[agentsuggestion-blog]

It’s not the tired curve of my spine or the heaviness of my limbs. It’s the vice grip around my ribs. There’s no sleeping through this.

[lotrscenery]

Mountains outside Rivendell

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“Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory”

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“Given how little sleep I’ve gotten the last week, I think you’ll wake up way before me.” She blinked, realizing that she was laying down, Thranduil’s arms wrapped around her.

 Her filter was completely gone. There were very few things she did not share with Thranduil, but her terrible life style choices were something she tried to blur. Being  too gooey and mushy was another.

“I promise. I don’t think my legs work anymore anyway,” her words were almost a mumble.

At his next question, Sila didn’t even have the energy to answer. Tucked against his chest, she finally gave into the need for rest, becoming dead weight in Thranduil’s grasp.

For a while, her sleep was nothing but perfect, pitch black nothingness. It didn’t even hit her that she had a nightmare until her eyes snapped open. Tears were drying on her cheeks, a cold sweat coming from her brow. She quickly raised a hand to her mouth, breathing rapidly against her cupped palm as if to keep the pain in. The room was completely dark, quiet. The only noise was the leftover ringing in her ears. She must have been crying out.

[iaranthranduil-blog]

  -{         For a while all he did was listen to her breathe. Slow and           even in her sleep, she was at peace. She was in his bed, in           his home, in his arms. Thranduil pressed his nose to the back           of her neck and breathed her in as he settled himself to sleep.           “You’re beautiful.” Was the last thing he whispered before he           shut his eyes.                                                                               }-

 -{         Dreams were not the same for him as they were for most.           His were not fantasies, were not fantastical experiences.           They are memories played out in high contrast, pieces of pieces.           Sometimes he blinks in his dreams and he’s a child, other times           he’s wrist deep in the blood of another man. His life on repeat           over and over. Consciousness to him was just more material for           when he slept.           Tonight was a showing of the first time he fell into bed with Sila.           Of her body, soft curves and large eyes. The imagery conflicting           so sweetly with her slender fingers wrapped around his throat.           He could feel the pressure, the slight sting of her nails. He tried           to breathe in and then he’s jolted awake.

          “Sila?” He sat up on his elbow and tried to look over her, but           another scream pierced his ears and he flinched, “Sila, wake up.”           He didn’t touch her, he knows better than to try and shake           someone awake from night terrors. He learned that when he           used to try and wake his mother.

          He could tell the moment she awoke when he sees her hand           move, when her eyes, glistening with tears focused on him.            “Are you alright?” He asked in a whisper.                                           }-

[sweetfairy1]

Studio photography of Lee Pace in costume as Thranduil

The Hobbit Chronicles, bofa, The Art of War.

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“Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory”

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The temptation was strong, to just lay down and melt into the covers and never ever move again. To burrow into Thranduil’s arms and not open her eyes until she was absolutely forced. 

“Don’t think I can lift my arms. Can we just lay down?” she rubbed at her eyes. It took tremendous effort to even keep them open. 

But it was fine. She felt safe and that was the important thing. Thranduil was there. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her while she slept. 

“I love you with all my heart, but I hate your drugs.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the drugs. Maybe it was the result of being knocked around and almost killed. Maybe it was her body reminding her that she actually was a human being who needed care and couldn’t run on a cocktail of adrenaline, cigarettes, and coffee.

She looked up at him through half lidded eyes. 

“You’re so handsome. Like a fallen angel or something.”

[iaranthranduil-blog]

   -{         “Of course we can.” He leads her gently to the bed and helps           her sit on the edge. There’s little he wouldn’t do for her, so little he            would refuse. Thranduil pulls off his own shirt and lets his belt and            trousers fall to the floor. Slowly he circles around her, crawling onto           the other side of the bed. “You have to promise to actually stay             down though. No wandering around the apartment while i’m            asleep.”           He chuckles at her remark about the medications. “This isnt           anything that I give you that a doctor wouldn’t.” Eventually, under           a lot of stress and pressure, maybe.

          “And you’re getting more high by the second my darling. It’s time           to lay down.” With hands on her shoulders, he pulls her back           toward the pillows and toward himself. His arms wrap around           her waist and he presses his nose into her shoulder, breathing in           the smell of sweat, blood, and her shampoo. A gorgeous           combination.                                                                                       }-

                        -{     “What do you think you will dream of?”     }-

[thrandurins]

The Hobbit | The Battle of the Five Armies Appendices

↳ Thranduil

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“Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory”

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Her lips met his in a smile. Between the soft bed beneath her and the warm of his skin, Sila felt as though she could drift off right then and there. There was something comforting in the almost silence of a dark bedroom, Thranduil’s low timbre being the only real sound.

“No,” she attempted to shake her head, her muscles stiff with pain–pain that was quickly becoming less noticeable. Or maybe she just didn’t have the energy to care anymore. 

