#Mirkwood Elf

[stardustwoven]

Made a bracelet based off of Tinnuil!

[vigilantegreen]

I honestly feel like nobody in lotr mentions how fucking weird Legolas is. He stays up pacing the floor and singing to himself in the dead of night. He deadass stares straight into the tree line in the absolute pitch black when no one else can see anything. He yells goodbye to a river he has heard about in songs. He's so strange and not one character mentions it AT ALL. I absolutely love him.

[shellshooked]

so about that lotr x zelda au...

[whiteladyofithilien]

For the people of the internet out there saying Thranduil didn't intend to fight because he was wearing his fancy crown and not the circlet he fights in during Battle of Five Armies can I remind y'all that canon Elvenking picks his crowns based on season not occasion. So this is obviously his fall crown both thematically and based on when we see him wear it in the films. Now it's repeatedly stated that Thorin & Co arrive on the last day of autumn.

So this isn't so much his battle crown as it is his winter crown

[frost-queen]

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers @merlieve,  @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

| Meeting Thranduil

You met Thranduil when the Third age progressed. It was when the Necromancer unknown then but known as Sauron later on claimed the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc to make it into Dol Guldur. Sauron infected the woods with spiders and orcs. The spiders and the orcs expended their reach claiming more and more for them. Infecting the very nature with their filth and death.

All the elves were forced to leave the woods. Those who fought back were brought down. Countless of lost elves filled the sickening woods. You were amongst some elves that were fleeing. The orcs had increased their stench to the part of the woods where you lived. With a few douzen you were. Fleeing for your lives as the orcs hunted you down. The woods had grown iller. Spider cobs were not too much yet in these parts. But a few spiders having expended their webs out to your lands.

Some elves wanted to stay and fight. They barely lasted long as the pack of orcs were too many. Sweeping them down in a matter of seconds. The others fled as fast as they could. Hatred, anger and sorrow grieving your hearts. You were running trying to stay out of the orcs clutches. The orcs attack made you stumble, dropping to the ground. Surrounded by death and darkness. You thought it was over. You thought you were never going to see the undying lands, but then a bright light appeared between the trees. The illumination blinded the orcs sending them back a bit. The light faded as you could see a small group of elves charge for battle. Lead by a High elf.

The orcs never stood a chance. The High elf approached you, helping you up your feet. The moment his eyes met with his, he was struck. Gasping breathlessly at your grace and beauty. The woods no longer having a place for you, he took you in. Thranduil his name was. King of the woodland realm.

| Life at the woodland realm

Thranduil was smitten with you. For the first time in many ages, the so cocky king found beauty in another. He threated you like a guest with the highest honor. Quarters close to his. Thranduil would host parties just to have an excuse to dance with you. He never let any other elf near you. He wanted you for himself. You sometimes dared to tease Thranduil by speaking to other elves, just to see his reaction. You loved how easily jealous he was. He would come over, pull you gently behind him while urging them in a polite way to leave. Sometimes he would lay his robe over your shoulder to hint to others that you were his.

Underneath the moonlight on a summer's day was when you had your first kiss with Thranduil. Forever giving yourself to one another. He married you a month later never wanted to be parted from you ever again. You became queen of the woodland realm. All the elves present adored you for your righteousness and kind heart. Whenever Thranduil dared to lose his temper, you were there to calm him down. Sometimes you would come along with Thranduil and his army in an attempt to reclaim your woods. When Thranduil saw his numbers dim and almost losing you in a battle, he gave up. Not wanting to see his people be slaughtered or see you in danger. For he could not afford to lose you, his brightest star.

| Legolas

Legolas was born with grace. You loved every little detail of him. Thranduil would be careful at first. For he feared to hold such a fragile creature. He feared he might harm it in any way. You would show him he could do no harm. Taking his hand and bringing it up to Legolas for him to touch. His fingers would brush against his cheek making Legolas flutter a laugh. On that Thranduil was sold. Taking his son in his arms and care deeply for him.

As Legolas grew older, Thranduil insisted he had his features from you. Everything about Legolas reminded him of you. With the coming of Legolas was Thranduil more careful. You were no longer aloud out of the woodland realm. Not wanting anything to happen to you or Legolas. You had to admit it felt a bit lonely being unable to see the old woods. Your home that you missed dearly. With each year it grew colder and deader. Plagued by orcs and spiders. Since you had no where else to go, you focused more on Legolas. Teaching him how to defend himself. It was you who introduced Legolas to the bow and arrow. When Legolas was old enough to have his own bow, he would name it after you.

———————————————

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[mushroomates]

some thoughts on elves and lactose intolerance:

on the topic of elves being vegan/vegetarian, where would they get eggs? foraging? what about milk.

because they do drink milk!!! they have cheese and milk but they don’t have cows. they don’t rlly farms,,, like i mean the grow food but cows??

because elves CAN eat p much anything and we know they have cheese. where r they getting this cheese??

some potential cheese sources:

aragorn introduced the culture (ha) of cheese.

but then imagine- hey elf dad i got some fermented milk it’s rlly good. like absolutely not would that become widespread accepted and make its way to lorien and mirkwood in a few decades.

they trade??? with humans??? certainly not drawfs. but who are these secret human links to cheese. with hobbits??? i could see bilbo being the elvish cheese supplier.

with gandalf???? is gandalf the cheese wizard? did he try some cheese off in the shire centuries ago and thought- yk what my girl galadriel would love this.

