#Mirkwood elves

[sotwk]

Social Customs and Faux Pas in Eryn Galen 

Dearest Gentle Reader:

You may have heard rumors about the “dangerous” and "less wise" Silvan people of the Woodland Realm, which conjure images of these native dwellers of Greenwood the Great as uncouth, untamed, or practically bestial creatures. As the oldest and largest tribe of Eldar to continue thriving in Middle-earth even into the Third Age, they certainly started out primitive and crude compared to their High-elven kin, as was their deliberately chosen path. However, many allegations by certain scholars regarding the wildness of the Greenwood Silvans have been exaggerated, and fail to acknowledge the cultural amalgamation that occurred within the first millennium of the Second Age.

Although the Sindar who arrived and settled in Greenwood were enthroned as the ruling lords, in the reunion and mixing of the two cultures, Silvan customs and language were the ones to prevail. Many of the rigid social constructs that governed the Sindar during their old life in Doriath were set aside, departing from what is typically still deemed acceptable and refined by the western cities of High Elves and High Men. 

Differences in social norms that carried through to the Third Age can perhaps be best illustrated by comparing the etiquette observed by the Numenorean descendants in the surviving Kingdom of Gondor, to that of the free-spirited Silvan Elves under Elvenking Thranduil’s rule. 

Below are some examples, written as answers to specific questions asked by one dear friend and a particularly curious Gentle Reader:

Would Silvans laugh at the idea of needing a chaperone to look after an unmarried couple? 

Silvans would most certainly laugh and shake their heads at the notion of a chaperone in any instance. What a most bothersome and inconvenient custom! What sort of calamity is a chaperone expected to prevent by their presence? In Eryn Galen, people of all genders, races, classes, and ages could openly or privately socialize with each other without fear of gossip or scandal. 

Are Silvans just going around holding gloveless hands with each other without a care in the world?

Only soldiers and hunters are known to wear gloves, and as Silvans are fond of physical touch as a show of affection, platonic or otherwise, then it would seem the amount of prolonged hand-holding and skin touching that occurs daily in Eryn Galen would make Gondorians swoon, indeed. At this point, I will refrain from describing the other popular forms of perfectly acceptable public displays of affection, should it prove too salacious for your nerves. 

Is there a socially acceptable way for them to make their intentions known (or to rebuff someone's intentions) during a dance? Or are their dances and parties so informal that they don't really compare to the regency idea of a ball at all?

Silvans absolutely love to dance, and they do so at every single community gathering and celebration. For most of the Second Age, dancing in Eryn Galen was done in groups (lines or circles) rather than with partners. Social dances and balls were not popularized until the Third Age; the marriage of Elvenking Thranduil and Queen Maereth romanticized paired dancing and introduced the concept of balls as a courtship ritual.  

While dancing with someone at a ball is not automatically viewed as romantic, balls are considered more formal events, most often hosted by the Royal Family themselves. They are seen as prime opportunities for unmarried people to socialize with the likely (but not obligatory) intent of romantic courtship and marriage. 

There are no hard rules or timelines to dictate how courtship is done among Silvans. However, it is greatly frowned upon for Elves (or anyone) to toy or trifle with the feelings of another, so romantic desires and intentions must be declared as soon as they are fully recognized in oneself. A ball could be a wonderful romantic setting to do this, but what is considered important is that one must look at the other person in the eye and speak their heart openly and plainly.  If the affections being offered are unwelcome or unreciprocated, then it is the duty of the recipient to gently but clearly rebuff those affections. Silvans are generally unbashful about this, and any shyness they may feel is overshadowed by their sense of honor. 

It must be noted that Elves never rush headlong into marriage, and thus a courtship often outlasts the lifespan of a mortal Man--even the long-lived Dunedain. Therefore, one can only conclude it is illogical to judge the customs of these two races against each other. 

What would be considered scandalous behavior (by Silvans)?

