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coopsgirl · 10 months

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The Shadow and the Sunrise

Here is the final chapter. Thank you all for reading and I hope you will enjoy it! Read at AO3 here.

Summary: The elves complete their move across the river and away from the encroaching darkness while Thranduil and Ranyare prepare for their wedding and new life together (safe for work)

Work on their new homes continued into Autumn and before the first snow of Winter fell, all the elves of the Woodland Realm had moved across the river. Scout troops continued to monitor the progression of the darkness into their forest and by the time the move was completed, it had engulfed nearly the entirety of the Greenwood. As Thranduil had hoped, the malevolent force did not cross the water and while the size of his realm had greatly shrunk, he did not mind as his people were safe. Extensive work had been done on the caverns to make them into livable quarters and the king beamed with a great sense of pride as so many of his kind had lived in similar abodes throughout their long history.

“I know these halls are not as grand as Nargothrond or Menegroth, but they are still a beautiful wonder” Thranduil said as he and Ranyare toured their new home. “It is amazing how much this space has been transformed. My room is so lovely and instead of the stone feeling cold and lifeless, it actually seems warm and inviting” she explained as they walked along one of the corridors that led to a small waterfall. “I hope you will not get too attached to it. Come Spring, we will move into our shared chamber” he said as they were both living in what were meant to be guest rooms as work continued on their expansive suite. “I am counting the days till then dear one” she said wistfully as they paused and stood hand in hand watching the clear water that fell from a small shaft down into a pool and then out again down a stream flowing through one of the tunnels. Sunlight glittered on the water making it appear as if diamonds instead of water were falling down before them. Thranduil smiled at the magnificent sight and mused, “This is my favorite place in all these caverns. It makes me think of you, and the change you have brought about in my life. Knowing you, loving you, has been like the sun rising and wiping all the darkness and shadows away.” He raised her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed her knuckles. Her eyes teared up as she echoed his beautiful sentiment. “My life for such a long time has been lived in the shadows, hiding away and running from the pain of the past. You helped me face it and overcome it. I will never be able to thank you enough for that and for your love. I love you so deeply nin galad (my light).” They embraced and Thranduil replied, “And I love you, Nendil.” “Nendil?” She was a bit confused by this until he explained. “I thought it was time for you to have a new name for you are no long a wanderer. It means lover of the lake and that seemed fitting for you. You do not have to use it if you do not like it.” She looked up at him with a big, beaming smile and said, “I love it and so Nendil I shall be from now until the end of days.”

Invitations were soon sent to Imladris and Lothlórien regarding the upcoming royal nuptials. Nendil attached the invitation along with a letter she wrote to the carrier bird that would travel the long distance to the Grey Havens. She let it go and watched as the bird rose higher into the sky and further away until it could no longer be seen. “Do you think she will make it?” she asked Thranduil who stood beside her on the hill. “Let us hope she will. I know how much you would like to see him again.” “It is such a long way. I will understand if he is not able to come.” Nendil tried to put on a brave face but Thranduil knew how disappointed she would be if Círdan was unable to attend their wedding. “Come now, let us go on our picnic and enjoy this beautiful day” he said as he picked up their basket and took her hand. Though still in the grip of Winter’s icy fingers, a few sunny days had melted much of the snow and Thranduil meant to take full advantage of this.

“You spoil me too much nin galad” Nendil said as he spread out a blanket and then filled their glasses with wine. He also laid out the food including her favorite cheeses, crackers, and honey cakes. “I do not believe I have yet spoiled you enough nin anor mír (my sunshine).” He reached into the basket and pulled out a small black velvet drawstring bag and handed it to her. “Thranduil, another gift?!” she said with delight and surprise. Ever since she accepted his proposal, he had bestowed many gifts upon her including new dresses, perfumes, vanity items, and jewelry. “It is not much, but I thought you might like it.” She opened the bag and pulled out a roughly oval shaped stone. Her mouth opened in awe as she held it in her palm and admired its beautiful blue-green color. “I remembered your description of Cuiviénen and the color of the water. I found it near the edge of the pool under the waterfall and thought it might be a good match.” “It is perfect” she said unable to take her eyes away from the thoughtful gift. “I shall keep it with me always.” She put the stone in the specially made pocket of her gown where she also kept her knife. Thranduil chuckled and noted that the tailor may need to make her clothes with larger pockets in the future. “Only if a certain ellon continues to give me such wonderful and heartfelt gifts” she jokingly retorted.

“Trust me, nin anor mír, you have no cause to be uneasy. Everyone who meets you cannot help but be taken with you.” Thranduil’s words did help to calm Nendil’s nerves about meeting their wedding guests who would soon arrive but a part of her still felt hesistant. “I may be about to marry a king but I do not quite feel like a queen. What if they do not think I belong with you, or with them? They are descendants of high kings and Maia and you are not only a king but a brave warrior of the highest skill. I am a simple Nelyar elf who is special do only to my advanced age.” Thranduil tenderly brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers and then moved his hand down to caress her shoulder. “Your age alone is not what makes you special. You have a gentle, calming presence and a quiet inner strength that shines out through your lovely eyes. Eyes that have seen both good and evil and that look out into the world with renewed hope instead of despair. No one would dare to question your worth or place as a queen.” “How do you always know the perfect words to say?” she said as she put her arms around his waist and pulled him close in a warm embrace. “Because I love you.”

Nendil’s fears were completely unnecessary as their guests found her as enchanting as her soon-to-be husband did. Elrond, his wife Celebrían, their daughter Arwen, and Glorfindel made up the delegation from Imladris. Their sons were left behind in Lord Elrond’s place, to guard over their realm. Galadriel and her husband Celeborn, Celebrían’s parents, came from Lothlórien where they had recently become the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood after the disappearance of King Amroth who had gone in search of the elleth he loved. Their first dinner together was held out in the courtyard built for just such a gathering. The early Spring weather was cool and the scent of the first blossoms of the season sweetened the air.

Throughout dinner, Nendil noticed that Glorfindel took a few glances at her wrists. She no longer hid her scars and although they were quite faded, they were visible as her gown had elbow length sleeves. She was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious about them but once, when she caught him eyeing them, he gave her a smile and she felt as if he understood. After dinner, Nendil seeing they were low on wine, said she would go and fetch more bottles. Glorfindel offered to go with her. “I hope you are not intending to steal my fiancé away” Thranduil joked as the golden-haired elf was quite handsome and very charismatic. “I can clearly see she only has eyes for you, although I cannot imagine why” his old friend said with a laugh and twinkle in his grey eyes.

“Thranduil, you have found someone quite wonderful and I am very happy for you” Elrond said sincerely. “Thank you mellon nin. I hope we will have as happy and loving a marriage as you and Celebrían and as long and successful as you two” he said directing his last comments to Celeborn and Galadriel whose marriage had already spanned thousands of years. “When you have the right partner, they give you strength making it easier to navigate the ebbs and flows of life” Celeborn said looking lovingly at his wife. “We will all need strength going forward as I fear the stability and safety we have enjoyed for centuries is waning. I am loath to dampen our happy mood but as you are all aware, something evil has overcome our forest and it may not stay contained with the borders of the Greenwood.” “I was very sorry to hear about this change as I have always enjoyed our visits here. The mountains are, or rather were, so beautiful” Arwen explained as she and her brothers had traveled many times between the two neighboring elven realms of Lothlórien and Greenwood. “Future travel may have to be limited as our focus will need to be on the protection of each of our realms.” Galadriel’s words were true, and they cast a sad pall on the gathering of old and beloved friends. “Sadly, I agree. I would not feel comfortable leaving my realm for an extended period of time and I understand that each of you feel the same” Thranduil explained. “Then I am glad indeed that what may be our last gathering for some time is for such a joyous occasion” Celebrían said as she raised her glass in a toast.

