and ledgerbooks. Just a hole. He so loves to be used.

He lets his body go slack in Thranduil’s grip. Lets his eyes fall submissively to the floor. Who is he to struggle? To deny a king?

Thranduil’s chuckle is dark. He swaps his grip to Lindir’s hair and simply drags him away from the door, down toward his bed, and yanks on Lindir’s hair so hard his legs buckle and he has to kneel.

The rush that hits him at the position is intoxicating. Lindir whines in excitement again. Looks up at Thranduil with unfiltered adoration. Thranduil soaks it in before snapping: “Open your mouth.”

Lindir does without hesitation. Thranduil pulls himself out of his trousers in one deft motion and plunges straight into Lindir’s mouth up to the hilt. There’s no preamble, no pause before he starts to use his throat, holding Lindir’s head in place and fucking him.

The best part is that he doesn’t even look at Lindir while he’s doing it. Thranduil’s gaze is hazy with lust. He’s fully focused on how fucking good it feels having Lindir wrapped around his cock and he uses him as a tool to masturbate with, and it’s all Lindir can do to try to breathe, stay conscious, and not come all over Thranduil’s boots.

Thranduil finally takes mercy on him and pulls out. A trail of Thranduil’s own fluids and Lindir’s spit ties them together. Thranduil collects it and pushes it back into Lindir’s bruising mouth.

“All that time serving your lord, and still you have not learned how to properly suck cock?” Thranduil scolds coldly before driving back down into Lindir’s throat.

Lindir mewls, chokes, half-apologizes and tries to suck. It’s just that Elrond is so rarely this aggressive about it. Lindir doesn’t care. He’s so hard, leaking into his trousers, because it’s so utterly delicious the way Thranduil’s playing this and Lindir’s completely over the moon about it. He wants Thranduil to wreck his throat.

Thranduil comes down his throat without any sort of warning, filling him up. Lindir chokes on it, writhes, squirms, eyes pricking with tears at the way his throat constricts and his stomach rebels and his lungs scream for air. Thranduil just pins him there until Lindir’s vision blurs and flashes white and he’s floating.

When he comes back to his body, he’s still on his knees on the ground. He’s come straight into his trousers. He’s wet with it. Thranduil is circling him, cock already starting to harden again-- if he flagged at all.

The question comes to his mind, bright with sunlight and green growing things.

Color?

Thranduil. Lindir reaches out to say: Green. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.

Thranduil dives like a falcon and pushes him to the ground.

Lindir tries to crawl, to beg: “My king, please-- please. I have served you, let me go. I must return to my lord--”

He loves the way his voice sounds fucked-raw and weak, even to his own ears.

Thranduil drives his boot down into Lindir’s shoulder to stop him, pinning him to the floor like a butterfly to a corkboard. It’s going to bruise, Lindir thinks in delight. It’s going to bruise.

Thranduil says: “Oh, I am not done using you yet, pet.”

If he hadn’t come earlier when Thranduil was fucking his throat, then he could have come from this alone. Lindir shakes and presses his head to the carpet to muffle the intoxicated moan that slips out of him.

It’s even better when Thranduil keeps him there, immobilized on the rug on his stomach, and climbs on top of him. Lindir’s heart is racing so fast he can’t think, too possessed with lust while Thranduil all but rips his clothes off and finds the toy Lindir’s prepared himself with.

He took his time that morning, working himself open with as many fingers as he could fit. Filling his hole with lubrication. Working it in. Plugging it up. He wanted the fantasy: wanted Thranduil to simply take him. To shove inside without any care for Lindir’s own comfort.

Thranduil moans in his ear and pulls the toy free, and Lindir trembles, keeps squirming as something blunt and large presses against his hole.

Color? The question comes again.

Green! Lindir all but shouts back. Please. Please fuck me.

Thranduil covers his mouth with one large hand, pinching his nose shut, cutting off his air, and then shoves inside of him.

Lindir cries out into Thranduil’s hand: a sharp, delighted, tortured sound. Thranduil groans and sinks his teeth into Lindir’s ear as he starts to fuck him.

