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earthlybeam · 13 days ago

Note

Hii, if your requests are open may I please request something a bit bittersweet but with a good ending? Sort of?? With Legolas , Thranduil and Haldir (and/or anyone else you'd prefer more!)Something like them and the reader being separated in war/battle and them thinking the other is gone but then they reunite after a long time and it's tears and happiness and all that soft stuff. Bonus points if the reader is also mortal/human

A bittersweet tale with a heartwarming ending—featuring Legolas, Thranduil, Haldir and bonus character Elrond love him too much. 🫶❤️‍🩹

So Imagine the reader you a mortal (gender is up to you as non state) , and the elves being separated during a fierce battle or war. Both sides believe the other is lost, the grief of separation weighing heavy on them. Yet, after an agonizingly long time, fate intervenes. Against all odds, they reunite in a moment filled with overwhelming relief, tears, and joy. It’s a tender celebration of love enduring through loss, hardship, and the passage of time. 🫶🥹❤️‍🩹

If anyone else has any requests feel free to ask 🫶

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

𐂂 The Battle of the Five Armies had come and gone, leaving behind scars that no time could ever truly heal. For Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, the toll of loss weighed heavily on his heart. Amidst the chaos—the relentless clash of swords, the anguished cries of the fallen, and the suffocating haze of smoke—he had searched for you. His human love. His heart. His beloved starlight. He had fought against the tide of battle, his mind only on you, but in the confusion and chaos, you had been swept away, lost to the carnage.

In the days that followed, Thranduil himself took to the battlefield, disregarding the pleas of his soldiers to return to safety. His silver armor, once gleaming, was now dulled with blood and ash, his movements precise yet desperate as he turned over fallen bodies, scanned the shattered terrain, and searched through shadowed crevices. When the wind carried no trace of your scent, his heart constricted. When he found only a scrap of your bloodied cloak caught on the jagged rocks of a cliffside, he knew despair.

𐂂 Thranduil did not cry out. Kings did not weep in the presence of their people. He held the torn fabric tightly, the blood staining his palm as he returned to his soldiers with an expression that betrayed nothing. His orders were delivered with icy precision: count the dead, tend to the wounded, prepare for the long journey home. The Woodland Realm must endure, for he was their king, and they needed him to remain steadfast.

𐂂 But that night, in the solitude of his chambers, Thranduil crumbled. He sat on the edge of his ornate bed, your bloodied cloak still clutched in his hand. The walls of his chamber, once grand and filled with life, now seemed to press in around him, cold and suffocating. The emptiness in his chest felt like a wound that would never heal, and his grief clawed at him like a living thing. The silence mocked him, for he knew the sound of your laughter would never fill these halls again.

𐂂 Thranduil had lived for centuries, enduring losses that few could understand. He had stood on the battlefield when his father, Oropher, fell during the War of the Last Alliance, his grief then a sharp and sudden wound. He had watched his beloved wife fade away, claimed by the creeping darkness that plagued the woods. That grief had been a slow, relentless ache. But this? This was different. Your absence was not a wound or an ache—it was an emptiness, a hollow void that had been carved into his very being.

𐂂 He missed you in ways that made his chest tighten and his breath catch. He missed the sound of your voice, so soft and full of warmth, the way it caressed his name when you spoke it. He missed the human lilt in your Sindarin words, a melody that was uniquely yours. He missed the way your laughter would echo through the halls, bright and carefree, a sharp contrast to the somber atmosphere of the palace.

𐂂 He longed for the nights you spent together, tangled in one another’s arms beneath the moonlight. He could still feel the press of your lips against his, kisses so full of passion and fire that they left him breathless. A kiss from you had the power to undo him, to strip away his crown and his burdens until he was not a king but simply a man who adored you. He missed the small, human things you brought into his immortal life. The way you would coax him out of his solemnity with your mischievous smiles and playful demands. One rainy evening, you had dragged him into the gardens, insisting that he join you to dance in the storm. At first, he had resisted, scolding you for risking your health, but when your fingers entwined with his and your laughter rose above the thunder, he had relented. Together, you had spun and swayed beneath the deluge, your hair plastered to your face and your clothes clinging to your skin. In that moment, he had felt something he had not felt in centuries��freedom.

𐂂 Thranduil’s grief was sharpest in the quiet moments, when the absence of your presence was most keenly felt. He missed waking up before the sun just to hold you a little longer, your body warm and soft against his. He missed how your fingers would trace the elegant lines of his face, your touch reverent, as if you were committing him to memory. He missed the ritual of dressing together each morning, your hands brushing as he fastened the clasps of your gown/robe or adjusted the delicate circlet you wore.

𐂂 Evenings in the library were the hardest to endure. The two of you would sit close, a fire crackling softly in the hearth as you read to one another. Your voice, clear and melodic, would weave through the ancient stories, and he would pause every now and then to press a kiss to your temple or trace a finger along your jawline. You had a way of making even the longest nights feel too short. Without you, those evenings felt endless and empty.

𐂂 There were nights when you’d set the books aside, pouring glasses of deep red wine and lingering over its warmth. He’d sit on the floor between your knees, his broad back leaning into your lap, while your fingers deftly braided his hair, weaving intricate patterns as you talked. You’d trade stories, share secrets, laugh until your sides hurt, and unravel the mysteries of one another until the fire burned low.

𐂂 Eventually, you’d settle together on the chaise, his arms wrapped around you, his head tucked into the curve of your neck. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat would lull you into a sense of peace, and you’d wonder how hours could slip by so quickly when they were spent in his arms. Without you, those evenings felt endless and empty—a hollow echo of what they once were.

𐂂 He missed your presence at his side during council meetings, your steady gaze meeting his when the weight of his crown became too heavy. Though you were mortal, you had a wisdom that he cherished, and he often leaned over to murmur in your ear, seeking your insight on matters of politics or war.

𐂂 He missed the sound of your voice. How it could rise in fierce defiance, matching his intensity when you challenged him, or soften into a gentle melody when you spoke of your dreams. You had a way of looking at him that unnerved him at first, piercing through the layers of his arrogance and pride, as if you saw the man beneath the crown. And he had let you see him—a rare gift, one he now regretted giving so freely, for it left him feeling more exposed in your absence.

𐂂 Thranduil carried himself as a king should, his grief hidden behind an unyielding mask. But when he was alone, the cracks in his composure showed. He wandered the halls of his palace late at night, his silver cloak trailing behind him like a shroud. He imagined he could hear your footsteps, the soft echo of your voice calling his name.

𐂂 The gardens, once a place of solace, now only deepened his sorrow. He would kneel by the flowers you had tended, his fingers brushing over their leaves as though he could touch a piece of you. He remembered how you had once knelt beside him, your hands dirtied from planting new blossoms, and how you had laughed when he teased you about your lack of grace.

𐂂 He would sit beneath the ancient trees, staring up at the stars, and wonder if you could see them too, wherever you were. His fingers would stray to the ring he had meant to give you, the one he had carried in his pocket for months, waiting for the perfect moment. That moment would never come.

𐂂 Thranduil’s grief was a testament to the depth of his love. He had lived for centuries, but you had taught him what it truly meant to live. Your absence was a void that no amount of time could fill, and though he remained every inch a thin the walls of his heart, he was simply a man mourning the you who had been his world.

𐂂 Three years had passed in the lonely corridors of his palace, years marked by an unrelenting stillness that clung to the Woodland Realm like a shroud. The celebrations of the victory at the Battle of the Five Armies had long faded into memory, their songs and triumphs reduced to whispers of the past. For Thranduil, there was no solace in victory, no joy in the enduring peace. His thoughts, no matter how he tried to quell them, always wandered back to you.

𐂂 He thought of your laughter, so bright it seemed to illuminate the shadowed halls of his realm. He thought of your touch—soft, grounding, and warm, a balm to his weary spirit. He thought of the way your eyes shone, even in the darkest moments, like stars breaking through a storm-laden sky. But these thoughts were no comfort. They were daggers, sharp and cruel, reminding him of the emptiness that had taken your place.

𐂂 The elves whispered of their king, pitying him. Thranduil, who had endured centuries of loss and seen his kingdom thrive despite it, now seemed diminished. His grief was a weight that bent him in ways his people had never seen. Once proud and untouchable, he had become a man lost in memories, a king trapped in mourning.

The return:

𐂂 Three (or more up to you) years had passed since fate last smiled upon Thranduil. Three years of silence, of searching, of despair. The Woodland Realm had recovered from its battles, but its king had not. His people spoke in hushed tones of his sorrow, how he spent long hours gazing toward the edges of his forest, as though willing you to emerge from the shadows. Yet the forest, which once seemed endless and alive, had remained achingly empty.

𐂂 Then, on an autumn evening when the air was thick with the scent of fallen leaves and the golden hues of the forest began to fade into dusk, hope returned. A scout came to the palace, his face grave but his icy blue eyes bright with news. A figure—a lone, weary traveler—had been seen wandering the edges of the forest. The description matched you.

𐂂 Thranduil needed no further confirmation. Without so much as a word, he swept from the council chambers, the echo of his departure leaving the room stunned in silence. Mounting his great elk, he rode out into the deepening twilight, his silver armor catching the last remnants of the sun. The colors of autumn blurred around him as the wind tore at his hair, but he paid no mind to anything except the direction the scout had pointed.

𐂂 He pushed his elk harder than he ever had before, the urgency in his heart an unfamiliar but undeniable ache. As the shadows lengthened and the forest grew darker, Thranduil urged his mount deeper into the woods. The only sounds were the rhythmic beat of hooves against the forest floor and the faint rustle of leaves. It was then, when all seemed still and silent, that he heard it. A voice. Faint, carried by the wind like a song drifting through the trees. It was fragile, almost unreal, but it was unmistakably yours. “Thranduil.”

𐂂 His hands tightened on the reins, his heart stuttering in his chest. Could it be? The voice that had haunted his dreams, the name spoken in a way only you could, both familiar and utterly sacred? Fear warred with hope. What if it was a trick? An echo of his grief? Yet deep in his heart, he knew it could only be you. Urging his elk onward, Thranduil rode toward the sound, his sharp eyes scanning the darkening forest. The trees seemed to bend and shift as though guiding him forward, and at last, the forest opened into a small clearing bathed in the soft glow of twilight.

𐂂 And there you stood. The Sight of You. The world seemed to stop. Time itself held its breath as Thranduil dismounted, his cloak swirling around him in a cascade of silver and forest green. He moved forward slowly, his steps hesitant, as though afraid that the vision of you might dissolve into mist. But you were real. Time had touched you, softening the youthful glow of your face, marking you with lines that spoke of trials endured and years spent apart. Yet you were unmistakably, gloriously you.

𐂂 You turned at the sound of his approach, your eyes widening with shock and disbelief. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then, as though the earth itself shifted beneath your feet, you ran to him. Thranduil caught you in his arms, lifting you from the ground as though to anchor you to him, to banish the years of emptiness that had carved their mark into his soul. His grip was unrelenting, his hands clutching at you, trembling as they mapped the reality of your form.

𐂂 “Thranduil, my love,” you whispered, your voice breaking as your hands framed his face, tracing the sharp angles of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw. Your touch was desperate, needing to confirm that he was real, that this was not another cruel dream.

𐂂 “You… you are here,” he murmured, his voice cracking with disbelief. His icy-blue eyes brimmed with emotion as his hands rose to cradle your face, his long fingers trembling against your skin. “Alive.” He traced the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, as though committing every inch of you to memory. A shuddering breath escaped him, and his composure—the centuries of restraint he had so carefully mastered—crumbled in the wake of your presence.

𐂂 Then, unable to hold back any longer, he kissed you. It was a kiss that spoke of years lost and love enduring. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation, as though he could pour every ounce of his grief, his longing, his unyielding devotion into that single moment. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. For the first time in centuries, Thranduil wept.

𐂂 Tears slid silently down his pale cheeks, unchecked and unashamed, as he rested his forehead against yours. His breath came in uneven bursts, and his voice was thick with emotion as he whispered, “I thought I had lost you. I searched every shadow, every corner of this forest. I found nothing. I thought…” His voice faltered. “I thought you were gone.”

𐂂 Your hands tightened on his cloak, clutching at the rich fabric as though to anchor him to you. “I told you, my king,” you said, your voice trembling but steady with conviction. “It would take more than a war to keep me from you.” Your words broke the last of his resolve. He let out a sound—half a laugh, half a sob—and pulled you closer. “You never stopped hoping,” he murmured, his tone one of wonder. “I never stopped,” you confirmed, tears shimmering in your eyes.

𐂂 For a long moment, there were no more words, only the silence of the forest and the quiet communion of two souls reunited. The weight of the years, the pain of your separation, melted away, leaving only the undeniable truth of your love.

𐂂 When Thranduil finally led you back to the Woodland Realm, his people watched in awe. Their king, who for centuries had been distant and untouchable, now radiated a warmth they had never seen before. It was as though you had brought life back to him, restoring a light that had been long extinguished. Though the years apart had changed you both, your love endured—fragile in its mortality, yet unyielding in its depth. And for Thranduil, who had carried the weight of loss for so long, you were his salvation.

Aftermath:

𐂂 Thranduil had always known what it meant to love a mortal. He had known it from the moment his heart first stirred for you, from the way your smile softened the edges of his carefully guarded world. He had known it when you walked beside him through the gardens of the Woodland Realm, your steps so light yet leaving an indelible mark upon his soul. And he had known it when he held you for the first time after your return, the warmth of your presence a bittersweet reminder of how fleeting your time together would be.

𐂂 He no longer let the weight of his duties keep him from your side if you needed him he try get their as fast as he can. Every stolen moment was precious, every shared glance and quiet word a treasure. He found himself lingering in the small, human routines of life that he had once dismissed. He would rise before dawn to watch you sleep, the soft rise and fall of your chest a melody that soothed his ancient heart. He would sit beside you in the evenings, reading to you in the lilting tones of Sindarin, the stories of old taking on a new significance with you nestled against him.

𐂂 Yet, beneath the surface of his newfound joy, a shadow lingered. He could not ignore the truth of your mortality. It was a quiet ache that never left him, a silent countdown that ticked away in the back of his mind. He knew there would come a day when your hand would no longer be there to hold, when your laughter would no longer fill the halls of his palace. And though he was no stranger to loss, the thought of losing you—his love, his heart—was a wound he could not bear to dwell upon.

𐂂 On days when your mortal strength faltered—when the weariness of your journey or the limitations of your human frame caught up to you—he would lift you into his arms without hesitation. His steps remained graceful and unhurried, as though carrying you was the most natural thing in the world. You protested at first, laughing softly at the indignity of being treated like a child, but his calm, unwavering expression silenced you. “You are mine to protect,” he would say simply, his voice gentle but firm. “Let me carry you.” And so you would rest against him, your head on his shoulder, as he bore you through the forest. The warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his steps became a comfort you cherished deeply.

𐂂 The evenings were your favorite time. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars emerged one by one, you and Thranduil would retreat to the quiet solace of his private gardens. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers and the hum of life, a testament to the harmony he had nurtured in his realm.

𐂂 You would sit together beneath the spreading branches of an ancient oak, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the space around you. Thranduil often brought a delicate glass of Dorwinion wine for himself and a fragrant tea for you, brewed with herbs from the forest.

𐂂 “I have lived so long,” he said one night, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “Too long, perhaps. And yet, in all that time, I have never felt as I do now.” He turned to you then, his blue eyes bright with a vulnerability few had ever seen. “You have given me something I thought lost to me forever: hope.” You reached for him, your fingers brushing his cheek in a gesture of comfort and devotion. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can,” you promised, your voice soft but resolute.

𐂂 His hand covered yours, his thumb caressing the back of your fingers. “I know your time here is fleeting,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I will not waste the gift of your presence. Every moment with you is a treasure, meleth nín, and I will cherish it until the end of my days.”

𐂂 Though the inevitability of your mortality weighed heavily on him, Thranduil chose to focus on the present. He insisted on celebrating the small joys of life: the laughter you shared over a quiet meal, the way your eyes lit up when he presented you with a token of his affection—a delicate circlet of silver leaves or a rare flower from the depths of the forest.

𐂂 He became fiercely protective of you, ensuring that no harm would ever come near. His guards were instructed to keep watch over you whenever he could not, though he was rarely far from your side. Even Legolas, upon returning to Mirkwood, marveled at the bond between you.

𐂂 “You have done what I thought impossible,” Legolas said to you one day, his tone both teasing and sincere. “You have softened my father’s heart.”“I didn’t do anything,” you replied with a smile. “He was always this way. He just needed a reason to show it.” In the years that followed, Thranduil made good on his vow. He loved you with an intensity that belied his normally reserved nature, his devotion to you a constant in a world ever shifting. And though he knew your time together was but a blink in the span of his immortal life, he found peace in the knowledge that you had returned to him.

Bonus part :

𐂂 Thranduil had planned to propose before the Battle of the Five Armies had changed everything. He had commissioned a ring crafted from mithril and set with a stone as clear as starlight, a design as enduring and timeless as the love he felt for you. It had been hidden away, waiting for the perfect moment. He remembered vividly the day he intended to ask. The two of you had walked through the forest, the world quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of life around you. You had smiled at him, teasing him about his pensive mood, unaware of the question he carried in his heart. But then the drums of war had sounded, and everything had unraveled.

𐂂 After your loss in the chaos of the battle, he had buried the ring deep within the treasure vaults of his palace, unable to look at it without feeling the sharp sting of grief. But now, with you back at his side, the thought of that ring returned to him, a quiet but insistent reminder of what he had almost lost. One evening, as the stars glimmered above and the forest glowed with the soft light of fireflies, Thranduil led you to the same clearing where he had found you again. The air was cool, carrying the scent of autumn and woodsmoke, and the world seemed to hold its breath as he turned to face you.

𐂂 “I meant to do this long ago,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. From the folds of his cloak, he drew out the ring, the mithril catching the faint starlight. “Before the battle… before everything, I wished to ask you something.” You looked up at him, your eyes wide with wonder and tears glistening at their corners. He took your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he knelt before you, his regal composure melting into something infinitely tender.

𐂂 “I know that our time together is fleeting,” he began, his voice low and reverent. “But that is what makes it precious. You have given me a joy I thought I would never feel again, a love that has restored the parts of me I thought lost to the shadows of the past. Will you, for as many days as we are given, be my star, my light, my heart?” When you nodded, tears spilling over as you whispered your answer, he slipped the ring onto your finger and rose, pulling you into an embrace that spoke of a love too vast for words.

From that night onward, Thranduil treated every moment with you as a gift. He ensured that your days together were filled with joy, laughter, and the quiet, unshakable intimacy that defined your bond. The two of you traveled to the farthest reaches of the Woodland Realm, exploring hidden glades and ancient groves. He showed you the secrets of his kingdom, sharing stories that only the trees had witnessed.

𐂂 Yet he also prepared himself for the inevitable. Thranduil, who had faced countless wars and losses, steeled his heart for the day when you would no longer walk beside him. But he made you a promise: when that day came, he would not let his grief consume him. Instead, he would carry your memory like a flame, a guiding light in the endless expanse of his immortal life.

𐂂 And when the time came—years later, in the gentle embrace of a quiet spring—Thranduil held you close as your mortal body surrendered to time. He did not fight the tears that fell, nor the ache that gripped his soul. Instead, he whispered words of love and gratitude, promising that he would find you again, in whatever form the world allowed.

𐂂 For Thranduil, your love was a paradox fragile in its mortality, yet unyielding in its depth. It was a love that defied the constraints of time, enduring not in the years you shared but in the eternal mark it left on his heart. And though he lived on, an immortal king bound to the world, he carried you with him always—a love that transcended even the bounds of eternity.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

𖧧 The battle had been chaos—a maelstrom of blood, steel, and fire. You had been separated in the thick of it, pulled away from Legolas by the tides of war. He had seen you fall, your mortal body collapsing beneath the weight of the enemy’s blows. He had screamed your name, but the battle’s cacophony swallowed his voice. Despite his best efforts to reach you, the press of the enemy and the demands of leadership had dragged him away, forcing him to retreat with his people.

𖧧 Days after the battle, Legolas returned to the site, his heart heavy with dread and hope. The battlefield, once a scene of turmoil, was now eerily silent, save for the whispers of the wind. He searched desperately among the broken bodies and shattered weapons, his eyes scanning every corner, praying to find you—alive or at least at peace.

𖧧 But all that remained was the tattered remnants of your cloak, caught on a jagged stone. His fingers brushed the fabric, trembling with a mixture of grief and disbelief. No sign of your body. He fell to his knees, the weight of the loss sinking deeper than the cold earth beneath him. The battle had taken so much, and now, even your remains seemed to have vanished into the void.

𖧧 Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and yet the memory of your last moments haunted him. He could not forgive himself for failing to save you. Every arrow he loosed, every step he took in the forests of Mirkwood, felt hollow. For an elf who could live forever, the weight of eternity without you loomed unbearably large.

𖧧 The Fellowship, though sympathetic, could only do so much. Aragorn offered quiet support, Gimli shared in the mourning in his own gruff way, and even the hobbits, who knew loss all too well, tried to cheer him with stories. But nothing could ease the ache in Legolas’s heart.

𖧧 Five years passed, and the world around Legolas moved forward, but he remained stuck in the past, as though caught in a never-ending cycle of mourning. The war was over, the Ring destroyed, and Middle-earth had begun to rebuild. Yet, every step Legolas took in the woods of Mirkwood felt hollow. His heart, once full of the song of the trees, had become a silent, aching void. He no longer found joy in the endless beauty of the forests. The trees, once his closest friends, now whispered their sorrow to him as much as they did their solace.

𖧧 He had watched, for centuries, as the seasons changed, but he had never truly understood how fleeting they were until now. The impermanence of life had never struck him so deeply. He had lived through countless ages, witnessed kingdoms rise and fall, seen friends come and go, but none of it had ever hurt like this. The thought of you—the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way you held his hand in yours—was a constant presence in his mind. He longed for you in the quiet moments, in the stillness of the forest, when the noise of the world faded away.

𖧧 The ache was a part of him now, a permanent scar that could not be healed. Legolas missed you more than he ever thought possible. He missed the way you would hum soft songs to him when you thought he wasn’t listening, the way you would laugh at his awkward attempts to fit in with the others, and the way your eyes would light up when you spoke of something that brought you joy. He missed the way you would lay beside him on quiet nights, your head resting on his chest, listening to the heartbeat that was steady and sure while your own was more fleeting, yet so full of life.

𖧧 He missed the softness of your touch, the warmth of your hand in his, the way you would hold him close when the world outside seemed too dark. He missed the feeling of you nestled beside him in the evenings, when the world grew still, and the air was thick with the scent of the forest, the fragrance of pine and earth that he had always loved. You were so different from him, so mortal, and yet so full of life. You had a way of seeing the world with fresh eyes, finding wonder in the simplest things. It was that wonder, that joy you radiated, that had drawn him to you.

𖧧 But now, the world felt empty. The laughter that had once filled the air now echoed hollowly in his memory. The wind, which used to carry the melodies of the forest, now whispered your name in his ear, a constant reminder of what he had lost. Legolas would often wander deep into the heart of Mirkwood, lost in thought, searching for some kind of peace, but he could never find it. He would find solace in the quiet rhythm of the world, in the stillness of the ancient trees, but it was never enough. The trees had always been his companions, but now they felt distant, like they too mourned your absence.

𖧧 His nights were the hardest. Legolas had always been a creature of the day, a warrior and protector, but it was in the quiet of the night that his grief truly took hold. He could not sleep for the thoughts that churned in his mind. He would find himself sitting at the edge of the forest, staring out at the stars, the ones you had once pointed out to him, tracing constellations with your fingers as you shared stories of ancient times. Those memories would bring him some comfort, but they also deepened the ache in his chest. It was as if the stars themselves were now distant, removed from the world that had once been shared by both of you.

