#Legolas fanfic

[entishramblings]

Haunting Me

[Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: I have been struggling to write (like usual), so I figured I would whip out a no pressure Legolas fic. ANYWAYS, I strangely loved writing this!!! Thanks for the request XOXO

Request: @goose-gremlin — “Could you maybe do a Legolas x Reader on their period?”

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is a member of Greenwood's Guard and is struggling with menstrual/period pain. Legolas takes care of her.

Disclaimer: I don't know elvish. I use the gracious elvish dictionary. Sue me lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: blood, menstruation/period, pain, PMS, slight nakedness (not anything spicy you filthy fools), fluff, sweet precious elf boy

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

(Y/N)’s nose twitched, the pungent, musty scent of the incoming vile beasts invaded the fresh earthy tones of the Greenwood forest. Her keen ears picked up on subtle scurrying, the sound carried by the drift of the soft wind. Her jaw clenched and her fingers adjusted the grasp of her sword as she felt the aura of the trees shift—a surge of adrenaline fueling her anxiety, worsening the pain in her abdomen. Briefly locking eyes with the other elves in her sector, spread among the trees alert and ready, she knew their moment of action was imminent.

(Y/N) summoned the little energy she had through a deep inhale, praying to the Valar that these spiders wouldn't be in such a frenzied state. Because, if so, fuck that. For at the present moment in time, she really didn't have the capacity to deal with that absolute, motherfucking horseshit.

Because, truly, getting killed due to slowness from fatigue and cramps from one’s bloodmoon cycle would be rather unfortunate and deeply regrettable. However, facing expulsion from the guard and losing her reputation as one of the hand-picked defenders of the royal line because of it would be even worse.

(Y/N)’s gaze narrowed as Prince Legolas, leader of the Greenwood Guard, raised a closed fist.

Nêl (Three).

Tâd (Two).

Mîn (One).

He opened his palm, signaling the command: Kill them. Kill them all.

With a firm thud, (Y/N)'s boots landed on the soft soil as she sprung from the trees. She was quick with her blade, hunting the spiders as if they were meaningless prey. Her weapon was an extension of her form. Every movement was fluid and graceful, a testament to her mastery of combat. Despite her pain, she spun and twisted with ease, severing the arachnids' limbs effortlessly.

As she fought, she made sure to keep an eye on the Prince, knowing that if anything were to happen to Legolas under her watch, the king would surely banish her. Besides, she harbored no desire for him to meet his demise. She found him rather…admirable. Nothing more than that—of course not.

As (Y/N) advanced upon one of the vile beasts, her senses tingled with warning. Abruptly, she halted in her tracks, narrowly dodging an arrow that whizzed past her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her head to see just who fired that arrow. A scoff escaped her lips as she locked eyes with him: Rekón.

When the battle came to an end, (Y/N) strutted towards Rekón, who was wiping the edge of his blade upon his thigh.

“What the hell was that out there?!” She snapped at him.

“What is it you speak of?”

“You nearly put an arrow in me!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, you should have been faster, Shadowfoot.”

She scoffed at Greenwood’s nickname for her. “You're lucky I am fast. I can assume you don’t want elven blood on your hands—especially my blood.

He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Don’t exaggerate, (Y/N). It’s unbecoming. Besides,” he leaned in and his voice lowered, taking on a snarky tone, “I don't care if you're handpicked by the King to be the Prince’s shadow, you're a pain in the ass.”

“Really, Otuuk Fe`Saign (warg kisser)?! I could have you and your ass in the mud faster than you could say—”

The rather tense interaction was interrupted by Legolas clearing his throat beside the pair. “What is going on over here?” he demanded.

(Y/N) huffed, not taking her eyes off the man before her. “Rekón here nearly redecorated my abdomen with a fucking arrow!”

The Prince sighed. “You know we can’t always calculate every motion on the battlefield, (Y/N). I am sure Rekón meant no harm.” He paused, turning his attention to the ellon. “Rekón, in the future, mind your arrows.”

“That’s the reprimand he gets?! Are you fu—“

Legolas looked at the elleth. “Watch your language, Shadowfoot. I expect this attitude to be gone by the time we enter my father’s halls.”

With that, Legolas walked away, calling out orders to burn the spider carcasses and move out.

As he disappeared into the mess of elves, (Y/N)’s brows pulled downward in a grumpy frown. “Princeling Ass,” she murmured to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, as she turned away, Legolas' gaze followed her, seeking out her form and lingering as she walked away.

….

The sun had not yet risen when the Prince’s sector of the Greenwood Guard arrived back in the Palace. The warriors dispersed into the armory, diligently stowing their weapons and armor in their designated places. (Y/N), however, did no such thing. Instead, with a persistent scowl etched on her face, she marched through the room and passed through the arched exit of the armory—presumably heading towards her chambers. Legolas's gaze tracked her suspiciously as she departed.

As the day progressed, the members of the Prince’s sector resumed their usual routines. Because it was their first day back from patrol, they were exempt from basic guard duties and standard positions. Instead, they utilized the early hours of the morning to bathe and rejuvenate themselves before gathering in the dining hall for breakfast. The remainder of the day was theirs to unwind and compile their patrol reports—the King sought to stay informed about all occurrences and perspectives during patrols, for a darkness seemed to be spreading among his trees.

At supper, Legolas moved among the tables in the dining hall, gathering last-minute reports from the warriors in his sector. As he did so, he scanned the long wooden benches, searching for the scowling gaze that had accompanied the last couple of days of patrol; however, there was no such gaze and no such person that it belonged to. Simply put, there was no sign of (Y/N).

She had missed all three meals and had failed to submit her patrol report.

Legolas cleared his throat before he addressed the elves from whom he was collecting papers. “Have you seen Shadowfoot? I need her report,” he inquired.

They shook their heads, more interested in their food than one missing shadow.

Legolas sighed, but refrained from pressing further. If anyone knew her whereabouts, they would have mentioned it.

Therefore, he made his way to her quarters.

When he arrived, he knocked softly on the door, but was met with silence.

"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice carrying through the wooden barrier.

Still, there was no response.

After a moment’s hesitation, Legolas reached for the door knob and twisted it slowly. The wood swung open quietly under his touch, exposing the darkness of the room beyond. Moonlight filtered in through the opened window, casting shadows that danced across the floor, the curtains billowing gently in the cold night air.

Legolas carefully stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. As he took in his surroundings further, surprise crossed his features. He didn't know what he had been expecting since he hadn't been in (Y/N)’s quarters, but it most certainly was not this.

The room was a complete mess. Clothing lay strewn about, along with various trinkets—small hand-carved boxes, beautiful natural rocks, and melted candles absent of flame. Several stacks of books were piled beside the bed, a few of them open and their pages still. Her weapons were scattered haphazardly, some resting on the floor, others on the table or atop the dresser. Legolas even noticed a few knives embedded into the wooden door—a sight that would surely displease Ada.

It was chaotic but calm in a sort of strange way. Typical for (Y/N), he supposed.

The Prince moved to walk further into the room, but was quickly halted against his will. His foot had gotten caught and, if it wasn't for his swift reflexes, he would have face-planted upon the stone flooring.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath as he stabilized his form. Glancing down, he discovered the culprit—a crumpled tunic tangled around his boot, its fabric caught between the lacings.

He immediately sighed in dismay.

The blond-haired Prince reached down to untangle the stubborn garment. It proved to be a more challenging task than he had anticipated, requiring a few moments of quiet curses and annoyed grunts before he managed to free himself. Carefully, he folded the fabric and placed it upon a nearby chair.

Cautiously, he advanced to the large bed. At first, he could not spot the warrior within, given that the fluffy comforter and mountain of pillows were blocking his view. However, when he pulled back the blankets slightly, sure enough, she was buried deep within. The pillows were arranged around her like a protective nest and she was laying on her side. Her hair was splattered across the cushioned fabric and her expression was…one of pain. Her brows were pulled tight, her nose crinkled, and lips slightly parted.

At this, Legolas frowned, for he was now troubled deeply.

Diligently, the Prince reached out to brush some hair from her face, but just as his fingers made contact with her cheek, his action was interrupted.

(Y/N) suddenly sat up, a knife in hand. With wild eyes, she tried to slam it into his carotid artery.

He reacted quickly, Legolas intercepted her arm, preventing the blade from reaching its target. For a moment, they both froze in that tense position, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they processed what was happening.

(Y/N) was breathing quickly and she appeared very disheveled and confused. It seemed to take her a moment longer to grasp the situation fully.

"Jukkete (fuck)," she breathed out, trying to catch her breath before snapping at him. "Legolas, I almost killed you!"

The Prince still held her wrist. “(Y/N),” he began, “Are you alright?”

She huffed. "You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Princeling!" With a sharp twist, she pulled away from his grasp and settled back into the blankets. “What are you doing here?”

He raised his brows. “Princeling?” he questioned, a hint of amusement in his tone.

(Y/N) only grunted in response.

He sighed. “No one has seen you all day and—“ his sentence abruptly halted as he noticed a red stain upon the comforter. “(Y/N), you are bleeding!” He exclaimed. Without hesitation, he grasped at the blankets, in an attempt to detangle her form from them, as he continued his babbling of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured on patrol?!”

“Legolas,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

“Is it from Rekón’s arrow?! I thought you said he ‘nearly’ hit you?”

“Legolas,” she tried again.

He yanked the blanket further.” Because I swear to the Valar if it was from him, I will—“

“Legolas! Stop!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not injured.”

His jaw clenched in frustration. “(Y/N), I have been a warrior for all my life, I know the site of blood. That is blood. You cannot lie to me. I am your sector leader, your Prince—“

“Legolas! It’s my bloodmoon cycle!” she interrupted, sitting up to glare at him once more.

An awkward silence settled into the dark room.

“You are in pain,” he stated.

“I’m fine.”

His brows raised again. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you're a princeling ass,” she retorted.

“No. Because for the last three days of patrol, your demeanor has been notably irritable, as you are now. You've been favoring your left side, your jaw has remained tightly clenched, and your skin a shade too pale. Not to mention, you've consistently had your hand on your hip, I'm assuming in an attempt to try and alleviate discomfort, and you even vomited behind a tree on two occasions. And, here you are, Shadowfoot, in bed, sleeping the day away in dirty clothes and not caring that you lay in blood.” He paused before finalizing his evidence. “You are in pain.”

“You have been spying on me?! I am supposed to be your shadow.”

“I have been keeping an eye on you,” he clarified.

“Why?!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because you are a member of my sector. You are my responsibility.”

“You are my responsibility,” she corrected.

He released hot air from his nose. “I am required to keep an eye on all of my warriors, whether they were hand-picked to guard me or not.”

(Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “Did you know Sethna took a pretty nasty hit to her leg?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he gruffed.

“Legolas, did you know about it or not?”

A rather long moment of silence extended into the night before the Prince reluctantly responded in a low tone. “No.”

“Then you don't watch every warrior like you watch me.”

He inhaled slowly, trying to steer the conversation away from what (Y/N) was insinuating. “Is Sethna alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Legolas nodded slowly, before returning to the main topic. “Why didn't you tell me you were in pain while on patrol?”

She rolled her eyes before muttering his name. “Legolas.”

“Why haven't you seen a healer?” he persisted.

She exhaled slowly, knowing Legolas wasn't going to let this go. “Because the healers document everything, and those records get attached to evaluations.”

“So?”

“So, I would be dismissed from the guard and relieved of my position!” she snapped.

He snorted lightly. “You would not be dismissed from the guard nor relieved of your position.”

“Others have gotten so for far less!”

Surprising her, his normally collected tone turned into a rough reply. “That doesn't mean that you would have!”

She frowned, her once loud voice now subdued. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He sent her a warning look, his eyes cautioning her against probing further.

Silence reigned for a third time that night before Legolas spoke softly. “Rest. I will draw you a bath.”

“Princeling, I do not need you to draw me a bath. I do not need a bath at all. Like I said, I am fine.”

He shook his head. “You are in pain. Let me help you.”

“Legolas–”

He cut her off. “(Y/N), do not try to argue with me on this. That is an order. Shadow or not, I am your superior and you will listen.”

With that, he stood and made his way into the bathing chambers, leaving the elleth alone with her thoughts.

She let out a slow, contemplative exhale before sinking back into the embrace of the bed once more. Lost in a haze of exhaustion, she must have drifted into a brief slumber, for it was only moments later that Legolas returned, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears. “(Y/N),” he urged softly. “Come. The water is hot. It will alleviate your pain.”

Groggily, she opened her eyes, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow.

“Come,” he repeated.

Gradually, she sat upwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, praying to the Valar for the pain to settle.

“If the pain is too much, I can carry you,” Legolas offered in a gentle tone.

She scoffed, her eyes opening to glare at him. “I can manage on my own.”

With that declaration, (Y/N) stood up and took a few cautious steps forward. But before she could proceed further, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the agony surged through her body, causing her to double over.

A comforting warmth enveloped her lower back as Legolas placed a reassuring hand there. He remained silent, respecting her pace and refraining from pressing his earlier offer.

A small whimper escaped her lips, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.

Legolas’ hand began to move in soft circles. “It will pass, Shadowfoot. I am here,” he whispered.

