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#legolas x reader fic
entishramblings · 5 months
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Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]
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A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.
Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader
Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba
🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading
Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.
Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.
Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)
Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)
Additional Content: moodboard linked here
MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD
When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.
That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?
She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.
Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.
Cursed to guide them and bend them.
Cursed to behold them.
Cursed to be them.
Alone.
A Watcher of Wanderers.
She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.
But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.
She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?
Still, she wandered more.
She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?
Still, she wandered more.
She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.
Still, she wandered more.
As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.
Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.
Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.
So, she followed them.
One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.
Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.
Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.
From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant
Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.
See that was the thing.
Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.
The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.
The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..
She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.
But he couldn’t….
No…
He couldn’t have heard her….could he?
Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?
…..
The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.
There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.
Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.
(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.
Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…
A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.
Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”
(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.
Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.
“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.
He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.
…..
The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.
Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.
However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.
She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.
Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.
His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.
Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.
“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”
The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.
Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."
Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”
“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.
Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”
Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”
The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."
Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”
Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."
“Cursed? But why?”
The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”
“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”
Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”
At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.
Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.
"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.
….
As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.
It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.
It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.
When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.
When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.
When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.
When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.
This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.
When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.
When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.
When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.
A watcher of wanderers indeed.
As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.
Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.
Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.
Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.
Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.
In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.
He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.
Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.
He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.
She hadn't left when he closed the windows.
She was still here.
Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.
The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….
In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.
…..
Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.
Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.
The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.
Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).
As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.
Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.
Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.
He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.
With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.
In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.
However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.
Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.
A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.
Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.
Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.
"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"
She remained unresponsive.
Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.
Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"
Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.
“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”
Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”
Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”
Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”
The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”
The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.
Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”
It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”
Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.
“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"
Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”
Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.
The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."
Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.
Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.
The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.
……
Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.
He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.
"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"
Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.
The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.
“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.
Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”
Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”
Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”
“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”
Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”
Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”
Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”
The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”
He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.
Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.
Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.
"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.
To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”
She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.
Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."
A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."
The elf smiled gently in response.
A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.
Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”
She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”
The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?
(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."
…..
The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.
However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.
“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”
She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."
Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”
She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”
Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.
(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”
The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”
“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.
He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”
She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”
“Say it,” he commanded.
“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”
Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.
…..
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faeriichaii · 3 months
Note
hi!! i’ve never requested smth before but your writing is so good im gonna give it a shot💫 could i request a legolas x human reader where she somehow accidentally touches his pointy ears not knowing that they’re sensitive for elves and legolas asks her to keep doing it (fluff/like half smut more like teasing maybe?) and legolas is just this soft baby who begs her for her touch 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
Sensitive ~ Legolas x Human!Reader
A/N: Thank you so much!! You're like so sweet <33 Oh that sounds very interesting 🤭 I like the idea!! I think I once read like one with a bunch of the elves where the reader accidentally touches their ears and like!! So I hope you enjoy the story <33 (and ngl I was so close to turn it into a smut rip)
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff, lil bit smut (if you squint your eyes) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 875 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Aini Nin ~ My Angel ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Gi Melin ~ I love you ࿐ྂ
Summary: You knew that Legolas could endure quite a lot, but what you did not expect is his reaction to touching his pointy ears
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You loved keeping watch during the night. Everything seemed so calm and quiet and it was the only time of the day where you really get the chance to be by yourself. Where you get the chance to think about everything that happened so far and everything that still has to come. Sometimes Legolas joins you during your watch times. These were your favourite moments with him. You always have the most wonderful talks and share your thoughts with each other.
Being alone with him fills you up with joy and warmth. One could almost say you get drunk by his intoxicating charm that he shares specifically with you. Both of you were once more sitting on the logs, around a fire that has been put out for quite some time now, talking about the future ahead. “Do you think your father will like me?” You suddenly asked him, using a stick to draw a heart onto the dirt beneath you. “There is no way he could not. He will adore you as much as I do Aini Nin.”
A bashful smile graced your lips, as you wrote your initial, as well as his into the heart. “I can’t wait to meet your hometown my love. And your father. I want to see everything and get to know all about Mirkwood.” Looking up at him, you caught him already staring at you. His eyes were shining with love and care for you. “And I wish to visit your hometown. Learn all about your family and the customs you share.”
His arm snaked around your waist, in order to pull you into his warm side. Dropping the stick you used for your small drawing, you leaned into him. “Do you think we should take Gimli with us?” A laugh escaped Legolas lips at the thought of the dwarf running around the palace grounds. “I think that would either end up in multiple deaths or banishment on his side.” Chuckling at his response, you leaned your head onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“I love you.” You said, gazing up at him lovingly. “Gi melin, Meleth Nin.” He gave you a soft kiss on the lips, which you immediately reciprocated. You still were looking at him, shining in the moonlight like an angel sent from heaven, as you noticed one of his braids getting loose. “Oh Legolas, can I re-braid your hair?” “Of course.” With that you stood up to take your place on his lap. His hands gently laid on your waist, as you undid his hairdo.
“I wish I had soft hair like you do.” You said, brushing your fingers through his white strands. “Your hair is already perfect as it is Aini Nin.” He softly whispered, as he leaned into your touch. A gentle smile graced your lips. Quickly giving him a loving kiss on his temple, you resumed your work on his hair. Parting the strand into a few sections, you began to weave your fingers through them. The quietness of the forest was interrupted, as Legolas let out a hitched breath. You raised an eyebrow at the sound that escaped him but continued to braid his hair.
His hands tightened around your hips, as your fingers accidentally brushed against his ear. You noticed that his ears slowly gained a red colour by the tips. A smirk played on your lips, as you let your hand brush against his pointy ear once more. Legolas let out another shaky sigh. “Are you alright my love?” You asked him, playfulness evident in your words. “Yes, it’s just… my ears. They are sensitive.” A little giggle left your lips, as you abandoned the braid and instead focused on his ear. You gently let your fingers trail along the pointy form. The elf underneath you let out a soft whine at your touch, slightly leaning into your hand.
His breathing got ragged, hips also moving up into you while pressing you down on him. “Should I stop Meleth Nin?” You innocently asked, playing with the tip of his ear. “No, please. Don’t stop.” A whine followed his words, as you put your other hand around his other ear, massaging both of them equally. Warmth spread through your body at the sounds that escaped your lover underneath you. The elven prince tried his best to keep as subtle and quiet as possible, in order to not wake up the others around you. “Do you love it when I play with your beautiful elven ears?” “Yes.” His breathy answer was muffled, as he hid his face in your neck. “Please don’t stop.” He whispered, giving you a gentle kiss on the exposed skin. Legolas cheeks were rosy and so were your own. You knew that elves could endure quite a lot, but you did not expect them to have wobbly knees after just a touch to the ears.
Suddenly you stopped your little ministration, making the prince underneath you whine sadly. “I am sorry my love, but you don’t want to wake the others now, do you?” You said, smirking slightly at his flustered expression. His hands tightened around your waist, as he brought you closer. His warm breath hit your ear. “You are going to regret this.”
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miseries-mistress · 1 year
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SOLICITUDE | LEGOLAS GREENLEAF
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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
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"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. 
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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frost-queen · 3 months
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Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)
Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers @merlieve,  @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn
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| Meeting Thranduil
You met Thranduil when the Third age progressed. It was when the Necromancer unknown then but known as Sauron later on claimed the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc to make it into Dol Guldur. Sauron infected the woods with spiders and orcs. The spiders and the orcs expended their reach claiming more and more for them. Infecting the very nature with their filth and death.
All the elves were forced to leave the woods. Those who fought back were brought down. Countless of lost elves filled the sickening woods. You were amongst some elves that were fleeing. The orcs had increased their stench to the part of the woods where you lived. With a few douzen you were. Fleeing for your lives as the orcs hunted you down. The woods had grown iller. Spider cobs were not too much yet in these parts. But a few spiders having expended their webs out to your lands.
Some elves wanted to stay and fight. They barely lasted long as the pack of orcs were too many. Sweeping them down in a matter of seconds. The others fled as fast as they could. Hatred, anger and sorrow grieving your hearts. You were running trying to stay out of the orcs clutches. The orcs attack made you stumble, dropping to the ground. Surrounded by death and darkness. You thought it was over. You thought you were never going to see the undying lands, but then a bright light appeared between the trees. The illumination blinded the orcs sending them back a bit. The light faded as you could see a small group of elves charge for battle. Lead by a High elf.
The orcs never stood a chance. The High elf approached you, helping you up your feet. The moment his eyes met with his, he was struck. Gasping breathlessly at your grace and beauty. The woods no longer having a place for you, he took you in. Thranduil his name was. King of the woodland realm.
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| Life at the woodland realm
Thranduil was smitten with you. For the first time in many ages, the so cocky king found beauty in another. He threated you like a guest with the highest honor. Quarters close to his. Thranduil would host parties just to have an excuse to dance with you. He never let any other elf near you. He wanted you for himself. You sometimes dared to tease Thranduil by speaking to other elves, just to see his reaction. You loved how easily jealous he was. He would come over, pull you gently behind him while urging them in a polite way to leave. Sometimes he would lay his robe over your shoulder to hint to others that you were his.
Underneath the moonlight on a summer's day was when you had your first kiss with Thranduil. Forever giving yourself to one another. He married you a month later never wanted to be parted from you ever again. You became queen of the woodland realm. All the elves present adored you for your righteousness and kind heart. Whenever Thranduil dared to lose his temper, you were there to calm him down. Sometimes you would come along with Thranduil and his army in an attempt to reclaim your woods. When Thranduil saw his numbers dim and almost losing you in a battle, he gave up. Not wanting to see his people be slaughtered or see you in danger. For he could not afford to lose you, his brightest star.
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| Legolas
Legolas was born with grace. You loved every little detail of him. Thranduil would be careful at first. For he feared to hold such a fragile creature. He feared he might harm it in any way. You would show him he could do no harm. Taking his hand and bringing it up to Legolas for him to touch. His fingers would brush against his cheek making Legolas flutter a laugh. On that Thranduil was sold. Taking his son in his arms and care deeply for him.
As Legolas grew older, Thranduil insisted he had his features from you. Everything about Legolas reminded him of you. With the coming of Legolas was Thranduil more careful. You were no longer aloud out of the woodland realm. Not wanting anything to happen to you or Legolas. You had to admit it felt a bit lonely being unable to see the old woods. Your home that you missed dearly. With each year it grew colder and deader. Plagued by orcs and spiders. Since you had no where else to go, you focused more on Legolas. Teaching him how to defend himself. It was you who introduced Legolas to the bow and arrow. When Legolas was old enough to have his own bow, he would name it after you.
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mlmxreader · 2 months
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Quiet Nights | Legolas x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Could you do Legolas with "Stop crawling in through my window!" ❞
: ̗̀➛ Legolas wants to spend the night with his significant other.
: ̗̀➛ n/a
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
The night was calm for once, a slight drizzle that blew towards the east and little more than that; the moon was wearing a half smile, and the birds had silenced themselves as they retreated to their nests for the night.
Not even mice dared to scamper and scuttle through the halls with their soft and playful squeaks, instead choosing to stay hidden and concealed within their nests, buried inside the walls as they slept soundly.
Foxes did not dare or care to stir, either, well hidden and concealed within their thick dens amongst the towering trees and scruffy shrubs; their tails pressed against their noses as they rested behind a coarse rope of dense brownish orange.
The night was calm, which was odd; on more usual nights, the rain would have hammered down heavily, crashing and thundering against the ground so hard that it bounced right back up again. Howling and screaming winds that were able to topple even the tallest and heaviest of trees; it could be so catastrophic, yet it was so normal.
The quiet was, more than anything, eerie.
Too quiet and too harsh that it felt overwhelming; but the quiet of the halls and the rooms was welcoming.
The soft drifting sounds of snoring and the careful creaks of the wooden floor as the occupants moved around to get food, water, to change into their night clothes.
The window on the left, near the front and overlooking the empty and desolate path, was left open ever so slightly; more ajar than anything else, although there was space for it to be pulled open.
Legolas smiled as he looked at it, holding onto the ladder that had been left out and placed against the window; gently, he hooked his fingers on the bottom ridge, and slowly pulled it open until he could get his arms in.
Wriggling and writhing until he fell to the floor with a padded thud; the sound of laughter from the king sized bed soon followed, and when he looked up, he smiled.
"You need to stop crawling in through my window!" Your laugh was infectious and loud as you got out of bed, grabbing Legolas by his bicep and helping him to his feet. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"
He shook his head, beaming and grinning at you and clinging onto your hands as his gaze slowly dropped to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes again. Biting at the inside of his lip, Legolas could only hum as he decided to close the distance, his soft lips meeting your cheek for a split second.
You could feel his breath against your skin, his hands going down to your sides so that he could gently tug you closer, your hands landing on his chest as you balled the fabric of his shirt up within your fists. A soft huff leaving your lips as you licked your lips and swallowed thickly.
"Are you going to answer my question?"
Legolas nodded, moving one hand up so that he could gently cup your jaw; his fingers were deft and tender. "My love, I'm fine. I've crawled in through your window plenty of times without so much as a bruise."
"I know," you sighed, letting go of his shirt and gently pulling hin over to the bed. He laid down, welcoming you onto his lap with eager greed for the feel of your skin against his own. "It still won't stop me from worrying, though."
"My father talked of you today," he admitted quietly, softly, almost under his breath. "He told me that I would do well to keep you near after your little... adventure with the spiders earlier. He said he had never seen someone able to sneak up on them with a sword before."
You shrugged, swallowing thickly. "I only did what I've been trained to do. Years as a soldier..."
The smile on Legolas' lips faded, and he shook his head as his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Worry overtaking him as he let out a shaky breath at the mere mention. "You mustn't talk of such a thing, now. You are not going back to that life, you know that."