𖧧 In the years since the war, Legolas had done everything he could to honor your memory. He had planted trees in your name, hoping they would grow strong and tall, just as you had. He had given himself to the land, using his hands to heal the scars left by battle, to restore what had been lost. But even this work, which once brought him peace, no longer satisfied him. The trees, the rivers, the creatures of the forest—they all reminded him of what he had lost, of the life he could never have with you again.

𖧧 He longed to hear your voice again, to feel the warmth of your hand in his. He wished for nothing more than to see your face once more, to run his fingers through your hair, to kiss you as he had done so many times before. But you were gone, and all that was left was the echo of your presence, lingering in the spaces between his breaths.

𖧧 The grief had become a part of him, woven into the fabric of his existence. And though the passage of time had dulled its sharpness, it had never truly faded. The elves, ever perceptive, could see the change in him. They knew something was missing, though they never spoke of it directly. Even Thranduil, who rarely showed emotion, could not deny the shift in his son. But no one could truly understand the depth of Legolas’s loss. None but him could feel the weight of eternity without you.

𖧧 And yet, amid all the pain, there was a quiet hope, a longing that refused to die. It lived in the quiet moments when Legolas would catch himself smiling at a memory of you, or when he would find a token—perhaps a flower or a small stone—that reminded him of you. It lived in the whispers of the trees, in the soft rustling of leaves that felt like a whisper from your soul. It was the hope that, somehow, one day, fate might be kind enough to return you to him. But until that day came, he would continue his lonely path, living in a world where time moved on, but his heart remained still.

Your return:

𖧧 It was in the quiet solitude of the grove, the sunlight filtering through the new leaves of the saplings that had sprung to life in the wake of war, that Legolas first heard it—a voice that seemed to tear through the thick fog of his sorrow. It was so familiar, so dear, that it sent a chill down his spine.

𖧧 “Legolas?” For a moment, everything around him ceased to exist. His heart stopped in his chest, and the world seemed to tilt. The voice was unmistakable. It was yours. He whirled around, his elven senses alert, searching the trees, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with frantic intensity. And there you were. Standing among the trees, as if time had folded itself, and all the years between that fateful battle and now were nothing but a fleeting dream.

𖧧 You were alive. You were real. His breath caught in his throat. Your form, though unmistakably yours, bore marks of hardship—scars that told stories of the pain you had endured, the battles you had fought, and the life you had fought to cling to. But it was you. The same warmth in your eyes, the same gentle smile that had once lit up his world.

𖧧 For what felt like an eternity, neither of you moved. You stood, frozen in place taking in the sight of one another. Legolas’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat louder than the last, as if it, too, was trying to catch up with the reality unfolding before him.

𖧧 Then, without thinking, without hesitation, he moved. In a single, fluid motion, his legs carried him to you, his arms reaching out and enveloping you in a fierce embrace. His strength was overwhelming, as though he feared that if he loosened his hold, you might slip away again, like some fragile dream. His breath came in ragged gasps, his face buried in your hair, as if he could breathe you back into existence, pulling you close, unwilling to let go.

𖧧 “I thought you were gone,” he whispered, his voice strained and thick with emotion, the words almost strangled by grief and relief. His chest tightened painfully as he spoke, the weight of the years he had spent mourning you pressing on him, only to now find you before him, alive and real. “I saw you fall. I mourned you.” The sound of your voice, trembling but steady, broke through the tension. “I thought I was gone too,” you whispered against his chest, your voice cracking. “I was taken, Legolas. Injured, captured… but I survived. I kept hoping I’d see you again.”

𖧧 Your words were a balm to his soul, though they only deepened the ache in his heart. He could not imagine the pain you must have suffered, the darkness you had endured, separated from him for so long. And yet here you were, standing before him, alive and whole, despite everything.

𖧧 He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His fingers traced the familiar features he had longed for—your jawline, the curve of your lips, the eyes that had haunted his dreams for years. His touch was soft, reverent, as though he feared he might be dreaming again, that this was a fantasy that would vanish as soon as he blinked. His voice, barely a whisper, cracked with emotion.

𖧧 “Meleth nîn, you are here. You are alive.” His gaze locked with yours, his blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. It was rare for him to show such vulnerability, but this was different. You were back. The emptiness in his chest had been filled, but now the overwhelming flood of emotion threatened to break him. “I should have searched harder. I should never have given up—” Before he could speak another word, you gently pressed your fingers to his lips, silencing him. You felt the weight of his guilt, his self-blame, but you needed him to know—truly know—that none of it was his fault.

𖧧 “You didn’t give up,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hands covering his. Your touch was a grounding force, reminding him that this moment was real, that you were truly here. “You thought I was gone, as anyone would had. But now… now we have this.” You said the words with such certainty, such warmth, that it eased the last of his lingering doubts. There was no room for regret in this moment. Only the overwhelming joy of being reunited with the one person he had feared he had lost forever.

𖧧 Legolas leaned in then, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that began gentle, almost tentative, as if he were testing the reality of the moment. His lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant, as though the very touch might dissolve. But then, the floodgates opened, and the years of longing, of pain, of separation poured into the kiss. It deepened, and the gentle touch became an urgent, desperate need to feel you close, to make sure that this moment—this precious moment—was real.

𖧧 His hands moved to your back, pulling you against him, his heart hammering in his chest as if trying to convince him that you were truly there, that this was not a dream. He kissed you as though he could shield you from time itself, as though he could protect you from everything that had kept you apart. He wanted to erase the years of pain and loss, to replace them with the warmth of your embrace and the sweetness of your love. For a long time, neither of you spoke. There were no words necessary. The kiss said it all—the years of grief, the lost time, the quiet hope that had never faded. It was all there, in that one kiss, that one embrace. And in that moment, Legolas felt whole again, as if the missing part of him had finally returned.

𖧧 He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes once more, his chest rising and falling with each breath. There was still so much he wanted to say, but for now, words were unnecessary. Instead, he smiled, a smile that was both bittersweet and full of hope, as though he were daring to believe that this time, you were truly here to stay.

Aftermath:

𖧧 The elves of Mirkwood were overjoyed to see their prince returned to them, though many of them struggled to understand the depth of the emotions that had taken hold of him. Legolas had always been composed, the epitome of grace and quiet strength, but since your disappearance, a shadow had clouded his spirit. The change in him was not subtle. The elves, who had witnessed centuries of sorrow and joy alike, understood the weight of grief, but even they had never seen such a profound transformation in their prince.

𖧧 It was not just his grief that marked him; it was the overwhelming joy that followed your return. There was a light in his eyes now, a light that had long been missing, and it was this light that brightened the entire Woodland Realm. His once-distant gaze had softened, the sorrow that had bound him now replaced by a quiet, hopeful contentment. The elves were accustomed to the stoic nature of their kind, but Legolas’s transformation was like a beacon of hope, one that spread through the woods like the first light of dawn after a long, dark night. Even the leaves seemed to shimmer more brightly in his presence, as though reflecting his renewed spirit.

𖧧 Though many of the elves had long accepted the sadness of time’s passing, and the inevitable cycle of life and death, there were still those who found themselves cautious about attachment to mortals. They had seen how fleeting the lives of men and women were, how quickly the ones they loved could be lost. The idea that an elf—immortal and bound to the land—might form a bond with someone so transient had always been a subject of quiet discomfort. Yet, they could not deny the bond that had been rekindled between Legolas and you. The joy he now radiated was something none of them had seen in centuries. It was a testament to the power of love, and the elves, for all their wisdom, could not ignore the beauty of such a rare and pure thing.

𖧧 Even Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood, who had always been reserved and cautious with his emotions, could not hide the soft pride in his eyes when he spoke of your return. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the realm in twilight, he sat with Legolas and you beneath the towering trees. His expression, though still composed, betrayed a warmth that few ever saw from the elven king. “My son has been… unrecognizable without you,” Thranduil admitted, his voice low, his gaze resting on Legolas with an unspoken understanding. “Your return is a gift, one I did not dare hope for. In your absence, I feared he would never recover. I see now that I was wrong.” His eyes met yours for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment of the role you had played in bringing the prince back from the edge of despair.

𖧧 Legolas, ever the devoted partner, became almost protective in the days following your reunion. His presence was constant, his devotion unwavering. He rarely let you out of his sight, his gaze always seeking you out, even in a room full of others. His fingers often brushed against yours in passing, a small but deliberate gesture, like an anchor in the ever-shifting tides of life. His touch was a quiet reassurance, a constant reminder that you were still there, that you had returned to him, and he to you.

𖧧 Though the weight of mortality still hung over you like a shadow, it only made the time you spent together more precious. Each moment with you felt like a rare treasure, something he could never take for granted. Legolas began to show you the parts of the forest that he cherished most—hidden glades where the trees seemed to hum with ancient wisdom, sparkling streams that wound through the land like veins of life. He shared with you the quiet, sacred places where he had once wandered alone, his heart heavy with grief, and now filled with love. His heart ached with the knowledge that, as much as he longed to share eternity with you, time was never on his side.

𖧧 Still, despite the knowledge of your eventual passing, he held fast to every second. He cherished each touch, each laugh, and the fleeting moments of joy that seemed to glow more brightly in the presence of the inevitable darkness of mortality. When you walked together beneath the trees, your fingers entwined, he would often smile softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow, knowing that each passing day was one closer to the end of your time together.

𖧧 One night, as the two of you lay together beneath the canopy of stars, the world around you seemed to fade into a dreamlike quiet. The only sounds were the soft rustle of the leaves and the rhythmic pulse of the earth beneath you. Legolas’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, as though he could shield you from the inevitable, protect you from the fragility of your mortal form. He pressed his lips to your forehead, his voice a soft whisper against the cool night air.

𖧧 “I will love you until the end of my days, meleth nîn,” he murmured, his words laced with the depth of his emotion, “and far beyond that.” His voice trembled slightly, as if he, too, feared the passage of time, but in the same breath, he expressed his unwavering resolve to love you for as long as he could. “Even when the days of your life are gone, my love for you will endure, woven into the fabric of time itself.”

𖧧 For an elf like Legolas, eternity had always been a distant horizon—unchanging, inevitable, and timeless. He had always lived with the knowledge that his existence stretched on, forever unmarred by death. But with you by his side, the brevity of your mortal life gave him a new understanding of eternity. Even as the seasons changed and the world around them shifted, the love they shared became a constant. It was as if, in your fleeting moments together, you had given him a glimpse of the infinite. And for Legolas, that was enough.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

➳ The Battle of Helm’s Deep had come to a grueling end. After hours of fighting, the once serene valley had turned into a chaos of cries, clashing steel, and the smell of smoke. Amid the victory, there was sorrow. Haldir had led the Elven warriors with unmatched skill, but the cost was heavy. The loss of comrades, of friends—he had witnessed it all. But there was one more wound, one that cut deeper than the others: the sudden absence of you, his love, the one who had fought at his side.

➳ When the battle raged, Haldir had seen you fall. In the chaotic madness, there had been no time to reach you. The desperate hope that you had merely been knocked unconscious had been the only thing that kept him from succumbing to despair. He had searched the battlefield, and when the fighting ended, he had found no trace of you just the promise ring they both have. (That promise ring haldir had picked up and wore it on a necklace around his neck after that day), The hope had died then, buried with the fallen warriors.

➳ Days passed, and the darkness of grief settled upon him. The laughter of his brothers, the joy of their victory, felt distant to him. He withdrew into himself, ever vigilant, though there was no enemy left to face. The world around him had grown quiet, and the shadows of the past kept whispering in his mind, haunting his every waking moment.

➳ Haldir never spoke of it. Not to Aragorn, not to Legolas, nor even to Galadriel in his thoughts. How could he? To show weakness, to admit that his heart had shattered would have been a betrayal of his duty, of the pride of Lothlórien. So, he carried on, but it was harder now, each day a battle against the emptiness within.

➳ Not even year had done little to ease the ache in Haldir’s chest. The Battle of Helm’s Deep, a triumph for the free peoples of Middle-earth, had left him with a deep, unspoken sorrow, one that haunted his every step. The absence of you, his love, had carved an irreparable wound in him. At first, he had fought to hold on to the belief that you had survived, that perhaps the chaos of the battle had merely swept you away, leaving you battered and bruised but alive. But as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, that hope began to slip through his fingers, like the softest of sands in the wind.

➳ The ring you had given him (promise ring), the one he had promised to wear until the end of his days, had been the only tangible connection he had left to you. That promise had felt like a lifeline in those early days after the battle, as if by keeping it close to his heart, he could somehow keep you with him, even in your absence. But when the cold reality set in and the ring was the only thing he had left to hold on to, it became both a comfort and a torment. He wore it on a chain around his neck, hidden beneath the folds of his tunic, never once letting it out of his sight. It was the last piece of you, the last reminder of the life he had once dreamed of sharing with you. And it ached, pulling at his heart in ways he could not bear to voice.

➳ Each time he touched the necklace, a memory of you would flood his thoughts—the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes would light up when you spoke of dreams and hopes for the future, the way your hand felt in his, warm and steady. He missed the little things, the quiet moments that had meant the most. The way you had always known what he needed without words. How, even in the midst of battle, you had found a way to offer him comfort with a mere glance or a soft touch.

➳ Haldir had always been someone who took pride in his stoic demeanor, in the discipline and duty that had shaped his life. But you had changed him in ways he could never explain. You had brought softness to his heart, a tenderness he had not known he was capable of. And with you gone, that tenderness had hardened into an unyielding shell, keeping the world at arm’s length.

➳ He missed the warmth of your presence, the way you would sit beside him in silence, content just to be in each other’s company. He missed the way your voice would soften when you spoke his name, how your touch would linger in the small gestures—a brush of your fingers across his hand, a fleeting kiss on his cheek. There was a quiet intimacy in those moments that had grounded him, reminding him that no matter how distant or aloof he appeared to others, there was someone who truly understood him, who saw the person behind the warrior. And now, in your absence, the silence felt deafening.

➳ He often found himself standing at the borders of Lothlórien, staring into the vast expanse of the forest that had once felt so alive, so full of purpose. The trees whispered in the wind, their leaves rustling with secrets, but none of those secrets brought him peace. He longed for the sound of your voice in the trees, for the echo of your laughter in the quiet of the forest. The land that had once been a sanctuary now felt like a cage, a place where he could not escape the memories of you.

➳ As he went about his duties, he felt the weight of the years pressing down on him. He had remained steadfast in his commitment to Lothlórien, never faltering, never straying from the path of duty. But deep inside, he wondered what it all meant now. Without you, what was he protecting? Without you by his side, the endless vigilance, the watchful eyes that never let anything slip by, seemed almost pointless. His people, his homeland, they deserved his protection, but so did you. And in failing to protect you, he had lost a part of himself.

➳ His younger brothers—Rúmil and Orophin—had noticed the change in him. They had watched him withdraw, bury his grief beneath a mask of duty and honor. They had seen the way his eyes grew distant, how the fire that once burned so brightly in him now seemed dulled. But they knew him too well to press him, too well to ask what was on his mind. They had seen the way he would glance at the empty places where you used to stand, and the way he would pause, as if listening for your voice in the wind. And in those moments, they said nothing, offering him the silence he so desperately craved.

➳ Six years had passed, and in that time, Haldir had hardened further, the memories of you still fresh in his mind but buried beneath the weight of his responsibilities. The world had moved on, but Haldir had remained rooted in the past. He had not forgotten you—not once. And yet, he had convinced himself that you were gone, that the hope of ever finding you again was a dream too far gone to reach.

The return:

➳ Then, one fateful day, the summons came. The familiar call to return to the borders of Lothlórien, to watch over his people once more. The weight of his memories pressed heavier as he made his way to the edge of the forest. And there, among the trees that had witnessed so much of his pain, he prepared himself for what he thought would be another lonely journey. But fate had other plans.

➳ Haldir would never forget the moment his eyes fell upon you once more. It was as if the world had stopped turning. The forest stood still, the breeze held its breath. And there you were, standing before him, as real and as alive as the day he had lost you. His heart stuttered in his chest, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he might collapse from the weight of the emotions flooding through him. He had never stopped loving you, never stopped longing for this moment.

➳ For the first time in six long years, Haldir felt his heart beat again—not with the cold, unrelenting rhythm of duty, but with the warmth of hope. It was a warmth that had been absent from his life for far too long. It was like waking from a dream he had resigned himself to, the world around him suddenly sharp, vivid, full of possibility. The years of grief, of self-imposed solitude, had worn away at his spirit, leaving him hardened, distant, a shell of the Elven warrior he once was. But now, in that single breath, that fleeting moment when he first saw you, all of that shifted.

➳ His pulse quickened as he stood frozen, eyes locked on you as if you might vanish in an instant. His mind struggled to make sense of the impossible. You were here. Alive. Standing before him. Every ounce of restraint he had built up over the years crumbled in that instant. There had been no signal, no warning—just the quiet approach of your footsteps, the sound that shattered the numb silence of his existence.

➳ He took a step forward, but his legs felt weak. The elation, the disbelief, the agony of the years spent apart—they all surged through him, overwhelming him in a torrent of emotion. His breath caught in his throat. “Y/N…” His voice was barely a whisper, a sound so fragile it could break the very moment in which you both stood. The years of pain seemed to melt away with that single word. It was as though the years of separation, the endless nights of wondering, the grief of not knowing if he would ever see you again, all came rushing back to him in a heartbeat.

➳ Then, as if on instinct, he moved. He didn’t even think. He simply acted, crossing the distance between you in a few swift strides. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with a desperation that had not been part of him in years. His body trembled with the force of his emotions, his hands clutching you with such intensity that it almost hurt—but you didn’t mind. You, too, had lived with this ache, the gnawing emptiness that came with the loss of the one you loved. And now, in this instant, that loss was erased.

➳ Tears welled in his eyes, and though he fought them back, they came anyway—silent, betrayed by the depth of his relief. He let them fall, uncaring for once, for this moment was far more important than any of the self-control he had once so fiercely held on to. The warrior within him, so composed, so unshakeable, had melted into the man who had loved you more than anything. “I thought… I thought I had lost you forever,” he whispered, his voice breaking, as if speaking the truth aloud made it all real in the most painful way.

➳ His arms tightened around you, his hands trembling slightly as they moved to stroke your back, as if grounding himself in the reality that you were truly here. He buried his face in your hair, taking in the scent of you, a scent he had never truly forgotten, even as the years had dragged on. In your arms, he was whole again. “I thought I would never see you again,” he murmured against your skin. “I thought… I thought I was alone in this world.” His words were desperate, a quiet confession of how much he had fallen apart in your absence.

➳ “I’m here, Haldir,” you whispered, your own voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I thought I had lost you too.” You felt the trembling in his body, his silent sobs that shook him to his core, and you pressed yourself closer to him, letting him know that you were real, that you were here, that he was not alone anymore.

➳ He pulled back slightly, enough to look into your eyes, his gaze searching yours for some sign that this wasn’t a dream, that it wasn’t some cruel trick of the mind. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your face, as if he had to remind himself that you were really there. He knew you were real; the warmth of your body in his arms, the steady rhythm of your breath, it all confirmed it—but still, the disbelief lingered in his eyes. “How?” The word came out in a breathless whisper, barely audible, but it held all the confusion, all the questions that had plagued him in the years since your disappearance.

➳ You shook your head softly, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I… I don’t know how. But I survived, Haldir. I survived for you. For this moment.” You took his hand, holding it to your chest, where his heart had always belonged. “And now… now we’re together again. That’s all that matters.” He blinked, his eyes welling up again, and this time he didn’t fight it. The tears spilled freely, tracking down his cheeks, a testament to the weight of his heart’s release. He let you see him—truly see him—unmasked in his vulnerability. The man who had carried the world on his shoulders, the warrior who had fought countless battles, was no longer untouchable. He was simply a man who loved and had nearly lost everything.

➳ His lips trembled as he spoke again, the words thick with emotion. “I feared I would never see you again,” he said, his voice quiet and raw. “You were my heart, Y/N. I feared I had lost you to this war. I feared that the one thing worth fighting for would be taken from me.” His hands cupped your face gently, as though he could keep you with him by sheer force of will. “But here you are. Alive. And I—” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of everything he felt. “I never want to let you go again.”

➳ “I will never leave you, Haldir,” you whispered softly, your voice breaking as you rested your forehead against his. The words felt like a promise, one that neither time nor distance could take away. “Let me heal you now,” you murmured, your hands brushing his cheek gently, wiping away the tears. “Let me be here for you. Let me show you that we can find peace again, together.” For a long moment, the two of you simply stood there, your bodies entwined, hearts beating in unison. The war was over, but in its place, there was a new battle—one of healing, of rebuilding what had been broken. But with each breath, each soft word exchanged between you, the weight of the past began to lift, and the love that had never faded began to blossom once again.

➳ When Haldir finally pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a smile full of quiet promise. “I will never let you go again, meleth nín,” he murmured, his voice steady once more, but with a tenderness that had been missing for so long.

➳ And in that moment, the world outside seemed to fade into nothing. There was no war, no grief, no loss—only the warmth of your presence, the unwavering connection that bound you together, a love that had withstood the tests of time and distance. No matter what came next, Haldir knew he had found you again—and this time, he would never let go. Together, you would face whatever came, knowing that your hearts had finally found their way back to each other.

Aftermath:

➳ In the days that followed, the world for Haldir felt both new and familiar. The reunion with you, the love of his life, had been everything he could have dreamed of and more. Yet, as the days slipped into weeks, there remained a shadow that followed him—a shadow not of war or grief, but of time itself. The realization gnawed at him, a quiet ache in the deepest part of his heart. He had lived for countless ages, seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, watched the world change in ways that few could comprehend. His existence had stretched into eternity, a timeless rhythm, a slow and steady beat of life that allowed him to witness the birth and death of the seasons, the turning of the world on its axis.

➳ But you—his beloved—were different. Time would not wait for you. You would age, you would grow frail, and one day, far too soon, you would slip from this world as quickly as you had come into it. Haldir could no longer ignore this, though he tried. It lingered in the back of his mind as he held you at night, as he kissed you in the early mornings, as he laughed with you over meals. Every moment with you, every touch, every word felt precious. But the love he had for you was colored by an undercurrent of sorrow, one that grew more pronounced with each passing day.

➳ He would not be able to protect you from time. There was no shield against it, no sword to fight it, no battle to win. Time would take you, as it had taken so many before you, and no amount of Elven strength or magic could prevent it. At first, he tried to bury his fears, to hold on to the joy of having you in his arms, of sharing this time together. The two of you found moments of peace amidst the tension that clung to him—walking through the forests of Lothlórien, whispering sweet words to each other as the stars flickered above, listening to the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. You brought color back into his life, warmth where there had only been the cold emptiness of mourning.

➳ But time continued its inexorable march, and with each passing season, Haldir’s heart grew heavier. He could see the subtle changes in you—the faint lines beginning to form at the corners of your eyes, the softening of your youthful skin, the occasional weariness that would settle over you, even when you tried to hide it. He noticed how you moved, no longer as quick and unburdened as you once were, how you laughed less freely, as though each moment of joy was now a little more fragile.

➳ And it was in these moments—when the years seemed to press against his heart—that he would withdraw. He couldn’t help it. The pain of knowing that the love they had shared would someday be cut short by the passage of time was too much to bear. He would wander the forest alone, seeking solace among the trees that had stood for millennia, the ancient trunks whispering secrets of a time long past.

➳ The memory of his brothers, the other Elves of Lothlórien, came to him in quiet moments. He had lived so long with them, shared their experiences, their pain, their joy. But he knew none of them could understand the weight of his loss. They did not have to face the crushing knowledge that one day, the light of his life would fade as the seasons turned. His kin were eternal, as was he, but you—his beloved human—were not. The thought of losing you, of watching you grow old and fade from the world, was a constant ache that he could not escape.

➳ One evening, as the sun dipped behind the distant mountains, casting a soft glow over the forest, he found himself staring at you, lost in thought. You were standing near the water, the light catching your hair as it blew gently in the wind, your back to him. He could see the way you held yourself, strong yet weary, and the thought of someday losing you was unbearable. He stepped forward, quietly, until he stood beside you. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you could feel his presence beside you, the weight of his gaze upon you. Slowly, you reached out, taking his hand in yours, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary; the quiet understanding between you both was enough.