“You really are made for this,” he moans out, “See how your body sucks me in? It knows what you were made for.”

Lindir mewls and lets his head fall forward, screaming into Thranduil’s hand with each thrust Thranduil gives him, fingers curling in the rug just for something to hold onto. When Thranduil lets him go in favor of cuffing him by his hair, yanking his head back until the curve of his spine is almost painful, Lindir lets out another ruined whimper and manages: “Please-- ah! Please, my king--please-- it’s too much. It hurts--”

He feels Thranduil pause for just a millisecond. To reassure him, Lindir pushes his hips back toward him, driving himself back onto Thranduil’s cock.

Thranduil takes the hint and gives him a particularly rough thrust that wrenches a scream from Lindir’s throat.

“Do you think your pleasure matters to me?”

“No,” Lindir babbles back, bubbling with ecstasy because this is exactly how he imagined it-- but it’s so much better, so, so much better. “No, no I would not dare to presume--”

Thranduil bears his full weight down onto him. Smothering him. Wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing. “You are nothing,” he hisses out. “You’re just a toy. Just a sweet little set of holes to be used. You like that? You love it. Of course you do, you filthy wanton little creature.”

He hits that spot inside Lindir that makes stars burst across his vision. Makes his fingers go white-knuckled in the rug. Hits it again and again and again until Lindir dissolves into one boneless, endless cry of thank you, thank you, thank you and please come, please come inside me-- because he’s too far gone at this point to hold the scene. He’s so happy he could die. In this moment, Thranduil owns him, nothing else matters. He lets himself go limp, lets his mind blank out, becomes nothing but a sleeve for Thranduil to use until he comes. It’s what Thranduil deserves. He’s a mighty king of power, and Lindir knows his place.

The pleasure is starting to overtake him. Hot and unforgiving and perfect. His cock is trapped between his body and the rug and Thranduil won’t stop hitting that place inside of him, gripping him with fingers that are going to leave bruises in the shape of Thranduil’s hands and Lindir will be honored to wear those marks.

When Thranduil bursts inside Lindir a second time, that’s enough to tip Lindir over the edge into his next orgasm. Thranduil smothers the scream that follows, clamping his hand over Lindir’s mouth again and fucking him straight through it until Lindir’s writhing, shaking, and the friction is verging on pain.

Orange, he says.

Thranduil slows. Circles his hips. Nips the back of Lindir’s ear. He just stays like that a minute longer, seated inside of him, softening.

At last he pulls out. Then he spreads Lindir’s cheeks apart, inspecting his handiwork. Lindir moans and turns his head to the side, resting it against the floor, trying to imagine what it looks like: his hole dripping with Thranduil’s spend. He lets out another ruined sound. Elrond is going to see the marks later and it’s going to make him so possessive. He hopes Elrond will cover them with some marks of his own making.

“So pretty,” Thranduil muses.

Lindir’s fucked raw. Sore. Limp. He’s not sure he can scrape himself off of Thranduil’s floor even if Thranduil commanded him to.

Thankfully, Thranduil doesn’t. He peels Lindir upright himself and carries him straight into the royal bed like he doesn’t weigh a thing, drawing back the covers, tucking a pillow beneath his head. Then, he sits on the edge of it and traces a line over Lindir’s cheekbone with the crook of his finger.

The touch is gentle and infused with warmth. Lindir leans into it.

“Was I good for you?” he asks softly, voice hoarse.

“You were very good, sweet one,” Thranduil says softly. “You took it so well for me.”

Lindir makes a soft, euphoric noise in the back of his throat and lets his eyes flutter shut. He’s so happy.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“I must admit I enjoyed myself,” Thranduil says with that same almost wicked, fond half-smirk. “Thank you. You are such a divine creature. I do so enjoy making a mess of you.”

Lindir melts at the praise, hardly able to believe that Thranduil --of all people-- would say such a thing. “I want to do it again,” He mumbles sleepily. Not now, obviously. But he can already imagine how the scenario might go a second time. He’s already aching for it.