Slowly, she resumed her movement, inching her way towards the bathroom. Upon reaching the basin's edge, she gripped onto the sides tightly. She squeezed her lids shut once more, focusing on her breath.

Standing only inches behind her, Legolas spoke softly. “(Y/N), please, will you let me assist you? I hate to see you suffer.”

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly debating his offer. After a moment of contemplation, she relented. “Fine,” she stated, “but if you breathe a word of this—”

“I will not say a thing. I swear it,” he assured.

She nodded, accepting his promise.

“Let's get you undressed and in the bath then.”

With caution, his nimble fingers found the hem of her tunic and began to lift it over her head. Ensuring her stability by placing one hand gently on her hip, he then carefully guided her trousers downward, assisting her as she stepped out of them. Shaking slightly, she lifted each foot into the tub, one at a time, as the Prince's firm hand remained securely on her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself into the water, his touch barely trailing up her back as she descended. Her eyes closed and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, settling into the soothing heat of the water.

Legolas cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will just be in the other room. Call out if you need me.”

She simply hummed in response.

The Prince swiftly left the bathing room, making his way to the door leading to the hallway. Peering out, he caught sight of a maid. He called out to her and motioned for her to approach.

“Yes, my lord?” she inquired politely.

“I need you to fetch a new set of bedding and obtain the following herbs: valerian, boswellia, and athelas,” he instructed.

She nodded in understanding.

“And please, keep it discreet. I have an injured warrior in here who wishes for the injury to remain quiet.”

The maid nodded once more before hurrying off to fulfill his requests.

Legolas returned to the room, feeling the cool breeze from the open window once more. With determined strides, he crossed the space and closed it firmly, halting the chill from entering any longer. He then took to light some of the candles, casting a warm glow within the room before moving to the empty fireplace. He quickly grabbed kindling and wood from the basket beside the silent hearth, setting to task. Before long, the flames crackled loudly among the stone, radiating a comforting warmth that dispelled the lingering chill.

It was then when the maid entered, a large basket brimming with fluffy fabric in her arms. Placing it beside the bed, she then retrieved a pouch from the top. Approaching the Prince, she bowed her head. “The herbs you asked for, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting them graciously.

The maid took to changing the sheets, making no mention of the blood. Legolas cleared a space upon the table in (Y/N)’s room. Placing a cast iron pot—one of which was kept in each room—over the now vibrant flames, he filled it with water from a pitcher. As the water began to boil, he used a small bowl to grind the fresh herbs into a paste with a pestle. Once sufficiently smashed, he ladled some of the boiling water over it and allowed the mixture of herbs to steep, filling the air with its earthy aroma.

The maid, having finished her task of making the bed and straightening up, bid an awkward farewell to the Prince before exiting the room.

Legolas sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the table, his ears attuned to any sounds from (Y/N)'s direction—just in case.

Nearly 45 minutes passed before she emerged from the bathroom. She was clothed in soft trousers and a loose top that hung off her shoulder, her hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, breaking the quietness of the night.

She turned her head towards him. “You are still here?” Her gaze swept across the room, trailing off as she took in the sight of the lit candles, crackling fire, and fresh bedding.

Abandoning the chair, he approached her and gently put his hand upon her bicep. “How is the pain, (Y/N)?”

As if suddenly drawn from her thoughts, she registered that he was indeed beside her. “I, uh, it has lessened a bit.”

He nodded, guiding her to the bed. Pulling back the clean sheets, he motioned for her to get in. Surprisingly, she complied, settling into the comfort of the fresh lavender scent emanating from the blankets and pillows.

Legolas briefly left her side before returning with a cup of tea, mixed from the healing herbs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifted the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip. “Drink this. It will help.”

The steam kissed her face as she took the cup from him. As she drank, the warm liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach, providing instant comfort. When she finished, she passed the cup back to him. “How do you know how to make such a tonic?”

The Prince placed the cup upon the side table. “My father used to care for my mother during her bloodmoon cycle, before she passed from this world. She too had excruciating pain. He taught me the right herbs to mix, the benefits of heat, and—” he paused, his hand moving to her lower back, where he began to massage lightly. “—what points to press to alleviate pain.”

She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“He had said, ‘One day, you will have a wife who too suffers such pain. This you must learn for her.’ And I listened.”

(Y/N) did not open her eyes. “I am not your wife.”

Before he could stop himself, his lips betrayed his secrets. “You could be.”

At this, she opened one eye, as if she was trying to subtly evaluate what his words meant based on his body language. Sensing the sincerity upon his expression, her other eye opened too. She put her full attention on him. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, the tips of his elvish ears reddening, though the warm glow of the fire hid his embarrassment. He turned his head away. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I—I didn't mean to be so…so forward.” He hesitated, then looked back at her, seeing her flabbergasted expression. “I–I suppose there is no hiding it now. The reason I keep such close watch over you is because my heart won't let me do otherwise. I fear, well, I fear that you are not just a shadow following my path.” He exhaled softly. “(Y/N), you haunt me in the most beautiful way.”

She shifted from the pillows, drawing closer until her face was mere inches from Legolas’. “You–you care for me?” she whispered.

His hand tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft motion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

“Legolas,” she whispered. “Your father did not assign me to your sector. I was supposed to be appointed to protect him. I—I requested to be assigned to you.”

The Prince’s gaze met hers. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“Because you too have been haunting me.”

Legolas wasted no time. He pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss and she responded eagerly. She tasted of herbal tea and hope, while he tasted of honey and peace. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers found their way to the back of his neck, fingers entwining in his hair. The scent of fresh lavender surrounded her, mingling with the aroma of pine that clung to him. In their embrace, their minds intertwined, both haunted by the other's presence—in the most beautiful way.

Slowly, they parted. Legolas pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before speaking softly. "Lay down. Rest. I will watch over you."

She looked up at him. “Won't you lay with me? I am cold.”

He snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like the stem of a flower being plucked from a spring meadow. “You only want me to alleviate your pain, don't you?”

She grinned back at him. “Perhaps, Princeling. Though, I did not lie, I am cold.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Legolas kicked off his boots and drew back the covers. He allowed his body to melt against (Y/N)’s, providing warmth as he gently began to massage away her tension.

A content sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she snuggled further into him, eagerly stealing his warmth and accepting the pain relief he offered.

“Princeling,” she murmured, “You better not breathe a word of this either.”

He chuckled lightly, “I will not say a thing, Shadowfoot. I swear it.”

…

Everything Tag: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @heavenshumour @clairealeehelsing @starenemy @ceruleanrainblues @casuallyeating-blog @cheari @aheadfullofsteverogers @imthebadguyyy @beehivehappy @queenmariex @newjsns01 @dontfearrr @annoyingstrawberryballoon @caffinated-and-sleepy @california-beach-babe-kay @fxckinggxd

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @Brethil13 @insert-random-blog @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene @amessofmultifandom @caffinated-and-sleepy

Legolas Tag: in the comments

[tamurilofrivendell]

Crush | Legolas x Reader

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Summary: Reader is a royal guard who Legolas becomes enamoured by.

Word count: 2,990

requested by anonymous (happy (late, I'm sorry) birthday, I hope this was okay for you)

tags: @coopsgirl @birbixo0912 @desert-fern @ancient-rime @silverose365 @lady-of-imladris @asianbutnotjapanese @deadlymistletoe @thewulf @whiteladyofithilien

It was a recent change, you becoming a royal guard. Once an opening had become available, of course, you lunged at it. You had wanted for a very long time to attain such a position and thankfully your ambition and your skills had not gone unnoticed. You got what you wanted and soon settled straight into the role. Some days your duties seemed endless but you felt like you were protecting your home, helping to defend the realm you so loved, and it made even the most exhausting of days worth it.

This particular day, you were following the king himself around as he went from place to place tending to various different things. Usually Feren himself would have accompanied Thranduil, however he was away from the halls at a nearby settlement and you had been plucked from the rest to be the guard who went with the king this day and you did not think you could be more excited and more eager to not mess up.

It was a long afternoon.

You had gone to a meeting about various boring politics which you had zoned in and out of as you stood at the back of the room behind his chair. Then he'd trailed around various rooms checking on the armoury, the production of various things you didn't expect him to care much about such as cloth and flour, and also to the cellar to check on the wine stores. Now, you were walking away from the orchard, where the Orchardist had given a very unnecessarily in-depth talk about his apples and the large yield of the trees. He'd seemed exceptionally proud, which was nice, but he talked a lot longer than was necessary when it came to something like fruit.

"I think... he certainly knows an awful lot about apples." Thranduil mused as the two of you stepped onto the path. "And now I, too, certainly know an awful lot more than necessary about apples."

You stifled a laugh, not wishing to be rude but truthfully you had been bored stiff the entire time. Thranduil had not looked anything but attentive while you'd been fighting to keep your expression neutral, but he just had more practice than you did.

"It is good that our stores will not run low any time soon." You replied as diplomatically as you could, though the king caught the deeper feelings in your tone and he smirked a little in amusement.

"Indeed." It was, after all, a good thing that the trees produced such large quantities. Not just the apples, either. It meant their crop continued to thrive and they would not starve if he needed to close the gates for any reason. Not that he anticipated anything. "Anyway, I think I will be alright to return to my chambers alone, thank you. You may go."

"As you wish." You nodded, falling out of step with him and watching as he swept away and disappeared round the corner back into the part of the building that led to his private quarters. You stayed where you were for a moment, wondering what to do now, and then you turned around to head back to your own chamber. Perhaps a bath would be a nice idea after such a long day of trudging around and being on your feet.

As you turned, your eyes fell upon another figure a short distance away, sitting underneath a large tree in the courtyard with a bow between his fingers. Prince Legolas seemed to have already been looking at you when your gaze was drawn to him and you blinked, a bit taken aback by that fact. A beat passed and then you stepped towards his direction but his eyes immediately dropped to the bow in his hand as he went back to cleaning it, acting as if you no longer existed. Oh. He must not need anything after all then. You'd thought maybe he recognised your role when you'd been walking with his father but... no matter, you decided, turning away and heading away back down the path.

What you didn't see was the way Legolas' eyes flickered back up to watch your retreat. He had been sitting out here for about an hour now, taking his time while cleaning his bow and enjoying the mild weather. The bow had once belonged to his mother and he took more care of it than he did with his others. He had noticed his father coming through but he had not wanted to draw much attention to himself, the older elf had looked quite worn out. It wouldn't show to anyone else of course but to Legolas it was clear. He almost hadn't paid you any attention at first. When he had, he'd done a double take.

She's beautiful, was his immediate thought, something which brought a faint blush to his cheeks and so he was glad that nobody was paying too much attention to him. You'd made his father smile too, he noticed that, which only raised your merit in his eyes. After a few moments, when you were out of sight, he looked down again and went back to his bow. Interesting.

Three days later, you were one of the guards standing somewhere below the throne, keeping a careful watch while the king went through the rigmarole of people coming before him in audience to ask him for things or bring forward suggestions for his court and the realm.

Legolas walked into the room just as the last elf was escorted out. He strode right up the walkway towards the throne, intent on reaching his father to give him an appraisal of the forest beyond. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered towards where you stood... and he paused, coming to a stop altogether.

"Legolas." His father's deep voice shook him from his trance after a moment and he blinked up at Thranduil, who was looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

Legolas shook his head, clearing his throat as he forced one foot in front of the other. "Ah... yes." He muttered, willing his cheeks not to flush, which luckily they did not. He launched into a rundown of what he'd seen in the forest and you could only stare at him for a long moment, confused at the prince's unusual behaviour, before you turned your eyes away, focusing them on the entrance to the throne room.

He was gone again quicker than you would have imagined but he stole another glance over his shoulder on his way out, eyes settling on you once again, just for the briefest of seconds, before he disappeared.

As you stared at the space in the doorway he had just occupied, you heard the sound of a snort being smothered from somewhere behind you. Turning, you looked up at Thranduil, who cleared his throat and looked stoic as ever but something about him almost looked amused. A glint in his eyes maybe?

"That is all, you may go." Was all he said as he rose, descended the steps and vanished just as his son had, leaving you staring after him as well. After standing frozen for a long moment, blinking in confusion, you left the room and decided to just put it from your mind. You must be imagining things.

The next two weeks passed in much the same manner. Legolas kept seeing you around everywhere he went as if you were haunting him. It was strange, he thought, that he'd gone so long without a glimpse and then suddenly you were everywhere. He thought he must just be an idiot. Overthinking it. You had not shown any interest and he felt like a bit of a weasel staring at you the way he had. Besides, he did not have time for anything, did he? He had things to do. He was a prince of the realm and he had duties...

...however, his mind did not let him rest. It tormented him with the image of you and eventually he decided he had to just say something, get it out of his system, and then he could go back to the way things were.

So, a day later, he approached you.

You had the day off and you were still trying to figure out how to spend it. You didn't feel like reading, you didn't feel like training, you didn't feel like doing much of anything but you were so bored that wandering around in the halls was driving you a bit mad.

"You look lost." Came a voice from behind and when you turned you saw Legolas standing there. You were startled, not answering immediately because it was the first time he had ever actually spoken to you.

