#haldir

[eowins]

An Alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance.

[be-xkyy]

I really have a type 👀

(Handsome men with long white/blonde hair🧝🏻‍♂️😏)

Part 1

[dagordagorath]

[a-breath-of-pipeweed]

May I please request headcanons/reactions for Haldir, Elrond, Lindir, Legolas, and Thranduil seeing fem!Reader in pretty sage green lace lingerie??????? :3

here you go my sweet

Middle Earth Elves | Them seeing their S/O in green lace lingerie

{LOTR Masterlist} Haldir, Elrond, Legolas, Thranduil AN: I don't write for Lindir, unfortunately, but here are the others <3 gn!reader

Content warning (MDNI): suggestive content, biting, mention of intimacy, teasing, possessiveness, dominant language

Haldir

He tries his best to remain trained and composed when he turns to see the sight in front of him

His jaw visibly tightens, his eyes flick over your body, and you swear you notice his right ear nearly twitch in nervousness

Haldir remains silent for a moment, drinking you in, watching how the emerald lace contrasts against your skin and hugs your form

He tries to regain his composure again, not wanting to seem so affected by you

"That colour suits you... dangerously well, my dear."

The green reminds him of Lothlorien, a moment of home flicking in his mind, which makes him find it all the more appealing on you

He takes his time with you, giving a small motion for you to approach, and he traces the lace along your hip, your thighs, seemingly entranced by it

But his restraint is shown in small actions; his eyes linger a little too long, his voice is almost a whisper, and the grip he has on your thigh while you stand in front of him is a little tighter than usual

Elrond

He is polished and dignified, and has lived long enough to not be strucken by much anymore

Until you strip down in his chamber one day in front of him, and he watches as the fabric falls off your shoulders, unveiling the sage green lingerie that you hid under your clothes

And the sight still makes him pause, despite all the beautiful visions that he would have seen in his long life

The lace catches the candlelight, and he finds himself standing from his seat on the bed and walking to you, hands instantly finding your waist, fingering the fabric

And he melts when you look up at him, your hands finding his chest to gently lay on

"You cannot look at me like that, meleth nin. I am trying to remain decent."

"You do not need to be. It is only you and I here."

He admires you all through your intimacy, pulling back every minute to take in the sight of you under him, draped in the colours of the forest, all for him to explore

Legolas

You do it in a fleeting moment while with the fellowship, having accidentally packed the lingerie when you were rushing to leave with them

You both are on watch, and he has his head tucked on your shoulder from behind, before he glances down and notices a glimmer of emerald hidden below your clothes on your chest

"What's this?" he says with a tone of cheekiness

It isn't long before you give it, pulling your tunic down over your shoulders to show Legolas the top of your lingerie set, and his breath is caught in his throat from the sight

His hands are quick to be on you, tucking his fingers under the straps on your shoulders and moving them to bite the skin there

"Why do you choose to do this now? With everyone so close by? You're truly testing my control."

You find yourself lying on the forest floor, giggling as Legolas's hands slip under your tunic further, revealing more of the lace, and he breathes heavier with every bit of skin revealed

Thranduil

He looks at you like a whole meal

You become nervous under his strong gaze as you stand in front of him, the lace catching the moonlight

He admires heavily, like he's planning on the quickest way to pull the lingerie from you, to leave you completely at his mercy

He leans into his possessive nature

"You look so beautiful in my colour."

His words and touches along you feel like worship dripping in dominance

And you BET he does not get undressed for so long, loving the control he feels with having you covered in revealing lace on his lap while you paw at his golden clothes, becoming shy from his intensity

He teases heavily, loving how you avoid his gaze and cover yourself, only for him to pry your hands away from your body

"Don't you dare hide this gift from me. You are all mine to look upon."

Taglist: @cinnamon-girl-writes @mybrainsamess @pumpkin-soup333 @bloxholden35 @woodsofsunlight @emerald-tempest @vv56890 @pocketsizeddwarf @lady-legolas-greenleaf @doomslugthedestroyer1 @groovy-lady @li-zayne-wife Requests always open for reactions / headcanons / drabbles~

[hoe4almondmilk]

how the LotR elves would wake you

Part I

Part II here

Haldir, Thranduil, Legolas and Lindir

Haldir:

He leaves very early for his morning patrol, but he always wakes you up when he returns.

He’s gentle with you but also firm. He'd stroke your hair back, press a kiss or two to your temple, and whisper in that low, commanding voice:

"It is time, meleth. The sun is already jealous it does not see you."