You nodded, daring to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "I know, I am more than aware of that, my love. Your father's praises mean a great deal, but I would rather know that I have the love of the fairest Prince."
His grin returned as he nodded, taking your hands in his own and placing them against his chest; his heartbeat was deep and steady, a soft throb beneath the fine and thin fabric of his shirt that made all tension drop from your body upon the feel of it. A heavy sigh left you, similar to the kind of sigh that came before a deep and long slumber.
"You shall always have that," he promised gently, slowly moving you so that you were laid down beside him, his finger lightly tracing your jaw. "My heart will always be yours."
"And mine yours," you whispered, smiling as you let out a quiet yawn. "Do you think we should get some sleep, now? We have a long day ahead tomorrow."
Legolas nodded as he pressed his temple to your head, closing his eyes as he refused to let go of your hands; it was the same every night, and it never mattered much what kind of position the two of you were cuddled up in, Legolas always held your hands when he slept.
He couldn't fall asleep next to you without doing so, and as it became habit so many years ago when the two of you first got together, you couldn't either; fidgeting around a little, you wound up with the top of his head against your chin and your arms around his waist, one leg swung over his hips as he snuggled up, a small smile on his lips.
It was going to be a quiet, peaceful, night.
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minaturefics · 10 months
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Though I Know My Heart Would Break
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Request: For the poll that Legolas won! You guys sent in a few prompts, I've incorporated: sick (injured, rather) fic, hurt/comfort, everyone lives, and reader confesses first! Hope you guys like it! (Title is from Hozier's Francesca that has me in a chokehold)
Legolas x Reader
Gender-neutral reader
Content warnings: Mild injury (no overly graphic descriptions)
3.7k words
---
You walked through the forest, ducking under the cedar branches, weaving between the cypresses. The air was rich with the scent of herbs — thyme and sage, marjoram and parsley. The late afternoon sun filtered in through the canopy, specking the forest floor with light. Legolas’ footsteps were silent on the soft ground, but the steady clopping of the horse he was leading reassured you of his presence.
With the coronation over, and Eowyn and Faramir wed, attention was turned to restoring Minas Tirith and setting up a settlement at Emyn Arnen. You and Legolas were tasked with surveying the land and forests around Emyn Arnen. Sam was curious about the plants, hearing how new and different they were to those back in The Shire, but Frodo’s reluctance to stray further than the Citadel kept him in Minas Tirith. 
You paused by a cluster of pink rockfoils, thumbing the thin stems before plucking a few small flowers and tucking them into a waxed pouch. 
“Mellon nin,” Legolas said, sounding half-amused, half-exasperated, “Why do you pause and pluck? You have been doing so since we arrived. ”
“They’re for Sam. He might have agreed to stay in Minas Tirith, but I saw the shade of disappointment in his eyes. I thought perhaps I could bring the forest to him instead.”
His lips tugged up at the corners. “And what will you give the forest in return?”
“What do you mean?” You frowned and stood. 
He smiled, soft and knowing, eyes wandering over the barks and branches. “These trees have been left at peace for many years, the bushes and shrubs untouched. They are not used to wandering fingers and restless feet.”
You glanced down at the patch of rockfoils, the decapitated stems looking more brutal in light of Legolas’ words. Your lips twisted and he chuckled, and your eyes drifted back to him.
He had always been so full of light and laughter, even during the endless days and dark nights, even after Gandalf fell, even after the hobbits were taken. Ethereal, that was what people said of the elves. Otherworldly. 
But he looked so human, so normal, standing in a patch of sunlight, laughing at the concerned expression on your face. There were smudges of dirt on his boots, dew dotting the bottom hem of his cloak, and even a small leaf lodged in his hair. 
Yes, Legolas has always just been Legolas to you. 
Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to lose your heart to him. How could you not? While the others regarded him with a deference, or awe in the hobbits’ case, or even confusion at his elf customs, he had never truly seemed so different to you. His eyes, brown and alive in the light, still crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His voice, low and melodious, still cracked when he spoke of sorrows. And his hands, delicate and strong, still bore soft calluses from his bow. 
The last couple of days had been so indulgently wonderful. Without the threat of war or the constant need for secrecy and vigilance, being out in the wilds once more was soothing. It was a great secret joy, of course, that you had Legolas’ undivided attention. 
He had been more loose limbed and free with touches. Hands grazing yours as you walked, his knee against yours while you sat. His eyes too, seemed to melt into an amber by the fire, a tenderness in his gaze. It felt as though the seed of friendship had slowly, slowly, started to grow into something more. 
“Shall we continue on?” He said, and inclined his head towards the distant sound of water. “We can set up camp and leave our things while we walk the forest.”
You nodded and smiled before looking away, eyes scanning the forest floor before they landed on a patch of flowers. They were strange looking, three pronged with large paper-like petals. You knelt by them, carefully cutting the blooms with your knife, and idly said, “It is beautiful here, is it not?”
He hummed in agreement. “I could envisage residing here for a time, should Faramir allow it.”
You glanced at him over your shoulder and chuckled. “You should speak to Sam. Aragorn has already consulted him on some of the gardens in the Citadel, it would not surprise me if Faramir would ask him to Emyn Arnen to design something.”
“Those flowers,” he began, stepping closer and inspecting them, “they are… strange. I do not know what they are, and perhaps it would be better to leave them be.”
“Are they poisonous?”
He leaned in and sniffed them. “No, but as I said before, this forest is unaccustomed to such things. Gifts must be freely given, and what is not must be a fair exchange.��
You dropped them into the pouch and laughed, continuing through the forest. There was a strange note in his voice, something older, wiser, than the Legolas you knew. But what harm could there be in a few cuttings? The forest was vast; a few flowers and leaves here and there would not be any loss at all. “Come now, Legolas, you speak as though —”
A stone caught your toe, your knee buckled, and you fell to the ground. Sharp pain jolted up your wrists and knees, then a hot stinging spread across your palms and shins. You blinked, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the rotting leaves in the dirt, before warm hands rested between your shoulder blades.
“Are you alright?” Legolas said, crouching and easing you back into a sitting position. You stared at him, eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips. Had he always had such beautiful lips? “Mellon nin, are you alright?”
“Yes… I —” The shock of tingling subsided from your hands and legs and only a dull throbbing remained. You looked down at your knee, the same knee that had been shot, and found your trousers ripped and the old wound reopened. It was not as bad as the initial wound, though still relatively deep, and was bleeding sluggishly through the matted dirt. “Oh, I’m… bleeding.”
His eyes darted from your knee to the divot in the ground where a leaf caught in your fall was stained with blood. His lips tightened before he let out a soft sigh. “It is as I said: a fair exchange.” An easy smile spread across his face, the hand on your shoulder loosened its grip, and his voice took on a merry lilt. “However, I do not believe we will have any more trouble on our little trip here.”
The shock of the fall had subsided and you looked at the pouch still clutched in your fist. “Well, I suppose I should make the most of it then, and collect what I can for Sam.”
He laughed, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. “Never one to pass up an opportunity. Come, let us set up camp by the river and have a look at your wound. I do not wish for the matrons at the Houses of Healing tomorrow to claim I have neglected you.”
He pulled you to your feet, and looped an arm around your waist to help you hobble along. His arm was warm, his grip firm but gentle. Pressed up against him you could smell his scent, something fresh like grass or water, unsullied even by a couple of days in the forest. The both of you found a suitable spot under shelter by the trees, and after tying the horse up, he led you to the banks. 
His nimble fingers pried apart the shredded remains of the fabric by your knee and started to wash the wound. He dressed it with some honey from his pack and untouched moss from the forest floor and some spare wrappings you had in your supplies for such an eventuality. 
While he worked, you watched his hands. Long and lithe, they were precise and delicate with their motions. If only you could reach out, and lay your hand on top of his, to sweep your thumb over the back of his knuckles. But your hands were still muddied, and the new closeness you shared with him was too new and too tenuous for something like that. 
Legolas set up camp with a practiced efficiency, and soon the both of you were sitting beside each other by the fire, eating your supplies of bread and cheese. The fire crackled and popped, and around you the forest became alive at night. Owls hooted in the trees, and critters rustled in the bushes, and then, very softly, Legolas began to sing. 
The words were lost on you, but the melody was enough. The notes drifted in the air, curling around you, seeping into your skin. It sounded slow and adoring, leisurely and lazy, and the sensation of lying on sun-warmed grass, your lover’s touch skirting up your arm, filled your body. You leaned back on your arms, sinking into his voice, letting it carry and caress you. 
When the last few words rang in the air, you opened your eyes. Legolas was looking at you with a fond expression, eyes half-lidded and lips in a soft smile. 
“That song,” you whispered, “what is it about?”
His smile widened and he said, “I’ll tell you another time perhaps.”
-
Legolas stood on one of the parapets that overlooked the entrance to the Houses of Healing. Your wound was not healing as well as it should, most likely because of how bad the initial arrow wound was, and you were getting it redressed by the matrons. He sighed and let his eyes wander from the stone flagstones, to the rooftops, to the plains. In truth, the sight of your flesh, angry and inflamed, shook something in him. Even something as minor as your wound, was enough of a risk for infection, for fever. 
Humans were so fragile, so… final. 
He blinked at the thought. Yes, of course, how could he forget? Humans were mortal. Boromir was, Aragorn was. Even the merry little hobbits and Gimli were. How strange to think that such a thing slipped his mind when it came to you, but it was far too easy really. 
There was a vitality that seemed to pour from your being, an almost stubborn resilience, especially in the grim shadow of misfortune. It was the way you would play with the hobbits, even after a long day of walking, or grit your teeth and carry on, even harrowing experience after harrowing experience. When you smiled, the day was better, brighter, and he always found himself trying to get another laugh from you. 
And yet… such a light could be so easily snuffed out. 
He shifted on his feet and watched as you limped from the Houses of Healing. He had intended to go with you, but Sam had wanted to discuss garden plans, and Boromir had gone with you instead. He was about to raise his arm and call out to you, when a figure emerged from behind the line of trees. Boromir walked towards you with outstretched arms and pulled you into his side and helped you along, vanishing from his sight beyond the trees.
Ever since the end of the war, it had felt as though things were shifting between him and you. It was only small, nearly imperceptible changes — softer smiles, more frequent dinners alone, hands that reached and fingers that brushed. And yet… Why did it feel as though you were on the other side of something he could not cross? 
He thought of the cry of the gulls, the perpetual tugging at his heart for the sea. Oh, how he wished he had never heard them. Was this how Arwen felt all the time? Longing, aching. She was happy with Aragron, he knew, but sometimes he would catch her gazing out of a window, eyes forlorn and smile sad. Aragorn knew, understood even, and in those moments he left her to her quiet longing, never hurt or bothered, and welcomed her into his arms when she went back to him. 
But would you understand? Could you accept that there would always be one part of him that belonged to the sea, to the distant shore he would never reach? Or would it be a burden to ask such a thing of you? Maybe you would be better off with someone… mortal. He sighed and wandered back towards the Citadel proper. 
“Boromir, this is unnecessary. Put me down!” Your laughter rang out and you and Boromir emerged onto the courtyard. You were in his arms, limbs flailing as he wrangled to keep you held properly. “Boromir, I — oh, Legolas.”
“Ah, Legolas,” Boromir said as he gently replaced you back on the ground. “I return them to your care.”
He forced a smile onto his face. “How is your leg?”
“Mild infection but nothing to worry about,” you said, hobbling over to him. 
He instinctively reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist. You were warm underneath his hand, warmer than usual, and you smelled strongly of herbal poultice. He could detect traces of burdock and comfrey, and underneath it all, the smell of you. He took a greedy breath, filling his lungs with proof of your life. “You should be resting. Let us go back inside.”
“I’ve been inside the past week. I’m bored to death,” you grumbled. “Let’s sit outside for a while.”
He helped you to one of the stone benches and you collapsed onto it, hissing in pain. You gingerly stretched your leg out and sighed as you settled. He sat next to you, his eyes lingering on your knee. 
“Oh, stop fussing. It’s quite minor, really.”
“I have seen men succumb to infection from unassuming cuts. I do not think I will rest easy until you are fully healed.”
He followed the line of your leg up to your waist, then shoulders, and along your jaw and lips, up to your nose and eyes. Such beauty, destined to fade, to vanish from the world forever. How could he bear it? How could anyone?
“What is on your mind, my friend?” You asked.
“I was just thinking about the fading nature of men. I do not know how your kind bear it.”
“Death?” You chuckled. “But elves can die too, can they not?”
“Yes, but… it is not in our nature. In peace times, it is very rare for our kind to die. For men… even now, where there is no suffering any longer, you still experience the sting of mortality.” His chest constricted. “How can one stand to behold love and light, knowing it will vanish?”
“It is because they do not last, that we relish in them.”
“Even if it will bring you pain later?”
You smiled, gentle and indulgent, and placed your hand on top of his. His shoulders relaxed at your touch, the tension seeping out of his muscles. He wanted to capture the moment, to bottle it somehow, keep the image of you with the sun on your eyelashes and the feeling of the softness of your skin forever preserved. 
“Yes,” you whispered, “even then.”
Something shifted in his heart, just slightly, and a smile crept onto his face. Yes, he thought, especially then. 
-
“Sam,” you said, surveying the small garden. He had done a good job with it — the shrubs were well trimmed and flowers burst in orange and yellow all around. “Are you certain it will look good?”
He nodded and grinned. “It’ll look real pretty with some candles about. I still remember what it looked like in Lothlorien. We don’t ‘ave the sort of fancy holders and the like, but I’ll do my best.”
You smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you for this. I would do it myself but my knee…”
“No thankin’ needed. If anything, I should be thanking you. You brinin’ me those plants and flowers, even when the forest didn’t like you doin’ so.” His eyes fell to your knee. “I’m real sorry it caused you such trouble.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” You chuckled and patted him on the back. You looked around the garden again, trying to imagine the candles and cushions that Sam said he’d arrange for the night time picnic you had planned. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“I think he’ll love it. Mighty romantic, if I can say.”
You shifted on your feet, stomach suddenly lurching. “What if I’m mistaken, Sam? I’m not sure I could bear the embarrassment.”
The last week or so had been so lovely it had felt like a dream. Nearly every night, Legolas had invited you to sit with him at the top of some tower or parapet. He would point and tell you stories of the stars and of the elves that had come before. There were so many instances where he would lean in close, eyes half-lidded, and talk in a low, murmured tone. You would watch his lips, and watch as he watched yours. But then he would draw back and glance away. 
“The elves are funny folk,” he said with a sigh. “I couldn’t tell you what might be goin’ on in Legolas’ mind, but I doubt he would be spendin’ so much time with you if he didn’t have some… reason to do so. If you catch my meaning.”
“I hope so, Sam. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I need to go to the kitchens to see what cheese and fruit they might be able to spare me.”
He gave you an encouraging smile and with a little wave, you set off downstairs. 
The sun was just setting when Sam called you back to the garden to assess what he had prepared. Candles were dotted all around the courtyard, separated on candelabras and clustered in small groups around the picnic blanket. Plush cushions were laid out and there were little white flowers scattered on the soft wool, perfuming the air with the faint smell of jasmine. 
“Sam,” you gasped. “This is — I cannot —”
“I’ll be takin’ your speechlessness as a compliment?” He smiled shyly and ducked his head. He reached for the picnic basket in your hand and placed it on the blanket. “There, now it’s complete.”
“I’ll repay you for this Sam, I promise.”
He blushed. “Like I said before, there’s no need. Anyway, I best be hurryin’ along. Wouldn’t want Legolas to stumble upon me here and get any wrong ideas.”
You laughed and he vanished back inside. You limped over to the blanket, wincing a little as you lowered yourself, and tried to slow your breathing. Legolas would come, wouldn’t he? What if he took one look at the scene and fled? You shook your head. No, he wouldn’t do that. If you were truly mistaken about his feelings towards you, he would tell you gently and bear you no ill will.
“Mellon nin,” Legolas said from behind you and you turned, heart thumping in your chest. His eyes were wide and a slow smile was spreading across his face. “I received your message. Why have you asked me here?”
You swallowed. Did he not know? “Is it… is it not obvious?”
“I have an inkling, perhaps.” He wandered over, his steps lazy and relaxed, and sank onto the cushions. The tightness in your chest eased a fraction. “But I do not wish to presume what may or may not be in your heart. Will you not give me the truth?”
“Legolas, I…” You cleared your throat. By the Valar, why was it so difficult to speak? He arched an eyebrow at you and you glanced away, speaking more to the picnic basket than to him. “I… care for you. A great deal.”
He took your hand, and you dared to lift your gaze. He beamed at you, and then a flash of mischief entered his eyes. “As a friend?”
You scowled at him. “Do you often plan candlelit picnics for your friends, Legolas?”
He laughed and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. They were soft and warm, his breath hot on your skin. “I am teasing, meleth nin.”
Heat crept up your neck and you tried to withdraw your hand. He held fast and planted a line of kisses up, up, up, from your wrist to your elbow to your shoulder. His eyes were almost sparking in the dim, the dots of candlelight flickering in his dark irises. He kissed your jaw and your nose and your temple before dipping his head to capture your lips.
He kissed slow and languid, as though savouring the feeling of you against him. He tasted tart and sweet, no doubt from the berry and honey biscuits you knew he liked to snack on. The strange tension in your stomach snapped and vanished, and you melted under his touch. His growing smile made you giggle and your teeth knocked against his, making him laugh. 
“I am curious about what you have in that picnic basket of yours,” he murmured. “There will be time for such enjoyment later.”
A flush coloured your cheeks. “I suppose it would be a waste if we simply ignored all the food I prepared.”
“Though, before we continue, I must ask you a question first,” he said, growing grave and serious. His eyes drifted down to your joined hands, and he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Could you bear being with me, living with me, when part of my heart is forever owned by the sea?”
You reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “My love, could you bear to be with me? If you stay, you will fade.”
“It would be a worse fate to live eternity without you,” he whispered. “That I could not bear.”
“Legolas…” It seemed all the more tragic that he, of all people, should die. He was light and joy and the thought of him growing cold and dim wrenched at your heart. “You deserve to… I cannot…”
“I have made my choice, meleth nin. Let us be happy together.” He cupped your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes were soft, but certain, his touch gentle but sure. He kissed the tip of your nose, chuckling, before he slanted his lips against yours. The kiss was chaste and quick, and all the more sweeter for its casualness. 
“For however long we have,” he murmured, “let us be happy.”
“Alright,” you said. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent, breathing his breath. Yours, for now, for ever. “For however long we have.”
---
ok but what is it about the immortality of elves that has me appreciating/relishing/romanticising our mortal lives. i swear this is the second time ive done this with legolas.
Taglist: @sotwk
598 notes · View notes
thewulf · 1 month
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Only You || Legolas
Summary: Request: Can you do a elf reader x Legolas where he's finally home in mirkwood after the quest? Maybe Gimli is with him and he's like 'i see why you always talked about the lassie.' or something funny that exposes Legolas for how much he really likes her. He then confeses and asks to court her or something sweet pleaseee?? My fav fluff writer! Thank u!
A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words and sweet as heck request. Really love this one. I didn't edit it too heavily so please be wary of general writing mistakes! Hope you all enjoy my fav elf imagine :)
Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.9k +
TW: Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers
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You had finally gotten a free evening to yourself after training for the better part of every evening for the last year with your father, Girdirion. He had been training you relentlessly after Legolas had left of the quest his father, King Thranduil, had sent him off on. That was over a year ago. You hadn’t heard much other than they had made it to Minas Tirith a few months ago.
Your father suddenly saw you as defenseless without your longtime friend at your side. Being the kings most trusted advisor, he had been trained for centuries and was a formidable fighter. It wasn’t until after Legolas had left that you had realized how serious the threat to middle earth was. Your father must had realized it too as he worked you to the bone, training you at every chance he could.
It was only after King Thranduil received word that the ring had been destroyed and his son was heading home did things begin to change. Your father still made you train but it wasn’t at every waking moment any longer. Tonight, was one of those nights that he had given you off as he had meetings to attend to with the king.
Time felt too slow as you waited for Legolas to return. He promised he would. You knew he would. He was all the way across middle earth, but you just couldn’t seem to wait any longer. You longed for you best friend, who meant much more to you than just a best friend, to come home.
As soon as you settled on your bed to begin reading the novel you had been meaning to finish there was a quick knock at your door. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour after dinner. Begrudgingly, you set the book down just as you had gotten comfortable and made your way over to the door.
When you opened the door you scrunched your face in confusion, “Father? What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the king?”
He nodded, “I was. Then we got interrupted. There is somebody here I think you may want to see.” His smile let you know exactly what you were thinking. Legolas was home. He was back in Mirkwood after nearly a year and a half away. Sure, it wasn’t that long of a time for you in the scheme of your lifetime but it did feel like the longest year of your nearly two thousand years in middle earth.
“Legolas?” You tore out of your room not waiting for his response as you made your way to the throne room. You heard your fathers deep laughter behind you before he jogged to catch up with your lighter than air pace.
Once he caught up to you he had that knowing smile on his face. He had watched the two of you dance around the obvious feelings each other had. You never thought you were good enough to be with the kings son. He never thought you were interested in that way. But to everybody on the outside looking in it was rather obvious the two of you were destined to be together. Even if it was taking longer than expected. A thousand years longer than expected. See, King Thranduil and your father had agreed they would bless the union between the two of you should it come naturally. But neither had the heart to force it. He and your father knew as good as anybody these things had to find their way on their own, naturally. Even if it drove the two elder Ellon’s mad.
“Indeed, your elf has made it home.” He spoke as the two of you walked, much faster than normal, towards the kings room.
Before you opened the massive wood doors you turned to him with a sly smile and a hint of a blush dotting the apples of your cheeks, “My elf?”
Your father raised his eyebrows at you, “Go on then.” He pushed you forward ignoring your question.
When you pushed open the doors you couldn’t find the familiar blonde hair of your best friend. Even as you walked closer to the throne you looked all around the hall and only spotted King Thranduil who was giving you the same smirk your father just did. What were they up to? Where was Legolas? And why was the king looking at you like he knows something you didn’t?
“I apologize my king.” You bowed unsure of what else to do. When you turned to see if your father had followed you in you were left biting your lip seeing the door closed without him in the room. What was he up to? “My father said…”
Thranduil put his hand up pausing you right in your tracks, “Legolas is out in the gardens with a dwarf. A dwarf!” He sounded more frustrated than excited to his son after the time away.
But you cracked a smile instead. That was so him. He was anything and everything his father was not. The two of them could not have more different personalities. Your best friend was the one to push boundaries no elves would or could do seeing that his father was the king, “A dwarf you say? That sounds like him.”
Thranduil studied your happier than he’s seen you in an entire year expression full well knowing it was because Legolas was back from his grand quest. Thranduil rose from his throne before walking down to you. Having to look up to him because he was so tall all you could do was wait on his word.
He pointed his hand towards the entrance to the kings private gardens, “Go, you audience is rather impatiently waiting on you.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating towards the door you had originally come in, likely to go find your father. Not wasting anymore time you made a beeline towards the doors that led to the private gardens you so rarely got to enjoy. He must have deemed it enough of a special occasion to grant access to not only you, but a dwarf as well. You knew Legolas was behind that as well. He was the only one to get the king to agree to something he might not want to do.
For the second time in a few moments, you threw open the heavy wooden doors leading out to the gardens. It did not take you long to hear the pair before you saw them. You paused hoping to catch just a brief moment between the two of them before you made your presence completely known. As you suspected the dwarf had Legolas distracted from hearing you walk out.
“Look at ya lad. Pacin’ like a horse.” The unfamiliar voice chuckled. You had a feeling the dwarf poked fun at the ellon more often than not.
You just knew he was rolling his eyes, the beautiful blonde prince he was, “I am not Gimli.”
But the dwarf just kept laughing, “Ya’ weren’t even this nervous when we rode up to the Black Gate.”
“Would you quiet down dwarf. She will be out momentarily.” That sounded just like the elf that had left a year and a half prior. It was almost too easy to get him worked up and the dwarf called Gimli certainly enjoyed playing into it.
“The little lassie has you this nervous huh?” You? You made him nervous?
Legolas let out a huff, “Gimli!” And you knew that was your queue to help spare the ellon from his friend who seemed relentless. You already liked Gimli from the sounds of it. You shut the door behind you louder than necessary to signal your arrival.
Taking a deep breath, you walked forward suddenly terribly nervous after those comments. What was Gimli playing on? Why would he be nervous to see you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up on feelings as you buried those away centuries ago. Your crush for the ellon grew slowly the first thousand or so years you knew him. Truly organic in the best way possible. Childhood friends to training partners to friends then best friends after it all. Once your training to become a healer had completed you had a sneaking suspicion all his injuries in the field were so he could come see you after some time away. He would only request you. Straight refusing the other healers help when offered. He would wait for you.
But then it just stayed like that. You thought it could grow into something more, but it dawned on you over the next few centuries his father had a say in who he courts and marries. Why would King Thranduil allow his son to court you of all elves? Sure, your father was his most trusted advisor, but you were no political gain in marriage. So you did what you did best, buried the feelings deep and bottled it all up.
The two of them quieted quickly hearing the door close. When you turned the corner you finally spotted your prince after far too long apart paired with an adorably red-headed dwarf who was staring right at you. You however were staring straight at Legolas as your small smile turned into a massive one. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing right there in front of you after too long. The longest either have you had spent apart from each other.
“Legolas.” You grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. It was when he gave you a big squeeze back that you simply just melted into the ellon completely forgetting you had an audience yourselves.
“Aye lad! You left out the detail of your Y/N being quite the beauty.” Gimli spoke up from beside you breaking the trance the two of you seemed to be under. You giggled once you pulled away from him seeing the look of horror cross his face at his friends comments.
You turned to the dwarf feeling the nerves wash away. You had the advantage here as Gimli seemed to want to torture your friend, “Hello. It is lovely to meet you. I am Y/N. Daughter of Girdirion, King Thranduil’s advisor.”
He pointed at you before narrowing his eyes at you, “Do you hate dwarves as much as his father does?”
You shook your head, “Hardly. You are actually the first dwarf I am meeting. I do not get away often.” You knelt down making yourself level with him, “You are much cuter than made out to be.” That earned a few stumbling words and a rather mighty blush to the warrior who seemed to have nothing but words. You managed to render him speechless.
This earned a snicker from your favorite ellon, “Elf got your tongue there Gimli?”
That comment must have meant war between the two of them. The dwarf cocked his eyes up to his friend, shook his head then turned back to you who was now back to standing instead of crouching, “Lady Y/N. It is lovely to finally meet you too. I feel as though I already know ya lassie.” He grinned knowing exactly what he was about to do.
You looked at Legolas with curiosity framing your face before returning your attention back to Gimli, “Do you?”
“Aye.” He nodded, “Legolas here would never shut up about ye. Y/N this. Y/N that. Y/N would love this. Y/N would hate that.”
You knew your cheeks were surely aflame with embarrassment just as Legolas’ were, “We have spent quite some time together over the years.”
