AnAverageBibliophile

20 | University student 📚📖| Lover of books + coffee + language science ♥️| Aspiring linguist 💓🎉|

[anaveragebibliophile]

What We Can All Agree On...

Thranduil x You x Baby!Legolas :) 

Summary: During a rough council meeting, where arguments ensue and anger spikes, Legolas’ nanny arrives and presents Their Majesties with some unsettling and worrying news about his health. Protective instincts kicking in, Thranduil decides that maybe prioritizing his kingdom isn’t what’s most important, and that leads other members of the council to remember why they are there in the first place. ;) ;) ;) 

It all started when a fist slammed harshly into the birchwood table located in the conference room of The Palace of The Woodland Realm. 

“This is complete and utter nonsense! We cannot and will not allow Azog to continue to move his orc packs farther south into Dol Guldur. We all are aware of the fact that it is the stronghold that is holding them all. And we all know it is obvious that he intends to utilize that base to form an army, and the only way to do that effectively is to continue to populate the place. What is not obvious, though, is why everyone is so intent on avoiding coming up with a solution to this problem. I have presented a possible option, but all I am receiving is silence in return.” 

The man, whose bellow could be heard all the way to The Lonely Mountain, was Lord Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell. As a member of the White Council, he, along with his fellow comrades, has devoted his life to combat the darkness that has continued to plague Middle Earth with a vengeance. Every fortnight, especially since this issue with Azog has become more prevalent, he meets with Gandalf the Gray, Radagast the Brown, King Thranduil, and Queen (y/n) to discuss political matters, propositions, and strategies that will hopefully benefit the realms at large and continue to promote peace amongst them. However, the topic of conversation for today’s meeting has inevitably ruffled some feathers. Especially with respect to how things–in this case, the orcs–should be dealt with.

“With all due respect, Elrond, I cannot in good conscience allow our kingdom to get involved at this time,” Thranduil started. “While we know that something is being organized, we have not had the time to scout the stronghold ourselves. How many orcs are there? Is there a guard constantly watching? Are the wargs still being utilized? If so, are they being bred there? It seems like trying to catch them off guard is a really great opportunity for them to create a trap for us instead. So, therefore, my answer is no. Do you have anything else to add, darling?” 

Thranduil turned towards the only female elf in the room sitting to his right. Queen (y/n) nodded her head, her long blond hair shining against the rising moonlight. 

Standing, the queen squeezed her husband’s hand quickly before standing to face Lord Elrond. 

“Yes, honey. Elrond, it goes without saying that you have been such a trusted friend and confidant to both of us over the years. That said, when you consider that, surely you can understand why we would be hesitant about this attempt at an invasion.” 

It took all of three seconds before the queen received an answer from her husband’s truest, sincerest friend. 

“Legolas,” Elrond mumbled. “I imagine that is the reason, yes?” 

All Queen (y/n) did was nod. 

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The following thirty minutes consisted of Lord Elrond pleading with the King and Queen anyway he knew how. While he felt he may have been trying to exercise his right and voice his opinion, all he ended up doing was agitating the four other people in the room. 

“They vetoed your plan, Elrond,” Radagast began. “I believe it’s time to give it a rest.” 

“Accept defeat and move on,” Gandalf added. “There are other ways for us to ensure that Sauron never holds dominion over Middle Earth again. Please don’t make them feel guilty over choosing their son, who’s only two-years-old by the way.” 

Speaking of their son, it was at that moment that a loud cooing could be heard behind the closed conference room door. 

The King and Queen’s eyes moved to that spot immediately. 

“Well, that certainly sounds like our little leaf is awake,” Queen (y/n) said, smiling as she made her way towards the ornate oak door. 

When she opened it, her eyes quickly drew towards her son. Held against his nanny’s hip and clad in navy blue cargo pants and a white long-sleeved tunic, with his blond hair all askew, he immediately reached for her. Safely in the comfort of his mother’s arms, he whimpered softly, making haste to press his head into the crook between her collarbone and neck. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Your Majesties, but the prince doesn’t seem to be feeling very well. When he woke up from his nap, he seemed very lethargic and it’s only gotten worse over the last thirty minutes. He doesn’t appear to have any appetite at all. He wouldn’t even touch his snack. He appears a bit congested, and his eyes have been watering. And I believe he’s got a bit of a temperature as well.” 

Instantly, everyone was on high alert. And by everyone, that could be defined as King Thranduil specifically. 

Face tight and lips drawn into a tight line, Thranduil made a beeline for his wife and child. “Thank you for drawing this to our attention, Elva. We appreciate you letting us know so quickly,” he said, stroking his son’s back gently with his left hand and rubbing his cheek with the back of his right. 

Kissing her son’s forehead, (y/n) let her lips linger to gauge his temperature. “He’s definitely warm, darling. I think it’s best if we take him to the healer to rule out anything more serious. It appears like it probably is just a cold, but it’s better to ere on the side of caution.” 

“Right,” her husband responded almost unconsciously. Based on the way he was fidgeting with his hands, she could tell he was itching to have their son in his arms, that protective instinct kicking in full force. 

“How about you take him, Thran? That way, I can wrap up the meeting and run to our rooms to get Legolas’ blanket and stuffed butterfly. We don’t know how long the healer’s visit is going to take, so we may as well be prepared.” 

Legolas’ two favorite things in the world are that blanket and butterfly, both gifts from Thorin Oakenshield on his last visit to Mirkwood for his godson taking his first steps. Queen (y/n) has always wondered if Legolas could feel the love and friendship that those two gifts were made with. Maybe those things ultimately forged the attachment he now has to them. 

Nodding profusely, Thran made grabby hands at his wife. Legolas could feel his ada’s presence next to him and looked up from his mother’s shoulder with watery, sleepy eyes. With a sniffle, he smiled a little bit at his father, gesticulating in the same way. 

“Come here, my sweet boy. It is alright. Your ada is here,” Thranduil said, his hand rubbing Legolas’ back as he snuggled into his shoulder and gripped onto his cloak tightly, almost as if he were afraid of his father disappearing, believing the only way to get him to stay was through sheer force. “He is definitely not feeling like himself. His body is projecting a lot of fatigue, and his breathing appears very labored.” 

“Ickui (Icky),” Legolas mumbled, rubbing his nose and eyes as he dozed. 

At that one word, Thran made the executive decision to start heading towards the healer’s right then, propriety be damned. He bid the council a quick farewell and excused himself, lightly kissing his wife on the cheek before departing. 

“My sincerest apologies, councilmen, but I’m afraid…,” Queen (y/n) began, turning around to face the three that remained. 

“No need for any discussion on the matter, Your Majesty,” Gandalf said, waving his hand. “You need to prioritize your family at the moment. We can continue this conversation when Legolas is feeling better.” 

Nodding, (y/n) gave him a hug. “Thank you for being so understanding.” 

“We may fight and disagree sometimes,” Lord Elrond interjected. “However, what we can all agree on is that we love that little elfling. We would never want to do anything to put him in harm’s way. Right now, he needs his parents. Go. We will still be here when he has recovered. And if you need anything, please do not hesitate to reach out.” 

Queen (y/n) smiled at that. I guess that’s why we haven’t thrown him off the council yet, she thought. 

[anaveragebibliophile]

All Smiles (Carlisle Cullen x OC)

You’d think that that part would’ve been easy. You’d think that the minute he heard of the vision he’d have run. You’d think that that insatiable desire to fight for his family would’ve sparked a fire within him to leave and allow Rosalie and Emmett to take the reins. 

No. Not by a long shot.

Instead, here we were two hours later. Still on the couch. Still nowhere closer to getting him to see reason. 

“I can’t just leave you, El,” my husband said. “You’re still ill, and you’re not getting any better. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened while I was away.” 

Placing a hand on my growing belly, I gave him my most disapproving look. Once his eyes caught mine, he immediately looked away, chagrined. 

Clearing my throat, I began. My voice was even hoarser than in days past (if that was even possible at this point).

“Honey, let’s be realistic here. You staying here isn’t going to increase the probability of a timely recovery any more than you leaving. What’s more, this little guy enjoys the pampering I’m getting. He’s not going to want to end this anytime soon.”

As a phoenix, a resurrector of the dead and believer in the goodness that the life of all beings brings, I’m capable of connecting with any being, those that are living, dead, or on the periphery. In this case, our son, the little dude in my belly, would be considered as a being on the periphery. He’s alive but not co-existing with us in the land of the living just yet. However, despite that, I have been able to establish a connection with him that allows me to determine who he is, who he’s going to grow up to be, and what he’s capable of. 

With respect to what he’s capable of, manipulating situations is a big one. And while it might seem like this is a malicious act on his part, the truth is that he has good, kind intentions. Out of his love for me, he wants his father to continue to shower me with his love and compassion. He wants his father to remain dedicated to his mother. Ultimately, this allows our child to understand Carlisle better. It goes without saying that their bond has strengthened over the last few months. At this point, my husband can barely keep away from the both of us. 

So, how did our little guy manipulate the situation this time? Well, it would seem that he compromised my immune system somehow, leaving me with one of the worst flu strains I’ve had in years. And the best part is that he’s the only one that can decide when it will end. Not Carlisle. Not me. Not medical science. Just him. And considering the fact that his father has been within close proximity around the clock, I wouldn’t count on any reversal anytime soon. 

“That doesn’t mean you should be without medical assistance. Rosalie and Emmett, albeit resourceful, aren’t doctors,” Carlisle retorted, his hand moving towards my bump, waiting for his son to kick him hello. 

Soon enough, it happened. We both grinned down at the beautiful creature just waiting to make his appearance. Only a few more weeks to go. 

Looking down, I responded. “I know they’re not doctors, sweetheart. I just think that we shouldn’t take any chances where Bella’s concerned. She’s still human. And she has a family. What if that were him?” 

“I understand what you mean. She will be our daughter-in-law sooner than later.”

“Much sooner than you think.” 

Alice isn’t the only one that had visions in this coven. I do too. The only difference is that mine are pretty inconsistent. I’m always given myriad possibilities and unable to determine which is the correct one. Yet, we had all agreed that any vision would be taken seriously because it’s validity depends on the choices one decides to make. In this case, we don’t know if Bella’s decisions are going to force her into a potentially harmful confrontation with Jane in Volterra or not. Only time will tell. 

But that was why Alice and I wanted Carlisle to be out there with Bella and Edward. Just in case. 