"Mh?" Was your first very clever response, which made your face redden and, in turn, made him laugh. "I mean... uh..." You continued, scrambling to form actual words. He was smiling at you, kindly yes, but it was clear he was amused.

After another moment you laughed as well and the tension seemed to evaporate. "I am bored." You admitted.

"I see." Legolas chuckled, nodding as he turned his head to look around. The realm was quiet today, the halls barely occupied. "I was actually going to go into the forest." He turned his gaze back to your face, telling himself not to get lost in your eyes. "If... if you wanted to join me."

You couldn't be certain but it seemed as if the prince had stammered over his words a little. As much as you had not spent a lot of time around him, from what you'd seen that seemed unusual. A beat passed and then you smiled, nodding. "I'd like that."

His small, almost bashful, smile was enough to send your heart fluttering in your chest as he turned and gestured with his head for you to follow.

The forest was quiet too but in a different way than the halls. There it had felt a little suffocating in your boredom. Here it was peaceful. The change of scenery seemed to do your mind some good... though perhaps the company had something to do with it too.

Legolas was funny, you came to realise, once you got past his quiet, sometimes almost shy-seeming demeanour. He was charming... handsome, but that was not something you only found out today, no you'd thought that for quite some time already.

He took you on a mini tour of his favourite spots and then you both found yourself sitting up in a tree above a small pond, just talking. Getting to know Legolas made your heart stir in a way you would not have imagined. There was something about him, the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, the intent look on his face as he listened to your responses as if he truly did not want to miss a single word, that had your stomach in knots and your eyes glued to his face.

You met him again the next day, and then the next. It became routine that the two of you would spend time together during time off from your duties. You even started sparring together in the training grounds and Legolas seemed impressed by your skill with a blade. You went on walks through the forest. You talked about your lives. He became such a close friend that it was a wonder to you that you had ever not had him in your life in this capacity at all.

One day, while you were both sitting by the river in the afternoon sun, you noticed that he was a little quieter than normal.

"Is everything alright?" You asked him outright after a moment of studying the way the tiniest bit of tension had crept onto his brow where usually there was nothing.

Legolas blinked, turning his eyes from the flowing water to your face. "Hm?" He asked, as if he had not even heard you.

"I asked if everything was alright." You repeated.

Legolas shook his head in response, contradicting himself when his response was a simple: "Oh. Yes, everything is fine."

You did not buy it. A beat passed in which you just stared at him with a raised eyebrow and he shifted under your gaze before letting out a sigh.

"Alright, I confess. There is... something on my mind." He said.

"What?" You asked, watching him glance down at the stick in his hands that he had been fiddling with for a time now. "Legolas." You prompted after a moment.

Legolas swallowed, as if nervous, though you could not understand why he would need to be that way around you. Until he spoke, of course.

"I have been thinking a lot lately." He said, his voice soft, gaze on the river before he gathered the courage to turn his face to look at you once more. "About us."

Us. It was like a magic word that sent a shiver through you as you stared back at him. Did he mean... as in...? You swallowed now, feeling your own nerves rise. "Us?" You asked in a way that urged him to continue.

Legolas nodded slowly, blue eyes studying your face closely. "Yes. Us." He repeated, wishing he had planned out what he wished to say in his mind, but of course he had not planned this moment with you today at all. He had not intended for his thoughts to become visible. "You see, I..." He glanced down, breaking the stick in half before discarding the pieces and looking back up at your face, the one that had plagued his thoughts since that first day he saw you with his father.

In that moment, he decided to just say it. All of it. Just tell you because somehow keeping it inside unspoken was worse. "I like you very much. As... more than just a friend."

The world almost seemed as if it stopped for a moment. A second where everything just froze, your gaze locked with his. Was this actually happening or were you still asleep and this was all some trick of the mind? "What?" Not what you'd wanted to say but it's what came out of your mouth.

Legolas, unfortunately, took this as a bad sign and he looked away again, clearing his throat as a slight crease returned to the space between his eyebrows. "I... I just mean that..." He went quiet.

"No, no..." You said quickly, shaking your head. Damn it! "I meant... well, since when?" You had not dared to think that the prince's interest in you would be anything but platonic. He had never shown any interest in you beyond that!

However, as you thought about it now, yes he had. In the way he spent almost all of his free time with you. The way he listened so closely and intently to every single thing you said, hanging off your every word. The smiles, the lingering glances. The time he'd picked a flower from the forest floor and tucked it behind your ear without saying a thing but the look in his eyes that you'd ignored had said more than any words ever could.

You'd turned a blind eye.

"I like you very much too." You managed. "More than a friend."

Legolas blinked in a way that made him look completely stunned, quickly turning his face back so he could look at you. He was quiet for a moment and then a smile started to spread over his face. "You do?"

You nodded quickly, desperate now not to make him think any longer that you had absolutely no interest. "Of course, yes, I... I was just surprised to hear you say it, I didn't think-"

"I thought I was quite obvious." Legolas half mumbled, chuckling as his cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Oh, you were." You joked, laughing softly. "But... I think... I was not paying attention."

A small, comfortable silence passed between the pair of you as Legolas kept his eyes on your face and you forced yourself not to look away either. His smile widened.

"Then..." He continued after a moment. "If I asked if I could... court you-"

"Yes!" The word flew from your mouth before he could fully finish his sentence, causing colour to creep into your own cheeks as you watched him chuckle with amusement at your eagerness.

"In that case," the prince said, standing up and offering you his hand to help you to your feet. "Tomorrow, we begin properly." His minds eye filled with images of a picnic in a beautiful spot, of getting to know you better than he already did but this time in the capacity he most wished... maybe a kiss, but he would not get too ahead of himself.

"But I have duties." You said, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you up onto your feet, your heart racing at the contact as it always seemed to do, an extra thrill of excitement in it this time. "I stand the throne room tomorrow."

Legolas paused and then waved his hand, turning to lead you back down the trail towards the halls once more. "Leave that to me." He was determined to spend the whole day with you, to begin this courtship properly.

After some prodding as to why Legolas wished to wrangle a day off throne room duty for one of the guards, Thranduil found out about the change in the relationship between you and his son. However, he did not look the slightest bit surprised as he poured some more wine into his cup with a barely concealed smirk.

"I did think it would have taken you a little less time to ask her, my son... but better late than never." Was all he said while Legolas did his utmost not to shift in uncomfortable embarrassment under the amused glint in his father's eye.

[wild-lavender-rose]

I wish you could write a fic where.... Y/N gets injured and tries to take care of her wounds on her own but Legolas finds her and tries to take care of her but she is scared to let him see. Lots of hurt/comfort fluff??

(You don't have to but it would be so cute!)

Okay, this is actually one of my favorite tropes to write so when I saw this I got so excited lol. Hidden injury? Not wanting to ask for help? Extra fluff? Yes please <3 I hope you enjoyed this, I haven't written for Legolas in several months and don't feel like this is my best work. But I hope you enjoy, anon!

Promise

Warning: description of injury

Your back connected with the tree, the fabric of your shirt catching on pieces of bark as you slowly slid down to sit between its roots. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were setting up camp and beginning to prepare dinner. You had made the excuse of going to find firewood and separated from the group, going much farther than was necessary before finding this old tree to hide behind.

You had been injured by the orc attack while attempting to save Boromir. In the flurry of events that followed it had been easy to hide the blood stain on your left side. You hadn't looked at it for two whole days, convincing yourself that it was just a small scratch. But after hours of hard travel with barely time for breath, you had been forced to admit that it was much worse than a scratch.

Breathing hard, you grit your teeth and lifted your shirt to reveal the dirty bandage you had wound around your waist. It was soaked through and dripping with blood.

You cursed the sight of it and the orc who had wounded you, going to dig through your bag for another bandage when the sense of someone watching stopped you cold. In one smooth movement you were on your feet with your knife at the ready, waiting for the one you sensed to appear.

"Easy, my love." Legolas stepped into the clearing. "I thought you were collecting firewood."

You lowered your knife. "I am."

Legolas's eyes narrowed as he regarded you. The impact of moving so quickly made you sway, putting a hand against the tree for support as the knife slipped from your fingers. "Go back to camp."

"You've been injured."

You shook your head. "It's nothing."

"I see blood." Legolas was by your side in an instant, taking hold of your arm as you continued to sway.

"Legolas, please," you leaned until your back was flush against the tree. "I can handle it."

Legolas's gaze was piercing. "Your reason is tainted with pain. I see it in your eyes."

You opened your mouth to object, but instead whimpered when Legolas touched your side. "Stop," you slid down to the ground once more. "Please, I must...I must handle this alone."

"You are not alone." Legolas knelt beside you. "You will never be alone. Let me help you."

"I will slow down the group, we won't save the hobbits," you began to ramble, a bloody hand reaching up to push the sweaty hair from your forehead. "I cannot, I cannot be injured now."

"Legolas?" Aragorn's deep voice rang through the forest.

"Here, Aragorn. Come quickly!" Legolas called.

"No, my love," you grabbed at his arm but it was already too late.

Aragorn appeared in moments, his dark eyes taking you in before he sank to the ground. "How long have you been injured?"

You shook your head. "It's nothing."

"Lift your shirt for me."

"I will not."

"My love, look at me," Legolas reached out and cradled the side of your face, guiding your eyes to his. "You do not have to hide this from me. Aragorn has herbs that will heal the wound, and we will not leave you before you are healed."

Tears filled your eyes. You reached up, fingers encircling his wrist. "Promise?" You whispered.

Legolas gave a solemn nod. "I promise."

Something inside you snapped. The fear and anxiety of being discovered dissolved, allowing the true weight of pain to show on your face. Already weak, you grew dizzy and slumped back against the tree.

Legolas raised your shirt and ripped off your haphazard bandage. Blood flowed freely from your wound. Aragorn began to work, muttering soft words in elvish to Legolas as he applied pressure to stop the bleeding. You screamed and tried to thrash, but Legolas held you still while Aragorn whispered his apologies.

"Easy, my star. Easy," Legolas held your hand and wiped the sweat and tears from your face. "I have you now. I'll take care of you."

And you believed him.

Fanfic Masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

We Won't Be Missed

Legolas x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: mild sexual content, fade to black, kissing, sneaking away, flirting, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Dedicated to @firelightinferno

During a celebration in the Woodland Realm, Legolas suggests that the two of you sneak away for some alone time.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Above you, the stars glimmer.

You don’t know how Legolas managed it, but the night sky is there, twinkling through pockets of canopy. Perhaps he sang to the trees, promised them sweet water or fair winds for their leaves to dance in. Whatever he did, they have opened up, revealing the dark sky and silvery bursts of light that break the inky expanse.

Smiling up at the dazzling lights, you twirl gently in a tight circle, the sheer fabric of your dress spinning with you. All around you, your fellow Elves dance by themselves or with a partner. Music plays, and there is gentle, contented laughter everywhere. It is a moment of celebration and of peace.

Warm hands grab hold of your waist but you’re not startled. Instead, you step into it, inhaling. A familiar woodsy scent fills your nostrils and then your lungs. Twisting in said grip, you find a face that you’d know anywhere.

His name hardly leaves your lips before he pulls you close.

“Legolas,” you breathe, voice nearly a sigh.

“My star,” he replies softly.

Heat creeps up your neck to inflame your cheeks. When it comes to public affection, Legolas is not one for boldness. He is typically subdued and reserved, and this singular moment is enough to surprise you.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you compliment, gesturing outward to indicate the room.

Legolas blushes slightly under the praise.

It is true, and he should take pride in what he has accomplished. The large hall is beautifully decorated, hinting toward the oncoming summer that will draw forth warmer weather and the migrations of different creatures. The forest will shift, and new life will emerge. Everything is in bloom. Everything is earthy and rich.

“Your approval is a comfort,” he responds in that soft tone.

You turn to face Legolas completely. “But is my approval the only one you seek?”

The answer is already known to you, but you want to remind him why he’s done all this in the first place. Birthdays are not often celebrated by the Elves because time moves differently. For those who have dwelled for hundreds if not thousands of years, birthdays become insignificant. They are small memories, sometimes completely forgotten.

Yet Legolas decided to celebrate anyway. For his father.

Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, hasn’t celebrated anything since the death of his wife. Since that time, he has been stoic and cold. There has been celebrations and other such occasions, but Thranduil has either been absent or only made a brief appearance.

This party is a surprise. A way for a son to show his father that he cares.

Legolas turns in the direction of the throne, and you follow his gaze.

Thranduil is surrounded by his people. He is talking. Animated. A gentle smile on his face. The raven-haired woman sitting beside him says something, and Thranduil laughs, his smile widening.

You haven’t seen him this expressive in years.

“Do you think I’ve made him happy?”

You turn back to Legolas who gazes upon his father. The middle of his brow is tightly pinched.

“Your father?”

Legolas hesitates and then nods, like he isn’t entirely sure his father is appreciative of his efforts. When you don’t answer, Legolas tears his gaze away from his father and gives it to you. Before you is the man you love seeking validation.

“What do you think?” you ask softly, nodding toward the throne.

Legolas sighs and then glances back at his father. As Legolas watches, his features melt from hardness to peaceful contentment.

“You’ve done well,” you say. “He is happy.”

“He is,” sighs Legolas, a dreamy look on his face.