But Gimli wouldn’t have that, “I think it has something to do with you lassie. The way you look. The way you dress. The way you seem to occupy his every thought.”
“That is enough.” Legolas finally chimed in giving his friend a hard stare telling him to get the hell out. But that only egged the red head on further. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them before Gimli relented.
He bowed his head, “My lady.”
Echoing his actions you responded, “Gimli.” Before turning your attention back to the prince. Your eyes finally were able to scan his features. Not a hair seemed out of place. He was exactly as you remembered.
“Welcome home.” You gave him your biggest smile feeling like you could finally relax after seeing him alive and well.
He wasted no more time before pulling you into a second bone crushing hug. He had never been so forward causing you to let out a slight stutter in surprise of his actions. It was the last thing you had expected from him. But then again, who knew what he went through out there. Legolas was a strong warrior, but you knew how deeply this could impact anybody who had to go through it.
“I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear not letting his arms go from around you. He had no clue how his words were affecting you in that moment. Suddenly you felt that stupid little crush, that was surely love at this point, bubbling up from the depths of your heart that you had long since locked away.
When he pulled away after a few moments he took the time to look you over just as you had moments prior. He didn’t drop his hands from around your waist though, simply holding you loosely in his embrace. You had never felt his eyes or his hands on you heavily before or that you had noticed in the past, “I have missed you beyond words Legolas. I have spent a year and a half filled with the dread of the thought you may never come home. Seeing you here is the greatest gift Eru Ilúvatar could have bequeathed.”
It was then that Legolas knew just how deep your feelings ran for him just as they had run for you. He too had spent the better part of a thousand years being absolutely in love with you, his favorite elf, but making no indication of it. For he thought you may have eyes for someone else. He could not risk losing you in the event you said ‘no’ to his request to court you. But by the way you were looking at him he knew that was wrong. Your love laced eyes could not break away from his gorgeous blue ones.
He knew he needed to take the next step with you. Gimli was right. His dwarf friend spent the better part of the journey home convincing him he needed to ask the question he had been dying to ask you. He wanted to court you. Spend the rest of his middle earth life and the next one with you. He had never been so sure of that. The thought of courting another elleth felt wrong. It was you. It was always going to be you.
“Gimli was not lying, my lady.” Even though it came out as a whisper your ears could pick it up with no problem.
That shocked you. Was he admitting the same thing that you were? Did he have feelings for you too? “Pardon?”
He grinned seeing your dumb struck face, “You do in fact occupy my every thought. You are the reason I am here now. I fought for middle earth, yes. But for you more. Thinking of your smile pulled me out of the darkest of times
Your lips parted in utter shock at his admission, “Legolas, I…” You were at a loss for words as you processed his confession to you. Your heart was giving you away completely though as it beat faster than it ever had before.
He continued seeing as you were rendered speechless, “It was only ever you. It was only every going to be you, my love. You are my very best friend Y/N. I would never want to continue this life with somebody who was not you. It is only you. It will only ever be you.” He paused finding the courage to say what had been on the tip of his tongue for centuries, “I love you.”
Your jaw might have been on the floor at this point, “You love me?”
He nodded with a nervous expression, “More than you will ever know.”
That was all you needed before you walked forward, butting yourself right against his chest, “That is a relief my prince. As I love you too. More than you will ever know.”
Euphoria. The truest form of euphoria pulsed through your body as you too admitted what had always been so hard to admit.
His expression melted to that of pure elation. Gently he placed his hands under your chin, cupping your face so carefully, “May I begin to court you, my love?”
“I would be so honored Legolas.” Your head was turned up as you looked into his eyes for likely the millionth time. It was different this time. Charged with love and lust. Like you were looking at a new Legolas. One that you could get to know at a much deeper level.
He brushed his thumb over your lips sending shivers racking throughout your body, “Only you. Only ever you.”
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madwomansapologist · 8 months
Note
mint chip — how did they court their lover? with the lotr characters (aragorn, legolas, boromir, arwen, eowyn)
mint chip — how did they court their lover?
⤷ with: aragorn, legolas, boromir, arwen and eowyn
⤷ thank you for your support! it means a lot 💙
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aragorn
Aragorn often see himself as someone unworthy of anything he desires. They way people see him and how he perceive himself can be so different. And when he understood you had his heart on your palm, Aragorn swear to never act on it. He wouldn't want to bother you, or worse: to describe that you see him the same Aragorn does.
When it comes about Aragorn, you would have to act first. To make him understand that you don't see him as a unworthy men, but as a promising one. To make him understand that people aspire to be like him. If you make Aragorn understand that you want him, that you don't feel disgusted by him, only then he would be able to court you.
And he would be the kindest. He act like a king, even tho he don't believe he deserves to be one. He would be polite, tell you stories about his quests, protect you as if you already have agree to be his. No one would dare treat you badly when he's around.
Aragorn don't see yet, but he was born to rule. And you will rule beside him.
legolas
Legolas is a noble. Not only a noble, but the rightfull heir of Mirkwood. That means he was trained in more than combat or what it takes to rule. Legolas was trained about how to act around people, taught how to deal with enemies, and learned how to properly court his lover. With that being said, he would ignore all this knowledge the moment he understood what he feels for you.
It wouldn't take long for him to understand that he loves you. Legolas is guided by his heart, don't matter if people like that or not. If when he looks at you he feel warm, if when he talks to you he feels at home, if when he's away from you his life fall apart: Legolas knows he's in love. So he says it.
Just like that. Don't matter when, don't matter where, Legolas will simply say it. He's polite, Legolas wouldn't make you uncomfortable or overcross your bondaries, but he wouldn't think twice before saying it.
He will court you, and Legolas have a elve's patience. He will engage in conversations, ask your opinion on different subjects, and always in a light tone. Legolas will try his best to make you laugh, specially during dificult moments. And he don't need to worry about how long it will take for you to call him meleth. After all, time isn't a thing he lack of.
boromir
No one could say that Boromir don't know what he wants of life. He's a decided man, a hero for his people, and he would never go against what he think is part of the greater good. Boromir is so kind, so aware of the dangers and consequences of war, that the One Ring used his honor against him.
At first, it may seem that Boromir is not subtle at all. He would never do anything to disrespect you, far from that, is just that something on his face screams that he's sure you both will end up together.
He's confident that you would see him as his people do. As someone brave, intelligent and righteous. Boromir see you as you are, and he fall in love because he could understand your soul. He won't spare efforts to make you feel the same.
Boromir will bring you flowers every time he sees you. He would always chose different types, in hope that one day you tell him which one is your favorite. And whenever you need or want to stay in Gondor, Boromir will show you the gardens. He once heard that flowers had meanings, Boromir hopes you can understand the true meaning of this gift.
And it's wrong, so wrong, but it would be worse if Boromir lied to himself: the day he had to fought a creature in front of you, when he effortless defended you from something wicked, that was one of the best days of his life. To think that you may see him as a hero, your hero, made him blush.
So, yes, Boromir's feelings can be quite easy to understand. But isn't this a great thing? Boromir is showing you what he wants from life. And it's you.
arwen
Arwen may not know the world, or understand a great amount of things, but she knows her heart. When her father say that she's naive, Arwen understand that she just feel thing deeply. The only way this could be a mistake of hers was if Arwen buried her feeling and tried to ignore them. But to act on them, to search for her own happyness, will never be something she'll regret.
When Arwen understood that she loves you, at first she'll spend most of her time thinking. How do you feel about her? Would you ever feel the same away? How life, eternal or not, would be if she chose to spend it with you?
But as soon as she undertood her heart's desire, Arwen would stop imagining. She would join you for walks, compliment you and made sure there was no way of you thinking she was already with someone. Arwen won't be too foward, as she don't knows your feeling about her, but she does make clear that she's here.
If you ever need advice or someone to talk to, Arwen will gadly assume this position. She would do anything to know you better and help you with whatever you need. She's there. You can count on her. And If you ever need to be defended, well, she can do that too!
eowyn
Eowyn wants so much of life. She aspect to be brave for her kind, to rule as fairly as her father did, and to honor those who believe on her. If you help her with that, if you hear her dreams and treat them like reality, then you made your way to her heart. And if you live there, then it's only fair that Eowyn lives in yours too.
As we all seen, Eowyn won't be stopped from trying to conquering your heart. She'll be close to you, search for you to talk to, help you with whenever you need. It will obvious, but it's her intention. There is no need in trying to look like she don't want you. What good could it made?
Even if you don't see to feel the same way about her, it won't stop Eowyn. She can wait. She can wait until you look at her with love in your eyes. She'll do her best as a ruler and warrior, and part of it will be for you. To make you be proud of her. To honor your trust. And Eowyn will wait how long it takes to have your heart.
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dearsnow · 10 months
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THE MOON WILL SING
- the moon hums a tune only elvish ears can pick up. (legolas x gn!human!reader, fluff, idk if you guys will be able to understand the symbolism but it makes sense to me…)
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word count: 576
a/n - this is my first legolas piece :) it’s not the quality i would like it to be, but i came out of a writing slump not too long ago so 🤷 it is what it is <3 much thanks to @minaturefics for inspiring this 💕
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For once, the night is peaceful. The birds are chirping, as are the crickets, and the trees are swaying to their tune. There are creaks and chitters, crackles and buzzes and the occasional snore from the fellowship sleeping so close to you. The forest is alive, and it is the greatest thing you have ever heard. The melody is softer than music and louder than thunder, existing in a sort of beautiful in-between. The world is perfect, you think. Nothing can compare. And, of course, the world gave you the elf sitting quietly next to you.
“Could you not sleep either?” You whisper, not wanting to disturb the woodsy strums filtering through the wildlife around you. Legolas shakes his head.
“It is a heavenly night.” He whispers back. “It is times like these when I can hear the moon sing her quiet song.” His figure is illuminated by starlight, casting his features in an otherworldly glow. In that moment, he looks ethereal. He picks a fallen leaf between his fingers and smoothes it with a gentle touch.
You look up at the sky, and he looks at you. “What is she saying?” You ask. 
He takes a breath, his words forming clouds in the air. “Something joyous in words I cannot begin to understand.” He places the leaf down, grasping your hands in his. “She tells me something, in thought.” He murmurs, looking deep into your eyes. His own are like pools that forever draw you in. “She tells me that I love you like her.”
You are stunned for a moment. You know he likes you, as you do him, but love is another thing entirely. It is something you feel in kind, though you have not found the words to express it until now. You grip his hands back, searching for something to ground you in this moment. All you can find is soft palms and the stars urging you forward. “And I love you like the sun.” You choke out. There is something so beautifully tender in his gaze. “You may ask the sun in the morning, though. I am sure they will say the same.” He laughs gently and quietly, a melodious sound.
“I will be sure to.” He reasons. He reaches out to cup your face in his palms. “You must rest, meleth nin.” His fingers swipe over your cheekbones.
You hesitate. “I would not want to on this comely night, unless you slept as well.” He squints at you, the action just barely visible in the night.
“I need not to, though I will lie with you if that is what you wish.” He smiles. His smile is one you have adored since the moment you met him. You have adored him since the moment you met him, and this midnight interaction is proof enough. There will never be another being so suited to you as he.
“I wish it.” You say quietly, tone hopeful. He nods just once and wraps his arm around you, slowly pulling you down to the plush forest floor. 
You stay like that for a long time, with his touch sending fire through your veins as his breath lulls you to sleep. The swaying forest and the beaming moon look down on you. Though it is too hushed for you to hear, the moon will always sing her song to deaf ears. And, of course, Legolas will always be there to sing it to you.
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Taglist (misc): @skeletonfromthecloset
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deadlymistletoe · 4 months
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Mistletoe Kisses 🎄
Pairing: Legolas x f!reader
A/N: 1. I’ll be using the word ‘Yule’ in this fic, rather than Christmas due to it being in Middle-earth. 2. It’s only vaguely mentioned, but I imagine the reader as being from Edoras & getting to know the others both on the way to Helm’s Deep and through Eowyn. 3. Merry Christmas!
Genre: Fluff, Christmas Romance
Description: During a Yule celebration at Minas Tirith you introduce Legolas to mistletoe.
Warnings: None
Word count: 1092
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Yule had always been a celebration you looked forward to since you were a young child, the festives never failing to bring you joy. There was just something about the tinkling of bells and flakes of now in your hair that brought a smile to your face.
And now, in the aftermath of the War of the Ring, such a celebration was exactly what you needed. As the days turned colder and light dustings of snow began to fall, the mood in Minas Tirith only grew better.
By the night of the celebration, the city, particularly the large room in which the main celebration was held, was nothing short of festive. 
When you excused yourself from your friends for a moment long after darkness had fallen outside you made your way towards an archway leading to a somewhat secluded balcony, a smile still etched across your face from laughing with your friends at jokes you couldn’t even remember while you watched Eowyn and Farimir glide around the dance floor not far from Arwen and Aragorn.
That was one good thing that had come from the War - your friendships with people you never would have given second thought to before.
You ducked through the archway, dodging the plant that hung from the top and made your way to the balcony bannister where you closed your eyes as you breathed in the fresh air, the music and chatter from inside drifting through the entryway.
To your credit, you only jumped slightly when a voice spoke beside you. “The hobbits are very loud, aren’t they?”
You opened your eyes, turning to see Legolas beside you, and you couldn’t stop the jump of your heart at his close proximity as he stood beside you. At least now you knew why you hadn’t heard footsteps.
“They’re joyful.” You countered. “And rightfully so. It is Yule after all.”
He nodded in acceptance, and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between Edoras and Helm’s Deep, you’d grown closer to the elf than you’d ever imagined.