That yearning doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere though. 

“Please, darling,” I said. “Do it for me. I’m telling you that I feel well enough to have Rosalie and Emmett watch over me. If I didn’t, I would’ve demanded that you stay.” 

It was so obvious that he was torn. His gaze turned away from mine and down to our son once again, his brows pinching in both frustration and agony. “I know, darling, I know. It just doesn’t sit well with me. As a husband and a father, it’s my duty to be present and attentive to your needs as well as his. I feel like I’m doing you both a disservice by traveling to Italy when there’s been no indication that she’s been harmed.” 

“If it’s any consolation, I still believe she’s at risk. I just have this gut feeling.” 

Mulling that over for a few moments, my husband sighed in resignation. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go. Let me go speak to Rosalie and Emmett.” 

At that response, I leaned forward from my spot in front of, let’s just say, a ton of support pillows, completely preventing Carlisle from moving away from me. 

Cupping his cheek, I smiled at him. “You’re such a good man, Carlisle Cullen. I hope you know that.” 

His hand reached up to his cheek to grasp mine, leaving all the unspoken words to be heard and appreciated with just that one touch. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now, remember that her nightly dose of Amoxicillin must be given at eight o’clock if she wants to be eligible to take it early tomorrow morning. And as far as comfort levels go, she’ll want her pregnancy pillow that’s laying on our bed upstairs, the heating pad for her lower back–which is in my office–, and some tea as well. Earl Grey, to be specific, which can be found—”

“Carlisle, it’s okay, we’ve got it,” Rosalie said, sitting down next to me. “Eloise will be in excellent hands, so you don’t need to worry so much. We’ve read your notes three times over and will consult them if need be. Plus, she’ll have her phone on her, I’m sure, so you can contact her whenever you please.” 

“Rose’s right, Carlisle,” Emmett interjected. “We promise to be extra vigilant and prudent. We understand how important they both are. We love them too. But it will all work itself out. It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere anyhow.” 

All her husband could do was nod, watching as I shrugged and blew my nose. The look of agony on his face was all I needed to know that this separation was going to destroy him. But it needed to be done, for the sake of our family and our sanity. 

“Thank you. Thank you both.” 

Dropping his carry-on, the only bag he was bringing, my husband came to kneel beside me on the couch. Kneading his fingers through my hair, he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, savoring the last few moments we would have together for a few days.

Him and me both. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay? Call me if you need me.” 

“Will do, sweetheart. Now, go be amazing. I’ll be here, keeping our little one safe,” I said, watching as our son wanted to get in on the action. 

Kissing my forehead one last time and then my lips, he moved to place a long, loving kiss on my belly. 

“I love you both. I’ll see you soon.” he said, all smiles. 

[anaveragebibliophile]

You Are Welcome

Thranduil x OC x Baby!Legolas

Summary: In celebration of the Enderi season, Queen Älva and King Thranduil host a feast for all of their friends, hobbits and dwarves alike. Come along and figure out how their paths collided, what preconceived notions are still lingering, and why they continue to love one another so unconditionally. 

“Darling, I am so delighted that we get to host the dwarves in celebration of the Enderi season,” Älva, the Queen of Mirkwood, said. “I have a strong inkling that they are going to revel in its incomparable history and exquisite food. What’s more, they will get to see how Legolas has grown. Oh, what a wonderful day this will be.” 

King Thranduil, sitting atop their bed with their son sleeping in his arms, smiled in response to his wife’s unfiltered, unabashed joy. “I, too, am delighted, sweetheart. The dwarves and I have truly become the best of friends. I regret those years where we were nothing but cool towards one another. Without a doubt, I have enjoyed their company tremendously.” 

It was no secret that the king and the dwarves–King Thorin Oakenshield in particular–didn’t get along for centuries. While the King of Mirkwood believed his adversaries to be nothing but corrupt and blind with a golden greed, the Dwarves of Erebor believed King Thranduil to be wicked, vile, haughty, and severely entitled to assets and properties that weren’t his to begin with. Exhibit A, The Lonely Mountain. With those stereotypes perpetuated over the years, they could do nothing more but fight, argue, and continue to allow the distrust to fester. That is, until she came into the picture. 

Älva, a simple she-elf of Rivendell, ended up connecting with the dwarves first. On a mission to reclaim their long-lost kingdom, she decided to accompany them after they witnessed her archery skills against Bolg in Lake Town. Practically begging her to tag along on their journey, she found it very difficult to say no. In all honesty, how could she say no to those sweet faces?

She hadn’t met Thran until they ended up cornered in the Mirkwood Forest a few weeks later. Unfortunately, they had gotten lost but still believed that they could withstand an army of thousands of trained, angry, and lethal elven soldiers. Let’s just say that that was Kili’s idea, not anyone else’s. Maybe Thorin’s too, if we’re going to be honest here. Yet, that ended pretty quickly when they realized how unmatched they were in the grand scheme of things. 

As luck would have it, Älva managed to convince the king to let them go free. She was quite persuasive, he would say years down the line. Not only that, but she was just gorgeous–long, curly, honey blonde hair with big, round, teal eyes. And a dimpled smile that just took his breath away. He couldn’t bare to see that woman shed a single tear or pout in dissatisfaction. At that point, he knew he was a goner. 

A few years later, they married with a lavish ceremony in Mirkwood. It took a long time for Älva to convince her husband-to-be to invite some of her longtime comrades. Even after the Battle of the Five Armies had ceased, tensions remained high. King Thranduil wasn’t quite ready to forgive nor forget what happened at the mountain just yet. However, Älva usually got what she wanted, and this time remained no different. One kiss and he was saying yes to everything under the sun. Consequently, they were invited. But it all seemed to work out. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Your Majesties, King Thorin is here with Master Baggins and his comrades. They await your presence in the throne room,” Tauriel said, smiling widely upon receiving entry into the chambers of her king and queen. 

Cradling her son in her arms and snuggling him into her chest, the queen responded. “Thank you very much, Tauriel. We will be down shortly.” 

Bowing in turn, the Captain of the Guard exited. 

“Do we have everything, my love?” Thran asked, his upper lip curving at his two most favorite people in all of Middle Earth. 

“I believe so. If you could just grab this little leaf’s blanket, then we should be ready for the celebration to commence.” 

Quickly grabbing his son’s blanket from the ivory rocking chair near the window, he placed a hand on his wife’s back and guided her towards the throne room where their guests awaited. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Thran and Älva walked into the regal, authoritative space that perpetually demanded most of their attention as governors of this fine kingdom, they were splendidly surprised to find that it no longer felt that way. Probably because several grinning baffoons were joking amongst themselves, laughing, and hugging each other in spite of all the soldiers keeping prudent, acute eyes on them all. In their minds, a possible shot to the leg would do nothing to inhibit this reunion. 

It was Bilbo who noticed them approaching first. 

“Everyone,” he started, “calm down. They’re here. Oh, and they’ve brought the elfling, so you must stop the nonsense.” 

“Hello to you as well, Bilbo,” Älva said. “I can assure you that this little guy won’t make a fuss. He sleeps through quite a bit. When he’s ready to wake up, he will.” 

At that, Legolas, wrapped up against his mother’s chest, peeked one eye open only to close it again. Obviously, he was still tired and determined to get some much needed rest. Not even this boisterous group was going to stop him. 

While their little leaf was resting, Thorin and Thran shook hands, Älva stepping in after to give him a quick hug. While she was wrapped around his chest, Erebor’s king was able to take a long look at the little elf that had everyone wrapped around his finger, including him. 

“Älva, Thranduil, he’s gotten so much bigger,” Thorin interjected, slowly moving his thumb across Legolas’ head, making him smile softly in his sleep. “What a handsome young prince. He definitely takes after his father.”

“Thank you, Thorin. What a kind thing to say.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was quite a lively experience. On the menu was a delicious turtle soup, paired with superb elven bread and feywine. And it definitely didn’t disappoint. Even Bilbo, who preferred mini quiches and hobbit hash, was raving about the dish and all of the sides. 

“This is exceptional. May I please have the recipe?” he asked through a spoonful of soup. 

Thranduil smiled. “Of course, Master Baggins. I will let the kitchen know to send you home with a card that has all the soup’s ingredients written on it.” 

Quickly, though, the hobbit’s response was interrupted with a giggle from the king and queen’s son. 

“It appears someone’s awake,” the king said, grinning and moving out of his chair to go kneel next to his wife’s. 

Legolas, bundled against his mother in a wrap and his blanket, was playing with her long braid and was continuously amused by her attempts to swing it back and forth like a pendulum. It was so hysterical to him, this vacillation of sorts. 

“We just have been playing, haven’t we little one?” his wife queried, subsequently kissing her son’s forehead.

Suddenly, her forehead pinched in thought. 

“Would you like to have some time with him, Thran? I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.” 

Frowning, he responded. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize. You may have as much time as you wish. He’s our child, not just mine.” 

“Ada! Ada! A-A-Ada!” Legolas shouted, his little body trying to wiggle around to see one of his favorite people. 

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ll get you to Ada.” 

Pulling him out of his wrap and passing him over to her husband, Älva watched as Legolas snuggled his head into Thran’s neck, getting himself comfortable for the foreseeable future. She also noticed, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, how attentive that man was to their child. He rubbed his back, adjusted his positioning to make him feel safe and loved, and repeatedly kissed his teeny-tiny cheeks, making the elfling giggle and try his hardest to emulate him. 

But she wasn’t the only one that noticed this display. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was the one to bring it up while they sat side-by-side on the conference room’s balcony. It was just the two of them. Thranduil had gone to put Legolas to bed. He loved bathing him and singing him to sleep. He hadn’t missed out on that special part of the day yet–even when political matters came calling–and didn’t plan on ever starting. 

“He’s such a fantastic father, Äl. There’s no doubt.” Thorin said. “He’s gentle, kind, and supportive. Intelligent, helpful, and compassionate. I really misjudged him. I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time back then. I didn’t believe that you were making the right decision, but I see it now. I do. I see the real him that you’ve always spoken so highly of. All of the genuinely wonderful qualities that make him a good husband and a good father. He wouldn’t be someone Legolas adores if he didn’t adore you first.” 

All Älva could do was squeeze his hand in gratitude. 

“Thank you, Thorin. You have no idea what that means to me and will mean to him.” 

