#thranduil remembering his wife
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That time in the BOTFA where they went through characters mourning the loss of/suffering separation from their loved ones and then they just cut to Bilbo sitting by himself, looking like THIS.
#look at him!#he looks so dead#he's mourning the loss of his husband#who just died IN HIS ARMS#i cant#bilbo baggins#thorin oakenshield#bagginshield#I SHIP IT#the hobbit#botfa#lotr#tolkien#first they had tauriel with kili#legolas leaving tauriel#thranduil remembering his wife#and then THIS#and then this
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Winter Gem
Thranduil x Female Elf Reader
Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort
Word Count: 1.8k
Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.
A/N: For @firelightinferno
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist
“The first snows have arrived.”
“It has come early.”
Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”
You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.
“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.
“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”
His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”
You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.
“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.
“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.
Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.
Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.
In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.
“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”
You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.
It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.
Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.
While tracking, he lost something precious.
Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.
He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.
This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.
Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.
Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.
As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.
Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.
Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.
“Found you.”
The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.
The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.
Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.
Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.
Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.
The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.
You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.
You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.
And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.
As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.
You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.
A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.
There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.
“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.
“I found you, my star.”
There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.
You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.
Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.
“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.
Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.
“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.
“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.
You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”
Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”
The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”
Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”
“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.
“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.
Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.
He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”
“Thranduil—”
“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”
You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”
“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”
Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”
“Never.”
“Will you hold me?”
“For as long as you like.”
taglist:
@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom
#thranduil#thranduil x reader#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x you#thranduil imagine#thranduil fluff#thranduil fanfic#thranduil fic#thranduil x female reader#thranduil x f!reader#thranduil x fem!reader#the hobbit fanfic#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit fic#the hobbit imagine#the hobbit thranduil#lotr fluff#lotr fic#lotr fanfic#lotr fanfiction#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings fanfic#lord of the rings fanfiction#the hobbit movies
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The Kings plaything - Part 2/2
Summary: After the dwarves have been imprisoned, Thranduil wants to take care of his wife, but gets interrupted by their escape. After deciding to come to their aid at the reclaiming of Erebor, he finally gets to have his wife, more than once...
Word count: 11965
Warnings: smut, rough, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, oral both receiving, gem play, dirty talk, slight BDSM, slight battle descriptions, Minors DNI this contains adult content!
Part 1:
“You know what I was thinking about?” My husband asked, still holding me tightly to his chest in the bathtub. It was a big bathtub, embedded in the ground, big enough for me not to fully reach the ground, or touch the edges, when I was in the middle.
Letting my head roll back on his shoulders, I opened my body further to his touches. “That you are incredible greedy and cant let go of your wife?” I teased, watching his hands roam over my body. He chuckled at my words, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “Something of that sort, yes.” He answered, his voice nearly drowned out from my moan. “But it does not seem to be a complaint of yours.”
“The day I complain about your touches, is the day I have reached insanity.” I simply stated, pressing my back against his body. “Promising words to hear from your mouth, little petal.” He murmured into my ear. I turned around, straddling him. His eyes twitched, when my core touched his hard member, the light in his blue orbs turning lustful. “What is it, that crossed your mind, herven?”
“Remember what the dwarf said?” He asked, a sly smirk on his lips.
“He said a lot.” I simply stated, raising an eyebrow at my husbands antics. The smirk on his lips just grew bolder, reaching his eyes. “That he did… But I was referring to the idea he gave me.” Thranduil whispered lowly, still not clarifying what he meant.
“An idea of what sorts?” I pressed on. Thranduil just lifting me up, until I sat on the stone edge of the tub. Luckily the floor was warm, heated through a complicated system of hot water running below.
I looked at my husband confused, who stood in the water, covered up to his chest. His hair neatly pinned to his head with needles and rods, he looked at me. Lifting himself out of the water, he walked through the room towards his little secret wardrobe where he kept his most worn jewels. I watched as the water ran down his body in little droplets, the sun reflecting in everyone of them, giving my husband an even more ethereal look. He turned around holding something in his hands.
Letting himself sink into the water, he walked up to me, putting something on my stomach. I gasped in shock, realizing what it was. It was one of his bigger white gemstones that he usually wore on a clasp. He must have taken it off and now it was roughly the size of two or three curled fingers. “You are mad!” I breathed out, watching the grin form on my husbands face in shock.
“Maybe.” He admitted. “Lean back, meleth.” Softly pushing me back down, his eyes raking over my body. Shaking my head, I sunk back. If my husband had set his mind upon something, there was almost nothing that could force him away from his path. And only seconds later, I could feel the cold stone press against my folds and making its way into my body. It was a weird but fulfilling feeling, and I let out a soft gasp.
“Spread your legs.” Thranduil softly ordered, his fingers ghosting over my body. I did what he wanted, now laying fully open for him to see. Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched him. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered, touching every inch of my body. “So, so beautiful…” Then his gaze wandered to my face. “I will have someone make more gemstones for you to wear.”
“I already have so many.” I argued, but he shook his head. “I am not talking about those, little petal.” A sly smirk sunk on his features, the arrogance in his eyes nearly swallowing me whole.
A sudden knock on the door made his head snap around. Heaving himself out of the water, he wrapped a cloak around him, answering the door, without opening it too far. “What?” His sharp tone made even me flinch and I felt sorry for whatever soldier had to endure his wrath now…
“I am so sorry, my king. But… But the dwarves. They have escaped.” Came the silent voice from Feren and I rose to my feet as well. The stone sitting inside me, now weighing down, threatening to fall out of me. I clenched my walls, slowly walking towards my cloak to get dressed as well. After I was dressed decent enough, I joined my husband at the door, then pressing out to take a seat in one of the chairs to find some sort of relief. Sitting down however was another story, because the new position caused the stone to massage my walls again.
Just fast enough to suppress a moan, I listened in on Feren explaining what had happened. The longer he talked, the more the expression on my husband changed from annoyed to amused, until he even wore a small grin on his lips. “That filthy little hobbit…” He murmured, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I just tilted my head. “Seems like they are very persistent in getting back that mountain. We might as well grand them some aid.”
Thranduil sighed deeply at my words: “We shall see if they manage to get to the mountain and then we shall decide whether to come to their aid or not.” I didn’t complain about his statement, knowing that this was the closest I would get him right now to grand anything. Feren looked at me with a smirk, silently shaking his head. I just winked at him, knowing full well that he was mostly amused by the way I simply held Thranduil in check.
***
It did indeed not take long until we received word of the dwarves reclaiming Erebor, unleashing the fire of Smaug upon the small village of Laketown. That’s when I raced to my husband, finding him already discussing details with Feren. “Herven…” I breathed out, sucking in the air into my lungs from my long race. “The dwarves… Laketown… It got destroyed. We must help.” Thranduil quickly rushed towards me, taking the scroll out of my hand and steadying my body. “Careful, meleth. Please sit down. We are already discussing how to help them.”
I gladly took the chair and water that I was brought, then taking a look on the map and all the little figures standing in to represent war strategics. It did indeed not take us long to figure out what to do, most of the work already having been done by my husband and Feren before I even reached them.
And when Thranduil gave the orders to his people to get ready, I also rushed towards our chambers, packing my armor and spare clothes as well as my weapons. “Ithil, what are you doing?” The voice of my husband interrupted me in my doings and I turned around, two daggers in my hand. “I am getting ready to accompany you.” A soft smile spread across his lips. “No you don’t. You have to stay here and rule the kingdom while I am gone.”
I shook my head. “You know that’s not happening. Through good and bad. Remember?” Turning, I kept on packing my things, until his warm arms wrapped around me, holding my hands in place. “I will not let any harm come to you.” But I interrupted him: “You said yourself it would be easy to reclaim those jewels. What are you fearing that you are not telling me, herven?”
“Nothing my dear. I just want to spare you from the sights of a battle field.” He argued back, loosening his grip around me. I turned in his arms. “I have had a life before you. I have seen battle. Let me ride with you. We both know that I am a good fighter. Not as great as you, but I can take on your son with ease.”
He smiled at those words, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more for me to convince him. “It is true that you can stand against my son, but still…”
“No buts, herven. I will accompany you and that’s my last word.”
Sighing deeply, he shook his head, letting go of me. “As you wish, meleth. Just promise me to stay at my side and be careful.” I kissed him on his chest, not reaching much higher with him standing at full height of nearly 7ft. “I always am. We don’t want you to succumb back to your cold self, do we?” He raised an eyebrow, bending down to me: “A kiss to the chest is all I get after letting you accompany me into battle? I think I deserve way more than that.”
Seeing the jest in his eyes, instead of giving him a real kiss, I sunk to my knees. “I think you do. How about you make me show you how good I am at following your orders?” Looking at him through my lashes, I started to softly palm his cock through the fabric, feeling him already growing hard under my touch. Thranduils smile grew wicked, but he kept his composure: “Would this have been your last resort if I had not agreed to you riding with me?” I tilted my head, slowly opening the strings of his pants. “Maybe. Who knows…?”
“Open your mouth!” He growled and I did what I was told. He easily held my head while he pushed his member down my throat, beginning to fuck my mouth in a slow teasing pace. His thrusts were controlled but hard, making me gag, but I managed to suppress the urge to vomit. “By Valar… You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock, pin iell. Taking your kings cock so obediently down your throat.” I let out a strangled moan and clutched the hand that held my head.
“You like this, do you?” He teased, shoving my head down on his cock until my nose was pushed against his pelvis. “Sucking on my cock like the greedy little whore you are, serving me as the good girl I trained you to be. I should really take you in front of others more often. It seems to make you even more obedient than I thought it would.” Ripping my head back, he allowed me to breathe, the sudden overflow of air making my head spin and I had to close my eyes to regain some control.
“Look at me!” A sharp pain shot through my cheek and I opened my eyes again. Instantly my body screamed for more, the pleasure of the pain immediately shooting down to my core. I closed my eyes again, not before winking at him. I felt his hand land on my cheek again, forcing a mewled sound to leave my mouth. “Don’t tell me you like this…” He muttered in shock, the grasp in my hair softening a bit. I looked away in shame. “I do… More than I should…”
“Fuck…” He growled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know… I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think of me badly. What you give me is already enough, I didn’t want to sound greedy and demanding…” Whispering, I looked to the floor, not finding the strength to stand under his gaze. His demeanor completely shifted after my confession, a soft stroke to my cheek making me look up to him, nearly being kicked out of reality by the love and passion in his blue hues. “You never have to feel guilty about asking me for something, you hear my meleth? I wish to fulfill any desire of you, please don’t deny me that honor.” His smile grew cocky with his next words: “Besides, I love my wife to be greedy and insatiable. It brings great pleasure to me, knowing that you love to be taken and used…”
I just stared at him, my mind reeling over the things I wanted to say, but I was incapable of wording my thoughts. Thranduil just cocked his head, the grip on my head growing stronger again. “Tell me, little starlight. Do you want me to be rougher with you. Use you even more to my pleasure?”
“Yes…” I whimpered silently, not bringing the strength to speak up. He tapped my lips with his thumb. “Yes what?”
“Yes, my king. I want you to use me. To be your little whore. That you take me at your will, please, herven. Have me.” I begged, my eyes conveying the desperate need I felt pooling between my legs. He hesitated for a moment, but then he used his forefinger and thumb to squeeze my mouth open, thrusting back down my throat without a warning.
A moan escaped me, as he picked up fucking my mouth to his pleasure. This time he was rougher, holding my head in place with one hand, while the other wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Drool started to drip down my chin and I tried to breath through my nose. His cock kept thrusting deep into my throat, causing me to gag, but he didn’t care. “Just like that. Be my little slut.” He praised me, his head rolling back on his shoulders.
I hummed with pleasure at his words, feeling the wetness pool between my legs, surely making a mess inside my pants. Thranduils movements were methodical and strong, barely giving me any room to relax or breathe, but it felt way to good for me to complain. The feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue the salty taste of his precum showing his pleasure. I felt like I was in heaven. But it was over way to quickly. Pulling me back from his cock, he pulled me to my feet handling me through the room and bending me over a shelf that was at my hips height.
Pushing me down on the wooden surface, he arched my back, forcing me to turn my head and look at him. “If you keep that work up, I wont be able to please you, bereth.”
“Yes please…” I whimpered, getting up on my toes to give him a better angle to thrust into my pussy. “Take me, please, just take me. I need you herven.” He didn’t need to be told twice, without a warning, he forced my knees apart and thrusted into me. I cried out in shock and pleasure as my walls were stretched so unexpectedly, but Thranduil didn’t react. Forcefully he pushed my hips into the position he wanted me to be in and held me down.
“If you are begging me to take you, you better live with the consequences.” He growled into my ear, setting a reckless pace. “You will take what I give you, like the good little whore you are. And you don’t come until I allow you to, understand?”
“Yes, my king.” I whimpered, trying to flee his hard grip, but there was nowhere to go but just take it. Tears started to form in my eyes once more, running down my cheeks. But Thranduil didn’t even think about giving me any mercy. “You brought this upon yourself. Now be a good girl and let me use you. You know your safe words, use them if you want out, but don’t think your crying will make me feel sorry.” He hissed close to my ear, giving my hair a harsh tug, so that I had to arch my back even further.
The new angle allowed him to fuck me deeper and much more intimately than before, making me see stars in seconds. His grip tightened around my hip, once he felt myself spasm around his cock, keeping me on my toes, while his hand in my hair kept my upper body pressed against his chest. The position was anything but comfortable and yet it gave me a kind of relief that I had never experienced before.
“Im mel cin.” He whispered into my ear. “More than anything in the world, you hear me?” I whimpered as a response, pressing myself even closer to him. His utter dominance leaving me breathless and overwhelmed and I hadn’t even realized how fucked out my body already was. But Thranduil just kept talking in the sweetest voice to me, while he literally took advantage of my body and his strength compared to mine. “You are the best thing that happened to me in my life. And I will never let any harm come to you. I have promised to protect and love you with all my heart and lightening shall strike me if I ever deviate from that path. Nothing shall ever come between us, my little starlight.”
I couldn’t help the emotional wave that his words triggered, beginning to cry uncontrollably in his arms, as my body continued to react to his touch. The cliff between emotional relieve and physical desire completely throwing me of my course. My legs began to give in, as my whole body started to shake and spasm, walls flickering around his cock uncontrollably. “Thranduil… Please…” I pressed out, incapable of formulating a straight sentence, as my orgasm approached me in big steps.
To my luck, he understood what I wanted from him, loosening the grip on my hair. Slowly he let me sink down onto the shelf, stroking my back with soft little touches. “Go on, meleth. Come for me. Let me feel that pussy grip my cock while you scream my name.” As soon as the words left his mouth, I broke. My orgasm shook me to the core, his name ringing through the room in a mixture of scream and moan. I tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing besides the wood I was pressed upon and his hand gently drawing shapes on my back.
Thranduil didn’t even seem like he had enough, he kept thrusting into me at the same pace as before, still holding me down with one hand. Now his free hand wandered to my throat, playing with it. “Open up for me.” He growled silently and I could hear the strain in his voice indicating that he did indeed hold back for me. Opening my lips, I let him force down his long digits into my throat, so far that it made me involuntarily gag. His fingers were long enough to cut the airflow to my lungs, leaving me breathless once again, as the tingly feeling in my core rose again.