“Do you miss it?” You asked, curiosity taking over. At his confused look you elaborated. “Your home. Is Yule very different there?”
He tilted his head at the questions, giving them some thought before answering. “I miss it, but in other ways it is very freeing to be somewhere else for a change. No responsibilities so to speak.” He glanced inside for a moment. “Our Yule is… different in some ways but very much alike in others. The parties are similar, but you humans have your own traditions.”
Your eyes moved over his shoulder, landing on the plant hung from the top of the archway the two of you had come through, the red berries standing out against the green of the distinctly shaped leaves. 
“Yes,” you murmured. “We do.”
You’d had run-ins with mistletoe before - hell, your first kiss had been because of mistletoe, when you were 16 with a crush on the baker’s son. But this time the sight of it caused different feelings to rush up, and you knew that the elf beside you was the reason.
You glanced back at Legolas, eyes darting to his lips. It was the perfect excuse. No one else had to know.
The elf in question tilted his head, your wandering attention not being missed. “What is it?”
You swallowed. You hadn’t meant to be caught, but his question gave you the opening you needed, and you nodded towards the mistletoe, Legolas following your gaze.
“Have you ever heard of mistletoe?”
“The name, yes.” He shook his head. “But it’s not something we are familiar with at home.”
His eyes landed on you again, holding you captive in your spot and a hint of curiosity shone in them. You clearly saw something special in the plant - lots of humans did. He wasn’t unobservant. He’d heard the giggles as the servants hung the plant throughout the city and buildings in the lead up to the yule celebration, shooting sly glances at those who passed.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s so special about mistletoe then?” Legolas suggested, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the way he moved ever so slightly closer to you.
You cleared your throat, looking away for a moment before you turned back to the elf and spoke. You could feel your confidence rising.
“It’s a tradition.” You murmured, moving a step closer. “Usually it’s hung over doorways, so it’s harder to avoid. See, when two people get caught under mistletoe at the same time, there’s only one way to get out.”
“And what would that be?” His own voice was just as quiet as yours, and you could see as he slowly put together what you were saying, clearly being able to guess the implications of what came next from your tone.
By now there was hardly any space between you and as you worked up to answering, he lifted the hand not resting on the balcony bannister to brush a piece of stray hair back from your face, fingers lingering.
“A kiss.” You whispered, feeling his hand land on your waist as he slowly walked the two of you towards the mistletoe, stopping underneath it.
Blue eyes stared into yours, a smile on his lips. Snow was now lightly falling from the sky, having started sometime during your talk, small flakes landing on his pale hair, almost white in the moonlight.
Your eyes darted down to his lips once more as he spoke again, his voice barely louder than your own previous whisper. “Show me.”
In that moment, there was nothing apart from his words, resounding throughout you. They were the only thing that mattered; not the snow, not the fact that he was a prince, or an elf, not the light wind that ruffled the skirts of your dress, not the even sounds of celebration coming from inside.
You didn’t waste words, instead leaning forward to press your lips lightly against his own.
Somewhere along the way your hands had ended up on his chest, the smooth material of his tunic under your fingertips. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other lightly caressing your face as you pulled back.
You let out a breath, your lips tingling with the aftermath of the touch. You risked a glance up at Legolas again, only to see a soft smile directed at you as he spoke, eyes shining.
“We should get caught under mistletoe more often.”
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lady-adaneth · 20 days
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Sleepless Nights ⋆.˚ ⭒₊ .
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For those out there struggling to sleep, I present to you...
Synopsis:
An elf from Rivendell, you eagerly joined the fellowship. However, many harrowing months into your journey, you constantly find yourself struggling to sleep.
Maybe a confession and a certain blond elf can help soothe your insomnia...
Legolas x gender-neutral elf!reader
No use of y/n
Prequel to Romantic Inclinations, but can also be read as a one-shot
Want to feel truly immersed? Listen while you read Encampment | Forest Sounds 
Content Warnings:
Spice scale: it’s spicy…but like it could also be spicier
Intimate physical touch + allusions to more
Word Count:
1.5k words
Translation Dictionary:
Meleth Nín = My Love
Mellon Nín = My friend
Aman = Blessed Land
⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚
On tumultuous nights in which Legolas would undertake watch, the Fellowship and seemingly the entire forest would fall into a deep, weary slumber. Despite dozing constantly during your trek across the foothills, much to Gimli's envy, when day finally welcomed the night your worries continued plaguing your mind. You had laid staring up at the stars, knowing exactly which ones would lead you home to Rivendell. Despite the stick digging into your shoulders, it wasn't the thought of a snug bed and safe fire that tempted you, but rather those that you'd left behind. Before you joined the fellowship, there had been whispers of exodus. In the moment you had been hungry for adventure, ignoring the signs, but what if you'd made a mistake? You couldn't help but picture your kin sailing to the Grey Havens, escaping the torment that kept you from a good night's rest.
"Having trouble?" a kindly voice whispered. You briskly shot up, turning towards the source.
He sat back to a tree, vigilantly carving away at a piece of wood with his dagger. Despite your weapons lying comfortably around you; daggers by your ankle and spear by your side, Legolas's bow and quiver remained strapped to his back.
"Well that can't be comfortable," you teased, imagining the feel of a bow poking into your back. Suddenly you felt better about the stick.
"I could say the same thing about your arrangement," his head pointed towards your spot on the floor, eyes transfixed on his work.
"Hm, touché," you smirked, a pleasant silence falling between you.
The woods were immensely calm; the stridulation of insects a harmonious melody drowned out by a singular frog and its stark croak. The tranquility reflected in your companions, whose soft huffs of air you could hear below the crackling of the firewood. Maybe it was your expansive hearing that kept you from a restful sleep. You suddenly couldn't help but envy your newfound friends. Your thoughts were interrupted by the carving of wood as Legolas began to struggle with a corner, sawing forcefully at the bark.
"And what, exactly, are you making at this ungodly hour?" You stared at him with the corner of your eye, feigning annoyance.
"Wouldn't you like to know," the sawing continued.
"Mhm, what an astute observation" you mocked, standing and taking your place next to him, letting your head rest against the tree's homely bark.
After only a few weeks spent together you and Legolas had become settled in each other's presence. Through all of your teasing, you found it incredibly difficult to find anything about him to dislike. This unnerved you in a way, that is, how effortlessly you felt yourself falling for the princeling.
The silence returned once more, but the sawing had halted. You turned your head, finding Legolas already staring at you. His eyes were fawn-like and the tips of his ears began turning pink. Despite his curious embarrassment at being caught, he didn't shy away.
"What's on your mind?" you can feel your cheeks blossoming as the question leaves your mouth, your effort to prevent the blush only making it worse.
"How about you tell me what's keeping you from a good-night's rest," his eyes shone with genuine concern as he returned to his work. You felt the tension loosening, your playful demeanor returning once more.
"And what do I get for revealing such a thing, Prince?" You crossed your arms as if it could shield your fluttering heart.
"Whatever you want," the string was being pulled tighter once more.
You tried to keep your composure, confused as to how he was flustering you so.
"How about...you tell me what you're carving and why?" His eyes seemed to widen nervously at your proposal, only adding to your curiosity.
"Hmph, deal," he reached out his hand, and you leisurely reached your hand out. His handshake was gentle and his palms sweaty.
"But earnestly, mellon nín, what is plaguing you?" he said softer than before, suddenly aware of the others sleeping around the fire.
A sigh escaped your chest before you even registered it. You never told anyone about your troubles, and yet somehow it felt natural with Legolas. You weren't sure how much to say.
"I just...haven't found my sleep to be restful. Not since we left-," you swallowed hard.
You glanced at him as you attempted to compose yourself, expecting him to encourage you with his words. But he sat silently, knowing present in the depth of his stare.
He silently nodded, urging you to continue speaking.
You continued.
"When we first left, I had no hesitancy. And yet, as we continue, both our struggles here and those at home...trouble me," a breath enters your lungs. "I anticipated that this journey would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. The latter grows more apparent every day," you worried as to his response, and suddenly you found the ground to be rather intriguing. You began sifting the dirt through your fingers, soothing yourself as your cheeks turned red in shame. It was unlike you, let alone any elf, to be so vulnerable with another.
Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder; urging you to look up. Legolas's face came into view, eyes soft and glowing with firelight.
"I'm glad I am not the only one who feels this uncertainty," he smirked, though his eyes appeared more sorrowful than anything. You breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing all at once.
"We're not meant to lose hope at the prospect of another day not appearing before us-" He halted himself.
"-But, if it's any consolation, I'm glad my last day would be spent amongst all of these wonderful individuals," you chuckled at his words, fighting back a tear. "And if I could visit Aman with anyone...," he paused, seeming to collect his thoughts.
"...I would want it to be with you," his eyes lingered on your face, his demeanor more nervous than you had ever witnessed.
He searched your face for any sign. Disdain, perhaps? Or maybe acceptance.
Your breathing hitched as his eyes dipped down to your lips. Your arms could no longer muffle the sound of your hammering heart.
You were suddenly made aware of the hand on your shoulder, the way Legolas's hair seemed to burn more so than glow, the way his eyes sparkled with moonlight as they looked at you with the reverence of a thousand worshippers.
"Seems we have the same wish," you said quietly. Your words lingered as neither of you moved. Legolas sat motionless, not wanting to back away...or overstep.
You noticed.
Raising your hand to his cheek, you steadily moved your face closer to his. Your lips lingered over his for a second, before you moved back slightly; glimpsing into his eyes, searching for permission, before returning fluidly to his lips.
His lips encompassed your bottom lip gently, before pulling back to look at you. Your heart fluttered as he peered at you with an indescribable sense of wonder; impressing a sense of fey upon him. A smirk appeared on his face as he leaned back into your chest, his lips smashing against yours.
You could feel the string in your heart snap, all semblance of control leaving your body.
His arms wound around the back of your neck, and without a thought you moved your legs around his waist; straddling him as his back was pressed against the tree.
A small grunt escaped his lips as your hips gently made contact with his, the angles of his face sharp beneath your calloused fingertips. He gently pried your hands from his face as his lips trailed down your cheek,
then your jawline-
and then to your barely exposed neck.
You let out an audible gasp as his teeth gently bit into your skin, your hands finding their place in his hair. Legolas began shifting his hips, a pleasurable moan escaping your lips.
"SHHH," the sound emanated from the campfire.
His face leapt away from your neck, searching for the source.
Your hand covered your mouth as you fought back a roaring bout of laughter. Legolas's face was blooming as he held his breath.
Had they heard you? If Gimli had spotted the two of you neither of you would hear the end of it.
You both waited for a moment, searching for any sign of movement amongst your supposedly slumbering friends.
You couldn't believe what just happened. Next time, you resolved to find a more private location.
You let out a sigh, slumping into his chest; arms wounding around his neck as his arms found their way around your waist.
"So...who taught you that," you whispered, giggling to yourself at the thought of his lips on your neck...the claim his teeth had made on your skin.
"A certain, close source, that I shall not divulge," his hot breath lingered on your ear, his voice coarse.
"Hm, so that's how Arwen got those marks,"
"I hope you don't mind, meleth nín,"
"Not in the slightest-" you pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his.
"-I shall wear it like a badge of honor," you kissed him on the forehead.
A certain twinkle shone in Legolas's eyes as he leaned in to kiss the bite mark with enough gentleness to make you cry yet again.
"I think we may awaken the entire forest if we continue," a blush formed on your cheeks.
"Let's get some rest then," he smiled, his cheeks painted crimson at the thought.
You stood slightly, unwinding your legs from his hips. You slid to the floor, resting your head on his now outstretched legs. Without a word, he grabbed the blanket from his side, placing it around your drowsy form.
Legolas began to hum an unfamiliar tune, fingers making lazy strokes across your face. All you could hear was his steady heartbeat and voice, drowning out all else.
Your heart swelled with warmth as you fell asleep in Legolas's arms for the first time.
✩✩✩✩
If you have any criticisms or requests please send them my way! Have a restful day/evening <3
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entishramblings · 2 months
Text
Haunting Me
[Legolas/F!Reader]
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A.N: I have been struggling to write (like usual), so I figured I would whip out a no pressure Legolas fic. ANYWAYS, I strangely loved writing this!!! Thanks for the request XOXO
Request: @goose-gremlin — “Could you maybe do a Legolas x Reader on their period?”
Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader
Summary: The Reader is a member of Greenwood's Guard and is struggling with menstrual/period pain. Legolas takes care of her.
Disclaimer: I don't know elvish. I use the gracious elvish dictionary. Sue me lol
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: blood, menstruation/period, pain, PMS, slight nakedness (not anything spicy you filthy fools), fluff, sweet precious elf boy
MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD
(Y/N)’s nose twitched, the pungent, musty scent of the incoming vile beasts invaded the fresh earthy tones of the Greenwood forest. Her keen ears picked up on subtle scurrying, the sound carried by the drift of the soft wind. Her jaw clenched and her fingers adjusted the grasp of her sword as she felt the aura of the trees shift—a surge of adrenaline fueling her anxiety, worsening the pain in her abdomen. Briefly locking eyes with the other elves in her sector, spread among the trees alert and ready, she knew their moment of action was imminent.
(Y/N) summoned the little energy she had through a deep inhale, praying to the Valar that these spiders wouldn't be in such a frenzied state. Because, if so, fuck that. For at the present moment in time, she really didn't have the capacity to deal with that absolute, motherfucking horseshit.
Because, truly, getting killed due to slowness from fatigue and cramps from one’s bloodmoon cycle would be rather unfortunate and deeply regrettable. However, facing expulsion from the guard and losing her reputation as one of the hand-picked defenders of the royal line because of it would be even worse.