➳ “You’re thinking of it again, aren’t you?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Haldir didn’t answer at first. He didn’t need to. You knew him too well, had seen the way his gaze would wander, the way he would pull away in moments of silence. He had never spoken of his fears, not aloud. But you knew. “I can’t help it,” he murmured finally, his voice thick with the weight of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. “Time is not kind to you, meleth nín. I—”

➳ “I know,” you interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. “I know, Haldir. But don’t let fear steal what we have now.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, filled with both understanding and sorrow. “We can’t stop time. We can’t change what’s to come. But we have this moment. We have today. Let me love you in this moment, and tomorrow, and every day that follows.” Haldir’s heart clenched at your words, the rawness of them cutting through his carefully built defenses. He wanted to hold on to you, to keep you here forever, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Still, your love was the greatest gift he had ever received, and he would not let fear overshadow that gift.

➳ “I will love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Every moment, every heartbeat, I will love you.” And for a while, the fear that had gripped him so tightly began to loosen. He couldn’t change what was to come, but he could choose to live fully in the time they had together. Even as the years slipped away, he would cherish every day with you, every touch, every word, every shared silence. In the end, that was all any of them could do—love as fiercely and fully as they could, until the time they had together ran out. And Haldir, for all his pain, was determined to make every moment with you count.

Bonus as I’m a smitten for Elrond god love the man (love older version Hugo.) 🫶🥰❤️‍🔥

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ The winds of war had long been howling across Middle-earth, and Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, found his heart weighed down with an unbearable burden. Years had passed since you had left to join the free peoples in their fight for survival. Your mortal life called you to the front lines, while Elrond remained behind, bound to his responsibilities in Rivendell—offering counsel, wisdom, and healing to those who sought it. But despite his centuries of knowledge and the depth of his experience, Elrond could not escape the gnawing fear that something terrible would happen to you. Every day that passed brought him closer to the heart-wrenching reality that, sooner or later, he might never see you again.

✶ The day had come when Elrond, alone in his study, When the news came—the dreaded news that your battalion had been lost, that you were presumed dead—he could not have prepared himself for the devastation that followed. The feeling of his heart sinking, of his entire world unraveling, was something Elrond, despite his countless years of wisdom, had never experienced before. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain composed, but in that moment, he felt as though everything within him had shattered. In the silence of Rivendell’s halls, the place that had once been full of life and laughter, now stood cold and empty to him. The absence of your presence left an unbearable void in the very air he breathed. His beloved—his heart—gone forever…Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, felt a heaviness settle deep within his heart. He could no longer ignore the gnawing fear that had consumed him for years—the fear of losing you. The love of his life, his heart, his soul—lost in a war that he could not protect you from.

✶ Every report from the front lines brought a fresh wave of dread, though he clung to the hope that you would return, even as the weight of time pressed down upon him. He had known of your courage, your strength, but no amount of wisdom could prepare him for the moment when the news arrived—your battalion had been lost, the battle you fought in was disastrous, and you were presumed dead. The world seemed to collapse around him as he stood in the silence of Rivendell’s great halls, a place once filled with hope and life, now haunted by the absence of your laughter and love.

✶ He searched for you, though he knew, deep down, that the chances of finding you were slim. He traveled to the battlefield where your battalion had fallen, desperate to find any trace of you, hoping against hope that you had survived, that you might be out there, somewhere. But when he arrived, all he found was your brooch—the one you had stolen from him in jest, a gift he had given you years ago, which you had always worn. Now it was stained by the dirt and blood of the battlefield, and Elrond knew, in that moment, that he had lost you forever. His heart ached with a sorrow so deep it seemed to permeate every fiber of his being. The brooch felt like the final testament to the love they had shared—a love that seemed to have been ripped away from him by fate.

✶ In the three years that followed, though Rivendell remained a haven untouched by the horrors of the outside world, Elrond could not escape the weight of his grief. He threw himself into his duties—leading, guiding, offering counsel to those in need—but nothing could ease the longing that had taken root in his heart. There were moments when he would sit by the river in Rivendell, the waters glistening beneath the stars, and he would think of you. He would remember the way you would sit by his side during the evenings, talking about the future, discussing everything and nothing, always with the same warmth and laughter that had drawn him to you all those years ago.

✶ Elrond never let on how much he missed you, but you had always had an uncanny ability to see through his stoic exterior. You knew when something was wrong—knew when the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear. And you always knew just how to lift his spirits. The best way to cheer Elrond up, you had learned, was to talk to him about the future you both dreamed of. A future together, one free from the pain and loss of the present. He would listen, his face softening as he imagined the life the two of you would share: growing old, discovering new wonders, finding peace in each other’s company. The thought of those days yet to come always made him smile. He would hold your hand, his fingers warm against yours, and for a moment, the burdens of the world would fade away.

✶ When you were sad, Elrond was always there for you, offering his unwavering support. He would make sure you had everything you needed—food, warmth, anything that might ease your discomfort. He would never leave your side until he saw that familiar smile return to your face. You, too, had your own moments of melancholy, but Elrond’s presence, his devotion to you, always helped chase the shadows away.

There were those quiet evenings when Elrond would retreat to his books to escape the stresses of his world. He would sit, absorbed in the words of ancient texts, letting the pages carry him far from the weight of responsibility.

✶ You would leave him to his solitude, knowing that he needed the time to rest his mind. Yet, it was never long before he would beckon you over, silently passing you a book of his own. “Your presence calms me,” he would say, his voice barely above a whisper, though his lips often curled into the smallest of smirks as you would look up, embarrassed by the attention. Those quiet, shared moments were the moments he cherished the most.

✶ Elrond missed those times. He missed the way you could always make him laugh, even on his darkest days. He missed the way your presence could fill the air with warmth and light. But most of all, he missed the simple, quiet comfort of knowing that you were there, just beside him, in a world that seemed to keep shifting and changing.

✶ He missed you with a depth that words could scarcely convey. He missed the sound of your voice, so full of laughter and light, even in the darkest of times. He missed the way you’d always manage to draw him out of himself, coaxing him from the shadows of his responsibilities to enjoy the simple joys of life. There was a day, early in your time together, when you had convinced him to go out into the gardens, despite the pouring rain. At first, he had been reluctant—Elrond, ever the reserved and composed half-elven, did not see the appeal of dancing in the rain. But your eyes, bright with mischief and love, had won him over. “Just one dance, Elrond. I promise, you won’t regret it,” you had said, your voice warm and full of promise. And so, he had relented, allowing you to lead him into the rain-soaked garden, the droplets falling all around you both.

✶ You laughed as you twirled him in the wet grass, and though he had protested at first, soon enough, Elrond had found himself laughing too, lost in the joy of the moment. Of course, you both ended up drenched, shivering from the cold, and neither of you could stop giggling as you tried to dry off afterward. It had been one of those rare, carefree moments in his long life, the kind he cherished the most. But as the days wore on, Elrond found that those simple, shared moments with you became more precious than ever before.

✶ Afterward, he had caught a cold, something that had been all too rare for an elf of his stature. You took great pleasure in teasing him for it, even as you carefully nursed him back to health. You insisted on bringing him hot tea, wrapping him in blankets, and refusing to let him leave his chambers until he had fully recovered. The memory of your gentle care, your laughter as you made him rest, was something Elrond held close to his heart when the darkness of the war began to weigh too heavily on him.

The return:

✶ Then, one evening, as the twilight bathed Rivendell in its soft, golden glow, Elrond found himself walking alone along the banks of the river. The waters of Imladris flowed serenely, a timeless current that had witnessed the rise and fall of ages. The air was cool, fragrant with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the land around him seemed still, as though holding its breath in the presence of the moment. His mind was heavy, filled with the weight of years gone by, years in which you had been absent, lost to the war that ravaged the world. He had spent countless hours contemplating the future, wondering what would become of his people, of his family, and of himself. But more than anything, he had wondered about you.

✶ And yet, every day the gnawing emptiness in his chest seemed to grow deeper. How many times had he walked these very halls, the memories of you so vivid in his mind? How many times had he sat by the hearth, imagining what your voice might sound like in the quiet evenings, the firelight dancing across your face as you spoke of your dreams, your hopes, your future?

✶ Elrond’s footsteps were almost soundless on the stone path, his cloak trailing lightly behind him. He was lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the river that had been a constant companion throughout his long life, when, from the corner of his ear, he heard it. A faint sound, barely perceptible, a soft footfall on the earth. At first, he thought it was the wind—after all, Rivendell had a way of carrying the wind’s whispers through its woods, the rustling of leaves and branches almost sounding like distant voices. But then, it came again. A sound so delicate, yet unmistakable—a footfall, the lightest of steps, as though someone was walking toward him through the quiet dusk.

✶ His heart stuttered in his chest, an unfamiliar jolt of hope coursing through him. “Meleth nín.” The words slipped from his lips before he even realized he had spoken them, a breathless whisper full of longing and disbelief. He had not allowed himself to hope in so long, but now, in the depth of his soul, he knew—he felt—something had changed.

✶ He turned, and there you were. You stood in the soft light of the evening, your form outlined by the fading glow of the sun, the last rays of the day catching the delicate strands of your hair, which seemed to glow like starlight itself. For a long moment, Elrond could only stare, his breath caught in his throat, his entire world shrinking to the vision of you before him. His heart beat in his chest, each pulse like thunder in his ears, a sound that seemed louder than the river itself. There you were, alive, your eyes meeting his with the same warmth, the same strength that had once made him feel as though nothing could touch him. The agony of loss, the years of uncertainty and grief, all of it seemed to vanish in an instant, swept away by the overwhelming flood of joy and disbelief.

✶ His legs nearly gave out beneath him, as if the sheer weight of your return had drained all the strength from him. Without thinking, he crossed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out as though to touch you, to make sure that you were truly there, truly real. He clasped your hands in his, pressing them gently against his chest, as though to prove to himself that the ache in his heart, the longing that had consumed him for so long, was finally coming to an end.

✶ And without a word, Elrond sank to his knees before you, pulling you down to him as if he could not bear the distance between you for a moment longer. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his face buried in the soft fabric of your clothing, your warmth the balm to a wound that had festered for far too long. His tears, long held back, shimmered in his eyes but did not fall. It was as though the weight of all those years, the grief, the fear, the longing—everything—had been too much for him to bear, and now that you were here, it was as though he could not bring himself to release the sorrow, even though he felt a profound relief flood his being.

✶ “My heart…” Elrond’s voice was thick, raw with emotion, trembling with the weight of the years that had passed. His words were soft, barely above a whisper, yet they carried the grief of lifetimes. “I thought I had lost you forever. The ache within me… it has been unbearable.” He shook his head slightly, as though the thought of a world without you in it was simply too much to fathom. “I… I could not bear the thought of losing you. Not again.”

✶ You cupped his face in your hands, your fingers brushing against the dampness on his cheek. His eyes were filled with a sorrow so deep, but they held something else now too: the flicker of hope, the tenderness that had never truly left, no matter how many years had passed. “I am here, Elrond,” you whispered, your voice low and steady, yet filled with a strength that only he could hear. “I’m here, my love. I never stopped thinking of you. I never stopped longing to return to you. The war may have stolen so much, but it never took my heart. It always belonged to you.”

✶ Elrond’s heart swelled at your words, and without thinking, he pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything he had longed to say, everything he had carried with him for all the years of uncertainty and pain. The kiss was full of tenderness, the kind that only time and separation could breed. It was the kiss of a love that had endured the test of time, a love that had never truly faded, no matter the distance or the years apart. He kissed you as though he feared that if he did not hold on tightly enough, you would slip away again.

✶ When the kiss finally broke, Elrond rested his forehead against yours, his breath shallow, his heart racing in his chest. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, as if it too were taking a breath, giving you both this precious, fleeting moment. His voice was firm, yet filled with all the tenderness in the world. “Together,” he whispered, his eyes closed as if to hold on to the moment. “Always together, my love. No more distance between us. I will never let you go again.”

✶ And though the world beyond Rivendell still carried its burdens, though the shadows of war still loomed over Middle-earth, Elrond knew that with you by his side, he could face anything. The love between you had not been lost, not even by the ravages of time and battle. It had only grown stronger, deeper, and as the stars began to glisten overhead, you both knew that your hearts would forever remain united—no matter the storms that might come. The world might change, but your love would endure. Always.

✶ In that quiet, timeless moment, as the stars twinkled above and the river flowed gently at your feet, Elrond felt as though the world had finally returned to balance. The pain of the past, the loss, the war—it was all still there, but it no longer had the power to tear them apart. With you, his heart was whole again. And together, you would face whatever the future held, side by side, forever.

Aftermath:

✶ The days after your reunion were a haze of joy and sorrow, a bittersweet blend of love and inevitability. Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, had lived countless ages, seen kingdoms rise and fall, and had endured the loss of many dear to him. Yet none of it, none of the weight of time and fate, could have prepared him for the agony that would come with the knowledge that your time with him—your mortal life—was limited.

✶ Even now, as he walked through the halls of Rivendell with you by his side, his heart could not fully rid itself of the weight of that truth. The joy of your return, of having you here with him again, was overwhelming, but it was marred by the shadow that always lingered in his thoughts—the shadow of time slipping away. It was always there, lurking, like a dark cloud on the horizon, and despite his efforts to remain present in each moment, it tugged at him, reminding him of the fragility of your existence in a way that no mere mortal could ever understand.

✶ He had known this truth long before you had returned to him. The years had always been numbered for you. He had watched countless mortals come and go, each one touched by the brevity of their lives, and though he had lived with that knowledge, knowing you would one day fade away had never been a burden he had been willing to bear. Your love had been worth the sacrifice, and he had cherished every moment, every second, as if it might be his last with you. But now, as he held you in his arms, that knowledge had become more than just an abstract thought. It was a constant presence, a weight pressing on his chest, that your time was slipping away, and he could not stop it.

✶ The passage of time had always been something Elrond had managed to bear. He was an Elf, and he had known loss and grief before, but to love a mortal—you, the love of his life—was a different kind of agony. It was a cycle of beauty and pain, joy and inevitable sorrow. He would not force you to endure the years of his existence; his love for you was too great to watch you grow old, your body changing, while he remained the same. And yet, to see you face the years that slipped away so swiftly… it tore at him in a way that even the countless wars and losses he had endured had never done.

✶ There were mornings when he would wake beside you, watching the sunlight play across your face, feeling the warmth of your breath against his chest. In those moments, his heart would swell with joy, and he would hold you tighter, as though afraid the very light of dawn might fade before he could hold you in his arms again. But in the quiet moments that followed, in the spaces between, his thoughts would inevitably turn to the future—your future. He knew he could not stop the inevitable. Your time was finite. In the stillness of the night, as you slept beside him, Elrond would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind lost in the torrent of his emotions, knowing that each day with you was one day less.

✶ He had never wished for immortality in the way his brethren had. He had not desired to outlast the world, nor to be untouched by time. But now, as he watched you—his beloved, his heart—grow more tired, more fragile with each passing day, he longed for something he could never have. He wished, more than anything, that he could turn back time, that he could change the rules of fate, and grant you the same immortality that he had been blessed with. But he knew this was impossible. He had known from the start, from the moment he had fallen in love with you, that this was the price he would pay. And yet, knowing it did nothing to ease the ache within him now.

✶ As the years wore on, Elrond tried to focus on the moments, on the love you shared. He lived for the quiet evenings by the fire, the shared laughter, the moments when you would walk together through the gardens, your hand in his, your voice filling the spaces between the rustling leaves. He cherished the mundane, the small, beautiful things that often went unnoticed. He would often find himself gazing at you as you spoke, your voice soothing his restless heart. He would listen to you tell him of your hopes, your dreams, the little things that made up your mortal life, and he would hold onto each word as though it were a treasure.

✶ In the quiet moments when the two of you would sit together, reading, or in deep conversation, Elrond would push the future aside, focusing solely on the present. You spoke of the life you had lived, and of the life you still hoped to live, and you shared your stories of the world, of the beauty you had seen. These moments were everything to him—his heart was full in these precious intervals of time, and he would give anything to stretch those moments, to keep you by his side for just a little longer.

✶ But the inevitable truth would always return, creeping in like a shadow in the corner of his mind. There would be a moment when he would see you—your face pale, your movements slower, your strength fading—and the ache would return, sharp and relentless. It was then that Elrond’s heart would break all over again, as he realized that no matter how much love and care he poured into every moment with you, there would come a day when the passing of time would take you from him.

✶ And yet, despite the pain, despite the grief that clung to every passing day, Elrond never let go of you. He refused to. He held onto you, fiercely and without reservation, because he knew that this love—your love—was worth every moment of suffering that might come. The years might take you, but they could not take away the love you had shared, the memories that had been forged in fire and warmth, and the quiet promise that no matter what, he would always carry a part of you with him.

✶ When the time came—and it would come, as it always did—Elrond would be ready. Not because he had accepted it, but because he loved you, and that love would remain even when the world had moved on. He would hold onto you, always, knowing that every moment spent with you had been worth more than all the centuries he had lived.

✶ And so, he would cherish the time left, every second, every heartbeat, until the inevitable came. Even in his sorrow, he would find peace in the knowledge that he had loved you truly, deeply, without regret. In the end, the love that had bound you together was the truest, most eternal thing in a world full of fleeting moments.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

My hand aches from all the writing I’ve done, but it was completely worth it. It was so deep tears streamed down my face when I was writing like this, so honest and profound, feels like diving into the core of my soul. It’s painful yet beautiful goddamm wish it wasn’t fictional characters love to he their in middle earth. 🫶🥹❤️‍🔥

But enjoy my dearies. 🙏

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

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braveclementine · 8 months ago

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October 22- Mirror Sex (Legolas) 💙

Warnings: 18+ readers only, angst, mirror sex, prince kink, princess kink, oral sex

Copyright: I do not own Legolas or any other LOTR characters. Annerose is a made up character, but she's barely mentioned and I don't own names either. I also do not condone any copying of this.

You gazed as the gorgeous man in front of you. Well, not so much of a man as he was an elf, one of the ancient race and you knew there was a difference- to them of course. Such a difference that the relationship between you and Legolas was kept a secret. It wasn't entirely forbidden, but Legolas was the son of an elf King.

Your eyes trailed down his body. He had the perfect physique- as all of the elven men and women seemed to. Thin, but still fit and muscular. Long luscious blond hair and a pretty face, but still manly at the same time.

You always felt rather. . . well ugly was a blunt word, but it still fit. Unflattering, perhaps. You knew among common mortals- as Legolas might put it- you were decently pretty, even in your own eyes, but amongst the elves. . .

Legolas was a man and beautiful. The women were something completely different. You still didn't know how Legolas could prefer you when he had so many female elves that would love to court with him.

"You're staring." Legolas murmured softly, feeling your eyes burning into him. He opened them, his brown eyes meeting your E/C ones. Though you looked away, he could still read the emotions in them, sliding a hand across your hand. "Y/N, you are beautiful."

You flushed, looking away completely. It was very easy for him to say it, of course. But it didn't mean anything. Not when you couldn't see it yourself.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Always self-conscious of the maid that came in to serve the two of you, you quickly slumped back into the sheets, feigning sleep while Legolas chuckled softly.

You knew which elf it was the minute he greeted her by name. The elf with the silvery blue hair and large purple eyes. She was so beautiful you couldn't even believe she was a maid and even more surprised that Legolas had not had any sort of relations with her before meeting you. It had been rumored that they had, after all. But Legolas always told you the truth about whatever you asked. If he said they hadn't, then they hadn't.

"Good morning my Prince." Annerose murmured softly, the sounds of clinking dishes being set on a tray near the bed.

"Good morning Annerose." Legolas murmured back quietly, his hand landing gently on your shoulder blades.

"Um, my Prince!" Annerose said quickly, as though wanting to speak before you woke up, "I. . . there have been. . . well pardon me if this sounds forward. But you are our future King and some of the other servants. . . we've been worried about you."

"Oh?" Legolas questioned. You could heard the curiosity in his voice. "For what reason?"

Annerose hesitated a long time before saying rather meekly. "I know this is rather forward of me, my Prince, and I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but we have been worried if. . . if you are satisfied."

Your cheeks burned and Legolas hand stopped rubbing circles on your back. You held back anything you wanted to say or do, keeping up the pretense of sleep.

Legolas responded easily. "I can assure you that it is a needless worried. I am very satisfied, Annerose."

"Ah." Annerose sounded unhappy with this, but of course would never say so. "I'm glad my Prince. Well, if there is ever anything else, you shall ring the bell."

"Of course. Thank you." Legolas said, the edge of his tone clearly dismissive and then suddenly called out, "Annerose!"

"Yes, my Prince?" Her tone had the slightest hint of hope in it.

"Please, to clear all conscious and worries, let the others know that Y/N is to be my wife. They need not worry with my love, she is all I shall ever want." Legolas said.

Annerose said nothing more, leaving the room, the door closing behind her quietly.

Legolas said nothing, his hand leaving your back and you felt the bed dip as he got off of it, presumably to go and get the breakfast. You stayed laying where you were, hoping to fall back into an endless sleep and get away from the humiliation.

The bed dipped again, long lithe arms pulling you back against his chest. A sob had gotten stuck in your throat and you didn't dare let it out, so you kept your lips shut firmly, trying to even out your breathing.

"I know you're not asleep." Legolas murmured, stroking your hair back. "And I know her words hurt you. I'm sorry they were so thoughtless, my love."

You swallowed the sob down and once the lump was gone, you murmured softly. "I'm alright. Just tired."

"No you're not." Legolas saw right through you. "I know exactly what you need."

He started to kiss down the back of your spine, his lips leaving a feather trail of burning spots. His hands caressed you and when you finally opened your eyes, he picked you up, swinging you over to sit you on the end of the bed.

"Look." He murmured softly, looking straight at something, and then you realized that it was your reflection. The two of you were reflected in the tall, body-length mirror that sat in front of his bed. Gilded and wrought with silver and emeralds, your reflections were clear as day.

You were painfully aware of how plain you looked next to him and averted your eyes down to the carpet in front of the bed, but Legolas wasn't having any of it. His fingers lifted your chin until you were looking directly at the two of you again.

"What do you see?" Legolas asked softly, kissing the side of your neck, before meeting your eyes in the mirror.

"I see myself. And I see you." You stated stubbornly.

Legolas didn't back down. "How do you think of me?"

"You're gloriously beautiful." You replied immediately. "You're so ageless and fair, there's a gay light in your eyes at all times. Your hair is so silky and smooth, it glows. But you're also as regal as your father."

"And how do you think of yourself?" Legolas fingers were rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh now, slightly distracting you.

"Well, I haven't prettied myself up, so I look rather plain." You admitted, figuring that this was the game you were playing and it was time to put everything out in the open. "But then again, next to you, I'm always plain. I don't have any of your light and I don't have any elvish beauty. I wish I did. Annerose is so beautiful Legolas, I don't know how you didn't fall for her instead."

"Because she's not you." Legolas whispered, pulling the sheets away from your body so that you were exposed- the two of you having fallen asleep naked last night. You flushed a little as he ran his fingers through your H/C mons, before sliding two fingers into your cunt.

Legolas got off the bed, sliding to the floor in front of you. "Y/N, you're going to look into the mirror the entire time. You will not look away, you will not close your eyes, you will only look at yourself and focus on my words. You don't have to ask for permission or say anything at all. Your safe word is still in use, understand?"

"Yes." You murmured, letting your eyes stray down for a second, looking at the glorious Prince on his knees before you, before letting your eyes move back up to your own face.

Legolas licked a stripe through your folds, your legs shaking a little, threatening to close around his head.

"You know what I see?" Legolas asked, before diving back in for his feast. Though you knew that you didn't have to answer, you couldn't help the slightly snarky retort that rolled off your tongue.

"A human?"

