#kili looks so smol but really he's just behind him a ways

[mo3lefay]

@wickededge

look who I found hanging out in The Grove~

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes:  I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf  lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

Tag List:

@hauntedsiriel @tesserphantom @liviaolivia @dumbladores @littlefrenchfryesblog @hibernatingmadhatter @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

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Le leich= You’re sweet

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.).  [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest? 

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was  a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being An Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into a fantasy land that seems familiar to you, but you had no recollection of it. Lord Fabulous Elvenking gave you three days to find the portal that would take you home with the aide of Blue-Eyes and a host of Elves, but what you found instead was the portal was closed for another thousand years. On the way back, you saved Legolas's life, prompting Thranduil to grant you freedom, and after, you finally realized where you were; Middle-Earth. Thranduil summons the council, which is made up of powerful wizards and Elves, to decide what should be done with you...

Chapter No.: Chapter 3

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I think Pippin's song matches the reader's situation very much, which is why I use it so often. I mean, your character fell from everything they know, their "home," and now they can't go back, but now they have this whole magical world and life ahead of them... Grief and sorrow, but things to look forward to in the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When you woke up, you found yourself blinded by a stupidly bright light that singed your retinas off. "What the hell?" You shielded your eyes as you tried to find the source.

Oh.

It was Thranduil, and beside him, Legolas, the two so bright they could be hung on your porch as bug-zappers.

Ohhhh...

You were in Middle-Earth. Right. Without any memory of it except for bits and pieces. You did remember that you'd watched the movies so many times that you could've recited each line in your sleep and then some, but you couldn't remember anything but what pieces you randomly dreamed of or remembered, which were already starting to fade.

"Hi. Can I help you with something in my half-starved state?"

Blue-Eyes desperately fought a smirk. Thranduil was less impressed. "My son tells me you lost consciousness because of a lack of sustenance. What sort of repayment is that for my favor to you, may I ask?"

You cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse the fuck outta you, Thrandy, but I just learned about a week and a half ago I'd never see my family again. Forgive me if I got upset."

Blue-Eyes turned his head away, trying really hard not to laugh...

"Also," You went on with a forced cocky smile, "I just learned that I'm in Middle-Earth. Where I come from, all this-- the palace, the land, even your fancy Elven toilets-- were created by some old guy called J. R. R. Tolkien, collectively referred to as 'Jrrt.' Now, I don't remember a goddamn thing except for bits and pieces of dialogue and song, even though I knew the stories by heart."

Thranduil and Blue-Eyes-- who was no longer trying not to laugh-- eyed each other suspiciously. "You knew of this place in your world?"

You nodded. "It's very well-known. But, everybody thinks it's fiction. Unaccesible. And be glad about that, too, because if there were a well-known way to get here, there'd be lots of war, new diseases, and this place would be turned to shit, too."

Thranduil stared at you for a minute, before abruptly turning to Legolas. "Son, I am off to the throne room. I shall summon the council at once."

You waited until he left to ask what that meant.

Blue-Eyes smiled slightly. "Meaning, he is not quite certain what should be done with you. The council is made up of some of the oldest and wisest of Middle-Earth, including the wizards and those of my kin, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, and Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

You shrugged. "It doesn't matter if they sound familiar or not. I never remember what anybody looks like. I just get an eerie sense of deja vu."

Blue-Eyes raised an eyebrow. "Deja... Vu?"

You sat up more, rolling your eyes. "It means having a sense of familiarity, like, really strongly. Whatever. Tell me who the wizards are."

Blue-Eyes sat at the end of your bed. "The most powerful of the wizards is Saruman the White, who resides in Isengard, on the edge of Fangorn Forest and the Gap of Rohan. The second is Mithrandir, who is most commonly known as Gandalf the Gray by most folk. The third is the much less-known-of and reclusive Radagast the Brown, but I doubt my father will request his presence; he dislikes his excessive behavior." He raised an eyebrow. "Have you heard of them?"

You nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. So if I'm an Elf, do I like, have to learn how to act like an Elf, or should you let these really important people decide what to do after they've seen who I am?"