(Y/N)’s gaze narrowed as Prince Legolas, leader of the Greenwood Guard, raised a closed fist.
Nêl (Three).
Tâd (Two).
Mîn (One).
He opened his palm, signaling the command: Kill them. Kill them all.
With a firm thud, (Y/N)'s boots landed on the soft soil as she sprung from the trees. She was quick with her blade, hunting the spiders as if they were meaningless prey. Her weapon was an extension of her form. Every movement was fluid and graceful, a testament to her mastery of combat. Despite her pain, she spun and twisted with ease, severing the arachnids' limbs effortlessly.
As she fought, she made sure to keep an eye on the Prince, knowing that if anything were to happen to Legolas under her watch, the king would surely banish her. Besides, she harbored no desire for him to meet his demise. She found him rather…admirable. Nothing more than that—of course not.
As (Y/N) advanced upon one of the vile beasts, her senses tingled with warning. Abruptly, she halted in her tracks, narrowly dodging an arrow that whizzed past her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her head to see just who fired that arrow. A scoff escaped her lips as she locked eyes with him: Rekón.
When the battle came to an end, (Y/N) strutted towards Rekón, who was wiping the edge of his blade upon his thigh.
“What the hell was that out there?!” She snapped at him.
“What is it you speak of?”
“You nearly put an arrow in me!”
He shrugged. “Perhaps, you should have been faster, Shadowfoot.”
She scoffed at Greenwood’s nickname for her. “You're lucky I am fast. I can assume you don’t want elven blood on your hands—especially my blood.
He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Don’t exaggerate, (Y/N). It’s unbecoming. Besides,” he leaned in and his voice lowered, taking on a snarky tone, “I don't care if you're handpicked by the King to be the Prince’s shadow, you're a pain in the ass.”
“Really, Otuuk Fe`Saign (warg kisser)?! I could have you and your ass in the mud faster than you could say—”
The rather tense interaction was interrupted by Legolas clearing his throat beside the pair. “What is going on over here?” he demanded.
(Y/N) huffed, not taking her eyes off the man before her. “Rekón here nearly redecorated my abdomen with a fucking arrow!”
The Prince sighed. “You know we can’t always calculate every motion on the battlefield, (Y/N). I am sure Rekón meant no harm.” He paused, turning his attention to the ellon. “Rekón, in the future, mind your arrows.”
“That’s the reprimand he gets?! Are you fu—“
Legolas looked at the elleth. “Watch your language, Shadowfoot. I expect this attitude to be gone by the time we enter my father’s halls.”
With that, Legolas walked away, calling out orders to burn the spider carcasses and move out.
As he disappeared into the mess of elves, (Y/N)’s brows pulled downward in a grumpy frown. “Princeling Ass,” she murmured to herself.
Unbeknownst to her, as she turned away, Legolas' gaze followed her, seeking out her form and lingering as she walked away.
….
The sun had not yet risen when the Prince’s sector of the Greenwood Guard arrived back in the Palace. The warriors dispersed into the armory, diligently stowing their weapons and armor in their designated places. (Y/N), however, did no such thing. Instead, with a persistent scowl etched on her face, she marched through the room and passed through the arched exit of the armory—presumably heading towards her chambers. Legolas's gaze tracked her suspiciously as she departed.
As the day progressed, the members of the Prince’s sector resumed their usual routines. Because it was their first day back from patrol, they were exempt from basic guard duties and standard positions. Instead, they utilized the early hours of the morning to bathe and rejuvenate themselves before gathering in the dining hall for breakfast. The remainder of the day was theirs to unwind and compile their patrol reports—the King sought to stay informed about all occurrences and perspectives during patrols, for a darkness seemed to be spreading among his trees.
At supper, Legolas moved among the tables in the dining hall, gathering last-minute reports from the warriors in his sector. As he did so, he scanned the long wooden benches, searching for the scowling gaze that had accompanied the last couple of days of patrol; however, there was no such gaze and no such person that it belonged to. Simply put, there was no sign of (Y/N).
She had missed all three meals and had failed to submit her patrol report.
Legolas cleared his throat before he addressed the elves from whom he was collecting papers. “Have you seen Shadowfoot? I need her report,” he inquired.
They shook their heads, more interested in their food than one missing shadow.
Legolas sighed, but refrained from pressing further. If anyone knew her whereabouts, they would have mentioned it.
Therefore, he made his way to her quarters.
When he arrived, he knocked softly on the door, but was met with silence.
"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice carrying through the wooden barrier.
Still, there was no response.
After a moment’s hesitation, Legolas reached for the door knob and twisted it slowly. The wood swung open quietly under his touch, exposing the darkness of the room beyond. Moonlight filtered in through the opened window, casting shadows that danced across the floor, the curtains billowing gently in the cold night air.
Legolas carefully stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. As he took in his surroundings further, surprise crossed his features. He didn't know what he had been expecting since he hadn't been in (Y/N)’s quarters, but it most certainly was not this.
The room was a complete mess. Clothing lay strewn about, along with various trinkets—small hand-carved boxes, beautiful natural rocks, and melted candles absent of flame. Several stacks of books were piled beside the bed, a few of them open and their pages still. Her weapons were scattered haphazardly, some resting on the floor, others on the table or atop the dresser. Legolas even noticed a few knives embedded into the wooden door—a sight that would surely displease Ada.
It was chaotic but calm in a sort of strange way. Typical for (Y/N), he supposed.
The Prince moved to walk further into the room, but was quickly halted against his will. His foot had gotten caught and, if it wasn't for his swift reflexes, he would have face-planted upon the stone flooring.
Legolas sucked in a sharp breath as he stabilized his form. Glancing down, he discovered the culprit—a crumpled tunic tangled around his boot, its fabric caught between the lacings.
He immediately sighed in dismay.
The blond-haired Prince reached down to untangle the stubborn garment. It proved to be a more challenging task than he had anticipated, requiring a few moments of quiet curses and annoyed grunts before he managed to free himself. Carefully, he folded the fabric and placed it upon a nearby chair.
Cautiously, he advanced to the large bed. At first, he could not spot the warrior within, given that the fluffy comforter and mountain of pillows were blocking his view. However, when he pulled back the blankets slightly, sure enough, she was buried deep within. The pillows were arranged around her like a protective nest and she was laying on her side. Her hair was splattered across the cushioned fabric and her expression was…one of pain. Her brows were pulled tight, her nose crinkled, and lips slightly parted.
At this, Legolas frowned, for he was now troubled deeply.
Diligently, the Prince reached out to brush some hair from her face, but just as his fingers made contact with her cheek, his action was interrupted.
(Y/N) suddenly sat up, a knife in hand. With wild eyes, she tried to slam it into his carotid artery.
He reacted quickly, Legolas intercepted her arm, preventing the blade from reaching its target. For a moment, they both froze in that tense position, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they processed what was happening.
(Y/N) was breathing quickly and she appeared very disheveled and confused. It seemed to take her a moment longer to grasp the situation fully.
"Jukkete (fuck)," she breathed out, trying to catch her breath before snapping at him. "Legolas, I almost killed you!"
The Prince still held her wrist. “(Y/N),” he began, “Are you alright?”
She huffed. "You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Princeling!" With a sharp twist, she pulled away from his grasp and settled back into the blankets. “What are you doing here?”
He raised his brows. “Princeling?” he questioned, a hint of amusement in his tone.
(Y/N) only grunted in response.
He sighed. “No one has seen you all day and—“ his sentence abruptly halted as he noticed a red stain upon the comforter. “(Y/N), you are bleeding!” He exclaimed. Without hesitation, he grasped at the blankets, in an attempt to detangle her form from them, as he continued his babbling of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured on patrol?!”
“Legolas,” she interrupted, her voice firm.
“Is it from Rekón’s arrow?! I thought you said he ‘nearly’ hit you?”
“Legolas,” she tried again.
He yanked the blanket further.” Because I swear to the Valar if it was from him, I will—“
“Legolas! Stop!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not injured.”
His jaw clenched in frustration. “(Y/N), I have been a warrior for all my life, I know the site of blood. That is blood. You cannot lie to me. I am your sector leader, your Prince—“
“Legolas! It’s my bloodmoon cycle!” she interrupted, sitting up to glare at him once more.
An awkward silence settled into the dark room.
“You are in pain,” he stated.
“I’m fine.”
His brows raised again. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you're a princeling ass,” she retorted.
“No. Because for the last three days of patrol, your demeanor has been notably irritable, as you are now. You've been favoring your left side, your jaw has remained tightly clenched, and your skin a shade too pale. Not to mention, you've consistently had your hand on your hip, I'm assuming in an attempt to try and alleviate discomfort, and you even vomited behind a tree on two occasions. And, here you are, Shadowfoot, in bed, sleeping the day away in dirty clothes and not caring that you lay in blood.” He paused before finalizing his evidence. “You are in pain.”
“You have been spying on me?! I am supposed to be your shadow.”
“I have been keeping an eye on you,” he clarified.
“Why?!”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because you are a member of my sector. You are my responsibility.”
“You are my responsibility,” she corrected.
He released hot air from his nose. “I am required to keep an eye on all of my warriors, whether they were hand-picked to guard me or not.”
(Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “Did you know Sethna took a pretty nasty hit to her leg?”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” he gruffed.
“Legolas, did you know about it or not?”
A rather long moment of silence extended into the night before the Prince reluctantly responded in a low tone. “No.”
“Then you don't watch every warrior like you watch me.”
He inhaled slowly, trying to steer the conversation away from what (Y/N) was insinuating. “Is Sethna alright?”
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
Legolas nodded slowly, before returning to the main topic. “Why didn't you tell me you were in pain while on patrol?”
She rolled her eyes before muttering his name. “Legolas.”
“Why haven't you seen a healer?” he persisted.
She exhaled slowly, knowing Legolas wasn't going to let this go. “Because the healers document everything, and those records get attached to evaluations.”
“So?”
“So, I would be dismissed from the guard and relieved of my position!” she snapped.
He snorted lightly. “You would not be dismissed from the guard nor relieved of your position.”
“Others have gotten so for far less!”
Surprising her, his normally collected tone turned into a rough reply. “That doesn't mean that you would have!”
She frowned, her once loud voice now subdued. “What's that supposed to mean?”
He sent her a warning look, his eyes cautioning her against probing further.
Silence reigned for a third time that night before Legolas spoke softly. “Rest. I will draw you a bath.”
“Princeling, I do not need you to draw me a bath. I do not need a bath at all. Like I said, I am fine.”
He shook his head. “You are in pain. Let me help you.”
“Legolas–”
He cut her off. “(Y/N), do not try to argue with me on this. That is an order. Shadow or not, I am your superior and you will listen.”
With that, he stood and made his way into the bathing chambers, leaving the elleth alone with her thoughts.
She let out a slow, contemplative exhale before sinking back into the embrace of the bed once more. Lost in a haze of exhaustion, she must have drifted into a brief slumber, for it was only moments later that Legolas returned, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears. “(Y/N),” he urged softly. “Come. The water is hot. It will alleviate your pain.”
Groggily, she opened her eyes, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow.
“Come,” he repeated.
Gradually, she sat upwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, praying to the Valar for the pain to settle.
“If the pain is too much, I can carry you,” Legolas offered in a gentle tone.
She scoffed, her eyes opening to glare at him. “I can manage on my own.”
With that declaration, (Y/N) stood up and took a few cautious steps forward. But before she could proceed further, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the agony surged through her body, causing her to double over.
A comforting warmth enveloped her lower back as Legolas placed a reassuring hand there. He remained silent, respecting her pace and refraining from pressing his earlier offer.
A small whimper escaped her lips, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.
Legolas’ hand began to move in soft circles. “It will pass, Shadowfoot. I am here,” he whispered.
Slowly, she resumed her movement, inching her way towards the bathroom. Upon reaching the basin's edge, she gripped onto the sides tightly. She squeezed her lids shut once more, focusing on her breath.
Standing only inches behind her, Legolas spoke softly. “(Y/N), please, will you let me assist you? I hate to see you suffer.”
She exhaled through her nose, seemingly debating his offer. After a moment of contemplation, she relented. “Fine,” she stated, “but if you breathe a word of this—”
“I will not say a thing. I swear it,” he assured.
She nodded, accepting his promise.
“Let's get you undressed and in the bath then.”
With caution, his nimble fingers found the hem of her tunic and began to lift it over her head. Ensuring her stability by placing one hand gently on her hip, he then carefully guided her trousers downward, assisting her as she stepped out of them. Shaking slightly, she lifted each foot into the tub, one at a time, as the Prince's firm hand remained securely on her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself into the water, his touch barely trailing up her back as she descended. Her eyes closed and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, settling into the soothing heat of the water.
Legolas cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will just be in the other room. Call out if you need me.”
She simply hummed in response.
The Prince swiftly left the bathing room, making his way to the door leading to the hallway. Peering out, he caught sight of a maid. He called out to her and motioned for her to approach.
“Yes, my lord?” she inquired politely.
“I need you to fetch a new set of bedding and obtain the following herbs: valerian, boswellia, and athelas,” he instructed.
She nodded in understanding.
“And please, keep it discreet. I have an injured warrior in here who wishes for the injury to remain quiet.”
The maid nodded once more before hurrying off to fulfill his requests.
Legolas returned to the room, feeling the cool breeze from the open window once more. With determined strides, he crossed the space and closed it firmly, halting the chill from entering any longer. He then took to light some of the candles, casting a warm glow within the room before moving to the empty fireplace. He quickly grabbed kindling and wood from the basket beside the silent hearth, setting to task. Before long, the flames crackled loudly among the stone, radiating a comforting warmth that dispelled the lingering chill.