Legolas lightly pinched the inside of your thigh, but otherwise didn't comment. He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers and answered instead, "I see a beautiful young woman. Your hair shines in the sun, and when you have it down, it curls around your face, framing it, so that it softens your features."

You wanted to look down at him, but kept your eyes focused on the mirror, looking at yourself. It was the one thing Legolas had commanded from you, so you wanted to make sure you followed through.

"You have a different beauty." Legolas continued, placing light kisses on the inside of your thighs. "Something no elf has, even me. Mortal beauty Y/N. You are beautiful as a human and you don't even realize it."

'Well of course not.' You thought inside your head, staring into your own eyes, which reflected a bitter sadness back at you. 'Have you seen yourself?'

Legolas seemed to feel your emotions because he kissed the inside of your thigh and said, "Look. Look at yourself Princess."

Your heart fluttered with the nickname and you watched your cheeks redden just a tad. A new light was in your eyes as pleasure started to coil in your abdomen. One of your small hands came into view as you placed it lightly on Legolas' fair hair. You watched your slender fingers slide into his locks as he latched back onto your cunt.

You watched your own eyes widen, glistening lips parting a little as you let out a moan.

"Look how beautiful you are." Legolas mumbled, muffled slightly as he didn't let up eating you out. You let out another moan, his words causing vibrations against your lower lips. Your legs shook and you could see your cheeks turning pinker.

"My Prince. . ." You moaned, voice quavering as you started to read the apex of your orgasm. Legolas looked beautiful between your legs, your hand tightening in his hair, the golden-white locks bunching up. He looked almost disheveled now, if that was possible. . . and it was because of you.

Your eyes were even brighter now, almost glazed as you reached your pleasure, which felt like fire across your veins. Your body shook and you watched yourself in the mirror once more, before collapsing against the bed so that you could relax.

You stared up at Legolas as he knelt next to you, smiling a little like you were the most adorable thing he'd seen on Middle Earth. His hand stroked your cheek until you finally smiled back at him.

"Did you see your beauty?" Legolas asked softly.

You knew what he meant and you could see it. He was right, it was a different sort of beauty than perhaps he was thinking about, but it was beauty.

"Yes." You whispered.

"Do you know why you're mine?" Legolas whispered.

You blushed at that. "You love me."

"Exactly." Legolas said, picking you up into his arms now, cradling you as he brought you over to sit with the food so the two of you could eat. "I love you."

You burrowed into his side, glancing up and seeing the two of you in the mirror again. You smiled at your reflection and then said to Legolas, "I love you too."

#Braveclementineworks #Kinktober 2023 #Mirror sex #prince kink #princess kink #angst #18+readers only #Legolas #Legolas Greenleaf #Legolas x reader #Legolas Greenleaf x reader #xreader #smut #Legolasxreader #Kinktoberprompt

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itsfeckinwimdy · 2 years ago

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10 Types of Kisses

Various LOTR/TH x Reader

Pairings: Aragorn, Fili, Haldir, Kili, & Legolas x Reader (separately).

Pronouns: n/a.

Prompt(s): 10 types of kisses by @urfriendlywriter. You can find her post here. (I used 9/10 of them).

Word Count: 3.4k words (3415)

Warnings: No beta, we die like Boromir. open wounds (Aragorns + Fili's), marriage (Fili's), swearing (Kili's), mentions of battle + death + blood (Legolas).

Tree Speaks: I had a lot of fun writing this but it also went into territory that I'm not particularly comfortable with writing yet so we'll see how this pans out.

Translations: amad - mother, dwarrowdams - a term used for female dwarves.

LOTR + TH Masterlist

Published: 25/02/2023

1. Aragorn

soft kisses - where they're just lying beside you, hands playing with your hair as they trail tender kisses all over your lips

The two of you were meant to be sleeping of course, but the gloom of the mines made it hard to settle. You supposed that's why he pulled you away from the others slightly, to a spot just that bit further away.

Aragorn was on first watch as usual, having made it his task since the beginning of the journey, and always insisted that the hobbits and Gandalf got plenty of sleep. But with that came the usual knowing looks between the two of you as Aragorn knew his love wouldn't sleep unless he would.

So with that knowledge, and him sensing his love's rising anxiety at being trapped underground, it now brought them to this.

He tilted your head up from where it was resting against his chest, his hand cupping your face. Aragorn brushed a few loose strands of hair off your face from where it had fallen out of place as his own head tilted down towards yours. His hand gently entwined with your other, and he paused in his movements, allowing you to decide next.

You gently reached up, threading your hand through his long locks and gently pulling him down towards you. He pressed his lips to yours, mouth moving slowly, softly, intimately.

He pulled away, your lips chasing after his, a small smile gracing his lips as he pressed another kiss, and then another, and then another to your lips.

the type of kiss where you can't find words to say after, or the ones where your forehead lingers against each other's

Aragorn's horse trotted through helms deep, having just pulled him up from the river bed where if not found, he would've succumbed to his wounds. He dismounted his horse and received a scolding from Gimli before forcing himself up the staircases and into the deep.

Legolas rose from outside the doors, greeting his friend who believed him dead. The elf pulled him into a familiar embrace before pulling back and making a sarcastic comment about the ranger.

The elf turned a small smile gracing his face before yelling the name of a person. The ranger followed his line of sight. It fell on his love, you.

You looked up after the elf who yelled out to you, before seeing the man you mourned for standing with him. Abandoning your stuff, you ran to him, arms thrown over his shoulders and crushing him to your chest as a few sobs left you.

His arms encircled you as he leant his forehead against yours. He didn't care at that point about the mud caking him and he didn't think you cared enough at that point, so it made no odds on whether he was careful or not.

He pulled back slightly, raising his hand to caress your face before pressing his lips to yours. Tears left both of you as his mouth moved languidly with yours.

Aragorn pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He wanted to say so much to you, fearing that he would never see you again but all thoughts left him as he wished to stay in this moment, longing for nothing but you.

2. Fili

messy kisses - curly hair, ruffled sheets and half-buttoned clothes as you just want more and at that moment, they're the most beautiful soul to you ever

The sun trickled in through the window, bypassing the curtains that hadn't been fully drawn across the night before. The young (ish) couple lounged in the bed, bodies pressed together as close as they could get with the few layers of clothes still between them.

He tilted your head up to meet his, his lips pressing against yours, moving languidly in the early morn. Fili reached up, hand caressing your courting and marriage braids that were still somewhat intact.

He groaned, feeling one of your hands gripping the hair at the base of his neck and the other slipping under his shirt across his chest.

Fili pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet yours; your own half-lidded as you drew in a few stuttering breaths. It was a pleasant greeting from your love first thing in the morning, one that you would be against again.

You gazed up at Fili, the dwarf hovering over you, careful not to rest his entire body weight on you. The tressels of sunlight filtered through his hair, causing a glow to shine over him.

His eyes trailed over your face, memorising every detail as if it was the first time he saw you.

kisses on your body ♡ frail kisses on your shoulder! on your lower back, belly and trailing to your neck, collarbones, lips.

A cry of pain left your lips.

Oin pulled the blood-soaked cloth away from where it was pressed tightly against your side. The infection from the arrow had spread, the orcs having laced it with something deadly.

The pain wasn't something Fili wished on anyone, much less you. So he did his best to comfort you whilst the infection ransacked your body. His hands firmly held you, one holding the back of your head, and the other gripping your forearm to stop you from forcing Oin's hand away from the wound he was trying his best to treat.

After Oin had doused the cut in water, trying to flood any dirt that wormed its way in, Fili pulled you closer. The healer moved back to gather some more altheas and cloths, leaving you curled against your prince's chest.

Fili dropped his head down to your shoulder, as your tears continued to douse his shirt - not that he cared as it was covered in sweat, grime, and whatever else from the trip across middle earth - his hand on your head slipping down to the back of your neck, stroking his fingers in what he hoped was a soothing pattern.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, the fabric of your tunic had been pulled away, cut away for easier access. It would need replacing, he noted, but hoped that it would be enough to cover you until the sun rose again.

Fili continued his ministrations, pressing another kiss further up your shoulder. And then another at the junction where it met your neck. He considered pressing one to your neck, in that one spot he knew made you shiver, but with the way you were sitting in his lap you were already considered improper in public, so he begrudgingly decided against it.

Oin chose to return at that moment, pressing the churned-up altheas against your wound and then tying the cleanest cloth over it. You cried out in pain, more tears falling. It was like someone was driving a burning knife into your arm, over, and over, and over again. The pain rolling in waves.

Fili kept whispering words of praises and comfort, the Kadzhul translations lost in your mind as all you could feel was the pain, and him.

The knot was finally tied on the bandage. Fili slid his hand from the back of your neck to cup your face, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead before leaning his own upon yours.

I'm here, you're safe now, I love you, the action spoke more words than Fili could find himself saying.

3. Haldir

lazy kisses as they admire you - fingers delicately trialing your jaw as they kiss your lips

"Haldir," you groaned, leaning back against his chest, head turned up to face him. A smile graced his lips, his eyes locked with yours, shining full of love.

It wasn't often you got to spend a prolonged period of time with your Marchwarden, especially with him being gone for months at a time to guard Lothlórien's borders. So any time you spent with him was precious, even if you knew he would be leaving at the end of it again.

The braid in his hair was loose, albeit from your hands running through his hair earlier, causing him to have a sexy, but dishevelled look. The thought of elves being supermodels no matter what state they were in flashed through your mind again causing you to chuckle slightly.

Haldir raised his hand, letting it linger under your jaw as he delicately leaned down to place another kiss against your lips. Warmth bloomed through you and as his lips moved against yours, all thought about him having to leave again in a few days retreated into the depths of your mind.

You were drunk off the taste of him, off his kisses as he stole your breath each time. And nothing would ever change that.

goodbye kisses - kisses lingering like liquor in each other's lips, bitter but sweet, "I'll always come back to you, love. you're my home after all."

The boats gifted to the fellowship had just finished being prepared and were packed full of provisions to last you a good while.

The thought of having to leave your home again haunted you but not just because it was where you lived. No, because this time you were leaving your love, not knowing when you were to see him again. He was your home.

The Marchwarden was allowed to see his love off, having been granted a week's leave whilst you and the fellowship recovered and stayed in Caras Galadhon, Lothlórien. After you were sent as an emissary to Imladris, Rivendell in the common tongue, and word had returned that you had embarked on a journey to destroy the one ring, Haldir was worried for you.

He knew the history of the ring, as did most if not all elves and was worried about the dangers you may face. He knew that you could protect yourself, having been a sparring partner against you for years, but the worry did not dissipate.

He met you at the shoreline, his hand over his heart in the traditional greeting before he held your hand in his. Sadness filled his eyes as he wished not to see you leave, but knowing that this was a journey you were willing to take.

Haldir leant his head against yours as he fixed the cloak hung around your shoulders, ensuring that the broach was attached properly.

His hands lingered on your waist as he prepared himself to say goodbye again. It was one thing being the one who was leaving, but now that he was on the receiving side for once, he now knew how your heart felt each time he went on patrol. That feeling of not knowing if you were coming back or not eating at his heart.

Your hand on his cheek stole his spiralling mind from his thoughts as your lips pressed against his. A tear threatened to leave his eye as he consumed your kiss like a drug. The fear bubbling in his chest soothing to make way for the love he held for you but the melancholy feeling at having to be parted from you made it more bittersweet than anything.

His lips lingered over yours as you pulled away, his hand raising to stoke a strand of hair back from your face. Haldir wished he could keep you here in his arms but understood the task you had undertaken would not be dropped lightly.

4. Kili

kissing and realising this is the person you'll always love, you'll always want to touch and snuggle with

Kili didn't think he could hold you any closer than he currently was.

You were practically melded into him, hands gripping tightly to the back of his jacket. The clothing was still damp from the thunderous storm you had walked through, but nonetheless had to still wear.

The terror that shot through him as the thunder giant collided with the mountain, believing that he had lost not only his brother but you as well, was something he never wished to feel again. His hands trembled slightly at the thought.

He shifted slightly, taking some pressure off his shoulder whilst pulling you upwards slightly so you were level with him. The ground wasn't pleasant to lie on, less so on his side, and even less so with damp clothes on, but Kili knew this was the company's best option right now.

Kili rested his head against yours, his eyes meeting yours. He nudged his nose with yours affectionately, giving you time to pull away.

It was something he always did, you noted. Every time he wanted to kiss you but couldn't find the words to say it, or was surrounded by too many prying eyes, he did that. Gave you that tell that allowed you to decide what happens next.

You tentatively leant forwards, tilting your head upwards ever so slightly, letting your lips press against his. There was no rush. No incessant desire to pull the other closer, just him.

Kili moved his lips slowly with yours, savouring every moment that he got with you. Fuck, he loved you. The realisation pulled at his heartstrings more, knowing that he could've lost you today.

prohibited kiss - you're not even supposed to be seeing each other but your hands are on his hair and his hands around your waist, lower bodies pressing into each other as you kiss

Laughter radiated through your body as you were pulled through the endless turns and corridors of Erebor. The stone walls were lined with torches and braziers all lit with fires burning brightly.

To anyone else, it would be a maze, a catacomb of tunnels that unless sense was made of them, would surely lead to your demise. But years of living there had engraved the pathways into your mind, and no doubt Kili's.

His hand dragged you to a secluded corner, himself coming to a halt. He could no longer hear the guards trying to follow the two of you. Pride flooded his chest as he gazed back at you, finally alone with his betrothed.

You were finally able to get a good look at him, now that he didn't have all the dwarrowdams fawning over him. Even if he wasn't "beautiful" by dwarf standards, he was still a prince and would have people trying to gain his favour.

But his title didn't matter to you. Kili did.

And by the creator himself, did you love the way he looked. His hair tousled from the running, and the short beard he was so desperately trying to grow accentuated his face.

But the ceremonial robes that hung to his body? You couldn't resist.

He found himself pushed back, pinned against the pillar. Kili's eyes locked with yours, the same fire of desire within him, burning through you.

Your lips pressed with his, mouths moving frantically with the others. Your hands that gripped onto the front of his robes slid up, trailing up his neck and into his hair, pulling slightly to press him into you more. A groan left him at a particularly harsh tug before your hand moved to trace his courting braid.

He pulled away, panting, breathless, kissing you again and pulling you into him, arms gripping your waist, hands in his hair, your bodies practically merging into one. If his Amad caught him now, he wouldn't even have to face the scornful looks of Dwalin, he would already be lying in his grave.

But could he let you go? Fuck no.

5. Legolas

shy kisses - when you're the one pulling them closer, and they nuzzle their face in your crook after the kiss, hands around your waist as their ears get red

You were scared. If anything you were currently lustful, but you were about to fight in a war against ten thousand troops with an army of less than a third of that. So you were scared.

Legolas had turned to where you leant against one of the pillars, choosing to come and check all the fastenings on your armour. He was meticulous and methodical as he went to each and every one, adjusting where he deemed necessary whilst checking it caused you no discomfort.

A soft smile graced your face, as you watch his gentle movements before reaching out to cup his face in one of your hands. A blush, so subtle anyone who didn’t know Legolas would miss it, warmed his face, his head lifting and eyes locking with yours. It was as if he was staring straight into your soul, his piercing grey eyes full of love but fear.

You pulled him towards you, Legolas leaning his head down as his hand held over yours on his face, the other resting gently on your waist. Leaning up, you gently pressed your lips to his. Just once, mind you, the action as tender as possible, letting him come to you.

Legolas leant into you, pressing his lips back against yours, moving at a slow pace. He wanted to savour this moment as much as possible before the two of you walked to what could be your deaths.

ahem.

The clearing of the person's throat sprung the two of you apart, you mentally preparing for the endless stream of apologies to whichever passerby caught you, only for it to be someone you knew all too well.

"Aragorn." You spoke, heavily embarrassed to be caught with your lover.

The ranger looked between the two of you, his face being that awful neutral resting one making it so you couldn't judge his feelings on the matter. Aragorn must have read the panic starting to creep up in you as a teasing smile broke out.

“I have no qualms with this,” he began before looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the armoury, “but the people of Rohan may not be as forgiving if you are caught.”

He turned on his heel, making his way up the staircase and leaving the two to their devices.

A moment passed and then a chuckle left your lips as a sigh left Legolas’. His head fell to your shoulder as the blush absconding his cheeks spread like wildfire tinting his ears a rosy colour.

At least it was only Aragorn, you mused, If Gimli had found you then he wouldn’t stop teasing your elf.

kisses of reassurance - saying that you're safe, still with them, that your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, that they couldn't get rid of you if they tried, that for some insane reason, you're not dead yet

Your chest heaved, trying to inhale as much air as possible as you sprinted up the mud-soaked hill. Aragorn had yelled for the soldiers to retreat into Minas Tirith and you were making your way as fast as you could until an arrow pierced your shoulder.

The doors were closed and sealed as you entered alongside the last few stragglers, a resounding bang from the wood hitting the stone frame. The room spun on its axis.

The throbbing pain in your arm continued, each ebb seeming stronger which was probably due to the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe you should've stayed fighting, it surely couldn't hurt as much as your arm did, you thought as your uninjured arm reached out to hold yourself up against the wall.

Giving up on keeping yourself upright, you slid falling somewhat ungracefully to the floor, blood dripping from your wound and soaking your sleeve. It was funny how much damage one arrow could cause.

You blinked.

The sun had risen, and from where you could see it, it was around mid-morning. Your eyes focused and you could see a worried face in a sea of platinum blonde hair. Legolas.

Ignoring the sound of the elf’s worry, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, as he gracefully knelt down next to you. His hands mindlessly moved to cup your face, as he had to pull his eyes away from your crudely bandaged arm. The arrow had been jagged and cut more as it pierced you, causing more blood to be lost.

Your hand covered one of his as Legolas moved to press his forehead to yours.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand absentmindedly, as you tilted your head up, meeting his lips with yours. It was one of desperation, longing and fear. A shuddered breath left you as the two of you broke apart.

“We’re okay.”

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arsenic-catnep · 2 years ago

Note

Hey so we talked before about hair braiding being intimate to elves. Can we have headcanons of reader just coming up behind them and starts braiding it casually and Legolas and Thranduil reacting to it? I feel they’d be like “wow she’s so forward (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ” 🤣

Thranduil

Of course he knows that this human isn't aware of elvish culture and the significance of braiding.

That doesn't stop him from being a bit surprised, then smug about it.

He would use it as a way to subtly claim his human. Making sure the other elves see them braiding his hair.

He might tell them about what braiding means for elves, but that won't be until he has them firmly in his grasp.

Legolas

Despite what his culture says about braiding, he loves having his hair played with.

He thinks it's cute that this human doesn't know, but is also glad for it. Legolas loves physical affection and he doesn't get much of it from his kind.

Will definitely show the braids off to other elves, boasting about his human's skill.

They will probably find out about what braids mean, but until then Legolas plans to soak up as much attention as he can.

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miseries-mistress · 2 years ago

Text

SOLICITUDE | LEGOLAS GREENLEAF

Synopsis: solicitude /səˈlisəˌto͞od/: care or concern for someone or something.

The fellowship had set camp for the night in a clearing in the forest. They had set a fire and took refuge around it to stray off the coldness the night always seemed to bring. However, when you elicit to sit by a tree, a decision made out of insecurity, you find yourself not alone for too long as a certain elf notices your disappearance,

Warnings: female reader, insecurity, some self-depreciation, fluff. W/C: 3153

lotr masterlist

"Do you not wish to join the others?" a soft-spoken voice breaks you out of your stupor. You jump, startled by Legolas's sudden appearance, and he cocks his head to the side at your fright. He must have thought I heard him, you muse silently.

You flash the elf a smile before returning to inspecting your blade slung casually over your thigh. The others, the fellowship, had gathered around the fire, telling stories of better times and victorious battles alike, their eyes gleaming with a joy that would soon diminish on your coming journey to Mordor.

It was rather embarrassing to admit why you had secluded yourself to a tree away from your newfound companions. There had been a lack of room around the glowing embers, everyone else already fitting comfortably in their spot, laughing as the halflings cracked jokes, and well…you didn't want to intrude. It was evident that your presence was not warranted or needed, so instead of bothering them, you had taken refuge under the shade of the tree, and while the bark dug uncomfortably into your spine, it helped you ignore your strange longing to be apart of the group of men who had obviously grown accustomed to each other in your short time together. However, Legolas seemed to be the only one to notice your absence, hence his imposing figure standing above you with innocent curiosity adorning his profile.

You admired Legolas far more than was permitted for a human such as yourself. His serene nature was a long-forgotten melody, gracing your ears with the enriched words that flowed effortlessly from his dainty lips. His personality, sharp wit, and impeccable features were a delight to be savored and worshiped, as his majesticness was truly a sight to behold.

It was painful to get around him when your feelings grew with every passing day, but the journey you had voluntarily embarked on was one without an end in sight. The ground you covered in a day trek was not nearly enough to get you to that wretched place in any small amount of time.

But that endeavor of putting distance between Legolas and you was for not as he waited patiently for an answer to his question that took root in the back of your mind, the sweetness of his voice a delicacy to be enjoyed for centuries.

You try with all your might to maintain truth in your smile, but he sees through your thinly veiled lies, and his lips curve into a frown at your saddened gaze.

"I fair fine here, Legolas. You should return to the others," you offer, dropping your gaze from the intensity of his. From the moment those words parted from your lips, Legolas seems to read your expressions, your feelings like a child's book in Elvish. Your inability to lie to him was humiliating, and you were mortified that you could not lace your words with enough sincerity to prove convincing to not trouble others with your burden because the last thing you wish for is for Legolas to pity you. That would twist your guilt further into something much darker, you surmise as your finger glides across the metal of your sword.

You can feel his gaze bearing down on you as if he is considering an idea before his feet shift and some hopeful part of you wishes he would not abandon you; he would see through your struggle and wordlessly share his company with you. It takes a moment before you realize that he has, in fact, taken a seat next to you, and the air seems charged with energy and anticipation of what is to come.

"Why do you detest me so?" The words leave him quickly as if he did not intend to speak them. In your surprise, you raise your head, only for your breath to stutter at his closeness. There's no more than a couple of inches separating you two. It's exhilarating but yet so daunting. "Please tell me what I have done to not earn your eye."

You blink at him, astonished. Even though words cannot convey the severity of your feelings, any other speech fails your tongue.

Your irises which once held a far told sadness, fall away from his, and Legolas concludes that your lack of acknowledgment simply won't do. Gentle fingers lift your chain so you can gaze upon him once more. The connection is not rough or demanding but hopeful- pleading. Your heart scatters at the contact, beating erratically at the softness of his skin, being like the drip of silk, too impossible to feel so beautiful at the touch.

You turn his question over and over through the gorges of your thoughts, the answer as clear as day, but a vulnerable emotion holds you back.

Fear.

It's easily recognizable and brings a dim chill over the cloudless sky of your admiration for the elvish male.

"I do not detest you." Your words are simple, keeping your feelings at bay behind the motor and stone of your mind.

"Then why do you avoid me?"

"I do not."

"I didn't take you for a liar."

Shame befalls your features, and Legolas's hand retracts from your face.

"If you will not share with me that, then tell me why you retreat from the others."

Your eyes search the ground in determination for a good lie. However, Legolas reads your face with ease, practically predicting your formation of a lie, and his gaze falters at your unwillingness to share the truth with him.

More so, worry sets in his stomach. What had he done for you to despise him? He didn't think that your past conversations served with colorful banter were filled with ill intent on his behalf but had you taken something he had joked about to heart? Was that the reason he could not earn your gaze? Legolas was conflicted, toeing the lines of a worry that bordered something more than friendliness or natural curiosity with his willingness to right any wrongs he may have imposed upon you.

"I would most certainly like the truth if you would grant it to me," he tries.

Once more, you rip your gaze away, and embarrassment overturns your expression. You resign to following the thick roots that snake across the forest floor while you try to gather your thoughts, quite an impossible task with an elf of his caliber next to you.