Smiling, you rest your head against his shoulder. Legolas wraps an arm around your waist and starts to sway to the music. Time passes, the two of you simply moving together, breathing in the essence of the other.

Legolas turns his head slightly, placing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Would you like to slip away?”

You pull back enough to glance up at him. Legolas’ smile is a bit sultry and it immediately warms you everywhere.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask curiously.

“We won’t be missed. We should take advantage of the opportunity.”

Private moments between the two of you have been scarce. Legolas may be your betrothed, but you hardly see him. Duty comes first, and sometimes that doesn’t always include you. A few hours alone would be nice. Perfect.

“I agree,” you answer, and Legolas beams. “Lead the way, my love.”

Legolas’ smile turns into a delighted grin. Sliding your hand into his, he guides you away from the dancing bodies and past the large casks of wine. No one turns to look or to question where the two of you might be off to. There is only your hand in his, and the teasing way he stops to push you into dark corners for chaste kisses before taking off again.

This boldness is new, and you find that you like it. He leads you to his private quarters, the place that will soon by your home. When the door completely shuts, Legolas pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your body like vines.

This time, his kisses are not chaste.

They are liquid heat and from it comes a burst of fire in your chest.

“Legolas,” you murmur, a hint of need in your tone. “My love.”

He only draws back enough to look into your eyes. His eyelids are heavy like he wants to devour you. A stuttering exhale leaves him, and then Legolas is grasping the side of your face, pulling you back to him.

Your bodies are pressed close. Hands roaming.

Elves mate only once. Legolas is it for you. There is to be a ceremony, but that is just a formality. To be skin to skin, to accept him into your body, is your acceptance of him.

Legolas’ hand slips between the delicate folds of fabric to graze over your bare thigh. You inhale sharply and Legolas steals the exhalation, his tongue delving for a taste. Your dress is nothing in his hands, the sheer material bunching as he touches.

“Is this too much?” he asks, voice raspy with need.

You shake your head, fingers digging into his shoulders. “No. I want more.”

Legolas hungrily draws you back to his mouth and your heart hammers in your chest. It is so loud it is all you hear.

To seal the bond, the two of you must become one. To be bare. Open.

The ceremony is only for the people.

“I love you,” murmurs Legolas against your lips. “With all my heart and all the stars in the sky.”

You grin. “And I love you. I never wish to be apart.”

Legolas makes a little purr in his throat. It sounds like contentment. “That will no longer trouble us come the end of summer.”

“Must we wait?” you ask softly. You slide your hands off his shoulders, bringing them to the twisted straps of your dress. You pull on them, drawing them over and down your shoulders. “I do not wish to.”

Legolas’ pale skin flushes before his mind catches up. “I cannot resist when you ask this sweetly.”

“That is why I asked,” you reply, matching his tone.

The dress falls from your body landing in a pool at your feet. His sultry gaze morphs into appreciation. His fingertips lightly trace over your flesh, leaving a trailing heat behind.

“Are you certain?”

“You are my betrothed. It is not wrong to want this.”

Legolas runs the back of his knuckles down your throat and over one breast. He leans forward, and sucks the nipple into his mouth. You moan, arching into him, one hand sliding to the back of his head. His other hand delves between your thighs, and that too twists your stomach into knots.

He brings that nipple to a stiff peak, and then moves to the other, his other hand still moving between your legs. That too springs to life, and then Legolas’ mouth trails further south over your stomach. Lower still to kiss between your thighs.

You gasp. Groan. Shudder as he learns your taste and brings you to an endless sea of stars.

“You are perfect,” he nearly growls, his words drifting upward to caress.

“I am yours,” you gasp out, fingers tangling in his silky hair.

He continues to explore with his tongue, and then he’s standing before you, removing his formal tunic, shedding all this clothes to match your own bareness.

“Let us go to bed,” you murmur, palms pressing against his bare chest.

Legolas’ hands slide to the backs of your thighs. He lifts and you’re locking your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. You cling to him, tasting yourself on him.

The bedsheets are cool against your back.

Legolas nuzzles the side of your face, his lips pressed against your ear as he speaks. “I shall give you no rest.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast

@protosslady @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath

@berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics

@beebeechaos

[vilentia]

Falling Leaves, Rising Love

Legolas x reader

In the year 3001, under the golden hues of autumn, Rivendell shimmered like a jewel nestled in the heart of the valley. Its beauty was not just in its cascading waterfalls or the ancient, whispering trees, but also in the harmonious blend of nature and Elven architecture. It was here, in this serene abode of Elrond, that your story began.

You had lived in Rivendell for many years, finding solace in its tranquil gardens and the wise company of its inhabitants. Your days were often spent studying ancient texts or wandering the lush paths that wound like silken threads through the valley.

On a day painted with the vibrant colors of fall, Rivendell welcomed a group of Elves from the Woodland Realm. Among them was Legolas, son of Thranduil, whose arrival stirred the quiet air of the haven. You first saw him from a balcony adorned with climbing ivy, overlooking the courtyard where the newcomers were being greeted.

It was a moment suspended in time. Legolas, with his fair hair catching the sunlight and his bright eyes reflecting the clear, blue sky, turned just as you leaned forward, curious about the new arrivals. Your eyes met, and in that instant, something intangible and profound passed between you.

Legolas was struck by your presence, a feeling unfamiliar yet unshakeably deep. He had journeyed through Middle-earth, seen the wonders and horrors it held, but never had he felt such an immediate connection. You, equally taken aback, felt a warmth spread through you, an ember of emotion that you could not yet name.

The days that followed were like a dance, a gentle orbit around each other. You found reasons to be where Legolas was, and he, in turn, sought your company. Conversations flowed easily between you, filled with laughter and shared insights. In the Elven halls, by the murmuring river, or under the vast, starlit sky, your bond deepened.

Legolas was enchanted by your intellect and kindness, the way your laughter seemed to make the world brighter. You were drawn to his bravery and gentle heart, the wisdom that lay behind his youthful eyes. In Rivendell, time seemed to stand still, yet each moment you spent together was a cherished memory in the making.

As autumn waned and the leaves turned from gold to brown, your connection grew into a love that was as deep as the roots of the mountains and as enduring as the stars above. In Rivendell, amidst the timeless beauty of the valley, you and Legolas discovered a love that was as unexpected as it was profound, a love that would endure the passing of ages.

[local-crying-boy]

Fell In Love With You

Legolas X GN!Reader

——————————————————————————————————

Pairing: Legolas x Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: One-Shot, fluff, comfort fic, childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: poorly translated Elvish

Summary: The first time you and Legolas confessed your love for each other after you assumed he was in love with another for years.

Trope: childhood friends to lovers

Word Count: 840

——————————————————————————————————

Elvish Translations:

Legolas, how ceri- cin fare? = Legolas, how do you fare?

Im am far tríw, Y/n = I am quite fine, Y/n.

Im cannot n- os- cin, ú- ir im cannot ab- hin emel = I cannot be around you, not while I cannot deny these feelings.

Mellon = Friend

——————————————————————————————————

Elves only fell in love once, most knew of this. It had barely come as a shock to you when you realised you had deep feelings for your old childhood friend, Legolas. As the two of you grew up, you became inseparable, you trained together all the time and hung out more than that.

You had always caught yourself staring at his beauty ever so often, even in your younger years. Though, you had always brushed this off as simple admiration for the Prince. However, almost as soon as you realised your feelings, you also realised the way he looked at Tauriel.

It caused you great pain to stay by your side, knowing that he'd never feel the same about you, but you still stayed by his side no matter what.

You had learnt the hard way that, sometimes, love can cause only pain and misery. You continued to stay by his side, though, continued to laugh and talk as if nothing had changed, fought and protected the same as if your feelings had never surfaced.

You had told yourself long ago that, no matter what, you would stay by Legolas’s side. Whether that was in battle, to comfort him or give him advice, you would be there.

You sit with your back to a tree and your sword in your lap with a sharpening steel in your right hand, the others sitting and chatting amongst each other. You have no desire to talk to them tonight.

“Y/n.” Legolas calls you, causing you head to turn towards him.

You hum in response, “Yes?”

He stares at you for a few, long seconds, “Are you feeling well?”

No, you thought, but simply nodded, “Yes. Are you feeling well?”

He stays quiet, settling beside you. You watch as he sits beside you, his hair slightly getting in the way of his flawless face.

“Legolas, how ceri- cin fare?” You ask, worry clear in your voice when he takes too long to reply.

He meets your gaze once more a offers a small smile, “Im am far tríw, Y/n.”

You nod, your eyes wondering back to your sword that lays still in your lap, how long had you been sharpening the damned thing?

The two of you sit in an awkward, but also normal, silence. A silence that can be awkward at first, but slowly turns into a silent, comfortable company.

"You have been distancing yourself." He says, his voice lowered.

You glare at the elf, "I have not, I have been conversed with the others, I have created a strong companionship."

He shakes his head, "Not distant to our new travelling partners, you have been distant to me."

This time, when you look up, your eyes lock with his. There's a sort of sadness in his eyes, a sorts of pain in not talking to you like you used to.

You look back to the sword in your lap, guilt pulling at your heart strings. How were you meant to tell Legolas that you’ve distanced yourself because you loved him?

“Im cannot n- os- cin, ú- ir im cannot ab- hin emel.” You mutter, “It pains me, mellon.”

“Pains you? In which way?” Legolas questions, “Have I offended you in some way, Y/n? Have I wronged you to make you distant?”

You shake your head, “Quite the opposite, you have made me incredibly infatuated with you in a way that makes my heart beat for you and only you, Legolas.”

A look of shock appears on the blond’s face, he freezes. For once in his long life, he freezes. You made The Prince freeze up, you!

You shake your head once more, “And it pains me to be spend my waking mornings and my days and nights with you when I know perfectly well that you are in love with Tauriel and see me no more than a trusted companion.”

"I have never been in love with Tauriel." Legolas simply states, "It has always been you."

Stunned, you simply stare him before muttering out, "Pardon?"

“It has always been you, Y/n.” Legolas repeats, his voice a melodic sounding tone, “I have always been in love with you.”

In disbelief, your eyes does not falter from Legolas’. Though, you noticed his hand rise to your cheek.

“If I may?” He asks, though he did not need an answer as you crash your lips onto his.

A sound of shock is muffled by your lips, but he quickly gets used to the feeling and kisses you back. The moment is full of complete passion and bliss, like everything that was going wrong faded away for those few seconds.

When the two of you pulled away, it was silent, the two of you simply looked into each others' eyes. Legolas' hand remained on your cheek, brushing away the hair that was near your face.

"I have wished to do that for many centuries now, though, I never knew how to confess to you." Legolas mutters, had it not been to your elven ears, you would not have heard him.

You let out a small laugh, almost like a sigh, "You know not how much I have desired to do that, my Prince."

"Perhaps, now, you can no longer distance yourself from myself anymore." He smiled.

You nodded, "Perhaps I will."

Masterlist

[cosmic-glow]

anonymous asked: hello !! hope you have a nice day <3 can you please write a soft/fluff Legolas x Reader with the drabble 2 ?

Notes: I swear the ending is cute!! But there's a silly fight first😭 it's my first time writing for Legolas, I hope you like it, good reading!

"I only think about you" - Legolas

Warnings: Legolas x gn!reader; reader is children of Elrond; mention of quarrel and fight; Legolas confused by his own feelings; SFW.

- I still don't understand why this would be my responsibility - the son questioned his father.

- Because I'm ordering! - Thranduil spoke already irritated - They are children of Elrond, and if they don't return safely from this journey, you will regret it.

And it was with this conversation that Legolas stuck with you on this long journey. You were Elrond's youngest heir, the youngest, and most irritating to Legolas. You always got into trouble, it was obvious that you would need protection. The elf prince only regretted that he was chosen for this. It wasn't enough for you to disturb his thoughts from the first time you met at the ball - your beauty able to leave him breathless and your attitude overflowing with confidence - now he was forced to put up with your physical presence too.

- Let's stop here, it's already getting dark, let's take advantage of the remaining light to set up camp - said the blonde.

You agreed, and after everything was ready, you asked for privacy to bathe in the nearby river. Legolas warned that it wasn't a good idea, but you, stubborn as ever, didn't listen and assured him that you'd be fine on your own. It was only a few minutes before the elf heard the sounds of fighting coming from the direction you were. As he approached, he soon recognized the figure that had his back to him trying to approach you in the river, it was a goblin. Without hesitation, Legolas shot an arrow right through the center of the creature's skull, which landed in front of you, revealing your traveling companion close behind.

- I told you it was a bad idea! - he approached, irritated by your carelessness.

- You didn't have to come, I had everything under control! - you shouted back.

- Really? Well, it didn't seem that way, do I always have to watch out for you?!

- If it bothers you so much you didn't have to come, you can leave, then you won't have to think about me anymore!

- I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!

Legolas shouted from the bottom of his lungs, stressed and tired, not just from the journey, but from the feelings that were growing for you and consuming him more every day. You kept quiet, surprised because you had never seen him like this, sinking a little deeper into the water to hide your naked body more, realizing your shame only now. Legolas, who had only just realized it too, turned around to give you some privacy, but also before you could notice the blush growing on his cheeks.

- I'm sorry... That's not what I meant, I'm just tired... Let's go, if there's a goblin here there must be others nearby.

