#young!thranduil

[growingingreenwood]

Orpher, to Thranduil: Don't take this as a complaint, because it isn't one, its the farthest possible thing from a complaint. But jusy checking in, it's been over two weeks now, how are you coping without your regularly scheduled near death experience?

[growingingreenwood]

Oropher: Despite what most people seem to beleive my son is extremely intelligent with an excellent memory, keen eyes, and an almost unrelenting desire to do what needs to be done to accomplish his goals.

Oropher: However these qualties are seemingly exclusively utilized in order to accomplish the Dumbest Things Imaginable, so I can understand where their confusion might come from.

Thranduil: That's not true, Ada.

Thranduil: I also use them to commit crimes.

[growingingreenwood]

Oropher, furiously: Well I hope you've learned a valuable lesson tonight.

Thranduil, casually: Certainly - if you're going to break a law, only do it one at a time otherwise you increase your chances of getting caught for both exponentially.

Oropher: Do you want me to be the first elf to die of a heart attack? Because I'm genuinely starting to believe that you do.

[growingingreenwood]

5 - young thranduil :) also I hope your ok

"One Jump Ahead." By Brad Kane ( Orignal Aladdin soundtrack )

((( Thank you!! I'm pretty sure I have Pneumonia but they have to so xtray before they'll give me anything )))

0.0.0.0.0.

“Thran, isn’t that your Ada?” Ferdan asked, pointing at a space between the buildings. His heart dropped, and he squinted to see if his friend was right. Regrettably, he was. He could just make out the unmistakable shape of Oropher before another building obstructed his view,  he must have returned from hunting a night early and was quickly making his way home on horseback.  

“Ah!” He managed to yell but simultaneously whisper in fright and then without a goodbye to anybody, he took off sprinting down the alleyway, careful to keep crouched low enough his father wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He turned down the first set of stairs he saw and began cutting a frantic path across the city back to Thingol’s castle. He lept over a few carts and chairs on his way but somehow managed not to shove anybody against any walls. 

“Out against your father will again, Prince Thranduil?” A voice teasingly called as he rushed past. 

“I would never!” He called back, leaping up onto a few piled boxes and throwing himself towards a balcony that certainly did not belong to him. Thranduil swung up onto the bar in one swift movement and then launched himself towards the rooftop, and scrambled on top with similar ease. 

He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to hide his incredibly noticeable hair without breaking stride, and he scurried across the rooftops just as quickly as he had done the ally. 

A few other half-hearted chastizing comments dirfited to his ears: 

“You should know better than this by now Thranduil!” 

“I don’t think you’ll beat him home, prince!” 

“Come down before you break something!” 

“Does your Ada know you’re here?” 

They just made him smile all the more. 

Once he was near the wall, he shrank down even lower but didn’t drop back down to the earth. As he appeared within the guard's eyesight, he flung his hood back down but still kept pace. None of them stopped him as he nearly leaped clean over the wall, the tree on the other side reached for him. 

He caught a momentary glimpse of Beleg rolling his eyes with mild exasperation before the leaves swallowed him totally,  and he scrambled to the ground. 

 In the distance, the sound of hooves approaching the gate could be heard. 

Adrenaline nearly made him turn cold and he veered off his original plotted course and went the opposite way, towards Lutheins room. He sent her a panicked shove with his Fae to nudge her awake if she had been sleeping. 

She replied with extreme humor. 

But her window was open when he came skidding to a halt, and a rope dangled from above. He gripped it tightly and scambled up it as quickly as he could and spilled inside her bedroom.

Quickly she retracted the rope from outside to keep Oropher from seeing it should he venture this way from the stables, and the stowed it back in its usual hiding place by the window. 

He lay gasping for breath on the carpet, more out of fear and adrenaline than from the frantic journey then. “Did I make it?” 

Carefully she peeked out the window for him and searched the gardens below, “I think you might have.” 

Relief flooded his body and he sighed with heavy relief.

And then his father's soul brushed against his, smug enough to say: It was a good attempt, my son. A good attempt. 

[growingingreenwood]

The literal only reason Thranduil was never arrested for his shenanigans in Doraith was because Thingol was basically his uncle.

That's it.

Otherwise, Oropher would have been coming to collect his son from the city gaurds every other weekend.

They just delivered him to his father's doorstep instead.

Oropher, opening the door in the middle of the night. Not one ounce of shock on his suddenly incredibly aged face: Really, Thranduil? Again? Really? For the love Eru, WHY??

Thranduil, with Beleg Cuthalion holding him securely by the ear: Not sure. I was bored, it looked fun, Ferdan dared me and Luthien wasn't around and we all know she's like, 78% of my impulse control.

[amarielinmiddleearth]

The Tiger of Doriath

Here we go with my first thranduil fanfic! Im an awful artist so please note all images are AI generated for ease but i wanted to add a little visual to aid in the reading, or you can ignore it completely! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

AI generated image of what amariel looks like as a child!

