#IM in love

[coolestork]

Of Surprising Encounters

Rogal Dorn x Reader (Fluff)

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Description: Guilliman finds Dorn in an... Unusual scenario.

Note: some teeth rotting fluff for the soul. This idea popped into my head and I wanted to see it done so here it is. BONE APPLE TEETH!!

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The halls of the Imperial Palace were silent as Roboute Guilliman made his way toward Rogal Dorn’s quarters. His own business had concluded sooner than expected, leaving him with an uncharacteristic gap in his schedule—a rare opportunity to speak with his brother. He hadn’t seen Rogal in days, and he found himself wondering how his stern brother was faring under the relentless demands of fortifying Terra. A quick conversation, perhaps even over tea, might offer a brief respite for them both.

As he neared Dorn’s quarters, however, a strange sound reached his ears—one that was so unexpected he paused mid-step, a look of puzzlement crossing his features.

Laughter.

Guilliman narrowed his eyes, his mind already racing to account for such an occurrence. Rogal Dorn, laughing? The man who rarely allowed even a glimmer of amusement to touch his face? And it wasn’t a dismissive chuckle or a faint smirk, but the unmistakable, genuine laughter of his often-impervious brother.

He moved closer to the source, curiosity tugging him forward with each step. He reached a doorway that was half open and, after a moment’s hesitation, glanced inside.

There, in a secluded corner of the room, stood Rogal Dorn, his back half-turned to the door, speaking to someone—a human, Guilliman realized—a young woman who wore the austere garments of Dorn’s personal serfs. Her head was tilted up to look at him, her expression open and honest, a warmth in her gaze that Guilliman hadn’t expected.

Dorn’s laughter was already fading into an amused murmur as she spoke to him, her voice low and animated. “Well, my lord,” she was saying, a glimmer of boldness in her tone, “even if it isn’t exactly protocol, I hardly think the universe will come apart at the seams because you took an extra hour to rest.”

Rogal’s shoulders shook faintly with another rare chuckle as he looked down at her, a faint smile tugging at the usually stone-set corners of his mouth. “Careful, or I’ll put you to work fortifying the outer walls yourself,” he replied, but his voice held no malice. In fact, it sounded… lighter. Almost kind. “Let’s see how cavalier you are when you’re stacking stone.”

The serf’s eyes widened dramatically, then softened with a mock plea. “If it’s for you, my lord, I suppose I’d even take up a chisel and hammer.” She straightened, affecting a faux solemnity that made him chuckle again.

Guilliman felt his eyes widen slightly, a touch of shock filtering through his otherwise composed expression. He had always known Rogal Dorn as a paragon of composure, of discipline. He was as impassable as the fortifications he built, his loyalty and resolve as unbreakable as his stern demeanor.

This? This was a side Guilliman had never seen.

Uncharacteristically uncertain, Guilliman considered stepping back quietly and pretending he hadn’t seen them. But Rogal’s sharp instincts were not so easily circumvented; his head lifted, and he turned, catching sight of Guilliman lingering at the doorway. For a split second, his face fell back into its usual impassive look. Yet, something almost… hesitant remained in his gaze, as though the tender moment he’d shared with the young serf wasn’t something he was inclined to dismiss.

“Roboute,” he greeted, inclining his head in polite acknowledgment. His tone was as calm and composed as ever, but Guilliman didn’t miss the subtle tension that had crept back into his posture, like a soldier instinctively returning to his watch.

“Rogal,” Guilliman replied, struggling to mask his curiosity as he entered the room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was on my way to speak with you and—” He stopped, unsure of how to finish his sentence. And I overheard you laughing with a serf? Even for him, that sounded presumptuous.

Rogal’s eyes narrowed, catching the faintest flicker of amusement. “And found me neglecting my usual stern image?” he finished dryly. The hint of a smile remained in his eyes as he looked over at his serf, who was now observing the two Primarchs with an air of tentative curiosity, clearly uncertain if she should stay or leave.

The young woman bowed her head slightly, her voice a respectful murmur as she addressed Guilliman. “My Lord Guilliman. I apologize if I caused any disturbance.”