“I beg your pardon for my staring earlier” Glorfindel said as he and Nendil walked together to the king’s personal wine cellar. “No apology is needed, but thank you.” “You and I have something unfortunate in common. We have both been in close proximity to the ultimate evil and have lived to tell the tale.” She looked up at him and saw real understanding in his eyes and expression. “It is a terrible burden, one that time had only slightly lessened, until I met Thranduil.” Glorfindel smiled and said, “I may tease my friend but he is a good ellon and will surely be a good husband. It is quite obvious how much he loves you.” “I was nervous to meet you all but you have been so kind and I am very happy that you are all here to celebrate with us.” “I am as well. I love a good party and feast” he said as she retrieved a couple of bottles and handed them to him. “I hope you do not mind me asking and if you do not wish to speak of it, please do not feel that you must, but I am very curious what it was like to defeat a balrog.” Her words were a bit timid as she realized that was a traumatic event that led to his death and he was only there now as he had been rebodied and sent back to Middle Earth. “I do not mind speaking of it,” he said reassuringly before he continued. “If I could not defeat Morgoth himself, I am glad to have killed that foul creature who was bent to his will. I would willingly give up my life again to stop anymore of his minions who remain.” “I do wish I could have done more. I did kill an orc after I saw Amon Lanc had been taken by them.” “We each do what we can. I believe the best way to defeat the dark is to not let it overcome your light.”

“I simply cannot wait until the wedding day. Naneth and I made this for you both.” Arwen said after Nendil had returned. She had retrieved the gift while waiting for the pair to return with the wine. Thranduil took the large box tied with a green silk ribbon and opened it. He pulled out what appeared to be a tapestry and when he unrolled it, he and Nendil were both in awe of it. Celebrían and Arwen had used their impressive needlework skills to recreate the sketch Thranduil had sent them of Lake Cuiviénen. “It is beautiful. Thank you both” Thranduil said as he continued to marvel at his sketch in this different medium. Diamonds made up the stars that sparkled above the trees and fine threads of Mithril woven through the blue-green water gave it a truly ethereal quality. “I do not believe I have ever seen such beautiful work. This shall hang in our chambers so we will be sure to see it every day. Thank you so much” Nendil said. Mother and daughter were happy that their gift had been so well received and the group spent the rest of the evening enjoying the wine and jovial conversation.

Thranduil walked Nendil to her room and as had become their custom, they kissed goodnight. Thranduil was in such a good mood however, he was not quite ready for the day to end just yet. She opened her door and he asked, “May I come in?” “I am sorry. Only my husband is allowed in my room” she said with a sly smile and teasing tone. “I shall be your husband in a few short days.” He caressed her cheek with his hand as he pulled her towards him and kissed her again. “But you are not my husband yet.” Nendil moved her head to the side to give him greater access as his kisses moved down her neck. “That is but a mere technicality” he said breathily between kisses. She smiled and took his hand as she pulled him into her room and closed the door. “Now what shall we do my soon-to-be but not quite yet husband?” He did not answer but instead gave her a smirk and picked her up and took a few steps toward her bed. “Oh! Thranduil, put me down!” she protested while laughing. He set her feet back on the ground but not until they were next to her bedside table. “I suppose I can wait a bit longer” he said taking her hands in his. He noticed a ball of nettle yarn sitting on the table by the oil lamp and he let go of one of her hands so he could pick it up. “Are you going to knit something?” he asked as he was curious why she had that as she now wore clothes made of fine silk and velvets. She took the yarn ball from him and looked at it, and then back to his eyes that glowed with so much love and admiration for her. “I keep it so I will not forget what my life used to be. It is not just our joys but also our pain that makes us who we are. They are both a part of life. I never want to take my new happiness for granted; I never want to take you for granted.” “Every day I wake up and thank Eru that you will be my wife. It is good to have friends and while they may bring much comfort, you have made me feel whole again after so much loss. Goodnight nin anor mír” Thranduil said sweetly as he kissed her forehead. “Goodnight nin galad” she said softly as they reluctantly parted.

It was now the day before their wedding and Nendil was sitting in the garden of Thranduil’s mother’s plants that flourished in the Spring sunshine as she and Galadriel, Celebrían, and Arwen worked on the flower and ribbon garlands that would decorate the courtyard. Thranduil and Celeborn joined them and after a bit of small talk the king said to his fiancé, “I have a surprise for you.” He then gestured for someone to join them and an ellon with long silver hair and a short white beard stepped out from behind the tall hedge that encircled the garden. “Nowë!” she said with a gasp as she used the name she had known him by so long ago. “Dear Nórime” he said walking towards her and she rushed to him as well and as they embraced, neither one could stop the tears from flowing at such a long-awaited reunion. He leaned down to whisper to her, “We never blamed you for what happened. You did the best you could.” She squeezed him even more tightly and the tears she shed then would be the last that old pain would ever cause her.

For a moment, it was as if they were back at the shores of the lake without a care in the world. The others were anxious to speak to him as it had been a long time since they had been in each other’s company. They were happy to let the pair have as long as they needed and once they finally parted, they walked hand in hand to join their friends. Galion brought them some tea and cakes and then work continued on the garlands as they spoke of many things. “I distinctly remember your hair being as black as a raven’s wing” Círdan said. “I do not recall you having a beard mellon nin.” “I suppose time changes all things, including ourselves” he chuckled in response. Galadriel looked at her husband and teasing him said, “I wonder how you shall look with a beard meleth nin?” They all laughed as Celeborn retorted, “I have many years to go before we may find out.” “Celeborn is going to speak for Thranduil and I want to ask if you would you speak for me tomorrow and give your blessing over our union?” Nendil asked her dear friend as it was custom for the couple’s parents or close friends to do so during weddings. “I would be honored. The only thing that would give me more joy would be to one day see the blessed shores of Aman” he said with a warm smile.

The time for the ceremony had come and Thranduil waited for his bride in the sitting room. “I am ready” she said causing him to turn and stare at her with wonder. The sleeveless light pink gown accentuated her figure and looked beautiful with her silver hair and violet eyes. Darker pink flowers and greenery had been embroidered along the bodice, down past the waist, and along the hem.

“I have never seen anyone more beautiful” he said stepping towards her and taking her hands in his. “You look wonderfully handsome” she replied as his silver tunic with charcoal grey leggings and knee-high black boots made him quite a sight indeed. “You are missing something” he said with a grin as he reached for a box and opened it revealing a silver circlet that matched his own. Nendil bowed slightly and he placed the symbol of her queenship on her head.

When they walked out into the courtyard hand in hand, a great cheer erupted from the gathered elves. The couple smiled and waived as they made their way to a small dais at the front of the crowd where Celeborn and Círdan were already standing. Celeborn began the ceremony as the sun shone bright overhead. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a most joyous occasion, the joining of Thranduil and Nendil in marriage. I have known Thranduil his entire life and am proud to call him my friend. As a child, he would often play in the forest until the late hours and his parents would have to send soldiers out to find him.” The crowd chuckled and then he continued. “I remember a time when Oropher confided in me that he was concerned his son seemed to show no interest in leadership or learning about diplomacy and other skills necessary to be a good prince and maybe someday a king. Of course, Thranduil was only 16 years old.” This got an even bigger laugh. “Those worries were completely unfounded however as you all can attest to his strengths as your king. I am confident his parents would be proud of the leader he has become and of the wonderful elleth he has chosen to be his queen. May the blessings of the Valar and Eru himself make your marriage a strong and happy one” he said concluding his speech as everyone clapped. When the applause died down, Círdan began his blessing. “I cannot express to everyone here how much joy I feel at the happiness my dear friend has found. I can think of no one who deserves it more that she. She has at last found a home and will wander no longer. Thranduil, you are not simply getting a wife or even a queen, but a loyal force of nature who will selflessly fight for you and your people. Cherish each other and let your love be a source of strength for whatever may lie ahead. I second my friend Celeborn’s sentiment in wishing the Valar’s blessings on you both.”