“I just need you. Preferably cuddling me and not leaving.” Her hand ran up to his cheek bone, stroking it with her thumb. It was clear that she didn’t feel well based on her want of coddling, something that she normally despised and wanted no part of. Too many years of taking care of herself in stupid situations had left her bitter and hardened in that respect. She was stubborn as stubborn could be. The fact that she had come over to get Thranduil’s help was a feat in itself.    

[iaranthranduil-blog]

     -{         And that he knew. Sila would not have let him see this if           she didn’t need this. If she didn’t need him in some capacity.           He pulled away from her only to reach into his dresser drawer           and pull out a shirt that’s larger than what he typically wears,           she would drown in it comfortably.                                               }-

    -{         “Then it is myself i will provide.” Thranduil leaned into her           touch, tilting his head against her hand. He turns his face into           her palm, kissing the skin there. “Do you want to put this on,           or do you just want to lay down?” He loved feeling her skin           against his, even just to rest. She was warm and soft and so           addicting.                                                                                        }-

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“Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory”

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Her muscles tensed the moment Thranduil’s fingers touched her skin, expecting pain to bloom from any action– Even at the snap of the claps on her bra.

 Palm closed around the medication, she formed a death grip as Thranduil checked her over. She may have had limited medical knowledge, but she did know that whatever it was that he felt the need to press down on really fucking hurt. 

Sila hissed through her teeth, trying to stay still until he was done. As soon as he deemed her in decent shape, she turned onto her back.

“For now? Are you expecting some sort of gun fire to rain down that I need to be prepared for?  Or have you caught on to how stupidly reckless I can be?” She sighed in slight contentment when she felt his fingers in her hair. He knew how to play her like no one else could.

 Her eyes lingered on the pill bottle. She almost wanted to skip them, perhaps fake taking them if Thranduil was persistent enough. Even if the pain has lulled her into a docile state, she could never exactly turn her mind off. 

It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. She blinked, breaking her trance. 

“What? Oh- Yes. Please. Preferably one of your sweatshirts that are 4 sizes too big.” The corners of her lips turned upwards a little as she tugged the cap off. With the pain clouding the edges of her mind and the unspoken agreement of a 6′5 blanket, she decided to take out two of the little white pills, swallowing them dry. 

“How loopy am I going to be in about…. oh, a half hour?” 

[iaranthranduil-blog]

  -{         Thranduil watched with mild fascination as she shook the pills           into her hand. Settling himself on the edge of the bed, he ran his           fingers down the center of her chest, over her belly button. He           placed her palm flat on her stomach and leaned over to kiss her           softly.                                                                                           

          “Well, it’s Oxycodone.” He hovered over her, the hand above her           shoulder holding his weight. “You should feel very relaxed and           probably like you’re the world’s next greatest philosopher.” He           smiled and kissed her again, the end of his tie resting on her           chest.                                                                                               }-

                  -{         “Do you need anything? Food, coffee?”            }-

[iaranthranduil-blog]

Catharsis

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╳ Bard hoped with all his might that the beautifully crafted axe Dain had gifted him could stay mounted on the wall instead of have a use on the battle field. He wanted to leave as much of a peaceful realm as possible for his son. Bard had no ignorance about his own mortality. Within a blink of Thranduil’s eyes, he would be cold in the earth. It was not about living forever for him, but leaving behind as much happiness as possible. 

His eyes glanced over the beautifully crafted pen, a smile appearing on his face that had not been there all day. It was likely the most lovely thing Bard had ever owned, much less been gifted. The ink itself was likely to be worth more than what Bard made in a year back in Laketown. But cost wasn’t important, it was the thought and soul that went into such a gift that made Thranduil’s so precious. 

“Thank you, King Thranduil. It is truly a lovely gift that I will always cherish. N'uir thiad lîn ‘ell,” Bard smoothly spoke out in what he hoped was correct Sinadrin. He had been trying to learn as of late, though his skill level was still below that of an elvish toddler.

“I wished to ask you earlier, but it seems the festivities had kept us apart. Is there any chance that I could tempt you to stay in Dale a bit longer? Your visit is so short and there seems to be a storm coming in from the West within the next day or so anyhow. It would be a pleasure to have more time together, mellon.” ╳

[iaranthranduil-blog]

   -{       The ever regal atmosphere that Thranduil exuded fell away           briefly, a genuine smile spreading across his face at the clumsily           pronounced Sindarin that tumbled from Bard’s lips. It always lifted           his spirit to hear others learning his language. The world of Men           too often expected others to bend to their ignorance. The common           tongue was only common because Men were typically too lazy to           bother learning that which they are not accustomed to. 

          “Tôl alagos uin eryd, you are right. I should not put my company           through such travels, not when we have such an inviting host.” He           dismissed his aide, and nodded slowly. “We shall stay until the storm           passes, with the calm of our nations there is hardly a reason for            Manwë to bother us for long.”                                                               }-

      -{       Thranduil tilted his head, looking up at Bard. His clothes more           fine and regal than any he’d ever seen on a mortal. Despite           what Bard might think, Thranduil believed them to suit him perfectly.   }-

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Thranduil and Bard

[ten-thousand-leaves]

Look at this precious thing a friend of mine made. I hope you’re going to post all of that lovely art (THE HANDS!) soon. Please come and love and follow this sweet talented person. They are newly come to tumblr (finally!!) and could use a bit of loving.

