Imagine: Thranduil realizing that he loved you upon seeing you on the battlefield.

Originally posted by leepacesgarden

Elf!Reader x Thranduil

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

Word Count:

@privetdrve for helping me with many plot holes of which I did not see coming. Thank you so much.


Your hand gripped the hilt of your sword as King Thranduil sat up taller on his elk. After years of being a part the king’s council, you had learnt of his small habits and picked up a few similar tendencies of your own. You both complimented each other. While he was cold and seemingly uncaring, you were warm and carried your affections on your sleeve.

After ten minutes, the orc army of which the army of Mirkwood were expecting appeared from over the mountains. There might have been more than ten thousand, considering the way Thranduil’s hands had tightened on the reins of his elk. You looked up at him in worry.

“Do you think an army of three thousand elves could counter the monstrosity of our enemy?” you asked the king.

“Yes.” He said simply, without looking at you.

You shook your head, “you’re lying, aren’t you? I’ve known you long enough to understand that.”

Thranduil didn’t reply, opting to stare blankly ahead instead of addressing you. You sighed at the king’s stubbornness. Honestly, sometimes you wondered why he was even considered to be one of the greatest kings Mirkwood has ever had.

“Y/N,” he said, finally looking at you. “Even if I said no, it would have been too late to turn back now. We don’t have anywhere to run.”

You looked behind you, taking note of all the stricken faces of the eleven army. They knew the futility of this battle. Unless anyone came to help them, they would most likely be slaughtered before night fell. More than ten thousand orcs with almost impenetrable armour against a mere three thousand elves, most of which hadn’t seen real battle.

Everything around you stopped when the whistle of an arrow was heard behind you and as it flew across the grassy plain, burying itself into the neck of it’s target. The chanting of the orcs stopped abruptly as their companion fell to the ground, dead. Thranduil could barely spare you a glance before the orcs began to charge down the mountain and towards the frozen army of elves.

Thranduil urged his elk towards the quickly approaching orcs, snapping the elves out of their horrified silence and charged into battle. You drew out your sword, Galadius, and joined the rest of your kin, ready to fight to the end to protect the borders of Mirkwood. Thranduil had already reached the first of the orcs and cut down multitudes of them as he whipped out his two longswords. He risked a quick glance back at his army, his eyes resting on you for a split second before turning back around and slicing down any orc in his path.

You gritted your teeth as you slashed at yet another orc, it’s black blood staining your silver sword. It seemed like a never-ending cycle. No matter how many orcs you had killed, more would fill its place. Every sound around you seemed to be filled with cries of pain from both elves and orcs alike. Elven arrows whizzed through the air, finding their mark and bringing down another orc.

You looked around for the elven king, with the fear that he had already been taken down with a black arrow but he still sat astride his elk, slashing to and fro with his swords. Although his elk was covered in blood, it still carried Thranduil and galloped fearlessly through every obstacle in front of it. Suddenly fueled with energy, you leapt back into battle, imitating the swift slashes Thranduil had used.

You gasped in pain as an orc’s spear pierced your thigh but you continued on, striking down it’s thrower before it could even take another step. You slowly pulled out the spear and threw it towards the neck of another orc.

The elves had now been surrounded. You looked around you for some sign that there were still elves fighting. A sharp swish of an elven blade alerted your senses and another burst of adrenaline rushed through your body. There were still others.

* * * * *

The elven arrows had stopped flying hours ago and only a few hundred elves still stood. Orcs continued streaming in from the mountain but who else did they have to fight? Their companions had already taken out so many thousands of elves. Everyone had known that it had been futile even trying to take down a half of the orc army.

“RETREAT!” Thranduil yelled to his remaining army, reining in his elk and gently urging it to go faster.

Before anyone could move, a horn blew, and small figures appeared on top of the hill. You could only guess that it was the Riders of Rohan who had come to your people’s aid. All of the orcs had turned to look at the newcomers, which gave the remaining army some time to pick them off, one by one.

The appearance of help had put back hope in the hearts of the remaining elves and thy all sprang back into battle. You glanced towards Thranduil, who had been watching the riders with a frown on his face, and smiled slightly. Ego seemed to always stand between Thranduil and the rest of the world.

He turned his gaze to you and you felt his burning gaze looking to see if you had received any major injuries. Finally turning away after you gave him the slightest shake of your head, he launched himself back into battle. You still had the slightest smile as you cut your way through the rapidly thinning number of orcs in front of you.

The elven arrows had begun to fly again.

* * * * *

You didn’t remember when the battle ended. You only remembered that the once lush, green plain was littered with bodies and the soil was soaked with blood, but now that it was over, the pain of your wounds had begun to take effect. It seemed like adrenaline had been the only thing that kept you from falling down when it would have been your first instinct.

You heard the faint sound of hooves galloping towards you but you didn’t have the energy to look up. The worst was over.

“Y/N!” a voice called, barely audible.

Your vision had begun to blur and you sunk down onto your knees. The last thing you saw was the darkening sky, littered with thousands of stars.

As you fell unconscious, your mind wandered towards the night when you had first met Thranduil, when the sky had been almost identical to the one forming tonight. He had asked for you one day when he had seen your capability with a sword and how your words seemed to calm down even the angriest of mobs.

He hadn’t paid you much attention, simply stating that he wanted you in his council. He had given you a wilted lily, saying that it was a ‘token of your friendship’, though, you believed it to hold a different meaning altogether.

Although you had accepted his gift graciously, you had fumed in your room for hours, cursing the king’s contempt towards anyone lesser than himself. Honestly, this king had thousands of flowers to pick from and yet, he had the grace to have given you one of the most lifeless ones as a friendship token.