Outside of marriage, Silvans would not frown or judge one another on the quantity or quality of relationships they engage in throughout their long lives. The loose or lacking restrictions against displays of affection or proper public behavior would also indicate that flirtations, dalliances, and other practices that might be deemed promiscuous in Gondor would not raise eyebrows in Eryn Galen. It should also be noted, however, that compared to the race of Men, Silvans are more likely to be bored of or disinterested in sexual liaisons and far less moved by carnal impulses. This alone drastically decreases the occurrences of "scandalous behavior" as commonly defined by puritan society.

Silvans value honor, loyalty, and service to the community above all. Strong marriages and large, happy families are considered the pride and strength of their society, and so they take the commitments to these institutions very seriously.

Once a Silvan elf chooses to marry, they are bound to much stricter codes of conduct. In Silvan culture, the vow of marriage is considered an unbreakable oath, hallowed by the Valar and binding both the fëa and hröa of two Elves together. The commitment to monogamy goes hand-in-hand with an eternal oath to love and care for all children born to or adopted by the married couple.

The highest scandal in Eryn Galen, therefore, is the betrayal of these familial oaths, either through infidelity to one's spouse or the abandonment or estrangement from one's children. Divorce and family feuds remain virtually non-existent in Eryn Galen.

How long would someone's reputation be ruined?

“Ruin” or shunning people is not really something that happens in Eryn Galen. 

An immortal life is too long a time to carry a grudge, or so the wise say. But more than that, the Silvans tend to be a more forgiving and compassionate people, led by a gracious King and Queen who have deep personal experiences with the value of “second chances”. Any wrongdoing, from a minor faux pas to a blatant crime, can be pardoned as long as forgiveness is sought and the proper restitution (as dictated by law of the realm), is delivered. Once a transgression has been pardoned, it is expected for all to “forgive and forget”. Harboring ill feelings or prolonging disputes is considered vulgar and detrimental to the community. 

Banishment, on the other hand, is a rare and extreme punishment issued only by the King himself. It is done to prevent an unrepentant criminal from causing further harm to the rest of the community. 

Thank you to my Gentle friend @scyllas-revenge who sent in this Ask! <3 This was fun!

For more SotWK AU headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: Tags be added in comments temporarily while Tumblr tags are malfunctioning.

[umaia3aurart]

Father and Son of Mirkwood, drawn over the past few years! Fall is the season that most makes me think about "The Hobbit"

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

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

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy. 

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left. 

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect. 

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention. 

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone. 

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize. 

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp. 

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable. 

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair. 

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance. 

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years. 

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found. 

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you. 

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care. 

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough. 

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.” 

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash. 

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror. 

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser. 

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit. 

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.” 

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding. 

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

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

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

[7soulstars]

My Incorrect Universe #96

*before courting Thranduil*

Me: *trips on the ground*

Thranduil, scoffing and in a mocking tone : haha, how clumsy, could you be any more foolish?

*later when no one is around*

Thranduil : *stomping the ground* who do you think you are?? WHO IN EVER LOVING VALAR DO YOU-

--Few years later--

Thorin: I can’t believe you talked to Thranduil without getting so much as a glare! Most people can’t even look in his general direction without some kind of threat.

Me: I mean, it would be a little weird if he did. We are engaged after all......

Thorin, who thought he had a chance: “....YOU’RE WHAT?!”

Legolas,a rogue Gimli tucked under his arm pit: YOU'RE WHAT ?!

Haldir and Lindir, from behind the trees: YOU ARE WHAT ??!

Elrond: YOU'RE WHAT ?!

Me: why are YOU shocked?? You watched him propose to me??