"The latter," Blue-Eyes specified, "But it would still be beneficial to learn Elvish. It should take them quite awhile to arrive; between now and then, you should learn as much of it as possible, after I've given you a tour of Mirkwood."

You made a wheel-like motion with your hands. "After I've eaten and taken a bath, I know."

Blue-Eyes patted your leg. A jolt of electricity shot from where he touched you. What the hell? "Good," He stood and started to leave the room. "I will leave you to your own; there is food on the nightstand, and after, a bath across the bridge there," He pointed, and as you looked across the way seen Elves.

Bathing.

Blushing, you looked to Blue-Eyes wildly. "I-I'm supposed to take a bath with other people."

Blue-Eyes frowned in confusion. "Do you not, from your world?"

"Um, no. We all bathe alone. Where I come from, one's own body is considered... Private, to everybody except your doctor or significant other."

"Oh, I see. I could have a private bath prepared for you, if you wish for it," He answered with a smile. "Even here, we may want to bathe on our own to relax. It would not be a problem." He sneered down at you. "I would not want you bathing in the shared springs anyway. You'd dirty the whole lot of them."

With a very childish glare, you stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to have the oddest look he'd had yet. You'd noticed something about him; he had the unique ability to create a range of dynamically comical expressions. "What are you doing?"

You took up a dramatically serious tone. "I am expressing the 'fuck you' gesture in an immature and childish manner used worldwide, even among the youngest." With that, you stuck your tongue out again.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well, then, Sairen, your bath will be ready for you when you are finished with your meal. I will send someone for you in an hour, if that suits you."

"That suits me perfectly fine, but I beg your fucking pardon, was that 'fuck you' in Elvish?"

Legolas grinned. "Not at all, mellon. It means 'fiery' in our tongue."

"Okay." A wry smile spread across your face. "That I can deal with. But what does 'melon' mean? Both you and Tauriel have called me that so far."

Legolas smiled as he began to close the double-doors, though what they did to block you when the room had only two-foot tall walls, you had no idea. "Mellon. It means, 'my friend.'"

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as he smiled-- for once, genuinely-- at you. You found yourself smiling back as he closed your doors. When he was gone, your smile toned down a bit, and you took a long, deep breath.

You were still upset. Very. On the inside, you felt torn to pieces. You figured it would be a long, long time before you grief lessened, if it ever did. But now that you knew where you were... It was different. You were sure of something. Where you were, and the fact that the Firemoon Portal would only open every thousand years. If you went back then, you'd already be connected to this world, and everyone in it. If time passed the same, your family would be gone, and you'd be mortal again, without a way to wait for the portal to reopen so that you could return to your new friends here.

But... You knew your family. They'd never forget you, and never stop grieving your loss. But, if they thought you might be somewhere better than Earth, and there was no way back... They'd want you to be happy. They'd want you to make a new life. They wouldn't want you to waste your life starving yourself.

You'd miss them... More than anything...

But for now...

You moved the silver platter on your nightstand to your lap, and started eating.

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

***

"No, no," Tauriel corrected you. "Mae govannen."

"Mae govAHnnen."

Tauriel bit back an exasperated sigh. "Well... You're close enough."

You'd been in Mirkwood for nearly a month now, not counting the days of your imprisonment and searching for the portal. You wondered what made Thranduil (Who you still called 'Lord Fabulous' on occassion.) release you and treat you as an Elf, and as it turns out, it was Blue-Eyes himself.

Speaking of, you hadn't seen him in days... He kind of... Disappeared. There was still talk of him, and no one seemed to be worried, so you weren't; for Elves that lived forever, you bet anything that he had princely exploring and regular adventuring to do to keep him occupied.

Around the time he left, Tauriel approached you and asked if you knew any Elvish. Aside from sairen and mellon, you knew less than zero. Apparently, it was considered good Elven manners to at least speak a greeting to guests in their own language, despite what Leggy had said. Meaning, to different members of the council, you had to speak a greeting in Quenyan-- which was different from Sindarin, the most common Elvish language-- Common, and Sindarin. You'd memorized the lines, but it was the pronunciation that really befuddled your non-billingual ass.

