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theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years ago

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

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

Chapter No.: Chapter 3

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

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

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

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

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

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

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

Oh.

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

Ohhhh...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waited until he left to ask what that meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But for now...

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

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

***

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

"Mae govAHnnen."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I believe you mean prince."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"O-oh--"

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

Thranduil nobly facepalmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. "My thanks, my lady."

Lady Galadriel bowed her head in response.

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

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

Elrond shot him a glare.

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

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

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

I don't want to leave...

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost visibly sagged with relief. Almost.

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

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

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

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

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

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

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

Wouldn't he?

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

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

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

"Uhhh..."

"The prince."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag List:

@tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @hauntedsiriel @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

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

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nerdy-bookworm-1998 · 6 years ago

Text

The Royal Artist - part 5

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Words: 1144

Warnings: mentions of blood, reader has a panic attack, if I missed something let me know.

A/N: If you want to be tagged, shoot me an ask

Translations:

Nin emel - my heart

Im mel cin - I love you

During the next few months, y/n settled into her new home and formed new routines. Her days were now filled with painting to her heart's content, passing the hours reading in the grand library, wandering the gardens, admiring the beauty of the flowers that only grew in that part of the world. She and Thranduil grew closer by the day, and as they did, so did their love and fondness for each other, burning like the beacon fires of Gondor. She also became close friends with Tauriel, the fire-haired elf reminded her very much of herself when she was still young, and naive.

Though Legolas treated her with the bare minimum level of respect, there was always a slight hostility underneath his air of indifference. Thus, she avoided him as much as possible.

It was now winter and the snow covered the ground like a cold and frosty blanket, bringing with it a chill into the halls of the palace so that there were fires burning in the hearths day and night, there were extra fur blankets placed on the beds and y/n had taken to wearing thick wool dresses and leggings, instead of the fine silk she had donned in the warmer months.

After much begging and pleading, Tauriel had finally agreed to spar with her in the training yard. Thranduil did not entirely approve of the idea, but when he saw y/n's eyes shine with excitement at the idea he merely forced a smile and asked that she be careful, he did not want her to get hurt.

The two elves were sparring in the yard, alone. The seemed easily matched for a time; striking, blocking and parrying their swords with ease in a graceful dance. That was until y/n lost her balance and slipped on a patch of ice, Tauriel used the moment to her advantage and pinned her to the snow with a grin.

But y/n did not see it; instead, all she saw was a large, dark-haired man with foul breath that smelled strongly of ale pinning her to an ice cold stone wall with his body. The flash of memory passed and when she blinked she was back in the yard, several feet away from where she had been laying, her back hugging the wall, and there was Tauriel, long gashes against her cheek and arms. She realized what she had done and was horrified with herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered before running away.

As she ran blindly down one corridor after another, she could feel her heart racing in time with her steps, her fingers began to tingle and the edges of her vision started to go black. She stumbled down a flight of stairs and came into the cellars. As her knees gave out from beneath her, she crawled into the darkest corner she could find. Curling herself into a ball on the stone floor, she wrapped her arms around her waist and felt the first tears escape as her vision went entirely black and she welcomed her inability to feel anymore.

Many hours later she slowly came to. She could feel someone's fingers in her hair and on her back, rubbing soothing circles. They were murmuring soft words of comfort and safety. When she inhaled, she was surrounded by the scent of musk and sandalwood, with just a hint of vanilla...Thranduil. She was in Thranduil's arms. She was home.

She slowly fought with her eyes to open. When at last they did, she was met with the elf's long neck. Though it was the last thing she wished to do, she gently pushed away from him just enough to see his face, pinched together in concern. For a long time, they merely stared at each other. Then he raised one hand to delicately stroke her cheek.

He was the first to break the silence. "What happened, nin emel?" There was a deep concern in his voice. She swallowed once, trying to get the feeling of cotton out of her mouth before she spoke. "A memory which I had thought long buried resurfaced. It was an accident, I never meant to hurt her. I only realized what had happened when I came to. I'm so sorry, she must know how sorry I am..." she trailed off as her normally bright eyes flooded with tears which spilled copiously down her cheeks which he wiped away.

"She knows, sweetheart, she knows. She's just worried about you, we both are. After you ran away, we could not find you, we scoured the castle, every elf, even Legolas. Eventually, I came down here and found you curled up on the floor...that was over an hour ago." he says as gently as possible.

Even though he did not wish to push her, there was no denying that he had an almost burning curiosity about what memory would send her in such a downward spiral. She knew that she could no longer hide it from him so she sighed before speaking.