“Not at all,” Guilliman replied, still studying her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. She held herself with dignity, but he noticed a touch of warmth in her eyes that was far from the dutiful stoicism he usually expected from Dorn’s retainers. And what struck him most was the way Dorn regarded her—not with indulgence or aloofness, but with an unexpected respect that seemed to border on… fondness.

Rogal nodded toward her, a subtle yet protective gesture. “She’s my chief aide,” he said by way of explanation, though Guilliman hadn’t actually asked. “She insists on pushing the boundaries of propriety from time to time,” he added, his voice carrying a faintly amused grumble, as though he were resigned to her occasional audacity.

She smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth curving up as she glanced at him. “Only when you push yours, my lord,” she retorted softly, meeting his gaze with a trace of courage that took Guilliman aback.

Dorn’s eyes flashed, but he gave a slight nod. “She keeps my hours in order and my duties attended to. I would trust few others to speak as plainly.”

Guilliman observed this exchange, marveling at the subtle but undeniable ease that existed between them. “I admit, brother,” he said finally, his voice laced with a touch of incredulity, “I didn’t expect to find you in such… informal company.”

Rogal’s lips quirked briefly in a nearly imperceptible smile. “There is no threat to Terra in a few moments of levity, Roboute.”

“I see that,” Guilliman replied, watching the serf with a new sense of admiration. It took a rare spirit indeed to draw Dorn out of his self-imposed fortress of discipline, to coax laughter from him without compromising his principles. “It seems you’ve found a rare and valuable asset.”

Rogal inclined his head. “Indeed. Her efficiency speaks for itself. The rest…” He glanced at her briefly, an almost imperceptible warmth flickering in his gaze. “The rest is merely a… byproduct.”

Guilliman looked between the two, feeling the unspoken bond that filled the air like a quiet current, subtle yet deeply rooted. He could see that there was no act, no artifice here. Just a shared sense of purpose and, perhaps, something more.

Turning to her, he offered a courteous nod. “You serve well. It’s not every day my brother grants another the privilege of a… laugh.”

She dipped her head, a touch of a smile on her face. “Thank you, my lord. And if I may, I would like to keep this occasion in quiet confidence.”

Guilliman’s lips twitched with a faint smile of his own. “Very well. Let it be our secret.”

With that, he turned to Rogal once more, meeting his brother’s gaze with an understanding born of respect. “I’ll leave you to your company, then,” he said, his tone light.

“Thank you, Roboute,” Rogal replied, a faint nod of gratitude in his words.

Guilliman turned to go, but not before glancing back one last time. There was a warmth in the air he hadn’t expected, a quiet peace in Rogal’s usually impassive stance.

With a final nod, Guilliman left the room, feeling the faintest of smiles on his face as he walked away, carrying with him a newfound understanding of his brother and a memory he knew he would keep close in the days to come.

-

Note: isnt this cute!!1 Dorn laughing with a serf is such an abstract concept I had to bring it to life. anyway, what do yall weirdos think

[tldix]

being his controversially young gf could fix me

[pleaktale]

We don't talk enough about plaid Spider Punk.

from Lena Sayaphoum instagram

[minchanlove]

i want to give him all the love and happiness in the world 😭

[jhnmhm]

She was made for MEEEE in mind

[ja3yun]

lads, it is OVER for me, i've had such a good time, loved every minute of being alive but this is the end of me

[placeboelysium]

Posting this so I can say ... I need her so bad guys

[dangerous-curves-ahead]

Ashley Tervort Part 2

[rosesandalfazemas]

THE BRIT GANGSTERS

The LORD (England) The HIGH KING (N. Ireland) The SORCERER (Wales) The CHIEF OF THE CLAN (Scotland)

Source

[inkyquince]

Okay so maybe in just brain rotted... And I am BUT.

Love interests fucking GRABBING the dark urge for a kissy after the meeting with gortash. Man's turning up the rizz and flexing his stubble and eye bags and his anti-anxiety robe and his voice is low and seductive as he calls the durge an old *friend*.

Like, Karlach wouldn't even wait to be out of the room. Not even take a few steps away. Fully turn to you, grab you by the shoulders and fucking LIFT you up to plant a big smooch on you. Much to Gortash's bemusement and horror tbf. And the rest of the court's.