* * * * *

When you woke up again, you were back in your room in Mirkwood. You laughed softly to yourself about how your mind had decided to remind you of that moment while you were unconscious.

You tried to get up from your bed to see if anything had changed, but a stabbing pain in your thigh caused you to groan out in pain.

Then, it all came back to you so quickly. The battle. The burning pain of the orc spear as it pierced your skin. The Riders of Rohan arriving just in the nick of time to save the remaining hundreds of the elf army. How you had blacked out from the throbbing pain in your thigh. How beautiful the sky had looked before you did.

You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious for but you were glad you had escaped the battle with your life. You had known so many of those brave soldiers who had fallen in the battle.

A soft knock came from the other side of your closed door.

“Come in,” you said, and the door slowly opened, revealing the elven king.

“My king,” you said as you bowed your head in acknowledgement. “What brings you here to visit an injured elf such as myself?”

He smiled slightly as he slowly walked towards your bed, sitting down on the edge.

“You’ve been in your room for one week, recovering from your wound. I was getting worried you had gone away during the night,” Thranduil replied.

“Oh,” you said, slightly lost for words. “One week is a very long time.”

Thranduil simply nodded and moved a little more closer to you.

You sat up taller in your bed and took a deep breath. “So… Any news from outside of Mirkwood? Did you thank the Riders of Rohan properly? What happened after I blacked out? How did we get back–”

“Calm down. Calm down. Everything is fine. Rohan escorted us the whole way back to Mirkwood, not that we weren’t capable of doing that ourselves…” Thranduil started, muttering the last part to himself.

You laughed. “Yes. An injured and thoroughly beaten elven army can face the dangers of Mirkwood,“ you said sarcastically. “We needed Rohan. Surely you could see that?”

Thranduil grumbled, but it was obvious that he too knew what lay deep in the forest. You had no doubt that the king had once faced dozens of the monsters that dwelled there. After all, he had been a skilled warrior in his late father’s army.

“You know, Y/N. I realized something during the battle…” Thranduil started, his voice getting uncharacteristically hushed.

He glanced around your room, his eyes scanning every feature. You looked at him in confusion as he checked and double checked the same area of which was heavily piled with your collection of elven books.

“You realized that silence was the worst way to leave a person hanging?” you said, breaking the king’s daze. “Because you’re absolutely correct.”

A large smile spread upon Thranduil’s face, making you wish that he smiled more often. He would have looked so much younger and approachable if he did.

He cast his eyes down, his face still carrying the slightest remnant of a smile, towards his loosely clasped hands. You noticed that he had been fiddling with something hidden within his palms. Before you could ask him about it, he had pressed the item into your hands, releasing it gently.

The warmth of his hands had left yours almost as quickly as it had came, and you had found that the object he had been carrying was a freshly picked lily. The flower still seemed to be radiating life and vitality, a strong contrast to the one of which he had given you on the first day you had met him.

Thranduil awkwardly cleared his throat and you looked up at him, a smile slowly making its way onto your face.

“Um… So I’ve realized that… well… I didn’t exactly give you the most-” he paused, “-flattering first impression… And I… would like to… um… sincerely apologize for that.”

You laughed softly as he slowly stuttered his way through his speech. “I had already forgotten about that. It must have been centuries ago since we had first met.”

“Five centuries ago,“ he replied instantly. “And yet, I can still find so many new things each day that I love about you,“ he continued quietly.

You swore your heart skipped a beat after he had confessed. You didn’t exactly know when, but some time between the five hundred years you had known the king, you had fallen in love with him. You never thought it would work out. After all, you were a lowly Silvan elf and he was king.

You stayed silent, as you did not trust your voice to work. The Elven King took your silence as a rejection, which caused him to start talking nonsense, something he did when he was nervous.

“It’s just, I don’t want you to get hurt. And when I saw you on the battlefield, I couldn’t help but feel worried for your safety,” he paused for a split second, before launching back into his speech. “Not that I doubted your capability to fight orcs. That was definitely not the reason. I was just scared that you would get injured. It was my worst fear, and here you are, lying in bed with a stab wound to your leg. It could have been so much worse if it had not been for your quick reflexes. You could have been killed for all I knew. And you could have suffered many more injuries and even elven medicine couldn’t have helped you. And then I’d be mourning your death, wondering how I could not have known what I had felt for you until now. I’d be regretting every single heartless move I had ever treated you with. But since you’re alive and you’re not dead, that means that you’re… not dead. And that makes my mind want to burst with all of the things that I want to tell you but can’t because I don’t know how to, and I definitely don’t know if you would want to hear it. And then I’d start wondering if you would ever know what I felt that time I saw you on the battlefield. You had looked so determined, although you had questioned the need for bloodshed. Determined to prove me wrong or to survive the battle, I did not know but I had never seen such a beautiful expression in my life. I was determined to protect you, but as soon as the battle started, you had been roped away from my gaze. I kept of glancing back but I did not see you until Rohan had come to our aid, and I was too late. You had been wounded, and the orc spear had been poisoned. You could have died that day, and it was something I did not believe would happen for a long time.“

All this, Thranduil had said with great haste, as if he had been trying to string all of the words of which he knew into a single sentence. You smiled at the king’s flustered face and took his hand gently in yours. He flinched at your touch and finally looked into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I know.”

You felt his fingers entwine with your own as he finally relaxed into your hold. He lay down beside you, resting his head softly against your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you cut me off?” he asked suddenly, looking up at you.

You cracked another wide smile. “I found it entertaining to count the minutes of which it took you to hold your breath,” you replied. “Three minutes is quite the record.”

Thranduil didn’t answer, but you could tell that he was smiling, even if it had been only a small one. In your hand, the pure white lily had begun to glow brightly.