Silently, you agreed and obeyed, and after getting out of the river and changing, you broke camp and moved on.

The trip followed in silence, now an awkward atmosphere between you two, more distant than ever. Feeling responsible for that, Legolas decided to break the silence when you stopped to eat.

- I shouldn't have screamed, I'm just worried because I'm responsible for you, so if something happened to you...

- No, I understand, it was my stupid idea and... I understand if you don't want to continue the trip, I don't want to be a burden for you.

- You would never be a burden - he spoke automatically, without filtering before how revealing the words could be - Even if I left, I would keep thinking about you - and with that he decided to shut up, realizing how the words accumulated in his mind now just leave without him being able to control it.

- Really? Would you keep thinking about me even after all the stress I've caused you?

- You don't understand, I only think about you. My worry and stress would only increase if I left, because... Because I really like you - the last sentence came out as a whisper.

The blush had returned to his face, his anxious heart beating harder, his eyes unable to face you now. Legolas tried to stand firm, but he was crumbling under your lingering gaze.

- Oh, that's good to know - you smiled - because you have also been tormenting my thoughts, Legolas.

Prompt: "I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!"

Sorry for any typos;

Masterlist

Buy me a coffee?

[madwomansapologist]

hi darling!! I LOVE the birthday event that you're doing 😍😍😍 can I please request 'bubblegum' (how they would propose) 💗 + Legolas my darling boy 🥺🥰 no pressure, love you!!!

bubblegum — how would they propose to their lover?

⤷ with: legolas greenleaf

⤷ thank you, baby!!! hope you like it 💛🦋

Legolas is sensitive about the world around him. He can sense when something is changing, when a foe can be turned into a friend, when the true evil approaches. Legolas knows a lot about the world and about himself, but he also knows a lot about you.

His heart is pure, his intentions are truthful, his love is endless. And yet, Legolas would never act on his love without knowing that you desire the same. Legolas has a light mood, carefree words, unending jokes. That does not means he don't care about other's feelings. About yours.

The moment he undertand that you feel the same, Legolas will feel like marrying you on the spot. Light would reach his body, affection would dominate his wills, and it would be almost impossible to stop the love from overflowing. Legolas would be so happy that it would hurt his body.

Despite being so impulsive, Legolas will make it special. Not big, not gigantic, but special. He would make it mean something.

It would be after a quest. After so long in the woods, it's finally over. After taking your so desired bath, Legolas would help you dry your hair. It will be delicate. Legolas will press a towel against your hair, his fingers would comb it gently.

Minutes would last for centuries. Embraced by him, feeling his warmth, time wouldn't pass. It would refuse to pass. And while Legolas comb your hair, your eyelids closed in pure delight, the question would come in a subtle whisper.

"Will you marry me, meleth?"

And your answer came just as quietly.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Dragon Rider

The Blonde Boys Club

Aemond Targaryen x Ranger!Reader + Legolas Greenleaf x Ranger!Reader

Summary: It had been nearly a century since you've seen a dragon, and the sight was as captivating as the first time (the dragon rider shared the sentiment [of you], your mountain ranging partner did not).

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, elf!reader, reader is also blonde, sassy!legolas, puppy!aemond, vhagar wingman?, jealousy, possessives, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this has a p1 and since the first section is quite like a direct continuation of what happened there, mayhap you would like to read it before continuing with this. also my moodboard <3 also legolas in my moodboard <;3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

"Thír, Legolas! Im'm bo caw -o a lúg!" I exclaim with a toothy grin.

Aemond looks up at me, smiling softly to himself as he thinks of how calming the sound of the language was. It sounded like a leaf blowing with the wind, a butterfly making rounds in the early morning. In comparison, he always thought High Valyrian was a commanding language, a fiery tongue that possessed a power to have even dragons obey.

As the Targaryen prince looked at the golden hair flowing in the wind, he felt something for Elvish he had not felt for High Valyrian before.

"Yes, you are on top of a dragon," Legolas repeats my words as he looked up at me with a wrinkled forehead. He continues in our mother tongue, "I don't see how any different it is for when you climb a tree."

"It's not like climbing a tree at all!" I shake my head, "I feel as though I could conquer the whole world! Show my might! Lay waste to my enemies!"

"You don't have enemies," Legolas mutters in annoyance, eyeing the human prince beside him when he heard him chuckle under his breath.

"You're my enemy," I tease as I give the elf a lopsided smirk.

He rolls his eyes. Aemond beams.

I give Vhagar a pat on her thick scales before I shift on my spot and announce, "I'm jumping down."

Legolas steps back, unfazed.

Aemond steps forward, concerned. He raises his hands, "it is a high fall."

The elf crosses his arms and furrows his brows, "for a man, mayhap."

Aemond turns to Legolas, just as the latter looks back up at me, "she can handle it."

The next thing Aemond knows, he is ripped back and his stomach drops as he watches what plays out before him.

I swan dive down, not forfeiting a roll and a leg tuck, all while being quick enough to land on my feet with my arms stretched out.

Legolas releases Aemond as I flip my blonde hair back. The former eyes me, "poppinjay."

"Wrinkler," I snip back.

Legolas steps forward, "mooncalf."

"Nincompoop," I step forward.

Aemond watches the two of us stare at each other, our chests nearly brushing as we press forward in challenge. He clears his throat loudly. Neither of us break our gaze or pull back.

He releases a terse breath, "would you like me to give you a ride back?"

This was what made both of us turn to the human prince.

Aemond's eye widens a fraction at the faces we throw at him. He blinks, finding difficulty to keep eye contanct.

"If you would like a legion of archers to be upon your dragon, then certainly," Legolas states, nonchalant, as he raises a brow.

I nudge him with a tight expression, "Legolas."

"It's true," he turns to me, replying in Elvish.

"Mmm," prince Aemond hums. He turns to his feet and places his hands behind his back. He shifts back and forth, "will I..." then lifts his gaze upon me, "...see you here tomorrow on your patrol?"

I am quite caught off-guard by his question that my lips part. Legolas furrows his brows. A bit of red climbs up Aemond's neck.

A chuckle leaves me.

"She will not be patrolling tomorrow," Legolas narrows his eyes.

I snap at my prince, "and why wouldn't I?"

Legolas does not turn to me when he says in our mother tongue, "I forbid it."

That's enough for me to roll my eyes and turn to Aemond with a grin, "I would love to meet you here tomorrow if you will be coming."

The prince before me breaks into smile, nodding his head excitedly, "yes. Yes. I will be here tomorrow."

The prince beside me narrows his eyes and mutters a string of Elvish curses under his breath. It's honestly so disgraceful, I cannot holdback my eye twitch and quickly dig my heel into his foot.

Legolas lurches in pain and curses loudly.

I smile as I curtsy at prince Aemond, " 'til tomorrow, prince Aemond."

Aemond bows, eye fixed on me, then shifting to Legolas, who pulls me away.

"Farewell, dragon!" I call as I am dragged off.

Aemond eyes crinkle as he watches me, "geros ilas, zaldrīzes."

"Geros ilas, zaldrīzes," I wave.

"Farewell, prince... ranger," Aemond says.

Legolas shoots Aemond a glare.

"If your mother caught you here-"

I turn over my shoulder.

"-she would not hold back her rebukes," Legolas raises a brow at me and crosses his arms. He looked like a had soot on his cheeks, and his attire was dusty with dirt and gravel. His hair contrasted mine; though his was braided like usual, it was greatly unkempt and the bonds were loose, and my hair, though undone, was perfectly combed and silky down my back.

I turn to the book in my hand, replying in the same language, "you're one to talk. You look like you fought a gang of orcs."

"That's because I did," he says in Elvish, walking over to where I was sprawled out on the grass. He pokes my raised bare feet behind me and I snap at him, raising up a bit from my chest. I push myself up as Legolas sits beside me, "help me get cleaned."

I roll my eyes, "you're such a prince."

"You know how I feel about orc smells," he mutters, "I am loathe to do all the work myself."

I do not respond as I refocus on the page of the book I had been examining.

Legolas looks at my long, golden hair, sprawled all the way down to my thighs, untied, unbraided, barely fluttering with the wind. He removes the arrow quiver on him and gets on his chest as well beside me. For a moment, Legolas thinks to himself how glad he is for this constant. No matter how much time has passed, it was always here in the secret spot he could find comfort.

He leans on his shoulder, "read to me, doe."

I hum, "I don't think you'll like it."

When he notices the language of the book in my hand and it's Elvish counterparts, he purses his lips, "is that truly so interesting?"

I turn point to the inscription, "I think this might be a mistranslation but I am sure it's talking about how to care for dragonlings in their early years."

Legolas huffs. I vaguely hear him mutter something about burning the book, but I don't care much for it.

"Honestly," I turn to him, "I don't understand why our kind has not cared for dragons when they can live for centuries like us."

"By the goodness of the earth, you are poisoned."

I roll my eyes at him.

"Need I remind you that those humans consulted a dark magic to bind their line with the fire breathers in a chase for power."

I huff, propping my head on my hand, "I did not say we do the same, spoilsport."

With a grunt, I push myself up and get to my feet. Legolas looks at me with a grave expression. I roll my eyes at him once more before kicking his arrows, "get up, you reek of orc."

Legolas huffs and does as I say, just as I grab my shoes and walk out of my secret reading spot. I push the vines on the entrance away and make my way down the gardens.

The next moment, Legolas is trailing after me, "put your shoes on."

"No."

He calls out my name.

I ignore him.

We make our way into the hall when we are both alerted by a strange, distant sound. We turn to each other before we rush towards the walls where there was a window that gave view to the outside.

The sound is louder, and more unmistakable.

"It's the dragonling," Legolas scoffs a few moments before I spot Vhagar, "that fool was warned not to tread near the fortress again."

I watch as she lands on the cliff across the river bed. I break into a smile, pulling away form the window, scurrying off, hastily putting my shoes on as I go down the halls.

Legolas turns, calling my name out, furrowing his brows, "you cannot seriously be thinking of going to him at this hour!"

"Well, I cannot leave him waiting when he clearly came here for me."

Legolas calls out my name louder. I give him no retort and instead run off as quickly as I could, golden hair flying off as I did.

I was light on my feet and quick like a rabbit. I gather my skirt up and make my quickly out of the palace. Once I find myself outside, I hear a bunch of palace guards asking me where I was off to this time. I ignore them and make my way into the forest.

The travel is deep, but I knew the path well.

I break into deep huffs when I reach the edge of the woods, just by the shores of the river. I look up to the cliff of the mountain grinning ear to ear. I catch my breath, placing my hands on the sides of my mouth. I inhale deeply and scream, "RYTSAS, ÑUHA DĀRILAROS!"

I catch my breath as I await a response.

I see a mop of blond hair and an eye patched face look down from the height. I grin, waving up at him, "I SHALL BE THERE MOMENTARILY!"

I watch him smile, mouthing something I could not make out, for it was probably in High Valyrian.

I pull my skirt up and skip onto the rocks, forming a path across the water. I gracefully get across, catching my breath in the process. I then begin to climb up the side of the mountain, but before I do, I bunch my long hair up and tuck it into my dress. The climb was not hard, the steilhang was not too steep and there was a clear upward path that made the climb all the more easier.

In no time at all, I made it halfway my ascent.

"I did not know where else to land Vhagar!" the voice of the Targaryen prince calls from the top.

I chuckle, "worry not yourself," sparing a moment's glance to look up at Aemond, who was carefully and concernedly looking down at me, "this is much like climbing our watch towers, prince."

Aemond starts when my foot slips. He says, what I could only assume to be, High Valyrian cusses.

I quickly regain my footing and continue my travel up.

"Give me your hand," he calls from above.

I look up at him, finding that he is on his chest, dangling out his hand for me to reach. I knit my brows and chuckle, "prince Aemond, that is unnecessary. Please, retreat. I do not know what I would do if you slipped and fell."

Aemond furrows his brow, "are you quite certain? You nearly slipped yourself."

"That is more the escarpment's fault than mine," I mutter, turning back to my path, taking the last few steps up.

Once I am finally at the top, Aemond is standing nearby, offering his hands out to me. Although, in truth, I did not need it, I still took ahold of him and allowed to help me up.

His hands were incredibly clammy. I was honestly surprised how hot my hands were in comparison to his. I thought, if anything, his hands would have been warmer. He brings me near him, stepping back until we are far enough from the cliff; it is only then he releases me. I huff as I look at him, observing the look upon his face.

Though it seems relief was beginning to wash over him, the agitation on his face was still visible.

Aemond seems to find heaviness in my stare. He releases my hands and turns away, moving to my left, so that I could only see one side of his face. I continue to watch him as he places his hands behind him.

I press my lips into a smile at his rigidness, breaking into a chuckle, "suilad."

Aemond turns to me. I pull my hair out from where it was tucked in my dress, allowing it to flow with the wind, "it means greetings, hello."

Aemond's face softens, nodding his head, "soilad."

"Suilad."

"Suilad.

I grin, nodding my head, "well said, my prince."

Aemond hums as I walk over to his ride, smile growing wider at the sight of her. I mutter Elvish under my breath, "she is truly mighty." I look to her head, resting on some boulders, "hello, Vhagar."