“Not now.” Thranduil sounds amused.

Lindir shakes his head in agreement.

Thranduil leaves him for a brief moment. Returns with a glass of water and a damp washcloth. He hikes Lindir upright and has him drink some water while he wipes him down, and it feels strange-- having a king look after him like this. But he supposes Thranduil really meant it: in this, they are equals.

He rests his head in the crook of Thranduil’s neck. Thranduil sets both the glass and the washcloth aside and holds him, stroking the curve of his spine.

“You did so well,” he reassures.

Lindir sighs, exhausted, too happy for words, body still humming from pleasure, blissfully sore in certain places. He opens his eyes and reaches down, tracing the shape of Thranduil’s handprints on his hips.

Thranduil’s hand joins his, soothing over the marks. He kisses Lindir’s hair, his cheek, then his mouth. Each kiss is soft, more tender than Lindir could imagine him to be.

Lindir drifts off to sleep still buttressed against Thranduil’s chest. The next thing he’s aware of, he’s clean. His hair has been braided back for him, and Thranduil is wrapped back up in one of his dressing gowns and setting a tray with some hot chocolate and various snacks on the table.

Lindir sits up. Thranduil shoots him that same smug smile. “Elrond mentioned you liked hot chocolate. Here,” he takes the steaming cup and passes it to him. Lindir takes it, sips, lets it warm him from the inside out. When he’s through with that and munched on a scone, he curls back up into Thranduil’s side.

Thranduil holds him without complaint, and lets him sleep.

#lindir #thranduil #the hobbit #thranduil fanfiction #lindir fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #spicy #not for the faint of heart #please heed the warnings

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meanead · 2 years

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I just cant get you out of my head 🎶

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sotwk · 4 months

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1st Day of Yule: “A Partridge in a Pear Tree”

Crown Prince Thranduil & Princess Maereth

Second Age 3430

Bar Lasgalen, Palace of the Crown Prince

In all his three and a half thousand years of existence, Thranduil was certain he had never before held anything so precious, so desperately in need of his protection, even while the tiny fist that clutched his forefinger already boasted of a strength that made his heart swell with wonder and pride.

He tugged the swaddling clothes up higher to sufficiently cover the newborn’s head, before stepping out into the balcony and the cold winter's night. He held the babe aloft for a moment, so that the legion of stars might meet and kiss his face with their light before fading into the dawn.

But something else, something less expected, greeted them in the morning twilight. From far off, unseen voices carried faintly across the sprawling, snow-covered palace grounds, singing in chorus a sweet hymn so old, as ancient as Eryn Galen’s trees, that even he could not understand all the words of the Nandorin blessing.

“Our people welcome you, ion nin.” Thranduil chuckled at the gurgle he received in response. Such keen curiosity shone in those wandering little eyes, that already sought to take in the wide world he had just entered!

Tonight they were given privacy and peace. Tomorrow, well-wishers will descend upon Bar Lasgalen and the great feasting will start. King Oropher had already declared and made arrangements for a kingdom-wide celebration in honor of his new grandchild. The heir to his heir, the future of his house, the scion of his line. It pleased Thranduil that his father had finally set aside his grievances concerning lineage and did not let it mar his excitement over the newborn prince.

Yet a persistent cloud cast a shadow of unease over Thranduil's boundless joy. His knowledge of the Darkness stirring in the lands beyond their realm weighed on him, more heavily now that he carried a priceless treasure in his arms. The enemy threats they thought they could dismiss as distant and outside of their concerns, suddenly felt too close and too real to him, too unsafe to ignore and leave unquelled.

As father and son retreated back into the warmth of the royal chambers, Thranduil sensed his wife stirring behind the sheer curtains of their canopied bed, waking from her much-needed rest.