"You already know that I used to live in Imladris. I was on Lord Elrond's council. Well, he had this idea to better our relationship with the other kingdoms of Middle-earth, so he sent me as an emissary to each of the kingdoms. Everything was going well, I had secured alliances with each kingdom I visited. Then I came to a stronghold in the east, the people and their king and queen were nice enough. Their son, however, was another matter entirely. In the beginning, he was kind and gracious. I thought of him as a friend. Then one night, I was on my way back to my chambers after a banquet, I wasn't feeling well. I turned into a deserted corridor, and that's when he grabbed me. He...tried to force himself on me...I only just managed to escape. I fled to my chambers, packed my things and fled the kingdom. I sent word to Elrond of what had happened, I told him that I wished to be on my own for a while, but I would send word if I ever settled down again. I have been on the road ever since, and that was a good three years past."

"That is why you were so weary of Legolas that first eve you met..." he realized. She could merely nod.

He gently held her face in his hands as he whispered to her. "I am sorry that you had to endure that my love, though I am not sorry that it led to our paths crossing, for I cannot imagine my life without you. I know that it has only been a few months, but you have given my life new meaning. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm. Im mel cin." he whispered before bending down to gently press his lips against hers.

Tag list (open)

@mcdesij @spiderrrling @interestedbystanderwrites @arrow-guy

#tolkien #thranduil #thranduil x reader #legolas

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generallynerdy · 7 years ago

Text

Fortnight (Legolas X Reader)

Summary: The King of Mirkwood isn’t pleased to discover you, a mere peasant, are the lover of his son. He is quick to send you on your way when Legolas leaves to meet with the Council of Elrond. Despite almost being too late, Legolas stops your departure.

Key: (Y/N)-your name

Today’s Playlist: I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. A lot of songs could apply, but I’m too lazy to look them up.

Cast: YOU! Legolas Greenleaf, Thranduil, Aragorn, and brief mentions of the hobbits

Warnings: Nothing, surprisingly. Fluff? If you don’t like fluff, I guess it’s a warning.

Status: Complete

Note: I’m not proud of how I portrayed Aragorn in this fic, but if I ever do another LotR fic, I’ll be sure to fix that.

“(Y/N). The king demands your presence.”

Those few words were no good. Now here you are before King Thranduil, terrified of what is to come. You knew this talk was coming. No mere commoner could earn the affections of Legolas Greenleaf without his father stepping in. You, however, are the first to even dare to try.

Legolas is your close friend and your dearest. He cares for you more than anyone ever has. An orphan holds no place in anyone’s heart. Or at least they shouldn’t, but you’ve somehow found yourself in his. You knew it would never go far, especially with the King breathing down your neck. The moment Legolas turned his back, you were doomed.

Here you stand before his father, ready for judgement. As Legolas is about to leave for the Council of Elrond, King Thranduil wishes to speak to you. The few words he speaks to you are strongly meant, as he does not joke.

“You are to leave on a ship from the Grey Havens in two fortnight’s time. No questions asked.” He glares, closer than you want him to be.

You knew this was coming. You had prepared for it for a long time. Legolas is leaving and he probably won’t come back, so what was the point staying anyway? You can’t go with him, as Thranduil won’t allow it. You could always go of your own accord, but you don’t have the supplies for that either. You would never make it past the gates.

“You are never to speak to my son again.” He comes ever closer, making his point. “You will leave a letter with his things and be gone as the time comes. Understood?”

“Yes, my King.” You mutter, knowing he can hear you well enough.

“Get out of my sight.” He hisses, almost disgusted at the idea that his son has fallen for you. He turns, his robes flaring out behind him.

You turn to leave and prepare for your journey. You have time, but you also have to say goodbye to Legolas. That will probably be the hardest part, knowing him. You can’t alert him to the fact that you’re leaving, or Thranduil will have your head.

You write a letter that very night, tucking it among your beloved’s bags with the knowledge that he won’t find it until you’ve already left. Legolas may be clever, but he is by no means organized.

The morning of his departure is the worst. He approaches you last, even after saying goodbye to his father, who is glaring daggers at you. Legolas kisses your forehead gently, cradling your head with his soft hands. He smiles lovingly. “I will be home swiftly to see you again.”

You smile tearfully. He thinks you are afraid for him. You are, but mostly for when he discovers of your departure. You kiss him lightly and hold him in your embrace.

“Do not worry for me, love.” He reassures, “I always return home.”

“I know.” You mutter quietly. He will always return to his kingdom. It is his home as well as his duty. You are not. You may have his heart, but his mind and his own self belongs to his kingdom.

He gives you one last kiss before mounting and taking off on his way. He waves goodbye farther down the road and you return the gesture, attempting a smile.

It pains you to know that he won’t realise you’re gone. At least not for a long time.

Two fortnights pass too quickly and Legolas hasn’t returned. You had the slightest hope that his journey might be complete by then, but it was a foolish one. You take your leave of the kingdom and start toward the Grey Havens, King Thranduil smirking victoriously as you depart. You curse his name and hope that his years left in Middle Earth are wrought with hardship. For all the pain he will cause his son, he will deserve it. He deserves even far more than what you have cursed upon him. Only the fury of a lost love could make him feel such pain.