At varying intervals, he took his fingers out of my throat and shoved them back down again, controlling the way I breathed and how much air I was allowed. My vision grew blurry and I started to perceive everything else more intensely and if he knew it, he let go of my hips, hugging it and pressing two fingers on my clit. He turned my head with his fingers in my mouth, forcing me to look at him, as he began to teasingly paint little circles on my most sensitive spot, grinning down at me like a predator. I began to spasm around his cock once again.
“Fuck… How I love this…” He murmured, his jaw clenching in determination. “The way your body reacts to me… How it twitched underneath me, no chance to avoid me. It makes me hard just thinking about that, but feeling it… That is so much better. And those very little moments are everything to me. Give me the uttermost satisfaction that I own you and all I have to do to have this pleasure is give one single command and you will kneel in front of me, ready to take what I give you.” He was visibly affected by his actions, sweat dripping from his forehead. His breathing was shallow and I wondered for a short moment, how he was still able to keep his pace and speak to me that powerfully.
I whimpered against his fingers in my mouth, bucking against his hips. “Take it easy, myril. I will guide you.” He whispered and I did. Letting go completely, I only focused on the feelings he made me feel. That hot ache in my stomach slowly spread through my body, taking hold of every string of my being. I clenched around his member, the air deprivation leaving its traces, causing him to momentarily lose the rhythm of his fingers.
Although his movements had lost their methodical rhythm, he was still able to hit my sweet spot and in conjunction with his fingers, that drove me further up the cliff to my orgasm. When he pulled back his fingers once more, I begged: “Please… Thranduil… I need to come. Please. I cant hold it anymore. Please let me come.” Without answering, he slowly pushed his fingers back down my throat, not letting his gaze slip away from my eyes. I was caught by his blue hues, pulled into his soul as he spoke to me with the softest of voices I had ever heard: “Now, meleth. Come now. One last time.”
I closed my eyes, letting the orgasm wash over my body. Whimpering and twitching I came undone again. I was completely drained, mentally as well as physically. Collapsing down onto the shelf, I wasn’t able to hold me up again, only his arm around my waist keeping me in place. With the last mental capacity, I felt him twitch inside of me, pouring his seed deep into my pussy, while he leaned over me, smothering my back and neck with gently little kisses. “Thank you, meleth. You did so well. Took me so so good.” He whispered into my ear, before he carefully pulled out and let me sink to the ground.
Then he picked me up, holding me close to his chest, while he walked towards the bathroom. “Lets get you cleaned up and relaxed one last time, before we leave for battle.”
I sat in front of Thranduil, securely wrapped inside his cloak on his elk Moose. We were riding through the ruins of Dale. The golden armor of the elven soldiers shining in the bright winter sun. Suddenly there was movement in one block, a slight rift being made for a darkhaired well looking man to step through. He eyed the elves around him carefully, making his way through the soldiers. Stopping in front of him, he looked at my husband: “My lord Thranduil. We did not look to see you here.”
“I heard you needed aid.” Thranduil said, pointing towards the wagon with food behind him. Quickly the hungry and traumatized faces around us lit up, making a ring around the food to get their fair share. I couldn’t help but feel horrible to see so many people in need, only able to imagine the horrors they must have faced. I jumped down from Moose, instantly regretting it, as the cold made its way through my thick robes. Climbing on the wagon myself, I started to give out food, much to the surprise of my people and Thranduils amusement.
“You have saved us. I do not know how to thank you.” I heard the dark haired man say. But my husband, the stiff man he was around others dismissed his gratitude rather quickly: “Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine. There are stones in that mountain that have been stolen from me.” With a nod of his head, he ordered his army to march towards the mountain, riding Moose with his people.
The other man ran behind my husband, calling out for him: “Wait. Please wait!” Thranduil did indeed stop, turning his head ever so slightly towards the human next to him. “You would go to war over a handful of gems?”
Without looking at him, Thranduil answered: “The heirlooms of my people are not likely forsaken.”
“We are allies in this.” The man pleaded, rougher this time. “My people also have a claim over the riches of this mountain. Let me speak with Thorin.” That made Thranduils head turn and even though I was not able to see his face, I knew the questioning look on his face far to well. “You would try to reason with the dwarf?”
“To avoid war? Yes.” Came the simple answer.
***
Some time later, I found myself in Thranduils tent, desperately wrapping his cloak around my shoulders to find at least some warmth against the cold air. Usually elves weren’t as affected by the cold than humans were, so my husband quickly gave me his robes when he saw me freezing. But I was an exception to that. My long life in Rivendell making me rather fragile against the cold. “Meleth.” Thranduil pleaded. “You should have stayed home.”
“And let you ride to war alone? Nonsense. I will grow accustom to this weather. I am an elf after all. This should not bother me to that extent it does.” I argued back, earning a low huff from my husband. Our discussion was quickly interrupted, before he could retort anything. Gandalf and the human man that I learned to be Bard stepping inside the tent.
“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming. The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You are all in mortal danger!” Gandalf thundered through the tent, making me, Bard and even Thranduil flinch at his words. Bard stepped forward. “What are you talking about?”
“I can see you know nothing of wizards.” My husband rose from his seat. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm.” He handed a goblet of wine to Bard and then to me, before he poured himself one as well. “But sometimes, a storm is just a storm.” He said, looking Gandalf straight into the eyes.
“Not this time.” The old wizard held against. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”
“You should listen to him.” I threw in, watching my husband over the edge of my goblet. He sighed, walking closer to me. Bard suddenly snapped his head around, looking at me, as if he was only now realizing, I was in the tent as well. “And who are you?” He asked, a curious look on his face. “Clearly no elf. You are far to small. But you are not one of my people. I know them all by name.” I chuckled as his words, striking aside the high collar of my husbands cloak that hid my ears.
“I am an elf.” I answered holding out my hand. “Elanore. Thranduils wife.” Bard stared at me with wide eyes, bowing his head rather than taking my hand. “Your majesty. I am sorry. I did not know…” I interrupted him. “Fear not, my friend. How could you? I have never been to your lands, nor have you been to mine.” Taking my hand, Bard offered me a smile, that was soon disrupted, by Thranduil grabbing me and simply pulling me into his arms. “Why show his hand now?” My husband asked, turning back to Gandalf, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and arrogance.
“Because we forced him. We forced him, when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” Gandalf said, walking out of the tent, expecting us to follow him. “Azog the defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control over the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies. Its strategic position.” We were now standing on a small platform, watching over the mountain. A harsh wind howling through the ruins around us. “This is the gateway of reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again… Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire. Even Gondor itself will fall.”
My face contorted in fear, thinking of Elrond and Arwen and all the other elves I once called my people. My husband was a bit better in keeping his face in check, but I knew from the look in his eyes that he was also very fearful of what was about to become. “This orc armies you are speaking off, Mithrandir. Where are they?” Gandalf just sighed deeply, his eyes giving answer enough.
***
“Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I am trying to do?” Gandalf and Thranduil where discussing for a while now and I had retreated to the fire of the tent, not really wanting to take part in it.
“I am thinking you are trying to save your dwarves friends. And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not persuade me from my course. You started this Mithrandir; you will forgive me if I finish it.” Then he walked out of the tent. “Are the archers in position?”
“Yes, my lord.” An elven commander stepped in front of my husband, who stood there rigid as ever. “Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it.” The Commander left in a hurry, Thranduil mumbling to himself: “The dwarves are out of time.”
“Herven!” I intervened. “You can not just kill them!” Rising from my seat next to the fire, I stepped towards him, but he was unmoving: “I can and I will. They have been offered help and a treaty. And still. They fled our borders, spat on my late wife, and insulted you in front of all my people. I will not have them disregard my warnings and not pay the prize for it.”
“You heard what Gandalf said! War is coming. We should stand together. Fight the army of orcs and then we can discuss the matter of those stones.” I pleaded, but to no avail. Thranduil simply scoffing, before he wanted to speak again.
But a little hobbit racing into the tent, interrupted him: “If you think, the dwarves will surrender, they wont. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”
Gandalfs eyes lit up: “Bilbo Baggins.”
But my husband just threw a look at the hobbit that would have scared the fiercest of men. “If I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” Taking a seat, he signaled me to come over, propping me up on his lap. I watched, as Bilbo looked to the floor in a mixture of sheepish naivety and regret. “Yes…” He gritted out. “Sorry about that.” Bard and Gandalf wore a smile on their lips, and I could help myself but giggle.
“I came to give you this.” Bilbo said, stepping forward and opening up a leather package. Inside of it there was a stone of the size of a fist, sparkling and glowing by itself. Thranduil rose from his seat again, holding me close to him, as he inspected the offer in front of him. “The heart of the mountain. The kings jewel.”
Bard stepped next to him. “And worth a kings ransom. How is this yours to give?” He asked looking at Bilbo, who just shrugged as if it was not a big deal. “I took it as the 14th share of my treasure.”
“Why would you do this?” Bard pressed further. “You owe us no loyalty.”
“I am not doing it for you.” Bilbo shook his head. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pig headed and difficult. Suspicious and secretive with the worse manners you can possible imagine, but they are also brave, and kind and loyal to a fault. I have grown very fond of them and I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you what you are owed. There would be no need for war.”
Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, a silent agreement being formed between the two men.
***
The next morning, I found myself on a horse, clothed in armor. My sword and bow weighing heavily on my body, as I stood besides Thranduil. Suddenly another army appeared behind us. Orders being yelled in Khuzdul. Thranduil quickly turned Moose around riding through the path that was created by his soldiers. I followed him as fast as I could. “Ribo i thangail!” He yelled, ordering them to form a second shield wall towards the back.
Immediately the army moved in their positions in unison, shielding itself against the outside. I was now next to my husband, facing the dwarf that came riding towards us on his war pig. “Ai, Thorin. Ironfoot has come.” He yelled out, waving his hammer above his head. “Good morning. How are we all?” The dwarf asked, stopping a bit away from us on the slope of the hill on top of a big stone. “I have a proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider, just vanishing? All of you! Right now!”
“Stand fast!” Bard ordered his people that were standing between the elven lines.
“Come now, lord Dean.” Gandalf began, walking towards the dwarven Lord.
“Gandalf the grey…” He was greeted. “Tell this rubble to leave, or I will water the ground with their blood.” Gandalf did not stray from his path, angrily hitting his walking stick on the ground. “There is no need for war between dwarfs, men and elves. Aliened orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down.”
“I will not stand down before any elf.” Dean answered. “Certainly not before that faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he choses to stand between me and my kin, I will split his pretty head open. See if he is still smirking then!” Turning around his pig, he rode back to his army and I couldn’t help myself but laugh. “You have to leave it to them. Their insults are quite the charmer.”
Thranduil just rolled his eyes, but I could see his lips twitch a bit. “Let them advance. See how far they get.” In the distance Dean turned on his pig: “You think I would give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy eared princess? I have heard how you prefer to fuck your wife rather than help my kin. You hear that, lads? We are on! Lets give these bastards a good hammering!” His army yelling war cries in Khuzul over the distance.
Thranduil signaled his army to march, riding towards Bard: “Stand your men down, I will deal with Ironfoot and his rubble.” Before us the dwarven army split a horde of goats riding to the front. “Prepare your bows!” Thranduil yelled, the elves drawing their weapons in unison. I as well aimed for the dwarves, even though I did not really want to fight them. But the goats came rushing towards us with full speed. “Shoot!” Came the order from my husband, and I let the first arrow fly through the air, followed by the many others of my people.
Dean yelled something in Khuzul and several rotating arrows made their way, slicing ours in the air and forcing us back when the hit the ground. “How do you like that, you old twidledy whirlies?”
And then the war began. The army sorted itself new, building a shield front behind which I steered my horse around, looking out for a better angle to shoot. But all of the sudden, the floor began to rumble in the distance. Everyone stopped their fights, turning to look at the hill. And what I saw made my blood freeze on the spot. Wereworms I thought to myself. Watching in fear as the big long tentacles burst through the grounds.
The orc horn ringing from the Ravenhill was signaling the arrival of Azog the defiler. “Come forth, my armies!” Azog yelled in the black speech. His words alone sending shivers down my spine. The dwarves immediately turned their back on us, facing the new enemy with great fierceness. I looked at my husband, who just staired at the hill in disbelief and I knew he was not able to give orders. “Pada godref! Dag i glam!” I yelled, riding with the dwarves as well. The elven army immediately started to move, racing after the dwarfs and the battle of the five armies began.
***
At the side of Thranduil we searched through the Ravenhill, turning every body to see, if it was Legolas. Suddenly he came walking around a corner, stopping when he saw us. But I couldn’t help myself. Racing towards him, I pulled the taller elf into a hug, forcing him to bend down to accommodate my arms. “Legolas!” I yelled out. “I was worried sick. I thought… I thought you were dead…” Crying into his shoulder I held him closely not wanting to let go of him. He patted my back awkwardly. “Its alright, naneth. I am alive. There is nothing you need to worry about.”
“Nothing I need to worry about?” I let go of him, smacking him across the head. “You left to accompany the dwarves. No letter, no warning nothing. And the next thing I hear is you scouting out Dol Guldur with Tauriel and fighting here against Borg. There is quite a lot I had to worry about! Speaking of Tauriel. Where even is she?”
That made Legolas look to the side and I feared the worse. “She is out on the platform.” Was all he said, before he walked passed me, slowing in front of his father. “I cannot go back. At least not for a while.” Thranduils shoulders tensed, the blue eyes filling with worry and regret: “Where will you go?”
Legolas stopped and turned back to look at us: “I do not know.”
“Go north. Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father Arathorn was a good man, his son might grow to be a great one.” My husband turned, reaching out for my hand, pulling me to his side as comfort. Legolas smiled sadly while looking at us, before he averted his gaze: “What is his name?”
“He is known in the wild as strider. His true name, you must discover for yourself.” Watching as Legolas walked away, I nudged my husband, who immediately got the hint. “Legolas, you mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.” Stiffly bowing towards his son, he nearly missed the outreached hand of Legolas. I shoved my husband closer, making the two man shake hands, before Thranduil pulled his son in for a hug. “Come back to us when you are ready.” He whispered and I could hear the pain in his voice.
“I will. But not in the near future. Tauriel… I… I need distance.” Legolas answered, before he let go of his father, looking me in the eyes. “Thank you, naneth. Take care of him.”
“I will.” Was all I could press out, before the tears overtook my body, springing from my eyes in silent pain. Thranduil bowed his head, his eyes also filled with tears, but he held them back, hiding his face in my hair, hugging me closely. We cherished each others comfort for a while, before my hearing picked up the faint sobs of a female.
“Tauriel.” I murmured, stepping out of my husbands arms and following the noises. Thranduil was hot on my heels and soon we stumbled upon Tauriel, sitting besides one of the dwarves that were captured by us some time ago. “I want to burry him.” She said, her voice laced with pain and anger.
“Yes.” Thranduil answered her request, lowering his head.
“If this is love, I do not want it.” Tauriel whispered, looking up at my husband with the uttermost pain in her eyes. “Take it from me. Please. Why does it hurt so much?”
Approaching her slowly, Thranduil bowed his head, his voice a soft tenor, trying his best to soothe her pain: “Because it was real.”