"It's rather foolish, I'm afraid. You would think me to be silly." Your defeated sigh does not go unheard, for Legolas's ears pick up every hint of dejection and the undercurrent of embarrassment lingering in the phrase cast into the open air.

"I could never think of you in such a way," he affirms hesitantly, almost as if he had deliberated the action for quite some time. Then, finally, he places a tense hand on yours.

Your breath stutters at the contact, and his muscles seem to pull even tauter at the breathless hitch. You silently chastise yourself for such an unbecoming reaction. He was only trying to comfort you as a friend would, yet you twisted his intentions into something entirely impure. It's shameful that you would even entertain the idea that he would want something more than mere friendship. He's never shown any inkling of that line of thought, and yet you let your fantasies run wild like some little girl.

You turn your mind back to his statement, tossing it around, weighing the pros and cons while Legolas watches with interest, his careful eyes never straying from your hunched skeleton.

"My presence was not needed, so I decided to resign myself to my solitude," you spoke plainly, your woes weighing down your spirits. Legolas stills.

"It's silly, I know-"

"Why would you believe such a thing?" he asks suddenly, and your body betrays you as your eyes snap up to meet his worried ones. It takes a moment for his question to register, and before you know it, the words hastily tumble from your lips.

"I was obviously not needed, and I did not want to be a bother and intrude..."

"So you thought you were unwanted?"

You frown, shame burning your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears. With your blade now forgotten on the forest floor, you curl within yourself, desperate to hide from your own insecurity and Legolas's gaze. What would he think of you now, knowing how easily you succumb to your insecurity? How weak and pitiful must you look, curling within yourself like a frightened animal?

You hear faint shuffling before his body is pressed against yours so intently that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Look at me," his voice is a gentle command, yet firm in its intention, but you don't have the heart to meet his eye and face his disappointment. "Your insecurity is misplaced."

At this, you cannot help but search for his features for falsities or ways of deceit wormed into the etches of his skin only to find none, just kind eyes glittering with empathy. Legolas's expression seemed to brighten at your acknowledgment, and he continued. "You have no reason to believe that we lament your person accompanying us. You are part of this company, the same as Aragorn or me, and you have proven your worth and reliability many times over. You could never be a burden or an annoyance."

"How do you know that?" your question strays on the path of bitterness, and you are tempted to turn your head away but not before gentle fingers grip your chin, forcing you to remain in contact.

"I have come to know you and the company. They would have expressed their dissatisfaction by now," he replies simply, the warm brown of his eyes blazing with the truth he believes so heartily.

"How do you know for certain they do not talk behind my back when you or I cannot hear?"

"I would hear them."

"Legolas," you gently scold. The twitch of his lips indicates his amusement before his face morphs to one of gentle compassion.

"Heed my words, you are by no means a burden, meleth nin."

Legolas holds for a moment, his eyes aglow in surprise at his own words.

The crease between your eyebrows furthers as you study his uneasy expression. You can't hold back your curiosity as the question slips between your parted lips. "What does that mean?"

"It matters not, only that you are not plagued by what appears to trouble you."

Way to turn the conversation around, you think bitterly, your head falling ahead to the fire by which the others ignore the two of you.

"Confide in me if that would ease your burden. Seeing you so troubled over matters I do not know of worries me greatly," Legolas fairly pleads, his voice not rising above the faint chatter of noise and voices of the forest.

"It is nothing in which you can aid me, Legolas," you reassure him, but by his dissatisfied expression, he does not fall prey to the illusion you have spoken of. His hand falls to your thigh, and in an instant, it feels as though all oxygen is violently sucked from the air, leaving you unable to swallow the growing lump in your throat. Every nerve comes alive at his touch as if your soul is burning with the same adrenaline you are feeding off of.

"Please."

Oh, valor almighty, you didn't know how you possessed the strength to stray from this elf as long as you have; to resist his presence that intoxicated you because now, at the slightest taste of it, you were addicted, like a practiced addict.

Still, he begged so sweetly. An elvish prince asking for you to share your woes unknowing that he was the cause of them. Every second thought, every hesitation was a result of the influence he held so fiercely over your heart.

It's as if the Maker was pulling every winding tension tighter, making the oxygen that has now returned to your lungs come in short pants and allowing your mind to spiral as each moment passed in minutes instead of seconds. Eternity felt closer than the second this instant would end.

A shadow casts over his pale features, making his already unreadable countenance impossible to decipher. His dark pupils seemed to have swallowed the riches of his irises, drawing them into a sea of darkness. The source of this darkness, the specification of what kind of darkness that seemed to linger in his hardened sight, was unidentifiable in the light given to you. His hair, braided in the ways of his kin, framed the strong muscles of his face as his jaw clenched, and you could find the peaks of his ears behind the waterfalls of blonde spilling over his shoulder.

Irresistible.

You met in the middle.

There was no tender or ounce of patience to be found in the dance of his lips but the hungry desire of a starved being engulfing you. From what you could decipher over your pounding heart, his lips were slightly chapped and thin as your mouths tangled and tangoed, learning that language of lovers as they explored every unknown crevice of one another. It was all so much, yet not enough.

You craved to feel more of him, of his body's sinful softness or his hand's possessiveness, which had begun to move up and down your thigh tentatively as if he was unsure what was allowed.

Among the silver of devotion coming from tentativeness, there was passion, built up and overflowing, and you couldn't tell what was up and down from the way his mouth claimed yours.

Your mind moved too fast to comprehend the full scale of his actions. The elf you had secretly pined for was kissing you as if Middle Earth was going to end with you under a tree with your friends mere yards from you. But for the moment, you let yourself succumb to your passion and indulge in a moment of weakness before this moment inevitably ends.

And it did as all things do.

You both pull back, gasping for breath while short pants leave those kiss-bitten lips of his.

"Forgive me if I have overstepped–" Legolas unceremoniously trips over his words as they rapidly slip out of his mouth fervently. You shake your head and press your forehead against his, sharing a breath.

"No, there is no reason to forgive you." Legolas's hands meet your face in a touch so light you were unsure if it was there. He waits for a moment for you to raise your objection or pull away, but when you remain firm, his deft fingers become more confident as they trail the contour of your face. You sink into the feeling, pushing out all else for a second of forever; of all that could be.

"I didn't know you felt the same," he chuckles elatedly, and you press your lips together to contain what might be a wide grin of pure elation.

"I did not know either," you both share a peal of laughter before a moment of quiet passes over you, the tone shifting into something more doleful.

"I still know not of that which troubles you." He brushes the hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear, his hand blazingly ghosting over the shell of it.

"I was afraid. Afraid that you would never harbor the feelings I do for you." The audible slip of breath makes your chest clench in anticipation. "I distanced myself from you to protect my heart from heartache."

"Did it work?"

"It did nothing but make me long for you even more than I already had." His hands smoothed down your dirt-ridden skin. There was no need to address what would happen now after you revealed feelings towards one another and you found no reason to. For spoiling this moment you have dreamed of would be a great sorrow, but Legolas seems to feel otherwise.

"What will happen to us now?" he asks, fingers passing over your lips before cradling your face.

"I do not know," you murmur, tracing the lines of his skin with the gift of light bestowed upon you and him. His hands slip from your face, and your head moves back, startled by the sudden loss of touch. However, he did not stand or even attempt to put space between you two, but his fingers began to undo his braid behind his right ear, his dominant side, with the ease and precision only an elf could possess until all that remained were strands of crimped hair and a delicate silk tie that mirrored the color of his hair in his hands. He gazed down upon the band as stillness filled with buzzing energy grew as the seconds he spent focused on the tie.

You knew little of the elvish culture, but from what you did know, braids were quite crucial to them, and who did them appeared to change the meaning behind said braids. So why had Legolas taken his? Did he intend for you to braid his...?

Oh.

Legolas outstretches his hand, his palm facing upwards in an offering to you. Inside his palm sat a hairband of string. In what you could only describe as astonishment, you looked up to find him proposing to you a smile as sincere as the admiration brimming in the palace of his eyes.

You pulled away from his face, back to his hand where the hair tie stood waiting for you. No doubt stood in your mind, nothing besides your undying and unyielding feelings that filled your body with giddiness of the likes of which you've never known. You trusted Legolas, not with just your life but now with the very essence of your soul and the light in it.

You took the hair tie.

Your fingers began weaving through his silky hair, as soft as you imagined, sewing a new braid into his locks of gold with diligence and patience. You threaded a new promise through his soft strands, one that could not be conveyed by tongue but by emotion.

It was as if the light herself guided your fingertips, showing you the path in which your hearts were now embedded to, destined to be intertwined for all of eternity.

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thewulf · 11 months ago

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With You? Always || Legolas

Summary: This was supposed to be a request but I took it in a very fluffy direction. Like no angst. Just teasing and reuniting with Legolas after the events of LOTR. Hope you guys enjoy!

A/N: Thank you for the cutest request anon even tho I didn't follow it! I had too much fun writing this one. It's so much fun to write these LOTR imagines. Thank you guys for sending them in!

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k +

TW: Insecurity, angsty, fluffy

“King Thranduil suspects he will be back by nightfall.” Your father spoke breaking you from the trance you had seemed to be in. Your eyes were scanning the emptying kingdom among you. Just like the Elves of Rivendell the Elves of Mirkwood took to the sea’s too, many more than you suspected would leave so quickly. You were yet to get the calling. You were sure your father had felt it just as your mother did so long ago. But he had a duty to the king as his head guard, and he wanted to be around for you and your life milestones, “His elk can sense Legolas but a few hours away.”

You let out a small gasp with glee, “The Elvenking is hardly ever wrong.” Your eyes upturned into the smile that had now graced your usually withdrawn face since he had left here almost two years ago. You hardly lived your thousands of years without Legolas in tow. It’d been well over a year since he set off to destroy the ring. Being that you had lived thousands it should have been quick, but it felt like more than a century since you had spotted Legolas’s nearly silver, blonde hair.

“Indeed, my daughter. It is unwise to not listen to the king.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating from your room and heading to his chambers to get ready for dinner. Leaving you to be with your thoughts. Quickly you got ready making sure to take extra care of you appearance just in case he had arrived early enough for it. It would be rather obvious of your intentions for you had been rather careless since he had been gone. You found no point to go above and beyond since you knew your eyes only landed on Legolas. No one else stood a chance even if they tried.

Sliding on your finest evening attire that wasn’t too over the top you set off for dinner. You scanned the castles dining hall for any sight of him but only slumped when you came up short not finding his normally intricately braided blonde hair.

It wasn’t often Elves could be snuck up on but when your eyes were desperately searching for the one that had been on your mind nonstop it was rather easy to sneak up on you, “He has yet to arrive my lady.”

You jumped turning to the elf standing beside you, “Galion! Where did you come from?” You placed a hand over your rapidly beating and rather startled heart that felt like it got caught doing something it shouldn’t have been.

“From across the room.” He smiled giving you a bow, “I was hardly being quiet.” He gave you an answer you weren’t really looking for.

You nodded quickly looking away, “Right. Thank you Galion. I was searching for my father.” It was an obvious lie and even he knew that for he knew of the feelings between the two elves. It had been painfully obvious for centuries. Even King Thrandruil was growing tired of son not courting you. He had long since accepted you as an extended member of his family. He had practically raised you alongside Legolas. He was eager to see the two of you together before he set sail. He had wanted to rejoin his wife and was growing impatient to Legolas’s growing timidness to asking you the question.

Galion nodded knowing you were lying through your teeth. Being the kings longtime advisor, he had known you just as well as the king and your father did. He knew all your little quirks. One being that you couldn’t lie to save your life, “Right my lady. He’s in the corner with the king.” Galion pointed to the two elves sitting there snickering about something.

Ever since the Kingdom of Mirkwood received word from Legolas that he was safe, and the ring had been destroyed the usually stoic king that hid away made himself more present and smiled far more often than you remembered. You were excited to catch glimpses of the old king you’d grown to see as a second father. Ever since Legolas’s mom and his wife has passed the king has grown cold. But now that there was finally some good news and hope he was becoming more of his old self.

Your thanked Galion before making your way your father. You weren’t planning on eating with him especially not that you learned that he was eating with the king. It’s not that you didn’t like them. No, you loved your king. It’s that he seemed to know of your longing feelings of his son no matter how well you tried to hide it. He always found a way to bring Legolas up and embarrass you in the process. Surely he would show no mercy due to your father sitting next to him.

“King Thranduil, Father.” You bowed before the two elves with utmost reverence. You knew how precious your spot in the Kingdom of Mirkwood was. If your father wasn’t who he was you would be nothing but a peasant elf the king could care less about. You tried your hardest not to take it for granted.

Before your father could speak the king did instead, “You look rather put together tonight Y/N. Special occasion?” He asked with a hint of smirk on his face. And that was why you were trying your hardest to avoid said king who was beginning to antagonize your efforts.

“None that I am aware of.” You spoke another obvious lie. Your father watched in amusement as your usually cool demeanor crumbled over the look the king was giving you. He too was not dumb. All of Mirkwood would have to be blind had they not known you and Legolas were to be bound together. It was just the two of you who seemed to lack the awareness.

His eyes looked over your outfit before replying, “My son’s favorite color is red. It is most uncommon to wear that color here, no?” He waved his hands before him showing that nearly elf was either in green, gray, or beige.

“Is it?” You tried to play dumb feeling utterly nervous under his looming gaze. How had he managed to make you feel so silly was beyond even you. Because he was right. Red wasn’t so common for greens were usually the chosen Mirkwood shades.

His stoic expression broke with an innocent smile, “Indeed it is. He will like this dress on you Lady Y/N.” Your father cracked a grin from beside the king seeing your dumb expression. He too was tired of watching you pine from afar and wanted to see you happy and in good hands before he departed.

You coughed trying to think of anything to say to him. You eyed your father for help, but he simply shrugged leaving you high and dry. He was enjoying this interrogation far too much, “Oh, my king, this is not meant for Legolas…”

He held a hand up to you letting you know to quiet, “Be that as it may. Which is a lie. He will be most happy to see you even more so in that dress.” You dared not disagree with the elf as he was in a chipper mood. Surely his sons return had something to do with it.

“Aye.” Your father agreed which earned a laugh from the normally stoic king. Were they drunk? They had to be. But you didn’t see any wine on the table nor smelled any alcohol on their breath. So, they were just enjoying seeing you squirm? You’d have a word with your father after it was all set and done.

The kings gaze softened seeing you truly so dumbfounded at his conclusion, “He will be here within the hour Lady Y/N. Take a stroll in my private garden after dinner. Galion will escort you after supper. I will see to it that he meets you out there after his arrival.”

You gulped. Was King Thranduil trying to get the two of you together? It seemed as if you were not as sneaky as you thought yourself to be, “Oh, I would not want to impose my king.”

“I insist.” And that was that. He had you escorted through his chambers to the garden even you had yet to see. It was small but truly, one of them most beautiful spaces you’d ever had the pleasure of stepping into. You walked around admiring the roses and flowers that seemed endless as they tangled with the grass and trees. You had sensed why he had kept it to himself after all of these years.

“My father was right. You are a vision Lady Y/N.” The familiar voice of the man you loved snapped you out of the trance the dancing roses captured you in. For the second time that night you had been snuck up on. Most unlike you.

Your face broke into a smile seeing the blonde elf in person finally, “Is red really your favorite color?” You asked not fully believing the king.

He bowed to you, “It’s been over a year, almost two and that’s the first thing you ask me?”

“It is. Is that an issue my prince?” You gave him a dramatic bow in return. That was just one of the many things he had grown to adore about you. You never really gave care in the world of his title. To you he was always just Legolas your friend. For he hadn’t a clue of how you felt about him.

“Hardly. Indeed, red is my most cherished color. This color precisely.” He stepped closer to you grabbing at the extra fabric on your arm. If your heart could simultaneously stop and explode all at once that was what was occurring. He was so close so suddenly. Was Legolas flirting with you?

“Well,” You cleared your throat trying your best to respond to him as your brain tried its best to keep up with him, “Hopefully I wear it all right.” You joked around trying to shift the growing tension between the two of you.

His hands did not drop from your arm as his eyes snapped up to yours, “My lady, you wear it finer than any elf in this kingdom and all kingdoms beyond.”

What was he doing? Your face paled before your cheeks exploded with color. You were usually so good at hiding emotion such as this but his outright honestly instead of the joking he would normally play in had taken you off your guard.

He smirked now knowing his father’s push was really all he needed. You would not blush so had you no feelings for him. He did not wish to ruin the grand friendship he had with you for it was the most cherished thing in his life. For in his mind, you had no feelings for him.

“Oh, thank you Legolas.” He noticed you flexing your hands. He had long since learned that was your tell for being unsettled. He’d often caught you doing the same before an attack would commence or when you had a terrible feeling of something.

“There is no need to be nervous Y/N. It is just me, Legolas.” He hid his smirk away for a softer smile. He held his hands out for you to take.

Slowly you placed your much smaller hands in his, “Indeed. That is what’s making me nervous.” You admitted out loud before your brain could stop you.

“What do you mean?” He turned his head to the side just so as his eyes scanned over your face searching for something, anything.

“You have occupied my thoughts every day since you left.” You spoke quickly before you could decide it would be a bad idea letting him know you had feelings too, “Are you being sincere?”

He stepped forward placing a tentative hand on your hip, “Aye, my lady. I would not lie to you. You look beautiful tonight.”

You placed your hand on his face making sure he really was back, “I missed you Legolas. This had been the longest year of my life. For I did not know years could take so long.”

He tested the waters by bring you closer to him. He fully wrapped an arm around your waist. You thought your heart was going to leap out of his chest as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I survived out there because of you.” His hair tickled your neck, but you could hardly care as you processed this information he had just told you.

“Pardon?” You had asked him to expand on that ever so bold statement.

He brushed your hair behind you ears, “When we wanted to give up, when all hope was lost, when I surely thought this life was over…” He paused seeing the horror in your expression. You must not have known how dangerous the quest truly was. But he continued trying to get to the point, “I thought of you. Coming home to you in Mirkwood kept me going.”

He surely heard how fast your heart was beating now, “I am glad I could provide you the strength to come home to me. For I do not know how I would fare middle earth without you.” This moment in the garden was the most intimate the two of you had ever been with the other. The most truthful too. You would have to thank his father later for the push the both of you needed. He must have been planning to leave soon as he never meddled so obviously before.

“I could not let that happen. I have made sure of that.” He smiled, eyes gazing down lovingly at you. You’d seen the gaze before but told yourself he meant something else. You were mistaken clearly.

“Legolas.” His name slipped out of your mouth so effortlessly. By Eru were you thrilled you could speak his name out loud because he was actually in front of you.

Ignoring your soft plea he asked you, “May I ask you a very important question?”

Your eyes piqued in curiosity as you nodded, “You may.” Wondering whatever he may ask you.

He took your hands in his gently rubbing his thumb along your much softer skin, “I wish to court you. I want to spend the rest of this life together, meleth nin. Would you do me the honor?”

You repeated his words slowly, “Meleth nin…” You repeated back to him before continuing in your disbelief, “For am I dreaming right now Legolas?” You asked not sure if you were truly in reality any longer. For as long as you pined for the blonde elf from afar this was happening faster than you had imagined.

“I certainly hope not, it took me far too long to work up the courage to ask you.” He grinned feeling like he could do anything in the world. His love, you, had said yes to him. He was going to have you as a partner, lover and more for the rest of his life. He could not wait to start the next part of his life with you. A youthful pang of excitement went off in his heart as he felt a new sense of adventure in the near future with you.

You laughed giving his hands a squeeze, “Then it is my greatest honor to accept. May I ask for how long?”

This time it was his turned to blush. It was a rare sight to see the kings son so squirmy in any sense, “Give or take a few hundred years?”

You smiled, “I have you beat then my prince. I had a growing crush nearly a thousand years ago. I thought it would go away so I just buried it deep down. See what good that got me.”

“Half our lives?” His eyes went wide as if he was finally seeing you for the first time.

You nodded you head trying to hide the embarrassment of hiding yourself away, “I suppose it is then half our lives so far. It was when you got back from Minas Tirith with your father. I had missed you far too much for the feelings to be simply friendly.” It wasn’t so bad admitting it to him for it felt more of a relief. He was going to know your truest feelings finally.

He placed his hands on your uppers arms, “I am nothing but a fool. I did not notice.”

You half laughed, half groaned, “I did not give you a chance my prince.”

“Why did you hide away from me?” He asked sincerely as he took a handful of your long straight hair in his hands. He was certainly more comfortable getting more handsy with you after you had accepted his proposal. It was no question to you. He was the only one you would say yes to.

“I am nothing but a Silvan Elf.” You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. When Legolas’s face turned to nothing but confusion you continued, “I heard the king talking, years ago now, about how lowly he view the Silvan elves he presided over. I would never have the approval.”

“What are you talking about meleth nin?” He sounded genuinely confused, “How long ago was that?”

You shrugged, “A long time ago.” You didn’t want to admit it was nearly two thousand years ago you heard his decree. Even by elf standards that was some time ago.

“You know even stubborn kings can change their minds given some time.” He pinched your side lightly letting you know your thoughts were mistaken for the king had all but forced him to tell you this evening.

He held his hand out after he admired you for a moment longer than needed. He could not help it though for he couldn’t believe that you were his, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” You asked curiosity getting the better of you as you placed your hand in his.

He sighed turning back to you with that glimmer in his eye, “We may have an audience on the other side of the door waiting to see if you said yes.”

You let out a hearty laugh, “Unbelievable! Who is there then?” You followed him as he began walking.

“Your father and mine… and Galion” He smiled sheepishly almost afraid to see your reaction.

But your laugh let him know you didn’t mind, “Those meddling older elves. They need to mind their own business.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, that adorable blush forming over his cheeks, “I am thankful for their meddling for I never would have had the courage to ask you my lady.”

You gave his hand a squeeze before you walked through the thick wooden door, “I would have waited another two thousand years for you Legolas.”

He looked down suddenly bashful. You were beginning to adore the far more emotional side of the man you had grown to love truly throughout the centuries. It had made falling even further in love with him a less daunting task. You were more than excited to explore life as a courting couple. You’d make big decisions in this stage of life. How many children did he want? Where did he want to live? Was Thranduil going to give the crown to his son? Would he accept?

“You have always had such a way with words meleth nin.” He brushed the side of your face breaking you away from your thoughts.

You grinned at his kind words, “Meleth nin.” You whispered back to him for the first time. You could get used to calling him that. Your love. Your lover. Your everything.

He put his hand on the door before turning back to you, “Are you ready to deal with them?”

A smile broke out on your face in consideration of his actions, “With you? Always.”

He gave your hand a squeeze before opening the door before both of you. Sure enough not a second later both King Thranduil and your father pounced on the both of you with questions while Galion stood back with a relieved expression on his face. You laughed with utmost glee as Legolas pulled you into his chest shielding you from the questions and answering them all. If this is what it meant to be loved by him then you could surely get used to this.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

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entishramblings · 5 months ago

Text

The Innocence of Brutality Pt. 9 [Legolas/Reader]

A.N: I want to especially thank @tiny-and-witchy for giving me such motivation to write this chapter. Your messages of encouragement were so helpful. Also, this chapter is very....interesting. I wanted to focus on character development and the development of learning behavior in a new world. Additionally, as this story follows the events of the lotr films, I didn't want it to be entirely too repetitive. We have all seen the movies and I personally find myself getting irked when I read and re-read the same scene over and over...hence why I wrote certain scenes certain ways. but fret not, there are plenty of things that I included in this chapter that are not a part of the films heh!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, blood, injuries, gore, nudity, things get spicy, discussion of sex 🌶️

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD | The Innocence of Brutality Masterlist | HERE for OC format

(Y/N) sat still upon a large rock, her eyes fixated on Boromir’s motionless form, as Aragorn and Gimli prepared his funeral boat. Her wings, once radiating power, were now punctured and bloody, Legolas tending to them with care. Still, the pain that rippled among each feather was nothing compared to the suffering and hopelessness in her heart.