The crowd cheered again as the bride and groom now prepared to share their vows and exchange rings. They were both a bit overcome with emotion but they gathered themselves and began. “Nendil, I Thranduil pledge to you my love, respect, protection, and fidelity all the days of my life.” Celeborn handed him the ring, a gold band with leaves carved into it, and he placed it on her finger. “Thranduil, I Nendil pledge to you my love, loyalty, devotion, and counsel all the days of my life.” Círdan handed her a matching ring and she slid it onto Thranduil’s finger. “To the king and queen!” Celeborn exclaimed as the coupled kissed and the elves boisterously cheered.

The celebration included a wonderful dinner, plenty of Thranduil’s favorite wine, and dancing. Nendil felt as if she was floating as she and Thranduil danced under the setting sun. He whispered something to her causing her to blush and smile from ear to ear. She nodded ‘yes’ and then they snuck away from the crowd and back to their shared chambers. “I hope our guests will not be upset that we left early” she said as Thranduil poured them one last celebratory glass of wine. “I would guess they are surprised we stayed as long as we did” he said matter of factly as he handed her the glass. She giggled as they toasted each other and then drank the sweet, fragrant wine. “I have never had anything like this” Nendil said as she savored the taste. “It is a very special wine that is only produced in small batches. I have saved it for only myself but now, everything I have, everything I am, is yours.” “Nin galad, I love you so very much” she said stepping towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist. “Would you care to show me exactly how much you love me?” he whispered into her ear, his breath warm and soft against her skin. “It would be my pleasure aran nin.”

The End

Notes: Naneth = Mother

#the shadow and the sunrise #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fan fic #thranduil fluff #thranduil #elvenking #greenwood #mirkwood #tolkien tag #expanded middle earth history #ao3 #thranduil x elvenqueen #elrond #celebrian #arwen #galadriel #celeborn #cirdan #glorfindel

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ginger-and-all-things-spice · 7 months

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A WIP of the Elvenqueen, Thranduil’s wife, Legolas’s mother.

#fanart #drawing #art #thranduil #the hobbit #mirkwood #thranduil of mirkwood #tolkien #greenwood the great #thranduil x wife #thranduils wife #the elvenqueen

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timeladyjamie · 11 months

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Be expecting an update soon on "Eternal Love" with Chapter 4!

#thranduil's wife #thranduil x wife #my fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #the elvenqueen #elvenqueen #legolas's mother #legolas greenleaf

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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

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Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 31

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, 27, 28, 29, 30]

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 Warnings: Violence/death (I forgot this on the last one, sorry) this chapter also includes physical abuse. Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu @honey-wine @accio-boys @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas @sleepyamygdala @coopsgirl @penguinlovestowrite @midsommar-nights @whore-of-many-hot-men

After running up the stairs that Tauriel had directed you to at the back of the wine cellar, you had found yourself slipping through one of three other doorways at the top and, to your relief, came back out into familiar ground.

The Elvenqueen’s chambers.

You had burst from behind a curtain - this one red as you’d noticed most that led to the queen’s chambers were - at the same moment that Vermund himself had rushed from a room somewhere down the hall.

Stunned, you had stood there, staring dumbly at him as his gaze had fallen on you. He was moving before you could even really register his approach, so shocked were you at his being here of all places. In Thranduil’s wife’s private rooms. In the back of your mind you registered that the room he had come fleeing from was the one that took you to the garden where the roses lived!

How dare he!

Your anger began to bubble up past the surface then but your time was already up. Just as you had opened your mouth, Vermund's large hand had come clamping down over it, his other arm wrapping around your body as he began to pull you with great haste away down the hall, back through the other unseen way he had come here from.

You struggled against him, of course you did, but you were simply no match for Vermund. The realisation made your blood run cold.

Before you knew it, you were outside. You thought you heard Tauriel's voice from somewhere far behind you but you couldn't turn to be sure, so tight was Vermund's grip on you. He dragged you out of some back door and away into the forest and, if you had fully been able to, you would have gone kicking and screaming.

Thranduil was beyond furious now. He was practically burning with rage as he moved through the forest. He knew the paths of these trees like the back of his hand and following the trail that Vermund's lumbering steps had left was not difficult.

He was desperate to find you - and find you safe and unharmed. This man had no right, no right to come into his realm armed for a fight, no right to drag you away anywhere against your will.

Thranduil had placed you in a cell the first time he met you, yes, but if you had not made the offer of switching places with your father he would not have done so. It was your choice, even if you might have felt that you had none. As bad-tempered and impulsive with anger as he may have been, he would not have put you anywhere had you been unwilling. Vermund had no right to force you into anything, especially this. Thranduil would not allow it. Could not.

He had no doubt that this oaf’s plan was to drag you away back to your pitiful little village and force you into a marriage you had absolutely no desire for. He would rip away your freedom and cage you in a life that was not your own. Did he think that Thranduil would not come? Did he think that he would let you go so easily? That he would allow this man to disrespect him and his people and let him walk away without punishment?

No, Thranduil decided, he was probably counting on it. He had made clear that he wanted to kill Thranduil. The thought caused a grim smirk to tug at his lips, his eyes flashing as he urged himself to move even quicker through the trees, following the incredibly conspicuous trail.

As if that fool would get a chance to do so.

Bursting into a gloomy clearing, Vermund threw you down into the dirt beneath a large tree. Landing hard with a pained grunt, you scowled up at him, and then turned to look around, wondering if you could get onto your feet and outrun him quick enough.

“Damn this accursed forest!” He yelled, angry at having become lost once again in this dreadful wilderness, especially with you as a burden. He did not wish to come upon the spiders he had heard whispers of from the Woodmen.

You shifted, sitting up properly and he whirled upon you. “You are not going anywhere!” He snapped, stepping towards you threateningly.

You pulled back a little, fear spiking through you. “I am not going to lie here in the mud, Vermund!” You couldn’t help but snap back, shaking your head as you moved to stand up, his gaze on you like a hawk. You gritted your teeth as you did your best to ignore the pain in your hip and arm from your bad landing.

“Thranduil will come for me. He is probably coming right now.” You told him, indignant as you looked back at him. “You should run, Vermund. You should run far away.”

Vermund blinked at you, enraged. “Thranduil? What - are you on a first name basis with this creature?” He shook his head, practically sneering at you. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his sword, as if in warning. “When we return to the village you will marry me and that... that beast’s head shall hang above our fireplace!”

You stared at him, utterly disgusted at his words. He meant to kill Thranduil and keep his head as some trophy, the way he did with the animals he hunted. You already found that rather deplorable, never mind him doing it to an elf, a king no less... someone you loved.

“Never!” You cried, shaking your head as you frowned at him. The revulsion you held for him was clear in your eyes. “I will never marry you!”

It came then, unexpectedly. Vermund’s arm shot out as he backhanded you across the face. Your mouth stung as you brought your hand up to your lip, turning your head back to stare at him in complete shock. He had just hit you! You opened your mouth to give him another piece of your mind, your eyes ablaze, but he backhanded you again, so hard that you fell to the ground, your head spinning as you could feel the blood flooding to your cheek.

“You will do as I say, woman!” Vermund snapped, glaring down at you from where he stood over you.