Since his journey has begun, Legolas has thought of nothing but (Y/N)’s welfare. He can’t help but fear for her, as his father was not exactly pleased at the idea of a ‘commoner’ romancing his son; the Prince. Legolas couldn’t care less, though, as you are his and he is yours.

He doesn’t discover the letter until they rest in Lorien. It’s a miracle the letter hasn’t been lost by now. Little does he know that he may just be too late.

“Legolas.” Aragorn calls for him beside their bags.

Legolas raises his eyebrows and approaches his friend, who has pulled a single, loose piece of writing seemingly from out of nowhere. He hands it to Legolas.

“It is yours, my friend.” Aragorn tells him in elvish, not wanting their conversation to be heard by the other members of the Fellowship. “Have you read it?”

“No…” Legolas answers swiftly, “I wasn’t aware of its presence. Why?”

“It was written by your love, Legolas.”

The Prince’s eyes widen as he takes the paper from Aragorn. He reads over it swiftly, an expression of displeasure spread across his face. It turns from shock, to hurt, to sadness. “This cannot be true.”

“I’m sorry.” Aragorn mutters, “She has left for the Grey Havens.”

My Legolas,

I fear by the time you might find this, it has already been too late. I do not expect you to return within two fortnight’s time, as your journey is far more dangerous and time consuming than one might imagine. Amusing, isn’t it, how one little ring causes so much distress?

I’m sorry I have to write this to you by letter, but if I had told you, I would not be alive to this day. Your father, King Thranduil, has demanded I leave Middle Earth and cross the sea in two fortnights. If you have not returned by then, there will be none here to stop me from leaving. I cannot stay, as he will have my head, but I cannot leave, as the same result may occur. I’m deeply sorry, Legolas. I wish more than anything I could have followed you, but if I had, there was a chance that neither of us would survive.

Do not feel guilty. I made this decision myself so that you may be free to serve your kingdom as you were meant. Do not grieve, love, at my departure. Someday you may follow me and we might meet again. Do not allow this loss to distract from your true goal; the destruction of the Ring. And do not allow my disappearance to keep you from your duties as a Prince.

I love you with all my heart, Legolas, and I hope from the bottom of it that you might see fit to move on as you were meant. Rule your people with a just hand and wise mind, as I know you can.

All my love,

(Y/N)

“I have to go.” Legolas begins to pack his things onto a horse. The hobbits watch in fear. What is so desperate that their comrade must leave in the middle of the journey?

“Legolas, you will not make it in time to stop her.” Aragorn warns, standing beside his friend. He reaches out a swift arm to stop Legolas. “She will have left the day before yesterday. The Grey Havens is a fortnight’s ride from here, if not more, and you are two days behind.”

Legolas frowns. “Then let me go, Aragorn, and I might catch up with them.”

“Our Fellowship will have one less member.” Aragorn continues, “We need you.”

“And I need her. I will not allow her to leave, at least not without a goodbye.” Legolas finishes his argument and continues to load his things.

Aragorn sighs as his friend mounts his horse, prepared to leave. He looks up at Legolas in one last goodbye, “Godspeed.”

Legolas gives him a curt nod before clicking his tongue. His steed takes off at immense speed as they ride through the forests of Lorien.

He rides day and night, determined to catch up with her. He cannot let her go. He loves her too dearly to forget her like that, in the blink of an eye. His fear grows as time slips from him. But so does his anger at his father. He’s been betrayed by his own kin, his own flesh and blood. Could he not see that Legolas adores her as he once adored his own beloved?

You take one last look around you with a sigh. The view isn’t what you’re going to miss the most, though. You shake the thought of him away. You’ve already come to terms with it. There’s no point drowning yourself in sorrows again.

You begin to board the ship, as you are the last passenger. However, a thundering of hooves and a shout stops you. “Wait!”

You turn, your heart filled with sudden hope. You know that voice. You gape a little as he rides toward you, determined to stop you. How is he here right now? He was in the middle of a quest! “Legolas?”

He dismounts and races over to you, not wasting a moment. He takes you in his embrace, holding you close, as if to say that he’ll never let you go. “Don’t go.”

You chuckle tearfully and hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault. If I had told Father-” He starts, the guilt building up. It was his father who cast you out, who almost had you leave Middle Earth altogether just because he didn’t want to see you with his son.

“Legolas.” You hold your hand to the side of his head gently. “Neither of us are to blame.”

He leans forward to kiss you, mumbling, “I will never let you go again, (Y/N). I love you.”

“And I you, my Legolas.”

#legolas #lord of the rings #tolkien #xreader #x reader #reader insert #fluff #fluffy #middle earth #fellowship of the ring #im a nerd #thranduil #aragorn #novakitty #generallynerdy #novakitty114 #river #rivika

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