It was then when the maid entered, a large basket brimming with fluffy fabric in her arms. Placing it beside the bed, she then retrieved a pouch from the top. Approaching the Prince, she bowed her head. “The herbs you asked for, my lord.”
“Thank you,” he replied, accepting them graciously.
The maid took to changing the sheets, making no mention of the blood. Legolas cleared a space upon the table in (Y/N)’s room. Placing a cast iron pot—one of which was kept in each room—over the now vibrant flames, he filled it with water from a pitcher. As the water began to boil, he used a small bowl to grind the fresh herbs into a paste with a pestle. Once sufficiently smashed, he ladled some of the boiling water over it and allowed the mixture of herbs to steep, filling the air with its earthy aroma.
The maid, having finished her task of making the bed and straightening up, bid an awkward farewell to the Prince before exiting the room.
Legolas sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the table, his ears attuned to any sounds from (Y/N)'s direction—just in case.
Nearly 45 minutes passed before she emerged from the bathroom. She was clothed in soft trousers and a loose top that hung off her shoulder, her hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.
“How do you feel?” he inquired, breaking the quietness of the night.
She turned her head towards him. “You are still here?” Her gaze swept across the room, trailing off as she took in the sight of the lit candles, crackling fire, and fresh bedding.
Abandoning the chair, he approached her and gently put his hand upon her bicep. “How is the pain, (Y/N)?”
As if suddenly drawn from her thoughts, she registered that he was indeed beside her. “I, uh, it has lessened a bit.”
He nodded, guiding her to the bed. Pulling back the clean sheets, he motioned for her to get in. Surprisingly, she complied, settling into the comfort of the fresh lavender scent emanating from the blankets and pillows.
Legolas briefly left her side before returning with a cup of tea, mixed from the healing herbs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifted the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip. “Drink this. It will help.”
The steam kissed her face as she took the cup from him. As she drank, the warm liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach, providing instant comfort. When she finished, she passed the cup back to him. “How do you know how to make such a tonic?”
The Prince placed the cup upon the side table. “My father used to care for my mother during her bloodmoon cycle, before she passed from this world. She too had excruciating pain. He taught me the right herbs to mix, the benefits of heat, and—” he paused, his hand moving to her lower back, where he began to massage lightly. “—what points to press to alleviate pain.”
She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed.
“He had said, ‘One day, you will have a wife who too suffers such pain. This you must learn for her.’ And I listened.”
(Y/N) did not open her eyes. “I am not your wife.”
Before he could stop himself, his lips betrayed his secrets. “You could be.”
At this, she opened one eye, as if she was trying to subtly evaluate what his words meant based on his body language. Sensing the sincerity upon his expression, her other eye opened too. She put her full attention on him. “What?”
His cheeks flushed, the tips of his elvish ears reddening, though the warm glow of the fire hid his embarrassment. He turned his head away. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I—I didn't mean to be so…so forward.” He hesitated, then looked back at her, seeing her flabbergasted expression. “I–I suppose there is no hiding it now. The reason I keep such close watch over you is because my heart won't let me do otherwise. I fear, well, I fear that you are not just a shadow following my path.” He exhaled softly. “(Y/N), you haunt me in the most beautiful way.”
She shifted from the pillows, drawing closer until her face was mere inches from Legolas’. “You–you care for me?” she whispered.
His hand tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft motion. “More than I could ever put into words.”
“Legolas,” she whispered. “Your father did not assign me to your sector. I was supposed to be appointed to protect him. I—I requested to be assigned to you.”
The Prince’s gaze met hers. “Why, (Y/N)?”
“Because you too have been haunting me.”
Legolas wasted no time. He pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss and she responded eagerly. She tasted of herbal tea and hope, while he tasted of honey and peace. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers found their way to the back of his neck, fingers entwining in his hair. The scent of fresh lavender surrounded her, mingling with the aroma of pine that clung to him. In their embrace, their minds intertwined, both haunted by the other's presence—in the most beautiful way.
Slowly, they parted. Legolas pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before speaking softly. "Lay down. Rest. I will watch over you."
She looked up at him. “Won't you lay with me? I am cold.”
He snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like the stem of a flower being plucked from a spring meadow. “You only want me to alleviate your pain, don't you?”
She grinned back at him. “Perhaps, Princeling. Though, I did not lie, I am cold.”
With a playful roll of his eyes, Legolas kicked off his boots and drew back the covers. He allowed his body to melt against (Y/N)’s, providing warmth as he gently began to massage away her tension.
A content sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she snuggled further into him, eagerly stealing his warmth and accepting the pain relief he offered.
“Princeling,” she murmured, “You better not breathe a word of this either.”
He chuckled lightly, “I will not say a thing, Shadowfoot. I swear it.”
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faeriichaii · 2 months
Note
Hi!! Can you write something fluffy between Legolas and a female human reader? Even though Legolas has been around for a while, he is always watching the reader because he wants to learn about her little quirks and customs. The reader is always like “uhhh Aragorn why is he just staring” but Legolas reveals that it’s cause he finds her cute and wants to get to know her more while they’re together on the fellowship :)
Little Quirks ~ Legolas x Fem!Human!Reader
A/N: Ahh I missed writing for Legolas haha!! At this point he is like a major part of my life lmao <33 Ngl this took me longer than normal? Maybe I got a little rusty during my little time off haha rip but yeah here you go I hope you like it!!
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ
Summary: The elven prince for some reason couldn't stop staring at you, which in return made you confused and very curious, as to why his eyes were constantly following you around.
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Legolas tilted his head to the side, smile gracing his lips, as his eyes focused on the way you polished your weapons to perfection. The dagger in your hand reflecting the bright fire in front of you, while you rubbed a cloth against the handle. A few gems were embedded into the metal, giving it some colour. You can’t quite remember when you got the dagger, but you knew you would be incredibly upset if you ever lost it. Holding it out in front of you, you inspected it for any kind of grime or dirt that still could be there. While doing so you notice that the elven prince has been staring at you for quite a while. He always seems to be staring at you, no matter what you were doing. It not just confused you, but also made you feel unsettled to some extent. “I hope you don’t mind me taking up the space beside you.” Aragorn said, as he made himself comfortable on the log beside you. His sword was on his lap, as he began to clean it off of the dried blood from the battle of a few hours ago.
“Of course not.” You placed your polished dagger into the leather holster that was secured on your thigh, before grabbing your own sword to take care of it as well. Taking a quick glance towards Legolas, you notice that his attention was now on Gimli, who seems to be mentioning one of his stories to him. “You know the elven prince well, right Aragorn?” You asked him, while running the cloth against the metal. “I wouldn’t say that I know him well, but I do know him longer than most of the fellowship do.” He sat his sword aside, before turning towards you. “What is on your mind?” “Well, I have noticed that he always seems to be watching me, no matter what I do. Like for example last week.”
Standing in front of the pot, you stirred it with the wooden spoon before adding a few more leaves. Normally Sam would be the one in your place, however you insisted to take his place for the night and make everyone one of your favourite dishes. You added in the few chopped vegetables you had prepared earlier. Noticing a certain gaze on your figure, you looked up from the dinner you were making. Legolas smiled softly at you, before lowering his gaze from you. You didn’t think much about it, until you took another glance into his direction and caught him again.
“Is everything alright Legolas?” “Yes, of course.” He said, his eyes never leaving you once. After a bit of more stirring, you poured a little of the stew into the bowls, before handing them out. Walking over to Legolas, you sat beside him before giving him his own food. “I really liked the song you hummed.” You tilted your head to the side at his statement, not really understanding what he meant. He noticed your puzzled expression, smiling gently at you. “You were humming while you prepared the dinner.” “Oh- I did not notice.” A soft embarrassed blush dusted your cheeks. “I hope it did not disturb you in any way. I normally hum only at home but I guess I was so much at ease that it just happened.” “Like I said (Y/N), I really enjoyed it. Maybe you could teach me the song sometime.”
“That does sound completely normal to me. He just enjoyed the melody.” You huffed at Aragorns statement. You knew that this sounded like it was nothing special. But it was not the only time you caught him staring a little longer.
You were standing in front of one of the many stalls of a small town. The fellowship decided to take a quick tour through the closest town, in order to stack up on some essentials needed for your travels. Of course, you tried to focus only on things you really needed for the journey, however the shiny jewels from the table beside the one you were currently browsing through caught your attention. “Welcome young lady, what can I do for you today?” You gazed upon the silver and golden necklaces that were laid out in front of you. “How much would that be?” You asked the merchant, holding up a golden bracelet, that had a little heart charm attached to it. “Around 30 coins.” You bit your lip in thought at his answer, only having so many coins in your little pouch. “I will be thinking about the offer, thank you.” Putting the bracelet back onto the table, you made your way towards another one. This one sold various items like books, as well as scrolls, bags, pouches, brooches and other little trinkets. Taking a beautiful hand mirror into your hand, you looked at your reflection. You noticed a familiar elven prince in the background, who seems to be looking into your direction. Tilting your head, you stared back at him through the reflection.
After a while of staring back at him, you put the mirror back onto the table and decided to approach him. As soon as he noticed you, a smile graced his lips. “Have you already gotten everything you needed?” He asked you, as you stood beside him. “Well, not really. But I have been wondering something else.” You tilted your head to the side as you mustered him. A smile was still present on his lips, as he mirrored your movement. “Why have you been staring at me again?” “Have I?” “Yes!” At this point you believe he was mocking you. You caught him through the mirror and he still tries to deny it. “I think you are mistaken.” He said, giving your shoulder a soft pat before joining Aragorn at one of the stalls.
“And what if you really were mistaken?” “I was not! Aragorn, I know that he has been staring at me not just those two times! He stares at me while I eat, while I talk, while I polish my gear, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was staring at me now.” The both of you turned towards the elven prince, who in fact was looking at you once more. “See? I would just want to know why he does it.” Aragorn let out a lough at your desperate sigh. “I am pretty sure that you will get your answer very soon.” And with that he stood up and left you alone.
After finishing up polishing your weapons, you decided to approach the elven prince once more to try and get answers to your questions. “Hey Legolas, can we maybe talk?” You asked him, while taking a seat beside him. “Of course, what is on your mind?” “I have noticed you were staring quite a lot at me. Is there a reason behind it?” A chuckle left his lips, as he grabbed your hand gently. Warmth spread over your cheeks at the soft touch. “I really enjoy watching you (Y/N). Not in an unsettling way! I just love to see you react to specific things. Or how your eyes shine when you find something you like at one of the stalls. Or how you just sometimes have that little jump in your step when you are really excited.”
Your face was red, as you nodded to each of the words that passed his lips. “I think your quirks are so interesting and so cute. You always catch me off guard.” A smile graced your lips, as you squeezed his hand. You didn’t know he felt so drawn towards you. “For example, right now. Your eyes are shining brighter than the stars above.” His finger graced your warm cheek, as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want to get to know you more and understand you better with every passing day.” “I will only allow it, if you let me study you as well.” You answered boldly, earning you a laugh from Legolas. “Of course, Meleth Nin. Anything that your heart desires.”
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slaasherslut-side · 10 months
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shut the fuck up im doing hot girl shit (thinking about legolas)
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shrubdaddy · 1 year
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elucidative | l.greenleaf
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↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: elucidative |. /ih-loo-si-deyt/ | verb | to make lucid especially by explanation or analysis | y/n is only a little dumb
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: legolas x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k
a/n: Hiii - Sorry I've been MIA - work has been a bit more hectic and I've been having a hard time finding time to write! I could not stop thinking about the Bridgerton scene with Charlotte and George. Lightly inspired by @reality-warp 'Rávamë’s Bane Trilogy', quite literally one of my all-time fave fics and authors in this fandom and is a literal queen in world and character building so check out her fics if you haven't already!
copyright © | please do not repost my work.
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“Manwë’s breath, how much higher can this wall get?”
Reaching for yet another tendril of the vines climbing up the wall, you attempt to climb higher up the stone wall.
It was a precarious situation — one in which you did not expect to be but were not entirely surprised to find yourself in.
You scaled the stone walls attempting to reach the top of the wall to escape yet another suitor. With flowing sleeves laced with snagged threads and leaves woven into your hair, you don’t quite know how long you’ve been attempting your half-scattered escape plan. At this moment, all you knew was that you’d been in this dreaded courtyard for over an hour and you would not be waiting another minute to be trapped and shackled for the next “prince” to come around.
As a ward of Lord Glorfindel, you were of course expected to adhere to the life of a lady in every way possible. You’ve studied every subject, attended every lesson from etiquette and mannerisms to reading and writing in Khuzdul, and attended each and every dreadful social event your father has encouraged.
Feeling your grip falter yet again, you stumble backward and glare at the very metaphoric yet also a very real wall in front of you.
You have always strived to be the perfect daughter in every way possible. However, in regard to love and courtship, you refuse to follow the ancient, decrepit tradition. Between the many years of dodging conversations and offers of marriage, you’ve reached way past the age of courtship, spending many years avoiding each and every suitor thrown your way.
Rather than bubbling with excitement, you felt the fear of the unknown settle in. Having so much to live for and not enough time to experience, you think of your time spent with the twins and the Rangers of the North — time spent traveling, exploring, and living.
You remember joining the twins and meeting Aragorn… meeting Legolas. He was an elven ranger you befriended through Aragorn. He was strong and sturdy, and for a moment you thought you were in love. The camp up North was a place where not many talked of their past but where they all focused on the present. It was a simple life but it was the life you were able to create for yourself.
Lost in the thoughts of the slow spiral of your sanity, you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you as you reached yet again for the closest, protruding stone on the wall —
“What in the world are you doing?”