That made her head rise again, her expression changing from painful to confusion, to realization and back to pain again. She bent down, pressing her lips on the dead dwarf, before a sad smile crossed her face, sniffling away the tears. Not really knowing what to do, I stayed in the background, watching as my husband knelt down beside her, offering to carry the dwarf down himself.
Weeks later, after the ranks of dwarfs, elves and humans slowly started to find back into their normal life’s, a letter from Elrond reached me and Thranduil. His daughters 2743th birthday was coming up. Lord Elrond had invited us to not only celebrate his daughter but also the reclaiming of Erebor. He even invited those of the fellowship, that survived the battle.
It was the first blossom of spring breaking over Rivendell, so I gladly took the opportunity to dress down on the layers of fabrics I had to wear over the course of winter. Much to the joy of my husband as it seems, because he had a special dress made for me. Another see-through silken dress, this time with a dark green touch to it. For the human and dwarven eye, it might seem modest, but I knew that elven eyes would be very aware of the transparent fabric. It had a deep plunge neckline as always only held in place by a corset, the skirt fanning out in many single trains overlapping to keep me covered but to allow easy access.
Knowing full well that my husband not only picked this dress with a purpose for his own pleasure, but to also show off what he possessed, I wore the dress with pride. It was a silently accepted fact, that neither him nor I were exactly private about our relationship and the course it had taken. Nobody talked about it, but everyone gossiped.
When it was time for the feast to start, Thranduil guided me down the paths of Rivendell. We had arrived the day prior to get accustomed to the new realm and that I could get ready in peace for the great day. I hated being stressed, especially when it came to taking care of my looks. Lord Elrond and his daughter were already to be found at the great clearing where the feast was to be held, and I stepped out of my husbands arm, to greet them.
Hugging both of them, I linked my arm under Arwen to take her on a walk, wanting to catch up on that whole Aragorn thing that was going on in her life. “Soooo, tell me. What's it with Arathorns son that has your father write me letter after letter?”
“My father writes you letters over something this unimportant?” She gasped and I shrugged. “I am his cousin and married to the elven king. It was probably his last resort to ask me out of all.”
“Oh yeah, with your reputation no doubt.” Nudging me slightly, she giggled at her words. Scoffing with a fake hurt expression on my face, I clasped a hand in front of my chest. “My reputation? I sure hope it is only the best.”
“Absolutely. There is only good word about the kings whore that spreads the realms.” Arwen kept on teasing and I stayed in my fake offended persona, calling out for my husband who was only at the end of the long table: “Herven?” He instantly snapped his head around, giving me a soft smile: “Yes, my starlight?”
“Have you heard that I am apparently called the kings whore in these lands?” Letting my eyes convey the jest I put up, he caught it fairly quickly, puffing his chest a bit. “No, I have not. Show me those wicked, that dare to speak ill of my wife. I will have Feren see to them as soon as he is back.”
Seeing all the other elves stare at us in a mixture of disbelieve and slight fear, I had to fight hard to suppress my laugh. I knew that not many believed the king to be a jester himself, so I could only imagine the worry that must run through their veins, seeing him so openly speak a threat. But seeing that Lord Elrond scowled at me, I decided to reveal my bluff, giggling like a child. “I love you, herven. For what you are and thrive to be.” Thranduil knew I was trying to ease the tension, but of course he had to set another stone to the grave: “Your love only fuels my need to protect you from all harm. For as I have promised to cherish and take care of you for all eternity.”
His confession of love, made my giggle subside into a soft smile and I couldn’t help but stand in utter awe of him so openly speak about it. He wasn’t a man to show his emotions that openly through words, but it seemed that the interaction with Tauriel after seeing her in absolute grief over Kili must have made him realize that his previous action had cause much harm to many. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see all of the surrounding servants and early guests stare at us, some even talking behind their hands. But my absolute focus laid upon my husband.
It wasn’t until now, that I realized he had come closer, drawing me in by my hips. “You are the best thing in my life, bereth. Never forget that. I don’t care what others might say, to me, you are the queen I worship.” That’s when he simply bend down, letting his hands rest on my lower back and waist, to kiss me. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it also was far away from a chastise peck on the lips. Only Lord Elrond clearing his throat got us to part again, a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. But Thranduil just proudly wrapped his arm around me.
***
The afternoon changed into the evening and after dinner was served, Lord Elronds servant had the clearing freed from the tables to enable dancing and simple talks and walks through the realm. I found myself wrapped into my husbands arms once again, relishing in his warmth as the spring wind seemed to have dropped a bit in temperature. “Are you cold, meleth?” He asked me, cuddling his head into my neck giving me hot little bites along my collarbone.
Turning in his arms, I took his face into my hands. “Not when you are with me, herven.” I gave him a peck to the lips, which made him smile softly. He tasted like elven wine. Heavy with sweet berries, a flowery note to it. But my body shivering with another breeze, made him sigh. “Feren.” He called out. “Could you please bring my cloak for my wife to warm up?”
“Of course, my king.” Feren answered in his usual soft tone. Moments later he came back with the heavy silver cloak, holding it out for me to slip into, but Thranduil had other plans. Taking it from his servant, he wrapped it around his shoulder and then pulled my back against his chest, closing his arms and the cloak around us. “That’s much better.” He whispered into my ear and I could feel him press me against his crotch.
He was hard, pressing his cock against my lower back. “Are you perhaps drunk, herven?” I asked, letting my hips innocently stroke over his hard member, when I leaned forward, freeing my hand under his cloak to reach for my goblet of wine. Thranduil growled silently behind me, the grip on my hips growing harder. “Of course not. My senses are very clear, meleth.”
“Is that so?” I teased, guiding one hand of his up to my chest underneath his cloak. Still watching the other elves dance freely, I slowly emptied my goblet, letting my husband grope me underneath our cover. The longer I took, the bolder he got, letting his fingers wander underneath my dress and between my legs. “You are not wearing anything else.” He silently stated, one finger pushing itself between my folds. I just emptied my goblet in one last gulp, stepping out of his hold and turning around. “Dance with me, herven.”
I could see his jaw tighten, as he took a deep breath taking a moment to take of his cloak and handing it to Feren. My eyes quickly snapped down to his crotch, seeing that he had sorted himself out, but for anyone looking longer than just a brief wandering gaze would see, that his manhood wasn’t that subtly longing for me.
He was quick to close the distance between us, holding me close to his body when he led us over the dance floor. “You are playing a dangerous game, ithil.” He threatened close to my ear, gently biting my ear lobe. I suppressed a moan, but my voice betrayed my played confidence: “I do? How would you come to that conclusion?”
“The way your eyes are literally undressing me, that ass pressed against me and maybe even the wetness I have already felt between your legs.” Thranduil whispered, forcing his knee between my legs. The music has switched from an uplifting song to a more sensual, intimate one, probably played to coax more couples onto the dance floor. But when my eyes met Arwen who was standing besides Lindir, giving me a thumbs up, I knew she had watched me and Thranduil.
Knowing full well, that she was testing my self-control with this song, I decided to give in to her challenge, letting myself fall even more into the arms of Thranduil. He didn’t seem to have noticed Arwen being responsible for my change in demeanor, but based on his hands wandering from the modest position on my shoulder blade down to my hips, I knew he had gotten my subtle hint to make this dance much spicier.
He not only guided me over the dance floor, but also made our bodies connect in the most sensual way possible, sparking my longing for him more and more. His eyes were trained on my face, eyes cockily challenging my control. A soft sigh left my lips, as he once again whirled me around, letting my core slide down his thigh, when he turned me outwards. “Please.” Was all I said once we were close again and he immediately stopped the dance, literally dragging me from the dance floor. Passing Feren, he grabbed his cloak from his servant. “I will take a hold of that for a while.” Then he just yanked me along, not caring about the many irritated looks we collected on our way out.
We made it down several paths, until we found ourselves beneath the festivities and on the edge of a small collection of trees. Thranduil let go of me, caging me in between a tree and his chest. “I need you.” His voice was coarse, just slightly above a snarl. His demeanor was harsh, the king in him breaking through. “I need you to obey me, meleth. Need you to be my little girl.”
I sank on my knees before him, nestling with his belt. “Let me take care of you.” I whispered, while I pushed down his pants and underwear. His cock was hard and dripping with precum. I wasted no time, taking him into my mouth. And as soon as he sank down my warm throat Thranduils head fell back. Steadying himself on the tree behind me, he loomed over me. A total mess; hair disarranged, eyes closed, lips hanging open.
Slowly I began to move my head up and down, as I watched him through my eyelashes. I wanted him to become agitated. Teasing him with my tongue dancing around his tip. His head fell back, an animalistic moan on his lips. He grabbed me by my hair, immobilizing my head and pulling back. With a sweet pop his member plopped out of my mouth. “Meleth… Please. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked innocently.
“Like a vixen. I can barely control myself. And if you keep looking at me like that, I will lose it completely.”
“Then don’t. Take me. Control me. Make me yours. I am willing to give you everything I have.” The way he clenched his jaw, desperately holding on to the last bit of control he had over his mind, made me feel things I never imagined to feel. My whole body felt like it was set on fire, slowly burning its way to my middle, soaking me with my arousal.
Another growl ripped through his chest as he pushed his cock down my throat. I gagged as he forced himself down. Quickly I relaxed my throat. Drool started to drip down my chin, mixing with tears running from my eyes. Again and again, I choked on his size, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him taking me as he liked it, as he needed me.
“Your mouth feels so good, my little starlight.” He moaned. I hummed with pleasure. His movements were strong, leaving me little room to breathe, but the heavenly feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue suppressed everything.
“Oh god, Elanore…” His grip on my hair grew stronger and I could feel him twitch in my mouth. I let my tongue dance around his shaft and tip, sucking in my cheeks to create more friction. I wanted to taste him, feel his hot seeds trickle down my throat.
His thrusts became irregular and he sucked in a sharp breath. I could see him holding back, waiting for my consent, which I eagerly gave him by nodding as much as he would let me. Again, I felt his member twitch rhythmically as he painted my throat with his seed. I swallowed all of it, without letting my eyes go of his, devotedly licking his member clean.
“Fuck…” He breathed out, carefully pulling me back by my hair. I just smiled at him, seductively wiping my lips with my thumb. “I love the way you get, when you are a little drunk.” I confessed, snuggling into his hand, that was still holding my head. He raised an eyebrow: “What do you mean?” Shrugging I got up from my knees. “You become much needier, openly showing how much you want me.”
“Do I not show my desire enough?” He asked, while putting his pants back on and I could see the tease in his eyes.
“You do.” I scoffed. “I just like both sides on you. The controlled and calculating and the soft and longing one. It just depends on the mood I am in.”
“And what mood are you in right now?” Studying my face intently, he grinned down on me. Winking at him, I stepped under his arm, bringing some distance between us. “One I want to be conquered in.” He got the hint, putting his cloak on the floor, spreading it out for me. Then he prowled around it, fixating me with his eyes. “I will see to ease your desire then.” Without giving any hint beforehand, he pounced at me, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye.
With an ease, I wasn’t prepared for, he simply hoisted me over his shoulder, giving my ass a slap, before he carried me back to his cloak. Handling me roughly to be positioned beneath him. Then he started to slowly open the buttons of my corset one by one, kissing the skin he freed with every hook that came undone.
“I need you, herven.” I mewled, desperately wriggling underneath him, but he just ignored my pleads, keeping his slow pace of undressing me. Once he had opened my corset, he put it aside, to then mind meltingly slow push down each sleeve of my dress, until I could slip out. Now my upper body was freed for him and his lips immediately sank down on one nipple, sucking on it until it grew hard in his mouth. I moaned at the little relief it brought me, desperate for more. Playing with my other nipple with his fingers, he teased me, until I was sure to lose my mind. “Herven…” I pleaded, but he just rose from my chest. “Yes, my little starlight?”
“More.” I whimpered. “I need more.” But he just shook his head. “No, we will take it slow today. I want to savor you.” Kneeling back on his ankles, he started to undress himself, taking his time, while he watched me wriggle on the ground. Only when he had taken off all of his clothes, did he lean over me again. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, wrapping my legs around his hips, I pulled him in. “Stop playing with me and fuck me already.” But he was unmoving like a mountain.
“Beg.” Was all he said, the smile still plastered over his features. My eyes widened in shock. He wouldn’t dare to make me beg for him to fuck me, while we were in the open like this. Any moment someone could stumble upon us, but it seemed like Thranduil did not care one bit: “Beg, or I am stopping it right now.” He repeated, the tone in his voice now sharper, smile changing from cocky to arrogant. I shook my head, feeling the blush creep over my chest and cheeks. “Don’t make me do this…” I whispered.
“Do what?” He asked innocently.
“Herven, please… they are able to hear us.” Still whispering.
“They will hear whole other things coming out of that pretty mouth of yours once I am starting to have my fun with you. So go on, be a good girl and beg your king to fuck you properly.”
The sheer confidence he had, saying those filthy things, made my head reel in desire for him, but I decided to lean a bit further in his game. “Make me.” Those two words were his nemesis and I knew it. I knew that the moment I spoke those words would be the moment he would lose it. And I was right. The smile vanished from his lips in a split second.
Grabbing me under my right knee he flipped me over, pressing me down with as much force as he could muster to not hurt me. Now I had him where I wanted him to be, pushed into the ruthless commanding side of him. My core was throbbing in willing anticipation, sleek being spread all over my thighs. Forcefully, Thranduil pressed my legs apart, kneeling between them. One hand wrapped in my hair, turning my head to the side, while the other held his weight not to crush me. “You wanna play this game? You want me to stop being nice and treat you like a slut?” His voice was raspy, audibly running on the last string holding him together.
“Yes, please.” I moaned, spreading my legs even further and raising my ass up in the air. He let out a rough chuckle, seeing me melt in his hands like butter. “Look at that. All it took was a little force and you are behaving like a bitch in heat. Tell me meleth, do you think you deserve to be fucked like a good girl?” I tried to nod, earning a slight tug on my hair. “Words, little girl.”
“Please.” Was all I could whine, desperately trying to get some release.
“Again.” He rasped.
“Please, Herven. Fuck me. I need you, please.” I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded.
“Finally.” He whispered. “You are begging. Sometimes I wonder if you are putting up this act just to rile me up further. Be honest, is that true, bereth?”
“Hmm.” I hummed, not really caring about his words.
A deep sight came rumbling from his chest. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He asked, pressing a wet kiss on my shoulder. “The hold you have on me is bordering on insanity. I should be the responsible one, taking care of you. And yet here I am, pinning you down on the forest floor, desperately fighting to keep control over myself.” After a short pause he gained his stance back. “And I am the only one who gets to have you. This is all mine. My good little girl.” By the end his voice once again turned into a deep growl, fed by the jealousy of other men looking at me.
Stroking his cock through my folds, he teased me again. Forcing me to be this whining mess underneath him. Lining himself up with my entrance he slowly pushed into me, careful not to hurt me, since he didn’t prepare me before. But I was so riled up by him, that he had nearly no resistance gliding into me. When he bottomed me out, he let out a low groan.
Then he finally started to move. Rolling his hips forward and pressing me down even further. I let out a delighted hum, closing my eyes and gripping the cloak underneath my head harder. “Fuck…” He hissed above me, intertwining one hand again with my hair, while the other stayed pressed against the floor. “Look at me, bereth nin. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” Following his command, I opened my eyes. Getting locked up in his deep blue eyes, now nearly blown black from lust.