“Can I bring you anything, Endanya? Are you hungry? Shall I send for food?” He did not doubt his wife’s great strength, but she had yet to properly eat after her long labor, and in the days leading up to the birth she would consume only the golden pears she craved, a rare fruit that grew in the valley of Imladris where she had previously lived. Elrond himself had sent baskets of it across the mountain to Eryn Galen, making time for this gesture of care even in the midst of a rising crisis. However well-intentioned, this kindness added to Thranduil's burden of obligation to their old friend.

“No, my love.” Maereth smiled and reached out with a hand that Thranduil immediately took inside his own. “I have everything I need right here.”

“I never imagined I could love anyone anywhere close to how much I love you,” Thranduil shifted his gaze from her lovely face to that of the infant that had now fallen back asleep, content in the curve of his arm. “But this one has firmly taken his place second in line.”

He knelt at his Queen's bedside to bring their son closer to her. Maereth brushed her hand lightly over the baby's head of fine hair, silver as the starlight, just like his.

“I will do everything in my power to protect you both,” the prince said suddenly. “To the last breath in my body, I will do what I must. I will not let any danger or evil come near either of you.”

He knew she understood his meaning, and that she believed him; she always did. But she squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“Leave those vows for the morrow, Melmenya,” she whispered. “For now, let us keep our thoughts on the gift we have been given. On Mirion.”

“Our Mirion,” Thranduil agreed, carefully returning the sleeping child to his mother's bosom. “Finally, a jewel I could agree is worth marching to war for.”

Yuletide Series MASTERLIST

Yule Event Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @fizzyxcustard @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @spacecluster @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell @acornsandoaktrees @warriormirkwood @emmanuellececchi

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intoxicated-chan · 5 months

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Hey hun saw your requests for the hobbit was open, can I request elrond? Now obviously reader is insecure cause elrond a fair bit older than her/him, and doesn't want elrond to see them as naive. Also the whole elves only love once drives a hard wedge. Do as you please let those creative juices flow like no tomorrow, have a great week hun❤️

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤? 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞?

Summary ➳ Ever since you learned how Elves truly ages, thoughts have been plaguing your mind, luckily Elrond is there to ease your thoughts.

(A/n) ➳ You have a wonderful week too! Thanks for requesting, if there is anything incorrect then please don’t be afraid to correct me. Thanks for reading!

Word Count ➳ 770

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, OOC Elrond, miscommunication? Insecurities, angst-to-fluff, pet names (Meleth nîn), mentions of the afterlife…

Arewn sat across from you, your eyes glued to the book you’d been studying for the past three weeks. You had asked her for a favor and she happily agreed without listening, she was very patient with you and didn’t question why you wanted to learn Elvish but she knew. It just made her happy you and her father were getting closer and closer. She hadn’t seen him happy for quite some time.

“What is the Elvish word for trust?” She asked, watching you closely as you tapped your finger on the wooden table and flipped through the pages. “It starts with an E.” She gave you a hint after a couple of moments of silence.

“E… E… Estel!” You spoke proudly, only for her to shake her head and laugh lightly. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s Estellio.” You huffed and closed the book, running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “You’ve been studying non-stop. I can see the dark circles that form under your eyes, I hear you through the halls. What’s wrong?”

You fumbled over your words, your eyes wandering around the room, and forming noncoherent sentences. Her hands come to clasp your hands together. “You know you can tell me anything? If you are having any troubles then you know I can take care of it.” She said rather sternly which was unusual for Arwen.

“It’s not like that.” You quickly corrected which made her relax. “I… I’m just worried about what Elrond thinks of me.”

“Why? Did something happen-” She froze for a moment. “You know he loves you. I know it. It may not be my place to say it but I know it’s true. But if you are thinking of this, please, talk to him. I know he will put your mind at ease.” She smiled.

Before you could say anything else in paranoia, she snatched the book from your reach and shoo’ed you off. You walked out of the library and slowly walked to your shared bedroom. A walk that usually took you no less than a few minutes to nearly a half hour.

You were trying to put the conversation to the side but remembered how smart Elrond was, then the next ten minutes were trying to find ways to bring it up with him. And with a deep breath, you entered the bedroom and saw him standing on the balcony of the room.