Elrond, recalling himself screaming as he witnessed Thranduil get on one knee that day: I'm still recovering from the trauma-

*Legolas still trying to process what I just announced*:

[meluiloth]

Mirkwood Elves

POV: you’ve stumbled into the Elvenking’s feast for the third time (because you were starving) and they’re fed up with you

I’m super super happy with how this drawing turned out!! Started out as a just-for-fun sketch of some guards for my wip fan fiction, Misfit, but I really liked the sketch so I just threw on some base colors to spice things up and then … I just kept going and ended up with this! The first project I’ve actually completed, start to finish, in months, and I am so proud of myself.

These two aren’t canon characters or ocs (yet?) but sometimes it’s just nice to draw a character without the pressure of getting their looks exactly right. It’s fun to go in without a plan and see where the road takes you.

Sketch:

[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

[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

[soralinklokidottirofmirkwood]

Napping siblings: Thranduil x baby reader x Legolas.

Age: 6 months. Thranduil is looking for his young son and infant daughter until he found them in his daughter’s room fast asleep and the next morning he, Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir found them asleep again.

Thranduil had just gotten out of a meeting with his butler Galion and a few of his guards.

As they walked down the palace corridor Thranduil noticed that it was quite, to quite for his liking! Because his 8 year old son Legolas and 6 month old infant daughter Y/N are usually causing mayhem and panic in these halls, but his two little children were nowhere in the halls making him panic and ask around the palace as he knew there was trouble when things were to quiet until he was in front of the guards guarding the throne room “do you two know where my children are?” He asked the guards feeling his heart beating so fast as if he was running from orcs “Last I heard they were playing in the princess’s room.” One of the guards answered making Thranduil dash there feeling his parental instincts kicking.

When the king was in front of his daughters nursery he slowly opened the door and peaked his head in to see that the room was empty aside from some toys on the ground but he saw a body in the crib, thinking it was his little girl he slowly walked up to it to check on her but what he saw made his heart almost burst from his chest, there was his son and daughter fast asleep in the crib.

Legolas had an arm over Y/N’s tiny frame protectively with Y/N’s tiny hands clutching to his tunic, smiling Thranduil let out a tiny chuckle “You two almost gave me a heart attack this afternoon.” he whispered gently until his son let out a yawn and stretched until his hands and head hit the board of the crib then he looked up at his father “Oh good afternoon Ada.” The young prince said until he realized where he was making him blush “How much did you see?” He asked making his father smirk “only a lot of it.” The king said until Y/N’s eyes opened while she let out a gentle squeak then it turn into a happy squeal when she saw her father “Did you enjoyed your nap princess?” Thranduil asked picking up the 6 month old elfling while Legolas managed to get out of the crib by himself “How did you get in there anyways little leaf?” Thranduil asked “I just climbed in.” Legolas answered still recovering from his embarrassment as he stretched a bit to get some feeling back in his sleeping limps.

The next day:

Thranduil was up at 6:00 so he could greet lord Elrond and his sons.

When he and some guards walked out of the palace he saw that the bridge was wet “It did rain last night! And it was thundering a lot too.” The king said to a guard until he saw the lord of Rivendell with his twin son’s walking up the bridge with some guards “greetings Elrond.” Thranduil greeted Elrond who smiled “Hello Thranduil.” Elrond greeted back to his old friend who is the cousin of his Father-in-law “Where are Y/N and Legolas?” Elladan asked not seeing the two elflings “They are probably still asleep.” Thranduil said walking them in “I’ll get Legolas.” The king said as they made their way to the sleeping quarters “Legolas time to wake up.” Thranduil said knocking on the door but he didn’t get an answer “Legolas?” He asked but he still didn’t get an answer so the king slowly peeked his head in but he didn’t see his son “He must be up already.” He said walking to his sons bathing chambers “Legolas! Elladan and Elrohir are here.” He said knocking on the door but didn’t hear a reply “Legolas?” He asked slowly opening the door to see the bathing chamber empty with the clothes Legolas worn yesterday being in the laundry basket “I know exactly where he is.” Thranduil said exiting Legolas’s room with the Rivendell family towards Y/N’s room, he puts a finger to his lips telling them to be quiet as he slowly opens the door.