IntroductioN

Doriath stood as a sanctuary of golden light, its trees towering and ancient, their silver leaves whispering secrets of times long past. It was a realm of beauty and power, ruled by King Thingol and Queen Melian, their court a blend of ethereal grace and unyielding strength. Among the Sindar who called these woods home, whispers of another people drifted like a faint melody—the Erusi, a rare and ancient kin of the elves, whose connection to Eru Ilúvatar was said to surpass even that of the Firstborn. Their mysterious gifts set them apart, but also made them a subject of both fascination and unease.

Amariel Blackthorn was one of these Erusi.

Amariel was still young by the measure of elves, barely beyond her first century, though her curiosity and willfulness often made her seem younger. On this particular morning, she stood barefoot in the dew-drenched grass of a clearing deep within Doriath’s forests, her training sword clutched tightly in her hands. Her reddish-blonde hair tumbled in loose waves down her back, catching the soft morning light, and her blue eyes, rimmed faintly with amber, scanned her surroundings with a mixture of determination and restlessness.

“Lego, iel nîn! Tolo an hant,” (Move, my daughter! Come and strike,) came the deep, steady voice of her father, Eluvian. He loomed a few feet away, his amber eyes sharp as he watched her stance with a critical gaze. Dressed in his dark tunic and leather armor, his long white hair gleamed like starlight, giving him an almost regal aura. His sheer height and imposing build made even the other elves of Doriath pause, though to Amariel, he was simply Ada.

Amariel tightened her grip on the training sword, her knuckles whitening. “I’m trying,” she muttered, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Hírith nîn, estelio i curwë lin,” (My daughter, trust your skill,) Eluvian replied, his tone hard but not cruel. “Trying is not enough. Your enemies will not wait for you to try. Again.”

She let out a frustrated breath and adjusted her stance, the muscles in her legs coiling as she prepared to strike. This time, when she moved, it was with precision—her blade slicing through the air toward her father. But he was quicker. He sidestepped her strike effortlessly, his own blade coming up to tap her shoulder in what would have been a fatal blow.

Amariel groaned, dropping her sword to her side. “You’re impossible to hit!”

“Teitho! Echil i randir vin!” (Dodge! Evade the wandering strike!) Eluvian barked suddenly, his tone sharper. Amariel froze for a moment, confused by his words in Old Elvish, and the hesitation cost her. His wooden blade tapped her shoulder again, firmly but without force.

Amariel blinked, frustration twisting her features. “What did you just say?” she asked, panting slightly from the exertion.

Eluvian’s sharp amber eyes fixed on her. “I said to dodge. If you had been paying closer attention to your mother’s lessons in Old Elvish, you would not have hesitated.”

From the edge of the clearing, a melodic voice chimed in. “Perhaps if you didn’t push her so hard, my love, she would have more clarity to find.”

Both father and daughter turned to see Vanimelda approaching, her crimson hair a vibrant contrast to the soft greens and golds of the forest. Dressed in an elegant but simple gown, she carried a small basket of freshly picked flowers. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement as she stopped beside them.

“She needs to be prepared,” Eluvian replied, his tone firm but lacking the sharpness he often reserved for others. “The world is not kind, Vanimelda. If she is not ready, it will devour her.”

Vanimelda’s gaze softened as she looked at her daughter, stepping closer to gently brush a strand of hair from Amariel’s face. “And yet, she is still a child. There is time for gentleness as well as strength.”

Amariel smiled faintly, leaning into her mother’s touch. While she loved her father’s lessons in swordplay, there was comfort in the softness her mother brought to their lives. Vanimelda’s presence was a steady reminder that not all strength came from steel.

“Amariel,” Vanimelda continued, her tone lightening, “I have a dress being finished for you at the seamstress’s shop in the market. You’ll come with me to fetch it tomorrow.”

The smile disappeared from Amariel’s face. “Another dress?”

“Yes,” Vanimelda said firmly, though her eyes twinkled with mirth. “And you will wear it without complaint. You’ve grown taller, and your old ones no longer fit. But,” she added, a playful smile tugging at her lips, “as a compromise, I will have the seamstress prepare a matching pair of trousers for you.”

Amariel’s face lit up, the annoyance melting away. “Really? Thank you, Mama!”

Vanimelda chuckled softly. “I thought you might appreciate that. A lady must know when to compromise, after all.”

Eluvian chuckled under his breath, earning a playful glare from his daughter. “Even in trousers, iel nîn, you must remain vigilant. One cannot outpace discipline with cleverness alone.”

The Legacy of the Erusi

As the family began their walk back toward their home, Amariel’s thoughts wandered to the words her father often spoke about their lineage. The Erusi were revered and feared in equal measure, even among their elven kin. Their connection to Eru Ilúvatar gave them gifts beyond the comprehension of most elves, their animal forms a sacred reflection of their souls. To reveal one’s form was an act of great intimacy, and among the Erusi, it was considered a private matter, shared only with those they trusted most.