Gale would be more subtle, stepping close as you head towards the stairs and quickly press a kiss to your cheek with a soft smile. No way anyone would think it's a platonic look of adoration, even if his stomach is still twisting with the revelation that it was YOUR actions that led to this.

Astarion? Yeah, your conversation wouldn't have even ended before he's doing his slutty lil lean against you, resting his chin on your shoulder, still seemingly fully absorbed into the conversation. After it ends, he presses a kiss to your neck and idly follows after you, bemused by his own spark of annoyance at Gortash and his reaction to it. Mostly just exasperated by it though.

Wyll is filled with outrage for his father, for karlach and now for you. The implications seeped in Gortash's words and yet when you had joined up with the group, you had been left in the trash heaped, bloodied and stricken with amnesia. He's disgusted. So on the way out, he takes another look at his father and then slips his hands into yours. Raises it and gently kisses your knuckles on the way out. Even some of the court coo at the cute, gentlemanly gesture. Gortash looks mildly grossed out and Wyll takes that win, even with the prospect of meeting back up with Mizora in a few seconds.

Lae'zel would bare her teeth at him, smack his down and break his face in, if.... Well, if everything else wasn't going on right now, and it would upset the tin soldiers. So she settles for the next best thing, as resentment and possessiveness curl her tongue. Just gripping your waist and pulling you closer should do it. But she must add in a quick, harsh bite to your lower lip. Yknow, just in case.

Shadowheart? Gods, to make it clear, she's dying to press you against the wall and slide a thigh against your crotch, but yknow. Polite company. So instead she just slips her arm around yours, pulls you closer and whisper into your ear. Looks more salacious than it is, as she whispers that your past isn't who you are now and then drops a kiss to your earlobe. But it should to the trick.

Halsin isn't an envious creature. He really isn't. This man wouldn't care about your current other partners, so why should he care about past ones? Potential past parents, nonetheless. But, he'd never turn down the chance to pull his love close, especially in front of the man that caused all this trouble to begin with. Pull you close and tuck you into his side, maybe even kiss your temple.

Gortash? Gortash has missed his favourite assassin. He's waited for you, even with Orin hissing about your demise, and he never truly believed that such a piece of subpar, inbred Bhaalspawn could compare to you. The one who stole the Crown, the one who helped mastermind, the one who your father had chosen first. So what in the world was your little fan thinking? After a sweet, pleasant conversation, to start to paw at you? A fool no doubt. They might have gotten a few lovely weeks with you, but he had been with you for far longer, and he was finished waiting. No, he didn't see them being a problem.

[karo-li]

it took me sooo long to finally watch the owl house, but OH MY GOD. this is probably the best piece of media that could exist. we have such amazing representation there in, i think, everything and handled so respectfully. characters are so real and interesting. and lumity, gosh, lumity is such a sweet and beautiful ship 🥺

i even get an undercut hairstyle bc of amity hahah

[justawanderingfan]

YOU GET A CAT FRIEND

[cazmonaut]

is it madness?

[qqtape]

drew the woman i love

[spotlitehooker]

[mochi-marmalade]

The Love of the Princess

a/n: i stayed up until 2am writing this :') possibly one of my favorite works i've written?? the title is from a song i listened to while writing, very dreamy vibes. NOT proofread, might proofread later. BIG thankies to @lillisummers for the inspiration!! reader is the daughter of elrond & celebrían :)

Legolas x female elf reader

3.8k words

warnings: none i think....

“My dear, you look wonderful.” Lord Elrond, says as he places a gleaming silver circlet on your head. “Thank you, father.” You reply, smiling. Truthfully, you are hesitant and unsure of what the future holds for you. Soon you will be traveling to Mirkwood to meet your betrothed, away from your family and the place you have called home your entire life. 

A short time ago, your father brought you on business for a diplomatic meeting with King Thranduil. While there, you slipped away to explore. Though you had been in forests before, Mirkwood had a certain air about it, veiled in mystique. “You,” A voice cut through the silence. “I have not seen you before.” You turn around and come face to face with a pale elf. He is fair as the moon and moves nimbly as he walks towards you. “I am the Lady of Rivendell, daughter of Lord Elrond.” He looks you up and down, then slowly nods. “Where is your father?”