The silence among the four was profound, each absorbed in their own grief. Aragorn's face was painted with stoic sorrow, his hands moving with gentle precision as he placed flowers around Boromir's body. Gimli, usually gruff and unyielding, worked the same task with a rare tenderness, his eyes showcasing the break of his heart. With each blossom they laid upon Boromir's chest, a silent tear slipped from (Y/N)’s eyes, running down her cheek and falling to the earth as she once had. The forest, who bore witness to Boromir’s bravery, seemed to mourn beside them—for the trees rustled peacefully, creating a soft song for the Gondorian.

“It is time,” Aragorn spoke softly.

Slowly, (Y/N) stood, her injured wings slipping from Legolas’ healing hands. She approached the boat that now cradled her companion. The Rámaite Mahtar reached for his cold hand. With immense care, she gently unfolded his fingers, confirming that her opal rested inside his loose grip. Blinking back tears, as little rainbows reflected upon the pale skin of his palm, she closed his fist once more.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

With a solemn unity, the group pushed the boat into the water, their hearts heavy with grief and reverence. They watched it float away, carrying their fallen comrade to the halls of the gods, praising his bravery and sacrifice.

In that profound moment, they forged an unbreakable resolve to save Merry and Pippin. They would not let their friends perish to the evil of the Uruk-hai. Therefore, with fierce determination, they embarked on a relentless race across Arda.

As their feet pounded into the soil across the plains, (Y/N) tried to conceal her struggle. Her punctured wings, open and unable to fly and resistant to motion, held her back. The relentless wind battered against them, intensifying her pain and forcing her to push harder than the others, stealing her energy. It seemed to howl in laughter at her suffering. It mocked her. No longer would she let the wind's whispers taunt her. Therefore, despite her injuries, she folded her wings into her form, leaving no feather upon her back, only smooth skin.

Legolas sent her a look of concern as they ran but she only shook her head and said two words: “The wind.”

He seemed to understand, but kept a careful eye on her as they sprinted.

Despite this concern, it appeared to be a good thing that she hid away her wings because, only hours after, the group was standing in a circle of men who were high upon their horses with spears drawn and aimed. Legolas assumed that, if they saw her wings, those spears would be through their bodies, for often men fear what they don’t understand.

The elf was quick to push the Rámaite Mahtar behind him, into the center of the tight, small circle Aragorn, Gimli, and himself formed.

The leader, seemingly so, approached them. “What business does an elf, man, dwarf, and woman have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly.”

Gimli was the one to snip back a snarky reply, “Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine.”

The man dismounted, a sneer upon his face as he moved closer towards the dwarf. “I would cut off your head dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground.”

Drawing his bow Legolas replied forcefully, “You would die before your first stroke fell.”

Aragorn was quick to push down his arm, interrupting the interaction. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, this is Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas son of Thranduil.”

The man contemplated the Ranger’s words for a moment, before he dipped his head towards the final member in their group who had not been introduced. “And the woman?”

The Rámaite Mahtar stood straight, confident, and strong.

“(Y/N),” she replied simply.

He inched closer, a frown upon his brow. “Do you choose to be in the company of these men, Miss, or is it under force?”

She tilted her head, not understanding what he was trying to imply. Her subtle anxiety, slipping her hand into Legolas’, did not go unnoticed by the Rider.

With her action, he seemed to relax. Nodding towards their folded hands he spoke again. “I apologize, Lady, I did not realize you were the wife of the elf.”

(Y/N)’s brows crinkled in confusion, not entirely sure of the meaning behind the word “wife.” The other three hunters did not dare try to correct the Rider’s assumption for it could initiate a conversation of (Y/N)’s origins—which is something they knew shouldn't be shared.

Aragorn cleared his throat. “We are friends of Rohan and Théoden, your king.”

“Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe,” he gruffed in reply. Taking off his helmet, the spears of his men retreating, he spoke again. “Not even his own kin. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over his lands.

(Y/N)’s lips parted as a small whisper of recognition left her lips, no other besides Legolas noticing. “The Man of Saru.”

The rider continued. “My company are those loyal to Rohan and, for that, we were banished.” He then stepped forward, his demeanor changing, showcasing pent up anger and hidden fear. “The white wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say. There’s an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets.”

“We are no spies,” Aragorn interjected. “We track a party of Urk-hai westward through the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive.”

“The Urks are destroyed,” he replied. “We slaughtered them during the night.”

Gimli, his voice wavering, spilled out anxious words, “There were two hobbits! Did ya see two hobbits with ‘em?”

“They would be small, only children to your eyes,” Aragorn added, almost desperately.

The man paused, solemn. “We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them. I am sorry.”

The air then changed, transforming the once-refreshing breeze into a suffocating, oppressive force. Thick and heavy it felt, marked by grief and confusion. No longer did it hold hope or whispers of encouragement, only despair.

(Y/N) glanced between her friends and the horsemen as she processed what the rider’s words meant. She watched as her fellow companions’ faces contorted and twisted, unsureness and shock upon them.

The Rámaite Mahtar’s lips quivered as she blinked back tears. With a breaking voice she spoke again. “No, b-but no. N-not again.” A sob escaped her throat as she desperately whipped her head around to look at her friends for a different answer. “N-not the hobbits.”

“(Y/N),” Legolas said.

Another loud sob reverberated through her chest, echoing among the air.

“(Y/N),” the Elven Prince repeated, his voice tinged with urgency as he grabbed her and pulled her into his body. Her form practically slammed into his with such a force of sadness, almost knocking the breath out of him. She immediately buried her head in his chest, inhaling deeply as the familiar scent of pine and honey filled her nostrils. Desperately, she clung to him, trying to find solace in the comforting aroma as she struggled to breathe through her heartbreak.

Seeing this desperate sorrow, the Rider whistled, bringing two horses forward. “May these horses bear you a better fortune than their former masters.” Mounting his steed, he added to his statement, “Look for your friends, but do not trust a hope. It is forsaken in these lands.” He then turned to his men, calling out an order. “We ride north!”

With that, the four hunters stood, numb and confused, allowing the feelings to sink in further.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other. Their bodies moved through motions their minds did not command with urgency, resigned to the belief that their friends were dead and they were only going to retrieve their bodies.

As if in a trance, they mounted their new steeds and took off toward the pile of carcasses, dread gnawing at their hearts as they anticipated the remnants of the flames—and their friends. Each hoofbeat echoed their apprehension, the stench of charred, decaying flesh growing stronger with every step. The eerie atmosphere was marked by the distant crackling of dying embers, reminding them of the devastation they were about to face.

It was then a haze of despair, hope, promise, and relief—an internal turmoil of change.

As they found the hobbits’ small belts, (Y/N)’s throat turned raw from her cries of despair.

As they found the little ones’ tracks, (Y/N)’s lips quivered and her hands shook with hope.

As they found the wizard in the flesh, new and whole, (Y/N)’s heart skipped with promise.

As they found the knowledge of the peace and prosperity of their friends, (Y/N)’s breath steadied and relief ran through her veins.

There then was direction—purpose—as they rode to Rohan.

….

The remaining members of the fellowship, reborn and filled with renewed hope, rode through the town of Rohan. Despite the wind, the air felt stale and eerie, as if it were sick and diseased. The townspeople fared no better; they appeared worn and weary, their gazes filled with suspicion as they watched the group trot by. Their eyes lingered on the group’s strangeness, noting the many races and the woman with piercing eyes.

“Why do they stare?” (Y/N) asked.

Legolas, one hand on the reins and the other around the waist of the Rámaite Mahtar seated in front of him, replied softly, “They have lived in misery for too long, never seeing anyone but each other.

“You’d find more cheer in a graveyard,” Gimli gruffed out, earning a look from Aragorn.

When they approached the halls of Théoden, they dismounted and were greeted with that same suspicion. “We cannot allow you before King Théoden so armed, Gandalf Greyham, by order of Grima Wormtounge,” the soldier stated.

Reluctantly, the men began to disarm, (Y/N)’s curious gaze filtering over this action. As her friends handed over their weapons—having to take extra time to disarm Gimli, for the dwarf had hidden quite a few—the men of Rohan’s lingering eyes filtered over the Rámaite Mahtar’s still form.

“And the woman?” the soldier stated.

(Y/N) frowned, tilting her head.

It was Aragorn that spoke. “You believe this woman holds weapons?”

The fellowships’ eyes shifted. She was the weapon.

“I apologize,” he stated, clearing his throat. “I was ordered to confirm every member of your party was disarmed.”

He then turned to Gandalf, “Your staff.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t deprive an old man from his walking stick, would you?” he retorted innocently.

At this, (Y/N) raised a brow.

The man huffed, but stepped aside, leading them through the vast doors.

As they stepped upon the stone, Legolas sent a side eyed look at (Y/N). “Don’t kill anyone,” he whispered. “Only incapacitate them.”

(Y/N) frowned.

While Gandalf addressed Théoden, a pale and slimy man, Grima, whispered into the King’s ear—likely spilling lies and manipulation. The men of Rohan cautiously crept around the fellowship as they approached; Grima confronted them in the center of the room. It took only a brief exchange between the ghastly man and Gandalf before Grima ordered his men to swarm the fellowship; however, they defended themselves swiftly. One soldier went to (Y/N) directly, likely thinking to take her hostage in his arms and use her as leverage; but, oh, how wrong he was to assume he could. (Y/N) grabbed his bicep and, with a quick motion, flipped him hard onto the ground. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli immobilized the others, allowing Gandalf the opportunity to pull the poison from King Théoden’s mind.

All watched in stillness and nervous anticipation as Théoden spoke, his voice carrying the tone of another. Gandalf, his face etched with determination, used his staff to push the King’s body backward and pull Saruman’s poison from Théoden’s mind. Though it took only moments, it felt like hours until they saw the years melt away from Théoden's face, the lines of age and weariness vanishing. It was as if new life was being breathed back into him, Saruman's evil influence violently yanked from his very soul.

A young woman, her face pale with worry but her cheeks burning with renewed hope, rushed to his side to provide aid and comfort. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out to touch the newly revived king’s cheeks.

“I know your face. Éowyn.”

A large smile blossomed upon her lips as she wrapped her arms around her uncle.

Those around them appeared visibly relieved as well, for the King of Rohan, now revitalized, was eager to restore glory and prosperity to his halls.

….

(Y/N) stood in a large bedroom in Rohan. Sunlight flooded through the open windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The gentle breeze coaxed the cream-colored curtains into a graceful dance, while the scent of fresh grass, wildflowers, and the faint aroma of earthy soil and distant smoke wafted in, enveloping the room in a comforting embrace. Yet, to (Y/N), it still felt empty.

"But why?" she asked Éowyn again. "Why can I not be with the others?"

"Lady (Y/N), it is not proper for a woman to stay in a room full of men during the hours of night," Éowyn explained.

“But why?” (Y/N) persisted.

The Lady of Rohan sighed, retrieving an elegant dress from a large cupboard on the far wall and draping it over a vast wood-carved mirror. "That's simply not our way of life here. I understand it may differ from where you come from." She paused, then inquired, "Where exactly is that?"

(Y/N) simply shrugged. “Far.”

“I see,” Éowyn responded, sensing (Y/N)'s reluctance to share further. Changing the subject, she continued, “Let’s get you out of those travel clothes, shall we? A bath, perhaps? Then this lovely dress and some food. I do make quite a good stew.”

The Rámaite Mahtar huffed but followed the woman into the adjoining bathing room. At the sight of the steaming basin, (Y/N)’s face lit up, for she seemed to take joy in the comforts of water. She quickly pulled off her leather breastplate, followed by her tunic, indifferent to Éowyn's presence. Quite frankly, she still was not accustomed to Arda's perception of nakedness.

Éowyn started to avert her gaze but halted when (Y/N)’s back came into view.

The Lady of Rohan gasped, horror written across her face. “(Y/N)! You’re back–it’s–it’s entirely bruised!” She rushed forward, her gentle hands extending along the woman’s spine. “This–this could be internal bleeding,” she whispered, more so to herself, with worry.

With that, she rushed towards the hall, hollering for a healer, before returning to (Y/N). “Come, come sit,” she ushered, guiding (Y/N) towards the edge of the bed and pulling a folded blanket up to cover the woman’s chest. “A healer will be here in just a moment. Don’t you worry. You will be taken care of. You will be just fine.”

The Rámaite Mahtar frowned, standing up despite Éowyn‘s fretting. She walked towards the mirror, taking the blanket with her. She twisted and turned until the bruising came to her sight. Her lips parted, for she wasn't expecting such a thing.

It was at that moment that the healer arrived.

“By Eru—” he whispered, seeing (Y/N)’s back.

Quickly placing his bag on the bed, he approached her. Extending his hand, he was met with a fierce snarl from (Y/N), causing him to immediately withdraw.

“Lady,” he began cautiously, “I understand you must be in pain, but please know that I am here to help you.” The healer reached out again.

She snapped at him. “Do not touch me!”

“Lady,” he insisted, his fingers extending once more.

(Y/N) spun towards him, one hand clutching the blanket to her chest, the other reaching toward his throat. Her fingers closed around his neck, lifting him up.

Éowyn shrieked in alarm, taken aback by (Y/N)'s sudden aggression.

“(Y/N)!” a deep voice called from the doorway.

She turned at the familiar voice of Aragorn.

“Release the healer,” he commanded firmly.

Her intense gaze met his sincere gray eyes, and she immediately complied, trusting his judgment in this unfamiliar world.

Aragorn nodded at her, a silent understanding passing between them. He then addressed the servants who had gathered, “Please, get the elf,” he stated. One of them ran off at his word.

He approached (Y/N) with no unease. The trust they held as travel companions was evident to Éowyn. “May I take a look, (Y/N)?”

She nodded, turning her back towards him.

Gently, he examined the bruising upon her form. Tracing her spine lightly, he spoke, “Does this hurt?”

She shook her head. “No,”

He continued to run his hand further up her back. She remained stoic until he gently grazed the spot between her spine and shoulder blades—where her wings would normally have protruded. Only then did she wince.

At that moment, Legolas appeared in the doorway. “It’s her wings,” he stated plainly.

(Y/N) and the elf locked eyes in the mirror.

He approached her, taking Aragorn’s place. “(Y/N),” he said with a nod, indicating to her that it was safe to extend her wings.

With that, she slowly began to unfurl her wings from her back, each movement causing her to wince as they stretched out. Dried blood and greenish goo clung to each circular wound where arrows had mercilessly pierced her moments before Boromir’s death. As she extended them fully, her wings spanned at least half the length of the room, their impressive size and the remnants of battle obvious.

Gasps were heard from those in the room who knew not what or who she was.

Unfazed, Legolas moved to examine her wings. “The wounds must have become infected when you folded them in.”

“They were getting in the way,” she retorted.

“I know, Starlight. I am not blaming you,” he reassured softly. “I can treat the infection, but they must remain free while they heal.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

The Prince of Greenwood then took to the healer’s bag, not bothering to ask the man gaping at the Rámaite Mahtar. He was quick to sort through the herbs and other supplies to obtain what he needed. He dipped his head towards (Y/N) before motioning to the bed.

She obliged to his nonverbal request and sat upon it, her injured and infected wings stretching wide.

Legolas began gently cleaning the wounds.

Aragorn, on the other hand, moved towards the healer. “Your assistance is no longer required.” With a nod towards the door, he ushered the healer and the curious eyes of the servants out of the room.

He then turned to Eowyn, who was still fixated on the Rámaite Mahtar. Her soft lips were parted and her eyes were wide with curiosity. Unwavering they were...until she sensed his gaze.

“I apologize, Lady of Rohan, but you too must leave,” Aragorn stated gently.

Éowyn nodded in understanding, gracefully making her way towards the door. Just as she was about to slip through, she glanced back at Aragorn. “What is she?”

Aragorn inhaled through his nose before responding with two simple words. “Rámaite Mahtar.”

With that, he closed the wooden door, its hinges creaking softly. Leaning against the wall, he watched as Legolas tended to (Y/N)’s wounds. He stood guard at the door, for he knew that news of the winged woman they had brought into King Théoden’s walls would soon spread.

….

The following morning, a small group convened in the mess hall to discuss the future and the whispers of the 'disturbance' echoing through the halls. Present were King Théoden, his guards, Éowyn, Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and (Y/N).

(Y/N) was keen on wandering along the room, her partially wrapped wings dragging lightly upon the floor.

In a hushed whisper, mostly laced with curiosity and concern, Théoden spoke, “But what is she?”

With arms crossed, Aragorn replied, “She is a Rámaite Mahtar. 'Winged Warrior' in the common tongue. The Valar created them to cleanse the land that came before us.”

The King of Rohan’s brows furrowed. “So, she is not human, nor elvish.”

Aragorn nodded in confirmation.

“Is she—“ Éowyn started, “Is she dangerous?”

Aragorn’s eyes shifted, unsure what to say.

It was Gandalf who answered. “Yes, probably the second most dangerous force currently existing on our plane.”

“And the first?” She asked.

“Sauron,” Gandalf replied, his tone laced with trepidation.

“By Eru,” Gimli gruffed. “Ya make it sound like the lassie is gonna be the next thing to get us! Fret not, Lady, lover boy here—“ The dwarf smacked Legolas’ ass, causing the elf to jump. “—has taught the girl well.” He paused, before clarifying. “She’s on our side.”

“I see,” Théoden stated, suspicion still evident in his tone.

It was then that (Y/N) called out. “Legolas, what do these images mean? The ones made of little colorful stones?”

The King raised his eyebrows, caught off guard by her question.

“Tis a mosaic,” Legolas replied. “It tells the story of the men of Rohan.”

She turned to look at him. “What is the story?” she asked.

Surprisingly, Éowyn stepped forward and spoke. “It tells the tale of how we claimed and cultivated our lands. I can share it with you, if you’d like.”

(Y/N)’s face lit up. “Yes, I would like to hear the story.”

Cautiously, Éowyn approached the Rámaite Mahtar and began recounting the narrative depicted in the artwork along the walls.

“A curious creature then,” Théoden stated, simply.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Aragorn replied, rolling his eyes.

The King cleared his throat. “It will be best to keep her indoors while she heals. I do not want her to frighten my people. They are already scared enough.”

“Understood,” the Ranger replied.

The group dispersed, some settling down to eat breakfast, others going about their own duties. Éowyn sat with Aragorn and Gimli, while (Y/N) practically drug Legolas by the hand to re-explain the story Eowyn told her.

In a hushed tone, Éowyn spoke. “She doesn’t seem so dangerous.”

“I wouldn’t take you for one to underestimate a woman,” Aragorn said, sipping from his cup.

“I wouldn’t, but the way you all described her—as if she was a vile beast.”

“Oi, Lassie, she is,” Gimli stated. “(Y/N) over there could cut ya and half ya men down within a second.”

Éowyn ‘s gaze shifted. “And the elf? Could she cut him down too?”

Gimli nodded in confirmation. “She could cut us all down.”

“Yet he still loves her?” she asked with parted lips.

“Hopelessly,” Gimli grumbled. “Entirely hopelessly.”

Éowyn turned her head toward the pair. She watched as the Rámaite Mahtar smiled up at Legolas in pure delight, and he returned the affectionate gaze.

How in a time of war, they could find such love?

……

A couple of weeks had passed since their arrival in Rohan. (Y/N)’s wings had fully healed and were now neatly folded back into her form. She spent her days with her friends listening in on conversations and debates of war—not that she truly understood. In addition to her time with the others, she found herself assisting Éowyn with various tasks within Rohan’s walls. She learned to bake bread and prepare other provisions in the kitchen. (Y/N) also helped select sturdy fabrics for the men preparing for war. She even assisted in organizing Rohan’s swords and spears—though, admittedly, she only slowed the process for she asked many questions.

Currently, it was late in the night as (Y/N) wandered through the echoing halls of Rohan. Tomorrow morning, they would depart for Helm's Deep to seek refuge. She was determined to absorb as much as possible about this place before moving on to the next. Aware that war loomed on the horizon, she craved a brief taste of freedom.

For nearly an hour, she had roamed the silent halls, peering into open doors and descending stairs. It was only when she heard unfamiliar sounds that her brow furrowed in concern. The faint echoes of hushed moans and muffled groans drew her curiosity, prompting her to cautiously follow the source.

She followed the noises until she came upon a small, long, narrow window that was covered in intricate bars. Peering in, she saw a vast room adorned in fabrics of pink and red. Soft cushions and beds were scattered about, where men and women laid together in various pairs, two or three people at most. They were bare, their bodies intertwined in intimate embraces, eliciting sounds of pleasure and the music of skin upon skin.

(Y/N) squinted as she watched, unsure of what she was seeing.

Though as her gaze lingered on their bodies moving together, she felt desire. She bit her bottom lip as warmth began to build between her legs and her limbs twitched with eagerness.

“Lady (Y/N), what are you doing down these halls?!” A female voice chided in a hushed tone. "I've been searching for you since a servant informed me that you never returned to your chambers."

(Y/N) turned to see Éowyn, then returned her gaze to the window. “What are they doing?” She asked.

Éowyn frowned. “You do not know?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Never have I seen people do such a thing.”

“Haven’t you been around for eons?” she asked, confused.

“Well, yes, but my people did not do this—this…what is this?”

Éowyn awkwardly cleared her throat. "We may go to war in a couple of days. These men, these soldiers, are seeking their last pleasure before they march to their deaths."

(Y/N) frowned. “I don’t understand.”

The Lady of Rohan pressed her lips together awkwardly. It appeared that she would have to be quite blunt with the Rámaite Mahtar. “They are having sex. This is a brothel. It is where men go to pay women for such things.”

“Why?”

“I have been told that it feels good,” she explained with embarrassment.

“You have never—?”

Éowyn interrupted her. “By the Eru—no, of course not. Those men in there are perverting an act of love. Sex is an act meant to be between two people who love each other dearly and are wed. Often, it is done in hopes to create a child. I am a Lady of Rohan. I must keep my honor until I am married and fulfill my duty to produce an heir.”

“This is how babies come to be then,” (Y/N) clarified.

Éowyn nodded. “Yes, sometimes.”

“My kind have never needed to have children. We were all made as we are. Made to kill,” (Y/N) remarked, glancing at Éowyn. “I was told that having babies is why we women bleed.”

Éowyn nodded, trying to understand. “Yes, yes it is. I—I am surprised no one has told how such a thing comes to be.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Legolas, Aragorn, and the others…they haven’t talked of this sex before.”

Éowyn shook her head, her tone taking on a low level of disdain. “Men. You have only been traveling with men. Of course, they haven’t told you of such a thing.” She inhaled, taking a moment to recenter herself. “Such conversations are between a mother and daughter.” She paused, before awkwardly glancing into the brothel. “Come, Lady (Y/N). This place is not for us.”

With that, the Lady of Rohan gently tugged the Rámaite Mahtar away from this window; however, (Y/N)’s eyes were reluctant to leave for she was a curious creature indeed—eager to understand the ways of this new world.

Éowyn sensing (Y/N)'s lingering fascination and being rather uncomfortable with it, swiftly ushered her back into the quiet stillness of her chambers.

The air was heavy with the weight of impending war, yet (Y/N)'s mind was filled with questions. She lay on her bed, unable to find sleep, her thoughts consumed by the scenes she had witnessed at the brothel window. Curiosity gnawed at her, yearning to understand the allure of this intimacy that men sought before their deaths. What made it so compelling? Was it truly their last wish—their last desire?

Her thoughts then shifted. Eowyn had said it was to be done with someone you care for with your deepest heart. She bit her lip. Legolas.

With that, (Y/N) cast her covers aside, the white fabric tumbled and rumbled carelessly. Her bare feet were cold on the stone floor as she silently slipped out of her wooden door once more—ignoring the previous persistence Éowyn had held in her tone when she had told her to stay put before she left. Stealthily, (Y/N) made her way towards the chamber where the others in the fellowship slept. She peered in, careful not to wake them. Immediately, she spotted Legolas sitting upright with his back against the cool stone wall.