Her mother’s form, a swan, was a symbol of grace and serenity. Her father, however, embodied the strength and ferocity of a black lion, his rare form a reflection of the leader and protector he had become. Amariel often wondered what others would think of her tiger form, but her parents had warned her to keep it hidden. “Not all souls are kind,” her father had told her. “And not all will honor the sanctity of who we are.”

“Ada,” Amariel asked as they neared their home, her voice hesitant. “Do you think people would fear me if they knew my form?”

Eluvian glanced down at her, his expression unreadable. “Some might,” he admitted. “But fear is not always a bad thing. A tiger is strong, powerful, and fierce. It commands respect. But you must never let others define you by their fear. Estelio han, a sedho. (Trust that, and find peace.) You are more than your form, Amariel.”

Vanimelda smiled gently, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Your form is a part of you, my dear, but it is not all of you. What matters most is the strength and kindness within your heart.”

Amariel nodded, though her thoughts lingered on her father’s words. She often felt torn between the strength he demanded and the gentleness her mother cherished. How could she reconcile the two? Was it possible to be both?

[anki-of-beleriand]

AN: Third chapter of the ficlet story I have created for Thorinduil. Thanks to all o you guys who comment or like this pairing and the story.

______________________________________________________________________

The night was really cold.

Snowflakes fell on their faces while the warm coming from the inside reached their backs, they could heard the sounds of merriment coming from the ballroom inside Thranduil's home. It was Christmas and, as tradition mandates it, they spent it together; Thranduil lifted his face to the sky, his eyes closed and his mouth open, Thorin chuckled shaking his head before doing the same.

"It tastes weird." Thranduil finally mumbled making a face.

"Of course it does, aren't you supposed to be a genius or something? You should have known this." Thorin replied bumping against his friend.

Thranduil rolled his eyes bumping back, "I didn't know this, I'm a growing genius still. Besides, it's only whenever I'm beside you and the rest of the Company that I'm a genius."

"Hey!" Thorin exclaimed feigned hurtfulness at the comment, Thranduil snickered quirking a brow at his friend daring him to contradict him. Thorin didn't, of course, he just got distract by the way the light from the ballroom reflected on the pale skin of the blond-haired male and how those eyes seemed to be bright and alive.

Thorin didn't know exactly what was happening, he had never understood why Thranduil had such an effect on him. It was confusing. And it scared him. Thranduil soon dropped his smile squirming slightly while looking away, his cheeks turning red. Silence fell between them, Thorin furrowed his brows placing his hands inside his pockets, he shivered under the sweet breeze of winter trying to stop thinking about his concerns regarding one of his best friends.  

"Are you ready to start high school?" Thranduil whispered suddenly, his tone of voice seemed far away and Thorin turned around to gauge Thranduil's expression. There was something there, something...nostalgic and almost bashful; Thranduil had his eyes lowered to the garden spreading before them before he trembled slightly wrapping his arms around himself.

"Yeah, I am." Thorin replied feeling how his heart started beating faster, he swallowed under the overwhelming need to wrap his arms around Thranduil and bring warm to his cold form. He didn't, of course, hugging Thranduil like that would be too weird and they already had too much weirdness in their lives for Thorin to add more.

He did, however, took his heavy jacket off stepping closer to his friends and wrapping the garment around the shocked frame of the blond. Thorin smirked fixing it around the small frame before nodding his approval.

"It looks good on you." Thorin judged him mockingly. "Of course, it's big but it would keep you warm. Seriously, you should have brought a jacket. You're the only idiot who comes out in the middle of snowing without a jacket."

Thranduil swallowed offering a half-smile, he stood there with his eyes flickering around before nodding with decision. Thorin didn't know what happen, he stood frozen in place and felt warmer than he had felt before and he knew there was something completely wrong and right and confusing when Thranduil leaned in placing a tentative kiss on his cheek. It didn't last more than a few seconds but for Thorin it last an eternity, when Thranduil stepped back he was blushing brightly and his eyes were showing apprehension and fear, the same fear and apprehension Thorin was feeling.

They didn't talk about it.

They were interrupted right there and then by Bilbo and Bofur.

Nevertheless, the  memory of the kiss would hunt Thorin the rest of the holidays.

[feanope]

..alright.. I finally finished my Glorduil fic for the hobbit kink meme. What was actually planned as a short PWP ficlet ended up in a 37k fic! OMG, i still can't believe it, it's over .. Gosh I really became obsessed with Young!Thranduil and Stubborn!Glorfindel (that's were my RP blog resulted) it was so much fun to write..

I hope you enjoy the update (or the fic) xD

~feedback would be lovely~