As they walked in and towards the even younger elflings crib Thranduil has his hands on his hips and lightly chuckles, Elrond is smiling at the sight before him and the twins couldn’t help but snicker at the sight because Legolas was asleep in the crib with Y/N in the same positions as yesterday only they were now in their Pajamas.

Upon hearing the snickering Legolas opens his eyes to see his father with Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir all with amused faces “Um, it was thundering last night and Y/N was crying.” He said as Elladan took him out of the crib while Thranduil took Y/N who had just woken up.

After getting ready for the day and breakfast Legolas went with the twins to train but Y/N had to stay with their father and Elrond in their father’s study since she’s way to young to train.

At the study Thranduil was telling Elrond on what he saw yesterday “Legolas is a great big brother.” Elrond said patting Y/N’s head while She sat on her father’s lap eating a cookie “We… Wegowas.” Said a tiny voice making the ancient elves freeze “What?” Thranduil asked lifting Y/N up “Weg Go Was. Wegowas!” The infant elf spoke making the two adult elves eyes spark “She said her first word! Even though it’s not Ada, but it’s her first word.” Thranduil said tossing his daughter up making her squeal “Ada.” She said making Thranduil tear up “Oh I bet your mother is howling with laughter in her grave.” Thranduil said rubbing noses with his daughter who was giggling up a storm as he tickled her tummyt making Elrond smile and shake his head remembering his own daughter who is still in Rivendell with her mother.

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a nymph in Mirkwood

(Inspiration from an imagine I once saw and after reading the hobbit. A lovely story and I finally get why the movies got the bad hype. I don't think the movies were bad, but if they had gone with the book version they would have been ten times more interesting)

Warnings: Mentions of sick forest, getting attacked by spiders, poisoned by spiders and Gandalf being a bit of a gremlin, and not helping the elves when they need the help the most.

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

- Your appearance and presence have always perplexed the elves of Mirkwood 

- You just came and decided to live in the most dangerous parts of their woods, where sickness and darkness reigned over everything that lived there. 

- The elves took you for a spy or a lost traveler, so they tried to capture you, yet somehow you always escaped or disappeared before they could even arrive to the scene like you knew they were coming or hiding in the trees. 

- They never even had the chance to look at you since you always wore a hood over your face, so they couldn't even conclude if you were a human or even an elf. You were too tall to be a dwarf, and by chance– one of the scouts managed to catch a glimpse of your hands, which weren’t clawed or covered in rough skin, so you weren’t an orc. 

- When they failed to capture you or find you several times, they decided to leave you be since– capturing you proved to be too much of a challenge and since you didn’t appear to mean any harm to the forest or the animals. On the contrary, you seemed to have a curing effect on the forest. 

- To their surprise and confusion, green healthy grass and wildflowers began to grow in the sickened parts of their woods. The trees gave way to sunlight, making the forest more brighter. The rivers that used to be black and enchanted with terrible spells have loosened their power and become more clear. The air also seemed to taste much sweeter wherever you went. 

- The elves of Mirkwood began to wonder and conclude if you were a spirit of sorts, wandering and healing the forest with your presence and touch. They desired an answer but couldn't since you always ran away whenever they tried to approach you, even if they did not mean any harm to you. 

- One day, you became more mysterious when they heard delicate singing through the forests. It was pleasant and something they had never heard before. By chance, they managed to capture the sight of you dancing beneath the trees with animals by your side, singing from the core of your heart. 

- It was so joyful that the elves did not dare to disturb you and watched in wonder how even the trees began to move and hum with your voice. 

- Flowers grew along with your steps, and the sickness that once plagued the trees vanished, bringing them back to life and blooming with green leaves. It was now clear to the elves that you were no ordinary wanderer who sang and danced beneath their trees. Even the great spiders that lived above the trees cursed the effects of your song and left somewhere else, emanating great hate toward your presence. It was beyond wonderous. 