“M-Meleth nîn?” You whispered, your voice wavering slightly.

He turned to face you with a wide smile. “Your Elvish is getting better.” He walked towards you, wrapping his arms around you, and placed a kiss on your forehead. “We should celebrate, what do you think?”

“...Can we talk?” The seriousness in your voice was enough to startle him, but he collected himself and nodded. “Look, I need you to just listen until I finish, please?”

“Of course.”

“I know that Elves are immortal, and you lived so many more lives than me, more than I can count. And I’ve seen how proud you are of yourself, how everyone speaks so highly of you. It just makes me think that I’ll only be a memory.”

His hands come to your shoulder, tightly. “Is this how you feel?”

“I know I should’ve come to you immediately but I was scared.” You sobbed when he pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry.” You cried into his chest.

“Do not apologize, as someone who is supposed to be fairest and wisest, I let this go right past me. I should’ve known how this would affect you. Please, tell me anything, everything. I don’t want you to ever be afraid to speak your mind.”

“I know you love me, Elrond. But I’m just so scared of the future. For you. I don’t want you to see me as not as smart as you because of our differences.”

“My love for you is not desire or infatuation, and it will never be one-sided. You have done so much for me, and I would never deem you to be a memory if you were gone. I admire you so much, I am proud of you. Not everyone can master Elvish and even attempting is difficult. Please, do not let your worries affect how you feel. Come to me and we’ll talk.”

You closed your eyes and nodded, letting out a cracked okay under your breath. You held him close, tight, but no longer afraid or scared. You felt relaxed in his arms.

“I love you Elrond.”

“I love you too, (Y/n). Even in the afterlife, I’ll find you and continue to love you.”

#x reader #fluff #x gender neutral reader #elrond #elrond x reader #elrond x you #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader

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greypetrel · 10 months

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Iron Bull and I’m pretty sure you said Tolkien too?? If so, Elrond and Tommy Bombadilly —Koko

Hi Koko!

Somehow I knew you would have been asking Bull xP Just a sixth sense! And yes I said Tolkien to! :3

The Iron Bull:

First impression: I remember I was caught for the character design, the visible imperfections and how he's not canonically handsom... And yet he counts as he is. After the design, I was... A little taken aback by him admitting that oh yes he's a spy and he will spy on you. Like... What? Are you sure you want to tell me, man? xD Instant interest.

Impression now: I know he has flaws and that by all means he's the one person you shouldn't be trusting in all the games. But, he's the huge mom friend, which is also why he's so good at what he does if you ask me. I think he's the better liar because he will admit he's lying... And still will make you forget he is. But yeah, I haven't yet played with a character who wouldn't save the Chargers, and so he could go and live his best life free of being the biggest mother hen ever.

Favorite moment: He brought Dorian's handkerchief for him because he knows he would have forgotten. Big mother hen. No, also the way he just looks at Krem after his personal mission and just... "Never mind, you're doing fine". Basically, whenever he lets himself show he's a big big softie. Also him carrying Sera on his shoulders in battle, yelling "Mayhem!".

Idea for a story: As for Dorian, I'd love love love to write, sooner or later, some expansion of this ficlet and expand that dynamic. I'd also seriously love to read something about him and Krem learning to work together. Some Chargers origin story.

Unpopular opinion: Again, he's another character who doesn't betray you, in my opinion. Even if you sacrifice the Chargers, in Trespasser... He told you from the start he was a spy working for the Qun, right? He was always very open about him being Ben Hassrath, Gatt told you he was called "Liar". You know he lies. As much as you know that Varric lies. Bull's just better at making you forget but... Is it really a betrayal if you were told whose side he was really on from the start? If you were really told he never liked the Tal Vashoth as a concept, if you ask him about Seheron? Not a betrayal, you just forget he was never on your side, if you cut away the one reason he had to change his loyalties (yes I'm including if he's in a romance with either the Inquisitor or Dorian. I like his character so much because a romance is not enough to make him change his mind and become something he clearly say he hates. His men, the life he build for himself, relationships he grew in years are, and if you take that away... He may call you Kadan, you're still just one person and love is not enough on its own.)