“Ahem–” 

The queen quickly turned her head, surprised to find her son and husband standing in the doorway to the conference room, both of their gazes never leaving hers. Legolas’ back was against his father’s chest, his legs dangling from the perch that was Thran’s forearm. Intermittently, his Ada would kiss the top of his head, causing his arms to shoot out, making him look like a little starfish. He looked tired and even had the big, bad yawns to prove it.

“What are you two still doing up?” Älva said, preparing to stand. 

“We were wondering if you would be willing to join us for a bedtime read before this little leaf heads to bed. The singing isn’t doing much tonight. I think I need some help,” her husband timidly admitted. 

Nodding with enthusiasm, she placed her hand on Thorin’s wrist in an effort to gain his attention. 

“We will talk tomorrow, yes? Duty calls as I’m sure you understand.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty. Until tomorrow then.” 

As Thorin settled back into his seat, he couldn’t help but listen to the soft coos that came from Thran and Äl as they quietly asked their son what he would like to read before he headed off into dreamland once again.

[anaveragebibliophile]

All is Well (Part 2)

Thranduil x Young!Legolas x OC 

Summary: We return to a meeting between Thranduil’s wife and Bilbo Baggins, specifically regarding a position that he has accepted on behalf of Gandalf the Grey and the queen herself. However, problems arise with the prince’s health, leading to a very chaotic conference with the king and queen highlighting their exceptional parenting capabilities. 

“My Queen, Master Baggins has accepted the position that you’ve so graciously offered to him,” Gandalf began, watching (y/n) rock the young prince in the ivory rocking chair adjacent to the bassinet that was kept in her and her husband’s chambers. 

Unlike most royals within the Woodland Realm, the king and queen prided themselves upon being readily available to their son at the drop of a hat. Rather than rely on maids and wet nurses to raise their elfling, they viewed the responsibility as a privilege that had been bestowed upon them to indulge in and appreciate to the utmost degree. As such, they were only ever seen without their sweet leaf on the rarest of occasions. As can be noted, this was indeed not one of those times. 

The queen couldn’t seem to hide both her surprise and pleasure from the wizard upon hearing this news. “I am quite happy to hear this, Gandalf. Unfortunately, as circumstances would have it, this expedition to Gundaband is just not something I can commit to at this time.” 

The “circumstances” that she was referring to could easily be deduced upon looking at her son.  Legolas, the 1-year-old son of Queen (y/n) and King Thranduil, had fallen ill only a few days ago. While his parents (his mother really) initially presumed this to be only a minor ailment that would dissipate in time, his fever had only worsened over the last few hours. And as a result of his extreme discomfort, he only desired to be held by his mother or father, the latter sadly battling the same illness in the bed adjacent to his wife and child. 

“Fret not, My Queen. You will not be disappointed with the hobbit that I’ve recommended to facilitate this mission.” 

“He’s right, darling,” Thranduil interjected. “Master Baggins is quite the experienced investigator. Furtive, prudent and intelligent.” 

At that response, (y/n) quickly diverted her attention from Gandalf to her husband, shocked to find him awake. He’d been sleeping most of the day, the excessive fatigue hitting him like a bag of rocks would. Painfully. 

“How are you feeling?” (y/n) queried, trying to settle Legolas down from her sudden movement. 

“I’m alright. Still quite fatigued and sore but I have to believe I’m on the mend,” he responded, coughing into his elbow. “How’s our little leaf holding up?” 

Gandalf took this time to analyze the dynamic between husband and wife. Slowly, oh so slowly, (y/n) stood up from the rocking chair, cooing at Legolas as he began to whimper. Sitting on her edge of bed and turning her body to face Thranduil, she watched as her husband prepped himself to take the precious cargo that laid before him. As she passed Legolas off into her husband’s waiting arms, everyone could hear the exhalation of relief from both father and son. It wasn’t long until (y/n) sidled up next to her husband, both of them attempting to coax their little one back to sleep with soothing words and gentle touches. 

It appeared that the rumors still stood true from where Gandalf stood. 

The king and queen were exceptional parents.  

“He’s been sporting a pretty nasty fever for the past few hours,” the queen continued. “The healer has come to see him twice to administer a few medicines that she believes will help. However, due to the ferocity of the illness, it will take more time for the remedies to take effect.” 

The king only nodded, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my friends, but—” 

(Y/n) raised a hand. “No, it is me who should apologize. I am being very discourteous. Please, Gandalf, continue.” 

“(Y/n), please. There is no need for that. The only other matter I wished to discuss had to do with meeting the hobbit in the flesh. Would that be something you would be interested in?”

At that question, Legolas’ lip began to quiver. Obviously, he knew what that meeting would entail. The separation of him and his mother. 

“My little leaf, everything is alright,” (y/n) began, reaching past Thran’s arm to smooth her son’s golden hair back from his little head. “Maman isn’t going anywhere.” 

The king took that time to pass his son over to his wife, fully aware of the fact that the elfling needed to be reassured that his mother was nearby. And would remain nearby for the foreseeable future. 

“Perhaps we could consider a meeting within our chambers? I understand that it might be uncomfortable for Master Baggins, but I’m afraid I’m a bit incapable of departing from this spot.”

“Not to worry, Your Majesties. I think an explanation will assuage any fears or reservations regarding this particular situation.” 

“Very well then, Gandalf,” the queen replied. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Are you absolutely positive that I won’t be intruding?” Bilbo asked, completely uncertain about entering the sacred chambers of two esteemed leaders of the realm. In his mind, if he made one false move, then—

Honestly, he didn’t even want to think about all of the ways those two could carry out his death.  

“What do you take me for? A novice? I’ll have you know that I’ve been friends with these two for centuries. Granted, it’s true that Queen (y/n) is much easier to get along with than the king, but it must also be made known that they are both genuinely kind people. Consider yourself lucky this time. His wife will be in close proximity and his poor elfling is fighting a nasty bug. He’s a bit softer today. Never mind the fact that it’s her reconnaissance detail and not his. He knows not to get involved in her affairs, especially ones of this caliber, unless it’s necessary.” 

As Gandalf kept pleading his case to Bilbo, he did notice the hobbit’s features begin to become a bit more consoled the more he talked. Hopefully this meant that he would be able to mediate between the two parties and allow this conference to commence. 

“If you’re sure—-”

“I am. You have to trust me. Have I ever led you astray before?” 

“No, you haven’t. So I guess that means I have no choice but to say yes.” 

At that comment, a small smile appeared on the wizard’s face. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the wizard and burglar entered the rooms that the king and queen shared, they were greeted to the sight of King Thranduil blowing raspberries on his son’s bare tummy, causing a surplus of delighted giggles to erupt from the little elfling and even his wife. 

After Gandalf left to retrieve Master Baggins, Legolas started to get a bit restless. In other words, he was miserable. He was still running a fever and was even starting to sound congested. Rocking him, singing to him, and even reading to him were not captivating his interest nor calming him down.

It wasn’t until (y/n) recommended removing his onesie that Legolas seemed more at ease. Allowing him to cool off was definitely a mood improver. What made that idea even more successful was her husband planting kisses on their son’s belly. Legolas thought it was the most comical thing ever. The more messy the sound, the funnier it was. 

Queen (Y/n) was the first one to notice that they had visitors. 

“Well, hello to you Master Baggins.” 

“Your Majesty,” Bilbo bowed. 

“My sincerest apologies for requesting your presence in such an intimate setting. Unfortunately, we are dealing with a sick elfling right now. As you can understand, his well-being is our utmost priority. My hope is that we’re not making this too uncomfortable for you.” 

“No, not at all.” 

Giving his son one more kiss to his belly, the king looked up and nodded to his visitor. “Hello, Master Baggins. A pleasure to see you again.” 

‘Wow,’ Bilbo thought as he watched King Thranduil wipe his son’s nose while simultaneously give him a lingering kiss on the forehead, ‘he is definitely not what most people presume him to be.’ 

Watching her husband and son, the queen said, “I was very pleased to hear that you accepted my offer to stand in as the mission leader for the expedition to Gundabad. As you know, Gandalf is a dear friend of mine, so you can imagine that I’ve heard a lot about you over the years. I was very impressed with the experience you’ve acquired. And in such a short time too. I think you’ll fit in well here.” 

“That’s very kind, Queen (y/n).”

“Oh please, call me (y/n).” 

“Of course. So, I know that Gandalf mentioned that you wanted to speak to me about a few things.”

Before the queen could respond, Legolas crawled out of her husband’s lap and made his way over to hers. Smiling brightly, she picked him up and embraced him. 

“And just what are you up to, my sweet boy?” (y/n) questioned, rubbing the backs of her fingers down his cheeks. “You feel cooler, which is a good sign. The medicines must be working.” 

The prince just took that opportunity to cuddle into his mother’s neck. 

While his wife was consoling their son, King Thranduil decided to step in. In this case, he knew (y/n) wouldn’t mind. “Like my wife mentioned earlier, Legolas is our priority at the moment. You’ll have to forgive her for appearing a bit distracted, but that is the life of a parent in difficult times. We tag team the best we can, but he has been circulating between the two of us with remarkable frequency.”

“It’s no trouble, King Thranduil. I understand. If it’s more convenient for you two, we could schedule this meeting at a later date.”

“Since your departure is in a week’s time, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the queen added while rubbing the elfling’s back gently. “There are only three things that are truly of the utmost importance. But given the circumstances that have arisen on my end, I will be brief.”

Bilbo could only nod his head. 

“Our first matter of business has to do with the members you would like to include. Of course, the elven guard will be at your disposal, but I’m also allowing you to pick 5 other individuals. In fact, I recommend it. People that would be willing to follow you and protect you if harm comes your way. People who have fighting experience. Who you choose is completely up to you.” 

Bilbo thought on this while the mother surreptitiously passed her son off to her husband. It was obvious he was eager to have his child back in his arms. But one would be a fool not to want that little elfling around. He was extremely adorable with sky blue eyes and massive dimples that ate up his cheeks. His calm, charming demeanor was just the icing on the cake in the hobbit’s mind.  

“So the dwarves would be an option then, yes?” 

The queen merely nodded her head.

“Right then, with that settled, let’s move on to the second matter. In good conscience I cannot send you without some formal training. Although you can fight, as I have been told, you have never been in quarters quite like this. I have asked Gandalf as well as a few other trusted advisors to prepare you for a potential onslaught. How to strategize, how to attack, methodologies of that nature. They will be the ones that will alert me of your progress. But please know that if they’re not satisfied with what they see, the mission will be delayed until you’re ready. Your safety, and the safety of my guard, is of the utmost priority.” 