Slowly he picked up the speed, not letting go of me. He was now hitting my sweet spot deep inside me at a steady rhythmical pace, that I let out another suppressed moan. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you. Show me how good I make you feel.” Once again, his whole demeanor shifted. Had he been rough and commanding just a second ago, he was now as soft and loving as he could be. Letting go of my hair, he started to caress and stroke my body with feather light brushes. Just ever so slightly that it had me yearning for more.
The way his movements, his thrusts and touches played with my body was pure bliss. I was riding on a hot wave of love and lust toward my abyss. “Oh please…” A loud moan forced itself past my lips, much to the pleasure of Thranduil. He liked, when I was severely reacting to him, always making sure to pull as much pleasure out of me as my body could handle.
He started humming, bending down to kiss me. His lips were hot and hard against mine, still showing that he was indeed holding back for me. Giving me this lovely start. But underneath his well-kept attitude I could feel the need to possess me starting to boil. Him openly holding himself back, to fully commit to my pleasure, send so much love and lust through my body.
The knot in my stomach started to grow immeasurably. This mixed with Thranduil treating my so softly, pushed my emotionally agitated self over the edge. With tears running down my cheeks, I called out for him, now finally not caring about who might be able to hear us. He answered my call with letting go of my head. Only to then bury me underneath him, while pressing down my hands with his bigger ones. “Its alright, starlight. I am right here. You can let go.” He whispered against my ear. “You are doing so good. Such a good little girl. Taking me so well, so obedient. Go on. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock, I know you want to.”
A loud cry on my lips, I came hard. The wall of my orgasm hitting me with pure force. Dragging me over the cliff without any resistance. I was now in a free fall of blissfulness. Slipping in and out of reality, only being grounded by Thranduils low, raspy voice praising me. Bucking against his body I shakily came back to senses, to then get my breath knocked out of my lungs by his hungry kiss. He slowed his movements, letting me regain my stance, giving me a chance of further consent or to stop him from moving on. That’s what has struck me deeply about him from the beginning. No matter what, he was always focused on me giving my consent, to never step over any barrier I had.
“You can let go, herven. Its okey. You wont break me.” I said, my voice still shaky from my orgasm. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, he asked: “Are you sure about that? You don’t have to...” I interrupted him, before he could get caught up in his thoughts too much: “Yes, I am sure. I can feel how you want to go rough with me. Take me. Make me feel good. Make me yours.”
Instantly changing his demeanor, he pushed himself up, effectively pulling me to my knees as well. Then he leaned over me, pressing my face into towards the ground. “I want to hear you. Don’t you dare hold back, understood?” His voice didn’t let any room for discussion, so I obediently answered: “Yes, my king.”
“Good girl.” He rasped, wrapping my hair around his hand to get a better hold of me. Then he picked up a ruthless pace, forcing me to help steady myself with my arms spread out on the floor.
His fast pace had me forget any dignity that might have been left inside my body. Hitting my sweet spot with every thrust, now stretching me deeper than before, had me yelping and moaning out in pure pleasure. The lush sounds he was drawing from my body, mixed with my heavy breathing and his low groans. I could feel my juices from my previous orgasm running down my thigh, getting smeared around with every of his moves.
This right now was far away from the soft, sweet way he had thrusted into me before. He was now railing me without mercy, using me to his full pleasure. But that’s exactly how I wanted him to treat me. As an answer to his behavior, I twitched around his cock, implying my next upcoming orgasm. He pulled me up by my hair to his chest. “You ask before you come, you hear me?” He growled into my ear. Voice strained in sharp control over his inner needs.
“Yes.” I whimpered, not thinking about the consequences of not addressing him with his title.
“Yes what?” He snarled, shoving me down. A sharp slap on my left butt cheek, had me yelp out in pain, but that only seemed to spur him on further. “Answer me!” Another slap followed onto the right side of by behind.
“Yes, my king.” I cried out, again tears pricking in my eyes.
“Good girl.” He praised. “Don’t you dare forget my title, whore.”
“I am sorry, my king. Please…” I begged, squeezing him with my throbbing pussy, not daring to speak the words to beg for another orgasm.
“As you should be. Does a good girl disobey her king?” He pressed on further.
“No, my king. Please. I am close… I cant…” My cries were getting more and more desperate. I couldn’t hold back for much longer, silently praying he would release me. But it was Thranduil we were speaking about. The king of sass and teasing.
“Then what makes you think you get to have another orgasm? Havent I already given you enough? And yet here you are, begging to give you a second one.” I could hear the pure pride of having me at his mercy. It was what got him off the best.
“Please, herven. I cant… I am too close. Let me come, please my king.” I squealed, holding myself together by nothing more than a thread and pure willpower. Luckily, he knew how close I was, because he pulled me up against his chest again. Wrapping his warm arms around my body. “Come, pin iell. Let go for me.”
And that I did. Relaxing into his hold, I let the second wave hit me with all the force and turbulences it brought with it. Far away I could hear myself, moan or much more cry out his name, clawing my fingers to his arms, to gain at least some stability. Only a few moments later, I could feel his cock twitch against the shuddering walls of my core. Spilling his hot seed deep inside of me.
With a deep growl, Thranduil sunk onto the ground, burying me underneath him. I could feel him pressing me down, but luckily, he had enough senses left to support his weight to not crush me. We stayed like this for a few minutes. Dwelling in the existence of one another, before he slowly pulled out. I hissed at this movement, because it now made me painfully aware of the roughness, he had fucked me with. Great, now I wouldn’t be able to walk properly for a few hours if not days…
Carefully he helped me back into my dress, cleaning me as good as he could with a hanker chief, before he took care of himself. When we were dressed again, I tried to sort my hair, him immediately helping to redo my braids. After he had deemed me presentable again, he wrapped his cloak around me, protecting me from the cold that had only now hit my senses again. Slowly we walked back to the festivities, me trying my best to get my stability back and him making sure I would make it back in one piece.
When we had reached the clearing again, I could feel several eyes rake over us, inspecting our appearance in great detail. Lord Elrond stood there, only a few steps away from us. And the look on his face spoke more than I wanted it to be. Scolding both of us with his eyes, he didn’t even walk over to us, when he spoke. It would have been pointless anyways, as it seemed, everyone knew what had happened.
“I know you both are very… indulging in each other. But was there really no other way as to do it in public? This close? Everyone was able to hear her.” Lord Elrond, breathed out, the anger visible on his features. I was averting my gaze, not having the strength to stand up against him. My husband however stepped forward, shielding me with his body. “Oh, did we get heard? What a shame. My apologies.” He said, a fake gasp to his words and I knew that he was wearing the most sarcastic smile on his lips.
Lord Elrond just stuttered, not even caring to address Thranduil by his title anymore: “Thranduil… By Valar I swear…” But he didn’t get any further, my husband interrupting him once again: “There is nothing to worry about anymore. I doubt my wife would be able to handle a second round.” And with that being said, he pulled me over the clearing and towards a small table at the side. Everyone was staring at us and I should have felt embarrassed, but the simple way my husband had turned the accusation around, making it seem as if it was the most normal thing to happen, made me feel way better. And in a way, a great wave of pride washed over me, knowing that Thranduil had just made everyone question their sanity.
#fem reader#smut#slight battle describtions#thranduil x reader#thranduil#thranduil smut#lotr#the hobbit
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Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 8
Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7]
Read on AO3 [x]
Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader
Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad.
Taglist: @hufflepuff1700 @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor
Much like Radagast assumed, when Thranduil heard the actual details of his encounter with the Enchantress, the Elvenking tipped his head back from where he sat high upon the throne, and laughed aloud.
He laughed for so long, in fact, that Radagast began to wonder if he had perhaps broken the Elvenking.
Not a feat to be accomplished by mere information, of course, and thus Thranduil eventually ceased his laughter and turned his attention back upon the wizard, though the ghost of an amused smile still played upon his lips.
“Oh, Aiwendil.” He shook his head, looking down at the wizard once more. “You have so lifted my spirits.” The smile disappeared altogether next, however, for he knew it could not last. “Yet, I fear you could be about to dampen them once more.”
Radagast shook his head. “I come only to tell you what happened and inquire how you might be planning to deal with her.”
Thranduil regarded Radagast a moment longer before he spoke once more. “We will drive her from the forest. One way or another.” His eyes seemed to have darkened. “She will not stay here.” The king went quiet again then, thoughtful for a long moment, before he opened his mouth once more. “Do you know why she has come?”
Radagast looked up at Thranduil then and did not see the Elvenking. He saw the young prince, son of King Oropher, looking back at him and his heart jumped at the sight.
The wizard wished that he could tell him the whole truth. Oh, how he wished it. But he held firm. The less people that knew, the better. Only he and Gandalf now remained who knew that the princess had survived and this was how they must keep it, especially with the Enchantress so close. Not even Elrond of Rivendell was aware, though not telling him had pained the High King greatly.
“I do not.” He shook his head as he looked up at Thranduil, the image of the prince fading away and leaving the mighty Elvenking in its place once more.
Thranduil gritted his teeth in frustration. He wanted this witch out of his forest and he wanted her out now. “It cannot simply be to bother me over my father’s imagined slights.” He snapped, shaking his head. “I refuse to believe it.”
Radagast thought back over the encounter, recalling the anger she had displayed even now over something that had not even been. Something she imagined she had been deprived of but had not truly been given in the first place.
Thranduil, in the silence, shuddered at the mere thought of her ever even entertaining such a fancy. To be his wife! His queen!
He had known, of course, his father had not shielded it from him. However, he would have thought she would be long over it by now. Though he supposed some grudges went so deep for some they were nearly impossible to remove - like a splinter sitting just beneath the skin, yet somehow irritatingly out of reach.
Still. It unsettled him. Could she truly be here for such a thing? To release her anger, after all this time, at not being Queen of the Woodland Realm?
Thranduil had never taken a Queen.
The thought caused his mind to drift back through time, to the little elleth that his father and Gil-Galad had hoped he would one day, when they were both old enough and hopefully in love, take as his wife. The little baby had been beautiful, he could remember her face clear as day. The brightest little eyes as she had gazed up at him from her cradle. Thranduil remembered peering down into it and making a face. He remembered telling his father it was silly to think he would one day want to wed the elfling! Forgetting that the little one would grow and that they would both live so long that the gap in their years would come to not really matter when it came to affairs of the heart.
He did not care or appreciate, at that time, the true weight such a union would have brought. He was too young, they all were. Even the Enchantress had been young then, he recalled.
Then his mind drifted, seemingly of its own accord, to you. The strange elleth living somewhere in the forest. He still couldn’t figure out where you had come from, where you lived even. Not in one of the settlements, he knew that already, you were always too far from them and you had specified that you lived with your uncle. Just you and he. When he first met you, you had seemed like you had never before even spoken to another. It had not been difficult to figure out that you didn’t spend much time with others.
He frowned suddenly, wondering why he was thinking of you at such a moment? Had he not just been thinking about queens, of all things?
Blinking away the memories and thoughts, Thranduil rose from the throne. “Come, you should rest. Stay the night before you return to your home, I will have a room made up.”
However, before Thranduil could move to do so, Radagast shook his head quite quickly. “No!” He did not mean to sound rude but by the look on the Elvenking’s face, he had been. “It is much appreciated.” He added hastily. “I have to get back tonight.” He did not miss Thranduil’s brows drawing together in slight confusion, however the king graciously inclined his head in agreement.
“Very well. Then I shall see you out.”
Quite a few hours had passed since Radagast’s abrupt disappearance and you were still inside as you had promised, sitting with the same book on your lap and frowning softly at the pages. It was a book of history, one you tended to come back to over the years. One particular section tended to grab your attention quite often, almost pulling you in - The Fall of High King Gil-Galad. For some reason, it made you so very sad. It was always just this... cold ache deep in your bones. You had never told Radagast about it, deciding it was strange you would be so upset about some king you had never even met. He would only tell you how empathetic you were, how sensitive to the tragedies of others, and he would tell you it was an admirable quality. However, you did not wish to hear it. Something about it simply made you uneasy.
With a heavy sigh, you eventually stood and replaced the book on the shelf. The messy stack of books directly next to the shelf that Radagast had decided not to put back in their place made you roll your eyes, both in mild frustration and fondness. You decided you would tidy up later, turning and moving over to the front door.
You would just... look outside. Get some air.
Easing the door open, you peered out into the garden. Well, if you could call it a garden. You stepped outside and tilted your head backwards, gazing up at the shafts of light coming through the trees overhead. In many places, it seemed as though the trees were beginning to twist to cover the very sky above. It hurt your heart to see the Greenwood changing.
Turning your mind away from such thoughts, you wondered where Radagast was. He had been gone a while. You could feel yourself getting quite fidgety. It was hard to stay still... so you turned, closed the door to the little house, and hurried off through the forest.
A familiar bluebird swooped down and tittered by your shoulder, seeming to be telling you off, and you laughed. “Oh, shh! He isn’t here, is he?” You chuckled, moving through the trees as the birds pace slowed, watching after you. “You all worry too much. I’m not going far.”
The little bird did not tell you that they were worried because the Enchantress had been in this very wood not long ago, and had faced down Radagast. They could not, for even the animals knew that this would put you in even more danger. Half of the safety was in the not knowing.
You came upon the clearing again, sighing in relief as you tilted your head back once more. The sky was much more visible here than in Radagast’s little corner and you hoped that it would last. That whatever appeared to be creeping closer would leave this place untouched. It was your own little sanctuary.
How long you sat there, you were not sure, though it was quite obviously growing darker which meant that the night was closing in. You sat thinking of Thranduil, but he did not come this evening, and you found that his absence disappointed you. Sometimes when he came here, the two of you would simply sit in silence, on opposite ends of the clearing. You reading or thinking or picking your berries. He tending his elk or looking to the sky... or at you. You found that he looked at you quite a lot and you did not mind.
Still. He was busy, you were sure. You had gathered that he must be some kind of soldier or guard from the King’s Halls. He hadn’t told you as much, but you could see the warrior in him without him needing to say a word. In the way he stood, the way he carried himself. A far cry from your apprehension over his sudden first appearance, you found that you were now quite charmed by him and you thought of him often.
You would tell Radagast... you would. Soon... some day. You just had to figure out how to tell him without him getting all worked up over your apparent ‘safety’.
As the thought of the wizard entered your mind, you idly wondered if he would be back at the cottage by now, but then suddenly your attention was caught by a sound from through the trees. Fast footsteps storming across the leaf covered ground, heading straight towards you.
#thranduil x reader#thranduil x you#thranduil fanfic#thranduil fanfiction#lotr x reader#the hobbit x reader#sleeping beauty
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Thranduil braiding Legolas' hair drabbles
@meadowsofmay has put this into my brain and I had to write that immediately!!!
Word count: 1.2k
Thranduil started doing his son’s hair after his wife dies. He braided it the exact same way Legolas’ mother wore her hair. Of course, Legolas was too young to understand and Thranduil did not tell him. But every time he looked at Legolas, he felt like she was a little closer to him.
As Legolas grew older, he insisted on doing his own hair, and even though it broke Thranduil’s heart, he let him. One day, Thranduil and Legolas had a massive argument about his responsibilities as a prince. Thranduil felt that Legolas was too reckless and neglected his duties. Legolas felt alone, his father being so emotionally cold, and refusing to talk about his mother. One day, Legolas stopped asking about her. Thranduil was clearly never going to talk about it, and everyone else who knew her feared Thranduil’s wrath.