Without turning to even see who it is, you let go of one hand waving your intruding guest away.
“Please mind your own business, sir. You can escort yourself out — possibly, somewhere that is anywhere but here.”
You continue your ascent without a second thought but slipped down the wall as stone slowly tore up your hands. Stepping back, you place your hands on your hips and take a look at the growing annoyance in front of you. This stupid wall.
You hear an exasperated sigh behind you and felt someone lightly, grab your shoulder, pulling you from behind.
“Excuse me, sir. But you will unhand or you risk losing your… Legolas?”
Turning around, you were shocked by the familiar face of someone you were completely and utterly infatuated with over the past couple of years. Paralyzed and flustered, you couldn’t help but notice how clean and ethereal — you have never seen him this clean before; his muddied boots were somehow clean and the ragged pants you were so used to was exchanged for a less holey look. Somehow these fit even better. You feel your eyes gaze up but froze — you were staring too long.
“Lose my what?” he asked with a little smug grin.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing. On the contrary, you can keep everything… It was nothing…” you rambled as you quickly turned around.
You hear him step a bit closer, coming behind you on your side to examine the wall you were so desperately climbing less than a second ago.
“What in Arda are you doing here, Y/n?” he said with his curious, blue eyes. Though a few feet away, just his presence causes your mind to go in a scramble.
“Me? What are you doing here?” you exasperated. Fiddling with your hands, you begin pacing back and forth, pretending to examine every bit of the wall, looking anywhere but him.
Look anywhere but his eyes, Y/n. That is how we’ll survive his cursed beauty.
“You are climbing a wall. If anyone should be questioned, it is you,” he bit back.
You quickly move your shoulder to release his grip and turn around.
“First of all, I live here. Second of all, please do mind your business, Legolas. I am quite a bit … oof … I’m quite a bit busy here. and I’m running out of time.”
Stepping towards the wall, you begin to attempt to climb yet again. If anything, it was to break free from his distracting grip on your body. Ignoring the growing warmth on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but notice how large and warm his hand was and how one touch made you feel like hot honey dripping down your body.
Shaking off the startling moment, you were determined to leave. And even he could not stop you.
“What in the world are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing something.”
“I am not”
“Yes… you quite obviously are are.”
“I am n o t.”
“Yes… you are,” he said firmly.
Relenting — you turn back around to face him. Beautiful face and all. You notice how his head is turned slightly down, his eyebrows furrowing just the slightest beginnings of a small smirk staring down at you.
“Fine,” you relented. “If you must know, I am trying to figure out the best way to climb over this disgustingly high wall and escape this dreaded meeting with this so-called ‘prince.’”
“You’re trying to what? With who? Whatever for?”
“Well, the first thing — hmph …” you grunt as you turn back around to attempt to climb for the fifth time in a row. “The first thing is that my dearest father has been parading me around to different suitors, a Lord here, a Duke there — and now, um, it’s apparently another ‘prince’.”
You take a step back because rather than focusing on climbing, you feel a sense of frustration overcome you. The situation of late has finally dug its claws into you... feeling a greater weight on your shoulder than you have originally led yourself to believe. You feel him standing behind you — the burning intensity of his stare on your back.
“No one has spoken of him… no one has spoken of this so-called Prince of Mirkwood?” You continued, “What if he has the personality of a gremlin and the looks of a troll? The Valar knows the little patience I have for men.”
“Gremlins and trolls aside — does what he looks he really matters to you? ” he asked.
“No… Of course not. It’s the not knowing and the fact that I do not know him or his heart that I do not like.
You take a step back to take a look once more at the wall in front of you. Glaring with all of your might, in hopes that your internal rage can burst a whole through these dreaded walls.
“Y/n —you must know... “ Legolas began.
Your eyes run through all the nooks and cranny’s vine-covered stone beast, ignoring Legolas’s words for only a second. There it is. A protruding stone just two feet away from the top. You found one last way you have yet to try.
“Thank the Valar! I think I found a way.”
You walk towards the wall once again, mapping out the new path of vines and protruding stones.
“I think if I can just reach this stone I can lift myself up! If you lift me just a little, I believe I can reach that vine and use these stones to climb up,” you said excitedly.”
“You want me to lift you up… so that you may… escape?”
“Yes, obviously. Did you not hear of threatening the gremlin-troll prince? Please, Legolas.”
“Your father will know that you are missing? The twins have just arrived as well?”
“Those are tomorrow’s problems, Legolas. The prince will be coming today,” you whined.
As you begin your ascent, you feel your foot slipping from the stone. Despite this, you stretched your hand above your head to grab the vine. As you reached, you feel the stone beneath your foot crumble and in a matter of seconds you find yourself falling.
“Lego—”
“Y/n,” he cuts you off. “I have no intention of helping you escape.”
Standing a little too close, you can feel the warmth emanating from his body. As you gaze up to his face, you see he’s wearing an emerald green tunic, soft and silky — something far nicer than the typical garb you always see him in.
“And why not? There is little time to —.”
Your finally glance up to look him in the eyes and —
“You’re wearing a crown,” you blankly stated.
Confused, you oh-so-slowly begin to piece the puzzle together.
“Yes, I am wearing crown,” a small grin appearing on his smugged face.
“Where in the world did you get a crown?”
“It was given to me,” he said as he looked around feigning boredom.
“By who?!” you retort.
“My father.”
“Your father? What does— is he like a king?”
“He is a king,” he said frankly.
“Which makes you a — “ you slowly piece the information together.
“A prince? Yes, a gremlin-troll prince to be exact,” he retorts with now a full grin and staring down at you.
“And you said nothing?” You frantically exclaimed.
“I figured you’d realize at some point,” he chuckled.
You stood there reflecting on all your life decisions at once. Every conversation, every hidden glance. He was a prince.
“I thought it was common knowledge and that you knew of my title,” he said quietly. “I apologize for not disclaiming it sooner.”
“So if what you’re saying is true…” you teased. “You just assume everyone thinks of you as royalty? That’s quite the assumption”
“Y/n, you know I did not mean it like that,” he groaned.
With a little giggle, you stepped away from him and asked “Should I call you, sir?”
“…Y/n, what?”
“Oh my, I’ve never bowed.” Your voice shifts into worry, “Is this grounds for beheading?”
“Y/n, no.”
“I should bow.”
“No— you should not.”
“I’ll bow.”
“Y/n — stop.”
“Please sir, I am merely a lowly peasant. Have mercy, your highness,” you exclaimed as you lower your head and drop into the deepest curtsy.
As he attempts to stop you, he reaches for your arm hoping to put an end to your jester.
As you back away and dodge, you look at him, batting your eyelashes, and cry “My liege, spare me from this punishment I only wish to live.”
Ears turning red with a desperate voice, he begs “Y/n, please.”
As you step back once more, he’s quicker this time and grabs your arm, pulling you close. your chest crushed against his, he drops one of his hands to your waist and the other to your back. You were so close you felt his breath caress your face. As you look up, you find him staring intently at you.
As you stare at each other, you couldn’t help but break into giggles over the preposterous situation. As you begin to giggle, he looks away trying to hold in his laughter, only to also laugh at the situation.
It felt nice — to feel free and silly, if only for a moment.
As both your laughter calms down, he looks back down at you asked, ”So what do you think of the gremlin-troll prince?”
“Nothing too horrid, he’s actually quite dashing,” you teased.
“Dashing, hmm?” he chuckled.
Unaware of everything around you, you were both startled to hear the courtyard doors open with footsteps following. Jumping from each other's arms, you separated a good distance away only for you to see your father and Elrond turn into the corner section you were standing in.
“Oh, good. You’ve met!”
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mlmxreader · 3 months
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Warm Hands | Legolas x gn!reader (🍋)
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Legolas
81 “It’s been a long time” ❞
: ̗̀➛ Legolas finally comes home, but he finds you in a slightly... desperate situation.
: ̗̀➛ anal sex, anal fingering, swearing, praise kink
↳ @thesnowurzikdjinn
: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
You were cold as you laid in bed, shivering and shaking beneath the thick fur blankets that seemed suddenly too thin; a slight breeze rolled through, although the windows and doors were closed tightly. It was dark out, the early hours of the morning starting to gently crawl through as the seconds trickled down like thick honey.
Slowly, slowly.
It was a shame, really, as you weren't used to sleeping alone; usually, Legolas was beside you, cuddled into you with his head either on your chest or his face pressed against the side or back of your neck.
He always felt so warm, and you suddenly hated the fact that you often told him to go away during the summer months when it was too hot for him to hold you; you should never have taken him for granted. You knew that, now.
You turned onto your side, rubbing your legs together and quickly running your hands up and down your biceps in a small hope that you could gain some, even just a little bit, of warmth. Missing Legolas and his soft, warm hands so terribly.
Promising to never take him for granted again.
You didn't even notice when the door opened, hardly able to hear it over the harsh creaking of the old bed frame beneath you; you never heard his footsteps, he was always so quiet, but the sight of his light hair and his soft smile in the darkness made you breathe out a sigh of relief.
You dared to leave the bed, attaching yourself to his body tightly as you nearly wept.
"Oh, I missed you!"
Legolas grinned, putting an arm around you as he felt your hand graze his own. "You're cold... why don't you use the blanket my father made for you?"
You shrugged, not really sure how to explain that you always felt bad for using it; it was a beautiful, soft and plush blanket that was always, always so warm and so snug.
You didn't want to ruin it, didn't want to wash off the smell of stardust or, even worse, infect it with your scent. You always felt terrible for using it, you just could never find the words to explain it properly to Legolas.
"I want your warmth," you whispered, taking his hands in yours as you smiled. "It's been so long, and I missed you so much, and..."
He didn't hesitate, kissing you softly as he cupped your cheeks with both hands, guiding you to the bed and laying you down; kissing you so gently and so softly as his warm, skilled hands worked to undress you.
Once the pile of clothes on the floor formed, Legolas smiled, running his hands up and down your body as he admired it so carefully; looking at each and every inch with adoration.
You couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped you, feeling his warm hands everywhere and the slight burning sensation that each little gentle caress left behind against your cold skin.
You squirmed beneath him, taking his wrist and gently guiding him down, but he paused just above your waist, tilting his head to the side as he hummed.
"I thought you only wanted my warmth."
You frowned a little, aching and needy all at once. "Legolas, don't be a fool, please... I want you, need you."
He withdrew, kneeling between your calves as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before diving back in for another kiss; easily, he coaxed you onto your stomach.
Pausing for a moment to admire the shape of your ass; he let his hand rest on your cheek, leaning over you, his voice harsh and low. Mere huffs of air mixed with a few odd sounds.
"Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes," you breathed out, rolling your hips. "Please."
Legolas was gone by the time you turned around, only to return with some water based liquid; he groaned softly as he slipped two fingers in your ass to work the liquid against your tight walls, preparing you for him all too easily.
He tried to be quick, trying to satisfy your demands for him to hurry up and fuck you, but he needed to be thorough. Stretching your ass with his fingers and praising you gently, the warmth from his body radiating onto your back.
You begged one final time, and Legolas knew he couldn't wait any longer; lining himself up as he used his big warm hands to spread your cheeks, slowly pressing his tip into your ass before gently thrusting into you.
Buried at the hilt as he stilled for a moment, leaning over you with his hands either side of your head; he wanted to give you a moment, allow you to adjust to how thick he was and the slight burn of his light pubic hair against your bare skin.
But you were impatient, bucking your hips and already trying to fuck yourself on his cock as you pleaded softly, begging for him to move. Legolas could never deny such a lovely request, groaning softly as he snapped his hips, biting down on the side of your neck.
"I missed you so much," he murmured against the sensitive skin, his voice sending vibrations through you. "I thought about you every day."
You groaned softly, trying to match his harsh pace as you begged quietly for him to hold your hands, trying not to grin when his fingers laced and entwined with yours. "I need you so bad, love... I can't... unf... can't sleep when you're not here..."
He smiled, slowing down a little so that he could kiss the side of your face, grinning when you turned your head and kissed him softly. "I couldn't sleep, either. I spent too long putting up with your snoring, silence is... eerie."
"It's been a long time," you whimpered, able to feel him hit the exact right spot in your ass to make you gawk and moan, shudder and writhe, beneath him. "Legolas..."
"I'm here, love," he murmured, peppering the side of your neck in small, soft kisses. "I'm here. I've got you."
Nobody loved you the way that Legolas did, if you were honest. He made you laugh, made you squirm and writhe, but he made you smile and he made you actually feel wanted; whenever you were with him, you never felt unsafe or unsure about anything.
He made you feel confident, encouraged you whenever he was around. You could never believe that you were so lucky as to be able to love someone like him, let alone have that love returned. You could still remember the sigh of relief from Aragorn and Gimli when you announced that you and Legolas were moving in together.
You adored him, almost as much as he adored you. But with his long light hair tickling your skin, and the harsh and quick pace of his cock pounding into your tight, warm asshole - you knew you weren't going to last long.
He was hitting all the right spots, and the soft praises and encouragements that left his mouth had you clawing at the bed, desperate and needy as a little bit of drool slipped from your mouth.
You couldn't help it, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you tilted it back slightly, fucking yourself on his cock as your thighs trembled, toes curling as you moaned his name loudly; Legolas wasn't far behind, pressing his face to your neck as he softly grunted out your name, rutting his cum into your asshole as he gave your hands a firm squeeze.
"I've got you," he whispered softly. "I've got you."
You nodded against him, rolling your hips as you tried to catch your breath. "I'm feeling so much warmer now."
Legolas laughed, shaking his head fondly as he kissed your cheek. "I'm glad, my love."
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