When you said nothing, not even sparing him another glance as your anger was now too great you feared the trouble it would get you into, Vermund leaned down and grabbed you by the arms. He shook you, shouting at you but you didn’t hear any of the words, instead focusing on thrashing yourself from his repulsive grasp.

“Unhand. Her. Now.” Came the icy, silken voice of the Elvenking as he stepped from the darkness.

Your breath and your senses returned to you at the sight of him and relief shot through your veins. He had come for you!

Vermund turned from you, shock written all over his face as he had heard no approach. He pushed you away, causing you to topple to the ground once more, before he stepped back and unsheathed his sword. "Begone, monster." He spat.

"He's not a monster, Vermund!" You cried, unable to help yourself, your body feeling bruised all over thanks to his manhandling. "You are!"

Vermund ignored you - though his jaw clenched - as he threw himself towards Thranduil. Thranduil’s arm swung upwards and his sword connected with Vermund’s, the sound of clashing steel ringing through the dark clearing the three of you had come to.

The fight under the trees raged on in front of you, Thranduil blocking every hit Vermund tried to land on him, Vermund running on fumes as he did his best to keep up with his opponent. Thranduil moved like water. In comparison, Vermund moved like one stuck in a swamp.

“No!” You screamed, as Vermund’s blade flashed a little too close to Thranduil’s nose. You were too caught up in the fear to realise it but Thranduil was in complete control of the situation. He could have taken Vermund down already but he wanted to toy with the man, just a little. Watching the dullard struggle to match him caused satisfaction to curl within him.

Vermund wheeled on you again at your cry, anger in his gaze as he glared down at you. "You stupid woman! You cannot truly feel for him!" He yelled. "Watch, then!" He spun back to face Thranduil and ran at him. "As I remove his head from his shoulders!”

You watched in horror as Thranduil did not move. He stood there as if made of stone, and you thought for a heart wrenching moment that he was about to allow himself to be hurt. Just as Vermund came to him, however, the Elvenking's sword buzzed through the air in one swift, graceful movement.

Vermund's head fell to ground, closely followed by the rest of him.

"I think not." Thranduil muttered darkly, mouth twisted in disdain. "May you find no peace in death, Vermund son of Veraith."

Thranduil then turned to you, moving so quickly to crouch in front of you that you almost didn't even register it. He placed himself in your line of vision, blocking Vermund's body. He looked into your eyes and then he took your face in his hands and captured your mouth with his own.

This kiss was different from the one that came before, it was deeper, more needy, desperate. You could tell, somehow, how frightened he had been. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him back, clinging to him like your life depended on it, until eventually you had to pull away, wincing slightly. You lowered your face but Thranduil reached out again, gently tilting your chin up so you would look at him.

"Oh, melda..." He murmured, his gaze filling with both sorrow and fury as he took in the cut upon your lip, which was what caused you to pull away, and the dark red mark blossoming across your cheek. He carefully lifted his fingers and ghosted them over your injuries. A sound of disapproval rumbled in his chest.

"I should like to reanimate his corpse if only to give myself the satisfaction of murdering him again." He growled angrily.

You smiled at him, merely relieved now that he was here with you, that it was over. "I do not doubt it."

There was a silence in which you both just looked at each other and then you leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to his lips. He smiled and stood, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms before you could react.

"Thranduil!" You squealed, laughing softly as you threw your arms around his neck as if you were worried he might drop you.

He chuckled, holding you firmly as he turned to take you from this place once and for all. "Relax, little human. I've got you."

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #lotr fanfic #beauty and the beast

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mismaeve · 2 years

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Flowers of Gold and Music of Old ? — I think lol 😆 😅

This one was tricky to write. It's kinda funny though, that a fic that isn't even long by my standards, took me so long to compose. So many things got deleted, I was really struggling to feel and understand the characters and their motivations. For my part at least, this was one of the most difficult stories I've written.

Fun fact: There was supposed to be a Glorfindel statue in the gardens but I ended up taking it out because I had written a similar detail/setting for a story about Thranduil x the Elvenqueen.

You can read Flowers of Gold and Music of Old here!

#ask game #eunoiaastralwings

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starwrittenfates · 4 months

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@fullintenticns continued from X

"Yes my Ion. You look so handsome!" The Elvenqueen replied, smiling brightly at her son. She grabbed his little hand, taking it into her own. "Have you asked your Adar what he thinks? How about we go show him right now. I know he will be happy to see you."

She knew there was slight tension between Legolas and Thranduil, but Ethiriel also knew that Thranduil cared for his son in his own way. He was just too preoccupied with keeping the kingdom and people safe with the darkness that was trying to make it's way into the forest.

#fullintenticns #ic. the elvenqueen #I love this family <3

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kanafinwe-makalaure · 2 years

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*after botfa*

The Elvenqueen, returning to Mirkwood: I leave you to your own devices for two months, and you start a war?

Thranduil: You don't understand. They had these pretty gemstones that I liked!

The Elvenqueen: You started a war over a handful of pretty gemstones?!

Thranduil: I was also bored.

The Elvenqueen:

Thranduil: What am I supposed to do without you to keep me company? I need fun! I need enrichment!

The Elvenqueen: you need help is what you need

The Elvenqueen:

The Elvenqueen: Where's Legolas by the way?

Thranduil: I CAN EXPLAIN

#thranduil #the hobbit #lotr #legolas #lord of the rings #the elvenqueen #thranduil x wife #thrandy posting

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edensrose · 2 years

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I love your writing! Could I request a Thranduil x Dunedain!reader who has trouble adjusting from the life of a warrior to the life of a queen?

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ thranduil ⠀〳 dunedain!reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. from fighting off darkness to queen of mirkwood, the transition was daunting. as a dunedain, how is your relationship with thranduil?

· ⊰ note. thank you anon, I'm glad you like it! <3 honestly, this concept was so fun to write about — I hope I get to do it again in the future

ʚ As a dunedain you were not used to being in the spotlight. As someone who often remained on the down-low, protecting the lands of Middle-Earth, one can imagine that your transition from warrior to elvenqueen took more than a little adjusting to - especially given the fact that the wild was vastly different from the royal life you now lived in Mirkwood

ʚ Thranduil expected nothing less and would not push you into learning everything straight off the bat. However, the barrier between the two of you was great and unfortunately, did cause a bit of a rift within the early stages of your relationship. One of the most common issues brought up was your will to fight - after the loss of his previous Queen, Thranduil was more than a little protective of you. . . something which you understood but nevertheless drove you up the wall every now and then. Especially when he refused to allow you to join night hunts with him or the other elves - let alone go into battle with him. It was a problem you both learnt to overcome, albeit quite difficult. Nowadays, he permits your involvement - however, he usually is never too far behind

ʚ Due to your previous life you were a little more straightforward and determined in getting your point across. This rose a number of arguments between you and your elven lover as you never truly backed down. You made it known when there was something he did that you didn’t agree with - and sometimes, that frustrated him. Thranduil was not accustomed to people talking back to him, let alone his wife; so one can imagine just how much you two butt heads. Ironically, it’s also something he loves most about you. The fact that you can tell him off. In a way, it’s endearing. It keeps him grounded. But he’ll die before he ever admits that

ʚ Adjusting to the mannerisms of royalty was truly a challenge for you - especially when it came to formal events. You dawned a dress, now, you have worn dresses before - yet nothing to the extravagant extent of what Thranduil had made for you. It revealed your arms, a bit of your legs sometimes too, it left you feeling all dainty ( which was not necessarily a problem but definitely something new ). It almost made you feel uncomfortable, a fish out of water when you attended these formal meetings or celebrations - especially if it involved the other elvish kingdoms. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself, let alone your husband. However, there have been a few mishaps. A small misconduct, a forgotten custom, it drove you mad with guilt. But Thranduil is always there to ease your worries. And if anyone dares to make an ill comment, well. Let’s just say he would handle it.