"Your prince does not take kindly to your regards to me of such," Aemond says, following after me, "it would be better if you do not refer to me as 'my prince' as, truly, I am not."

I turn to the Targaryen, who had a solemn look about himself. I offer a playful look in return. I mimic his stance, placing my hands behind my back, "do you not enjoy the reverence in which I regard you, prince?"

He gulps, parting his lips, "it is not a matter of enjoyment, more so a desire not to steward ill sentiment towards an entire race by upsetting their prince."

I roll my eyes, "Legolas is not the representative of Elf-kind."

"Still, he is Prince Legolas."

I give him a look, pouting my lips in thought, "honestly, he should give you more credit. You're about as stiff as he is when it comes order and rules."

Aemond presses his lips. I turn back to Vhagar, stepping close enough to touch her. I steal a glance from the man, "may I?"

He nods once. Immediately, I turn back to the dragon and lay my palm upon her scales.

"The weight of the royalty sits heavily even on the shoulders of an Elvish prince."

I knit my brows softly, recalling just how I had rolled my eyes at the orc smelling princeling moments ago, "but he is not alone with his duties," I turn to Aemond, finding that he is now beside me, "and certainly, neither are you."

For a moment, Aemond watches as I caress his colossal companion. He presses his lips into a smile then sucks in a breath. "Prince Legolas," he starts, placing his hand upon Vhagar's side, "what is your relation to him?"

I knit my brows, "what do you mean?"

"He is your prince, and you are a ranger," Aemond trails off.

I take a moment to think, then perk up, "oh. Well, he is my partner and commander."

"Ranging partner you mean."

I raise a brow, "well yes, of course."

He nods.

Another thought spring into mind, "he is not my brother, if that is what you meant." The thought makes my lips curl.

Aemond chuckles, shaking his head in disagreement, "that is not what I meant at all, ranger." He breaks his gaze to motion his head upward, "can you reach my satchel?"

I turn to where he regarded, just a little bit above me, by the reins. I turn back to Aemond, giving him a look, brushing my hair back, "of course I can."

Aemond watches as I make haste to reach the satchel, dangling at the side of Vhagar. In that moment, the dragon stirs, huffing hotly, loudly, making me squeak in surprise.

Aemond calls out in his mother tongue as runs towards me, hands out, ready to catch me if I fell.

I do not, and make my way quickly back to his side with his satchel.

"Apologies," he grunts as he gets his bag from me, "I should not have-"

"Oh, by the stars," I huff, "I was merely spooked, is all."

Aemond looks at me with his violet eye then turns to what was in his hands. From the leather skin, he pulls out three books, bound in similar material, then hands it over to me.

I take it from him and give the items a quizzical look.

"This," he presses his fingers on the large, brown book, "is a tome on High Valyrian," he moves onto the wide, green one, "this is a brief history of all the dragons and their riders," he points to the thin, blue one, "and this-"

"Is about stars?" I ask, vaguely able to make out the Valyrian inscription on the cover.

Aemond chuckles, "not quite. It is about a star and a dragon."

I raise my brows in shock, "your family has a history with the stars?"

"Oh," the prince straightens up ,"no." He rubs his nose then places his hands behind him once more, "no," he clears his throat, "it is... a work of fiction."

My jaw slacks, "ah," I brush my hair away from my face when the wind blows at it, "I see."

I look back at Aemond, finding his hair blowing. When it brushes against his cheek, I nearly reach out and push it away, much like I dp with Legolas, but thankfully, I hold back before I do.

"Tis my favorite piece of literature," he says.

I break into a smile.

Aemond's purses his lips then words softly, "se qēlos hen biare dārys," he translates, "the star and the happy king."

"Oh," I chuckle, "what fun."

Aemond shakes his head, "do not be fooled by the title, my lady."

I snort, "well, consider me twice as intrigued. I am honored to be lent such exquisite scripts, your grace."

He shakes his head, "no, please. Add it to your collection. You have been telling me how you have been going through all the resources you have about dragons, and I have been meaning to give this to you since last time we met."

My jaw slacks, "but these appear to be from a royal library."

He chuckles softly, "a keen eye," he shakes his head, "but no. These are my personal copies."

My lip part wider.

"I have read them enough times," he smiles, "and I rarely have time to read as of late. It's better to give them to you, than let it keep collecting dust. After all, knowledge is meant to be shared, not locked away."

I press my lips into a smile, "you sound like my father."

"Well, he is a wise man."

Aemond's smile fades as he corrects himself, "elf."

I snort, shaking my head.

Whatever I was meant to say is immediately blown into the wind when my ears twitch at the sudden harsh strings of Elvish chastising being barked by my side.

I turn, and alas, tis Legolas, red in the face, seemingly fresh from the bath, muttering things under his breath like, 'you're lucky I haven't told your mother about your escapades.'

"Legolas," I call as he approaches me.

"I've had enough of you," he blurts in Elvish once he's in front of me

"Prince Legolas," Aemond calls, making him turn to the Targaryen.

He huffs, returning the nod in regard he is given, albeit begrudgingly, "Prince Aemond," he continues in our shared language, "your condescending regard is most irritating."

"He is not being condescending," I call.

Legolas hums, turning to me, "you think you know him so well now, do you?"

"Legolas-"

He cuts me off by grabbing my arms and turning me about, "I warned you about your hair, once before," he begins to braid my hair behind me. He gathers my blonde streaks from the top of my head then makes his way down, "you mean to tell me you climbed the cliff with your tresses flying everywhere?"

I roll my eyes, clutching the books in my hands into my chest, "I-" I cut myself off when he pulls my hair a little harder than he could have, "tucked it into my dress- stop it!"

Legolas gathers more hair and threatens to cut my locks off in my sleep.

Aemond, clears his throat from the side, "is it safe to assume you have you come to fetch your ranger, prince Legolas?"

"Retrieve, more like," Legolas says, fingers grazing my scalp. He turns to Aemond, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, "I told you not to come back here on dragonback."

"You told me not to come to Mirkwood on dragonback," Aemond retorts, "I am not in Mirkwood."

I huff through my mouth. He's not wrong. And yet, I practically feel the anger thicken from the elf behind me. I decide not to speak at all in the moment. I am glad Legolas does the same.

When a gush of wind blows, I snort at the rank scent in the air, "what is that?"

"That would be the dragon slobber," Legolas notes insensitively.

Aemond opens his mouth to retort, but I beat him to it, "no, that is orc."

Legolas stills in his braiding, hands now just by my shoulders. When he continues his braiding, I turn around when he reaches my shoulder blades.

"Quit moving," he quips as another wind blows

I ignore him and lean into him, reeling back when I smell the telltale scent of rank orc on him, "that is foul."

Legolas frowns at my reaction to him, angrily twisting my hair, "I told you to help me clean up."

I roll my eyes and push his damp hair back when it flutters with the breeze, "you truly cannot wash your hair without me, can you?"

"Why should I when you can do it for me?"

I scoff, "what a prince."

"More than him," he jabs in Elvish.

In that moment, I decide to turn to Aemond, whose attentions were focused on my hair, which Legolas was braiding.

I offer him a soft smile, raising the books in my chest, "thank you again for the gift, Aemond."

Legolas' braiding comes to a halt. Aemond turns to me, shocked. His lips part as they curve into a soft smile, "you are welcome."

Legolas scoffs, finishing the tail of the braid, tying it up with itself.

"I hope to see you when we begin our rounds," I offer the Targaryen.

Legolas hums, "yes. Perhaps you would even like to join us sometimes-"

I turn to him when he says this, shocked by the proposal.

"-without your dragon," he adds, "but then again, I doubt you could keep up on foot."

And there it was.

"Legolas."

"An enticing offer," Aemond smiles, "I accept."

I turn to Aemond, who was absolutely oblivious to my prince's rage. I cut in, "well, actually, we would be work-"

"Tomorrow then," Legolas calls, "bright and early, we start our patrol. We'll meet you where we met before."

Aemond nods, "fair enough."

"Legolas-"

"And you," the said being interrupts, "you will draw me a bath at once."

I sigh, shoulders sinking as I hold back an eye roll, "as you wish, sire."

Legolas purses his lips, "precisely."

[entishramblings]

Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.

Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.

Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.

Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.

But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.

She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.

Still, she wandered more.

As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.

Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.

Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.

So, she followed them.

One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.

Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.

Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.

From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant

Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.

See that was the thing.

Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.

The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.

The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..

She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?

…..

The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.

There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.

Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.

(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.

Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…

A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”

(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.

Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.

“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.

He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.

…..

The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.

Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.

However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.

She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.

Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.

His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.

Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.

“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”

The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.

Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."

Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.

Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”

Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”

The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."

Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”

Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."

“Cursed? But why?”

The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”

At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.

Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.

"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.

….

As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.

It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.

It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.

When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.

When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.

When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.

When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.

This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.

When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.

When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.

When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.

Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.

Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.

Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.

Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.

In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.

He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.

Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.

He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.

The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….

In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.

…..

Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.

Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.

The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.

Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).

As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.

Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.

Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.

He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.

With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.

In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.

However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.

Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.

A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.

Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.

Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.

"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"

She remained unresponsive.

Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.

Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"

Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.

“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”

Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”

Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”

The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”

The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.

Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”

It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”

Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.

“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"

Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”

Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.

The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."

Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.

Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.

The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.

……

Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.

He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.

"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"

Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.

The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.

“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”

“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”

Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”

He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.

Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.

Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.

"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."

A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."

The elf smiled gently in response.

A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.

Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”

She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”

The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?

(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."

…..

The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.

However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.

“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”

She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."

Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”

Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.

(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”

The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”

“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.

He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”

“Say it,” he commanded.

“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”

Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.

…..

Everything Taglist: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @sydney-1209 @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird333-blog @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @skairipakomtrikru @hemera1227 @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @mgchaser @heavenshumour @casuallyeating-blog @cheari

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene @amessofmultifandom

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @abandoncloud9 @aphroditesmoon @carojasmin2204 @high-sea-husbands @aheadfullofsteverogers

add yourself to my taglist

[sotwk]

I’m very happy to be at this sleepover! I’m roasting marshmallows to a burnt crisp over this campfire. For the fic comment artwork game, I’d like to recommend “with every seed you sow, let it wash away, wash away” by hexagons on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52703341

I hope you’ll forgive me for the extra 974 words over the limit! I just love this fic too much. It’s a beautiful exploration of grief and healing.

Your Fic Rec: "“with every seed you sow, let it wash away, wash away”" (Faramir/Eowyn and Legolas)

My "Comment Doodle":

The purpose of this game is to "comment" via artwork alone and without words. Thank you for this amazing recommendation, @unethicallypleistocene! :) I hope we can get more eyes on this beautiful comfort fic! And that we fanfic writers continue to support each other!

This "Fic Comment by Artwork" Game was part of SotWK's Summer Campfire Sleepover 2024.

[ironmandeficiency]

sending memes

pairing: legolas / modern!reader

word count: 2153

summary: it was remarkably easy to fall in love with the elven prince. unfortunately, it was somewhat harder to actually convey said feelings. that’s when you decide to use memes

req: can i have legolas x reader with "sender quotes a poem that reminds them of receiver"? -@micheleamidalajedi

a/n: leave it to me to turn soft romance prompts into bullshit 😂i had to tweak it just a smidge but i think it's fine. mistor is gn sindarin for strayer/wanderer, aluon is gn sindarin for wholesome, & meril means artist or poet in woodelven sindarin

in the beginning, the elves had no idea what to do with you. you were far too brash and loud for court and had very little formal training in just about anything useful. your clothes were strange and there were dozens of words in your vernacular they didn’t understand, and several of your mannerisms threw the elves of the greenwood into tizzies.

your consensus was that they tolerated you simply because you knew things you shouldn’t, like the events of the first age and personal details about king thranduil that never saw the light of day.

some elves surprisingly enjoyed your presence very early on and jumped on the opportunity to learn about where you came from. of this number was legolas, a very adept learner who was easy on the eyes (and your heart, but that’s neither here nor there).

you’ve been in middle earth for a few years now, having jumped on the chance to stay and never return to a world slowly deteriorating. once you told the elves about various tragedies that had struck your earth in the past hundred years alone, even thranduil was terrified at the prospect of sending you back.

so now you were somewhat fluent in sindarin and best friends with a prince; oh, how the turntables.

“mistor!” your elvish name was cheerfully shouted across the training arena. “watch this!” aluon’s voice was immediately recognized and it brought a smile to your face. he had been one of your very first friends in middle earth and despite his youth (for an elf), was placed on your royal guard for if you ever ventured beyond the greenwood. he was what you would call a cinnamon roll.

“okay, i’m watching!”

aluon was currently practicing with his throwing knives, his bow resting against the side of a training dummy. for all the praise a bow and arrow got from elves, he preferred his knives just a bit more.

he threw one last look over his shoulder to make sure you were indeed watching him before throwing the blade in his hand with a resounding “YEET!”

the knife landed directly in the bullseye because of course it did.

you could barely congratulate him on his aim and joke execution for your cackling, arms holding your stomach as if your body were truly coming undone. his laughter joined yours soon after, the two of you leaning on each other while trying (and failing) to catch your breath.