[celebrlan]

[iaranthranduil-blog]

Catharsis

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╳   The dread of Bard’s coronation day hung heavy over his head like a cold bucket of lake water. Bard personally thought  he would be a rubbish king, the mere concept senseless, indeed almost comical. Yet, he was in no place to say ‘no’ to the city he held so dear. And so Bard the Bowman, dressed up in clothes too heavy and much too fine, sat on the throne of his forefathers, his eyes slipping closed at the feeling of an undeserved crown being placed upon his head. He had taken his place among his kin as next in line for Girion’s throne. In a single blink of an eye, he was declared the Lord Of Dale. Bard the Bowman was no more. Bard I, King of Dale and Slayer of Smaug instantaneously took his place.

It made his mouth run dry.

Bard sat at the head of the table as the feast made way. He made his own speech short and humbled, not being a man of many words, kept his head above water, sat with his back straight, and made conversation and comments where it was due. His eyes always found their way to his children, making sure they were alright in all the commotion and change. And when the night wore on, Bard was sure to dismiss his youngest two to bed,  allowing Bain to stay up just a bit longer.

It was with delight and almost relief that he found himself in the presence of the Elven King after so long of a day. Bard shifted in his throne uncomfortably, bowing his head slightly at the customary Elvish greeting.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Thranduil. I thank you for finding the time to join us in the celebrations. It is always nice to see a kind face on such an… inordinate day. I trust you have been enjoying yourself?”  ╳

[iaranthranduil-blog]

     -{       If there was one thing that did not fit in the picture that Bard made,           was the stiff throne itself. He doubted that beyond today that the mortal           king would find himself in it for more than minutes at a time. He was the           kind of person to stand before his subjects, to hold their hands and lend           his strength to them should they need a shoulder to weep upon.            “As much as one can enjoy themselves at these sort of celebrations.           Though I am refraining from partaking in the wine tonight, we have           quite the trip home once the festivities are over.” He stops at the first           step and nods to his companion. The shorter elf walks up to the foot           of the throne and kneels, presenting his gift.           “The dwarves have given you weapons of war, a prize worth mounting           on a wall, no doubt. But I give to you what every ruler needs in order           to keep a good head above their shoulders. While war and violence           often forges new kings and queens, it is law and compassion that           will keep them.”           Inside the box is a pen, accompanied with several different tips made           to write in elvish and the common tongue and a pot of black ink.            “Hopefully we will see no more battle in your lifetime, may peace see           us all to sleep.”                                                                                          }-

[iaranthranduil-blog]

Catharsis

     -{     Another throne had been added to the temporary hierarchy in the           world of men, and as a reigning power he was obligated to celebrate           it. Not that he needed a reason to celebrate the fall of that eyesore           of a town, Esgaroth.                                                                                     }-

     -{     A king should reflect its people and its estate. The Master of           Laketown certainly reflected the greed and the aesthetic of the realm           in which he ‘ruled’, but Bard was not of those shown in that particular           mirror. He was much more akin to the high towers and strongholds           of Dale; in need of some repair, but filled with the warmth of home.           That is what a king should be. Not just a ruler, but a father to their           realm, guiding their people. Bard the Bowman was a good father to           his own children, and Bard the Dragonslayer would be a fine leader.           Of this, Thranduil had no doubt.

          The coronation was not long, as there was no one to give a lengthy           speech. The remaining warriors from Dale were tired and worn from           the battle, and so a weighted crown was placed upon Bard’s head,           a few short words were spoken and dinner was underway. The           gifts were next to be shared, shows of good will and future fortune           from neighboring kingdoms. In an atypical fashion, it seemed that           Bard had called for the gifts to be shown privately. The dwarves were           easy to predict and were sure to make a show of their loot on their           way through the doors., They gave two heavy axes, the first to be           forged in the fires of Erebor since the slaying of Smaug.

          Thranduil swept forward through the empty hall, an aid at his side,           carrying a small box. Both Thranduil and the other elf bowed their           heads and pressed their right hands to their chest in greeting. “It is           my honor, King Bard, to see you today.” They rose and approached           the tarnished throne.                                                                            }-

[infiliwetrust]

Dwarfweek → day 5: dwarven objects → Weapons of the Company

Thorin - sword called Deathless, Fili - twin swords, Kili - bow, Balin - sword, Dwalin - two axes called Grasper and Keeper, Ori - slighshot, Dori - bolas, Nori - mace, Gloin - axe, Oin - staff, Bombur - iron ladle, Bofur - hammer, Bifur - spear. 

[lecterlannister]

dwarf week | day one: favorite male dwarf | gimli

[thrandurins]

[artemisfowls]