- However, you still ran away by the sight of them like a startled deer. You ran faster and swiftly like a fox. Before the elves could even call out to you, you were gone like the wind, leaving no trace of where you could have gone. 

- It confused and deeply saddened the elves since it seemed you were fearful of them. It left them wondering about your coming to their woods and if you had faced terrible things outside. 

- The elves left you be whenever you appeared again to either dance or sing to the forest, healing the sickly woods. 

- Some desired to find you or even take a peek beneath your hood to see your face, but their king ordered not to go after you or disturb you since you had such power over the darkness and the sickness in their woods. 

-One time, when the spiders had overcome a scouting party, a fight ensued, and many were injured. When one of their own was taken by the spiders and nearly killed, you appeared, running fast and with your hand enchanting the trees to protect the elf. 

- The spiders ran away when your voice broke through the air like an arrow, singing power that scared them away. 

- The elves were startled by the display of their trees attacking the spiders before trying to find their own and finding their kin treated by you. 

- You were kneeling beside the wounded elf, softly singing to them. The power of your song allowed flowers to grow around you and heal the elf from the spider’s poison. You waited with the elf till their kin arrived before disappearing into the woods again. 

- For saving one of their own, they felt grateful and gained an answer when they heard the spiders curse your presence and call you ‘a half blood’ and ‘an accursed nymph’ during their escape. They were words they had never heard before till later they learned what they meant when someone decided to investigate. 

- You were a nymph, one of the ancient spirits that were long extinct due to great devastation and darkness thousands of years ago—or a half nymph to be exact since the spiders called you a half-blood. 

- The news were received with great surprise and wonder as not even the oldest of their elves do not remember much of the nymphs, except that they were great caretakers of woods and plants. 

- One day, when the gray wizard Gandalf came for a visit, they learned your name and identity from him. You were a child born out of a union between a nymph and a human, and he had sent you here where you would be safe and more in tune with your nature. 

- He had hoped you would have found a home among them, but he seemed to have overestimated your timid nature since you still avoided contact with the elves. 

- The elves were delighted by the new information, but before they could ask Gandalf for some instructions on how to communicate with you because just like he came, he left with an amused laugh to continue his journey. 

- He simply told them they would find a way or you would eventually come to them yourself. 

- It was troublesome, but they found one way to communicate with you by leaving gifts in the forests. They mostly left fruits and food since you left the gifts you didn’t like untouched. In return, you also leave gifts for them such as herbs and stones they might appreciate. 

- The elves were happy and surprised since your gifts were rare herbs and stones they didn’t think could be found in Mirkwood. They didn’t complain though, and the little gift exchanging turned into a little tradition. 

- The elves sometimes took the chance to sing with you whenever they heard your songs. Sometimes you sang along, and sometimes you simply stopped and ran away. 

- The elves tried leaving letters for you along with the gifts, trying to tell you that you were welcomed to their kingdom if you only came to them. You mostly didn’t answer except one time you replied, telling you preferred living in the woods. 

- The elves of Mirkwood tried many times to get you to come to them, but eventually, they decided to let fate bring you to them when the time came. They did continue their little traditions with you, their strange little neighbor.

[idleronanisle]

Thranduil

"On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for the autumn was come again."

[sotwk]

The Best Gift (Legolas x f!Reader)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir) 

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window. 

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window. 

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.” 

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen. 

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused. 

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.” 

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.” 

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.” 

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless.  But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him. 

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet.  “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck,  you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself. 

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm. 

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path. 

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning. 

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground. 

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home. 

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall. 

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!  

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”. 

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

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[umaia3aurart]

I forgot to post this one!

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— Elven Instinct | Legolas Greenleaf *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~2.1k

▹ Summary: When you know, you know. There's no other way to explain it.

▹ Note: I listened to Margaret by Lana on repeat while writing this, 10/10 recommend. Also, unedited because it's 2am and I want to SLEEP.