Now, you'd pretty much gotten the Quenyan greeting: Mae govannen. It meant well met or something along those lines, but you had to add Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. I am at your service. Which was much longer and much more complicated. All in all, it pretty much came out to, Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume.

English (Common.) was equally as long: Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it.

And lastly, to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, you had to say the most: And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled.

And to you, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. I am blessed from your coming.

It was all a mouthful. A regal, elegant mouthful, but a mouthful that your tongue had trouble forming. In addition to all the greetings, you had to address them each in order; first Elrond, then the wizards, then Galadriel and Celeborn at once.

They'd arrived a few days ago, but you hadn't actually been summoned yet. You wondered what Thranduil had told them about you so far. He seemed like the type to exaggerate and make shit up: They're nothing but an abomination! They almost killed Legolas! They tried to kill me! They're dangerous and should be restrained! They toilet-papered my throne room!

The elaborate horns blowing signaled something evidently important; Tauriel's face lit up. "Mellon, it is Legolas! He has returned!"

Despite yourself, your heart jumped like a schoolgirl's. Blue-Eyes was back! "Really?! How do I look? Does it look like I've been taking care of myself?" Legolas would kill you if you weren't. Over the weeks, the blue hair dye had left your hair, returning it to its [h/c] color, even if you did still spike it up-- you'd been an outcast your whole life, so having short spiky hair when everybody else had long, flowing hair made you feel at home. You were dressed in dark browns, nearly blacks, in an outfit very similar to a tunic over leggings, knee-high boots, and all finished up with a long jacket, closed with Elven buckles.

"You look fine, [Y/N]," Tauriel assured you absentmindedly, and the two of you trotted down the many, many stairs and bridges to get to the massive front doors of the palace.

Thranduil and a host of other Elves were greeting Legolas, who looked as if he'd been in Sparkle Land for the last couple weeks. His clothes were in prestine condition. His hair was perfectly plaited away from his face. He wore a faint smile, as if whatever he'd been doing hadn't been stressful at all.

You and Tauriel arrived just as Thranduil finished speaking. "And you failed to locate them?"

Legolas held himself regally. "My apologies, my king. It will not happen again."

Thranduil glared down at him. "I should hope not. You will leave again in three days' time, after you have properly greeted our guests." As Thranduil spun on his heel to leave, Blue-Eyes bowed, rising up again as he seen you and Tauriel.

"Tauriel," He said, his face lighting up. She bowed slightly; apparently Elves didn't hug. He grinned snarkily when he seen you. "And [Y/N]. Last I saw you, your hair was strangely sky-hued."

You scoffed. "You can't even say sky-colored? You have to say sky-hued? Stupid Elves and their fancy ways. Good to see ya anyway, Blue-Eyes, even if you're a priss."

"I believe you mean prince."

You laughed, but it faded when he turned to Tauriel and started speaking in Elvish. He lead her away, talking, leaving you on your own. Your face fell. You wanted to tell him that you knew some greetings. You wanted to say you wanted to go with him when he left again. And the fact that you were already alone here only amplified the feeling of... Jealousy? Disappointment?

You watched them leave for a minute, before deciding you'd take a walk in the Mirkwood-- maybe it'd clear your mind. You nearly rammed into an Elf in turning around. "Whoops."

"Nothing to apologize for," the Elf said; thankfully, they'd caught on to Earth slang and understood you most of the time, instead of just assuming you were insulting them. "Thranduil Elvenking has summoned you to his councilroom. The council awaits you."

Your mouth went dry. All the feelings about Legolas ignoring you vanished in an instant. Oh shit. "I-I don't know where that is. You'll take me there, right?"