When (y/n) didn’t receive any inquiries regarding her expectations, she then proceeded to the third and final matter. 

Glancing over at her son curled into her husband’s chest, she began. “The last issue I would like to discuss primarily deals with the capture of an Orc named Bröcen. As of right now, he appears to be one of the leaders of a sub-group of Orcs that permanently resides in Gundabad. We have reason to believe that he is orchestrating the creation of an army at the request of his overlord Azog; a request that would certainly destroy a significant portion of Middle Earth’s population if it came to fruition. As such, the main goal of this mission is to bring him back here, alive. Without him, we will never be privy to the Overlord’s plans. Essentially, we will never be able to stop him.” 

And just like that, a sudden, tiny sneeze interrupted any potential response from Bilbo. 

Queen (Y/n) and Bilbo himself immediately turned their heads to look down at the little elfling. He sniffled, raising his arms out to stretch in his father’s embrace. After receiving yet another kiss from Thran, Legolas then cuddled back into his chest, paying no mind to the dangers that were being talked about right in front of him. 

“Nai eru tye mánata (God bless you),” (y/n) and Thranduil whispered at the same time. 

Once the queen was certain that her child was fast asleep, she faced the hobbit again. “Again, I can only apologize Bilbo. I’m quite distracted today. My hope is that everything was clear and comprehensive. If you do have more questions, I’ll be happy to answer them in due time.” 

“Of course, My Queen. Please don’t feel any rush right now. You explained everything in a concise manner that I was able to comprehend,” Bilbo qualified. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions, but for now you deserve to focus on your family.” 

(Y/n) smiled brightly. “Thank you for being so accommodating Master Baggins. We’ll be in touch, I’m sure.” 

With that, Bilbo bowed and moved himself towards the door. Yet, as his hand lightly grasped the doorknob, the soft babbling of Legolas made him turn back to see what all the commotion was about. 

Queen (Y/n) was standing, hugging Gandalf tightly while her husband appeared to be walking into their bathroom to run a bath for the baby. He knew that because Legolas was once again curled against his chest as he made his way to a large oval tub that had a baby bath seat sitting on its edge. 

As Thran turned the faucet, his low timbre began to hum a tune to his son who was lazing in his arms, yawning every so often. There wasn’t a doubt in Biblo’s mind that Legolas adored his father. He gazed up at him, entranced by every movement he made and every act of affection he gave. At least it was nice to know that the king’s harshness didn’t actually extend to his immediate family. Rumors be damned. 

Bilbo was soon brought out of his trance by his fellow comrade. 

“You know the rules, (y/n). If that little guy isn’t feeling better in two day’s time, send for me. I’ll bring Athelas as soon as I can.” 

“Of course, Gandalf. See you soon. And you too, Bilbo,” the queen said, waving. 

“Likewise,” was the response she received from both of them.

[anaveragebibliophile]

Impossible

Carlisle Cullen x OC

Summary: Carlisle and his mate Eloise receive some shocking news that they weren’t necessarily prepared to deal with regarding her health. Instead of seeing what’s right in front of him, Carlisle believes that his wife’s health issues are stemming from other avenues. It isn’t until his wife makes a discovery that he alters his course of action. 

Note: This is a deviation from what I normally post, but I hope that all of you will take the chance and give it a read. :) 

“I can’t even believe this is happening again. And with your wife of all people!” Jacob Black shouted as he walked into the Cullen family’s wide, contemporary kitchen. 

“Jacob, we’ve discussed this. Eloise isn’t like us. She isn’t a vampire, she’s a phoenix. As such, she’s capable of resurrecting the dead, the broken, the ill-equipped parts of us that are theoretically unsalvageable. And as things stand, we all know I’m infertile. Or that I was.” Carlisle explained. “Believe me, I’m just as overwhelmed as you are. Even more so because I’m still struggling to accept the fact that I helped someone--the woman I adore more than anything else on this earth--procreate.”

And it’s not like the couple had been trying either. Quite the opposite actually. Sure, both of them had done ample amounts of research--through legends and the like--to determine whether or not they would need to take precautions before having intercourse. From what little they could find, it appeared that exercising the freedom of caution was the best choice. Not only had pregnancies been reported, multiple births seemed to be a common occurrence. And even though Carlisle was reluctant to put his faith into these infinitesimal references, he still did what any self-respecting man would do: He made sure his strong, confident wife made the final decision about what she wanted to do. At the end of the day, her body would have been doing the brunt of the work had a pregnancy occurred. 

Eloise thought long and hard about this and would even go so far as to test herself. Did she want a child? Yes. Would she be a genuinely good mother? She hoped so. But the ultimate question remained: did she want a child with Carlisle? More than anything else in the world. However, it just didn’t seem like the right time. The pack was going through organizational disputes, the Volturi were still trying to find ways to get her and Alice to join their coven, and Bella and Edward were in the process of adopting a child. There was just too much happening around her for that to work out. Or so she thought at that moment. 

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About two months later, she started feeling a bit off-kilter. She was suffering from myriad migraine headaches, her stomach always seemed to be queasy, and she was dealing with some intense bouts of insomnia (which she had never experienced as a child or even during her adult life). Her husband was increasingly worried about her. So much so that he would have her in his office every day for testing. At that point, he was looking for a dormant autoimmune disease, cancer, anything that would highlight these symptoms. What he wasn’t looking for was a pregnancy, a fertilized egg within his wife. 

One night, while the rest of the family was out hunting, Eloise and Carlisle were cuddling on the couch, her head in his lap. He was running his long, cool fingers through her hair and down her back, intermittently trying to coax her into eating a small piece of toast that he’d made for her. Yet every attempt didn’t do much. Regardless, he was hoping she would get her appetite back soon because her skin had started to take on a translucent pallor that he despised. 

“Come on, honey, just one bite. That’s all I’m asking for,” Carlisle said, putting the plate in front of her face. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m just not hungry. The entire idea of food is revolting. Plus, I don’t really want to repeat what happened a few hours ago.” Carlisle hummed in understanding. While he knew that Eloise was being sincere, he wasn’t pleased that she was still feeling so fatigued and nauseated. 

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A few hours ago, as he was attending to a broken rib of Seth’s at the reservation, he received a call from Alice. ‘Eloise has been throwing up for the last forty minutes, Carlisle. She didn’t want to worry you,’ she’d started. ‘But you need to get back here now. I’ve been sitting with her, and I’m worried she’s getting dehydrated.’ Heart in his throat, he quickly finished his session with Seth, letting him know that he had an emergency that he needed to attend to. 

After parking the car, he ran into the house, heading straight for his and Eloise’s bedroom. And when he walking into the adjoining bathroom, he was shocked by what he saw: his wife, her cheek smashed against the toilet seat, breathing heavily in order to avoid another onset of nausea. In his peripheral, he saw Alice lightly rubbing Eloise’s back with her left hand and murmuring comforting words to her. 

Instinctively, Carlisle  moved towards his wife and took Alice’s place as the caretaker. “Hi, sweetheart. Alice called and said you weren’t feeling well. Can you tell me what’s been bothering you?” he asked, gently kneading the taut muscles in her lean back. 

Eloise slowly pulled her face away from the toilet bowl and looked at him blearily. “My stomach just isn’t feeling super fantastic at the moment. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to keep anything down. I haven’t been able to since about two o’clock this afternoon.”

“Well, you haven’t been at your best recently. Do you think that may have something to do with it?”

“Perhaps. But I haven’t had this happen before. Yes, I’ve experienced nausea and some stomach cramping, but it never ended with me vomiting for hours on end.”

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And that was what still puzzled Carlisle in this moment. Why was this happening to her when nothing was physically wrong? She didn’t have AGID nor was there any evidence of malignant tumor growth. She wasn’t running a fever nor was she displaying any signs of infection. So what could it be? He was determined to find out. 

He lightly ran the pad of his right thumb over Eloise’s cheek. “Sweet girl, I think it’s time that I do an ultrasound on your stomach. Maybe that will give us some answers. What do you say?” 

“Alright. You’ll probably have to carry me though. I haven’t been doing well vertically,” she said, slightly smiling. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

He proceeded to carefully--oh, so carefully--move her head off his lap and onto a pillow (as a replacement). Then, when he was completely erect, he swiftly leaned forward and placed his forearms underneath Eloise’s lumbar vertebrae and upper thighs. Once she was secured in his arms, he gently kissed her cheek and proceeded to move them into his office, the one room in the house both of them have grown to resent. 

Placing her on the exam table, he grazed his hand through her bangs in the hope of soothing the anxiety that was coursing through her. “It’ll be alright. You know I would never hurt you. Never.”

“I know. It’s not that. I just don’t want anything to be wrong. I want to be healthy,” she said, her voice on the verge of breaking. 

“You will be. I’ll make sure of it,” Carlisle responds as he pressed his forehead against hers. 

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Eloise smiled wanly as her husband went through his check-up regimen: ears, eyes, nose, throat, body temperature, blood pressure, then reflexes. While she may complain every now and then about his overprotectiveness, she really does feel so grateful and lucky to be married to a man whose compassion and kindness are limitless. This man always makes her feel valued, appreciated, and heard, especially apart from the rest of the world. And these are things that will never go unnoticed by her. He will never go unnoticed by her. 

“How are things looking, Doctor Cullen?” she asked. “Am I passing inspection?”

Carlisle lightly laughed at her attempt at a joke. “So far things are looking good. I think we’re about ready to do the abdominal ultrasound and see what things are looking like down there.”

He moved over to his white, sterile metal cart that held the handheld ultrasound. The plan was for Carlisle to put the clear lubricant on her belly, place the ultrasound on it, and then wait for the image to connect to the screen to his right. From there, he’ll see if there are any obstructions or issues. 

“Are you ready, honey?” he asked. “If it’s too cold, just let me know.” 

Eloise held her two thumbs up. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

The exam began. For a period of time, the sound and echo waves were all they could hear. Eloise was holding her breath. Carlisle’s face was pinched, his eyes and ears hyper-focused on the task. Until the heartbeat-like echo struck back at them. 

His wife lifted her hand to stop him from continuing with the examination. “What was that?” she queried. 

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know.” he said. “Let’s try again and see if we get the same feedback.”