You’d met Legolas early spring when the winds were still bitter and the frost was beginning to melt. 

The moon was high and the chatter was mellow, the defeat of Sauron still fresh in everyone's memory. He’d been wearing his ceremonial armor and you a white dress. The jewels you wore shimmered like stars and your eyes shone like moonlit water. A human woman from a minor noble house, you never expected catching the eye of the elven prince that helped save the realm.

Legolas’ eyes followed you intently, entranced by your sweet voice and the slight creases around your eyes when you smiled. It had been three times your eyes had met and after the third time, Legolas found the courage to approach, downing his glass and leaving it behind. His hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat, but he’d kick himself later if he didn’t try. The pathway to you seemed miles long, the rest of the crowd blind to Legolas; it was as if a single light was guiding his way to you. His blood rushed and his heart raced; tingles lit his body up.

It was no shock when Legolas was a few feet away. You noticed him approaching, of course, you were entirely too aware of him and his lingering eyes. Liquid courage was found in a glass of wine that was sweet and tarte all at once. The alcohol caused your cheeks to flush but you knew the prince's presence would make them flush brighter. The alcohol would be a good excuse for the blush you’d soon have.

The noise in your mind grew hush once the elven prince stood before you. He smelled warm and fresh, well groomed and oiled with a hint of a woodsy scent. The smoothness of his features were nearly off putting, but the shy grin on his face was anything but unnerving. The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress and Legolas’ hands were clasped in front of him. Nervous and awkward, neither of you were sure how to proceed.

It was silent for a moment, replaced by the fumbling of the two of you speaking over each other. With the realization, the words were cut short and silence fell over the air. Your eyes fell to the floor and your teeth worried your lips while Legolas’ cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. 

“Apologies, my prince--”

“I insist my lady, you first--”

Another bout of silence. Neither of you could remember how casual conversation worked. You peeked at him through your lashes, a small giggle slipping past your lips. It made Legolas ease his stiff posture, melting into the sound of your voice. 

“May I have your name, my lady.” He couldn’t recall being so shy when speaking with a woman. All the confidence age and skill brought was drained from his body; he was an elfling fumbling over his own feet.

“It is Y/N. I would ask for yours, but I believe that question is redundant.”

“Am I so well known?”

Your grin widened in a way that would make your mother grimace. 

“One of the heroes who saved Middle Earth and the son of the King of the Woodlands?” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, lips curled into a slight smirk. “I perhaps heard your name a time or two.”

Legolas laughed, eyes shut and head slightly tossed back. A stray ray of light hit his head, illuminating him with a halo above his head. “I suppose my reputation does precede me, but I feel like we’re standing on uneven ground. You know more of me than I do of you.”

Some of the nerves that made you feel fluttery and sick began to disappear. His easy and smile and comforting aura felt as same as the childhood nativity you clung to. He put stars in your eyes in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to the other attendees of this party.” 

The half smile on Legolas’ face contorted into a much softer appearance. Eye bright and voice low, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I dare say you are more so memorable.” 

Your lashes fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat. Subtly, you pinched the side of your thigh, sending a prayer of gratitude to whatever god led you to this moment. A shy giggle bubbled from behind your closed lips. Emboldened from the haze the wine created, you leave a feather light touch over Legolas’ shoulder. 

“A bold statement considering you’ve hardly known me a day.”

Legolas smiled at your quick retort, leaning towards your body, his head tilted down to see you better. 

“They say an elves' instincts are never wrong.” 

You raised a single brow in response, a coy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. All thoughts of formality and proprietary thrown out. 

“And your instincts say I’m memorable?” 

Legolas paused for a moment before continuing.

“Well when you know, you know.”

Unsure of how to react, a small bout of laughter left your mouth. The rest of the night was spent with Legolas at your side. Even as nobles singing his praises and vying for the favor of an elven prince, Legolas never strayed too far. With a polite smile and nod of the head, he would quickly dismiss the well-wishers in favor of returning his attention to you. 