If you’re stubborn, still trying to steal a few more minutes of sleep. He’ll scoop you into his arms bridal style. The tips of his ears would flush the faintest shade of pink when you bury your face into his chest.

Thranduil:

He'd be so regal and smug. He'd chuckle at your small sleeping form. His big hands would gently shake you, trying to wake you. He'd press a kiss to the crown of your head. If you still refuse to wake up, he'll walk over to the large windows in the bedchambers and pull them wide open. Letting the sun spill into the room. He'd stand dramatically and say,

"Rise, my queen. The world is waiting for you."

If you ignored him, he'd tug the blankets off of you. He'd go on muttering about how "hopelessly indulgent" mortals are. He'd sit on the bed and let you crawl into his lap regardless.

Legolas:

Oh, the sunshine prince. He'd be lying next to you, with your face snuggled into his bare chest. His fingers would be curled into your hair, stroking it with his long fingers.

"Meleth, I fear if you do not wake, the trees will grow restless. They miss you."

He'd pepper kisses along your jaw until you sleepily giggled. He'd grin against your skin. Whispering sweet words, maybe bribing you with honey cakes if you wake up.

Lindir:

He'd absolutely sing you awake. A soft, lilting melody by your bedside, fingers brushing over your cheek until you blink awake.

"Ah, there she is. The fairest star has returned."

If you refused to awake, the softest gasp would escape him. He'd probably sit on your side of the bed and just admire your face. He'd lean down and place the softest kiss to your brow and whisper something in sindarin.

[lullaby-lilies]

How They Flirt With You {Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir}

These characters are part of a request - honestly, I should had written them earlier but better now than never!

⇢ ˗ˏˋThranduil

Flirting, to Thranduil, is not some casual amusement. It is warfare in silk and gold. He doesn’t pursue. He doesn’t woo. He reigns, and waits for you to falter first.

His presence is overwhelming. All poise and control, the kind that dares you to come closer even as it warns you not to.

He doesn’t lower himself to ask if you’re drawn to him. He knows you are. You wouldn’t dare approach otherwise.

“You’ve been watching me. Tell me — was it awe or envy that froze you in place?”

He speaks like frost biting the edge of a blade — cold, gleaming, beautiful. Every word is chosen. Every pause calculated. And you can feel it: he is testing you.

Thranduil’s compliments are puzzles — double-edged, laced with both flattery and warning.

He praises your mind, but questions your intent.

He notes your beauty, but wonders how long it will last.

He enjoys your presence, but reminds you how easily he could dismiss it.

“You are… intriguing. Like a flame in a glass vessel—delicate, flickering, easy to extinguish.”

His words stay with you long after he’s gone. You’ll lie awake, wondering — was that affection… or a warning?

He doesn’t need to touch you to seduce you. He simply exists near you and that is enough to set your skin aflame.

He walks past so close your sleeve brushes his but he does not glance your way.

He leans near to speak and you catch the cool scent of something ancient, something wild but he pulls back before your breath steadies.

His fingers pause near yours — not quite touching — and then withdraw with maddening restraint.

“You flinch so easily. And yet… I haven’t even begun.”

You ache for his touch. He lets you ache.

Thranduil flirts by giving you nothing. And in that nothing, you crave everything.

He answers questions with questions.

He leaves you suspended between offense and flattery.

He silences you with a single, steady gaze and the unbearable knowledge that he knows what you were about to say.

“You think I am toying with you. How strange. I was merely watching how long it would take before you broke the silence.”

Even when he says nothing, he’s winning. You speak to fill the space and he watches, amused, listening for the cracks.

If you earn something real — his interest, his time, his trust — his demeanor shifts so slightly that only the most observant would notice.

His wit still bites, but there’s a shadow of softness in it now.

He does not smile but his voice lowers, as if the words are only for you.

He lingers longer than he must. His silences stretch not with condescension, but contemplation.

“I do not often stay where I am not needed. Yet here I am. Still. Curious, isn’t it?”

And in that stillness, he gives you the closest thing to a confession Thranduil will ever offer.

⇢ ˗ˏˋLegolas 

Legolas flirts by paying attention — closer than anyone else ever has.

He remembers the way you braid your hair.

He notices when your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

He offers you water before you ask. A cloak before you shiver. Silence when you need it.

“You favor your left when you walk. Did you injure your ankle?”

(Said not as concern but as proof he sees what no one else does.)

He doesn’t seek to impress. He seeks to understand. And that, somehow, is far more disarming.