He continued his inspection but still received the same results. The heartbeat was unlike any he heard before (besides his wife’s): strong, pure, yet calm in its essence. Before he could ponder any other reasonings behind this strange occurrence, Eloise interrupted him. “Carlisle, we both know that’s a heartbeat. You can question it and try to find other avenues to follow, but you know the truth. And a heartbeat can only mean one thing,” she smiled, so big that her dimples were more pronounced than ever before. “We’re pregnant. My magic enabled us to create a baby.”

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “We don’t know that.”

“But we do. Carlisle, all the signs have been pretty prevalent these last few weeks. I just never thought to associate them with pregnancy because we agreed we would wait to start trying. I guess the universe had other plans.” 

“Eloise, honey…”

“You know it’s true. I do because I can feel our child. Now, after all this time, he or she has decided to make their presence known. The energy I feel--the positivity and contentment I’m now carrying in this moment--is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.” 

Carlisle looked at her, stunned. If she can feel their child, how could he dispute that? How could he challenge what she (and he) knew to be true in all its unlikelihood? It wasn’t like this was entirely impossible, especially after reading about other couples’ experiences. Couples like them. 

Eloise took his moment of consideration to move his hand to her tummy. “I know it’s hard to come to terms with right now because we weren’t sure how true the reports were, but I think it’s time we start believing in them. Carlisle, you’re going to be a father, and I’m going to be a mother. We’re going to finally have the opportunity to expand our family.” 

Hearing those words made Carlisle outright grin. They had been waiting for this moment for so long that he never believed it would ever actually happen. But now, he has everything he could ever want in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, it would appear that way,” he said, leaning over his wife to give her a heart-stopping kiss. “And I must add that I’m excruciatingly happy. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

[anaveragebibliophile]

All Will Be Well

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

Summary: Via Bilbo Baggins, our favorite burglar and hobbit, we begin to get a glimpse into the lives of Mirkwood’s favorite royal family in a time of anxiety, stress, and healing.  Who are their people? Who’s willing to go to the ends of Middle Earth for them? 

“Good day, I’m looking for Gandalf the Grey. I’ve been told to meet him here at the Kingdom of Mirkwood but can’t seem to find him. Would you be able to direct me?” young Bilbo Baggins asked Tauriel, the captain of the guard.

“Yes, most certainly, Master Baggins. Right this way.” 

And off they walked through the castle's thick archways and along its long corridors. And off they walked, with Tauriel greeting fellow comrades and noblemen along the way. And off they walked while passing by the portrait of the royal family: King Thranduil, Queen (y/n), and Prince Legolas (the newest addition to the family). 

“So that’s the king and queen,” Bilbo said, unaware that he voiced his thoughts aloud. 

“Yes. Two of the most remarkable people I know. King Thranduil is a sensational man. A little stoic, yes. A tad complicated, for sure. But his wife balances him out. She’s truly the marvelous one. Smart as a whip, as beautiful as a goddess, and kinder than even the most generous of men. I hope to be just like her one day.”

“I saw that they have a child with them in the portrait. Did the queen recently have a baby, an elfling?”

“Why yes. About a year ago, in fact. Prince Legolas is the shining star of the Mirkwood realm. We love him to pieces. He’s a doppelgänger of his father but has the demeanor of his mother. Well, now that I think more on the subject, that’s not necessarily true. Exteriorly, Legolas’ mother exudes kindness and peace. However, her husband does as well, he’s just not as open about that side of his character. I’m sure you’ve heard of his more taciturn, icy behaviors, yes?” He nodded and she continued. “ So, I guess you could say that he displays qualities that are similar in both parents, even if Middle Earth isn’t cognizant of that,” Tauriel explained. 

Bilbo hummed in response. “Forgive me for being ignorant here, but if this is the king and queen’s kingdom, where exactly are they? I would presume that Gandalf doesn’t control their territory, correct?” 

Tauriel’s eyebrows pinched, her reluctance to answer the questions obviously evident. “Well, Master Baggins, the reality is that King Thranduil is indisposed at the moment.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Three days ago, the king woke up with a lightly elevated temperature, a sore throat, and some congestion. And in the beginning, he did not think it was a problem. Honestly, he believed it to be an irritant of some kind.” 

“But it wasn’t,” Bilbo interjected. 

“Correct. His wife ended up pulling him out of his meetings when she received word of his pale pallor and sickly hue. He has been holed up in bed ever since, Queen (y/n) taking control of his affairs.”

“Now it makes sense. Queen (y/n) is Gandalf’s friend. Of course he’d be willing to help her during this crazy time.”

Tauriel smiled. “He has been wonderful. But that still begs the question, Master Baggins. What are you doing here?” 

‘What a good question,’ Bilbo thought. 

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“Bilbo Baggins, what a pleasure to see you again,” Gandalf the Gray exclaimed as he embraced his fellow burglar and comrade. 

“Hello, Gandalf. It appears you’re doing well.”

“Why yes, my boy. Queen (y/n) has been seeking counsel for the last few days while her husband has been trying to heal. And because of that, I have had the privilege of getting to spend more time with her and her stupendous young elfling. Come now and let me explain what I mean.” 

Reluctantly, the hobbit acquiesced, mainly because he wasn’t certain they should be inserting themselves into the royal family’s business. After all, if Tauriel was nervous to share that information, how would King Thranduil and Queen (y/n) feel about it getting out and inappropriately disclosed?

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 Following the wizard, Bilbo was directed from what seemed to be the likes of a conference room to yet another hallway. However, this hallway seemed to be a bit more friendly, a bit less frosty than those surrounding the throne room. He remembered Gandalf mentioning on a previous visit that this area was strictly reserved for the king and queen, so perhaps that was why the color scheme (pastels) seemed more inviting and the architecture less encompassing.

As they walked past sky blue walls and potted azaleas and stepped around a few miscellaneous toys (which he presumed to be Prince Legolas’), they reached a room at the end of the hall. But the door was cracked open the slightest bit, making Bilbo hesitate to move any closer. 

“It’s alright,” Gandalf started. “They will not hear us or even sense our presence. I have perfected the spell for occasions such as this.”

Not bothering to interpret the last sentence, Bilbo focused on the former. “Who won’t?” 

“Take a look and find out.” 

Sighing, Bilbo slowly moved his body towards the door, his right hip lightly pressing against the wood. Inside the room, King Thranduil was sitting up in the bed, his body supported by myriad pillows. His skin took on a jaundice-like hue while his lips were white (completely absolved of the rosy color they usually take on). He appeared languid, fatigued, yet he was still smiling at what was going on to his right: his wife rocking their child to sleep in an ivory rocking chair by his bedside. 

The king coughed roughly into his elbow before speaking. “Is he asleep, darling?” he asked. 

“Yes, honey. He’s been out for about five minutes. His little body is all relaxed.” 

“Good. I am glad. I feel so terrible for giving this to him. The poor guy barely got any sleep last night.”

“Thran, it’s not your fault. These things happen. Legolas’ fever is down, and he seems to be resting easier. We just need to be patient. He’ll be better in a few days and back to playing with his toys in the garden and relaying his stories to the council,” Queen (y/n) said, trying to relieve her husband of his entirely misplaced guilt. “I think it’s time for you to get some more rest. Hopefully when you both wake up, you’ll feel much better.” 

“Alright, sweetheart. Please wake me if anything changes with Legolas,” Thranduil said, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Will do. Now sleep,” the queen gently commanded, her free hand running through her husband’s thick, platinum locks. 

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“So this is why you’re really here,” Bilbo said. “The queen had actually taken over all of the king’s affairs, but then the prince became ill as well. That’s why she sent for you.”

“Yes, I have been somewhat secretly handling what the king and queen cannot. They do not want to worry anyone, especially the staff, about Prince Legolas’ condition. He is doing much better than last night and is on the mend, but the knowledge that he was ill at all will send the palace into a panic. He is their pride and joy, after all.”

“What does the palace believe you’re doing here, then?”

“Providing support in a time of need.”  

“Although this does make sense, Gandalf, I have to wonder why you sent for me. What can I do here? I’m no wizard, nor am I elvish royalty.”

At this comment, Gandalf’s lips pulled up into a smile. “No, you are neither of those things, Master Baggins. However, you are the perfect candidate for a mission the queen needs you to embark on. Since she cannot depart herself, she asked me to pick someone that I believed would work diligently enough to get the information she covets regarding Gundabad and the orc armies being bred there. Who better than the man who helped the dwarves reclaim the Lonely Mountain. So what do you say, Bilbo? Will you give this a chance?” 

“You already know the answer, Gandalf, which is why you brought this opportunity to me. You know I’ve been rather restless and in need of a change. That being said, yes. I find myself honored to be selected to serve the queen. She seems like a remarkable woman. Anything I can do to help her out would be a true pleasure.”

[anaveragebibliophile]

Cyclical Love

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

Summary: Following He Comes First, we’re left wondering how Thran will react to his wife’s second pregnancy. And while that’s important, the real question is this: will Legolas enjoy hearing about his sibling that’s on the way? Continue reading to find out. 

PART 1: 

https://anaveragebibliophile.tumblr.com/post/657925630710743040/he-comes-first 

PART 2 

“...pregnant,” Thran said, and if you weren’t mistaken, a little breathlessly. 

“That’s correct, darling. We’ll have another Legolas to snuggle and love on in a few month’s time. Another little elfling that will finally complete our family.” 

Your husband’s eyes then became as large as dinner plates as these specific facts relayed themselves via hippocampus. Not only was he recognizing that another kind, beautiful, and jovial winë (little one) would be joining them, but he also was understanding that this seemingly unattainable wish of having another child had been granted in a manner of seconds by Valar (God). “Sweetheart, this is excellent news. Really. You have no idea how astounded I am. I cannot wait to meet our newest addition, and I am sure Legolas will be jumping for joy when he discovers that he will have a sibling to share more of his affection with. Honestly, if I did not have our little leaf cuddled against my chest, you can bet that I would be kissing you senseless at this very moment.” 

Grinning, you moved away from the doorway and settled yourself against the right edge of the bed and placed your right hand on top of your husband’s left calf. “Gi melin (I love you), you know, and I can’t  wait to see you become a father a second time. You will continue to be remarkable in that position.” 