this is mostly likely how cheese was discovered. gandalf just kinda floating through like “you won’t believe what the hobbits just came up with”

but then who brings the cheese to other elves. consistently. like i get a one time thing but that’s a lot of cheese to keep for centuries.

does gandalf have a cheese wagon he brings round elven establishments and gives away wheels on wheels??? does he make them pay. does gandalf even have money or even need it??? (question for another day)

i mean rohan is kinda close to lorien but even then like. lorien is mysterious and gated and no horse girl no matter how cool can pull up and be like “yo elves try this sick brie we just made”

also elves are like capable of making their own cheese i know but that requires milk. and milk doesn’t save like cheese does. also there’s no COWS in lorien,,, where on earth would the put them. in the trees???

so like is the cheese even. cow,, cuz it’s not cow or goat and idk man. sheep?? maybe for clothes,, but where are the tree sheep?? where is the mirkwood sheep?? i can see rivendale with some maybe but???

also how r y gonna convince them in the first place to even TRY it. bc no matter how u pitch it some other creatures lactation is not it.

where is this milk coming from??????? i’m so sorry but i have questions mr tolkien please

also the idea of legolas being lactose intolerant to me is so funny im sorry but like imagine this poor boy goes his whole life without dairy and rocks up to rivendell for the first time, goes to the feast and tries this new fancy treat on crackers and has the shits for weeks

cuz there’s no way cheese is making its way to mirkwood. absolutely not. maybe in like the five army’s war they got SOME but like not enough. also thuranduil would not trust that shit. he’s not eating that and his son certainly isn’t.

but it tastes good with wine…. and that might have been the selling point.

mr tolkien i need awnsers please. tell me about the cheese wizard.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.

▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!

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

The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture. 

Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done. 

You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?

With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings. 

A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages. 

“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you. 

Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person. 

This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound. 

Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.

Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there. 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer’s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort. 

With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead. 

Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.

You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning. 

The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it. 

You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect. 

His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.

“What is your name?” 

You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty. 

“Y/N, my king.”  

He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.

“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”

“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions. 

“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.

“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”

You nodded.

“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.” 

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”

A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone. 

“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.   

“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.

“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more. 

“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it. 

“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know. 

Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach. 

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?

“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror. 

Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.

“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”

A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it. 

“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.” 

He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.

“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.” 

“Herbology happens to be my specialty.” 

Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?

“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?

“Farewell, my lady.” 

He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement. 

And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end. 

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

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[tanoraqui]

I’m not personally a headcanonner of Maglor living in Rivendell in LotR under a new name, but if he is, I adamantly believe that he is not Lindir (“song guy”) but rather Erestor (tentatively glossed “lonely brother.”) Tragic humor or bust!

[imagine-all-the-elves]

Imagine Thranduil wondering why you wander away from his kingdom every so often. When he goes to investigate, he finds you carefully clearing the tangled vines and plants away from the statue of his wife.

Author: @thatkgrl

[stardayzzing]

[Sketch Concept Design of Oropher]

I hate making overly decorated characters bc that means I have to put thought into designs... Nyways Thranduil's dad is ho-

So this was just a design concept for Oropher to fit into my personal version of elves hehe

As the father of Thranduil he was doomed to the nose freckles and half curly hair hehe

[r0sa4077]

Legolas Greenleaf - The Lord of the Rings

[vigilantegreen]

Imagine the elves of Mirkwood forming an alliance with the spiders and using them like horses because the thought of domesticated giant spiders makes me giggle.

[growingingreenwood]

Random headcanon that the other elvish realms think that the Greenwood Elves have SOME-FUCKING-HOW developed **significantly** superior hearing compared to the rest of the elvish cultures/races. When I say 'significantly' I mean so significantly that it genuinely scares them a little bit.

A lot a bit.

It seems to them that the Greenwood Elves are capable of hearing and understanding even whispered conversations from MILES AND MILES AND MILES AWAY. Even when the distance is so great elvish eyes cannot even see a dark spec on the horizon, Greenwood Elves can still successfully eavesdrop on what is happening.

The other realms have, of course, come up with many of their own theories as to why and how they're capable of such things. Including but not limited to: Evolution that happened after most of the Noldor left for Valinor to help them survive the Dark Scary Times, a permanent enchantment of Melians that can be genetically passed down to one's offspring, an Extremely Elaborate Lie, a side effect of one of the plants that they eat, a sign that they've made a deal with Melkor to be his spies (this theory is banned from being openly spoken about in Imladris, if it is, you get 1 single warning before Elrond yeets you out of the valley his damn self. You are not welcome back for at least 100 years, and you have to apologize before you're allowed back in.)

There is, of course, an incredibly simple and straightforward reason for this perceived 'super-hearing' which is: The elves don't hear things, the trees do and just relay the information (or at least the gist or important bits) back to the elves. They can hear what you say from 1000 miles away because there's trees literally everywhere.

But since the other realms don't speak to/with the trees in the same capacity as the Greenwood Elves, the thought that this is possible literally never occurs to them. And the Greenwood Elves think the entire situation is too funny to ever explain it.

[whiteladyofithilien]

Okay but Lee 100% had it in him to play picnicking frolicsome Elvenking of the Hobbit books while also being brooding emotionally complex Thranduil of the films and I just generally feel robbed of giggly drunk Thranduil being a thing in the films

[new-life-in-defiance-of-death]

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

[theaskywalker]

Imagine being an Elven warrior aiding Thorin's company and Thranduil taking an interest in you

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