-

legolas has known you long enough to know that where boisterous laughter is heard, you’re likely the culprit. this is why his footsteps guided him to the training arena in the royal wing, the one reserved for himself, his father, and their most trusted friends and guards.

to his non-surprise, you and aluon were wheezing on the ground at some unknown joke. he approached you both with a smile of his own, sturdy hands helping you to your feet. “mellon nin, what lightens you so?”

“aluon was throwing knives and went ‘YEET!’ and he hit the center of the target!” the cackling returned with renewed strength as you mimicked the motion and raucous screech of the four letter word.

ah, the practice of yeeting. you explained the word to him very early into your presence here and he found himself using the term on the odd occasion, much to your delight.

but legolas, as polite and regal as he was, felt the embers of friendly competition light in his chest. it wasn’t about the aim of aluon’s throws, as logical but slightly unfounded as that claim would have been.

it was truly about your laughter. he wanted to be the reason you lit up with such mirth, he wanted to be responsible for the joy in your eyes.

with all the princely decorum he could muster, he armed himself with his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly directly into the wooden handle of aluon’s blade.

then, with a straight face, he dabbed.

-

tauriel was a hard elf to get ahold of. as captain of the guard, she was always busy, flitting about while completing all sorts of duties.

but finally, two weeks after legolas made a show of dabbing in the training arena, you found her in a rare moment of rest. you knocked on the door to her rooms and when she opened it, you walked right inside and plopped yourself on the nearest chair.

“ugh tauriel! finally, i’ve been trying to talk to you for ages!”

she smiles warmly, always having been one to enjoy the mannerisms that made you so intensely human. “it’s good to see you too, mellon nin,” her chuckle is soft and sincere. “what do you need?”

you sighed, snatching a throw pillow from the chaise you were on and reclining back in a way reminiscent of a therapist’s office. “i need advice about legolas.”

her smile turned to a knowing smirk. “ah, so you finally see what the entire kingdom already knows.”

“what do you mean ‘the entire kingdom knows’? what do they know?!”

“ah, i see i was mistaken.”

your resulting floundering was amusing to the redhead.

“i’m serious tauriel, i need your help!” you thought it useless to play coy and being vague would get you nowhere, so you told her exactly what you needed to know. “i need to know how to go about asking him on a date, or whatever it is that elves do when they’re interested in someone.”

“well,” she began, “if i know him as well as i think i do, he wouldn’t want you to conform to elven traditions to please him.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” at this point, you were beginning to question why you came to tauriel for help, seeing as she was being ridiculously cryptic and strangely unhelpful. “in case you forgot, he’s royalty. i can’t exactly woo him with ridiculous memes and call it a day.”

she nodded. “why not? if that is a regular human courting tradition where you’re from, why would he not find it acceptable? it’s part of who you are, and one could only call themselves a worthy suitor if they appreciate those things about their intended.”

okay, she had a little bit of a point. not that you would tell her so, of course. “but i can’t text him memes at ungodly hours of the night, there still is a lack of cell phones to contend with.”

for someone so smart and otherworldly, tauriel thought, you were rather oblivious when your feelings got in the way of your common sense. “then do those things in a different way. as you’ve told me before, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

after a few moments of silent pondering, you realized what she was hinting at. “i can draw the memes! or, well, i can ask meril for assistance in the matter, since i’m not quite used to using quills and such.” tauriel thought she could see the gears turning in your head (if that was indeed the right analogy).

she shouldn’t have been surprised when you leaped from her chaise and wrapped her in a tight hug. humans in your world must be a bit more affectionate than the ones she was vaguely familiar with, “thank you thank you thank you! i’ll let you know how it goes! bye!” with that abrupt exit, tauriel watched you fondly as you sprinted from your rooms, probably heading to the library where you could find meril.

-

legolas was fletching arrows when a courier appeared in his line of vision with a bow. “my prince, a letter for you.” he accepted the outstretched letter with a nod, wondering what it could possibly be.

the parchment was familiar to him, being the very same quality that occupied his own writing desk in his chambers. the only momentary pause was seeing that the few words were written in westron, underneath a drawing of a radish with a tiny face.

“you’re… radishing?” it took him a moment to dissect the pun, shoulders shaking minutely when the meaning fully registered. then his eyes caught your signature on the bottom of the page and his smile grew wider. he folds your letter neatly and tucks it into a pocket. when he goes back to his rooms next, he will deposit it securely on his desk to keep it safe.

the radish is the first of many of these pictures he receives from you, he soon learns that in the world you came from, they’re called “memes” and can convey any number of things depending on the content and context.

during dinner one evening, you passed him a napkin that he unfolded to find another vegetable drawing, this time a smiling carrot, with the words “i carrot a lot about you” that turned the tips of his ears pink. if his father noticed the blush he gave no indication of it.

your memes varied in artistic talent (he would know meril’s penmanship anywhere) but all carried the same intention, which seemed to be making him flustered at the most inopportune times. another thing he learned about memes was that they were frequently sent back and forth between two people.

his own visit to meril seemed to be long overdue.

-

meril has lived for several thousand years in service to the greenwood. yet, in all her centuries of knowledge and experience, she’s never seen two beings dance around feelings with the same grace as prince legolas (or lack thereof, where you were concerned).

you taught her what memes were and provided descriptions of what you deemed “templates” for her to draw,  master copies of a certain type of meme where the meaning of the meme changed depending on the text. it was a very interesting affair, if she did say so herself. they became more popular throughout the kingdom thanks to your influence, so much so that the prince himself came to her one day with an odd request.

“i need you to help me compose a meme worthy of mistor’s laughter.” he looked serious as he ever did, grim determination set in every pore of his face. none would know that he was simply trying to make a meme.

“you need to be more specific, your highness. your dear mistor can find humor in nearly everything around them. in fact, yesterday afternoon, they spilled nearly a month’s worth of ink onto a single piece of parchment and laughingly called it the thirteenth reason.”

legolas smiled at the story before his mind fully processed what she said. “they’re not my- thirteenth reason for what? what were the other twelve?”

meril shrugged, walking towards what became your desk in the library soon after your arrival. many of the templates were strewn about its surface haphazardly, half-finished memes next to their matching templates. “you should find everything you need here, your highness. if mistor arrives before you’re gone, i shall keep them occupied.”

“thank you. i greatly appreciate your help.”

finding blank parchment and a quill, he dipped into your ink jar and quickly got to work.

-

you generally never got letters. any missives you received from various elves were dubbed simply as messages that just happened to be written, which is why being told there was a letter for you had you perplexed. it wasn’t like modern earth discovered how to send carrier pigeons to middle earth in the few years you’ve lived in the greenwood.

instead of asking the courier several questions about the contents of the letter, you simply bid him thanks and quickly tore into it.

the wax seal of the royal line was recognized in seconds. thranduil wouldn’t waste his time writing anything out that he could simply tell you in person with a summons to wherever he happened to be.

that left legolas, and the thought made you giddy just thinking about it.

you registered that there were words written to you, but paid them no mind for the moment. what truly gave you surprise was the fact he used a template. you knew this because you recognized the format; a young girl standing in front of several other people who were giving her audience, a display board just behind her.

this bitch sent you a lisa simpson meme.

after a moment of bewilderment, you actually read the words that were just behind her.

“mistor’s laugh makes the plants grow stronger and could replace the sun with their joy”

you could tell that towards the end he worried about having enough room for all the words in the square with how they got just a smidge smaller. but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest, not when he wrote such a romantic sentiment solely for you. your giggles were the furthest thing from dignified but you didn’t care.

you had a prince to find (and hopefully kiss, if things went your way).

[wild-lavender-rose]

Can I have Legolas and Will Turner separately kissing the reader's scars after seeing them (From battle,abuse, or near death experience not self harm) 🥺

For Legolas-

"What's this from?" Legolas touched your arm.

You looked up from your book to find Legolas looming over your place in a chair by the fireplace, firelight catching on the silvers and greens of his uniform. You lingered in him for a moment, taking in his beauty. Then looked to where he touched you, to the scar his fingers traced over. "Orcs." You returned to your book.

"It must have been painful."

"You should have seen the orcs." You smirked and turned a page. "Sadly, they did not live long enough for their wounds to heal."

You could hear the smile in Legolas's voice. "I'm sure not." He leaned down and kissed the scar.

There was a thunk of his satchel hitting the ground, then your beloved came to sit in front of your chair. This was not an unusual occurrence. Legolas often sought your presence at the end of his day. What you hadn't expected was for him to slip his shirt over his head and hold out a pale, muscular arm for you to inspect. "Matches yours."

Book forgotten, it slipped from your lap as you leaned forward and ran your hand along the long scar. "Orcs?"

"Goblins." Legolas smiled softly as you kissed the scar, slow and sweet, savoring his warmth.

"Must have been painful." You looked up at him, entranced by his eyes in the flickering light.

"No longer." His fingers found the back of your neck, gentle, steady, bringing you close for a kiss you readily returned.

For Will-

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe, fingers stilling on the buttons of your shirt. You were exhausted and wished for nothing more than sleep, however you were so tired your fingers kept fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Having already removed your gun, hat, and shoes, the shirt was the last thing to go before you could sleep in some sense of comfort in your undershirt.

You had just resolved to give up when familiar footsteps sounded outside your door. A pause, soft knock, and Will stepped inside. "The crew is still celebrating," he closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click. "They'll probably be up all night."

"Good for them." You rubbed your eyes, swaying unsteadily as he approached. "Do you need something?"

"Uh," Will nodded to your bed. "Are you about to sleep?"

"I was attempting to," you fumbled irritably with your shirt and yawned. "Can't, can't get my shirt off."

Will's smile was gentle. "Here," he crossed to you, the closeness making your heart skip. "Allow me."

"It's fine," you took a step back and tripped, sure to have fallen had not Will caught you by the arm.

"Steady," Will smiled as you laughed at yourself. "You're exhausted."

"Unbelievably." You smiled up at him, the expression fading as his fingers found your buttons. "Will,"

His fingers paused. "Allow me to help."

"I don't...I'm not," your face grew hot, gaze falling down to his chest. "I have...I'm not pretty."

"Love,"

"A life...A life of a pirate is not always kind." You closed your eyes against the shame, only you were so tired it made you want to doze off standing up so you opened them once more.

"Listen," Will touched the side of your face and brought your gaze up to his once more. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life. But, you will think me ugly."

"Never." Will pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Never, my love."

You hesitated but did not refuse when he began to unbutton your shirt. His movements were slow and careful. Will kissed your nose, your cheeks, your lips as he worked, the sensation intoxicating. When your undershirt and arms were revealed you expected disgust to cross his face. Instead, you saw nothing but sadness and love.

"Darling," he breathed, fingers brushing along the scar on your collarbone, then over to the scar on your shoulder. The scars were everywhere, marring your tanned skin.

"Ugly?" You asked.

"Beautiful." He responded, leaning down to kiss along the length of each scar.

Fanfic Masterlist

[mimilind]

Sent to Middle-earth - Part 1

♡ ♡ ♡

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 2700

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

♡ ♡ ♡

1. Spider’s Web

The huge spider took another step towards you. You tried to back away, but there was a tree behind you, and you could get no further. Trapped.

A hairy foot crushed the basket of bilberries you had worked so hard to gather. As you stared into the monster’s multiple eyes, helplessly awaiting your death, you cursed the magician for sending you here – and not for the first time. Middle-earth was not a cozy, romantic world with exciting adventures around each corner, and where everyone was a badass fighter. It was dark and dangerous, you were still your normal, non-warrior self, and you hated being here.

“Go away,” you told the spider in your broken Sindarin, the language your new family had taught you. 

It did not reply, and instead came closer. Its stench filled your nostrils, making you dizzy, and you could not look away from its black, dead eyes. In a last effort to protect yourself, you covered your face with your cloak.

It did not help. You felt a sharp sting through the stout wool and straight into your belly. As the poison spread through your veins, your body went limp. 

Still awake, but unable to move or even speak, you were dragged up on the spider’s web. It swiftly spun you around, covering you head to toe in sticky silk. Instead of devouring you directly, it left you hanging there like a big burrito, perhaps wanting to wait until you were dead. 

When you were alone, you felt utterly miserable. Your stay in Middle-earth had been no picnic so far, but this topped the list as your worst experience. And likely your last one, too.

Why had you ever gone into that stupid box? 

But it had been a funfair, and he was not a real magician – or so you had thought – and you had played along. After entering his vanishing box, you had said where you wanted to be sent (Middle-earth, of course!), and the next thing you knew, you stood in a dark forest outside a cabin, with an elf family staring at you like you had popped into existence right before their eyes. This, you later learned, was exactly what had happened.

That was over a year ago now, and still you had no idea how it had been possible, or if you could ever return home. If you became spider-food now, would you wake up in your own world again?

There was a rustle above you. The spider returning? You tried to see, but your eyes were partly covered, and you could only perceive vague shapes.

You heard a twang, a shrill screech, and then something big and dark fell past you, hitting the ground with a soft squelch.

“Got it.” The voice was strong and melodious; an elf voice, but none you recognized.

“Well done,” said another. “Now let us destroy these eggs.”

“We continue tracking its partner, and you catch up with us when you are finished.” The third voice sounded further away.

Whoever the elves were, they had not seen you. You tried to call out, but your mouth was full of sticky web.

“Mpff! Mph!”