The night passed far too quickly, and with the blink of an eye you found yourself in the isolation of your room with your blankets pulled to your chin. Behind your closed eyes, your thoughts and dreams were nothing but Legolas and a life you were certain was too far from your grasp. 

---

The crisp spring air was traded for balmy, long summer nights. The world began to return to normal, all that Mordor and Sauraman destroyed slowly being rebuilt. The coronation of the king was approaching, the heroes of Middle Earth lingering in Gondor, including Legolas.  

 You hadn’t spoken since your first meeting, but he was everywhere you looked. Walks through the city, visits to the Keep, or wandering through the gardens; it didn’t matter where you were, he was everywhere. To his credit, he made it seem as if he was a subject of fate and not the mastermind setting the chess board. 

And the board was currently being reset in a small nook overlooking the city. The queen sat in front of a stone table with a book while the king lingered around the edges, unsure of how to approach. 

“I began to think you were a ghost I’d imagined.” You spoke quietly and wet the tip of your finger. Flick. Your eyes began to scan the new page of your book. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Legolas take the free chair directly across from you. His hands rested on the table, fingers intertwined. 

“Why’s that?” 

A slight smirk appeared on your lips, barely visible over your book. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you shut the book and set it on the table. Eye to eye, you took in Legolas’ appearance. His casual leathers had been traded in for formal attire, a delicate silver circlet resting above his brow. Gods did he look beautiful. 

“You seem to be everywhere I am, yet this is the first time you’ve approached.”

Legolas stared at you a moment; a slight furrow of his brow in response to the tilt of your head and sly grin. “I approached you at the celebration.” 

“The first and only time, if we don’t take this moment into consideration.” 

Legolas narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a grin pulling on his puzzled expression. 

“You seem perfectly capable of starting a conversation and entirely aware of when we were in a room together.” The implication of his words weren’t lost on you, a slight flush betraying your embarrassment. You were entirely too aware of him. 

“And how improper would that be?” You feigned a scandalized appearance, lightly swatting Legolas’ hand. “A minor noble woman approaching an elven prince? My mother would die from the embarrassment that scandal would cause.” 

Legolas laughed; a short and sweet one that made his eyes turn to crescents. There was a flutter in your stomach and a misbeat of your heart. For a moment your eyes glazed over, not aware what Legolas was saying if he was speaking to begin with. He looked entirely too beautiful, his eyes too blue to be natural. Elves were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, but none of the other elves wandering the keep were as beautiful as him.  

“Ahh.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound pulling you from the spell he cast. “How foolish of me to overlook that detail. In the future I will be sure to start all conversations, lest the public get the wrong idea.” 

“A relief to hear you have agreed to stop silently stalking me. And they claim chivalry to be a dying behavior.” You rolled your eyes, the grin on your face dulling any snark in your words. 

Your eyes returned to Legolas, the easy silence hanging over the two of you. The air was calm, sans a nervous fog over Legolas’ eyes. What was there to be worried over? The war was over, Sauron was defeated. You tried to remember what could be a cause of worry, but your mind came up empty. Even the remaining orcs were being hunted down and slain.

“But I’m sure that reassurance isn’t why you’re here.” You broke the silence, Legolas’ attention snapping back towards you. “What worried you?” 

“I am to return home soon.” 

Your mouth was parted, unable to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh.” The word was uttered so quietly you weren’t certain it was actually said. Of course he would go home, he’s a prince with duties to his people. It’s not as if there would be anything to keep him here after the King’s coronation next week. 

“I wish you a safe journey.” 

The tips of your fingers tapped against the smooth stone. 

“You mistake me. It is expected of me to return home shortly after Aragorn’s coronation, but I am unsure if it is what I want to do.” 

A slight furrow of your brows betrayed your confusion, but before you could open your mouth, Legolas continued to speak. 