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A few weeks later, you found yourself reaching the fifth month of pregnancy. Although a bump hadn’t necessarily made itself noticeable, the other “benefits” of gestation took the opportunity to compensate for that deficit. For example, your hands and feet were achey and swollen beyond belief. So much so that you had to quit wearing your wedding band (which, keep in mind, was a point that was never reached during your pregnancy with Legolas). Also, the morning sickness reached a level of severity that you never experienced with your little leaf. It’s as if the little elfling inside of you is completely distrusting of any of the outside world’s delicacies and would much rather be nourished by your body’s nutrients. And while all of this was, indeed, tolerable (mainly because you knew the end result would be one of the most fruitful rewards of your and Thran’s existence) in your eyes, your son had a different outlook on the situation. Since you and your husand had decided to wait until you were further along before breaking the news, he couldn’t understand why his naneth wasn’t feeling well. Anytime you would shed a tear, he would shed one as well. And it was breaking your heart. 

“Thran,” you said, rubbing your tiny, almost imperceptible bump while looking in the mirror, “I think today’s the day that we share the good news with Legolas.”

Your husband came up behind you just then, wrapping his arms around your slowly, but steadily, growing stomach and setting his chin atop your head. “I believe you are right, sweetheart. Now that we are more certain the babe’s survival rate has increased, I think it is safe to let our son know that he will be a big brother soon.” 

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Entering your darling boy’s chambers later that day, you both planned to do just that. 

“Legolas,” you chimed as you watched him play with the crocheted elven soldier that so clearly resembled his father, “would you be able to put your toys away for a few moments. Nana and Ada would like to talk with you about something. Something important.”

At the sound of your voice, Legolas’ head snapped up and turned to view the two most fantastic people in all of Middle Earth. Almost automatically a smile framed his face. “Nana! Ada! I missed you both,” he said, running to jump into his father’s waiting arms. “Nana, are you feeling any better after your nap?”

“Yes, darling. I’m doing so much better. Thank you for asking.”

“Legolas, as your Nana said, we would like to discuss something with you.”

“Certainly, Ada. What is it about?” 

“Well, how about we sit on your bed and continue the conversation?”

Your son nodded, gesturing with his arms to be released from his father’s loving embrace. Once back in a bipedal position, he took both of his parents’ hands and guided them to his bed. And as he sat between you and Thran, the floodgate of questions opened: What are we going to be discussing? Am I in trouble? Is something wrong? 

Hastily, you tried to mitigate his fears. “Darling, everything is fine. I’m fine. Ada’s fine. No need to worry on that front.” 

“Alright. But then why do you need to talk with me?” 

“Well, we have some news that we think is very exciting,” Thran started, “and we believe it is the proper to time to let you hear it.”

Hearing this, Legolas perked right up. “What is it, Ada? Oh, please tell me.” 

“Iôn nîn (My son), you obviously know that your naneth has not been feeling her best. However, we have not told you the reason for that being the case. You see, a babe is currently residing in Nana’s tummy and will remain there for a few more months so he or she can grow. And when that time is up, you will have another sibling--a brother or a sister--to spread your love to.” 

After a few moments, moments in which you and your husband began to perspire from sheer nervousness, you felt two tiny lips kiss your cheek. “A brother or sister! Nana, Ada, this is the best surprise ever! Thank you, thank you so much,” your son shouted, his emotions creating personified versions of happiness, joy, and bliss. 

“Oh, we are so happy to see this anticipation, Legolas,” you said. “I know that this sweet babe cannot wait to meet you in the flesh.”

“Really?”

“But of course, little leaf,” Thran interjected. “You are such a special boy and will be such a wonderful role model for your brother or sister.” 

“Well, I hope so because I love them so much already. As much as I do you and Nana.”

[anaveragebibliophile]

All For Him

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

Summary: Lord Elrond comes to Mirkwood to ask a favor of his oldest friend, Thranduil. However, the stoic, unyielding king isn’t as willing to follow through on the request because of the danger it will put his family in. 

Honestly, when you stumbled into your husband’s study that morning, you didn’t expect to feel so puzzled and flabbergasted. You didn’t anticipate Thran’s summons to be anything more than a request for information about Legolas (which you were happy to provide), a question regarding supper, or an idea for date night. So the last person you expected to see was Lord Elrond, the ruler of Rivendell, arguing with his trusted confidant and friend of many eons near the balcony. 

“Thran, what’s going on? Is everything alright?” you queried as you stepped into the room, incisors biting into your lower lip. 

“Queen (y/n), what a pleasant surprise,” Lord Elrond replied, consequently ending the argument, as he walked over to take your wrist and place a chaste, respectful kiss on the back of your hand. “My sincerest apologies for not seeking you out sooner.” 

“That’s quite alright, Elrond. You know that. I too wish I had known you were here earlier, but I unfortunately got sidelined. We took a short walk in the gardens this morning, all three of us, when Legolas ended up tripping on a very small rock. Thranduil and I tried to utilize the open--and what we thought was a safe--space as a way for him to grow more comfortable walking without our help. That strategy worked well for us. Until today. None of us had seen the ant-sized pebble roll over his tiny heel, making him lose his balance and unknowingly place his hand on a grounded bee’s stinger to stabilize himself.” 

“My goodness! How is he doing?”

“As well as can be expected. As he got himself up, he whimpered a little bit which isn’t normally like him. Even if he takes a tumble, he’ll usually still maintain his normal demeanor--sweet, timid, and smiley. But once we saw his palm start to swell up, we knew something was wrong. Thran rushed him to the healer, who was more than willing to keep an eye on him. Ever since then, he’s been given herbs to reduce the swelling and irritation at the site of the wound as well as water to keep him hydrated. Thank you for asking.”

Once you finished sharing that traumatizing experience, you looked over to your husband, whose face was devoid of color. Out of the two of you, he had been the most panicked over Legolas’ well-being. ‘Is he breathing?’ he’d asked. ‘What if he has a reaction to the toxins?’ he’d wondered. ‘What if we didn’t get him to the healer’s quarters in time?’ he’d said, voice cracking under all the emotions. Unfortunately, the man is an aggressive worrier who feels the most stress when he’s involved in a situation that’s completely out of his control. His son inadvertently getting stung by a bee? Yeah, definitely an event that drove your husband up a wall. 

“He’s doing fine, Thran. He and I cuddled in his rocking chair for about twenty minutes before he fell asleep. Before that though, he did want me to tell you that he loves you,” I said, trying to soothe him as best as I could given the circumstances. 

Even though Legolas is still quite young and not fluent in Sindarin yet, he does have a few sentences that he likes to use every now and again. His favorite though is ‘gi melin’, the Sindarian version of ‘I love you’. Anytime he’s reunited with you or Thran, he’ll smile so wide (with his one tooth showing itself off) and almost shout the words out (as if you won’t hear him clearly without that extra pizzaz). Both you and your husband agree that it’s probably the sweetest thing your little leaf has ever done (and Legolas is the epitome of sweet). 

“I love him too. More than life. Which is why I cannot allow Sauron’s ring and its company to enter Mirkwood. I am sorry, Elrond, but my answer is final. You will not be able to change my mind on the subject,” your husband said. 

“Sauron’s ring? So young Frodo is alive then, is he not? I heard about your daughter saving him from the hands of the Nazgûl but wasn’t sure of its veracity,” you mentioned.  

“Yes. He is recovered and wishes to continue on the quest to destroy the ring at Mount Doom. However, we are trying to avoid the company’s traveling in the open at night and are looking for places for them to seek refuge. I am trying to convince Thranduil to offer his kingdom, but it seems that that has been more difficult than I originally presumed. He fears for your safety and Legolas’ too much.” 

Speaking of Legolas, a soft knock on the door soon presented you with the little leaf in the arms of his nanny, Elva. 

“Legolas, darling, what are you doing up so early?” I asked, my lips perking up into a small grin. 

“Ada, Nana!” he blubbered, pointing to us. “Gi melin, gi melin, gi melin.”

“I apologize, Your Majesties. As you can see, the prince woke up a bit early from his nap. All of the maids attempted to keep him occupied in his chambers, but it was no use. He only wanted to see his nostairi (parents),” Elva explained. 

“That is quite alright, Elva. I have not seen enough of him today. Thank you for bringing him to us,” your husband responded, moving over as Legolas reached out for him, and, once in his arms, began snuggling into his chest. “Hello, iôn nîn. I hope you slept well.”

“How’s his hand, Thran?” 

Your husband took your question as an opportunity to lightly pull Legolas’ right arm out from where it was hiding in front of his stomach. “It is still a tad swollen but not too severe.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” 

“Nana, gi melin,” your son whispered behind your husband’s robes. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you responded, lightly running your fingers through his hair and down his back. 

Watching the interaction ensue, Thranduil softly smiled down at the two loves of his life. The first one--his wife--who taught him the beauty behind exuding kindness, positivity, and light. The one who guided him back to the meaning of life. And the second one--his son--who embodies all the genuine goodness that his wife bestowed upon him in their early years together. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, but that unknown answer will never prevent him from being grateful. 

“Ada, gi melin,” your son quietly hummed as he lifted himself up to kiss Thran’s cheek. 

“Iôn nîn, gi melin as well. Very much.”

But then the unthinkable happened. Your little leaf turned his body away from Thranduil to look at Elrond. “Gi melin!” he shouted, a smile creeping up his face (with his lone tooth on display). 

“Well, I cannot say I am not shocked,” the lord responded, just as confounded as the rest of the group. Although Legolas was a very empathetic elfling, the reality was that he only shared that sentence with two people: his parents. So his sharing that sentiment with another-- a person he doesn’t spend every day with, let alone see once a month--was very odd, yet exciting in its own way. In your mind, maybe this was a sign that he was feeling more comfortable around his parents’ trusted friends. Maybe he saw the camaraderie in the room and felt soothed by it. Maybe he was no longer experiencing such debilitating episodes of timidity.   

“It appears he has taken a strong liking to you, Elrond,” you responded. “And now that you know the depth of his affections, are you truly going to permit an evil, dark presence permeating Mirkwood’s halls?”

He pondered that question in no time at all before saying, “No. I will not be the one to put this child at risk. Perhaps Frodo and his company can stay a few extra days at Rivendell. It really is not a problem.” 

At that declaration, you and Thranduil humbly nodded (hiding your smiles as best you could because this was a serious matter after all). “Thank you, my friend. Your concern for our son is much appreciated and will never be forgotten.”