Favorite relationship: Him and the Chargers, hands down. They were collectively his way to express himself and find himself and heal after the Horrors, and he's just... I don't know you can see he struggles to give back what he got and it's just so precious.

Favorite headcanon: Plus size, soft bellied Bull still lives rent free in my head. As above, Bull the mama hen taking care of the inner circle. I also still remember Bull the HR manager in Skyhold that @shivunin devised and I had to draw and... Yes.

Elrond:

First impression: I remember I was suspicious of him at first because I already saw the Matrix, and he was the villain, so at 9 I thought that he must have been evil there too. xD

Impression now: I have distinct opinions on book and movie Elrond. I love the first trilogy dearly, but amongst the choices they did I like less and less, the "Let's make Elrond a helicopter dad" is the one that leaves me MEH. But that's on me, the "star-crossed lovers" is a trope that I have extremely little patience for. Still the way he just looks at Aragorn in Minas Tirith, moved and in happy tears... Aaaaaw. I love him I LOVE HIM. and I love how he was written in Rings of Power, give me more Elrond content please, he has so much to give as a character, think of what he has seen!

Favorite moment: The patience and restraint he showed in not kicking Isildur in the volcano with a vengeance. Respect, bro, I would have tossed the jock right into cursing his name and calling him for the asshole that he is. And in Rings of Power, the heart-to-heart talks he has with Durin.

Idea for a story: More Elrond being the weird uncle for Durin and Disa's children. More Elrond dealin with three children on his own. More Elrond and Elros dealing with what the fuck happened to his parents Oh ok now mom is a seagull that's... fine.

Unpopular opinion: I like a lot how he was portrayed in Rings of Power. Yes included his haircut, let him have his Patrick Schwayze phase.

Favorite relationship: Him and Arwen and him and Durin.

Favorite headcanon: We all know he's a big softie when it comes to his children, right? And to children in general. I picture Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen doing shenanigans when they were little, and him... Just sighing and telling them to go to their room, totally unable to even go as far as grounding them. Arwen looked at him with those big blue eyes and he just... Couldn't do anything else.

Tom Bombadil:

First impression: Hey dol, Merry dol! / Ring a dong dillo 🎶 I think I wasn't really understanding what was going on, but I was 9 and I enjoyed the little shenanigan with this weird person who had a wife he loved and sung a catchy song. I didn't question him that much.

Impression now: Still as above, I like him being there, just to show the Hobbits that the world isn't all dark and evil, there is something good to fight for. LOTR is about hope and finding hope when everything around you is dark, and he just does that. If you just go with the flow and don't question him much, take him as just "a quirk", there are some lovely descriptions to be found and a lovely, lovely way to see nature. (which again, is such an important theme in Tolkien's work!)

Favorite moment: That fucking catchy song stays in my head for LONG. Right now I'm humming it. Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo! 🎶

Idea for a story: A meeting between him and the Ents. Which will be... 1000 pages of nothing at all. But come on. It'll be fun.

Unpopular opinion: As above, he's not evil incarnate and pointless in the story. He's a moment of breath with the purpose to remember that the world isn't all scary and that there is some mystery to behold, that doesn't require an explanation, that would make everything worse if he was explained.. There's good and there's light... And there's always something to look at in wonder in the world.

Favorite relationship: He and Goldberry are the ultimate couple.

Favorite headcanon: I think I read somewhere a theory according to whom he's really a Valar? I think he was Aule and Goldberry Yavanna in disguise? Well, Tom Bombadil a Valar is an headcanon I stan. I don't remember where I read it or if my brain made it up right now, but still. (... I could keep the idea for my fic tho. MMMMMH.)

#characters opinion meme #dragon age #lotr #the iron bull #elrond #tom bombadil #look at me defending Tom Bombadil on main

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