Legolas speaks with honesty, not innuendo. His compliments are never exaggerated — they’re precise, soft-spoken, and entirely unexpected.

“You are brave,” he’ll say and mean it, not as flattery, but as fact.

“I have never met one like you,” he’ll admit, with no hint of irony.

“You move like someone who has had to fight for stillness. I find that… admirable.”

There is no teasing edge, no mischief. His flirtation doesn’t seduce. It honors.

Legolas does not touch often but when he does, it is reverent.

He steadies you on uneven ground with a hand at your elbow, feather-light and fleeting.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face in battle’s aftermath, his fingers cool, his gaze unreadable.

And if he ever lets you lean against him — it is deliberate, not casual. A choice. A permission.

“You are safe here.”

(He doesn’t mean the campsite. He means his arms.)

He never pushes. He waits for you to reach for him and you will.

Some call it aloofness. But Legolas’s silences are intentional. When he is quiet around you, it is not from distance, it is from comfort.

He sits beside you without speaking, eyes on the stars, letting your presence speak for itself.

He shares memories in fragments — carefully, sparsely — like a rare bloom he lets you see but not touch.

“There are trees in Ithilien that glow silver in the moonlight. I would like to show you, if… if you ever wish to see them.”

His silences aren’t empty. They invite you in.

If he truly begins to feel something deeper, Legolas’s restraint begins to falter in the smallest of ways.

His gaze lingers too long.

He starts saying your name more, even when he doesn’t need to.

He stays close in battle, not for strategy but protection.

“If I seem overcautious, forgive me. I… would rather not lose you.”

It’s not possessive. It’s genuine fear of loss, wrapped in grace.

And when he finally admits his feelings, it will not be in grand gestures but in a moment of stillness so charged with emotion it leaves no room for doubt.

“I am yours… if you wish me to be.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋHaldir

Haldir is reserved to the point of severity, but therein lies the pull, because when he grants you attention, it feels earned.

He watches, silently, and when he speaks — it is brief, measured, and intentional.

He does not smile easily. Which is why when he does, even slightly — it feels like a secret.

His flirting is rarely initiated in public. He is a warden first. But alone? Then you might notice the change.

“You’re observant. I value that… though I would advise against staring too long. It gives others ideas.”

He does not court. He allows you closer. And that, to him, is courtship.

Haldir doesn’t flatter idly. His compliments are scarce and often couched in dry, almost challenging delivery.

He might say, “You’re not as incapable as I feared.”

Or, “You adapt quickly. That is… useful.”

“You surprise me. I don’t often admit that. Don’t make me regret it.”

There’s a touch of arrogance, yes but it’s earned. And when he lets you see the rare glimmer of amusement behind the cool facade, it’s intoxicating.

He does not touch casually. But if he allows himself near you, it’s deliberate.

He will correct your stance with a hand at your wrist, brief but firm.

He’ll lean in to murmur something meant only for you, his voice low, his breath brushing your ear.

He might walk just slightly closer than necessary during a patrol.

“I stay close because your footwork still falters on uneven ground. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

(It is something else. He just refuses to admit it.)

He will test you — not cruelly, but precisely.

He watches how easily you fluster, how much you push back.

If you return his barbs with wit, he’ll raise a brow — just slightly — and say nothing. But later, you’ll find he lingers longer in your presence.

He never gives all at once. He’ll give just enough to make you question what’s underneath.

“You’re not afraid of me. You should be. I haven’t decided what I intend to do with you yet.”

And it sounds like a warning. But it feels like an invitation.

Should Haldir allow himself to care, the change is subtle but profound.

He’ll begin to offer things unasked: water, protection, information.

He will trust you with silences — not cold ones, but shared ones.

He’ll still mask his affection in discipline but now, it will be laced with quiet protectiveness.

“If anything were to happen to you under my watch, I would consider it a failure. And I do not fail.”

And if you ever touch his hand first — he won’t pull away. He won’t speak. But you’ll feel it in the stillness: he’s chosen you.

If anyone is interested, feel free to request headcanons/scenarios or drabbles - I’m open to them!

[where-our-stories-start]

One of the things I love most about Lord of the Rings is that it's a story about people choosing to do the right thing simply because it is right. Like, there's nothing special about Frodo except that he decides to carry the ring. He's not particularly better equipped than any other hobbit, he's just the one who says he'll do what has to be done. And throughout the story, so many of our characters do the same. Someone has to do this, so I will.

[sorointerrobang]

they invented walking