“He is… Meeting with King Thranduil.”

The blond elf cocks an eyebrow, wondering aloud, “Should you not join him?”

“I am on my own business to meet handsome strangers.”

He smiles and asks in a sing-song voice, “Is that so?”

You return his smile, but before you can ask him for his name, another voice echoes through the trees. “Your father calls, my lady.” You look between the elf and the passageway to the Elvenking’s Halls, and he dips his head to bid you goodbye. “Farewell, fair sir.” You say before hurrying away. Thankfully, you received only a light reprimanding from your father for sneaking away that day. 

Perhaps life in Mirkwood wouldn’t be so bad, if only you could see that elf again. Then you remember that you are already meeting none other than Legolas, son of Thranduil, and it would be most inappropriate to have relations with others. You hope Legolas is a kind, reasonable person- you don’t even know what he looks like! However, if your father suggested you marry him, then Legolas must be an honorable elf. “We must go.” Your father states. Soon, you are on your horse, traveling once again to Mirkwood for a feast. Here you will meet Legolas. 

After nearly two weeks’ journey, you arrive at Mirkwood. Though it is nearly midnight, you are greeted by the King’s stewards, who lead you to the chambers you will sleep in during your visit. You thank them and quickly close the doors behind them. After a few moments, you decide that the halls are empty enough to quietly creep out of your chambers. You take the same path that you found the elf on during your last visit, hoping to see him one last time. “My lady, it is hardly safe to be away from the Elvenking’s Halls at this hour.” You know that voice. You swivel around to find the stranger smiling from behind you. “It’s you.” Your worried face morphs into a grin, and you step towards him. “I was hoping I might see you.” You tell him.

“Oh? And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I… I am here to meet King Thranduil’s son. My father and the king have agreed a marriage would be most practical, so we are to meet tomorrow before the feast.”

It doesn’t take long for the elf in front of you to notice your troubled demeanor. He places a hand on yours, and reassures you, “Do not fret, my lady. I think the prince will take a liking to you.” “Do you know him?” You wonder. He chuckles and mutters, “You could say that.” 

“What is he like?”

He looks up at you confused, as if the question was completely surprising. “Well, let’s see,” He begins. “Our prince is a skilled bowman, very attractive, loyal beyond compare, wise, and personable.” You suppress a laugh, and share, “It almost sounds as if you should be the one marrying him.” His eyes widen and he laughs, a sound that rings like chimes in the wind. “I think not.” He says matter-of-factly. You smiled amusedly before yawning. He advises, “I should think it is time for you to retire to your chambers.” “I suppose you are correct.” You agree.

“Shall I escort you?” 

“I would like that very much.” 

You hook your arm in his and he takes you through the great halls to your room. You release your arm and he says, “This is where I bid you goodnight.” You press a kiss to his cheek, and say, “Goodnight.” You hope for the sake of your arrangement that this is the last time you’ll see him, but at the same time, you hope your paths will cross again. You settle on your bed and drift into sleep.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ☼ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The next morning, you are awakened by elven servants. They bring you food, draw you a bath, and lay out your clothes. After preparing for the day, your father comes to collect you and take you to King Thranduil’s throne room. Lord Elrond seems to sense your anxiety, murmuring, “Do not worry, child. I will be here with you the entire time.” His words soothe you a bit, and you swallow thickly as you near the throne room. Lord Elrond announces your presence as the two of you enter, and King Thranduil eyes you from his seat. The blond elf from your encounter last night is present as well, perplexing you greatly. Perhaps he is a servant, a guard, or a steward of the king. Thranduil rises, beckoning to the elf and declaring, “This is my son, Legolas.” “You are Legolas?” You ask, shocked. He bows his head in respect, saying, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.” For a moment, you are speechless, but you manage to respond, “As am I.” Legolas takes your hand and asks you if you’d like to walk. You nod and he asks your father, “May I?” Lord Elrond and King Thranduil both look puzzled, but Elrond responds, “You may.” With that, you and Legolas take your leave, walking out of the grand room and into the halls. Once you are out of earshot, you retract your hand and turn to Legolas. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! This entire time… You played me for a fool.” He reaches for your hand again, explaining, “No, I don’t think you’re a fool and I didn’t mean to lead you on. My intentions are honest, and I meant to tell you my identity, I swear. Once it became apparent I needed to tell you, I just didn’t know how. You seemed so interested in me, I was afraid you might change your mind if you knew.” You look at him, still hurt and reassured at the same time. “Legolas, you should have said something. I don’t care if you’re the prince. Even if you were the king, my feelings would not change.” You allow him to hold your hands and he lifts one to press a kiss against your knuckles. “I am glad. I look forward to getting to know you better.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks. You spend the day with Legolas and you find he is everything you had hoped he would be- and more. “The time of the feast approaches, shall we return?” He asks. You tell him, “The feast is for us, is it not? Could you imagine a feast without its honored guests? I think we must go… Unless we convince others we are already there by replacing ourselves with remarkably lifelike replicas.” He laughs, then places a hand on the small of your back to lead you to the mead hall. The feast is merry and all who attend appear jovial. There are many elves dancing and singing and, of course, eating. You can’t help but look at the attendees and smile, as if the cheer were contagious. Legolas comes up behind you and notes your smile, asking, “Are you enjoying yourself?” 