Sensing a presence, he opened his eyes. “(Y/N)?” he whispered. “What are you doing here? What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she replied as he stood rather quickly. “Come with me.”

Curious, he stood and his feet led him towards her. Pausing in the doorway, he gazed down at her, trying to read her expression.

She grinned up at him, desire burning. “Come,” she whispered again, taking his hand and leading him towards her room.

As soon as she turned the knob and closed the door behind them, she pressed her body against Legolas'. Her lips eagerly met his, savoring the familiar taste of pine and honey that always lingered on him. He responded with gentle caution, lifting his hands to cup her face, unsure where this insistent passion of hers was coming from, nor what it would lead to.

“(Y/N),” he mumbled against her lips.

She playfully nipped at him, pulling him towards the bed. With a swift motion, she pushed him onto it and climbed up herself, straddling him.

“(Y/N),” he began again, “What are you—“ but her lips silenced him once more.

She settled onto his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair and matching her mouth to his. She then started to mimic the movements of the women’s hips that she had seen in the brothel, rolling them in a slow deep motion. It felt good.

“(Y/N),” Legolas moaned in pleasure, trying and failing to pull away.

She pushed him down, his head falling into the pillows. The Rámaite Mahtar eagerly pulled at his tunic, desperate to get it off, as she continued to grinded on him, feeling a hardness form in his pants. Oh, how she enjoyed the feeling it caused between her legs.

“(Y/N),” Legolas forced out, his lips parting, followed by a couple breathless elvish curses.

At the sound of her name upon his lips, her wings snapped open—a reflex—tearing through the white fabric that cloaked her.

“(Y/N),” Legolas practically growled, grabbing her hips and pulling himself upwards, his mouth only inches away from hers. Gently, he spoke, “Stop. Please, stop.”

She halted her motions. “Does it not feel good to you?” she asked.

He closed his eyes, his chest falling and rising quickly as he tried to regulate his breath. “It does, Valar, believe me, it does feel good. But we shouldn’t—we shouldn’t do this. How-how do you even know of this?”

She frowned. “Sex?”

He opened his gaze, staring intently into hers. “Yes. How do you know of sex?”

“I found a place. Éowyn called it a brothel. She told me of sex. She said they did it because it felt good and they knew they were going to die.” She paused, “Éowyn said that you’re supposed to do it with someone you love. I love you.”

Legolas leaned his forehead against hers, still trying to calm his heart rate. “I love you too, (Y/N). But this—we can’t do this right now.”

“You do not want to?” She asked genuinely, pulling her head from his ever so slightly.

“Oh, gods, (Y/N). Of course, I do.” he paused, closing his eyes for just a moment, as he felt her hot breath on his lips. “But you and I are not yet wed.”

“Éowyn said that the people in the brothel were not married,” she breathed out, her mouth just barely grazing his.

A light chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No, no they were not. That is prostitution. Men pay for sex. In a brothel, they treat it as a service, not as love.” He gently cupped one side of her face, making eye-contact with her. “I was taught that sex is not wrong in any means when it comes from love. You and I, (Y/N)—we do have that love. But, in my culture, elves do not have sex without being wed. And I am a Prince. I have rules I must follow. And you, you are not yet accustomed to this world. I will not take advantage of you.”

“It is not taking advantage of me if I want it too,” she replied.

He gently rubbed his thumb upon her cheek. “I know, my starlight, I know. I just do not believe this is the right time.”

She breathed in and nodded slowly—thinking. “Okay. If you want to wait, then we will wait.”

“Is that alright with you?”

She dipped her head up and down once again. “Yes,” she replied definitely.

He smiled gently at her before pressing a soft kiss to her lips then pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I love you with every ounce of my being, (Y/N). Never forget that.”

She buried her head into his neck and wrapped her wings around his form, as if she were shielding them both from the outside world. “I love you too, Legolas.”

Like that they stayed, feeling safe in the comfort of each other’s arms.

….

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bbr0wni3 · 5 months ago

Text

Melting like gold.

(One shot)

♡ -> Legolas x reader

-> Content & warnings: female reader, fluff, love confession, Thranduil and Tauriel's scene reference, narrated in 2nd person.

Summary: After a harsh "supposedly" private conversation with Thranduil, you seem to not handle the strong emotions well, letting you burst on tears and run deep into the forest..

-> word count: 1.8k

-> (a/n): hii, this is the first time Im going to upload one of my silly fanfics on tumblr ^^ I recently finished the lord of the rings and the hobbit trilogy so what's better than a one shot of the pretty elf ;)

Sorry in advance if there are some misspelled words/grammar/phrases,etc. English is not my first language!!

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The sound of your heels hitting the floor echoes along the halls of Mirkwood, your hair swings and the sun hits your face as soon as you head through the garden to get to the other side of the palace, and to Thranduil's chamber.

You were informed that he wanted to speak with you privately.

You stand outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath and knocking three times on the long and white glass door.

"Come on in" is heard from inside the room.

Stepping inside, you see Thranduil standing from a distance with his arms behind his back, walking slowly in circles around the room. Your eyes meet his, and you keep your lips separated for a moment before you speak out loud.

"My lord, I must apologize, the spider nest failed to be destroyed, we were able to clear the forest as ordered, but more spiders kept coming up from the south, they are spawning near the ruins of Dol Guldur, we were soon outnumbered, but it was my task to accomplish and i-"

As you mouth non-stop your concern to the king, he eases your chatter.

"That is not the term I wanted to discuss." He stops his walking and turns his body to face you. There's a pause as he makes direct eye contact and starts walking towards the giant window where he has the most stunning view of not only Mirkwood but beyond the lake and the shape of mountains. You now follow his steps so you're both focused on the view, the silence breaks.

"Legolas said you fought well today" Thranduil began to speak. Your gaze falls to the ground as you try to hide the slight smirk that appears on your face. Locking in your expressions, you face the window again.

"He's grown very fond of you." He continues to speak. Your eyes are wide open now, trying to glance at Thranduil's face, as also avoiding eye contact, to maybe catch a glimpse of how he feels about these sudden words he's sharing with you.

"I assure you, my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a captain in the guard." You speak while you are once again looking out the window. Your heart breaking in your own hands, set on fire, and shattered like glass.

As much as you wish to believe that what you're saying was a lie, you're only being truthful when you wish you wasn't.

"Perhaps he did once, now I'm not so sure" Thranduil responded while taking a place behind you, his words echoing in your mind, you can't believe that that's the way he thinks about Legolas and you.

"I-i do not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly silvan elf like me." You close your eyes, every word that you pronounce feeling like you're being stabbed with a sword. Your own sword of dilusion, as you dream of hearing Thranduil deny your response, but he does not.

"You're right, I would not. Still, he cares about you. You do not give him hope where there is not." His harsh demeanor and cold tone completely finishes to sink your heart beyond measure. As you slowly open your eyes again, you can almost feel how they burn as you fight back tears.

"Of course, my lord." Is all you get to say, straightening up and swallowing your pain.

"Let it pass, let it pass, don't cry now " you repeat over and over inside your head.

"Alright, you can go now" His words now a key that unlocks you from this cage, you bite your lip and just nod, walking towards the door where you came from.

As soon as you step outside, a single tear goes down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it off as you only want to get out of there, you escape so fast you don't even realize Legolas was hiding beside the door this whole time, hearing all and watching how your tears began to stream down your face.

His eyes open, and his lips separate, almost mouthing something, but he does not, he only watches you leave.

"How can i stand here and do nothing?!" He thinks to himself, questioning his behavior and angry at himself but mostly angry with his father for making you cry, for making you think there wasn't any other path but to never try and fall out of love.."love" he though for a moment, that's what he feels for you.

He grabs his bow and places it behind his back. He runs across the palace and heads to the gates.

"Open the gates!" Legolas yells at the elven guards that secure the entrance.

"As you order my prince." one of the two guards said, as they see their prince so desperate to go out for some reason.

The gates open, and he heads to the bridge and into the forest. He knows his father is watching from above the tower, through his window, and for sure judging his own son. But Legolas doesn't care enough, not even a command from the king would stop him from going out and looking for you, even if he had to cross mountains or fight a thousand orcs to get to you, believe me, he would.

However, that won't happen now because he knows exactly where you are.

He knows exactly the place your heart seeks the most when your day doesn't go as you expect, because you know you'll always find him there, only a place the two of you know and always kept a secret, it's your place.

"Across the lake and behind the trees, promise me you'll look for me, and this would be our secret place. " Your voice in Legolas' memories came back to him as he kept pacing through the forest, a sweet promise under the stars. That night, he knew what love was meant to feel like, that night and many others, where he kept this promise of being there for each other.

And you were there, as Legolas predicted. Your back laying on a big mossy rock, your hair shining through the last remaining light of the sunset, your eyes closed as you felt the breeze of the approaching night coming in, the one that blew dry the tears that were still falling from your beautiful eyes.

Legolas tried to be as quiet as possible as he wants to give you this moment of silence before he speaks, he fails to do so when he steps on a branch that even made the birds from the trees fly away.

Alerted you grab your bow, turning your whole body to face the unknown danger, pointing towards the sound, ready to shoot. Only for Legolas to meet with your face full of tears while you meet his sapphire eyes, the ones that you die for, the ones that are now painted with worriedness.

You lower your bow and stand up in front of him. You want to run to his arms and melt like gold in his embrace, but the words of Thranduil resonate in your head "you do not give him hope where there is not."

The blonde elven man starts to step closer to you, your heart beating so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if it got out from your chest, you're sure that if he extends his arm he can feel it pounding, and that's how closer he stood from you.

Another tear falls from your eyes, you turn your face to the right to try and hide it, but he already saw it, and soon I know I would miss the blue if his eyes.

"I heard your conversation with my father." He confesses. You close your eyes to let a second tear fall, and choose to look at him again.

"Then you should not be here." The words scrape your throat. The resistance that lies upon them is a chain forged by Thranduil for you to grab on while leaving marks on your hands by doing so. You search his face focusing on his eyes, trying to see if you can find a way for him to notice that your words are only a mirror of Thranduil demands, and not what you actually want to say.

"But I choose to be here, with you" He steps even closer, you take a small step back even if you don't want to, but he does want to feel you close so he grabs your wrist with his right hand and pulls you closer, and for a few inches you notice that he is now even closer than before.

"Please legolas, you're making it harder for me to-" your words almost coming out as a whisper, a sigh.

"To what? To finally correspond my feelings?. I choose to be here for a reason." He insisted. His thumb took a place on your cheek, caressing the wetness from your old tears and preventing a third one from falling. You close your eyes at his touch, warm and soft.

Your body surrenders and calls for this warmness, you place your hand on top of his, you cannot play as if you didn't want to he like this forever, you crave his touch more than anything else, and by the way your face leans towards his hand he knows you do.

"You've heard what your father said. He would never allow us to be together, not like this." You open your eyes, his eyes pierced on your face, he looks bewitched, enchanted by your beauty, by having you so close, a way he had dreamed of many times.

In that moment you realize he kept his promise, he came looking for you and now is holding you with such love and desire.

"I don't care what my father allows or wants, not even a little bit, for as I already know what i want, what my heart wants. I would never, not even in a thousand elven years not choose to love you, and i cannot think of a lifetime without you, so please...please"

There's a small pause as he tries to catch his breath from speaking so quickly, you decide to take it away from him one last time as you lean to kiss him, finally breaking the chain that kept you longing for this reciprocated love.

You let your whole body be held by him, his hands on your waist and your arms around his neck. His long hair twirled around your fingers and also tickling your cheeks, which are now fully dried, because he took the time that nobody else would've taken to stop this storm that clouded your thoughts and drowned your eyes.

He came as the sun and gifted you a rainbow.

You both separate your lips and let yourself breathe against each other, your foreheads touching and the tip of your noses brushing on one another. You both let a breathy laugh as you share a strong hug.

It seems like the same stars that crowded the sky that one promising and memorial night are above you both again, shining again under another lovely promise.

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading! <3

#legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #thranduil #legolas x reader #fanfiction #legolas one shot #legolas x you #x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fandom #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fanfiction

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heavenlytouches · 3 months ago

Text

Legolas Greenleaf- dirty whispers

⋆｡°✩

GN reader

<3 (NSFW) MDNI

TW- sexual themes!!!

You sat next to Legolas on Elvens' supper (it was a mistake)

Legolas Greenleaf

The golden hues of the setting sun poured through the grand arched windows of Thranduil’s castle, casting a warm glow over the elegantly decorated hall.

Flanked by towering pillars and adorned with shimmering fabrics, the atmosphere pulsed with the quiet laughter and gentle music of elven life.

As you entered the hall, you marveled at the beauty of the exquisite feast laid out before you. The scent of roasted meats and fragrant fruits wafted through the air, creating a tantalizing allure that was hard to resist.

Finding your place at the long, serpentine table, you felt a twinge of excitement and apprehension. You had been invited to this elven supper—a rare honor for a human—and the knowledge that you would be sharing a table with some of the most enchanting beings in Middle-earth only heightened your nervousness.

You glanced around. Elves laughed and talked, their voices like music, but you felt small and out of place amidst such beauty.

To your surprise, you found yourself sitting next to Legolas, Son of Thranduil.

After some time, their fruity wine started to hit. You turned to Legolas- he was watching you the whole night-

His white hair shimmered like spun sunlight, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. You had heard tales of his skill and bravery, but in this moment, he was simply beside you—tall, beautiful, and impossibly charming. Something about him was drawing you in, his pale skin, his long fingers splitting fruit in no time, sweet juice dripping down his thumb.

You hate to admit but your thoughts were wild. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way his eyes looked at you- so hungrily, but you started to imagine how his fingers would feel all over your body.

Suddenly he leaned to you, his strong masculine scent filling your senses.

“Ah, a human amongst the elves,”

He whispered lightly, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at you, his voice smooth and melodic.

“Does the magic of the night overwhelm you? I promise, we bite only in jest.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words. You shifted in your seat, stealing a glance at the ornate platter full of sweet pastries.

“It’s beautiful here. I just think your wine is a bit strong.”

You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Legolas chuckled softly, leaning in a fraction closer, the fragrance of leaves and the earth lingering around him.

“I doubt that's wine, dear. Don't think I didn't notice how hungrily you look at me..”

He said, his tone both teasing and sincere.

“Surely you must know that by now.”

You felt the heat rise to your face as his slender fingers found a way to your soft thigh, gently stroking you. It was at once flattering and mortifying, and you wrapped your hands tightly around your cup of sweet elven wine, focusing on the intricate patterns carved into its surface.

“I-I don't think I understand-”

You stammered, your heart beating faster.

Legolas arched an eyebrow, his expression incredulous yet playful.

“Come on, don't do that to me. I see how you watch my hands.”

He leaned back slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes never wavering.

“I know what you're thinking dear. Tell me, I want to hear it. Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of my long fingers in your dripping hole, hm? Tell me, baby.”

The right words eluded you, and you looked down, the vibrant color of the goblet reflecting in your eyes.

“Legolas...I..”

You managed to mumble.

A melodic laugh escaped Legolas’s lips, filling the space between you with warmth.

“Shhhh let me give you something to think about.”

He said as he leaned closer, his sweet words and warm breath tickling your neck.

You dared to peek at him, and his expression was earnest yet mischievous.

"Imagine me, slowly dipping in your juices, moving my fingers gently, curling them in you. I bet you would be full, hm? Filled to the brim, darling. Would you want that?"

Your breath was caught in your throat, his hands still gently squeezing your thighs.

"I would use my tongue on you, lap and lick, tasting your sweetness. My, my, wouldn't stop until your legs are all shaky. I know how to pleasure, baby."

Your chest was heaving and you could feel pure desire pool in your stomach. It's impossible you're discussing this with Elven kings' son.

"Legolas please.."

You pleaded, your eyes finding his, full of lust.

"Shhh no need to plead, dear. Let me give it to you, hm? Let me show you how a real man loves..how a real man fucks."

His hand gently moved closer to your underwear. You could feel his warm thumb ghost over the hem of your panties, his blue eyes half lidded.

“And why not join me in some adventure? Why not come with me? You won't regret it baby, let me fill you so good.”

He suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Your heart raced at the thought of a personal adventure with him beneath the stars.

All you could manage was a small nod, catching his hand to lead you away. His body was radiating heat.

As the night wore on, you found yourself lost in the woods, stepping into your own light, following Legolas. You watched his broad back, moving behind his slender figure. You knew, when you find the spot this man won't leave your side. Your cheeks were as red as strawberries, arousal pooling between your legs.

As you walked deeper in the night, you knew you will never forget this supper.

Sorry this one was shitty y'all TwT I'm a bit behind because of my college but I will post on-date if I could.

Anyways, hope you liked it. Feel free to request anything! Requests are open <3

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

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mints-bizarre-posts · 2 years ago

Text

Incorrect Quotes #62

Gimli : I sleep with an axe next to my side

Aragorn : I sleep with a knife

Legolas : Both of you are pathetic

Gimli : Oh yeah? What do you sleep with?

Legolas : Y/n

#incorrect quotes #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x y/n #legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf x reader #tolkien #gimli son of gloin #gimli #aragorn #aragorn son of arathorn

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faeriichaii · 1 month ago

Note

hiii i have a request only if you're up for it! a legolas x reader and reader teases legolas and his sensitive ears during an important event and he takes it out on you (spicy? smut if you're up for it :)

love your fics sm <333

Keep Quiet ~ Legolas x F!Elf!Reader

A/N: OMG!! I kinda have been waiting for a smut request haha!! It's just I rarely write any smut so it is always nice to see someone request it cause this also makes me uhh idk get used to writing it?? But yeah I finally finished the request and I really hope you like it <33 I also might edit it later cause rn it is very late and I am very tired but I still wanna publish smth so... ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut (MDNI), Unprotected sex, Fingering, bj, ass slapping ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 2.0 k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You seem to have teased your husband Legolas a little too long during one important meeting, so he teaches you a lesson.

Bored. You felt utterly bored, as you listened in on Lord Elronds conversation with Legolas father about some trading contract each of them approved. Being Legolas wife has it perks but you definitely despise the lengthy business meetings you have to attend. And your attendance is required regularly. As Thranduil once said, you are not just part of their family now, but also have to shoulder the burden of being the queen at some time in your lengthy life. Back then you smiled at the elven king and nodded. You didn’t expect to become queen anytime soon either. But neither did you expect him to get Legolas to drag you to every official meeting in Mirkwood. “It is good for you to learn all about our relationships with the several leaders of the various different lands.” Thranduil once said to you, after he caught you yawn after several hours of listening about potential war strategies.

A hand on your thigh justled you out of your memories. Legolas gave you a smile, as he leaned closer to you. “We are almost through Meleth Nin. Only an hour more and they should sign the papers.” Another hour? Sighing at his words you gave him a pained smile. Your eyes wandered from the elven king of Mirkwood towards Lord Elrond. You knew this would take even longer than that. How could you sit around and do nothing for another hour or two? “Legolas, would it be alright for your father if I could leave for a few minutes? Just to take a quick breather.” You whispered in his ear. His grip on your leg tightened and he began to shift around in his seat beside you. “Are you alright Meleth Nin?” “Of course I just-“ You raised an eyebrow at him. He definitely did not look quite alright. He looked rather… uncomfortable. “I don’t think my father would approve.”

Tilting your head to the side, you continued to study his side profile. A soft rosy colour dusted the tips of his ears, as well as his cheeks. Suddenly, realization dawned upon you. “Are you sure that is the reason behind you being so… skittish right now?” Your warm breath fanned over his pointy ear and you felt his body shiver, as you let your hand gently rest on his leg. Drawing circles on his thigh, you leaned closer towards him. “I don’t need a break anymore, so don’t worry about it my love.” The elven prince noticed the flirtatious undertone in your voice and gave you a warning glance. “(Y/N) please. You can’t do this to me right now. This is an important meeting and-“ A shuddered sigh left his lips, as your finger traced his ear with a feather light touch. “Hmm? Is everything alright darling?” You asked him sweetly, trying to scoot closer to your husband.

“Lord Elrond and your father are still discussing about the best travel route in order for the goods to arrive safely. The same topic since hours so why don’t you just lean back and let me have some fun hmm?” Legolas face turned towards you, his glare igniting a fire deep inside your core. He was mad. And you just got turned on. His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from his ear. “You don’t want to continue playing this game (Y/N). Trust me.” A smirk graced your lips. “Is this a challenge Meleth Nin?”

Suddenly Legolas jumped up from his place at the table. Both of the lords turned their attention from the map at the table to the elven prince, confusion written upon both their faces. Even you were surprised. “Father, I must apologies, but I just remembered that me and my wife have another important event to attend to.” Thranduil looked his son up and down, before letting his gaze wander over you. You expected him to decline (probably due to the tension between you), but instead he approved. “Both of you shall leave, but make sure this… accident doesn’t happen a second time.” And with those parting words you were dragged out of the room by Legolas.

His grip on your wrist tightened as he sped across the hall towards your shared bedroom. “Legolas slow down I-“ “You want me to slow down? I bet you won’t say that again anytime soon.” Heat kissed your cheeks at the insinuation of his words. God you just wanted to tease him a bit but you definitely did not expect this outcome. Legolas stopped walking, just to open the door, drag you inside and lock it afterwards. His back was turned towards you. Watching his shoulders rise up and down you slowly approached him. “I told you to listen, didn’t I?” “Legolas I-“ Suddenly he spun around. “You didn’t listen though, did you now?” A shiver went down your spine at his deep voice. His gaze travelled from your face all over your body which made heat pool in your lower region. “You acted very poorly and improper for the future queen you know?” You nodded your head at his words. “I apologize my prince.” “You think that is enough to satisfy me?” He said, slowly approaching you. Legolas eyed you like a predator about to devour his pray. Oh, and how you would indulge in him devouring you. You need him. You want him.

“What can I do to make up for my mistakes?” “For one, how about I fill your pretty mouth.” Legolas stood in front of you, his finger grazing along your jaw. The touch alone set you ablaze like oil touching a flame. He tilted your face up towards him. “Does that sound good to you?” You nodded your head once more in approval. “Good.” And with that his mouth was upon yours. His mouth was hot and needy upon your own, tongues dancing with each other. A moan escaped your lips at the sweet relieve of the built-up tension. Legolas hand moved from your face to the back of your head to gather your hair in his fist. Pain spread from your scalp as he yanked your head bag by your strands, his mouth immediately trailing kisses along your exposed neck. Your hands racked over his upper body, unbuttoning his shirts and letting them fall off over his shoulders. Fingers trailing over his exposed skin, you followed every line and ridge of his body, until you stopped at his waistband.

“Get on your knees.” Legolas voice had a needy edge to it, as he began to gently shove you down, his hand never letting loose of your hair. Getting comfortable on the ground, you bit your lip at the obvious tent in his pants. Instantly you grabbed for his belt, loosened it and got rid of his trousers for him. “Open up.” Your mouth did as he ordered you to and in just a mere second his cock was between your lips. Sucking on it you watched his reaction through your eyelashes. His head was thrown back as soft pants escaped him. You let your tongue glide over his veins before pulling back and letting it slide over his slit. A hiss came from Legolas parted lips. His grip around your hair tightened. Suddenly, he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth, making you gag around him. Spit spilled out of the side of your mouth, as you tried to relax your throat in order to deepthroat his cock as much as possible. Your fingers moved from his hips towards your pussy, craving your own relieve. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” Legolas said in-between pants. He moaned as a whine left your lips and sent a vibrating sensation through his lower region.

Pulling out, he grabbed your arms and lifted you from the ground. His hands found your chin, tilted your face towards his and gave you a kiss. His tongue fought with your own while he began to strip you out of the dress you wore for the meeting. Your nipples hardened under the cold air and he wasted no time in rolling them between his fingers. Your back arched at the pleasant feeling of finally feeling his touch upon you. His mouth moved from your lips down to your left tit. Your hands twisted in his long blonde hair, playing with the braids you did earlier today. Heat radiated from both of your bodies, as he let go of your nipple with a pop and stood up to his full height once more. “Now I want you to keep your mouth shut, okay?” An approval couldn’t even pass your lips, before you found yourself upon your bed, face down and ass up. “Show me how long you can keep your dirty lips sealed.”