"Of course," Said the Elf, and lead the way through the twisting halls. He stopped before the one room of the palace that was actually sealed off from the rest besides the dungeons, with doors almost as big as the ones that lead out of the palace. "Here you are. They're waiting for you." He smiled slightly. "A word of advice for the introductions: let King Thranduil introduce you to them before you say your greetings." You bowed slightly in the Elven way as you thanked him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous as hell. Meeting a bunch of people, really important people... You'd met some important people before: soldiers were the main ones you'd met, aside from a couple of astronauts. Other than that...

Taking a hugely amplified deep breath, you opened the door.

Inside was a wide winding staircase lit  by gorgeously-crafted Elven wall sconces of stained glass and copper metalwork shaped into vines. Every step seemed to echo, and when you reached the top of the staircase, your breath was ripped from you. It was a pavilion. A pavilion in the one place you loved above all else: the sky.

Rails kept anybody from falling off, and it was roofed, so that you could come up here even in the rain. Birds chirped melodiously, and from here, you felt as if you could see all of Middle-Earth. Behind you was a huge mountain range-- you'd never seen mountains before. They were beautiful, snow-capped, and gigantic; the Misty Mountains, obviously. All around you, stretching as far as you could see south and a long way east and west and north, was the Mirkwood, and to the west and north were vast plains, hills, and valleys. Leaves, gold and copper, swirled around the pavilion, giving it an ethereal look. To the west, where you were facing, was a silver lake, wide and glittering in the midday sun. Standing tall and proud beside it was Erebor, home to the King Under the Mountain; currently, Thror. You didn't know why that name seemed so important, though.

You must've turned around in at least a dozen three-sixties, trying to take in what you were seeing. Even if you didn't remember most of it, here you were. You were seeing it, for real and for true, in person, in the home of one of the most revered Elves of Middle-Earth. It seemed unreal, like at any moment, you'd wake up.

A bird, queerly tame, flitted up by your face and up into the rafters; she carried food for her young, and you watched them with a smile, still in disbelief of the views.

A long sigh snapped you out of your trance. Shit. Thranduil waved at you absentmindedly. "Are you daft, vermin? I just introduced you to the council."

"O-oh--"

"Now, now, Thranduil," A wizard chuckled warmly; he wore blue and gray robes, with an immense beard and long hair. Gandalf. "If they really are of another world, then they are obviously stunned by the land. Have you not shown them their new home properly?"

Thranduil nobly facepalmed.

Meanwhile, you realized that it wasn't just Gandalf sitting there smoking his pipe.

Another wizard, this one with long, straight white hair and an equally perfect white beard, in blinding white robes with a white staff: Saruman the White. You didn't know why you got bad vibes from this guy. Beside him sat another Elf, casually, an ankle on his knee and an elbow resting on his higher leg to hold up his head with two fingers. He wore robes of brown and purple, and his long brown hair was held back with a silver Elvish circlet. That had to be Elrond; he looked amused, so you felt kind of relieved. On his left sat a guy who practically glowed, with long blonde hair and white and blue robes. Celeborn. Standing off to the side, with a kind smile like Gandalf, in a billowy white dress with a beautiful Elven circlet made of fine chains and teardrop jewels was a woman, a she-Elf, putting off wisdom-vibes stronger than Gandalf's. Her curling golden hair went well past her waist, and she held herself regally. Out of everyone in this room, she seemed to be the oldest, and the most knowledgeable.

Your Elvish greetings flew right out of your head for a minute, before Thranduil reintroduced you. "This is the council. With us are wizards Saruman the White and Gandalf the Gray, Lord Elrond of House Rivendell, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. Councilmembers, this is [Y/N], the one who appeared from a portal we knew nothing of-- and if I must repeat this once more, I swear to the Valar, I shall throw you off of this pavilion."

Gandalf actually chuckled at that, as did Elrond, while Celeborn cracked a smile. Galadriel seemed to find this all regally amusing. You bowed like Tauriel had showed you. At least, you'd mastered that part. "Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume. Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it. And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled."

Elrond looked impressed. "Well, Thranduil, you have certainly trained them well." Thranduil watched you with wide eyes. He hadn't known of your lessons. Suck it, Lord fucking Fabulous.