“Yes, very much. I have never attended a feast in Mirkwood before.”

“Is it everything you had imagined?”

“That and more.”

He places a hand on your shoulder and draws you near. His heart warms at the way you look up at him, mirthful and kind. As each moment passes, he can almost feel his affection for you growing. “Legolas, would you like to dance?” He raises his eyebrows at the unexpected question, but before he can answer, you take his hand and drag him into the middle of the floor. Laughing, you take his hands and whirl to the sound of the music. He can’t help but watch the way your dress flows and how happy you look to be here. Heavens, the look on your face- he could stare at you forever if you’d let him. The two of you dance for a while, then take a break to drink and converse. You look at Legolas’s flushed face and can’t help but ask, “Are you liking the feast?” “Yes,” He replies. “Truthfully, there are very few times I’ve had more fun.” You beam at him and tell him you are very glad. He murmurs, “Come, I should like to show you something.” You both steal away from the feast and you follow Legolas until you come to the large doors that lead to the rest of Mirkwood. “Legolas, we shouldn’t.” You warn. 

“Do not worry. It will be worth it.”

You creep past the doors and run into the woods together, where he signals you to stay close to him. He says, “I know these woods well, but there is no doubt that danger lurks hidden from sight.” You are no fighter, versed only in combat with weapons. Here, however, you have no bow nor any sabre. Legolas looks back at you and it’s as if he read your mind. “I do not leave the halls without a weapon. I will make sure no harm comes to you.” He says, spinning a small blade in his hand. He begins to climb a tree, and, though you are wearing a particularly elaborate dress, you follow suit. Once you reach the top, you draw in a sharp breath. Naturally, you have seen the night sky innumerable times, but it still leaves you awe-stricken. “Gil-Estel,” You say breathlessly. “It is so bright.” You examine the dark blanket of the sky, peppered with glittering stars. Turning to Legolas, you can’t help but tell him, “It is beautiful. Thank you.” He gazes at you with such tenderness, you wish that he may be yours for a short while. Even if just for this night, you wish that he will stay by your side and grace you once more with his smile. You tell him, “I made a wish.”

“What?”

“I have heard that some men make wishes to the stars. I am not certain of the merit of this belief, but I made a wish myself just now.”

“I see. I only wish that I may be worthy of you one day.”

His response leaves you silent. You want to say, “Oh, Legolas, hûn nín, you already are.” But you cannot speak. His eloquence and timing leaves you dumbstruck every time without fail. His expression is unreadable, and you’re afraid he might think you don’t care for him in the same manner. Just when you open your mouth to speak, he says, “We should return. Too much time has already passed.” Trying to conceal your disappointment, you agree and climb to the ground. He helps you slink back into the mead hall unnoticed, and doesn’t stray far from you for the rest of the night. As the sun rises, elves begin to filter out of the hall one by one. Legolas is talking to King Thranduil, when your father says, “I hope you enjoyed your escapade.” You look at him embarrassedly, and he asks, “Did you think I would not notice? I admit, I still worry for you as if you were a small child, feeling the need to guide your every step. However, I have trust that you are capable of making wise decisions. I only hope that you will be happy.” You tell him, “I am very happy. Legolas is a good man.” Lord Elrond smiles and walks away as Legolas returns to you. “Are you fatigued at all? Do you wish to rest?” He asks. You laugh, “No, Legolas, I feel quite alright.”

