Thranduil Imagines (The Hobbit)

TI- Imagine Thranduil being proud of your sword fighting

Imagine Thranduil being proud of your sword fighting

A sinister smile rested teasingly on his face as he stood tall with a body as big as an elf could get. Even given the differences between you and your opponent, you did not feel nervous. Height and weight did not matter in battle. Skill is what mattered, and you had plenty.

You moved swiftly to the left as he swung his arm around, bringing his sword inches from your face. Your opponent had moved too quickly, the force causing him to lose balance. You took the time to attack, though he blocked just in time.

You both circled the open field, eyeing each other, waiting for the other to swing again. You knew in the back of your mind that there were a lot of elves gathered around looking at both of you practice, but they seemed far away. All of your attention was on the elf-man who was now lifting his arm to take another swing. This time you blocked his sword with your own. You cursed under your breath. Instead of trying to block the blow, you should have dodged the impact.

The other elf was much stronger than you. You stood there for a while with little progress. Him trying to push his sword toward you and you trying to push the sword away. The weapon was now inches away from your throat, and you were about to give up when a thought occurred to you.

While the elf was busy looking at you, you swung your foot underneath him. Your opponent let out a startled yelp as he fell backward, landing hard on the ground. You stood over him breathing heavily.

The noise around you caught your attention, and that is when you finally noticed just how many elves had been watching. Everyone was cheering, and you began feeling a little shy. Just as quickly as they had begun their chanting, they became silent. Completely confused, you looked around to figure out why everyone had gone quiet. That is when you noticed your King walking toward the front of the crowd. The audience scurried to make room for him. He looked regal as a king does with his hands behind his back and his chin held high.

Something hard hit your legs and you flew forward. The sword flew out of your hands and you fell face first. Instinctively, you brought your hands forward which managed to keep your face from hitting the ground. You quickly rolled over to find that your opponent was hovering over you. He stabbed his sword on the ground next to your head.

"Dead," he said giving you smirk. The crowd began laughing causing a warmth to spread across your face from embarrassment. As quickly as you could, you got up and brushed the dirt off your tunic making sure to keep your eyes averted. That was until the crowd grew silent once more. The Elvenking stood with his palm raised in command.

"Why such commotion?" he asked in a loud voice. No one dared to answer.

"What is your name?" he questioned, looking directly at you. Your heart seemed to drop to the pit of your stomach all the while increasing in pace. Somehow you managed to do what the others could not and spoke.

"My name is Y/N," you squeaked.

"Y/N, I think you fought very well. I must say I am a proud King." His lips rose a little at the edges, but the gesture was quickly gone. "If you all had not noticed, Y/N had the upper-hand. My timing was not appropriate, if I had joined later, the laughter would have been directed toward Y/N's opponent," he said in a stern voice.

"My apologies," he added approaching you, his lips lifting into a small honest smile that caused your lips to form a similar one.

"I accept your apology," you answered in a voice that was surprisingly confident.

"Very well. I am not sure I would have been able to live with myself otherwise," he teased in a quiet voice that only you could hear. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he turned on his heels and left, leaving you wondering if you had just stepped out of a dream.