Following their argument, Legolas went to Rivendell to stay with Lord Elrond for a while. They talked long and often. Legolas felt that he could tell Elrond about all his worries regarding his relationship with his father, and Elrond always did whatever he could to help his friend’s son. One night, Elrond made the decision to tell Legolas about his mother. He started the journey home to Greenwood on the very next day.
It was very late when Legolas finally crossed through the Woodland gate into his father’s realm, the guards bowing after recognizing their prince. Legolas strode right into his father’s chambers, his long golden hair flowing freely. Thranduil looked up from the book he was reading. Legolas spoke before Thranduil even had the chance to say hello.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”, he asked his father, tears forming his eyes. Thranduil did not have to ask what he meant, the sadness in his eyes and the fact that his hair was down told him everything he had to know. He was equally grateful and angry that Elrond had told Legolas.
Thranduil shook his head and looked up at his son. “I did not know how”, he whispered, barely audible, his voice breaking mid-sentence, “I am sorry. For all of it. I thought I could spare you the pain of knowing.” Thranduil dropped his head into his hands. The weight of the guilt he had been carrying for the last decades dropped on him. After a moment, Thranduil felt a hand on his shoulder. “You do not need to talk about her. I understand enough now. I only have one request.”
The king raised his head and saw Legolas sit down in front of him on the floor, wordlessly handing him a comb.
Thranduil smiled softly as he ran his fingers through his son’s hair. He detangled it gently before sectioning it. He had not braided his son’s hair in many years, and he had not braided his own hair since he had become king, but his hands remembered the movements as if it had been just yesterday that he helped his wife with her hair in the mornings. “You have her eyes”, he whispered to Legolas, “and her smile. And her kind heart.” Legolas tensed up visibly when he heard his father’s voice.
Legolas usually did his own hair after that, but he never wore it differently again. There were occasions when he would still ask his father for help. When they had not seen each other in weeks, when they had not talked in forever, when they had argued. Legolas just came to his father, sat down in front of him, and they sat in silence, while Thranduil braided his hair. Legolas knew that his father could braid much faster than he did, but he did not mind that he was taking his time.
The forest had darkened significantly. Thranduil could no longer shield his son from battle. He had trained him well, and he knew that his son would be just fine. That did not stop him from worrying about him though. He had sent for Legolas to help him put on his armor and he noticed the slightest tremor in his hands when his son handed him his sword. “Sit”, Thranduil commanded. This time, he was not silent when he braided his son’s hair, but he told him the story of his first battle.
Legolas was victorious in his first battle.
It became their ritual. Before every battle, Thranduil would braid his son’s hair, and help ease his mind. When he ran out of battles to recount, he started to tell his son stories of his youth in Doriath, where they lived in peace. Two battles, Thranduil never told his son about. The battle of Dagor Dagorlad, during which his father Oropher had lost his life, and the battle against the Great Serpent of the North, the dragon that scarred his face beyond repair.
One of the battles in the forest almost claimed Legolas’ life. Thranduil did not leave his side throughout his recovery. Careful not to disturb his son’s sleep, he gently ran his hands through his hair and sang to him. Thranduil had not sung since before the destruction of Doriath. Maybe once or twice to console a crying Legolas, but he had usually left that to his wife, craving to hear her beautiful voice.
When news from Rivendell reached Thranduil, that Legolas was on some sort of quest, it worried him with every day that he did not hear from his son. Legolas returned a year later, not a scratch on his body, and a dwarf in tow. His friend, he claimed. Thranduil did not mind much, he was just content that his son was safe.
Being renowned for his parties, Thranduil of course held a massive feast to celebrate his son’s return. Before the feast, he went to his son’s chambers, finding him by a window, staring out into the distance.
“I thought I might-”, he cleared his throat, “help you with your hair?” Thranduil sat down, and after a moment’s hesitation, Legolas sat down in front of him. This time, their silence was not comfortable. Legolas had been keeping something from his father. “I will go to the undying lands”, he finally told him. Legolas felt his father’s hands still in his hair. “I have heard the cry of the seagulls”, he continued, “and I can bear it no longer, I am longing for a home I have never even known.”
Thranduil did not protest. “I will go with you”, he promised instead.
They left sometime during the first age. On the morning of their departure from the Grey Havens, Thranduil walked up to his son and handed him a comb. Legolas looked up at him, confused. His father had never let him braid his hair before. Thranduil sat down in front of Legolas and waited. Legolas hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He started gently detangling his father’s hair.
“I don’t know what I am supposed to do”, he confessed, “you never wear your hair braided, Ada.” Thranduil smiled sadly. “I used to. 3000 years ago.” He let his words sink in for a moment, before adding “You may do whatever you see fit.”
Legolas braided his father’s hair in a way that was similar to his own, but not identical. Thranduil almost cried when he looked into the mirror. Legolas had braided his hair in the same way his father Oropher had worn it when Thranduil was still a young child in Doriath.
Did I cry when I wrote this? Maybe.
If you liked this, please consider reblogging and/or commenting!
You can also join my taglist here.
Tagging: @meadowsofmay @fenharel-enaste @somebirdortheother @nevermcre <3
#fanfiction#lord of the rings fanfiction#legolas#thranduil#the hobbit fanficion#lady of imladris fics
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Have a snippet of the fanfic I'm writing. This is late late in the story, set after much of the events of the fic and events in canon, when Legolas returns home to Mirkwoood. The fic is called With You, written under the same username I use here, and it's about Thranduil, his wife, and Legolas.
After the fanfare of Legolas's successful journey home, father and son decided to walk through the forest together as they had done when Legolas was a child.
After a long silence, Legolas spoke in a soft but hopeful voice, "Father, what was mother like?"
Thranduil froze. It was a question he had not heard for a long time. He remembered trying to comfort a tiny elven babe who cried for his mother. A young child who wanted to know when his mother was coming back. Then a moody teenager who shut him out entirely when he could not answer this simple question. He felt his son's eyes on him, and was acutely aware of his sigh of exasperation and the sound of him walking away.
"She was the sun," Thranduil replied quickly.
It was Legolas's turn to freeze, apparently afraid to spook his father out of his forthcoming mood.
The elder continued, "She was brilliant, passionate, and kind. More joyous over winning the titles 'wife' and 'mother' than 'princess' or 'queen'. She was a particularly gifted healer, that is why our people are regarded as reckless and dangerous. They always had her to depend on."
Legolas turned to meet his father's eyes, shocked to see them misted over, "She was everything to me, the song in my heart, the breath in my lungs, the warmth of the sun on my face. Her love made me whole. It was pure and she made me stronger. Just being around her was enough to make anyone feel instantly better. I protected her physically, but she took care of my heart and mind. She was a blissful dream come true in the midst of a nightmare. I didn't want to feel joy if she wasn't with me because it all felt pointless without her."
Thranduil paused and shook his head, a faint smile bloomed across his stern features, "When you were born, I think that was the first time she had ever felt fiercely about something. She had always moved through the world with a soft, gentle way about her. You were the first thing she really felt her claws form over."
Read more on AO3
#lotr#lord of the rings#thranduil#mirkwood#tolkien elves#legolas greenleaf#legolas#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#lotr fanfic
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End of Year Fic Recs
Thank you @emyn-arnens for tagging me, it actually made me remember to leave comments on some fics I've read while on holiday. I haven't read or written many fics this year, particularly not long ones, hence why I've gone with my own sections but here we go!
Fics from 2023
Something of Home by @emyn-arnens (G, Faramir & Finduilas of Dol Amroth, <1k) Heartbreaking, precious portrayal of Faramir's relationship with his mother at the time of her death. It is canon to me now.
Something Burrowed, Something Blue by @scyllas-revenge (G, Took/Fairy Wife, 11k) How the Took ancestor met his wife. Funny, sweet and so hobbit-like, I loved Milo and Beryl, the author writes fairy nature perfectly.
cold be sleep under stone by Feanoriel (Ar-Pharazôn, <1k) Ar-Pharazôn in the Caves of the Forgotten. So many chills reading this, the writing style is so vivid, I could feel the undead misery in the darkness.
On These Hither Shores by @emyn-arnens (G, Boromir & Frodo, 3.2k) Frodo and Boromir discuss their hopes and fears. I keep thinking about this fic, it's one of those stories which follows you around and won't let go, it's a great depiction of Frodo and Boromir and their relationship.
The Last Midwinter by @sallysavestheday (G, Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, other fellowship members, 1.3k) Sam and Rosie devise a plan to lift Frodo's spirits. This filled me with so much joy (of the slightly sad kind) it's so sweet.
Untitled by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor (Elros/Elros's wife) I love the complex relationship that is encapsulated in this snapshot and the unsettling youthfulness of the peredhil.
The Farewell Feast by @searchingforserendipity25 (G, Gandalf & Galadriel, 2.4k) Wonderful exploration of Galadriel's thoughts at the end of the Third Age and her relationship with Gandalf.
what the shadows hid by @swanmaids (T, Luthien/Thuringwethil, <1k) Thuringwethil leaves her mark on Luthien. One of those fics where every line is so expertly crafted, flavoured with my favourite horror undertones.
Untitled by @vidumavi (Vidumavi/Valacar) Not enough fics about these two but this is such a heart-warming snapshot of their relationship.
The Broken Shield by @sotwk (G, Thorin, Frerin, Thranduil, Thranduil's wife, 9.5k) In which both Thorin and Thranduil lose one whom they love. Great depiction of elf-dwarf tensions in the midst of their alliance.
Fics from pre-2023
Nine Fingers by Prackspoor (G, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, 6.3k) The hobbits encounter a mysterious stranger on their way home. Such well done suspense, I was so nervous reading this and it's such an interesting concept.
Burn Like Cold Iron by @scyllas-revenge (T, Boromir/OFC, 155k) An absolutely elite take on the ninth walker trope. Funny, heartfelt and perfect characterisation, plus a great main character. All relationships, romantic and otherwise, are so thoughtfully written.
Warming Hearts and Hearths by @starspray (G, Gandalf & hobbits, 1.3k) Gandalf encountering hobbits, what more do you want? My heart was certainly warmed.
Queen Under the Mountain by @imakemywings (T, Dís, Dáin, 2.9k) Such a heart-wrenching exploration if Dís's grief and all the complicated emotions surrounding the return to Erebor.
consuming by siraetha (T, Khamûl, Sauron, <1k) A great concept explored so vividly, I could feel the heat and the horror while reading this.
Use Well the Days by @cycas (G, Círdan/Lalwen, 2.7k) Círdan and Lalwen discuss whether they have a future. I am rapidly warming to this ship and really enjoyed how this fic explores tension between the elves.
The Floor Is Molasses by @scyllas-revenge (G, Boromir, Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck, Pippin Took, 2.6k) Hobbit chaos plus Boromir lives and of course absolutely hilarious.
My fics from 2023
Too Burdened to Fly (G, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, 3k) A look at Finduilas' thoughts during her final moments.
A Monster in the Shadows (T, Éowyn & Théoden, 3k) In the aftermath of her parents' death, Éowyn is plagued by fear. Nineteen years later, it returns.
At the Death of a Friend (G, Saruman & Galadriel, 3.4k) Saruman has not heard Galadriel's voice in years. But in the aftermath of Gandalf's death, they speak one last time.
And there we go, just about in time for New Year!
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I aspire to be the level of Cuntiness that Thranduil is, dragging his whole ass army to show the Dwarves the Elves could help them only to turn them around and be like “remember when you stole my dead wife’s stuff? I never forgot”
Go off King.
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Thoughtful Gifts
Here's a little Thranduil drabble for Christmas
The elfling ran through the trees of Doriath so quickly he did not even notice one of his friends who called out to him as he passed by. All his attention was focused on reaching the potter’s cottage. They would be ready today, just in time for the mid-Winter festivities. He had worked very hard and could hardly wait another minute more to see the finished products. “Good morning Thranduil” the potter said as he opened the door to see the rosy-cheeked lad. “Are they ready?” was all he could say as he followed the tall elf inside and into a room full of shelves. “Indeed they are” he said happily as he pointed to a table against the wall upon which sat a large mug and bowl. With the potter’s help, Thranduil had made these gifts for his parents. “They are perfect” he said inspecting them. He picked up the mug and admired its hues of brown and green intermingled together just as the soil and trees do. The beech leaf design along the handle turned out especially well. Next, he picked up the bowl which was light blue, his mother’s favorite color, decorated with Niphredil blossoms. The potter wrapped them in linen and Thranduil tied a ribbon around each one. He carefully carried them home watching every step as if they were the most precious items in all Beleriand. Just before it was time for the family to leave and join the kingdom in celebration, Oropher gave his son a special gift. It was his first bow and arrow set. Thranduil thanked his parents and then ran to his room and came back holding a sack. “I have gifts for you both as well” he said happily as he put the sack down in his father’s chair by the fire. “I made this for you Nana.” “Thank you ionneg” she said a bit surprised as they had not expected gifts. “You made this?” his mother asked with wide eyes as she admired the beautiful bowl. “The potter helped but I did most of it myself. I thought it would be good for cooking” he said knowing how much his mother loved to bake and how much he loved eating her delicious cakes. “I could not have asked for a better gift” she said as she hugged him and her eyes teared up a bit as the thoughtful gesture from the son she loved so much. “Here is your gift Ada. I made it too.” “I cannot imagine what it might be” Oropher said as he untied the ribbon and unfolded the linen. “A mug!” he said happily as he looked it over. “Remember, when you said that you wished you had a big mug so you could have a proper size cup of tea?” the elfling said with a big, beaming smile. “I do. I did not know you were anywhere around when I said that.” “I was in the other room and I heard it so I made one for you” he said so proudly. Oropher set the mug down then picked up his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug. “I believe we have the most wonderful boy in all of Arda” he said to his wife who whole-heartedly agreed.
#thranduil#oropher#doriath#thranduil one shot#tolkien#young thranduil#elven celebrations#beleriand#merry christmas
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CHAPTER SIX | THERE'S MILLIONS OF ME DARLING
Description: Thranduil and Legolas are transported to the past - where the late Elvenqueen was still alive - minor hiccup, she doesn't know who they are.
series masterlist | chapter five
The answers did not come to him - the prayers fell on deaf ears.
"I don't believe that the both of you have been honest with the court," you whisper from behind him, taking a step forward to the prayer room. "I apologize if it sounds rude," you apologize again, staring at the side. "I feel like you're a different elf, one that doesn't belong here." you add while halting beside him.
A small gasp escapes his mouth - focus dripping off. You looked exactly like his fallen Queen - but he didn't love you. Not in the ways that he loved her - not in the eternities that he's spent by your side.
"What do you mean by that, my lady?" his lips burrowed into a thin line, he would take the role of a knowing advisor for now. "I can see it in your eyes," you comment, staring deep into his features that felt like treason to gaze upon.
"I can feel it in the words that you speak. There is wisdom in everything you do, my lord. Your face holds youth - yet in your eyes, I can see pain. Thousands of years of it." you profess, never the one to beat around the bush.
He seemed to be taken aback by your observation - but decides to say nothing against it, seeing that you were truthful. "What I mean to say is; I find you interesting." you compliment, longing for the same magnitudes to be hidden in your mind. "A daring compliment," he hummed with a slight smile.