“Your hair… It must have come undone in the woods.”

You touch the back of your head to feel that your braids either have unwinded or are tangled. “Would you help me with it?” You ask. Legolas looks at you wide eyed. “Me…? Are you sure?” He questions. You consider it for a brief moment- are you certain you want to take that big a step? When you look at him, though, your concerns melt away. You trust him, wholly and completely. “Yes.” With your answer, Legolas brings you to your chambers and has you sit at the vanity. His fingers are hesitant and hover over your hair for a moment before he deftly begins to detangle your tresses. His fingers are slightly cold, but it doesn’t bother you. He works quickly and skillfully, neatly setting your hair into pleats. You can’t tell exactly how many pins he uses to secure your hair in place, but his gentle hands make them nearly unnoticeable. After a short while, he proudly declares, “I am finished. You may now tell your friends that your hair was pleated by a master.” “Oh, really? A master?” You quip. He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help but laugh. Your smile slowly fades as you realize you must leave within the next few days. “Is something the matter?” Legolas asks sweetly. 

“I must leave soon.”

“Don’t go.” He urges.

“I cannot stay here. I must go home.” 

“Must you?”

“Legolas, I… It is hardly appropriate to stay with you given the circumstances.”

“Then I shall ask to court you.” 

Again, you are taken aback. Legolas, though not always reserved, is acting uncharacteristically bold. You feel his forehead, wondering, “Are you sick?” He huffs in amusement, but takes your hand from his forehead and quickly regains his serious look. “I am being sincere. I would like to stay with you longer.” He says. Your head is swimming with thoughts of him, and your heart is racing in excitement. He calls your name softly, and you bring your gaze to him. He looks earnest, nervous, and enthusiastic all at once. “I would like nothing more.” You answer. He laughs and embraces you, his warmth enveloping you. It is caring, inviting, comfortable and unlike anything you have ever experienced. He lets go and straightens his tunic, uttering, “I do not know what came over me. I apologize if I was too forward.”  You hold his hand, telling him, “Legolas, it is okay. I am happy too.” He grins and ushers you to follow him to ask your father. Lord Elrond looks surprised, but grants Legolas permission nonetheless. King Thranduil’s face is unreadable as ever, but he does not object, which you suppose is good. Your father then takes you aside to speak, saying, “I did not expect to return to Rivendell without you.”

“I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, I only mean that your presence will be missed.”

Tears well in your eyes as you realize you do not know when your next visit to Rivendell will be. “Do not cry,” Lord Elrond says softly. “Your journey has only begun. Your family will be ready should you need us.” You nod, suppressing tears. “And,” He adds, peering at Legolas. “You are not alone.” You turn to see Legolas waiting for you beyond the large doorway. “Thank you, father.” You give him one last embrace, and Legolas joins you to see him off. As you watch the horses gallop away, you sigh deeply. Your life will be different from now on, but you’re glad. 

°•. ✿ .•°

You spend much of your time with Legolas, and he quickly learns that you are a woman of many interests. You are skilled with both a bow and a sabre, your fingers move expertly to weave baskets and plait hair, and you enjoy several forms of visual art. He praises your abilities- you are multifaceted and so resolute in your beliefs. He goes so far as to request paper and a utensil as a means for you to draw. Day by day, you explore with Legolas and occasionally stop to sketch the scenery or a species you may have never seen before. During these times, Legolas likes to watch you with deep admiration. Your reverence and appreciation for nature are other things he likes about you. Being the simple creature you are, you find solace just being with Legolas. He provides comfort and care you didn’t know you could have. 

Then, perhaps months later, Legolas is called to Rivendell. “I must go.” He states apologetically. “Take me with you.” You plead. 

“The journey will be dangerous. I do not wish to place you in peril’s way.”

“Legolas, you know I can hold my own.”