“Did you hear something?”

“Up there. It has caught someone.”

You felt the web tremble and heard the voices mutter and grumble as they tried to avoid getting caught in it while cutting you loose. And then you fell, crashing down, hip first. The impact would probably have been painful, but the spider poison had made you numb, and you felt nothing.

“Sorry about that. It was the only way to get you down,” said the first voice kindly, as its owner began to peel away the cocoon from around you. When your face was freed, you could see him clearly. It was a male elf – an ellon, as they were called – with an unusual golden blonde hair color. He wore a hunter’s green tunic, and a quiver of arrows strapped across his chest. Could it be…?

“I am Legolas of the woodland guard. Who are you, and why does a human walk alone in these woods?” 

Legolas. The elf you had loved since the first time you saw him on screen, in the first Lord of the Rings movie, when he walked into Rivendell and curiously looked around. The movies had got his appearance slightly right, but even in his youth, Orlando Bloom had never been as handsome as this elf. You felt your heart beat faster.

The poison made you unable to move your lips and tongue, and your speech came out unintelligible. “I ah ooh…”

“Did the spider sting you?” Another elf came into view; this one had dark hair. 

“How unfortunate,” said Legolas. “And your hip is swelling up. I hope the fall has not broken it.”

“So, what do we do? The rest of the company is already far ahead.”

“We have to go to the camp.” He turned back to you. “Don’t worry. We are going to treat the sting wound and clean out any remaining poison. When your speech returns, you can tell us where you live, and we will help you return there.”

You blinked your eyes and made another noise, hoping it sounded grateful. These elves had saved your life.

Legolas picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you in his arms along a nearly invisible path, closely followed by his friend. You felt your face heat up, starstruck to be this close to your idol, and you were almost grateful the poison made you unable to speak – for you suspected whatever you said right now, would be incredibly stupid. 

After a long walk, you came to a glade with a fireplace in its center, surrounded by a couple of tents in the same green color as the elves' clothes. Legolas carried you into one, and placed you on a blanket. He took off your cloak and folded it into a thick roll, placing it under your head as a pillow.

Then he called to his friend outside: “Can you go after the others, explaining my absence, and ask Niphredil to come back here? Meanwhile, I will do what I can, but I am no healer.”

The elf agreed, and was gone. 

“I have to cut this off, to find where you were stung. The sooner I can wash off the poison, the sooner you will get your mobility back.” Legolas looked apologetic as he ruined your outer garment, but you did not mind. The elvish family who found you all those months ago had given you clothes more suitable for this world, and you were sure they would understand. They were kind people, and you hoped they were not too worried that you had not returned home yet.

In only your undershirt you felt a bit embarrassed, and it seemed Legolas was not entirely comfortable either when he found where the wound was. He folded the hem up and exposed your stomach. Looking down, you saw the ugly mark from the spider’s stinger and felt nauseous; it was round and even, and as large as a coin. A black, oily mess covered the area, mingling with your blood, which seeped out in a sluggish trickle.

“The poison holds the bleeding back, but if I leave it there it will keep leaking into you and prolong your immobility, and possibly do some lasting damage to your nerves as well. I have to get it off, and then quickly bandage the wound. It should be painless, but with the poison gone, your sensations will slowly return. I hope the healer will have come by then; she knows better what to do about the pain.”

He soaked a cloth in something herbal-smelling, and washed the area carefully. As soon as the black filth was gone, fresh, crimson blood welled out of the hole. Legolas was ready with a wad of linen and pressed it firmly against the stinger mark, winding a long bandage around your waist to keep it in place.

Next, he checked on your hip. As he gently prodded the swelling, you felt a numb ache. 

“Ahh…”

“Does it hurt?” he looked worriedly at you.

“Little,” you managed to get out.

“I’m glad your speech is returning. I had better check this before your senses return entirely; it will probably be less painful if I do it now. May I?”

“Yeshh,” you slurred.

“I, uh, have to roll down your hose a bit.” He blushed.

“Yeshh,” you assured him. Of course he could not know you were from a world where showing one’s leg was not a big deal, especially not for medical reasons. 

Legolas fumbled a while with your hose strings; apparently he was not used to the kind of knot you had tied them with. 

Hose were interesting garments, worn by both men and women around here. They resembled a pair of very long socks, though not as elastic; reaching from the toe all the way to the crotch. Unlike pants, they were not sewn together, and tied to an underbelt to stop them from sliding down. Underneath the hose, you wore linen underwear, looking a bit like large, baggy boxer shorts – these too unisex.

Legolas had finally loosened your hose, and uncovered the leg which had hit the ground first. Your hip and upper part of the thigh had gone dark and looked twice as thick as normal. He felt along the bone, and the ache returned, a bit stronger now. You grunted.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“‘S alright.”

“It could be broken, but it’s not easy to feel.” He sighed.

As he started to roll the hose back up, you stopped him. “No. Leave… Swell. Hurt.” The pain was steadily growing worse now, a sharp throbbing with each heartbeat.

“Of course.” He covered you with a blanket instead. “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts,” you said. 

“Niphredil should be back soon. She can give you something to drink. It tastes horrible, but it will take away some of the pain.”

You nodded. Your sensations had returned to your arms and hands now, and you experimentally wiggled your fingers.

“What were you doing alone in the forest?” He took on a somewhat stern tone, and you remembered the Elvenking did not take lightly to strangers roaming Mirkwood. Legolas probably helped his father guard the borders.

“I was gathering berries, but strayed too far from the others, and lost my way… I called back to them, but then the spider came.” You looked at him apologetically.

“Humans are not allowed in this land.” He frowned.

“I know, but… They took me in. A family of elves.” You described how you had been sent here by magic, but on purpose kept most of the details out. It was too hard to explain how different your world was; it was easier to make it sound like you were from another part of this world.

Legolas looked a bit skeptical, but to your relief he did not question you further.

Not long afterwards the rest of the elf company returned, and their healer took over your care. Like Legolas had predicted, she gave you a bitter draught for the pain, but it actually did help a little and also made you drowsy. Soon you were fast asleep.

♡ ♡ ♡

In the morning, the healer returned to check on you. When she removed the bandage from your stomach, she drew in a sharp, surprised breath. “It’s almost healed!” 

You looked down, and your eyes popped open. She was right. The hole was nearly gone, and had scabbed nicely. It still hurt, but much less. Uncovering your thigh, you saw that the swelling was down, and it was less dark in color, but when you tried to move your leg a searing pain shot up.

“Keep it still. The hip bone is broken,” said Niphredil. “But it still surprises me how much better it looks. If you were an elf, it would have been expected, but for a human to heal this fast… I have never seen that before.” 

Legolas came inside the tent, and heard the last part. He too examined your wounds, looking very puzzled. “Are you an elf?” he asked. “You don’t entirely look like one, but with a stamina like this, you must be.”

“Maybe the magical box did it?” you pondered. You actually had noticed some differences in yourself the past year. You were physically stronger and had more energy than before, and slept a lot less – you had accounted it to your wholesome lifestyle with lots of fresh air, healthy food and exercise – but what if your transport here had changed your body somehow? It was no less strange than you coming here in the first place.

Legolas seemed intrigued that someone could change from a human into an apparently immortal person, and resumed his questioning about your arrival here. This time, you told him more than before – the truth about where you came from. 

“So this is why you speak with an accent. If you had been from Gondor like you said at first, you would have learned Sindarin at an early age.” 

“Sorry.” The accent embarrassed you, and there were still many Sindarin words you did not know.

“Don’t be. I like your accent.” He smiled, and you felt your cheeks heat pleasantly.

Strangely, your being sent through time and space did not surprise Legolas as much as you had thought, and instead he seemed mostly curious about you and your world. But then, this was Middle-earth. Here were fire-breathing dragons and rings of power, giants who turned into stone in sunshine, talking spiders and cursed swords; here they used to have trees and lamps instead of a sun and moon, and one of the stars was a guy in a boat sailing across the sky. Magic was normal here. 

All through the day and well into the night you talked, telling Legolas all he wanted to know about the future. You only hid one thing from him: that Middle-earth and all its characters were fictive – including him. That was just too weird. I mean, how do you tell someone they are the figment of a 20th century author’s imagination?

Besides, you were beginning to suspect this was not made up. Everything felt real, and looked real. What if Tolkien too had been transported to Middle-earth, and only wrote what he had seen? It was a curious thought, and you wanted to ponder over it more before you said or did anything stupid.

♡ ♡ ♡

The following day, the elves had planned to return to the palace, and to your delight Legolas asked if you wanted to come; both because he wished to question you more, and so the healer could make sure your leg healed properly. If you agreed, he would send a messenger to the elf family where you lived and explain the situation.

“I would love to see the palace,” you said.

“Good, that’s settled then. I should make it up to you for breaking your hip.”

“Don’t say that!” you objected. “You saved my life. Had you not come, I would have become spider food.” The thought made you shudder.

“I should have cut you down more carefully. One of us ought to have stood below, catching you.”

“I’m just grateful to be alive. Think no more of it,” you assured him.

Legolas lent you one of his tunics instead of the garment he had been obliged to cut when examining you, and when you had put it on, your nostrils filled with his pleasant smell. 

The elves had made a pair of crutches for you, and though your hip still hurt, you found it worked fairly well to limp along with them. Legolas adjusted his pace and walked slowly beside you, telling you about the places you went past. Despite the increasing darkness, there was some beauty left in Mirkwood.

You listened, and tried not to gaze at his attractive face too much. Before, you had loved your imagined version of him from the movies and books, but here he was real – and greatly surpassing your imagination! His kindness towards you had only made you like him more.

♡ ♡ ♡

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[shrubdaddy]

sorry i’ve been mia. i got a new job and it has me STRESSING? is the fandom dead or alive in here??

[cosmic-glow]

hello !! hope you have a nice day <3

can you please write a soft/fluff Legolas x Reader with the drabble 2 ?

Notes: I swear the ending is cute!! But there's a silly fight first😭 it's my first time writing for Legolas, I hope you like it, good reading!

"I only think about you" - Legolas

Warnings: Legolas x gn!reader; reader is children of Elrond; mention of quarrel and fight; Legolas confused by his own feelings; SFW.

- I still don't understand why this would be my responsibility - the son questioned his father.

- Because I'm ordering! - Thranduil spoke already irritated - They are children of Elrond, and if they don't return safely from this journey, you will regret it.

And it was with this conversation that Legolas stuck with you on this long journey. You were Elrond's youngest heir, the youngest, and most irritating to Legolas. You always got into trouble, it was obvious that you would need protection. The elf prince only regretted that he was chosen for this. It wasn't enough for you to disturb his thoughts from the first time you met at the ball - your beauty able to leave him breathless and your attitude overflowing with confidence - now he was forced to put up with your physical presence too.

- Let's stop here, it's already getting dark, let's take advantage of the remaining light to set up camp - said the blonde.

You agreed, and after everything was ready, you asked for privacy to bathe in the nearby river. Legolas warned that it wasn't a good idea, but you, stubborn as ever, didn't listen and assured him that you'd be fine on your own. It was only a few minutes before the elf heard the sounds of fighting coming from the direction you were. As he approached, he soon recognized the figure that had his back to him trying to approach you in the river, it was a goblin. Without hesitation, Legolas shot an arrow right through the center of the creature's skull, which landed in front of you, revealing your traveling companion close behind.

- I told you it was a bad idea! - he approached, irritated by your carelessness.

- You didn't have to come, I had everything under control! - you shouted back.

- Really? Well, it didn't seem that way, do I always have to watch out for you?!

- If it bothers you so much you didn't have to come, you can leave, then you won't have to think about me anymore!

- I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!

Legolas shouted from the bottom of his lungs, stressed and tired, not just from the journey, but from the feelings that were growing for you and consuming him more every day. You kept quiet, surprised because you had never seen him like this, sinking a little deeper into the water to hide your naked body more, realizing your shame only now. Legolas, who had only just realized it too, turned around to give you some privacy, but also before you could notice the blush growing on his cheeks.

- I'm sorry... That's not what I meant, I'm just tired... Let's go, if there's a goblin here there must be others nearby.

Silently, you agreed and obeyed, and after getting out of the river and changing, you broke camp and moved on.

The trip followed in silence, now an awkward atmosphere between you two, more distant than ever. Feeling responsible for that, Legolas decided to break the silence when you stopped to eat.

- I shouldn't have screamed, I'm just worried because I'm responsible for you, so if something happened to you...

- No, I understand, it was my stupid idea and... I understand if you don't want to continue the trip, I don't want to be a burden for you.

- You would never be a burden - he spoke automatically, without filtering before how revealing the words could be - Even if I left, I would keep thinking about you - and with that he decided to shut up, realizing how the words accumulated in his mind now just leave without him being able to control it.

- Really? Would you keep thinking about me even after all the stress I've caused you?

- You don't understand, I only think about you. My worry and stress would only increase if I left, because... Because I really like you - the last sentence came out as a whisper.

The blush had returned to his face, his anxious heart beating harder, his eyes unable to face you now. Legolas tried to stand firm, but he was crumbling under your lingering gaze.

- Oh, that's good to know - you smiled - because you have also been tormenting my thoughts, Legolas.

Prompt: "I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!"

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

Masterlist