All the reasons he loved you - he found it inside your son.
"I'm sorry again for trying to pry deep into your life. It's just that - you have the same name as someone I care deeply about." you smiled, reminding yourself of the Woodland Prince in Greenwood.
"I'm worried of Legolas, my lord." you whisper, sitting beside him. The prayer room was empty - the elves preferred to pray outside. You and him were the only people inside - and god, the terror was overbearing. "Do you want to know about his mother?" his outer wall began to crumble, a deeper smile paints his lips.
"I can still remember her clearly, eyes that shone in the moonlight - and hands that have healed far more than it has destroyed." he rambled, missing your warm embrace.
"She was a wonderful warrior - with skills that exceeded mine in combat. She was my wife, and Legolas' mother - no matter what love I can give him, it is never enough to fill the holes that she has left me." he announces in a bitter tone. "But have you tried filling them?" you raised an eyebrow.
His posture suddenly turns rigid - his throat runs dry.
"- if you will excuse me, my lady." he bowed his head, running away from the duties that have come to haunt him.
Elrond could already feel the headache beginning to form in his head. Saruman and Gandalf were bickering once more - it was civil, yet with offensive undertones. "There was no sign of dark magic, do you propose that I call upon the Valar?" Saruman gritted his teeth, attempting to keep a calm composure.
"If needed be," Gil-Galad breaks the thick atmosphere.
"I apologize, my king - but there are forces in all corners of our borders that seek to destroy the very foundation of Arda. We cannot afford to waste our technology or power in bringing back two elves to their supposed world." Gandalf agreed with his fellow wizard for once. "I agree, their arrival here has brought no harm - none but the pains of what the future may bring - a future that will come." Lady Galadriel clears her throat.
"If they long for their homes, we may send them to Valinor - all they need to do is wait a few thousand years and everything will be back where they left it." Cirdan shrugged and Elrond couldn't help but take a deep frustrated breath. "The council forgets that there is a Thranduil in this world - a Legolas will come in a few centuries. Having two of the same people is dangerous and volatile." Elrond argued, grip tightening around his bracelet.
"I apologize, Elrond - we are doing the best we can." Cirdan breathes, knowing that his friend was making sense. "But that still doesn't answer the question on how we'll bring them back," Celebrian replies, and Gandalf's lips presses into a thin line.
"I will attempt to find a way - but for now, only time can tell."
"Time can tell?" Legolas whispered while pressing his ears on the door of the council room. He wanted nothing more than to run along the forests of Mirkwood - to defend his home against invaders - but now, only time can tell?
"What are you doing?" Thranduil halts in front of his son, hands behind his back while he inspected his son's laying figure. "I fell down," he lied while rising to his feet - but his father always knew when he was lying. " - you were listening in the meeting," he accused with an unamused tone.
"Well, it wasn't my intention but I could hear them perfectly!" he reasoned, placing his hands in his pocket - like a child caught stealing muffins from a jar. "What did they say then?" he inquired.
"What?" Legolas' eyes narrowed - his father usually kept the information to himself, he disregarded gossip that came from his son. "If it's about me, then I intend to know about it." he stated firmly, moving his son to the other side of the hallway. "It's not a progressive meeting, that's all I know." he looked down.
"They haven't found a way to send us back yet," he added - gazing upon his father's face. Legolas began to notice that they looked alike. The same cheekbones - hair and eyes. He was Thranduil's son - and he's spent most of his life denying it.
"Of course, we've only been here a few days." he hummed to himself.
"There is something I've been meaning to speak to you about." his father opened his mouth, unfamiliar with the paternal emotions flooding through his body at the sight of his son. "What is it?" Legolas' eyebrows merged with each other.
Was his father about to apologize?
"Your mother must never know about her fate, or of our existence." Thranduil reminded, and his son's face drops to the floor. "Yes, I've never told her anyways." he scratched the back of his head. "Your mother loved you, ion nin." Thranduil added, taking a step away.
He turns his head slowly to meet his son's.
"- as do I." he whispered - but it was enough for his son to hear.
@murder0fcr0ws @cheyxfu @8hgel
#thranduil x reader#thranduil x oc#legolas' mother#thranduil's wife#thranduil x elrond's daughter#thranduil x elrond daughter
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when thranduil put a crown on legolas' head for the first time he was barely helping those small child's hands. legolas, as curious as any child can be, reached for his father's crown and thranduil obliged this very moment, not being able to resist and not caring for the slight pain caused by the pull on his hair. legolas was giggling happily, fingers touching gems and carvings and twists, amazed blue eyes looking up at his father while showing off the new detail he found. and thranduil plays shocked as if he didn't come up with the design himself.
there were no crown that didn't went through legolas' quality control and it didn't matter that they were too big for his head.
when thranduil ordered a crown of legolas' own he was excited to no end, his insides trembling from just a thought of gifting this fine piece to his grown up son. the sketches of said crown were inside thranduil's drawers for long years, sitting there and waiting for an appropriate moment and when it came — thranduil hesitated.
legolas, for once dressed in formal gowns, stood in front of him — no less then a reflection of thranduil and his wife, honest and proud and brave.
you wanted to see me, he used to avert his eyes, thranduil remembers with a smile, never used to his father's chambers and forever distracted with the decorations.
i have something for you, the light movement of hand and legolas follows, bowing his head slightly as thranduil opens the case and pulls out a crown. thranduil takes his time, watches as it flickers under the light and gasps as it sits perfectly upon legolas' golden hair.
thranduil hooks a gentle finger under his son's chin and lifts his head, warm eyes running across his face with disbelief,
you grew up so much, my little one. i wish your mother could have been able to see you at this moment.
ada...
wear it with pride, legolas, for it has the patterns of what's mine and what's your mother's.
#and here i am again#headcanoning my favorite father and son#can you blame me?#thranduil oropherion#legolas greenleaf#lord of the rings#lotr headcanons#the hobbit
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My Masterlist
The Hobbit
Imagines
Great Eagles
Lake Town
Khuzdul Insults
Erebor
Thorin Oakenshield
A Heir
Gandalf's Apprentice
Silent Protector
Love Braids
Kili
An Elven Lady
His Saviour
Archery Lessons
Storytellers
Fili
Wedding
Khuzdul
Storytellers
Unexpected Guest
Bofur
A Dwarven Toystore
A New Life
Bombur
A Dwarven Toystore
Bifur
Battlefield
A Dwarven Toystore
Bilbo Baggins
Afternoon Tea
Dinner at Bag End
Legolas Greenleaf
Silvan Elves
Human Friend
An Elvish Courtship
Dwalin
Prancing Pony
Radagast the Brown
Dol Guldur
Thranduil
Elven Warrior
Headcanons
Thorin & Company as Zodiac Signs (coming soon)
How would they react to a s/o of elvish heritage (coming soon)
Thorin Oakenshield
Thorin falling in love with Bilbo's twin sister (coming soon)
Kili
Being in a love triangle with Kili and Tauriel would include
Bofur
Sleeping in
Being Bofur's younger sister and joining him on the Quest
Fili
Having a crush on Fili would include
Chronicles of Narnia
Imagines
Peter Pevensie
His High Queen
Hurt
Close Friends
Edmund Pevensie
Nymph
Marriage Proposal
Close Friends
Lucy Pevensie
The Wardrobe
An Invitation for Tea
Close Friends
Susan Pevensie
Winter Fun
Midnight Masquerade
Close Friends
Caspian
Royal Child
Quest
Headcanons
Chronicles of Narnia Characters as Zodiac Signs
The Pevensie Siblings as Scents
House of the Dragon
Twilight
The Mummy
Imagines
A Desert Warrior (Ardeth Bay)
The Egyptian Priest (Imhotep)
Adopted Sister (Jonathan & Evelyn Carnahan)
Comrades (Rick O'Connell)
Horus (Ardeth Bay)
Egyptology (Evelyn Carnahan)
A Decade Apart (Ardeth Bay)
Night at the Museum
Imagines
Her King (Ahkmenrah)
The Golden Trio (Jedediah & Octavius)
A Lesson in History (Sacagawea)
A Song for Her (Ahkmenrah)
A Knight in Shining Armor (Lancelot)
Night to Remember
Great Royal Wife (Ahkmenrah)
The Secret of the Tablet
Nightmare Before Christmas
Imagines
Unlikely Friends (Sally)
Halloween Town (Jack Skellington)
A Lesson in Herbology (Sally)
Christmas (Jack Skellington)
Damsel in Distress (Sally)
Corpse Bride
Imagines
Mozart (Emily)
Her Faithful Governess (Victoria Everglot)
An Awkward Suitor (Victor Van Dort)
Family Jewels (Emily)
A Friend in Need (Victoria Everglot)
Fireflies (Victor Van Dort)
Studio Ghibli
Imagines
Witch's Apprentice (Zeniba)
Frozen Lemonade (Kiki)
Cat Bureau (Baron Humbert)
Bathhouse (Chihiro)
Her Sister's Helper (Sophie)
Spirit World (Haku)
Picnic (Howl)
Coquelicot Manor (Umi)
Dreams (Haku)
Whisper of her Heart (Shizuku)
A Sister's Duty (Pazu & Sheeta)
Savior (Howl)
Carte Postale (Kiki)
Harry Potter
Fantastic Beasts
Avatar
Imagines
Ilu (Lo'ak)
Chief's Daughter (Neteyam)
Spirit Tree (Tsireya)
Metkayina Way (Ronal)
Inkheart
Imagines
Dragon's Breath (Dustfinger)
1001 Nights (Farid)
#the hobbit#the chronicles of narnia#twilight#house of the dragon#the mummy#the mummy returns#night at the museum#nightmare before christmas#corpse bride#studio ghibli#spirited away#kiki's delivery service#howl's moving castle#whisper of the heart#from up on poppy hill#castle in the sky#harry potter#fantastic beasts#avatar#avatar the way of water#inkheart
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As I plot out my headcanons and detailed story/history timeline for Thranduil, I realize more and more just how much this poor king lost and suffered as a result of Sauron choosing the Woodland Realm as the headquarters for his comeback.
In SotWK-verse, here is the tally of Thranduil's losses:
His wife. The single love of his life. His soulmate, his primary source of light and comfort, his very heart. She should have been his companion for life, and now he must wait for who knows how long to see her again in Valinor.
His sons. They were good kids; he adored them and they worshipped him. He started with 5, and by the end of the Third Age, he is left with 1. He loses them one by one, each as a result of fighting the Enemy. You hear all those stories of parents driven mad by the loss of one child; multiply that four times. He even loses Legolas emotionally because of their grief. Honestly, how Thranduil managed not to fade from heartbreak makes him the strongest elf in Arda. His is a Silm/First Age-level tragedy.
His home. He once had a beautiful palace that he had built for his wife and their family, where all his children were born and over a thousand memories were made. He was forced to abandon it and move elsewhere like a refugee due to the Dol Guldur infestation.
His realm. At its height, his kingdom once spanned the entirety of Greenwood the Great. Check the maps--that forest is MASSIVE. It was home to the largest elven population in Middle-earth, and his people were happy and prosperous. As the darkness spread from Dol Guldur, his lands shrank as they retreated not only to a small corner in the north-east, but they were driven into underground halls, away from the stars and open spaces they loved. Elves died and ceased to reproduce as they once did, so their numbers shrank too. (Still did not stop the badass Elvenking from fielding an army at BotFA.)
His pride and legacy. In the first part of the Third Age, the Woodland Realm had a thousand years of peace and prosperity under Thranduil's rule, but they were pretty quiet and humble about it. His family was generous and extended goodwill and aid to outsiders who sought or needed it. But when the Woodlands darkened under the Necromancer's influence, outsiders were quick to rename the kingdom, "Mirkwood", or "The Forest of Great Fear", and call his people "more dangerous and less wise". That's what people chose to remember and talk about, not the years of Thranduil's Golden Age. Furthermore, help did not come from other kingdoms in Mirkwood's long struggle, but certain people got angry at Thranduil for not sheltering them when they were attacked and driven from their home. (How does it feel, Thorin? (I still love you, though.))
I mean... it really looks like he lost EVERYTHING because of Sauron, doesn't it? Because he refused to abandon his people, and chose to stay and fight with everything he had.
So maybe he's a bit of a cantankerous, ruthless, closed-up bastard in the events of The Hobbit. Can you blame him? A lesser being would probably be a homicidal, ultra-paranoid maniac after suffering so much. He deserves to behead every orc he comes across, no questions asked. I'm all for mercy, but even I give his rage a pass on this one.
How awkward that I try to keep my blog a source of positive vibes, yet I am writing about the life and family of an utterly tragic character! (I need to make sure I maintain an appropriate fluff-to-angst ratio!!!) But I think the reason I feel compelled to point all of this out repeatedly is to remind y'all: King Thranduil Oropherion is amazingly strong of will, mind, and heart to continue ruling and protecting his people, fighting against Sauron even after he's been beaten down repeatedly for centuries. He always gets back up--stubborn, brave, and unbowed.