Celeborn bowed his head. "Your pronunciation is nearly perfect. Well done, young one. However, I doubt you know much else of our tongue yet, so for your sake, we shall converse in Common, if that suits you."

You almost said, It does. Thanks! But that sounded too disrespectful. "Thank you very much." You smiled, and took a seat when Thranduil waved you to the only empty one aside from Galadriel's.

Saruman started off with a wary tone. "Thranduil tells us you come from another world. Is this true?"

Out of the corner of your eyes, you seen Thranduil roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. I come from a place called Earth."

The councilmembers exchanged glances. "That sounds strikingly similar to Middle-Earth," Said Gandalf, and raised an eyebrow. "Are there any similarities between this world, and yours?"

You shook your head sadly. "Not anymore. My people ruined it. There aren't many places like this anymore."

Saruman stiffened. "Then what happens if your people find the portal? Surely, they will try to ruin this, as well?"

You made a face. "They would, yeah, but my people are also really stupid. It'd take a stupid accident and a lot of chance to fall through that portal again, and Legolas said that it only opened once every time a Firemoon happens."

"Legolas?" Elrond asked, curiously, as if this hadn’t been mentioned before. Of course it hadn’t.

You nodded, unsure of why you suddenly had to fight a flush at the mention of his name. "He helped me find the portal with some of his Elven friends when I first got here. We found writing-- he said it was used before the time of even Gondolin. I don't know when that is; is that a long time ago?"

"Very," Replied Gandalf. "Odd... A portal of that magnitude would have to be created by wizards of some sort, especially at such a time..."

A thought suddenly popped into your head. "Some people think we have magic," You piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on you. "But it never works. Not effectively. Just standard hocus-pocus and the power of suggestion. But hundreds of years ago, there was this really mysterious guy who they say really did have magic, which he used to help others. His name was Merlin; he looked kinda like you, Gandalf. But he was in another country, where I come from; where I was when I fell wasn't anywhere near where he traveled."

Saruman narrowed his bird-like eyes. "Then what relevance is this?"

"Because if there was one wizard like you guys in the past," You pointed out, "Why couldn't there be others? There's so much we don't know about history-- we're more intent on wiping out what we don't understand. What if the wizards traveled between worlds and time? Hell, they could be you guys from the future, and it just hasn't happened yet."

"They have a point, Saruman," Gandalf agreed, much to your relief. You didn't think they'd understand the concept of time travel.

"There is nothing we can do about the portal now," Elrond said decisively. "It is closed, and if we tried to destroy it, we could only do damage. It is an easy enough position to defend; should an army come through, they'd have only one entryway."

"Says who?" Saruman challenged. "There could be other portals we do not know of, some that people have not had the misfortune of falling into yet. How do we know that this invader is not a spy to seek out these portals and prepare them for war?"

You fought a sigh. Damn this small-minded son of  a bitch... You tried to think of something smart ass to say, but nothing fit the situation.

"They are not, Saruman." Lady Galadriel's voice was sudden, light, and smooth, like honey. It radiated outward with an undeniable power that could make anybody listen to her. "Their thoughts do not lead there." Shit. I mean crap. I mean dang. Mind reader. "They are afraid, and worried... They miss the family they left behind, but they are willing to make a life here, since they have no way of returning."

You nodded. "My thanks, my lady."

Lady Galadriel bowed her head in response.

"Build a life?" Saruman inspected you carefully from where he sat. "You are nothing but an infiltrator. Why should we allow you a place among the citizens of Middle-Earth?"

"It does not have to be here," Thranduil pointed out, and your heart shot to your ankles. "You have an unfortunate habit of collecting needy strays, Elrond; why don't you take them with you when you return to Rivendell?"

Elrond shot him a glare.

Um, I think the fuck not. Lady Galadriel, tell them I say no! Tell them I want to stay here! You thought of the views, and of... of Blue-Eyes...

"Perhaps they should be isolated," Saruman said. "Somewhere they cannot concoct any mischief. Rohan is quite strict, as Gondor is watchful. Either would suffice. Perhaps centuries of isolation in Isengard itself would keep them in line."