ʚ You were accustomed to splurging, so when you entered a relationship with Thranduil you were immediately taken aback by the extent to which he’d spoil you. There are still times you scold him for it, muttering about how he should be more conscious with his purchases. To which he merely laughs, kisses your head and reminds you that as his queen you are far more worth all the riches in the world. Which is exactly why he pays no mind to any of the finer details when spoiling you

ʚ He sometimes forgets that due to your lineage that you do indeed, know Sindarin. At times he’ll catch himself making an annoyed comment in his mother tongue if the two of you are at each other’s throats, only to have a slew of elvish rebuttals shouted at him from across the throne room. Funnily enough, it catches him off guard each time - and it’s even more amusing to those who happen to witness it

ʚ Ultimately? The transition was anything but easy. You went from living off of the wild into having everything at your back and call. Sometimes you long for the life you left behind, however, one glance at Thranduil is enough to remind you why you left it all behind. Your love for the elvenking was worth all the trouble you went through.

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ the hobbit/lotr ❜‧₊#thranduil #the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #thranduil oropherion #thranduil reader insert #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #thranduil x you #dunedain!reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #headcanons #writing

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sotwk · 11 months

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SotWK Flash Headcanon:

Thranduil never addresses his wife by her name. Instead he uses the Quenyan endearments "Endanya" (my Heart), "Ilqanya" (my Everything), and "Vanimanya" (my Beautiful One).

[Masterlist Link]

#sotwk headcanon #sotwk flash HC #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #middle earth #the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #mirkwood elves #thranduil x wife #thranduil x elvenqueen #thranduil x oc #elvenqueen oc #elvenqueen #queen maereth #sotwk oc

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allthesmallthings-things · 7 years

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She was soft, but also wild. She was the Elven Queen.

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ginger-and-all-things-spice · 7 months

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The Elvenking with his ElvenQueen.

#fanart #drawing #art #thranduil #the hobbit #mirkwood #thranduil of mirkwood #tolkien #greenwood the great #thranduillion #thrandiul #thranduil art #thranduils wife #the elvenqueen #thranduil x wife

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ramainen · 7 years

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‘‘ Legolas, your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.

#thranduil #thranduil x wife #queen of mirkwood #the hobbit #my edit #elves #middle earth #lotredit #mirkwood #thranduil's wife #thranduil x queen of mirkwood #tolkien #elvenqueen #elven queen #elithien #or ellerian #or... rineth?

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes: I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

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Le leich= You’re sweet

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mismaeve · 2 years

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Long Live the Queen → Part One

↳ Long Live the Queen, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, part one → (prologue is here) Warnings: angst, blood and gore, mentions of death, violence Word Count: 6k Tagging: @tharan-duil, @sehnsuchts-trunken, @i-did-not-mean-to, @rye-nye, @the-ring-wasnt-even-pretty Backstory: Unbeknownst to Thranduil, his beloved wife and queen hadn't perished in Angmar like he and the rest had believed. Due to her unchallenged battle-prowess and her highly skilled military mind, Sauron, with the help of the ring of power, had healed her of her potentially fatal wounds and tainted her with darkness. For centuries, the Elvenqueen has been with the enemy, her mind and soul manipulated by all means necessary, eventually turning her into Sauron's right hand and the sole commander of his vast legions. As the war of the ring rages on, the Elvenqueen is ordered to march on Mirkwood to destroy the Woodland king and claim his lands. A/N: I am thrilled to share this, and will be waiting anxiously for the verdict. Don't be discouraged by the angst, I've thrown in some romance as well, but this story will be quite painful and bittersweet, so keep that in mind. What inspired me to write this to begin with was this song, because as I listened to it, I thought how cool it would be to have a dark and all-powerful Elvenqueen, and how epic it would be if Thranduil and her were to find themselves on opposite sides during battle. I really hope you will like the story! Let me know what you thought? Gif credit → @jesterakuma

Theriadis despised having been sent to Mirkwood when she much rather would have preferred to be sent to either Helm’s Deep or Osgiliath, instead her master had ordered her to deal with the Woodland elves. She cared not for what the elves did inside their forests, cowering behind their walls and fortresses, not when it was Man that posed the greater threat to her master and liege lord Sauron. Her dismay eventually became accompanied by a growing unease that had taken hold on the commander as soon as they had set out to cross The Brown Lands, becoming heavier and heavier the closer they got to Mirkwood. Sleep would no longer come easily to her, and whenever it did beckon her, it brought with it the most vivid of nightmares that almost gave the sense of being visions of the past. Some nights the visions were easy to chase away, other nights she found herself overwhelmed and overpowered by them, creeping inside her mind and tainting it with images of a life long lost.

The commander’s black eyes wandered over the battlegrounds, the air was thick with the smell of blood, and riper still with the stench of fear. Orc and Elven forces alike were scattered all over, filling the night with sounds of blades meeting and the shrill shrieks of pain when a blade found its home deep within flesh and tissue. As Theriadis made her way through the fallen ranks of orcs and elves, the soles of her boots trudging through blood and stepping over the corpses of the fallen, a tall and lean figure caught her attention. He looked magnificent, wielding his swords with such grace and precision, she couldn’t help but admire him and his skill. Theriadis’ footsteps grew slower until they came to a complete halt as she watched in awe, mesmerized by the effortless way in which he was cutting down orc after orc, his neatly polished armor reflecting the light of the moon in a way that made him appear as if he was glowing. The right hand of Sauron knew she had found the Elvenking at last, her primary target, the very reason for her being dispatched to Mirkwood. Her eyes caught the disdain on his features as he drove his sword through a fallen orcs belly, pinning him to the ground as blood pooled and gushed from his gut. Theriadis tightened her grip on her sword and began moving towards Thranduil, the sounds of battle providing excellent cover to her approach. Just as she allowed herself to think he would be easy enough prey, he turned his head in her direction and their eyes locked.

It was then that everything slowed down and nothing appeared to be moving, even the raging noise of fighting had melted away. The only thing Theriadis could hear was her own blood rushing through her veins, pumping hard with adrenaline and bloodlust. She held her breath under the Elvenking’s intense gaze. She did not care for the way he was gaping at her, with a sort of recognition in his hazel-blue eyes as if he knew her. The commander waited, intrigued by his reaction to her, curious to see where this was leading. Was he going to confront her with his words, or would he choose his blades instead?

“You,” Thranduil whispered, his hazel-blue eyes not moving away from her. They appeared to be frozen still, wide with what she perceived to be shock. Theriadis stopped in her tracks, watching the Elvenking with growing fascination she tilted her head to the side and arched her eyebrow. She could not deny how eerie and strange this felt, how unexpected it felt to be ensnared by his gaze, almost as if it was some form of magic trapping and pinning her to the ground, unable to look away. The longer he kept staring at her, the more uneasy she felt under his gaze, naked and vulnerable for reasons she knew nothing of. As Theriadis stood and waited for her supposed opponent to either say something or do something other than stare at her, a queer sensation made its presence known in the depths of her chest, a feeling of recognition formed by some secret part of her, a part of her that seemed more fleeting and floating than of solid form.

Theriadis watched as the Elvenking lowered his swords and took a step towards her, his expression riddled with confusion and wonder. He sheathed his right blade and took another step, slowly and carefully as if to not startle her. As hard as she tried, she could not understand what was happening, why was her enemy behaving so, and more importantly still, why hadn’t she driven her sword through him already? Why was she feeling unable to strike him, cut him down and claim her victory?