For more SotWK/Thranduil headcanons: My Masterlist
#thranduil oropherion#king thranduil#the elvenking#sotwk headcanon#thranduil headcanon#the hobbit#lotr headcanon#the hobbit headcanons#legolas#lotr elves
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in defense of thranduil
hello! so you know how i occasionally do “in defense of” meta posts about unpopular characters ( X X X ) ? well, i’ve been thinking for a while about doing one for thranduil, but i wasn’t quite sure how to go about it since tbh, i don’t think anyone could call thranduil unpopular. his ao3 tag is very well-populated, and, ahem, a good portion of it is smut lol. he even has a ton of “x reader” stuff about him on tumblr, which to me is usually the hallmark of a popular character. but i’ve felt the urge to defend him anyway, and i think it’s because... well. i do think a character can be both popular and misunderstood, and for all the thranduil enthusiasm i’ve seen, i’ve seen just as much thranduil hate and criticism, so clearly something about him has people at odds. specifically, a lot of people seem to think he’s a bad dad, and/or that the peter jackson movies totally butchered his character, which is really interesting to me because i actually believe neither. so i’m going to try to illustrate why! i’ll be primarily discussing movie-verse thranduil in this post, with a few references to the books as a secondary source. so without further ado, here is why i think thranduil is A Good Dad Actually, and the movies are not a “butchering” of but a compelling darker/grittier spin on a character who - since he exists in tolkien’s written works only in a book for children and in the margins of a sprawling and very bloody history - only really works if you reconcile those two things.
under a cut because as always, this is LONG!
let’s first talk about what seems to be people’s main grievance with movie-verse thranduil: the fact that he’s “turned into this greedy character whose only motive is getting back those gems” when that’s not what he’s like in the book. while it’s definitely true that there are a few key differences between book thranduil and movie thranduil, i actually don’t think that the two versions are so incongruous with each other. the areas where they differ, i think, flesh out movie thranduil into a character who compels beyond his simplified, kid-friendly presentation in the hobbit book and who makes sense within the larger historical context of his world. it’s true that the elvenking in the hobbit isn’t explicitly interested in material gain. he mainly seems to get involved in the battle of the five armies to help out bard, since mirkwood is allied with laketown. and there’s also no mention in the book of the elvenking having lost his wife, even though that’s a key part of his backstory in the hobbit movies. in the movies, those gems that he’s so interested in getting back from the dwarves are actually a necklace that belonged to his wife before she died. he’s still motivated by wanting to help laketown - which is why he shows up before the battle with wagons of food and supplies for the starving people - but he’s also motivated by grief - something deeply personal that none of the other characters (except gandalf, because gandalf knows everything lol) are even aware of, and this, i feel, gives depth to his character.
the thing is, thranduil seems greedy because none of the other characters know of, and thus inherently cannot understand, his real reason for pursuing the gems. and it’s true - at face value, it doesn’t make sense why he’d seemingly put his people at risk for a random necklace. a pretty harsh reading of thranduil’s motives could even align him with thorin’s dragon-sickness. but remember how the battle of the five armies started? thranduil and bard pulled up with their forces thinking it was gonna be all of them against twelve dwarves and a hobbit lol. they probably thought there’d be no casualties and it’d be over in twenty minutes! they had no way of knowing how many other forces were going to get involved. and when thranduil does see the first elves laying dead on the ground, he tries to draw out. he never wanted to spend his people’s lives like that. he realizes he had been blinded by his grief for his wife and had acted selfishly - and personally, i like this a lot better than the book’s sort of handwave-y explanation for why the elvenking is even bothering to involve himself and his kingdom in the (petty, by his standards) affairs of dwarves and men. because... movie thranduil is not just Like That for no reason. he has a whole history, going wayyy beyond his wife’s death even, that makes him the way he is - and that is what is so satisfying about his portrayal in the movies, because it actually attempts to acknowledge that deeper context.
we have to remember that thranduil, at least in comparison to pretty much every other character in the hobbit, is old as hell. he reminds us of this multiple times in the movies: “a hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. i can wait.” for a character who presumably shouldn’t need to worry or think about death, he’s unusually fixated on his own immortality in the movies, a trait that is missing from the books. and while i do get why some readers are charmed by the idea of an elf who doesn’t seem to perceive himself very differently than the men and dwarves he’s surrounded by, i’m a lot more drawn in by the idea of an elf who just can’t forget about how different he is. because if you actually think about where thranduil fits into the bigger history of middle-earth, it’s sort of hard to turn the page back from this darker, more scarred side to him - because yeah, he might live forever if he avoids conflict, but he also knows death in a way that someone like bilbo baggins would not even be able to conceptualize. thranduil was born in doriath in the first age, making him old enough to likely have been involved in not one but two kinslayings against his people. we know nothing about his mother, making it likelier than not that she was lost in one of them when he was still a child. his father, oropher, the original elvenking of the greenwood, was killed in the battle of dagorlad in the second age - the “last stand” of elves against sauron. thranduil, fighting alongside him and the silvan elves, had to watch his father die and then be crowned as the new king right then and there. (also, oropher died in the very first charge of the battle, which then continued on for months. imagine how hard it’d have been to stave off that creeping hopelessness.) and finally, thranduil’s wife was killed in battle at some point not long after their son was born. thranduil’s dragon fire scar on his face is an invention of the movies, and it’s unclear when exactly it happened - at the same battle where he lost his wife? some time earlier? but anyways. i’ve been going on and on about his life for a reason, and that reason is Thranduil Has Seen A Lot Of Shit. it’s easy to look at him in the movies and critique him - why is he so cold? why is he an isolationist ruler when in the books he’s more welcoming (after initially chucking the dwarves in jail, lol)? but the hobbit isn’t really thranduil’s story, so exposing all of this context in the movies wouldn’t have made much sense, would it. and i actually like that there are some gaps, because that’s what makes him so interesting. no one knows his history, and why should they? when it comes down to it, thranduil is just a side character in someone else’s adventure.
the last thing that i really want to address is thranduil’s relationship with legolas, his son - partly to refute the idea that he’s a bad dad, but also partly to talk about how despite all the griping that i’ve seen about how stupid it was to “randomly” insert legolas into the hobbit movies, it actually made so much sense for both of their characters. obviously, while it’s confirmed elsewhere that thranduil/the elvenking is legolas’s dad, legolas is not actually in the hobbit book. but this, i think, is more so to do with the fact that tolkien wrote the lord of the rings (and invented legolas’s character) after he wrote the hobbit, and less so to do with the idea that legolas is inherently “irrelevant” to the story of the hobbit. because if legolas is irrelevant to the hobbit, then is he irrelevant to thranduil? i really don’t think so, because even though tolkien gave us no clues as to what their relationship might’ve been like, even the fact that they’re father and son is really important. for thranduil, the fact that he has a son adds dimension not just to who he is in the movies - and yes, we see a fraught side of his dynamic with legolas as he has to reconcile with legolas growing up and wanting a freedom that thranduil with his too-deep understanding of the world’s dangers doesn’t want to give - but also to the concept of his character. thranduil has lost so many people he loved in horrible ways that now legolas is all he has left, and consequentially there’s so much talk about him as an oppressive parent, so paranoid of losing him that he keeps him imprisoned inside the always-closed kingdom gates. but at the end of the hobbit movies, thranduil also gives legolas his blessing to go on the quest to destroy the one ring. when it comes down to it, he is willing to let legolas do what's best for him, even knowing that this could be how he loses him. i know thranduil isn’t a perfect parent, that’s pretty obvious lol. but i don’t see how people watch these movies and their takeaway isn’t that he’s at least trying his best and that he does genuinely love his son. also, look at legolas! legolas is clearly proud of his identity as a wood elf. and he’s happy, he’s caring, he’s adventurous, he’s even pretty wise despite being one of the youngest elves. i don’t exactly see a traumatized victim of horrible parenting in him (and believe me, there is no shortage of victims of terrible parenting in the silmarillion/elsewhere in tolkien’s works) - i see a strong and well-adjusted young adult who wouldn’t hesitate to threaten anyone who spoke ill of his father’s kingdom with his bow lol.
anyway, if you’ve made it this far through my rambling, i hope you can understand at least part of what i’m trying to say lol. it’s hard, because i have so many things i’m kind of trying to say all at once, but: tl;dr i actually think the hobbit movies did thranduil’s character right, not wrong, and that they do the opposite of proving that he’s a bad dad. :3
#tolkien#thranduil#the hobbit#tolkien meta#the hobbit meta#the hobbit movies#mirkwood#legolas#legolas greenleaf#king thranduil#cat's meta#trying out a new tag lol let's see if i can go back and add it to my other meta#the silmarillion#silmarillion#lord of the rings#lotr#lotr meta#silmarillion meta
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Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 27
Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26]
Read on AO3 [x]
Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader
Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village
Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu @honey-wine @accio-boys @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas @sleepyamygdala @coopsgirl @penguinlovestowrite @midsommar-nights
There was an energy in the room as the music continued. All eyes were on Thranduil, spinning and dipping his human companion across the dancefloor. It seemed very intimate for those standing on the sidelines, too intimate for simply a king dancing with a guest... there was something else there that, even those who had no inkling before this moment, certainly did once they saw the two of you together.
It was a wonderful sight nonetheless. There had been a time, long ago, when Thranduil had joined in on these festivities more. When he would dance and sing and laugh as much as the next elf. After his wife’s passing, however, Thranduil had simply stopped. He had not had it in him to dance and be merry, not without her. It was as though the very joy had been sucked out of him when the life left her body.
Legolas did not actually even remember a time when his father had joined in more than simply giving a speech or rubbing elbows with dignitaries during such events. He was practically buzzing with excitement as he moved back to the table and seated himself, watching you and his father with a kind of reverence on his fair features. Legolas had never thought this day would come. The day he realised, truly, that his father had fallen in love.
He would not speak it out loud, especially not to the king himself, but he could see it regardless. It was clear as day. When his father had taken you prisoner here, he had intended to simply look out for you and use your presence as a way to soften his father in regards to the world beyond the borders of the Woodland Realm. The way things had developed between the pair of you was something beyond his imagination. Still, it made him very happy.
Surprising practically everyone who know him, and himself, Thranduil actually led you in one more dance that night, relishing in the joy on your face and the fact he was presented with a genuine reason to be able to have you quite so close. Not that he intended to admit that aloud.
After returning to the table, Thranduil made a point of lavishing you with the attention he had wished to bestow upon you when this feast began. Soon enough, you were both talking and drinking as though it were just the two of you back in the library or in his private dining hall. Your night certainly brightened up, though even without Thranduil’s dancing and his attentiveness, you would have thoroughly enjoyed the whole affair. You decided that elvish festivals were certainly one of your favourite things.
It was just so bright and colourful, full of good food and good music, merrymaking and laughter. Dancing and singing. Homage to the passing of the season. The whole thing was simply beautiful and far outshone any human traditions you might have seen back in your village.
Late into the night, after a little more wine than you had intended to drink, Thranduil had bidden you to stand and, placing his hand upon your lower back in the slightest show of possession, led you out of the hall. Eventually, you found yourself standing on a large, stunning balcony that overlooked the forest. You wondered if you could explore these halls your whole life and still find somewhere new to surprise you.
“I trust you have enjoyed yourself.” Thranduil said softly, smiling slightly as he watched you taking in the view.
“Oh, yes!” You nodded fervently, turning your head, eyes shining up at him. “It’s all so wonderful!” You told him, noting the pleased look in his eyes as you spoke. “And I certainly appreciate you indulging me in the dancing.”
Thranduil grinned a little, thinking back over the way he had noticed everybody eyeing the two of you as he’d actually walked towards the dancefloor with you. The disbelief. He did rather enjoy shocking people.
“It was no great sacrifice, I must admit.” Thranduil hummed, turning his attentiong to the view of the trees beyond his halls. “I had rather an enjoyable time.” A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked at you again, thinking back to the way he had held you, twirling you around the floor, your body so close and so warm.
You flushed under his gaze, though you didn’t entirely know why. There was something in his eyes and you wished you could peek into his thoughts for just a moment.
"Are you happy here?" Thranduil found himself asking you suddenly, after a brief silence.
You hesitated not even for a second before you nodded, smiling slightly as you looked up at him, however he noticed it. He also saw something written in your gaze. Something he couldn’t decipher. Something that you did not want to admit, perhaps.
“Tell me.” He said gently, voice just above a whisper, as if he were afraid of the unspoken words inside your head.
You didn’t look at him for another long moment as you did your best to try and figure out how to put it. You loved being around him, you liked the people here, you had fun... but is a gilded cage not still a cage?
“Can a person be truly happy if they are not actually free?” You asked then, lifting your gaze to his face in time to see him covering some emotion that had flickered unbidden into his expression. You wondered if you had upset him. That was the reason you had not wanted to say anything, the reason you were loath to even keep bringing this up... however, you had absolutely no desire to lie to him.
Thranduil frowned softly, nodding because he supposed that deep down he had known what you were going to say... he’d just wanted to be sure. It upset him to know that you could perhaps never be fully happy here. Over the time he had grown so close to you, he found that it was all he had wanted. For you to be happy here, for you to want to want to stay... with him. It pained him to know that he had caused this. Brought such pain down upon you.
"If only I could see my father.” You sighed, moving to sit down on a little stone chair nearby. You didn’t even know why you were saying it but you wanted Thranduil to know what was on your mind, to know that you still missed him desperately, even if other parts of you were quite happy here in this place. “I just miss him so much."
A silence followed during which you looked up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle overhead as though they had not a care in the whole world, and Thranduil mulled something over in his mind as he watched you in turn. You were not hinting to be let go, he could see that quite clearly. No, in fact, you were simply sharing your thoughts with him, your feelings. Confiding in him. Your desire to flee these halls was no longer overwhelming but you were quite obviously torn in two.
"There is a way.” He said suddenly, watching you turn your curious gaze upon him. “Come with me.” Thranduil held out his hand to help you onto your feet and then he turned and led you back inside.
#thranduil x reader#thranduil x you#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil fanfic#lotr x reader#hobbit x reader#beauty and the beast
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CHAPTER 8 - I VOWED NOT TO FIGHT ANYMORE
Synopsis: Thranduil and his wife do not like sharing their forest. But when they investigate, their findings are much worse than what they could ever have imagined. The King and Queen prepare for war.
Word count: 4k
Pairings: Thranduil/OC
Warnings: violence, murder
Additional tags: SMUT
Link to the chapter overview
Always remember
Uh-huh, the burning embers
I vowed not to fight anymore
If we survived the Great War
- The Great War (Taylor Swift)
Their measures to keep the forest free from spiders seemed to be working. No one had seen a spider in many months. The forest itself, however, was still decaying, leaves blackening, creating an everlasting darkness and a foul stench throughout most of the forest. The light of the elves seemed to be enough to keep the area around their halls clear of the spreading corruption. Thranduil had learned to control his anger. True to his word, he never threatened his wife again, but he could feel it. He could feel the forest slowly darkening, trying to touch his heart and turn him into something twisted and evil.
While the King and Queen had once taken long walks in the forest regularly and Legolas had been climbing trees before he had learned how to walk, Thranduil now avoided the forest. He rarely left his halls, and when he did, he made sure to be wary of any negative feelings he experienced afterwards. Queen Anarríma took a more scientific approach, her view of their situation was that if she understood it better, she might be able to fix it, or at least slow it. One of the first things she discovered was that Thranduil’s mood seemed to be better if he bathed immediately after coming back from the forest.
Her experiments led her into the darkest corners of the forest, venturing further south. It was there, that she discovered them, huge webs, woven by spiders of unprecedented size. Anarríma kept to the trees on her expeditions, so when she heard the stomping footsteps of several individuals, she quickly crawled up as high as she could while still being able to see the ground clearly. But what she saw made all colour drain from her face. Orcs. A scouting party. She had assumed that all orcs were dead, killed by the armies of the last alliance. Anarríma almost screamed out loud when a huge black mass suddenly descended on the group of five.
The spider was bigger than Thranduil’s elk, with massive fangs and more eyes than any creature should reasonably possess. Could it be that it was Ungoliant herself? It killed the orcs quickly, quietly and efficiently. More spiders appeared, gorging themselves on the flesh of the dead orcs. Anarríma pondered where they might be coming from. What wretched place in the south of their forest could be their home? Dol Guldur. Amon Lanc. The mountain had been abandoned by Oropher, Thranduil’s father. What if the orcs, the spiders, or maybe even worse lived there now?
Thranduil was relieved when his wife came home, but when she immediately ordered a war council, before even taking her armour off, he was worried beyond reason. Their small circle of advisors arrived quickly, and the Queen told them of what she had seen in the forest. Scouting parties were chosen, favouring stealth over numbers, letters were written to Imladris and Lothlorien and Gondor, informing them of the situation and asking if orcs had shown themselves in Celeborn and Galadriel’s realm, or the ruins of Mordor. Queen Anarríma desired to join the scouting party herself, but Thranduil protested vehemently. This time, she saw reason. She had been in the forest for too long and she could feel it affecting her mood already. Countermeasures were in order.
The advisors and soldiers departed in the middle of the night, having received their orders to keep this development a secret. Thranduil reached for his wife’s hand, leading her to the bathroom. One by one, he stripped her of her weapons. He lovingly removed every piece of armour, then her boots, her jacket, her shirt, her pants, her underwear, until she was completely bare. One thing Anarríma loved about her husband was that no matter how often he had seen her naked, he always looked at her as if he saw her for the first time. She lowered herself into the water, fully submerging herself for several minutes. The relief was immediate.