"Maybe the Shire would be good for them," Gandalf said. "The hobbits are quite peaceful little creatures. Then again, if isolation is what we are looking for, then Laketown couldn't be better. Or Dale; the dwarves don't let anyone commit any mischief from Erebor."

I don't want to leave...

"Lothlorien would perhaps be suitable," Celeborn added. "Or, maybe even the mines of Moria. I do not have much love for dwarves, but they would be kind enough to them."

"What," Interrupted Galadriel, "Does the subject of our conversation think of this?"

Silence fell. You took a deep breath. "I... I'd like to stay here." You seen Thranduil's head turn slowly to look at you, and you could hear him thinking, the fuck did you just say? "Please, my lord."

A tense silence fell over the room. Finally, Thranduil sighed. "I do not want you here, invader. You would have to prove your loyalty and skill beyond a shadow of a doubt."

You perked up. "Legolas is going on some super-secret missions, right? Maybe I could go with him. You trust him of all people to tell you the truth about me, right? So maybe I could prove myself then."

Thranduil thought about this for a moment. "Legolas is hunting for the orcs who are trying to overtake our borders. He found them, but he let them escape, even though they were a small group. He is leaving in three days with reinforcements; you may join him."

You almost visibly sagged with relief. Almost.

"However," Thranduil added, "If I find his report unsatisfactory, you will go with one of the councilmembers and leave Mirkwood. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Elrond nodded to you. "You would have a home in Rivendell. It is the last safe haven of the Elves in Middle-Earth." He gave Thranduil a pointed sideways glance. "My people are welcoming and kind. They would be glad to have you." With a slight roll of his eyes, he gestured to Gandalf. "And of course, Mithrandir..."

Gandalf looked excited. "I would take you on my journeys with me, if you so desired. First, I would take you to the Shire. Very nice people, those hobbits. And of course, dwarves would be next."

"I thank you both," You smiled slightly, and you truly were grateful, but... "Then it is settled," Thranduil said authoritively. "Elrond, Gandalf, you are welcome to stay here until Legolas returns."

"I would be grateful," Elrond said, but Gandalf defiantly snorted. "I, dear Elvenking, already have arranged for lodgings in Laketown. Send for me once they arrive, so that I may know what I must do."

You felt buoyed a little. Gandalf didn't one-hundred-percent think you'd fail. And you wouldn't. You'd kick ass. You'd save Blue-Eyes's ass again. You'd come back triumphant, and Thranduil would have to let you stay.

Wouldn't he?

Thranduil left first with Elrond and Celeborn, followed by Gandalf and Saruman closely. Galadriel looked out over to the lake, all shiny and pretty and with her hair billowing majestically. "Why do you wish to stay among those who do not wish for your presence?"

You were stunned by the question. "I-I don't know... I've lived all my life an outcast... The hated one... I've just grown used to it. Being somewhere where people would be nice to me makes me uncomfortable. But there are a couple of people nice to me, and that's enough."

Galadriel was silent for a moment. "You think of him."

"Uhhh..."

"The prince."

You did blush this time. "I-I don't--"

"You are one of the Eldar now, mellon," Galadriel stated slowly. "Eldar only fall in love once. I have known many who have been broken by that which is unrequited. Do not be one of them."

You thought about her words for a second. "I don't love him... I don't even have like a crush on him or anything..." I've only known him for a couple days, overall.

Galadriel nodded slightly into the breeze. "Sieze it, if the chance arises. But if it does not, or if you do not think it will... I advise you to seek for a home elsewhere." You got the gist. If I do fall for him on my mission, and I know it won't go anywhere... Leave, even if I succeed.

Your heart was heavy at that thought, but you knew she was right. "Thank you, my lady."

"You need not thank a friend for giving advice." She smiled at you, and you left the pavilion with a deep bow, trying desperately not to let your heartstrings fall apart.

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[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada  is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @hauntedsiriel​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @naryamirie​ @legolasdeserveslove​ @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @sagabriar​ @brushwood-souls​ @taurlel​

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...