“I know you would have done the same for me had I been in your shoes. Legolas deserves to be safe and comforted in his own kingdom without his parents having to worry about whether the ring will wreak havoc and harm him in the process. Besides, I want to return to Mirkwood in a few months’ time and still be on his list of love.” And everyone, including Legolas, giggled at that. 

[anaveragebibliophile]

He Comes First

Thranduil x Wife!reader x Young!Legolas 

Summary: After finding out some exciting news about your and Thranduil’s future as parents, you begin reminiscing on the all the joys and wonders that this life has given you (especially getting to see your husband excel at fatherhood). 

PART 1 

PART 2: 

https://anaveragebibliophile.tumblr.com/post/659269636241637376/cyclical-love

“Are you one-hundred percent certain, Morwen? I know you are an expert at discerning such things, but I cannot help but still feel the uncertainty reverberating through me,” you said, hands gripping your kneecaps as you awaited the healer’s response. 

“Yes, my queen. All of the signs are there: the nausea, the subsequent morning sickness, the exhaustion. I am positive that I am correct in my diagnosis.” 

“Oh, by the Valar (God),” you responded, your right hand drifting to hold your stomach protectively. “I am with child. Thranduil and I will be welcoming another elfing next fall.” 

“Yes, Queen (y/n). When the leaves begin to fall, you will be holding another blessing in your arms.” 

Walking back to your and Thran’s chambers provided ample time for rumination on this news (because the healer’s quarters were on the other side of the palace). Now, that’s not to say this contemplation was meant to curb any sentiments of regret, resentment, or anger. Not at all. In reality, you couldn’t stop a huge smile from framing your face. You couldn’t help but embrace the elation that was filling every facet of your heart, soul, and mind. Oh, this was a dream come true. 

Obviously, the topic of having another child had been discussed between you and your husband many times (usually on fireside date night with goblets of wine and lots of cuddling). And the funny thing was that the prospect had cemented itself more securely over the last few months. Having and caring for another child no longer appeared to be this unattainable desire, but, instead, it filled you and Thran with this rapture, this thrill. And why wouldn’t it really? Legolas was everything you both could have hoped for, so why not try for that relentless feeling of contentment one more time? You’d have to be asinine not to. 

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“Ada, Ada are you awake?” Legolas’ melodic voice asked, breaking through the tranquil haze you’d encompassed yourself in. 

“There is no need to fret, my little leaf. Ada is just resting his eyes. He is tired,” your husband’s deep baritone responded. 

“Of course, Ada, but that is not why I was asking. Would it be alright if I laid on your chest?” 

“You already know the answer to that, Legolas. Climb on up, iôn nîn (my son).” 

And climb on up he did, at least from what you saw through the little crack in the door. Once your little elfling’s voice alerted you to the fact that your two favorite people in all of Middle Earth were in your chambers, your immediate instinct was to rush and join in on the cuddle session that was so obviously taking place. Yet, somehow, right as you put your hand on the doorknob, it was as if your feet were tethered to the floor. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All because you turned your head. All because of what you were bearing witness to. 

Legolas was sprawled starfish-like on his father’s chest, his little face turned into the right side of Thranduil’s neck. You could see the red, depressed sleep lines marring his face from his morning nap (where he and the pillow became great comrades). And even though that was such an adorable sight, what you saw your husband doing made joy spread through your entire heart in such a way that you thought it might implode on you. 

Sometimes your little leaf struggled to fall asleep at night. Whether it be because of a nightmare or a fear of separation from his parents no one could truly say. His insomnia was variable at best and inevitable at worst. However, regardless of the circumstances, your and Thran’s mission was to get your son some relief, no matter the cost. And you tried everything you could think of: lullabies, rocking, warm milk, literally anything that the rule book on parenting tells you to attempt, but nothing would make any impact. That is, until your husband changed the game. 

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One night in mid-winter, Legolas’ inability to sleep had reached its peak. He hadn’t been feeling well for most of the day--spending most of it snuggled with you in the sitting room or with Thranduil in his office--and by the end of the night had been sporting a pretty nasty fever. He was miserable, plain and simple. You had hoped that the illness would’ve given him the opportunity to give in to his fatigue, to barricade himself in a dream-like state. Wrong. Instead, the infection chose to create a pain in his ear that wouldn’t abate by any means. No question, it made him absolutely hysterical. 

Despite this, though, he was most at peace with your husband, the man who spent most of that day with his lips pressed in a thin, white line and his stomach in knots. All he hoped for was his son to be improving, but it didn’t seem like Valar (God) was in the mood to grant that wish. So, he did what he was best at: finding a way to take control of the situation. In this case, the problem was Legolas’ discomfort. The little guy was trying to sleep--on his side, his back, in Thran’s arms, in whatever position his brain could conjure up--but would then proceed to hold his left ear and whimper. Anything he did would cause pain to shoot through him.  

“Alright, little leaf,” Thranduil said while rocking his son in his arms for the tenth time that day, “how about we try having you rest on my chest. You might sleep better that way.” And all he got was an almost imperceptible nod from the elfling that was clenching his hand so tight. 

Moving over to the bed, he slowly settled himself in the center, making sure not to jostle his son too much. Quietly humming to Legolas, he carefully moved his right hand up and down his spinal column and left lingering kisses on his forehead. 

“There we go, iôn nîn (my son),” he said. “Hopefully this helps. Gi melin (I love you).”

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

“Darling, you can come in, you know. This is your space too,” your husband’s voice articulated, a hint of mockery and teasing in his tone (all in good fun). 

Opening the door all the way, you smiled at the treasures that laid before you. One curled into his father’s chest like an armadillo. The other grinning like a fool at said armadillo. 

“My apologies, sweetheart. Once I got here, I couldn’t refrain from letting you have that special one-on-one time with him.” 

Your husband’s right cheekbone lifted up to create an off-centered smile of sorts. “How was your appointment with Morwen? Was she able to give you some herbs to aid your sickness?”

“Yes, she was. But that is not the only thing she mentioned to me. About why I am ill anyway.” 

“What else is wrong? Whatever it is, it is treatable, yes?” Thranduil queried, his voice getting higher by at least three octaves. 

“Yes, honey. It is treatable. I’ll only have to wait about six more months.”

At that, your husband paused, concentration taking over his features. You felt his brain’s agony at the mere thought of analyzing the riddle and attempting to figure it out. Every mechanism was moving to decipher the answer. 

And then it all clicked. 

“If what you say is true, then that means we are….” 

TBC 

[anaveragebibliophile]

More Than Life

Thranduil x Young!Legolas x Wife!reader 

Summary: You’ve been summoned to embark on a journey with some old friends to Dol Gudur to fight against the powers of evil. Unfortunately, your husband, Thranduil, is less than pleased upon hearing this news and an argument ensues. Will you and the man you adore make up? Or will it take more than a few kind words for the both of you to fully comprehend the mistakes that have been made? 

“Can we see Naneth (Mother) yet, Ada (Father)?” your son asked, his face filled with even more concern than even a grown elf would be capable of displaying. 

“Not just yet, iôn nîn (my son). We must give your mother time to recuperate before we say our hellos.” 

Unfortunately, the last few hours had been rough, and there wasn’t much your husband could do for you that would make the situation better. You had been summoned by Gandalf to embark on a quest with his motley crew--Gimli, son of Glóin, Radagast The Brown, Bilbo Baggins, and Thorin Oakenshield--to Dol Gudur to inspect the orc packs that had been residing there. Possessing similar cognitive and healing powers to Lady Galadriel, you were a coveted resource for this mission. However, it wasn’t one that Thran was on board with by any means. 

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

“No, I will not permit this, (y/n). Are you even thinking clearly? This could have catastrophic repercussions,” he had nearly shouted at you one week prior. 

“Of course I’m thinking clearly, Thran! And if you were in my position, what would you do? Exactly the same thing I reckon. Don’t you understand? We have a son to think about. A son that deserves to grow up in a world with as few evils as possible.”

“Yes, but not at the expense of his mother’s life,” he deadpanned. 

“You may be my king, but I hope that you will not exercise that dominance in your role as my husband. You’ve always supported my decisions, even the most dangerous ones. Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“Because all of those journeys came before we had a family, a foundation we must protect. Right now, you cannot afford to play the martyr. I need you here, your son needs you here.”

“Well, Thranduil, I’m sorry but I cannot and will not back down from this fight. Not when it could cost me the chance to save the two people I value most in this world.” 

So, despite the guilt coursing through you, you departed as planned. Luckily, your husband wasn’t angry enough to avoid being there for the send-off. However, the frown that was found on his face when you looked back on your stallion still confirmed how exasperating and terrifying he found the situation you’d pushed yourself into.  

And although you believed you were making the right decision in the moment, all of the harsh words, thoughts, and deliberations turned out to be for naught. A few miles away from Dol Gudur--still within the trenches of sickened, dark foliage--your group was blindsided by a miniature army of at least thirty orcs and wargs, all preparing for an attack. ‘Azog The Defiler’ was leading the charge, hoping to create enough chaos to snatch the true prizes: you and Thorin. 

A skilled fighter in archery, hand-to-hand combat, and swordsmanship, you had no trouble fending off the less tactful runts. The problem emerged when both of Azog’s wargs cornered you against the back of a deciduous tree (with nowhere to escape to). 

“No means of escape means that today is the day the queen’s crun (blood) will be spilt,” he snarled, his companions foaming at the mouth. “And your elfling’s will soon meet the same fate.” 

The mention of Legolas was your undoing. Leaping away from the tree’s trunk, your sword lunged for the object closest to you: the alpha of the pack. He wasn’t fast enough and howled as the weapon made contact with his jugular vein. Blood spurted, but you couldn’t have cared less. At that point, the only thing that mattered was making sure that piece of filth never had the opportunity to harm your family. 

But that was easier said than done, as the saying goes. Since you were absorbed in your battle with the hound, your vigilance on other matters--Azog matters--failed horribly. Little did you know that he had been behind you the entire time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

And boy did he strike. 

What started off as a slow burn in your lower back soon proliferated into a severe blaze that would not abate. It was at that moment you realized something had gone terribly wrong. Looking down, the point of Azog’s sword appeared. It had slashed right through your lower left side, right near your hip. 

 “Time is up, Lady of The Light. May your king and son continue to live in---ARGH!” Azog shouted as your sword made contact with right side of his face. 

“If I’m going down, y-you’re g-g-going down with me,” you managed to blurt out as you succumbed to the darkness. 