A pleasant shiver went down your spine, as you felt his finger glide through your lips. Gripping the bedsheet, you turned your head to the side. “Legolas I need you please.” You whispered while glancing behind you. His finger brushed over your clit, making you bite your lip in order to keep quiet. You tried to scoot towards his hand, but his other hand kept your body down by your neck. “You already failed to keep quiet but you still want to get rewarded?” He slowly entered one of his fingers into your pussy but almost immediately retracted it. A needy whine passed your lips. “So greedy.” Legolas said, before entering two of his fingers and slowly pumping them at a steady pace. Your grip on the sheets tightened, as you tried to wriggle around his fingers. You want more. You need more. But you were in luck, because just after a few pumps, you could already feel the head of his cock at your entrance. “I want to see your pussy suck in my cock exactly how they greedily took in my fingers.”

And with that he pushed inside you. Your mouth opened to let out a silent moan, as you felt the stretch of his cock inside you. His hands gripped your hips harshly, before he began to move in a steady rhythm. It was hard to keep quite while his cock filled you to the brim, but neither would you want to lose his warmth inside of you. Pants mixed with the sound of skin slapping filled the quietness of the room. A moan escaped through your parted lips and was soon replaced with a surprised yelp, as you felt the harsh sting of a slap on your ass. “Your misbehaviour can’t stay unpunished now, can it?” You nodded in agreement with him. God how you loved getting punished by him. Meeting his hips halfway through each thrust, you felt the knot inside of you tighten, as well as the twitch of your husband’s cock inside of you.

“You take it so well Meleth Nin.” A sudden harsh thrust forced another moan out of your mouth, followed by another pleasant sting on your ass cheek. His hand gently traced over the red handprint. “I have a feeling that you almost like getting punished.” He let his finger trail down to your clit and drew gentle circles over it. Heat washed over your entire body, as you felt your climax approach faster and faster. Your walls clenched more tightly around his cock while the pressure of his finger on your clit increased. “Oh my god Legolas I-“ Another slap echoed through the room, followed by a whine from your lips, as the sweet relieve of your climax washed over you. Your walls clenching around his cock was all he needed, before filling you up with his cum. His release was followed by a few sloppy thrusts, before he pulled out, got onto the bed beside you and circled his arms around you in a warm embrace. A few minutes of purse silence passed between the both of you.

“Was it too much?” Legolas suddenly asked you. “No, of course not Meleth Nin. I might even consider teasing you more often during the meetings.” You reassured him, wrapping your own arms around him and falling asleep in his arms.

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earthlybeam · 8 days ago

Text

Elves how would they react to their human s/o being so…human with their ‘odd quirks’ by elven standards

how would the elves react to this?

↓

Legolas Elladan, Elrohir, versions are below.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

Legolas, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

𖧧 Legolas, upon receiving your friendship bracelet, would tilt his head, perplexed but intrigued. The concept of such a simple human gesture would be foreign to him, though he’d try to hide his confusion. He would smile faintly, admiring the effort you put into it, and gently accept it. “I… thank you,” he’d say, his voice soft, unsure of how to fully express his gratitude. But before he could add anything further, you surprise him by handcuffing him to you, metal cuffs clicking shut with a solid sound.

𖧧 His brows furrow in immediate bewilderment as he glances at his wrist, then at you. His long elven fingers gently trace the cold metal, trying to process the meaning behind this peculiar gesture. For a moment, Legolas remains still, clearly not accustomed to the idea of being physically bound in this way. His instincts tell him to remain calm, but the discomfort is evident in his eyes.

𖧧 “It is… unusual,” he mutters, carefully choosing his words. He’d never been this physically restricted, and while elves value connection, this is a step far beyond their customary bonds. He’d chuckle softly, unable to help himself. “You wish for us to be inseparable, I suppose?” His lips curve into a small, knowing smile, though there’s a hint of uncertainty as he looks at the cuffs, trying to figure out how to move forward with this.

𖧧 His natural grace would make him reluctant to show any sign of weakness, but there’s an endearing vulnerability in his reaction. He’s unsure, but he will go along with it—just for you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

𖧧 Legolas watches you eagerly take a bite of the food, and though he warned you it was too hot, his gaze lingers with curiosity. His sharp elven senses allow him to notice the subtle moment before you react—your eyes widen, and a soft hiss escapes your lips as you burn your tongue. His brow furrows in concern, but before he can offer further caution, you’re already wincing from the heat.

𖧧 The sound of your discomfort pulls him from his thoughts, and he quickly shifts, reaching for a nearby cloth to offer, his movements swift but gentle. His usual stoic expression softens into a mixture of amusement and worry. “I did warn you,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a light tease, though his eyes are filled with empathy.

𖧧 You’re still fanning your mouth, trying to cool down the sting, and Legolas can’t help but chuckle, a soft, melodic sound that echoes through the room. His gaze softens as he watches you, clearly not used to humans’ more… dramatic reactions to things like food. He’s never been one to burn his tongue—elfkind’s food is often prepared in ways that are gentler to the senses—but he admires your resilience.

𖧧 “Next time,” he adds, gently reaching to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “perhaps wait just a moment longer before the tasting?” There’s a warmth in his voice, not mocking, but a subtle reminder of the careful consideration elves give to their meals. Despite the playful warning, his care for you is obvious in his every move, even if the moment was a bit amusing.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

𖧧 Legolas is sitting beside you, watching as you laugh at something he’s said, his expression soft and admiring. His keen eyes follow the subtle shifts in your face, appreciating the joy that lights up your features. But then, as your laughter grows louder, it takes an unexpected turn—your giggles suddenly erupt into hiccupping bursts, followed by a snort that’s unmistakably loud and somewhat… animalistic.

𖧧 Legolas freezes for a split second, his eyes widening as he processes the sound. His elven composure falters for just a moment. He’s never heard anyone laugh quite like this, especially not with such… unique noises. A flash of bewilderment flickers in his eyes, as his mind races to interpret this strange, human occurrence. For a moment, he’s unsure whether to laugh with you or express concern, but then he sees the playful, innocent glint in your eyes, and his lips twitch into a small, amused smile.

𖧧 Unable to help himself, he chuckles softly, the sound gentle and melodic. “I did not expect that,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. His tone isn’t mocking, but filled with a rare, affectionate surprise. Watching you recover, he reaches over, his long fingers brushing lightly against your arm in a gesture of comfort. “You have a very… unique way of expressing happiness.” His voice softens, an endearing tenderness lacing his words.

𖧧 Legolas, ever the observer, studies you with a quiet fascination. The way humans are so unguarded in their laughter is something he finds both strange and beautiful. For a moment, he wonders if he could ever truly understand the depth of human emotion—but the sight of your laughter, snorting and hiccupping all the while, fills him with a warmth he cannot explain.

𖧧 “Next time, perhaps,” he teases lightly, “we could avoid such alarming sounds? Or…” He hesitates, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Do you think your laugh could be more… graceful, like a melody?” It’s all in good fun, of course, and he’s thoroughly charmed by the unrestrained joy you bring into his life, quirks and all.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

𖧧 Legolas watches you enter the room with purpose, only to see your expression shift into one of confusion as you stand still in the center, looking around. His brow furrows slightly in curiosity as he tilts his head, sensing that something is amiss. He knows the keen mind of humans isn’t always as steady as that of elves, but this moment is still somewhat puzzling to him.

𖧧 You turn slowly, your eyes scanning the room, and he can’t help but notice the subtle hint of frustration crossing your face. It doesn’t take long for him to realize what has happened. With a soft exhale, he steps toward you, his movements fluid and graceful, and places a hand lightly on your shoulder. His touch is gentle but grounding, offering you silent reassurance.

𖧧 “Is it… you’ve forgotten why you came in?” he asks, his voice soft but filled with a quiet understanding. Though elves are known for their sharp minds and memory, he knows that humans, in their unpredictability, can sometimes be caught in moments like this. He has seen it before, but never quite like this—never so endearing.

𖧧 A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches you, his eyes warm with affection. “It happens to even the best of us,” he continues, his tone teasing but kind, trying to lighten the moment. “Perhaps… you came in here for something important?” he offers, with a playful raise of his eyebrow. His voice is gentle, coaxing, and his patience unwavering.

𖧧 Legolas stands quietly beside you, his gaze flicking over to the room as if expecting to offer some insight or suggestion. He isn’t quite sure what might trigger your memory, but he stands there, entirely present, offering his company in your moment of forgetfulness. In his mind, it’s a small thing—a brief lapse in memory—but one he finds oddly charming. It only adds to the unique nature of your humanity, something he finds both puzzling and delightful.

𖧧 “I could wait with you,” he says quietly, his gaze softening, “until you recall your purpose.” He offers this without haste, showing that he’s happy to wait for as long as it takes. In his presence, there’s no pressure to rush—just a simple offering of comfort and patience.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

𖧧 Legolas is seated nearby, watching as you prepare for rest. It’s a quiet evening, and the soft flicker of the fire casts gentle shadows across the camp. His sharp eyes follow every movement you make, and as you reach for your pillow, a curious look crosses his face. He’s seen humans do this before—flipping pillows to the “cool side”—but it’s something that still baffles him.

𖧧 His gaze remains on you as you perform this little ritual with such intent, turning the pillow over with a look of satisfaction when the cooler side meets your skin. There’s something so uniquely human about it, so mundane, yet filled with purpose. Legolas tilts his head slightly, intrigued by the simple comfort you seek in this small action.

𖧧 “You do this often?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a quiet curiosity. His tone isn’t judgmental, merely fascinated by the small things that define your habits. The comfort that comes from something so small—so human—is not lost on him. He wonders what it would feel like to be so affected by something as seemingly insignificant as a cool pillow. In his own world, the luxury of sleep is always serene, and the need to find a cooler side to rest his head is unfamiliar to him.

𖧧 As you settle in, Legolas leans back against a tree, still watching you. His mind wanders for a moment, contemplating how humans experience such simple pleasures. His people are bound by centuries of wisdom and deep-rooted connection to the world, but this is something else—something uniquely tied to the fleeting nature of human life.

𖧧 “There is a certain peace in such small things,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. His gaze softens as he watches you sink into comfort, your own rituals of rest bringing you calm. Though his own sleep habits are different, he admires the little things that make you human—like the quiet satisfaction you gain from flipping a pillow. It’s something so simple, yet it feels meaningful to him, like a moment of serenity in the chaos of life.

𖧧 As you finally settle, Legolas can’t help but smile, a small, fond smile that he doesn’t often let others see. For him, it’s the little moments, like watching you flip your pillow, that remind him why he cherishes this strange, beautiful connection between you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

⚔️𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Elladan, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

⭒ Elladan’s reaction to the situation would be a blend of mischievousness and affectionate amusement. When you handed him the friendship bracelets, he would have flashed you a roguish grin, clearly excited by the gesture. “Oh? How sweet,” he’d say, inspecting the bracelets with a teasing look. But then, when you suddenly attached the metal cuffs, his smile would widen into a full-blown laugh. “Well, well, it seems you’re more clever than I thought. I can’t go anywhere now, can I?” he’d tease, rattling the cuffs playfully.

⭒ He would tug at the chains with a dramatic flair, then glance at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re quite bold, I’ll give you that. But I must admit, I’m not sure if I should be worried or impressed.” He would lean in, whispering, “Though, I’m not opposed to being stuck with you, if I’m honest.”

⭒ With a cheeky grin, he would then pull you closer, his arm slipping around your waist as he mock-complained, “Now we’re inseparable, aren’t we? How will I ever escape from this torment?” He would dramatically lean back as if to escape but, of course, you would be stuck together. The entire time, he’d be chuckling and making light of the situation. His playful nature would show as he turned the moment into an opportunity to tease you further, saying things like, “I suppose this is the price of your affections. I’ll be stuck with you forever.”

⭒ Elladan would be quick to offer you a kiss on the cheek, his affection clear despite the playful mischief. “I’ll make the most of it,” he’d murmur, his voice softer now, a hint of true warmth beneath the teasing. “Besides, who could resist being bound to you?” He’d wrap his other arm around you, ensuring the cuffs were a mere formality, not a restriction.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

⭒ Elladan would first raise an eyebrow as you burn your tongue, a grin quickly spreading across his face as he watches you react. “I did warn you,” he’d say, his tone light and teasing. He’d chuckle, the sound warm and full of affection, clearly enjoying the way you’re reacting to your own mistake. “You never listen, do you? Not even when I try to protect you from your own mischief,” he’d add, clearly amused but not unkind.

⭒ Leaning forward, Elladan would mockingly gesture to the food, raising his own fork in an exaggerated fashion. “See? I told you it’s too hot.” He would smile brightly, even though there’s a teasing edge to his voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief. If you were pouting or trying to soothe your mouth, he’d soften slightly, giving you a wink.

⭒ “Don’t worry, my Mellon, I’ll take care of you,” he’d say, a playful smirk forming as he reached over to grab some water or something to help you cool down. He’d hand it to you gently but would still continue his teasing. “Though, I must admit, I did enjoy watching that. You’re quite adorable when you forget to listen.”

⭒ elladan would wait for you to settle, his eyes never leaving you as he watches with affection. Once you recover, he’d give a half-hearted sigh, still clearly amused. “Next time, I’ll just feed you myself,” he’d say with mock seriousness. Then, as if to make up for the teasing, he’d offer to share his food, making sure it’s the right temperature this time, his grin turning into a genuine, affectionate smile. “I swear, I’ll keep you safe from your own curiosity.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

⭒ Elladan would be utterly delighted by your laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement as you start hiccupping and snorting like some sort of animal. His initial reaction would be pure joy, a broad grin spreading across his face as he watches you. “By the Valar,” he would exclaim between bursts of laughter, “I knew you were a wild one, but this—this is beyond my expectations!”

⭒ He’d lean in closer, unable to contain his laughter as you hiccup again, the sound so unrestrained that it only makes him laugh harder. “Is this your true form, then?” he’d tease, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “A beautiful wild boar in disguise?” He’d give you a playful nudge, clearly enjoying every second of it.

⭒ As you snort again, Elladan would burst out laughing even louder, his mischievous side fully in control. “I can’t believe it,” he’d say, still laughing, “you’re a charming mix of grace and chaos. And here I thought I knew you!”

⭒ Despite his teasing, he would be incredibly affectionate, wrapping an arm around you to steady you while you try to catch your breath. “Ah, there, there,” he’d say, still chuckling. “No need to be embarrassed, my love. You’re just too adorable for words.”

⭒ If you tried to stop snorting or hiccupping, he would only tease you further. “Oh, don’t stop now! I’ll never get enough of this!” But he’d say it with such warmth and adoration that you’d know he was only joking. Eventually, once the fits of laughter settled, Elladan would press a kiss to your forehead, his face still full of amusement. “You’re perfect,” he’d say softly, “hiccups, snorts, and all.” Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he’d add, “But I will never let you live this down.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

⭒ Elladan would notice the confusion in your expression the moment you step into the room, pausing as if searching for something. His lips would twitch into a playful grin, and he’d watch you for a moment before asking, “Lost something, my Mellon?”

⭒ When you admit you’ve forgotten why you entered, his amusement would shine through, though not unkindly. “Ah, a classic case of wandering with no purpose, is it?” he’d tease, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the doorframe. “I do it all the time… just not quite so charmingly as you, of course.” He’d step closer, his grin widening. “Did you come for me? Or perhaps you were hoping to find something that I’ve hidden again?”

⭒ Elladan would chuckle softly, his voice low and warm as he gently approached you, his arms opening as if to offer comfort. “It’s perfectly alright,” he’d say, a little more seriously, his teasing tone softening. “I’ll help you remember. If I must, I’ll take full responsibility for distracting you.”

⭒ If you still seemed lost, he’d offer his hand, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Come, let me help you. I’m sure whatever it was will come back to you soon enough.” He would lead you out of the room, his steps light as he softly hums an elven tune, hoping it might trigger your memory.

⭒ Elladan’s teasing nature would never turn harsh; he’d make sure to keep the moment lighthearted. “Perhaps next time,” he’d say with a grin, “I’ll make sure to keep you focused. Though I’m not sure if I should be worried or proud that I can make you forget so easily.” He would ruffle your hair affectionately, enjoying the warmth between you, before offering one last playful wink. “We’ll figure it out together, no matter how many rooms we wander into.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

⭒ Elladan would watch with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as you flip your pillow to the “cool side,” clearly fascinated by the little ritual. His lips would curl into a mischievous smile, his eyes sparkling with affection and teasing. “A bit warm, is it?” he’d ask with a playful glint, watching you settle back onto the pillow. “You know, I’ve heard Elves have perfected the art of always having the coolest side, but I never expected such a peculiar habit from you, my love.”

⭒ He’d lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly entertained. “Is it truly so different, this ‘cool side’ business? Is this the human way of conquering the heat?” His tone would carry a touch of mock seriousness as he watches you, clearly enjoying your simple habit. “I suppose I could learn from you… though I doubt I could ever understand the need for such things when the entire night is cool and perfect in itself.”

⭒ Elladan would watch closely as you get comfortable again, his gaze softening with affection. He would walk over to sit beside you, reaching out to lightly ruffle your hair. “Though, I must admit, it’s charming to see you in your little rituals, even if they’re a mystery to me,” he’d say with a teasing smile. “How many times do you flip it before it feels just right?”

⭒ He’d lie down next to you, propping himself up on one arm to watch you closely, his voice quieter now, full of warmth. “No matter how odd your little quirks may seem to me, I find them endearing.” His smile would soften, and he’d lean in, brushing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Perhaps I should get you another pillow to flip, just to see how you’d react.”

⭒ As he settled in beside you, his teasing tone would shift to something more tender. “You’re so very human, and yet… that’s what I love about you.” Then, with a smirk, he’d add, “Even if it means I’ll never truly understand the ‘cool side’ of things.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

⭐️𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓱𝓲𝓻

Elrohir, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

✧ Elrohir would freeze mid-sentence, staring at the cuffs now locking you to him. His brows would furrow slightly, then lift as a wry smile spread across his face. “This is… quite the interpretation of friendship bracelets, melda.” He’d test the chain’s strength, tugging lightly, his amusement growing with every second.

✧ “You realize,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock solemnity, “that this means you are now at my mercy. Whatever plans you had today are now our plans.” He’d smirk, leaning in just enough to make you squirm.

✧ As the reality of your decision set in, he’d tease relentlessly. “Tell me, what shall we do when you trip over your own feet, dragging me down with you? Or when nature calls, shall we negotiate custody of the key?”

✧ But beneath the humor, Elrohir’s fondness would shine through. He’d squeeze your cuffed hand, his eyes warm. “If this is your way of saying you can’t bear to be apart from me, I suppose I could endure it… for a little while.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

✧ Elrohir would watch in exasperated disbelief as you bit into the steaming food, ignoring his warning moments before. The instant you flinched, your face contorting as the heat hit you, he’d sigh dramatically and set his fork down, fixing you with his sharp, knowing gaze.

✧ “I just said it was too hot,” he’d remark, his voice laced with mock patience. “Do you believe I speak for my own amusement?” Rising from his seat, he’d grab a glass of cool water, placing it in your hand with a smirk that suggested he was holding back laughter.

✧ As you tried to soothe the burn, fanning your mouth like a madperson, Elrohir would cross his arms, leaning casually against the table. “Tell me, melda, was the half-second of impatience worth the agony?” He’d tilt his head, amusement dancing in his eyes, clearly relishing your predicament.

✧ Still, despite his teasing, he’d step closer, gently tilting your chin to check your lips or tongue for any visible harm. “Next time, perhaps you’ll listen. Or perhaps you’re simply determined to give me new reasons to worry.” His voice would soften, and with a quick kiss to your forehead, he’d add with a low chuckle, “You’re lucky you’re endearing, even when reckless.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

✧ Elrohir would be smiling faintly at first, amused by whatever had set you off into a fit of laughter. But as your giggles turned into uncontrollable hiccups and snorting, his brows would rise in surprise, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh himself. “Are… are you unwell?” he’d ask, his tone half-concerned, half-mocking as he watched you double over, gasping between snorts.

✧ When another hiccup escaped, followed by an unmistakable pig-like sound, he’d finally lose his composure. A low chuckle would escape him, quickly turning into full laughter as he leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Valar help me, what was that noise? Is that… normal for you?”

✧ You’d try to respond through your gasps and hiccups, but every attempt to speak would only result in another snort, setting him off again. “You sound like a wounded animal,” he’d tease, his silver eyes gleaming with mirth. “Or perhaps a piglet who’s lost its way.”

✧ Elrohir would lean closer, resting his chin on his hand, his smirk wide and teasing. “Shall I fetch a healer? Or perhaps a farmer to reclaim you?” he’d quip, his dry sense of humor cutting through your hiccuping fit.

✧ As your laughter subsided into breathless hiccups, he’d press a hand lightly to your back, soothing you as he shook his head in mock exasperation. “You’re utterly ridiculous, you know that? I’ve faced orcs and wargs without flinching, but this—” he gestured vaguely to you—“might be the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen.”

✧ Finally, he’d place his hands on your shoulders, his expression softening as he tried to steady you. “Breathe, melda. Before you pass out and I’m forced to explain to Elladan why you keeled over because of… whatever that sound is.” Despite his words, his lips would twitch, threatening another laugh.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

✧ Elrohir would follow you into the room, his sharp eyes watching you as you paused mid-step, looking around in confusion. At first, he’d wait silently, arms crossed and leaning casually against the doorway, giving you the benefit of the doubt. But as the seconds stretched on and you furrowed your brow, his smirk would grow, the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter.

✧ “Let me guess,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “The great mission you embarked on has already been forgotten?” His voice would carry a teasing lilt, but there was warmth beneath the amusement.

✧ You’d turn to him, flustered, trying to explain yourself, but he’d step closer, tilting his head with mock seriousness. “Ah, I see… it must have been of such grave importance that your mind couldn’t handle the weight of it,” he quipped, his silver eyes glinting with mischief.

✧ When you began to retrace your steps or try to jog your memory, Elrohir would follow close behind, his smirk never faltering. “Perhaps you came in here to admire the fine elven craftsmanship?” he’d suggest, gesturing to the furniture with exaggerated reverence. “Or was it to spend more time with me? If that’s the case, I must say, there are easier ways to accomplish it.”

✧ Once you finally remembered—or gave up—he’d chuckle and take your hand, leading you back out. “You’re lucky I find you endearing, even when your mortal mind betrays you.” Then, with a sly grin, he’d add, “But should you forget me one day, I’ll be forced to remind you every single reason why you love me. Repeatedly.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

✧ Elrohir would lie beside you, already comfortably settled, when he noticed you fidgeting with your pillow. At first, he’d merely watch in silence, his brow furrowing slightly as you lifted the pillow, flipped it over, and fluffed it with purpose. When you finally laid down with a satisfied sigh, he’d tilt his head, the faintest smirk playing at his lips. “What,” he began in his usual dry tone, “was that curious ritual I just witnessed?”

✧ You’d try to explain the logic of the “cool side” of the pillow, and his expression would shift from mild confusion to amused disbelief. “The cool side?” he’d repeat slowly, as if trying to comprehend this mortal peculiarity. “Does the other side offend you in some way?”

✧ His smirk would grow as you defended your actions, and he’d prop himself up on one elbow, his silver eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, so the secret to human comfort lies in the temperature of your pillow. Truly, I learn something new every day with you.”

✧ As you attempted to ignore his teasing and settle in, Elrohir would suddenly reach over, flipping his own pillow to the “cool side” with exaggerated flair. Then he’d lean back, closing his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “I must admit, this is quite revolutionary. How have we Elves endured millennia of discomfort without this brilliant discovery?”

✧ Despite his playful ribbing, his tone would soften as he turned to you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Only you could find such small joys, melda,” he’d murmur, his voice warm. “And somehow, you make me cherish them too.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

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