“We have not spoken nearly as much as I would’ve liked during my stay here, a predicament I understand to be a making of my own, but I--” He cut himself off, eyes lowering to the ground as he shook his head. 

Oh.

The realization came with a bright red hue painting your cheeks. All this time, you never once considered the elven prince had affections for you. Each time you’d been in the same room, same hall, or same street, it never occurred to you he was building the courage to speak with you again. Had your first meeting had such an effect on him? Could he possibly get as fluttery and nervous as you do?

“I would like the chance to get to know you, Lady Y/N, and in time perhaps court you.” 

Like a starstruck idiot, you stared at Legolas with wide eyes and parted lips. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and in the distance there were birds singing, or maybe you’d just imagined that.

Legolas began to drum his fingers against the table, nervous eyes unable to meet yours. You’d been silent for too long, you realized. He may be getting the wrong idea. To assuage whatever fears were building within his head, you reached your hand out and placed it over him. It brought his attention back to you; wide eyed and flushed face he looked ages younger than he really was. 

“I would love for the chance to get to know you beyond the surface level.”

Like dawn brightening the landscape, Legolas’ face lit up. Any petty fears or worries were banished from his expression. He brought his free hand to rest it atop your other free hand. He squeezed your hand three times before pulling them away. After a moment you hear the soft pad of footsteps on the ground. 

A chair skids across the ground as Legolas stood from his seat, outstretching a hand towards you. “Perhaps the lady would grant me a walk through the halls?”

Gently, you stood from your seat, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. 

“Lead the way my prince.”

[7soulstars]

My Incorrect Universe #91

Thranduil, cleaning his swords in his room: ah, I love this sword more than I love Thorin.

Me,sipping on tea next to him : Darling, you love anything more than Thorin.

Thranduil, in full adoration towards me: you're always so right meleth-nin I sure do like even the spiders more than that short stacked weasel.

--meanwhile in the Misty Mountains--

Thorin*sneezing continuously* : I sense someone talking shit about me

[meluiloth]

Let's talk about Thranduil (and the Mirkwood Elves)

The Woodland Elves are well known for being a suspicious and reclusive people, Thranduil most of all - but they are also as merry and light-hearted as the other Elven civilizations when it comes to their own people.

So I want to talk about why that is, why Thranduil is so determined to remain isolated. The reason is actually pretty simple: he lost everything in the War of the Last Alliance.

The army of Greenwood joined forces with the Elves and Men against Mordor, though their army was smallest and their people less skilled with open war, led by Oropher, Thranduil's father. Thranduil himself was there as well (and though not much is known about his wife, I headcanon her as fighting alongside her husband and her people).

The Free Peoples won that war, but with a heavy cost - and the Silvan Elves suffered greatest of all. They lost two-thirds of their army and their King, and returned to Greenwood crippled and mourning. (I headcanon that's when Thranduil lost his wife, too). The Prince of Greenwood had to take the burden of the crown while his people were suffering and while his home was rapidly falling into decay, along with struggling through the grief of losing his father (and his wife).

To my knowledge, there is nothing in the lore about the Silvan Elves receiving help from their allies, so I assume that they were left to rebuild alone, and also to contend with the Necromancer who had taken up residence in their home, and who they were not strong enough to exorcize themselves. They were even forced to take refuge underground, which hurt their woodland and tree-loving souls.

Thranduil was alone. Of course he would become bitter and reclusive, wanting to focus on helping his own people while resenting the fact that, though they had sacrificed so much, no one came to their aid. He decided that he would lend no more aid, make no more sacrifices, and suffer no more losses on account of those who would not return the favor. That was the end of that.

And really, who can blame him?

[stardayzzing]

Here's my weekly? Not quite daily? Thranduil and Legolas soft moments ☆

One of them is cropped because fifteen minutes of trying to do the full body made me give up but uts suppose to be Legolas on his shoulders petting the deer :)