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

“Nin hir (My lord), I’ve been told to let you know that the queen is resting comfortably. The healer gave her a sedative and is waiting in your chambers to discuss further treatment,” an elite elven soldier said. 

“Thank you. You are dismissed,” Thranduil replied blandly, masking the trepidity with a chilled air.

“Ada, can I come with you and sit with Naneth? I believe she’d want the company.” 

Thranduil’s face displayed half a smile. “Of course, Legolas. Let us go, yes?” 

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

It was the voices that woke you up. Two voices that you would know anywhere. One of them belonging to the man you vowed to love for the rest of eternity. The other belonging to your closest friend. 

“I know we have had our differences, Thorin, but all of that anger and resentment on my end dissipated when you saved one of the most important people in my life. From the deepest parts of my heart, I sincerely thank you for taking the risk. I do not know what would have become of me had I lost her.” Thranduil said. 

“Well, that makes two of us. Had Gandalf not been able to free me from Bolg’s grasp at the last minute, I’m not sure I would’ve made it in time to drive Azog away. By the look of his face, it seemed that (y/n) wounded him before she keeled over, but he was quickly gearing up for a second round.” 

You didn’t need to imagine what your husband’s countenance looked like at that moment: pinched, hardened, but underneath it all, traumatized. He may be upset with you, and you may have made the wrong decision with the best intentions, but the reality was that most of your husband’s ire stemmed from his naturally protective nature. Permitting you to tag along with the group was one thing, but knowing you weren’t going to be easily accessible to him was within a completely different realm. Without you in sight, your safety was comprised, which was something he never wanted to have to worry about. 

“I hope you know that you are welcome at court anytime. Please don’t be a stranger.” 

“Yes, Uncle Thorin, please come over. You and I can play with my boat. Well, you, me, and Naneth when she’s feeling better,” your son responded. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, lasdithen (little leaf). I look forward to it,” you whispered. 

“Naneth, you’re awake!” Legolas hastily--yet carefully--crawled up from his position at the foot of the bed and snuggled into the crook of your elbow.  

And almost as quickly, your husband’s face was looking down on you from the side of the bed. “Darling, we’ve missed you,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine. “Please, never scare us like that again.” 

“I’m so sorry, Thran. I made a terrible judgment call. I never meant to worry you or Legolas.”

“Hush now, all is forgiven.” 

“But it isn’t,” you continued. “We should’ve discussed the matter more. I never should’ve disregarded your feelings or concerns. Instead, I should’ve listened. I understand that you’re protective. You have been for the entirety of our marriage, but I was just so convinced that you were overreacting.” 

“(y/n), we both made mistakes this time. I’m overbearing and I know it. Instead of trying to display your thoughts and opinions in an inferior light, I should have been willing to listen to what you had to say. And for that, I am sorry. Sorry that I made you feel like you had to fight against me rather than with me.” 

Slowly lifting your head off the pillow, you managed to kiss your husband’s cheek. “I love you, you know. So much.” 

“And I you.” 

“And me too!” your son announced. 

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around both your men, numb to the physical pain that was threatening to rear its ugly head any moment. “I love you both more than anything. More than life.” 

[anaveragebibliophile]

“Gi melin” (’I love you’)

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!reader 

Summary: Bath time for the Mirkwood Prince brings some wonderful family moments that highlight just how marvelous a father Thranduil truly is. 

“Ada (Father), look at the boat, it’s sinking with all its passengers,” a little voice said. 

“Indeed, this appears to be a very treacherous situation. We must find a way to save them, yes?” a second voice--much deeper than the first--queried. 

“What a great idea!” 

A shadow of a smile crossed your mouth as you watched your husband and son interact with one another, your heart filling with feelings of felicity. Legolas had just been gifted a large, teak wood boat from Thorin Oakenshield, an old friend of sorts, while he was passing through on his way back to Erebor. And let’s just say that the word ‘thrilled’ wouldn’t even begin to cover your sweet boy’s level of excitement at the prospect of having a tyalama (toy) that could house the three elvish soldiers he played with on a daily basis. He insisted on carrying it with him everywhere in the palace and had even gone so far as to ask his father’s council members if they would like to have a turn at raising the mainsail. Everyone, even Thran, got a good chuckle out of that. But his most favorite activity to engage in with the vessel was bath time. 

Grabbing the last soldier in his collection, Legolas announced, “This man is going to be our turma (shield). He’ll protect his people, his king, and his queen. And then you and Naneth will present him with an award for his valor.” 

“Yes, we most certainly will.” 

Seated on the edge of the tub in a navy blue tunic and white slacks, Thranduil helped Legolas with the story he’d been concocting and even provided some dialogue for the captured soldiers. 

“You’re an ohtar (soldier), sir. Thank you for saving us,” your husband said as his characters made it to the edge of the tub, which was otherwise known as “safety.” 

“Of course. I’m happy to have provided some grest (support),” your son responded with just as much liveliness. 

A few minutes later, two of your butterfly friends--Arwen and Calen--flew in through the open French windows, landing upon your waiting palm. Their entrance acknowledged that the afternoon had given way to early evening, a signal that bedtime was drawing near. 

“Alright, little leaf, I believe it’s time to prepare for bed. What do you say?” you asked, moving away from your spot near the counter to come up behind Thranduil. 

Legolas’ nose scrunched up the tiniest bit, but he still smiled nonetheless. “Okay, Naneth.” He placed his boat on the white porcelain and then lifted his arms up, a surefire signal that he coveted some cuddle time. 

Before you could make your move though, Thranduil swept in. Not minding the severe wetness, he picked up his son and snuggled him to his chest. And even though he knew you could see everything, his lips still decided to ghost the top of Legolas’ head.  

What was it with this man assuming he wouldn’t have been a decent father? While his affections weren’t necessarily made conspicuous to the naked eye, people seem to forget that the most compassionate, caring individuals sequester themselves behind barriers of coolness and frigidity. That’s all Thran is: a facade. 

But Legolas, ever the gentle, loving, and openly affectionate child, was not. Without contemplating a single thing, he pressed a sweet kiss to Thran’s larynx that may or may not have stopped your heart. 

“Love ‘ou, Ada,” his sleepy, slurred speech iterated. 

The smile that followed on your husband’s face was priceless. It was pure and raw, yet had a milky quality to it as well. It had every semblance of incandescent joy within it. 

Covering Legolas with his favorite fluffy towel, you said, “You’re a wonderful father, you know. He sincerely worships you, just like you do him.” 

“How can I not worship him. He’s everything that is good in this world.” 

“So are you, my darling. So are you.” 

[anaveragebibliophile]

Gratitude

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

After spending some time with his father, Legolas discovers just how lucky he is to have a mother like you. And someone else seems to be inclined to agree as well. 

It was on this night that the sky slowly faded into the most spectacularly calm colors. Light blues and pointed yellows faded to make room for the syrupy corals and mandarins that signaled night’s falling. And without having had the good sense to sneak a peek out the window within the last half hour, you’d have missed all the beauty that Valar (God) bestowed upon Middle-Earth. 

Soon, a soft knock sounded on the door to your and your husband’s--the king’s--chambers. “Hello, Naneth (mother),” a sweet, little voice said. 

“Hello, lasdithen (little leaf). How was your time in the study with Ada (Father)? I hope he didn’t consume himself with much work during your time together,” you smiled, knowing the impending council meeting had been one of the biggest stressors for your beloved husband. So much so that neither you nor your son had seen much of him the last few days. Thirty minutes--the time you pushed him to spend with Legolas--was the longest break he’d awarded himself all day.  

Legolas’ mouth quirked up in a grin at the mention of his father. “We had the best time, Naneth. Ada showed me many special books and told me many stories about our kin, even a few about you.”

At that comment, your initially lively, stimulated countenance faltered a bit. “Me? What did your Ada mention, lasvelui (sweet leaf)?” 

“A battle with Orcs, lots of iâr (blood), and how you stopped Ada from worrying and pushed him to fight.” 

Well, that was putting things very lightly. You remembered that day as if it were yesterday. 

Watching Thranduil jump from his throne when a guard, sprinting into the throne room, informed him of the security breech at the gates. Hearing your husband’s harsh bellows, and seeing how they appeared to be shaking the stone pillars that held part of the castle in place. And, hastily grabbing the outer-most sleeve of his robes before he made his way down the marble steps, pushing your lips together for one last mind-numbing kiss. 

The urgency with which he grabbed your waist informed you of how frightened he truly was by this attack. And, to be completely honest, it perturbed you too. It had been at least a century since any Orcs had dared to quarrel with the Woodland Realm. Why now? What was the purpose? 

“Don’t worry about us,” you instructed, hands clasping the thin hairs at the nape of his neck. “Legolas is napping in our chambers. I will make sure it stays that way.” 

“How can I not?  You two are my life, hûn velui (sweetheart). Without you, I cannot even imagine what my life would become.”

“You need only trust. Fate will take care of the rest. I believe we will have a long, happy life together. You, me, and our beautiful, beautiful son.” 

“Our little leaf, our greatest treasure.” 

“Yes, all ours. Now go. These feelings of uncertainty aren’t who you are. Be the proud, arrogant aran we all know and love.” 

An imperceptible movement at the left corner of his mouth was what assured you he got the message. Then, with his signature eye roll, he took leave immediately, belting out orders surrounding battle strategy, infirmary locations, and the leader’s head being left for proper disposal--at the sword of the king. 

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“Naneth?” Legolas queried, having moved away from the door to lightly pull on the lower hem of your dressing gown. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I was thinking back to that time with your father.” 

He nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you’re my Naneth. You always make everything better.” 

You kneeled before him, opening your arms in the hope that he would get your message. And in what probably counted out to be three seconds, you found a tiny, kind-hearted boy’s head pressed against your bosom. 

“She does, doesn’t she, iôn nín (my son)?” came the voice of your husband. 

Very quickly, your eyes--fresh with rapidly shedding tears--met his drier but no less affected ones.  

“Please join us, Ada.” 

“Yes, Thran, please do join. We can have a family hug of sorts.”

Being given the go-ahead seemed to do wonders for him. Forever uncertain that husband of yours was. 

And, making haste, he reached the two people he valued most in the world in rapid time and proceeded to make it known how much he adored them. Choosing to sit on his bum in a criss-cross fashion rather than kneel, he soon snaked his right arm around his son’s back and performed a similar movement on his wife. 

“Thank you for this, hervess nín (my wife). Thank you for everything.”