She felt her breath hitch in her throat when suddenly, with a mere handful of strides, the beautiful elf was standing right in front of her, his pale eyes searching her face intently, trying to find whatever it was he was seeking in her. He towered over her like a mountain, making Theriadis feel small and vulnerable, yet something else was there too, a feeling she couldn’t immediately identify, a sense of a certain and long-forgotten familiarity. Thranduil was well within her reach now, she could feel his breath on her skin, his close presence making her feel overwhelmed. Something inside her was beginning to tear at her, she felt the familiar burning rage that insisted she drive her sword through him and watch as life slowly abandoned his pale eyes, yet she felt something else too, something so powerful it stayed her hand. It was a need, an unyielding need to be close to him, to close her eyes and give in.

“Is it truly you?” Thranduil’s voice remained a soft and quiet whisper. Theriadis found herself blocking out the raging battle around them, steel meeting steel turned into muffled, distant murmurs. Everything that wasn’t them seemed to melt away, it was only her and the Elvenking under their dome of silence and slowed time where neither of them were capable of moving away from the other. She held her breath as she watched him raise his right hand and slowly bring it to the side of her face where his gloved fingers found their home on her pale cheek. Theriadis closed her eyes as a quivering gasp escaped her lips. His touch felt unbearable, making her entire body tremble as it sent shivers down her spine where they echoed in all directions. An unfamiliar sensation was slowly growing deep within her, building and building, crashing and tearing away as if trying to break out and roam free.

Another quavering exhale broke free from her lungs as she felt his fingers slowly move to the nape of her neck where their grip on her became firmer. Her sword fell to the ground with a silent thud as the commander of Sauron’s armies found herself drawn to the one she was sent to kill. She felt her body turn weightless as it leaned into his, driven by the unexplainable urge to be closer. The sharp ring of steel meeting steel rang around them as Thranduil’s sword fell on top of hers, making Theriadis’ eyes fly open at the unexpected sound. When she found his gaze, the look he bore shot an unsettling feeling through her body and being alike. In his pale eyes there was relief, so deep and profound she thought it capable of drowning them both. There was also something else there, something she had believed never to see firsthand, yet there it was. She knew not what love looked like, much less how it felt, but all the same she could swear it was love staring down at her now, love in his hazel-blue eyes. It terrified her, she wanted to flee, every bone and fiber in her body screaming at her to abandon this insanity save for that part of her that could resist it and remain in his presence. Theriadis found she couldn’t escape the effect he had on her, she could scarcely move or even breathe, her eyes incapable of leaving Thranduil’s.

“Tell me it is you,” he breathed out as his left hand ventured to her waist and then to the small of her back where his fingers gripped her tightly, pulling her all the way into him. Theriadis felt herself grow unsteady, their bodies were touching, allowing her the liberty of leaning more into him, pressing against him whether for support or this strange need of craving to be close to him, she could not tell. The closer she got to Thranduil, the more she was torn apart on the inside, it was pure agony yet she couldn’t bring herself to move away.

“I can’t be,” Theriadis whispered, compelled to say something even when not understanding fully what it was that he wished to hear from her. She was positive he thought he knew her, even loved her. The need his body was expressing, was a need for her, or the person he thought her to be. A soft gasp left her lips as Thranduil pressed his forehead to hers, his fingers on the nape of her neck pulling her face closer to his. As his thumb gently caressed her chin, Theriadis found herself struggling to breathe. Her heart was hammering painfully inside her chest, her mind was frantic with racing thoughts and her entire body was trembling beneath her armor. Something was about to break free, born from deep inside her, from the very dark and deep pits of her mind where she was forbidden to venture. It hurt like nothing else, she was silently begging for it to stop all the while knowing deep down that it was crucial that she let it happen. She felt herself be on the verge of discovering something important, something that could potentially alter everything she thought she knew of herself, of this land and of this king of the elves.

“I need only hear your voice to know that I have found you,” Theriadis closed her eyes at his words, the feel of his breath on her face enough to send prickling sensations down her spine. She yearned for more, she needed more to be able to open the gates and release that which was hiding within, that which was punished and driven out of her by force and pain, and made forgotten and forbidden for centuries. But she could feel it rising now, slowly yet surely coming back to life. A soft whimper escaped Theriadis’ lips as she felt Thranduil’s face move against hers, their cheeks gently brushing against each other while their hollow breaths broke on each other’s skin like giant waves breaking against the cliffs. The moment was painfully close now, Theriadis could almost feel herself breaking already, close to releasing the secrets she carried within.

Please, release me, she found herself begging on the inside. Theriadis knew what it would cause, how excruciatingly painful it would be but also how necessary, and that part of her drove her to explore her hidden secrets despite the anguish it promised. She felt herself get on her tiptoes, leaning in closer to the battering ram that would bring down her gates and release her. A lone tear found its way from underneath her long lashes and began its travel down her cheek just as she felt Thranduil’s arm go around her and pull her closer still, his lips meeting with hers. It was in that kiss that everything froze still, Theriadis couldn’t hear anything or feel anything, everything felt gone yet that illusion of utter tranquility only lasted for a short while until it exploded with such force that it threatened to devour her whole.

Her entire world began to spin and shake uncontrollably, the pain exploding inside her head, threatening to shatter her mind in thousands of fragments. With the pain came the visions, more vivid than ever before, more powerful and alive than she had thought possible. Visions of her, covered in light and warmth, memories long forgotten of the beautiful Elvish king. Visions of them together, holding hands and their fingers intertwined, in beautiful gardens and forest pathways, in the flowery fields under the starry night skies. She could hear Thranduil’s laughter and the sound of it pierced her ears, making her wail in agony and desperately clutch at her head, her palms going to protect her ears but to no comfort at all. Theriadis felt his touch and lips on her skin, leaving singe marks and a stench of burning flesh. She watched in horror as her pale skin glowed like bright embers as it burned before it turned into ash and was carried away by the winds. But she knew it wasn’t real, it couldn’t possibly be true. The harder she tried to remember, the worse the pain became, the pounding in her head making her choke on her own breath, making her suffocate. She cried out as another vision forced its way into her fracturing mind, so powerful and intense she could hardly see anything save for the light around her. It was blindingly white, cutting off all her senses and leaving her bare and helpless.

“By root and seed, by bud and stem,” Theriadis saw herself dressed in the finest gown her eyes had ever seen, glimmering like the purest jewels at each movement of the fabric. Around her neck was a necklace made of the fairest gems, of pure starlight. She could hardly recognize herself yet she knew all the same that it was her. Her hair was different, the white was replaced by a deep umber brown where the upper part of it was meticulously braided into a splendid bun and decorated with silver cuffs of intricate leaf patterns; while the bottom half flowed freely in loose waves save for a couple of braids here and there. On her head rested a beautiful silver circlet made to look like leaves with moss-green emeralds embedded at the stem of each leaf. Her eyes were no longer black and devoid of her soul but were a deep forest green that threatened to mesmerize anyone who looked into them for too long.

“By leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love,” standing next to her, holding both of her hands in his, was the Elvenking Thranduil. He looked magnificent, glowing like something out of this world, close to being ethereal. Both of them were smiling lovingly at each other, their eyes shooting sparks of pure joy and happiness.

“I, Rainiel, take thee, Thranduil, to my hand, heart,” Theriadis watched as this version of her made her promises and vows to the Elvenking as they stood before an Elvish priest, surrounded by their kin and friends, their faces bright and smiling as they diligently followed the ceremony. Once realization of what this was dawned on her, what felt like a hundred sharp daggers pierced her heart, making her shriek in anguish.