She felt at peace when she finally rose to the surface again, a deep, content sigh leaving her as she looked over at Thranduil, who was sitting at the edge of the pool, already undressed, bottles of shampoo and soaps and a washcloth next to him. She approached him slowly and he lowered himself into the water. “Are you alright?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Ana nodded. She felt so much better already. She straddled his lap as he washed her hair, paying attention to every single strand. The Queen got drowsy as his skilled hands massaged her scalp and slowly lathered up her entire body. Thranduil rinsed her hair thoroughly, letting go of her only to wash himself.
Anarríma smiled contently, lost deeply in her thoughts. “What is it, meleth nin?” Thranduil asked. “When we bathe together, I am always reminded of the first night we spent together, how much simpler things were back then.” Thranduil chuckled as she reminded him of that night. “If you wish, we can re-enact it,” he suggested smugly. The Queen splashed his face with water. “You’re incorrigible.” “That was not a no.” Anarríma giggled and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I believe, my king,” she remarked, “that you carried me to bed that night.” Thranduil leaned in close, making her feel his hot breath on her neck. “I don’t think I have the patience for that tonight.”
Unceremoniously, he set her down on the edge of the pool, draping her long legs over his shoulders as he kissed his way up her thighs. Anarríma exclaimed his name in shock, threading her fingers into his hair, grabbing onto him for support. She could feel him moan against her, reacting to the way she pulled his hair. The torturous pleasure he was subjecting her to seemed different that day, somehow more urgent, more desperate. “I need you,” the King groaned, his head emerging from between her legs to take a quick breath, immediately returning his attention to pleasuring his Queen. “You have me,” she gasped, digging her heels into his back.
“More,” he grunted amidst his ministrations, digging his nails into her hip, holding her in place, easing in two of his long fingers, making the Queen cry out in pleasure. He could tell she was close by the way her thighs were shaking and her back was arching backwards. He ought to leave her like this, he thought, but quickly tossed the thought aside at the feeling of her hands tugging so firmly on his wet hair. “My King,” she moaned, “I am so close, my King.” A final swipe of his tongue against her sensitive clit sent her over the edge, panting and moaning as she let herself fall back onto the floor, overcome with pleasure.
Thranduil emerged from the water, sitting down next to her, his back against the wall. He dragged her onto his lap, lovingly caressing her face, kissing her cheek, murmuring words of praise in her ear as she sank down on his hard cock. She still felt so raw from her first orgasm that it made her whimper. “That’s it, you’re doing so good for me, my darling,” he whispered, the roughness of his hands on her hips a stark contrast to the softness of his voice. The Queen buried her head in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses all over. Thranduil took control, as always, even when he was not on top, using his strong grip on Anarríma to move her up and down slowly.
They spent what felt like hours, and yet, too short, wrapped in each other’s arms, their joined movements so deliberately slow and so desperate to be close to each other. Their moans grew louder and the King let one of his hands wander between their bodies to increase his wife’s pleasure. He could feel how close she was, how close he was. Thranduil knew that he couldn’t hold back any longer. He began thrusting harder, more quickly, grunting more loudly and when his wife screamed out in ecstasy, he came with a loud moan, pushing her down firmly on his cock, holding her still as he spilled his seed inside her.
Anarríma laid her head on Thranduil’s chest, completely and utterly exhausted from their hours of lovemaking. He had ended up carrying her to bed after all. The sun was already rising, returning them to the reality of their lives and the inevitable threat that lingered outside. “Thranduil?” she whispered. “Hmmm?” came the half-asleep king’s response. “Legolas needs to learn how to fight. To defend himself. It may be necessary before long.” Thranduil sat up with a groan, leaning against the headboard, Ana’s head resting on his thigh. “Ana, I don’t want this,” the King admitted after a pause, his voice quivering just slightly, almost unnoticeable, but she knew him. The Queen sat up slowly, leaning in even closer to her husband, her fingers ghosting over the left side of his face.
“I know.” She sighed deeply “But I’m afraid we don’t have another choice.” Thranduil let his head fall back in despair, knowing that their situation was getting dire. “We will kill them all. I will destroy every single orc there is left and every spider that crosses my path. Our son will never need to fight a day in his life.” He really meant those words, Ana knew it. But could they manage it? She had been thorough in her attempt to destroy the spiders, and all she had done was make it worse. “And if we can’t?” Her voice was unsteady, shaking with a fear instilled into her by centuries of war. Gondolin. Her earliest childhood memories. She did not want Legolas’ life to be so dark. Thranduil sighed deeply. “If we fail, I will train him myself. He will become the best warrior this kingdom has ever seen.”
Reluctantly, the King and Queen rose to face the day. Thranduil went to the throne room, he was holding audiences today. Anarríma went to Legolas, attempting to wake him up. “Nana I don’t wanna be awake!” he protested. The Queen smirked mischievously and let herself fall into her son’s bed dramatically, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re right,” she yawned. Just as she was about to drift off, a knock on the door jerked her awake. “What is it?” she groaned. The door opened, revealing Galion, Thranduil’s butler. “Pardon the intrusion, my Queen. Your Highness. His majesty requested I tell you that it is unfair that you should get to sleep when he has to sit on his uncomfortable throne all day, without even having eaten breakfast.”
Ana sat up. “Thranduil sent you here to wake me up?” “Yes, my Queen.” She grimaced. “Little Leaf,” she addressed her son, “I think Galion would like to have a pillow fight.” Legolas was wide awake all of a sudden, grabbing pillows twice his size and throwing them in the butler’s general direction. The Queen herself also grabbed a pillow, threatening Galion playfully. “Please don’t kill the messenger, my Queen, I beg mercy!” he exclaimed, dramatically sinking to his knees. Anarríma grabbed Legolas and lifted him onto her shoulders. “Let’s go find Ada and bring the poor starving king some breakfast.”
The Queen sneaking into the kitchen in her nightgown to make some breakfast used to be a frequent occasion in the first years she spent in Lasgalen. These days, she rarely did. She and Legolas had a quick breakfast before grabbing the tray set aside for the king and making their way towards the throne room. The guards did a double take when they saw their Queen, dressed in her nightgown, Prince Legolas on her shoulders, the King’s breakfast in her hands. One glance from her and they quickly remembered themselves, opening the doors. “Her Majesty, Queen Anarríma of Lasgalen, Lady of the Woodland Realm and His Highness Crown Prince Legolas.” Ana watched Thranduil’s eyes shoot open when he saw her.
Legolas ran towards his father, climbing his throne at remarkable speed and throwing his arms around Thranduil’s neck. “Ada!” he shouted excitedly. “We brought you breakfast.” “Yes, I can see that, Little Leaf,” Thranduil chuckled, gently ruffling his son’s hair. He took mostly after him with his bright blond hair, it was just a hint darker, shining golden in the sunlight. He got that from Ana. His Queen approached the throne, setting down the tray on a small table to the side before kissing Thranduil on the cheek. It seemed like a sweet gesture, but Thranduil clearly felt that it was meant to say ‘You bastard had Galion wake me up.’
Audiences appeared to go less smoothly that day, many people said. The King seemed somehow distracted and the Queen must have been feeling under the weather, as she was wrapped firmly in King Thranduil’s robes and she was clinging to her husband all morning, as if she would freeze to death if she moved only an inch away from him. The truth was she needed him. Few others knew that she had encountered a band of orcs, and even fewer knew how much it had upset her. Thranduil could feel it. He didn’t say anything but he could tell by the way she was trembling ever so slightly, barely even noticeable if she hadn’t been so close to him. It was at that moment that he decided his Queen should never have to face an orc again for the rest of all eternity.
The scouting party returned late. Ana had been anxious all day. While she had gotten dressed sometime in the morning, she was still wearing one of Thranduil’s robes on top, the hem trailing after her as she was pacing restlessly. They held a council in Thranduil’s study and the King and Queen’s worst fears were confirmed. Dol Guldur, the abandoned remains of Amon Lanc, former home of the Sindarin and Silvan elves, was swarming with orcs. But that wasn’t all. They had brought a prisoner, except it was not an orc, but an elf. “Why is he in chains?” The King demanded to know immediately and the other soldiers reluctantly followed his order. He had been wounded by a being of darkness. A shadow in the shape of a man, they described it.
The Queen approached the restrained soldier cautiously while the others relayed their tale to the king. His skin was grey, she realized horrified. The soldier’s blood had turned from red to black. “I cannot feel his fëa anymore,” she murmured. The elven soldier had turned into something straight out of a nightmare. The soldier who was speaking turned to her instead. “Hiril nin,” he addressed her, fear and despair apparent in his voice, “when the blade struck him, it was only a matter of minutes. We cleaned the wound and bandaged it to the best of our abilities while we made our retreat, but even after the bleeding stopped, we could feel him slip away.”
“Can he understand us?” the Queen wondered out loud, trying to get the soldier to look up at her. When he finally did, she stumbled backwards. Thranduil caught her, steadying her with an arm around the waist. “After his fëa was separated from his body, he transformed,” the soldier continued, “we saw his blood change from red to black, his eyes changed. If I didn’t know who he was, I would not be able to tell anymore.” Orc. That’s what he was now. Not elven. Not anymore. Maybe even dead. Was he in the Halls of Mandos now? Was he still in there somewhere? Was he still immortal? Would he go to the Halls of Mandos if he died? Anarríma’s thoughts were racing. Thranduil did not appear to be in a better condition.
“Bring him to a cell,” Thranduil ordered quietly. “Speak of this to no one. Rest now, all of you. We will reconvene tomorrow.” Ana felt his hand grip her arm hard. Not an act of violence, but one of fear. The King was about to lose his calm demeanor and he was trying to somehow keep it together until the soldiers were gone. The door closed. “How is this possible,” Thranduil whispered. “The shadow, what is it? What does it want from us?” Ana wrestled herself out of Thranduil’s firm grasp, hastening over to his desk. The ink dripped onto the page as she struggled to find the right words. When they came to her, she wrote at lightning speed, her usually elegant handwriting now only legible to people who knew it well enough. She copied the letter, sealing both copies with wax and handing them off to a servant she stopped in the hall.
When she was finished, Thranduil was still standing in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the wall, his eyes darting from side to side, muttering words under his breath. Anarríma walked towards him slowly, approaching him like a startled animal. “Thranduil?” She reached for his arm, gently taking it into her hands and leading him over to the desk, pushing him down into his chair, letting him pull her down with him, landing on his lap. “What did you do?” He motioned towards the remaining evidence of her letter-writing. “I sent a letter to Ada. And to Elrond. They need to know. Maybe they can help.” Thranduil merely nodded before burying his head against Ana’s chest.
“How did this happen, Ana?” he whispered shakily, “did we not do everything we could?” The Queen was stroking his soft hair gently, taken aback by Thranduil’s rare display of sadness over rage. She had expected him to throw glasses against walls, letting them shatter into thousands of pieces, to leave the palace immediately and return hours later, covered in dirt and sweat and blood. This was somehow worse. She felt somehow even more powerless as she felt his tears soak her dress, muffled sobs making their way to her ears. “We have to kill him,” she suddenly found herself saying out loud.
“I know,” came the whispered response. Their situation was hopeless. “It would be cruel to make his family see him like this,” the Queen continued. “He was killed by a spider, somewhere out in the woods. The others never found his body.” Thranduil looked up at her. Rarely had he ever seen his wife look so cold. So determined. “He was killed by a spider. They never found his body,” he agreed. “We can’t wait for Elrond to come and take a look at him. A fëa can’t be brought back. It would be cruel-,” she hesitated. Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. “It would be cruel to prolong his suffering,” he agreed. The King watched in horror as his wife pushed him away and stood up, straightening the long white skirts of her dress.
“Ana you don’t have to-” “Yes, I do.” He stood up, racing after her, but she shut the door in his face, turning the key once, twice, three times. “Ana, open the door,” she winced as his fist connected with the wood, pounding relentlessly. It would not stop him for long. “Please Thranduil,” she pleaded with him. “Please don’t do this to yourself. Stay here, I will come back right after.” She heard him calling after her as she slowly walked down the corridor. The King could scream as loudly as he wanted to, their chambers were soundproof. No one would hear him. He sank to the floor in misery, letting the tears fall freely down his cheeks.
Anarríma was shaking, her heartbeat too fast, her breathing too unnatural. She steadied herself as she made her way into the dungeon, clutching the small bow she had picked up on her way down more tightly. “Dismissed.” The dungeon guards only gave her a nod and left. They knew what she had come to do. They knew that not a word of this could ever leave their mouths. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness as she made her way towards one of the only occupied cells. There were not many prisoners in Lasgalen. Mostly Noldorin elves imprisoned by Thranduil’s father for kinslaying. Those who had fought in the Dagor Dagorlad had been pardoned. The others would face a long eternity behind bars.
The light of a torch illuminated the former elf’s twisted face. Anarríma searched desperately for something familiar, something that would tell her that she was wrong about this. But she found nothing but contempt for her. “I’m sorry I failed you,” she whispered to the prisoner. “You know what I must do. You know there is no other way. I am so sorry.” Ana had hoped to at least see some form of recognition in his eyes. But he didn’t even look scared as she aimed an arrow at his throat. She felt tears sting her eyes as she released the bowstring. He dropped to the floor with a loud thud, dead before he even hit the ground. “Hiro hon hîdh ab 'wanath [may he find peace after death],” she whispered, turning around to return to their quarters.
As she passed Legolas’ chambers she heard muffled sobs. Immediately, she opened the door and found her son in the far corner of his room, wrapped up in a blanket, crying softly. “Little Leaf? What happened?” She approached him slowly, sitting down on the floor next to him. “Nana, you got hurt!” He must have had a nightmare. “I am alright, Little Leaf, it was just a bad dream.” She picked him up gently, carrying him back to his bed. “But I saw it, Nana,” Legolas insisted weakly. “Ada hurt you.” What on Arda had he seen? “Ada did not hurt me, Little Leaf,” she reassured him. ‘But he will if I don’t let him out soon,’ she added silently. “Ada would never hurt me.”
A lie. But a necessary one. She kissed his cheek softly. “Sleep, ion-nin. I love you.” Legolas drifted off slowly. Ana waited until she was certain he would not wake up again and returned to her and Thranduil’s chambers. Thranduil was not banging on the door anymore. He had forced the door open. She peaked inside his study carefully. He was sitting at his desk, writing something down. “Is it done?” He did not look at her. She was glad. “Yes.” Thranduil put down the quill and looked up at her. “I am giving a speech tomorrow. The army needs to be ready. We strike immediately if reinforcement from Imladris and Lothlorien comes. If not, we must do it anyway.”
Anarríma nodded. “I will think up some different strategies, think over some numbers, prepare my armour and weapons.” Thranduil stared her down. “You will not fight. I do not allow it. You must remain here. With our son.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I assume you will be leading the attack?” He affirmed. “Thranduil, do you not remember the last time you told me to stay-” “Says the person who just locked me in!” He shouted angrily. She stumbled backwards. Thranduil’s outburst had only been a matter of time, but she was still caught off guard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He huffed a laugh. “Me too.” “I will fight beside you,” she stated plainly, approaching her husband, carefully wiping away the tears on his cheeks. Thranduil leaned into her touch, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her in for a long kiss. “You will fight beside me,” he agreed, “and we will kill them all.”
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