He seems to consider it for a moment, but concedes, “I feel you will be safer here with my father and the guard.” “Legolas, who better to ensure my safety than you?” You reason. That seems to have been more effective, as he sighs weakly before saying, “Fine. You may come with me, but we must return to Mirkwood.” You agree, and he hastily prepares extra supplies. King Thranduil emerges, but only to stare at the two of you coldly as you venture into the distance. 

Traveling with Legolas is like a dream. Both of you are often alone in Mirkwood, but there is something to be said about journeying with him. It is truly just the two of you, with no chambers to return to at the end of the day and nothing keeping you confined within one area. You banter with Legolas often during the trek to Rivendell, and at night you bring your head to his chest. You gaze at the stars together as you did that night many moons ago, and you slumber peacefully drawn close to Legolas. He offers you lembas, which you graciously accept each time, and is careful to wipe away any crumbs left on your face. You almost prefer this life to the one in Mirkwood, but it is cut short when you finally arrive in Rivendell.

Your father greets Legolas at the entrance to the great valley and is especially glad to see you. “My dear, it is always a delight. I would talk with you longer, were it not for a pressing situation.” “Yes,” Legolas begins. “I offer my deepest apologies to you.” Lord Elrond looks at him for a moment, then begins, “Oh, no, it is not that. There is… something else that has come up.” You and Legolas look at each other with confusion on your faces, but Lord Elrond is already bringing Legolas further into Rivendell. “Am I not to come?” You ask, feeling a bit dejected. Father turns to you, and says, “My daughter, you must not attend this meeting. I apologize but the magnitude of this is far too great; it will not be safe for you.” You nod your head slowly, and make your way to your sister’s quarters. Arwen embraces you with a wide smile, and you each share what has happened in your lives since you last met. Eventually, your father returns and informs you that you may want to speak with Legolas. You look between Lord Elrond and Arwen worriedly at first, then heed your father’s suggestion. You arrive outside and there are several strange men gathered near the entrance of Rivendell. Legolas turns to greet you and, for the first time, you can see fear on his face. “What ails you?” You ask him as you rush to meet him. “I have been appointed to a task, which will be great in time and distance. It will be treacherous and… I fear I may never see you again.” He explains. “Do not say that. You are steadfast, both in will and in strength. I am sure we will meet again.” You try to convince him. He nods and holds your face in his hands, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Meleth nín.” He mutters, still holding your face so you cannot see him. Carefully, you raise your head to meet his eyes, and say, “I love you.” You can see in his eyes he is unbearably upset, as if he cannot bear to leave you. “Go. I will wait here.” With those words, he turns and leaves.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

It is many months before you see Legolas again. You see your people leave, and it pains you to watch the very life of Rivendell leave the place you once called home. Arwen and your father spend many moments together, discussing something that is beyond your knowledge. However, they also spend many moments attempting to comfort you. You have faith that Legolas will return, so you wait patiently, always watching the horizon for his lean figure. It isn’t until you travel to Minas Tirith with your father and sister that you finally see Legolas again. Arwen weds Aragorn in what seems to be a human ceremony. There you see him: Legolas, casually conversing with some people that you think you saw him set out from Rivendell with. The stout dwarf next to him sees you approaching first and gently elbows Legolas. He looks up, and with a grin opens his arms to greet you. Breaking into a trot, you launch yourself into his arms and he wraps his arms around you in a tight hold. “Legolas…” You sob softly. He quickly leans back to brush your tears away, saying, “None of that, love. I’m here now.” He holds you to his chest pressing kiss upon kiss to the crown of your head. “My lady.” The dwarf grunts, bowing slightly to you. Then he turns to Legolas to ask, “Is this…?” Legolas laughs, “Yes, this is her.” You sigh at the feeling of being in Legolas’s arms again, but you are interrupted by Legolas saying, “Actually, I have something.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a silver ring. “Legolas…” You gasp, eyes welling with tears once again. You nod your head vehemently, and Legolas slips the ring on your right index finger. Legolas doesn’t waste any time kissing you, in response to which you place a hand on either side of his face. When you pull away, tears of joy stream down your cheeks. “What’re you making her cry for now?!” Gimli reprimands Legolas. The elf simply replies with a smirk, “Gimli, have you ever been to an elven wedding?”