“No!” Theriadis screamed as her hands moved to clutch at her head, her body collapsing to the ground. It felt like her head and body alike were going to explode in bloody pieces. She gasped and moaned as she desperately tried to swallow the pain, begging for it to cease at once for she could no longer bear it. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as Sauron’s right hand tried to steady herself and see past the anguish. Theriadis lifted her head and her eyes found Thranduil’s. She focused herself long enough to see the terror in his eyes and the fear which held his body hostage. He positively reeked of it, making her remember her purpose here, to destroy Mirkwood and claim their lands, to kill her master’s enemy before he could move against him. It was at that revelation that her pain gave way to her rage and fury.

“You did this,” her voice was low and heavy with anger as the commander’s fingers grasped the hilts of hers and Thranduil’s swords. With both of their blades in her hands, Theriadis rose to her feet, her black eyes never leaving his.

“Did you think magic was going to save you?” she asked with a tilted head as she began to circle around him, stalking him like he was her prey.

“I do not know what dark arts are at play here, but you must fight to see reason,” his voice gave away his desperation and fear. His pale eyes were set on her, watching her as she continued to move around him in circles, waiting to pounce on him at any moment.

“Dark arts indeed if you thought you could meddle with my mind and slip away unnoticed,” she spat at him in anger, outraged that she had fallen for his trap and allowed him to distract her.

“You are not yourself,” unlike her, Thranduil remained calm when he spoke. The Elvenking was not letting her out of his sight, his body moving to follow hers, always facing her as she continued to circle him. “Remember who you are, where you come from. I urge you to remember who the real enemy is.”

Theriadis shook her head in contempt, she would not entertain any more of his foolish notions. She knew who she was, just like she knew what she had been sent here to do.

“Now enough! I grow weary of your wasted words and pitiful attempts to save yourself,” she spoke through clenched teeth as her body tensed, readying itself for the duel that would soon ensue.

“I am hoping to save you, Rainiel,” his last word froze her still. Her eyes widened and her jaw clenched at the name he had uttered. The name was long forgotten and buried yet she recognized it all the same. Theriadis closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the lingering pain in the back of her mind, threatening her with what would happen all over again if she were to give in.

“That name died a long time ago, as did its master,” she said mournfully as she slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze again. The name she bore now was Duvaimes Theriadis, a beautiful darkness to fear, and fear would be the last thing the Elvenking would remember before she took his life. Her master had commanded it and she wasn’t about to deny him.

In two strides she was close enough to Thranduil to swing her swords at him. The air rang when steel met steel as the Elvenking had unsheathed his blade in time to counter her attack. She continued to move around him in small circles, not giving him room to escape her as she wielded her blades with unmatched fury, striking at him with all her might. Every move was carefully selected, each step she made was calculated to precision. There was a reason she was the sole commander of Sauron’s armies for none could match her skill and best her in close combat, not even this king of the elves would defeat her.

“I urge you to stop this madness!” Thranduil’s voice was so low, it almost sounded like a growl when their swords met again, their faces only inches away.

“Or what?” she flashed him a wicked grin before landing a kick in his stomach, making him stagger backwards and release her blades from the hold of his. She swung her deadly weapons at him at once before he could regain his balance. To her dismay, he appeared to have expected that and countered but he had been too slow for her. Satisfaction gleamed in her dark eyes as she noticed a scarlet red line begin to bloom on the side of his neck. Invigorated by the sight of her enemy get wounded, Theriadis continued to rain her blades upon the Elvenking with a frenzy she had rarely felt before, coming down on him like a deathly avalanche. Thranduil remained on the receiving end of her wrath, his own expert skill preventing him from gaining life threatening injuries at the hands of the one he had claimed to know and love. Theriadis heard a grunt escape from him as her blade grazed him again, this time on his upper forearm where his armor had a weak point. Like a blade wielding hurricane, they continued their deadly dance, each of them sustaining minor cuts and lacerations at the hands of the other yet it did not slow them down. The air around them was filled with grunts and quiet groans each time a blade snuck past their armor and pierced their skin; with growing pants and heavy puffs of air as they never ceased their dance to catch their breaths; and the sharp ringing of their swords meeting, echoing deep into the night. Theriadis gave him all she had, all her rage and all her pain, and yet Thranduil was still standing, still fighting her off. A near feral cry emitted from her lips as she launched herself at him with full force. The attack was so deadly and vicious that it forced Thranduil to parry and cut her arm, making Theriadis wince in pain.

“Do you wish to kill me so badly?” he raised his voice over the constant ringing of their blades meeting.

“I fear I don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Theriadis breathed out after Thranduil had successfully countered her attack. The commander finally slowed down wanting to catch her breath, her forehead was slick with sweat and her throat was burning from her rapid breathing. She glanced at her opponent and saw that he was panting as well, a thin layer of sweat covering his brow.

“For someone who’s determined beyond reason, you seem to lack the appropriate stamina,” the Elvenking remarked in a tone that made Theriadis frown.

“I’ve heard the tales of the fabled commander of Sauron’s armies, relentless and vicious,” Thranduil continued as he took a step closer to where Theriadis was standing, watching him carefully incase he’d make a move and try to catch her off-guard. “A general so bloodthirsty and vile, the mere mention of her name inspiring fear and terror in others,” he shook his head in what appeared to be disappointment.

“Famed has been your skill with swords yet here I remain, alive and whole. Which leads me to believe something else,” his pale eyes found her gaze and ensnared it once more.

“You do not wish to kill me which means there is still hope for you yet,” his voice had become softer over the course of his words, much like his features that carried the tenderness he felt for the version of her that had lived many a century ago. Freeing her gaze from his capture, Theriadis noticed a small company of her soldiers slowly and quietly creeping towards them, their dark eyes set on the Elvenking.

“There is no more hope for me than there is for you,” she said as her eyes found his again. She watched as Thranduil glanced around them briefly before his hazel-blue eyes found her dark ones again. He had seen the orcs and knew they were surrounded.

“I do not believe you,” he whispered quietly as his eyes studied her face.

“That’s too bad, my lord,” Theriadis smiled sweetly as she mocked the king who was about to fall. The orcs were nearly upon them now making it only a matter of time before the great Thranduil of the Woodland realm would draw his last breath on the forsaken lands he called home.

“By all means, let those vile hounds of yours devour me if you haven’t the stomach to do it yourself,” his palm opened and the Elvenking let his blade slip from his hand, making Theriadis’ eyes go wide in surprise. He wasn’t going to fight them off, he simply stood there and waited, his hazel-blue eyes pinned on her. She held her breath as her eyes darted to the orcs who were sprinting towards them, nearly there with their weapons raised and teeth bared, filling the night with their beast-like shrieks that would send shivers down even the bravest of spines. He was going to die. They were going to kill him, tear him to pieces and rip him apart for that was what she had trained them to do, what she had commanded them to do. When her dark eyes found Thranduil’s face again, she saw that his expression was soft, his eyes tinted with sorrow, making something stir deep within her. Fear was slowly settling in, creeping up and catching her unawares. To her own surprise, Theriadis realized what she feared and who it was that she feared for.

Before she could even think of stopping herself, the commander moved to Thranduil’s side with her swords raised, causing her own soldiers to pause in confusion. Wanting to benefit from their lack of reaction, Theriadis pushed herself forward, cutting down the very creatures that were under her command. The air around them filled with orc shrieks as she went through their ranks like a great storm tearing through a thick forest. They fell by the handful while they tried to overrun her, yet her skill was so exceptional that even their numbers counted for naught. Never straying far from Thranduil, she cut them down one by one until none were left. When Theriadis turned around, she saw that he was holding his blade, his gaze fixed on her frame. She searched his face for any lingering hints that would tell her what he was thinking or feeling, but none were there. His features were devoid of any thought or emotion, only his intense glare remained. Theriadis shook her head in disbelief, her eyes leaving Thranduil to roam over the dead orcs at their feet, orcs that would have aided her in besting the Woodland king, orcs that she herself had slain in defense of that same king. She was taken aback by the sudden anger that rose within her, clouding her better judgment and forcing her to quickly close the space between Thranduil and her. Before Thranduil could even react, her sword was at his throat, the pointed end digging into his skin but not enough to draw blood.

“I assume the fall of your comrades has upset you,” the Elvenking remarked as he cast a lazy glance over the orc corpses around them.

“Why?” Theriadis demanded. She wanted to know why he had dropped his blade and made himself vulnerable when surrounded by so many who would see him dead. Her eyes were shooting angry sparks while her gaze held his in a feeble attempt to penetrate the façade and reveal that which was hidden beneath.

“As I told you before, I do not believe that you wish to kill me,” he told her calmly which only made her more infuriated.

“Is that a belief you are willing to die for?” Theriadis asked as she slowly turned her blade, making the pointy end dig deeper into his skin.

“You know it yourself, deep down in your heart you know this to be true,” he continued as he closed his eyes, her sword at his throat finally drawing blood. Theriadis leaned in closer, adjusting the angle of her blade so that it pointed upwards. She hated that he had seen her weakness, that he knew the truth of her inner turmoil. Her mind was at war with itself because of him, because he somehow had lowered her guard enough to slip in and stir up that which was supposed to be dead and forgotten. The deeper part of her that had stayed her hand earlier and prevented her from taking his life, the part of her that had slaughtered her own forces to protect him from certain death, the part of her that now stood there powerless, incapable of driving her sword through his throat. Even these lands, long before she had been captured by his mesmerizing eyes, had begun to awaken the part of her that had been dormant for centuries. As unthinkable as it seemed now, the part of her that was more aware was wondering if all that struggle would cease upon his death. Were she to end his life here and now, would it also put a stop to the war raging within her? Theriadis blinked her eyes back to focus to find him watching her now, his gaze equally intent as before. What did he know of her heart? Nothing. She had no heart, not anymore, not since Angmar several lifetimes ago. Theriadis leaned in, driving her sword slightly deeper into his skin, their faces only mere inches apart.

“What heart?” she whispered as she decided to end this now, to put a stop to both of their suffering. She did not expect him to plead for his life for that would be beneath him, neither did she expect him to be amused when faced with death which was what he appeared to be. Theriadis blinked in surprise as a soft chuckle emitted from his lips, coming from deep within his chest and making his armor quiver.

“Stubborn and defiant as always, I’d expect nothing less,” he mused as his features gave way to a lopsided grin. He was clearly favoring the left side of his face, making Theriadis remember the specific orders she had given to her forces earlier. Attack him from the right for there lies his weakness. The sudden realization of her having protected him long before they had met face to face on the battlefield caused her to pause. While Theriadis pondered the revelation of her having known that Thranduil was more vulnerable to attacks coming from the left yet her having ordered her forces to attack from the right instead to gain the upper-hand, she failed to notice that she was slowly and absentmindedly lowering her blade where it was no longer at Thranduil’s throat.

“Then I suppose I shall have to pray that you may forgive me eventually,” his voice was quiet and soft yet before Theriadis could even attempt to react much less actually do something, the grin from his features had vanished and the Elvenking butted his head with hers with such force it made her stagger backwards, almost losing her balance entirely and nearly falling to the ground.

“Now, Radagast,” Thranduil raised his voice and almost instantly, someone behind her began to chant in a tongue she had not heard before. Theriadis turned around and blinked several times, trying to adjust her eyes. Her vision had become slightly blurry from the blow to her head, making Theriadis squint to try and make out the figure standing behind them. Just as her vision seemed to clear, the pommels of her swords began to smoke and then burst into flames, a pained cry escaping her lips as she released the burning hilts from her grip. The very instant her weapons had struck the ground, Thranduil’s arms were around her, pulling her back against his armored chest all the while the wizard continued his chant.

“One way or another but I will bring you back,” his voice was as calm as his hold on her was savage. Theriadis tried to fight him off but to no avail, he was too strong for her, and she was too spent from the battle.

“You will kill me if you do,” she continued to struggle. She was fully aware of what he had meant by bringing her back, and she dared not think of what that would lead to. The pain she had suffered today was nothing compared to what would happen if she was pushed too far, too deep into her forbidden memories, too deep into her previous life while they searched for her heart. The mere memory of the agony she had endured earlier made her voice break and tears well up in her eyes. She was certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that she would not survive it.

“Radagast,” she felt him nod to the wizard before her, and Theriadis watched as the old wizard’s eyes rolled back into his head. Within seconds, the commander felt herself become drowsy, her eyes falling heavy and vision becoming blurry.

“Fear not, my love, all will be well,” Thranduil’s voice seemed so far away. She felt her strength leave her body, making her lean back against his chest. Theriadis’ eyes closed as she felt a blissful oblivion beckoning her closer. She felt Thranduil move his arms and pick her up, cradling her close to his chest where her head lolled to the side and settled against the crook of his neck. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest when she felt her lips slowly curl upwards in a tired smile.

Somewhere between wakefulness and dreamy seas of oblivion, Theriadis felt a pair of lips press to her damp forehead and linger there for what felt to her like an eternity. What senses she had left that weren’t dulled by the wizard’s magic, picked up on a low and pleasant hum that she suspected was coming from Thranduil as his lips remained pressed to her forehead. She imagined it was the sorcerer’s spell which prevented her from feeling the unbearable pain that should have swallowed her whole by now because of how close she was to the Elvenking, and by what memories their current closeness brought to the surface inside her mind that for the first time didn’t threaten to break and shatter into a million fragments.

“You found me,” her voice was barely a soft whisper as she breathed out against the skin of his neck and tried to force her heavy eyes to open if even for a moment; her words prompting Thranduil to hold her even tighter and closer to his armor-clad chest while he moved to nuzzle her features gently and tenderly.

“Do not despair, my brightest of stars, for I am bringing you home,” Thranduil whispered against her skin before gently resting his face against hers. She could sense that his chest was trembling, and his breath had grown uneven, and when she felt something wet drip onto her skin, she immediately knew that he was weeping. Theriadis didn’t need to be told that Thranduil’s tears were that of joy and relief.

“Forgive me, lord Thranduil, but I must complete the spell,” she heard the wizard say. Thranduil responded to the old man’s words with a shake of his head. Theriadis assumed that if the wizard completed his spell, she would be rendered unconscious which was probably for her own protection and well-being.

“You must let him do his work, aran nîn,” her feeble whisper caused a quiet sob to escape the Elvenking’s lips. Even through the growing haze inside her mind, she understood why Thranduil was being reluctant with putting her to sleep, with having to let go after having been reunited after centuries and centuries of having been forced apart. Especially while knowing that once she woke again, more likely than not, she would awake as the commander of the enemy’s armies and as the one who had tried to kill him.

“I will find a way, my queen,” Thranduil whispered after a moment, his words bringing a weak and tired smile to bloom upon her lips. He offered her a tender kiss before she felt him pull away and watched through a teary veil as he nodded to the wizard standing before him. Radagast began to chant immediately, and it didn’t take long before Theriadis felt herself slowly beginning to surrender to the compelling oblivion promised by the wizard’s magic. Before unconsciousness took her to lands where time ceased to exist, she heard Thranduil declare his undying love for her, making Theriadis welcome the peaceful darkness with a smile on her features.

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